#he had to save a universe from ripping at the seems the other day and still feels sore. give him a pass

[billymarvel]

a magic user reading up on ancient texts talking about The Champion and their obligations and trials they go through, and thinking out loud 'wow, this guy is insane. if that were me, i woulda lost it long ago'.

cap standing not too far away bc theyre at jld hq and hes just downing a coffee that he never needed, thinking 'the only thing keeping me sane is that goddamn tiger and the game console waiting for me at the rock. and also the several people in my corner, but we wont talk about that'.

[dreaming-medium]

Language Barrier

Pairing: Lee Minho x Reader

Word Count: 7K

Tags: fluff, first meeting, first kiss, strangers to lovers

Summary: When the power goes out while you’re in an ATM vestibule, you come to realize you’re stuck inside until the police come to open the door. But there’s one problem, you don’t speak a lick of Korean, and the man inside doesn’t seem to speak an ounce of English.

———

A/N: Please note that sentences that are Italicized are meant to be in Korean and sentences that are regular text are in English.

‘How are you?’ - English

‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ - Korean

—————————————————————————

Luck was not on your side today.

It’s not like you’re an unlucky person as a whole, no, that’s not it. Today was just one of those days that when you say ‘How could this get any worse?’, the universe takes it as a challenge.

Perhaps you should’ve just kept your mouth shut after you spilled coffee on your blouse this morning. But, you’ve always been such a ‘glass-half-full’ sort of person that you tried to take every inconvenience in stride. Everyone has their limit, though.

Before you came here on a business trip, you had heard about the Korean Monsoon season.

Everyone and their mother told you about how much it would pour, how it would feel like the skies suddenly opened up. But, you didn’t take anyone’s warning seriously. You would wave them off with a scoff.

“It’s just rain,” you thought. “How bad could it be?”

You’re eating those words now as you run through the streets in your nice, newly-soaked, professional heels. Your slacks are sticking to your legs, making the fabric ten times heavier. With your bag held over your head, you look around frantically for the bank.

It doesn’t help that it’s close to 10 PM and visibility is already horrible at this time. Yes, you should have gone earlier, but you were distracted!

Where is it? Where is it?

There!

You spot the glass doors and practically sprint up to them, grab the handle, and rip the door open.

A giant sigh of relief comes out of your lips as you step inside the tiny vestibule.

The only other man inside the place jumps a bit at your noise. He glances over his shoulder at you, but immediately turns back to what he’s doing at the ATM. You pay him no mind as you shake the rainwater off of your bag.

It’s after hours at the bank, meaning the only thing open and available is one ATM inside the room between the bank itself and the streets of Seoul.

Soft beeping comes from the ATM as the other man presses a few buttons. There’s an umbrella on the floor at his feet.

After brushing the water off your jacket, you bring your bag in front of you and start fishing out your card. Countless items inside your bag are now completely soaked.

Ugh, there goes all those business cards you collected at the meeting. Most of the ink is bleeding off the cardstock. Maybe, if you try really hard, you can make out the phone numbers on the cards.

Is that a 6 or an 8?

Or maybe the email addresses will be easier to understand. Surely, it just their names and their company’s–

There’s a bright flash of lightning followed immediately by a booming clap of thunder at the same time the lights in the ATM vestibule flicker and go out completely.

You fight the yelp that bubbles in your throat. The man in front of you seems to lose the fight against his reactions and lets out a tiny yip.

His shoulders come up and he seems to bristle like a cat.

“You’re kidding,” you mumble, looking up at the lights. It was almost pitch black inside now, save for the tiny emergency lights that kick on on either side of the glowing Exit sign.

The man lets out a grumble and a sigh.

You look over and see that the ATM has completely shut off. Figures.

The storm must’ve triggered some sort of power outage. Great. Now you’ll have to find some other ATM.

Why, oh why, did the restaurant that your boss wanted to take you to tomorrow morning have to be cash only?

Whatever, there should be a bank a few blocks from here.

Your heels click on the tile as you make your way to the door. When you grab the handle and pull, it doesn’t budge.

There’s a beat.

You try again, really putting your back into it this time.

“Am I stupid or what?” you whisper to yourself, trying the other door and pulling equally as hard.

“They’re not going to open,” the man behind you says. “The fail-safe locks probably kicked in once the power went out. It’s a security measure.”

You turn around and look at him with a blank look on your face. “Oh, ah, um… s-sorry, no… no Korean.”

The man blinks at you. “You don’t speak Korean?”

You blink right back at him. “Um…” All you can do is shake your head with wide eyes and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you repeat.

Another series of blinks are exchanged.

“No… Korean?” he asks slowly. His English sounds so unsure.

You nod. “No… no Korean.”

A tiny, exasperated sigh comes from his lips and he looks around, as if anything inside this tiny little room would be able to help him communicate with you. Meanwhile, you turn back to the door and give it another sharp tug to no avail.

“No,” he says firmly, drawing your attention back to him. He motions down to the door handles and then shakes his head.

“No?” you repeat, a bit confused.

“No.”

Honestly, the primitive conversation between the two of you would be somewhat laughable if you didn’t feel frustrated beyond belief.

“Why?” you ask, becoming annoyed. Obviously, he knows something that you don’t.

The man blinks at you and shifts around nervously on his feet. His hands motion around as he tries to conjure up a sentence in English. “N… No. Closed?... Closed.” He nods, saying the word rather confidently.

Yes, you know the door is closed. But, why?

After a second, he sees that whatever he said evidently isn’t good enough, so he points back to the ATM, to the light that is now off due to no power, and then to the locks. You follow his pointing and the cogs in your brain start turning slowly.

“Fail-safe locks,” you state and then finally release the door handles.

“Fail… Fail-safe locks,” he repeats slowly. “Fail-safe locks.”

“Fail-safe locks?” you parrot his Korean back to him and he nods.

A small hum comes from your chest and you take a step back from the door finally. “How long do you think–” you cut yourself off when you look over at him. The man is staring at you, not following a word you’re saying.

Your hand comes up and you brush some wet hair off your forehead and then scratch the back of your head as a nervous tick. There’s no point in even asking the question, he won’t be able to understand anything you’re saying.

If you were in his shoes, you’d probably be a bit annoyed too. But at the same time, he’s already been kinder than most would be in this situation.

He’s locked in an ATM vestibule with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as him– in his own country. He’s been more than kind. Most people would just wave you off and forget trying to communicate at all.

But here he was, talking slowly and making sure you can understand what he’s saying. He’s going so far as to point around the room to make sure you understand.

The man notices you give up and he lets out a tiny sigh, turning to then peer out the glass doors at the streets of Seoul. There’s basically no one out there, everyone has taken shelter from the squall.

“We’ll have to wait until the police come to open the door.” He pats at his pockets, searching for his phone.

Even with how terrible your Korean is, you still pick up on a few words. “Police?” A beat. “Police?”

“Yes,” he answers in English, taking his phone out and tapping the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear. The man continues to look through the glass doors, watching all the different cars drive by, none of them police cars.

You decide to turn around, walking around the tiny room.

All of the lights are off except for the emergency lights. They cast a dull glow through the entirety of the vestibule. There's barely enough light to see from one side of the room to the other.

Rain starts hammering against the glass as the man speaks into his phone. “Yes, hi, hello. I am currently trapped with another woman inside the ATM vestibule of Metrobank Seoul… Namdaemunno… Yes, that one.”

Your ears perk up when he mentions the name of the bank and the address. Ah, he must have called the police. His face pulls into a slightly annoyed look, but he doesn’t speak with a hint of it through the phone, at least, not that you’re really able to tell.

The man says a few more words into the phone before he hangs up with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair and then down his face in an exasperated fashion before turning to look at you. His mouth opens to say something, but he thinks better of it and he grimaces even more.

Your own features pull into a sympathetic expression and you look away, slightly embarrassed. Should you have learned more of the language before coming here? Absolutely. But at the same time, you didn’t have much time to prepare once you were told you had to travel here for business.

He shuffles from foot to foot and looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets and desperately trying to remember every English class he took in school.

“Police…” he says slowly, thinking through every word he wants to try and say. “Police are… busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yes. Busy. Busy with… car…” He brings both of his hands together and claps and then makes an explosion noise with his hands.

“A car accident?”

He snaps his fingers and points to you, as if you’re a team during a game of charades.

“Car accident,” he says in Korean.

“Car accident,” you repeat and he nods.

Despite the reality of the situation, you smile. The humor in all of this does not escape you. You decide to try and meet him halfway, even with your butchered pronunciation.

“Police… time… long?” Your head cocks to the side and you point to your watch. He shakes his head and shrugs in exaggerated movements.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. The accident was that bad, huh? No wonder the power went out then, the car must have smashed into electrical lines after that loud clap of thunder. This probably means all of the traffic lights and such are out too.

The police are most likely directing traffic and making sure no one gets injured; two idiots stranded in an ATM vestibule are the least of their concerns. Honestly, you can’t be in a safer place. Well, unless this guy is a murderer, but you haven’t gotten a harsh vibe yet.

You sigh and lean against the wall near the corner across from the ATM. Your body slides down to the floor and you stare straight ahead. It seems like you’re going to be in here for a while then.

The man takes one last look outside the doors before walking in your direction. He leans against the adjacent wall and takes a seat on the floor with you. His shoes almost touch the side of yours. It’s at this time that you let yourself take a moment to really look at him.

He has to be around your age; older than a college graduate but younger than someone settled into their career. Something that definitely doesn’t escape your attention is how… pretty he is. His skin is near perfect and so is his hair. Everything, down to the clothes he’s wearing, is absolutely flawless– and he’s only in sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie!

Next to him, especially in your current drowned rat state, you probably look like something worse than a hot mess. You quickly comb your hair off your forehead once more and pull at your soaking wet clothes sticking to your skin.

The man’s lips purse for a moment and he opens his mouth as if to say something, then promptly stops, opting for a grumble of frustration.

After a moment, an idea flickers through your mind and you hold up one finger to him to say ‘one moment’. You reach down into your pocket for your phone and take it out, tapping at a few screens and bringing up the Translate app.

‘What’s your name?’ you type into the phone and it immediately translates it into Korean below it. You turn your phone around and hold it up to him.

The man looks at you, then your phone, and his eyes light up. If you’re not mistaken, you even see a little bit of relief flash over his features. A tiny smirk pulls at one corner of his lips before he looks back at you.

“Minho,” he answers and motions to you.

“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, Minho.” You hold your hand out for a handshake.

Minho looks at your hand and his smirk gets wider before he grabs your hand and shakes it gently. The skin on his palm is so soft. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

After shaking his hand, you bring your phone back up to your face and type another sentence into the translate app.

‘I’m very sorry for not knowing Korean, I’m here on business.’

Minho looks at your phone, reading the statement before shaking his head and pulling out his own phone. He types away and then holds it up for you to read.

‘No need to apologize. With my line of work, my English should be better. It’s a very hard language to learn.’

A little laugh huffs from your nose and you nod and type.

‘Try learning Korean.’

Minho laughs with you and his smirk grows into a playful smile. Jesus Christ, this man is gorgeous. He looks down and taps a bit on his phone and then he holds it up to you. With the way his smirk pulls at his lips, it almost reminds you of a devious little cat.

‘I could tell you were a foreigner when you first came into the bank.’

Your eyebrow raises. “Oh, really?”

He’s chuckling when he brings his phone back to type more and then hold it up for you to read.

‘You don’t have an umbrella.’

Laughter leaves your lips when you read that and your head tilts back to rest against the wall. The wetness from your clothes is beginning to seep into your bones. Plus, the feeling of the fabric sticking to your skin is starting to become overstimulating.

But, you try and keep it together. You don’t really have another option at the moment.

You type a message back to Minho.

‘People tried to warn me about the Monsoon Season. As you can see, I didn’t listen.’

He reads your message and sucks his teeth with a smirk. Minho shakes his head and motions to the glass doors, as if to say ‘Look!’.

“I know, I know!” you laugh and look outside at the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. Puddles have turned into small ravines flowing down the sides of the road. Any car that passes by creates a huge splash as they pass through them.

Every once in a while, the sky will light up and thunder will follow it quickly.

Minho laughs with you. “Next time… you listen.” He nudges your leg with his foot.

You look over at him. “I will, trust me.”

A long look is shared between the two of you. There’s this tiny nagging feeling at the back of your mind, it’s that same feeling you get when you see someone in public that you swear you’ve seen before. Maybe he just has one of those faces?

No, you definitely haven’t met him before. You would remember if he was someone you shook hands with in the last few days. A man that gorgeous would never slip under your radar, you’re certain.

Minho stares back at you, eyes flitting about at your soaking wet hair matting to your skin. It looks like his one hand twitches for a moment and then he shifts in his seat.

Back to the app.

The two of you type away on your phones and hold them up at the same time with the exact same question on them.

‘What do you do for work?’

‘What do you do for work?’

Again, the two of you let out little huffs of laughter and he motions to you as if to tell you to go first.

So you do, you type down on your phone a little answer for him.

‘Right now, I’m only the assistant to a CEO for a huge company. Wherever he goes, I go. I write all his contracts; everything he does goes through me first. I’m more of an administrator than an assistant, though.’

Minho reads your answer carefully and then types out a small response with a tiny crease in between his brows.

‘Why do you say ‘right now’?’

A sad smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone to type out a response.

‘I studied hard and have a Mathematics degree. But no matter where I apply, they say I don’t have enough experience. Back in America, the job market is absolutely horrible. So, I’m stuck.’

Minho’s eyes scan through your message and a frown pulls at his lips. He looks back up at you, meeting your eyes and then back to your phone before he begins to type his own message.

Your silent communication warms your heart a little bit. The glow from his phone lights up his features and you study him carefully. His teeth poke out from his top lip– it’s absolutely adorable.

He seems to think for a long moment before his thumbs fly over his screen.

Rain is coming down in sheets outside the door, it’s the only other sound inside the room besides the light clicking of the haptics on his phone.

You reach back and once more run your fingers through your hair– it seems to be drying now, but not in a good way. The humidity of the rain is apparent in the way it's starting to frizz up.

Minho turns his phone around after a moment of typing.

‘I’ve heard about how hard it is to get a job in America, I’m very sorry it’s so unfair. For what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing wrong with the job you have now. Hard work is hard work no matter if it's an assistant or a scientist.’

His words strike a chord within your heart, they tug at your chest and at the corner of your lips which twitch into a wistful smile on your face.

“Thank you,” you say to him in Korean, looking directly into his eyes. Minho smiles back at you when he hears it.

“You are welcome,” he answers in English.

His smile seems so warm for a stranger. He looks at you as if you’re an old friend, not like a woman, still soaking wet from the rain, sitting on the floor with him inside an ATM vestibule. He’s so genuine.

After a few seconds of just looking at him, you bring your phone up to type once more.

‘Your turn. What do you do?’

Minho stares at your phone for a long time, seemingly reading the sentence over and over again. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth and he seems to weigh something in his mind.

His brown eyes flick to yours, then back to the phone, then back to you again before he looks down at his phone.

You never realized how much just body language alone can convey.

He types slower, his thumbs not moving as quickly as before. Why does he seem so apprehensive?

Eventually, he turns the phone around.

‘I’m an idol.’

“Oh,” you say softly. Your shoulders shrug a bit and you cock your head to the side. “Like a K-pop idol?”

Minho nods in response. “Stray Kids.”

The name rings a bell, it’s just one you’ve heard floating around for a few months now. You think one of your friends is into them, but you can’t remember. She’s into so many different groups, it’s hard to keep track anymore.

You type in your phone.

‘I’ve heard the name before. Weren’t you guys at the MET Gala?’

With a breathy chuckle, he nods. A smile spreads across your face.

‘Wow, I’m trapped in a room with a celebrity then. You know, people write stories like this.’

Your joke definitely lands because he snorts a huff of laughter as you type on your phone a little bit more after that.

‘Don’t worry, I won’t take pictures and post them all over Twitter or anything. This will just be a funny story for me to tell my friends when I get back home to America.’

“Thank you,” Minho says softly with genuine gratitude in his voice. God, you can’t even imagine what it’s like being an idol. There probably wasn’t a single place he felt safe going to anymore. There are always cameras just waiting to take his picture.

‘When do you go back to America?’

‘In a few days. My boss loves to extend his business trips at the last minute. So, I could be here three more days or seven more days. It’s very hard to pack to come on these trips.’

A bittersweet expression settles on his handsome face.

You think for a long moment before typing away at your phone and showing it to him.

‘Have you ever been to New Jersey? That’s the state I’m from.’

Minho’s lips purse as he thinks for a long few moments. Very slowly, he nods, almost unsure. He types in his phone, then thinks for a moment, then types again.

‘I think we’ve been there twice. Is Newark in New Jersey?’

Excitedly, you nod. “Yes, that’s up in North Jersey!” You’re so excited that you forget to type down on your phone. “Oh!” you say with a laugh, looking back down at your phone.

‘Yes, that’s in the northern part of the state, about an hour or so from my hometown. I grew up in the central region, right on the beach. It only takes ten minutes to get to the beach from my house.’

Minho’s smile widens and he looks at you with a slightly envious look in his eyes. You giggle in response.

‘Two other members love the beach, but they’re from Australia.’

‘Australian beaches are probably not that different from American beaches. But I’ve never been to Australia. Have you?’

Minho nods and you see him close his translation app and switch over to his camera roll. His fingers quickly begin scrolling up through the countless amount of photos he has on his phone.

Not wanting to invade his privacy, you look away from his phone and out the doors in the vestibule once more. Not a single soul is walking– or running– along the sidewalks anymore.

Due to the power outage, there’s not even street lights illuminating in the puddles, it’s almost eerie looking. But, surprisingly, you don’t feel uneasy at all. Especially not with Minho sitting at your side.

Said man hums to get your attention, shuffling closer to you, and you look down at his phone. The picture is absolutely gorgeous.

It’s a photo of the beach, you’re assuming in Australia. The red sun is peeking above the horizon and painting the sky a beautiful wash of reds, pinks, and purples, all of the colors melting into one another. The clouds are wispy and glow in the morning sun.

The ocean seems so beautifully blue, even the foam at the crash of the waves is beautiful.

In front of the ocean is a gaggle of boys, it looks like there’s about seven of them. Each of them have bright, beautiful smiles on their faces reaching their eyes.

You’ve never been able to feel joy radiating from a photo like this, it seems to be contagious since you find a smile pulling at your own lips.

“This photo is beautiful,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of it.

Minho hums, maybe he understood what you said. His thumb moves and he scrolls to the next picture where two of the boys have taken one of the others by his legs and arms and seem to be pretending to toss him into the surf.

A soft giggle comes from your lips and you find yourself leaning towards him a bit to get a better look at the photo. Truly, you didn’t even notice your shoulders brushing against each other, and by his lack of reaction, it seems Minho didn’t either.

“Friends?” you ask him in your choppy Korean.

Minho looks over at you, his face closer to you than before. His eyes widen a bit at your proximity, but he doesn’t back up at all.

“Family,” he corrects you in his soft English.

An even warmer feeling spreads through your chest and you look back down at the photo. They must be his band members, but they just look so much closer than that. It reminds you of all of your friends back home.

Before you can even think twice, you’re opening your own camera roll, scrolling through an endless sea of memories before finding one specific morning you woke up to go watch the sunrise on the beach.

A tiny, awe-struck noise comes from Minho when he looks down at it.

“Sunrise,” you say and then think for a moment. You’re not sure of the Korean you want to say. “Favorite… time.”

He’s so patient when you speak, it absolutely melts your heart. There’s a different air about his softness with you too. He’s not treating you like a child just learning how to speak, no, he’s just being… nice. He’s being sweet and genuine and it speaks volumes about his character.

“Sunrise,” he says in Korean.

“Sunrise,” you repeat, looking up at him. His eyes were already trained on your face by the time you looked up. A tiny dusting of pink covers your cheeks. How long has he been looking at you?

A happy smile spreads over his lips, the edges curl up playfully. He nods. “Sunrise. Sunrise.”

“Sunrise.” Your voice says softly once more before looking back down at your phone.

Swiping through a few more pictures, you show him the boardwalk that runs down the beaches by your house. Everything from shops, to amusement park rides, to lemonade and ice cream stands litter the entirety of the shore.

He points down at the ferris wheel and shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.

“No?” you ask with a laugh. “Why not?”

“No… no high,” he shakes his head and motions his hands around to emphasize his point.

“Best picture,” you giggle holding your hand up in the air to emphasize the height aspect, then you’re swiping to the next picture taken from the top of the ferris wheel. This time, it was sunset. “Sunset.”

“Sunset.” A pause. “My… My… favorite time.”

A soft hum bubbles up in your throat. He loves sunset whereas you love sunrise. How cute.

“Sunset is beautiful,” you say slowly. Your eyes are still on your phone when you swipe to another photo.

“Beautiful,” Minho whispers softly.

Humming, you nod. “Yes, beautiful.”

A soft puff of air comes out of his nose and fans out over your cheek. When did he get this close? You look up at him and almost bump his nose with yours.

Minho’s head flinches back a bit at your sudden movement, but he makes no move to get further away from you.

He sighs softly, his eyes flitting all over your face, taking in every one of your features. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Your eyes widen, that pink blush making its way back to your face. You can’t even help the tiny, giddy giggle that bubbles in your throat. You look down shyly, biting your bottom lip.

Tender, gentle fingers lift your chin back up. Truly, you didn’t notice how cold your skin was until his warm touch spread on your skin.

Is this really happening?

A shiver races down your spine and a soft shudder comes out of your lips. Minho’s eyes look down at your lips and then down at your arm where goosebumps begin to raise.

He pulls away gently, making your brows furrow. Did you do something wrong? Maybe you misread his–

He’s shrugging off his hoodie.

Oh, he thinks you're cold.

Before you can even think to tell him you’re okay, he’s pulling your shoulder forward a bit so he can drape it over your back, bundling you up in such a pleasant, soft warmth. With small, fussy movements, he’s closing the hoodie around your body.

Perhaps you didn’t even notice how cold you were until you were suddenly surrounded in a warmth that can be compared to the fuzziest blanket you own. Not to mention the absolutely delightful scent that wafts upwards into your nose from the fabric.

It’s such a clean, cozy, calming scent. It’s like you buried your nose into the Mahogany Teakwood candle at Bath and Body Works.

Your eyes stay trained on his face while he bundles you up tightly. His hands gently grab your arms and rub up and down a few times to create even more warmth.

“Better,” he murmurs, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

How is it that a stranger has wormed himself into your heart like this? His tender gaze makes your soul feel calm, like those pictures of the morning surf under the sunrise.

“Thank you,” you whisper back to him. Your hands come up to grab at the hoodie, curling into the fabric.

Minho smiles back at you, you can see how his smile grows as he watches you relax into his clothing. There’s no space between your shoulders as you rest against adjacent walls, your two bodies have melted into the corner.

There’s a clap of thunder outside, but neither of you move. Your feet shuffle on the floor as you bring your knees closer to your chest. His legs adjust around yours, feeding them under your bent knees and tangling your limbs up further.

It’s so hard to break Minho’s eye contact, but you do it slowly, looking down at your phone and opening up the translate app once more. His soft breathing hits your cheek with every exhale.

‘You’re too nice to a stranger.’

Minho hums, almost in agreement. He picks up his phone and types back.

‘I’m usually not.’

You read the statement and then look at him, your head cocked to the side. Your brows furrow in confusion, but he types more before you can even ask another question.

‘I don’t know why I feel drawn to you.’

The text looks right back at you. Your heart flutters in your chest and you know that your cheeks get redder and redder by the second. Still, you can’t contain the giddy laugh that makes its way past your lips.

You bite the inside of your cheek to try and hide the smile, but it only makes Minho smile wider. His hand slowly comes up towards your cheek. Right before he’s able to make contact, he stops, hovering over your skin and gazing into your eyes.

A silent question is asked through his eyes. It’s a language that you don’t need any sort of app for. An answer is communicated right back.

Soft, tender warmth spreads over your cheek, radiating all throughout your body in the most gentle glow. His thumb caresses over your cheek bone, swiping gentle strokes back and forth.

You feel the same as him, that’s the strange part. There’s something so alluring about him that you just can’t put your finger on it. He’s pulling you in like a magnet and you don’t even want to fight against it.

There’s so many words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you know that each and every one of them would fall on deaf ears. Nothing that you can say in the moment would make sense to him.

Exhales are shared and mingled together in the minimal space between your faces,

“Beautiful,” he whispers for your ears only. Not like there’s anyone else to hear it except the ATM sitting dormant in the corner of the vestibule. Not even the mice in the walls would have been able to hear his murmur.

Love at first sight was something you always gawked and scoffed at. You always thought that it was such a Hallmark invention, that there was no way you would be able to just look at someone once and immediately fall head over heels for them.

But here you were, sitting on a dirty floor, feeling your heart beating faster and faster in your chest. Letting your face be cradled by a man you didn’t know two hours ago. By the man who patiently worked with you to communicate.

How is this even possible?

You can count on one hand the amount of things you know about one another.

Minho, who is a famous idol in Korea, who loves sunset and hates heights, who has the most expressive brown eyes you’ve ever seen.

Minho, who did whatever he could just to talk to you when he could have just as easily sat in silence on the other side of the vestibule.

His hand slowly drags down your cheek, each finger gliding down your skin towards your jawline to lift under your chin.

Another silent question passes through both of you in the one language you seem to both be fluent in.

Your eyes flick down to his lips and he hears you loud and clear.

Minho leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight touch. But, despite how soft the kiss is, heat spreads through your body in a grand wave, rushing through your fingertips and into your toes.

The first press is long and sweet, the two of you simply melting into the sensation of being locked together.

He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes gazing down at your lips before he swoops in again, this time his movements a bit quicker.

His hand returns to your cheek, guiding your head to tilt to the side to gain better access to your lips.

A soft sigh leaves your nose and your own hand travels up to grab at his shirt gently, just needing to hold onto him in any way possible.

Minho responds to your sigh, his lips moving a bit faster against yours. Both of your lips part and close, moving like mirror images of one another. Every few kisses, your noses brush against one another, but it doesn’t deter you from your actions at all.

Slowly, your hand travels from his shirt up to his neck, running up the side of his flushed skin. He feels feverish to the touch and it only spurs you on to keep moving. At the contact on his own body, Minho lets out a tiny grunt against your lips, his kisses stutter for a moment but he’s back to kissing you after just a moment.

Up, up, up, your hand travels over his moving jaw, to his cheek, then moving back to thread in his soft, brown trusses of hair. God, everything about him is just so perfect. It’s like you’re combing your fingers through the softest of cotton.

His kisses are getting deeper, little sighs come from both of your mouths as the passion continues on. Minho’s body turns towards yours a bit more, his knees canting up and almost forcing your legs onto his lap.

Tentatively, you feel his tongue poke out from between his lips, licking gently at your lower lip. You don’t even hesitate to give him access to your mouth. A gentle moan claws its way up your throat as his tongue licks into your mouth.

The hand on your cheek grips you a bit tighter, holding your face to his– as if you would want to try and move away from Minho and his addicting kisses.

“I just can’t help it,” he whispers in Korean against your spit, soaked lips before capturing them once more. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

All you catch is your name and it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t even need to know what else he said, his tone says it all. The way it comes out in a breathy exhale is enough to send your mind reeling.

“Please,” you murmur into his mouth before he presses his lips to yours once more with the same amount of passion and need in his actions.

More and more rain hits the glass doors, becoming the only sound that can be heard in the room except for your shared exhales, pants, and breathy moans.

Slowly, the kisses begin to calm down. Minho pulls away for a moment to take a long breath. His thumb moves to brush against your lower lip like a butterfly landing on a flower.

His eyes open just a crack, gazing down at your mouth with a hazy look in his eye. As he slowly catches his breath, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing along the heated skin on your face.

“Forgive me, I didn’t do things in order,” he whispers. “I should’ve taken you out first.”

Your eyes open and you look at him in confusion. “Hm?”

His jaw clenches before he swallows and he takes another long moment to look over your face, his features soft and welcoming.

There’s some movement as his other hand blindly pats around his lap for his phone. He can’t physically tear himself away from you long enough to even look down.

Another tiny laugh comes from your lips.

Your fingers move out of his hair to come around and gently run over his features, brushing against his jawline, to then trace up to his lips and up the length of his nose, memorizing each and every detail.

Minho melts into your touch, his face moving closer to your touch, seeking you out.

His hand finally finds his phone and he grabs it blindly, flipping it around in his lap and tearing his gaze away from your face to glance down at it.

Thumbs are flying across the screen to type at his translate app. He’s typing so quickly on his phone that you can't help but laugh a bit.

Before he’s able to turn the phone around, there are a few sharp knocks against the glass of the vestibule. The two of you practically jump out of your skin and your heads whip over to the doors.

Red and blue lights are flashing outside and it looks like two police officers are standing outside, peering in at you both. They wave when they see they’ve caught your attention.

Minho looks at the police officers, then to you, then back to the officers, and then back to you once more. His mouth opens and closes a few times and he tries to form a few words but you’re untangling your limbs from one another.

In a moment, you’re both on your feet as the officers work on unlocking the doors from the outside.

Minho gently grabs at your arm and you look down where he’s touching and your heart sinks a little. His eyes look a little questioning and desperate.

“Oh,” you say sadly. You shrug off his jacket, and hand it back to him. Minho’s eyebrows pull together and his lips part. He looks down at the jacket and then up at you.

“No,” he says firmly.

“Are you two alright?” The police officer calls inside in Korean.

“We’re okay,” Minho responds without breaking eye contact with you. He puts a hand on his jacket still dangling over your arm and pushes it back towards you.

“Minho?” you ask, looking at him and then at the officer approaching you both.

“We apologize for the delay, but we knew you two were safe, so we had to prioritize,” the officer says.

You blink at him blankly for a moment before then looking back at Minho.

“She’s a foreigner,” he says to the officer, finally looking away from you. “She doesn’t know Korean.”

“Ah,” the officer responds. “My apologies. You can tell her that she’s free to go.” He nods at the two of you and motions towards the door. You take his hint and slowly begin follow him.

Once again, Minho tugs on your arm and you pause, turning around to look at him. He’s holding his phone up to your face with a pleading look in his eye.

‘Can I please buy you a drink?’

A wide smile spreads across your cheeks and you can’t deny the relief that you feel inside your chest. The moment your lips twitch upwards, Minho immediately mirrors it.

“Yes,” you respond. “I love to go.”

He chuckles at your choppy Korean once more before taking his jacket out of your hands and wrapping you inside it once more. This time, he grabs the hood and pulls it up over your head.

With a satisfied hum, he nods and laces your fingers together.

“Come,” he says confidently.

“Lead way.”

[angelfrombeneth]

SECRET - A . DONALDSON

Sexual Content Ahead

Art Donaldson x Fem!ChubbyReader

Summary: Where you and Art are 'secretly' hooking up without your friends knowing.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Born with barely any plot, Art is slightly pathetic in this, Reader loves a cheeky ass grab.

Note: This one is a quick one I rushed, because I'm writing a nice long Art fic for yall. So please enjoy this for now.

If you told yourself 3 years ago that you'd be sat on some bleachers watching tennis you wouldn't believe it.

You were never interested in tennis, you knew about it obviously but it was never your thing.

You came to Stanford as an international student due to the fat scholarship you recieved so you packed your bags from London to California.

That is where you met Tashi Duncan, your best friend. She introduced herself to you one day in the library after hearing you tap away to the music playing in your headphones. It was a close call, she saved you from another warning from the librarian.

Tashi and you were inseparable. Learning about eachother more you discovered she played tennis and was quite well known but you had no clue. She found this a breath of fresh air as everyone knew of her some how. She put it down to the fact your from a different country additionally to your lack of interest of the sport.

Tashi coaxed you to come watch her warm ups and games - which you did being a great friend. But you sported to opening your sketchbook and sketching out the scene infront of you additionally. Might aswell do a research project on human posing and what better sport that tennis.

After your first semester you noticed Tashi always hanging out with this tall lanky man. He seemed nice but, you'd never seen him around. She told you he was her 'thing' which made you both laugh over lunch one time. She had mentioned he will be around alot more and he has a friend and that's when you met Art Donaldson, and well. The rest is history.

It had been a good year since you met Patrick and Art and you four were now a little quad. Despite the three of them being raging tennis players and you just sat on the side line they didn't mind.

You did try to take up a sport but it just wasn't for you, after Tashi found you face down in a bush after a 100m sprint.

You were watching Art play against someone from another University - you weren't listening to their name though.

Tashi and Patrick sat beside you, gasping and groaning, cheering and whooping at what was going on in the game but you only knew so much.

In the year you've known Art, you two had a great bond and tend to.. dip into eachothers bonds from time to time. You had no clue if Tashi or Patrick knew about your occasional flings with Art, you both never aired it nor got caught it just happened sometimes.

But as of late, you can't take your eyes off him. The way his shorts ride up his muscly thighs as he jumps from one end of the court to the other. The way his hair bounces but also sticks to his forehead due to his sweat. You were slightly obsessed.

You wouldn't say you had feelings for him, it never got deep enough for that. But you craved him. You craved every single inch of him and how he'd just melt into your hand.

"COME ON!!" You jump slightly as you were ripped out of your daydream as Tashi flew up beside you screaming as you looked at Art celebrating on the court.

You smiled, standing up and clapping as you grabbed everyone's coats and bags as Tashi and Patrick dashed off to see Art.

Climbing down the stairs was tricky balancing everything but as soon as you saw Tashi and Patrick bust through the door of the court as they piled onto Art you smiled. Walking towards them as you put down the stuff.

Art turned to you smiling, walking up to you and pulling you in for a hug. It wasn't unusual just took you off guard.

"We should celebrate! Let's go out for dinner" Tashi smiled.

"I love a good dinner" You smiled as they all chuckled at you.

You got changed for the dinner into a little black dress, you can never go wrong with it. Tashi texted you earlier her and Patrick will be late - which you assumed they were fucking in his car yet again. Dinners cancelled you assumed.

You walked over to Arts dorm, knocking on the door as it swung open to reveal a slightly disheaved Art as he stared at you. Shirtless and in the tightest pair of shorts ever.

"Did you forget we are going to dinner-"

"No- I was just.. working out" He spoke slightly.

You looked him up and down, a knowing smirk on your face.

"You can't hide it from me" You laughed. Art's face contorted as he looked at you confused as you swiped your hand over the very obvious bulge in his boxers before walking past him into his room.

He doubled over, groaning as he shut the door as you laughed, sitting on his desk chair.

"I thought Tashi was taking you to the restaurant?" He dove onto his bed, laying on his stomach as he scrunched a pillow up at leaned against it looking at you. God he looked so pathetic. Ass up and everything.

"Seems she got preoccupied with Patrick, I got this" You pulled up the text and turned it around to show Art.

"We definitely won't make it to the restaurant now" He laughed.

You stood up, dropping your bag on the chair as you walked over to Art, sitting by his head as he looked up at you.

"What do you wanna do then?" You caressed his cheek, smiling down at him.

"I have a few ideas.." His head turned to kiss your palm as his lips made its way up your arm till he was on his knees infront of you.

You stared at him blankly, sucking in your bottom lip as you took in the situation. You both paused for a brief moment staring at eachother.

You leaned in, kissing him roughly as your hands dropped to his back, pulling him closer as his hands slid up the back of your dress as he squeezed your ass. One thing about Art he loved your ass.

The pair of you tumbling with one another as you yanked down his boxers slightly as the back, grabbing a chunk of his ass with his hand as you sucked onto his tongue. A soft moan leaving his lips as you yanked down his boxers completely rolling over as you caged him below you.

"Mm- want you- s'bad" You pulled at his lip as you sucked on it, grinding down against his bare cock as you reached to pull your dress off in one swift motion.

"Fuck- good girl-" He groaned as he unclasped your bra throwing it off as he pulled your neck and pulled you back into another kiss. It was passionate but needy. The way his tongue slipped in and out of your mouth had you yearning for more. You reached down to wriggle out of your panties as you kicked them off to the side before you held the base of his dick. Running it between your slit as you gasped, pulling away from the kiss.

You bit your lip, sighing as you bucked your hips against his tip. Your hands sliding up over your breasts as you peered down at him. "You piss me off how fucking hot you are. Why are you so fucking hot" You groaned, grinding down harder against him as he harshly gasped.

"Shut up" He whined lightly as he grabbed your hip, lifting you up so he could grab his cock and curve it up towards your entrance as he dropped you down against his abdomen as his cock slipped up inside of you. "Fuck-" You both yelped in unison.

You peered down at him, chuckling softly as you let out soft moans as you rocked back and forth against him. "Oh fuck-" You grit your teeth as your hand slid down his chest as you rocked back and forth. Your thighs slightly twitching as your eyes threatened to roll back.

"Such a good girl f'me aren't you" He smirked, sliding a hand up overs your stomach. This was something Art tended to do. You knew you were chubbier that other girls you'd seen him with before but he was definitely into it. His smile grew as he slid them further up to grip your breast as he squeezed and toyed with it.

You smirked down at him, leaning forward slightly, pecking his lips as your ass rebounded against his abdomen as you dropped down on him continously as you rode him.

"Good.." You spoke with breathy moans as light whines escaped Art's lips as he stared into your eyes. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. The way his eyes watched you.

His hands dropped from your breasts, gripping onto the plush of your thighs as he whined slightly, spreading his legs below you.

You could feel his hips thrusting up into your for more, as you bit your lip moaning lightly. "Yessss~ fuck. Art- s-so good" You yelped as his hands gripped your waist before flipping you onto your back. The movement shocked you but the second he got his balance he began to piston into you.

You reached back, grabbing the headboard of the bed as you yelped. Whines and moans pouring from your mouth as Art demolished you. His hips slamming into you. His balls slapping into your ass as the bed creaked below the pair of you. One of his hands, gripping at a chunk of your thigh as his thumb caressed against the skin. The other, reaching for one of yours as your fingers interlocked with one another.

You reached forward grabbing his ass harshly with your free hand, as you squeezed it, looking up at him, biting your lip.

His mouth ghosting over yours as he let out soft whines and groans - just like he does in tennis. Fuck do you love the sounds he makes when he's playing fucking tennis...

"Yes- Fuck Art please.. Harder" you groaned, your hand removing from his as they both flew to his back, your nails scratched down it as he pounded harder into you.

His groans got louder and needier, as his hands returned to your chunk sides, his fingers dug harder into your hip. His thrusts became sloppier, you knew he was close.

Art threw your legs over his shoulders as he slammed back into you. A guttural moan yelping from your throat as you shrieked, his pace quickening as you whined. Your nails digging into his shoulder as your back arched down against him as your eyes rolled back as you drew closer to your climax.

He knew you were close abd so was he. He continue to pump into you as fast as he could till you both came undone. Both cumming together, his head hung low as he watched a mixture of your releases create a ring at the bottom of his cock as he thrusted a few more times, dragging the pair of you through the high.

"Fuck-" He groaned as he pulled out, biting his lip as he leaned back on his legs as he stared down at you panting.

You looked at the disheaved boy infront of you, you couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle as he panted.

"S'good as always" You smiled, sitting up as you pecked his lips.

Art leaned forward, kissing you deeper as his hand snaked around your neck, pulling you closer as he kissed you. You hummed softly, your tongue swiping over his lips as the kiss grew more heated.

Before the pair of you could even consider a second round a loud string of knocks banged against the door.

The two of you pulled away and froze. Your hand pressed against his chest, your other frozen as you stroked his cock. His hands cupping your face as the pair of you just stared at each other.

After a while no knocks were heard so you were going to continue till another string of loud knocks.

"Fuck" You hissed as the pair of you both stood up, grabbing your clothes as you tried to quickly dress.

Your dress nowhere to be seen amongst the large pile of clothes. "Art where the fuck is my dress-" You whispered shouted.

"Shhh!-" He quipped. You grabbed his dress shirt he was wearing off the floor and threw it on over your underwear. He was scrambling around the room looking for his shirt when he looked at you wearing it.

He quickly pulled on his trousers and opened his wardrobe for a tshirt as he stumbled to the door. You stood behind him.

You don't know what you both expected or who you expected to be behind the door. But the colour drained from both of your faces as the door revealed your two friends.

"I texted you Y/N that we were outside 10 minutes ago but I can see you were occupied" Tashi raises her eyebrow, a sickly smirk across her face.

You gulped as you stared at her, smiling awkwardly.

"Tash- did you figure out where Y/N was-" Patrick's voice could be heard down the hall as he gained closer to the door. Stopping behind Tashi as he stared at you and Art. "Fucking knew it" He laughed.

If you enjoyed this fic and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here!

[ceruark]

still here

[yan! sunday x gn! reader] synopsis: you’ve been waiting for the day you’d finally be free from your captor. but fate has other plans, as you keep reliving the moment of his departure. words: 5,320 cw: yandere themes: mentions of previous manipulation, abduction, obsessive & possessive behavior; implied alcoholism, brief mention of murder/stabbing a/n: i’ve had this on backlog for MONTHS i’m so glad it’s finally done. i hope it’s okay and u guys like it <3

It’s true what they say about there being light at the end of a dark, seemingly endless tunnel; when the Astral Express finally departs, it does so in a blaze, washing the dock by The Reverie in a brilliant glow and momentarily blinding you. Once your vision clears up, it’s nothing but a star shooting across the vast sky, leaving behind a warmth that lifts the weight of the world off your shoulders.

At least, that’s how it felt the first time.

You’re not sure how many times you’ve seen it leave, at this point— you lost count a while ago. There were a few times you decided to not even show up at the dock, to see if it changed anything, but to your dismay, you woke up in your apartment in Golden Hour every single time, your alarm clock blaring at seven in the morning and the calendar reading that same, dreaded day.

December 3rd.

You realized after the fifth time that you were, in no uncertain terms, stuck in a time loop. The universe seems to revel in your suffering, and it finds particular hilarity in you repeatedly having to see Sunday “for the last time.” It doesn’t matter what you change— the day always resets. You’ve seen him off with the sweet disposition you learned long ago to keep up in public spaces, and you’ve cursed him out, screamed at him, and hit him.

But none of it worked. Nothing has changed.

You sigh as Siobhan swipes your empty glass off the table and replaces it with a full one. She nods at you sympathetically, eyes gleaming with pity. In the years following your abduction, you became a regular at the Dreamjolt Holstery whenever Sunday was out on business. You drank yourself to the bottom of bottles, chasing some kind of reprieve in a place where you could actually breathe. Siobhan was always sweet to you and never ratted you out. Gallagher had been good company as well, chasing out Oak Family representatives whenever they came poking around. You miss him, at times.

You take a slow sip of your wine. The finest chardonnay Penacony has to offer slips down your throat, and a pang rips through you as it does. You had shared a bottle with Sunday on your second date, back when you believed him to be a much different man than he proved to be.

You push the glass across the table and fold your arms on top of it, laying your head down and resting your cheek against it. Your eyes blearily scan the bar, drinking in the happy couples with some bitter cocktail of desolation and envy. You watch them, the way they so tenderly hold each other and exchange whispers and sweet kisses— no fronts or guards up— and you lament it all. You curse Xipe’s name and spit on Ena’s memory for the umpteenth time. Perhaps your blasphemy is so plentiful at this point that it stands out against the countless prayers reaching the sky from Penacony’s citizens, a hideous smudge on what should be a flawless record of blind admiration.

But you never were very good at falling in line.

Movement startles you out of your stupor. You lift your head and watch as a woman donning a large black hat and draped in the finest clothing money can buy settles into the booth across from you.

You clench your jaw tightly. Lady Bonajade, the soul who so graciously saved Sunday from everything he deserves.

She meets your poisonous glare with a sickly sweet smile. “Such bitterness on what should be a joyous occasion,” she drawls. She takes the abandoned wine glass into her hand and takes a sip. “What’s the matter, darling?”

You flick your gaze back to the bar where Siobhan is wiping down the counter. “It’s not really any of your business,” you respond evenly. You know better than to entertain her. She won’t give you anything useful, anyway.

She didn’t the last time you talked to her about your predicament.

She laughs. “So distrusting, though I suppose I can’t blame you for being a product of your environment.” Your heated glare fixes on her again, and she smiles, pleased with herself. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you seem sad to see him go.”

“Then it’s a good thing you know better,” you mutter.

She hums, then lifts the glass again. She takes long sips of the wine as she scrolls idly through her phone, presumably waiting for you to crack and spill your guts.

Perhaps you would keep your wits about you under any other circumstances. Jade’s presence does not come without an ulterior motive, and anything she offers you will certainly not come free. Speaking with her means risking being trapped under someone else’s thumb when you’ve only been free from Sunday’s for a few months.

But is there any real harm in confiding in her if she won’t even remember this?

“You won’t believe me,” you say, in a voice barely above a whisper.

A small smile crosses her lips as she sets her phone down. She meets your eyes, her gaze deceptively warm. “Try me.”

You stare at the polished surface of the table for a long moment, failing to find strength in the disheveled reflection that stares back at you. “I’m stuck in a time loop.”

Jade doesn’t say anything. When you look up at her, her gaze is much sharper, but there’s clear interest in it. She gestures for you to continue.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve lived this day. No matter what I do, I wake up and it’s the third of December.” You clench your hands into fists, and they tremble where they rest on the table. “I’ve watched him leave countless times now. I’ve been kind to him when he leaves, I’ve slapped him in front of the Express crew, I’ve straight up refused to show up and I’ve left Penacony altogether. I’ve—” 

You choke on your words, remembering the sound of horrified shrieks and golden eyes gleaming with horror and heartbreak. The feeling of sinking the blade into his chest and getting his blood on your hands had been as sickening as it was liberating.

“I’ve killed him,” you whisper. “But he didn’t— he’s still here. Every day. I can’t get rid of him.” A pathetic, weak laugh leaves you as you bury your face in your hands. “Even now, I can’t get rid of him.”

Silence descends over the booth. The idle chatter and occasional laughter of other patrons breaks up the tension in the air between you and Jade. The only sign that she’s even still at the table with you is the sound of her nails clinking against the side of the wine glass as she ponders your words.

“Let’s say, for discussion’s sake, that I do believe you.” You look up, meeting her cool, calculated gaze. “Do you have any theories as to why you are stuck in a time loop?”

You frown. “If we go off cliche, I’m making a wrong decision somewhere.”

Jade nods. “Agreed. Something far bigger than us in a place beyond humanity isn’t happy with you.”

You rest your cheek against your palm. “Any suggestions? I’m all out of ideas.”

She hums. “Why don’t we start by going over what you haven’t tried? You’re—”

“A clever little thing, given my previous circumstances.” Jade’s eyes go a bit wide at your sudden interruption, completing her sentence for her. Feeling inordinately exhausted, you sigh. “We’ve had this conversation before.” You lower your gaze. “When you convinced me to kill him.”

Jade goes back to tapping the glass again. You glare at her. Maybe if she’d just let Sunday face the music and be executed like the little lamb Gopher Wood intended for him to be, you wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe you’d be back in the Dreamflux, enjoying a quaint, more secluded life.

“Killing him did not work.”

“No,” you murmur, “it didn’t.”

“Well, then the answer seems quite clear to me.” She tilts her head to the side, causing the light to glint off her earrings. “But you may not like it very much, darling.”

Desperate, you say, “Shoot.”

The corner of her lips pull up, and she presses a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. She stares at you expectantly.

You pull your lips back in a snarl. “You’re really not going to tell me?”

She lifts the glass one last time to her grinning lips, and polishes off the wine. “Clever little thing,” she says in sing-song.

White-hot rage burns in your veins, and red flashes behind your eyes. Too used to your actions no longer having consequences, you slam your hands onto the table, startling the patrons around you. 

Jade doesn’t so much as flinch.

“This is all your fault.” You thrust a damning finger in her face, your frustration mounting and your voice cracking in odd places. “You should have let him die. He deserved to. He deserved to— if not for what he did to Penacony, for what he did to me.”

“How sad you feel that way.” Her calm response stokes the flames burning up what little remains of your heart. “His sister would have missed him dearly.”

A sardonic laugh tears at your throat. “I could care less about Robin. What has she ever done for me?” You grin, wild and anguished. “Maybe if he died, then she would feel even a fraction of the despair I felt everyday trapped in that damn labyrinth he called our home!”

“You’re very focused on his death, when it’s already proven to be something that won’t work out for you very well.”

“If you hadn’t interfered,” you whisper, very slowly, “I wouldn’t be in this mess. Maybe instead, it would be me making a grand getaway with the Astral Express.”

A smile crawls over her face, cold and cruel and serpent-like. She leans forward ever so slightly, her hat casting shadows over the eyes that pin you to your seat.

“There’s your answer.”

Your heart plummets. Her words are ice-cold water down your back, raising every hair on your body and sending your heart stuttering. Time slows down and everything stills, the idle chatter of the bar nothing more than white noise in your ears as you stare into the maw of the predator, the one that allowed yours to live.

The word falls from your lips, a single, broken syllable. “No.”

“Going with him is the only thing you haven’t tried.”

“Why—” Something tight coils in your throat, and you choke on it, a sob finding its way out of your throat. “Why would that be the answer?”

Why should he still be allowed to have you, after everything?

Jade’s smile softens out around the edges. If you didn’t know any better, you would say she looks almost sympathetic. “Perhaps he has not fallen from grace with the Harmony as much as he believes he has.”

Your nails pierce through the skin of your palm. You bite down on your lip until you taste blood.

“He is a boy favored by aeons,” Jade says mournfully. “It is a choice that has never been in your hands.”

Letting out a shuddering gasp, you shoot up from the table and bolt out of the bar. Patrons exclaim around you as you shoulder past them, hardly holding yourself together from breaking down right there in the bar. Somewhere behind you, Siobhan calls out for you, but you ignore her and break out into a frenzied sprint.

Your legs burn as you run, your instincts taking over your mind which has gone numb. They carry you through the secluded alleys of Golden Hour, over fences and past guards and through thorn bushes until you finally reach your destination.

Finding your way into the room you had once shared with Sunday isn’t difficult. The twisted hallways of Dewlight Pavilion have long since been burned into your memory, and you easily reach the bedroom before various Oak Family guards can reach you.

You lock the door behind you and push yourself off the wall just as people begin pounding loudly on the door and shouting. Navigating the room in a daze, you reach the nightstand on Sunday’s side of the bed and open the drawer.

The matches he would use to light prayer candles have gone untouched.

Matches in hand, you march into the bathroom and open the cabinet. Ripping the isopropyl alcohol off the shelf, you untwist the cap with your teeth and spit it out onto the pristine tile floor. Walking back into the room, you douse the bed in the bottle’s contents, saving just a bit to leave a trail from the bed to the bedroom window.

You set the empty bottle down on your vanity. Fingertips ghosting over the surface, you pause when they meet the familiar grooves of a small jewelry box Robin had brought you from her previous tour. You open it, staring down at it in disdain as the music box attached to it plays a lullaby from your childhood— yet another cherished memory tainted by the siblings. Your eyes roam the contents of the box, taking note of the empty space amongst your collection of rings. 

You shut the lid, lock it, then hurl it at the window.

The clamoring guards outside the room get louder at the sound of shattering glass. Wasting no time, you rush toward the window and sling both legs over the ledge, your back now facing the room.

Turning around, you strike a match, and drop it onto the edge of the alcohol trail.

In a singular second, the fire catches and spreads, until the canopy bed is engulfed in flames.

A sob escapes your throat, then a laugh, then a strange combination of both. The sounds mesh together and rack your body until you’re nothing more than a hysterical mess sitting above broken glass, watching the room that haunts your nightmares burn to the ground.

A yell sounds behind you. “There’s the culprit!”

A tranquilizer dart reserved for Penacony’s worst pierces your arm, and then you collapse to the floor.

Your eyes fly open at the sound of a cheery Clockie theme song blaring through your room. Your arm shoots out from beneath your comforter and slams the snooze button, silencing the chipper voice. Slowly, you turn to look at your left arm. 

There’s no pinprick of a dart on it, not a single blemish in sight.

You bury your face into your pillow and scream at the top of your lungs, allowing yourself to sob one last time. Then, you resign yourself to your fate.

You go through the motions as though you haven’t been out of practice for even a single day. You take a long, warm shower, warming the water to the point of scalding and lathering your skin until it’s red and raw. You bathe yourself with a lavender soap— his favorite scent on you.

Wrapped in only a towel, you walk into your room and approach your closet. Taking a deep breath, you kneel down and reach in the far back, grabbing onto a box and pulling it toward you.

You grimace as you pull the flaps open. Inside sits the few objects gifted to you by Sunday that you decided to save when The Family permitted you to enter Dewlight Pavilion one last time, following his arrest. Gingerly, your fingers ghost over the soft silk of a baby blue shirt. You take the shirt and unfold it, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when your gaze falls on the small object that had been tucked away into the fabric.

A sapphire gemstone carved into an oval sits on top of an ornate silver band, encased on both sides by smaller diamonds.

You slip your wedding ring onto your finger, choking back a sob as you do.

You set the silk shirt aside and stuff the box’s remaining contents into a duffel bag which you also pack with the belongings that are too important to leave abandoned in a place you’re likely to never return to. You put the silk shirt on, pairing it with a flowy pair of pants and shoes that compliment it well. You clasp a simple yet rather expensive necklace around your throat. Then, you sling the duffel bag over your shoulder and head toward your apartment’s front door.

You shut it behind you without looking back.

Every step taken toward The Reverie is one filled with dread. Your legs are as heavy as your heart, every fiber of your being working to weigh you down and ask you to resist just one last time. Certainly, there must be another way, another method you haven’t tried yet.

You do not pray to Xipe. You do not pray to a god that has forsaken you in the name of gifting their favorite child everything his heart desires. You do not pray to a god who only rebuked him when his actions affected the masses— if your cries of suffering were not enough for them to take action then, then your cries would certainly not be enough now.

All you can do is hold onto a thin string of hope within your heart that when the day draws to a close, you will wake up in your bedroom once more.

The automatic doors of the dock hiss open as you approach, revealing the scene you’ve lived countless times before. Miss Himeko stands with Mr. Yang by the entrance, going over final clearances with one of The Reverie’s hosts. Closer to the Express’s entrance, March and Stelle rifle through a large bag filled with souvenirs, arguing over which of their friends from other planets will receive which gift. Dan Heng is somewhere inside the train with the most wanted man in Penacony.

Swallowing your grief, you approach the crew’s eldest members with a pleasant smile plastered onto your face.

“Pardon the intrusion, but do you perhaps have space for one more?”

Miss Himeko and Mr. Yang turn around, the former appearing a bit more surprised to see you than the latter. She eyes you with concern, her lips pursing into a thin line as her gaze lands on the bag you’ve brought with you, and the brilliant ring sitting on the hand that holds the duffle bag’s strap.

“Ah, you—” Mr. Yang shoots a quick glance at the host, who has already moved on to tending to other vehicles departing the dock. He looks back at you with a smile. “You must be Sunday’s partner.”

You nod. “I spoke with Jade recently. I was hoping that I could join you on your travels, for the time being.” You reach down to fidget with your ring, feigning heartache. “I hope it’s not too much trouble— and that you understand.”

Mr. Yang looks over your shoulder and meets Miss Himeko’s gaze. The two share a silent conversation, one that makes you more nervous with each passing second.

There is nothing anyone can prove, but you know that Jade is aware your marriage wasn’t a happy one, even if she doesn’t know the specifics. You also know that she has shared plenty of conversations with Miss Himeko, ones that may have explored more intimate details of Sunday’s life under the guise of assessing if he should be allowed to roam the galaxy beyond Penacony’s prison. If she turns you away now, it would be yet another method of breaking the time loop that you wouldn’t be able to test.

“We have no problem accepting another passenger, and we have plenty of space to accommodate you, of course.” Mr. Yang places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “But I must ask you: are you sure this is what you want?”

You’re not sure of what you want. You haven’t been sure of what you want since you woke up in Dewlight Pavilion that fateful night, dazed and confused with Sunday at your side, apologizing profusely but insisting it was for the best.

What you want has never been your choice, and perhaps it never would be.

“I appreciate the concern, but I have had plenty of time to think about this. I feel that being with my husband is the best path forward for me right now.” You give Mr. Yang a strained yet reassuring smile. “And if I change my mind, I’d be happy to get off and have a fresh start somewhere far from here.”

Mr. Yang and Miss Himeko share one last look, then the latter turns to you with a warm smile.

“We’d be happy to have you join us. The more the merrier, as they say.” She places a gentle hand on your shoulder. Mr. Yang disappears into the train as Miss Himeko pulls you slightly closer to her.

“And if you need anything,” she whispers, “do not hesitate to let me know.”

You take in a shuddering breath, struggling to keep your perfect facade together as she pulls away from you.

“Stelle! March!” The two girls turn toward Miss Himeko as she approaches the entrance. “I need you two to clear out whatever we have stored in the guest room. We’re leaving with one more head than expected.”

The two peek around Miss Himeko, eyes lighting up with curiosity as they spot you.

“Oh! Are you Mr. Sun— er, our new passenger’s spouse?” March beams at you, looking a bit bashful at her near slip-up. “You’re so cute!”

“Ah, thank you.” You bow your head in a polite gesture. “I’m very grateful Mr. Yang and Miss Himeko have decided to let me join you all. I hope it’s not a problem for the rest of you.”

“Of course not!” March jests cheerily, “Who are we to stand in the path of true love?”

You smile at her and say nothing.

“Well then,” Miss Himeko says, saving you from needing to entertain March’s comment, “it’s about time we get going. We have a few minor stops we’d like to make before Amphoreus, but we also don’t want to hold up Miss Black Swan more than we already have.”

“Right!” March skips up the steps to the lobby car, followed by Stelle, then you and Miss Himeko. “I can’t wait to go back to Belobog! I bought this cute origami bird plushie that I think Bronya will love.”

In the lobby, a man who bears a striking resemblance to Stelle lays sprawled out on one of the couches, watching Dan Heng fiddle with something on a holographic display. A bunny dressed in a conductor’s uniform shouts about dinner plans, and a woman donning a dark veil watches you board the train with a knowing look that makes your skin crawl.

You turn to Miss Himeko, avoiding the mysterious lady’s stare. “Where can I put my things?”

“Ah, right this way,” she says, guiding you toward the ascending staircase at the back of the car. The next car over is a long hallway of doors. She leads you to the very end of it and produces a keycard from her jacket pocket. She taps it against the door and it slides open, revealing a simple room furnished with a bed, desk, and dresser. She turns to you and hands you the keycard.

“Here’s where you’ll be staying. Feel free to change it however you see fit.” 

“Thank you, Miss Himeko.” You dip your head again. “Your hospitality is greatly appreciated.”

“Oh, please, there’s no need to be so formal. Just Himeko is fine, and we’re happy to have you.” Her smile falters a bit as she takes a step back and gestures to a door across the hall and a few doors down from yours. “He’s staying in that room, if you wish to speak with him. If you’re not ready, though, take as much time as you need.”

“Of course.” You step into the room they’ve assigned to you, setting your duffle bag on the floor. As you hear her footsteps retreating, you allow your face to fall and your body to slump against the bed, burying your face in your hands.

You stay like that, long after the door makes a clicking sound and slides shut.

You miss dinner, settling for chewing your nails down to nubs as a source of protein instead.

Surely, he must know that you’re here. You figure Mr. Yang mentioned it to him when he disappeared after you confirmed your wishes to board the train, and certainly March would have brought it up over dinner. 

He knows of your presence, but he has yet to approach you.

It puts you on edge. What could he possibly be scheming this time? Certainly, after his sudden fall from grace, he’d be pouncing at the opportunity to regain some semblance of control over something so familiar— at least, that’s what you figured before boarding the train, the very thing that left you hesitant to entertain Jade’s suggestion. 

You pace around your room well into the night, working your legs tired from walking to and fro in such a cramped space for nearly two hours. When it proves to be a futile effort to quell your anxieties or wear you down into a sleepier state, you huff and grab the key to your room off the barren desk and shove it into your pocket.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that he’s making you come to him. He’s always made you do that when he feels you’ve done something wrong, and your refusal to stand with him at the recreation of the dream was likely an egregious misstep in his eyes.

The door to your room hisses open. You step out into the hallway, darkened now that the lights have been dimmed to the lowest setting. You drag your feet as you walk, prolonging your journey as you gather the last of your courage and try to figure out what you’ll say— whether you’ll face him with all the rage boiling beneath your skin, or with the perfectly crafted mask you’d grown so used to wearing before the events of the Charmony Festival. 

You raise your hand— curled into a fist— and let it hover in the air in front of the door. Sucking in a deep breath, you will your heart to slow in your chest, then you rap lightly against the door.

For a few seconds, nothing happens. They spill into each other, and the lack of response has you considering fleeing to your room when the sound of a latch releasing knocks you out of your stupor. The door hisses open, and golden eyes pierce into your own.

Sunday meets your eyes with all the burning intensity as the day he first told you he loves you. He blinks rapidly a few times, long lashes brushing against his cheeks as he does. His gaze slowly drags up and down your figure, taking you in, almost in disbelief. When he settles on meeting your gaze again, he murmurs your name lightly into the space between you two, the sweet call of it dousing the flames that have been burning since his arrest and leaving you so, so cold.

Your throat constricts. You’d forgotten how small he makes you feel— not because he’s cruel, but because his love for you is so tangible and pure despite everything he’s done.

“Sunday,” you whisper back, mournfully.

His gloved fingers twitch where they rest by his side, yet he does not reach for you. “Not that I’m displeased to see you, my love,” he asks, “but what are you doing here?”

The truth sounds as insane as it makes you feel, so you lie. “I wanted to check on you.”

Something softens in his gaze, and you feel your veins flood with disgust— whether it’s at the fact that he’s so desperate for your affection that he readily believes you, or because it’s so easy for him to break down the walls of hatred you’ve built up, you refuse to determine.

You grit your teeth, trying to dredge up some of your fury from earlier. “Don’t be misled,” you mutter, “I’m not here to pretend like everything’s fine.” You cross your arms over your chest, facing him again with a more guarded look. “If you’re traveling with the Express as a means to make up for what you’ve done, then—” You suck in a sharp breath. “Then someone you’ve wronged should be here to see if you’re really changing.”

You avert your gaze. The silence grows thick between you two, the seconds blending into long, agonizing minutes.

“I see,” he finally says, and you look back up at him. There’s something pinched in his gaze— something a bit pained— yet he manages to look relieved. “If that’s the case, then I’m glad it’s you.” His next words come as a shock to you, causing your eyes to go wide and rendering you speechless. “I understand I have much to make for. Not just to Penacony, but to you, particularly, my dear.”

As you fall quiet, he steps toward you and delicately takes your fingers into his grasp. He brings them up to his lips and kisses the end of each one before speaking again. “I would like to earn the right to your love again,” he mumbles against them. “If you’ll allow me.”

Within you, your hatred and fondness for Sunday wage a war with each other, fighting to gain the upper hand. You shouldn’t allow him— you should have never been forced into a position where you would even have to entertain such a notion. You’ve lived this day so many times, and all it’s done is remind you of who put you in the situation, who dragged you down from the heavens with him. Each relived day left your fury festering like an open wound, as desperate for reprieve from the loop as you’d been desperate for your freedom, at a time.

And yet, there’s another part of you that was forgotten in the midst of the chaos of the time loop, one that is hopelessly enamored with him and endlessly forgiving. You will never agree with his methods or his actions, but despite everything, you still understand his viewpoint and how it drove him to this point. The hardest part about loving Sunday is knowing that every shred of pain he may cause is inflicted with only the best intentions, each wound carved into you with a tender touch and healed through a devotion that runs so deep it leaves you dizzy.

You curl your fingertips into his hold and pull yourself toward him, crossing the threshold and stumbling into his room. You crash into him and bury your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist to hold yourself there. He lets out a shuddering exhale at the contact. One of his hands settles at the small of your back, and the other comes up to cradle the back of your head and gently stroke your hair.

“You better make up for all of it,” you say, voice wet with unshed tears. “You better make it worth my while.”

He hums, and you can feel it reverberate through his chest. “Of course, dove,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Nothing but the best for you.”

The next morning, you wake to the sound of the train’s low buzzing as it shoots through the cosmos. There is no alarm clock, no barren apartment walls, no calendar pinned beside your desk. There is only the feeling of Sunday’s feathers against your skin from where his face is pressed into your neck, his arms around your waist.

You let out a soft sob, then will yourself back to sleep.

[bunny-jpeg]

sweetness like wine

fernando alonso

request: “she may seem like lollipops and rainbows but i bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips.” with Fernando Alonso with Stroll!reader 71. “she may seem like lollipops and rainbows but i bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips.”

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/40s), stroll!reader, "innocent"!reader, doggy style, dirty talk & pet names

eros (the valentine's day collection)

your giggles were sweet. fernando alons for a long time couldn't figure out what kind of sweet. because while most saw lance's sister as the epitome of sweet. fernando knew that there was a heat to you, a certain kick that would leave most out of breath.

you made be like candy around the paddock, those around you hooked on your ability to make anyone you spoke to smile. dressed in soft whites save for the aston martin hat your brother made you wear. you were divine almost in the early summer sun.

but fernando didn't think of you as fluffy like cotton candy or tooth rotting sugary like milk chocolate. no, you were sweet the way wine was. it went down easy and quenched fernando's thirst.

to his surprise, the innocent stroll daughter wasn't as sweet as most first expected.

“she may seem like lollipops and rainbows but i bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips.” was what fernando said to mark the last time they spoke to one another only a few weeks prior.

both men's gazes lingered on you when he made the comments. he had thought about it as you came to visit your brother and father on the track again. you had the summer off from your lovely graduate program overseas. neither your father nor brother knew what you got up other than your grades were spectacular.

fernando had an idea, but no confirmation that you were anything but a sweet virgin. that was until you bent over to adjust the strap of your shoe that he saw it. your behind was marked awfully dark for someone who is so innocent. it didn't look like an unfortunate sunburn, but rather bruises.

he smiled wickedly as he approached you quickly. when you stood back up he placed a hand on your arm and when you turned around he looked at you with those dark eyes of his. he said lowly, "be careful, i don't think you want everyone to see what you got up to last night."

your hand went to your behind and your eyes went wide. before you could say anything, he chuckled.

"not so innocent after all. i'm guessing you often have flavours of the week with your sexual partners." he leaned in a little bit with a hand casually on your hip. no one was watching you two, but your attention was solely on fernando as he asked, "why don't i be your flavour this weekend?"

you hated to admit it, you liked the older driver. your brother had a poster of him from a magazine that went 'missing' one afternoon. you nearly ripped the spine of the magazine trying to get it out. and now to have fernando alonso himself proposition you for sex. who were you going to deny him?

you swallowed and replied quietly, "will you be gentle?"

he pulled you in marginally closer, less to be close to you and more to establish dominance, "why would i do that? you wouldn't like that one bit." you also hated to admit that he was completely right.

-

fernando's hands felt good on your skin. it was the kind of feeling the enraptured you. it felt good, his hands were soft but strong. he had a grip as he touched your breasts that made your soul sing. there was a throb between your legs as he explored your covered skin.

"i see why your family is so protective of you. touching you is like touching an angel. your father made sure to send you to a university that would keep you away from trouble. but, your little rebellion is having men use you like a toy." he palmed your breasts, "you like it, don't you?"

"don't talk about my family right now. not right before we're going to fuck." you whined.

"mmm, well. since you asked so nicely. but, i want to know. where are you supposed to be tonight? i know your father asked." fernando said lowly as he started to unbutton your top. slowly he exposed your soft breasts to him. framed nicely by your bra.

you swallowed, "i told him friends were in town. i would be with them, they're nowhere here tonight. but my father trusts me." you looked away for a moment but fernando took you by the chin to look at him.

"well, not a total lie. i am a friend to the family. but tonight, i am something more more to you." then with a little help you got your shirt off and soon your bra.

you ended up on the bed and fernando got your skirt off of you, followed by the skimpy pair of panties, and even the short white socks you wore. you were naked on the bed and frenando gripped your sore ass. you hissed and jolted but he kept you pinned. you were naked and soon fernando was too.

"you look good like this, bent over for me. so precious that way, do you know how to be a good girl?" he asked softly. he pressed his forearm into your back again to keep you bent, "do you want to be my good girl?"

you nodded meekly and he rubbed his cock up against your entrance a little bit. you whined and attempt to squirm. but you weren't going anywhere, not unless fernando allowed it. it made sense that someone like him would get off to pretty young things who liked to be smacked around during sex. freak.

but then again, so were you. and as he sank his cock into you. you near bit the pillow to keep from being too loud. after all, your brother was in the next room over and you were supposed to be nowhere near the hotel. you shuddered under him and felt the swell of lust in your body.

fernando's pace left your core hot and his words felt like warm honey in your head, "mmm, that's a good girl. see, no need to be spanked until you were bruised." he made a pleased noise, "you're so agreeable, so soft. i love it. i can see why your family worries, something so whorish yet so sweet should be kept locked away." he kissed the shell of your ear as he rocked against you.

what a display you two made, to have fernando rut up against you aggressively.

there was a certain experience that fernando carried that left you holding on tightly to the covers. he was mature, but still carried heavy stamina that made you gasp into the covers like you were a virgin. he worked your body in a way that made everything run hot in your body.

"fuck, that feels good. fuck, that's it." you gasped as you arched your back and held on tightly. he fucked like someone your age, but had the ability to make you cum. his pace was punishing and full of force, it made the pleasure get knocked out of your mouth with sweet noises.

it was an intoxicating feeling, something about him just made you gasp and whine for more. you wanted him, you wanted him deeply. the sexual surge in your blood made you move yourself on his cock to meet his thrusts.

fernando held onto the back of your head and pushed your face into the pillows then shifted your hips to get better leverage of your sweet pussy. he let out a low groan as he continued to move against you. the pleasure was wrapped up around him, the feeling was hot, even without the implications of it. your cunt felt nice around him. your noises egged him on and he couldn't wait to get another feel of your sweet breasts. you really were the full package, and fernando thanked a lucky star that he finally got the chance to enjoy your beautiful body.

"you feel amazing." he mused, "i cannot believe i haven't tasted you before. you could get anything you want with a body like yours. a dangerous weapon for a girl your age."

you swore into the covers and let him continue to ravage you. the pleasure was a curl in your gut and you held on for dear. the hotel pillows were your only support while fernando fucked you. you wanted more of this, your braid, muddled with pleasure, was trying to figure out how to go to the next few races. you loved your family, but it was nothing compared to how fernando made you feel in that moment.

every other man you had been with had been blown out of the water by the pleasure fernando gave you. his thrusts were long, hard and fast, paced perfectly to rub up against your sweetest parts. it made you whine a little bit, only for fernando to push your face further into the covers.

"be good for me." he said, "i don't want to make that ass go purple. doesn't match the green of the team." he kissed the side of your neck as his thrusts became shorter but the force behind them was still there.

he laid his weight on you to keep you pinned with movements that made your thighs tremble. you weren't going to last much longer, not at the speed he was going. not with the heavy pleasure in your head. you could feel your head throb from the head rush.

"you feel like a dream." he said softly, "maybe i should keep you. i'll protect you, adore you, fuck you until you can't stand. isn't that what you want? someone to satisfy you?"

fernando's pace started to become erratic, the rhythm was sloppy as you reached your orgasm. he watched you fall apart under him. you came around his cock and tensed up. he continued to rut against you, the bed shook under the both of you as you tensed up then relaxed from the peak of pleasure. everything felt hot all over,

"beautiful." he sighed happily before he continued to fuck you with a feverish pace. everything felt hot all over and he couldn't get enough of you. when he came, he made sure every inch was inside of you before he finished. he painted your insides white as he slowed to a stop before he pressed his forehead against your sweaty back.

you laid out next to him and he held your face while he kissed your flushed face. you smiled lazily and said, "i have a feeling this won't stop after tonight."

"oh no, my love." he chuckled, "i have to find out what makes you scream and see if you're a good girl to not let anyone hear." <3

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

HEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY IK UR writING OTHER STUFF RN SO EEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS BUTTTTTTTTTT LIIKE I WANTED TO SHARE MY BRAINROT (idk if u do a/b/o so here's the warning my idea is weird and smutty and dark and if you don't like that or are uncomfortable please don't feel pressured to read further! I completely understand)

i cant get out the idea of being in an a/b/o universe where your rhysand's omega (but like in a pack way and you guys haven't done anything yet) and yk alphas are all about dominance and stuff so imagine one day you accidentally do something in front of cass and az and him like not obeying him to come to him when he asks and he just decides right then and there he needs to make u submit to him which leads to Rhys fucking u into submission Infront of azz and cass but like in a sweet 'i need u to obey me darling" way

anyways ur a great writer and I love ur werewolf works! hope my idea make u stay up at night thinking about it <333

I love getting fic requests! Sometimes I get too hyper focused on finishing a project that I forget to have fun with it and requests help get me out of my head, so send as many as you like! <3 (And yes this one literally kept me up last night thinking about it lmao)

-----

Claimed

Warnings: Possessive!Rhys, Dominate!Rhys, SMUT, Voyeurism, A/B/O dynamics.

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A blaring base rattles the windows, the cabin shaking under the heavy thrum of music from one of Azriel's club playlists. The sensual beat has the pack pushing the worn furniture in the living room up against the walls to make room for an impromptu dance floor. There's more than one pack here tonight, all cramming into the den for a monthly party that has an endless stream of booze and mirthroot that would put RIta's to shame. The pack likes to party and they don't like to do it alone.

Rhysand has rules in place of course. One: Visiting Alphas have to stay ten feet apart from each other, any hint of a fight equals immediate expulsion from this party and any other future event; usually this keeps the visiting packs in line--there are few places in Illyria that come with this much free booze and a chance for social climbing, they won't risk a misstep. Two: The upstairs bedrooms are off limits for everyone outside the pack; no one else's scent enters his domain. For it is his, and his alone. Don't let the fact that Azriel and Cassian are a rare pair of Alphas allowed to run with the pack fool you, the pack answers to Rhys and Rhys alone. And Third, and most important: Omegas are off limits.

You think he made this one specifically for you, and not just because Azriel had seemed surprised when it had been implemented, but because Rhys always made sure you were close by. You want a drink? Rhys grabs it from the fridge for you, making sure he's the only one that pops the lid off the bottle before it touches your hands. Want to dance? You have three acceptable partners: Amren, Mor, or Rhys. Cassian had asked you once, Rhys had nearly ripped out his throat in response. The poor Alpha had slept outside for a week afterwards.

Which would be an acceptable response if Rhys was your Alpha. If his claiming mark adorned your throat and you'd moved all your stuff into his room, getting your nest ready for your next heat. But he isn't. Yes, he'd found you in the Hewn City, about to be auctioned off like a breeding mare and saved you; had brought you into the pack and made you feel safe and welcome and cared for. All things you were a stranger to, especially without a price. He never asked anything of you. When that first heat had hit you he'd offered you some of his shirts to nest in and brought food and water to your door, but he'd never come in. Never touched you like you wished he would. He was the pack's Alpha, but he'd never claimed you as his Omega.

You've tried to make your peace with it, tried to tell yourself that he just doesn't want you like that, but then he comes up with these rules and gets defensive when anyone gets too close to you. It's infuriating! He can't have it both ways. Either he wants you as a pack mate, or he wants you as his mate. He can't have both.

You cannot take him trying to have both any longer! His scent drives you mad, makes the wolf within you whimper and preen, yearning to be touched and claimed and taken the way you sometimes think he wants to. Sometimes he looks at you like he plans to devour you whole and you'd happily lie down and bare your throat and body to him if only he would make a move.

You've decided tonight's the night. Your heat will be here soon enough. If he's not going to make a claim on you than he needs to let you find someone who will.

You know of course that it won't be Azriel or Cassian. They'd never dare make a move on you with Rhys as protective of you as he is. That doesn't mean you won't have a little fun with it.

You wait, let the night draw out, spending the first part tucked into Rhys's side like a good little Omega. He brings you cold beer whenever you ask, makes sure your part of every conversation he gets pulled into. Then you slip away to dance with Mor, the heavy thrum of the base a pulse that echoes in your veins as you sway and dance along with her. The Beta keeps her hands on your hips, always keeping a respectful gap between your bodies like she too is scared of what Rhys might do to her if she gets any closer. You feel his eyes on you like a brand the entire time.

You wait as long as possible to catch his eye, and feel yourself flush as that violet gaze drags over every inch of your body when you do. He takes his full lip between his teeth as he watches your hips sway to the beat. But he doesn't move away from the wall to come get you, just watches with laser focus to every movement your body makes.

You let him watch for awhile, intentionally shaking your ass when Mor spins you, or making sure you run your hands slowly over your chest when you know he's looking.

Still, he doesn't move to come get you.

So you move into the next phase of your plan. You're poking the beast by doing this. But you walk right up to where Azriel leans against the far wall, chatting animatedly with Cassian about some fight or another with as much confidence as you can muster.

"Need a new dance partner!" You declare.

Azriel shoots Cassian a look, dark brows raised underneath the thick curtain of onyx hair that falls into his face.

"You know the rules," Cassian says, waving a bottle in your face like a disapproving finger. "Go find Amren or Rhys."

You stick out your lower lip. "But I want to dance with you."

"How unfortunate, 'cause you're being summoned," Azriel retorts, gesturing with his chin to where Rhys stands in the kitchen, arms folded over his broad chest.

You can feel the disapproving glare from there, the heat in it making a shiver run down your spine. Rationally, you know that you should give up while you're ahead, but you need a decision to be made. You need to know if he wants you as badly as you want him.

You force yourself not to turn to look at him, your hands shaking as you say, "I don't see why he's being so intense about this. What's the harm? We're friends, aren't we?"

Azriel snorts in disbelief.

"Yes, we are friends," Cassian says tersely.

"Don't tell me you want something more than that, Cass?" You tease, batting your eyelashes at him with more confidence than you feel.

The Alpha's cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

"You're his," Azriel says gruffly, leaving no room for an argument.

You push your hair off your shoulder, fingers brushing over your unmarked throat. "I don't see a claim anywhere, do you?"

"Now you've done it," Cassian mutters, pressing himself flat against the wall like the old wood might open up and swallow him.

You've lost sight of Rhys in your peripherals, so when his hand suddenly locks around your exposed throat and yanks, you're woefully unprepared. His body is hard and warm against your back as he pulls you flush against his chest, breath hot as he brings his lips to your ear.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" He growls.

You shiver under the dominance in his tone, under the sheer possessiveness in his touch. This is what you've wanted; this is what you've been waiting for.

"Just having a chat with the boys," you stutter. His hand is large enough that it encircles your throat like a necklace; he fits against you like it's right where he belongs.

"She asked us to dance," Azriel tattles and you shoot him a glare you don't really mean.

"You know the rules, Little One." His lips haven't left the spot next to your ear, mouth so close to where you want him to be. If he would only dip his head just a little and sink his fangs into your throat! He would be yours and you would be his and you would happily surrender to all these stupid rules if it meant you didn't have to question why he constantly left you in limbo about his feelings towards you.

"Maybe I just don't see the point to your stupid rules."

Cassian's eyes widen with a healthy enough dose of fear that your heart skips a beat in your chest.

His hand tightens just enough to make you gasp a little, a mirthless chuckle slipping past his lips. "What was that?"

"That's my queue to leave," Azriel says.

"No, stay. Want you here for this, Az," Rhys returns, but there is a lethal edge in his voice.

"Now, Darling, why don't you tell me exactly what you think about my stupid rules?"

You're in too deep now to get out of it. You swallow the lump in your throat, or try to, the pressure of his hand around your neck makes your head buzz. It's not like he hasn't let you cuddle up against him on the couch, hands tracing shapes into your skin, but he has never held you like this before. It's a heady sort of glee that fills your veins to finally have him touch you in a way that's more than casual. It makes thinking hard; makes that part of you that is so ready to submit rise to the surface. It is an effort to think past the white noise and find your voice. "I think..."

He knows your scent is changing, you can feel it in the way his chest presses into your back, body melding over yours. You're so damn tempted to rock your ass back into him, just to see what he would do to such brazen behavior.

"Go on, don't get shy now. You were so ready to bat those pretty little eyes at Cass a moment ago. Where'd all that attitude go, huh?" His hand slides up under your chin, tilting your head up so he can look at your face.

You're whole body trembles as you take him in, eyes so dark they're almost all pupil.

"Go on, say it." His voice is a deep, husky purr that makes your insides feel molten. The voice made for the gentle darkness of the bedroom, to be used as your bodies tangle in the sheets. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to think about the images that voice conjures, of all the things you would let him do to you if he asked in that tone.

You clench your thighs together unconsciously, trying to hide the sudden pool of wetness you feel spreading across your panties. He hasn't done anything at all, but you're so ready for him. So willing. You're practically shaking in his grip, your plans for the evening forgotten.

"I was just messing around," you mumble, confidence now lost. "Didn't mean it."

"Seemed like you meant it to me." He retorts. "Didn't it seem like she meant it, Az?"

"Sure did," he says.

You won't open your eyes to look at him, don't even want to think about how pathetic you look right now.

"Do you know what happens, when you break my rules, Omega?"

"I have an idea," you mutter.

"No," his breath dusts over your skin as his hand slides back down your throat, lips brushing over your jaw. It's not quite a kiss, but close enough that heat coils tight in your lower belly. "I don't think you have any idea what you've done."

A whimper slips out of you before you can bite it back down and that same mirthless chuckle rumbles through his chest as his lips dust over your throat. It's pure torture. Not the kiss you want but close enough to the real thing that you can pretend it is.

"Do you know why I have my rules in place?" He whispers.

"No," you whimper.

He nips teasingly at your earlobe. "To keep you safe. You know I want you to be safe, don't you, Darling?"

You'd nod if you could. "Mhm."

He scrapes his teeth along the tender skin beneath your jaw and you could honestly cry over how close he is to your scent glands, right where he needs to bite down to claim you.

"And there isn't an Alpha in here who hasn't thought about fucking you, you know that too, don't you?"

That's honestly news to you. If any of the visiting Alpha's had been paying you any attention, you hadn't noticed. None of them could compare to Rhys anyway.

"N-no," you stutter.

"See, that's why I had to make my rules," he continues, nose nuzzling against your scent gland now, taking in the smell of your budding arousal.

Now you're really shaking in his grip, thighs clenched so tightly together your muscles ache.

"Because I can't have anyone trying to take what's mine."

His. The heady swell of hope in your chest makes you just a bit bolder as you tilt your head back to try and look him in the eyes. This is what you'd been waiting for.

"But am I yours, Rhys?" You sound as small as you feel next to him.

His other hand has been pinning you in place by the hip, but it now trails slowly across your stomach, bunching up the minuscule skirts on your skin tight dress. His lips had been distracting, you don't notice until your flush with his hips just how hard he is behind you. His scent always feels overwhelming, but now it feels like the jasmine and citrus scent of him is seeping into your skin, trying to meld itself into your very being.

His hand drifts lower, parting your legs like there's no resistance, despite how hard you're still clenching them together. You let out a little gasp as his fingers glide over the embarrassing wet patch in your panties.

"You've always been mine," he growls. "From the moment I met you I knew."

The fact that Cassian and Azriel are watching does nothing to stop him from the slow, deliberate strokes he makes along your clothed core.

Pleasure licks it's way up your spine and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to find something to ground yourself in. When you try to close your legs, he uses his knee to part them further, growling as he nips a warning to behave into your neck.

"Then why haven't..." coherent thought is becoming harder and harder the longer you remain in his grip. Cauldron you're going to slip into subspace embarrassingly fast at this rate, your base instincts taking over. "Haven't you claimed me?"

His tongue laves over your scent gland, lips sucking a bruise into your skin. "Wanted you to be comfortable," he murmmers into your skin. "Wanted it to be because you wanted me, not because you were about to go into heat, but now you've gone and made a mess of things, haven't you, Darling?"

"Didn't mean to," you whimper.

"Yes you did," Cassian points out.

Your audience is irrelevant as long as he keeps that pressure between your legs. You're fairly sure if he would pull his hand away now he would be able to see just how wet you really are.

"'m'sorry," you whimper, words jumbling as he applies a little more pressure. Your hips roll on their own accord, chasing the friction of his hands. Cauldron you could cum just like this.

"I don't think you've learned your lesson," he tuts, but he despite the threat you hear in his tone, his fingers doesn't stop moving, he doesn't try and stop you from grinding against his hand, even though he very well could. Perhaps he's always indulged you a little more than he should. "But you will."

"I'll be good, promise!" This position is torture! You can't roll over and expose your throat to him like you should, can't spread your legs and invite him to take whatever he wants from your body. You're at his mercy, chasing his hand like a horny teenager and it's all wrong and muddled in your head.

"We're not going to have this conversation about following my orders again, are we?" He asks.

"No," you assure as his thumb catches the edge of your panties and drags them to the side so he can finally touch you.

The hand holding your throat pulls away so suddenly you fall forward, hands darting out to catch the wall so you don't collapse. Neither Azriel nor Cassian move to catch you, though their eyes seem glued to where Rhys' hand is between your legs.

"No, what?" Rhys growls, the hand no longer holding your throat coming down hard against your ass.

You yelp, the sound just barely covered by the blaring music. The visiting packs still dance and party around you, but you can't focus on anything other than the stinging in your backside and the heat of Rhysand's body so close to yours.

"No, Alpha," you squeak.

His fingers pulls away from your core and you could cry from the loss, but the tears stinging your eyes are the least of your concerns as he slides your panties down your legs, leaving the damp fabric gathered at your ankles. Your dress isn't long enough to hide your exposed flesh, especially not when Rhys pushes the fabric up to your hips to land another well placed blow to your backside.

You bite down on your bottom lip to keep anyone from hearing you. "Say it like you mean it, Darling."

"Promise, I'll follow all your rules, Alpha!" You squeak.

Instead of another blow, he leans in close, the heat of his body seeping into yours as he presses a tender kiss beneath your jaw. "That's my, Omega."

You relax as you feel some of the tension slide from his body.

"And I know you'll keep that promise," he says in your ear. The music hides the sound of his zipper coming undone, but you feel the shift of him as he pulls away from you for a moment. "Because you know what happens when you obey me, don't you?"

He doesn't give you time to answer as he kicks your legs further apart. There's no time to think about it as the tip of his cock glides through the slick dripping down your thighs. Your mouth drops open, something between a moan and a squeak slipping past your lips as he pushes himself inside you. Your arms shake, hands firmly planted against the wall to try and maintain your balance. You try to rest your head against the worn wood, bracing yourself as he slides deeper and deeper inside you, but he grabs you by the throat again and pulls your head back so he can drag his teeth over your exposed throat.

You moan unabashedly now, the sound loud enough to be a scream.

He chuckles, the sound sweeter than the music shaking the house around. "Good Omegas get to cum."

You've lost count how many heats you've gone through over the years imagining how it would feel to have him inside you, none compare to this. Nothing, no toy, certainly not your own hands, could compare to the stretch of his thick length inside you. He takes you an inch at a time, lips nipping gently at your throat as he goes deeper than you thought possible.

"Fuck me," Cassian whispers, reminding you that he's there. "Look how she takes you."

You try to glance down at what they're seeing, but Rhys holds your chin in place, tutting disapprovingly in your ear when you try and fight him. "Now, now, just focus on me, yeah? This is as much a reminder to them that you're mine as it is to you."

He finally seats himself fully inside you, panting as he braces a hand against the wall to support himself. "Feel so good, Darling."

You lean your head back against his chest as he drags his hand down the wall to lace his fingers with yours, the gesture soft amidst the clear dominance in his every move. You're ready to surrender; you always have been but you've never been more aware of how naturally it comes to you until now.

"I'll be good," it's a chant, a prayer, chest heaving as you whimper and bare your throat best you can around his body as he leans over you. "I'll be your good Omega, promise!"

He pulls out tortuously slow, making sure you feel every inch of loss, until you're sure you'll feel empty forever. You're panting, breath rasping out of you, chest heaving as you babble and beg for him to come back, to fill you again. You think you might just promise anything to have him fully seated inside you again. Someone, you think it's Azriel, but you've lost the presence of mind to see either of the other males, laughs at your neediness. But Rhys merely kisses your throat tenderly before he slams himself back inside you.

You grip tightly to his hand, body jerking so quickly forward your chest brushes the wood of the wall.

He repeats the motion twice more, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your lower belly with each thrust.

"Rhys," you whimper.

"Gonna claim you later," he promises as your legs start to shake.

Heat licks up your spine, dances across your skin, you think you might be on fire with every bit of contact you have with his body. He is everywhere, filling all your senses.

"When we're alone and I can really take my time with you."

This isn't him taking his time? Your eyes roll back into your head, muscles tightening to the point of pain. He's so deep inside you, pace leisurely if not punishing. You can feel every thrust in your stomach, tip of his cock easily finding your cervix. You can barely breathe around each rough thrust back inside your dripping cunt.

"Please, Alpha," you whine. "Please, please!" You're so close.

He kisses beneath your jaw again, lips soft and gentle despite how he picks up his pace. "I think you've learned your lesson, Darling." His free hand slides down between your legs again, finding your clit with ease.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the coil in your belly tightens once more before it snaps entirely. You think you might be screaming his name, but you've lost control of your limbs, body going slack. His fingers leave your clit so he can catch you before you fall on your face, body limp as he pumps once, twice, three times more before his own release follows yours.

Even with all the white noise in your skull, the warmth of him inside you makes your base instincts preen. This is what you're made for; this is what you've been waiting months and months for.

You're caught between the wall and his chest, barely standing as he pulls himself out of you and hurriedly pulls his pants back up. "That's my girl!"

As soon as his zipper is back up, he's sweeping you into his arms, holding you close to his chest. "Did so good for me."

You nuzzle into his neck, dragging more of his scent over your skin, as if he hadn't already covered you in it.

"I take it this means you're not down to share?" Cassian asks, his voice sounding strained.

A growl rumbles through Rhys' chest. "I don't think you'll like my punishment for you quite as much as she did if you so much as look at her without my permission."

You giggle as you place a kiss to his throat. "Don't be such a grumpy Alpha, you know I only came over here because I wanted your attention."

"Mission accomplished," Azriel mutters.

Rhys kisses the tip of your nose as he leads you towards the stairs. "You could have just said so."

You find yourself grinning. All things considered, you're plan worked out flawlessly. "Where's the fun in that?"

[roses-and-revolutions]

Not Blue, Black

Everyone always assumes that Danny's eyes are blue. He’s shown pictures of his family before and his dad’s eyes are blue, and so are his twin brother’s and his daughter’s, and his big sister’s. So his must be too! Well, his mom seemed to have this weird purple thing going on so no one was too sure. And no one seemed to care either way, especially not Danny. Besides, why would anyone care about eye color when they had such an amazing young man working alongside them?

Danny was the perfect intern. He’s always on time, never giving trouble, always giving helpful suggestions, and good at not only his job but everyone else’s too, making it handy to have him around the office. He was also the workplace hottie, with many guys and girls hovering around him, desperately trying to make him theirs despite him announcing himself happily married the first day he got here. (Everyone knew who his husband and wife were since he couldn’t help but show them off every chance he got. Everyone knows they’ve got no chance, but one can dream.)

He also seems to light up just about whatever room he happens to be in. Just his presence alone made even their shittiest days in the office seem like just tiny inconveniences in the eyes of the universe. Unless he himself was pissed, which didn’t happen too often. But when he was, everyone felt it and knew to avoid him like the plague. But, other than that, Danny was an all-around good guy and was for sure going to get the job after he graduated from Gotham U. 

You, on the other hand, weren’t too sure about your position in the company, as you were Danny’s antithesis, everything he was not. You were always late for reasons no one cared to understand. Just about every issue in the office was pinned on you whether you were involved or not. You couldn’t ever think about helpful suggestions and just rode off the backs of others. And compared to everyone else's good looks, you were the workplace monster. 

You had a scar on your face and body you got as a kid. You got it in an accident and it deformed your right side quite a bit. It was challenging to adjust to yes, but over time you learned to live with and accept it. Others not so much. The stares you got almost daily, from everyone in the office to school, even random strangers on the street. All of them made you feel scared and sick. Like you wanted to dig off your skin and rip off your flesh and replace it all with something newer, better, more normal. But you couldn’t and had to live like this for the rest of your life. You had to live with the stares for the rest of your life.

Your only saving grace was this job, the one you were assigned to when you first got the internship. You were awful at it at first, resulting in many scoldings from the manager. But throughout the year you were here at this company, you dedicated your time and effort to be good at at least this one thing. And now you were proud to say that you were damn good at it. The best even! So good in fact that everyone decided that they would drop their workload onto you and let you handle it even if it meant extremely late nights at the office.

And that’s how you got to be here, on the company roof at 1 a.m., debating whether or not going home to actually sleep and eat would be worth the scolding you would get from the manager when you arrive to work ‘late’ again..., among other things.

You know having these kinds of thoughts was bad for your mental health (your therapist grilled it into you every time you even mentioned them to her), but it was freeing in a sick sort of way every time you thought of each scenario that could play out if you just-

“Hey!”

Jumping back to your senses, you turned around and saw none other than Danny Fenton standing right behind you. You two were never all that close in proximity before now so you only knew that he was big. You weren’t expecting the absolute unit that was standing behind you. You knew you were short but having to crane your neck to look at his face only put shit into perspective.

“Another late night?”

You only nod dumbly as he moves from behind to stand next to you, looking down at the bustling city below. A deep sigh came from him as he pulled a candy from his back pocket and popped it into his mouth. He was always eating candy. Did he have low blood sugar or just a sweet tooth?

“Same. It’s like we can never go home, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Mr. Perfect’s suffering just a bit until you realized what he meant. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“Come on Fenton, just because you’ve done a few late nights doesn’t mean you ‘never get to go home’.”

You settled next to him, also looking down on the city as well. He was on his phone now, the blue light illuminating his features.

“She really never sleeps does she?”  He says laughing to himself.

You were kinda pissed off now. Who was he, Mr. Perfect Intern, Daniel Fenton, to compare his suffering to yours? You practically lived at this job now, once you weren’t busy with school or something else! You even bet that after this he’s gonna go home to his nice apartment and be met by a wrapped-up dinner on the table made by either his husband or wife. (HE HAS A FREAKING HUSBAND AND WIFE FOR FUCKS SAKE!) He was probably talking about his little girl just now, and how she’s up waiting for him. Maybe she was half asleep on the couch with the TV on since she was so determined to see her Dad come home. It’s Friday after all of course she’d get to stay up way past her bedtime. He’s gonna get a hot bath and wash off dirt and grim of work, and-

Danny’s laugh was low and deep, rumbling through the air, sending chills down your spine. He turned to you and smiled his pearly whites glimmer-  Wait were those fangs?

“Dude you know you mumble out loud… right?”

There was silence between you two until a bright red crept up your neck, and ever so slowly engulfed your face. Shame flooded your entire being as you cradled your face in your hands. You sighed, feeling like more air wanted to come out but your very human lungs were empty and in need of oxygen. So sucking in a breath, you looked him in the face (why can't you see his eyes?). He was still smiling, his fangs (he has freaking fangs how had you never noticed before!) poking his bottom lips making little dimples.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been stuck here for three days doing everyone else's work. I haven’t slept or eaten or taken a shower. I-”

“I know, I know. You’ve been busting your ass for a while now so of course you’d be grumpy.”

You don’t think grumpy is the word you’d use but it was close enough. 

“So how long have you been here Fenton?”

“A week.” He replied cooly, popping yet another sweet in his mouth. (Okay he needed to stop, at this rate, diabetes would be the next one to put a ring on his finger) But you were surprised nonetheless.

You’re sure you would’ve noticed if he was here for the entire week. He must have been playing games with you.

“Am not.”

Okay, you needed to stop thinking out loud.

“Look, just trust and believe that if I didn’t want you to notice me, you wouldn’t have. But I did so…” He shrugged and looked off into the distance once more.

You think that what he said is impossible, everyone notices Danny Fenton. But the office was pretty small compared to bigger companies. And if he really was there for the entire week you should have noticed him at some point of the three days you were here. You didn’t hear him coming up behind you a few moments ago either. So maybe there is some merit to his words.

“What’s got you here for so long anyways Fenton?”

He sighed, his face looking more tired than before. 

“You know the project that my group has, the one we got two months ago?” You nod and he continues, 

“Well, it was fine at first. Everyone was pulling their weight, excited to get it done. But then it started, again, with ‘Hey Danny, I’ve got something important to do this afternoon, can you finish this for me?’. Then, ‘Danny I'm not coming in today, do this for me? Thanks!’. And ‘Hey, Danny’s good at this let him do it!’. ‘Danny I need help! Wait no…, I actually meant that I want you to do this for me.’ 

Danny’ll do this, Danny can do that, don’t worry Danny’s on it! Danny, you’ll finish the project… right?

That along with the other workloads that are trusted upon me by the managers and other employees, ON TOP OF MY OWN ASSINGED WORK!”

By the time he was done, you had already recognized that voice all too well. Danny was struggling, right on the edge of his line, using the shirt on his back the make just a little more. Danny was breaking and just barely holding it together, just like you were. You never realized it before, but you notice now that, Danny’s fucking tired. Just like you.

A wet laugh broke your train of thought. His face was a bit wet, his eyes (?) red from held-back tears.

“People think that I’ve got no flaws-” A pang of guilt shoots through you as you were one of those people, “- but I do. Metric shit ton in fact. One of them is that I can’t help but to help people, even if it’s detrimental to myself. And if my sister finds out about this she’s gonna slap me upside and force me to stay home for a month!”

Another laugh rang through the air, sounding just a bit too crazy for your liking. Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder, you just needed to ask-

“Why are you telling me this?”

His laughter stopped and he turned to look at you. Like really look at you. You realize that Danny’s eyes weren’t blue like you and everyone else were assuming. His eyes were black. So black. Blacker than the night sky and deeper than any ocean. And within those oceans swam thousands of bright lights, each burning 10x brighter than the earth’s own sun! Yet they could never shine through that great abyss. It was beautiful. Danny’s eyes were so beautiful. 

“Because I’m gonna quit.”

“What?” Well, you weren’t expecting that.

“Yeah, I’m going to quit. And as your good friend-” Good friend? Since when!? “-I’m going to advise you to quit as well! I predict that this shabby ass company is gonna collapse in a few months and I DO NOT want to be there for that shit show, doubt you want to be there either.”

You feel conflicted. This is the first time that you and Danny Fenton have actually spoken to each other and after basically trauma dumping on you he tells you to quit! This has to be a prank! Some sick twisted joke!

“It’s not.”

CURSE YOUR BLOODY LIPS!

Danny smiled. He looked noticeably less human now that you could see fangs and eyes, and were his ears always pointy? Dear lord is he a part of the Fae!?

“Close but not quite.” 

At this point, you were pretty sure you weren’t speaking out loud and he was just straight-up reading your mind. He handed you a piece of paper and clasped his hand over yours.

“Just think about it ok? The first one is my number, so just call when you need a friend to talk to. The second is my brother’s, he thinks you’re cute.”

“What?” You look up only to see him gone as if he was never there. Looking back down you expect to see the paper gone too. But it was still there, the flirtatious message next to the second number making the tips of your ears turn red. Once again you remember that, Danny if a fucking giant, one who was now gone without a trace…

“What have I gotten myself into?”

You decided to quit the next day.

Three months later the company ends up in a scandal so bad, that even the bats are investigating it.

You decide to give Danny a call.

All I wanted to do was write a prompt about Danny's eyes... The fuck!?!?!?

[julesdaydreams]

@wolfstarmicrofic II may 2 - sir II word count: 1380

CW: age gap (both consenting adults) NSFW - suggestive imigary but nothing actually happing other than heavy flirting and teasing, enjoy! I tried to make this under 1k words, but I'm very bad at keeping it mini, sorry

“Next week, we’ll be discussing the themes of race, class, and gender in the works of Emily Chopin. Please read the texts I provided you with online and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any questions. Have a great weekend.” Remus ended his last lecture for the day, turning around when his students started eagerly leaving the lecture hall.

It’s been a long week, his joints aching from standing too long without the help of his cane (because he refused to use it at university. He was in his mid-thirties, not mid-sixties, alright?). He sat down in his chair at the desk, sighing as his hip popped and the ache subsided a bit. He couldn’t wait to get home and take a long, hot bath.

He was focused on gathering his belongings, shutting down his laptop when a smooth low voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you have a moment?”

Remus closed his eyes for a brief moment. He knew that voice all too well. Sirius Black had made his job a living hell the moment he had stepped into his classroom this semester. Twirling his silky black hair as he watched Remus like a hawk in his sessions. Bright grey eyes looking all so innocent, even though Remus knew it was all just an act. Clothes always just a bit too tight, teasing him, making him imagine ripping the offending garment right off of the younger man.

Even worse, Black was attentive, one of his best students, really. Always asking the right questions at the right time, head slightly tilted as he hung onto Remus’ every word as he answered, making him stutter whenever the other bit his bottom lip in concentration.

But Remus was a professional. And he wouldn’t let beautiful twenty-something-year-olds ruin him or his career. So he ignored the other man to the best of his ability.

That plan seemed to work right up until a few weeks ago when the student had decided to make it nearly impossible to ignore him, by approaching Remus after classes, or in the hallway when they crossed paths, or Remus’ office during his open office hours, invading the small and quiet space with his sultry voice and boisterous laugh.

Black always had an excuse, too. Asking about an assignment, or if Remus could elaborate on a topic he had broached in one of his lectures. But what started innocent, quickly turned into dangerous territory: Black asking about his personal life.

He asked if he had a wife, or husband (no, and Remus knew the question was redundant anyway, seeing as he had no ring on his finger - and since Sirius had been eyeing his hands for quite some time, he must have noticed as much).

The next time, he asked if Remus liked to read books in his free time or if he just did so for his lectures, and what kind of books he liked reading most. The next day, a first edition of his favourite novel lay on his office desk with a neatly written note on top, swirly initials in the bottom right corner ~S.O.B.

Remus had stared at the book for entirely too long, debating giving it back (technically he wasn’t allowed to accept gifts from his students. Bribery and all that.), but he couldn’t get himself to part from it, so he took it home instead.

Save to say, Sirius Black had managed to weasel himself into every crook of Remus’ brain and life and it was driving the professor insane, to the point that every interaction with the younger man had him reeling, threatening to boil over and do something irreparable to his career.

He willed himself to prolong the inevitable and not let it be the interaction he was currently in, but a different one in the future.

When he looked up and into hooded grey eyes, lined with charcoal and sparkling with a hint of mischief, Remus doubted his ability to keep things professional once more.

“What can I help you with, Mr. Black?” he asked, voice coming out much clearer than he thought he could manage at the sight of the other man.

Black smirked in that way of his that said he had Remus exactly where he wanted him. Wrapped around his little finger.

The student leaned against the desk, stretching out his long legs clad in infuriatingly tight leather pants that Remus wanted to peel off desperately. He tilted his head, silky hair falling to his side and revealing the pale and smooth skin of his neck that Remus dreamed about marking up.

He was well and truly fucked. Black clearly decided he had toyed with Remus enough and it was time to attack.

“I was wondering… what someone like you might do on a Friday night? I could see you enjoying a hot bath, maybe with a nice book, relaxing those muscles you got, you know? Or maybe you’d surprise me and go to a pub or bar? Drink one or more beers, take a nice bloke home with you. One with long black hair, legs for days, porcelain skin that you would take your time marking up with your mouth. You’re a gentle lover, aren’t you, professor? You’d know how to take care of a guy like me.”

Remus swallowed. Not once had Black been this straightforward with him, painting an image in Remus’ head that he desperately wished was reality. He worked his jaw, eyes scanning over the room to make sure that the rest of his students were truly gone, before carefully crafting his answer.

However, whatever was about to come out of his mouth died at the tip of his tongue when Black shifted slightly, revealing black ink under the collar of his shirt.

Remus snapped.

One moment he sat on his chair, the next, he was looming over his student, arms on each side of the other man, palms resting on the dark wood, bodies so close, Remus could smell Sirius’ shampoo and it made Remus’ professionality crumble like a house of cards. Their faces were closer than ever and Remus smirked when he heard the other man take in a sharp breath.

“I don’t know what games you’re playing here, Mr. Black.” He spoke lowly into the student’s ear, revelling in the way it made him shudder. “But I can assure you, I’m everything but gentle in bed. And you would be wise not to test me. Are we clear?”

Remus leaned back just a bit, looking into wide and lustful eyes and it made him hot all over.

This was it. This was the moment that could change everything and Remus wished - hoped - Black would make the right choice and leave. Take the threat as it was and run for the hills.

Of course, the student had never left him alone and he wouldn’t start now. Black’s tongue darted out, wetting his lower lip and Remus had suppressed a groan at the sight.

“I think you’re all bark and no bite, sir. You couldn’t hurt a fly.” Again, that infuriating smirk, Remus wanted to see it crumble, wanted to shut up that smart mouth and make it useful for once. See it wrapped around-

He was getting ahead of himself. Again.

He raised his hand and tilted Black’s head up slightly, watching hungrily as his throat bobbed.

“Tonight. 8 pm. The Three Broomsticks. I’ll show you just how gentle I can be... if you’re up for it.” He gave the other man’s thigh a tight squeeze, before stepping back, grabbing his bag, and walking out of the lecture hall with wide steps, forcing himself not to turn around and take the other man right then and there over the desk and show him what happened when you provoked your professor too much.

No. That could wait for another day. First, he had to get ready for tonight. And he already had lots of ideas on how to make Sirius Black regret ever thinking he could win this little game of theirs.

Fuck being professional.

[fanatic-writers]

Loki Drabble

A/n: Just a little thought I had while watching the new episode of Loki. Requests are open!

Word Count: 844

Pairing: Loki x TVA!Reader

Summary: The three times Loki sees you in the past and the one time he finally catches up to the present

Warnings: Unedited, Season 2 spoilers ish

You were at your desk in the TVA when you heard the commotion of your coworkers gawking at someone in front of you. “Y/n,” a strange man gasped as his hands came to cup your cheeks “gods darling you have to help me.” Your brow furrowed in confusion as you moved out of the man’s grasp. “You have five seconds to explain why you’re grabbing my face and calling me darling before I prune you.” You huffed in response, hand already searching for your weapon. “Darling, it’s me. It’s Loki.” He raised his hands in surrender as you shoved your time stick in his face. “Loki!? You mean the variant I’m supposed to be hunting down Loki?” You raise a brow, charging up the weapon and preparing to use it. Loki looked hurt, defeated even, as he seemed to melt into despair “You-you don’t remember me?” He frowned “I remember it's my job to get you off the timeline so the world doesn’t end.” You spoke as you lunged towards him. Loki was quicker though, sprinting through the hallways as you called for backup. You turned around a corner after him and heard a sort of yelp before you watched him seemingly get ripped from the universe. “What the hell was that?” You frowned as you looked to the men around you who just shrugged in response.

He had been moving through the TVA for a while now, through time more than space it seemed. He felt his body being ripped apart and pulled back together, he kept his eyes closed for a moment before he registered a scream that sounded oh so familiar. “Y/n?” He started hands already up as he approached you apprehensively. He’d had his fair share of run-ins with the past yous now and he just wanted you to recognize him. Maybe this was the actual war that He Who Remained had promised him. A war inside himself every time he saw you and you didn’t recognize him one bit. Didn’t remember the fight you’d put up for Mobius to keep him around, didn’t remember the adventures you’d been on with him. “Please don’t hurt me.” You mumbled and it was then that Loki realized that this you was different from the others. You were younger, the emotions you usually kept steeled away were present on your face, the main one being fear. He took a cautious step toward you “I could never hurt you.” He mumbled, looking into your confused eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again but before he could he was being ripped away once more, his hand reaching out to you as if you could save him.

“Where the hell do you think you’ve been?” Your voice echoed down the hallway as you marched up to Loki, looking decidedly pissed. “Darling-“ He started but you stopped him before he could get to far. “I stuck my neck out for you and then you escape?” You huffed, arms crossed over your chest. “I should’ve just let Mobius kill you after your little movie but no, I felt bad, and this is what it gets me.” You paused for a moment in your rant “And stop calling me darling, it isn’t going to win you any brownie points.” It must’ve been his first day he realized a little too late as you began to slip cuffs over his wrists and drag him back to the room he was held in. “You’ve got the wrong guy.” He tried to explain but even he didn’t know if he would be able to talk his way out of this one. “Oh, so there’s some other you running around wearing the exact same clothes doing the exact same thing as you?” You raised a brow as you shoved him into the room. “Honestly, for the god of lies, I thought you’d be better at the whole talking your way out of things. I mean seriously ‘you’ve got the wrong guy,’ I’m not a child Loki.” You mocked his voice as best you could and he couldn’t help the small smirk that came to his lips, remembering the other times you’d done it in far less serious matters. “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like wha-“ “Loki?! LOKI! What the hell!?” You looked down at the cuffs that had fallen to the floor and sent a message to Mobius that Loki was still at large.

You were walking out of the war room the next time he spotted you “Y/n, I don’t have time to explain but you know me and I need your help.” “I know I know you?” You looked at him confused “I’m more concerned about the whole appearing in front of me as a stringy flesh monster.” Loki breathed a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around you “I love you darling, please don’t forget me again.” He paused for a moment pulling away to look at you “Stringy flesh monster?” “I’d say that’s a good way of putting it.” Mobius piped up from behind you.

[resident-idiot-simp]

Bucky and Steve running across Logan and meeting Wade and Laura in the process

(x)

Logan was out shopping when he heard a whisper "Lucky James." And smelled familiar scents. It's Barnes and Rogers, he knows immediately his plans for the day are going to be postponed.

He just sighs and walks towards an alley so they can talk without too many onlookers. They stand at the opening of the alley with crossed arms and wide eyes. Logan just puts his arms out to the side as if he's showing off.

"It's been a while." Logan acknowledges.

"A WHILE?!" Rogers half shouts, "How are you not old It's been close to a century?" Barnes asks.

Logan just raised an eyebrow at them, "I could ask you the same thing but I know the answer to that." Logan points out.

"Of course you know the answer everyone knows did they enhance you too?" Rogers asks and Logan shakes his head. "Nah I don't need enhancements I was born this way." Logan says with a shrug.

"Explain." Barnes orders and Logan does. "I'm a mutant."

Barnes and Rogers share a look. "So what are you just slow to age?" Barnes asks. Logan smirks, "Kinda It's more like I have a healing factor the likes of which you've never seen. With a few other things." Logan tacks the last part on like an afterthought.

"What do you mean?" Rogers asks. Logan chuckles to himself, "For all intents and purposes I'm immortal. I was there when the bombs dropped in Japan and I'm still here."

Barnes and Rogers looked shell-shocked.

"I'm twice as old as both of you." Logan adds just because he can.

This seems to break them slightly. "Do you want to get lunch with us so we can catch up?" Barnes asks and Logan shrugs. "If you pay with that Stark money." Logan offers, and they agree.

They go to one of Logan's favorite places Wade had shown him and he takes their normal booth in the corner. The waitresses greet him happily and he smiles and waves back. It's very different from the world he was in and he'd like to keep it that way.

Barnes and Rogers couldn't keep their eyes off him like if they looked way he might just up and disappear. He understood but couldn't really relate.

"H-how have you been what have you been doing?" Rogers asked and what a question to start with. He might as well rip the bandage off now.

"I'm not your Lucky James." He says completely ignoring that question for now. "Also it's Logan now has been for a while."

They stare blankly and he continues.

"The man you served with isn't me he died a while ago. I'm from another universe a far shittier one of my own making. I was brought here as a replacement for the man you knew."

"...what?" Barnes breathed sounding a bit heartbroken.

"It's complicated and I don't know the full story, but you need to understand I'm not the same person you knew. It is most likely that we had the exact same experiences, but you are not my Barnes and Rogers and I am not your Logan."

"What happened to him?" Rogers asked.

"He sacrificed himself to save some kids. He was a hero and a legend to those who knew him." Logan answered.

"And you're not?" Rogers asked, sharp as a tack that one.

"Not in my world. I did a lot of bad things got real mad...lost control...... I'm not like the other Logan my story differs after the X-Men."

"You are an X-man?" Barnes asked and Logan looked away.

"Your Logan was. I am just a disgrace who couldn't accept I needed to get over myself."

Barnes's eyes lit up as he connected dots, "You're Wolverine." Steve's head wipped towards Logan as he also realized.

Logan nodded.

"Well, the question still stands How are you and what have you been doing?" Steve asks and Logan smiles slightly.

"Better, I have a new purpose and shot at life thanks to Wade. I'm doing jobs with the maniac and living a pretty normal life."

"Who's Wade?" Barnes asked with a raised brow. Logan smiles he can't help it. "My fiance. He's the one who brought me here, but that's a long complicated story that I promise isn't that interesting." Logan answered with a shrug.

"You said you did jobs. You want to specify?" Rogers asked and Logan rolled his eyes.

"We work for the TVA which is something I'm not going to get into and normal merc shit." Logan says offhandedly.

Rogers splutters his drink and Barnes looks interested. "Would I know Wade?" Barnes  asks and Logan smirks, "Definitely." They give their orders as the waitress comes and Logan gets a call.

He answers with a surprisingly soft, "Hey kit." That has Barnes and Rogers looking at one another eyes wide.

"Yeah yeah, we're at our favorite place." A pause. "Yeah ok, do you want your usual?" Another pause, "Ok see you in a bit bye."

The waitress raises an eyebrow at Logan, "Does she want her usual?" Logan nods and she scratches something else down before leaving.

"What was that?" They ask at the same time and Logan just smiles. "The main reason your Logan sacrificed himself is coming." He says and he sounds so incredibly fond.

They talk for a while longer until Logan perks up and the super soldiers turn to see what Logan's looking at.

It's a young lady who looks so much like Logan all of the questions they have are answered after just a glance.

"Come here kit." Logan calls his voice seeming to vibrate like a purr. The lady makes her way to the seat next to Logan smiling.

"Hi, papá." She greets her voice vibrating the same way. Logan throws an arm over her shoulder and squeezes before letting her go.

Rogers is trying and failing to speak as Barnes just stares. "This is Laura." Logan introduces and Barnes manages to get himself under control first.

"Nice to meet you Laura you can call me Bucky that's Steve." He sounds only slightly breathy which is impressive. Logan knows full well this is one of the last things they expected.

"I know." She says flatly and Rogers can't help the bark of laughter that escapes him. That's definitely Logan's daughter no doubt about it. Barnes seemed to have a similar reaction but managed to only snicker.

Logan doesn't even hide the shit-eating smile that crosses his face.

"Did Wade follow you?" Logan asked and Laura rolled her eyes. "He said he wouldn't so I give it 30 minutes until he shows up." Logan nods along like he expected this answer.

Barnes seemed to remember what Logan had said about this being the reason they're Logan had sacrificed himself as he looked at her closer.

"You're our Logan's kid." He stated more than asked. Rogers jerked in his seat as he too recalled that. Laura just sighed. Barnes suddenly felt like shit. Logan however didn't seem upset or annoyed at him.

"Yes, but I'm technically a clone. They took his DNA during the Weapons X program. I'm an attempt at recreating the perfect weapon." She said as she gestured at Logan who looked pissed off at the reminder.

There was a lot there that Rogers and Barnes hadn't heard yet none of which sounded good.

"I miss Dad but his sacrifice wasn't in vain. I have another life now a better one just like he wanted." She answered easily. Rogers and Barnes nodded sagely It definitely made them feel better knowing that their friend had sacrificed himself to save his daughter.

"I don't know how much you want to answer but what exactly was Weapons X?" Barnes asked the both of them.

Logan answered, "It was an organization that prays on mutants. It really started with me they tricked me into getting adamantium adhered to my bones before...well...they made me into the perfect weapon and took away my free will."

Laura leaned into him and Logan welcomed it smiling softly at her before continuing, "I was the tenth attempt and the first success. I eventually escaped, But they couldn't let it go so they tried cloning me." He breathed out.

Laura picked up from there, "I'm the 23rd attempt." She answered with a shrug. "Weapons X has been taken down but there's still offshoots that's what got pop."

Logan growled softly. "Fucking Francis." He snarled. Barnes seemed to look like he might be connecting some dots but couldn't quite put the whole picture together.

They were interrupted by the food being delivered. They talk for a while longer about less touchy issues after that, Laura even explaind what it's like in the mansion. That is until a while later when the diner goes silent and Logan and Laura perk up.

Rogers and Barnes reluctantly turn to see Deadpool sans his normal outfit. As he makes his way to the back booth where they are sitting. People he passes scramble out the door behind him.

Most of the waiters and waitresses look nervous, but he pays them no mind as he makes his way over. Rogers and Barnes prepare for a fight. "Peanut Mini, how are we doing?" He chirped.

Laura starts purring, "Pop." She greeted. "Thought you said you weren't going to follow the kit darling?" Logan asked his voice warbling the same way Laura's was.

"And let you two have all the fun? Please!" He rolled his eyes. He then turned and finally looked at the other two men and his eyes went wide.

Logan lunged at him covering his mouth, "Don't you dare scream Wade." He threatened as he pulled him down into the other open chair next to him.

Laura just laughed and Logan glared at her. Eventually, Wade managed to wiggle out of Logan's grasp, "OMG CAPTAIN AMERICA MY HERO!" He cried.

Rogers looked distinctly uncomfortable, "YOU KNEW I WANTED TO BE EXACTLY LIKE YOU WHEN I GREW UP DESPITE THE FACT I AM CANADIAN!" Wade exclaimed excitedly.

Rogers wanted to point out the fact that he ended up the exact opposite of him but didn't. His face however must have conveyed this because Deadpool answered." I KNOW I DIDN'T QUITE MANAGE IT BUT I GOT PRETTY CLOSE!"

Steve went to speak but Bucky was quick to speak over him because he had questions. He had never dared get close to Deadpool he was terrifying but now seemed like a perfect time.

"What do you mean by pretty close? I mean you're known for taking any job with a high enough pay?" He didn't ask rudely just really pointing out a fact in the underground.

Wade turned his attention to him, "Well sure But it's mainly bad people, Hell I'm quite warm-blooded for a merc. Besides when you're the best at what you do you end up taking the dirty jobs." And then as an afterthought tacked on, "And I do like money how else am I supposed to buy cocaine?"

"Al does love her cocaine." Laura agreed and Logan nodded along with that train of thought.

Rogers looked like he might explode and Logan looked lovestruck. The soldiers wondered distinctly what Logan saw in this maniac.

"What do you mean warm-blooded?" Barnes asked.

"Well, sometimes when kids get desperate they come to get help through unorthodox means. Most people don't touch it because the pay isn't good." Deadpool explained easily.

That seemed...actually pretty sweet which was surprising for someone like Deadpool.

"Besides I mainly take hits on drug lords, child traffickers, rapists, murderers, and the other unsavory," Deadpool answers easily and Logan nods at that confirming it.

The conversations continue and surprisingly Deadpool or Wade actually seems... Okay. Logan is enamored with him and it's understandable he has a charm to him if you can get over his...eccentricities.

Laura also clearly loves him and that's enough for them. They plan to have lunch at some later point. They pay and Wade leaves a generous tip...like a couple hundred dollars generous. The waitress seems to know him and thanks him with a smile. And just like that the trio is gone.

Steve and Bucky make their way back to the tower as they try to figure out how to explain the encounter they just had with the other Avengers.

"So where have you been?" Tony asks the moment they appear in the main area. The two share a look, "We met an old friend and caught up."

"Old friend, how old was he 90?" Clint asks from the couch. Bucky chuckles, "Actually he's much older than that. We had no idea though turns out he's a mutant."

Everyone pauses at that and looks over to them all asking them to continue with just a glance.

"Super enhanced healing factor It's as immortal as it sounds." Steve answered.

"Yeah?" Tony asked eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Yeah, but it's complicated and it turns out he has a kid and fiance." Steve answered easily.

"With immortality? that sounds painful." Tony asked seeming haunted at the idea of outliving Pepper and Morgan.

Bucky chuckled, "Funny thing that they're also immortal."

Everyone paused, "How did that happen?" Bruce asked.

"Both are experiments from his DNA." Barnes revealed.

Tony and Bruce shared a look, "Is there any way we can meet them?" Tony asked excitedly.

Bucky and Steve shared a glance, "Well...sure but.." Steve trailed off.

"One of them is Deadpool." Barnes finished.

Natasha and Clint seemed to jump a foot in the air out of shock alone.

"WHAT?!" They both shouted in shock.

(I plan on posting this tomorrow to Ao3)

[gumbootillustrations]

day 20 - quote

"you are garroth, protector of the innocent, sworn to care and love for those in need"

my take on what should've happened at the end of s1. context and uncensored image below the cut (tw // mild gore (blood splatter))

so uh... yeah. at the end of season 1 of ashes, ashes, garroth kills zane in irene's cathedral.

the setup for this series of events goes wayyyy back, back to the first war of the magi. in ashes, ashes, xavier was a divine warrior, the justiciar - i've talked abt this in a few of my other posts (specifically in this one), but essentially he founds the jury and carves off nine pieces from his relic to form the juror relics, which give the jurors their uh, for lack of a better term, juror powers. however, during the first ru'auni-tu'lan war (about 400ish years before the main story of ashes, ashes takes place), the relics went missing - leaving the jurors as little more than figureheads for a good few centuries.

then, about 20-25 years before aph shows up on the outskirts of phoenix drop, the high priest of o'khasis at the time figures out a way to give the jurors their juror powers without the relics via a blood magick ritual. said ritual is successful, but it upsets the balance of the universe so badly that the primordial gods intervene and sick a plague on o'khasis, killing roughly a quarter of the population and almost including lord garte ro'meave in that statistic (yes, this is the "near-death experience" that is cited as turning him from a kind-of-asshole into a right cunt). during the plague, a toddler-age garroth gets really sick, and goes for a wander throughout the ro'meave residence and ends up in the attic, where he finds a strange, glowing rock that seems to be calling out to him... he remembers bugger all of this, and what he does remember he puts down to a fever dream.

later on down the line, after nicole fakes her death and disappears about three or so years before the start of ashes, ashes, zane begins to show signs of what garte believes to be dissatisfaction with his regime, and in an effort to bring zane back under his control, he forces xavier's relic into his only remaining son. if zane had the spiritual constitution to wield said relic, this would be all fine and well, but because he doesn't, he begins to suffer the effects of relic corruption, which slowly drives him insane until he's the mad, devoted-to-his-interpretation-of-irene-and-her-doctrine-above-all-else, lawful-evil, war-criminal priest that he's introduced to us as during the wedding arc of season one.

then, during the battle for phoenix drop, garroth hands himself and the amulet over to zane in an attempt to save phoenix drop from a battle that he knows they're doomed to lose. and zane turns him into a juror via the ritual - and because garroth has (unknowingly) been holding esmund's relic in him this whole time, everything turns to custard, and garroth is rendered effectively comatose for pretty much the entire confrontation between zane, lillian, and the phoenix drop gang (aph, aaron, laur, and katelyn) - until zane moves to attack and kill aphmau right after she's absorbed irene's relic.

so you know how in starlight we're told that the relics are sentient? and you know how in starlight we're told that the relics have the ability to control the bodies of their hosts?

well uh. esmund's relic reacts to the threat against its matron that it senses. and with garroth essentially catatonic and in no state to fight back against the possession, he stands up, corners zane in a barrier, and rips xavier's relic out of his brother's chest - killing him almost immediately - before collapsing again, leaving the others to drag him out of the cathedral when zoey shows up with the portal. the entire time, zane is screaming at him to snap out of it, to remember who he serves, to remember who his brother is, and all the while the others can only watch on in horror as garroth condemns the one man hes spent the entire season trying to save to death.

garroth doesn't find out that he's killed his only remaining sibling (to his knowledge) until he wakes up two days later.

so yeah. ro'bro angst.

let me know if u have any questions! :3

[supernatural-bias]

𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩

↳ summary: you ask your distant and cold professor for some help with your thesis. good thing he seems to be an expert on fear

↳ warnings: mentions of murder, booze, guns, and some gore. canon type gotham violence. a wiff of stalking maybe?

↳ song: aleph—gesaffelstein

masterlist!

University life wasn't much different than you had expected. Television and movies glam it up to make it sound like the peak of your young adult life. A time for exceeding expectations and drinking cheap booze out of those weird solo cups in a random person's basement. But this was Gotham—where crime is the highest in the country and misfortune runs galore. The closest anyone got to walking into a stranger's basement these days was with the threat of a gun at their back.

In preparation for the quote-unquote finest school Gotham had to offer, instead of going out and buying the list of supplies your school recommended, you simply lowered your expectations. Not like there was much to begin with in the first place. You could get a protractor later.

Your thought process proved to be worth it too. Barely an hour into your first day, the campus was evacuated as a precaution for a major villain sighting in the area. Something about filling up a building with highly dangerous gas. As of weeks later, details still hadn't been released to the public. That was fine by you. All you cared about was not getting ripped away from your precious lunch again.

The campus cafeteria was drafty and smelled of mold, parties were thrown way too often, and most of your professors were stern with classes people only took so they could get their degrees.

In that case, Mr. Crane was no different from any of the other teachers.

There was certainly no lack of students in his class on the first week—the largely female percentage most likely gathered because of his pretty face. But by the end of it, over half had already dropped out.

You were not one of them. Somewhat regrettably, you had begun to think after hours of pouring over papers in just the first week. But you needed this class to fully understand your thesis topic and you'd be damned if you moved all the way out to Gotham for nothing.

That was what you were thinking about as you rounded the back row of Doctor Crane's class, staring blankly at the missed call from your mother atop your phone's home screen.

It had practically become a ritual for her to call you at least once a day since you'd moved to the city. Anytime you didn't pick up, it would send her into a frenzy—despite your multiple explanations of why you have your phone on silent during lectures. But that wouldn't stop her from constantly pleading for you to come back and finish getting your degree at home. Because even if it would take longer, and completely drain your bank account, at least you would be away from those lunatics. Or so she called them.

"You have nothing to worry about." You'd told her one time while watching a bowl of ramen bubble angrily on your stove. "Even if I was mugged or something, I'm sure the Batman would save me."

It had been meant as a half joke, said only to quell your mothers worries. Yet the more and more newspaper stands you passed on your way to the store, the more the vigilanties name came up. Often accompanied by the words HERO or SAVIOR afterward.

The sudden memory of newspapers stopped you right as you were about to cross the threshold from the lecture hall to the rest of the building. You were quick to turn around, flipping your phone back into your pants pocket loosely before approaching the professor's desk. A few more students filed out from behind you, one even tossing you a wave, before it was just you and the professor left.

Doctor Crane was nothing short of intimidating. Everything from the clean cut suit he worse, to his icy blue eyes—and even his second title as lead doctor in the nearby Arhum Asylum—was surrounded by an air of stoic professionalism.

The man hadn't even been there on the first day of school. Something that would have off-put you if not for the sudden evacuation, haulting any chance of first impressions. Instead, he had shown up the next day like nothing had happened: lips pressed into a tight line and eyes dull as he spoke to the class without really looking at anyone.

He had made it clear on multiple occasions that he was rarely available after class or for tutoring hours, but you doubted that even if he was, nearly anyone would show up for a one on one conversation.

Looks like you would have to be the outlier today.

You waited patiently as he shuffled from one stack of paper to another, eyes never once drifting over the rim of his glasses to look at you. Occasionally you would catch a glimpse of his usually devoid face break into a little frown before making a mark on a paper and moving on. You resisted the urge to peak and see if any of those papers were yours.

"Yes?" He adressed you by your last name suddenly. Packets and papers continued to shuffle. This time he did spare you a glance, a flash of something swirling in his cold eyes before disappearing. Or maybe that had been the dim light. It had been to quick for you to catch.

You cleared your throat before speaking; adjusting your bag unconsciously.

"I had a question or two for you about my thesis topic." You said with a level tone. He asked what it was somewhat dismissively, his monotone way of speaking ever present.

"I've been researching fear and its effects on the human brain for quite sometime, so I felt it was only fitting for that to be my topic."

That seemed to gather his attention. When you looked up from your examination of the plain black stapler on the corner of his desk, you were met with one raised eyebrow. His hand was writing on the stapled essay before him considerably slower.

If you squinted hard enough it almost looked like he was smiling.

"May I ask what has garnered your interest in such a subject?" He pressed. For a moment your mind went a little blank, not expecting such undivided attention from him. It was unnerving, concidering that before today he probably didn't even know your first name.

"Well, I've always been interested in how much emotions have a grip on the mind." The words were now tumbling from your mouth in a flurry of half-baked thoughts.

"It was only after moving here that I really realized how it can affect an entire city, much less just one person. Everyone knows how absurd the crime rates here are, but I don't think they've ever seen the stark contrast in the Gotham residents from, say, another neighboring city.

And not to mention there's a whole group of personas parading around the block inspiring pure fear. When the bigger crimes aren't outwardly released to the public, I'm starting to think the ones the police can cover up are being covered up. I did a quick search of specific types of crimes related to the patterns of people like the Joker, Bane, and Scarecrow, and too much adds up for it to all be a coincidence."

You reminded yourself to breathe. You knew you were passionate about this subject—hence the decision in thesis topic—but you were never this chatty with it. Something about Doctor Cranes' unwavering stare drew it all out of you in one go. He was a surgeon at the moment, prying your brain apart from the inside out and turning it over in his hands.

Or maybe you were over analyzing things again.

"And what do you think of this Scarecrow?" He had stopped grading now, plucking the clear rimmed glasses of the bridge of his nose and folding them neatly beside him. In a second, his icy blue gaze seemed to intensify in strength, pinning you in place like a specimen of his to observe. You made the brief connection between this and a lepidopterist pinning up butterflys by their wings. It was quick to leave.

Instead you thought back as news clippings and articals flashed in bold print on your mind. Pictures of the victims he had since left behind followed.

Most of them had died from shock or poison, toxins coursing through their bloodstream too fast for their bodies to handle. Not a wonderful way to go, but it was no better or worse than the dozens of mugging gone wrong that occurred everyday. If you ignored how they had all clawed their eyes out in terror, that is.

Your response came slow and methodical, words chosen with care. You were well aware that people had been thrown out of prestigious universities for speaking their minds about less, and you couldn't afford that right now. Besides. He had asked you a question. Who were you to deny him?

"I think what he's managed to make, to do, is a breakthrough in the scientific and medical field." If your professor noted the way you swallowed thickly he didn't say anything.

"What else?" It was almost like he knew every thought that crossed your mind before it even formed. As if he had been preparing for this exact moment.

You could continue. You could tell him that you'd started sitting by your thoroughly locked window at night, waiting patiently to catch a glimpse of a masked maniac. You could tell him that monster was the exact thing that pushed you to move to Gotham. You most certantly could tell him that you wanted to get your hands on that gas to do some tests of your own—see exactly what this Scarecrow had managed to create.

But instead you looked to the left and told him that was it.

"Well if that's all, I would like to continue this conversation at a later date." Doctor Cranes glasses were back on now as he stood up and began gathering his things.

"I'm not sure—"

"I'm quite interested in what you have to say." He adressed you by your last name again, shutting his briefcase closed with a chilling click. "After all, I have written some papers on this exact subject."

You know. You had read them in your search for more information on the Scarecrow's toxin.

"I'll keep that in mind, professor." You glanced at the doorway, wondering if it would be unacceptable to make a dash for it. You didn't want to be late for work any more than you were already. And if you were being honest this conversation had taken a turn you weren't prepared for.

By some grace of god he let the conversation drop. Not caring to spare another glance at him, you took to the door, planning out the route home in your head.

If he watched you go, you didn't notice. It wasn't until you had gotten home in your stained work uniform, beat up trainers grayed with labor, that you noticed your folder for his class was missing.

"Shit." You dragged a tired hand down your face, kicking off your socks as you lay next to the spread out compartments of your backpack.

You sighed. Looks like you'd be seeing Doctor Crane again sooner than you thought.

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

okay so TENATIVE predictions for season 4: it looks like they're going to be playing into the mandela effect. half the universe remembers the umbrella timeline, half the universe remembers the sparrow timeline, and the ONLY thing both groups remember is Ben.

I've been praying since day one that Ben will have memories of both lives in his head, and judging by the fact he appears to be Going Through It in the trailer I assume that'll be the case.

since Ben is at the center of the conspiracy, I almost want to say he's who they're supposed to be rescuing? like, maybe instead of One Ben Two Lives, it's Two Bens One Cup. I don't think they'll do that, though. They're probably trying to rescue Jennifer. HOWEVER I do think it would be really sexy if Nick Offerman and Megahn Mullally weren't playing a couple but were instead playing the same person from different universes (hence being named Gene and Jean), and they somehow found each other and that's why they're leading this conspiracy.

Mystery Jennifer is stressing me out. obviously by the glowing she's got something going on. I'm thinking there's a possibility she was erased from the family's memories after Ben's death- the trailer makes it seem like Reginald made Allison rumor them after the fact. there's probably a decent chance they all knew her, she lost control of her powers, Ben died, Reginald locked her away and erased all traces of her. maybe in the sparrow timeline she died instead, or maybe she was always locked up there and Ben was drawing her from memories that were already starting to leak through from the og timeline, but either way probably in trying to uncover how Ben died they figure out they have to save her. idk!

also, six is like. a random number of years I'm sorry. why wouldn't they just say five years later? maybe another thing to do with Ben bc umbrella Ben was number six? I'm probably reading too much into that one.

I'm truly SO scared they're gonna reveal none of them have spoken during the time skip. Five doesn't deserve that 😭😭. in my perfect world him and Viktor have an apartment but the show writers 100% forgot they said those two were best friends when they were kids judging by the rest of the series rip. when the Gene and Jean characters were first announced I thought maybe Five got stuck in the foster system and they took him in, and that could still be the case (maybe that's how they noticed the universe is a lie in the first place, the boy loves to Yap) but I think it's less likely now idk

if Diego and Lila's daughter isn't named Gracie....what was this all for. what was this all building towards. what's the point. LMFAO I know the popular fanon one is Anita (personally in my head I've been calling her Poppy and I Don't Know Why) but like Gracie is the only name that makes sense, Diego is Too Much of a mama's boy to accept anything else.

this one isn't a prediction it's just a demand- I DEMAND a white violin icon moment set to extraordinary girl by green day. they can 100% get away with just doing an instrumental version since Viktor's not a girl lmfao, but it literally Haunts Me that they didn't do that at the end of season 1 (or at LEAST play the opening of letterbomb when Viktor was in the basement hallucinating) so they NEED to make up for that. it's the last season. play the fucking song oh my God.

there might be too much going on to bring the sparrows back in any meaningful way, but like! I liked them! I especially wanted more Marcus last season, he and Viktor had good chemistry. and Fei was an icon. Why Are We Hiding Sloane Tho. I considered maybe they were rescuing Sloane, but like, Luther just seems a little too happy for that to be the case? that's why I also think Diego and Lila's kid isn't the one being rescued like I saw some theories suggest- Diego is so excited and Lila's grinning in the car scene. can't imagine their 5 year old is missing.

Five is absolutely gonna die. like I'm sorry since episode 1 there's never been a believable outcome where everything's okay and he lives. HOWEVER I think there's a very strong chance the series could end with the timeline is finally saved and set right, and grandpa Five died- but then right at the end 2002 baby Five shows up and gets stuck in the safe timeline. Five has been a walking paradox the whole series. it'd be bittersweet to lose the Five we love, but know that he's still technically getting a happy ending because he doesn't have to live through the apocalypse and become an assassin. I think that's like the best outcome we can hope for.

I think it'd be EXTREMELY funny if Reginald is just super nice now that Abigail is back. like the entire excuse for 30 years of insane behavior was that he missed his wife. bestie there are better ways to cope than abusing superpowered kids </3 but lmao I'm intrigued by him and Viktor being together in both trailers! I've always gotten the feeling that Viktor is one of his 'favorites' (to the best of his ability anyway), and from the brief childhood flashbacks we see that he had baby V acting as an assistant for him, so I'd like to see their relationship expanded a little bit. honestly I just want a lot about Reginald cleared up- he does give off the distinct impression that he actually cares about his kids, even though he's abusive. I'm assuming the explanation will be something along the lines of 'well I always planned to bring you back and safe in the New Universe', that he was approaching it as a 'they have to suffer now to save the universe, and then they can be happy' mindset. that would be interesting. but I'm also a little worried they'll wave his behavior off with 'oh he's an alien he just can't understand how he affected them', which, would suck writing-wise.

I'm worried about Allison- I'm sure they're gonna want her to have a full redemption by the end of the series, but what she did to Viktor and Luther last season...like I just don't know that they'll pull off a meaningful redemption, to where it's believable that they forgive her (other than the fact they're both softies and push overs). not with the shorter season, anyway! I *think* the person Viktor was punching in the trailer was Allison. but I'm worried that instead of actually fixing the issue the writers will just have her do a sacrifice play. especially since, bless her, she's the least sacrificial person in the family, so I could see the argument that it'll be a meaningful character growth moment, but like...if they don't actually have her believably fix her mistakes it'll just feel like a lazy writing move. also, I love her and I don't want any of them to die. as I said, the only death I'm willing to accept is Five's WITH the promise of baby Five getting a happy ending.

I want the Handler to come back, even if it's only for one scene. sorry, I think her absence was one of the low points of season 3.

I think if Grace appears in this season at all it won't be the robot version we're used to, but an older version of her human self that Diego met in the 60s. could be very bittersweet. I just don't think the robot exists in this universe bc honestly if my husband revived me from the dead but then I found out he's been living without me just fine, but made a robot copy of a pretty young fling he had after my death and seemingly can't live without her. I'd be a little pissed! sorry! lmao that said I also have personally been headcannoning that Grace is actually a cyborg and not a robot this whole time, the kids just don't know because of all the insane protocols Reginald set up, so if they do something with that instead I'll be really excited.

Diego and Lila's daughter deserves powers<3

alright I think that's all I got for now. but I wanna hear more theories!!

[blackbat05]

The Path to Healing

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Plot: Miguel gets accidentally sent to another dimension, one without super powered beings. There, he meets a familiar face - one that could help him to heal and find the strength to finally move forward.

Genre: PG-13 (comfort fic)

A/N: I really had a great trip in Korea, so here’s to another self-indulgent fic! Also this fits really well with the multiverse concept heh. Reblogs and comments appreciated!💜

Italics - Internal Monologue/Past Memories

He blinks once, then twice.

Miguel O’Hara finds himself staring into the endless blue skies.

Just where the heck am I?

He slowly eases himself up, fingers flying at his communicator in hopes of reaching Lyla.

“Damn it! For once I actually need her and this stupid thing doesn’t work.” He’s about to rip the device from his wrist but last minute logic creeps in.

When I get back, I’m going to kill all of them. Forget the spider society, I can do this on my own.

Miguel kicks the snow at the thought of the Go Home machine malfunctioning right when he entered.

This is why you should have never put Peter in charge. This is why you should have never let Miles in. This is why-

Miguel is too busy in his internal self-monologue that he crashes into someone.

“Ouch!”

Recovering from the sudden accident, Miguel extends a hand for the stranger. He’s about to apologize for the lack of awareness in his surroundings when he finally gets a clear view of the stranger under the yellow beanie.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry about that.”

Miguel could have walked away with his usual grunt and continue to figure out where the heck Peter and Miles had sent him to. No, he should have walked away. But he couldn’t.

Because the stranger was an exact replica of her.

If this was someone’s idea of a joke, Miguel would have had that person torn to shreds. Hands balling into fists, he forces himself back to Earth.

The question was, which universe was this?

“No, it was my fault. I should have watched where I was going.” Miguel sees your easygoing smile and his feet are rooted to the ground.

It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, despite Miguel being clad in spandex, you didn’t run the other direction when you had the chance.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t really know where I am? I was hoping to ask someone.” Miguel starts slowly.

“Figures.” You respond cheerfully. “You’re in Hongdae.” You see the poor man attempting to digest what you just told him so you try again.

“Hongdae. Seoul. The place that never sleeps?” There was still no visible reaction from the man and you were starting to get worried. “You’re in Seoul, South Korea. Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I know there’s a hospital nearby.”

That seemed to have done the trick as Miguel shakes his head. “I’m fine. But could you excuse me for a minute?”

You nod as he ducks into one of the many alleyways. You suddenly remember your mother’s words about running for safety but you push it out of your mind for now.

Looking around, you see a pushcart and make your way to it.

***

“Lyla! Where the hell have you been?” Miguel almost yells.

“Sorry, boss. Margo only managed to get the systems up and running. We’re working on bringing you back asap.”

“Tell me you know where the hell that idiot and the kid sent me.” His voice was almost pleading.

“Earth 1218. If you’re worried about any anomalies there, you can save them for another day.” Lyla tells him as she works away. “That universe is devoid of any super powered beings.” She looks at him through her pink frames. “But they have many problems of their own.”

Miguel was almost curious as to what these problems were but that was not the issue. He peeks out from the alley he was hiding behind, actually relieved to see that you were still there. Miguel holds his communicator towards your direction, zooming into your face.

“Can you do a scan?”

“Is that a challenge?” Lyla clicks away and within seconds she’s able to confirm your identity.

“Well… she’s not from here. Korea, I mean. But she’s here for six months and is apparently here on her first solo trip.”

So, you were doing well. You weren’t constantly looking over your back, worried about superhuman threats because of him. As much as Miguel hoped to see some form of recognition on your face, it was better that things stayed this way. It only confirmed his suspicions.

You were safe without him.

“Tell me when you fixed the machine. I got to go.” Miguel switches off his communicator, walking back to you.

“There you are! I was worried you ran off in this cold!” You grin. “I got a couple of things for you.” You hold up a shopping bag and a cup with what looks like a pancake to Miguel.

“This is Hotteok. Or a honey pancake.” You thrust the warm cup into his hands. “It’s probably one of the best things I’ve ever tasted in my entire life.” You happily bit into it, oblivious of Miguel’s stare.

You were just like her.

“Miguel! Have you tried this paella? Oh it’s so good!”

The memory punches him in the gut and Miguel has to sit down. He decides that the best way was to distract himself with the delicacy in front of him and almost burns his lips while doing so.

“Careful!” You whip out a wet wipe, gently pressing it onto his lips. “You don’t want to walk around with a sore lip do you?”

Finishing up the last bit of food, you give him the shopping bag. “An extra set of clothes because no matter how good you are with the cold, I don’t think walking around like you just came out of comic con would do the both of us any good.”

Miguel slips on the grey hoodie and black track pants, grateful that the muted colors had blended him together with the bustling crowd.

“Now, that’s all settled. Maybe you want to tell me what you’re really doing here?” You patiently wait for his response as Miguel’s mind races at the speed of light.

What does she mean? Did she find out? But how?

“I mean, I kind of heard a loud crash and minutes later I come crashing into you and forgive me… but you look like someone was chasing after you.”

Miguel wants to scream. How is he going to get out of this without repeating the same mistake and not looking like a complete psycho?

“You’re safe. You can tell me anything.”

I know I am. But the last time I told you, you got killed by The Green Goblin.

How could he deny your request? Not when you were waiting patiently for him to speak. Miguel feels like a cornered animal, with no way out.

Maybe, if you were just a little more honest with her.

He takes a deep breath, hoping that he would not regret this.

***

“You’re from another dimension?”

“Yes.”

“And you were accidentally sent here.”

“Yes.” Miguel hesitates to continue further, looking at you apprehensively. “I know you think I must be some madman but let me show you something.” He presses a few commands on his communicator, knowing that this was the only way for you to believe him.

A hologram pops up and Miguel can feel a part of his battered heart shattering once more. A picture of him and a woman who could be your twin appears. The carefree laughter that she was emitting after having her strawberry ice cream stolen from a playful Miguel was a thing of the past.

“She’s you but from my dimension. We were together but…” Miguel trails off, unsure of how to complete the sentence.

“But what?” You prodded gently, sensing that there was more to the man in front of you. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re crazy. In fact, there are plenty of crazy people in my world- more like idiotic.” You snort.

Miguel grips his thigh. “She died because she got too close to me. My enemies knew and they used it as leverage.”

What am I doing? Spilling my guts to a stranger just because she looks like her?

But there was no turning back for Miguel. Perhaps, there was a reason why he was sent here. Maybe, he had to right his wrongs.

You suddenly rummage through your bag and Miguel is positive that you’re about to call the cops on him. Instead, you take out your phone. “There’s something I want to show you.” You pass him the phone and Miguel finds himself staring at…

Himself.

“That’s why I believed you.” Your soft voice breaks his train of thoughts. “He used to be a researcher studying astrophysics and quantum physics.” You explained. “He always told me of the possibilities of another dimension. I thought it was a little whack to be honest but after everything that has happened, it doesn’t hurt to believe.” You smile sadly and this time Miguel can’t help but to be curious.

“Was? What happened?”

“He died. Gunshot wound.”

Miguel blinks, the news taking him aback. So he was dead in this world.

“I used to work as a police officer. We used to meet each other every Friday after work. But one day, he didn’t show up as per our agreed timing and I knew something was up.” You breathed heavily. “A crime boss that I was working so hard to catch caught up to me. He took the one thing that I loved the most.”

“I’m- I’m sorry I asked.”

“No. I needed this. I should be sorry. Spilling my guts out to a stranger all because he looks like my boyfriend.”

Miguel can’t help but to laugh at how his internal thoughts were just vocalized and you burst out into laughter as well.

“The point is,” you recover from your high. “I don’t think she would have blamed you. She would have been proud. Of all the people that you’ve managed to save.”

That’s all I’ve been doing. Saving worlds one after another to fill the void in my heart.

“She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. You did all you could. She would have wanted you to live on.”

“And you?”

You stare up into the skies. “That’s what he would have wanted me to do. That’s what I’m doing now. This is why I came to Korea. I want to remember him in the best way possible. Only positive memories.”

Miguel pauses. He had never thought of it that way. All this while, he was burying himself in his grief, praying that one day it would bury him alive.

Positive… your positive energy was boundless even across dimensions. No one could put it out. Not even Miguel himself who attempted to ignore it in hopes of numbing his pain. The only thing that did was to leave a gaping hole.

“It’s too painful.” He gasps, as if coming to the surface from being nearly drowned by the relentless waves.

“It always is at first.” You hold his curled fist, as if silently telling him to release. “But you need to give yourself a chance. Let the people around you in.”

At this moment, a burst of light could be seen from the alley that Miguel was at earlier. The two of you look at each other before making way to the source. That could only mean one thing.

“Boss!” A young girl steps out with her comrade donning golden bangles at his wrists. “We’re ready to take you home.”

It was as if the appearance of the two members had bought Miguel’s usual personality back. “Where’s Peter and Morales?”

“Oh, they were too scared to come.” The boy chirps at this Peter and Morales misfortune. “But I think they actually did some good by sending you here boss!” He takes a glance at your amused expression at the scene in front of you.

Pavitr, so straightforward and always so accurate. Miguel controls his urge to tell him to shut up. Though, strangely the boy had a point. If it wasn’t for the antics of Peter and Miles, he wouldn’t have met you.

He wouldn’t have come to terms with the raw wound in his heart. He wouldn’t have the closure that he needed and would have just continued running away until exhaustion caught up with him.

“Wait!”

Miguel turns back to see you scribbling something on a piece of paper before giving it to him.

“I don’t know how you guys work over there but if it’s possible to travel here by accident, I’m sure you can come and see me again. This is my address in Korea and my number.”

Miguel wants to tell you that it is impossible, that the two of you should never meet.

Just give it a chance.

The voice in his head was loud and clear. There was no room for discussion.

“Thank you. For today.” He holds the piece of paper tight like a lifeline, preparing to step into the portal.

“I’ll see you soon.” You waved goodbye.

The portal closes behind Miguel, and the three of them are back at headquarters.

“So boss…” Pavitr begins.

“Not a word. Find Peter and Morales.”

***

Afterword

You step out from the apartment, taking in the fresh air. It’s been three months since you met Miguel. The cherry blossoms told you that much.

Walking along the Han River, you can’t help but to feel a little lonely amongst the crowd who were with their loved ones.

No, he was with you in spirit.

Grabbing a iced tea, you snap a photo with your camera, planning to develop the picture for your photo book.

As you continued on your journey, you were too engrossed with the beauty of the pink petals that you bump into another person admiring the scenery of the Han River.

“Sorry!” You apologized with the minimal Korean that you picked up from your time here.

“If you’re really sorry, maybe you could spend some time with me?” The man responds in perfect English.

You’re about to tell the potential creep off when he turns around, causing a huge smile to form on your face.

“Miguel! You came.”

[alanaartdream]

Ok it’s new day and I have better lighting and more drawings for my Fairy Timmy with Jimmy Timmy power hour Nicktoons unite and now with new drawings fairly odd parents a new wish added to the mix (( also you can ask questions about my ideas if you want; don’t mind getting distracted from stress of working food services for a hospital asking about my

Drawings au ideas))

I was trying out these staedtler high lighters today ( normally I rather use watercolour pencils and markers but sometimes if I’m feeling lazy or a bit tried out I just like to grab my little pencil case and sketch while in bed before I start the day;; but some of my high lighters lids popped off or they just started to dry up so had to find something to replace some of the ones that dry out;; I might look into getting some watercolours markers/pens in the future to try that out )

Ok now onto my fairy Timmy with nicktoons unite gang now I believe when fairy Timmy grows up he’ll be helping with the Da Rules but also be a fairy Lawyer and Felicity would besides her other fairy jobs (she helps artists/ writers and people who create stuff to get inspiration for their creations and get them out of artists/ writers blocks as well as help cats find humans who will give them forever homes but she also keeps track of all of fairyworld records and being as lawyers always need to check the records for their cases it makes cents they become work friends) also see Cupid showing up complaining to Timmy of how he can’t find get Felicity to fall in love with anyone even though he’s been trying and Timmy and Jimmy have to remind him

She’s asexual/ demisexual so she’s not the type to fall in love like straights would do witch just has him huffing away while hazel who just popped into with Wanda cosmo and peri to laugh remembering how much Cupid gave her troubles with her parents (( apparently she made a wish to meet Timmy after Peri Wanda and cosmo ended up talking about him and Timmy was hanging out in Jimmy’s lab going over a tricky problem that seemed to happen with the Da Rules books and being how smart Jimmy is was getting some advice with that tricky book’s rules))

Jimmy not a fan of kids in his lab so keeping an eye on her while Hazel meeting Fairy Timmy and Peri is explaining how Timmy helps out the Nicktoons unite gang when he’s not busy with his fairy work in fairy world and if you want to check out other universes and if you want to check out other universes you have to get felicity or Timmy to check in with Jimmy Neutron who’s one of the leading professors on universes travel witch is when Hazel truly gets a good look at Jimmy & is surprised to learn he’s human and not a fairy witch is when Timmy has to quickly poof in felicity to explain with records/ paperwork that Jimmy; the Nicktoons unite gang along with Timmy have saved fairy world and all of the universes so often that to keep all the universes safe it’s better that they know fairies exist and have signed the right papers to be allowed to know about fairies and fairy world (heck fairy world ended up giving Jimmy Danny and their friends metals for helping them soo much there was a huge party and everything all the Nicktoons untie gang were invited and given metals for the occasion)

(( if you want to add Dev into this could have it he complains how come Jimmy & Danny are allowed into fairyworld later on when Jimmy and Danny are over for check over involving ghost rules in the Da Rules book and peri looking worn out at dev’s antics while Danny and Jimmy give the kid annoyed looks and Timmy’s trying to comfort Peri saying looks like you got remy like kid as his first godkid

Also could see later on when Dev ended working with Anti fairies Timmy was at Jimmy’s lab and was doing his best to save Timmy from magical back up and get Timmy back to fairyworld along with Danny’s help and they ended up up helping Hazel out in saving fairy world I could see Jimmy wanting to rip Dev’s dad for what nearly happened to Timmy but Jimmy had managed to keep from happening with Hazel’s help; Danny had to hold Jimmy back while Timmy had to get his lawyer side up and ask peri about how he wanted to handle this case with Dev

[starrenati]

I was trying to get it done in time this time, I think I managed. I hope you'll like this chapter. Also I'm getting lost in my owm plot because it wasn't supposed to be this long and complicated, please don't hate me.

Chapter XVII

"Desperate measures"

“We can’t let you just take an anomaly like that back home. It’s dangerous and can ruin everything on this Earth. “ 

“FOR THE HUNDRETH TIME, IT’S ALICE, NO ANOMALY FOR FUCKS SAKE” 

At this point, Wade had to be held down by Logan, so he wouldn’t jump at the woman in front of them. Maybe he didn’t understand what that woman meant, or maybe he did and just did not care. He wanted to bring their girl back, but it seemed that more civilized options won’t work. Logan was on the verge of blowing up as well, but for now they had to try and work with TVA, otherwise, they might lose any chance to get Alice back at all. Not even mentioning others they wanted to save as well, after all he really grew fond of Laura, even if he wasn’t hers Wolverine. 

“Mister Wilson, please calm down. For us, your friend is considered an anomaly, Lumithra if you will, and left uncontrolled they might cause only more problems. What you witnessed was one of them. We can’t have just a random time manipulating monster to walk around like that. Especially if they’re not able to control their power.”

“She’s not a monster.” Logan growled through his clenched teeth. “So instead of helping her, you just decided to send her to the Void and call it a day?” 

“You don’t understand. The aftermath of a timeline getting ripped like that will still be present for us to fix, even if it’s an impossible task for now. She killed several of my men and put one of my best doctors into a catatonic state. And that was done on purpose. Are you even aware of what kind of power she holds? That’s why we either exterminate Lumithras or get rid of them.” 

“What the fuck even is a Lumithra? She’s just Alice, a mutant, I know all of you stuck up idiots hate mutants, but that’s not an excuse.” 

Logan growled once more. To think that nothing changed about that in other universes was sickening. You’d think that a different universe, that seemed to be ahead of his old one, still held to that stupid fear was just enraging. What was so wrong about mutants to them? Sure, it was something new and not really that oftenly seen, but that doesn’t mean that mutants deserve to be killed just for what they are. 

“Lumithras are something more than mutants. Like advanced forms of them, their powers being a genetic mutation but of a very different kind. It doesn’t happen naturally, it comes passed down by a being of higher class. They can be mutants if the mutation of the genome was weak, like Jean Grey if you will.” 

“Jean wasn’t weak.” He scoffed immediately. 

“I didn’t say that she was weak, I said that the pass down of her mutation was weak, that’s why she’s considered only a mutant. “

“So… A level five, omega mutant is considered weak towards Lumithra?”

“To an awakened one that has full control, yes. To one like your friend, absolutely not. But we still needed to get rid of Alice, as she had no control over her powers and random outbursts like the one a few days ago, or two years to the future, if you will, would be happening more often. That’s why we needed to get rid of her and we won’t allow you to drag her back. For the sake of everyone else.” 

In the meantime, Logan had to pierce Wade with his claws just to ensure he wouldn't slither away in anger, ready to start another bloodbath there. Logan did understand where this woman was coming from, but if he learned anything from Charles, it’d be that teaching others how to use their powers is more beneficial than hurting them for being what nature made them. So he won’t give up so easily. 

“So what do you plan to do next? If she’s so dangerous, wouldn’t putting her in the Void only aggravate her? What if she breaks out?” 

Logan had to ask, meanwhile Wade calmed down, which was suspicious how his mood switched from an angry man, who was ready to chew his way out of there just to murder someone to calm down, to sitting almost completely still. It honestly freaked out Logan pretty badly. It all seemed like a sudden nightmare. But he didn’t question it for now. Especially after the wink from Wilson, now he was almost curious about what he came up with. 

“She won’t, she’d have to be able to freely switch dimensions to find a way out. Or find Cassandra, but we ensured her teleportation will be far enough from Nova’s place of stay to make sure Alice won’t reach it. It’s definitely more possible that Allioth will get  her way before she even gets close.”

“That bald bitch is alive? I was sure we killed her when we saved the universe.” 

“That’s another thing your dear friend caused, apparently the timeline snap spread over a few dimensions in various waves.”

“Are… others from the Void also back there?”  Wade asked the question that has been heavy on Logan's head. 

“If you’re wondering about the Deadpool variants, X-23 and the rest of the happy group you’ve met last time, we’re trying to reach them, but unfortunately we don’t have the same way of communication as we had back then, but it’s possible considering the fact that Cassandra is also back.” The heavy silence filled the room. “That’s all I can do for you. If we manage to find X-23 I can try to let you know about it. We will consider bringing her back to you. Also the dog. As they seem particularly important to you. And for now, please leave.” 

Did they really have any choice now, anything other than leaving? Not really. At least they were given some kind of hope, of getting back some of their important people. Well, not only people as Marry Puppins was a dog, but the point still stands. Though, giving up felt wrong, Alice wouldn’t give up on them if it’d be the other way around. She’d move sky and earth to get them back, so they had to do the same thing for her. 

“Wolvie…” Wade chimed. “I got their tempad. We can go there and drag her back anyway. Her and others. But… I doubt we will be heroes after that anymore.” 

Wade pulled out the tempad from his pocket, showing it to Wolverine with a silent question etched on his face. Should they try to do that? Was it worth it?

Tap, tap, tap. A sound similar to a dripping faucet was filling Alice’s mind, other sounds slowly drawn out as she followed that weird line. Or line-like feeling budging her mind since the very beginning of this day. So she decided to close her eyes and just focus on it, it was almost like entering some freaky trance. But she managed to stay there, slowly walls of some kind of room were drawn around her. She took step by step, following that feeling even further. 

No, no, no, no, no.  Someone was repeating that like a personal mantra. She headed around the corner just to see her mother curled up on the floor, repeating that word over and over. Hm, so she must’ve not severed the connection fully before ending up in the Void. Alice took a few steps closer, each one of them echoing in different sounds, that she recognized shortly after. They were her own steps but from different times of her life. Bare feet, heavy boots, heels.. All that follows her here. Was it possible that this place had no time to itself, but was hanged somewhere in between the lines of it? 

She stood over the woman, wondering for a moment what to do. Sure, the suffering was definitely well deserved, but that didn’t mean it should be eternal. 

“I just hope you learned your lesson. See me as a monster still, if you will, but I wouldn’t be able to carry the regret of making you suffer forever.” 

Her voice had an echo as well, an undertone of every voice she ever had. Younger, sick, pretend one, that one with sadness and anger. All of them combined into one, the same one that now seemed to stop a curse from happening, as the other woman stopped repeating herself, looking around, as the room fell to pieces, causing Alice to jump in place and wake up. 

“Nightmare?”  Cassandra asked in a much colder  tone than up until now. 

“Something among these lines. Are you seriously still mad at me for comparing you to humans?” 

“No.” 

Bullshit.  Crossed Alice’s mind but she just waved her hand. Another argument would’ve been pointless. Especially now. Solace felt lighter and that weird feeling was gone, but replaced by a sense of longing. Her first few days here were filled with many emotions and new sensations, but as it all quieted down, she started missing those two familiar faces. As much as she hated them for arguing almost everyday and getting blood on everything, now… Everything seemed dull. Was she cursed to bear that feeling forever? There was no way for them to get into the Void, even worse, for them to pull her out of there. Even if there would be, she wouldn’t want them to risk so much just for her and for something like that. It was dangerous and they were much safer on the Earth, away from this place, especially with the fact that Cassandra still despised them. Alice didn’t even have to read her mind to know that it was true. Getting here just to get her back, could end with something they were both sure of, that they were unable to experience. With their death. Just at that thought, Alice could feel a painful squeeze of her heart. She probably would die right after them. 

“Your mind is so heavy that I don’t have to use my powers to sense that something is bothering you. Can you quit mopping around? It’s annoying.” 

Nova was speaking with a tone of an angry child, that is complaining about its sibling breathing their air. Alice couldn’t really bother less about it. The sense of longing was overwhelming. Maybe choosing death would’ve been better than agreeing to stay there and learn from Cassandra? What was she supposed to do now? 

She just got up from the table, walking over to the window, looking out, still letting her thoughts wander. She really was missing those lazy  mornings when she was on the balcony and the boys were in the kitchen, movie nights, even arguments of some stupid things, or a competition of who can say more down bad thing. That one was always bringing a lot of laughter and sometimes a weird feeling of being ashamed about what just came to their mind. 

“Alice. Stop. “

“Wish I could…” 

“What even is getting you into something like this? I thought I can’t hate you more than I hate you when you talk a lot, but this is way worse, because it’s your mind that won’t shut up.” 

“Well I’m sorry I’m just a human and it’s human to miss people who are important to you. You haven’t missed a single thing in your life ever before?!” 

“And what or who would I miss? This is my life since day one. This. Nothing more.” 

Alice stopped in place, just looking at Cassandra. Sure, she knew it was like that, but the reality of it sinking in was even more powerful honestly. Like a blow to her chest, pushing all air out, 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sure.”  

“No, I mean it… I’m sorry. I… I forgot to use my brain, it seems.”  She walked closer, sitting down by Cassandra. “I didn’t mean that…” 

She was looking at the woman in front of her, trying to find anything on her face, any indicator of any type of feelings, even if they weren’t the positive ones, anything that would give her an answer. 

“Cassandra… Please. I really didn’t mean that. I-I know no one stayed there for you, no one was there and you had to rely on yourself, but… You know I’m not leaving, right? Not only because it’s impossible, but I promised, after all.” 

“Like that would stop you. Humans promise things all the time just to break that promise, thinking that a simple sorry will fix it.” 

“No. I mean it, if you don’t trust me, use your powers. Check it for yourself. Have some proof. “

She said before she could even think about it. Cassandra rolled her eyes and raised her hand, keeping it up for a few seconds, before putting it on Alice’s temple. Alice slightly winced at that unpleasant and cold feeling, but didn’t pull away. Nova could sink into her mind freely, look for anything she wished to see. And she could see that among all that longing for her old life, Alice was telling the truth. She was staying there, unless her leave will be forced, everything was only proving her truthfulness. Her heartbeat, her mind, her eyes. Only now, Cassandra caught onto the dark eyes peering right into hers, but they weren’t carrying any anger. They were soft, like they wanted to prove to her that she was there not for something malicious, but to actually be there. To stay. Nova could feel a slight tremble in her hand, a weird weakness, that resulted in anger sparking in her. 

“It’s okay. Don’t be mad, all is okay…” 

Alice spoke to her. Softly and slowly, her warm breath brushed against her hand, causing those little hairs to stand up for a moment. Such a weird moment of vulnerability, something she despised in herself, but now, it felt right. Solace.  Maybe the solace was never meant for her to keep but to give, to be what she had written in her name.