#but I wish the cape had just been down I think I’d like it a lot better

[bloodbonesandmarrow]

we do bones, motherfucker

Gideon- @bawdyknocker

Harrowhark- me

Photographer- @FXDandy (various platforms, not on tumblr)

[irwinsblender]

drunk on halloween

a/n: felt like writing a halloween themed fic as halloween was coming up! and i noticed a lack of wallows fics on here!!! so i thought id write one for braeden :)

happy halloween to those who celebrate <3

pairing: braeden x reader

summary: you hadn’t been to many social gatherings since your break up quite a few months ago, braeden thinks going to a halloween party with a small amount of drinking may do you some good. although, that may come with an unexpected confession.

warnings: drinking alcohol, reader feeling negative about herself

word count: 2.4k

✩ ✩ ✩

Halloween.

Usually you’d be the first person to be wanting to go out and buy a costume to go to a gathering or party with your friends.

You loved halloween. It’s the time of year you get to dress up however you want, in whatever costume you want, and you always found that thrilling.

The past couple of years, you would match costumes with your boyfriend, go to some stupid party and most likely get laughed at by his friends. It wasn’t all that fun for you now that you think back to it.

This year would be very different. You and your boyfriend broke up back at the start of the year. Which meant, no matching costume, no shitty halloween party.

Instead, you would get to spend the day with your friends. Especially, your longtime friend, Braeden. You’d turned down his halloween plans since being with your boyfriend, which was mostly his doing, so this year would be a breath of fresh air.

In your opinion, Braeden had stayed friends with you for longer than he should’ve. For reasons out of your control, you didn’t talk to him as much, you skipped plans, you practically avoided him. All because of your ex.

Braeden repeatedly told you that it wasn’t your fault. That he knew what was going on, that he wasn’t mad at you over it whatsoever.

He could never be mad at you, he cared about you way too much for that.

Since your break up, Braeden had been with you almost every day. He’d be at your apartment, cooking you food, watching movies with you, letting you borrow his clothes, sleeping over with you more than being in his own house.

You hadn’t been out much since everything happened, so Braeden put in extra effort to get you to have a good time. He took you out to eat, took you to your favourite ice cream spot, everything a boyfriend would do.

He was the perfect guy. And maybe he’d wished you’d seen that sooner.

Now, you were sat on Braeden’s bed. Legs comfortably crossed in front of you as you waited for him to change into his costume in the bathroom.

He’d told you about the halloween party Dylan would be throwing at his place, suggesting that it might be a nice time for you to see friends and relax for the night.

It didn’t take long for him to walk into the room, standing with his arms out for you to see the full outfit.

“So, you’re meant to be a… magician?” You asked, the black pants, white shirt, cape and hat made that obvious.

“And I have the props to go with it,” he enthusiastically held out a deck of cards and a magic wand. “Maybe I can magic a rabbit out of my hat.”

“You have a rabbit?”

He had an odd expression on his face. An almost unreadable one. He went to his drawers, pulling out a headband… with bunny ears on it. He raised his eyebrows.

You realised at that moment why Braeden had suggested for you to wear your most hated white dress to this halloween party. You’d even put on a hoodie over it because you hated it so badly.

“You’re not serious,” you folded your arms. “You really want me to be the bunny?”

“I just thought i’d might be nice to have a matching outfit,” he defended himself.

“But, I only used to do matching outfits with—“

You sighed, running your hands through your hair. Braeden, put the headband down on his cabinet, slowly sitting down next to you.

“I thought us doing a matching outfit could take your mind off of it,” he explained. “Give you some new happy memories for halloween.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you looked at him, seeing the sorrowful look on his face. “I know you’re doing this for me, it’s just that it’s the first halloween since everything happened.”

“And I probably should’ve asked about these outfits before calling you over here,” he truly did feel bad. He didn’t want to make you do this if you didn’t want to. “I’ll take you home so you can wear something you want to wear.”

You contemplated for a moment. Looking at this thought out costume that Braeden was wearing. You didn’t want to ruin something else for him.

He did this for you, he wanted to try and make you happy, make you forget about your ex. Another example of how much he cared, that he was willing to take you home now if you really didn’t want to do this.

“Give me the bunny ears,” you held your hand out.

“You’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it.”

He abruptly stood, grabbing the bunny ears to give them to you. You stood up too, standing in front of his mirror to place them atop your head.

The ears looked ridiculously large on you. Either way, you turned around to show Braeden who was waiting patiently behind you to see. He let out a quiet laugh, coughing to cover it up after.

“Don’t laugh!” You folded your arms over your stomach. “You’re the one who wanted me to do this.”

“No, no, you look great,” He straightened up the ears on your head, staying close to you afterwards.

You looked up at him, the sweet expression on his face, the way he was looking at you. There was meaning in that look, there must’ve been.

“Um, we should probably get going,” he stepped away, finding his phone to check the time. “I have a pair of white gloves for you too, where did I put them?”

He rummaged through his drawer, finding them after a few moments. He handed them to you, watching as you slipped them on.

“Okay, I’m ready,” you smiled, Braeden raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Your hoodie.”

“What about it?”

“Aren’t you gonna take it off?” He asked. “For your dress.”

“Oh, uh, totally.”

You hesitated for a moment, taking your bunny ears off before slowly pulling the sleeves over your hands to go to take it off, but you stopped. Your dress was thin, slightly clingy. Did you have to do this?

“I always think you look beautiful in your dresses,” Braeden leaned against his wardrobe, noticing the unsure look on your face.

“it’s just—“ you closed your eyes, shaking your head. “It makes me look—“

“Pretty?” He spoke over you. “Gorgeous?”

“Come on, stop,” you chuckled.

He raised his hands in defence, looking away as you eventually pulled your hoodie over your head, placing it on Braeden’s bed before turning around.

He went to speak, no words coming out. He’d underestimated how much he’d missed getting to hang out with you, getting to do things like this with you. With his best friend. Perhaps the person he saw more as a friend.

“You look beautiful,” he smiled softly. You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, we look good together, huh?”

Together.

You looked down at your dress, over to his magician costume, “we match well,” you finally agreed. “Good job thinking of this.”

You both discussed final arrangements for Dylan’s party, making your way over to his house soon after.

It didn’t take long to get there, Dylan greeting you at the door in his priest costume before grabbing drinks for you both to have for the start of the night.

You passed Cole in his pumpkin outfit on the way to the living room, enjoying himself as much as everyone else here.

Braeden knew you had a tendency to drink to forget about your problems, so he was making sure to watch you didn’t over do it, not wanting you to end up feeling sick.

It was hard for you to admit to yourself, but you had been having a good time here so far. For the first time in two years, you were having fun on halloween. Without your boyfriend, without his stupid friends that you never knew.

You were having fun with Braeden, your best friend who you suddenly felt the need to be overly thankful to. Perhaps the alcohol in your system taking effect after being half way through your second drink.

“You know,” you gained Braeden’s attention, sitting on the sofa in the living room. “You really didn’t have to do all this matchy outfit thing for me just to try and make me happy.”

“You know,” he mocked jokingly. “I’d do anything for you if it means you’re happy.”

“Well, I am, I’m very happy,” you shuffled closer to him. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a friend like you, or to keep you around.”

He sighed, glancing to your cup to see it was almost empty. You did tend to get emotional when you’re drunk, so that’s what this must be.

“I was always gonna stay around,” he leaned forwards, placing his cup on the small table. “I wasn’t about to lose you over some shitty guy.”

“He was shitty, wasn’t he?” You laughed with a shake of your head. “You’re not shitty though, you’ve never been shitty.”

“I try my best,” Braeden laughed with you.

As he sat back, you leaned that small bit closer, laying your head on his shoulder. You decided you liked him this close, feeling his arm go around your shoulders.

He noticed you fiddling with the top of your plastic cup, something you usually did if you had something on your mind. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heart with you being so close.

From beside him, Dylan walked past, knocking his shoulder gently with a raise of his eyebrows. He knew how Braeden felt about you, so did Cole who was looking from the other side of the room.

“Why are they looking at us like that?” You asked, causing Braeden to abruptly look down at you.

You looked up at him, now realizing the close proximity you were in. Neither of you moved. It’s as if everything around you froze. Had his eyes always been this dreamy?

“Is it hot in here?” He suddenly questioned.

“what?”

“We should um, go and get some air,” he turned away. Glaring at his two friends as he stood up.

You didn’t know what was going on, but you followed his lead, stumbling slightly as you stood up, maybe you did drink a little too much.

Braeden immediately reached for your hand, steadying you before going any further.

“You okay?” He double checked.

You looked down at your hand in his, suddenly feeling your heart racing. This hadn’t happened before. What was going on?

“Drunk on halloween, how cliche,” you chuckled, forcing yourself to look up at him.

He shook his head at you, starting to lead you away from the living room, his hand keeping hold of yours.

You went to the back of the house, leaving through the back door. It was quiet in the backyard, peaceful, away from all the music and drinking.

You both sat down on the patio chair, now letting go of Braeden’s hand. It was a clear night, the bright stars glowing in the sky above you. Tonight was a perfect night.

Sitting in the quiet was definitely needed. Letting your mind settle, although, the only thing you could think about was all the moments you’d had with Braeden today.

The way he looked at you in his house when he adjusted your bunny ears, him calling you beautiful, his arm around you inside, the way he looked at you then, him holding your hand.

You were close to Braeden. He was your best friend. But things had felt different tonight.

Without thinking, your hand had started to edge closer to his. Pinky’s touching, linking yours with his as a little gentle touch. He didn’t move his hand away, didn’t ask what was going on.

Friends don’t act like this. do they?

“Thank you for getting me to come to this party,” you broke the silence. “It’s been nice spending this time with you again.”

“I’ve missed it,” he admitted. “It’s been a while since we’ve been together to have a good time, rather than you being upset.”

“yea, together.”

You took a long breath in, shuffling to look at Braeden beside you. He turned too, not knowing why you were looking at him the way you were.

You reached up, taking his hat off of his head to run your hand through his fluffy brown hair. The only look in his eyes was adoration, he couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t know why I ever thought he was a good guy,” you said referring to your ex. “When I’ve had you the whole time.”

Braeden furrowed his eyebrows, he didn’t understand where you were going with this.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” you cupped his cheek in your gloved hand. “I think it’s been you for longer than I realized before.”

“Stop,” he moved away slightly. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not saying this just because I’ve been drinking, Brae,” you defended. “No one’s ever cared about me the way you do, you’re always here, no matter what.”

He knew you were serious after calling him by that nickname. He sighed, relaxing into your touch as you continued on. You felt ever so closer to him now, the closest you’re sure you’d ever been to him.

Close enough to notice his quick glance down to your lips.

“I pushed you away, when I should’ve been honest with you, with myself, from the start.”

Now it was Braeden’s turn. He brushed his thumb delicately across your cheek before tucking your hair behind your ears.

“I guess my whole plan for tonight was to give you some happier halloween memories,” he holds your chin between his thumb and finger. “Can I kiss you?”

You don’t know what you’d expected, but it wasn’t for him to say that. Judging by his initial reaction, you were expecting him to move away completely.

“I thought you would’ve noticed the signs earlier on,” he leaned in closer. “Maybe now’s finally the right time.”

Without another word, he moved forwards. His lips connecting to yours in a soft kiss. He slowly pulled away after, waiting to see your reaction.

You had the most lovestruck smile on your face. A blush rising on your cheeks before you quickly cuddled up to Braeden.

This Halloween had been perfect. And now you knew that he’s all you needed and more.

✩ ✩ ✩

taglist: if you would like to join my wallows taglist, please comment here or see this post

[targwh0re]

New Ideas for HOTD Alicent Fashion pt.2

So technically the last one I did for Alicent was apart of a Rhaenyra one, but for continuity sake this is my second outfit redesign for a younger Queen Alicent Hightower.

The dress in question we’re changing is one that will be changed in both scenes it’s worn. One will be a new dress entirely but the other will be just mentally recreating it to look more like the concept art.

The scenes are the dismissal of her father as Hand & The confrontation between she and Rhaenyra about the rumor that had her father dismissed:

I actually love this❤️❤️❤️ it’s just missing a little something, so when comparing these two pics:

If you notice these look exactly the same, except the black is darker, perhaps a velvet, the gold embroidery is more in the form of a design and brighter. The necklace is also more regal looking, bigger than the ones we saw her wear in her girlhood as a noble Lady. Those are the things they should’ve kept for the design of the dress in this scene, she’d look more like an actual Targaryen royal of the time. No offense but the dress that made the cut is kinda bland in tone.

The hair as well, she went for a jeweled hairnet to back to her girlhood hairstyles, precisely why I wish they would’ve kept the braided jeweled crown. It makes her seem more mature (despite her not being but jewelry can be a mask just as much as makeup sometimes) and more royal. She could even still keep it in this half held up hairdo just with the jeweled braided crown/twist added into it:

And the last thing about it the to want to say, the cape would’ve been awesome to see and it would’ve fit the scene. It was raining and she had a man carrying an umbrella for her, I think she’d have that cool ass cape too. Again makes her look more regal, more queen like, more mature.

The next time she wears it that I’d like to change, when she confronted Rhaenyra. A tense scene.

However at this point in time is when she is the most conflicted between her marriage to her husband and her “duty” to her house. I feel she’d reflect that in a representation of both houses. More so red, almost as if adding green was an afterthought, bc I rather think it would be a last minute decision for Alicent to add a green sash or piece of fabric to her usually Targaryen adoption in appearance. A way to feel close to her father by wearing the colors of the house she was born from (just like I headcanon she wore blue as a child to feel close to her mother; Helena Cuy, look it up where I go on a whole rant).

That in mind, imagine something similar to this:

The green being held in place at her neck, Targaryen dragon scales but in gold (perhaps a subtle nod toward Sunfyre/Aegon), it comes to wrap around her waist like a belt, tied at one side the remainder of the green fabric falls free on her left side of her hips down side by side the red dress. Also from the neckline, a half cape of green coming to cover her right side, thin gold chains reaching out from the neckline to hide beneath the half cape.

The red dress underneath would suit the summer climate/warmer climate of the time in the Red Keep, it’s just the right shade of Targaryen red, not to mention the red dress isn’t what really makes the dress but really what is meant to catch ur eye is that she’s wearing green for the first time in a long time. It meant to be hinting at her internal battles. Ofc her cleavage wouldn’t be exposed as depicted so it’s have a higher neckline, perhaps some simple gold and/or black embroidery to enhance it a bit.

Her hair would be something else to consider, thinking back to how we want it to be more mature and queen like. So perhaps a head peace or a jeweled net?

A mixture of these two would suffice:

The first picture is my favorite one and the main inspo for how I’d have done her hair, the pearls, the way her hair is twisted at the top with her bun being kept nice and beautiful in a net. The only thing I’d add from the second photo is the gold lace around the edges of the net, as well as the braid surrounding that as a whole. I’d also take the bands and add them loosely to the bottom part of her hair left down.

As for jewelry, they could’ve taken inspo from actual royal jewels. Something like this for Alicent:

Like I said the look starting originally as her traditional Targaryen Queen attire, with her Hightower symbolism added as an afterthought. Some small pearls could be added between diamond to go more with the pearls in her hair (although I think I might see some pearls in there but I might be dumb).

As for the earrings they could be something like this:

Again incorporating pearls into them or straight up replacing the diamonds entirely.

It’s just Queenly. It’s appeasing to the eyes. And it’s what I expect people to design royal fashion as to look like in period/historical dramas when you’ve proven yourself not concerned with accuracy or if it is a style fantasy gown.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Hey! I love your writing, you have quickly become one of my favorite blogs on this site! I was wondering if you could do more yandere Superman stuff. There isn't alot of it on tumblr and your other ones have been awesome! As for ideas maybe one about the reader having powers or a mental illness similar to gaps? No matter what you decide to write I look forward to it reading it though! 🤗

Thank you so much 💕💕💕! You have no idea how flattered I am, agshshd.

Since you didn’t specify, I’ll do a platonic yandere, since I am much better at writing those 😅. Enjoy!

The standard warnings in all my works (really only implications of stalking in this case) apply here! Reader is a meta, with a teleporting ability!

One would think that being able to teleport at a moments notice made life easier. You would be able to go to work, go to school, save money on gas money, all at the drop of a hat whenever you decided to use your ability.

It did not. In fact, it made your life actively harder with all the criminals that routinely tried to extort, blackmail, or manipulate you into using their powers for them.

“Listen, if we’re going to do the whole song and dance of you threatening me, can you at least be creative about it?” You drawl, absolutely exhausted. The man in front of you is dangerous, sure, but no more dangerous than a common criminal and you were already late for work. “I have dealt with this more times than I can count, can you maybe just like, not?”

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of death wish you have to be talking to me like that, but I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you.” He threatens, brandishing the gun in your direction. You huff. He was hardly as threatening as he liked to think he was.

“You’re holding the gun wrong.” You point out, and he blinks, adjusting his flimsy grip on the gun. He was still holding it wrong.

“Shut up! Listen, just come with me, and no one gets hurt.”

“That’s not going to happen.” A strong voice echoes from the alley way, and you tilt your head, recognizing it. Your attacker does to, and he pales, turning his gun toward the speaker frantically before dropping it. You hiss out a curse. He was lucky the thing didn’t cook off when he dropped it.

“Superman! I was just- we were just-!”

“You were just going down to the police station to turn yourself in. Unless of course you’d like me to help you get there?” A raised brow, challenging the man, who shakes his head frantically. Given that the police station wasn’t very far, you were curious as to which option Superman would go with.

“I’m not sure I believe you.” There’s not even a blur, and he is behind the man, lifting him up by the back of his jacket.

He turns to you, and his eyes soften.

“Why don’t you head on to work? And stay out of any dark alleys, yeah?” He jokes gently, and you snort, nodding. “Once I have this guy sorted out, I’ll join you.”

He’s gone. You leave the alley, leaving the gun on the dirty floor. He would come back to collect it, you knew, and you had no desire to touch a firearm that had been pointed at your face.

It takes him less than five minutes to catch up to you. You know by then he had already gotten the gun to the police, talked to the officers, and dropped off your would be kidnapper.

“That’s the second time this week you showed up, you know.” You comment. He flies alongside you, the cape rustling with the wind. “You’re starting to make a habit of it.”

“This is also the second time this week you’ve been held at gun point, and it’s not even Friday.” He points out, and there’s a concerned frown on his face. “Why didn’t you teleport away?”

“He would have gone to my house instead. Better to keep him occupied until I could come up with a plan.” You shrug, and he only frowns more, eyebrows furrowing. You sigh, pushing your hair back from your forehead. Your hands were shaking, now, from the excess adrenaline.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with criminals constantly hunting you for your ability.” A warm hand on your shoulder, and you smile, a little bitter, a little sad.

“Not much that can be done about it. People see a power, and they want it, and a lot of the times they don’t care about whether that power is attached to a person or not. It’s how the world works.”

You had been dealing with this since you were a child, when your powers first manifested, and sure it didn’t exactly make for a stable childhood or a well-adjusted adult, but you knew how to handle it. You knew what to do.

“It doesn’t have to be. You know that, right?” He looks… so hopeful. Earnest. You wonder how he can keep that up when he sees and fights the worst things humanity has to offer. When humanity doesn’t even like him because he was strange and other, even though he had saved the world so many times you had lost count.

Maybe it was different for you. You had been young when the Justice League formed, had been even younger when Superman became a known hero, maybe you just grew up with it.

“I do.” The relieved smile he sends you lights up his entire face, and your stomach swoops low with a strange sort of anxiety. You weren’t used to this level of… transparency. Everything he did seemed written on his face like a book, and it was new and strange.

“I’m glad. I, uh, wanted to give you something. Here.” He holds up a small item, and you take it, curiously.

It was a watch. Silver, and blue, your favorite colors although he couldn’t have known that. A strap made of some undetermined fabric, the wrong texture to be leather but to thick to be anything else.

“It’s basically a panic button.” He explains, rubbing at the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “Press the dial used to adjust the time and it will emit a frequency only I can hear, so I can come and help.”

He takes it gently, affixing the strap to your wrist with gentle hands. It was strange to think those same hands could bend steel, that you had seen them bend steel.

“I… thank you. I really appreciate it.”

It was a strange level of care, your new watch, but it makes your chest warm. You had never had anyone show this much concern over you before.

“Well, with everything that’s happened, I figured you could use a direct line just in case, you know? I don’t want you to get hurt. And since I tend to only give them to civilians who are my friend..”

You laugh, grinning.

“Is this you asking to be my friend? I would think we were a bit past that after the fourth rescue.”

“I didn’t want to assume.” He defends, hands up in mock surrender, laughing. You both stop. You’re at the door to your work, and he smiles.

By now, it’s almost routine to wish him goodbye, and while the warm and quick hug surprises you just a bit, it’s pleasant enough that you don’t simply teleport out of his grasp in surprise.

There’s a faint smile on your face the whole day as you work. It was nice to have a friend after having been alone for so long.

[nandysparadox]

A Wish Your Heart Makes - Ch.4 ♡

Your rainbow will come smiling through

Prev - Chapter Four- Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Rated T - CW: flirting, romantic fluff, implied/referenced abuse - WC: 5706

@bitterpoison's art for this chapter - here!

-

In truth, the anticipation had been killing Roman.

During the time he and Cinder were apart, he had been diligent with his studies — Roman attended each and every one of his lessons, he joined Rhys as they went through a list of suitors, scroll after scroll, and much to his tutors’ surprise, he’d even dared to appear in a Court session. And yet, try as he might, the thought of their encounter would simply not leave his mind. A seed of excitement had sprouted under his ribs, and soon enough, like vines that crawled over his veins, curiosity had threatened to take over his entire being.

Cinder was swift as he guided Roman through the trees and the underbrush, trailing the beaten-down paths of the forest. Dry leaves crackled under their feet, a remnant of winter, but by this time of spring, the trees had already bloomed silver. Their branches swayed as the wind picked up. Roman found himself increasingly giddy, the farther they ventured into the woods, at the prospect of arriving at their destination. Wherever that would be — Cinder had refused to clarify any further on the matter, even when they met up at the market. Instead, he’d simply smiled at him, and pulled Roman along for the journey, leaving his imagination to go wild.

As they ducked under a low branch, both of them rested a hand on a tree trunk, and their fingers brushed. The sudden near-touch sent sparks through him. Roman’s face heated. He trained his eyes firmly on the ground as he followed close behind,  battling the urge to reach out and link their hands together. Oh, how he wanted to entwine their fingers, to feel the warmth of Cinder's palm on his own.

Despite his best efforts, shoving down these sorts of feelings had become tantamount to an impossible task. Each sweet word Cinder spoke to him, each teasing touch the other followed by oblivious nonchalance, only drove Roman closer to the edge of madness. And all with that coy little smile that was as adorable as it was infuriating. If he kept it up, Roman would lose his mind, surely.

Cinder did seem to have that effect on him.

An abrupt turn around an oak tree tore him away from his thoughts, and before he knew it, he was nudged under a row of branches and then plunged straight into a sudden brightness.

“Here we are!” Cinder said, with a wide sweep of his arms.

Roman blinked and let his eyes adjust to the light. Tall indigo trees circled the meadow, barring any chance the shadows had of creeping in. Fireflies surrounded every corner of it, and as they flew, painted the clearing with sweeping ribbons of flickering light. The heart of it, however, was the pond right in its center. The water shimmered with each harsh blow of the wind and crystals of all colors formed a ring around the lake’s edge, bouncing off moonlight in glowing sparks. It looked… ethereal. Roman’s senses picked up flashes of magic everywhere, from the tall grass to the crumbling rocks.

For a moment, he breathed in all the glowing energy. The magic of it echoed in his bones. He turned to face Cinder, only for his smile to fall when he caught a shudder running through the other’s shoulders. Of course, Cinder hadn't brought a coat, and the chill had been way more biting than one would expect for the season. Roman began to untie his cloak before he could think twice of it.

“Ro?”

“You’re cold,” he said, shrugging off the cape and offering it to Cinder. “Here, you can wear this.”

Cinder rolled his eyes, but he took it anyway, “I’d say you don’t need to, but I already know that won’t dissuade you any,” he chuckled, as he slipped on the mantle. The hem reached just past his fingertips, and to see him in scarlet — rather than the grays and blues he usually wore — was certainly unusual. And yet, the sight of him in rose-red had Roman’s breath stuttering.

With a hand on his hip, Cinder glanced around the clearing and then marched over to a spot right next to the edge of the lake. He drew a checkered tablecloth from his bag and laid it out on the ground, straightening it over the grass. The red cloak pooled around Cinder’s legs as he sat down, and he motioned with his head. Roman took it as a cue to do the same. He settled down across from Cinder, folding his knees up to his chest and tucking his chin in the crease between them. Cinder's lip curled up, and he looked at Roman with what appeared to be amusement.

“Now!” he began, “Will you look up for me, please?” Roman complied, glancing upwards. “Aren’t the stars just lovely?”

They were. The stars looked clearer than ever that night — ever glittering, silver beads embroidered into a dark midnight drapery. Lighting up the night sky like crystals in a chandelier.

Cinder fetched something from his bag and slid it across the tablecloth to Roman, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Well,” he said, excitement barely contained in his voice, “They’re about to get even better!”

Lifting the object, Roman inspected it, trailing a finger across its body. It was long and metallic — brass, perhaps? A dark leather strip covered about a third of it, and it tapered off to a thin end, with ridges that ran throughout its length. Small domes of glass capped each tip.

“What is this?” Roman asked, tilting the object in his palms.

Cinder grinned. “It’s called a spyglass!”

A spark of curiosity lit up in Roman. A spyglass. He glanced back at Cinder. “What is it for?”

“I’d rather show you, may I?” Cinder asked, and when Roman nodded, he maneuvered Roman’s grip on the spyglass with his hands. “Lift it to your eyes and then point it to the sky. If it helps you see better, close one of them. You might have to adjust the barrel a little. It’s made with warped glass like glasses but for a different purpose.”

Roman did so, leveling the spyglass up. At first, all he could spot of the sky through it was a dark blur, but, following Cinder’s instructions, he inched the barrel forward. The image sharpened a bit, and when he clicked the barrel, it focused in all at once. Roman’s mouth fell open in a breathless gasp.

It was as if the night sky had been brought forward, all for him. Bright and impossibly shining. Stars cascaded through the dark in streaks of light. Through the haze of a cloud, moonglow cast a myriad of colors. With a simple twist of the spyglass, he could glimpse at all the constellations that had only ever been far-flung, at all the myths and legends they depicted. The moon was majestic and massive, and Roman felt as if he could touch it if he just reached out. Oh, how ingenious, to reveal the secrets of the sky through bent glass. The thrill of it bubbled up inside his chest and he could not resist the grin that crossed his lips. Delight buzzed under his skin, and he felt as if he could just up and flutter away—

“...You have wings?”

And with that remark, Roman’s stomach dropped all the way to the ground. He forced his wings back down as swiftly as he could manage and lowered down the spyglass, his hands tightening their grip around it.

“Wait, don’t hide them—!” Cinder hesitated for a second, raising his hands. “I mean, I– I didn’t know you had wings. I didn’t want to scare you…” he said, trailing off, “Could– Could I see them again?”

No, no. He’d gotten far too carried away. How could he have forgotten to be careful while not wearing a cloak? Roman bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his gaze firmly on the red-checkered pattern of the blanket. It’d be fruitless to pretend it hadn’t happened, wouldn’t it? Might as well have done with it. With a sigh, he splayed out his wings in a glittery blur, pixie dust fanning out behind him.

“Wow,” he heard the other whisper, and Roman chanced a glance at him. His heartbeat stuttered. Cinder’s eyes were fixed on his wings and blown wide in awe, sparkling blue over their usual fawn brown hue. Moonlight glinted off the silver frame of his glasses, and he tugged down the cloak’s hood. The fabric fell over the breadth of his shoulders. Roman straightened his posture as Cinder leaned closer toward him. Slowly, Cinder reached out. “They’re beautiful.”

A touch of Cinder’s fingertips to his wings was enough for Roman to jolt. Cinder sharply drew his hand away.

“Sorry,” Cinder chuckled, sheepish. His cheeks creased in dimples when he smiled. “I should’ve asked.”

Roman’s heart shone with something traitorously close to hope. He averted his gaze, and he could only hope the warmth in his cheeks hadn’t been too outward.

“I-It’s okay.”

Cinder tilted his head, examining his wings again. “…Can you fly?” he asked, “Is that a silly question? Sorry, It’s just, I’ve never seen a gentry with wings.”

“You wouldn’t have,” Roman fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve, “I can, yes, but I haven’t had much practice, I’m afraid. I don’t… usually show them off.”

It seemed Cinder had another question at the tip of his tongue, but then his eyes drifted to the pond and his posture changed instantly.

“It’s time,” Cinder said, shifting to face the lake. He placed his hand on top of Roman’s absentmindedly. Roman was sure that if his heart beat any louder, Cinder would most certainly be able to hear it. “Watch!”

Roman just barely managed to drag his eyes away from their joined hands and glance over the pond. Stray moonbeams fell in streaks around it, and the crystals that circled it started to glow. Blue, lilac, white — brighter and brighter until strings of light reflected off each shard and tied them into the lake’s surface. Roman’s jaw dropped. The water… it no longer just mirrored the sky, it had transformed into a candid snapshot of it. Glistening, deep and dark like molten glass, swirling spirals of purple and indigo.

“Stunning, right?” Cinder whispered, giving him a small smile as he coaxed Roman closer to the edge of the lake. Gently, Cinder lifted Roman’s hand and guided it into the water. It sent a chill through him and yet, he could not help but be entranced by the view. Stars slipped through his fingers as easily as a stream, and with a simple tap, waves rippled across the darkness, carrying stardust in their wake. Breathtaking, Roman thought, as he played with the water and leaned on Cinder’s touch, downy and soothing.

“This happens once every season,” Cinder said, drawing Roman’s attention back to him. “We were so lucky that it’d be today!”

He finished his sentence with a giggle, lilting, just like the motion of the water. All the lights and sparkles, the pixie dust, the reflection of the lake: they all shined on him, and for a moment, Roman saw the night sky in his figure, in the curve of his cheeks, in his broad hands. Roman longed to pull him closer, to dive into that darkness, so much so it felt as if he’d lost all sense. For once in his entire life, Remus’ nonsensical advice clicked with him

He’d known it since he saw him.

And hadn’t Cinder proven that right, with each moment they’d spent together? Cinder, who was witty, kind, and bold. Roman knew that he could often be difficult, or perhaps even strange, Cinder surely noticed but– never seemed to mind. His oddities hadn’t estranged them. If anything, they had brought the two of them closer. Not once had Cinder looked at Roman with disdain, and even the surprise in his eyes when he saw Roman’s wings had been followed by wonder. 

Beautiful, he had said, with a tone so earnest that Roman felt truly inclined to believe him. Although a part of him felt foolish for just how deep his heart had plunged into this in such little time, he couldn’t help but believe this is what the poets had written of, what the notes of epic ballads told, what he’d yearned for, for so long. And it all felt… right, like nothing else had felt right before.

Roman squeezed Cinder’s hand and glanced up at the sky with a smile, looking at all the stars that could never compare to a fraction of his glow. 

Whatever it was that existed between them, it was real. Roman was certain of that.

—♡—

It could’ve been a lovely evening, and yet, all it’d taken was a single moment of distraction to land the two of them in the mess they had found themselves in.

Patton had brought Ro along for a stroll through the edge of the woods, across a path outlined by glowing stones. Yet another stop in the itinerary he’d come up with ever since deciding he’d show Ro all the sights the forest had to offer, and introduce him to all the spots he’d long held dear. Cicadas trilled echoing tunes amidst the trees, in perfect harmony with the crickets, and they let the lively ambiance wash over them as they meandered about.

The night was as quiet as it could be in Fairyland, and so, Ro filled that silence readily. Eyes gleaming, he told Patton all manner of stories as they wandered. Many of them about his gaggle of siblings, their quirks, the trouble they got into together. The sort of thing Patton would never truly understand, as a long-time only child.

Still, he’d listened in eagerly — so intently, in fact, he’d hardly noticed the rope until it had snagged him in the foot. Patton slipped, startled, and inadvertently, he’d dragged Ro right with him.

And so, that was how they had ended up. Lifted a few feet off the ground by a net trap, in a tangled disarray of limbs.

In his attempts to struggle away, Patton had only succeeded in digging the netting further into his forearms. The thick ropes and vines chafed his skin, and he had no doubt they’d leave red marks behind. Still, the trap was far larger than one would expect, enough that it left room to shift around in. It threatened to spin with any hint of motion, though, so he remained mindful.

Please no, he thought, scrunching up his nose, motion sickness while up here is the last thing I need.

He did the best he could to still and relax his body, wincing when his calf knocked right against Ro’s shin.

“Someone must’ve been hunting around here,” Ro mused, his tone surprisingly level. He held onto the netting for support, as he craned his neck to look into the distance. “Or, I reckon, it might’ve been left over from the Wild Hunt—”

He lost his grip for a split second and stumbled. Patton rushed forward to steady him, grabbing onto his upper arms.

“The Wild Hunt? You really think so?” Patton asked. They were close, close enough that he spotted a slight furrow in Ro’s brow, a betrayal of his otherwise calm appearance.

He also smelled faintly of rose water, Patton noted, sweet, like floral tea brewing — although he didn’t quite know where that thought had crept in from.

“It’s a possibility,” Ro replied, with a shrug of his shoulders, “Who’d use a net so large to hunt a regular animal?”

Patton hummed in agreement, letting go of Ro and fidgeting with the hem of a cloak he hadn’t forgotten to bring this time. Ro slid his hand up a rope until he reached a knot. He tugged at the netting. It didn’t budge.

“Well, this is certainly not how I expected to spend my night,” Ro sighed, tipping his head back. “Not that I mind being close to you, but still…”

Now, with an opportunity set up so perfectly, it’d be remiss of Patton not to take it. He kept the smirk to himself and tilted his head, innocently blinking. “You like being close to me?”

Ro stammered, as if he’d just noticed what he’d said. He looked away. “I-I mean—”

Patton put on a pout and leaned impossibly closer, until their faces were inches apart. “So you don’t?”

A muted pink dusted the bridge of Ro’s nose and flared out to his cheekbones, in contrast to the golden tinge of his skin. Patton bit back a snicker. His eyes drifted across Ro’s face until they zeroed in on a little spot on his cheek.

“You have a beauty mark,” he said, as casually as he could make it. “Right under your eye, did you know that?”

That only made Ro furiously bat him away, and he fell into a giggling fit. He cracked an eye open, watching as Ro crossed his arms.

“What?” Patton teased, “I’ve just noticed!”

“You are impossible,” Ro huffed. He shifted his weight. “…It’s not odd, is it?”

“Oh goodness, you worry so easily,” Patton shook his head, exasperated. “Of course it isn’t. It’s cute.”

“If you keep being like this,” Ro muttered, rolling his eyes, “Then being stuck here will be a nightmare.”

Patton mock-gasped. “Ro!” he whined, as he draped a hand across his forehead in an imitation of Ro’s usual dramatics. “How can you be so cruel to me?”

That drew a snort out of Ro, and soon the net shook with the force of their shared laughter. Patton lounged back as if it was a hammock, smiling at him.

“Well,” Patton said, “If it is a hunting trap, then surely someone will come take it down, right?”

“Maybe,” Ro answered. “Although, if it’s truly from the Wild Hunt… only spirits know how long it’d take them to return.”

Something nervous settled in the pit of Patton’s stomach. He shook his head.

“Someone will come find us soon,” Patton said, with as much certainty as he could put behind it, digging his nail into a piece of rope until a few strands came loose, “I’m sure of it.”

Ro studied him for a moment, then chuckled.

“It’s just so effortless to you, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

Ro smiled. He leaned back against the net. “Believing everything will be okay — all that optimism of yours.”

Patton gave a short, half-hearted laugh and glanced away, past the net. His gaze lingered on his bag, which had fallen a few feet from them during all the commotion.

If only I could reach it, Patton thought, frowning, and maybe… maybe if he just tried, if he threw his shoulder, if he stretched his arm far enough. Or maybe he couldn't after all, it’d always be an inch away, and he’d be left dangling for something far out of his reach again. He… didn't want to believe that.

In truth, it had never been effortless. He did it anyway.

Patton pulled his knees up to his chest. His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what else I’d do.”

A tense silence brewed between them. Ro’s brows furrowed in concern. Cautiously, he shuffled forward.

“You have to return before sunrise, don’t you?” Ro asked, in a low voice. “Or else you’ll be in trouble?”

Patton’s mouth fell open, and he wanted to ask how Ro knew that, how he’d gleamed that from their conversations. Instead, all he could do was burrow further into his cloak and nod.

A hand touched his knee, and his eyes flicked up to meet Ro’s soft, reassuring smile. For whatever reason, his face warmed.

“Then we’ll find our way out of here in no time, okay?” Ro whispered.

Despite himself, a chuckle slipped past his lips. “Who’s being optimistic now—”

As he leaned forward, Patton lost his footing and slipped, crashing directly into Ro’s chest. Ro grunted as his back slammed against the net. With a sharp intake of breath, Patton pushed himself up, nearly hitting his head against the netting.

“Goodness,” he mumbled, as he scuttled away from Ro’s legs — he’d nearly landed right in his lap! Raising his hands, he checked over Ro in worry. “Oh no! Your wings! Are they okay?”

Ro laughed as he sat up, shimmying his back. “It’s quite alright, they’re truly not as frail as they look,” he said, “And besides, I do wear cloaks over them often, heavy capes, it’s nothing I’m not used to.”

Patton frowned. Ro had settled into that awkward, bashful expression he’d always gotten whenever Patton had mentioned his wings since finding out about them.

“You shouldn’t have to hide them,” he muttered, folding his legs.

Ro cocked his head to the side. “I don’t have to.”

His eyes landed on the scarlet cloak that weighed down Ro’s shoulders, tied in a floppy bow at the base of his throat. Then why do you? Patton thought, but he kept it to himself, picking at a rope instead. The net swung back and forth with the aftereffect of motion, stretching their shadows over the ground until they nearly reached his bag. Suddenly, it dawned on him.

“Wait, I have an idea!” Patton exclaimed, shifting around until he managed to slip his left arm through one of the holes in the netting. He glanced back at Ro. “Do you think we could swing this net?” he asked, “Maybe if… you flap your wings for impulse?”

Ro’s mouth twisted in hesitation before he sighed and untied his cloak, letting the fabric pool around their legs. He draped himself over Patton’s back. Patton tried so very hard not to think of how warm the other was.

“We could try.”

And so, gripping the netting for support, they pitched their weight back together and then let go, plunging the trap into upward movement. Patton’s muscles ached as he stretched his arm as far out as he could manage, the joints of his fingers crackling with effort while he reached toward the ground — a palm away from closing the distance. Then, Ro’s wings began to flutter behind them, and gold sparkles were sent flying all around the net — in an instant, Patton’s fingertips reached just a touch away from his bag. He grasped at it once, twice, until, with a sharp throw of his shoulder, he hooked a finger around the strap.

“I got it!” Patton cheered. His grip nearly faltered as pulled the bag up, but he looped the strap around his wrist, securing it. “Oops! It’s okay, I still have it!”

Ro disentangled from him, and with some effort, Patton pried the bag open. He rummaged inside and, with a grin, pulled out what he’d been looking for.

A dagger, swathed by a glittering baby blue sheath.

Carefully, Patton unwrapped the sheath, bringing the knife up to meet the cords that bound them to a branch. The thick ropes and vines struggled against the blade, but it was sharp enough to slash through them anyway. And so, bit by bit, Patton cut through the net, setting them free. A moment too late, however, he realized that maybe… it would’ve been much wiser to slice through the middle rather than the top.

The rope snapped all at once, and the two of them came tumbling down to the ground with a yelp. His dagger was flung away from them, thank the moon, and Patton just about managed to break his fall, letting his forearms tank the impact. He shook his head as he tried to find his bearings, and then peeled his eyes open. Patton’s breath hitched.

He’d landed right on top of Ro, arms caging the sides of his head and legs straddling his hips.

Ro stared up at him with wide, startled eyes — a deep, molten red you could just sink into. His hair fanned out over the grass below in delicate chestnut waves that didn’t quite reach his shoulders. His lips softly parted, a rose-pink shade that matched the blush that’d crept onto his cheeks.

In a surge of courage, Patton inched forward until there was hardly any distance left between them, and he felt as each rise and fall of Ro’s chest matched his own. Ro tilted his head slightly, and his soft cheek pressed against the dip of Patton’s thumb, his lashes fluttering. Patton’s heart beat so fast it threatened to burst out of his ribcage. He wanted to… he wanted to melt into the safety of Ro’s arms, dive into the sparkling magic of his touch, and let that feeling swaddle him like comforting blankets. He wanted to hold Ro so tightly and close any gap of distance between them. He wanted to kiss him, Patton realized, like they did at the end of love stories.

The thought of it settled so easily in his mind that it should’ve scared him, but… it wasn’t all that surprising, was it? Ro was… wonderful, he was sweet and cute as a button, really, and Patton just wanted to kiss him over and over until it made them both dizzy. His hands trembled. That was it.  Patton had to have lost it, because, in case he’d forgotten, he was a human, not a faerie. He’d always be, no matter what kind of glamour he wore.

And he could dream, he could hope, but deep down in his heart Patton knew that no illusion could last forever.

Swallowing dry, Patton backed away on shaky legs. He averted his eyes as he helped Ro get up. It was as if everything moved in a haze around him, as he gathered up his dagger and his things, and made a hasty goodbye. As he turned to leave, the last thing he saw was Ro, alone in the middle of the glowing path, looking awfully confused and almost... disappointed.

Patton’s heart cramped painfully inside his chest, and he disappeared swiftly into the tree line. 

Oh. Oh, what had he gotten himself into?

—♡—

Patton’s shoulders bowed and ached with exhaustion as he manned his stall in the market, all alone.

He hadn’t yet managed to trade away all the pieces he crafted during the winter, and he attempted to remind himself of that as he absentmindedly drifted back to fidgeting with his thread, time and time again. He should be courting customers, not letting his mind wander. And yet, his eyes hovered over the crate right next to his booth, expecting a passionate and bold display that never came.

Ro hadn’t returned to the market since that other night.

It was for the best. Even if he missed him so terribly it hurt. Patton had let himself get carried away, the past few days had been proof of that. He’d gotten distracted and his mistakes had only piled on. They showed as smudges on the floor and dust on the furniture, and The Faerie hadn’t been nearly as forgiving as she should’ve been this season. He rarely had a minute of free time, every hour not spent on sleep or in the market, he spent on chores.

Setting the spool of blue thread aside, Patton forced his mind back to the task at hand — organizing the wares and attending to patrons, even as his back and knees panged with discomfort. Despite his hangups, it had been a good night for business at the market. The clearing swirled with activity, and he managed to sell a few more pieces. He’d even traded some appliquès for delicate little crystal buttons that’d look just beautiful in a waistcoat! He held onto that high while the minutes ticked by.

As Patton cut into a large square of fabric for a customer, a sudden commotion sparked amidst the market. Hushed whispers traveled in waves around the clearing, but he couldn’t quite catch what the racket was about. Fae gathered in groups around the center of the market square, and his fellow merchants swiveled their heads around to stare. More curious than he’d like to admit, Patton adjusted his glasses and leaned over his stall to see better.

A small entourage of fae circled a makeshift platform, made out of wooden crates much like Patton’s booth. They were all clad in intricate coats of red and gold, with capelets lined by the royal symbol thrown over their shoulders. Gentry nobles, Patton realized, which was very odd indeed. One of them, a faerie who wore a large feathered hat, climbed onto the platform and rang a handbell. Its toll echoed through the whole clearing, and all conversation fell silent at once. Whoever hadn’t noticed their presence before certainly had now. The faerie cleared their throat, unfurling a scroll.

“I hereby announce, on behalf of the King and Queen of Fairyland, and the Ruling Council,” The Town Crier spoke, their voice loud and clear. “That, His Highness, the Rose Prince of Spring, will be throwing a Grand Ball at the Royal Palace in five days’ time. All those who wish to attend and who present an invitation at the gate shall be permitted to enter. Amidst the crowd, the Prince will choose a suitor, who will then join him as his Ruler Consort in the coronation—”

Patton turned back to trimming the cloth, tuning out the announcement as soon as he realized it didn’t concern him. He folded the fabric and handed it to his customer, a tall green-haired nymph, who’d seemed pretty entranced by the news. Patton huffed out a laugh as he returned to his work. A Grand Ball, wasn’t that something? It wasn’t as if it was a rare occasion — at least he thought so, since The Faerie had spoken of attending celebrations of the sort before — but all the fae around him seemed excited at the idea. Maybe it’d be good for him, even! Surely there’d be faeries with suits and gowns that needed to be fixed up for the event, Patton would have to keep an eye out.

Just as he began to sort his buttons and snaps into their rightful places, somebody knocked at the side of his stall. He lifted his head, surprised to find it had been one of the gentry nobles, holding a wicker basket up to their chest.

“Greetings, sir. Would you like an invitation to the Grand Ball?” they asked.

Patton blinked. “…An invitation? For me?”

They leveled him with a look that bordered on annoyance. “Yes, sir. As was stated in the announcement, invitations are being distributed to all who wish to attend. All citizens of the kingdom are allowed to take one.”

“I—,” Patton struggled with his shock momentarily, staring at the gentry in disbelief.

“Seeing as you haven’t yet made up your mind,” they huffed, taking a letter from their basket. “I’ll leave an invitation with you, should you decide not to attend, please give it to someone who will. May your night be joyous.”

And then they were off, leaving a folded parchment envelope in Patton’s hands. Patton smoothed his thumb over the golden wax seal that stamped it, suppressing a smile. He huffed. Would one of his patrons like the invitation, maybe? He couldn’t keep it, certainly, now that’d be ridiculous. Imagine that, little old him attending a ball in the Royal palace?

Why, he hadn’t been to a revel like that since he was a child — he’d have forgotten all the etiquette, by now. Even back then, etiquette had never been his forte. It must've been quite a sight — a boy in a blue suit that still didn’t quite fit him, running from his mother’s arms as soon as they stepped into the dance hall. Marveling at every inch of the ballroom as folks danced and laughed all night long, sneaking bites from the snack table while his father mingled with his business partners. And when his mom would find him, she’d pull him in for a dance, and they’d giggle each time they tripped or stumbled. She’d take him into her arms again and they’d sway to the band’s music, uncaring for propriety as they floated away together. When he and his mom danced, the hardwood floors became clouds beneath their feet.

Of course, there was still the matter of his lack of knowledge when it came to Fairyland outside the borders of the forest. He’d never even got close to the capital, much less the Royal Palace. What would he do if he offended someone without meaning to? What would he do if he got lost? Wander around aimlessly through the palace corridors? Explore, find secrets hidden in the halls, stumble his way into the castle’s well-known, beautiful gardens…

…And don’t even get him started on the gentry! He didn’t know how he’d get through the evening without committing a social faux pas of some sort — just because they wouldn’t know Patton was human, didn’t mean they wouldn’t turn up their noses at him anyway, with the way the Court was. And since this was such an important occasion, surely all the nobles, and their families, would attend. Maybe…

Maybe even… him.

No, no, he shouldn’t be thinking of it. He should be smart about this. He’d let the other go for a reason. And… and the more he thought about it, the more he’d want to change his mind. Would he really risk it all, and for what? A night of fun? A night of… freedom, however brief?

He couldn’t. He… shouldn’t.

Patton bit his lip, locked into a staring contest with the envelope for what felt like an eternity. He sighed, folding it in half and slipping it into his pocket. As he did so, he promised himself that when this was all over, he’d settle down and work and follow through with his plan. He’d be practical. No more risks, no more adventures, not until he was far away from the manor.

But for now, he snatched a little bag full of gems he’d gotten from Ro and marched up to the weaver’s booth, where he knew he could find the finest fabrics and materials in the market.

Patton let himself smile.

If he was really going to the Grand Ball, he’d need a suit.

-

Song of the chapter: Mine by Taylor Swift

[joshriku]

Fic promt:

Cherik art museum encounter. Can be a clandestine 'meeting' (i.e. date) or a tense X-Men/Brotherhood encounter. I want tension and drama and art discussions. 🎨👀

i don't actually know anything about art! but thank you for the prompt! i didn't figure out which verse of cherik this is, so have fun! feel free to send prompts here and i may just fulfill it before sleep lol

-------

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Charles asks. Erik’s eyes have been fixed on every painting they’ve passed, moving at a snail pace. “I had a feeling you’d enjoy it.”

Truth be told, Charles hasn’t paid attention to the paintings so much as he had paid attention to Erik. He’s wheeling next to him, enjoying that his hand holds Charles’ easily, and it’s in the little things, really: the way his fingers twitch every so often, as if he’s trying so hard to not reach out and trace every painting with his fingertips.

“Breathtaking,” Erik replies easily. He turns to Charles with an oddly serene expression. “I am itching to grab a pen and paper. Humble tools, yes, but ah—the urge is there.”

“That inspired, hm?” he smiles at him. Small, a bit sad—Erik’s not going to give in to that urge to draw again. Back then, before everything changed, there used to be sketches that Charles would see. A landscape, a cup, a face of a patient they must have seen one time—what always stuck out the most was seeing Erik draw it. The furrowed brow, the strokes, the patience. He used to be so at ease. “Perhaps one day you could be submitting one of your works here, my friend.”

Ah. Must have been the wrong thing to say. Erik drops his hand, turning to stare at The Floor Scrapers once more. He doesn’t leave like Charles expects him to; simply fixes his eyes on it again.

“I’m afraid the reality I’d paint would not be accepted by this museum,” he smiles, humorlessly. “Even if I were to be inspired, the truth would be rejected by them.”

Charles tries for a smile back. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come, now. There’s a place for all stories to be told in a museum.”

“Not even you believe that.”

“Perhaps so,” he says. “I suppose I just wish you still had that time to do some art, time to just…” 

“Not engage in violent acts?” Erik chuckles, with the humor still taken off. “You can be so transparent sometimes, Charles.”

“It’s—it’s not—” Charles sighs deeply. “I don’t think I want to go down this topic, Erik. I had only wanted to show you around the museum. You used to like art.”

“And I still do,” he answers. “I appreciate the invite. I appreciate being with you, Charles. But look around you—you’ve frozen everyone in place, just for us to be here. Just for us to indulge. Do you truly think this topic can be ignored?”

And yes, perhaps Charles had been a fool for thinking he could pretend nothing was going on for at least forty minutes. Perhaps he had been a fool for pretending he could simply not see the cape, the helmet on his other hand. It’s not naivete, it’s desperation.

“Forgive me for missing you, then,” Charles huffs. “I’m trying to not do that.”

“Not working very well, is it?”

“Neither is it working for you, since you accepted to come here.”

“I never said I wasn’t missing you, Charles,” Erik replies. “I do. Every day. I like to believe that maybe—maybe—one day it’ll be over. And we’d get to do this for longer than forty minutes in a place where everyone is frozen in place.”

“It could be over,” Charles says. “Come with me.”

Erik smiles at him. “May I offer you the same back?”

It always reaches the same point. The one point where they just can’t concede, can’t agree, can’t come to the same conclusion. It shouldn’t break his heart anymore.

Shouldn’t.

Charles grabs his hand again, nonetheless. “Come on, then. We have got around, say, twenty minutes. I would like to see The Narrows at Lake George and have you explain each brush technique in detail, until we have to part.”

“It’s not going to be enough, one day,” Erik replies, but obligingly walking to the painting in question. “You know that. There’s going to be one day where forty minutes every now and then is not going to satisfy either of us.”

“Yes, yes,” he hurries, because he knows. He’s not naive. He’s just starved for him. There’s a difference. “You are wasting precious minutes, Erik.”

And there it is—that one smile that means he is winning this argument, this one time.

[spindle-girl]

Daybreak 1.8

Last one before the interlude!

Glitzglam*New Message*: Then Uncle M came and oh man if a man could shit crocodiles and piss bears Uncle M would have been doing that he was so fucking pissed b/c HE wasn’t told and he knew the story from the funerals right?

maybe Victoria can stay with her uncle? or is the breakthrough stuff going to give her a distraction?

More news articles.  Some capes were taking on roles as icons and iconoclasts for the various movements in the civilian sectors.  Four hero teams led the ‘icon’ groups.  Advance Guard, Foresight, the Shepherds and the Attendant.

how bad is it that the Wardens aren't even listed here? yall need to be involved in this kind of stuff. or are these specifically the independent teams like New Wave? it'd make sense why Victoria is focusing on them if that's the case.

“They are, I took a bite of mine in the car and then ate it before I got here,” he said.  He bent over a box, looking at the notes.  “Man, I wish I still had access to these files and books.  I’d try bribing you if I could do it in good conscience.”

do they not have a photocopy machine? it'd be a better activity for the kids to do than going out and getting their shit kicked in by capes

“Oh wow,” she said.  “Look at you.” I didn’t have words, so I just lifted my arms to either side and let them fall. <...> “You put me down as your emergency contact?” she asked. “Sorry,” I said.  “I- I honestly forgot I did that.  It was more than a year ago.” I’d had to name someone, and I hadn’t named my parents because-

ngl, this got to me a little bit

“There’s an unspoken agreement that the civilians don’t get to know,” she said.

this is actually insane to say, sorry. not wanting to talk about it makes sense, outright saying people are barred from knowing doesn't

Further down the street, a nine or ten year old boy with straight black hair and brown skin looked at Jessica, his eyes widening, then he looked at me.  He raised his hand, extending it toward Jessica as they passed one another. She gave him a high five, then pushed his head, sending him on his way, toward the school.

whomst?

“Not emotionless.  But… smarter about it.  The idea I keep coming back to is I want to be a warrior monk.”

heeeeyyyy. it started this early, huh

“Just the opposite,” she said. “I’m very much a therapist. Ten hour days, six or seven days a week, and other peripheral obligations.

you know i'm starting to think she might not have been the best choice of therapist for a group of kids that constantly want to work and work and work until they die in a fight

End notes:

i'm surprised we haven't seen breakthrough yet, unless that kid Jessica high-fived was one of them. don't know which one though

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: Another Loss (Issue 23)

Moon Knight, Issue 23: Perchance to Scream

You guys, the covers are just going to get better from here on out for a while. I think Bill hit his stride and sweet Khonshu what a stride. 

The hatching. The gradients. The spots. The details in the buildings and windows. The pure white of the cape. The body build and muscles without going full Liefeld on us. I’d frame this and stare at it every chance I could get. LOOK AT IT. 

This is the start of cover designs that FIT Moon Knight. Everyone here on out wishes they could design covers like Bill Sienkiewicz and you will see many people try. It’s the lack of lines in the cape. The cape is just the empty space and still has such definition! 

AND THE LETTERING. 

Anyways… This is part two of the Morpheus saga! 

So we left off with Moon Knight discovering that the mystery figure that has been trying to kill him is Peter (Marlene's brother) who has been somewhat possessed by Morpheus, who has just gotten stronger and broken out of confinement! 

Not gonna lie, Morpheus has always been a weird bad guy. He was very 1980s bad guy feel and probably could have done a lot more or been a bigger part of the original rogues gallery, but I think in the 90s Marvel moved away from a lot of psychedelic and horror type things. They not only didn't know what to do with Moon Knight, but they completely trashed and forgot about his rogue gallery. 

Mackay did reach in and bring back a few of the originals, but he also killed them off. I have mixed feelings about this (Stained Glass Scarlet, Morpheus, and a few others). 

We open the comic with a quote: "I do not believe that I am now dreaming but I cannot prove I am not." - Bertrand Russell. 

Having just killed two hapless janitors, Morpheus celebrates his freedom then sets his sights on Moon Knight. 

We now turn to Moon Knight who has joined up with Marlene and Frenchie as they struggle to keep Peter awake to prevent him from causing any further dream hallucinations. 

They are headed for Grant's summer house in Maine. 

Peter mutters in his delirium about where they are going and Morpheus picks up on it in their psychic dream connection. 

Now, since Moon Knight was the one that discovered Peter, he's personally driving Peter to Grant's mansion... as Moon Knight. 

Peter also doesn't know that Moon Knight is "Steven" so Marlene and them keep up the secret identity thing and call him Moon Knight and act very formal. 

After the last comic where we see Moon Knight break down a bit and declare himself separate from Steven, Marc, and Jake, it's interesting that we see him acting as Moon Knight around the others. 

He even goes so far as to pull Marlene aside: 

"What is it, Steven? Are you--"

"No, it's nothing, Marlene. Just simple precaution. Remember, we don't want your brother to know I'm Grant, so just maintain the formal attitude and keep calling me Moon Knight. That's all." 

"Is it, Steven? You know I wouldn't commit a lapse like that to expose your identity. Are you sure there isn't something else?" 

"No... Well... Maybe I just wanted to see how you're holding up." 

Hmmmm. Doubtful that there was all. 

But he turns the conversation to see how Marlene is doing, what with her brother in such danger. (And I must say that the art here is STUNNING.This whole two part run is just off the wall amazing. 

It wasn’t just Bill flexed his art skills here. Look at the color! Shout out to Christie Scheele, the colorist who did many early Moon Knight issues! 

Back in the main room, Peter has figured out that Morpheus has connected to him telepathically and created a way to bridge the dream world with the waking world. 

They discuss ways they had previously defeated Morpheus and attempt to use it again. Marlene suggests a more mythological approach since Morpheus is named after a mythological being. She brings up Medusa being defeated by a mirror as an example, but is shot down as it being an unlikely help. 

Unable to come up with a strategy, they count themselves lucky that Morpheus is still locked up in the hospital. 

Unfortunately, we all know that he isn't. And we see him slowly sneaking up on the cabin while they talk. 

Marlene mentions she brought a gun with her for protection and Moon Knight tells her to keep it loaded, though he hates the things. 

(A weapon of Marc Spector, not of Moon Knight.) 

As Marlene heads to the kitchen to get some more coffee, Peter falls asleep and Morpheus makes his move. 

Again, shout out to the colorist! Look at that action panel! 

….Echo of your wrench. Moon Knight… This is why you need the others. You’re four guys sharing a brain cell that Steven mostly occupies. 

So... While they....tinker... Morpheus attacks Marlene. He goes to melt her mind and turn her into a zombie like slave when Peter interrupts him. 

He claims to want to touch his master. But when he does, Morpheus finds his powers gone! 

When Peter lets go, Morpheus regains his powers and banishes Peter to wait in the woods. 

Down in the basement where Frenchie and Moon Knight are tinkering, they have worked on the generator to the house in effort to use it against Morpheus. 

In the first encounter with Morpheus Moon Knight was able to defeat him by electrocution. It's a fair bet he thinks he can do this again. 

Dracula does owe him money. 

ANYWAYS. 

Marlene is being controlled by Morpheus now and Marlene produces some matches. She intends to set the whole place ablaze! 

She sets fire to the generator and Moon Knight just barely manages to get everyone out of the way before it blows up. 

Marlene manages to warn them that Morpheus is there. 

They manage to get out of the house but Moon Knight goes back in looking for Peter. 

Back inside, Morpheus is waiting for him. 

Morpheus attacks and Moon Knight uses a bed as a shield...against deadly sleep waves. 

Moon Knight…. What are you doing?

He takes a hit that sends him flying out the window. 

Thankful to be out of the house, he looks over and notices that Peter is waiting for them on the edge of a cliff in a trance. One bad move and he's done for! 

Moon Knight approaches to pull him to safety only to be attacked by Peter and pushed off the cliff and into another nightmare. 

We are treated to some pretty out there hallucinations. 

As Moon Knight falls into a river in real life, he dreams that he's under water with a giant clam that opens up to reveal a black knight on a giant horse. 

Moon Knight defeats the black knight and wakes up only to find he's still under water and drowning! 

He makes it to the surface before blacking out. He's still got to face Morpheus and find Peter. 

"There's strength in numbers, or so I've been told. Got to gather the others together before Morpheus strikes again..." Moon Knight thinks to himself. 

Which is ironic in a way. As we saw in the last issue how much he's afraid of working with Jake, Steven, and Marc. 

Moon Knight finds someone and mistakes them for Morpheus and socks them hard. 

Poor Frenchie. It's always Frenchie. He takes the hit. 

While apologizing, the real Morpheus finds them and attacks. 

Marlene distracts him with her gun while Moon Knight sneaks up behind him. 

He takes a hit and attacks again, sending his nightmare energy blasts after them. 

Splitting up, Moon Knight tells them to hide while he tries to lure Morpheus after him. 

Marlene attempts to hide in the forest but is attacked by one of Morpheus' dream tendrils that spread out looking for victims. 

She falls and spots someone coming towards her. Alarmed, she fires her gun. 

When the figure falls, she finds Peter there in the snow and not Morpheus. 

She runs to him and he tells her it was just his shoulder. In pain and bleeding, he at least has been knocked out of Morpheus' control for the moment. 

Frenchie joins back up with Marlene and she asks which way Moon Knight went. Peter is growing drowsy again and his blood loss is not helping. 

He notes that Moon Knight ran back towards the burning house, but he isn't sure why. 

We see Moon Knight returning from the house with a full length mirror. Hmmmm...

No, he doesn't plan to reflect back Morpheus' power. He plans to use it to create a trap. He uses the reflection to make it look like Peter, Frenchie, and Marlene are hiding in a bunch of trees. 

And it works! Morpheus attacks the mirror and is stunned enough to let Moon Knight jump him from behind. 

Clinging on for dear life, Moon Knight clings to his back where Morpheus can't use his creepy eye power against him while he beats him over the head with his truncheon and also squeezes his wind pipe to knock him out. 

Morpheus is knocked out indeed, but how do they get him back to the hospital before he wakes up? They're out in the middle of no where in the snow in Maine. 

Peter steps in. 

"He's my patient! Robert Markham was my patient before I turned him into a monster! I created morpheus and now I've got to destroy him!" 

Peter recalls that when he touched Morpheus before, it had caused Morpheus to grow weak. 

He lays a hand on Morpheus with intent to end the monster he created. 

"Before anyone can stop him, Dr. Peter Alraune touches Morpheus - and even though it is the same as grasping the bare end of a high-voltage wire... He sustains the touch, through a storm of agony--until the dark power fades from Morpheus' eyes... And all life fades from his own eyes." 

Peter falls to the ground. Morpheus has transformed back to a normal (if not still mutated) man and Peter is dead. 

Again, praise to the art. 

The last two pages of this issue. 

So here is another example of someone close to Moon Knight that loses someone. 

We’ve seen Crawley lose his son, Marlene lose her father and now her brother, and later even poor Gena will lose a son. 

It’s easy to see the guilt build up over the years in Marc’s head about how he feels like he’s the cause. He loses his own brother and then his father dies before they can attempt to heal their broken bond. To Marc, he is poison and it only feeds into his self destructive hatred of himself. 

I really liked these two issues as they do show the vulnerability that is the Moon Knight system. The fear of rejection from the others and the reluctance to accept help from them. A system that doesn’t know how to accept inner help or communicate. This isn’t the first or last time that we see one of them hallucinate or dream about the others wanting to cause them harm or erase them all together. 

It’s so ingrained in them that they need to be normal and that they are ill that they struggle to not see themselves as a problem. 

This is a theme that will build a bit in the early OG issues but won’t really be properly addressed and resolved until Lemire. 

But there are some upcoming issues that I am very excited to get to. We’re going to start to see these boys really get into it. Plus, some absolutely amazing art! 

[sinfulauthorwrites]

Power and Control - A VaaZel Fic

Vaati aims to please his Lady after a month of chastity.

Happy (belated) holidays! This is my Secret Sheikah present for @dumpster-lizard this year! I really hope you like it, and I had a lot of fun writing it! This is also (somewhat) a continuation of Day 25 from this year’s Kintober! The title comes from the song “Power & Control” by MARINA, and this was beta’d by incoherentstuttering_exe!

Rating: Explicit

Ship: VaaZel

Word Count: 1.8k

Applicable Tags: Femdom, Cock & Ball Torture, Chastity Kink, Chastity Device, Fantasy Racism, Microaggressions (it's like one brief sentence and immediately addressed, but tagging it just in case), Clothed Sex, Pillow Humping, Masturbation, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Teasing, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Orgasm Denial, Bratting, Pet Names, Historical References, Pegging

Vaati leaned against the stone surface of Hyrule Castle’s hallway with his arms crossed as he waited outside the wooden doors of the council chamber. The meeting began several hours ago, and his patience was reaching its limit. He puffed his breath at the lilac hair that hung over the right side of his face, causing it to flutter for a moment. In Hylia’s name, this better be over soon, he thought to himself.

Vaati’s wish was granted as the oak doors opened with a creak, and the representatives of the various races of Hyrule filtered out. The last one out was Her Royal Highness Princess Zelda. She turned her head and spotted Vaati, the baby pink skirt of her dress swaying as she went to meet him. “Took you long enough,” he sighed. “I’d think that discussing the trade route between Zora’s Domain and Death Mountain wouldn’t take all day. Though, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Gorons couldn’t get such a concept through the heads that are as dense as the rocks they eat.”

Zelda lightly slapped Vaati’s arm with the back of her hand. “Really? I thought you’d know better than to say things like that! Let me assure you that the Gorons are noble and intelligent people.” The auburn-haired princess walked past Vaati, turning her head to look at him. “Not everyone is an all-knowing mage like you assert yourself to be.” She smirked and made her way down the hall.

“Excuse me?! You were the one who appointed me in the first place!” Vaati chased after her, his indigo cape trailing behind him with each step. Zelda stopped in front of the door of her personal chamber, and the mage quickly wormed his way in between them. “I will not allow you to degrade me or my work, Princess. I am aware of my own power, and so are you.”

Zelda tilted the disguised Minish’s chin up, looking down at him with mirth. “I’m surprised you’ve been this bold today, Vaati. It seems you’ve forgotten the date.” The redhead paused as the gears in Vaati’s head turned, resulting in a look of horror and shame from the mage. She lowered her voice, her eyes darkening. “However, if you wish to remain… confined, I wouldn’t deny you.”

“N-no, my Lady.” Vaati sputtered. “My apologies for talking back.”

“Good boy~” The princess teased, taking out a keyring from a hidden pocket of her dress and unlocking the door behind Vaati. She stepped forward, forcing him into the room before locking the door behind herself. “Now, present yourself to me.” Zelda sat in the carved mahogany chair across from where Vaati stood, cushioned by a blue and gold brocade pillow. She gestured her hand down from the mage’s head, motioning for him. Vaati lowered his scarlet breeches to the floor, his pale skin turning almost as red as the fabric they’re made of. 

He lifted his tunic, showing the contraption that restricted his cock for the past month. Gold-plated metal covered the shaft and glans of Vaati’s length, with a ring constricting his large testicles underneath his member. The golden metal joined red leather up to his waist, forming a belt that reached around his waist and down his ass, with a removable golden plug completing the chastity belt. Zelda beckoned Vaati with her finger, and he looked at the ground as he stepped near. “Have you kept your cage on all month like a good boy?”

“Yes, my Lady,” Vaati replied, his blush deepening as Zelda inspected the belt, fondling his balls and cheeks as she did so. He squirmed at her touch, his body and soul bared.

“Hmm, it doesn’t seem to have been meddled with at all. But that doesn’t mean that someone of your magical prowess would be unable to make it seem so.” The princess looked up at Vaati and smirked, slapping his balls before sitting up straight. “I want you to get off for me. Prove that you’re desperate enough.” 

She took the keyring out of her pocket once more, picking a golden key adorned with a red stone. Zelda used it to undo the lock holding the belt together, sliding it down his legs. Vaati’s pale cock sprung free, the tip flushed red and dripping after a month of confinement. “B-but my Lady, I-”

“Do it, or else it’s another month. You want to be my good boy, don’t you?” Zelda taunted Vaati, tracing her finger along his shaft at the latter part of her order.

“Yes, my Lady.” Vaati bowed his head and turned to find a spot to toss off on comfortably, but Zelda stopped him before he could take his cape off. She pulled him by the collar of it, choking the air out of him.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the missing pairs of panties and bras from my wardrobe,” Zelda hissed into Vaati’s ear. “I know about your perverted fantasies, and I think it’s about time I addressed them.”

“Ze- my Lady, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” Vaati tried to free himself, but the redhead’s grasp was firm.

“Oh, I think not, Vaati.” She said his name as if it were laced with venom. “That’s why I have an extra order.” She dragged him over to her bed, grabbed one of the pillows leaning against the headboard, and shoved it into his hands. “Use this as your grinding fodder. Fitting of a desperate little whelp like you.”

Vaati looked down at the pillow and back up at Zelda. “Are… are you bloody serious? There is no way I will degrade myself to such a level! To assume I would is absolutely ridiculous!” The mage finally freed himself from her hold, glaring at her as he threw the pillow down.

Zelda sternly looked at him, tilting his chin up and looking deeply into his crimson eyes. “If you disagree, we can make it two months more. I think that’s a fair trade if you wish to be an impudent brat.” She took the keyring out again, holding it in front of his face, that golden key shining in the rays of the setting sun that filtered through the windows. “What will it be, Vaati?”

Vaati’s mind raced with the options he was presented with. Another two months of agonizing chastity or complete humiliation at the hands of his Lady? Who knows what gossip she spreads when I’m not around? This could be the absolute end of my career! On the other hand, despite my form, I can’t deny the urge of mating season approaching. I don’t know if I could survive it within that cage and not lose my sanity…

Vaati deeply considered for another moment before bowing his head in subservience and picking up the discarded pillow. “I’ll obey, my Lady.”

Zelda smirked, putting the keys back in her pocket and sitting on her bed. “Good boy. Now, up onto the bench.” She gestured to a bench under a stained glass window depicting a Piece of Heart surrounded by Fairies. The light through the glass painted him in an aura of blue as he took his position, kneeling shamefully on the stiff wood as he placed the pillow underneath his aching cock. 

He planted his palms against the stone wall, slowly rutting into the plush material. “Ah, fuck~” Vaati bit his lip, thrusting faster to match his want. His long hair fell around his face as he dipped his head and squeezed his eyes shut, solely focused on the pleasure. He whimpered louder, the blush that formed turning his pale skin deeper in hue. “My lady, please-” He loudly whined, begging for her forgiveness.

The sunset had morphed the tones of the window into a blazing red, matching the center of the Piece of Heart it featured and showering Vaati in lustful hues. His grinding only strengthened, desperate for his release as his body quivered and trembled. “My lady, I’m close-! Please let me come, please!”

“No,” Zelda ordered, pulling Vaati away from the pillow. He cried out, desperate for his orgasm. “Don’t whine like that. I want to be the one to finish you off.” She thrust him onto the bed, rooting through her grand nightstand as he lay exposed. She retrieved a leather strap-on. The belt of it was steel blue, while the accenting straps were a light mauve. She took a phallus made of ivory and placed it inside the ring of the strap. She hiked her skirt and crinoline, putting it on over her undergarments.

“I suppose I should prepare you properly,” Zelda mused. She took a bottle of oil and coated her fingers with the liquid inside before thrusting her fingers into Vaati’s hole. She scissored them inside him while he squirmed and whined, widening him appropriately for her strap.

“My lady, please!” Vaati begged, the sensation too much for him to handle.

Zelda retracted her fingers, causing him to whimper. “I think that’s good enough. Are you ready for my cock now?” Vaati nodded fervently, desperate for his release. “Good boy.” She thrust into Vaati’s ass, causing the mage to arch his back and moan.

“Fuck~!” Vaati moaned even louder as Zelda thrust into him faster and held onto his hips to keep him steady. “Dear Hylia, keep going~!” Vaati babbled and whimpered, the pleasure too much for him to handle after a month of chastity. Soon enough, tears began to stream down his blushing cheeks, unable to control the pleasure.

“Is my good boy too sensitive to take my cock?” Zelda teased. “I thought you’d have enough control over yourself. We can stop if you’d prefer that~”

“No! Keep going, please,” Vaati pleaded, his eyes glazed over with lust. He was so close again, desperate to please his lady and himself.

“Good boy,” Zelda emphasized her praise with a light slap to Vaati’s sizeable balls, causing him to moan out more. “Are you close?”

“Y-yes, my Lady!” Vaati panted, so close to the point of no return.

“Then cum.” Zelda ordered, thrusting into him at a breakneck pace. She gripped his hips, pounding his prostate.

The pleasure was too much, and Vaati keened as he climaxed. “Z-Zeldaaaa!” He arched his back as his seed mottled his tunic and cape. The princess slowed her pace, letting him ride out his orgasm.

Zelda pulled out and gently caressed Vaati’s face, smiling fondly at him. “You did such a good job,” she praised, but she receded when Vaati reached to kiss her hand. “Don’t think you’ve earned that much yet.” She retrieved the keys from her pocket once more and dangled them. “Maybe in a month if you prove yourself to me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Liked this and want more? Check out my AO3 here!

[letmeexplaineverything]

        It was late. Most of the Dream Kingdom was fast asleep, and the full moon was shining bright... But evidently, at least two people were still awake.

        Magolor had been inside his cart, hard at work planning, when he heard the sounds- the faint melody of a mournful song, just outside. Despite his best efforts, he knew he wouldn't be able to focus like that. With a groan, he resigned himself to floating out the door and past the counter to see who else could be up at such an hour. And there was Taranza, sitting on top of the cart and singing to himself. He sighed and shook his head. Of course he was up there again.

        He poked his head up to the Shoppe’s roof. “Dude, you know if I take this thing with me, you’re going to have to find a new perch, right?”

        Taranza jumped. “What are you doing up at such an hour?!”

        “I was working on travel plans.” Magolor went to sit next to him. “What are you doing up at such an hour?” He smiled mockingly.

        “That’s none of your business,” he hissed, almost reflexively, before averting his gaze- a difficult task for someone with so many eyes.

        Magolor rolled his own two eyes. “Well, can I at least ask what you were singing?”

        Taranza didn’t turn back to face him, but his golden eyes strayed onto him. “The Blossom’s Memorial. It’s a old Floralian folksong,” he muttered. “It’s about loss, as framed through the withering of a flower. I didn’t think anyone else was awake, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

        “Ah. That sounds... poetic.” He leaned back, gazing up at the night sky. The full moon’s light made it hard to see the stars that he’d grown to find comfort in. “Kind of ironic, if you ask me.”

        “Pardon?”

        “It is ironic, isn’t it?” He cocked an ear. “Describing loss in such a pretty way, when it’s rough, messy, and leaves you wishing you'd done something more, that you’d told them just how much they meant to you...”

        He caught a glimpse of Taranza’s horns twitching in the corner of his eye. “How uncharacteristically sensitive of you,” he cooed.

        “Hey, I've been through plenty,” Magolor objected, “I just don’t like to mope. There’s plenty of other things for me to do, y’know?”

        Taranza stared at him with half-lidded eyes- his white ones, at least. The rest were as open as ever. “Isn’t that unhealthy?”

        “Hm?”

        “Not letting yourself rest a bit so you can feel, and just working through the pain?”

        Magolor’s ears pinned back. “I’m just trying to make things better for myself instead of blindly grieving.”

        He didn’t look convinced. “You yourself said you were working on travel plans. How is running away from here going to bring back what you lost?”

        He clenched the end of his cape. He wanted so badly to snap at him, but he knew that would only make matters worse. “... You won’t blab to anyone, will you?”

        “Maybe I should, but no.” Taranza held out one of his many hands. “I swear on it.”

        Magolor hesitated. The two of them weren’t especially close... But then again, Taranza was no gossip, being rather closed off from the townspeople. It’s not as though he was in any place to badmouth him about this, anyhow.

        Taking a deep breath, he shook his hand. “As I’m sure you know, I’m a traveler from a very distant land- one you won’t find on any maps. But I didn’t come here by choice.”

        Taranza tilted his head. “Were you seeking refuge?”

        “Not exactly.” He leaned his cheek on one hand. “I made some mistakes, and that got me ripped away from my family. I’d call it banishment if it wasn’t likely everyone thinks I'm dead...”

        “I must say, I never took you for a family man.”

        “I wouldn’t say I am one.” Magolor shook his head. “It was just me and my little girl for the longest time.” His gaze dropped down to his hands. “And now, it’s just me.”

        “... I'm sorry to hear that.” Taranza placed two of his hands on his back. Magolor tensed, open hands balling into fists. His eyes were beginning to burn.

        “I don't need any pity.” He rubbed an eye. “I’m going to get back to her. I just need to retrace my steps, so to speak...”

        He removed his hands from Magolor’s back, letting out a short hum. “Well. I wish you luck, then.”

[datninjalyfe]

Kingdoms at War, Chapter 8: One-For-All

Chapter 8—One-for-All

SHINSOU

**Three Years Ago, After the Nezu Festival**

**In Talia, at the Aizawa Mansion in the Countryside**

I look down to see the Erian Crest looking back up at me.  

And then at the Prince, who’s anxiously awaiting a response from me.  “Your Grace…” I begin and fell onto my knees.  My stomach churned. “I-I don’t know what to say—,” 

“Why don’t you just start at the beginning?” he cocked his head, the golden crown of the Prince not moving as he did so.  

That crown was more than a symbol of peace here in Talia.  It represented to Talia who was going to be the next ruler of Talia, but of all the Kingdoms in the world.  It had been passed down from leader to leader since Talia herself.  When Queen Nana passed it to her successor, Yagi of the House of Toshinori, and not her son, there was an unusual shift in the court.  King Toshinori could have passed that mark down to anyone and with the amount of wealth the Todoroki family had, it should have been passed down to one of Lord Todoroki’s children.  But the King still passed it down to his son, the Prince.  The Marking of the Crown, a traditional sort of ceremony where the Golden Crown is given from Leader to Successor, was given to Prince Midoriya instead of any one of the Todoroki children.  This did not please Lord Todoroki, despite all the donations their father gave to Talia and the amount of effort he made in the war.

I hate him, I think.  I’m glad his children will never reign this kingdom.

Still, I looked at that crown and its golden sheen threaded through the prince’s hair.  He’s beautiful in this moment and it was hard to deny it.  The Prince was regal with his bright blue Talian uniform, the equally bright red cape—not like the deep burgundy one I wore to Eri.  The crown was what forced me to my knees.  He held all the power in that moment.  

When I said nothing, the Prince shook his head.  “I’m just a little confused.” he said.  “As to why one of my Generals, someone I handpicked myself, is wearing an Erian soldiers uniform.  Please, start at the beginning and we’ll go from there.”

“To Lord Todoroki, you mean?” I said, but quickly stopped.  The golden crown that sat atop his head glimmered to me and I could do nothing but look away from it.  

“I don’t know.  You haven’t told me anything.” 

No.  The voice in my head echoed.  I heard them, swarming me, enveloping around me like the voice of a thousand Gods.  I will use this gift, this power, everything the Lantern King gave me until the day I fucking die.  “What could I possibly say that would ensure my safety?”  He remained quiet, however.  Not even moving as those continued to yell at him, Fucking say something!  He remained quiet.  Quiet long enough for the voices to stop.  “I will not go back to Todoroki’s prison.  Not now, not ever.  You will answer my questions if I have to—,” 

“Lord Shinsou,” he raised a hand, silencing me immediately.  “You will also answer my questions first and if I am satisfied, then I will answer your questions.  Do you understand?” 

I did.  He’d forget everything if he knew what happened.  He gave his permission to let me force him to forget.

“Shinsou!” a voice came over my shoulder.  Aizawa was running quickly, wrapping his scarf around his neck.  “Your Grace, please, if you’ll let us explain—,”  

“Ah,” the Prince said, smiling as Aizawa kneeled in front of him, next to me.  “And the Heir Aizawa knows too, I assume?” he rubbed his brow, wiping sweat as he stepped into the sunlight.  

“Would you like to go inside, Your Grace?  You are more than welcome to—,” 

“I’d like to stay out here.”

We both just nod.  “As you wish, Your Grace.”

“Excellent.  Now Shinsou, this will be the last time I ask.  Start.  From.” His eyes narrowed down on me, the crown now fully facing me, wreathed through the Prince’s hair.  “The beginning.”

“I fell in love, Your Grace.” I told them both.  “With an Erian soldier.  I just got back from a festival that was held on your birthday in Nezu.”

He didn’t tear his eyes away from me, nor I from him.  “How did you meet?”

I told him.  I told him about the river, the few nights we shared since then and about the festival trip that was cut short by Aizawa’s letter.  I told him the couple things I’d learned, about Commander Jirou being in the forest to gain trust by the Erian court because of her father that remained here.  I also shared the little information of the Dragon King and about their forces being able to mobilize quickly.  I said it all to the Prince, tears streaming down my face.  

He stood there, unmoving, his arms crossed over the Talian crest.  The bright cape ebbed and flowed with the wind, as did his dark green hair.  “And what have you shared about Talia with this soldier?”

“About my family’s death.  About me becoming a young Lord and—,” I swallowed.  “He thought I was still under Todoroki, but I told him that I felt more comfortable being with Aizawa.”

“Is that all?” 

I know that question.  I’d heard it less than three days ago from Denki.  “Our time was limited.  Aizawa isn’t the type to pull me away without it being important and I left a couple hours after I received the letter.” 

“Is that the only thing you told him?”

“He—I implied how much I despise Todoroki, but I didn’t tell him what exactly took place.” It was hard for me to relay that information to even Aizawa.

“Very well.” the Prince said, exhaling deeply.  “I’m placing all my trust in what you’re telling me, Lord Shinsou.  And,” he sighed heavily, his shoulders dropping.  “I will permit Shinsou to ask his questions.” 

Aizawa stared at him.  “Your Grace, are you sure?” 

“Yes.  I didn’t hear anything too incriminating.  We’ve guessed at most of the things that Shinsou has said and I have no doubt you can give the others some of the information about Lord Jirou’s child at the next war meeting.  You can say you saw her and she escaped. Besides,” the Prince smiled.  “I think I wouldn’t mind being brainwashed for a few hours.  To take my mind off the war, as Shinsou claims this soldier does for him.” 

I stood up, narrowing my gaze at the Prince.  

And voices began once again, echoing around in my head.  “Your Grace, Prince Midoriya, are you sure this is what you want?” 

“Yes.” There was no hesitation.  I quickly reached into his mind, into the very depths of him, but I was met by a wall.  An entire wall, completely impenetrable in his mind, unrelenting to the voices I placed in his head.  I tried again and again, but the more I rammed into the barrier, the harder it became.  It pushed and pushed until I was completely broken and shoved the echoes of the voices back into my own mind.  

It was the first time I’d ever heard my ability and it made me delirious for a moment.  A flicker of a memory passed into me and I screamed, calling out to my mother and was met by two strong arms to keep my from falling against the ground.

When my eyes opened, Aizawa’s confused face looked down at me.  I was equally confused, but then grew angry until I saw his eyes were the same brown, his hair waved down past his shoulders.  It wasn’t him who stopped me?  I stared back at the Prince.  “Your Grace.” I breathed.  I’d always been able to reach into someone, control them like little puppets.  I’d been used, rummaged, manipulated by the Talian court for this ability.  But the Prince had not been affected and threw my own gift back at me.  Within his mind, I was met by something hard, rigid, impassable.  

The first person I’d ever met to not yield to my power from the Lantern King. 

“My ability.” was all the Prince said.  “is far greater than yours, it would seem.”  He took a few steps forward, clapping a hand to my shoulder as he passed.  “I won’t tell anyone about this.  You have my word.”  I turned to face him, but he didn’t look back as he said, “You’re still needed at the castle, Shinsou.  Change out of that clothing.  Burn it, bury it, I don’t care.  But you’re my friend, so I’ll give you this warning: not all powers come from the Lantern King.”

Out of complete fear, I bowed.  I waited until the Prince was out of my line of sight, until I could no longer see the gold shine in his crown before looking to Aizawa.  His face was full of fear like a father who could do little to protect his child.  

“Is that true?  Are there people who have powers that aren’t Children of the Lantern King?” 

He nodded.  

“And the Prince?  He’s one of them?” 

Another nod.

“How many others are like him?”

“So far, the only two families I’ve met,” Aizawa said.  “are the Prince and the Todoroki family.”

KATSUKI

*Present Day*

“Kacchan!” Deku says, getting up from his seat.  He pointed to an article from one of the several Erian papers that are laid out before him.  He’s taken a liking to reading several, but has come to realize that the knowledge I have is more extensive.  “Is this true?  Has Todoroki banked south?”

I shake my head.  “Not that I’ve heard.  Which paper are you reading?”  He shows me the cover and I bark out a laugh.  “No, no.  That paper’s full of shit.  They’ll write anything if it brings in more readers.”

“But this one said the same—,” he scrambles around, picks up another paper, but then looks between the two.  “—shit, nevermind.  It’s the same writer.” He pauses, but then crinkles the paper before sitting back down, sipping his tea.  “It definitely draws the attention of the reader, though.  In Talia, we outlaw such things.” 

“Writing?” I tease.

He crinkles his nose at me.  “No, but journalists aren’t allowed to write about things that are untrue.”  

It’s not a bad law to have, but it definitely limits what the journalists can write about.  I also like hearing the opinions of the people in my Kingdom, especially when it comes to the war.  

“Oh, I almost forgot!”  He stirs his tea gently and places the spoon facing down on the plate under the cup.  It clinks perfectly, barely making a sound.  “I have another question you should be asking.”

“And what question is that?” He has my undivided attention.  

“What Talia is planning after they—,” he clears his throat.  “Dethrone you?  Like what they might be planning for the Heir Aizawa.” 

I hiss hearing that name.  

Here in Eri, they call him the “False King”.  Talia calls Aizawa the “True Heir” and even now, there are rumors floating that he will one day take the throne.  Like Shinsou, Aizawa had switched as well, but now he fights for Talia.  It was many years ago, before I was born.  Still, hearing Deku call him “Heir Aizawa” angered me.  I try to control the heat in my body, but I can feel it rising.  Strategically, if Talia manages to overtake the Capitol and kill me, it makes sense to place Aizawa on the throne of Eri.  

Before my mother took the throne, she’d slaughtered all of them after the Aizawa family had made poor judgement call after poor judgement call.  It’d happened again and again.  When Queen Nana didn’t give her son the throne and gave it to King Toshinori, my mother followed suit, but decided to take things into her own hands.  In a single night, she slaughtered the Aizawa Family and almost brought a civil war into Eri.  Ultimately, her entire section of the army backed her, which led to her reign on the throne. After her death, I remember the members of her own High Court whispering to bring one boy, Shouta Aizawa, almost 25 at the time, back to the throne.

If Talia was to get their wish, they would surely bring their “Heir” back to the Erian throne under King Toshinori.  

It is truly his after all… 

“NO!” I yell and the sweat in my palm ignites.  Deku grabs my hands and balls them into a fist, wincing through the pain of a tiny explosion that released from me.  “I know what they plan to do if I am to die.  My own court has even thought of it.”

“When would they have discussed something like that?” he whispers.  I’m feel the words as his lips move brush my fingers.  I live for the moments like this, especially when we know we’re completely alone.  I used to hate it because nothing came of them, but now I love them, cherish these small moments we get together.  I love the feeling when his pink lips graze my hand so soft like a ghost whispering through the night.  My heart skips before thumping loudly and I hope he can hear it too.  He raises my hand and quietly, gently kisses the fingers of my closed fist.  

“After my mother’s death.  Some wanted to kill me and ask for Aizawan leadership again, as my mother was the one who really betrayed the throne.” 

“How did you live?” 

It was an outburst.  Upon hearing them discuss how they would kill me— “Give him over to Talia!”, “Leave him to the monsters in Grice!”, “Cut off his head and be done with it!”—I screamed.  I’d just watched my parents scorched to death in hot blue flames, flames that I had survived and they still meant to kill me?  I screamed for those I’d lost, for the family that I’d never see again.  

For the promise these people, my so-called “allies”, were going to take away from me.

I screamed so loud, it moved the ground, shattering everything around us.  An explosion of anger and fear, of resentment and loathing, surged out of me.  The ones around me were engulfed and left only as smoke.  The others, some with the gifts of the Lantern King and some without, were killed and the only ones left were those who remained loyal to my family.  To me.

Since that moment, I’ve been nicknamed the Dragon King.  “I just showed them my loyalty to the Eri my mother created.”

“I’m sorry, Kacchan,” he apologizes again, whispering into my knuckles.  “I shouldn’t have brought it up.  I just thought you should know.  I would want to know.”  The words are light, like whisps of clouds, matching the tone of his face.  He’s trying to calm me from the sudden anger moments ago without knowing it left as quickly as it came.  I don’t tell him as his lips continue to explore the back of my hand.  He sinks to one knee and I open my palm that has been neglected.

I cannot take another moment with my hands not touching him.  I take a step closer to him and his eyes gaze up at me.  I run my hand through the thick curls of his hair, squeezing them to arch his back even more.

“Oh.” His eyes shoot open and his hands cover his mouth.  He turns his eyes away from me and I smile internally when his cheeks are flushed with a bright, rose color.  I gesture for him to get up and rises to his feet, still averting my gaze that’s fixed on him.

I begin to unbutton his jacket slowly, working each of them through the fabric of the coat.  When I finish, I lick my lips, knowing what lies beneath the shirt underneath.  I gently peel the jacket off his shoulders, which are broader than I had thought.  

Not as broad as mine, I reassured myself, but he helps me to pull it off.  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his chest, but I keep my eyes away from his pants.

“Do you want my shirt too?” he begins to lift the shirt, his pale skin revealing freckles down his stomach and beyond.  

Yes!  I want to be the one to warm you.  But I swallowed back my desperation, only managing to say the word, “Not unless you want to give it to me.” I wrap the jacket around my body, his soft scent lingering in the fur of the hood.  

“Kacchan.” his voice warns.

He still shakes his head?  I release a breath of frustration, but compose myself.  He wants it.  I know he wants it.  Why does he deny it?  

I can’t think about it any longer.  If he wants to take it farther, he’ll tell me.  “Okay.” I say to him, trying to keep my mind from wandering too far.  “Let’s talk about Talia.”

We do, sitting back down.  He talks of things I mostly know: that Lord Todoroki and Lord Aizawa are in command of two sectors of the main army.  There are several Lords and Ladies that are underneath of them as well, in charge of their own segments of the armies, but they always answer to Todoroki or Aizawa.  The youngest Todoroki son, the Dragon Tamer—fuck, I hate that name—answers to Aizawa, though, I find that odd.  He continues on, though and I make a note to question it later.

“If multiple people are in charge of multiple segments of the military,” he says.  “Then it becomes harder to predict their movements.” 

It’s true, though we have a bit of a different system that was set up by my mother.  At the top is the King; underneath that is the Generals, the High Lordship; and underneath them are the Commanders who are in charge of their large groups of soldiers.  Any issues within the military are brought up through the chain.  It’s efficient enough for us, but with multiple people in charge of multiple different segments at different times then things become more unpredictable for the enemy.

I was quiet for too long.  “Kacchan?” I hear him say, almost a whisper.  He shivers and I get up, handing him back his jacket.  He smiles when he puts it on.  

That fucking smile.  I can no longer stop myself.  I fucking—I can’t hold it any more—I look around the room and pound at the door.  A guard comes in.  “Bring him back to the room.” 

I don’t look at his face, but he calls to me again: “Kacchan!” 

I walk away, as fast as my feet will let me.  I don’t hear what the guards tell him, but I get myself inside an empty room, slamming the door shut.  Everything in my body feels hot.  I can’t slow down my breathing.  The warmth of my breaths puff out like fogs of smoke from a chimney.  I lean my forehead against the cold door, ripping open my shirt, hoping that the cold of winter will brush against my skin, but it only makes my chest hum violently at the sound of ripping clothes.  Sweat drips from every ounce of porous skin, saliva from my tongue onto the floor beneath me.  

I can bare it no longer.

I pull at the strings of my leather pants and squeeze my dick, only thinking of Deku’s flushed cheeks, so red it hides a few of his freckles inked on his skin.  I think of what it would feel like to thrust myself into his throat, the wet sopping noises it would make, the feel of Deku as he sucked from base to tip and back down again for more.  

“Deku…” I hear myself growl, spitting into my hand to massage myself and think of nothing but him beneath me, touching me, moaning loudly for more.  My body spins around and curve my back against the door, my head flying back.  I want him.  I want him so badly, the pain heats my entire body.  I can barely hear the hums of my chest over my own fantasies of Deku’s loud cries, his begging mixed with my own cruel, ruthless desire of dreamlike euphoria existing only in this moment.  I close my eyes, my arm moving faster, my hand squeezing harder, but harder was my want for Deku to be here with me.  “Kacchan…” he’d say.  “Please…” he’d moan.  “Fuck me…” he’d beg.  And I’d be obliged to it all.  

“I live for you and only you.” I say, unable to tell if it’s aloud or from deep within.  My knees nearly buckle when I feel the orgasm spill out of me, my legs still shaking and finally, my legs give out entirely and I sink to the floor, my breath still uneasy.  I wait for the humming in my chest to rest and when it finally does, I open my eyes and reality sets back in.  

I look at the empty room before me, the wind howling outside the shut windows.  Finally, I take a deep breath in, but I don’t move.  

For the first time in my life, I thought of something other than the war.  For those long minutes that past, I thought of Deku and only Deku.  Not as the Prince of my enemy—I hadn’t even thought of Talia at all.  No.  Only Deku. 

I don’t want to move.  Can’t move.  Not away from him.  

--- 

“Sire!” the two guards snap to attention as I stand before my door to the bedroom.  I inhale a deep breath before opening the door.  

It’s dark in the room.  The fire has fainted a little.  I scan the bed to see Deku in it, on the other side this time, where I had slept the night before.  The warmest part of the bed.  I take my shirt off—a different set of clothes than the ones I’d worn previously.  I’d asked a few of the servants to bring me a new set and throw those out, a little embarrassed.  

I move quietly over to the bed and lift the covers that he’s buried himself underneath.  But as quiet as I thought I was, I hear his small voice float over to my ears. 

“Kacchan?” 

I roll over to face him.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You really didn’t.  I was falling asleep, but not quite there.” he stretches before tucking himself back underneath the blankets.  

“You don’t get hot?  Underneath all of that?” 

He chuckles and shakes his head.  “No.  Though I didn’t anticipate how cold Eri would be in the winters.  It’s south of Grice, but still feels colder for some reason.” He ponders for a moment before saying, “When you aren’t here.” 

I’m quiet, but I watch his eyes slowly close.  I watch his face relax.  And just before he falls asleep, I ask, “Would you like me to hold you?”

His eyes snap open and stare into mine.  He’s quiet, too, but I let him take this moment to think.  “Kacchan.” he says, as though he’s scolding me.  

“Deku,” I want to explain to him.  I want him to know everything.  That I do want him.  Every piece of him.  “I just want you to stay warm though the night.”

Another moment of silence, but it burns.  I don’t move my face.  I don’t give him any indication I want anything else.  “Just holding?” 

“Just holding.”  I promise him.  “I hate sleeping underneath seven blankets.  I feel like I’m going to drown in my own sweat.  But you still shiver.” 

“Okay, Kacchan.” he lifts the blankets and we inch towards each other.  He pulls his arms in and I hug him to my chest, but he lifts his head. 

“What’s—what’s that?” he asks.

“What’s what?” 

“That sound?” 

It takes me a moment to realize.  “It’s a part of my gift from the Lantern King.” I tell him.  “My ability hums.  I’m surprised you haven’t heard it before.” 

He leans back against me.  “It’s beautiful.  Like a song.” 

My body sings for him and lulls him to sleep like a lullaby.

--- 

After almost a month of waiting, I receive a letter from Commander Jirou during a war meeting.  It’s marked with her seal and our code is written in the letter.  Finally!  I tear it open and I hold my breath while scan it, but I only read the first line before leaving the room: Everything the Prince told us was true.    

“Majesty?” Mina asks me, but I’m already running out of the War Meeting.  

He didn’t lie to me.  I knew he wouldn’t.  

I burst open the door to my room, the guards all gripping their weapons, but stop and bow when they immediately see me.  “Leave us!  No one is to enter this room!”  They did as they were instructed, saying, “Sire.” to me before rushing out of my chamber.  

He stands up from one of the chairs, marking his page in the book he was reading.  “Your Highness.” he bows playfully. 

“Deku.” I whisper and before I could think about it, pull him into me, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.  He gasps, but then I feel cheek resting upon my chest, his own arms wrapping tightly around my waist.  We hold each other, our breathing becoming synchronized before I finally pull away.  

“What was that for, Kacchan?” he says, smiling through watery eyes.  A tear falls from one of his eyes and I brush it away from my thumb.

“A wish that I asked for came true.” 

His face contoured in confusion.  “A wish?” 

“Yes, Deku.” my thumb is still brushing along his cold cheek.  I will warm you.  “Will you tell me again?  That you’ll stay by side until the war ends?” 

My thumb runs across his chapped lips that form a smile.  “Kacchan, I plan on staying with you long after that.” 

IZUKU

I crinkled the letter against my chest, hugging it close.  I knew the information would be accurate, but I didn’t know how much I could trust Commander Jirou.  This letter is proof that people want the war to end.  It’s proof that people, even in New Eri, want the suffering to be over.  

Tears fall from my eyes and I wipe them away.  Even before my capture, my sole mission was to speak to the Dragon King about ending the war.  But now—

I’ve completely fallen for him.  

He’s next to me.  It happens so fast, I don’t have a moment to react when he grabs my wrists and pulls me in close, wrapping my arms around his waist before he wraps his own around my neck.  He cradles me so closely I can feel his breath, so warm and smells of sweet candies. Impulsively, I lean a cheek into his chest, listening to the rhythmic sounds of his ability.  Our lips grow closer together, each second is far too long.  But when nothing happens, I feel a little annoyed, but rest my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes to enjoy this moment.

I decide to tell him.  Against my father’s wishes to not tell a soul, I decide that he has a right to know everything about Talia.  Including their Prince.  In that moment, I decide it’s the right time.  “I have another question for you to ask.” 

“Oh?” he says, his hands brushing against a few locks on my head. 

“If I wanted to leave, I could have done it long ago.” 

He pulls away and looks down at me.  “What do you mean?  Kirishima captured you.”

“He captured me, yes.  But at any given point, I could have left.  I’d like you to ask me about it.”

He sits down in one of the chairs.  “Is it your gift from the Lantern King?  Shinsou told me he can’t use his against you, but Kirishima thought it was more strength than anything else.”

I tell him outright.  “I think it’s time you learned about One-for-All.” 

(all)(previous)

[truckreincarnation]

I’d Much Rather Play the Idiot | Manami | 4.1 | RE: Esmée, Germain

Manami can’t bring herself to look at anyone around her right now. To either side of her, a fallen friend and runaway lover. Directly across, a swathe of empty space where people should have been. To Shin, now in the same boat as her, the same boat as Vee, flanked by death. Two more people she knew he was close to dead. She thinks if she looks at him even a second longer her heart will break even more than it already has right now. The same goes for so many people here, all suffering from these losses. There is exactly one person she thinks she can focus in the direction without shattering her quiet resolve out of sheer despair, and so her eyes settle on him. 

King Calum Calac-Lamity IV will have to do. He’s here for a bit of entertainment, and she will do her best to avoid boring him. She has to, not only out of fear but for the need of a part to play, something just to the left of herself to latch onto. She bows her head to him in polite acknowledgment.

“You, um, you grace us with your presence, Your Majesty.” 

Flattery wasn’t exactly going to earn them any favours, but it sure beat provoking the guy who had not even threatened but promised to ruin their lives into ruining them a little faster. At least his cape in particular gave her somewhere to look that wasn’t too terribly upsetting. Ah, but worrying too much about the smug bastard wouldn’t be very productive. She has to focus on Frank and Luz Victim A and Victim B. There are other persons of interest who will no doubt shed some light on the situation. She’ll let them speak when they’re ready. She figures she should probably share her piece for now, too.

“... I, I was alone for most of the night, admittedly, but I promise I stayed in the tree the whole time. Doing what I could to, um… to keep myself, you know, from laughing or smiling. It's easier by myself. I went for a late walk around the first floor a little bit after 9 just to stretch my legs. I saw Avery and Meme, just like she said. I did see Theophania really briefly at around 9:30, in, um, in the East hallway, but that’s the only, um, only thing I can really imagine being remotely relevant to narrow anything down. I didn’t see the other two basically all night.”

Luz and Frank. One person who she felt like she was really starting to develop a rapport with, and the other who had promised there was still a chance for a happy ending. They… they would both be back. And she believed with her whole heart that the Bound could still be happy. It’d just be cruel if that promise turned out to be a lie. She doesn't speak either of their names out loud for fear they'll be what she trips over and falls apart on.

“... part of me wishes I still hadn’t. I… I’m tired of seeing things like those burns… I almost don’t even want to think about it.”

Not that it's ever mattered what she wanted. Manami will do her best as always - she knows she has to, regardless of her personal desires.

[b4rredteeth]

“Didn’t you watch Incredibles? Capes are for idiots, that’s what that fashion lady said. Not that I think she'd look at either of us and tell us we’re making great fashion choices,” he added with a grin. Benny as always sporting a pair of Adidas sweatpants, random t-shirt, his drug-jacket, and some beat-up sneakers. If anything, he was merely going to have a great time fitting in with any run-down neighbourhood community. “Much appreciated, I’d be glad to continue my sorrows while someone make sure I don’t get beat up for them.” 

Benny grinned, an expression that didn’t look completely right on his beat up face, but while he didn’t suppose he’d nail Bit tonight, at least he’d allowed the chaos to utter whatever it wanted in regard to the subject. After all, he’d never made much of a secret of his own sexuality, he’d never questioned it either. He’d experimented at fourteen with his then best friend, and found that he didn’t care much for whatever body was sharing his bed. “Eh, not really a job I’ve been interested in.” Not something he’d ever considered either, certainly not while he had the knowledge Cyrek and Evren were in the branch, he wanted nothing to do with it. And he was selfish when it came to sex, he wanted validation from his partner. 

He scoffed. “Thought you were too drunk for this conversation?” He didn’t mind the words however, those were already on his lips and his mind, but having someone else say them out loud made it easier. As if to say: see, too hard. Not impossible, but close enough. “How fucked we are, in that case,” he said, though it sounded like he didn’t give a shit, while he definitely gave several shits. He wished he’d never been dealt this label. Though he’d never had any choice in it either. 

“Not heard of it, but I get the idea,” he said in return, studying Bit for a moment. “That’s fucking nice, you’d think the people saying that shit would be the rotten ones,” Benny expressed. He allowed for Bit to patch him up as far as he could, while still leaning against the car, feeling sick. Maybe he could convince someone they’d be into Bit and then spin around to take them home himself. Or he could find someone who was just as desperate as him… that or call Mary. But he never liked calling Mary when he wasn’t at his best, they could call upon him whenever, but Benny wanted to offer Mary himself only at his finest. 

“I’ve stopped trying to change the scenario decades ago,” he admitted. “But I guess I’m becoming desperate for just a few smiles. Or at least for some people who want to see me, like not this front, but the real me.” He sighed. “Must be either the alcohol or my fucking age.”

Amidst Benny's continuous banter, Bit's gaze deftly shifted between amusement and a nuanced understanding. He intimately grasped the challenging nature of urban life, acknowledging Anchorage's ceaseless hurdles and unyielding conditions, a city with a knack for subjecting individuals to profound ordeals. The intricate social fabric demanded interactions across diverse backgrounds, cultures, and perspectives, serving as both a sanctuary and a tribulation in a metropolis marred by trauma and horror. Bit mused on it as a realm devoid of peace, rest, and respite. In the midst of this chaos, seeking solace through shared moments of sarcastic camaraderie felt oddly reassuring. "Now, if only I had a cape, I’d be the one true Anti-hero of the town," Bit quipped, the smirk on his face expanding. "But hey, at least I won't let anyone fuck with you while you're down here contemplating life's mysteries."

"Interesting sales pitch, but I'll take your word for it," he retorted with a chuckle. Bit views his sexuality with a mixture of nonchalance and acceptance, recognizing it as just one facet of his intricate identity. His awareness of being a straight male has been a fundamental element of self-discovery since his formative years. From the initial flickers of romantic inclinations, he discovered an innate attraction to the opposite gender. There's a sense of comfort for him in a woman's touch, her lips, and the fragrance that emanates from her hair. "Everyone's got their own talents, I suppose. You should save it for the porn industry. I’m sure you’d make the big bucks."

As Bit contemplates Benny's words, the stark realization of the weight carried by first impressions settles in. “I’m actually not drunk enough to have this conversation.” The statement about feeling worse and being in a state where nobody desired him strikes a chord with Bit, creating a ripple of introspection. He muses on "In my experience, and the harsh truth remains, that initial impressions cast a bigger shadow than we anticipate." The difficulty of altering those perceptions once they are ingrained in others' minds, is a horror in his own story. "Forgiveness can be earned, yeah, but not a lot of people can forget- and I think that's the hard part in all this." It's a poignant moment of self-reflection. "The world loves its labels, and once you're tagged, it's like trying to convince everyone that a cat is actually a dog. Not impossible, but damn near close."

In the quiet recesses of his thoughts, Bit contemplates the notion of change. The desire to transform overnight, shedding the layers of his past and presenting a new version of himself, is an earnest wish. “You ever heard the phrase 'One bad apple spoils the barrel?' It’s something that’s haunted me for most of my life." Pulling his friend to his feet, he buffs out the grime and dirt from their coats' shoulders, making sure Benny looks his best for Sugar’s. “I’ve been told to my face that I’m rotten to the core, and nothing would ever change that… so why not prove them right?” He shrugs, “Seems to me when you try to prove them wrong it never matters anyways.”

[angelasscribbles]

The Agreement Chapter 2: Texas

Series: The Agreement

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake

Rating: MA, NSFW maybe, barely.

Warnings for this chapter: I mean, maybe a tiny bit lemon scented in one part

Word Count: 3,358

A/N: So literally no one asked for a follow up to what was supposed to be a one shot, and several people thought it was perfect the way it was but....🤷‍♀️ I had more ideas......

Shout out to @harleybeaumont for prereading, @21-wishes for listening to me rant about this and to @dcbbw for doing all of the above and selling me on an important plot point. (I'll list it at the end so as not to spoil anything here)

My other stuff: Master List.

They had been in Texas for just over two months when he walked in and found her crying.

Major changes had happened over the last two months, Texas had been good for them. He was happy. She was happy. But he had known from the beginning that their time here was temporary.

He buckled his seatbelt and looked over at his wife as the plane got ready to taxi down the runway. She looked nervous, apprehensive. He placed his hand over hers, “Hey.”

She raised her eyes to his questioningly.

He squeezed her hand, “It’s going to be ok.”

She gave him a genuine smile, “I know. You always make everything ok.”

His chest flooded with warmth. “I try. You deserve to be happy.”

“So do you.” She told him.

“You make me happy.”

“Do I? Really?”

Surprise spilled through him. How did she not know how he felt about her? “Yes! I love you, Riley, everything about you makes me happy!”

“You gave up your life to marry a woman who wasn’t in love with you. You’ve spent six years dealing with my shit when you could have been out there finding someone…better.”

“There is no one better!” He scoffed, “And it didn’t matter to me that you weren’t in love with me. I was in love with you and that was enough for me.”

“You know we can’t stay in Texas, right? I have a duchy to run.”

“I know.” He said carefully as his eyes studied her. He knew that eventually she would want to return to Valtoria, and Cordonia, and him.

Her eyes didn’t quite meet his, “I’m sorry. I know being a duke isn’t what you had in mind for your life.” She felt guilty that he had given up so much for her.

“Stop.” He said, “I don’t care about that. What I want from my life is being with you, whatever it looks like. That’s it.” He was in love with her, that was still enough for him.

Riley had bloomed in Texas.

She had bonded with Bianca.

“Oh, Bianca! This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen!” Riley cried delightedly as she held a slightly faded photograph of a two year old Drake standing on top of kitchen counter in nothing but a pair of superman underwear and a cape.

Bianca giggled as she drew Riley into a hug, “Don’t you think it’s about time you called me mom?”

She had charmed the ranch hands and townsfolk alike.

“So, this is the girl that got Drake Walker to settle down?” One of the elderly men who hung out in front of the feedstore gave her an appraising look. “Has anyone told you how wild this boy was back in the day?”

Riley smiled back, as she slipped her arm through Drake’s, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Drake is a perfect angel!”

The old man’s eyes crinkled good naturedly, “She lies for you, boy, better hold onto this one!”

“I’d give up my wild ways for a woman like that!” The younger of the two ranch hand’s that were with them muttered, then flushed deep red when he realized he’d been heard.

The older ranch hand shook his head as he hit the younger man in the chest, “Shut your trap and go load that feed onto the truck!” Then to Riley, “Sorry about that ma’am. Young’uns these days ain’t got no damn sense!”

“It’s ok, Ray, I’ll take it as a compliment, but thank you for defending my honor, sir.” Riley beamed at him.

Ray flushed a little himself as he tipped his hat and nodded his head in her direction.

She had taken a shine to his truck and cowboy attire.

When they climbed back in the cab of the F-250, Drake grinned at her, “Everyone you meet loves you, you know that?”

“What?” She laughed.

“It’s true. They can all see what I see. I don’t know how I got so lucky as to ever have you look twice in my direction, but I promise to spend the rest of my life making sure you don’t regret it!”

“No, Walker, I’m the lucky one!” She leaned over and gave him a long, lingering kiss. When they pulled apart, she told him, “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you look in that cowboy hat?”

“No.”

“Well you do.” She leaned across the console to whisper in his ear, “I’ve never done it in a truck before. Maybe after this feed gets unloaded we can drive down by the river and correct that.”

Drake rolled the window down and pounded on the roof of the truck as he yelled, “That feed loaded yet? Hurry your asses up!”

She had fallen in love with the livestock.

“Oh my god, Drake! These little goats have been following me around all day!” She sounded like a kid on Christmas morning.

He laughed, “Is that what you’ve been doing all morning? Walking around this pasture so the goats would follow you?”

“Maybe….”

She had communed with nature.

“This is beautiful.” She sighed as she lay on the green grass, head in Drake’s lap, watching the river ripple past.

“Yes, it is.” He agreed, never taking his eyes off of her.

“Why don’t we come here, more?” She asked, then fell silent when the answer presented itself her.

Drake didn’t respond. They both knew why. Because she had spent the last six years waiting for Liam instead of living her own life.

A shadow crossed her face at the thought of Liam.

“Riley-“

“It’s ok, we don’t have to talk about it right now. Let’s make a promise that we come visit here at least twice a year, ok? No matter what. Just the two of us.”

“I’m not going to argue with that.” He told her as he leaned down for a kiss.

He had always known the day would come when they’d have to return, that this was just an extended vacation. They both had duties and obligations awaiting them back home. But he had been determined to make the most of the time they had while they had it.

The break had been good for them both. Riley was different. Less stressed, more relaxed. She’d gone for long periods of time without seeing Liam before, but she’d been on edge, anxious about it, always checking her messages, hoping for a last minute change in plans that would allow them to see each other. She had tried to keep her schedule as open as possible.

Being in Texas with Drake was freeing for her in many ways. She knew she wasn’t going to see Liam, so she wasn’t waiting on his call, wasn’t obsessively checking her email, wasn’t wrapping her life around his schedule. She was beginning to see that a lot of her pain had been self inflicted. She hadn’t been living, she had spent the last six years just…waiting. She wasn’t waiting anymore, she was living.

She threw herself into Drake without the guilt and reservations she’d harbored in the past. She still loved Liam, those feelings hadn’t just gone away, but her love for him was slowly becoming a part of her life, not her entire life. And for the first time in a long time, she believed that happiness might be possible for her.

Plans and ideas for Valtoria bubbled through her mind with renewed vigor. She’d been going through the motions, attending council meetings and approving budgets, but it had been a while since she’d been truly invested in governing.

“And when we get back home, I want to start on that universal education initiative we talked about! Oh! And remember when you had that idea for a duchy wide set of hiking trails to interconnect all the parks and recreational areas?”

He nodded, fighting back a smile as he took in her enthusiasm, “Yeah, what about it?”

“Let’s do it! Why didn’t we do it before?”

The answer was that it hadn’t gotten off the ground because the week they were supposed to meet with the planning committee, Liam had an unexpected opening in his schedule, and she had canceled everything to run off and join him in Greece for a week. He didn’t remind her of that. He just shrugged, “I don’t know. But yes, I would still like to do that.”

She found new hobbies and rediscovered old ones.

“I’m going to miss our daily horseback rides.” She told him from atop her mount.

“Why?” He countered, “We have horses at home.”

“We do, don’t we?” Why had she stopped riding? Right, because she hadn’t wanted to be out of cell phone range in case Liam called. She felt like someone punched her in the gut as she realized that she had, over time, given up everything to be available to him on a moment’s notice. She sat up straighter in the saddle as she resolved those days were over, “Well, then let’s make this a thing.”

“Absolutely.” He agreed.

Riley found herself again in Texas. She came back to life.

Things were going well, and Riley was doing good. Their relationship bloomed, it no longer had guilt, shame or regret attached to it. It felt new, unencumbered, right.

“Let’s renew our vows!”

“What?” He laughed, “Why?”

“Because the first time wasn’t real!” She insisted.

He studied his wife’s face, “It was real enough to me. I meant every word I said.”

She felt a swoop in her stomach, “I’m sorry, Drake.”

“For what?”

“For all the years I didn’t see you. I mean, really see you!” Riley’s eyes had been locked on the best man when she’d said her vows.

He pulled her into an embrace, “Don’t apologize for that. You were in love with Liam. I knew that. I made my own choices and I stand by them.”

“I want a do over!” She insisted.

A smile tugged up the corners of his mouth, “If you really want it, I’ll do it. You should know by now; I’ll do anything for you.”

“I want to do this for you! So, do you want to do it here, or when we get back home?”

“I…don’t care. I would marry you a million times, anywhere, anytime you want.” His fingers traced down the side of her face.

“That’s what I mean, right there. You always make it about me. I’m asking what you want.”

He looked away as he fought to get his emotions under control. She wanted to prove something to him. He didn’t need it, didn’t require it, but it sent butterflies swirling through his stomach that she wanted to do it.

Plans and preparations for the recommitment ceremony were in full swing. Riley had been on the phone almost every day, reconnecting with friends she had blown off to make herself overly available to Liam, planning the ceremony, and getting the ball rolling on multiple initiatives back home.

They ate dinner with Bianca and Leona most nights, but sometimes they drove into town for dinner and dancing or a movie. When they first arrived in Texas, they had rented a hotel room and spent two weeks in San Antonio, exploring the Riverwalk, the Alamo, Natural Bridge Caverns, the Botanical Gardens and the San Antonio Museum of Art. They had spent a day at Sea World and another at Six Flags Fiesta Texas.

His favorite nights, though, were the ones at the ranch itself, the ones where he took her out to lay in the back of the truck bed, or on a blanket on the ground to watch the stars, or to run, laughing and splashing into the river, swimming naked under the stars and making love on the shore.

Their new life couldn’t have been going better. So he was surprised when he walked into their shared bedroom and found her crying. His stomach dropped like a rock as he hurried across the room to climb onto the bed with her, “Riley, baby, what’s wrong?”

She sat up and leaned into his embrace. She cried into his chest for a moment then lifted her head to look him in the eyes, “I…I’m pregnant.”

He went still for a moment as he tried to read her expression, “Okay….”

“Okay? That’s it?”

He smiled softly as he tipped her chin up, “A baby is wonderful news, but you’re crying so I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong. Aren’t you happy? I thought you wanted a baby?”

Liam’s baby, he thought to himself, she had wanted Liam’s baby.

“Brooks? Riley…” Drake sighed as he ran a hand down his face. “What did he do this time?”

“Nothing! Just….last year he said maybe this year but….” She turned away from him, her head in her hands, sobbing.

He sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms, “The baby thing again?”

She nodded as she leaned against him.

Riley and Liam’s original plan had been to start trying for a baby right away, on their honeymoon. But there was no marriage, so there was no honeymoon and no baby. Riley still wanted a baby and the draw toward motherhood became more urgent with each passing year. But the time was never right, according to Liam. Of course, Liam had his heir.

The man was his best friend, and Drake did understand the implications of a scandal of that magnitude but as the years went on, he was leaning more and more heavily toward the belief that Liam should either say fuck it to social propriety and give Riley everything she deserved, or give her up entirely so that she could heal and move on. And he’d told him as much.

It had only caused a fight.

But he was tired of seeing her hurt.

“You know….” He hesitated, unsure how his offer would be received.

“What?” She sniffled into his chest.

“I could give you a baby. I mean, if you wanted me to.”

Her tear stained face turned up toward him, “I…I can’t, Drake. Liam….”

He just nodded his head as she buried her head into his chest again, “It’s ok, I get it. But if you ever change your mind, the offer stands.” 

Her eyes held a mixture of emotions as she asked him, “Aren’t you going to ask me who’s it is?”

“Nope.”

“No?” She stared at him in bemusement, “You don’t want to know?”

“I already know it’s your baby, Riley. That’s all that matters. I will raise this baby as my own no matter whose DNA it has, if that’s what you’re worried about, and my ability to love a child isn’t conditional upon that child carrying my genetic material.”

The smile that broke out across her face lit up his world. “I was crying because I’m happy, Drake! And a little sad, for other reasons….”

It was bittersweet, the pregnancy, the fact that she was so happy about it and that she had put off motherhood for six years waiting on a man that would never be able to give it to her. She had mixed emotions about Liam still, but her feelings about this baby were pretty simple. She was overjoyed.

He hugged her tight to his body, “If and when you tell Liam is up to you. I’ll support whatever decision you make.”

“There’s nothing to tell Liam. I can’t be more than six weeks along. I got pregnant here. The baby is yours!”

And mine, she thought to herself. A child with Drake, not Liam. A child that was completely theirs, not an heir or a spare or Cordonia’s anything. A marriage, a family, a life that was hers, not something secret she was constantly competing for or stealing from another woman.

If the baby had been Liam’s, he wouldn’t have been able to claim him or her publicly, and she knew in her heart, that would have broken her. Watching Liam openly love his child with Madeleine while having to deny his child with her would have finished her.

Riley stood staring down at the pack of pills in her hand. She hated taking them. They made her nauseous, they made her irritable and they prevented the one thing she desperately wanted.

Riley wanted a baby, but Liam couldn’t risk the scandal. Not yet. Maybe next year. For six years, it had been maybe next year. But maybe she didn’t need Liam’s input. For the first time she considered what having a baby with Drake would be like. Why had she never considered that before?

She hadn’t considered it because of Liam. Liam would be pissed. But Liam had a child. Liam might not be able or willing to give her what she wanted, but Drake could, and would. She knew without asking, because he’d offered before. He’d watched her grieve as she had begun to give up on the idea of motherhood and he’d told her “I’ll give you a baby.” She’d said no. Because of Liam.

But Riley was done living for Liam. She had accepted that he would never give her a child, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have one with someone else. Why had she surrendered so much control over her own life? Liam hadn’t demanded it, hadn’t asked it. She’d just done it. It had happened gradually over the years. She hadn’t even noticed. She was noticing now, and she was done with it.

Riley Brooks was taking back her life.

She dropped the pills into the trashcan as she left the bathroom.

“Yeah?” Drake asked as his hand went to her stomach.

“Yeah.” She affirmed, as she placed her hands on top of his, “And I’m so glad it’s yours!”

He looked up in surprise, “You are?”

“Of course I am! Don’t you remember that night?” She asked.

A blush crept across his neck and spread up his face. He knew exactly what night she was referencing.

Riley lay panting on the bed as Drake lifted his head from between her legs with a smirk, “Someone liked that.”

“Shut up and get up here!” She tugged at his body to encourage him to move.

He kissed his way up her body before settling over her. He gazed down at her, enraptured, as her fingers ran through his hair, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She answered, “Now put a baby in me.”

“What?” Shock coursed through him.

“I want a baby; I want your baby!”

He hesitated, “Riley, are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Yes, I remember, but I didn’t think….I mean….I didn’t want to assume things and you were crying so I wasn’t sure….”

“Is it okay? You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” She asked with apprehension.

“What? How could you ask that? I meant it last year when I offered. A baby with you….I can’t think of anything better! What about you? How are you feeling about it?”

“I’m so excited! We can start prenatal care here and transfer records when we get back home. We’ll wait until after the vow renewal of course, but not too much longer, we have a lot to do back home to get ready! Which room do you think we should use for the nursery? Oh! We have to tell your mom and call Savannah! They’re going to be so happy! And Hana! And Max!”

And just like that, there was an expiration date on their little Texas interlude. Of course, he’d known from the beginning there would be.

“Hey.” He tugged on her arm.

“Yeah?”

“We’ll tell mom and Leona tonight at dinner, maybe get Sav on speakerphone. Or, we wait util the ceremony and tell everyone then.”

Riley’s eyes widened, “Oh, that’s brilliant! You’re a genius!”

He pushed her back and pinned her to the mattress as he smirked down at her, “I know. About damn time someone else saw it!”

“What would I do without you?” She beamed up at him.

“Let’s never find out!” He told her as he surged forward to capture her lips in a heated kiss.

“Never.” She murmured against his mouth.

And she meant it.

~~~~

A/N 2: Once I decided to have Riley fall pregnant, I really went back and forth between whose baby it would be....just when I decided to make it Liam's, @dcbbw pointed out how much more angsty it would be for Liam if Riley comes home pregnant with Drake's baby and she was right.

I originally thought having Liam's baby would help heal something in Riley but then I realized having Drake's baby would heal it better, because a baby with Liam would have her constantly comparing his love for his child with her child against his love for his child with Madeleines child, which I explored a little in the part where she realizes that seeing Liam claim Alexander while having to deny their child would break her.

I am not blaming Liam here, he is pretty much a prisoner to the crown, the court of public opinion, duty, obligation, etc. But the effects on Riley are the same nevertheless. He would want to claim the child, but could he? So it was time for Riley to have something of her own.

[kinkyliterotica]

(This image is owned by Lucasfilms/Disney and I do not claim ownership of it)

Part 1

Mandalorian/Din Djarin x OC AFAB Smut

Summary: Mando resists the urge to break his vow and give into temptation. After Grogu is taken by Luke to train, he finds comfort is more important and discipline.

Warnings: Religious temptation, blindfold, Dom!Mando, eventual smut and unprotected sex

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The Mandalorian’s gloves hands firmly wrapped around the ones of the woman trying to reach beneath his crotch plate. He held them up between them like he was restraining a dangerous weapon.

“This is…I can’t do this.” He croaked out from beneath his helmet.

Zara could practically feel his restraint vibrating through his grasp. He was holding on by a thread.

“I know that you can’t…take it off. I’m not asking you to forsake your discipline.” She insists.

The Mandalorian shakes his head in response, “You don’t understand what you’re asking of me.”

Zara had wanted him for some time. There was nothing more comforting and more admirable than a man that held his values and ideals so highly. While she respected it, she was not as dedicated or disciplined as he was. She wanted him badly. And the idea that he would make an expectation for her made her more desperate to convince him.

It took a great deal of self-restraint to say, “I won’t…make you, that is not my way.” She smiles, hoping that amused him even a little.

She pulled her arms downwards and he let go, trusting that he did not need to fend off her affection a second time. Though they weren’t touching any longer, the closeness between them still held tension. The top of her head came right up to the jawline of his helmet. The difference in their stature was obvious and he had to tilt his helmet down to look at her.

Zara looked at him curiously, “Have you ever…?”

The Mandalorian sighs, “When I was young and less disciplined. I don’t wish to make that mistake again.”

Zara says, “You’re being too harsh on yourself. Surely your order had to procreate somehow.”

“There are special circumstances where such things are permitted. Only with my kind. This wouldn't…” He trails off again. For a man who commands such respect and fear with his presence he’s surprisingly prudish.

Zara nods. This is not something he can do, at least right now. He needs time to think, to decide. He doesn’t want to do something rash. Even if he wants it just as badly as she does.

“Can there be no exceptions made then?”

The Mandalorian pauses for a long moment before saying, “Not today.”

Zara smiles widely, “I’ll be waiting for the day you are ready, Mando. But not forever.”

———

Many months passed before she saw him again. While she tended to her garden on a gray day in early spring, she heard the unmistakable sound of a ship descending from far above the clouds. She was overcome with fear, was this the Empire to demand supplies or banish her from her property?

She hid quickly beneath the awning on her home, before she recognized the familiar shape of the Razor Crest. The gray ship landed slowly and carefully into an open field near her home, the vegetation around it bending under the weight of the metal.

She couldn’t help but feel elation. She gripped her tattered working skirt in her hands and sprinted towards him, her feet carried her even farther after her lungs couldn’t. She stopped suddenly when the door opened and lowered to reveal Mando, standing in all of his glory, cape whipping behind him.

Zara couldn’t hold in her excitement, “I never-I never thought I’d see you again!”

Mando walked down the dock towards her, she noticed something was missing.

“Where’s Grogu?” She wondered.

Mando approached her, his helmet covered face revealing nothing before he says, “Grogu has been returned to his people.”

Zara covers her mouth in shock, “Are you alright?“

The Mandalorian does not speak or change his posture in any way. He stays stoic and still for so many moments she’s worried he didn’t hear her.

Quietly he asks, “Can I…may I come in?” Gesturing towards her home.

She looks between him and the house before she realizes what he means.

“Yes-Yes of course. Come in.”

It felt strange to have him in her home. She was poor, and lived alone. Her home was a chaotic cluttered mess designed for her to live in comfort, not to entertain guests. To have him standing in such a humble place drew even more attention to his prowess. His armor glistened and the weapons on his belt looked even more threatening. Like a knight in the home of a peasant.

She started making him tea without asking, she tried not to watch him as he looked around her home. He didn’t pry, but he observed enough. Her nerves couldn’t handle looking at him anymore and she turned back to the tea. As she poured the boiling water in, and stirred the leaves, she heard the crack of heavy boots on the ground. Mando was close behind her, very close. She didn’t dare turn around and break the anticipation.

She nearly jumps when she feels Mandos' gloved hand gently touch the side of her waist. His fingers slide around to cup her stomach, and soon after the other hand sneaks around. He embraces her with such gentleness she’s shocked.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Zara says softly.

“I didn’t know if I could return.”

Zara lowers her arms to circle his around her waist, she’s hoping if she holds him there he can’t run away.

“How long do we have?” She’s afraid to ask but she has to know.

“Not long.”

No more words are needed. Mando squeezes her body against his, her back feeling the stiffness and the contours of his armor against her soft clothing. His body is so firm even underneath it. Years of battle and eating protein rations had given him a taut and muscular form.

She nudged her hips against his, her ass pressing against his crotch if she went up on her toes and bent forward just slightly. Their height difference made it difficult for her to gain much traction but with enough of the right movements she was able to grind against him. She felt his sigh just slightly against her, and she redoubled her efforts. She shifted her hips and grabbed his gloved hand and shoved it into her shirt. She took his large hand in hers and pressed her breast into it squeezed to let him know he could touch her.

He took the hint and pressed his hand into her breast and squeezed gently. He didn’t want to hurt her but he was desperate for her touch, she could feel it. Soon his other hand followed and he was pulling her shirt down her shoulders and exposing her breasts. He massaged the flesh and flicked her taut nipples before squeezing the buds with his fingers. It was then that she moaned, and when she did she could feel a shiver go through him.

All of a sudden the slow deliberate pace was gone, and his impatience had won. His hands traveled down to her hips and tore the skirt from her hips. His gloved hand searched for her folds and when he found them, he traced the length of her lips up and down, hearing the wetness increase with each movement. His fingers are almost enough but she craves something inside. His absence did make his return even more powerful, and her desire to grab him and climb on top of him outweighs her patience.

“I’ve wanted this for so long, I’m ready.” Zara says impatiently.

Mandos' voice vibrated against her ear, “I don't believe you are.”

Zara, impatient now, grinds her words between her teeth, “Do it now or I’ll do it myself!”

(Part 2 coming soon!)

[goddessofmischief]

omg i’d love a part 2 of the vigilante x reporter!reader you just wrote! it was so good!

A/N: Writing reporter reader fics are my main source of happiness at the moment, please keep sending requests for them! Also... here's a Batman cameo. Read all my Vigilante fics here!

Partners, Part 2 - Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reporter!Reader

Adrian never found out about the kiss.

He'd returned, moments after Vigilante had left, clutching a bag of fast food in one hand and a drink holder full of coffees in the other. While he looked tired - and slightly depressed - there was no indication that he knew anything about your surprise visitor.

Still, though - you couldn't stop thinking about that night.

You missed him, you realized. You actually missed Vigilante.

That didn't matter. You had a case against Wayne Enterprises to pursue - and a very good partner to pursue it with.

...

"Adrian!" You shouted, walking up to his desk at the Daily Cape, which you now essentially shared. All the details of the article were here, spread over his desk, and you'd spent many long nights going over them, heads tilted over papers and only occasionally catching each other's eye.

"Yeah?" he asked, removing his earbuds. You handed him a sheet.

"I was going through some of the files we got from our anonymous helper-" Vigilante, you thought, but didn't say - "And... look at this."

"What?"

"It's an ad. To be Bruce Wayne's personal secretary. Apparently it was only distributed to a few select people, and we've got ahold of it... you know what I'm thinking, right?"

"...Spell it out for me."

"I have to interview for it! Imagine if I was his secretary... I'd have access to all of his documents, financial records - we'd find out for sure. I could work closely with him-"

"What about your job here?" Adrian asked, sounding slightly uneasy.

"This is part of my job. Our boss will understand. I mean, c'mon... how great a scoop would this be?"

"I don't know, Y/N. Don't you think they'd figure it out?"

"Look, I'll use a pseudonym. I'll wear a wig. They'll never even realize I was there."

...

So... you got the job.

It paid well. Good hours. Best of all, you had every single one of Bruce Wayne's records at your disposal. It turned out your hunch was right - the numbers just didn't add up. There were millions spent on personal purchases of unnamed items, and what was named were things like cars, electronics, and weapons.

"Oh, my God," you whispered to yourself, shining a flashlight over one of his receipts. "Thousands for repairs on something called a... Bat-mobile?"

"You shouldn't've seen that," a deep voice behind you muttered, and you were struck down before you could even attempt to see who it was.

...

"Help!"

It was no use, you knew. You'd been trapped down here for hours, tied to a chair with your hands behind your back - wherever here was, anyway. Truth be told, it looked like... a cave. It was cold like one, too - you wished you'd worn a thicker sweater.

"It's soundproof," that same deep voice spoke, invisible and cloaked in shadow.

"I won't tell anyone, okay? I swear. I don't know if you're... Bruce Wayne's bodyguard, or his friend - but I won't tell anyone about the... Batmobile. I promise."

"You look familiar."

"I'm a reporter," you admitted. "At the Daily Cape."

"You're the type of person who would tell someone, then."

"No. I'll dismiss the article. I'll tell my partner we didn't find anything."

"...Partner?"

Damn it.

"Yes," you said, shakily. "Yeah, my partner."

"Adrian Chase."

"You know him?"

"I've seen him around. I knew he was working that article. Didn't think it would lead to anything. Didn't realize my new secretary was a spy, either."

You swallowed, hanging your head. You'd stopped struggling against your bonds hours ago - you knew it didn't matter. If this man was going to kill you, he would.

"I'm sorry. All I can tell you is... I'll let the story go. My partner and I won't say anything. And, um... please don't kill me."

Suddenly, your captor emerged from the shadows, and you recognized him at once-

Batman.

The Batmobile made a lot more sense now.

"I don't want to kill you. But I need insurance. I need to know that you won't tell anyone the moment I let you go.”

You wracked your brain for something, anything, that would tell him he could trust you.

“Oh! Well, when I was a kid... I collected Beanie Babies. Yeah. They weren’t even cool. I just did it because I liked them.”

Batman grunted, and you suspected that wasn’t the kind of blackmail he was looking for.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say, I don’t have many secrets-”

“Do you care about him?”

“Who? Adrian?”

“The Vigilante. I know his identity.”

"How did you know about...”

“I see everything. I saw you... with him. That night, when you were attacked. I don’t know if you care about him, but if you do...”

“I care about him very much,” you admitted.

“Then you’ll keep my secret. And I’ll keep his.”

“Deal,” you agreed, and Batman walked behind your chair, beginning to cut the rope that held you. “Mr. Wayne will be disappointed to lose you as an employee,” Batman continued. “He found your work to be... satisfactory.”

“Tell him I’m sorry, will you?”

Batman’s mouth curled into something that was almost a smile.

“He knows-”

“...STEP AWAY FROM HER!”

You and Batman both turned instantaneously to see a very out-of-breath Vigilante, clutching his knees and falling to the ground.

“Sorry, the... Batcave... was kind of a trek.”

“How did you find this place?” Batman barked, and Vigilante stood up.

“It wasn't so hard. I just looked for the creepiest, most deserted place I could find and this ended up being it.”

Batman sighed.

“She’s free to go, Vigilante,” he said. “But she knows what’s on the line if she betrays me.”

“Oh - okay,” Vigilante said, helping you stand up. “I mean... I thought this was gonna be much more of a fight, you know - like, an epic fight, between Vigilante and Batman. But this is cool. Okay. We’ll see ourselves out.”

You leaned on Vigilante, trying not to stumble in your high heels over the Batcave’s cobblestones.

“That seemed really intense,” said Vigilante, as you finally made it out of the darkness and began to see the lights of the city again. “I mean... I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I was really scared,” you admitted. “Thanks for coming to save me, though.”

“Oh - anytime. Um... off the top of your head... what did Batman mean?”

“About what?”

“About something being on the line. If you betrayed him.”

“Oh, that,” you said, wishing you didn’t have to say. “Well... he says he knows your secret identity. And he’ll tell everyone if I don’t... stay quiet about that story you helped me with.”

“He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“No. I wish he did, though. Then I’d know... anything about you.”

“There isn’t a lot to know. Um - family all dead.”

“...Yikes.”

“It’s my tragic backstory. But, other than that... not much to say.”

He kept walking with you, mostly in silence.

“I have a car, I swear,” he blurted out. “It’s a... Vigilante-mobile. But I don’t have it with me. It needed repairs.”

“That’s okay.”

“Where do you want to go? Home, right? Where’s your apartment?”

“I think I’d rather head back to the Daily Cape. I... need to talk to my partner.”

“Your not-boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning a little. “I miss him.”

...