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fangirlofallthefanthings · 10 months ago

Note

Pt: 2

He absolutely loves the Spartan royal family. He finds them wonderful and feels like he has made amazing friends with them. He also greatly admires how they let rumors around Helen and Pollux roll off their backs and subside, similar to how Odysseus' family did for his parentage. He and Helen are besties, tho. She was definitely Penelope's wingwoman and vice versa.

I like to think he could only grow a passable beard in the last year of the end of the Trojan War. His facial hair had always been a scratchy scruff, but Penelope never minded. She thought it was cute. He would rub it on her cheeks whenever he "pounced" and attacked her with kisses while she was weaving or if she was playfully teasing him about it. His lineage with Hermes makes him naturally more running efficient, so facial hair is more challenging for him to grow.

He definitely lies and says Heracles' adventures were his favorite because his grandpa knew him. I wouldn't be surprised. The hospitality thing is definitely his goal. He hopes he and Penelope will be connected forever. <3

I agree that Eumaeus was like a brother to him, but Polites and Eurylochus were, too. I headcanon that Anticlea made friends with Eurylochus's and Polites' mothers. They helped her settle in Ithaca and helped her through homesickness from Parnassus when Laertes wasn't around. They raised their boys together, so it wasn't "Odysseus, Ctimene, and their pseudo-brother Eumeaus." It was "The Terrible Trio (Odysseus, Eurylochus, Polites) and the Sensible Ones (Ctimene and Eumeaus)." Ctimene is still a menace, though. She just focuses on messing with Odysseus rather than everyone else. Euryclea was also close to Anticlea since Anticlea helped her with her own homesickness (and she, Laertes, and Anticlea became a throuple. Euryclea is ace <3). Euryclea is also like a second mother to Odysseus, so he makes her the head of his house when he becomes king. Sure, he's the master, but she ensures the show runs smoothly in the background.

YES!!!! DEMISEXUAL ODYSSEUS IS ONE OF MY NUMBER ONE HEADCANONS!!!! This boy gets blindsided SO HARD every time he falls in love (which is twice)!!!!! It wasn't love at first sight to me, but he was curious about her at first. Then he got to know her, and his plans in Sparta pulled a 180. He was determined to win Pen's heart and bring her home! <3

Back to the boar scar, it didn't cause those issues in my WIP... but he thinks it did. I won't give anything away, but it's a long time before Telemachus comes around. He feels horrible and blames himself for his and Penelope's difficulties even though it's neither of their faults. It's just random.

I find whenever something goes wrong, and it involves Odysseus, he blames himself harshly, even if it is something entirely out of his control.

When the scar healed, he had to have a crutch to get around for a while. Even though the wound closed, he still needed to build his strength up again (it took out a chunk of his muscle, after all). He walks with a very subtle limp for the rest of his life. It's almost unnoticeable most of the time unless you know him well enough. It comes out stronger whenever he's tired or tipsy. ("I'm fine, you... weird woman!" [he is drunk] "Sure, love. Let's go to bed, wobbly husband mine." "Ok..." "That's my weird man ^-^")

He made so SO many toys and puzzles for kids before Telemachus. There were so many little trinkets that he gave a few to any children of guests to whom he felt a paternal connection. Like- "Hey, little guy, I wanted to give you this." ":00000 really???" "Yes. You deserve a gift since you were my guest, too! ^-^" "Thank you, Your Highness!!! :D"

I think the horse idea came to him after Achilles died. My hc is that Diomedes and Ody were... hanging out. Yeah, let's say that. Then, all of a sudden, Ody freezes and tells Dio, "Get off me for a second! I just figured out how to take Troy!" Dio is like, "Huh?????? Now????????" and Odysseus sits up with the biggest smile on his face and says, "A HORSE! :D" "wat. o-o" And Dio thinks Ody has finally lost his mind.

He is definitely "all or nothing" with his feelings. He will sob on loved ones' shoulders and kill anyone who messes with them. Forgive the Harry Potter reference, but he is the most Ravenclaw-like Hufflepuff I've ever seen (and Penelope is the most Hufflepuff-like Ravenclaw I've ever seen; they complete each other <3). I refuse to believe that the way he is in the Iliad is his default. That is a man who was dragged into a war against his will and decided he might as well attempt to gain glory for his family back home because it's the only way he can be the best husband he can in this situation.

I absolutely love your head canons about Water Wife™️, but I’m curious about what head canons you have for Odysseus (aka. #1 Water Wife™️ simp) 🤔

I have so manyyyyyyyy!!! :D

For both, of course, and I'm not even done with Penelope never will be There's some I probably have mentioned before but bleh :D I'll put it out anyways.

Odysseus is a "pretty boy" and he's able to balance "masculine" and "feminine" beauty perfectly and he knows it and uses it. (When you're aspec, you tend to "study" what makes people "pretty". To understand it as, "What's the big deal?". That's what he does) I knew someone in theatre who when playing different characters for acting, the more "sweet and goofy" one (Seymour, Little Shop of Horrors) and the "rugged, handsome" one (Prince from Into the Woods) and he looked like different people and realized it was because he was able to really shift his jaw around and also just really expressive and Odysseus USES this. ALL the time. Paris is a more feminine pretty boy while Menelaus is a more masculine pretty boy but Odysseus is a perfect in-between. (Paris and Menelaus are definitely prettier than him in a way but yeah >:D Homer doesn't stfu about Odysseus and he had multiple people wanting him. When he didn't want anyone but Penelope)

What "mars" his beauty is that Odysseus bites at his lips a lot. Usually chapped and ripped up.

I kind of plan for it to be kind of unknown whether Sisyphus or Laertes is his dad. He REALLY takes after his mom in so many ways. He's a lil jealous of Ctimene as while both take after Mom, she has Dad's nose and eye color. It's something that means a lot to him that his dad loves him regardless. And it REALLY bothers him when people try and bring up Sisyphus being his dad. It makes him sincerely happy seeing Tyndarius loving all his kids even though there's a CLEAR difference on who's whose. (Omfg imagine if he could talk to his mom about Calypso and Circe as what she went through with Sisyphus 😭Maybe Penelope trying to get advice from Laertes!!!)

He actually couldn't really grow a beard until after the war for whatever reason :D he was just kind of pretty smooth-shaven (not shaven but just no beard til later). Penelope teases him about it and when she does he rubs his face against hers.

He tries to say his favorite poems/epics/myths are the ones of Heracles but it's actually Psyche's myth. Not giving up because you're so devoted? That you want to see your person/people again?? RINGING ANY BELLS. (Also Baucis and Philemon, because Xenia is very important to him and to grow old with his love to then get turned into olive trees together?? That's his LIFE GOAL.)

I really love the thought of him and Eumeaus being super close. Like he actually wasn't that close to Polites and Eurylochus until mid-teens but Eumeaus was raised beside him and Ctimene.

Demisexual/demiromantic: Like he didn't really get it until Penelope, at least not fully. And then he's just hit by a truck. They were in the garden when they first met (no details yet! But she just knocks him on his ass) and there were beehives and beekeepers around and he turns so red and is so gobsmacked that Penelope freaked out thinking he was stung by a bee and was dying. (being Naiad she's dealt with this before)

Mentioned before, but the Boar scar caused fertility issues. He's...very ripped up. He blames his asexuality/demisexuality on it and it's a surprise that he can run so well (Hermes' descendant and Athena saved him...just not "all of him".) Penelope had some fertility issues too (she has a lot of siblings so she's really sad about it) but he always took the blame and always made a point of "I won't take a concubine. I don't want one and I'm the reason why we can't have children. It wouldn't change anything." Though his leg does get stiffer in joints and the skin is tight when he's older. Water Wife™ helps with that. :D

Since it took a while before they had Telemachus, he had... a lot of toys made in preparation even though it took awhile. Crib too but wasn't used for a while. Telemachus luckily has many keepsakes and gifts from his dad :') and yes he carried them everywhere. (There was a branch off their "nest" that Telemachus messed around on too much when he was around 8 and it broke :'). When Odysseus comes back, Telemachus is ashamed and says sorry and Odysseus is just happy he wasn't hurt. (OUCHIE)

He actually had the Trojan horse idea for YEARS (like year 5) but everyone thought it was "dishonorable" and he was SO MAD. (also yeah, he remembered all the toys he made his son and that's how he got the idea) It is a "TOLD YOU SO!" moment when they win.

One thing I love about him is that he really is "all or nothing" in many ways. or a "0 to 100 very quickly". He does NOT let even minor insults slide. He goes all out and over the top for the people he loves and the people he hates. like, he DOES care. He loves as much as he hates. Like he's an asshole but there's always a reason (honestly I think he does have his rules. and they ARE consistent I think. probably will write an essay on it soon)

Honestly, I know a lot of people think "oh familiar stranger" when they get back and yeah, they look so different but they still think the same in many ways. Homer ends with them still being like-minded. I think Penelope and Odysseus had the feeling of "feels like there was almost no years of separation" as they can be in-sync and "are like they were before". They're older, wiser, but he still does the funny voice that makes her laugh. She's still ticklish on her neck. So much is the same. It'll be fun to learn what's different.

Except the PTSD.

And Odysseus is basically just trying to force himself to be "normal". He's bottling things up but not pushing away. Some war stuff he's shared as there were games and some fun stories (also not as recent) But he doesn't share Circe or Calypso with Penelope at first. And he definitely doesn't want Telemachus to know. But he's not pushing away. If anything he wants them even closer than ever. And doesn't really like them being away from him.

He usually has to be the one to make "first contact" or "first touch" (don't go up behind him...ever) but he is very physically affectionate so...kind of works.

Though it saddens Penelope, as this is all Telemachus knew, he's not too affected. As to him, Odysseus is already so loving and wonderful to him and so he just sees his moments of war flashbacks and fear and his violent outbursts against others are just... Dad. He knows it's strange but no one's perfect. He's fine most of the time otherwise. He kisses his and his mother's cheeks and is trying to learn pottery from him. But Penelope knows this is not normal. Plus he's sharing some things with her that he would rather keep hidden from Telemachus forever.

Before she could always just hold him and basically do whatever and he melts. She now needs to go slow and always give some sort of warning. He usually meets her halfway, so that helps. Something he did before but...There is so much lost and that needs time.

Slowly reaching her hand out to his face? He grabs it and leans into it. She didn't need to go slow before. She opens her arms? He flops into it. Before, she could've grabbed his hand and basically pulled him into her.

He always has to be in control now and he's mad at himself for it.

"That's your son. Why did your son's joyful shouts make you think of the screams of the young men in war. Your son is fine. There's no war here. You made sure of that. That's your wife. Your wife that you've longed for 20 fucking years and you still wake up weeping and think you're with the goddesses again. Hold her. Let her hold you. Stop crying. Let her hold you. That's what you want."

He's like a cat who digs their claws into you to keep you to them. He's angry at himself for getting scared/upset and...in a way HAS to let it be known that even though he's a mess, he NEEDS them. Always has.

He can't be the little spoon anymore. He can't have her sleep/rest on top of him anymore. He can lay on her and be the big spoon but as he was basically a "doll" for Calypso and manipulated and tricked by Circe, there are certain things he can't have done to him. If he gets in his funks, he sometimes has to have it where he holds her and she's completely still before he gives her the go-ahead to hold/touch him in return. Sometimes he has to quiz her questions only she would know. And then he just cries. He won't talk about it for a while. :')

As he and Laertes shared some of the same "adventures" with the same beings, they bond over that :D Also, with his older cousin Jason? "I don't like him. >:( He always would fuck up my hair by messing with it."

In their Early marriage, they tried each other's "hobbies". Aka Odysseus tried weaving and Penelope tried woodcarving. Two of their most prized possessions is a fucking ugly wooden duck and a little blanket that is uneven and has some holes in it. When he doesn't see his blanket next to her duck when he returns, he's worried and a bit sad but then Penelope reveals that she sleeps with it :') the dye is faded and some parts are clearly rewoven so it won't fall apart.

#there will be more lol #i have a lot to say #moot asks #char ramblings

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kiridarling · 4 years ago

Text

𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎.

thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate in her vice city collab! i had a blast writing this piece, and i’m terribly sorry this is so long that was a mistake (and congrats on 2k!!) also, the phattest of thank you’s to @eijishimas for brainstorming/beta-ing :) you saved me ☺🤲🏼

katsuki bakugou and eijirou kirishima | f!reader, time travel sex, guns, prostitute/stripper idrk!reader, tw!blood (non-descriptive), dacryphilia, squirting, spit roasting, d-penn, shower sex, multiple rounds. minors dni!

— 5k words (yikes)

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

Las Vegas, Nevada. April 15th, Year 3036.

"You ready?"

Mina shoots you a look through the golden-lit mirror, wiggling her eyebrows. You roll your eyes and finish dusting the powder off your cheeks before rising to your feet and tugging at the belt of your silk robe. "My answer's the same every night."

Vice City. A strip club and casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, where opposites collide—the poor and the rich, the beautiful and the ugly, the smart and the stupid. There's no judgment because here, they're all degenerates looking for a good time, and you're just a pretty face with a good body.

As your silk robe hits the floor, it's kicked to the side with a heel, and you saunter through the beaded entrance to your private room and into the vibrating club. Giving your bodyguard a solid pat on the shoulder as you watch the sea of bodies shake, you complete the ritual.

"No creeps?" You demand more than request. He nods curtly.

"No creeps."

You give him a cute little smile and let your hand linger for a little longer than necessary before stepping into the neon red chaos of the strip club. Because what do the rich and the poor have in common?

They're all addicts.

Surprisingly, humanity doesn’t kill the planet.

Mother Nature's still standing strong—though the sun is a bit swollen—and space exploration solved that overpopulation issue. Bill Gates taught us all how to avoid a climate disaster and Tesla put Ford out of business. Humanity is much bigger than earth now; we're no longer people of the planet, but an intergalactic species that still eat Costco pizza rolls for dinner but killed Cable along with cars with wheels. Costco still exists—Starbucks doesn't.

Still no aliens, though.

"See something you like, Cutie?"

In your defense, he's been standing over here with his friends for ages—almost like they're casing the damn place—but those ruby red eyes kept floating your way regardless, and you'd rather bag it with someone your age before you're requested by another seventy-year-old. The redhead blinks like he's shocked you came over here in the first place—like he didn't watch you sashay yourself to the other side of the club just for him. You suppose the name fits. Cutie.

He looks at you with a strangely giddy look on his face before he's licking his lips and swallowing, eyes flickering to the blondie to his right.

"I'll be back in like, twenty minutes, man."

The blond gives him an exasperated look and groans—his other two friends don't notice. "Eiji—"

"Twenty minutes!" The redhead yells over the music as you not-so-subtly pull him away. Your regular GILF looks your way, and you suppress the queasy feeling in knowing that at least you'll be able to fuck someone from your decade.

"You got a wallet, Cutie?" You purr as you two approach the back room. The redhead winks, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the fattest black leather wallet you've seen in a long time.

"Don't go anywhere without it," he says, but falters when your bodyguard holds his hand out with a request for fifty bucks. "I—whoa dude, why am I paying you?"

"Because that's how it goes. The young lady gets her share," your bodyguard clarifies. The redhead looks at you for what seems to be for confirmation. You nod.

"Alright," he resigns with a shrug, stuffing a fifty into your bodyguard's sweaty hand. The man grunts but clears some of the beads guarding the entrance to your private room anyways, giving you two enough space to go inside.

"No door? That seems a little...exposing," the redhead snorts to himself before he's holding his hand out, despite the fact that you’re already nestling comfortably in his lap. "Eijirou, by the way."

You take his hand apprehensively, and he snorts at your confused frown. Eijirou's big—painfully so, and you feel small sat upon his thick thighs because you are in comparison—and he has to curve his back a bit so you're at eye-level. "What? No one's introduced themselves to you before?"

You shake your head, "Usually they just throw me onto the bed and get right to it."

Eijirou rolls his eyes at that, and you don't realize he's guiding your hips into a smooth roll until the harsh fabric of his jeans brushes against you in the best way. He moves you in time with the music vibrating the walls, "I guess that makes me more of a gentleman, then."

His lips hover over yours and yet he never advances, doesn't move to kiss you on the lips, nothing—it nearly has you buzzing. So does the hand he pins you to his lap with. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

"What's your name, Sweetheart," he asks lowly. You give it to him, and he grins.

"Y/N,” Eijirou tries on his lips before he confirms it with a nod. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Aren't you the flatterer," you purr, coiling your arms around your neck. His hand finds your ass and you're almost positive he's going to close the gap between you two until he says:

"Who were you runnin' from, Y/N?”

Years in the business help build a mask and you wear yours well, with that cute little smile as you cock your head to the side and ask, "I'm afraid I'm not following."

"Oh, I think you are," he says, looking you dead in the eyes. The gravity in his face doesn't falter. "Who was it."

As he stares into your soul, your own eyes avert to the sheets. "What's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me, really," he shrugs off his jacket and places it on the bed next to him before returning to his initial position—or perhaps, closer. "But I happen to find you real cute, and cute things deserve to feel safe, no?"

"In case you haven't checked, this isn't a very safe place," you scoff, removing your arms from his neck to cross them over your chest. "And I don't appreciate idiots like you trying to save someone like me just 'cause you wanna get your dick wet more than once."

Eijirou raises an eyebrow but he never stalls, "Oh? This happens often then?"

"I—" you falter, "...No."

"C'mon, Sweetheart," Eijirou tugs you by the waist and you have to press your hands to his chest to keep him from falling forwards. "You don't wanna stay in this place, do you?"

"It's my job," you defend with a huff. The redhead shrugs.

"Sure, but don't you want a little adventure? A little excitement in your life?"

"Like there isn't enough excitement right here?" You snort. Eijirou teeters his head back and forth, though the daring look never fades.

"But something tells me you're bored," he says with a near sarcastic face, clicking his tongue. "Something tells me you find the idea of something new exciting."

You open your mouth to respond but he keeps you from doing so, finally pressing his lips to yours. You nearly squeal in surprise but somehow, you find yourself kissing back with a passion you've never kissed another client with before—and maybe, just maybe, the idea of something new doesn't sound too bad.

Eijirou pulls away with a cocky grin like he knew you'd like it. Like he knew that'd be the catalyst for your response to what he says next, and maybe, he's not as much of an idiot as you thought.

And maybe you’re more of an idiot than you thought.

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

"Yes," you breathe, like an idiot, because you were wholly and utterly unprepared for what happens next.

Eijirou gives you the cutest smile, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

He sees your expression change and lifts both hands, pointing the black pistol towards the ceiling, "I—hey wait, you're gonna be fine, okay? I won't shoot you."

You cower and he pouts. Apparently, this wasn't the reaction he was expecting at all.

"I swear! I'm mentally stable, see?" He flips it sideways with a grin, "the safety's on."

You hate it that his comment makes you trust him. Slightly.

"C'mon," Eijirou smiles, reaching his gunless hand out for you to take. You do, albeit reluctantly. "I won't do anything too stupid. Just...shake things up a bit."

Shake things up a bit, Eijirou says, and yet the first thing he does is when you two exit the room is press the pistol to your bodyguard’s head.

"Eijirou," you hiss. Luckily no one in the club has noticed, yet, but you doubt their ignorance will last for long.

"I'm gonna need my fifty back, buddy," Eijirou pats the man on the back, and it's strange—you've always thought your bodyguard to be a big guy, but he looks rather petite next to the redhead. Your bodyguard reaches for his walkie-talkie, but Eijirou tuts, tapping his hand away with the tip of his gun.

"Hey dude, I'm not gonna shoot you. See? The safety's on," He repeats, flashing the barrel. Your bodyguard's eyes widen, and so do yours.

The safety isn't on.

"So, that fifty," Eijirou purrs, and your bodyguard stuffs the bill into his chest with a grumble. Eijirou hums, satisfied, and gives the crumpled bill to you without a second glance, too busy nodding to his friend on the other side of the strip club. A noirette from across the way nods back.

Pop-pop!

It's fucking chaos, as anyone would expect when blindly firing into a crowded club. Eijirou keeps a tight hold on your hand as he and his other three boys storm towards the pit bosses working the casinos with guns a-blazing, demanding they fill their pillowcases like a bunch of C-class thugs.

What the fuck did you get yourself into.

"This is not what I meant by excitement," you hiss through grit teeth as a terrified pit boss fills Eijirou's bag like he's a greedy kid with an attitude on Halloween, while your co-workers cower under the bar and pool tables. Eijirou sticks his tongue your way.

"This isn't the exciting part, Little Miss Excitement."

It's the steady sound of sirens that has your eyes widening, and the fact that you're positive they're getting louder. You catch sight of your bodyguard on his walkie-talkie, big body cowering behind the smallest trashcan, and turn back just in time to see Eijirou squint as he aims and shoots bullseye.

"That is."

The police have lost sight of two vehicles carrying the four armed men who robbed Vice City Casino and Club tonight at roughly 2:53 am. Witnesses say they came in a group of four but left with an exotic dancer named—

The moment the blondie from the club sees you walk through the door, he’s tossing the stack of bills in his hand with a sigh.

"Katsuki, Y/N. Y/N, Katsuki."

Katsuki looks nothing but happy, and refuses to acknowledge your presence as he crosses his arms.

"Ei. What the hell did we say about witnesses."

"Um," the redhead rubs his lips together before wearily looking at you, and you hike his jacket further up your shoulder. At least he was decent enough to give you that. She's an exception?"

"Not a fuckin' thing," the blond grunts, turning to you to flash a tight smile. "Goodbye."

"I—wait," Eijirou skates until he's stood over the ash-blond, with a hand on his shoulder and the other braced against the table. Speaking in a quieter voice, he says, "C'mon man. The poor thing was practically begging to get outta there."

The ash-blond does nothing but sigh before shoving a palm into a pile of money to push himself into the kitchen—and subsequently further away from you.

"She's gonna call the cops," Katsuki grunts wearily from the island, eyes narrowed. Eijirou follows.

"She's not gonna call the cops, dude," the redhead scoffs at the outlandish idea. "You heard the radio! At this point, she's as deep in it as we are."

As they continue to go back and forth over the island, you let your eyes wander. It’s a penthouse, and rather homely, with near egg yolk lighting, high walls, and big windows. You can't help but think about how you're in a strangely expensive part of the city before remembering this evening's events. No wonder they can afford such a nice place.

You find yourself smiling at a particular corner with a frustrating amount of photos stuffed on a little glass table, one that contains a selfie of the two housemates in high school uniforms. There's a ring sat in front of it, one that glints gold when you hold it up to your face, and if you squint you can see little flecks of green in the red of the ruby. It looks scarily close to an engagement ring.

"Hey, what's this?"

Both of their eyes rocket from the conversation to see you slip the delicate thing onto your ring finger.

"Don't touch it!" Eijirou tenses before realizing it's much too late for that. "Er—at least don't twist the top."

"The...top?" You ask, lifting your hand until it's at eye level.

"Yeah like, the jewel thingy," the redhead gestures to the ruby—and you can't stop thinking about how it's almost the same color as his hair. Waddling into the kitchen with your eye still trained on the thing, you ask:

"What is it?"

"A time-travel device," the ash-blond grunts. Eyes still full of suspicion, he watches you and the redhead interact over the island with arms crossed over his chest and reclining against the sink. You frown.

"Aren't those usually...bigger?" Because even though it's 3036, time-travel is still fairly new (space exploration took a long time, okay) and all the machines you've seen are at least the size of a shower. And yet, this one can sit on your pinky.

"Kats has been working on some stuff," Eijirou beams and it edges on proud; you notice the ash-blond near blushes with a huff as you hop to sit on the marble counter.

"'S nothin'."

You stare at the thing in faint amazement, and Katsuki kicks off the sink to near the island. Lifting an eyebrow, you say, "You know you could get rich off something like this? Instead of robbing strip clubs for a living.”

The ash-blond scoffs, and you wonder if someone else has told him that before. "If I gave that to the public, I have no fuckin' clue what they'd do with that shit."

And you shrug, supposing he's right—time-travel devices are hard to get your hands on, and that's for a reason. If everyone starts jumping around in the time-space continuum, fucking with shit, the world will promptly and utterly collapse. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

"It doesn't work with a big time range," Katsuki defends with a shrug, sliding his forearms on the counter. "The most it can do is a few hours"

"Not that it makes this any less cool," Eijirou says with a slight bounce. "I personally think it's really fun to play with."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "That's 'cause you use it to fuck."

You nearly choke.

"I—what?"

"W-Well, okay," Eijirou chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But also other stuff! Like when I'm really hungry, I might go to the future and take some of my fries. Future me's fries, that is."

"Or you'll try to take future-me’s goddamn burger," Katsuki growls. You flip the ring over like there's anything left to see.

"How often do you use it?"

"Nightly," Katsuki answers for him. Your eyebrows lift. Oh wow.

"It—it's not nightly," Eijirou defends weakly, huffing and puffing. "Weekly maybe, but—"

"Almost every night," Katsuki sums for him, giving you a little grin. You snort back before your eyes drop to the ring again.

"Uh oh," the redhead almost gasps, fingers thrumming on the island on either side of your being, "She's thinkin' about it."

"I'm not thinking about it," you huff, though your eyes never leave the ring. It's an...interesting prospect.

"Oh, you're totally thinking about it," Katsuki grunts, and you struggle to find where his enthusiasm came from. What happened to goodbye?

"C'mon," Eijirou tempts with a casual toss of the head. He touches your shoulder—Katsuki touches the other. "See what happens."

"What if—" you stare at the ring with pursed lips, fingers grabbing the ruby. "What if it's random? Or if we're not where we expect to be in a few hours or something."

Eijirou shrugs. "It's always a gamble, but that's where the fun is, no?"

You look down at the thing with a sigh. You suppose.

In one quick move, you twist the gem and screw your eyes shut. At first, you feel nothing, but then there's a sudden head rush, and you can easily see how someone can get addicted to this.

You hear a faint sound, one that could be excused as a rush of wind past your ears, before you feel your knees against a hard surface and your body in a different position.

"Oh, I like this much better."

You open to your eyes to a much different sight than you closed them to.

Katsuki and Eijirou look gargantuan when you’re on your knees, your back flush against the refrigerator and eyes watering due to the cock nestled halfway down your throat. You choke in surprise from the sensation, hands rushing to keep Katsuki from cutting your oxygen supply off for good as Eijirou stands impatient, cock hard in his hand and drooling for attention.

"F-Fuck," the ash-blond wheezes, seemingly just as taken aback from the position as you are. "Your mouth is fuckin' heaven."

"C'mon Sweetheart, don't ignore me now," EIjirou purrs, chuckling as the head of his cock hits your cheek with a wet slap. "At least give me a little something."

You grab his cock harder than you would've out of slight indignance, grinning around the other when it makes him hiss; Eijirou joins Katsuki in resting a hand on the fridge door for purchase.

You weren't the best at Vice City for nothing, after all.

"Shit, loosen that grip a little, will ya?" Eijirou wheezes—you don't listen, and his chest shudders when you seem to only move faster.

"'M too fuckin' close, where's that ring," Katsuki blabbers more than he grunts, and you lift your hand just in time for him to twist the jewel again, sending you three rocketing into the past.

You cough and splutter atop the kitchen island, chest heaving as you finally get the air Katsuki's cock allows. The head rush definitely doesn't help, and you find yourself getting dizzy enough to grab for someone's hand.

"Breathe, Princess," Katsuki says, and Eijirou lifts your hand to his chest so yours can rise and fall with his.

"So that's," you wheeze once you're able to get some semblance of a breath back. "That's time travel sex, huh?"

"Yeah," Eijirou says, a little breathless himself. "Addictive, right?"

"A little," you giggle, and find yourself looking for the ring again. Katsuki snorts.

"What, you wanna go back or somethin'?"

You flush red, eyes darting to the walls guilty, "A little bi—wah!"

There's a rush and the room morphs again. You would’ve fallen headfirst into a set of white sheets if it weren’t for the fact that you’re sat on Eijirou’s face.

"Hello beautiful~" the redhead singsongs from below, and you can't help but notice your bra is MIA as Katsuki takes a seat behind

you to run his hands up your sides to put the underside of your breasts.

"Pervert," you snort, though you figure you’re just as bad as he is with two of Eijirou's fingers deep in your pussy and Katsuki's hand on your clit. The redhead's leaving hickey after hickey on your inner thighs and you just try your damnest to not fall.

"Only for you," Eijirou winks cheekily, scissoring his fingers, and your hips stutter against his face when he slides his tongue in between.

"Fuckin' love the sounds you make," Katsuki grunts, before his other hand finds your neck and tightens. "And fuck you're so goddamn wet—you love this, don't you?"

You keen with a nod (and suppress the urge to say no shit, Sherlock), and Katsuki's pinching your clit between his two fingers, licking a fat stripe up your neck and chuckling when you shiver.

"What, your clients don't make you feel this good, Sweetheart?" Eijirou practically moans into your cunt, eyebrows folding when you thread your fingers through his hair and yank. "Bet that fifty was worth it, wasn't it?"

"Y-Yeah I—" you whimper, unable to get a sentence past your shuddering chest. "Guys, I'm gonna—"

The bedroom melts back into the kitchen, you're back in Eijirou’s jacket and not sat on his face. Your thighs and neck are hickey-less and yet, you're still so fucking horny.

"I hate you," you seethe, almost immediately, and Eijirou's grin is so wide it bends his eyes.

"Awe, you love me," he giggles and your frown only deepens as you reach for the ring—Katsuki snatches it out of arms way with a tut.

"Ah ah Princess, don't be greedy now," he purrs, but you couldn't give a shit about being greedy, and it shows in the way you quickly grab for it again. Katsuki passes the ring to Eijirou and it easily becomes a game of monkey in the middle.

"Give it—"

"I don't think so, Sweetheart," Eijirou says, pressing a big hand to your face to keep you from going any further. With a smirk, the redhead twists the ring, and suddenly you're full of him on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight," he curses behind grit teeth, sweat practically dripping off his shoulders in rivulets as he pushes your face into the kitchen island so hard it's numb. So are your knees. "You're so pretty like this—shit—"

You barely have the room to whimper, let alone answer, and you find Katsuki perched on the opposite counter, weeping cock in hand. The redhead chuckles as you struggle to take all of him, hips squirming as he aims for places you've never been able to hit on your own. "I'd stick your tongue back in your mouth if I were you, Sweetheart. The money’s a little dirty, don't you think?"

And that's when you realize your knees are elevated upon two stacks of green, possibly some of what Katsuki had been counting earlier, and a twenty swims in a pool of drool under your cheek.

"Oh, but I don't think you care," Eijirou grunts, shoving your face deeper into the marble countertop as his hips speed up. "Dirty fuckin' girl. Bet you'd do anything for a fifty."

"I wanna fuck her," Katsuki rushes as if his mouth moves before he can speak. Eijirou wheezes a laugh.

"What, I can't enjoy this?"

"No,” the ash-blond grunts.

"Hmm..." Eijirou debates, though his hips never stop as he gives Katsuki a look and goes, "How about no?"

Katsuki growls at that, and you find your fingers clumsily twisting the ruby on the ring that sits on Eijirou's finger, sending the three of you flinging further into the future.

"Fuck!"

"This isn't the future I was referring to, but I'm not complainin'," Katsuki grunts with a feral grin. You nearly slip due to all the water in the shower and you're positive that you see the sunrise through the window paint Eijirou's skin gold.

"I gotcha, Sweetheart," Eijirou soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your arms while your nails dig into his shoulders, the red lines jagged from how roughly Katsuki fucks you from behind. "Fuck—you're doing so good for us, taking him so well."

You whimper and Katsuki lands a heavy slap on your ass—heavy to the point where you nearly knocks both you and the redhead into the tile behind him. Eijirou's calloused hands find your clit fairly easily, and that's enough to almost send you over the edge, pussy fluttering around Katsuki's cock.

"She's gonna cum," Katsuki grunts. "Can fuckin' feel it."

"Uh oh," the redhead singsongs, turning to you with a grin. "Were you trying to be slick, Sweetheart?”

Though it's difficult, you lift your head, eyes swimming in unshed tears as you choke, "I—n-no, it's jus—"

You're in the bedroom again—this time your back comes in contact with a dresser, metal rattling from the weight Eijirou slams you into it with. The redhead supports you both with two feet planted into the floor and a hand around your waist, grunting into your ear with an exhaustion that implies you've got to be at this for hours.

"Ei-Eiji—"

"I know, Sweetheart," the redhead coos breathlessly, licking up the sweat that runs down your neck. "Just a few more times, okay? Hold on for just a little longer."

You sob, head thunking against the wall as you realize you have no idea where Katsuki is. Though it's only a fleeting thought because before you know it, Eijirou's dropping you to your feet, bending you in half, and railing you into the wall.

"Goddamn," he grunts, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, "this is—this is the best lay I've had in a fat second."

You pant a laugh, hands pressing into the wall to steady yourself, "Good—good to know the fifty bucks was worth it."

"Oh baby, it was more than worth it," Eijirou hikes your leg up as high as it'll go for a deeper angle and he gets it, his growl melting into a semi-chuckle as you squeal, thighs jumping.

"Fuck Ei!" You scream, and he's tugging your hair to straighten your back out.

"You like it rough, Sweetheart?" He pants into your ear, grabbing your neck for a better grip. You nod as much as you can.

"Y-Yeah—I—" Eijirou drops you until you're stood at a perfect 90-degree angle, "I need—need'ta cum, p-please—"

"Twist the ring, Sweetheart," He pants, resting his hand on the wall next to yours. It still glints gold on his fourth finger in the moonlight, "Get us there together, yeah?"

You don't have to be told twice.

"Mph!"

"Fuck!”

Your knees dig into a mattress again as Katsuki fills your mouth. With his cock down your throat and Eijirou's buried deep in your cunt, there isn't much you can do but take both of them at the same time—though you're positive that's what they intended.

"Shit, me too." Eijirou wheezes a chuckle as his hips piston into you, his sweaty chest sticking to your back while he reaches between your thighs to rub your clit. That’s enough to send you flailing over the edge, moan muffled by Katsuki’s slowly softening cock. Then, with a devilish grin (and before the redhead can cum) Katsuki reaches for the ring on Eijirou’s finger and twists it.

“You asshole,” Eijirou groans, and suddenly you three are back in the shower, with Katsuki’s hips battering into yours as the redhead supports your weight from below. Katsuki chuckles before his grip tightens and he’s filling you with another load.

“C’mon Princess,” Katsuki grunts, reaching for your clit. “Come for us again.”

You choke again before you’re digging your head into Eijirou’s muscled chest with a moan, shaking from the aftershocks Katsuki continues to fuck you through them.

Until the room morphs, and you’re face down on the kitchen counter.

“Fucking finally,” Eijirou wheezes with a bitter chuckle, casually flipping Katsuki the middle finger as he's sat on the opposing counter. “Fuck, you're shaking baby, you gonna cum with me? Yeah?“

Eijirou batters into your cervix and that's the catalyst for your third orgasm. You squeeze so tight you think you may have knocked the wind out of the redhead when his chest crashes into your back, and you open your eyes just in time to see the kitchen melt into the bedroom again—in a time you all have yet to visit.

Your legs are thrown over Katsuki’s shoulders as he pushes your back deeper into Eijirou’s chest, both of their cocks filling you so much and so well it brings tears to your eyes. As your thighs quiver with an impending orgasm, Katsuki’s the first to fall off the edge, eyebrows furrowing as his nails dig into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice fucked hoarse and lips bit pink. Eijirou nibbles into your shoulder with a gasp as his sweaty hand finds your clit again, neither of their hips ever stopping.

“Cum for us one more time, Sweetheart,” he pants into your neck before adding another hickey to the collection. Your chest shudders.

“I—I can’t—“

“Oh yes you fuckin’ can,” Katsuki growls, and you squeal as he tweaks a nipple. “I know you got one more in there. Give it.”

Your legs kick against his chest with a curse as you orgasm for the final time—this one much wetter than the last.

“Holy shit,” Eijirou nearly laughs, looking at where the three of you are connected. “Did you just squirt?”

“I—“ your face blends red when you see the absolute and utter mess that sits in Katsuki’s lap, before looking away with a determination to never see it again. “...Maybe.”

“Clean up?” Eijirou asks, eyes flickering to the ash-blond. Katsuki shrugs.

“Nah.”

A rush of wind and you’re sat on the kitchen counter. Eijirou’s jacket protects you from getting goosebumps due to a drop in temperature and though you do shiver, you find your body much more unscathed than it was.

“Hi,” Eijirou chuckles a little breathlessly.

“Hi,” you giggle back, a little nervous but in the best way. “So um...we do all of that tonight?”

“I guess so,” the redhead says a bit cheekily, raising an eyebrow. And then, with a wink, “Probably more.”

You stare at the ring on his hand in awe. Whoa.

"I fuck—fine, we can keep her, Shitty Hair," Katsuki grumbles from his spot near the kitchen sink, and despite the sour look on his face, you can't find a hint of it in his voice. Figures.

"Told you he'd say yes," Eijirou beams with a thumbs up.

"Can we...go do that stuff now?" You ask, albeit a bit hesitantly because...well, usually people are asking to have sex with you. Is this how they feel?

"Of course we can, Sweetheart," the redhead beams, before taking the ring off to place it onto the counter. "It was all a part of the future, after all."

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #— 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #tw.blood #tw.guns

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han-shinsuke · 3 years ago

Text

h a n d h e r o v e r

f e m a l e r e a d e r 🌹

m i n o r s k e e p o u t

[ tags, smut, nsfw, anal, foursome, themes ]

—•—

Without prior notice, he shows up in front of your dorm, dressed casually. You invite him inside but declined, telling you to come with him somewhere. You argue with him, insisting that you should change to something presentable but Bokuto seems to be in a rush so you have given up when he uses his puppy eyes. Inside his car, you keep checking your looks and it disappoints you. Unlike him, you look so ordinary. Well, you are someone insignificant. What’s the difference anyway?

“I’m gonna 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 you later, Y/N,” huh? you shot him a confused look at the use of some endearment.

You laugh awkwardly, “what, Kou?” he is your best friend and your secret crush.

“You look like a kid in your clothes and considering your height, you really look like 𝒐𝒏𝒆.” you pout your lips and he bursts out laughing.

It’s his fault! He didn’t even let you fix yourself! You were running around the University’s oval when he calls. Now, who’s fault it is that he’s being accompanied by a lady in core 5 inch shorts in black and a plain hoodie?

“Shut up, Kou. You’re annoying!”

After driving for almost an hour, Bokuto parks his car in front of Sakusa’s house.

Wait. Sakusa’s house?! You grab onto the belt when Bokuto tries mounting off the safety strap.

“Wait, Kou! Why the fuck are we here?!” you panic. Sakusa, you, and Oikawa are both in an unstable relationship. Not romantically, okay! You are their damn victim! They’re not criminals, well closer to that! Those two are your bullies and they are friends with your best friend, Koutaro Bokuto!

He taps your temple and comforts you that everything will be fine, that you won’t be harmed while he’s around, “it’s Omi’s birthday. He invited us for lunch.”

You nod your head. There’s no point in arguing. You were already there. He has your sweating hand inside his palm when you both entered the house.

“Give me ten seconds, Kou.”

Sakusa’s house rule no. 1; leave your shoes outside but if you are his friends, go straight in.

You remove your sneakers and leave your white socks on. You have been there before and you almost familiarised yourself with his rules. Since he considers you as his enemy rather than his subject of bullying, you are not allowed to sit or touch anything inside his home so you remain standing near the stairs when Bokuto runs to Oikawa in the kitchen.

You give Sakusa a nod as he descends from the top landing. He smells clean and fruity tuitee and you couldn’t help but blush when you notice his stare goes down to your feet.

Your insides trembles from the intensity of his gaze and that makes you feel like running away or hide from his sight.

Your breathing halts when he kneels after removing his fur slippers. His warm hand grab your ankle then slide your left foot in his slipper, then your right foot.

He didn’t speak a word. He just pointed you to the kitchen. His footwear is too big for your small ones but you still manage to walk comfortably.

While helping in the food preparation, Sakusa and Oikawa are constantly bumping their muscular arms against your shoulders. They even teases you that you lack in the free access of healthy foods in the fridge in your own home that’s why you’re thin and small. You 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕, okay?! They’re just huge and very athletic that developing muscles and all is no issue to them. And your case is different. Your height is 5'3", you weight right, meaning your body mass index is normal! Again, they are huge people and they look down on your kind. And these men prefers model-like body figures for women!

You let it all pass. You seem immune to all the teasings and soft pinches that those were no longer affecting you. Sakusa leads the way to his theater room, while you, Bokuto, and Oikawa are in charge of bringing all the foods in there.

There’s a long and wide white couch that looks like a king sized bed in the center and there’s also a big screen mounted on the wall. You settle on the lone chair in the viewing room, sit properly and try avoiding Sakusa’s intense gaze.

What? You did nothing to him!

The three men sits besides each other, Oikawa scrolls on the menu of which genre of movies to watch, Bokuto starts picking up some tarts and chews it. And then, there’s still him, Sakusa! Staring at you!

“Hand her over, Koutaro.” your face turn pale when Sakusa pulls his shirt off his body and leans on the couch.

You couldn’t find the will to speak. You stoned on your seat. Bokuto whistles, inching closer to you. He cups your face and whispers soothing words.

“Wh–what is happening here, Kou?” you sound nervous. Bokuto brings you closer to Sakusa. You grab onto your best friend’s arms. “Koutaro... ” a breathe of panic.

“You are his present to me, Y/N. You’re the desserts.” Sakusa pulls you down on his lap, he breathes closer to your hair. Something is growing in between his thighs. You look so scared. He gets even aroused.

“wanna rub my tongue on his pussy, Koutaro,” Oikawa moves closer, too, licking his lips.

“I’m... I’m not—” Oikawa stops you from talking, taking your chin in his hand. “You’re not what, Y/N?” he asks seductively.

“Kou–Kou... help me.” you hold onto his hand, giving him a scared look.

Sakusa tugs on your long hair before latching on your earlobe, “don’t worry, Y/N. Koutaro will help you. He will help you fuck yourself to sleep.”

And the talking ended there.

Oikawa snatches your face and slams his mouth on your opened ones, rolling out his tongue into you before brushing roughly his lips against your lips. Your both hands twitches, the kiss is electrifying. You try to pull away but he restrains you by gripping lightly your neck. You hear Sakusa laughs. He wraps his arms around your body, locking you in restrictions. Oikawa continues kissing you roughly that you can feel his warm saliva dripping from his mouth down to your chin. You didn’t respond to his kisses. You were in shocked. When he sucks on your lips and tongue, you didn’t recognise the moan that passed your lips.

“Undress her quickly!” still in a rush, Bokuto puts his words into action. He separates you from Oikawa’s mouth. You were panting when he pulls out your hoodie, showing your uncovered titsx in broad daylight. They look perfect and round and flushed. The three men growls, pouncing all at one on you. Bokuto has the right breast, Sakusa’s on the left and Oikawa, he moves between your legs, pushing your shorts to the side to take a good look on your rosy folds.

Oikawa licks the slit back and forth until it gets covered with his saliva. He chuckles when your body twitches. He dips his mouth again, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clitx while scratching your inner thighs. You moan loudly, arching your back again and again. Your moan matches the others’ moans and grunts. Both Sakusa and Bokuto are sucking on your titsx and they’re doing it like they’re milking on you. Swirling sharply their tongues and grazing their teeth on its softness. Damn. You didn’t even say yes to them!

Unknowingly, your mouth also salivates as well as your cunt being treated like a meal by Oikawa’s hot and needy mouth. He’s swirling his tongue and he’s sucking you there so noisily.

“Tooru~” you moan his name when he starts pumping digits into you while his thumb is pressing hard on your clitx. Your legs stretches up and down whenever his fingers goes deeper and harder and at the same time, circling his knuckles hard as well on your cunt. He makes you drip like crazy and it’s evident on your oozing core and salivating mouth. He laughs triumphantly, giving you the best finger fuck and tongue fuck. Your body convulses when you come in waves, the two men abandons your chest to join Oikawa slurping your first and rich orgasm.

They pushes your legs up and there are three long and thick tongues slurping and licking your tight pussy that still waves down thick juices. You find support by grabbing on the edges while you were being worshipped by their mouths. A squeal escapes your lips when you feel someone’s tongue poking your anusx.

When they finished, Oikawa pulls you near the edge and kneels in front of your head hanging by on the ends. He’s the first one to get fully naked before Sakusa and Bokuto.

“Kou~” your eyes waters, not in fear but in excitement and other unnamed feelings.

Sakusa goes below you, putting your small body on top of his own while slowly inserting his fat cockx in your tight pussy. You let out a yelp when his balls bumps on your opening. He’s deep inside you!

“Sakusa hnngggg~ sooo deeeppp haaahhh!” you grip his arm that locks your head beside his by putting it tight around your neck. You struggle to breathe properly so you gasp for air. His other hand goes to your stuffed cunt and slaps your folds harshly until he hears you sob and cry.

“Enough, Omi, she’s sore already.” Bokuto slaps Sakusa’s hand away and replaces it by his own, giving soft touches and light kisses.

“Hmm~ Kou... Kou... ” you cry his name, grabbing his hand toward your mouth. You kiss his fingertips and suck on them later. Earning soft moans and heavy breathes from him.

Bokuto takes his hand from your grasp and gives you slow and sensual kiss on your lips. You feel Sakusa inching his length out but you give no enough attention to it. What matters now is how Bokuto kisses your numb lips. He’s good and it feels good.

Your dear friend ends the kiss but not his finger work on your clitx. He’s rubbing it softly.

“My turn baby doll.” you almost forgot about him. Oikawa kisses you again and what he does next surprised you. He shoves his cockx in your mouth, all the way down to your throat. You gag at how big he is but you can’t do anything to remove it not now that he starts moving in and out.

Your moans gets dissolved by Oikawa’s rough fucking inside your mouth. He moans louder than you and his friends and you feel like doing the same so you cooperate with him, sucking him in while he fucks his length harder to your throat.

Down to the remaining men, Sakusa has been hammering your tight cunt with his massive cockx and swear! Your eyes widened when Bokuto positions his big cock head to where Sakusa’s fat one is inserted.

You put your free hand on his abdomen when he hovers over you, slowly joining his friend’s dick into party.

No, Koutaro! You’re gonna rip me with your cockx!

But he didn’t stop. He slides his fat member into your stretched core! Stretching it even wider with Sakusa’s!

Oikawa moans louder and louder and he even dirty talks while spurting his thick loads in your mouth. You gag on it and you do nothing but swallow it all.

When it’s your turn to moan and scream, you give all your best in doing it because fuck, it’s hurt having two fat and long shafts inside your cunt. So you moan and cry and then repeat while ramming themselves into you. Your body shakes and your lips quivers and they huffs and pants and slams their hips until you bleed thick and rich heat again, covering their cocks with your juice and their sperms.

Bokuto and Sakusa only pulls out when they empty all of their loads inside you.

It’s not over, Oikawa pulls you and folds you in mating press, inserting his hard cockx into your leaking hole, pumping faster while kissing your roughly again. He does it again. The rough and deep pumping. The rough kisses that leaves your lips swollen and numb.

“Tooruuu aahhnnggg~ hmmppp~” you shake your head, he’s using you so rough. You can feel the weight of every thrust and you wish for it to be over.

Again, it’s not over even after he cum inside you. He flips you on your stomach, pushing his cockx back inside you. He pounds you harder from behind, groping your chest before slapping your ass as he keeps pounding. You cry. And cry. And cry.

Three times. Oikawa cums inside you three times before handing you back to Sakusa who chooses to fuck you ass up, too.

“Not today, Omi. Her parents would notice. She comes home every weekends.” Bokuto advises his friend when Sakusa put his tip on your anusx.

Sakusa spits on his length and on your anusx, “okay, I won’t anal fuck her hmm~” he says but does it anyway.

He shoves right there! Sliding his full length inside your ass. You let out a loud cry and sob hard. Sakusa laughs. Oikawa, too. Bokuto attends to you and takes your both hands, drawing circles at the back of your hand he’s gripping tightly.

“Kou... Kou... it hurts, please, Kou... ” you cry while holding hands with your best friend.

Sakusa starts grinding his hips against your and that makes you feel the very pain of being analed. Bokuto didn’t leave you. He keeps holding your hand while Sakusa pounds you senselessly, almost adhering you deep against the softness of the couch.

“Ssshhh, baby~ you can take him~ you’ll feel good.” you focus on his words while endurimg Sakusa’s rough thrusts.

“Kou—” you were cut mid sentence. Sakusa pulls you away from Bokuto, flipping you on your back again to face him.

You can feel his loads dripping from your assholex but he’s not done yet. He separates your legs and dips between your thighs, pushing his shaft back.

You wince in pain when he slaps your swollen folds. You tell him it hurts with tears in your eyes but he just smiled. Slapping for the last time before rocking you again and this time, claiming your lips. He kisses expertly and you find yourself returning his kiss even though your lips hurts.

“Omi... ” you cry his name softly and that stuns him for seconds, watching your face contorts in beautiful pleasure. He sees something different in you in that state so he rocks you deep but slow this time, kissing your chin down to your neck and moments later, he’s shooting his loads inside you while still kissing you slowly.

Once again, that moment isn’t over yet, Bokuto takes you inside his arms and brings you in the backyard where there is a inflatable pool set up near the wooden fence.

The sun is up and so is his cockx.

He puts your nakedness in the cold water and slow fuck you there but bruising your whole body with his deep bites and tight grips. He pushes the hair strands that covers your face while ramming himself into you. He looks at you softly and he notices your puffy eyes from all the crying.

“You good, baby?” his voice is gentle so you smile, nodding your head until it slowly falls down backwards. You feel drained and you can’t keep with his deep rumblings while moving up and down on his lap.

He catches your head on time, eyes fluttering from being overworked.

“Kou, I like you. I lied when I say it’s Omi.” you confess before closing your eyes.

Bokuto does your job, he moves your ass up and down his length even though you fell asleep on him. As he shoots his loads inside, he says this, “but Omi found you first, Y/N. He’s afraid to tell you his feelings so he finds another way to get close to you. By bullying you, he gets closer and closer. I just jumped in the scene and befriended you. I like you, too, Y/N. But he likes you first. So, you are his.”

But, you didn’t hear it. You were too tired to fight against the need to sleep.

Two hours later...

You were in the backseat, straddling on Sakusa’s laps, his cockx installed inside your creaming cunt while holding you tight as he kisses your lips torridly.

On your way home,

Bokuto drives the car.

While Sakusa is fucking you mercilessly in the backseat.

With all the bruises and marks of ownership, there’s no doubt you are his.

You are Kiyoomi Sakusa’s property.

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

Text

Disarming (Santi x fem!reader)

Summary: you and Santi - good friends- are Best Man and Maid of Honour at Frankie’s wedding, and guess what? There’s only one bed!

What is this? This is 5/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. The prompt is “We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend”, requested by @woakiees. Another double trope extravaganza! Hadley, I’m so pleased you suggested Santi for this one, as he immediately came to mind when I was writing this prompt :D Thank you so much for requesting! <3

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Apparently I get carried away EVERY time I write Santi. WHY AM I LIKE THIS?! :-/

Word count: 7.5k. I’M SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

Rating: 18+ ONLY (minors out, please, do not read or interact)

Warnings: it gets angsty in the middle. Reader has nightmare- comfort offered. Mentions of reader being “hurt” in the past but vague and unspecified. They have a fight. One or two alcohol mentions- no actual consumption. Food mention. Swearing. Steam leading into smut but not explicit- mentions of masturbation, erections, making-out, one brief allusion to choking kink. Let me know if I missed anything.

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @casifer-is-king (loads of the tags aren’t working :-/)

GIF: @nathan-bateman

From the first moment you met Santi, you had simply fallen into step with him. It was effortless, and so, as soon as you found yourself by his side, you stayed there. What’s more, that’s exactly where he wanted you to be.

Despite the man’s hard, no-nonsense edge -which you also appreciated- he was warm and charming. It was easy to connect with him, in a way it hadn’t often been for you. For him too - or so the boys told you - the way you surpassed his defences was a rare thing. It shouldn’t have worked, perhaps. Usually, he was slow to trust and you were quick to love, but on this occasion none of that seemed to apply, the two of you tumbling squarely into a fast-friendship; one deeper and more intense, perhaps, than its duration might suggest. Still, despite the boys’ inferences that you would quickly become an item, and Santi’s continual attempts to blur the lines between this and… something more, “friends” is what you have remained.

You had felt it immediately with him. Something different. You simply... flowed. You fit. It was immediately evident, even on that first night, in the way you orbited around one another, setting up an impromptu beer pong of all things. You moved together with a fluidity and a precision that seems almost tactical- as though you too had run countless manoeuvres in the field with him. You could read him and understand him as though you had drilled his habits and patterns and idiosyncrasies over and over; learning him. However, he was never that much effort - the two of you came naturally to each other, little learning required. You knew each other with your gut.

At that fateful party, when you each escaped to the back porch steps for some air at a serendipitous moment, the conversation had immediately flowed, and not only as a result of his natural, disarming charm. The silence even came easily rightaway – a comfortable thing, the space between you stuffed with contentment, rather than the feeling of a gaping vacuum, needlessly filled. It turned out his best friend was dating yours (the pair to be wed this very weekend) but that almost seemed like the cherry on top, rather than the thing bringing you to each other.

Safe to say, what was true then is true now. You get on so well. You find him fun and easy and generous and you love the man dearly.

…Most of the time.

Those other times, though? Santiago “Pope” Garcia can be a pain in your ass. But that’s another reason you love him, you guess. Keeps things interesting.

“Please don’t kill me,” Santi says sheepishly, and it’s obvious to you he’s laying on the charm - actively trying to be as disarming as possible as he saunters over from the reception desk. For a moment, despite all his training, he looks as though he believes you could pull it off, too.

Your annoyance is already prepped; locked and loaded, as he pads squarely towards the banquette where you are sat - amidst a sea of luggage. You’ve been observing his attempts to charm the desk clerk with interest (his efforts, you surmise, at least partially effectual), and judging from the slight level of desperation in his efforts, you can already tell he fucked up somehow.

“What did you do?” you say impatiently, even as a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.

“I booked all the rooms we needed, for all of the wedding guests, right? 13 rooms here, and all 10 at the hotel across town. 4 more in guesthouses,” he recaps. “Got Frankie and Mila a great deal too, remember?”

You remember. And yet, you fold your arms across your chest, looking up at him incredulously. Okay then. Rolling with your attitude, the man takes a different tack. He sits next to you. Smiles. Leans in. Pats your thigh. He’s trying to disarm you too, you realise. It’s going to take more than that - you’re not some flimsy desk clerk who will form a puddle and bat your eyes at the first sign of his charm.

“Well, funny story. I may have forgotten to book our rooms,” he blurts.

Oh? Oh, great. Yeah. This is a grand fuck-up. The whole damn town is booked-out. It’s a small town. No longer amused, your nostrils flare in annoyance as you tug in a slow breath, schooling your tone just a little before you speak. “You what?” Okay, you didn’t manage to school it all that much.

“Look, I already sort of fixed it,” he smooths. That explains the flirting with the clerk. Although, you think, glancing back at her. She’s pretty. That partially explains the flirting with the clerk, then, you mentally correct. “There’s just one, teeny-tiny issue.”

You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes. Well?

“We’re gonna have to share a room.”

You blink at him a few times, in surprise. Well, it’s not ideal. For a number of reasons. But you can think of worse things, truth be told. And he’s not wrong. It is a solution. Still, on his reveal, a succession of emotions and micro-assessments are bounced back and forth between your eyes and his, until you land on resigned annoyance, exhaling a long sigh. That is, until Frankie appears in the lobby, swanning in like he’s walking on air. He probably is, given that he’s getting married this weekend. His face splits with a smile so wide you reckon it should be painful to maintain, and you stand to greet him as he heads over.

You’re glad he’s happy. It means that you and Santi, as Maid of Honour and Best man, respectively, are doing a fantastic job of deflecting all of the stress away from the happy couple. Indeed, that assessment certainly feels true – you do feel stressed. Still, the two of you immediately paint your faces with masking smiles; though, in fairness, it’s hard not to smile while looking at Frankie – his obvious joy is infectious.

Frankie wraps you both in a hug, then rubs his palms together like an excited kid. “I don’t have much time. Just gonna say a quick hello to my parents. Apparently, my mom’s already started crying? Can you two sort some extra tissues for the ceremony or something? Oh, and is everything okay with the rooms?”

“With this guy? Are you kidding?”, you say before you think, throwing your thumb towards Santi. Immediately, his eyes submit a powerful plea to you to keep schtum- it is written all over his face that he doesn’t want to let Frankie down. Not even in the smallest of ways.

Frankie would find his little error funny, probably. But he can find it funny after the ceremony. “Everything is A-OK! This guy? He has every single detail taken care of.”

Frankie grins, his eyes narrowing proudly at Santi as he slaps him on the back, laying profuse thanks on the two of you; then, he floats away again, as if on a cloud. Santi’s brown eyes are big with gratitude when you look at him again, and you can’t help but weaken. You’ll admit, it’s really not that bad of a fuck-up. Besides, you’re tired. Between the drive out here, the wedding rehearsal, and a never-ending list of errands, the day has been long. You just want to get to the room, and maybe even clock a snooze before the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Fine,” you agree, albeit through gritted teeth. “We can share a damn room.”

Santi looks visibly relieved, and squeezes your shoulder in thanks. You’d even been nice enough not to bite his head off. “Yeah. We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend.” Suddenly, he doesn’t sound quite as certain.

“Sure. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” you smile nervously.

He returns your smile and swivels, heading back towards the desk.

“Oh, wait!” you call after him. “Is it a double or a twin?” you ask in horror. Sharing a room is one thing, but sharing a bed?

He turns, looking over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter!”, he winks. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna have to take it.”

Oh. Oh dear.

You’re inclined to agree -you don’t have many options- but when you catch yourself stealing a glance at the man’s shapely butt as he walks back to the desk, you begin to chew your bottom-lip nervously.

Right. Ha.

What could possibly go wrong?

**********************

It turns out, sharing a room with Santi is resoundingly not bad at all. In fact, at first, it’s as easy as everything else is with him - even between your hurried preparations for the evening, unpacking, shuttling items to the relevant members of the wedding party, and calling down to reception several times to check the logistics for the rehearsal dinner. Even getting dressed, you find an easy flow as you each flit in and out of the bathroom, dancing around each other with ease and only a hint of friendly bickering.

Santi’s respectful too- always knocking and announcing himself before entering a space, and averting his gaze when he needs to, given that you’re rushing around and undressing. You even manage to ignore the fact there’s only one bed for the longest time, parking that specific panic for later. Even then, he has already made reception send up extra pillows and blankets, forming a barricade in the middle of the bed so you two can comfortably separate.

Thankfully, you are so busy that the idea of sharing a bed with Santi doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re finally ready, dressed in your finery. When you step out of the bathroom, Santi -sat on the edge of said bed- stands up, thrusting his hands into his suit trousers as he takes the sight of you in, pulling the material taut -in a rather pleasing way- across his hips and thighs. He ends up slightly slack-jawed for a moment as his eyes trail over you, brewing with a gentle, self-conscious heat. “Fuck,” he says softly, his voice gruff. “You look…” a little gulp trails down his throat as you give him a little twirl. “…hot”, he says, his eyebrow ticking up on the last beat.

“Wait until you see my bridesmaid dress,” you smile, and he returns it easily, those gorgeous creases appearing around his eyes.

Unconsciously, you lick your lips. You can’t help but wonder, vaguely, what it would be like to push him down on to the mattress. Maybe straddle him. Fuck, you should have known this would be a bad idea. A heat rising in your face at that thought of that, you distract yourself by lifting his suit jacket from the back of the chair, holding it out for him as he slips it on to his shoulders, and feeling the luxurious texture of it beneath your fingers.

It’s a grey suit, tailored, and it hugs him in all the right places. The cool colour is perfect against his warm-toned brown skin, and brings out the salt in his salt-and-pepper curls, and in the rough rasp of grey flecked through his stubble.

You try desperately not to notice how good he looks, but this may be your greatest challenge yet.

“Come on,” you encourage, nodding towards the door. “We better head down.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, half-heartedly. The way his eyes are subtly roving over you, though, he looks like he has something entirely different in mind for dinner.

“You’re probably going to spend all night being chased by the single bridesmaids,” you add casually as you collect your purse, and apply a final dab of lipstick in front of the mirror. You’ve already clocked a few members of the wedding party eyeing him up, and you don’t exactly blame them for being thirsty. Besides, Santi is a huge flirt; so perhaps he’ll be the one doing the chasing. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended the night with his tongue thrust deep in someone’s throat, which -you assume- is typical Santi fashion.

“Isn’t it traditional, anyway,” he smirks cheekily, applying a splash of cologne, “for the Best Man to hook-up with one of the bridesmaids?”

Lord, does he have to smell so… edible.

“Got news for you, man. You fucked up. You can’t exactly bring a girl back to your room now, can you?!” you tease, nodding back towards your shared bed, a wall of pillows already arranged down the middle. You mean it to come out in good-humour, but you can’t scrub the hint of jealousy from your tone entirely.

You feel so silly for being jealous of whomever he may hook-up with. After all, Santi is always the one testing the boundaries of friendship with you. It’s not like he’s ever made a secret of the fact he’s attracted to you- and you are the one here will a firm line in the sand. A line you simply won’t cross with him. Can’t cross. You want to - of course you do, but after being hurt in the past, you have simply built-up far too many defences; or, more accurately, just the right amount of defences, you think, to protect you. So, no matter how disarming the man is, you simply have to keep your guard up; because if he breached your walls, you know everything else would come tumbling so easily down.

You had fallen so easily into friendship with him, and you are certain that you would fall just as recklessly in love with him.

You’re not ready for that.

You can’t take being hurt again. Besides; Santi? He’s an incredible friend. He’s tenaciously loyal and dedicated to his squad. But when it comes to love, and sex, you doubt whether serious is even his thing - and you’re too afraid to ask.

“You ready to do this?” he asks, with a wink.

“Yep,” you nod. “Let’s roll,” and with that, you turn, heading for the hallway.

“Princesa- that dress really highlights your ass,” he praises as he tags along behind you.

“Thank you, it’s true,” you smile devilishly, already beginning to let your guard down, just a little. He’s simply so disarming. “Speaking of, Garcia – did you get your trousers a size too small on purpose?”

“Oh, you noticed?” he retorts, smugly, guiding you through the door with a hand on the small of your back.

Okay. Sometimes you flirt back. After all – look at him.

Especially in that damn suit.

***********************************

The rehearsal dinner goes swell. Frankie and Mila are a picture-perfect, loved-up couple, and they grin their way through the evening as if they slept with coat hangers in their mouths. The speeches are well-received, including Will’s, thus setting a high bar for you and Santi tomorrow. (You may be biased, but Santi’s is ten times funnier, and it’s going to kill, in your opinion.) There are no dramas through the evening- logistical or familial, and thanks to you and Santi overseeing everything with a military precision, it looks as though -so far- it is shaping up to be the perfect wedding weekend.

Finally, once your duties are over for the night, you are able to let your hair down a little, so to speak, and enjoy the food and company on offer. Still, with a big day ahead tomorrow, things wind down relatively early, and -having lost track of Santi at some point- you find yourself back at the shared room a little while before him. You usually burn out more quickly than he does in social situations, but even taking that into consideration, you begin to fret about where he has gotten to. With the way he was flirting his way through the party, though, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what (or who) might be keeping him up.

You try to sleep but you can’t, your mind going to the worst places, so, by the time Santi does return -softly cracking the door, and padding in with his shoes in his hands so as not to wake you- you have stewed in your own thoughts long enough to have become a little cranky. A little… green-eyed.

“Hey,” he greets in surprise when he enters, immediately noticing the soft lamp glow, and seeing you still sitting up in the bed, mindlessly watching the flicker of the tv on mute.

“Hey,” you return, your voice noticeably strained. “Have a fun time?” You find yourself wishing you weren’t sharing a room, then you wouldn’t have to know what he got up to.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, slipping off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. “Did you? How come you’re still up? Thought for sure you’d be wiped out by now.”

So, he did think of you, then?

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply neutrally, fixing your eyes dead ahead as he begins to slip out of his trousers and shirt too, until he’s dressed in only his tight black boxers. Next, he takes off his watch and sets it at the bedside, and you notice that he smells of perfume. A cloying, floral scent that makes you feel a little sick.

“Just gonna have a quick shower and then I’ll slip in with you, okay?” he says, his voice slow and deep and muted, matching the soft light.

You still don’t look at him. You can’t.

“Do what you want. You usually do,” you bite, the words tasting bitter as soon as they have left your lips, and tears of regret pooling as your anger dissolves.

You don’t blame him if he was with someone – you really don’t. You’re simply angry at yourself; because you wish you could be that person, and you can’t for the life of you seem to find a way.

“Okay. What was that for?” he bristles, reacting defensively, turning towards you. And perhaps it’s because it’s late and he’s tired, or because certain demons feel safer coming out under the cover of darkness, but he doesn’t stop there. Especially when all he gets from you is a stony, pointed silence. “You know what? Actually, no. You don’t get to do this”, he hisses, and it is the first time you’ve ever heard him direct any genuine anger at you.

It doesn’t half sting.

“Do what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“You don’t get to be mad when I give my attention to someone who actually wants it,” his voice is hushed, but his words rattle through you as if he had yelled them. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Guess what, I’m not yours.”

“That’s not fair”, you snap back, and then things are quickly escalating.

“Isn’t it?” he asks, rasping a hand over his stubble in distress. “I mean, come on. Shit. You know that I want more but I…” he exhales a disgruntled laugh. “You shoot me down, which is your prerogative, honestly, but you can’t have it both ways. You can’t knock me back all the time and then be pissed off when I look elsewhere.”

You meet his face, the planes of it shadowed and angled harshly with anger, suddenly so unfamiliar to you, and it causes your eyes to bloom with tears. You two look the opposite of Frankie and Mila; of a picture-perfect couple. But you’re not even a couple at all, are you?

You see him try. To blunt the emotion which is bubbling up. To soften. But he has uncorked something he now can’t put back in. “Fuck, I just wish that….” he pinches his lips together and shakes his head, planting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor. “If you don’t want me, just put me out of my fucking misery. Just say it. Just fucking tell me.”

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces at the thought you make him miserable. At the way his voice breaks. At the way he thinks you don’t want him. Maybe you were wrong, thinking that you could be friends at all. Thinking that could be enough for him.

Your lower lip trembles, and your fingers clutch the edge of the blanket. “I… I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you that I don’t want you, Santi.”

You can’t because it isn’t true. It could not be further from the truth, in fact.

He puffs out air, an exasperated sound, his hand raising up to tangle in his grizzled curls. Raising his voice a little more. “Let me guess. You can’t tell me the other thing either?”

“I.. I..” You try, but no words will come. You simply shake your head, swallowing a sob, your eyes almost brimming over.

He nods. He nods, his mouth slanted down. “Great. Got it,” he huffs.

You hate this. You hate how much you’re hurting him.

“Santi,” you breathe weakly, but it is too weak to blunt the force of his emotion. To halt his trajectory, and so, resigned, he turns towards the bathroom, grabbing-up a fresh white towel from the counter. Before he closes the door, he turns to you once more, now speaking softly, his eyes as sad as yours. “You know,” he says, his index finger sawing back-and-forth over the stubble at his chin. “For the record, I wasn’t with anyone else. I can’t even fucking think about anyone else but you. I was late back to the room because I couldn’t face it.” His voice becomes small and pained. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to just curl up next to you and act like I don’t care.” His eyebrow ticks up, and he adds, with a final flourish. “Guess I should have taken a lesson from you.”

Oh, how it stings, pain flowering in your chest like a bruise, but you hold yourself together until he’s out of sight. Then, when he’s gone, you immediately cave in on yourself, falling on to your side and screwing your eyes shut, clamping your hand over your mouth so that he can’t hear you crying as wet tears spill onto your pillow.

When he comes back into the room, after a long shower, you simply screw your eyes shut and pretend to be asleep. You hear him sigh heavily, and mumble something to himself under his breath, before dragging a few pillows and a spare blanket down on to the floor.

A few more silent tears roll over the bridge of your nose.

You guess you wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him after all.

***********************

You wake panicked in the night, sitting bolt upright in the bed. A cold wash of sweat over your skin chills you, even though you feel like you’re burning-up.

Immediately, you reach for him, for Santi, calling his name even as your fear strangles the sound in your throat. Your heart is thudding, and your breaths are sawing in and out of you, but your grasping hands find nothing to your side but pillows and blanket.

Unfortunately, you are used to this occurrence, and you quickly realise it was “only” a nightmare. Still, the feelings and images it conjured linger in your body, and around you in the shifting, seemingly fluid shadows of the room.

With a release of tension, you whimper, leaning forward and cradling your head in your trembling hands, and you try to ground yourself. To steady your breath and your heartbeat, like you’ve practiced. As you do so, the shadows to your left shift and change, and, even in the pitch-black you can feel him, a safe and warm presence, instantly travelling to your side, his weight dipping the mattress. His soothing, sandy voice filtering through the shadows and cutting back the tendrils of your nightmare like a Disney prince hacking through cursed vines.

You vaguely remember that he’s mad at you - but you can’t help it. Can’t help asking. “Hold me?” you plead, desperately afraid that he won’t.

Still, without questions or hesitation, you feel the wall of remaining pillows coming down, the defences around you quite literally being dismantled – a figurative wall between you shifting away along with it. He shushes you, and you focus on his voice, until he is close enough that the scent of him wraps around you, before his arms follow closely after.

You reach for him in return. You reach for him in every way possible.

“It’s just a nightmare,” he soothes. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you,” and there is pain in his voice on your behalf, as if he tries to bear the burden of it for you.

“Closer,” you plead, and before you know it, he is shifting you on to your side, slotting his sturdy yet soft body around you, not caring that you feel clammy and hot against his bare skin. He simply loops his arms and draws your back, closer to his chest, becoming your big spoon.

He calms you, hands enveloping yours and bundling them against your chest, his nose nuzzling into your hair, and his deep steady breaths slowing your breathing as you let his calm and his rhythms overcome you. He holds you, until the feelings pass, not caring how long it takes – and with any anger from before apparently forgotten.

This pain is all too familiar to him, you know. It something that Santi understands. It is your own and it is not the same as his, true, but you know it is familiar enough that he will feel the ache of it echoing in his own chest. You know that he is accustomed enough to bearing his own pain, that when yours is too heavy to carry, he will help you hold it for a while. And so, he holds you, while you are a tender thing, bruised and afraid, and he keeps you safe; with all your walls down, all of your defences collapsed, he becomes your fortress.

You never thought that letting yourself be so vulnerable could allow you to feel quite as safe as this.

As you lie together, Santi continues to usher soft reassurances into your ear, his words like charms and incantations to ward off the ghosts which haunt you. And, after a series of slow, stretched moments, you become more settled, and Santi feels you relax against him.

After a few moments more, he eventually whispers a small question into your hair. In the dark, the question feels safe to come out, perhaps.

“Do you always call for me when you…?” he trails off, thinking better of it. “I’m sorry- forget it, you don’t have to answer that.”

You don’t. You know you don’t. You don’t even truthfully know the answer. It’s likely that you do call for him, though how would you know, when you’re usually alone? But, there is something else you can tell him, while it is safe to come out in the dark. Something you want to tell him, before you build your walls all the way back up.

“Santi,” you begin, timidly, and his fingers skim softly up and down your arms, encouraging you to go on. “I-I’ve been hurt before. And, I want to be with you. I want to let you in but… I’m. I’m not ready. I’m trying so hard but I… I can’t.”

There is a long beat, and you realise he has held in a breath only when he releases it all at once, fanning hot across the back of your neck.

You are afraid. Afraid of what he might say, in response – what he might feel, but you think, maybe, it might be something like relief? And, Santi squeezes you, just a little tighter. A little closer. “Don’t worry about that now, okay?” he soothes, his voice feather soft. “Just… know one thing, okay, Princesa? Whenever you are ready? I’m waiting.”

This time your heart fills with a different emotion, all the spaces in it flooded with contentment, Santi’s words followed by a perfect, happy silence.

A soft smile blooms on your face.

It was not a confession of waiting impatiently, you understand, but an invitation to take your time to arrive at him. He’s not trying to bring down your defences at all, is he? He’s waiting for you to open the door, and invite him in. He’s waiting until you are ready. He simply needed to know that you are on your way, even if your footsteps are getting you there slowly.

For now, though, the thought of it is too much. More than you’re ready for.

So, you simply let him hold you.

To disarm you further.

To walk yourself a little closer toward where you want to be. With him; by his side.

****************************************

In the morning, you wake up tangled around each other, Santi’s arm wrapped securely around your back and your head settled on his chest. He is still snoring lightly – cutely - when you awake, and so, as the night prior comes flooding back to you, you hastily try to extricate yourself from him; even if his bare skin feels so good against yours that you never want to move. You’re apparently not so subtle- or he’s a helluva light-sleeper – as, just when you pull away, Santi wakes up, quickly rushing to prove his innocence.

“You had a nightmare,” he croaks, still trying to peel his eyes open. “You asked me to- “.

“-I know. I remember,” you reassure, sitting up in bed, the blankets tugged to your chest. Santi shuffles, opting to assume the same position on his own side, mirroring you, rubbing his eyes.

You’re still not sure whether to apologise to him or thank him. Or maybe even to wait for an apology from him? Christ. Maybe all of those things or none of them, who even knows? You mentally spin a wheel and land on a casual “Uh. Thank you, for…. You know.”

“Anytime,” he says, turning his head to the side and looking at you earnestly. As if your bickering -your jealousy and his outburst- is all but forgotten. What’s more, you know that he means it.

Admiringly, your eyes wander over him, enjoying a side of him you’ve never quite seen before. Apparently, he’s even more handsome in the morning, with an even thicker, darkened brush of stubble, his grizzled curls dishevelled, and his swooping eyelids still heavy from sleep. Combined, it gives him a sultry, bedroom look. Feeling an involuntary rush of heat in the pit of you, your gaze drops to his corded neck, where, given the special occasion, he has substituted his dog tags for a silver chain, drawing your gaze down over his smooth, brown chest.

Your skin now cooling in the conditioned air of the room, you long for his body heat again, recalling how it felt to be held by him and wishing you had lingered a little longer while you could. Even with your interrupted sleep last night, you have somehow woken feeling refreshed, as though you had slept unreasonably deeply in his arms, reaching a whole new level of contentment - as though you just fit together, perhaps. As though it comes naturally for you to be held by him, and for him to hold you.

There is a silence and it isn’t awkward exactly; more… pregnant, with possibilities. Possibilities you see brewing with a gentle heat in his eyes. So, tearing yourself abruptly away from that line of thought, you lift your phone up from the nightstand, and note that there isn’t long before your alarms sound anyway.

Operation Wedding Day is go.

That should be enough of a distraction for you, shouldn’t it?

“You ready for this, Best Man?” you ask him, with a gentle quirk of your lips.

“Sure. Are you ready, Maid of Honour?”

Ready. Are you ready?

Thoughts of last night swirl in your head.

Well – as Santi flashes you a tentative, disarming smile, with hooded eyes, you certainly feel like you’re getting there. Like soon you could be ready.

“Sure. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Atta girl,” he encourages, folding his arms behind his head as you jump out of bed.

You suddenly don’t care that you’re in nothing but your underwear, as you stretch out your body and track towards the bathroom. “I’ll shower first?”

“We’re sharing a bed,” he teases. “Sure you don’t want to share a shower too?”

You scoff, flashing a mischievous smile right back at him. You’ve always had a soft spot for his flirting, but you feel like -after all that transpired last night- you truly see if for what it is now. You realise why it has never felt like he’s pressuring you - not once. He’s simply reminding you, that as soon as you call for him, he’ll be there. That he’s waiting, when you’re ready.

Reminding you, that as soon as your walls drop, he’ll be your fortress.

“I don’t think you’re gonna get quite that lucky this morning, Garcia.”

You do linger in the doorway, just a little longer than necessary though, so that he can get a better look at you. He’d never look without permission – he proved that yesterday, when you were in various states of disarray- but this time, sensing your invitation, his eyes graze over you slowly, keenly. So, when he strategically moves his hands from behind his head to hide the tenting covers, you don’t mind at all.

You smile devilishly as you slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You’re not sure if he will… take care of himself out in the room – how could you know? But, feeling inspired, you certainly do so in the shower, and it’s a pretty great wake-up call before you face the wedding day.

Maybe sharing a room isn’t so bad. Maybe you could even get used to it.

*********************************************

Frankie and Mila get hitched without a hitch.

Santi goes to the ends of the earth to make sure that Frankie has the best day possible- and at some points, he goes even further than that. His speech was moving and flawless, and pretty fucking funny; even if you are a little (or a lot) biased. Not a dry eye in the house, just as you predicted.

The man adores Frankie with his whole heart, and you could barely hold back the glow of admiration as you listened to him, feeling like it might burst from your chest like a beam of gold sunlight. You felt it especially strongly every time his eyes met yours during the course of the speech, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself stupid each time he did so. And, of course, you were overjoyed to see your best friend have the day of her dreams, with the man of her dreams. If you do say so yourself, you think your speech was pretty killer too.

Suffice to say, you ate until your belly was full, loved until your heart hurt, laughed until your sides ached, and danced until your feet ached.

Tonight, unlike last night, you and Santi retire to your shared room at the same time, your arm linked into his, and your shoes carried in your hand to spare your sore feet – there’s a reason you never normally wear shoes like this. Without your heels though, you keep tripping over the hem of your dress almost every few paces, causing you to giggle and Santi to steady you with a warm, rich chuckle, sometimes throwing you an extra hand to assist you.

You look over at him, furtively, as he recounts some of the more choice moments from the day, immensely enjoying the simple pleasure of hearing him talk and smile and laugh. Seeing him happy. Of course, enjoying how he looks too, you have to admit - even more handsome than he did yesterday (somehow) in midnight blue dress pants, and a white, crisp shirt, now tieless. He’s only grown sexier as the evening drew on too, now with a wide open-collar and rolled up sleeves to accommodate all of the dancing; or, at least, as much dancing as his knees could handle, until he’d simply opted to sit to the side and watch you boogie, his eyes apparently transfixed on you and only you - the advances of the other bridesmaids be damned.

There is something that hits different about the way he looked at you today. His admiration shining deeper than usual. Less like a casual lust, and more like something… serious. You’re not sure why you doubted it before, exactly. Why you have been so inordinately afraid that he might hurt you. You broadly figured him for a smash and dash type of man, which is fine, but you have every reason to believe that he wants more with you.

After all, Santi can be deeply and tenaciously loyal. He has dedicated himself to things deeply and unwaveringly several times over in his life. To his country, to his missions, to his morals, to his squad. And there’s something about the way he looked at you today, you think, that suggests he might dedicate himself to you with the same tenacity. Something far deeper than appreciating how you look in this bridesmaid dress (and oh boy do you look hot). It’s more like the way he looks at Frankie. A little different to that, obviously. But you’re realising he looks at you like he’d never let you down. Not even in the smallest of ways. Like he’d rather go to the ends of the earth -or beyond- than do that.

At least… you think so.

You are sure about one thing though. The way he looks at you? It’s thoroughly disarming.

And so, you arrive at your shared room, utterly wiped out from the day (and night), yet still somehow buzzing with an energy. A gentle suffusing heat under your skin as you watch Santi walk inside and kick off his shoes at the end of the bed, before turning back towards you.

You have entered a few paces behind him, after nearly tripping on your gown all over again by the door, but now, you are quite steady on your feet - aside from that slight, nervous tremble in your quaking legs as he looks at you like that. As Santi looks you up and down, eyes skimming over the contours of your dress and hence everywhere it hugs your figure. Evidently, he likes what he sees.

“Wow,” he breathes, his brown eyes shining as if he’s looking at you for the first time that day, even if his gaze has barely left you all night. “I know it’s the bride’s day, but you look fuckin’ smokin’, sweetie.”

“You think so?” you ask humbly, suddenly feeling unreasonably shy. Flustered even.

“Yeah. I think so,” he nods, positively certain. “Shit, you’re so beautiful.”

You look at him. You look at him in a way which suggests an answer in your eyes instead of a question. A clear intention in your body, instead of uncertainty. But he doesn’t push you. He doesn’t assume. He doesn’t make a move. Instead, his mouth tugs up into a lopsided smile, offering you a lazy flash of teeth, and he shoves his thumbs into his belt loops.

“Well, we’re officially off the clock now, so I’m calling it. Well done, Maid of Honour. Think we nailed it? Made a pretty damn good team?”

A smile lights your face. You did. You flowed. You fit. It was easy.

Fuck. It feels so easy. Why had you ever thought this would be hard?

You nibble on your lip, eyeing him with intention, and a hard swallow trails down his throat in response.

“Off the clock, hmm?” you say breathily. “No more titles or duties? Huh. That’s a real shame.”

“How so?” he asks, his eyes devouring you alive, but his body fixed resolutely in place. Transfixed to the spot.

“Because it’s traditional for the Best Man to get with one of the bridesmaids, isn’t it?”

A slow, disbelieving smile inches over his face, and he looks at his feet, a little bashful. “Gross tradition. Kinda sexist,” he says, and your gaze fixates on his full, curving lips. On his hands, poised and broad at his belt.

“So, you don’t want to make out then?” you ask in your most sultry voice, mere breath.

The man huffs out a quick, broken exhale. “Fuck me. You know I do, sweetie. But only if you’re ready.”

Ready. Are you ready?

“Santiago,” you say, with conviction, your eyes dancing between his. “I’m ready.”

Santi searches your face one last time, just to be certain. He’s sure, of course – has been for a long time, but he needs to know that you truly want this. That you want this now. So, he looks at you, and he finds nothing but permission. Even so, after so long, he still can’t quite believe it. He would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe – or beyond – and, so dammit, he will ask you again.

“C-can I..” he begins, and his voice already sounds choked; hollowed out with need. “Fuck, Princesa, can I kiss you?”

Too long. Too long without moving. Without touching. Too long.

If you were suddenly ready, his kiss becomes even more suddenly overdue.

“You’d better,” you encourage, feeling like vapour. “Unless you want me to do it first.”

With permission granted, you expect him to be on you, with a surge. All at once. But Santi has been patiently waiting for you long enough. He can wait just a little longer, and, when he subtly tips his chin up, ever so slightly, and when he near growls “come here then, honey,” somehow, it is perfect. Somehow, it is a thousand times hotter that he makes you come to him.

You lift the hem of your dress, and you pad delicately towards him, feeling like you are wading through molten honey to get to him, the air thick and sweet.

“That’s it. Come here, baby,” he encourages, with a curl of his index finger beckoning you to him, his voice curling in the pit of you, making you feel weak in the best way possible. Making you feel spent before he’s even done so much as brush you with his hand or his lips.

You close the remaining distance with your steps, the anticipation too much, and your legs feeling so weak from the reckless lust and the light, liquid softness in his eyes. By this point, you are begging for his arms to reach out and clasp you- to hold you up; make you secure and safe in him. You are begging for his lips to sink down on to yours. But he makes you wait, through a few more slow, stretched moments. Makes you inch your mouth closer and closer until your lips are almost skimming his. He makes you wait until you are moaning his name into the air before he has even touched you.

“Santi.”

And, if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that when you call for him, he is always there to take care of you.

You know he will take care of you.

With that, his name a plea, he swoops his broad, large hand up until he is holding you, his fingers closing around your jaw and your throat, trailing down your neck. His touch is painfully gentle, but in a way that makes you want him to squeeze, a little harder. In a way that makes you push yourself ever so subtly into his hand. A way that draws a silken moan from deep in your chest, and Santi is moved to dip the pad of his thumb into your mouth, where it meets your wet and willing warmth. When your tongue skims him, humming as you taste his saltiness, that seems to be the final straw, a wrecked groan sounding from his throat, and finally he surges on to your lips, leading with his tongue, thrusting into your open mouth and drinking down every sound and moan he can draw from you, his stubble rough against you. You don’t care if he leaves you raw.

It’s tender, and it’s gentle, but Santi knows all about control, and you can tell he’s holding back. His hands are lethal, and he knows just how to kill you softly; but, you are certain, that if you want more of his power, he’ll give it to you. That he’ll take care of you however you like.

So, he kisses you more deeply, harder, and you go near limp against him until one of his arms wraps at the back of your head and one at the small of your back, making you feel a feeble thing, waning in his arms as his large hands support you. Except; you’re not feeble though. You’re not by a long shot, and you know exactly what you want.

“Santi,” you suspire, letting him walk you back against the wall, pressing his bulging arousal into you as more wrangled sounds and little grunts slip from his parted lips.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, already sounding wrecked for you.

“There’s only one shower. Wanna share?!”

Even as he releases an endlessly eager, disbelieving breath, his eyes keenly search your face, checking you are ready. He watches, enraptured, as your lips curl into a deliciously sinful smile.

“You know. We don’t have to rush this,” he insists, even as he shivers with need, closing his eyes and biting his lip when you angle your hips to brush the tenting bulge at his crotch, ever so fleetingly, his hips bucking into you immediately in pursuit of more pressure.

“I know,” you say coolly, your body an undercurrent of frenzy, but your mind calm and sure. You push him back, with your palms to his chest, making room for you to about-turn into the bathroom, shimmying off your dress as you go and letting it waft to the floor like a sigh. Looking at him over your shoulder, with lust-blown eyes, you leave Santi stood there, entirely dumbfounded, as you reveal all of yourself to him.

You retreat, but once the water is running you call out to him, wondering where he has got to. “Take a hint, Garcia. If you’re ready? I’m waiting.”

And, he doesn’t waste another second before joining you.

THE END

(BONUS: Outfit inspo, if you wanna imagine him in the suits a lil better 😉)

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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castleoikawa · 3 years ago

Text

‧₊◜ # breath

↳ ❝ i am so incredibly sorry that i fell in love with you, it was never my intention. ❞

—description you had never meant to fall in love with the king, his fiery temper and cold demeanor would turn anyone away. yet, the childhood memories seemed to stay with you both.

—pairing king katsuki bakugou x castle stable girl reader

—warnings aged up characters, swearing, angst, fluff

—word count 3k

—authors note my first request! i hope that you enjoy this! :D

masterlist | unedited

Your job was rather boring. You would attend the stables, slaving away to maintain the horses for each of the king and his court. Your day would consist of constant heat, moving, and cleaning up only to start again right after.

You seemed to always be moving. You would be on a horse, gliding through the acres of land; or you would be feeding them, grooming them, cleaning their hooves and applying new horseshoes.

Yet, everything seemed to freeze whenever King Katsuki Bakugou would be in your presence. Everything would be in utter standstill. Everything except the beating of your heart that ricocheted against your ribs.

He was an excellent rider; he had to be, being King and all.

While you were a child, Katsuki would sneak into the stables at dusk and steal them for midnight rides. You lived at a small cottage next to the stables, a small shack made of wood and stone behind the castle. So you always noticed when he would appear in the late morning hours with winded hair and flushed cheeks.

Those were the fleeting moments in which you witnessed the true him.

It continued into the preteen years as well. When his parents would tell him to rest in his bedroom, he would run to the stables and steal his gorgeous black horse named Hades and disappear into the night.

You would watch from your window, eyes gazing at the royalty as if he were a rare bird that you were afraid of scaring off.

“You stare a lot.” He caught you once. He was walking back towards the castle, between the stables and your home. You only blinked in response, pretending that you were invisible.

A small interaction that lead to more.

During the day, Katsuki would pretend to be uninterested and unaware of you.

When he would arrive with his parents, the King and Queen, for their midday rides throughout the week, Katsuki would stand with his back straight and hair brushed. He did not even look like the kid you knew, primed and pampered and perfect for his royal status.

He would ride his horse alongside his parents through the trails and gardens.

Yet, at night, he was free.

Katsuki indirectly invited you a copious amount of times to ride with him. He would never say it, but he would motion for you to join or say, “Don’t just stare like you normally do, Stable Girl.”

And you joined. Who were you to deny the request of the prince?

Your horse was much slower than his. He slowed down to match your speed, it was an endearing thing that you knew he did. Though he complained nonetheless, strings of “You are so slow!” and “You must be an idiot to enjoy riding like this.”

When you rode your palomino horse alongside Hades, it was as if you were riding next to the night sky itself. The only indicator that he was still with you was his light hair.

That was a routine for a majority of your childhood. Berated and ignored during the day, and free riders at night.

“The sun is rising.” You warned him one particular night.

The two of you were in the stables, just putting the horses in and petting their noses.

“Let it rise.” Katsuki rolled his eyes. “What are my parents going to do? Fire me?”

It was one time that you genuinely thought that he was handsome. At the age of fourteen, he was confident and bright. And as the sun rose, the golden hue reflected off of his skin as if he owned the sun itself.

“Mom, why does that girl have shit on her?” Katsuki once asked the Queen directly in front of you. The two of you were around the age of seven, perhaps eight.

The Queen only rolled her eyes. “Because that’s what her job is, stupid boy. She works in cleaning up the horse shit.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Katsuki said. You felt anger boil in your chest.

“Continue to use words like that and it will be one of your chores.” The Queen threatened.

He was one of power and authority. Katuski Bakugou was one of strict rules and temper tantrums that left the castle in fear. Because he was to be feared, he could flick his wrist and you would lose your head.

Those moments of childhood were far forgotten. A lost prince replaced by a king.

You should be pissed at the king. For years, you had been a secret. A nightly visitor that shared secrets under the moon. It was as if none of that had happened.

But you knew that he had more responsibilities than some girl who worked in his horse stables. He was to rule his kingdom, marry a wealthy girl from another kingdom to merge powers, and live his life of royalty.

You were to attend to the horses.

“That’s my horse.” Katsuki’s voice echoed through the stables, deep and loud against the near silence.

You realized that it was his horse that you were cleaning. You were too focused on your work to notice.

With the trimmer in your hand, you wiped the mud onto your pants. “If you plan to ride her, it’ll be a couple more minutes. I’m replacing the horseshoes right now.”

“You will make the king wait?” He inquired.

You leaned on the wall from inside of the stable. “I will.”

There was a moment of silence. He stood with his back straight and crown sitting atop his light hair, hands clasped behind his back. His cruel handsomeness peered at you in the afternoon sun.

You knew that you should not talk to him that way, and request instead of demand. You knew that he was debating on whether to hang or burn you for disrespecting him.

But instead, he said, “Carry on then. I will wait.”

You watched him for a couple of extra seconds before returning to your work. He said nothing else as he watched and waited.

He was to be married soon.

There was a three day festival both in the castle and along the streets. The princess is from another kingdom across the lake, and would bring a great deal of trading and business.

The arranged marriage meant that there would be a grand wedding in which everyone may attend, along with a week long festival after. Parties among parties.

And you were still hard at work.

When your parents passed, you were left with the remains with only yourself. An empty house and your single friend was no longer a friend.

You could not help the feeling in the pit of your stomach. One of jealousy and hope all at once.

“What are you doing here?” You looked outside, as if you were being followed and needed to confirm that no one else was around.

Katsuki Bakugou stood at your doorstep in casual clothes and a familiar look in his ruby eyes.

“You will come riding with me.”

“I will, will I?” You sighed. “Katsu-- King Bakugou. I suggest you go back to your castle. You have a princess to love.”

“It was not a request.”

He stepped back, expecting you to follow. You did.

“You did not answer my question, My Lord.” You said as you entered the stables. “What are you doing here?”

“Can you not be a complete idiot for just a second?” He barked, turning to you. “We are going for a ride. Like we used to.”

“I did not think you remembered.” You confessed, not fazed by his anger. He was always like that.

“How would I forget?” Katsuki turned to take his horse. “It was a majority of our childhood, was it not?”

“Didn’t seem like it.” You mumbled, mainly to yourself.

If he heard, he did not acknowledge it.

“Get your horse. Let’s go to the trails.”

You treaded slowly behind him, hesitant and nervous. Perhaps he was planning to kill you for your disrespect. He hadn’t said a word.

“King Bakugou...”

“Katsuki.” He stopped. He looked over at you. “You should know better than that.”

“We are not children any longer.” You said.

“That’s obvious.” His voice was impatient. “But we are in private. You can call me by my name.”

“That is the issue here.” You sat on your horse beside him, glancing at the open field. “We should not be in private.”

When there was no reply, you stole a glance at him. He was absolutely regal despite being in casual clothes. Black shirt and cloth pants almost blending into his horse. His light hair and ruby eyes seem to glow, matching the golden circular crown on his head.

He did not look as he usually did.

“The sun is rising.” His eyes were on the horizon, the darkness being covered in light.

You smiled. For the first time in a long time, you smiled. You thought that you caught a rise in the corners of his lips as well.

“Let it rise.” You said.

And he did smile, a full smile that you hadn’t witnessed since a child.

You knew at once that you were in love. It crushed into your chest as if it were beaten into you. It had always been love. In love with the king, in love with someone to be married, and in love with faded memories.

He came back at nights again. The saying was correct, history repeats itself.

You would run through the trails and the garden and end at the field, one that overlooked a hill of flowers. It was the same flower field you would end up as children.

“Run with me!” Katsuki would cheer, snatching your hand and bringing you into the flowers. Stubby child legs and chubby cheeks.

You would giggle and follow him as you always did, struggling to catch up to the fiery boy. The flowers would bend beneath your feet but neither of you cared.

Cold night winds hit your faces, the mixture of that and laughing leaving you both out of breath and with reddened cheeks.

It seemed like lifetimes ago.

You went to one party. One.

You dressed in the one dress you had, your mother’s dress. She wore it to every formal event that you could remember.

The castle was absolutely stunning, pristine whites and clean floors. Even in your dress and heels, you felt underdressed. You were sure that you smelled of stables and dirt.

“You were not there last night.” A voice said from behind you.

You were talking to one of the cooks, both of you laughing and exchanging jokes about working in the castle. You couldn’t remember the last time you had social interaction this much. It was enlightening.

King Katsuki Bakugou looked more stunning than you could imagine. A red cloak with fur around his shoulders, white and black fitted suit, hair styled to hold his crown in perfection. Rings decorated his fingers and earrings ran along his ears.

He excused the cook from the conversation, leaving the two of you alone in the corner.

“You will draw attention, talking to me in public.” You told him.

He scoffed. “It’s my party. I will draw attention if I speak to anyone.” He paused. “You look different, I almost did not recognize you.”

“It’s because you only ever see me in my work clothes or my pajamas.” You semi joked.

When someone walked by, Katsuki’s voice grew louder. “You don’t smell like shit this time, either. I wonder if you made that dress or found it.”

“Hm.” You glared. “Very performative. Must be easy to keep up the scary King act, huh?”

“You’re being rather informal to me today, especially for someone in public.” He said, but his tone was warning.

“Were you not the one who visits me at night and asks me to be informal?” You asked. “That was embarrassing, what you just did.”

“Oh, suck it up. It can’t be worse than what you do on the daily.” Katsuki’s eyes flicked to yours.

“I would rather clean up horse shit for hours than be berated in front of the castle workers.” You told him, stepping around him to meet with some of the maids.

You ignored the King for days.

It was a rather stupid plan, him being of his position. But you were both petty and angry with him.

For someone who knew you since you were a child, for someone who met you every day, and for someone who you knew to be warm and not cold... he really did have two faces.

“Open this door.” He ordered, voice casting throughout your house from outside of the door.

You flung the door open. “Go by yourself.”

“She lives.” Katsuki didn’t even have his crown on this time, just a shirt and clothes pants. “Come. You’re being stubborn.”

“I’d rather not.” You moved to close the door.

“It is as if you want to piss me off and fire you.”

“Go on and fire me then.” You threatened. “Try to find someone else who would take care of your precious horse as I have. Or meet you in the night as I have. Or...”

Something shut you up. A pressure against your lips forced them closed.

It took you a moment to realize that he was kissing you. Katsuki Bakugou, the King, was kissing you.

You kissed him back.

Falling into patterns, it would seem, was your specialty.

The nightly rides turned into kisses and smiles. The two of you would ride only to stop and end in the grass.

You thought of his wife, of his title. You thought of your job, your title. You thought of everything. Yet every thought would cease when he would grab your face and place a kiss to your lips.

You hated it.

Every time you met in public, he would act as if he knew nothing of you.

One particular morning, he arrived with the newly appointed Queen. His wife.

“It is disgusting here, Katsu.” She complained, lifting her dress to avoid the mud that littered the ground.

“You said that you wanted to learn to ride.” Katsuki said. “I told you to wear pants.”

He turned to you, not looking you in the eye as you brushed your horse.

“Is Maple available to ride?”

Maple. His mother’s old horse, a perfect chocolate brown and very calm.

“She is, and she’s freshly clean.” You said. Your mind flashed with memories of his lips on yours only hours ago. “Maple and Hades, My Lord?”

“Yes.”

You helped them lead the horses out of the stables and watched as he helped his wife onto the horse. She struggled but eventually managed to balance.

“The girl who works in your stables,” She said, though you were right next to her. Like you weren’t a person. “She’s a bit gross, yes?”

“Eh. I’m sure she’s used to it.” Katsuki shrugged.

“I couldn’t imagine living in such conditions.”

There was no defense, no “I’ve been coming through here every day for so long I hadn’t noticed”, nothing but a simple, “Let’s ride. We don’t want to be here all day.”

“These meetings need to end.” You told him. You were at the field, sitting on your separated horses and taking in the silence. “You are the King. You needn’t visit a girl who works in your castle.”

“You’re different.”

“How so?” You offered. “I work in your castle. It is not my job to kiss you, or...”

“Shut up for—”

“I need to say what I need to say.” Your voice was soft. “And I believe that...”

“ —just a moment.” He cut you off. “You are different. You always have been.”

“Is that why you only ever meet me in the dead of night?” You asked. “Or berate me during the day? I am not stopping these meetings and this friendship just to save your reputation in case we get caught. I am stopping them because I cannot take your constant changes.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” He rose his voice. He jumped off of his horse only to pace in front. “You simply don’t get it. Of course you wouldn’t.”

“You’re the King, Katsuki.” You said from above him. “I get that you have to—”

“Do the years not mean anything to you?”

“Do they mean anything to you?” You asked. “For years, you didn’t speak to me. Didn’t visit or see me as a person. For years I waited around and wondered about our friendship. And you come back and interrupt it now only to repeat the same things.”

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“And you’re a coward.” You spit. “You create false memories with me every single day.”

Katsuki went silent, looking up at you before mounting his horse again.

“I did not mean for this to happen.” He spoke in a single breath. He did not look at you. “I am so incredibly sorry that I fell in love with you, it was never my intention.”

He disappeared back into the trees, as he always did.

please do not copy, repost, or steal anything created and posted by me © castleoikawa 2021

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flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash · 4 years ago

Text

Irresistible Danger - Part 51

Synopsis: After being caught outside the compound on your own, Negan decides to punish you in the best way possible ;)

Words: 3,279

Warnings: nsfw, smut, swearing

ID Masterlist can be found HERE

Masterlist of all my fics can be found HERE

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Author’s Note: Holy crap, can y’all believe I dove back into writing this fic after almost two years with no updates?! I’m still shook over it haha. I will say that this fic has gone way off canon at this point (I haven’t watched the last few seasons of the show and also didn’t finish the last few issues of the comics). However, I’ve had a vision for certain characters and events for the last how many years, so I don’t plan to change them just to try and fit canon. I also now realize that while I tried to make “you” as nondescript as possible, there are physical traits and actions of her character that haven’t been as inclusive of all potential readers as I had thought when first starting the fic 5 years ago. I apologize for that, and plan to be more aware of those things with any reader characters I write in future fics. My plan is to post a chapter update every Friday from here on out, until it’s over, so fingers crossed I can accomplish that. Enjoy! :D

Cloud Nine

You surfaced from the depths of sleep slowly, rather than the more abrupt jolt to consciousness that usually started off your days. Feeling cozy and relaxed, a slight smile tipped your lips in contentment. It didn’t take long to realize that the reason for your positive mood was the large, warm body with which you were currently sharing the tiny, twin-sized bed.

Eyes blinking open, you took in the delightful sight of masculine bare skin. You were curled up against Negan’s side, cheek cushioned on his chest and both legs were wrapped around his nearest thigh. The bedsheet was pulled up over your back and ended teasingly right above his hips. One of your hands lay palm-down on his stomach, fingers twitching slightly in delight at the feel of the hard muscles beneath the soft skin. You could tell from the curve of his body that he was sitting with his back reclined against the rickety headboard. You might’ve found his positioning odd, but you were still a little hazy from sleep and so could only feel happiness at not waking up to an empty bed, like last time.

You were on cloud nine after talking things out with him last night. Being able to work through a conflict together had been major progress, and you had been proud of yourself for laying down your boundaries regarding your here-to-stay friendship with Ben, as well as standing your ground regarding the situation with Trixie and the pregnancy test. It was important that Negan learn to trust you when it came to situations such as those, and it seemed as though that message had finally gotten through to him last night.

The fact that he had even come to your room and taken the huge step of apologizing for his hasty reaction still had you a bit in shock. The evening had panned out much differently than your original plan of going to bed angry. Instead, you had gone to bed very satisfied, and then woken up next to the man who was very quickly becoming essential to your daily happiness.

He must’ve felt you shift against him, one hand coming down to rub your bare shoulder as he gave a soft, “Mornin’, doll.”

His raspy morning voice sent tingles down your spine, even as your brain fought to stay awake. It still felt way too early to be sitting up and conversing, so instead of returning the greeting, you buried closer into his side and grumbled, “What time is it?” The words were muffled against his skin, nose pressed into his chest hair as you inhaled the glorious male scent of him.

You felt him lean over towards the side table. He must’ve been checking your watch, because he replied, “‘Bout 6:50.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Language.”

“Hmph. Do you always get up so early?”

“It’s more productive than sleeping half the day away and being late to everything.”

That got more of a response, as you finally lifted your head to glare up at him for the jab. However, he didn’t notice, as he was too focused on the book held in front of him. It was then that you realized why he was sitting up in bed, a smirk crossing your face at the novel he had open and was intensely reading. You felt a spark of desire low in your belly, the sight of a sleep-tousled and naked Negan lounging in your bed while reading Harry Potter an unexpected, but welcomed, aphrodisiac.

“Thought you didn’t read ‘fucking kid books’?” you sarcastically asked, quoting back his initial description of the series.

You received only a low grunt in response, his eyes not leaving the page. You weren’t offended, since you’d probably react the same way to someone trying to interrupt a reading of Harry Potter. In fact, you were a bit jealous that he got to experience the magical world for the first time. His curiosity must’ve gotten the better of him when he saw it lying on your bedside table, and it appeared as if he had already read a small chunk of it.

He didn’t seem to notice you staring, his attention still focused on the book. In fact, he held the page a scant few inches from his face, eyes squinted into slits. The sight was a tad humorous, though you wondered how long he had been struggling to see the words.

“I thought you needed glasses to read?” you asked.

“Fuck, you always so full of questions this early in the morning, doll?”

You pinched his side hard enough to make him jump and growl out another expletive, before giving him a saccharine smile and lifting a brow expectantly when he glared down at you.

Attention finally taken off the book, he reached over and plopped it down on the side table before rubbing his eyes with both palms. “I do. Felt like it took me a fucking hour to get through that last page.”

The fact that he had continued trying to read and hadn’t easily given up, despite his struggle to see the words, told you more than anything how much he must’ve been enjoying the novel. A warm thrill settled in your chest at the thought of him taking an interest in something he usually wouldn't bother with simply because you enjoyed it.

The warm thrill morphed into more of a low heat and traveled down your body as your gaze refocused on his bare skin. Moving the hand on his stomach upward over his chest, your fingertips traced the outline of the tattoo on his left pec.

“What prompted you to get this?” you asked, curious if there was a meaning behind the skull and criss-crossed rifles.

Giving a low chuckle, he replied, “Youth and stupidity.”

Giving a huffed laugh in return, you trailed curious fingers over to the other tattoos on his arms, inquiring about each one as you went. Some had a story behind them, others not so much (you had tried not to roll your eyes when he explained that the revolver on his right forearm was the same one he had handled once and thought was ‘fucking cool as shit’). He also had a few scars on his upper body, some from before the apocalypse but most from after. You listened intently as he opened up about each one, drinking in as much personal information about the man beside you as possible.

Not wanting to stop the exploration just yet, you pushed up on your other elbow and journeyed over his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple before running your fingers delicately through the surprisingly soft beard framing his gorgeous mouth.

Capturing the questing hand in his own, he brought your fingers to his lips. The breath caught in your chest when he kissed the mostly-healed scar from the knife injury you had acquired a few weeks prior. Heart beating frantically at the gentle gesture, you smiled up at him when he released your hand and allowed it to resume exploring.

“So,” you tried for calm and casual, fingers moving up to lightly trace his ear before diving into his thick hair and mapping the streaks of salt within the pepper. “What are your plans for today?”

It took him a few seconds to answer, his eyes having fluttered closed as your nails gently massaged his scalp. You smiled at his obvious enjoyment of your touch, at how he had lowered his walls in this moment and was allowing himself to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable.

“I wish they were to stay here and enjoy this fucking delightful body of yours all day, but I have a meeting with my Saviors at eight.”

The thought of spending an entire day frolicking in bed with Negan caused a dreamy sigh to leave your lips. His eyes opened and zeroed in on your mouth at the sound, that magical tongue of his coming out to lick his bottom lip as he added, “Though, that’s still about an hour away…”

At that, he quickly rolled over so his lean body was pinning you into the mattress, his lips cutting off your squeal of surprise before it even left your throat. The hand still in his hair tightened, causing him to give a low groan and grind his hips down into yours. You tried to make a mental note of his reaction to the touch, but seeing as how there were no barriers keeping his quickly-hardening erection from pressing into your thigh, all higher levels of brain function quickly flew out of the room.

Bracing above you, he leaned down and started kissing your neck, a move guaranteed to make you melt. When his mouth descended over the curve of your breasts, you tried to lift your head to watch his downward progress but a sharp pang of discomfort at your scalp made you wince and try to jerk away, which only succeeded in making the pain even worse.

“Ow, wait!” you blurted, causing Negan to instantly freeze and look up at you in alarm.

“Doll, what-”

“You’re on my hair! Move your hand!”

Quickly realizing his mistake, Negan moved the hand that had accidentally been pinning a large chunk of your hair, and by proxy your head, to the mattress.

“Fucking hell, I’m sorry, doll,” he cursed, making as if to lift his body off you entirely.

Now wanting his faux pas to ruin the moment, you pushed his shoulders sideways and hooked a leg up over his hip before commanding, “Roll over.”

He hesitated for a moment before relenting, the two of you somehow able to switch places on the narrow, twin-sized bed without falling off. Once the semi-awkward resituating was done, he was on his back and you were straddling his hips. The move caused the sheet to fall off, exposing your entire body to his gaze. Based on the way his eyes grew hazy with lust as they took in your bared curves, not to mention his obvious erection, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind this change in position one bit.

Warm, calloused palms drifted up over your thighs, hips, and the sides of your waist, before cupping breasts that were begging for his touch. Leaning down, your already-hardened nipples pressed into his palms as you kissed him hungrily. Shifting your hips, you started rubbing forwards and backwards over the erection pressed between both your lower stomachs. You moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation, pussy lips parting around his girth so that your wetness coated his cock, the fat head bumping against your clit with each slide.

“I think I like being in charge,” you purred.

Giving a dark chuckle that sent shivers down your spine, he replied, “Enjoy it while it fucking lasts.”

Planning to do just that, you reached over to pluck a condom off the side table, incredibly grateful to whatever deity helped you successfully open the foil packet and smoothly roll the latex down over him on the first try. Tossing the empty packet over the side of the bed, you wrapped slightly trembling fingers around his swollen cock and lifted your hips, lining him up with your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly slid down his length, mouth falling open on a whimper at the feel of him parting overly-sensitive flesh that was still a bit sore from the activities of the previous night. Despite Negan’s initial threat over you stealing both coconut oil from the kitchen and condoms from his room, his only “punishment” last night had been fucking you relentlessly into the mattress until you had multiple orgasms and could barely even remember your own name.

In spite of the slight burn as sore muscles again stretched around his thickness, you didn’t stop until he was fully seated inside. His cock felt so big in this position that it was almost overwhelming, but you sat up so that your hands were braced on his chest and used your thigh muscles to start a slow up and down rhythm.

His fingers reached up and pinched your nipples, causing you to clench around him. He groaned at the sensation, gaze becoming more intense when you slightly picked up the pace. It felt magnificent, but at the same time you craved more of the hard, rough friction that he had given you the night before. Body trying to find that friction on its own, your hips swiveled in a circle as you sank back down, which must’ve felt just as amazing for him as it did you, since he gave a strangled moan at the same moment his hands immobilized your hips in a bruising grip.

“Alright, doll. My turn.”

That was the only warning you got before he braced his feet against the mattress and moved up in you, hard. Falling forward onto your palms with a gasp, fingers curled into the bedsheet and hips writhed in pleasure when he repeated the move. He continued the sharp, deep thrusts, watching your face closely before wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling your mouth down to his own. His tongue thrust into your mouth possessively, as if trying to claim as much of you at once as he could. The pace was brutal yet unhurried, each thrust feeling like a deliberate attack on your sanity as his movements drew fire over your skin and consumed you, body and soul.

Pressing down into him while leaning forward caused your clit to grind against his lower abdomen in the perfect way with each thrust, building up the orgasm that had previously hovered just out of reach. Breaking the kiss with a cry, you saw the expression of intense concentration on his face as he continued to move your bodies together in perfect rhythm. Breasts pressed into his chest and mouth panting at his ear, your body gave into his, letting him drive you up and over the edge, into the abyss of pleasure.

“Negan,” you moaned, muscles tightening then releasing as the orgasm washed through you. His answering grunt and curse signaled his own release, though he continued his driving rhythm through it all, wringing each drop of pleasure from your body until it collapsed limply on top of his.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you again traced over the tattoo on his chest, waiting for your heartbeat and breathing to slow back down to normal. Glancing up his body, you found him already looking back down at you, a relaxed and satisfied grin on his lips that was only witnessed behind closed doors, when the two of you were alone. His hand idly stroked over a piece of hair laying on your shoulder, the gesture making you think back to earlier when he had accidentally pinned you to the mattress, and the resulting ungraceful maneuvering to switch positions in a bed that was entirely too small for two adult bodies. A light laugh escaped you that caused Negan to raise an eyebrow in question.

“Just remembering your super smooth move from earlier,” you teased. You wouldn’t admit this out loud, but it was actually a bit of a relief to know that even Mr. Harem-of-Wives, Sex-God Negan wasn’t always flawless in the sack.

“Making fun of me, doll?” he growled.

“Maybe.”

Whack. The loud crack, accompanied by the slight sting of sensation against your left asscheek, caused you to jump and look at him in wide-eyed shock.

“Did you just spank me?!” you exclaimed.

“Maybe.”

Before you could form an appropriate reply, he silenced any retort with his lips. Shallow creature that you apparently were, the move worked, and when he pulled away a long minute later, your brain conveniently forgot why you were supposed to be coming up with a retort in the first place.

Negan glanced over at the side table, where your watch sat. Also looking over, you saw that it was now almost 7:30am, which meant he had half an hour to go back to his room and become presentable for his 8am Savior meeting. You were curious what the meeting was about, but didn’t want to ruin the perfection of the morning by bringing up a potentially serious topic.

“Much as I hate to say it, doll, duty fucking calls.”

Your expression must’ve showcased more than you thought, since he gave a chuckle and said, “How about I make it up to you by finishing our fucking chess bet?”

Interest instantly piqued, you sat up on his chest and replied, “The third outing?! Can we go today?”

He looked at you consideringly, before giving a slight nod and agreeing. “We fucking could, but I won’t be free until the dinner hour.”

Much as you didn’t want to skip out on your duties, even if it was with the leader of the establishment, you also weren’t about to turn down more alone time with Negan, especially outside of the Sanctuary.

“I could meet you at the front gate at 5?” you suggested. That would give you just enough time to make sure dinner was fully prepped and almost ready to serve, since the community ate their meal from 5 to 7pm. It lessened the guilt, since you wouldn’t be completely leaving Ben and the staff short-handed.

“Works for me, doll,” he said, gently rolling you off his body and to the narrow strip of mattress free beside him.

Biting your lower lip to keep from gasping at the empty sensation when he pulled out his now-flaccid dick, you watched him rise slowly from the bed. You took possessive pleasure in viewing his naked body, thighs clenching at the sight of him stretching muscular arms up towards the ceiling with his head tipped back. The pop of his back and resulting grunt made you comment, “I think from now on we might be better off in your bed. I have no clue how we even managed to fit in mine all night.”

“Thank fucking god. If I have to spend any more nights in that fucking thing, I’ll be stiffer than a cock in a brothel.”

Rolling your eyes at his that’s-so-Negan one-liner, you pulled the sheet up over your chest and settled in to watch him get dressed. You felt a bit like a voyeur when he removed the condom, tied off the end, and tossed it into the little garbage can. You felt a lot like a voyeur when he leaned down to pick up his boxer briefs and the sight of his bent-over ass almost made you whimper out loud.

“You sure you can’t skip the meeting and stay here?” The words left your lips before your brain could even stop them.

Turning to look at you, the desire must have been written all over your face because that muscle in his jaw ticked and he ran a hand down over his beard in obvious frustration. You swore he started to take a step back towards the bed, but he caught himself and instead returned to the task of getting dressed.

When he was done putting on the navy tee and dark grey pants, complete with his signature black boots, he did finally come back over to the bed. Leaning down, he cupped a warm hand possessively around the side of your neck and placed a heated kiss on your lips before slightly pulling back and saying in that sinful, husky voice, “5 o’clock, doll. You better be ready for me.”

With that, he straightened, crossed the room, and let himself out. As the door clicked softly shut behind him, you replied with a dazed, “Yes, sir.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

#negan #negan fanfiction #negan smut #negan fanfic #negan fanfics #irresistible danger #ash writes #twd #the walking dead #negan x reader #negan x you #slow burn #twd negan #the walking dead negan

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awhitehead17 · 3 years ago

Text

Batfam Alphabet: F - Fear Toxin

Summary: When Tim gets injected with a new variant of Scarecrow’s fear toxin, all Jason could do is hold the kid in his arms to stop him from getting injured further as he waits for back up to arrive.

A/N: As a warning violence happens, nothing too graphic but here’s a warning just in case!

Enjoy! :D

Jason pauses when his fingers grasp nothing but empty air. Snapping his gaze down, he frowns when he finds his pocket completely empty. He sighs and curses. This is just what he needs, he’s ran out of antidotes.

He looks up across the street to find Tim administering an antidote into another cowering civilian caught in the crossfire of Gotham’s latest villain scheme. Jason jogs over to his brother and glances at him through his helmet. “You got any more? I’m out.”

Tim shakes his head regretfully. “No. That was my last one. We really underestimated how far Scarecrow’s toxin got this time. We don’t have enough.”

Jason hums in agreement and observes their surroundings. They’re together in a back alley of Gotham’s streets, one that had been hit badly by Scarecrow’s latest fear toxin. They had the task of vaccinating all the civilians around with the new antidote. Back in the cave they calculated an estimate number of many people populated the area and had prepared more than enough between them, or so they thought, unfortunately their numbers were far from right leaving them with not nearly enough antidotes.

Around them now, many civilians are still under the hallucinations of the toxin, some are screaming, crying or even violently yelling at empty air. Jason swears again, this is not how the night was supposed to go.

He’s brought out of his thoughts when Tim turns to him. “We’re going to need to go back and restock. We’re not much use otherwise.”

“Agreed.”

He wonders if the others are having similar issues with numbers and the lack of antidotes. The team’s spread out around Gotham’s most targeted areas, all of them working in pairs for safety and everyone working their asses off to help people in the city.

Wordlessly the two of them head for their hidden vehicles in a neighbouring alley. As they prepare to climb onto their bikes Tim glances his way to say something but ends up yelling in alarm instead. “Hood watch out!”

It’s thanks to Jason’s reflexes that he’s able to duck underneath the swinging arm in time to avoid being hit. He brings his gun out and turns to face his attacker. His attacker is probably middle aged man, a little on the heavy side and he’s wearing a shitty Halloween mask to hide his face. Jason dodges another swing and returns the favour, he takes him out in three quick and precise strikes with his hands.

A loud grunt gets his attention and Jason spins around to find Tim caught in a head lock with a gun pressed against his temple. Tim’s attacker is too wearing a mask as were the four others who now surround them. Where they came from Jason has no idea. How the hell did they miss these guys who had obviously been waiting and hiding for them to return to their bikes?

As Jason levels his gun at Tim’s attacker the four others surrounding him also raise their guns pointing them in his direction, this concludes them all into a standoff.

Tim’s attacker speaks up first. “Put that gun down or I blow his brains out.”

Behind his mask Jason rolls his eyes. How fucking cliché? He keeps his gun up though, pointing at the man and in a cocky statement he takes the safety off with an audible click. The man holding Tim snorts as he had been expecting Jason’s disobedience.

“Very well. I’ll show you how this is going to go. You get one warning and mate, you’ve just used that warning.”

He kicks Tim’s legs out from underneath him and lets him go, unexpecting the abrupt movement Tim crashes to the floor. Once he’s sprawled out on the ground the attacker stamps on one of Tim’s hands, causing a rather loud and sickening crack to ring out. Jason winces as Tim yells in pain but before anyone could react further the same man manhandles Tim to his knees and resumes their previous position.

He cocks the gun and presses it to Tim’s head. “Now, if either of you act up, you’re gonna get a hurt whole lot worse than a broken hand. Now follow us. No funny business! Get his gun!”

One of the men come and wrench Jason’s gun out of his hand and all Jason could do was let him. He doesn’t want to risk Tim any more than he has to.

He and Tim are marched out of the alley and into another before being directed into an abandoned building. They’re walked into the middle of the room and forced down to their knees, once on the ground a couple of the thugs come over to grab their hands and tie them behind their backs. Jason grits his teeth and refrains from doing something like headbutting the asshole, while next to him Tim lets out a pained grunt as his broken hand is jostled.

When they step away Jason twists his body awkwardly to get a look at his restrained wrists to find them tied with cable ties. Jason huffs in disbelief. His attention is soon brought back to the room when one of the attackers speak up.

“Boss we got’em just like you asked.”

Jason straightens up when a new figure walks into the room only to grit his teeth seconds later when Scarecrow is revealed. The bastard doesn’t stop moving until he’s looming over them. Unable to help himself Jason speaks up, sarcasm heavily laced in his tone. “Same shit different day Crane. Why don’t you go and get yourself a new hobby, go for something like knitting perhaps.”

Crane turns his head towards Jason, his expression hidden by that stupid potato sack over his head. “You would like that wouldn’t you? If I were gone there would be nothing to fear. Perhaps that clown but nothing else.”

“Sorry to break it to you but you ain’t that scary.” Jason quips, glaring through his helmet.

“Maybe not right now but with a little help, I will be, I’ll become your greatest nightmare.” Crane reaches behind him and pulls out a box, he makes a show of opening it up and producing a syringe filled with a clear liquid. “A person can learn to control themselves when feeling great emotion, sadness, happiness, anger, but never in times of fear. Fear is the minds greatest enemy and that’s why it’s so powerful, why even the greatest of men fall.”

Jason watches as Crane drifts over to stand in front of Tim, his brother simply looks up with a hard and determined expression not saying anything. Crane fiddles with the syringe in his hands, studying Tim as he does.

“It won’t work. We’re not stupid Crane.” Jason says feeling dread build up inside of him. He knows what’s about to happen and he has feeling he knows exactly what Crane’s response is going to be.

“I know. That’s why I’m sure you’ve worked out that this is a different toxin I’ve produced to the one I’ve already distributed. One of which you don’t have an antidote for.”

For the first time Tim speaks up, snarling at the man in front of him. “Go to hell Crane.” Scarecrow doesn’t answer Tim, instead he reaches down and grabs a fist full of Tim’s hair and yanks his head back to expose his neck.

From his position Jason lurches at the movement, ready to pounce but it stopped when the thugs immediately zone in on him. Guns point at him and at Tim, simply daring him to make another move. Uselessly he settles back down on the ground.

Crane jabs the syringe into the kid’s neck and injects the liquid into Tim’s body. Once it’s empty he steps away, pushing Tim down to the ground as he does. Jason is torn between worriedly watching Tim’s unmoving form on the ground and Crane’s retreating figure from the room.

One of the thugs speak up. “Uh boss now what? We not killing the big one?”

“No.” Crane says firmly. “He has a choice to make, come after me and leave the other to suffer or help him and let me go.”

“You bastard!” Jason yells as Crane exits the room, disappearing from his sight. “You’ll be sorry you’ve left me alive! I will kill your ass when I next see it.”

Jason snaps his attention to Tim who is now whimpering on the floor. He needs to get help, he needs to get Tim to the cave so they can start working on a new antidote to whatever the hell Crane just injected him with.

With some difficulty, Jason twists and wiggles around so he can move to get his restrained hands in front of him. Using a move Dick once showed him, Jason tucks up tightly loops his arms underneath his body so they go underneath him and end up in front of him. It tests his flexibility for sure but it works.

Once his arms are in front of him he reaches up and presses the comms, getting Barbara’s help.

“O! I need immediate assistance!”

“Hood what’s going on, why did you and Red Robin go radio silent-”

Not having the patience Jason cuts her off. “Now’s not the time! We ran into Scarecrow and he injected Red with a new toxin. We need to get him to the cave asap.”

“Shit. I’m alerting the others now and sending them your location. Do what you can to help Red.”

“Already on it.”

Jason signs off and moves to break the cable ties around his wrists. He tightens them up as much as possible, raises his hands over his head and brings his fists down to his stomach in one fluid movement. Upon impact the ties break and his heads are freed.

Not wasting a second he scrambles over to Tim who is now starting to wither on the floor, whimpering pitiful sounds. Knowing there’s not much he can do, Jason decides to break the ties from Tim's own wrists, he’s aware of Tim’s broken hand but that’ll have to be dealt with later on.

At least that was his plan up until he puts a hand on Tim’s shoulder. As soon as Jason touches him, the kid freaks out. He lets out a scream of terror and suddenly jerks up right and starts to scramble away from him. Jason freezes in shock as he watches Tim try and move away from him, but the kid’s movements were hindered by his hands being tied behind him.

“No no no no. I’m sorry. Please I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. No no no. It won’t happen again I promise.”

The words were quiet and raspy but Jason could hear them clearly in the silence of the room. He needs to stop Tim from moving and also to prevent further damage to his hands. He cautiously approaches Tim again, crouching down low and taking slow steps forward, but at the moment Tim only sees him as a threat. The kid screams and continues to try and scramble backwards away from him.

“No no no! I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me…”

Jason frowns at the words as his heart lurches inside of his chest at the sound of Tim’s pleading voice. When he takes another step forward Tim only screams again, making Jason freeze on the spot. He really ought to get Tim to stop moving, Jason doesn’t particularly want to use force to get him to restrain his movements but he doesn’t think he has any choice.

Sighing Jason takes off his helmet, something he admittedly probably should have done before now, and approaches Tim again. As expected the kid screams and begs as he tries to shuffle away, his legs kicks out and his body contorts uncomfortably.

Pretty much out of options Jason lunges for Tim. He grabs the kid’s ankle to stop him from getting any further away before diving onto the floor and situating himself behind Tim. He wraps his legs around Tim’s thighs and knees, pinning them in place and he wraps his arms around Tim’s torso and shoulders. He holds on tightly as Tim tries and fails to buck out of his grasp.

While the kid screams in his arms all Jason could do is hold him and wait until backup comes. He counts the never ending minutes as they tick by. His brother is weakly fighting his hold while tears stream down his cheeks as he whimpers out pleas, it breaks Jason’s heart to hear it all.

Thankfully the cavalry soon arrive, they burst into the room and take in the scene before them. Both Dick and Bruce rush towards them and immediately start making plans.

“How long ago was he injected?” Bruce demands as he grasps Tim’s chin. Tim tries to get out of it but Bruce holds firm as he removes the kid’s mask and studies his dilated pupils.

“Twenty maybe thirty minutes. Right before O contacted you. Crane got away.” Jason reports automatically. He’s furious about Crane of course but family comes first, he couldn’t have left Tim alone in this state.

“Hold him still.” Bruce grunts as he digs through his utility belt. After a moment he produces a small blood sample kit. With quick efficiency Bruce takes a vial of Tim’s blood, caps it off and holds it out to Nightwing who had been hovering on the side but not getting in the way. Dick takes it without words. “Get a head start to the cave, Agent A is preparing to start a new antidote trial.”

Dick nods, his gaze lingers on Tim before his head tilts in Jason’s direction. “Keep me updated.” He disappears before Jason could respond. When Dick is out of sight his attention is drawn back to Tim and Bruce.

“We need to get him to the car and then to the cave. You’ll need to keep him restrained so he doesn’t hurt himself.”

If the situation were different Jason would both be peeved and even upset at the detachment in Bruce’s tone of voice. Unfortunately in this situation he can understand why Bruce is like it, not being emotionally invested will allow him to focus on the task at hand, which in this case happened to be getting Tim back to the cave and working on a new antidote. He’ll let himself feel everything once he knows Tim is safe and sound.

Together he and Bruce manage to get Tim into the batmobile. The kid does nothing other than scream, whimper, plead and cry as they move him. Jason makes sure to tell Bruce about his hand and once in the car Bruce relays the injury to Alfred in the cave. Once they’ve worked out the antidote they can work on his hand.

Getting back to the cave seems long and tedious but once they’re there they move Tim from the car and into the medical bay. They settle him down on one of the cots, having to restrain his wrists and ankles to the bed to stop him moving so much and Alfred updates them on the situation with the antidote.

They were fortunate enough to be able to come up with a temporary antidote in that short amount of time. It turns out Scarecrow hadn’t used a new toxin but rather the same one as before, the only difference in this one is that there are hints of Poison Ivy’s hallucinogen concoction. Dick and Alfred quickly worked together to combine the two antidotes making a new one altogether.

Without much hesitation they give Tim the new antidote and watch as the kid quietens down on the bed and falls unconscious. It’s only after Alfred deems everything is okay that they all can breathe somewhat easily again.

While Dick, Bruce, Jason and Barbara (over the comms) discuss the next steps and about what the current situation is looking like, Alfred stays with Tim and patches up his hand, fixing a cast over the skin and bone until they can get it looked at professionally.

As plans are being made Jason watches Alfred work, his worry for Tim still heavily stirring inside of him. He doesn’t think he’ll be forgetting those petrified screams any time soon. Once the kid wakes up Jason is going to have a long chat with Tim, one to rest his own subconscious and secondly because he wants to make sure the kid is mentally okay after the ordeal. He’ll make sure Tim gets some proper r&r after all of this and maybe even for himself too once Crane is dealt with.

#batfam alphabet #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #fear toxin #bit of violence #big brother jason #injured tim #light hurt and comfort #batfamily #Alfred Pennyworth #Scarecrow #bat bros #fanfiction

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tashas-life · 3 years ago

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Summer Shenanigans

Paxton and Devi spend the summer together and have a banging playlist

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Nothing really.”

“I’m outside, let’s go to the beach.”

Devi threw her bag through the back window of Paxton’s jeep and jumped in the front seat.

“Did you bring my suit?” Devi asks as she pulled on her seatbelt. Devi’s mom would never let her wear a bikini so she had to save up her money from working at the summer camp to buy it. She usually hid it at the back of her underwear drawer but since she’d been going swimming with Paxton more days than not, she just kept it in his car.

“Yep, I threw it in the laundry.” Paxton pulled out onto the road and Devi started messing with the music.

Her and Paxton were both working at the same summer camp so they spent most days together. Paxton had spent the last two summers working at the camp and Devi wanted to make her own money so she had applied too. It was also convenient because she always had a ride to work instead of asking her mom or Kamala. Paxton had promised to teach her to drive this summer but she always chickened out whenever he offered.

Devi always insisted on picking the music when they went anywhere and Paxton didn’t mind. She settled on Ariana Grande’s album and turned up the volume as Motive filled the car. Paxton rolled down all the windows and stuck his arm out to feel the breeze. It was one of the hottest days of the summer so Paxton’s shirt was mostly open and Devi had her new sunglasses on. This was the first summer that Devi was making real money and she tended to spend most of it by the time the next pay day had rolled around.

Once they got to the beach Devi jumped in the backseat and Paxton got out to stand guard. Devi was a pro at the quick change at this point and quickly shimmied into her bikini without having to take off her dress completely.

Once Devi hopped out of the backseat, Paxton grabbed the drinks cooler and Devi grabbed their towels and a speaker. Usually the beaches were packed on hot days but Paxton had a special super power of finding an empty part of the beach to spend the day. They found a spot to settle and Devi started applying sunscreen.

“Did you hear Kenny is sick again. Mono.” Paxton said with an eye roll and Devi groaned.

“You think he’s going to be out all week again? Taylor should just fire him and hire someone else at this point.” Devi tossed Paxton the sunscreen and laid down on her towel.

“Yea right, Taylor probably gave him the mono. He’ll never fire him.” Devi laughed and closed her eyes.

“I don’t even understand how they find the time to mack. Those kids never stop.” Devi said.

“Yea well, next week they’re going to be our problem again.” Usually each camp leader had about 5-10 kids to watch but with Kenny constantly gone they always ended up with more kids.

“Honestly, fuck Kenny.” Devi grumbled and Paxton nodded. “Did you see Eleanor’s insta post? Her and Trent are like embarrassingly in love.” Devi asked as she pulled out her phone to show him a boomerang of them kissing on some hike.

“I think it’s cute.” Paxton grinned as Devi made a vomiting face. “I invited them to come today but apparently they would rather be aloneeee.”

“That’s so nasty.” Devi said and Paxton laughed.

“I’m going in, you coming?” Paxton asked but Devi shook her head.

“Nah man, I’m working on my tan.” Devi said but really she just preferred laying on the sand and watching the water than actually being in it.

“Your loss.” Paxton replied, shoving her as he got up to go swimming.

……

“Okay, the thing is that I just don’t think I’m coordinated enough for this.” Devi said as she stood on Paxton’s skateboard. She felt a little embarrassed at how wobbly she was and that she was wearing her bike helmet that she got when she was ten. Paxton had his car door open and Lizzo’s album was playing. Juice blasted into the street and Devi knew people would complain soon.

“I’m literally holding on to you. You can’t fall.” Paxton said as he led her down the road.

“I feel like I could still fall.” Devi said as she started tipping back and Paxton’s grip tightened as he pulled her forward.

“I won’t let you fall Devi. Would you just trust me for once?” He asked playfully annoyed.

“Shut up, I literally trust you all the time.”

“You shut up.” Paxton countered.

“Wow, real mature.” Devi replied sarcastically.

Devi was too busy arguing to notice them start to go faster. Of course that is until she did notice. Then she was falling again and she was falling fast. Paxton managed to grab her before she fell on her face and swung her off the skateboard. Devi held onto Paxton as the skateboard started rolling down the street without them. They looked at each other and immediately started laughing.

“I think you might be right about the coordination thing.” Paxton said and Devi shoved him away from her.

“Or maybe you’re a bad teacher.” She grinned at his shocked face as she ran to grab the skateboard.

“I’m never teaching you anything ever again” he retaliated.

“Come over here and help me loser.” Paxton crossed his arm in defiance.

“Tell me I’m a good teacher.”

“Stop being a baby.”

“Wooooow, even more insults. Bad teacher and a baby.”

“Fine, you’re a good teacher. Now let’s get on with this.” Devi said as she started to get on the skateboard again.

“Thank you.” Paxton replied satisfied. He grinned and went to help her again.

……..

Usually, they were separated during their days at camp since each group rotated through activities but on Fridays all of the kids got to go to the community pool. Those were obviously Paxton’s favourite days because he got to hang out with Devi but he also loved getting to teach some of the kids how to swim.

Usually, Paxton stayed in the shallow end with the younger kids and Devi sat at the deep end with the older kids. Vacation by Dirty Heads was playing over the pool speakers and Devi had her legs in the water as she chatted with some kids.

“Yea, high school kind of sucks. What you gotta do is find a popular kid and force them to be your friend.” Devi told some kids who were going to be freshmen in the fall.

“That’s terrible advice.” Paxton laughed as he came to stand next to her in the pool. He had switched with Kenny who was now watching the younger kids. They had given up on learning to swim and were mostly just playing and splashing water at Kenny.

“Really? You got anything better?” Devi asked crossing her arms.

“Yes. Find something that makes you excited to go to school, for me that was swimming, for D it was being my best friend. And also don’t give a shit about what other people think of you.” Paxton told the kids and Devi kicked his arm. “Oh shit, I mean just don’t care what other people think.”

“I meant the best friend thing.” Devi rolled her eyes.

“You were literally obsessed-“ before Paxton could finish Devi had jumped in and shoved Paxton’s head underwater.

Paxton managed to push Devi away from him and had his arm out separating them.

“Hey, you better stop or your top is going to fall off again.” Paxton laughed and Devi’s face started burning up. Yes, the bikini was cute but it wasn’t the most reliable bathing suit she had. Rough housing had led to a very embarrassing incident that Devi was trying to forget.

“I’m going to kill you.” Devi lunged at him and Paxton managed to grab her arms.

“Hey anger issues, chill out.” Paxton said with a grin. Devi managed to pull her arms away and splashed Paxton.

“Go do your job loser!” Devi yelled as she turned to go back to her post.

……

Devi swung the door open and was surprised to see Paxton. Usually he just texted her when he got to her house.

“Let’s go for a drive.” Paxton said as he held up his car keys.

“Okayyy.” Devi said as she grabbed her backpack from the door.

“Here ya go.” He said as he tossed the keys to her. She just about dropped them and didn’t move from her front door.

“Naaaa, I don’t think today’s the day.” Devi said nervously. She had failed her drivers test last month because she hadn’t practiced enough. It was the first time she hadn’t prepared and it was also the first time she had failed a test.

“Come on D, your test is in a few weeks and don’t you want to have your licence by the time school starts?” Paxton asked as he opened the drivers side door. He motioned for her to get in and she groaned before going to the car.

It wasn’t legal for Paxton to teach her how to drive but her only other option was her mother which hadn’t worked out. Devi was pretty sure she failed her test because driving with her mom had made her so anxious that getting behind the wheel made her want to throw up even when her mom wasn’t around. She had even done drivers ed but that apparently wasn’t enough because she still failed.

“Are you sure? What if I scratch your car or something?” Devi asked as they both got in the car.

“Then I’ll literally kill you, so don’t scratch my baby.” Paxton said as he gently caressed his dash.

“That’s not really helpful.” Devi muttered as she nervously changed the seat settings.

“We’ll go to the school parking lot. It’s just down the street and the lot will be empty.” Devi nodded as she turned the car on. She kept her foot on the brakes as she looked at Paxton desperately.

“Listen to Tai, you’re going to be A-O-K.” Paxton said as he turned up the music. “Also, don’t forget to signal, you lost so many points for that.”

Paxton didn’t look nervous at all which made Devi feel a little bit better. If he could be confident in her driving skills than so could she. Devi signalled and did a very exaggerated shoulder check before she pulled onto the road. There were no cars around the whole way to the school so the only thing she had to deal with were some stop signs and one set of lights. She totally could do this.

Devi’s whole body relaxed once they pulled into the parking lot and she didn’t have to worry about hitting things or people anymore.

“That was pretty good actually. How did you fail?” Paxton asked.

“Probably because I suck at driving?” Devi told him as she put the car in park.

“Shut up, you had issues with the parallel park right?” Paxton asked as he got out of the car.

“What are you doing?” Devi asked as he closed the door.

“Im going to teach you how to parallel park.” Paxton grinned sticking his head through the window.

Devi waited as he grabbed stuff from out of his trunk. A bin full of blankets and an empty cooler he had forgotten about. He set them up as pretend cars and he went to the drivers side.

“Okay, line yourself up.” Paxton said as Devi slowly moved the car so the bin of blankets was lined up with the back of the jeep.

Paxton gave her instructions and ran around indicating for her how far to back up and how much to turn the wheel and eventually she got into the spot.

“I don’t think they’re going to let you guide me into a spot on the test.” Devi said annoyed that it took so long.

“You just gotta keep practicing, eventually it’ll just be second nature.” Paxton said as he got back in the car. “Pull out and this time I’m not going to help you.” Paxton said as she groaned.

“I hate this.” Devi said getting frustrated.

“You won’t hate this once you can drive yourself anywhere you want. Now start moving before I force you to practice highway driving.” Paxton said as he relaxed into his seat.

Devi wanted to hit him and get angry but she knew he was her only hope of passing her test in a month so she contained herself and kept practicing.

When the day of Devi’s test came around she felt pretty confident she was going to fail again. Paxton had given her a pep talk before he left her house the night before but it hadn’t helped with her nerves.

“You got this, okay? Just make sure you signal, and don’t forget the emergency brake when you do the hill park.” He told her as he held her shoulders. “By this time tomorrow, you’re going to be fully licensed because you’re a great driver.”

Devi was just as shocked as her mother when she pulled into the DMV and had almost no deductions on her test. Nalini didn’t know about Paxton teaching her to drive but she managed to convince her that is was because the tester was a lot nicer than the last one. She had smiled the entire time she got her new license and had raced back to the car. She knew Paxton would be waiting for her at her house and she was beyond excited to tell him that his methods had actually worked.

Paxton was leaning on his car checking his phone when they got home. She had to stop herself from running to Paxton to tell him the good news. She got out of the car and Nalini kissed her head before going into the house.

“How’d it go?” He asked as she crossed her arms and pretended to look disappointed.

“I passed babyyy!” She screamed as she whipped out her temporary license.

“I fucking knew it! You never trust me.” Paxton grabbed her and spun her around.

“Where do you wanna go? I’m driving.” Devi said and Paxton laughed as he got in the passenger seat.

…..

“Can you spot me ten bucks?” Devi asked as she searched through her backpack for some money.

“You have literally worked all summer, how are you always broke?” Paxton muttered as he pulled out some change from his console.

“I just don’t have any cash on me.”

Paxton gave her a handful of change and Devi looked at him annoyed.

“Quarters? Really?” Devi struggled to hold all the coins and Paxton shrugged.

“Take it or leave it, but if you want boba I suggest you take it.” Paxton grinned and Devi rolled her eyes as she realized she couldn’t open the door holding all the change.

Paxton laughed as he leaned over to open the door for her. “Get me a milk tea.” He said as she hopped out of the car.

“If I even make it there without any hands.” She grumbled.

By the time she got back with their drinks, Paxton had all the windows down blasting Young Dumb & Broke by Khalid.

“Really?!” She had to scream for him to hear her over the music. He lip synced to the lyrics as he pointed to her and dramatically danced to the music. “You’re so annoying!” She screamed as he took a big sip of his tea. He pointed at the drink as if to say that it tastes good and gave her the ok sign with his fingers. Devi just rolled her eyes and sipped on her mango slush. She guessed it was worth the embarrassing amount of quarters she gave to the cashier and having to listen to Paxton call her dumb and broke.

“Are you going to make it to Trent’s this weekend? Last party of the summer.” Paxton asked as he turned the music down.

“Have you met my mother? She’s not going to let me go to Trent’s house for a party.” Devi replied looking through Paxton’s Spotify.

“Since when do you tell your mom about going to parties?” Paxton asked snorting.

“I’m trying to turn over a new leaf this year. No more lying, especially to my mom.” She said as she put on Savage by Megan Thee Stallion and Beyoncé.

“What if she knew I was taking you?” Paxton knew the party would suck without Devi there.

“Yeaaaaa, my mom might like you now but not that much.”

“Come on D, it’s the last party of the summer. You have to go!” Paxton pouted as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Fine, fine, I’ll figure out a way to go out but there’s no way she’ll let me stay out past 11.” Paxton smiled at her and agreed to be DD so he could get her home by 11.

By the time the weekend rolled around, Nalini didn’t even seem bothered by Devi leaving. Her and Kamala had been going crazy planning her wedding and Devi tended to be unhelpful in that area. She was only good for the grunt work, which she was sure there would be a lot of once it got closer to the day.

All she had to say was that she was going to Eleanor’s house for a back to school hangout and Nalini quickly agreed to get her out of the house. Technically she wasn’t lying because they had to pick up Eleanor at her house and they were having a back to school hangout. It was just a hangout with most of the school and alcohol.

Devi acted as casual as possible as she closed the front door but she sprinted as soon as the door closed. She didn’t want to risk her mom seeing her actually getting in Paxton’s car instead of Fabiola’s. Devi had been asking her mom for a car for weeks but still nothing. Her mom was convinced that she should have enough money saved since she had a summer job but summer camps didn’t exactly pay top dollar and Devi was pretty irresponsible with her money this summer. She figured she had two more summers to hustle before she went to Princeton.

“You look so pretty in that dress.” Paxton said as soon as she got in the car.

Devi blushed and couldn’t control her smile. “Shut up loser.”

Paxton smiled back at her as they went to pick up Eleanor and Fabiola.

Trent’s house was packed full of people but he was standing at the door waiting for Eleanor. He hugged her tightly and dragged her off to the back of the house.

Paxton went to grab them some drinks and handed Devi and Fabiola beers. “Bread soda.”

Devi rolled her eyes and shoved him away. Fabiola had learned a long time to ignore their inside jokes and she wandered off.

Paxton was always treated like a god at parties and everyone wanted their time with him. Paxton gave people his typical cool guy head nod and pulled Devi outside where it was less crowded.

“So, you excited for school to start?” Paxton asked and Devi looked confused.

“Sure, I guess.” Paxton looked nervous which made Devi more confused. “Why are you making weird small talk?”

“I just guess this is the last time we’re hanging out before school starts.” Devi’s confusion became anger very quickly.

“What is that supposed to mean? Like things are going to change when school starts?” Devi questioned starting to get upset.

“No, chill Devi. I mean I do want things to change but not the way you think.” Now Devi was back to confused.

Paxton looked frustrated and looked around them. No one was around or paying attention to them. Paxton turned back to Devi and got way closer to her than she was used to. Kiss Me More by Doja Cat and SZA was playing in the house but it sounded far away.

He touched her cheek and lifted her mouth to his. “Is this okay?” He asked nervously.

Instead of answering Devi pushed her lips against his. Paxton smiled against her and pulled her tight to him.

……

“You want me to pick you up tomorrow?” Paxton texted and Devi smiled when she saw the message.

“Sure, if you don’t mind.” She replied quickly.

“No worries, we’re both going to the same place. Better for the environment and all that”

“I’ll make a driving playlist.” He sent back a smiley face and an ok hand.

Devi couldn’t wait for tomorrow. This was going to be the best summer of her life.

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mazuwii · 3 years ago

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Name: Sudden Meltdown You= Y/N Ackerman College AU

Fast forward two lessons and I was sitting in the stuffed cafeteria with a fat cake on my plate, trying my hardest to ignore every chaotic thing going on in the huge round hall by chewing on more than I could possibly handle.

"Uh oh, she's stuffing her mouth, why are you mad?" Pieck nudged me. I had no choice but to groan and roll my eyes. Porco and Zeke were sat in front of us, already knowing why I was irritated. "She won't shut the fuck up for one damn second," I mumbled, my gaze averted to Historia standing on the table, barking out bullshit.

Reiner and Annie let out a scoff in sync, both keeping their focus on their phones. Bertholdt laughed awkwardly and played with his fork. "It'll die down soon." He said.

"No, does she think she's some kind of main character or something? Her standing on the table and giving a speech about violence isn't going to stop Eren and Jean fighting like two petty drag queens." I rolled my eyes and continued. "If it did work then they would have stopped arguing by now."

"I'm surprised you haven't gotten used to it." Yelena sat across Pieck and I with her usually half-empty tray. "No, everyone secretly finds it cringe, I can't be the only one."

"Mmm, I don't know Y/N, it seems like you are," Zeke smirked and slightly leaned out of the way. Suddenly, students from our class clapping for her came into my already crimson view. "I just want to drop-kick her damn it." I stabbed the cake, earning a tissue rubbing against my mouth and cheeks.

"Not while looking like a baby who can't feed themselves," Pieck said, wiping the corners. All of our friends chortled as she treated me like a child. "What a supportive friend you are(!)" I sighed and took my earphones out of my backpack so I could block out the blonde's agitating voice.

Why was I getting so mad? I had no idea. Perhaps it was because her words were so repetitive and held no meaning to them. "Maybe you're jealous." Porco smugly said. I responded with a growl. "Of what?"

"I don't know, the fact that almost every guy has had a crush on her or that she's prom queen every year or you aren't as feminine as her or maybe"-

"Shut up. I get it." I grunted, stubbornly crossing my arms and glaring away from everyone. "Don't talk with your mouth open, Pocco."

"Don't tell me what to do! Peepee!"

Ignoring Pieck and Porco, my weakened glower settled on Reiner, who was boringly drinking water, leaning against the chair like a careless kid at a boring lecture. "Rei?" He suddenly stopped drinking, his eyes dragging to me creepily. He hummed with his cheeks full of liquid.

"You okay? I never see you eating nowadays." This was a better subject to start rather than that annoying short drama queen. The tall man grinned sheepishly and shook his head. "I ate too much in the morning so I don't have an appetite right now."

"I don't believe that, you aren't as beefy as you used to be," I snickered, squinting my eyes at him. "I bet Porco must be so happy now." Zeke abruptly said to himself. Our attention darted towards the bearded guy, making him look up and proceed. "He's jealous of Reiner's boobs and tries to grow his"-

"What?! Pfft no, I don't! Where d-did you get that from!?"

"Read it in your diary."

Porco began his usual rampage on privacy and why having Zeke as a roommate was like sharing with an obnoxious monkey, making us facepalm at the two. I turned towards Reiner who blushed slightly. I laughed and shook my head at how shy he could become.

By the time their argument turned into playful insults with Pieck and Yelena reacting to all their crappy comebacks, Bertholdt and Annie left the table with each other, in love as always. I got up from my seat and sat next to Reiner since the seat next to him was now empty.

"You know," He started, "You don't need to be jealous of Historia, you're just as good if not, better than her." The heat in my cheeks radiated my entire face. "At least to me," He added with a small smile, suddenly widening his eyes.

"Oh- sorry was that weird?" He laughed awkwardly. "Not at all, weirdo." I smiled at him, loving the view. How could Annie be staring at her phone when she had such perfection sitting next to her?

"Now come with me, let's both get some milk!" I snatched his hand and forced him up with me. He widened his eyes at how abrupt I was being, not having the heart to say no.

Reiner had some issues he never speaks about to people. He's amazing, the way he tries to heal his wounds by healing everyone else's. Out of all the questions I had, I'd have to ask him why. Why he covers his pain up by smiling, which technically is like adding wood to fire.

After taking a croissant and a cookie, I took him out to the benches on campus, no one really goes there now because it was raining in the morning.

Still, I threw my jacket on it and told him to sit down. Before he could decline, I pressed on his shoulders and forced him on it. The jacket was long enough for the both of us so I sat down right next to him.

"Reiner." I mumbled, biting into my cookie and shoving the croissant on his lap. "Y/N... I really"-

"Shut up and eat it, I'm sick of pretending to believe your lies."

His hand shook slightly and his lips quivered, turning his head away from me so that I wouldn't see. My heart shattered into a million pieces upon seeing him try to hide a cry.

"Rei..." I whispered, reaching for his slumped shoulder. "I'm just worried about you, we're besties aren't we?"

"Y/N... I don't deserve anything or anyone." He finally said. Despite the fact it was sad, at least he said something.

"No, please don't tell me this is how you've been thinking?" I bit my lip and remembered how he had PTSD and his room was all for himself, he had no roommate and stays in silence for the whole night, panicking with no one to help.

The silence he was giving me frustrated me more than it should, the fact that he wasn't saying anything about this. Judging by his weight loss it had been at least two weeks. "How long?" I asked carefully.

"Every night..." He finally looked at me. His usually golden, passion-filled eyes were dull with a spike of pain glistening in them. The corners bloodshot as he tried to contain the tears.

"You've been strong for too long, it's ok to cry..." I slithered my arm around his shoulders and gently laid his head against the crook of my neck. His shoulders shook and his breath was shaking as he finally let it out, sobbing into my neck.

From time to time, he'd let out a loud groan by accident, sniffling to lower his voice so that no one could hear but himself. "You matter so much to me, I swear to god, Rei." My fingers raked through his short blonde hair that had grown over time, my other hand rubbing his back.

"I want Reiner Braun. No one else." I told him, knowing why he was putting on the older brother impression all the time.

"He- He's nothing..."

"He's everything to me, why would you want to take away my everything?"

Suddenly, the sniffling stopped and the tears running down my neck halted at my sweater, soaking the collar. His face came into view when he sat up, gazing at me as if I had stated the craziest thing. His bronze pools switched from my left to my right pupil, drowning in my sincerity.

"You know how shit my days here would be without your dumb ass to flirt and make the most himbo jokes?" I giggled, my palm snaking up to his jaw and feeling his stubble gently prick my fingers as I caressed him.

Even though he hadn't said a word, I could only wish I made him feel better about himself because I had not only stated the truth, I exposed myself, my weakness. Although I don't show my appreciation as much as I should, I do need him, life would collapse without the idiot...

"Now, if you take my everything away from me, I'll despise you with every inch of my body," I said, melting when his hand laid on top of mine, leaning into my touch.

"That's not a lot of inches." He mumbled into my palm, making me lightly laugh. "Bastard." He weakly smirked at my playful insult.

"Come here." I sat on my knees so that I was higher than him and rested his head against my chest, my arms tight and secure around him.

"Mm..." I heard his muffled voice say, "Every time you hug me I feel so safe..." My heart skipped a beat, surely I wasn't supposed to hear that considering how low his voice was.

"You won't tell anyone... right?" He said, taking a deep breath in. I could sense him relaxing in my embrace, reassuring not only him but me.

"Of course not, let's just try and get you a break from school, a week should do it... right?" My hand rested on the back of his head even when he moved to face me.

"We have a lot of work for the school play though... the equipment needs building, who'll do the backstage lighting and help with props and what"-

"REI! Relax yourself, himbo. It's only a week."

"No."

"Reiiiii!" I whined, ignoring the thunder that had just struck. "Are you telling me you wouldn't want a week holiday with me?"

"I do, Y/N but we can't." He held onto my waist, careful not to squeeze my sides because he's well aware I'm ticklish there. "I can heal..."

My head unknowingly shook from side to side, "Rei you don't understand, I'm worried for you, healing by yourself... are you sure it'd work?" Silence...

Just as he was about to open his mouth, synced whistling broke our eye contact in the now heavy rain. Our gazes were met by the most annoying trio, Connie, Sasha and Jean wriggling their eyebrows at us. I heard Reiner uncomfortably sigh, cutting his breath off mid-way.

Abruptly, Jean began humming careless whisper out loud with his bothersome voice, Connie singing the lyrics with Sasha weirdly dancing in front of them as if they were in a ninja trio for matchmaking. "Tonight the music seems so LOUD! I WISH THAT WE COULD LOSE THIS CROWD! BABY! IT'S BETTER THIS WAY!"-

"You kids never shut up," We all flinched at the sudden appearance of Levi in the rain, standing proudly at his size. "First of all, it's 'maybe it's better this way', second of all your singing is so bad that the thunderstorm got worse, third of all, Braun and Ackerman, both of you get to class this is not a cheesy ass romance movie!"

Note:

Ok but Sasha Connie and Jean doing careless whisper is 100% canon, like it's too funny not to be true, I’m just chucking this into tumblr LMAO

#reiner braun #reiner x reader #reiner #attack on titan #connie springer #levi ackerman #LMAO sorry I'm dumping ishdiefse

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ficforce · 4 years ago

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Benimaru Relationship Alphabet

A- Activity (What is their favourite activity to do with Y/N.) Quiet Reader: Benimaru enjoys napping with his head on her lap, Y/N is good with her hands, if he’s lucky she’ll stop whichever craft she’s doing and massage his scalp. There’s a sunny spot on the porch at the back of the Guardhouse with a mat and a soft cushion laid out, She didn’t like him sleeping on the bare wood and Benimaru didn’t like that she got a sore back - once he was asleep she didn’t like to move in case she woke him up. Loud Reader: Sparring with her is always fun, Y/N practices the same discipline as he does but she started much later in life. She offers him enough of a challenge that he really has to think about his next moves. It usually ends up with them rolling around in the dirt kissing, putting out a fire Y/N accidentally started or deciding to go take a nap. B- Beginnings (How do they act in the beginning of a relationship) Quiet Reader: Y/N is a quiet, almost shy woman, she first spoke to Benimaru when he turned up to put out a fire he had started whilst dealing with an Infernal. He would usually let the regular Hikeshi deal with it but he had literally been above it. She hadn’t realised he was there until after she had taken control of the fire and put it out with ease. Benimaru had been impressed and then he had found some amusement in how she panicked just at the sight of him. Y/N had an interesting heat signature and he had been curious to see her use her ability again - she would be too nervous to show him and either not be able to form a flame or burn him by accident. Her flames were the hottest recorded in Asakusa. At first, he was too gentle with her, treating her like a fragile flower that could wilt at any moment but then he witnessed her get angry once and wasn’t as careful: she was strong. Once he was more like himself she liked him more and was told him so. People find it amusing that he can get rowdy and pick fights whilst Y/N watches from the background with a fond smile on her lips. They compliment each other rather well. Loud Reader: They met during a bar fight. Y/N had started it after a drunk got a little too handsy with her. What started off as a one on one fight had turned into a brawl - once it had gotten out of hand she headed outside and that’s where she found Benimaru. He smiled at her, apparently a side effect of sake, and offered her a cup. He had been amused by the trouble her one uppercut had caused. Then not so amused when they ended up arguing and ended up throwing fireballs at each other. Their relationship could be described as passionate, they were quick to become lovers and slower to get to know each other. Every argument brought them closer and they’re not as explosive as they used to be.

C- Communication (Are they good communicators? How do they normally talk about their problems or solve issues)

Quiet Reader: Benimaru doesn’t like to talk about his feelings, he doesn’t like to share his problems with just anyone and even if he’s just complaining he hates when someone tries to fix his problems for him. Y/N is very good at calming him down and getting him to lower his defences enough to talk to her, she always seems to offer him good advice. Y/N is like an open book, if something is worrying her then she can’t hide it, her face always gives her away. Benimaru doesn’t like to see her upset and will ask her outright, she’ll try to tell him not to worry and that it’s not important but he won’t give up. Benimaru’s usual advice is that he can go and punch the problem - This always makes Y/N smile and she’ll figure out what to do as he hears her out. Loud Reader: She isn’t good at sharing a problem, she either tries to punch it or will let it fester inside, at first it won’t be noticeable but then suddenly she’ll burst and Benimaru struggles to calm her down at first. He’ll feel bad that he didn’t see her suffering sooner and hold her until she’s calm enough to speak to him. She just needs to rant sometimes - she’s not the type to hold onto things. Y/N is very similar to the Quiet Reader in that she’ll hear him out. She’s pretty good at reading his micro-expressions and can tell the difference between a frown and a frown. She’ll bug him until he cracks and tells her what’s going on… her advice isn’t always so good. D- Drunk (What are they like when they’re drunk) Quiet Reader: Y/N is quiet and sweet, she barely ever raises her voice but when she drinks more than one cup of sake - she turns into a different person. She will fight you. This includes Benimaru and after last time Konro keeps a count on her drinks. Loud Reader: She’s a happy drunk. Unless someone starts on her or touches her in the wrong way (If Benimaru doesn’t break their fingers first), then she’ll get rowdy. Y/N will find everything funny and likes to cuddle up to someone, if Konro is there she tends to want to cuddle him more as he’s bigger and easier to fall asleep on. Benimaru gets a little jealous. We all know what Benimaru is like when he drinks. E- Emergency (How are they in emergency situations? Y/N gets hurt, they get hurt, someone is dying etc..) Quiet Reader: Y/N can usually keep a calm head on her shoulders, she’ll help out as much as she can and tends to worry about others before herself. She knows that Benimaru puts himself in danger to protect their Town and it makes her worry but he’s so strong… so, he’ll always come back to her, right? Benimaru is used to chaos and emergencies, it’s in his job description. When it comes to Y/N though, he wants to know where she is, he wants to know her exact location so he can keep danger away from her. If anything happened to her… Loud Reader: She’s the first one to get people moving. Although she’s not an official member of Company 7 she helps out where she can, making sure civilians are out of the way and ready to defend them if needed. Y/N likes to keep tabs on Benimaru - he’s not invincible and he does dumb stuff sometimes. He wishes she wouldn’t linger so close. Benimaru knows she can hold her own and he doesn’t need to worry because she’s a strong fighter. He knows she can take a hit or two but he’ll personally incinerate anyone who hurts her. F- Free Spot (I’ll give you any headcanon I come up with) Quiet Reader: Y/N is a very good crafter, writing, drawing, knitting, sewing, felting and much much more. She can’t cook though. It’s a disaster. She set fire to water and the Guardhouse kitchen was out of commission for three days. Loud Reader: Y/N can form animals with her flames. Serpents and dragons are her main focus but when she tries something else it always looks a little odd and everyone makes fun of them. G- Gifts (What kind of gifts do they give? What kind of gifts do they get?) Quiet Reader: She gives him handmade gifts. In the winter she makes him scarves - even though they don’t need them because they’re both walking furnaces. Benimaru likes that she

sews little emblems into the inside of his coat collar, they’re their little secret. Benimaru will often commission skilled people to make the tools that she needs for her hobbies. Loud Reader: She’s not very creative so most often she’ll buy him food from his favourite vendors. Benimaru enjoys long baths and he has a private one at the Guardhouse big enough for two, she’ll often buy him relaxing salts. Benimaru treats her whenever they’re together, he’s not one for grand gestures but she once got mad because he bought her an expensive bracelet. She loves it but thinks its too much… H- Hugs (How do they show affection/cuddle) Quiet Reader: Y/N loves to hold Benimaru’s hand when they’re out walking, they can be found close together most times and he’s not shy about showing his affection with little gestures. Only if Y/N is comfortable with it - He would hate to embarrass her. Loud Reader: She’s usually holding onto his arm and will nuzzle him in public if he’s not paying attention. They’re both pretty open but they keep it light as they don’t need the whole Town knowing their business. I- Irritation (What is something that irritates them? How do they show their irritation?) Quiet Reader: Y/N has a strong sense of justice, she can’t stand it when someone is getting away with victimising another person. She particularly hates bullies and despite her quiet demeanour will always stand up for others. The air around Y/N gets a huge spike of heat and most people know to get out of the way. The easiest way to tell her mood is by temperature and her inability to hide anything. Loud Reader: She doesn’t have a huge amount of patience for idiots. If someone is being stupid - on purpose - she will have no time for them. Also, people who walk too slow drive her mad. There’s a huge street and you are taking up all the room - move!! She’s pretty straight forward in telling people when they’re annoying her. And if Benimaru ‘Tch’s her one more time… J- Jackpot (How would they spend their winnings if they won the lottery?) Quiet Reader: Y/N would use it for the Town, she’s got all she needs and likes a simple life. There’s a roof over her head, food on the table and she has people she loves - maybe she would splash out a little on a new kimono for the festival? Loud Reader: She’s never really had money and where she grew up in Asakusa was a little rougher. It’s a much better place now but she remembers being unhappy when she was small and there was no neighbourhood watch looking out for the Town - Only selfish gangs. She’d want to set up a place in Town for kids to come to if they needed somewhere safe - God help Benimaru if he hits it with one of his matois. Benimaru has everything he needs and doesn’t care about money. K- Kryptonite (What is their ultimate weakness?) Quiet Reader: Her control over her emotions. Y/N can’t control herself if she gets angry, she loses control of her flames and because they’re hotter than most they consume things faster than the Hikeshi can put them out. She’s terrified of causing that kind of damage again and tries to stay calm. Loud Reader: Y/N might seem rough and ready for a fight but she’ll sacrifice herself without hesitation. She would rather get hurt than allow anyone else to and this is dangerous for Benimaru as not only does it make her potential bait but he wouldn’t cope with her getting hurt badly. Benimaru has so much emotional investment in Y/N (both) that if anything happened to either one of them he would be at a loss. If they died… he can’t even bear to think about it. L- Laughter (What makes them laugh?) Quiet Reader: The twins make her laugh when they’re picking on Benimaru or just plotting their next prank within hearing distance. Konro’s facial expressions when Benimaru is being unreasonable amuse her. Benimaru knows that her neck is ticklish, unless they’re being intimate, and likes to try and press kisses there to watch her squirm and try to wriggle away. Loud Reader: If she’s drunk - everything is funny. She usually laughs the most at meal

times because the Hikeshilike to eat together, it’s noisy but she likes that it feels like a huge family. Making Benimaru laugh is what makes her the happiest, he only does it in front of his closest people. M- Morning ( How do they wake up in the morning? Are they a morning person or a morning grouch?) Quiet Reader: She will stay in bed as long as there’s someone to cuddle up to. Benimaru will sometimes lay awake for a while so that she can keep sleeping as she tends to get up once she’s awake. Y/N is a little drowsy first thing and she’s clumsy but after an hour she’s wide awake and busy with getting the twins hair just right. Loud Reader: She’s a monster. Do not wake her up unless you absolutely have to. Y/N stays up too late and always suffers for it the next morning. Give her her morning beverage and stand clear until she speaks to you first. Benimaru gets up first thing, he doesn’t get a full night’s sleep but he takes catnaps during the day. Morning is the best time to pester him because he’s too dazed to get mad. N- Needy (When do they feel particularly needy? How do they show it?) Quiet Reader: Y/N tries not to be needy, she tries to get by on her own and not be a burden but she often feels vulnerable when she’s caused trouble, accidentally or by losing control.

Sometimes she’s not sure what’s upset her but she’ll go to Benimaru and simply pinch the bottom of his Banten, holding onto it as a little kid would. It’s enough for Benimaru to know she needs him and he’ll drop what he’s doing to comfort her.

She does the same for him so he really doesn’t mind it.

Loud Reader: She’s not used to having someone who will spoil her. She mostly keeps things hidden but when she’s feeling ill - that’s it. She needs attention and will openly ask for it. This can be something as simple as asking Benimaru to stroke her hair or make her tea. When she inevitably makes him ill she’ll return the favour. O- Oasis (Where is their happy place? Where would they go if they didn’t have anything holding them back?) Quiet Reader: There’s a small clearing by the river that Y/N loves, in the summer it’s shaded by a large tree and it’s far enough away from other things that she hopes it never gets hit by Benimaru’s flames. It’s another place Benimaru likes to take a nap with his head on her lap but it’s where he first kissed her. Loud Reader: Y/N has never been outside of Asakusa. One day she would like to see what’s beyond the gates and experience what a City is like. She’s a proto-nationalist so she doesn’t care too much for their views or customs but even if it were to go and see Company 8’s dump - she’d like to go. P- Pain (How do they handle pain? How do they handle when Y/N are in pain?) Quiet Reader: She’s not a person who complains so if she says something hurts then Benimaru knows it’s serious. She slipped in the snow one year and hurt her ankle. At first, she tried to brush it off and limp home but after only a few steps she fell. One of Company 7 had been passing at the time and carried her home, when Benimaru saw her he took her from the other man and pressed a kiss to her temple - he could see she was holding back tears and it broke his heart. Benimaru called a doctor and made sure that she got plenty of rest, he sat her down on his lap and held her until the painkillers made her fall asleep. Loud Reader: Benimaru gets mad at Y/N because she’ll ignore the pain until she physically can’t take it anymore. He’s known her to ignore broken ribs before and it wasn’t until he hugged her that she nearly collapsed in agony. He’s sweet to her once she admits she’s hurting, it’s similar to when she’s sick and needy - she just wants him to fuss over her and stay close. Q- Quote (What’s a quote that fits them and your relationship) Quiet Reader: Just because you took longer than others doesn’t mean you failed. Remember that. - Unknown Loud Reader: I care. I always care. That is my problem. - Unknown R- Reunion (How do they celebrate seeing Y/N after a long time of being apart) Benimaru is going to shower them with affection and take them to bed. The first orgasm is going to be from a slow, intimate love making. After that - well, whatever they like. You will not see either of them until the next day. S- Stress (What stresses them out? How do deal with stress and how do they relieve it?) Quiet Reader: She doesn’t get stressed too easily but if people are getting hurt or if she feels like she is failing at something she gets stressed out. Y/N’s first reaction when she feels like this is to start crying over the dumbest little thing and try to hide somewhere she can try to calm down. Once she’s taken a moment to evaluate everything she puts on her brave face and gets back to it. If Benimaru is around he’ll wait for her outside the room, he doesn’t want to crowd her or make her feel like she can’t cope without him. Loud Reader: Because she lets things build up over time, Y/N can become stressed very quickly and this usually ends up in what seems like a tantrum. She’ll go out to practice her fighting and if she’s lucky Benimaru will join her. Once all that pent up stress is gone she’ll be back to normal… if just a little bit moody. T- Terror (What are they afraid of?) Quiet Reader: As mentioned before, Y/N can’t control her ability if she gets angry. It’s only anger that blinds her with rage and she’s terrified that one day she’ll kill someone by accident. She’s terrified that it’ll be Benimaru because she’s burned him before. Loud Reader: Y/N likes to think that nothing scares her and spent her life trying not to be scared of anything. But sometimes, after an

argument with Benimaru, she’s terrified he might not come back after they’ve walked away from each other. Of course, he always comes back first. U- Unique (What is a quirk that is unique to them?) Quiet Reader: She can only produce blue flames and they’re the hottest recorded. Loud Reader: She can eat six takoyaki balls in under one minute - freshly made. It’s her best party trick. V- Violence (Do they fight a lot? Are they a good fighter? What is their fighting style?) Quiet Reader: Y/N doesn’t like to fight and doesn’t know how. Benimaru and Konro have tried to teach her some basic defence moves but that’s about as much as she’s done. If push ever came to shove she could just superheat the air around her to make it impossible to get close. Loud Reader: She’s not a violent person but she loves to fight. Her style is the same as Benimaru’s but she’s a few years behind so isn’t as good as him yet. Her advantage over him is her strategic mind. Y/N is vulnerable to body blows and once she goes down she struggles to get her advantage back. W- Wow (What does Y/N do that really surprises them? What do they do that Y/N really likes?) Quiet Reader: The first time Y/N stood up to a guy twice her size and demanded he apologise and pay the storekeeper they had just stolen from, Benimaru had been taken aback. The quiet, shy girl he was so careful around had an aura so dangerous that even he had to think about whether he wanted to even approach. The man had laughed at her and made to leave - luckily he had been a third-generation and only his clothes were burnt to a crisp. Benimaru wasn’t so careful with her from then on. Y/N was surprised by how gentle Benimaru was when they were alone. He’s very soft and childlike… unless he’s after something a little more grown-up. Loud Reader: Benimaru hadn’t thought someone as boisterous as Y/N would like children. She adores them, she always has time for kids and gets especially soft around babies. Y/N doesn’t just like them but she’s very good with little kids and he’s surprised how motherly she is. Y/N really likes when Benimaru feels her looking at her and instead of asking what she wants, he gives her a gentle smile. It always makes her feel happy. X- (Explicit headcanon. For all you degenerates) Quiet Reader: Y/N is shy when it comes to sex but she’s not inexperienced. Benimaru was a little too gentle with her the first few times - which was mind-blowing and completely satisfying but she really wanted to see him lose his cool. Y/N got so frustrated that she pushed him onto the futon and ravaged him. After that, Benimaru does what he likes providing it doesn’t hurt her and they both get off on it. Technically Benimaru initiates sex but Y/N will drop some pretty heavy hints that she wants him. Loud Reader: The first few times they were rough with each other and that was enough to keep them coming back to each other. But as they got to know each other Benimaru became a little slower, a little gentler and it really threw her off. Eventually, she told Benimaru that it made her uncomfortable and he found out that her previous boyfriends had been pretty selfish. They didn’t always satisfy her or make her feel loved. It took some effort and patience but now she knows that sex can be good at any pace. Y- Yucky (Is there something that grosses them out so badly that they can’t deal with it?) They’re both pretty good with most things, plenty grosses them out but nothing that they just simply wouldn’t be able to stand. Z- ZZZ’s (What are their sleeping habits? Both with and without Y/N) Quiet Reader: Y/N is usually in bed by midnight, if she’s out at a festival or the bar with Benimaru then two in the morning seems to be her limit - after that, she’ll sleep anywhere. Before bed she likes to take a bath and have something warm to drink, she’ll do a little reading or speak with the others before heading to bed. If Benimaru is home he’ll usually follow her timing or join her an hour later. They spoon. Y/N fits so well against him and they usually fall asleep

whilst talking about little things - always with their fingers entwined. If Benimaru is out patrolling then she’ll steal his pillow to cuddle. Loud Reader: She’ll often be awake until three in the morning, she struggles to sleep normal hours because she sleeps in so late. Y/N has tried to go to sleep earlier but really struggles. She’ll brush her teeth, brush her hair and grab a drink before heading to bed as she prefers to wash in the mornings/whenever she gets up. If Benimaru isn’t home then she’ll keep herself busy until she finally falls asleep, she takes up most of the futon and Benimaru has a hell of a time getting in with her when he gets back. When he is there, he’s usually fallen asleep before her. Benimaru tends to sleep on his side with his arm over her middle and his face nestled into her neck whilst she’s on her back. Sometimes being unable to sleep gives her the rare opportunity to fall in love with Benimaru’s sleeping face. He’s rather beautiful when he’s not sulking.

#shinmon benimaru #reader #alphabet #fire force #enen no shouboutai #enn enn no shouboutai #garth ennis

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kandoesfanfics-writes · 4 years ago

Text

A Song Your Soul(mate) Sings

This is my Maribat Secret Santa for @my-northern-downpour. I hope you enjoy it! This is a soulmate!au based off of a trend on TikTok in which soulmates can hear each other when they sing. I extended this to include humming as well.

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The room was dark by the time he returned to his bed.

It was sparsely decorated, the six-year old boy not wanting much for potential enemies to use to conceal themselves. His eyes scanned the shadows, watching for the slightest movement, trying to see if there was anyone currently in the room. Seeing nothing that tickled his fight or flight instincts, he cautiously walked into the room before locking it behind him. He quietly barricaded himself in the room before walking over to his meager bed.

His body ached as he laid down to sleep.

Where there was not gauze or bandages was dark skin decorated with purples and blues of varying colors. The pain was a dull throb in his limbs as compared to the sharp pains in his joints. His stomach ached from the punishing training he'd been put through earlier that day. He hadn't wanted to train, but his mother had smacked him and told him to be grateful that he was chosen as heir.

"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens, un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche, voilà le portrait sans retouche, de l'homme auquel j'appartiens…"

The joyful echoes in his head began again, right on time. The echo sounded child-like, like the singer was someone his age. The echo sounded feminine, and he wondered why such a feminine voice would be echoing in his ears. He wasn't a girl after all so why did it sound like a girl? Why couldn’t he talk to that echo either? He could always have conversations with himself, but the feminine voice never answered him.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras, qu'il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose, Il me dit des mots d'amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça m'fait quelque chose…"

It wasn't in a language he knew either. So far Mother had only taught him Arabic and English. The strange foreign vowel sounds and unfamiliar words made no sense to the little boy. Why was he hearing a voice speaking in a strange tongue?

And was he the only one?

Mother and Grandfather had never talked about hearing strange voices in their heads. Neither had any of the others the little boy had met. If they heard the voices too, wouldn't they have talked about them? Why would Mother and Grandfather hide the knowledge from him… unless they didn't share the same experiences.

The little boy did not fear the voice, but he vowed never to speak of it. While he did not believe the voice was a threat, he did not wish to be seen as defective. He saw what had happened to those deemed unworthy of his Grandfather's presence. He did not wish to die…or worse, go through painful procedures to get rid of the voice in his head.

"Il est entré dans mon cœur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause, c'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie, et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon cœur qui bat…"

As he curled into a ball, his daggers close at hand, he listened to the cheerful voice. He listened to the way the strange words would roll, and occasionally stutter, through his mind. It wasn’t terrible...if he had to be honest, it was rather relaxing. The sound was more often than not soft and gentle sounding compared to the harsh orders barked at him daily. Sometimes the voice had giggles and laughter interrupting the words, sending a strange warmth through him. He could feel himself relaxing enough to sleep, but he forced his green eyes to stay open as he wanted to hear more.

“Des nuits d’amour à plus finir, un grand bonheur qui prend sa place, les ennuis, les chagrins s’effacent, heureux, heureux à en mourir…”

He could feel sleep overtake him as he listened to the happy voice, glad that at least one thing in his life radiated warmth and was not tinged with fear.

He hoped Mother and Grandfather never found out.

Damian didn’t want the voice to go away.

————————

“Why do you keep singin’ if you can’t hear them, Mari?” a dark skinned boy asked, picking apart the sandwich his mother made him.

“Because Maman explained that some people can’t sing, Nino!” a little girl with paler skin responded. “Maman said that sometimes people are born without the ability to talk, or they get hurt real bad and can’t talk no more. She also said that sometimes people have a hard time hearing or can’t hear at all, so they learn FSL instead of talking with their mouth! What if my soulmate is like that? They’d be real lonely if I didn’t sing to ‘em!”

The little boy adjusted the small red cap on top of his head and said, “I guess that makes sense.”

The little girl nodded, her bob swinging a little with the force of her movements. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her best friend, Nino Lahiffe, were sitting in her parents bakery, enjoying lunch. Nino was picking apart his food, not feeling very hungry after Chloe Bourgeois called him chubby. Despite Marinette telling Nino he wasn’t chubby, the little boy seemed to be down in the dumps. Marinette had tried to cheer him up by asking about the song he could hear his soulmate singing as Nino was very excited that he was hearing his soulmate more often now.

That had brought them to the conversation of Marinette’s soulmate...who she had never heard before.

Marinette knew her friend wasn’t trying to be mean by asking about it, and that he was worried about her. It wasn’t common that soulmates couldn’t hear one another’s voices so long as both people were alive. If one couldn’t hear their soulmates voice it could mean that they might have died, that they hadn’t been born yet, or that the person didn’t have one. There were also instances where both soulmates were still alive and still couldn’t sing to one another, and that was the type Marinette’s mother had just recently explained to her— people who were unable to verbally communicate due to either issues with hearing or speaking verbally.

Marinette was nibbling on her sandwich too, secretly trying to reassure herself as well.

After all, Chloe liked to tease her that she didn’t have a soulmate.

Marinette shook her head, kicking her feet back and forth. No! Stupid Chloe was wrong! She did have a soulmate! They just couldn’t sing to her right now! Maybe they couldn’t sing at all, but that didn’t matter! As long as she kept singing, they would eventually find her voice...wouldn’t they?

“Hey Mari, do you wanna go to the park?” Nino asked, interrupting her train of thought. “I got a new football. It’s in my bag.”

Marinette smiled brightly, adjusting the straps on her pink overalls before saying, “Prepare to lose, Nino!”

The little girl jumped out of her seat and raced towards his backpack, the little boy following after her. Neither child noticed the dark haired woman watching them with a soft, sad smile. Her near silver eyes shone with love and concern as she watched her daughter go off to play with her best friend. She looked so happy...and Sabine desperately hoped she would stay like that.

———————-

...things at his father’s house were strange.

His rules were confusing.

No killing. None. In fact, Damian got into more trouble killing while with his father. It just didn’t make any sense to him! Hadn’t Mother told Father anything?! Hadn’t Mother told Father that he was going to be heir of both the cowl and the League of Assassins? He had to know how to kill in order to do that! He had to keep up with his skills to be able to maintain and grow to surpass anyone who would challenge him!

But Father told him that he didn’t want Damian to do any of that.

He told Damian that he wanted different things for him than his mother did.

And that confused him.

The other thing that confused him was his place in his father’s house.

With his mother and his grandfather, the dark haired ten-year old’s position was always clear. He was to be the Heir to the League of Assassins. He was to be stronger, sharper, quicker, and more deadly than anyone else in the League. He was constantly being tested by Mother and Grandfather too. He knew that if he did not perform to their standards then a punishment was in order...and they never let Damian forget how replaceable he truly was at the end of the day.

He might be considered more important than the other League members, but he had to continuously earn that position.

Richard Grayson didn’t seem interested in fighting him for the cowl...at all. In fact, the young man seemed to want to get to know Damian. He seemed to get over his annoyance at the younger boy’s appearance rather quickly, and he’d started getting into Damian’s space. He asked him questions, trying to learn more about the newcomer. He didn’t appear to be threatened by Damian very much either, which irritated the aforementioned boy severely.

Dick was quick to suss out Damian’s boundaries, and while he’d ultimately respect them, he was also quick to push them too. His excuse was that Damian needed to act like other ten year old boys, and his father had agreed. While Damian had at first hated it...he had to admit he’d grown fond of Grayson, as the second Damian began to feel anxious, the older one would cease his pushing.

Dick was...well he was an older brother, through and through. He loved Damian, but he wasn’t afraid to try and kick the younger boy’s ass either. Damian appreciated someone who could see he had skill but wasn’t scared off by it. Dick was insistent in getting Damian to learn more about ‘normal’ kid stuff. Dick was the one showing him kids’ movies, loudly singing along to the lyrics, making their father groan.

Tim...Tim still wasn’t okay with Damian. Damian wasn’t okay with Tim either. Damian was more willing to overlook Dick as he was his own superhero— Nightwing. Tim was Robin. Tim was the one who had his role, according to his mother. Tim was the one he was supposed to show he was superior too. Tim was the one he had to get rid of.

But that had made father and Dick extremely angry.

Tim fought valiantly for his position, which Damian respected, but he also seemed to be sticking to Father’s no kill rule. It was clear that Father trusted Tim much more than he trusted Damian. Tim was still with the family. Tim hadn’t been replaced by him. Tim still hung out with Dick, though he did it less when Damian was around. Tim also clearly had Dick’s trust as well, while Damian was still on thin ice.

The younger boy couldn’t explain why that upset him so much, but it did.

As Dick had explained it to him, and Alfred re-explained, ranks were based purely on seniority. Alfred was in charge of Bruce, and Bruce was in charge of them. Dick was the next in line because he was the oldest, then Tim, and then Damian. There wasn’t any fighting in order to gain the upper rank...and despite Damian being on the bottom, he was treated with just as much respect as a living person deserved.

He was allowed to point out holes in plans. He was allowed to talk during meetings. He was allowed to offer his opinion. He was allowed to fight with them...he was allowed to fight without fearing death.

For the first time in Damian’s short life...he was allowed to do things without the risk of death constantly hanging over his head. The most his father would do is bench him from patrols, stop him from training, and put him under house arrest. All of these punishments were preferable to the ones his mother would come up with, and he felt so much better about that.

He was freer to be himself here than he ever had been with his mother.

“Here comes the sun, do, dun, do, do. Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right. Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter. Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here. Here comes the sun, do, dun, do, do. Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right!”

Damian looked up from his oatmeal, grimacing at his elder ‘brother’ as said man skidded into the kitchen in a tee-shirt, boxers, and his socks.

It had been an entire year since his mother had left him with his father. He was eleven years old now, and he’d told his mother that he was staying with his father. He had thought he’d grow used to his ‘brothers’ antics, but it appeared that there was one thing he still wasn’t used to— Dick’s insistence that he break out in a random musical number anytime he felt like it…

“GRAYSON, would you please shut up! Tt, it’s too early for this nonsense!” the green-eyed boy said with a scowl. “Alfred, please tell him that he’s much too noisy.”

“No can do, lil’ D! I have to let my soulmate know I’m a-okay! And the only way to do that is sing!” Dick said happily. “Good morning, Alfred!”

The elderly man shook his head in fond annoyance before saying, “Good morning, Master Dick. If you eat cereal, please leave some left for Master Tim. That boy hasn’t been eating much, but I have been getting him to eat cereal...and do lower your volume, Master Dick.”

“...what the, and I can’t emphasize this enough, fuck are you talking about, Grayson? Where did you hear such nonsense?”

The kitchen fell silent as both Dick and Alfred looked at Damian in shock. Alfred hadn’t even corrected Damian for cursing, both men clearly fighting back and array of emotions. Dick appeared to recover first. His inquisitive blue eyes focused on Damian before he took a deep breath.

“Dames...you know what soulmates are right?” Dick asked slowly.

“What kind of asinine—”

“Master Damian, have you ever heard a voice in your head?”

Damian froze like a rabbit that had just spotted a predator. Despite the boy’s training, Alfred could see it in his microexpressions that the child was afraid. It looked like he had no idea how to answer the question, so the old butler took pity on him and continued.

“This voice...or echo doesn’t sound like it belongs to you. It sounds like someone else...someone you may not know. It could be in another language, possibly, or it could take form in the sound of humming—”

“Almost everyone has one, Lil’ D...” Dick interrupted, his expression twisted with worry. “My soulmate sings back to me after I sing to him.”

The green-eyed boy’s jaw dropped, looking back and forth between Alfred and Dick in an alarmingly vulnerable way. Dick was about to go get Bruce before Damian let out the softest sound of shock and surprise he’d ever heard. He had to strain to hear what Damian said to Alfred next, hating how small and weak the proud boy sounded.

“I’m...I’m not crazy? She— she’s real?”

“Talia never told you about soulmates, did she?” Alfred said, taking the available seat next to Damian. “Of course you're not crazy, Master Damian. This is completely normal.”

Damian shook his head, looking anxiously at the butler and Dick. He thought the voice was just in his head! She was a real person? She was singing to him? Was he supposed to be singing back? Why could he hear her? Why him?

“Why we don’t explain what soulmates are first,” Alfred said softly. “A soulmate is someone whose soul compliments yours. You are whole as you are, Damian, but a soulmate is someone whose personality will compliment yours. They are the one person in the world who has the chance to know you as well as you know yourself. They’re a blessing to have, not a weakness to exploit.”

“In order to be able to find our soulmates, we have an almost telepathic connection of sorts. When our soulmates sing, we will be able to hear them in our heads. The same goes for when you sing. She’ll be able to hear you,” Dick added. “You will be able to find your soulmate through their singing. You’ll know when you’ve met her...Lil’ D...does your soulmate still sing to you?”

“Everyday...though the time has changed since I got to the states. I’m assuming she’s European due to the timezone difference and what I believe is a Latin-based language,” Damian mumbled, twiddling his thumbs. “Is that good?”

“That’s excellent, Lil’ D. It means she hasn’t given up on you,” Dick said with a grin. “So don’t keep her waiting anymore, okay?”

“Mother and Grandfather never talked about—is it safe? I assumed I was crazy because they never spoke of soulmates and neither did anyone else. I thought—”

“You’re not crazy, Master Damian,” Alfred said, this time firmer. “You are just like any other young man with a soulmate. You hear her voice when she sings to you, and you enjoy it, don’t you?”

“...it is a nice song…very pretty…”

“They probably saw their soulmates as weaknesses to their plans, but what they failed to realize is that soulmates are sources of strength as well. Do not be afraid to answer her now, Master Damian. She’s probably been waiting quite a while to hear your voice.”

Damian still felt like he was going to throw up, but he nodded. He was still tense as a freshly tightened spring as he watched Dick return to his breakfast. The older man started humming a tune that Damian recognized was a song from the movie they’d just watched the night before.

“Dick...what’s the name of that song? The one you’re humming from the movie last night?” he asked, trying to control his voice.

Dick raised an eyebrow, surprised by the use of his first name. He calmly told Damian that he was humming ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ as performed by Elton John. He said nothing further as he watched Damian make a beeline towards the door, clearly not wanting to speak anymore on the subject, and abandoning his oatmeal. He looked towards Alfred to see if he should bring him back to at least finish breakfast, but the butler shook his head.

“Let Master Damian go. This must be overwhelming for him as well as slightly invasive. Let him process.”

Little did Alfred know that Damian had already accepted that the voice was in his head. He had already accepted the voice that lulled him to sleep as a piece of him that he’d protect willingly and viciously. The only change was that he now understood why he was so keen on protecting the intruder in his head.

He wasn’t crazy.

She was real.

That song was real.

Everything she ever sang to him was real.

Damian wasn’t broken.

She was real.

———————

The last thing Sabine Cheng expected was for her daughter to be awake at seven thirty am, no matter how early she and her husband got up.

Her sweet little Marinette had never been a morning person, always sleeping in and making herself late. Sabine had tried to break her daughter of the habit, but she was just as stubborn as her father. Now Sabine simply tried to mitigate how late her daughter got up so that she wouldn’t be as late to things.

She’d gone to wake her daughter up as she had errands to run. Sabine needed Marinette to come with her to help carry some of the items they were picking up for her mother-in-law’s birthday while Tom worked the store. Neither parent expected the shriek that came from their daughter’s room.

Nor the disheveled state she came nearly crashing down in.

“MAMAN! PAPA!” Marinette shrieked, her hair half-in, half-out of her braid. “HE SANG! MAMAN, HE’S THERE! PAPA, MY SOULMATE ANSWERED ME!”

Marinette’s eyes were wide with shock as she spluttered, trying to get words out of her mouth. Her hands were flailing in every direction, trying desperately to articulate the words she couldn’t get out. She was still dressed in her pajamas, looking at her parents helplessly.

“Marinette! Marinette, you have to breathe, little dumpling,” Sabine said, grabbing her daughter’s hands. “Take a few deep breaths.”

Marinette took a deep breath, following her mother’s instructions of in and out. As soon as she had stopped practically vibrating out of her skin, Marinette grabbed her mother’s arms and said, “He sang back, Maman. He was so shy and stuttered a lot, but he sang back. He answered me!”

Tom looked absolutely relieved, his posture relaxing slightly. He had been worried about Marinette’s soulmate never singing back, and how that would affect Marinette. They knew that she’d been bullied by the mayor’s daughter for never hearing her soulmate sing, and they knew how bad that had made her feel. Tom then stiffened back up when he realized that Marinette’s soulmate sang back, and now someone would be trying to find his little girl.

Sabine couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her husband. Their daughter was only eleven, so she doubted that someone was just going to come and steal her away! However, she was very excited for her daughter. She kissed Marinette on the forehead before saying, “That’s amazing, little dumpling. You go get changed, and you can tell me about it while we walk to the store.”

Marinette nodded eagerly before pausing.

“Maman? Do you think we could get some English books? To help me practice and learn? I’m pretty sure my soulmate sang in English,” the dark haired girl said, biting the tip of her thumb.

Tom looked at his wife, waiting for her to give the nod of approval, before telling Marinette that of course she could get some English studying material. While Tom was apprehensive of the soulmate that just started singing (why hadn’t he sang before?), he wanted nothing more than his little girl to be happy. He kissed his wife on the cheek before walking back into the kitchen, continuing to work on the pastries.

Marinette couldn’t stop the smile on her face as she raced back up to her room.

Her soulmate sang back to her!

She bounced over to her mirror, picking up her hair brush. She pulled out her hair tie, allowing the braid to fall apart completely. As she began to brush her hair, she picked up where her song had left off before her soulmate had tried to sing back.

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas, je vois la vie en rose, il me dit des mots d’amour, des mots de tous les jours, et ça me fait quelque chose, il est entré dans mon coeur, une part de bonheur, dont je connais la cause, c’est toi pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie, il me l’a dit, i’a juré pour la vie,” she sang, carefully braiding her hair.

She paused for a moment, waiting to see if he would try singing again.

Her soulmate sounded male, but it was hard for her to hear him. He sounded uncertain and shy as he stumbled across his words. Then he sounded a little bit upset before changing to humming a tune she was familiar with. He was humming “La Vie en Rose” which was a song Marinette sang very often, and that was another reason she believed he wasn’t French. He clearly knew the tune, but didn’t seem confident to say the words.

A familiar tune timidly filled her head, soft and sleepy. She felt affection well up in her chest as he continued to hum “La Vie en Rose” to her. Marinette could tell he’d been listening to her every time she sung him that song. He hummed every note perfectly until his voice began to drift off. Marinette wondered for a moment if that means he’d fallen asleep.

She finished getting dressed quickly after that, throwing on her pink sundress and black ballet flats. Blue-grey eyes sparkling with joy and excitement, Marinette practically ran down the stairs, causing her papa to call out to her to be more careful. She told her papa she would as she skipped over towards her mother.

She couldn’t wait to tell her mother about her soulmate humming her song back to her.

——————

It wasn’t until Damian was almost seventeen that he felt comfortable enough actually singing to his soulmate.

At first, he’d attempted a clumsy rendition of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”. He hadn’t been able to remember the words properly, so he’d gotten frustrated and embarrassed. She had been able to hear him messing up! He already hadn’t been singing back to her for years, and now his first attempts were pathetic! He had been worried about how she’d respond to him finally returning her songs, but he’d then begun to worry about what she thought about him screwing it up entirely!

Instead of giving up though, he had decided to hum her song back to her. He knew every note of that song, despite not knowing the words or the name to the song. He had hummed until she answered him back with her own bright cheerful song. She had sung the words, strange and unfamiliar to him, while he hummed the melody, creating the most beautiful sound Damian could have sworn he’d ever heard.

Her voice had sounded even brighter than before, and Damian could tell she was happy. After the first day, he’d noticed an uptick in his soulmate’s humming and singing. The more he’d returned her humming with his own, the happier her voice had sounded. It had warmed his chest in an inexplicable way...almost as if he’d missed her without ever meeting her until he hummed back.

Damian had reached the point where he could easily recall all of the words to Elton John’s “Can You Feel the Love Tonight”, but he’d only hummed it to her. He hadn’t felt confident enough to attempt to sing it out loud again, but he was getting there in small steps. He’d been working on it, speaking the words out loud to ensure he remembered them as to not have a repeat of his first attempt. He had begun singing little bits and pieces to the song, which seemed to get the interest of his soulmate. He had fallen even faster for her when she began to show him what she’d been working on.

Singing in English.

Despite her difficulties, his soulmate had continued to try and sing to him in what she probably assumed was his native tongue. She had learned another language for him! She had learned one of the most difficult languages to learn (the grammar rules could be absolutely atrocious, and Damian hated it) just so he could understand her singing.

The least he could do was actually sing for her.

Especially since his soulmate had grown more somber and sad in the past few years.

Her songs seemed to have changed from the light-hearted melodies about love and life to heavier music, in both genre and topics. She’d never stopped singing the song he’d come to know as “La Vie en Rose” though. It appeared that she only sang it for him now because her voice was always quiet, almost like a whisper as she sang. Some nights she only sang a few words or not at all, which worried Damian greatly. So, he did the only thing he could do.

He hummed to her even when she was silent or didn’t seem to want to sing much.

Damian began to hum to her like she’d sang to him all those days while he still lived with the League. She had dealt with his silence for years, never knowing if she had someone on the other end of her connection. Damian only realized how terrifying that was when she’d gone completely silent for a day, not singing anything at all. He could toughen it out and hum to her until she felt like she could sing again, but it only got worse.

She had begun to sing in the softest, saddest voice Damian had ever heard.

It broke his heart to know she was in pain.

Which led him to his current situation, standing in a busy Parisian patisserie with his father and brother, singing to his soulmate for the first time.

“There's a calm surrender, to the rush of day, when the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away. An enchanted moment, and it sees me through. It's enough for this restless warrior, just to be with you,” he sang softly, ignoring the shocked looks of both Bruce and Tim. “And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer, that we got this far, and can you feel the love tonight. How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best.”

The small Asian woman behind the counter looked concerned until Tim apologized and kindly informed her that Damian had never actually sang to his soulmate before. The woman chuckled before telling Tim that he didn’t need to apologize, and that their order would be out soon. Tim nodded, paying the kind woman before Bruce guided them both off to the side to wait.

The dark haired boy ignored his brother’s insistent questions, listening for her voice. She was still quiet, having stopped singing the previous song that had gotten Damian so concerned to begin with. He continued to sing, wanting his soulmate to know that even if it felt like no one else did, he cared about her.

He’d have to thank Dick later for his annoying pop music obsession, or he’d never have recognized Sia’s song “Breathe Me”.

“There's a time for everyone, if they only learn. That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn. There's a rhyme and reason to the wild outdoors. When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours,” he continued, ignoring all of the sounds going on around him.

Just as Damian was about to sing the next section, the patisserie door slammed open. A tiny girl(?) with pitch black hair that was falling loose around her face came racing in. He could see tear streaks down her face as if she’d just been crying. Her body posture was defensive. Her arms were crossed tightly against her chest, and her body was hunched over as if she were trying to make herself smaller.

A blond haired guy followed her into the building. He seemed out of breath with his face as flushed as it was. His green eyes reminded Damian of limes or acid, bright and loud. His entire demeanor displayed a nervousness as he tried to reach the girl, whose posture seemed to scream ‘I’m not okay’ the closer he got to her.

“Marinette, listen! It was just a joke! Alya said they didn’t mean it, and Lila already told the class to stop messing up your schedules,” the guy said. “Please, Marinette? Don’t be mad. You’re better than that.”

The young woman, Marinette, stopped dead in her tracks before turning around. With the more composure than Damian had thought she possessed, she simply said, “Adrien, I am allowed to be upset. They destroyed my planner, which had all the events for our class in it. As class president, I’m supposed to have all of those dates written down and available to anyone who needs them. I now have to remake the entire schedule on top of all my other responsibilities. Besides, real jokes don’t normally involve destroying someone’s personal property, now please leave me alone.”

Damian felt his heart drop into his stomach.

He knew that voice like he knew his katana.

He’d never be able to mistake the voice that had lulled him to sleep so many nights.

That was her voice.

He knew her.

“And can you feel the love tonight? It is where we are. It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer that we got this far, and can you feel the love tonight? How it's laid to rest? It's enough to make kings and vagabonds, believe the very best,” Damian continued, needing to be certain it was her.

He watched the young woman’s arms fall to her sides, looking almost startled. Her eyes, which he now noticed were an enchanting slate blue color that reminded him of a storm, were now darting around. Her petal pink lips, which looked so soft, were agape which hinted towards her being alarmed by something. Her posture straightened up as she scanned the room again. Not finding what she was looking for apparently, she slowly began to sing, her eyes searching the room once more.

“Et dès que je l’aperçois, alors je sens en moi, mon coeur qui bat.”

Damian’s heart then decided to make a violent return to his chest as he could hear it pounding in his chest.

It was her.

Those were the last lines to “La Vie en Rose”.

It was her.

——————

Marinette, to say the least, had been having a couple rough years.

At the age of thirteen, she had been given the ladybug miraculous by the former Guardian and became the spotted heroine known as Ladybug.

At around the age of fourteen-fifteen, Lila Rossi had joined her class and the bullying began.

At the age of sixteen, she realized that she had less friends than she thought she did.

And now at the age of seventeen, Marinette was just done.

She hadn’t been able to locate Hawkmoth due to his increasing power, gaining Mayura as an accomplice, and her inability to keep a standard set of heroes. Some people had lost the privilege to wield the miraculous by breaking Marinette’s trust, and others had been compromised by Hawkmoth. This meant that everytime she needed assistance, she either had to combine the miraculous or give a rookie hero a crash course in superhero training.

Add to that Chat Noir’s endless attempts to flirt and get her to sing in front of him, and Marinette was ready to throw herself out a window.

Being a superhero with little to no training had been hard enough, but now she was the Guardian of the box! Now not only did she have to worry about her Kwami, Tikki, she had to worry about all of them! She would also have to do this with absolutely no training as well except from what the kwamis could remember/tell her.

And all of that didn’t take into account the Marinette part of her life either.

Her only solace had been her soulmate, who had slowly been learning how to sing. She had been surprised to hear attempts at singing, as he’d been humming almost consistently since his first attempt, but it made the ache in her chest feel lighter. Her soulmate clearly cared enough about her to try and overcome whatever had been stopping him from singing before, and it made her feel good. She had come to find the humming comforting, but she also found she enjoyed his voice while he sang too.

More grown up now, his voice was a deep baritone that settled into her bones and made her relax. She had found herself wishing she could talk to him more, wanting to hear words instead of humming. She had forced herself to be patient though. If her soulmate had had problems singing before, it was a possibility he’d only recently gained the capability to verbally speak. She didn’t want to be rude and push for more if that was the case.

Which was apparently something none of her classmates understood.

Marinette had walked into her classroom, only to find the planner she had painstakingly put together for the class in tatters on the floor. She’d left it for their teacher to use, as the teacher needed to add a few more dates in for school functions that had just gotten approved. She wished she could say she hadn’t been upset, but she was.

They’d stuck her with this thankless job, due to Lila not wanting to have to do anything, and this was how they repaid her?

She found it ridiculous that they were still bullying her over Adrien. Sure, she’d liked him when he’d first arrived. He was handsome and rather nice, and most girls had a crush on him. She knew he wasn’t her soulmate though. While he could speak perfect English (thanks to his aunt and cousin living in England, and his late uncle speaking mainly English), the time zone differences didn’t match up.

Her soulmate hummed at specific times, and Marinette had attributed that schedule to reflect their difference in time zones. If Adrien had been her soulmate, then the humming would have occurred around the same time Marinette was normally singing. Plus, she’d heard Adrien sing before when Nino had pressured him into doing it.

The click didn’t go off in her head and as a result, her crush slowly began to die out. She’d even explained to Alya the situation when she’d told her former best friend that she was giving up on dating Adrien. Alya knew that Adrien wasn’t her soulmate, so she didn’t want to waste her time on him.

So why had she joined Lila in bullying her?

Why had she conveniently forgotten that Marinette was completely over her crush and didn’t want to date him?

Why had she lied to Adrien about Marinette wanting to date her?

Most of all, why had Alya believed Lila over her?

Marinette hadn’t heard anyone apologizing to her when she raced out of the room, overwhelmed and upset. She was doing her damndest to control her emotions so that Hawkmoth couldn’t akumatize her, but she could still feel the tears hot on her cheeks. She ignored everything else, storming back towards the patisserie, considering telling her parents she’d thrown up on the way to school and decided to turn around and come home.

Taking a deep breath, she began to sing an English song she’d found while browsing around online. At first she wanted to listen to English songs to help her learn her soulmate’s language, but she did end up finding music and artists that she liked.

“Help, I have done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself again today, and the worst part is there's no-one else to blame. Be my friend, hold me. Wrap me up, enfold me. I am small and needy. Warm me up and breathe me,” she sang, picking up the pace as she heard Adrien shout out her name.

“There's a calm surrender, to the rush of day. When the heat of a rolling wind can be turned away. An enchanted moment, and it sees me through. It's enough for this restless warrior just to be with you.”

Marinette nearly froze in her tracks.

Her soulmate had sung!

From the sound of his tone, he seemed worried about her. Marinette continued the song she’d been singing, only pausing when he began to sing his song back to her. She had continued walking on autopilot, taking comfort in her soulmate’s voice despite the fact that she could still register Adrien’s shouting in the back of her mind.

She slammed the patisserie door open, too shocked and upset to think about using the private entrance to their home above the bakery. She heard Adrien’s footsteps follow her inside. She had planned on ignoring him, not wanting to have another fight about whether or not Alya and Lila’s latest shenanigans had been ‘friendly teasing’ or not.

She was going to until Adrien opened his stupid mouth to tell her she was ‘better than this’.

“Adrien, I am allowed to be upset. They destroyed my planner, which had all the events for our class in it. As class president, I’m supposed to have all of those dates written down and available to anyone who needs them. I now have to remake the entire schedule on top of all my other responsibilities. Besides, real jokes don’t normally involve destroying someone’s personal property, now please leave me alone,” she’d told him, firmly.

Before Adrien could respond though, she heard her soulmate sing.

Marinette felt like she’d been struck by lightning as she realized she’d heard an echo, meaning that he was also in the patisserie. He was here! He was here, and he was singing for her!

Her eyes darted around the room, taking in everyone who was present. She saw that her father and mother were swamped with orders, doing their best to keep the line short. There were several regular customers in line with a couple new faces, but no one who stuck out. There was a small trio off to the side, clearly waiting for their order.

They did not appear familiar at all but from the looks of their suits, Marinette wagered they were businessmen. Perhaps they were in the city on business? Or perhaps this wasn’t their normal stop for baked goods, but they came here because it was closer?

Still feeling anxious, she steeled her nerves and began to sing slowly, trying to find the one person who would react in the crowd.

Her eyes were drawn back to the trio, noticing how awestruck the one looked.

He was objectively handsome with a sharp jawline and defined cheekbones. He had tanned skin that made the two men next to him look rather pale in comparison. His hair was jet black and well groomed. He looked strong with broad shoulders, and Marinette was certain he had several inches on her as far as height went.

It was his eyes though that caught her attention.

They were a jade green, a bit darker than Adrien’s, but captivating all the same. They were also looking at her with a look of longing that for some reason didn’t frighten Marinette. He looked like he desperately wanted to come over to her, but he appeared to be waiting for something.

The second he realized she had her eyes on him, he opened his mouth and finished the song.

“It's enough to make kings and vagabonds believe the very best,” he sang, looking at her almost hopefully.

Marinette felt something in her mind click into place.

She also could swear she heard Tikki giggling from inside her purse.

The little kwami had always told Marinette she’d meet her soulmate one day. She’d also told Marinette that she’d meet him when she needed him most. The little red kwami had seemed extremely confident about that fact and about how her soulmate would be able to help her.

Feeling a nudge from her purse, Marinette swallowed before marching over to where the three men were standing. The one whose gaze had been fixed on her also began to step forward, meeting Marinette half-way. He smiled at her, but his eyes told her he was nervous.

“Hello, my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she said, holding out her hand in what she knew was a traditional American greeting.

He took her hand but surprised her by kissing the back of her hand instead of shaking it.

“Hello, I’m Damian. You have a lovely voice.”

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up as she smiled back at him.

“You too...though I’d like to hear it more,” she replied, ignoring the fact he’d yet to let go of her hand.

The grip wasn’t harsh or uncomfortable...but rather warm and reassuring.

“Okay, seriously Demon Spawn,” the shorter man said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is going on, and why were you singing to your soulmate? You never sing out loud! Who is she, and why did you kiss her hand? Do you even know her?”

“Shut. Up. Drake,” Damian hissed, his cheeks coloring a bit. “Can’t you and Father give me a moment?”

Marinette could see the tension building, so she asked the question that had been bugging her since she was a child.

“Why didn’t you ever sing to me before we were eleven?”

This made the two men freeze. A look of realization dawned on them as they looked between Marinette and Damian. The younger of the two had the decency to blush a little bit, mumbling a ‘nevermind’. The older of the two seemed almost...relieved? Happy? Ecstatic?

“Terribly sorry,” the older man said with a smile. “My name is Bruce Wayne. I’m Damian’s father. This is his brother Tim Drake, who I adopted, hence the different last name. Damian, we’re going to take our pastries and head back to the hotel. You can meet us there when you’re done.”

With that, Marinette watched as Bruce pushed Tim towards the exit, still feeling a little confused and dazed. She returned her attention towards Damian, who looked very uncomfortable and upset. She almost told him to forget about her question until he said quietly, “...my mother never told me about soulmates. I wasn’t allowed to sing or hum growing up, but my mother never told me why. They never taught me any songs either. I mainly had to learn them myself. I— I didn’t even realize I was hearing another person’s voice until someone explained it to me.”

Damian was looking down at his shoes, but he managed to lift his head to look at her before continuing.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel lonely or unwanted. I tried singing to you at eleven because I started living with my father around that time.”

Marinette felt relieved and heartbroken all at once.

“You don’t have to apologize just because your mother didn’t tell you about this,” she murmured, getting closer to her soulmate. “I’m just relieved that it wasn’t because you didn’t want me.”

“Excuse me, but Marinette and I were having a conversation! Marinette, you can’t just ignore people! It’s rude! Besides, Alya and Lila are here to apologize.”

The dark haired young woman let out a hiss, making the man in front of her chuckle.

Adrien.

She’d nearly forgotten about him.

Marinette turned around to see that Adrien was glaring daggers at Damian. The blond walked forward and actually had the audacity to wrap his arm around her shoulders. She pushed her arm off of her and stood in front of Damian.

From her new position, she could also see the two harpies from hell waiting at the patisserie door. Alya looked only a little nervous, and Lila had her usual fake sad face on. She could also see the simmering anger in Adrien’s eyes as she chose the stranger over him.

“Oh! Marinette, there you are!” Lila crooned, latching onto Adrien’s arm. “We’re so sorry! We didn’t realize that was your book.”

“I thought you said it was a joke on me though,” she responded, looking between both of them. “If you didn’t know it was mine, why would the joke be on me?”

“We never said that—” Alya began, but Marinette just cut her off.

Reaching into her bag, she took out the little tape recorder she’d been bringing to school to gather evidence. She briefly rewinded it before playing it, the two girls’ voices coming through crystal clear. Her expression did not change as Alya and Lila began to scream about how she couldn’t just record them like that, scrambling to also include how recordings could be taken out of context or misconstrued.

“You’re only mad because Lila won’t let you have Adrien!” Alya shouted, gaining the attention of Marinette’s mother and the other customers. “You’ve had a crush on him forever, and now you’re jealous because you can’t have him because of Lila!”

Marinette could feel a migraine coming on as she bit out, “I. Don’t. Have. A. Crush. On. Him. Seriously? That crush was like a month, two months long before I told you I was over it?”

“Don’t you still love me?” Adrien interjected, looking like a sad puppy.

“Not any more than a friend,” she said bitterly, “but I have no idea if I can consider you even that now.”

“You’re a filthy liar! You so totally have a crush—”

“Excuse me, but could you three kindly fuck off?” a cold voice came from behind her.

Marinette’s head twisted back to see that Damian no longer looked all that shy or vulnerable.

“I’ve waited years to be able to hear her voice in person, as Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng is my soulmate, and I’d really like to get to know her. Without an audience of absolute buffoons,” Damian continued, still coming off cold. “She already asked you to leave her alone, Blondie. My suggestion is take your two bitches and leave before I make you.”

“Ugh, you’re so rude!” Alya snapped. “No wonder you ended up with a cheat like Marinette!”

Marinette felt a twinge in her chest as she looked down at her shoes. She wasn’t surprised Alya had said something like that, but it still hurt deep down. Alya had once been a dear friend of hers, and for her to say such terrible lies about her made her heart break. She went to call out to her mother when Damian let out a snarl.

“You’re the rude ones. You think destroying private property is a joke? You think taking people’s belongings is a joke? You think barging into a place of business isn’t rude? Do you think interjecting on conversations that you’re not a part of isn’t rude? You think what you said isn’t fucking rude? Why don’t you try thinking before you speak? I know that takes up a lot of oxygen, but I can get you a plant if you’re worried about running out. Now, Get. Out.”

Damian cracked his knuckles and slid off his suit jacket, showing off muscled arms that looked a lot stronger than Adrien. He glared at the trio, watching them carefully as they backed off of Marinette. The subtle threat seemed to work as Alya latched onto Adrien’s other arm, both girls pulling him out of the patisserie. They were complaining loudly about how rude he was and continued to say passive aggressive things about Marinette. She thought the situation was going to explode until her mother walked over to them.

“Marinette? What’s going on?” Shouldn’t you be at school? And why were your classmates here?” she asked, gently holding her daughter’s face in her hands.

“I don’t feel well, Maman,” Marinette replied quietly. “It’s getting bad again.”

She watched her mother’s normally gently and friendly face twist into a well concealed look of rage. Sabine’s silver eyes narrowed, slightly worrying Marinette, as she looked at Damian before demanding to know who he thought he was, thinking that he could speak on her daughter’s behalf.

“I’m her soulmate, ‘mam. I wasn’t trying to speak for her, and I apologize if that’s how it was coming off. You see, my mother didn’t allow singing when I was growing up, and I went to go live with my father when I was ten, so for the first ten years of my life, I didn’t know what a soulmate was,” he answered. “It’s been about six years since I learned what a soulmate was, and I’ve been waiting since then to meet the girl who still sings to a silent soulmate.”

Marinette began to blush, stuttering apologies before Damian responded that she had nothing to apologize for. He then smiled at both her and Sabine before asking if they wanted to attend dinner at Le Grand Paris so Sabine could meet his father.

“I’d really like to get to know you, Marinette, but only if that’s what you want too,” he said with a soft smile. “I want this to be your choice as much as it is mine. I don’t want you to think you have to say yes just because we’re soulmates.”

And as she looked into the face of a man who taught himself how to sing just to be able to connect with her when she needed him the most, Marinette actually believed him.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be like Chat Noir and Ladybug…

A hard nudge from her pocket prompted her into answering, “Yes...I’d really like to get to know you too, Damian.”

As he smiled at her, a genuine smile that reached one’s eyes instead of the fake one he’d been using when talking to Lila, she felt her heart skip a few beats. He readjusted his grip on her hand, sending tingles down her arm and making her entire body feel warm. She gently squeezed his hand, receiving an evenly pressured squeeze in return as he talked to her mother about their patisserie shop.

Vaguely in the back of her mind, Marinette wondered if this is what being with your soulmate was supposed to feel like.

If it was...well, Marinette wasn’t going to be trading the warm homey feeling she got watching her mother talk nice with Damian for anything in the world. He seemed to have a quiet sort of charm about him, and he wasn’t easily intimidated by the looks of it, as he didn’t flinch when her father came out to meet him.

No, instead Damian had shook her father’s hand firmly, introducing himself with proud shoulders and confidence. This seemed to make her father happy as he wasn’t frowning as hard when he asked Damian what he did. Her father also seemed satisfied when Damian responded that his father owned a large business, and he was studying to help his older brother take it over once his father decided to retire.

The way he seemed to seamlessly slide into her family, the domestic feeling of it, made Marinette very happy.

Now all she had to do was figure out how to break the news to her soulmate that she was a superhero…

Oh boy.

*Songs in Order of Appearance:

“La Vie en Rose” by Edith Piaf

“Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles

“Can You Feel the Love Tonight” as performed by Elton John

“Breathe Me” by Sia

#maribat #Maribat Secret Santa #Maribat Secret Santa 2020 #Marinette xDamian #daminette #i hope you like it!#long post #it ended up being a biggin'

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