#have they settled their issues? or did the fighting resume?

[janitorhutcherson]

Marked Only for Me (Olderbf!Mike Schmidt NSFW)

hii!! okay, i have never written smut before, so i am begging you all to plz be patient with me! this is very long, so my apologies.this is a part of my olderbf!mike series, so hope u guys likeee. also, for this let's make the assumption mike went to college and all of that before his security jobs. he just had burn out and was there, hence why he's working for a major company with what would be little experience. anyways, lmk what u think!

summary: mike comes home and needs to blow off some steam

warnings: nudity, sex, name calling, hair pulling, choking, marking, possessiveness, an implied free use situation, fluff at the end!!

word count: 2,925

nsfw after the cut!!

You were sitting at the kitchen table doing homework in the home you shared with your boyfriend, Mike. You're 20, a couple of years into college, drudging through math problems that make your head feel like it's sitting inside a frying pan. You had to admit this wasn't your ideal way to relax after a 10-hour shift at the bookstore you helped run. Things had been hectic with Black Friday, your store doing a special sale where everything was 50% off, and bookworms were coming out of random corners to fill their already overflowing shelves for cheap. Of course, being younger, you were the one who had to do the grunt work, carrying piles of books to and from inventory, dealing with the more demanding customers as your older coworkers would tell you that they "just couldn't handle kids these days" and that it'd certainly be better for the younger one to do it. Luckily, though, Abby was at a friend's house, meaning you didn't have distractions. You were as focused as could be with a cup of coffee beside you, the sunlight that was once beaming through the cracks of the blinds now completely gone. You were focused, your brain functioning as much as it would with the problems. Things were quiet.

...That is until Mike stormed in. He was frustrated, angry, an invisible red-hot aura beaming off him. His hair was messier than it typically was. The softness in his eyes was instead replaced with a cold look. His eyebrows were furrowed together on his forehead, his jaw sharp and defined as he gritted his teeth. Although this wasn't common, it wasn't necessarily rare either. Mike worked for a publishing company as a marketing manager. He'd gotten the job after a few months of hard work to make up for the slack on his resume after working at the mall and the pizzeria. He moved up the ladder quickly, his company admiring his friendly attitude and his somewhat shy but personable behavior. He loved his job much more than his past ones. He felt happier, got more time off, was less stressed, and was definitely safer. Even with that being said, sometimes shit just pissed him off.

Today's big issue was a meeting with his marketing team, which also involved the big guy over his head. He felt like he was criticized, demeaned, dragged through the mud, and all in front of the team he was supposed to be respected by, listened to. On a typical day, this might not have pissed him off so much. He might've mentally plotted the demise of his boss, but he wouldn't have caused the outburst he did at work, and today had been particularly awful. He'd been late, burned his breakfast, knicked himself while shaving, and even gotten into what he considered to be a little fight with you the night before. Even though you'd both settled the argument, made up, and kissed before bed, he had been thinking about it all day. He'd then spilled coffee on his brand new tie, leaving a stain, and then... that happened. Mike snapped. He yelled at his boss, showing his ass in front of everyone, causing a meeting in his boss's office to end with an inevitable write-up. 

Now, he was home, trudging in all his bad energy, disrupting your study time. You couldn't even be frustrated with him, his demeanor proving he'd obviously had a bad day. You went to stand up to greet him with a hug, a kiss or two, but before you could, Mike stormed over to you, grabbing your arm harshly. You gasped, slightly thrown off by his sudden actions. He pulled you closer to him, his eyes locked on yours and his breath heavy against your neck.

"What the fuck, Mike?" you said, your eyebrows furrowed as you stared into his cold brown-green orbs.

"Listen to me," he grunted, his voice low and gravely. "I have had a very, very bad day, and I need you to be a good girl for me, okay? I don't want no shit, no back talk, you'll listen to what I say.. do you understand?" 

His hand still gripped your arm, his fingernails digging into your skin. You could feel yourself starting to drip, your panties feeling damp against your skin as your body buzzed with excitement. All you could do was nod your head, your eyes locked on his as they clouded over with lust. Mike snapped his fingers in your face, looking at you from underneath his eyebrows. 

"Use your words," he demanded. 

"Yes sir, I understand," you stuttered out, your cheeks flushing red. Mike's face was now pleased, his entire demeanor softening a little. His hand stayed wrapped around your arm as he tugged you into the living room, pushing you roughly onto the couch. You huffed from the impact, your eyes widening as Mike dropped to his knees before you. He slid your sweatpants off, prying your knees open to reveal your see-through pink panties soaked beyond belief. His eyes were hungry, his mouth open, almost drooling as he looked directly into your eyes. 

"All for me, babydoll?" he teased, his hand sliding in between your legs as he drew small circles around your clothed clit. You nodded your head as a whimper escaped your lips, the aching in between your legs only growing worse.

"What did I tell you?" he said, his words sharp as he smacked the inside of your thigh.

"Yes sir," you corrected, your words wavering after the impact from his hand. Mike nodded, satisfied with your answer, as he slowly slid your panties down your thighs, wasting no time. You gasped once again as the cold air hit your wet cunt. Mike exhaled sharply, taking a moment to admire you in front of him. His eyes trailed up to your pathetic look, your already-glazed-over eyes, down to your barely clothed chest, only a sports bra covering your breasts he loved so much, then down to in between your legs, where you were so wet, and all just for him. His lips trailed up to your tummy, sucking on the skin in different areas, from above your abdomen all the way up to right below where your sports bra stayed, purple marks forming.

He then dove in without hesitation, his large hands gripping your sides as he leaned in, moving one hand to take his index and middle finger to spread your pussy lips. His mouth instantly attached to your clit. You yelped as you bucked your hips forward, his lips meeting the sensitive area. Mike pinched your thigh, a sign to quiet down until he said to do otherwise, two of his fingers reaching out to be shoved into your mouth.

“Suck,” he demanded, his fingers going as far back down your throat as they could. You did what you were told, sucking on his fingers and drawing your own circles with your tongue. His tongue drew tiny and slow circles against the set of nerves, your hands reaching down to tangle in his hair from desperation. God, he loved eating you out. The way you yelped, quivered, shook underneath him, your hands tangled in his hair to keep yourself from going over the edge. He fucking loved it, you were the perfect cure to his anger, calming, something he could take it out on in a productive way that made everyone feel good. Your whines were suppressed as you bit your lip, your teeth digging into the softer skin. Mike pulled away for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once again as he admired your face, your now swollen lips.

“You know what, baby? Be as loud as you want for me now, princess,” he mumbled, going back to attacking your wet cunt. Slurping sounds filled the living room mixed with your moans and whimpers as his tongue slid up and down your slit, his lips wrapping around your clit to suck as hard as possible when his tongue wasn’t fucking inside of you. He moaned against you, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. His cock was rock hard inside of his work pants, his own face flustered as he rocked back and forth against himself. His tongue continued to lap at your clit as he slid two of his large fingers in and out of you, your walls clenching around them. You could feel yourself drawing close and Mike could tell. Your thighs attempted to clench around his head, but before they could his calloused hands pried them open, holding them apart. Just as your eyes began to clamp shut, your thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach started to untie, Mike pulled away. You gasped as he slipped his fingers out, furrowing your eyebrows as you stared at him with an angry glare. He chuckled as he stood up, raising his eyebrows up and down as he leaned down, his hand lifting your chin up.

“Poor baby, was all ready to finish for me, hm? You were gonna be ‘Mikey’s little slut,’ weren’t you? That’s what you tell me you are, right? My little slut?” he teased, no remorse behind his eyes. You huffed, punching his arm before crossing your arm, too out of it to say anything from the knot that remained in your stomach but too angry to take initiative.

“Awh, don’t be mad, princess,” he snickered, shaking his head as he leaned further down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “You really think I’m done with you?”

With that being said, Mike pushing you back on the couch. His right hand held you down as his lift struggled to unbutton his pants. He pulled his pants down, letting them fall around his ankles as he yanked his boxers off, his cock springing out. He stepped out of them, letting you go for a moment to unbutton his shirt before tossing it off as well. Mike then looked over to you, leaning forward, ripping your thin sports bra off of your chest, your breasts now exposed to him. He licked his lips, excitement overflowing his body. He crawled on top of you, attempting to make the two of you fit on the couch. His mouth attacked your nipples, biting and gnawing at your skin. His mouth moved up to your neck, sucking and prodding and biting until purple marks were left all around, ones you were all too aware would be impossible to hide later on. He moved down to your chest once again, marks all across your collarbone, your tits. Mike’s hands gripped onto your neck as he sat up, looking into your glossed over eyes. He pressed his lips to your ear, a soft kiss against your earlobe.

“’M about to fuck you so hard you see stars,” he said, his voice causing prickles to cover your skin. Then, without hesitation Mike slammed into you, his pace staggered. Your moans were as loud as could be, the sound of skin hitting against each other and the echoes of both of your voices filling the living room. His thrusts were sloppy as he felt himself starting to get close to the edge, his hands pushing your hips down and into the couch. Your entire body sunk into the cushions as he used everything in him, his cock abusing your poor cunt. You swore you saw stars until you felt his hand gently smack against your cheek, your eyes averting back to his gaze.

“You’re gonna look at me when I fuck you, princess,” he growled, his hand sliding up to your hair as he tugged. You grew close, clenching around his length, your thighs starting to shake. Your core was threatening to come undone.

“Fuck, Mikey, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whimpered out, closing your eyes as your head leaned back against the side of the couch.

“Cum for me, baby,” Mike stated. You did as he demanded, finishing around his cock as your liquids gushed against him. His thrusts grew sloppier before he pulled out, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that baby? You did so good for me, listening to what I said, letting me use your pretty cunt,” he stated, his thumb caressing your cheek. He then resituated, pulling you off the couch, pushing you onto the ground. You were now in the same position he was in earlier, completely fucked out. Your lips were dull from exhaustion, your cheeks red and your hair knotted in certain areas. Mike’s cock was directly in front of you, his hand guiding for you to suck on him. Your lips wrapped around his tip, the tip of your tongue licking his slit. You worked your mouth down his length, licking the sides. Mike’s moans became frantic, desperate as your mouth worked its magic. His hand tangled in your hair as he pushed your head up and down, thrusting up into your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, feels so good,” he grunted. With no warning, Mike pulled out, spilling his load all over your face. He twitched, his moans loud and low, your tongue stuck out to catch his cum. His body laid against the couch, feeling heavy as his head leaned against the back of his couch. A tired grin was on his lips as you also smiled up at him, licking yourself clean. Mike looked down at you, a chuckle releasing his lips. It was obvious all of the tension and anger was gone, as his once cold eyes were once again the soft loving brown they used to be. He looked at you with adoration, always amused by how gorgeous you were even after rigorous activity and getting your face painted.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, picking you up bridal style as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring about his own load that was now on his face. He sat you down on the bathroom counter, grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet, running it under warm water. He started to wipe away all of the liquids covering your face, pressing kisses to your skin here and there, looking your body up and down as he admired all of the marks he left.

“You always know how to make me feel good and how to take care of me after,” you croaked out, your voice laced with exhaustion as you smiled. Mike smiled back at you, his hand tenderly touching your cheek before pushing your hair behind your ear.

“I love you, of course I want to make sure ‘m taking care of you,” he said softly. His lips once again pressed against yours. “Thank you for letting me… you know.. blow off some steam,” he said, wiggling his brows.

“Of course, honey. I was worried, though. Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, leaning forward as you slid off of the counter, grabbing a new washcloth and beginning to wipe his face with it as well. Mike sighed, shaking his head as he looked at her with sad eyes.

“I just- I got into it pretty badly with my boss at work and got criticized, I felt like a wounded animal, like I had to fight. I’m so used to having to fight that I don’t know how to shut up and listen,” he mumbled. “It was so bad, Y/N, and I got written up after that awful day I had this morning… I just.. I don’t know. I do know I feel better now, and would feel even better if we cuddled for a bit and then went out for food?” he suggested, spilling his thoughts to you. You giggled, nodding your head as you reached up to press a kiss to him. You dragged him into your shared bedroom, the two of you cuddling up together under the blankets. You turned to your side, your eyes locked with his.

“I love you, Mike, so much. And I’m so, so unbelievably proud of you. Thank you, for always making me feel good too, for taking care of me, for being such a good brother to Abby, just… thank you,” you said softly. Mike looked back at you lovingly, his appreciation for you apparent.

“I love you, princess, you don’t even know how much,” he mumbled. His eyes were heavy. He leaned over and set an alarm for an hour from now, the two of you planning on a night of dinner out and grocery shopping. He curled his arm around you lazily, your body limp and exhausted against his as you yawned.

“Oh, and baby?” he asked. You hummed, lifting your head to meet his eyes. “Wear a crop top when we go out, I want everyone to see you all marked up.” You giggled as you laid your head down, drifting off to sleep.

When you two went out, you did just that, wearing a cropped scoop neck shirt with a low-rise flowy skirt. He showed off any marks you’d left, too, your possessive boyfriend holding you close anytime someone’s eyes linger too long. Mike was strange, possessive, and sometimes a little of what most would say was unsettling, but to you, he was the love of your life, the man who made you feel good, the one who fucked you until you couldn’t think. You loved him, and you always would, blessing you with a lifelong supply of angry sex and aftercare cuddles.

[elizabethemerald]

Son of the Red Hood: Part 2

Timely Conversations and New Fathers

Diana Prince strolled through the gardens of Themyscira enjoying the moment of peace in between missions for the Justice League. Flowers of all manner were blooming and flourishing in the gardens, small birds and butterflies flying lazily from flower to flower. She smiled to herself as she rubbed her fingers against one of the blooms, releasing more of the heady scent. 

“Diana!” A voice she recognized called to her from behind. 

She turned and midway through the turn realized something was wrong and pulled her blade as she completed the turn. Sophia, her dear friend stood a few yards away, her arm upraised in greeting, though frozen in place. The butterflies were similarly frozen in place, some mid flap of their wings. 

Diana turned again, keen eyes trying to pick out any threat. When she once again faced the same direction she had been walking in she saw a grandfatherly being with teal skin and a purple robe. She may not recognize the being’s face, but she could feel the energy coming off him well enough. She slid one foot back as she settled into a fighting crouch. 

“Lord Kronos.” 

“Peace God-Killer.” The being said. “I have no wish to cause harm to you, your home or this world. Besides, your work is already completed in my regard.” 

She stayed tense, ready for any attack but when none came she strode forward and thrust her sword into the being’s chest. Kronos looked down at the blade with a grimace but didn’t otherwise react. 

“You are a spirit.” Diana said simply before withdrawing her blade. 

“Yes I am. Among my kind I am known as Clockwork now.” 

Diana stepped back, but stayed wary of any trick. Spirits were just as known for trickery as Titans were known for aggression. She did not know what to make of the spirit of a former Titan. 

“Very well, Lord Clockwork. Why have you come? And what have you done to the inhabitants of Themyscira?” 

“I have simply frozen you and I in a single moment. When I depart things will resume as they were before. As for why I have come…”

Clockwork hesitated, and before her eyes aged backwards until there was a young man standing before her. His hand went to his chin as he considered the problem before him. 

“I have come to ask for your help in training the next king of my kind.” He finally said. 

Diana paused in confusion. Of the great many things she had expected to be asked, assisting in training was not one. 

“The next king of the Titans?”

“No. The next king of Ghosts. The last king, a tyrant by the name of Pariah Dark was dethroned in combat by a mere boy. A child, half of this world, half of the next. He has much he needs to learn before he takes up the crown and while I have given him as much time as I can he is still largely untrained.” 

There was a lot of information there. Diana felt for a moment that she was sitting in one of Batman’s debriefs. She settled back from her watchful stance to consider the issue. 

“If the boy-king needs training, why not train him yourself? Or have another of your kind do the deed?”

Clockwork sighed, Diana watched as he deaged again until he looked like a child himself. 

“While the boy is powerful, wise and just beyond his years, in my efforts to buy him the time needed to be the best king the Infinite Realms has had, I have made him vulnerable. If the ghosts who wanted the throne knew of his vulnerability they would take advantage. I am restrained in how much I can interfere. Besides all that he is of the world of men. He needs as much training in this world as he will in the next.” 

Diana considered his words carefully. Finally she nodded. 

“I will train this little king. Where may I find him?” 

“You may take your time to search your histories and consult with your sages, I don’t expect you to take me at my word. But you will find the boy-king in a city shrouded by darkness and cloaked in death, guarded by one to whom the shadows cling. When the time comes, follow the one who calls to you.” 

Diana blinked at the riddle and by the time her eyes were fully open again, Clockwork had disappeared and she could once again hear the sound of bird calls. 

“Di-Oh! Diana! Have you been training with those speedsters of the world of men? I’ve never seen you move that fast.”

She turned to address Sophia who seemed to be unharmed from her brief moment being frozen. 

“Sophia, were you calling for a specific reason?” Diana asked as she turned to her friend. 

“No reason, I just was wondering if you would be joining us for a celebratory dinner tonight.” 

Diana nodded. 

“I may be a little late. I need to spend some time in the archives. I have much to consider.” 

Sophia looked a little confused, but ultimately didn’t bother her, she knew Diana had many responsibilities from her work with the Justice League. 

“Very well, Diana. I will be sure to save you a plate.”

Diana smiled at her friend and strode quickly towards the Library of Themyscira.

.

 Jason swung through the city of Gotham from one grapple point to the next. Normally when he went through the city he took his bike. The grapples he stole from the bats just weren’t made to carry the amount of armor and weapons that he normally carried on his person as Red Hood, but sometimes, he just needed to remember what it was like to fly. 

Now he needed to fly because he was following a strange pull on the Pit. Anything that made the Pit sit up and pay attention was something to be concerned about, especially when whatever it was pulled him to a building just outside his turf. That seemed deliberate. Like someone was purposefully trying to draw him out of where he controlled. 

Jason hated the Pit. It was rage and hatred and vengeance, and he thought he had wanted that, but it was also blood and death and threatening his family, and fear in their eyes and their blood on his-

Now that feeling in his chest that burned and turned his vision green called like a siren’s song. He needed to find whatever was calling him. If it was a threat he would remove the threat with extreme prejudice. If not… then at the very least he would remove it from anywhere it could threaten the rest of the bats. No need for anything Pit related to be outside Hood’s territory. 

He landed in a crouch on the rooftop that had been calling him and stood cautiously looking around for any threat, or the source of the call. He didn’t have to look very hard. There was a child laid out in the center of the roof. 

A child. Alone. On a rooftop in Gotham. If Jason wasn’t seeing green before he certainly was now. He dashed forward, keeping a weather eye out, just in case one of his enemies decided to use a kid as bait. If they were he was going to tear their bodies apart. Their corpse would be unrecognizable as human. 

Jason fell to his knees alongside who couldn’t be older than five, a small collection of personal items next to the kid like they had been dumped here alongside the kid. Worst of all was the green glowing puddle next to the kid. It didn’t have the consistency of Lazarus Water and was closer to the thickness of blood. Jason’s hands hovered over the unconscious form of the child, their chest shallowly rising and falling with each breath. 

A crunch of gravel at the other edge of the rooftop made Jason whirl around bringing his guns up, his eyes blazing green. When his brain caught up to the fact that the person was Dick it took all of his self restraint not to squeeze the trigger anyways. 

“Dammit Dickiebird! You should know better than to try and surprise me!” Jason snapped, his voice harsh. 

“Oracle noticed you were out of your usual turf and I wanted to make sure-” Dick froze as he looked past Jason. “Is that a kid?”

“Yes, it's a kid! It’s a kid and he’s hurt and he’s barely breathing and for some reason I can feel him through the Pits!” Jason’s voice was hoarse as he whispered, he holstered his gun, trying to ignore the way his hands shook. 

Dick was immediately at his side, kneeling next to the kid. He looked over the other things, the hat, the gloves, a teddy bear dressed as an astronaut. That last one was actually kind of adorable. 

“Who just leaves a kid on a rooftop? In Gotham of all places?” Dick said. He picked up the teddy and looked at it closely as Jason returned his attention to the kid. 

“Someone who wants them found by a Bat I’ll bet.” Jason said softly. 

Dick examined the bear for a moment longer before he squeezed the bear’s paw. Both of them were surprised when they heard the voice of a young woman come from the space themed bear. 

“I love you so much Danny, no matter what.” The voice said. They were both just as surprised when the kid, Danny maybe? stirred and looked around. 

“Jazz?” The kid said as he sat up. 

Jason immediately put a hand on the kid’s back to keep him as steady as he could. 

Dick pressed the bear’s paw again and that same voice called out. 

“I love you so much Danny, no matter what.” 

Danny reached for the bear and Dick willingly handed it over. The boy looked confused at the beat before pressing his face to the bear’s fur. 

“Hey kiddo. Are you Danny?” Dick asked. 

The kid nodded his head. 

“Is your mom named Jazz?” Jason asked. It wasn’t the weirdest idea that the kid would call his mom by her first name, but Danny immediately shook his head. 

“No! Jazz is my sister!” Danny had the pouty voice of a toddler who thought the other person was being stupid. “She’s the best!”

Dick grimaced, but carefully hid his face before Danny could see it. A child abandoned on a rooftop and a sister missing in the wind. None of this seemed good to them. Danny made to stand on wobbly legs, but winced and held his stomach, falling back onto his backside. 

“My tummy hurts!” 

Dick and Jason immediately crouched at his side again, concern clear in their movements. 

“Hey buddy, tell us where it hurts.” Jason said, trying to keep his words soft past the voice modulator in his helmet. 

Danny grabbed his side, just below his ribs. Jason reached towards the buttons of Danny’s star themed footie pajamas with shaking hands. 

“Do you mind if we take a look? If you’re hurt we can take care of you.” 

The kid thought for a second before nodding. Jason helped him undo his buttons one by one. He could feel a burning rise in his gut as the top of a scar revealed itself. A few more buttons and he could see where the two up branches of the scar joined in the center of his chest and continued further down. Someone had vivisected this kid. 

Someone had VIVIsected this KID. 

sOMEone HaD cUT OpEN thIS KID

Someone had Cut open this KID

Green filled Jason’s vision and with the last of his self control he turned away and marched over to the edge of the rooftop. He was going to kill- he was going to tear them- Blood he needed blood- All he could feel was rage-

He felt a small hand take his own. 

His head snapped down to look at the hand with unnatural speed. Through the haze of green in his eyes he could see the little boy, pajamas still unbuttoned, had grabbed his hand. Danny was desperately tugging on Jason’s hand, trying to pull him down all the while waving his other hand in the air as if he was trying to waft away smoke or bugs. 

Jason crouched down next to Danny. Distantly he could tell that Dick was watching him closely, hands anxiously outstretched in case he hurt the kid, but Jason could no more hurt this boy than he could cut off his own hand. As soon as he was on the kid’s level Danny used both hands to wave around Jason’s head with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Go away! Leave him alone, green monsters!” Danny shouted, still waving his hands around in the air. He scowled almost as well as Damian at whatever he could see around Jason’s head. 

The green that filled his vision slowly faded. He could still see the vivisection scar on Danny’s chest and it filled him with rage, but the rage was his own and there were no murderous impulses. Jason took a deep breath and slowly released it, letting the tension and fury drain from his body. Eventually he would deal with whoever did this to a kid, but until that time he had different priorities. 

“Thanks kid.” Jason said. He could see Dick relaxing in the corner of his vision, but he stayed focused on Danny. 

“Of course! It’s why I’m here! To protect you from the green monsters.” Danny said proudly, jutting his little chest out. Then he sagged against Jason, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Now I’m tired.” 

“Go ahead and take a nap kiddo. We’ll get you somewhere safe.” Jason said. 

It only seemed to take a moment before Danny was fast asleep, his arms still wrapped around Jason’s neck. He picked up the kid easily and settled him on his hip before he turned to look at his brother. 

“Dickolas. This kid just ended the Pit Rage by asking nicely. I don’t know what happened to him before, but if anyone tries to hurt him I’m going to end their entire bloodline.” He sighed out. “Until we find his parents or his sister, Jazz, I’m going to keep him safe.” 

“Understandable, though he might be safer at the Manor-”

“If you tell B about him I’m going to blow your brains out.” Jason interrupted. He wasn’t going to let B get another kid killed. Dick put up his hands in surrender. 

“I’m just saying, how many guns do you think are currently on your coffee table at your place?” 

Jason wanted to growl in annoyance, but he couldn’t really deny that. 

“Could you come with me?” Dick could have only looked more surprised if Jason had asked to have a family dinner with Bruce. “Just come, keep an eye on the kid while I baby proof my apartment.” Jason grit his teeth for a moment. “Please.” 

He could see Dick’s eyebrow raise even with his domino, but he nodded all the same. 

“Yeah, of course. What are brothers for if not for babysitting strange children with mysterious powers over the Rage of the Lazarus Pit.” 

Jason scowled but the two of them still descended the building together and made their way into Crime Alley towards Jason’s apartment. He kept a firm hold on the sleeping Danny the whole way there.

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine being Shuri's ex and almost dying

After the death of her brother you did everything in your power to be there for Shuri, and bring her comfort.

She wanted space. You gave it to her.

She needed a shoulder to cry on. You gave her yours without question.

She needed someone to her anger out on. You took whatever she threw at you without retaliation.

It was safe too say that your relationship wasn't the healthiest for a while, and although you tried to downplay the issues. Everyone close to her and you could see the relationship going downhill. Okoye told you many times to sit down with the Princess, and talk things out. Queen Ramonda corrected Shuri's behavior and treatment of you many times, even going so far as to have her removed from. The lab during a particular bad argument and making her spend sometime with you till the matter was settled. But they could only do so much to help keep the love between you and Shuri alive.

At the end of the day it was on you two to make sure the relationship didn't fall apart. Shuri continued to bury herself in technology, and you let her distracting yourself by accompanying the Dora Milaje on numerous missions. The distractions only worked for so long especially considering you had given up the hero life. Years ago to be with Shuri, and relocate from America to Wakanda.

It was a huge sacrifice to make on your part but you didn't mind it one bit. You had spent your entire life training, fighting, and protecting the world. Never knowing what it was like to be able to wake in peace and in comfort of a place you called home. After you refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, and T'Challa offered you a refuge in Wakanda. You accepted and then laid eyes on Shuri who had a little obsession with your backstory. The teenage Avenger with the power of molecular manipulation who had no idea where she came from.

After the Battle of Thanos was over you were given the opportunity to return to America with a clean slant, and resume your Avenger duties. But you turned the offer down and chose to continue to reside in Wakanda with your Princess. At the time it was the best decision you'd ever made, but now with Shuri constantly ignoring you and your worries, never coming to bed at night, and barely even looking let alone touching you. It had you thinking that maybe it was time to move on, and give her some real alone time.

Everything came to head on the anniversary night of you two getting together. Shuri had actually made it to bed the night before, and that morning. She insisted that you stay in Wakanda, and clear your schedule for the night. Because she had something planned for the two of you. There was a happy tone to her voice that you hadn't heard in months since her brother's death, and her steps were a bit lighter. You thought that she was finally starting to truly heal from the pain, and listened to her. But when nightfall came Shuri was nowhere to be found, and you gave her the whole night to come. Once a hour before midnight hit you made your way to the lab knowing that's where she was hold up at.

Her back was to you as she was focused on the equation on the screen in front of her. When you exited the elevator, but that was no problem in her hand was a vial of liquid. You pointed a finger feeling for the molecules in the air, and brought the temperature down. The liquid froze into a solid, and Shuri glanced down at it before looking over her shoulder to see. You standing there with your arms crossed over your chest, and one foot tapping the floor.

"Let me guess you came upon something big, and it was too important for you take a break before finishing." You said with a small shrug.

"Well if you already know then why are you here?" She asked trying to seem unbothered, but the hint of worry in her tone didn't go unheard. Shuri knew she had messed up big time.

"I'm here to ask a question that's needs to be asked." You said letting your arms fall to your side as a sign of defeat. Usually you would come down here and hear whatever excuse she had. Then she would apologize profusely promising to make it up to you, and the two of you would proceed to kiss and make-up. But you were tired of that repetitive routine since nothing ever changed afterwards. The two of you just went on letting the cycle repeat itself again and again.

Now you had her attention and watched as Shuri turned around to fully face you. She placed the vial of frozen liquid on the table along with the pen tucked in her ear. "And what question would that be?"

"Why are we still together?"

Before you could even finish her face fell, and she took a step back. She started fiddling with her kimoyo beads while staring at the floor in deep thought. She was starting to spiral and you knew it. This is why you didn't want to have the conservation. Deep down you knew without a doubt in your heart that Shuri still loved you, but was just going through a lot. The Princess was more focused on keeping you safe from any future threats or diseases than spending time with you. Plus she didn't want to deal with the grief that came with T'Challa's death.

You knew you couldn't let her or your relationship go on like this. Something had to give and unfortunately you felt like it had to be you. "Shuri I can't do this anymore I love you and I always will but this isn't working." You whispered your voice so low it was a miracle she heard you.

Her focus finally seemed to come back in play as she walked over to you wrapping an arm around your waist. She pulled your body to hers leaving no space, and placing a hand on your cheek. "Hey hey now come on there's no reason to be so hasty mmmhmm." She said with a light chuckle, and leaned forward pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You closed your eyes at the feel of her lips on your skin savoring the moment. Because you knew this would be the last time you would feel those lips. You made a promise to yourself to not back out of this decision no matter what before you came down here. Tears managed to break free of your closed eyes, and slide down your face.

Shuri wiped them away and peppered more kisses on your face till eventually her mouth settled by your ear. "My love please I'll get better okay I promise we can work it out." The pain in her voice struck you like a dagger in the heart.

You opened your eyes to find her's filled with desperation. "Shuri I chose you over everything and everyone else in my life, because you were home to me. Do you get that?"

Shuri nodded burying her face into your shoulder in attempt to muffle her sobbing.

"Shuri you don't feel like home to me anymore. Nothing about this place does, and I hate feeling like this. I'm going back to America to resume my Avenger status for the time being."

Her arm tightened around your waist constricting until your breath hitched. You let her hold you, and cry until she ran out of tears. Shuri couldn't find any words because she knew there was nothing to say. That she hadn't already said in the past back when it worked. This time those words were going to fall deaf on your ears. You weren't going to believe her, and what hurt the most was that this time. Shuri was going to mean it she really would've changed in order to convince you to stay, but it was too late.

Months Later

It'd almost been a year since your breakup with Shuri, and not a day didn't go by. Where you didn't think about her heck you still kept the kimoyo beads on, and wore the necklace with a little black panther charm on it. Shuri gifted it too you on your first year anniversary, and when you tried to give it back. She insisted that you keep it said it would make her feel better. If you had a piece of her with you wherever you went, and it brought you comfort too.

But you were now in a much healthier place in your life especially emotionally and mentally. You did go back to being an Avenger which meant just picking up random missions from whoever requested your help. Some jobs paid more well than others while sometimes there was no payment at all. It didn't matter to you because nothing was more fulfilling than helping people who really needed it. As for teammates right now there really wasn't a official Avengers team, and everyone was kinda scattered. Some were in space like Carol and Thor, some were to busy dealing with threats beyond this world like Doctor Strange, and some just didn't seem to want help like Spider-Man.

One night you ended up thwarting a robbery attempt, and the guy swung in helping you take them down. As if it was muscle memory or something you went in for a high five afterwards, and he froze. Unsure of what you did wrong you put in a call to the cops, and left. A day later Spider-Man tracked you down while he was on patrol, and just asked if you could keep your distance.

You found his behavior to be a little weird but nonetheless you respected it, and just moved on. Bucky and Sam were your go-to for partnerships whenever you needed back-up. You worked well with both of them not to mention. The sibling like relationship both of them had with you before you went to Wakanda. No one was more happy to have you back than those two were. And they never let you forget sometimes having a habit of arguing of who would accompany you on a mission. If it only required one of their assistance.

On your most current mission Bucky had won the coin toss, but you were starting to think. You should've just brought both of them as you were surrounded from all of sides in a room with no escape.

"Y/N what's your status?"

"I'm on the first floor but I'm surrounded" You spoke into the comms.

"Alright just hold them off okay I'm on the third floor making my way to you now. I might have to get through a few guys but I shouldn't be too long" Bucky replied. From the way you could hear his breathing it sounded like he was winded. Which was quite the feat to get tire out the super solider. Most likely he was outnumbered just as much as you were, but didn't want you to panic.

"Take it easy old man I don't need you passing out in exhaustion on me. I can handle these guys" You reassured him cracking your knuckles.

"Hey y/n" he said

"Yeah" You answered bouncing on your feet in anticipation.

"If you get hurt, hurt'em back, and if you get killed walk it off" Bucky told you.

You could picture the playful smile on his face as he recited one of Steve's old speeches from so long ago. You often told Bucky of your time with Steve, and every now and then. He would try to relive those moments with you. It was one of the things you missed the most after leaving the Avengers.

"Thanks Buck but I don't think this situation compares to that one even a little bit." You said shaking your head.

"Fine just make sure these guys don't get back up."

"Now that I can do."

After that both of you cease communication for the time being as the fight started on both sides. You threw out both of your hands calling upon your power to encase all of the agents in front of you a sheet of ice. Then you made your through all of them breaking them free of their ice prison with a kick to the abdomen, or a punch to the face. Sam always joked you got the move from Sub-Zero after playing Mortal Kombat one too many times.

He was right.

The agents started throwing themselves at you in an effort to overwhelm and take you down faster. But with a flick of your wrist the shoes on their feet exploded throwing the to the floor. You went low, and knocked the one who did reach down with a leg sweep. You slammed his head into the ground before he could recover rendering him unconscious. Out of the corner of your eye you caught three more coming from the right, and you whirled this time slowing down their approach with your powers. All of their bodies started moving as slow as possible. Their eyes began to widen in surprise mixed with fear, but even that action was slow.

You rolled over coming up in front of them and delivered a harsh kick to one's stomach. Releasing your molecular hold on him upon impact with his body back in full and fast motion. He flew back into the air landing in a heap. You repeated the move with other two, and once again caused some items on other agents too combust. Throwing them into the wall or into each other with the move. Even though the fight was going well for you right now you were tiring yourself out by using your powers so much. In an effort to preserve your strength you pulled your daggers from the holster on your jeans.

Having been trained by the almighty combat trio of the Avengers. Natasha, Steve, and Clint your fighting skills were unmatched and you had no problem taking these guys down. But when you finally did get to the big bad of the henchmen. It was pretty obvious for one he was dressed a bit different than others, and for two he didn't rush you either. He stood back watching you flip his last standing man over your shoulder.

"Ready for a real challenge Avenger" he asked with a evil grin showing all his teeth.

"For your sake I hope you actually mean that" You told him rolling your shoulders.

He didn't respond instead he just pulled a pair of knives from the belt in his pants, and gave them a quick twirl like a pro. They were smaller than your daggers, and probably weaker considering yours were made of vibranium. Another gift for Shuri before the war with Thanos's alien army.

You attacked first slashing in a wide arc aiming for his face. He blocked your dagger with his knife, and the blade held but a crack did appear. His hand trembled with effort as your blade was just inches from his cheek. You smirked and brought your other dagger forward toward his stomach, and he jumped back breaking contact. You followed keeping him on the defense as he dodged and knocked your blade away multiple times.

He was good but you were obviously better, so of course he did what any bad guy would do to get the upper hand. He cheated and dropped one of his knives. You frowned in confusion as he tucked and rolled away. The agent came up swung around throwing something at your face. You crossed your bladed together bringing them up to to block what you thought was a knife.

It was dirt.

Your daggers did keep some of it out of your face, but of course the tiny dust particles manage to slip past them entering your eyes. They stung and for just a second you dropped your guard letting out a groan. "Seriously dude what are you fi-" Your protest was cut off as a gasp of shock and pain left your mouth. You blinked through the pain too look down he was crouched before you with his knife buried into your stomach. You stared down a the knife in disbelief. Had you really been taken down with such a childish move?

He looked up catching your eyes as he gave the knife a hard twist. Your insides lit up with pain and you gaped like a fish trying to find your voice.

"Hmph some Avenger you are" he commented.

With the last of your little bit of strength you gripped the dagger in your hand, and plunge it into his neck. The blade went in and came out on the other side smoothly. He didn't even get the chance to gurgle before his body fell to the floor. He was dead, and you were halfway there.

The strength in your legs went first as you stumbled back and hit the floor on your butt. Your hand ventured to the injury, and came away slick with blood. You were bleeding but it was under control for now unless there was internal bleeding going on. Right now keeping the blade inside was the only thing preventing you from dying fast of blood lost. So you simply dragged yourself over to a wall to rest up against to wait for Bucky to come. Your comms had been lost in the fight, and were probably smashed to pieces anyway.

You were barely managing to stay conscious as the minutes went by, your mind wander everywhere trying not to stay focus on the blinding pain. You thought about your past and how someone literally left you on the doorstep of some Shield agent. In the beginning Nick Fury was just going to hand you over to the nearest adoption center, but then you cried and just about everything in his kitchen exploded. He knew right then you were something special, and he took you in as his own. Then your train of thought switched over to your love Shuri, and your heart broke realizing what dying here would mean for her. You had always believed deep down the two of you would your way back to each other. She actually started to send you letters a month ago asking you to come visit Wakanda.

You never wrote back or gave her answer in any form afraid of giving up the peace. It took you so long to find after your breakup with her, but now you were regretting not responding more than anything.

Bast, God, I don't whatever higher power is listening to me right now. Please don't let this be the end for me please you prayed silently to yourself.

"Y/N are down here" Bucky yelled. From the sound of it he was only a few halls away from your location.

You attempted to call out to him but instead broke out coughing. Blood sputtered from the cough coating your pants, and the floor around you. Bucky must have heard it because you could hear his thundering footsteps approaching. A few more seconds later he appeared in the doorway eyes scanning the room till they landed on you. "Y/N" he screamed your name running over and dropping to his knees beside you. His hand hovered the knife buried in your stomach as he observed the injury.

You were so tired and it was becoming so much harder to keep your eyes open. Your head fell back against the wall as you gasped his name.

He brought his hand to your face gently bringing it back down so you could meet his gaze. "Hey stay with me now you're going to be okay. This is nothing alright I've seen worse."

"Maybe for a super solider" you murmured.

Bucky let out a laugh void of all emotions as he pressed his forehead to yours. "You can't die here okay if you do Ayo is going to kill me, and take back the arm for good this time. Do you want that y/n? I mean imagine it me running around here fighting with one arm."

You let out a painful chuckle at the image, and at the thought of all the jokes Sam would make at his expense. "The government would give you a new one" You manage to say.

"Yeah but it wouldn't be made of vibranium" He shot back.

"Forget Ayo killing you Shuri is going to kill me" You whispered letting your head drift to the side.

Then it really hit Bucky why it was so important that you didn't die. He wasn't kidding about Ayo killing him if you died on his watch after all. She was the one who reached out to him begging him to look after up for the sake of Shuri. It's not that Ayo doubted your ability to protect yourself. It was just she knew how dangerous being an Avenger was, and could sleep a little better knowing someone had your back all the time. And there was one thing Ayo and everyone else was sure of. If you died in the field Princess Shuri would blame herself, and would never move on from it.

Bucky was calling out your name again as darkness filled your vision. He wanted you to heat up the injury saying it would buy you a little more time. You barely registered the request but your brain was in survival mode, and some part of you comprehend what he wanted. The last thing you remembered was the feeling of being lifted into his arms.

Bucky put his super solider speed to the test running back to the quinjet. That you had decided to park a mile away in order to hide your guys's arrival. He was starting to regret that decision with you limp in his arms with shallow breathing. Even though the scene before him was nearly a blur as he moved. Bucky still felt like he wasn't running fast enough until finally the quinjet was in sight. Once he was on the inside he placed you on the medical table, and strapped you to it.

He tried to work your kimoyo beads in an effort to alert Shuri of what was going on, but they were deactivated. Thanks to you and in his worried mindset Bucky couldn't think of how to turn them back on. So instead he got the quinjet into the air and set course for Wakanda. The only place with a genius scientist that could save your life right now. Auto-pilot was turned on giving him the freedom to call Ayo over and over. His calls were going unanswered which didn't surprise him at all. Ayo had cut off contact with him after the whole Zemo thing, and even though he understood why. Bucky didn't think it would take her this long to forgive him.

When she showed up out of the blue and asked him to watch over you. That was the first time he had seen and spoken to her since the incident, and just like that nothing but radio silence again. But now Bucky would keep calling until he got through to her Wakanda wouldn't open their borders to him alone.

Finally on the twelfth call she surprisingly picked up "James this better be good I'm busy."

"Ayo" he cried with a crack in his voice. He tried to keep his composure but the fear was starting to settle in.

His distress got her attention and put her on alert. "James what's wrong?

"Its y/n she's hurt and it's bad I'm on my way now she doesn't have much time left. I don't know where els-"

"Bring her to us I will notify the Princess now hurry James" Ayo ordered cutting him off. Even though it was subtle he could hear her falter.

Pushing the quinjet well beyond its limits worked, and he managed to reach Wakanda within record time. Somehow you were still clinging to life but just barely. Bucky didn't stop till the quinjet was in the landing zone of the palace. He lifted you back into his arms and exited the jet. A medical team was waiting for him with a hovering sand table. He laid you on it as gently as possible, and watched as they rushed back inside with your body.

Bucky wasn't sure if his presence was wanted and turned to go back to the aircraft. But someone caught him by the hand making him pause to look back.

It was Ayo with a woman standing a few feet behind her. He didn't recognize her, but could tell by her demeanor that the two of them were close. Tears were pooled up in Ayo's eyes and she blinked them away. "Stay."

If he didn't have super hearing the plea wouldn't have reached his ears. Bucky nodded and proceeded to follow them into the palace.

The lab was thrown into chaos as Shuri ordered everyone out the second the medical team arrived with you in tow. Ayo told her you had been injuried and needed immediate medical attention. She hadn't said anything about you practically being on death's door. Maybe she assumed Shuri was better off not knowing how serious your condition was. That she would better be prepared and in a better mindset to carry out the medical procedure on her ex-lover.

But nothing could prepare Shuri to see you lying on the sand table before her barely alive. The tools shook in her grip and she paused at the hilt of the knife. If she failed then once again she would lose someone she loved. When their lives were trusted within her hands. She couldn't go through that again.

"Shuri" a familiar voice said from behind her.

Shuri was so far gone in her thoughts she didn't recognize it and turned around to snap. "I told you all to get out."

It was her mother and her daughter's rebuttal didn't faze her in the slightest. Queen Ramonda knew Shuri was gripped with the fear of losing you and needed her support. She walked over and pulled her into a comforting hug. "Don't start doubting the gifts bestowed upon you by Bast herself now. You can do this my child y/n couldn't be in better hands." she told her rubbing her back.

Shuri stayed in her mother's embrace letting the warm feeling overtake all the feelings of worry and doubt. It wasn't until her A.I. system spoke up she pulled away.

"Princess you will need to act now to save y/n's life she doesn't have much time left."

Shuri let her mother wipe away the tears, and then she turned back around to you. This time there was no hesitation as she went to work in safely removing the knife. Griot kept her updated on your vitals, and heart rate. She worked diligently not letting anything throw her off, and Queen Ramonda sat at her workstation a few feet away. Her mother's presence brought her some much needed comfort. At some point Okoye, Ayo, Aneka, and Bucky entered the lab but stayed back not wanting to make her feel any pressure.

It took her one hour to patch up your injury with the help of her technology. But that hour felt like an eternity to her and everyone else. When it was over and Griot announced you were in stable condition. Shuri broke down into tears burying her face into your neck. You were still unconscious and probably wouldn't awake for another two hours at least. But the feel of your breathing and the sound of your steady heartbeat kept her from going insane.

"Please wake up soon my love" she pleaded.

"Is she going to make it?" Bucky asked walking tentatively towards you.

Shuri turned to give him a nod, and let out a grunt when his body collided with hers. As he covered the distance between the two of them with blinding speed. Bucky wrapped his arms around the Princess in a bone-crushing hug lifting her off her feet.

"Are we going to allow this?" Aneka asked her hand balled up into fists at her side. Usually the Doras didn't let anyone get within five feet of the royal family. Let alone touch them.

"We will this time" Okoye told her trying to keep her own tears of joy at bay.

After a while Bucky finally released Shuri and pulled up chairs for both of them to sit in, and wait for you to regain consciousness. Queen Ramonda retired to her room for the night promising to stop by first thing in the morning. Ayo and Aneka stayed in the lab to stand guard while Okoye went with the Queen.

Sometime in the early morning after Shuri had finally relieved the Doras of their duty, so they could go home and rest up. When Bucky was fast asleep in his chair despite how uncomfortable it had to be, and Shuri was the only awake but just barely sitting by your side with chin in her hand. Your eyes blinked open and you grumbled something looking around. "Shuri" you whispered a little confused.

She sat up a bit straighter at the sound of your voice, and looked down. A cry of relief left her mouth as she leaned down pressing her forehead to yours. "My love you're awake."

"Is this real?" You asked.

She nodded "you know you didn't have to try and get yourself killed to visit me right."

"Well you know me and my big ego" You joked letting a small smile take form on your face.

Just like that the dam broke and Shuri burst into tears moving to bury her face into the uninjured part of your chest. You brought a hand to ran your fingers through her curls. Your touch was a bit weak but it was real, and reminded both of you that you were still alive. Which was all that reminded.

"I'm alive Shuri it's okay" You soothed her. She lifted her face from your chest and captured your lips in a desperate kiss. Her lips moves slowly against yours as both of you savored the feeling. She kissed you like it was the last time she was ever going to be able to do it. She kissed you as if the entire world was ending. She kissed you like you were dying, because for a second Shuri was sure that she would lose you. When your lips finally parted from yours they were swollen a bit, and both of you were out of breath. If it wasn't for your heart rate spiking as your lungs begged for air. Shuri wouldn't have pulled away.

"Never again don't leave me ever again" Shuri pleaded to you.

"Nothing could take me away from you my love" You swore.

Shuri stood up and climbed onto the sand table. You scooted over into her awaiting arms, and rested your head on her chest. With her arms secured around your waist Shuri laid back. It didn't take long for either of you to fall asleep knowing that even after all this time. Your love for each other was very much still alive, and although it would take a lot to repair the relationship. Both of you wanted nothing more than to be together again.

[allthecastlesonclouds]

bulleted headcannons of fh dance studio 🫴

oh my GOSH okay yes!!

aguefort owns the studio. nobody knows how bc he does one (1) type of dance and it's fucking BALLROOM. he somehow keeps the studio running though so nobody stops him

ayda works the main office mostly. she danced at a studio that did the yearly nutcracker and then got tired of it and wanted to learn some other versions.

(she does a lot of contemporary now, especially to hip-hop music. it's cool as hell.)

kristen does modern and takes ballet. she tries so hard and she is so strong but she is. absolute shit at anything harder than a piqué. she likes modern bc cass lets her work in her ribbon dancer. she's also Really Good with choreo and technique!! she can spot the issue in Seconds

she helps out around the studio a lot too!! definitely not to see more of the girl with the pretty side cut who dances in the later hours :)

gorgug does hip hop bc he loves the community aspect of it! and ballet- he does a lot of the background/supporting work.

he's never had a solo. all the bad kids want him to ask for one because he's really fucking good how dare he. he tells them that aguefort doesn't like him.

(arthur doesn't like him. ayda would fight the world for him.)

fig is a jazz+tap girlie but she was Raised on ballet+tap so she's signed up for ballet too! she's been doing tap since she was So Little and it's genuinely just. her favorite thing ever.

she crashes the hip hop classes often. nobody stops her because she has the Energy Ever.

adaine, like fig, was put into ballet as a kid (along with aelwyn)

she met riz and he dragged her to a hip hop class and she simply. has not gone back. added contemporary onto her repertoire and a technique class and pointe. definitely the busiest out of everyone.

riz tried it for like. school. and fucking loved it. he thought it would be good networking, good resume filling, good exercise- and also he loved it. that comes last in the list of importance tho

that guy choreographs and performs the most complex ballet pieces known to man. kristen has tried one during an after-recital party and that video is used as blackmail to this day

he does ballet and jazz. he's tried every class at the studio and settled into those two. he's perfectly fine in his comfort zone thank you!

fabian started as a solely Jazz dancer. his dad died and he underwent a whole buncha self evaluation and then signed up for so many classes- he's taking no joke like 10.

jazz. ballet. tap. technique. modern. contemporary. hip hop. pointe. he's doing it all and having the Time Of His Life.

and now we get into the actual *studio*! whoaa it only took 17 bullet points!

their studio doesn't do a show performance, like the nutcracker, or competitions, but they do work a lot on choreography and do multiple performances throughout the year

you can request to do a solo/double/group piece that's multi-track! ayda Somehow fits it in the schedule. you get a teacher advisor (for the bad kids maybe jawbone?) who gives advice but the dance is mostly choreographed by you

these dances are the highlights of the recitals. fig wants to do one but is already doing a solo so she wants to work on a group piece! she and adaine have traumabonded in multiple classes so she asks her first

adaine goes. you're not gonna believe what i'm about to do. and snags riz. fig grabs gorgug. they're the initial four.

they spy fabian after a late-night rehearsal having a mental breakdown through dance and go huh. he was already becoming less stuck up. let's speed up the process.

kristen swings by later, sweeping and restocking toilet paper and shit and offhandedly offers some solutions to things they're struggling with

and lo and behold the bad kids are created! they have No Concept of time ever. but they're gonna choreograph a dance and by god it's going to look good!!

[rythasbrenelle]

Prompt #4: Reticent

On most days, Locke liked birds more than people. They talked a little bit, each inquiry and answer a slightly different kweh, just enough to qualify as company. But they never pressed him. If all he had to contribute to the conversation was a sniffle or a grunt, chocobos didn’t mind. A meal of greens, a bit of preening, a few encouraging pats, and they were set.

Ideal traveling companions, chocobos.

After three days of the same tall tale being shared in the inn as Locke and Sosonado waited for the storm to pass and the roads to clear, such that every other patron was thoroughly sick of the story by the time they could resume their travels, Locke desperately wished his client was more like a chocobo. “I daresay they’ll be spreading tales of your derring-do across Coerthas now, lad!” Sosonado crawled out from the back of the wagon, his cargo inspection completed, and hopped up onto his seat. “A gunslinger with hair like fire! A swordsman with no need for swords!” Locke’s gaze flicked down to where his swords rested against his leg, propped up in the floor of the box seat. The ornate handle of the gunblade wasn’t far from his fingers, just in case trouble found them on the road again. Though after Sosonado’s yarn, Locke had half a mind to let trouble succeed next time. “Please wait, gentlemen!” a clear voice called out. Locke turned in his seat, a tall ear swiveled in the voice’s direction before his eyes found the source. The bartender who’d been working the night he arrived in the Observatorium made her way across the yard, taking care to step around the hardy greens peeking through the snow.

“Is there something we can help you with, ma’am?” Sosonado asked. “The opposite. I was hoping to help the two of you.” She produced a pair of red crystals from her tunic and dropped them into Sosonado’s arms, too large for his hands as they were. “It’s not much, but perhaps they’ll keep you warm. Be it on the road or in a snowstorm, should more heroics be required.” Sosonado looked to Locke with a grin bright as the sun and set one of the crystals in his waiting hand, warm even through his glove. Locke found himself caught between rolling his eyes and giving the bartender an earnest thanks. He settled for a curt nod.

But Sosonado had no such issues speaking. “My deepest thanks! I have many things in my wagon, but crystals are unfortunately not one of them, useful though they’d be. I’ll treasure it. As will my companion here.” He looked at Locke meaningfully, but the bartender shook her head.

“No, no, it’s quite alright. He already paid for his, yeah? He needn’t thank me.” She flashed easy smiles at both of them. “Safe travels. I hope the Holy See proves lucrative.” “As do I,” Sosonado agreed, lowering his head. The bartender began to make her way back to the inn, and Sosonado collected the reins. He snapped them once, called to the chocobos, and the wagon lurched into motion. Travel was far from smooth, snow and ice still abundant along the road, but the birds were well-rested and well-trained. They avoided the worst of it where they could.

“Kind of her,” Sosonado said, dark eyes forward. “On my behalf, at any rate. She said you paid?”

Locke shrugged a shoulder. His hand lingered near his gunblade still, though he’d have liked to keep it on the crystal in his pocket, emanating its gentle warmth. “I suppose we did buy more than our share of bread, soup, and drinks. You especially. How do you eat so much, where do you put it all?”

A cant of his head. Fighting, traveling, existing, Locke supposed. He communicated this with several taps of his claws against his sword.

If Sosonado gleaned meaning from the gesture, he didn’t show it, though his eyes did follow Locke’s claws and settle on the sword. “I have been meaning to ask. That gunblade of yours is an imperial piece, isn’t it? As is your firearm. Quite ostentatious, the pair of them. Did you serve?” Locke opened his mouth. Words were hard, sometimes. They liked to get caught in his throat. But these came easily enough, even if it took a moment. “Not them.” Sosonado nodded. “Just as well. Wearing them as prominently as you do, they might draw trouble in places where folk have more of a, uh, predisposition against the empire. But you probably already know that.”

Locke hummed a confirmation but didn’t elaborate further. And for a while, that seemed to be enough conversation. Sosonado’s attention returned wholly to the road, and Locke slouched in his seat and rested his eyes. He was roused only when they arrived at Camp Dragonhead, where they made a brief stop and Sosonado declared he needed to stretch his legs.

While he was gone, Locke tended to the chocobos, unhitching them from the wagon and allowing them to rest properly while he fetched their water. The chore earned him a peck, which he excused as an accident, and a beak rubbing, which he answered with preening. He was mostly silent throughout the task, save for the occasional word of praise for whichever bird was cooperating with him at the moment.

Sosonado returned after a short while, a parcel tucked under his arm. It wasn’t until the chocobos were hitched again and the wagon was lurching forward that Sosonado dropped the package into Locke’s lap; he twitched in response, straightening and reaching for his gunblade. As his eyes settled on the coarse wrapping, he relaxed again and looked at Sosonado, a question written on his face.

“It’s merely some salted eft. Consider it a tip.” Before Locke could speak up, Sosonado waved a hand dismissively. “You’ll be compensated monetarily as well, don’t you worry. All we agreed upon and then some. Your apparent laziness aside, you’ve done your job well.”

Locke unwrapped the parcel and found a pile of dried meat there. The smell of it immediately got him salivating. He pinched a strip of it between his claws and popped it into his mouth, the salty and woody and, oh, citrusy flavors sharp on his tongue.

“Thanks,” he said. It came out garbled and unclear and a bit wet, on account of the drooling. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping it clean.

“Don’t mention it. Really. Don’t.”

More than happy to comply, Locke let the chocobos’ footfalls, the wagon’s creaking, and his chewing fill the silence for the remainder of their journey to the Holy See of Ishgard.

[scotianostra]

On 16th December 1332 Edward Balliol was surprised by Sir Archibald Douglas and Sir John Randolph, Earl of Moray, in a dawn attack at Annan.

Balliol had seized the Scottish crown three months earlier after the Battle of Dupplin Moor . In October 1332, Sir Archibald Douglas, Guardian of Scotland made a truce with Balliol, supposedly to let the Scottish Parliament assemble and decide who their true king was. 

Emboldened by the truce, Balliol dismissed most of his English troops and moved to Annan on the north shore of the Solway Firth. He issued two public letters saying that with the help of England he had reclaimed his kingdom and acknowledged that Scotland had always been a fiefdom of England. He also promised land for Edward III on the border, including Berwick-on-Tweed, and that he would serve Edward for the rest of his life.

Scottish chronicler Andrew of Wyntoun wote that;

And, or all this tyme wes gone, The yhowng Erle off Murrawe Jhon, And Schyr Archebald off Dowglas, That brodyr till gud Schyre Jamys was, Purchasyd thame a cumpany, A thowsand wycht men and hardy. Till Anand in a tranowntyng* Thai came on thame in the dawyng: Thar war syndry gud men slayne... ...Bot the Ballyol his gat is gane On a barme hors wyth leggys bare: Swa fell, that he eschapyd thare.

 Basically they surprised the usurper in the early morning, most of Balliol's men were killed, but Edward is said to have slipped through a whole in a wall and fled withoot any breeks on, hightailing it on horseback to Carlisle. It was  an embarrassing reversal for their Balliol rivals, however, it did not prevent an English invasion the following summer.

Technically Douglas and Randolph had acted in contravention of a truce that had been arranged until a parliament could be assembled to determine whether David or Edward was the rightful king. Balliol had dismissed most of his army, believing that they were no longer needed so long as the truce was in effect. However, Balliol is known to have been producing documents as if the kingship of Scotland had already been settled on him, including promises to the English king - Edward III - of land in the south of the kingdom as an incentive for providing military support of his regime. If the Scots knew about this - or even had their suspicions that it was going on - they probably would have interpreted this as a breach of the truce by Balliol and therefore would have felt justified in attacking him. Of course, it is also entirely possible that they didn't know about Balliol's clandestine activities, and broke the truce anyway, perhaps because they were unsure as to what the outcome of any future parliamentary decision would be. Whatever the case, the opportunity to catch him with his trousers down (more or less literally) was too good to pass up.  Edward's brother Henry Balliol died as a result of injuries sustained at the battle of Annan. The death of Henry ended the Balliol Scot dynasty as Edward Balliol died childless in 1364.

What success Balliol had enjoyed had convinced Edward III of England - who had initially declined to support Balliol's bid for power - that the Scottish administration was vulnerable to attack. The following summer he laid siege to Berwick and inflicted a devastating defeat on the Bruce Scots at Halidon Hill, the Second War of Scottish Independence was in full swing. 

Huge areas of Scotland were subsequently reoccupied by the English, the nine  year old David II, and his 13 year old wife, were taken to France along with a number of major Scottish noblemen too young to fight, and the remaining Bruce loyalists - those who owed their prosperity to the patronage of Robert Bruce in the previous war and thus couldn't reach an accommodation with the English - were forced to resume a desperate guerrilla war in an attempt to drive back English influence in the kingdom.

One person of note present at Arran that day was the 16 year old  Robert Stewart , who became King Robert the second, the first of  the House of Stewart.

Pics are Balliol, Archibald Douglas and the Arms of Randolph, Earls of Moray

[bekoobove]

The City of The Glass Dove

 “I think that’s my pen, Johnson.” I prodded. I had no reason to, of course.

 Everett Johnson, my next-door cubicle neighbor of seven years, frowned. “I’m pretty sure I have a blue pen like this one. To be fair, I found it on the floor between us…”

 I knew Johnson, just like me, was internally amused at the idea of either of us needing to be fair. It’d been decades since that had been the job of people like us. 

 “...But still, I’m certain this is mine.”

 On cue, we both looked at the camera suspended in the ceiling. Its small red light glowed, as it always had. Without another word, we resumed our work. We had no reason to waste company time over an issue that would be settled overnight.

-

 After the day’s work was complete, I headed to the speedrail station. I always arrived about ten minutes before the speedrail itself did, meaning I always had time to admire the nearby Network Dome. One of several throughout the city, it was surrounded by a small plaza filled with trees and benches, to beautify it I suppose. Not that it needed beautifying- it could have been the ugliest thing in the world and still earn its place of honor every night.

 It was a little more ugly today, though. Red streaks of spattered paint covered much of its silvery surface, spelling out several phrases. Among them: FREE YOURSELF! THE NETWORK ROBBED US OF WHAT MAKES US HUMAN! WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF IT ALL BREAKS! In addition, there were several renditions of the same symbol- a side profile of a person with a small rectangular hole in their head leaking blood. A person with their port torn out.

 Instinctively, I rubbed the area where my port was located, just above my right ear. The concept of it being gone was disturbing, not just for the injury but for what it would mean for me. What would I do without it? What could I do?

 That graffiti had to be the work of the Regressives- a name they had never used for themselves, but fitting for any semi-organized group who opposed the Network. As dangerous as non-Network linked individuals sounded on paper, they were kind of all bark and no bite- more meaningless symbols that could easily be cleaned away like the graffiti than an actual threat to the city. As if to prove it, a small fleet of Network Maintenance Drones arrived, and began spraying water on the dome. The red diluted to pink in the spray, and began running off the dome in thick rivulets. I smiled as I watched, just as my speed rail arrived.

-

 Dinner that night was delicious, as it was every night. Morgan, my wife, and I took turns cooking each night, and the Network had ensured we knew each other and our childrens’ tastes like our own. Our children- Sam and Laura- provided the only sore spot of the evening, fighting over who knows what. Not something for me and Morgan to concern ourselves with- the Network would resolve that- but it was a little irritating. Still, all things considered, it had been another near-perfect day.

-

 Finally, time for bed. Time for today’s strife to be undone. Morgan was already fast asleep, plugged in. I smiled at her, wondering what conflicts the Network would rectify for her throughout the night.

 Like I had a million times before, I grabbed the two small wires which of course led down into the floor, through a complicated tangle for about a mile, before eventually linking up with the nearest Network Dome. I carefully held them to the side of my head and plugged them into the ports embedded there. There was a satisfying click, and the familiar sensation of mental data analysis began. The Network’s program scanned my memories, taking note of many things, most importantly my moments of annoyance. With Everett Johnson for claiming my pen was his, with the Regressives for their discomforting graffiti, with my children for their argument. The Network processed these grievances, and filed them away to resolve before I awoke. 

 These were hardly the most grand problems I’d ever tasked the Network with resolving, I thought as I climbed into bed. All the Network had to do for the pen was review our building’s security footage, determine I was the pen’s true owner, and relay this information to Johnson as he slumbered. As for the others- the graffiti was gone and my childrens’ conflict was being settled at this very moment, so all that was left to deal with was my own emotions. I climbed into bed, sure of what I would dream about as I slept. I would gain a better understanding of the circumstances that led Johnson to believe the pen was his, what my children had fought over, and be reminded, as I had many times before, why the Regressives acted the way they did. That was what the Network was for after all.

 It connected you with everyone. It gave you full knowledge of their life, their troubles, their mistakes- it forced you to understand yesterday’s affronts by the time tomorrow rolled around. Not only was the Network a near foolproof method for resolving injustices, it essentially automated the old society process of “empathy”.

 Honestly, this idea that this task of attempting to understand the behavior of someone who had harmed you, to sympathize with them, to move past trespasses that often wouldn’t be erased- all of that had once been the responsibility of the individual was bizarre. It was an old burden, eradicated by the Network, so I rarely gave it much thought, but it still baffled me that such an important facet of life had been left up to easily failable humans.

 I didn’t give it much thought that night. I quickly drifted off into peaceful slumber.

-

 Dreamless slumber.

 I realized it the moment I woke up. I had no memory of anything from last night- no scenes played in my head explaining the affronts of others. For the first time in my life, I didn’t know why I had been wronged.

 I yanked the cables out of my port, checking to see if they’d broken. Nope- they were still plugged into the wall. I turned to Morgan, only to see her sitting up in bed, looking just as shell-shocked. “I…I didn’t…” she stammered.

 Without another word, I leaped out of bed and dashed to the living room, where our TV was. I grabbed the remote, clicked on the first news channel I could find, and…

 “...at this point in time, eight of the city’s fourteen Domes have been reported as temporarily out of commission. The terrorist attack, believed to be the work of the Regressive Movement, occurred at 2:42 AM…”

 The grim tone the newscaster spoke with didn’t even begin to match the feeling of dread sinking in my stomach. The Regressives had actually done something- the worst thing they could have done. For the first time I could remember, I felt angry, not just because of the severity of their actions…but because this was the first time I had been mentally capable of feeling that way. Without the aid of the Network, I couldn’t even begin to rationalize their actions. In fact, I…

 No. I had to ignore those thoughts. The newscaster was already relaying a statement from the Emergency Network Maintenance Commission (the only one they’d ever given) that the downed Domes would be up and running again within hours. I knew my office had emergency Network Connection points, so when the Network went back up, I could immediately have these thoughts processed and purged.

 I got ready for work as quickly as I could. Morgan was still in bed, so I relayed the news to her. I suppose I could have spent more time comforting her, or pulling apart my children whose fight from yesterday was ongoing, but those problems would be resolved soon, and I honestly didn’t really feel like it anyway. Soon enough I left, and tried to act like everything was normal.

-

 It wasn’t, of course. I could tell from the moment I boarded the speedrail. Some people seemed normal, if a little uneasy. From the districts of the six unharmed Domes, I presumed. The rest had looks in their eyes- looks of irritation, anger. They looked like any minute, they would snap.

I was eager to get off the speedrail. As I did, I noticed the Dome from yesterday. I could see a large crack in its curvature, with a dark smoke emanating from within. Maintenance Drones surrounded the structure, each equipped with a variety of tools. I felt reassured, knowing this would all be over soon.

-

 I tried to keep a cheerful face as I walked into the office, politely greeting my coworkers as I made my way to my cubicle. When I arrived, I noticed the glowing light in the nearby camera was dim. It wasn’t the most chilling indicator of last night’s attack that I’d seen today, but it still made me uneasy. That camera had been a constant for as long as I’d worked there, and it had often helped resolve conflicts with-

Everett Johnson.

I heard sounds of movement from his cubicle. Sure enough, he was there, settling into his chair, absentmindedly clicking my pen. He noticed me peeking and paused. “Oh, hey.”

 “My…my pen.” I pointed, somewhat stupidly.

 “Oh, were you in one of the downed districts? Crazy, right? Didn’t think the Regressives had it in ‘em.” He chuckled. “Yeah, anyway, my district wasn’t down, and the Network determined the pen was mine.”

 That very same statement, had it come from the Network, would have silenced me immediately. But from Johnson, it felt worthless. How was I even supposed to know he wasn’t lying? I didn’t know where he lived, the Network may have been down for him too. Maybe he’d taken advantage of that in order to keep the pen- my pen.

 This was the first time in my entire existence that I’d had to wait more than a day for what I deserved. Sure, the Network would probably be back up soon, but justice even hours overdue felt wrong. More than that, I felt like every annoyance I’d ever experienced towards Johnson was bubbling up, without the Network’s nightly suppressant. The moments that followed seemed to last eternities, as they kept building, and building, until…

 I felt nothing but hatred for Everett Johnson. It was an entirely new, burning sensation. And it was exhilarating. I wanted nothing more than to act on this feeling, as much as possible. And I did.

 Without another word, I rushed at him. He had already turned back to his desk, clearly assuming our conversation was over. He was right, ultimately. Johnson turned back slightly, just in time to see my fist fly towards him. It collided with his face, and I winced slightly as my knuckle slammed into his tough jaw. It hurt, but judging by the shriek he emitted it hurt him more, so I kept going. Before he could even react, I grabbed his head with both hands and slammed it into his desk. There was a satisfying crack, and when I lifted his head back up I saw blood pouring out. It reminded me of the paint washing off the Dome yesterday. Was this what the Regressives had been fighting for all these years? Why had I ever opposed them? Why had anybody?

 I slammed his head again for good measure, then dumped his limp body on the floor. I didn’t know if he was knocked out or dead, but I didn't care. I couldn’t even stop myself from laughing. When I turned, I saw several other coworkers staring in stunned silence, probably drawn by Johnson’s obnoxious scream. A few looked utterly horrified- a few others looked intrigued, almost eager. I couldn’t have cared less, of course. I was free. For the first time in my life, I was free.

-

 You know the rest of the story, of course. An emergency squad was deployed by the Network once it was repaired a few hours later, and I was forcibly plugged in. Everything from yesterday was resolved, which included my discovery that Everett Johnson had been right- the pen was his. I considered apologizing to him, but I knew the Network would relay those sentiments while he recovered over the following weeks in the Medical Center.

 My “antisocial outburst” as the condition became known, was one of almost a hundred such incidents to occur that morning. I’m certain that with every minute that passed, that number would have increased exponentially. Since that day, the media has theorized that the damage to the Network Domes was just a cover for the Regressives’ true goals- hacking as many Network users as possible with a computer virus designed to make them act violently. They have not come up with a reasonable explanation as to how this was possible, which makes sense because that theory is complete bullshit. 

 We who experienced these outbursts rarely speak of that day, except to profess remorse and pray the Network ensures nothing like it ever happens again. We all know we are lying, because we all know what we felt that day. 

 Deep down, we hope for the Network to shatter once more, and to be allowed to hate again.

A dystopian story I wrote a while back. Let me know what you think.

[covertblizzard]

Does this count as being pacifist?

[insomniac-astronomer]

4,12 with natasha and if possible can it be kind of enemies to lovers

Natasha Romanoff x Reader: I Didn't Mean It

I also got a request with 4 & 26, so I'm going to combine these two requests! P.S. you don't have to use my prompt list to make a request! I just made it for extra encouragement. Also, I write for more than just Natasha!

Anyway. I love enemies to lovers and honestly have no clue why I haven't written if yet. Like bruh. Also might go heat up my mall chinese food but I'm so indecisive that I haven't done that yet either.

Description: Reader and Natasha got off to a rocky start, which leads to their worst argument to date and a lot of regrets. (that vine of that guy holding the two cats and saying "love each other" and they fight) happy ending!

Prompts: "No. Absolutely not.", "Watch where you're going.", and "Everything will be alright." (*stretches hands* time to get creative)

Gender: neutral! No pronouns used!

WARNINGS: fighting (verbal), yelling, self-esteem issues, crying/breakdown/depressive episode

*not my gif*

"Watch where you're going." Natasha Romanoff spits at you as you almost run into her.

"Sorry," you roll your eyes. You're not a spiteful person. You've never really hated anyone. But that woman gets under your skin like nothing else.

Her demeanor is always negative and, from the moment she met you, she disliked you. You have no idea why. You literally just said 'hi I'm Y/N, nice to meet you' and she just walked away. Whatever. Let her deal with her own problems alone just like she wants to be.

You head to the kitchen for dinner, sitting next to Wanda.

"I made paprikash!" She tells you excitedly. "Try some?"

"Sure," you give her a smile as she puts some on your plate.

You hesitantly try it, immediately squinting at the heat. You try not to make a sudden move, but a little cough forces its way out of your throat.

"What? You don't like it?" Wanda looks so sad.

"No, no, it's just, really spicy," you sputter.

She gives you a look. "That's only mild paprika in there."

"I'm an American with no spice tolerance, which means I really can't handle anything spicy." You smile at her apologetically. "I'm sure I would love it if I could, though."

"Alright, thanks for trying." Wanda gives you a little side-hug.

Then, your most favorite person in the world walks in. The light tone of conversation around the table fades just slightly as everyone looks between the two of you.

Best part? The only open seat is right in front of you.

Tony hastily stands up. "I can sit there, Widow."

"No, that's alright." Natasha shakes her head and takes the seat. You roll your eyes and look away from her.

Very slowly, conversation resumes. You share a look with Wanda, who is clearly trying to encourage the two of you to get along.

Unlikely.

You would make an effort. But she hated you first and literally has never tried to be nice. So why would you waste your time?

"So Nat," Wanda grabs her attention. You let out an audible 'ugh'. "You like the Hunger Games movies, right?"

"Yeah," Natasha shrugs.

"Y/N likes them, too! See-"

"No, actually, I hate them. I think they're stupid and childish." She lands her gaze on you.

"Oh so whatever I like, you have to hate, right? Because you hate me so much?" Your anger is grabbing a hold of your heart.

"Only because you hate me," she rolls her eyes, which makes your blood boil.

"I literally never did anything to you! You were the one who brushed off my introduction! The first time I ever spoke to you, you walked away!"

"I had more important places to be," Natasha sneers.

"Oh, sure." You fold your arms.

"Okay, okay, let's all just settle down here for a moment." Tony stands up.

"No," you immediately retort. "I actually think she should explain what I ever did to her."

"You're annoying as-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Tony tries again.

"I literally said hi to you. That's it? How am I the bitch?!" Your voice is raising.

"Y/N, calm down." Wanda puts a hand on your shoulder. "We can talk this out, just not right now."

"No, I want to know." You are yelling. "When you give me a good reason as to why you hate me, I'll never talk to you again. You owe it to me."

"Maybe we should move," Sam suggests, already standing and pulling Bucky with him.

"Yeah," Tony follows. "Try not to break anything, but feel free to fight it out."

You stand in complete silence with your arms crossed. You made your point. Now it's her move.

"I don't owe you anything, actually." Natasha's voice raises.

"Just tell me what your deal is!"

"You're an annoying screw up! You're not worth anything to this team!"

You blink. She purses her lips. Surprisingly, you feel tears come to your eyes just slightly. You nod and walk out of the kitchen.

Wow.

It shouldn't affect you. You know she's just saying it to make you angry. Obviously. But you already feel like just a shadow compared to her. They could honestly drop you at any moment and be totally fine. As much as you hate to say it, she's right.

Why do you add to the team?

Nothing. You have the same skillset as Natasha. No special powers, no crazy family asset, not anywhere near as much eloquence in your movements as her.

Comments on social media agree with that. They've called you 'The Black Widow from Wish.com' which made you feel just great. And you screw up a lot of missions because you loose concentration. You're not totally comfortable working in front of a crowd. The alien bad guys scare you just with the way you look, like in a horror movie.

You slam your bedroom door shut, locking it with the manual chain so Tony can't tell FRIDAY to open it. You flop onto your bed, tears already streaming down your face.

As if you couldn't have any worse ideas, you pull out your phone and open Instagram, scrolling through all of your comments, reading each of the nasty ones. It's awful and you don't know why you can't stop. Each new insult makes your stomach drop.

The tears come faster until you can't see the screen anymore and you're audibly sobbing.

At this point, you couldn't care less about what Natasha thinks. The whole world hates you. You have absolutely zero fanbase. Anyone else makes an appearance, people cheer. You show up and they completely stop. Widow from wish. The Walmart-brand superhero of the group. And at first you laughed at it until you realized they were serious.

You just lay there for hours. The sun sets, the moon comes up. The sky is too cloudy for stars. The TV is playing some 1am crap. Sadness is tugging at your chest so hard that every time you try to doze off, you just start crying again.

At 2:30am, there is a knock. Then silence as you just wait for them to go away. Then the door squeaks as it cracks open, but is stopped by the chain.

"Y/N?" Someone whispers.

"Not present." You say is a dead voice.

"Y/N," the voice is clear now. It's Natasha.

You groan. "Please go away."

"I came to apologize." She sighs.

"Yeah sure," you roll your eyes.

"No, I'm serious."

You think for a moment. "I'm not getting up to take that lock off."

Natasha is silent. "Okay."

And you think that's the end of it. But nope, you hear the chain starting to rattle. Is she seriously trying to unlock it? That's the most effort she's ever put in with you before. Unfortunately, you hear the chain fall only a second later.

You will be adding a new manual lock in the morning.

You see Natasha's figure in the dark. She very hesitantly comes over.

"I'm really sorry."

You just stare at the ceiling.

"I didn't mean anything I said."

"Really?" You roll your eyes again.

Natasha inhales sharply. "Yeah."

"You didn't mean any of it? Not even the part where you said you don't owe me anything?" You're just pulling at her now. You know she won't say no to that.

"No. Absolutely not."

Oh. Hm.

"I actually do owe you an explanation."

Hm. She's being serious. You move your eyes to look at her. She is a mess. Her hair is falling out of her pony tail and it is frizzed all over. She's still in her clothes from dinner, but her makeup is gone.

Natasha clears her throat and slowly sits down on the edge of the bed. You sit up because you actually do believe she's going to tell you the truth.

"When Tony brought you in," she starts shakily and takes a moment to recompose. "I thought I was going to be kicked out. You're a carbon copy of me, only without the enemies and the bloody history."

You laugh lightly and you see her relax.

"So, I was worried. And then I met you and you were so nice and pretty and I just-" she pauses, "I just thought it would be easier to hate you than make you my weak spot."

"Oh," you whisper. She nods. "That's actually crazy because I always feel like I'm in your shadow and I'm going to be kicked out."

Natasha laughs tensely.

You sigh. "I'm just you but not as good or strong or confident."

"That's not true," she whispers. "You're one of the most confident people I know."

"No way. I never feel good about myself." You confess.

"You don't show it at all."

You shrug. "Just always trying to convince Tony to let me stay, I guess. Always trying to look really put-together and intelligent."

"I'm so sorry." She repeats.

You nod. "I'm sorry for yelling, too."

"You have nothing to apologize for. I was being an ass."

You shake your head. "Still. I didn't help."

The both of you don't say anything and there's an anxious pause.

"I forgive you," you say quietly.

"You do?" Natasha looks shocked.

You nod. "I understand what you were thinking. I was thinking the exact same thing, just backwards. And it hasn't been easy holding all of that in."

Natasha breathes in relief. "Yeah."

Then, you decide to just mend the bond. You lean in and wrap your arms tightly around her. For a moment, she doesn't move. And then, she turns and puts her arms around you, too.

You start crying again, though you're not sure why. You try to hold the tears in but one escapes and your breath catches.

"What's wrong?" Natasha asks without moving.

"Everyone online hates me." You whimper.

"What do you mean?" She holds you tighter.

"They say I'm the knock-off version of you." And, honestly, you feel that a weight has lifted off your chest as you finally admit that out loud.

"They're very wrong." She says. "You're all the good parts of me. Plus, you're a badass on your own. You can run so much faster than me and you aren't weighed down so much by the past. They don't know what they're talking about. You're amazing."

"Really?" You say through your sobs.

"Yes." She makes eye contact with you to make you listen. "Really. I've wasted all this time being mad at you when I could've been-"

The end of her sentence hangs in the air and she gently starts to sway you back and forth as she keeps holding you tight.

"Everything will be alright," she whispers into your ear.

You feel yourself starting to calm down enough to take a few deep breaths.

"You wanna watch something? Would that help take your mind off it?" Natasha suggests.

You nod.

"Okay. I'm going to get you some water. You find a movie, I'll be right back."

You nod again.

You search for the Hunger Games and she returns a minute later with a glass of water. She smiles when she sees the TV.

"I actually do like this movie, too. I was lying about that."

"I know," you giggle.

She hands you the water and helps steady your shaking hands. The warmth of her hands on your's makes your heart beat just a little bit faster.

You take a few sips of water and place the glass on your nightstand. Then you lay back into your pillows, gesturing for Natasha to lay next to you. She is slightly hesitant but follows suit regardless.

A few minutes into the movie and a twinge of sadness sparks in your heart again. You curl up to Natasha's side to help ease the pain. She puts her arm around you, and you let the warmth flood any emotion away.

The Reaping isn't even over before you fall asleep.

💫

"Well, that's a dramatic turn-of-events," Tony's voice wakes you up.

"Fuck off," Natasha tells him. You hear him mutter something and walk away. You giggle into her chest. "Morning."

"Good morning!" You smile bright squeezing your tired eyes shut against the slits of sun on your face.

"Feeling better?" She kisses the top of your head, making you blush.

"Yeah, thank you." You wrap your arm around her and give her a hug. She brings her other arm up and hugs you back.

"Of course."

And you had the best morning just laying there for an hour.

Thanks for reading! Don't steal, I'll come for u :p

Buy me a coffee?

[chryza]

Masterpost of what I think about you based on who you simp for in FFXIV I’m going to try and include as many characters I’ve vibe checked as possible but if yours isn’t here comment them and I’ll give you a custom roast for free. If I forgot someone, please refrain from saying “How could you forget x” I have three different memory disorders okay I did my best 😭

The Scions

Minfilia-You think a woman’s tits can redeem anything bad about her and you’re right.

Lyse-You’re a lesbian with a hard-on for destroying capitalism to the point where your friends ask you to maybe tone it down a little

Papalymo-Ur into dads. Not dilfs. Just dads.

Thancred-You like your men ROGUEISH and BLOODIED and BEATEN and BABYGIRLED

Urianger-You have autism or you are currently in an irl relationship with someone who has autism. Thank you for your service

Y’Shtola-okay little sun. (You enjoy being verbally degraded, so this is for you, a compliment)

Tataru-I love you. You want someone who can cook for you and tease you and who in turn you will shower with affection which is the only currency you have to offer

Estinien-I’m gonna be honest the only thing I can offer here is that you like brooding men who are idiots. Don’t go for a joint bank account.

G’raha-If you like GRAHA then you desire strongly a partner you can cuddle like a stuffed animal if you like THE EXARCH then you are a bottom and you like the dark academia aesthetic

Krile-You need a partner that will fill the emotional void left by your mommy issues

Moenbryda-You have autism but you kin urianger instead of crushing on him. Or ur just really into chicks who can crush you with their thighs and you’re mad that people turned it into a meme

ARR

Kan-E-Senna-I don’t believe you. You’ll have to defend yourself to me in a trial by combat

Merlwyb-Your perfect first date is dying side by side with the person you love as you fight for your lives but you’ll probably end up getting a coffee or something

Nanamo-you are SO into the princess and knight aesthetic thing, you LOVE fairytales so much.

Raubahn-You like men with an “I can fix him” flair but who have already been fixed. You’re also touch starved

Lahabrea-The line between annoyance and attraction is a tightrope you walk every day but by god you’re walking it

Cid-GOD you love himbos it’s not even a “haha I love stupid men” thing to you it’s a REQUIREMENT, the men you date need a HIMBO RESUME

Gaius-Your devotion is impressive. No one can tell you what to do with your life. I think you’re a Jane Austen protagonist.

Nero-SCRUNGLY SKRUNKLY MAN HAG BLORBO HEHEHHEHE EVIL SCIENCE

Heavensward

Haurchefant-I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Why don’t you wrap yourself in a blanket and pretend like he’s the one holding you.

Aymeric-Objectively the most stable main character in this godforsaken game, you take your husband material seriously.

Lucia-You’re a lesbian who mains warrior, I shan’t elaborate

Edmont-pathological dilf/gilf enjoyer to the point where you need help and/or jesus

Artoirel-your dream is to become one half of the most powerful power couple to ever power

Emmanellain-You’re gay in a hipster filter flower crowns cavetown kind of way

Ysayle- You were chronically disappointed by stormblood. You say everyone is out of your league but chin up champ, ysayle wanted to fuck a dragon and probably did so you can’t be that bad

Hraesvelgr- ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Igeyorhm-What does it matter if a female character is developed, you are horny in the here and now and that’s more important. You probably think femdom is hot too 👀

Stormblood (god help me)

To preface-if any character from stormblood is your simp of choice you automatically get a sticker that says WEEB slapped on your forehead.

Yugiri-I feel like you listen to metal and keep neat pets like tarantulas or snakes. I cannot explain why.

Gosetsu-For want of a proper bushido character you settled on him but then when the Tsuyu plotline happened you genuinely fell in love with him. Kind of a DILF, reblog.

Hien-himbo connoisseur. You own a sword.

Sadu-WOMEN. BIG FAN OF W O M E N. That’s your only personality trait rn but that’s okay, life’s hard.

Zenos-you are a godless degenerate who is unironically into BDSM (it’s okay me too)

Yotsuyu- You know she’s a femme fatale. You know there’s no way that’s going to end well. But you are so allured by her viciousness and tragic backstory what does it matter that you’ll end up dead on the floor. “I can fix her” yeah keep telling yourself that bud.

Fordola-you are genuinely one of the sweetest people in the world and I think you COULD fix her actually.

Asahi-Liar, you’re a fandaniel simp

Shadowbringers

Lyna-you believe drinking your respect women juice is not only an obligation but an honor and you still avert your eyes from the Victoria’s Secret posters in the mall

Kai-Shirr-HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Runar- I feel like I can’t even call you a furry in bad faith. You just love nice men that much. Who cares if he’s a lion.

Feo Ul-Trans. You definitely have an au where the WoL took them up on their offer to become King Titania.

Ran’jit-I…don’t believe you? You’ll have to explain to me why you like him

Ardbert-So soft. So nice. Hnnnn oh yeah we were talking about you. You’re not a himbo enjoyer because you do prefer men who have some brain cells but you DO like em sad and you DO like em muscley

Emet-Selch- He is the character who in the entire game the story tries its hardest to make us simp for. It worked. The only thing I can do is quote another video on this same subject: You are DISEASED.

Elidibus-Someone hits u with the 🥺 and you melt like butter. Your favorite activity is peace and quiet.

Endwalker

Fandaniel-You self-identify as a goblin. You were a theatre kid. You love that he’s sad and insane but you don’t want to fix him. That would ruin the appeal.

Ameliance-“Bro I said I wanted to fuck Ameliance as a joke but bro….I don’t think it’s a joke anymore”

Nidhana-You’re correct. About everything. You’ve never been wrong. You own booty shorts that say “I love women in STEM” on the ass

Vrtra- ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Jullus-for you, enemies to lovers isn’t just a trope, it’s a lifestyle

Venat-📸 hmm? Oh sorry that was just me taking a picture of you admitting you desperately crave someone to take care of you. Mommy issues. NEXT!

Hermes-you adamantly differentiate between Hermes and Fandaniel, but at what point must the line be drawn for your “I can fix him” complex to kick in hmm??

Hythlodaeus-You have a praise kink. (You also should come be my friend. We can simp for him together ☺️)

[myveryownfanfiction]

Chapter 12

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

Warnings: mention of sexual content

AN: Just watched lost boys in prep for a con (I met Alex winter!!!!) so I’m bringing David back! If only for a little while

When I woke up again, we were in my bed at the apartment. I scowled before burying my face into David’s bare chest. He chuckled before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Yeah it still feels like one hell of a hangover.” I groaned as David moved away from me.

“You could have warned me about that.” I slowly rolled onto my back and rubbed my eyes. David’s laugh drew me back to the land of the living. “What?”

“(Y/F/N) knows you quit and wants to talk.” He waved a piece of paper at me from over by the door. I blushed as I took him in in all his glory. He smirked as he walked back over to me. “I’m sure she can wait though.” I laughed as David climbed on top of me. His weight was balanced on his forearms next to my head. Leaning down, he kissed me. I ran a hand through his hair, keeping him in place. There was a knock on my door and David’s head fell next to mine. I giggled before responding.

“Yeah?” David pushed off me and started to take off his shirt. I looked over at him with a furrowed brow and had to fight every instinct I had to keep from looking at his chest.

“Can we talk?” (Y/F/N)’s voice carried through the door. David settled down next to me and pulled me back so I was laying on his chest. My hand instinctively came up to play with the hair on his chest.

“Uh…” I looked at David and bit my lip. “Sure. We’ve got the blanket on.” (Y/F/N)’s laugh got louder as she slowly opened the door and came in. I raised my head and leaned over David a bit more than I was before. I could feel him laughing silently behind me and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

“Hi David.” They waved as they walked in. David waved back. “So max told me you quit?” I nodded. “What’s that about?” I swallowed before biting my lip.

“Yeah. I did.” David squeezed my arm as I looked over at (Y/F/N). “Look there’s some stuff that max told me that I just couldn’t agree with. About David and about some things he might want to do in the store to keep him and the boys out. Other people he deemed unsavory.” I trailed off and looked at David over my shoulder. “And while he’s always been like my dad, he crossed a line. I get that he’s protective of me and wants what is best but he has to learn to let me go. I love David and I’m not going to let max torment him the way he does without saying something.” (Y/F/N) nodded.

“So this has nothing to do with what Marko told me? About him and David and the other boys? You too now?” I froze before sitting up, the blanket falling away and revealing that David and I hadn’t been up to anything.

“Marko told you?” David asked as he sat up as well. (Y/F/N) nodded. “How…” his eyes flickered to me. “How did you take it?” They shrugged.

“It is what it is. Mr. Emerson always thought there were vamps here. That’s why he stays far away from town. His stories always made sense to me.” I let out a sigh of relief. “Look the three of you being vamps isn’t anything crazy to me. It’s fine. This can be a safe haven for all of you.” David wrapped his arms around me as I sighed.

“Thank you.” David murmured against my temple.

“I did break things off with Marko though. In case there’s any issues with him.” David nodded. “He said we could make it work but I didn’t exactly see a reason for him to get attached when it won’t last. I wouldn’t put him through watching me get old.” I looked at David who avoided my eyes. There was a long pause. “Anyway, I have to go to work. Blinds are all closed. It’s around noon. Go to sleep. Hang out in the apartment. I don’t care. See you two later.” We waved them out and David laid back against my headboard.

“I can put my shirt back on if you want.” David broke the silence. I shook my head as I chuckled.

“It’s fine.” I put my head back down and resumed tracing shapes on his chest.

“Feels nice.” David sighed after a while. I hummed in response. “For what it’s worth, I would have tried to turn you at some point. Probably in a couple years if we were still together.” I looked up at him and caught his eye.

“you would?” He smiled down at me.

“Sure. You know I wouldn’t let you go.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead and I closed my eyes in contentment. “And you’ve seen how attached I am to you. If I thought there was anything to this relationship at all, which I do, I’d have told you on my terms and shown you. And then turned you. If you chose to.” I smiled up at him.

“I wouldn’t change how I found out though.” I pressed a kiss to his chest, just above his heart. “Even though I said all that nasty stuff to you. Which I’m sorry about by the way.” David chuckled. “Why did I have this instinct to…” David smiled as he looked down at me.

“protect me? Cover me?” I nodded. “That’s part of the transition. At least for you. And I’ve been shifting as well. I have that urge too. I turned you out of love. Which…” he trailed off as something seemed to dawn on him. “That makes us mates.” I sat up so I could look in his eyes. “It means we’re basically bonded for the rest of our lives now.” I nodded slowly.

“So we can’t really walk away now can we?” David shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really think it through before I did it. I was just so worried…” I gently cupped his face and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“hey. Hey. Hey. I don’t care.” The storm raging in David’s eyes calmed. “I love you. Ok? I know we don’t say it nearly enough but I do. It’s perfectly alright. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” David chuckled as he pressed another kiss to my lips. He didn’t stop and I giggled as his stubble tickled my cheek.

“I love you too.” He whispered between kisses. Soon David had me laying against the pillows with his arms framing my head again. Clothes had been scattered around the room before he pressed another kiss to my cheek. I wrapped my arms around him and one of my legs was resting around his waist. “Where were we before?” He licked his lips before kissing me roughly.

[aemonds-sapphire]

Slow Down — Hawks x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Hawks was known as “the man who’s too fast for his own good”. Unfortunately, he lived up to that title in nearly every aspect of his life. Even during sex. So when he asked for your help, you just couldn’t say no.

Warnings: NSFW. Needy!Hawks (hints of sub!Hawks AND dom!Hawks). Premature ejaculation. Edging. Orgasm denial. Masturbation. Overstimulation. Vaginal fingering. Blowjob. Breathplay. Cumplay.

Word count: 2.6k

“You need to relax, Hawks.”

The muscles on his toned thighs quivered lightly before loosening up under your palms. Beads of sweat pooled along his brow line and heaving bare chest. His golden eyes would settle anywhere but on you.

You two had been at this for only five minutes, but doubt started brewing inside you as to whether or not he’d last much longer than this.

As the young hero visibly calmed down, you decided it was time to resume resume what you had been asked to do: help pro hero number two Hawks from busting his load too quickly.

Your fingers curled around his cock once more, gaining a hiss from him as his hips lifted from the couch.

He was extremely responsive to your every touch, and while that might do wonders to anyone’s ego, it would all be over too soon if caution wasn’t exercised.

See, Hawks would often joke around with “the man who’s too fast for his own good” title that had been given to him. But the joke would fall flat now that he had realized his performance in bed was hindered.

A few more slow tentative pumps along his cock and you saw him balling his fists.

“Hawks... you need to look at me while I do this.”

An exasperated groan. “I can’t.”

“You have to,” you insisted, rubbing your thumb across his leaking tip. “Otherwise, you won’t make much progress.”

“I’ll fucking cum if I look...” he rasped through gritted teeth.

His scarlet wings twitched momentarily as you leaned in to place a butterfly kiss on the tip, gathering a few drops of precum on your lips as you did so.

“I wanna...” Hawks’ deep voice suddenly emerged. “I wanna fuck your mouth.”

You licked your lips and tasted him for the first time in a while. In all honesty, you yourself weren’t sure of what you’d call whatever this was. Friends with benefits was an overkill, but calling him just your friend didn’t fit either.

So you remained stuck in this limbo.

“Look at me first,” you told him, tightening your grip around him. “Keigo!”

The young man’s eyes finally locked with yours at the mention of his real name, and you seized the moment to drag your tongue along the underside of his cock.

“Fuck... you’re the best at this... your tongue...” he started off well, but his eyes quickly fluttered shut as one hand reached out to grip your chin tightly.

You yanked away from his, chuckling at his failed attempt at asserting dominance. “Flattery will get you nowhere, bird boy. You were the one who asked for my help, so do as I say.”

You had gone as far as to look up a few methods to extend his endurance, and this was the one you ended up choosing for convenience purposes. Hawks could just easily drop by your place for a quick session.

And even though the extent of your sexual experience with Hawks was limited to a few making out sessions, some blowjobs, and him eating you out from time to time, you knew from the get go that this cock wouldn’t last long inside a pussy.

But it was never your issue; at least he never made it to be, until he asked for your help, since it proved to be quite damaging to his male ego.

He was growing impatient by the minute, but you didn’t waver, even tough the growing damp spot in your panties served as a reminder of how badly you wanted to heed is request and just suck him off right then and there.

“You’re a meanie,” he pouted as he glared at the hand pumping him. “Fuck...”

Your lips curled into a devious smile. “You’re doing great, pretty bird.”

Praising Hawks was definitely the way to his heart — and apparently to his dick as it twitched under your palm.

Seeing that he was enduring your touch without breaking eye contact, you brought your lips to close around the head of his cock; his hips immediately jolted upwards, catching you off guard as he let out a sigh of pure bliss once he was halfway buried inside your mouth.

You promptly raked your teeth across the sensitive skin, which had him sliding out at lightning speed.

“Are you serious?” You scolded his boldness.

A boyish smile curled his lips. “100%.”

You smacked his thigh. Hawks and his damn percentages.

“No teeth!” he then protested, his beautiful features twisted into a deep frown.

“Then behave.”

He merely nodded, eyeing you eagerly as you wrapped your lips around him once again. The hand you had on his thigh felt him tense up, but he was definitely getting better at controlling his instinctive reflexes. You decided to take it up a notch and stare directly into his eyes as your lips parted to take more of him. Just as you’d expected, he bucked his hips into you, but this time you let him set the pace.

“Deeper... you can take more than that,” he said in between moans, pressing his thumb on your chin to have you open your mouth wider to take his thick cock.

You decided to indulge him for a while, testing his limit. Slowly, you allowed him to guide you all the way down on him with thumb now caressing your skin as his other hand clasped around your nape to keep you in place.

Thankfully, your breathing was trained enough to have him balls deep and grazing your throat without taking a toll on you. Your nose grazed the base of his cock briefly, and you swallowed.

Hard.

“Fuck-fuck-fuuuck!” he growled, wrapping his fingers around your neck to feel the faint bulge; his hips rising from the couch to make sure he remained buried deep inside you.

That was your cue. You instantly had both hands on his thighs and pulled away, earning a disappointed cry from him.

“Fuck no! I was not even close!” Hhe whined childishly, his back slumping into the couch in defeat.

You arched an eyebrow, noticing a string of saliva dangling between your owner lip and his tip. “Yes, you were. Stop trying to dom me and just let me help.”

It was in his nature, you figured. He had been raised by the commission to be one step ahead and not let anyone take advantage of him, so you weren’t at all surprised that this translated to his intimate side as well. But for someone who was so used to being told what to do and taking orders, Hawks sucked at doing so even when it was in his best interest.

He huffed in annoyance, but remained silent.

You glared at his cock momentarily, not being able to keep your pussy from clenching. This man was annoyingly pretty. Even his long and hard cock was pretty, having a slight curve to it and a nice and round bulbous head. Your eyes then shifted to his full balls, and you brought your fingers to fondle each one carefully, drawing delicious moans from him.

“You gonna keep staring or are you gonna suck it?”

You offered a teasing smile. “You shouldn’t make demands when I have you in my hand. Literally.”

Hawks’ eyes widened slightly. “Just let me cum.”

“You sure?”

He nodded before motioning you to shift closer with his index finger. “C’mere...”

Your panties were fully soaked by now, and as much as you wanted to resist him, it was getting harder to pull away from having him coming undone because of you.

Slowly, your tongue darted out to give his tip a short lick, but this time you let his cock slide all the way in without letting go of his balls.

He stuttered incoherently. “S-Slow... go—go... slow...”

You twirled your tongue across the protruding veins, letting his shaft reach your throat easily, strings of precum mixed with your saliva began pooling around the corners on your mouth and soon started dripping down your chin. Not wanting to go overboard, you stilled, not even daring to swallow.

His hands were gripping the edge of the couch so tightly that his knuckled were turning white; it was rather obvious that he was fighting off his impending orgasm with determination.

But as soon as you started swallowing around him, allowing your throat to ripple along his cock, Hawks’ mouth fell open in a profound growl.

“I’m... I’m gonna...” his wings were stretched all the way up to the ceiling, his long red feathers vibrating rhythmically with each roll from his hips.

Yes, he was going to.

His hips jerked in a broken rhythm as he attempted to fuck your mouth, nearing his orgasm rapidly. Once he started panting heavily and his moans became ragged, you slid off his cock.

“FUCK!” Hawks yelled in sheer frustration as his hips were left bucking against nothing but cool air.

You sat back, admiring how annoyed you’d left him yet again. It was always fun to tease him like that. He wasn’t used to not having things go his way, so you made it your mission to humble him down every once in a while.

The young hero groaned through gritted teeth, burying his face in his hands. “This is evil!”

“Deep breaths,” you chose to ignore his remark, placing your hands on his quivering thighs. “Calm down, Keigo...”

His entire body was shaking from the pent up tension. He might be a pro hero, but he was still human after all; even though he wasn’t used to being edged and overstimulated, you had to admit he was doing quite well.

Except for the strangled sobs that erupted from his throat and the few tears that slid down his flushed cheeks.

“Just... let.... me... no more....” he pleaded sheepishly, wrapping his own hand around his cock and pumping it a few times in desperation.

“Keigo... deep breaths,” you said, unhooking his fingers away from him.

He shook his head, eyes closed shut. “No... let me cum... please...”

“Hands off your cock,” you told him, placing them on the edge of the couch. “Don’t touch it. You need to cool off.”

This side of him proved to be unexpectedly alluring and empowering. Having a pro hero squirming and begging and completely desperate for release was something that you didn’t know you needed to witness.

A few long minutes rolled by.

Hawks’ breathing became more even and his beautiful face was no longer contorting from the pain of having his orgasm denied for the first time ever.

Your hands caressed his relaxed thighs with every ounce of affection you could muster. “See? You did so good, baby...”

Hawks brushed sweat-damp locks of golden hair away from his forehead, his eyes fixed on yours. “This hurts... real bad...”

His hard and veiny cock was slapped flat against his lower abdomen, precum still dripping from the tip.

“I think it’s time for you to cum,” you suggested with an understanding smile.

“You think?” Hawks chuckled sarcastically, his voice filled with annoyance.

Not wanting to summon a very angry Hawks, you massaged his sack for a few seconds, enjoying how his cock twitched with each stroke.

“Go on. Fuck my mouth.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, he lunged forward to grip his cock and have his hand grasp the back of your head.

His predatory instinct finally took over. “Open.”

You promptly complied, and he wasted no time shoving his cock inside you.

“Wider,” he grunted, forcing your chin down with his thumb. This sudden shift in his demeanor caused you to struggle to taking in all of it while trying to control your breathing through your nose.

Big mistake.

Hawks quickly caught on to what you were attempting to do, and he pinched your nose with his index finger and thumb.

“Told you,” he growled in satisfaction, watching you swallow his entire cock. “Deeper.”

Your eyes were stinging with tears from and you felt your swollen clit throb as he kept himself lodged in your throat. His other hand wrapped around your throat once again.

“Swallow.”

Your vision began to blur, but you told yourself to relax even though you struggled to breathe.

You swallowed once before he finally let go of your nose, fully enjoying how you were gasping around him and feeling his cock swelling up your neck through his fingers. You had tried breath play with him once, but this time it felt rougher an aroused you far more. He wasn’t usually this hungry, but then again you had never taunted him this much.

His hips rose at a fast pace as he fucked your mouth mercilessly, grunting and praising you. You weren’t able to keep the drool from spilling out and down your chin with each thrust.

“Touch yourself.”

You looked up in surprise, but readily slid one hand downwards and shoved it inside your panties, so you could finally relieve some of the tension that had built up in your swollen clit.

A low moan rippled through you throat as you rubbed yourself.

“Do that again... do...” he panted, completely lost in pleasure as his wings quivered around him steadily.

Sliding one finger inside your drenched pussy, you started fingering yourself, eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming sensation.

“I’m gonna... fuck....”

Your other hand was gripping his thigh to keep yourself stable, and as he quickened the pace, you found out that he was defying your gag reflex.

“You gonna swallow all of it...” he grunted with a final jerk of his hips, burying himself so deep inside you that your nose was fully pressed against the base of his cock.

Tears streamed down your face as hot sprays of cum started spurting down your throat, and you struggled to keep it all down, the excess mixing up with your saliva and dripping from your mouth.

Hawks let out an animalistic growl as he emptied himself inside you, and you found yourself facing yourself with two fingers, riding after your on high as he massaged your throat.

“So pretty...” he panted, pulling his cock out and pressing your head to rest on his thigh. “Wanna cum, too?”

You nodded tiredly, feeling your spit running down the side of his thigh, but you just couldn’t help from keeping your mouth open as you gasped in pleasure.

“C’mere.” He ended up saying, helping you to get on your feet and to sit on his lap. “I’ll do that.”

He brushed his thumb across your chin to wipe off the mixture of cum and spit and brought it to his lips to taste it.

“Good?” You smiled in surprise.

He flashed you his trademark wide grin. “Amazing. Now, let me help.”

You welcomed his invitation, and lowered your head to rest on his shoulder, his hot body fully pressed against yours.

Two long fingers slipped inside your pussy and he started fingering you rapidly, making sure his palm rubbed your swollen clit. It didn’t take you long to get washed over in your own orgasm. It probably had something to do with how good he was with his fingers, but also because you had managed to edge yourself from edging him. How ironic.

Hawks planted a kiss on your forehead, enveloping both of you with his large wings. “That was quick. Maybe you need some help too, eh?”

A low chuckled rumbled in your chest. “Don’t flatter yourself, Keigo. It was like 70% built up tension from edging you.”

“Just 30% from my fingers?” He feigned hurt.

You paused for a few seconds. “Maybe 20%?”

“And the other 10%?”

“From my fingers,” you shot sticking out your tongue to him teasingly.

He clicked his tongue. “So my fingers are better than yours. Noted.”

“That was not what I meant!” You laughed, not at all surprised by his deduction.

“Math never lies,” he winked adoringly.

Yes. You were definitely going to stick around to help him with this.

-

Masterlist

[thewayshedreamed]

Hello my lovely! Congrats on 800!! 💋 I have, of course, a smutty Elriel prompt for you. 😉 However, I can’t seem to choose between the two. So, how about you surprise me?

5. Just let me finish this/this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you finish at least three times.

Or

18. If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.

👅🥵

Hi, my dear Tay! As requested, here is some shameless Elriel smut for you!

I went with this prompt (I got the other one for Nessian, too, so I wanted to give this one its own)—

5. Just let me finish this/this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you finish at least three times.

I also combined this with a smut prompt from @achelois-daughter [thank you so much for sending it in!]— “I’ll think about this when I’m jerking off later.”

This is another one that refused to be contained to a word limit. You and @perseusannabeth broke me, but I'm not even mad about it. 

NSFW. At all.

[too many] words.

----

As much as Elain loved watching her boyfriend play pool against his brother, it was causing her some issues. For one, they were in public, so she was trying to keep from ogling him as shamelessly as usual. The game itself created some challenges considering he was often bent over the table, the muscles of his back rippling beneath his charcoal tee as he squared up his shot. The sight was enough to tempt her to slip her body between him and the table, to let him bend her over it, too.

"I know that look," a dark voice rasped. Elain blinked, realizing she had long since drifted into her vivid daydream.

Azriel stood in front of her, holding the pool stick in a loose grip to keep it from falling over. He tapped it mindlessly a couple of times on the bar floor and used his free hand to slide up one of Elain's thighs. She spread them to give him space, hoping his firm ministrations over her skin wouldn't send her toppling backward off the bar stool. She didn't bother with coy.

"We should go."

Azriel leaned in to nip her ear, his rough chuckle sending gooseflesh down to her toes. Her hands settled on his waist, but she couldn't promise they wouldn't wander the longer he stood there.

"The others will know why we're leaving if we go mid-game."

"That's fine," she challenged, leaning her head toward his affections. "Let's go. Please."

He pulled back with a glint in his eye that told her he was pleased with her manners. She wasn't above begging if that's what he wanted, but he wasn't that easily deterred. Azriel could be such a tease.

"Just let me finish this, and I swear I'll go down on you until you finish," he rasped. "At least three times." Dark promise was laced into his every word.

An embarrassing sound left her throat before he gave her a gentle squeeze and resumed the game. With each passing turn, Elain was dangerously close to walking over and shoving each pool ball into a pocket by hand. Finally, Cassian won, and they were shoving through the bar hand-in-hand toward Azriel's car.

His eyes were impossibly dark once they were inside. He gripped her by the back of the neck to pull her into a rough kiss, muttered a low curse, and turned toward the steering wheel to start driving.

Elain was almost squirming in her seat. The tension between her thighs was enough to snap, and with each passing minute, she had to resist the urge to run her hand below her waistband to take care of the ache herself.

As if reading her mind, Azriel gripped her thigh to bend her knee and prop it against the center console. His fingers trailed down the inside of her thigh, and without taking his eyes off the turn he made, he slid his hand beneath the hem of her skirt. His clever fingers dragged over the thin cloth of her underwear, and she bit her lip when they dipped beneath to stroke her.

"Fuck," he muttered, his dark gaze sliding to her and back to the road. "How long have you been this soaked, El?"

Her head hit the rest, her eyes rolling at the divine pressure he applied. She moaned into the quiet car, fighting the urge to ride Azriel's hand.

"I—" Her breath hitched at his increased pressure. She swallowed to compose herself. "I tried to tell you we should go."

"Baby," he chided. "You didn't tell me you were aching like this."

Her teeth pinched her bottom lip, her eyelids suddenly too heavy to keep open. Elain gave herself over to his soft ministrations while trying not to scandalize anyone driving alongside them. Traffic moved quickly, so her odds of being caught were low. Her luck had never been the best in that department though.

Azriel pulled his hand away slightly, but before she could let out a whimper of protest, his finger hooked the elastic of her underwear. He let it go with a soft pop as he rasped, “Get rid of these for me.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Shoving them down her legs, she pulled them from around her ankles and placed them in his outstretched hand without question. Azriel tucked them into the pocket of his jeans to save her any unintentional scandals the next time someone rode in his car. There was no chance she would remember to grab them upon their arrival at the apartment.

Azriel's hand returned to where she wanted him— no, needed him— the most. He parted her with his fingers, trailing down to tease her opening before pushing two fingers inside her. His eyes never left the road, not even when Elain looped her arm through his and dug her nails into the cotton covering his bicep. The muscles worked beneath her hand in time with his fingers, and something about the added sensation beneath her palm had her leaning her head against his shoulder as he worked her.

Elain's breath hitched when his palm tucked tightly against that sensitive bundle of nerves he'd teased before, and she turned her face to muffle her cries against his arm. Her restraint snapped, her hips rolling shamelessly of their own accord. She was already so close, and they hadn't yet managed the 15-minute drive. Azriel curled his fingers tighter, and the intensity of her pleasure had her free arm jutting out to grip the dash.

His breath was warm against her ear when he nipped the delicate skin, his voice gravelly when he asked, "Who are you holding back for, El? I want to hear those sweet little sounds you make."

With another thrust of her hips, her release taunted a blazing bath down her spine. Every muscle grew tired under the tension, and she gave herself over to it, leaning back in her seat and gripping the headrest with her hand. The other still pressed crescent moons into his skin, her whimper filling the car and her back tightly arched. Gods, she hoped no one was in the neighboring lane, but at least Azriel had the good sense to keep her skirt draped over his hand to avoid exposing her. Not that her blissed out expression left any room for imagination.

"Az," she cried. "Fuck. Please. I—" Did she remember how to construct a complete sentence? Did she care?

The heel of his palm ground harder against her, and she shattered. A string of incoherent sounds left her as she came, only interrupted by Azriel's deep groan at the way she pulsed around his fingers. Her hips rolled until the waves settled, her body trembling when he slowly slid his fingers from her. He brought his fingers to his mouth to clean them before adjusting his hardness roughly in his jeans, moaning shamelessly into the quiet. The sound made Elain's blood heat, and she reached for his lap, eager to bring him even a fraction of the pleasure he'd given her.

To her disappointment, Azriel stopped her and laced their fingers together. They pulled into the parking lot, and he whipped into a parking spot with a palm pressed against the steering wheel. The ignition had barely died when his mouth was on hers once more.

"I need to get you inside," he growled, sliding his tongue alongside hers.

Elain grew impatient and reached for him. Much to her irritation, he stopped her again.

"That wasn't the deal. I'm looking forward to having you come on my tongue." He winked and opened the door. The light of the car cast a glow over them and showed the mischief dancing in his bright hazel eyes. "That one didn't count toward your three, by the way." Elain wasn't sure she could manage three more, but she didn't dare discourage him.

With that, he stood and shut the door behind him. His legs carried him over to her door in only a few long strides before he was pulling her out of her seat and leading her to the door hand-in-hand. His urgency was the only thing that kept her wobbly legs beneath her while he fiddled with his keys and gained entry to the apartment. One quick pivot, and he had her against the wall inside, the planes of his body pressing deliciously into hers.

His kiss was sure, demanding. Elain could hardly keep up with how ravenous he was in seeking her pleasure, especially as his strong hands gripped her hips and guided her toward the table in the entry way. Without a word, Elain slid on top, sending various objects careening to the floor.

Azriel was on his knees before she could blink, his tongue parting her in a long, fluid stroke. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of the table with one hand, and the other slid into his hair to allow her some tether to reality. He groaned at the feel of her nails scraping at his scalp, only spurring his eagerness.

Her thighs were perched over his broad shoulders, and his long, skilled fingers pressed into each of her thighs as he worked. He alternated between long sweeps of his tongue and flicks over her sensitive bud, and it only took a few passes to have her throwing her head back as she came again. He tapped her thigh with a finger, but he didn't say a word while he worked her down from her high. She guessed he had plans to move them; further evidenced by his standing, his powerful hands gripping her waist and hauling her body against his on the way to the couch.

He deposited her roughly beneath him, his hands firm and impatient over the curves of her body, her petite breasts. Elain whimpered at the loss of his weight when he eased onto his knees, tearing roughly at her clothes to bare her entirely.

"Fuck," he growled.

She could feel the heat of his gaze over every inch of her body. She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, knowing the lean lines of her body tortured him and tested his self-control. His knowing gaze met hers while he draped her leg over the back of the couch and shifted back to lay on his stomach. To accommodate his height, he straddled the couch; one leg bent behind him and the other knee supporting his weight against the floor. Elain draped her other leg over his shoulder before he got the chance, filling his expression with sheer determination as he gripped her thighs and pulled her roughly against his face.

His grip loosened on the thigh draped over the couch, and his knuckles dragged delicately along the back in a teasing path. Elain keened at the contrast of his delicate fingers and the strong hold of his other hand, sending her in search of anything to hold onto as he teased her. While she appreciated the delay to give her body time to recover from two earth-tilting orgasms, impatience crept over her skin like a faint breeze. How Azriel managed to kindle both in her simultaneously, she would never understand. She would never complain, either.

Like a man starved, Azriel dragged his tongue in slow torment up her center and back down to her opening. The broad pad of his thumb pressed against her clit, earning a choked cry from deep in her throat. That pressure continued in slow, concentric circles while his tongue worshipped her in time. Elain dissolved into incoherent cries, chopped words and curses, and futile attempts to roll her hips. Azriel's other hand never let up its hold, and it was enough to keep her lower body resolutely in place.

All it took to send her over the proverbial edge was the slide of his tongue against her opening, the way he curved it just inside to press against the textured skin of her inner walls. Elain bowed under the force of her release, crying out to the gods as if it was enough to worship them through the echoes against the walls.

Elain relaxed the tension in the muscles of her back, noting the light sheen of sweat erupting over her body. Azriel applied grounding pressure to her clit while she panted, the fingers of his other hand tapping her thigh. Her eyes snapped open to see his eyes on her, and she tried to communicate with her eyes that there was no way she could manage another change in location. That was until she realized the motion of his fingers differed slightly from before, a gentle double tap against her skin compared to a single tap when she came atop the entryway table. The mischief in his eyes confirmed her suspicion and sent a spark of incredulity down her spine.

The cocky bastard was counting*.*

Elain wanted to be annoyed at his presumption, but who was she kidding? Azriel played her body with the skill of a musical prodigy. He knew exactly what he did to her and how often. The signals of her pleasure were imprinted within the steel trap of his mind, and all she could muster was gratitude for it.

She offered a sleepy, sated smile, running her stiff fingers through his dark hair. The kisses he pressed to her inner thighs were gentle, even though she noticed how his hips ground against the couch cushion. She cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb over his elegant cheekbone.

"You're too good to me," she rasped, her breath hitching when his mouth pressed against her center.

Azriel grunted his approval. "I'm not done with you yet, baby."

Elain drew her bottom lip between her teeth and dropped her head against the couch. "Let me take care of you, too," she pleaded, "before you fuck me boneless."

His dark chuckle made her skin erupt in gooseflesh, and she knew before he said a word that he would refuse her.

"I'm a man of my word." Why did she bother arguing with him? "The last thing I want you to worry about is me, alright?" Another kiss to her core, a flick of his tongue over her clit. "I'll think about this, about you, when I'm jerking off later."

With that, he released his grip on her thigh in favor of pinning her open for him with his other hand. His attention returned to her core, sending her resolve, her common sense, any principle out the window with her pride. She reached over her head to grip the cushion along its seam against the arm of the couch, fighting and failing to keep her hips still in the process.

Azriel wasn't deterred by her undulations. His lips shifted their attention to her sensitive— too sensitive— bud, massaging it with the lightest suction to avoid overstimulating her. His finger slipped into her without resistance, and he halted his advance to pull back and insert a second finger alongside it.

The pressure was divine, the stretch around his fingers— perfect. Elain moaned shamelessly, uncaring that her hips were frantic or that she was covered in that fine layer of sweat from her scalp to the tips of her curled toes. He had reduced her to a rolling, begging mess. The edge of release burned through her tired muscles, screamed against the building tension. How much pleasure could she afford before her body gave up entirely?

Az moaned at her growing wetness, growled at the withering mess she was. Despite the guttural reaction he had to her arousal, his lips remained gentle while he crooked his talented fingers at the perfect angle. Elain's thighs trembled under the force of her climax. Her voice was little more than a sob when she called out his name among other, barely coherent, words of praise. He eased her down from the pleasure and braced her with a hand against her lower abdomen to ease his fingers out of her.

With her eyes screwed shut, chest rising and falling in desperation, she didn't see Azriel shift onto the couch close to her. With tender fingers, he eased her iron grip from the edge of the cushions so that he could lift her into his lap. He didn't bother to tap a rhythm against her skin that time. There was no denying how hard she'd come.

Exhaustion lived in every nook of her body, leaving her limp against him the second her head hit his shoulder. She could feel his hardness against her backside, but he held her as if it didn't exist at all, petting her hair away from her face. His lips were soft against her forehead, her temple, her cheek before he stood and carried her to the bedroom, laying her atop the cool sheets.

"Sleep, baby," he murmured.

Elain barely heard the order before she followed it, tumbling into deep, contented oblivion.

----

[whltlock]

The Cosmic Horror of Gotham City

CHAPTER TWELVE / MASTERLIST / Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/Non-binary!Reader

Summary: It's time for Jason to face facts. But these facts have hands. And teeth. And, like, tear gas.

Word Count: 7760.

Your next question sounded even more suspicious. “Have you been following me?”

His eyes rolled. “No, you brat. I’m on patrol.”

“It’s a bit early.”

“It’s dark,” he countered.

Unable to devise another argument, you retorted, “Don’t call me a brat.” You stepped into his personal space as you decided to kick the heavy sole of his boot in retaliation.

Red snorted, unflinching. “You are one.”

You moved to do it again, but he stepped first and knocked you off kilter. You stumbled, trying to fix your balance so you could resume your attack. However, you stopped purely out of shock as Red suddenly grasped your chin. He held it firmly between his gloved thumb and forefinger.

All expression melted off your face, save for your wide, alert eyes that stayed on him. It was weird, looking into the red slate but unable to see much.

You weren’t sure if he pulled you closer or you leaned forward, but as the distance diminished, you were abruptly reminded of the circumstances. The lack of space meant you heard his faint breathes from beneath the disguise. If you shifted your chin a little more, you might even feel the strange pulse that beat under the skin of his wrist. Only then could you confirm that this was really happening.

If you were honest, you didn’t entirely hate the proximity. You were coming to enjoy the careful caresses others gave you. Craved it, even, after being in captivity with only wretched touch for so long.

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you tried to imagine what went through his mind. You wondered if it was anything similar.

“You’re a spoiled brat,” he said, careful to enunciate each word.

A/N: The ride's gonna be bumpy for the next few chapters, so buckle in.

Red Hood’s patrol was relatively slow that night. A few prevented muggings with a few pistol whippings in turn. And if there were some smug insults exchanged to keep things exciting, Jason would plead the fifth.

He’d managed to traipse the entirety of Gotham City in one night, following a wonky path from Old Gotham, to Chinatown, and then across the park.

He’d paced the length of Crime Alley several times over now, having checked in with the general population. He’d offered food to stragglers. Sometimes they’d accept and sometimes they wouldn’t. He didn’t blame them for the mistrust. He’d been the exact same growing up. He still was that person.

Jason let them know that the Bowery was being patrolled more often as of late; that it was perhaps a more enticing option. He didn’t think there were fights for squatter’s rights with all the available space. But safety was always a rocky issue to tackle.

The air tasted stale to him, wrought with rusty pennies. Gotham served it chilled as she did every night. Jason flexed his fingers, feeling the ache that settled in his joints. His knuckles had become harder to move with every hour and every fist thrown. He needed to make some modifications to his gloves if he wanted to stop the cold from seeping in so much. The downside, he thought, would be the diminished ability to feel anything at all through a thicker or sturdier material.

His mind flashed to an image of you. You, clambered up on his work desk, with your knee bobbing out of flagrant annoyance. It had been a standstill of sorts: he refused to give in to your self-pity or demands, and you spitefully wouldn’t leave the garage.

Jason had stood up to snatch the tablet from your hands. He was worried that you would break it—it wasn’t like he could steal anymore of the Batcave technology. But when he’d touched your knee, it was like he was possessed. He didn’t need to do that. He most definitely didn’t need to start drawing the pin code into your skin.

Surprise softened the features of your face. That look alone goaded him on. For a moment, it was safe —meaningless. Poison wouldn’t leak from his veins and broil your flesh. You weren’t really touching his skin, even if he was able to feel the steel-cold burn of yours.

But as soon as your fingers nudged his, he’d felt sick. Jason had pulled away, head bowed with a thousand billowing thoughts. You were real. Not something he could toy with, nor spurs he could hurt himself on for fun. You were a person who gave him the time of day and trusted him.

He almost choked on the guilt as he’d heard your surly parting.

His brain rewound the memory like a tape that was scratched and skipped to the start. He zeroed in on that moment again, as he looked down at you, palm on your knee. There was a flicker of something dangerous there, hidden amongst his shame. It was in the seconds as your expression changed from ire to curiosity. This time, the closeness felt different, charged with the tug of power dynamics. His heart lapped up the attention you gave him, just barely quenching his sudden impulse.

Perhaps it was merely his desire to assert himself, he considered. A misjudged, arrogant gesture to remind you of who you dealt with.

That answer, despite its easiness, sat uncomfortably with him. He was unconvinced. He hated the emotional limbo of it.

Jason’s eyes refocused, noticing his subconscious drift towards the Narrows. He remained on the side streets, although even then it was fairly crowded for this time of night. Occasionally, he’d bump shoulders with someone, but when they looked up to hurl an accusation at him, their mouth clamped shut and they instead hurried on.

Guess they didn’t want to get knocked on their ass, he almost snickered.

His phone vibrated. Jason pulled it from his pocket, willing to bet money on it being Roy or Dick.

But it wasn’t. No, it was you, with an alarming message.

YOU: SOS

Speak of the Devil, he figured.

You’d never messaged him first. His expression pinched and his heart stuttered a beat. Jason scaled the closest fire escape, pulling himself off the street. He didn’t need prying ears.

Swiftly, he dialled your number. The tone echoed for far too long. As soon as the call connected, he demanded, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m hungry,” came your sullen reply.

At first, he didn’t quite comprehend the words. The detective part of his brain torpedoed into action; he was too busy trying to catch a trace of fear in your voice, captors in the background, or any other identifiable sounds.

Understanding trickled in after a few lacklustre seconds. The adrenaline that coursed through his body slowed and shrivelled into humourlessness. Flatly, he repeated, “You’re hungry.”

“Yes.”

He was silent for a bit before, “What did I tell you?”

“This number’s for emergencies only.”

“So?”

“So, this is a burger emergency,” you said as if it were obvious.

Jason huffed in disbelief. “Is that right?”

“First of all, you texted me two days ago asking if I prefer Thai or Cantonese, so you’re full of shit—”

He sighed loudly to interrupt your tirade. He should’ve waited till he saw you in person to ask that.

“—and second, you’ll tell me off if I go now,” you finished, righteousness laced into your tone.

Of course it was the truth. He made another noise but it was muffled as he ground his face into his shoulder.

All things considered, he didn’t think a great deal of harm would come if he left patrol early. He could always swing by afterwards.

“Fine,” he grumbled. Although he would find somewhere else to go instead of the diner. That suspicious waitress seemed to work late nights, and he didn’t need her on his ass again.

Jason heard your enthused thanks right before he hung up.

Twenty minutes later, his feet landed on the balcony with a heavy clank. The noise set him off instantly—it sounded too much like loose bolts. Jason made a mental note to check the railings and ensure their structural integrity. He didn’t want to go lights out because he plummeted several stories. Worse yet if it happened to you.

By the time he looked up, you’d leapt off the couch. You lurked near the window, sizing him up with an eager smile. It only grew when you spotted the food bundled in his arms. He wanted to roll his eyes at your obvious desperation to get your hands on the bag.

Shifting closer, your fingers found the bottom of the window. You lifted the frame so it was open enough for him to slide through. He propped one leg over the sill, half-sat, then passed the bag into your awaiting arms.

You stepped back, allowing him space. He climbed through with a gruff, “Thanks.” His boots made a much more comforting thud on the floorboards. Jason shut the window before trailing after you.

You’d already gotten stuck into the food, rifling through greasy paper and napkins.

“The onion rings are...” he started, but as soon as you turned, he saw one hung from your mouth, half-devoured already. “Mine,” he said and plucked it from your lips. Too bad he couldn’t eat the soiled goods in front of you for dramatic effect, he thought.

“I just wanted one,” you whined. You rummaged for something else to munch on.

Jason pushed you out of the way with his hip, effectively vacating your pesky hands from the bag’s innards. He ignored your aggrieved mewl. Instead, he picked out the food he’d chosen. Promptly, you gobbled up the fries he handed you.

“You weren’t kidding, huh?” he asked, jest filtering into his mechanical tone.

You nodded in agreement. “I was this close to running down the street.”

Jason snorted as he imagined you raging into the nearest dining establishment. Hangry Bull Runs Wild, Destroys Everything in Path.

“Thank you for saving my life,” you uttered sincerely, your mouth full.

That pulled a laugh from him. “Might’ve saved more than one,” he joked.

You tried to voice your upset, but it was swept up in the sounds of chewing.

It wasn’t until you’d swallowed half a burger that Jason spoke again. “Why didn’t you eat earlier?”

You shrugged, not meeting his searching gaze. “I fell asleep.”

“And you didn’t think to check the fridge?”

“I did,” you told him matter-of-factly, “but my chef hadn’t prepared anything.”

A bewildered smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Your chef, huh?”

You nodded at him seriously. “He’s been slacking off, I guess.”

“I happen to know your chef left a pizza in the freezer,” Jason said.

Your tongue clucked. “I don’t pay him to freeze stuff,” you complained. A teasing smile was sent his way when he shook his head. He traced the soft curve, copying it himself. Abashedly, he dropped his gaze.

His attention moved to a tall cup that was filled with a bunch of fresh flowers. He went up to it. “What’s this?” he asked, thumbing over the petals with a delicate touch as he took in the variety of pastel shades. Some of the buds were tiny, whilst others were bold and blooming.

He glanced back, eyebrows raised in exasperation. “You bought flowers but not food?”

You pulled at your sleeve. “They were for my chef,” you mumbled.

He blinked. Once, twice, and then again.

When he said nothing, your unease visibly grew. Awkwardly, you said, “I thought they matched the place.”

He was still left with a swirl of perplexity. Jason’s head tilted as he confirmed, “You got me flowers?”

“I... yeah.” You seemed to think for a moment. “Is that weird?”

“The last time I got flowers...” he petered. Was for my grave, he’d almost said.

A smattering of boutique flowers neatly piled on top of dirt, watered by salty tears. Alfred had replaced them regularly when no one else would. When they could no longer stand to look down at the headstone that read: beloved son, fought till the end. He tried to catapult the thought out of his brain.

Confusion flooded your features, uncertain where his mind had run off to. “I can throw them out?”

“No,” Jason said, somewhat hasty. “I like them.”

You swallowed, poking at the fast-food papers. “Oh. Okay.”

There was a sheepish moment where your eyes met, and then he looked down again.

He scanned over the colours till his eyes landed on the flower that reminded him most of you. It was a pale imitation of your aura, but it was in the same family group as your usual purple. In a quiet voice, he recited a line of a poem to himself: “Bright little day stars, scattered all over the earth.”

You heard his mumble but let him be, instead taking another bite of your burger before you embarrassed yourself further.

However, a different thought struck you. You remembered the other thing you’d brought home and twisted in the chair. “I borrowed a new puzzle for us to do,” you said as you directed him to the coffee table.

Jason dragged his eyes from the flowers to look at you, then at the food, and finally the unopened puzzle. Heat ripped up his cheeks at the cosy display. If only Alfred could see him now, playing house.

Maybe, he thought sluggishly, maybe what he was feeling wasn’t entirely... unethical.

Maybe it was just juvenile.

It wasn’t like he’d had the chance to explore much of his feelings due to an untimely demise. And then the seemingly endless trauma after his untimely return.

Jason came forward. “Uh. I have to... eat first,” he said, his words a jumbled mess. Your eyes widened a fraction with an inkling of hope. He saw it too, but it fell as he scooped up his onion rings and burger. He marched over to his bedroom. “I'm going to eat first,” he repeated dumbly over his shoulder.

You shot him a funny look. “Are you malfunctioning?”

He garbled something unintelligible before he pulled the door shut.

Jason was downright terrified as he sat in the sterile office. Which was strange in its own right, considering his living quarters. The walls were far too white which gave the impression that they were closing in. It was like being contained in a box, and unfortunately his back faced the only escape.

His knee bounced as he grew more agitated. His eyes flicked between each thing on the wall: a mural, nature photographs, and a couple of proudly-hung certificates. By all means, he should have felt at peace in the space. But he didn’t. Everything was so staged.

“Jason. Shall we begin?”

His alert stare snapped back to the doctor in front of him. They sat tall in an oversized chair. Jason had moved his own closer to the door before he’d even sat down. They’d regarded him through watchful eyes but spoke nothing of it.

Their persona was imbued with self-assurance. He didn’t like it. He felt like he had very little control over the situation.

He should have told Alfred to eat a bag of dicks.

“Don’t call me that.”

This stranger—Doctor August—considered his words before replying, “What should I call you?”

He wasn’t entirely sure himself, but anything was better than Jason coming out of their mouth. Especially in a situation like this, where they were aware of his alter ego.

Nothing. He didn’t want to be addressed.

Jason crossed his arms as the silence stretched on. The doctor met him measuredly, waiting for him to speak first. The frown on his face deepened.

But, he noted, not once had their eyes drifted to his cheek. So, they got props for that, I guess.

His glare didn’t last. “Whatever,” Jason muttered as he dropped his head. He felt the brand burn under defeat.

“Well, if your preference changes, let me know,” August said.

He could only muster a, “Hmph.”

“Can you tell me why you’re here?”

Because Alfred wanted it, was the blatantly smartass version, but he bit it back. Even through his spite, he knew he was here for a reason, was he not? At the very least, he could put aside some of his cynicism and give it a try.

“I don’t like when you sit like that,” Jason blurted. “It makes me nervous.”

He heard the doctor exhale, but nonetheless shifted into a more relaxed position. “I’ll remember that from now on.”

Nodding half-heartedly, his eyes remained on the floor. He distracted himself with how the carpet had been meticulously vacuumed.

“Do you have a goal in mind?” August asked as their head tilted in interest.

“No,” Jason said. “Why us?”

“I presume you mean vigilantes and the sort?” they replied. Their mouth curved. “Untapped market, I suppose.”

His eyebrow raised warily, not finding the joke as funny as they did.

“Well, everyone needs an ear sometimes. It’s hard to find someone to trust in your line of work,” they elaborated.

“It’s dangerous.”

“Yes, it can be. But I’ve found myself on neutral grounds.”

Jason mulled those words. He didn’t think neutral could ever be neutral forever. But they didn’t seem afraid.

“Right,” he said. “So, how does this usually work? I spill all my childhood trauma and you zonk me?”

“Medication is an option, of course,” August said. “But you get to tell me where to start. We can talk about what’s on your mind or about your day. It’s your time to choose what we do with.”

He pondered that. He always had a million things stuck in his brain, but what did he want to talk about right now? And especially with the doctor?

“You can even tell me more about yourself, if you would like,” August added. “All details help in some way.”

Jason circled around something he wanted to ask, again and again, although unsure how to voice it. He didn’t want to give too much away, despite the very nature of this room.

He settled on, “I... how do I know if I’m abusing my power?”

He saw August scribble something before answering. “Are you concerned about this in your day-to-day life?” He nodded. “With a specific person? Or those close to you in general?”

“Yes,” he said vaguely. “But—we’re not close. Not unless I can be sure.”

August tapped the pen against their notepad. “Think of one person and go from there. Do you have someone in mind?” Almost imperceptibly, Jason agreed. “What’s your relationship to this person?”

“Uh. We’re... we share...” His eyes immediately skittered to the darkest corner of the room. He knew heat blazed up his neck and his palms started to sweat at the simple question. He argued that it was because he still needed to protect you. You weren’t consenting to being known like this. “Roommate.”

“I see,” August said, cognizant of his hesitance. “Do you hurt them?”

Jason’s wide eyes darted to the doctor. “What? Of course not.”

He would be exactly like those he hunted, then.

“Remember, we’re just trying to answer your question, Jason,” August soothed. He let out a shallow breath as he tried to reign in his defensiveness. They prompted, “Do you threaten them?”

“No.”

“Intimidate them?”

“Maybe...” He wished he could wring his gun straps for comfort, but resolved to rub his clammy hands over his thighs.

August leaned forward. “Expand on that. Can you tell me how?”

“I mean... I’m big and scary.” He subconsciously wiped his knuckles over his marred cheek. “They do a lot of stupid shit that pisses me off.”

“How do you react?”

“By being a jackass.”

“Can you give me an example? Do you insult them?”

He sighed. “I stay quiet. Or I snap.”

August wrote something down, nodding all while. “We can talk more about productive discussion tools,” they offered, re-focusing their attention on him.

But that wasn’t what caused the guilt that kept him up at night and haunted him when he had too much time to think. Jason tugged at the curls at his nape. “What if I keep them around for attention? To make myself feel better?” Or worse—normal.

August looked him over slowly, assessing his change in posture. Was this what he was worried about all along? This was the sore spot? “What makes you think that?”

“We had a stupid argument. I wanted ‘em to go to bed and they kept refusing and I—I touched their knee,” Jason said.

“What’s wrong with that?”

He pressed his finger into his thigh until it hurt, mimicking the scene he described. “I stopped when I got them to agree. And they were... annoyed.”

“Ah,” August mused. “Touch is just a form of deepening a connection, and perhaps they felt you abruptly cut it off.”

Jason blinked, denial bubbling under the surface of his skin. “I liked having that power over them,” he objected.

The doctor stared at him, eyebrows raised. “Did you still feel powerful when you upset them?”

He paused for a minute. “No,” he answered, his baritone quiet.

“Did they do something to make you feel seen? Accepted?”

“They made me laugh.” He looked down at his hands, tracing the silvery, raised scars. Jason bit the inside of his cheek with his next words, “They let me get close.”

“Is that something you’re afraid of?”

“I know they’ll hurt me. And inevitably, I’ll hurt them.”

Rigidness fell from August’s shoulders at the confession. “That’s a part of the human experience, Jason.”

He didn’t like that answer, and August saw it in the growing lines on his face. August didn’t want to lose progress, so they changed tactics. “Let’s take a couple of steps back. You believe they willingly hang around, solely to give you attention?”

When the doctor put it that way, it didn’t sound so straightforward. He felt frustration build again—they just didn’t get it.

“Do you not reciprocate?” August continued when he didn’t answer. “Not do anything thoughtful for them? That’s your whole schtick, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” he shrugged, arms folding across his chest indignantly. “But they don’t know me.”

The doctor didn’t reply as they processed his words. Squirming, Jason’s eyes roamed the room. He was spilling his guts to this stranger he had just met when he couldn’t even reveal himself to you. It was pathetic, truly.

“They don’t know who you are?” August seemed exceedingly intrigued by the tidbit. “For the reasons you’ve stated, I assume?”

Jason barely managed a roll of his shoulders in confirmation. He wondered when his ears would grow pointy, cementing him as a lab bat.

The quiet that ensued was uncomfortable, but he suspected it was one-sided.

“Anything else?” he said, if only to break the silence. He was sure August had a million questions lined up, and a trillion more written down.

“Do you follow them without their knowledge?”

He sighed. “Yes.”

“I would recommend starting there,” the doctor said. “It would be best practice if you let them know. It might make communication easier for you.”

“Let them know I stalk them?” he huffed. “Great.”

August smiled at him, and strangely, he didn’t detect malice in it. “Yes, they might react negatively, but it also proves that you care enough to give them attention,” they stated plainly. “It may give them an idea of where you stand. It can promote further discussion, too.”

Well, the doctor’d lured him into a trap, he decided, still sitting stiff. Although they’d made their point loud and clear, Jason wasn’t entirely convinced.

His eyes moved to August’s phone as the alarm chimed. He knew what it meant: time’s up.

“So, what’s the verdict, Doc?” he asked bemusedly, gaze levelled on them.

Their response was worse than taking shrapnel to the head while being engulfed in blue flames: “Jason, what you’ve described sounds like friendship to me.”

He made a disgruntled noise under his breath, head tipping backwards in an act of agony.

Why couldn’t August make it easy and just confirm his worst thoughts?

Nightwing basked in dribbled moonlight and pretty stars as he sat atop the apartment building. The white little dots cascaded as far as the eye could see. Dick’s legs dangled over the ledge. He swung them, the heels of his boots moving back and forth from air to brick. His palms ground into roughly-finished rock as he rested on them.

Dick’s gaze didn’t stray far from you. He’d followed you from your work, as he so happened to grapple by at the exact time you finished. Lately, you’d taken on a lot of night shifts. Dick was worried, and that worry had mutated into him skipping from roof-top to roof-top until you were in the clutches of safety once more.

You walked down the street at a leisurely pace, periodically peering into alleyways. You held your bag close, the same way you had when you two first met. You were probably ready to run, and he was glad for it.

Swiftly, Dick’s head manoeuvred to meet the soft footsteps that landed near him.

“They don’t want to talk to you,” Donna said in an even tone as she leaned into him. She was suited in her Wonder Girl uniform. He eyed the golden whip wrapped around her wrist before his eyes tread upwards. She gave him an expectant look.

“I’m not talking,” he shrugged. Donna tutted, unamused.

They both looked back at you, watching as your steps grew closer to where they watched from.

“Are you going to tell me you haven’t checked on them?” Dick retorted defensively.

It was her turn to balk. “Well... we were friends.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they feel the same way.”

Donna let out a defeated sigh. “I hoped they’d come around.”

The two lapsed into silence for a few moments as you journeyed under Dick’s swinging legs. He caught sight of your hand as it raised and waved at something nearby. Curious, he searched for what had taken hold of your interest.

“Jason,” Donna said as she spotted him first.

“Huh,” Dick murmured, eyes on the red-clad figure that rounded the corner. Quickly, he crossed the road and met you at the next building down. While there was no physical contact, Jason stood close enough that you could probably whisper to each other and still hear it.

If Dick so desired, he could’ve turned on his hearing device and listened in. But he felt off doing that, knowing it would cross yet another boundary. He desperately wanted to, though. His ankles flexed wantonly.

“He has to know we’re here, right?” Donna wondered aloud.

Dick nodded. Surely.

Maybe he was going to scale the wall and tell them to fuck off and stop lurking.

Donna’s questioning gaze settled on Dick. He was hyper-focused, as if trying to decipher the conversation by reading the movement of their mouths. She got the feeling he knew more than he’d told her.

“You’re not surprised,” she stated.

He glanced at her briefly. “Jason seems to,” he paused, wetting his lips, “trust them.”

Her eyes widened slightly. What was he implying?

“Are they...?”

Dick felt a bitter pang of jealousy strike his chest as he hoped they weren’t together. How come someone else could have his little brother back when he couldn’t? His family was missing a limb. The ache had never eased, not in all these years. It was only compounded with Bruce going MIA, Tim avoiding the manor, and the others scattered across the country.

She waited, optimistic that his next words would be of enlightenment. Jason deserved to have some help being guided back, even if it wasn’t from them.

He squinted, re-assessing the scene before them. “No, I don’t think so,” he said finally. Donna let out a hollow breath as her chest deflated.

She heard your shared laugh float up the side of the building. She smiled softly, glad you weren’t all gloom after all that had happened.

“Let them be,” she decided with an exhale and pulled away from the edge. “Jason will keep them safe.”

Dick took one more look before surrendering, hauling himself upwards. Glum, he replied, “I know.”

Red Hood was upon you in no time at all. As soon as you’d caught his eye, he headed towards you. You loitered, waiting for him to catch up.

You smiled as he hopped onto the footpath, lithe as ever. “Hey, Red.”

“Hey,” he returned. You felt him scope you out. “You good?”

You nodded. “I’m fine.”

He stood stock still for a moment, eyes searching your face. Eventually, he asked, “You know Nightwing’s been following you, right?”

“What?” you recoiled, eyebrows shooting up and forehead furrowing in alarm. You immediately scanned the street but found nothing of note.

Red jerked his thumb towards the sky. You looked to the top of the building you stood under. If you squinted, maybe you could make out a speck of a human being.

You cursed under your breath, debating whether to shoot Dick a blessed middle finger. Irritated, you muttered, “I guess that’s the favourite vigilante vantage point.”

“Best seat in the house,” Red agreed breezily. You didn’t know the half of it, he thought, as a wry smile overcame him.

You frowned. “Have you been following Nightwing?”

“Nah.”

Your next question sounded even more suspicious. “Have you been following me?”

His eyes rolled. “No, you brat. I’m on patrol.”

“It’s a bit early.”

“It’s dark,” he countered.

Unable to devise another argument, you retorted, “Don’t call me a brat.” You stepped into his personal space as you decided to kick the heavy sole of his boot in retaliation.

Red snorted, unflinching. “You are one.”

You moved to do it again, but he stepped first and knocked you off kilter. You stumbled, trying to fix your balance so you could resume your attack. However, you stopped purely out of shock as Red suddenly grasped your chin. He held it firmly between his gloved thumb and forefinger.

All expression melted off your face, save for your wide, alert eyes that stayed on him. It was weird, looking into the red slate but unable to see much.

You weren’t sure if he pulled you closer or you leaned forward, but as the distance diminished, you were abruptly reminded of the circumstances. The lack of space meant you heard his faint breathes from beneath the disguise. If you shifted your chin a little more, you might even feel the strange pulse that beat under the skin of his wrist. Only then could you confirm that this was really happening.

If you were honest, you didn’t entirely hate the proximity. You were coming to enjoy the careful caresses others gave you. Craved it, even, after being in captivity with only wretched touch for so long.

You chewed the inside of your cheek as you tried to imagine what went through his mind. You wondered if it was anything similar.

“You’re a spoiled brat,” he said, careful to enunciate each word.

“I know you are, but what am—”

Your childish retort was cut short as his index finger left your jaw and swiped your nose. You pulled away with a yell of disbelief, covering your face as if he had really injured you.

When you looked up again, he was several paces away, laughing as he started to sprint down the street. “Hey!” you cried, not hesitating to run after him.

How did he somehow always have the upper-fucking-hand?

You should’ve known he’d be fast. For a few seconds, he’d jogged backwards, making sure you were behind him. And then when he was satisfied, he turned around and upped his speed, putting several feet between you two. Asshole.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a loud mixture of wrath and genuine mirth as you tried to keep up. It urged him on as he dodged your hands every time you reached out. Sometimes your fingertips would just brush his jacket and then he would be gone again with a chuckle, playing with you. It was utterly infuriating—but also... it was a bit of clownery you were totally on board with.

“Got you now!” you gleamed. Only, you couldn’t tell that he’d come to a dead stop. So, when your hands reached out to grab him, they kept sliding. You fell forward with all the momentum you’d gained in your silly desperation. Your fingers lost their hold which sent you sprawling.

Somehow, Red managed to catch you before you hit concrete.

Awkwardly, you were pressed into his side as you attempted to right yourself again. His grip on your arms was uncharacteristically unyielding, making it hard to disengage. You glanced up at him, ill at ease with his sudden change in temperament.

“Red?” you asked warily.

He stared intently ahead. You tracked his line of sight, not seeing whatever had put him on edge. “Red?” you tried again, your own palms coming to lay overtop his gloves.

“You don't see that?” he croaked, eyes not moving from where his attention lay.

You looked between him and the empty road before you. It had to be bad, considering how fearful he seemed. “See what?”

It was the oddly clear sky that made him forget the shenanigans he participated in. He was struck still, wide eyes cast across the open air. There was no smog, nor did a single cloud hide the faintly twinkling stars. The colour of the night sky rapidly darkened to pitch black as the seconds ticked by. And it wasn’t just quiet—it was dead silent, except for your pleading voice. Not a cricket, or a honk, or a shout.

Something was very wrong.

The hair on Jason’s arms rose, accompanied by goosebumps. He felt the pit of his stomach drop as he watched the darkness descend from the sky and blanket the tallest buildings in the area.

No—No, no, no, no, no, he begged internally. Not this, not again.

Jason’s heartbeat grew erratic. He hardly heard you over the loud thumping that flooded his ears. He didn’t even realise how tightly he clutched at you until he looked back. You gripped him in turn, a look of concern splashed across your features.

He shoved you behind him then, shielding you from the street. Whatever this nightmare was, he wasn’t taking you with him.

“Red,” he heard it again, a muffled buzz in the back of his brain. Jason could only focus on how the world fell away to a void, brick by brick.

Tears pricked his eyes when he realised he couldn’t stop this. He might’ve been superhuman, but he couldn’t control reality. He was frozen in sick fascination, watching as the shadows swept away everything in its path.

And then the cacophony of voices started. It wasn’t Bruce’s, or Joker’s, or even his own. This one was deep, disembodied. Wraithlike.

Ours. Mine. Ours. Mine.

The words kept ringing in his head. The sound of it felt like sludge that slowly crept up his limbs, readying its attack. Numbly, he knew it would suffocate him once it wound around his neck. How a voice could do that, he wasn’t sure. But it didn’t stop panic from crawling up his chest; made it tighten out of sheer terror.

He remembered he wasn’t alone as prying fingers pressed into his sides. He whipped around, ready to tell you to run—

But Jason was ripped away by something that grabbed him by the throat. The sharp sting of gravel went unnoticed as he was dragged along it. He didn’t pay mind to how it shredded his clothes. Instead, he fought against the invisible force through a coughing fit, to no relief. It didn’t abscond until he was at the very lip of the darkness. He pushed it aside for a moment, desperate to scramble back to you.

He realised too late that it was behind you, too. Jason let out a strangled sound at the sight of you dissolving into the pitch black and echoes. “No!”

He was all alone.

Ours. Mine.

Everything was gone. He was staring down the barrel of the gun that enveloped Gotham in its entirety.

Ours. Mine. Ours. MINE.

“Shut up,” he rasped in no particular direction.

Hot tears flowed over his cheeks, only exacerbating the choking sensation that bogged him down. He tried to move but that muck—whatever it fucking was—oozed across his skin like horrendous alien slime. It groped at him as if it were quicksand. Welcoming him back down to the abyss.

And then you came flying out of the void, plummeting clumsily between his knees. You fell into him and simultaneously tugged him into you.

Jason blinked and he was back on that very same street. He heard the crickets, smelt the putrid city smoke. He heard your incoherent babble and felt how your hands glided over him frantically.

It didn’t stop his strangled gasps though. He still struggled to breathe as sobs racked his body. It was an out of body experience, watching how his chest heaved with each attempt to stop hyperventilating. He heard it too, extraordinarily loud amongst the muted sounds of the night.

You felt real, but that had also felt real. Those bruising hands that had choked him left his neck tender. His brain spun around in incomprehensible circles. Could he trust this? Could he trust his eyes or his mind? Maybe he’d imagined you for comfort in his last moments.

Your palms slapped either side of his helmet then, and he was aware of being pulled closer to your face. He flinched when you touched where the J brand was hidden beneath.

You stared at him, saying something. He tried to focus, eyes tracing the movement of your lips.

“It’s me, Red. You’re safe. You’re with me,” you repeated, over and over again. It was the same words that you’d told him at the diner.

Jason latched onto your wrist, the limb shaking. “Is this real?”

“Thank God,” you exhaled. “It’s real, Red. I’m real,” you assured him. You didn’t let go.

He wasn’t sure he believed you.

“It’s me. The spoiled brat.”

That pulled a hysterical laugh from him. It sounded terrifying and crackly through the modulator. You looked offput by the noise.

His chest still thumped, but he could see without black dots scattered across his vision. His hand dropped from your wrist at once. Instead, he covered his helmet as his head fell against his knees. Your hands moved to his elbows. The simple touch was like being scorched by acid. He tried to shrug you off but you were determined to maintain your hold.

He looked up. “Don’t touch me,” he said, voice a mere rasp. And then his head dropped again pathetically.

This time, you did as he requested and withdrew your hands, hurt by his defensiveness. The man in front of you had been in a whimpering frenzy just minutes ago, and now he wanted you gone?

“Red...” you murmured wistfully. Your glazed eyes swept over the street. It was empty, but the way both of you crouched left you ripe for the picking. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened,” he sniped, but it was lost to his knees.

“You saw something I didn’t,” you pointed out, looking back to him. You wished you could see his face, understand what had crumpled this giant. “You asked if I was real.”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, tone stern. “Just a panic attack.”

“A panic attack doesn’t make you hallucinate!” you said, your voice rising involuntarily.

He stared at you. Maybe not head-on, but an unignorable hostility emanated between you two. The spinning fireball grew hotter the more you prodded. That fear he was cloaked in waited for its moment to explode, wanting to take you both with it.

The intensity made you pause, reassess. You remembered those feelings that came from being trapped.

Jason saw something akin to pity move across your face and his jaw clenched. Abruptly, he jumped up. Like a switch turned off, he bluntly said, “Let’s go.”

The distance got bigger then. Your empathy fizzled to a cold agitation.

“What?” you asked, eyes trailing after his figure. He didn’t repeat the command or look back. He left you to scurry after him.

“Red!” you called, but he kept stalking down the road. If anyone were around, he was sure they would rather leap out of the way than get within an inch of his menacing stride.

His entire body bristled with unshed fury. Jason propelled himself forward with it. He tuned into the repetitive smack of his boots against the pavement. Every so often he would make sure your footsteps were behind him, but they weren't loud enough to keep his mind clouded.

If he allowed quiet—God forbid—it meant he would have think about it all. Think about how his hallucinations were gaining momentum, begging him to walk back into the darkness. Think of his loneliness and of how he continued to destroy his own life.

Before long, he let you into the safehouse through the garage. He remained mute, head drooped so he wouldn’t make accidental eye contact. Most of the adrenaline had worn off and he was left with a gaping chasm in his chest. The blinking dullness hurt, maybe more than his muscles did.

He heard the soft click of the elevator button. He risked a peek at your shoes as the door opened and consequently closed. Neither of you moved.

“Aren’t you coming?”

Jason swallowed through the razorblades jammed in his throat. After a second, he stepped into the garage, but he didn’t make his way to the elevator. He slung himself onto his motorbike. His tone was terse when he said, “No.”

Your lack of reply was unusual and prompted him to glance up.

He wished he hadn’t. You looked gutted.

He already had more than enough images to keep him awake for the rest of his life. It was a bitter thought that now he had one more.

Jason turned away, hands wringing the bike bar. His pulse spiked again. There was a strange mix of grief and shame that lingered even when he couldn’t see your face.

So much control lost in one night.

He switched on the engine, drowning out anything you could have possibly said. He zoomed out into the night without another word.

Jason awoke with a start, eyes blown wide. The sound of something metallic had clanged behind him, ripping him from sleep. Steadfast, he sat up straight, ears pricked and fingers itching around the gun that lay under his makeshift pillow.

Suspicious, he peered around the sitting room. Nothing jumped out at him.

“Oop,” he heard a low mutter come from behind him. “Sorry, dude,” Roy said, a little louder this time.

Jason finally turned to see how his friend pottered around the kitchen. He waved breakfast ingredients in the air as he made his way back to the pan—the noisy culprit. All at once, the stiffness fell out of Jason’s shoulders as he took in the scene. Thankfully, he wasn’t in danger.

Roy looked over at him. “You want some eggs since you’re up?”

Jason didn’t respond for a few seconds as his brain lagged behind. It still wanted to sleep, but his twitchy limbs and racing heart would never agree. So, he jerked his chin once. In the back of his mind, he hoped Roy was competent enough to not poison their food.

“Coming right up,” Roy chirped, much too cheerily for this early in the morning.

Well, he didn’t really know what time it was. His hand groped under the cushion, pulling out his phone from where he’d left it. The screen lit up and it was—oh, only a cool eleven-thirty AM. Despite the fitful sleep, he surprisingly hadn’t woken up once?

Shock sank into his stomach, devoured instead by discomfort as he spotted one of the notifications he had. Jason’s eyes stayed glued to the screen even as it dimmed. You’d messaged him during the night.

He didn’t know how many times you’d rewritten the text and deleted it in a fit of passionate anger, only to come back to craft your concern once more as it gnawed at you. Jason only read ‘are you safe?’

His gut somersaulted at the choice of words. You didn’t ask if he was okay, you asked if he was safe. Without meaning to, his fingertips brushed against his neck, searching for that same ache. He dropped his hand as he felt it.

The culmination of your message and the memory of last night made him want to throw up. Jason flipped the phone over and pushed it under the cushion.

He flinched again as Roy clumsily banged utensils together. This time, his eyes resettled on the floorboards. More specifically, the rubble underfoot. As he stared at the gritty mess longer, he realised it dug into his undersoles. It wasn’t just next to him, either; it trailed towards the window like something had been dragged in.

He glanced at his boots which sat by the other end of the couch. They weren’t noticeably muddy. Jason swallowed through the thickness of his throat as a sickly intuition ebbed into his veins. He looked about the room for Roy’s shoes. He couldn’t see them but he had an inkling they weren’t dirty either.

“Why is there mud?” Jason said, voice hoarse from sleep. He didn’t look at Roy as he spoke, but he felt the man move nearby. Roy peered over his shoulder.

“Huh,” he pondered. “Must’ve brought it in last night. Didn’t realise.” And then he was gone again.

Jason’s knuckles rubbed at his eyes, hoping the mess would disappear. After last night, this was... too much—it felt like more than a coincidence. Yet, when he blinked back his vision, it remained. He tried to refrain from thinking about the way dirt felt under your nails when you dug through it.

He pushed the disturbing thought aside as Roy returned, goodies abound. He carried two plates as if he were a waiter. “Move over, you lump,” Roy ordered, trying to muscle some space on the couch.

Jason observed how he didn’t seem to mind the mess. It made him relax, just a little. He shifted to make room for Roy.

Jason took a plate from him. It looked like some sort of creamy omelette gone wrong, topped with chives for cohesion. He stuck a forkful in his mouth, fingers crossed. “Huh,” Jason said, surprised by what he tasted. It was actually good. In fact, he would finish the plate unless something intervened.

Roy met him with an overdramatic tsk.“O, ye of little faith.”

Jason shrugged, hiding a smile behind another bite of eggs. “Can you blame me? Last time you made tuna mac ‘n’ cheese.” His nose scrunched at the memory, still able to recall the notes of fish and cheese intertwined. It had stunk the apartment out for days.

“It’s a super protein combo,” Roy grumbled defensively. Jason made a noise of disgust in turn.

They devoured their food in shared silence until Jason’s eyes landed on a pile of cardboard boxes. It reminded him that Roy needed to vacate the premises within a couple of weeks.

Distracted, Jason asked, “You packing already?”

“Yeah. Responsible decisions and all that,” he said. “You gonna help?”

Jason let out an exaggerated puff of air. “S’pose I got nothing better to do.”

The redhead rolled his eyes. “Thanks for fitting me in between morning brooding and afternoon brooding.”

“S’no problem.” A smirk flittered across Jason’s face. “What’s wrong with this place, anyway?”

“Nothing, really. Just think it’s time for more space. You know, considering...” he trailed off bashfully.

“Donna?” Jason suggested.

His friend scratched his jaw in an awkward fashion. “Nah. Well, yeah, but...” He gave Jason a pointed look. “I’d rather you crash in a bed than the couch.”

“Oh,” Jason said. He looked down as the tips of his ears went red. Roy was moving for his comfort’s sake? God, that was utterly humiliating. He mumbled, “Guess I owe you, then.”

Roy laughed and gave his shoulder a light shove. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

A/N: I wasn't kidding about the therapy tag ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

NB doctor is another win for the gays.

[teklarn]

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾 (𝓅𝓉. 𝟥)

character(s): katsuki bakugou x gn!reader (x eijirou kirishima) 

a/n: ok but like ty for all the notes on my last post??? i get so excited whenever there’s a new notification. ALSO, the best time for me to accept requests is from now to sept. 5! i’m currently on summer break, so i will have plenty of time to write from now until then. 

𝕣𝕖𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!!

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 

genre: angst

warnings: mutual pining, cursing, aged-up to third years, bit of a love triangle, romantic tension, one-sided pining, i gave the reader a quirk, kirishima gets jealous EHWJEH

word count: 2031

lol wow things are finally beginning to pick up heehee

please excuse any typos! i edit to the best of my abilities, but it’s easy to miss lost of things 

part 1, part 2 , part 4 

- - - 

you dabbed bakugou’s nose. he winced as you tapped it. “sorry,” you breathed out, switching the tissue in your hand for a clean wipe. 

“i’m fine, dumbass.” 

“then why’d you ask for my help?” you teased, wiping at the blood on his upper lip. 

his cheeks dusted with red, eyes averting to the side. you smiled softly, victorious in his silence. 

nighttime was settling in nicely, the sun bleeding orange into the clouds. 

“look back at me,” you said. gently, you took his bruised jaw in your fingers, adjusting his head so he was facing you. you brushed your fingers along his swelling cheekbone. purple blossomed beneath bakugou’s pale skin. “kirishima was pretty rough out there, huh?’ 

“i’m proud of the guy.” 

you smiled, tilting your head. “you? proud of someone? really?” 

he chuckled. “knock it off, dumbass.” a grin spread across his face, however it was gone when the pain hit. he winced, trying to ignore the sting his smile brought with it. 

you let out a laugh. “just relax, bakugou.” you resumed dabbing away at the excess blood on his face. there were flecks of dirt scattered over his forehead. 

he caught your wrist in one of his soft, large hands. 

your smile faded, and you swallowed, pushing down the rising emotions fluttering into your chest. “yes?” you responded to the silent question his eyes were asking. 

his grip on your wrist loosened, and he let go, letting his arm fall back to his side. 

“everything okay?” 

he didn’t break eye contact as he grunted a reply. “mhm.” 

“alright. i’ll be right back, okay?” 

“‘kay,” he said. 

you stood with a groan, knees sore from all the training you’d been doing lately. you gently shut the bathroom door behind you and rinsed the bits of dirt off the towel, scrubbing away any imperfections stuck between the fibers of the fabric. 

your cheeks were boiling with heat as the ghost of his touch on your wrist lingered. what was that? did he mean to tell you something? 

you wrung out the newly washed cloth and returned to your seat across from bakugou. 

bakugou’s eyes flickered as you began scrubbing the dirk from his forehead. 

“ah,” he gasped out. 

“you’ve gotta stop wincing, bakugou,” you teased. “you’re making me think i’m doing something wrong.” 

“you’ve gotta stop being so rough, y/n.” he took your wrists and pried them away from his face. 

you set the towel down on the table, letting it rest on a paper towel so the excess water could drain out. 

“well, i think the issue is that you haven’t let me set your nose properly.” 

bakugou squinted, unsure. “alright.” he spread his legs, leaning forwards to make your job easier. “do as you wish, y/n.” his voice dropped, eyelids lowering seductively. 

the heat returned to your cheeks, flushing out your confidence from before. instead of replying with an equally snarky comment, you took his face in your hands. “this is going to hurt.” 

“not so much if it’s you.” 

you scoffed. “are you flirting with me, katsuki bakugou?” 

his lips quirked up—just a tiny bit. “stop dreaming, y/n.” 

you ignored the comment and traced your fingers over the bridge of his nose. “on three?” 

he nodded. 

“one—” you cracked the bone into place. 

“ah, shit!” bakugou recoiled back, covering his nose with his hands. “damn brat.” 

“it would have hurt more if you knew it was coming.” you shrugged innocently. 

“at least i would have been prepared.” 

“whatever you say.” you gestured for him to come back to his previous position, and bakugou did as instructed, hands dropping from his face as your hands came back around to cup his cheeks. 

being recovery girl’s grandchild had its benefits. for example, an easy way to get into yuuei off of recommendations. while your quirk wasn’t usually one people would associate with fighting, it came with unexpected pros with how it developed. 

you’d earned the ability not only to heal but to ruin as well. using your quirk, honing it properly, you could twist someone inside out with ease, however, healing was something you were more skilled with. 

a green glow was being emitted from your palms, white orbs flowing into the air and landing on bakugou’s skin. you could tell, under his skin, the bone was fixing itself, beginning to reshape into the flat bridge. 

bakugou sniffed. 

“hold still,” you said. 

“does your healing always make your patients itchy?” 

“it’s just your body healing. stop moving.” the green light receded into your palms. 

you met bakugou’s eyes as you pulled your hands away. you were leaning closer than necessary, out of your seat, knees slightly bent. you could tell his hands were shaking just a bit as they trailed down your arms, starting from your fingertips which were still hovering around his face. 

his hands found their way to your waist. bakugou tugged you closer. barely an inch closer, but it felt like the two of you were inseparable at the moment. 

“y/n?” 

you jumped, and bakugou’s hands fell back to the sides of the seat he was in. you swallowed as kirishima popped up at the doorway. 

you wiped your palms on your shirt, nodding for kirishima to enter. “yes?” 

the redhead walked in warily, hands up and pace slow. “i hope i’m not...interrupting anything. am i?” 

you shook your head. “not at all. we were, um. we were just finishing up.” you picked up the cloth intended for wiping bakugou’s face. “do you think you could finish up by yourself?” 

he took the cloth from your hands. “yeah, sure.” he pushed himself up and was out of your room, waving his thanks. “i’ll pay you back so i don’t owe your ass, got it, y/n?” 

“Alright.” 

bakugou shut the door behind him, leaving you and kirishima alone. 

“so, what was that about?” 

your eyes flew wide. “what was what?” 

“don’t act oblivious, y/n. you two looked at each other like you hung the moon in the sky.” 

you bit your lip, hiding the smile that was brought about upon reminiscing about the recent seen. “it wasn’t anything, kirishima. don’t worry about it.”

“i’m worrying. you know bakugou.” 

“that’s something you’d say about someone with dating experience, and a bad reputation regarding it. bakugou is—” 

“just like every other guy out there? it’s the twenty-first century. there are not many decent people left out here. do you really think he’s any different?” 

“well,” you said, shaking your head, “personally, i see he’s changed.” 

“two years isn’t going to erase all the past shit he’s done.” 

“there’s a thing called forgiveness.” you quirked an eyebrow at him, tilting your head down as you began cleaning up. “plus, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. we can both agree that hero society created toxic standards for all aspiring pros.” 

kirishima clenched his fists. “he’s bad for you.” 

you tossed out a few wipes into the garbage. “sorry?” 

“he’s...not good for you.” 

“i appreciate you thinking nobody is good enough for me, but at the end of the day-” 

unknowingly, kirishima was hardening his fingertips. his nails punctured the soft skin of his palms. “i don’t mean he’s not good enough for you, but that’s another truth, too. he’s just not good for you.” 

you turned, smiling brightly. “and since when did you know what was good for me?” you laughed, eyes closed. “why are you trying to dictate my decisions-” 

when you opened your eyes, you found kirishima standing closer, brows furrowed angrily.

your expression lowered into something angry. “what’s the matter?” 

“i just...i can’t.” 

“can’t what?” 

kirishima was one to be slow to anger. he always had been. you can’t recall a time you saw him angry or pissed except for when bakugou had been kidnapped by the league of villains. 

“kirishima,” you scoffed, “are you genuinely pissed over this? what? is this because i got mad at you because i scolded you for breaking bakugou’s nose? if anything, i don’t think i was wrong for-” 

“that’s not it. that...that isn’t it, y/n.” he stepped towards you. kirishima closed the gap between you both, pressing your back against the wall, trapping you there between his arms. “that isn’t it at all, y/n.” 

you swallowed. “then what is it, kirishima?” his eyes met yours, serious and stern. 

your chest tingled. 

he brought his fingers to your chin, angling your face with ease to get a better look at you. “call me eijirou.” 

“what?” 

“just once. please.” 

“why-” 

“once.”

“...what is it, eijirou?” 

the pause felt like an eternity. “it’s you, y/n.” 

“it’s...me? what about me? did i do something wrong?” 

he chuckled softly, but there was no humor in his longing smile as he stared down. “you’re so oblivious.” 

you could hear his heart beating, getting faster with every sentence he pushed out. 

“you’re so clueless, y/n. it’s kind of pissing me off.” 

“what am i doing to piss you off?” you snapped. 

he tongued the inside of his cheek. “like i said.” he flashed you an award-winning grin. “clueless.” kirishima pushed himself off the wall and left the room, the door shutting hard, but not slamming shut. 

you were left breathless, the hint of his cologne still lingering in the space before you. 

you’d avoided kirishima and bakugou for the rest of the night. 

- 

what kirishima had wanted to say was nothing like what he said, but he knew everything would come out all wrong if he’d try to say anything. 

his mind would have jumbled all his words, and he’d look like a crazy, insane lover. 

bakugou wasn’t bad for you. not at all. you two were perfect for each other. you both had thick skin for silly rebuttals towards one another. you brought out the fun side of the blonde, and he worked you to your best. 

kirishima was just your best friend. he hated to be the one who had fallen with nothing to soften the blow that was surely coming soon. 

his ears burned nearly as red as his hair. a shudder passed down his back, the feeling of your jaw pressed between his thumb and index finger still imprinted there. 

“i can’t fucking stand to see you around him.” 

kirishima made his way to the common room, finding bakugou looking for snacks there. kirishima scoffed as his friend emerged with an apple in hand. 

it was not like he hated bakugou. not at all. he didn’t think that pining for the same girl would ruin their friendship. he was just angry that you chose him. 

kirishima respected your decisions. he wouldn’t ever try to get in the way of anything if you and bakugou made that kind of decision. he just wanted to be near you. 

perhaps he should leave the situation alone. leave you alone and just forget about how his feelings were nagging at him every day. 

he should forget how you were the first thing on his mind every morning, and the thing he thought about when he fell asleep. 

you were everywhere. should he forget that too? 

- 

bakugou tossed his apple into the air. he clapped his friend on the back, taking a bite out. “go to sleep, idiot.” 

“don’t call me that.” 

bakugou turned, startled that kirishima wasn’t taking bakugou’s shit today. “you good?” 

“i’m fine, but i’m not an idiot.” 

bakugou’s body tightened. “alright.” 

the pair stood awkwardly for a moment before kirishima sucked in a sudden breath. “what is y/n to you?” he asked. 

bakugou raised an eyebrow. “what?” 

“they’re obviously something to you.” 

“listen, they were just helping me out. didn’t think you’d get offended from them fixing my broken ass nose.” 

“that’s not what i mean. i walked in on you two, and you were about to—” 

“i wasn’t going to do jackshit.” bakugou tossed his apple away, too angry to eat anything anymore. 

“yes. don’t lie to me.” 

“i’m not lying. where is all of this coming from?” 

kirishima huffed out a frustrated breath. he shouldered past bakugou. kirishima uttered words he hated himself for saying. “leave me alone.”

- - -

tag(s): if u want to be tagged in any continued fic of mine, pls let me know! i don’t have a taglist, but please @ me and ask to be on the taglist! thank u <33 

@heizenka 

@insomniac-nerd-posts-things

[ladyartemesia]

The Terms

◐ PART III of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Series Masterlist ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Mature (for this installment)

Warnings: ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat. Jin’s pheromones need their own warning. Yoonji and Yunli are not the same person.

Word Count: 2300

Author’s Note: As promised, this chapter is twice as long as the previous two and a lot of what people have been speculating about in the asks is discussed in this chapter... along with a few surprises...

“Luna rex provocatione means ‘the moon king’s challenge.’ It is never invoked lightly as its consequences are grave indeed... If an alpha believes that he is the true Alpha and the goddess has placed another in his path as a test of worthiness and dedication to the pack, then he will acknowledge his acceptance of this test by declaring luna rex provocatione. Once the challenge has been set forth only the death of the Luna’s first mate or the total surrender of the challenger can satisfy it...”

Text of the traditional speech given by a chief elder to begin a luna rex provocatione ritual [7th century]

“I know you won’t understand, but this isn’t personal-”

Jimin offered his rival an overtly feigned smile.

“You plan to kill me and claim my mate. Which part of that could I possibly take personally?”

Tae snorted somewhere in the background and Yoongi elbowed him hard.

Tradition dictated that both alphas meet with their second-in-commands in the chief elder’s chambers to discuss the terms of combat.

Namjoon brought Min Yoongi and Jimin had somehow ended up with Taehyung.

He didn’t remember actually agreeing to make Tae his second...

It just sort of happened somewhere between calming his hysterical mother and quickly reading up on archaic pack law.

The chief elder coughed uncomfortably. Goddess, this ascension was supposed to be easy. He never in a million moons thought he’d be in this position.

The last chief elder who oversaw a luna rex provocatione ritual had immortalized it in his journal as “the single most horrific moment of my life,” describing in detail the Luna howling in torment at the loss of her mate and the victor collapsing over the corpse of his foe in misery and guilt.

As in the past, the outcome of this conflict was already decided by fate...

Pain and regret weighed heavily on the older man as he considered the younger of the two alphas.

Park Jimin was going to die violently and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Because Kim Namjoon issued the challenge, his opponent will decide combat form. Your choices are human form, half-shifted, and wolf-form. After your choice is declared, Namjoon may add a minor alteration if he so desires. Park Jimin, please declare form.”

“Human,” he answered softly - and every single occupant of the room recoiled in response.

It was bad enough to witness a fight in wolf form or half-shifted... but to engage in ritual combat as a human-

It would be brutal - even psychologically disturbing - without the benefit of a wolf’s hide to mask the savagery.

Namjoon’s eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly.

“I request teeth and claws.”

Not quite a half-shift. Teeth and claws allowed for attacks using lengthened canines and claws.

It could make a kill slightly more... humane.

Jimin nodded and the elder pressed his seal over the first of the terms.

The were no windows in the small, stuffy chamber and between the heavy ceremonial garb and the nearly twenty braided praesidium bracelets wrapped around his wrists, Jimin felt as if the blood in his veins was literally coming to a boil.

Though he dared not remove them to relieve his discomfort.

Each bracelet represented a prayer to the goddess. They were given as protection to a loved one before a great trial.

His mother had not stopped making them since the ascension. She’d torn apart her most expensive dress and spent hours twisting the fabric strips into intricate traditional braids while she prayed...

Jimin’s fingers sought them out for comfort as the miserable parade of ritual legalities marched past the two hour mark.

Many agreements (like Jimin’s insistence that his mother not be allowed to attend the fight and Namjoon’s pledge to financially support the Park family in the event of their alpha’s death) were settled quickly, however the sheer number of details to be solidified was overwhelming.

“I think it best if we adjourn for a short recess,” the chief elder sighed wearily and Taehyung nearly ran Yoongi over in his desperate scramble to finally use a restroom.

Jimin turned to leave, but a hand on his elbow drew him back.

“I want you to know, I did this for you as much as for the rest of them.”

His tone was low and carefully respectful, but Jimin’s wolf snapped irritably at the elder alpha’s presumption.

“What an... interesting statement to make.”

He pointedly removed Namjoon’s hand from his arm with calculated nonchalance.

“No one expected you to be chosen... Jungkook, or even Hoseok, would have been an understandable alternative, but you’ve never taken being an alpha seriously-”

“According to you,” Jimin fired back, finally allowing his voice to harden in cold fury. “I have always known and valued what I am. I simply never felt called to your version of it.”

Namjoon tilted his head in acknowledgement.

Park Jimin might not look particularly dangerous ... but for the first time, the Kim alpha considered that he may have underestimated his opponent.

“Either way - the pack does not trust you. They are not confident in your ability to lead them,”his hands fisted reflexively at his side as he considered the weight of his next words, “...but if you beat me, they will never question your strength.”

Jimin’s hands tightened into fists.

Namjoon might be an overconfident windbag, but he had a point.

He faced an uphill battle to subdue a restless pack as well as increased threats from rival clans looking to expand their own power and territory.

The challenge was a chance to establish his claim.

Or die trying.

“You think rather highly of yourself,” he chuckled and Namjoon bristled indignantly.

“I have devoted my life to the pack. I have never questioned my duty to them.” He leaned forward a bit, holding the younger alpha’s gaze with purpose. “That is why I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“And what of the Luna?” Jimin wondered in mock contemplation. “Do you think she will take kindly to the loss of her mate if you win?”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched. The Luna was clearly a sore subject.

“If I win, then you were never really her mate were you? Your entire existence boils down to nothing more than a sacred test in my destined path.”

Silence stretched heavily as the two alphas regarded one another with open hostility.

“I will fight you till the last shred of life is ripped from my body,” Jimin snarled.

A shiver ran down Namjoon’s spine, though he was far from intimidated.

“At least now you sound like an alpha,” he scoffed.

Then he was gone.

Jimin waited till the sound of the older man’s footsteps faded before slamming his fist into the table.

He needed air and to be alone with his thoughts for moment before he could civilly resume the endless negotiations.

Unfortunately, the only place offering both of those things was a cluttered balcony near the back of the building.

The room traditionally designated for luna rex provocatione proceedings had been used as a storage closet for at least the last hundred years (and therefore needed to be hastily cleared after Namjoon’s inconvenient declaration). Consequently, the room’s former contents (piles of toys from this season’s charity drive) were now strewn haphazardly across the narrow outdoor space like debris from a brightly colored bomb.

Jimin carefully navigated his way to the balcony’s wooden rail and lifted his eyes to the moon.

“Please,” he begged softly “... send me a sign.”

“If he did not hate me before, he surely does now,” you sighed, staring morosely at the lights flickering in the old chamber building. Somewhere within the bowels of that archaic fire hazard, your mate of less than twenty-four hours was negotiating a nightmare.

“This is not your fault, Luna-“

“Isn’t it?” you snapped. “That’s who I am. I’m the Luna, if I could just accept another mate without someone getting their throat ripped out, then none of this would be necessary.”

Jin sqeezed your hand sympathetically.

The council placed you under guard in a small cottage across from the elder’s chambers in order to prevent the alphas from having any contact with you. Since then you kept a constant vigil from its rickety porch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young man whose life you had ruined.

“Would you do it then - if you could?... Would you accept another mate to spare the Park alpha?”

Bitter tears burned at the corner of your eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, “...I think I’d do almost anything to save him.”

Comfortable silence settled between you for several minutes - until a small flutter of movement drew your gaze to the chamber balcony.

Then he walked out.

And just the sight of him was enough to slam your heart up into your throat.

Jimin...

Jin quickly turned to your guard and unleashed a wave of pheromones that would have knocked out a grizzly bear. The guard whined and abandoned her post to follow him inside without a second thought, leaving you conveniently alone.

Male omegas are a rare and dangerous breed, you observed wryly, before retuning your attention to the man across the path.

A painful ache twisted hungrily in your gut as you watched him tilt his face to the sky. Somehow the relentless beauty of his features was even more captivating in the moonlight...

Suddenly a strong breeze braided though the air around you, playing with the loose strands of your hair and carrying your scent away from the small cottage and up to the balcony where the young alpha sought solace.

Jimin’s eyes shot open as the rich, unforgettable essence of you exploded over his senses. His gaze immediately locked with yours, cutting through the distance and darkness with an intensity that left you reeling.

You could not see his face at the ascension - instead the blindfold left you burning with curiosity as your mind conjured a thousand variations of how he might have looked on you in that moment...

Yet every last one of them fell short.

You could never have imagined the naked longing - the fierce desire - that burned boldly in his regard.

A strange, desperate frustration overtook you.

He was too far away - and Namjoon was going to take him from you before you could touch him again - before you could breathe him in again-

The cruel wind continued to pull your fragrance toward Jimin like an erotic incense, yet it offered you no such gift in return. You could not discern his scent and you wanted to - needed to - with a voracity that was almost blinding.

Please...

A mournful whimper tore from your lips and Jimin’s body reacted instantly to your distress.

Suddenly he was digging through the piles of mismatched trinkets and toys on the balcony, tossing aside all manner of discarded treasures till he finally found what he was searching for.

“Jimin-hyung! Where are you? Chief elder wishes to resume-”

Jimin glanced toward door as his fingers worked frantically over the object his hands.

“I’m on my way!”

His eyes found yours one last time, then he drew back-

A muted thwack echoed a few inches from your shoulder as whatever Jimin threw embedded itself into one of the porch beams.

Your fingers trembled with anticipation as you reached forward to retrieve (what appeared to be) a pointed metal dart - probably from a wall-mounted Darts game someone donated...

A length of braided cloth was tied tightly to the shaft and you recognized it immediately as a praesidium bracelet.

Soothing waves of Jimin’s scent drifted up from the fabric where it had rubbed repeatedly against the glands in his wrist.

Your body calmed instantly. Cold desperation gave way to the soft warmth of tenderness.

He knew.

He knew what you needed and he found a way to send it to you.

Your hand closed tightly over the bracelet as you crumpled to your knees and sobbed.

A gentle knock sounded at Namjoon’s door and a familiar figure slipped inside.

“...Yunli?”

Namjoon blinked for several moments in confusion before closing his evening read to approach her.

“Yunli... why - what are you doing here? It’s late - the ritual set to begin at sunrise.” He glanced at the door behind her, “Is Yoongi with you?”

She shook her head.

“My brother doesn’t know I’m here.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he considered all the ways his best friend’s younger sister sneaking into his house (in the middle of the night no less) could go horribly wrong.

“Ah. Well... that’s ...not good,” he mumbled, running his hand over his face. “Are-um - are you here to wish me luck for tomorrow?”

He reached for a glass of water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

“No. Frankly I hope Park Jimin beats you to a bloody pulp.”

Water sprayed comically out of Namjoon’s mouth as he began to cough violently.

“What?!” *wheeze* “Why?!”

She offered him a sad smile.

“You know why, Kim Namjoon.”

He did know why.

Yunli had loved him (or believed she loved him) since she was a little girl.

He sighed heavily.

“Yunli, we’ve been over this-”

“One week. The change comes to me in one week-”

“You’re Yoongi’s sister-”

“I’ll be twenty years old, and for the last time I’m not your sister-”

“Goddess above, Yunli!” he shouted, “You’re just a child!”

Yunli’s hands gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

“I am not a child!” she growled.

Then her mouth was on his and every single thought he ever had disappeared.

There was only her.

Heat poured through him like heavy syrup as his senses surrendered one by one. His arms wrapped around her without the slightest hesitation, as if their sole purpose was draw her in.

Sweet... Oh goddess, she’s sweet.

Yunli whined needily and a possessive growl rumbled from his chest in response.

Then she was pulling back - wrenching herself away from him with an anguished sob.

Bitter tears flowed freely down her impossibly beautiful face and Namjoon - who spent the majority of his life barely acknowledging his heart - suddenly felt it shatter.

“You should have waited for me,” she whispered.

“Yunli-I-” he tried calling out to her, but it was no use.

She was already gone.

“Are you sure you have everything you need?”

Jimin offered his second a distracted smile and nodded. His room looked the same as it did the morning of the ascension, yet his entire life was different...

“You were great today, Taehyung. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tae felt his chest swell with pride. He didn’t want to think about what sunrise might bring, but he was determined to serve his old friend well.

For as long as he could.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, recalling that he fell asleep on his feet for three entire terms before anyone noticed. “You’re a surprisingly ruthless negotiator. I barely contributed.”

“I wasn’t alone though...” Jimin whispered, “and when Namjoon first issued the challenge... I thought I might be.”

Taehyung gulped, pushing back the oppressive sorrow settling in his gut in favor of some levity.

“You - uh - you actually missed the wildest part of the whole day.”

“...I did?”

“Yeah it was bizarre. Did you notice the table was different after our break?”

Jimin shrugged. His thoughts had been... elsewhere at that point.

“We couldn’t find you at first, so you missed the whole ordeal but - when we all came back to the room, that big oak table was split in half.”

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End Note: Yoonji was mentioned earlier in the story. She is Yoongi and Yunli’s cousin. Yunli and Yoonji are separate characters.