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couvers · 4 years ago

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dialogue prompts: 25 with leo/cal please?

25. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

"Aren't you supposed to be doing this with your shirt off?"

Calypso had her elbows resting on the side of her truck and when Leo glanced up at her from the work he'd been doing on the engine he was met with a pair of massive, round, brown eyes with lashes fluttering innocently. He straightened up, wiping a little sweat from his brow with his forearm – his hands were already covered in grease, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows. Not an hour had passed since he started working, and Calypso had been out there helping by handing him tools as he needed them. He had been surprised to discover she knew most of them by their proper names, very pleasantly surprised.

"It's like fifty degrees out," Leo replied, an eyebrow quirked up. "You want me to freeze or something?"

"I thought that was how the whole fixing a girl's car thing worked," she said with a shrug. "It's just an excuse to take your shirt off and seduce her."

Three days had passed since Leo had brought Calypso home from the cabin and asked her to move with him to Massachusetts that summer. The day after their rash decisions he'd driven Frank and Hazel back to the city, then stopped for the parts he knew her truck needed and gone straight back to Montauk. Monday he'd helped her get the truck back to her family's place. Neither of them had spoken about the kiss (he was calling it that in his head even though kiss didn’t really feel like an adequate word for the making out they’d done) or his offer again.

“Fixing this truck is a serious issue, not for seduction,” Leo told her, signaling to the engine with his wrench, and then to himself. “You’d just be disappointed if I took this off, anyway.”

“What does that mean?” Calypso asked, her lightly teasing tone fading into something more genuine, with an edge of annoyance he knew very well.

Leo flashed her grin before leaning back over the engine to pick up where he left off. “I’ve seen the guys you’ve dated, Calypso. Hell, I live with one. The body under this hood is not of the caliber you’re used to.”

She scoffed, all her humor disappearing. “Is this because you think I’m shallow or because you think that lowly of yourself?”

“I’m being realistic,” he answered. It wasn’t just Percy that he’d seen Calypso with over the years. There had been other boyfriends, or flings, or whatever they were called. All of them had been big and buff to one degree or another, most of them tall and attractive enough to be models.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Calypso straighten up, crossing her arms. “So, realistically, do you think I’m shallow?”

Taking a deep breath, Leo also straightened up again, leaning on the truck. “No, I don’t think you’re shallow.”

“Then what?” she demanded, head cocked to one side and jaw clenched. “What are we even doing here, Leo? Because I’m pretty sure I made it clear on Saturday how I feel about you, but then you came back, and you acted like nothing happened, and now you’re being all weird and insecure when I’m very obviously trying to flirt with you, like it wasn’t me who kissed you.”

“You’re trying to flirt with me?” he asked, unable to keep a smile from beginning to form on his lips.

Since that kiss Saturday afternoon, Leo had been terrified Calypso would change her mind or start to regret either agreeing to go to Massachusetts with him or, even worse, the kiss. When he had made the offer, Leo had harbored no expectations, but then she had kissed him, and it had been the single most amazing moment of his life. He wouldn’t have been surprised, or even blamed her, if it had all happened in the middle of some moment of weakness brought on by the emotional upheaval of seeing her ex-boyfriend happy with a new girlfriend. Days later, with a clearer mind, it would make sense for her to realize she’d made a stupid call agreeing to move to another state with, and then kiss, a guy she had only just barely tolerated for years, and who she could do much better than.

Calypso took a slow, deep breath in her nose and then exhaled through her mouth. “Yes. I’ve been trying to flirt with you pretty much the entirety of the last two days.”

“You,” Leo said, pointing to her with his wrench, then back to himself, “were trying to flirt with me.”

“For someone so smart, you really are a dumbass,” she replied. The tension went out of Calypso all at once, not because her anger had faded, but because she no longer had the energy for it. “Whatever. Finish fixing the truck if you want. Call me again when you get a clue.”

Leo stared after Calypso for several seconds as she started to walk away, his mind trying to catch up with the implication of her flirting with him. She wouldn’t be flirting if she didn’t really like him, and if she really liked him, she must not be regretting the kiss.

“Wait, Calypso!” he called, setting his wrench on the engine block and starting toward the bed and breakfast’s backdoor after her. “I’m sorry, okay. I just– I don’t really–”

She stopped halfway up the walk and turned to face him, the anger in her expression morphed into hurt. “You don’t really what?”

“I don’t get it,” he confessed, even though the words felt thick and dangerous in his throat. Leo wasn’t sure he wanted to poke this particular beast of an issue, but he didn’t think they stood a chance if he didn’t. “Why now? Why me?”

“You are the most infuriating person I have ever met,” Calypso replied, the huff and her tone making it clear this was just the beginning of her answer, which Leo thought didn’t really answer anything. “I never understand a single thing you do or say. Like, it boggles my mind and drives me crazy, to the point I can never get you out of my head. Seriously, Leo, I think about you constantly. When you told me I probably wouldn’t see you this coming summer, it terrified me. Just the thought broke my heart.

“And you’re full of this stupid kind of bravado, that I have no doubt turns off just about every girl you talk to, but underneath it all you��re quite possibly the sweetest, most thoughtful and considerate person in the world. Again, I don’t get it, because it’s like you don’t want people to know those good things about you? All you want them to see is the stupid, annoying act you put on. Why don’t you want people to know? It’s not like you’re good at hiding it. I figured it out like the first week I knew you.

“Then there’s your– your stupid–” Calypso paused to take a few seconds and wave her hands around her head, her hair and her ears and face. She was worked up, her face beginning to turn red, and Leo thought this was the most adorable he’d ever seen her. “Your hair is always matted. And you’ve got this smile – not the fake, weird, cocky one, but this really sweet and boyish one that seriously just lights up the whole world. There’s always grease under your fingernails, which should be so gross, but it’s not? It’s honestly a little hot. Then there’s your ears, and they just– Every time I look at them I want to–”

When she huffed out her nose in indignation, Leo smiled. “You want to what?”

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head.

“No, keep going, Calypso. I wanna know,” Leo insisted.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” she asked, deflecting his question.

The deflection was effective, because Leo’s smile fell and he stared at her for a couple seconds in dumbfounded silence. “It’s your name.”

“Everyone calls me Cal,” Calypso replied. “You used to, too.”

Leo shrugged. “I don’t want to be everyone anymore.”

“Definitely the most infuriating person I’ve ever met,” she sighed, just barely above a whisper.

“Does it bother you?” he asked, worried he’d been screwing up the whole last two days without even realizing.

Calypso bit her lip, eyes narrowed at him, and Leo waited on edge for her answer, ready for her to rip into him. She didn’t. “I love it.”

It didn’t seem quite fair that she called him the most infuriating person she’d ever met, because Calypso was the most infuriating person Leo had ever met. She made him crazy, too. He had basically never stopped thinking about her since the day they met, years ago, and he still had no idea what was going through her mind at any given moment. Not knowing scared him. He also found it absolutely exhilarating.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Leo declared. He said it partially to give her a chance to call him off, but mostly to psych himself up. If he didn’t say it aloud, he would very likely chicken out.

She met his eye, head held high, daring him to follow through. Leo did. He marched up to her, took her by the waist and pulled her to him. His grease stained fingers were probably going to make a mess of her t-shirt, but Leo didn’t care. Based on the way she cupped her hands around his neck and dragged him down the last couple inches to kiss her, he didn’t think she cared either.

Leo kissed her more intently than he had over the weekend, lips moving, rough and demanding. His confidence had grown exponentially since then, and his insecurity about Calypso changing her mind continued to fade by the second. This was real. He’d loved her for years, from a distance, hopeless, but Leo was beginning to think that she’d loved him a little all that time, too. She certainly kissed him like that was the case – as if she’d been waiting for the chance for years and still kind of feared she might not get it again.

When she pulled away, Leo tried to follow her with his lips and she laughed. Her hand reached for his as she slipped out of his hold, and then Calypso turned to lead him further up the walk, toward the door.

“Where are we going?” he asked, glancing back at the unfinished truck. It needed another few hours of work, at the very least, and the light would be fading before long.

“To my room,” she answered, and suddenly Leo didn’t give a flying fuck about the truck. “It’s warmer up there. You won’t have to worry about freezing.”

#apt 305 #set the spring break after everyone went home from montauk (between chapters 64 & 65)#funny story #i actually had this prompt requested on twitter with the same pair #thought that was cute lol #dialouge prompt #amy writes

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v-hope · 3 years ago

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2 from why would u do that, tae ofc (my babiest boi) and really angsty bc. I LOVE YO ANGSTSSS😭❤ but then pls give us a happy ending coz. i love tae.

pairing: kim taehyung x idol!reader

genre: angst, fluff

prompt: “you guys kept making eye contact the whole night. it was getting embarrassing”

a/n: i don’t know if this was as angsty as you wanted, but i hope you enjoy! thank you so much for requesting!

When Jimin had opened the door for you and given you a concerned look as he let you inside the dorms, you should’ve known something was a bit off that particular morning. Nevertheless, pushing it aside, you followed him to the kitchen, where he told you your boyfriend was having breakfast.

The second sign you should’ve gotten was the way that he remained staring into his bowl of cereal, mindlessly moving the spoon in circles instead of actually eating his food. Then again, he wasn’t the biggest of morning persons, so, you went over to him like you would do any other time — a sweet ‘morning’ leaving your lips before you leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek.

Only he didn’t let you.

Moving his face away from you instead of looking at you with the brightest of smiles like he usually would, Taehyung didn’t even look your way, but somehow managed to stare harder into the bowl.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked in both surprise and hurt.

Again, he said nothing — the way he visibly bit the inside of his cheek, let you know just how tense he was.

Dumbfounded eyes going up to Jimin on the other side of the table, you watched him raise both hands, excusing himself from the kitchen before he got caught up in the middle of a couple’s drama.

Letting out a sigh, you took a seat next to him.

“Tae?” you softly pushed it, trying to get some kind of reaction from him. “What’s wrong?”

Silence.

“Can you please talk to me?” you tried to reason. “I don’t know what I did wrong and I can’t apologize if you don’t tell me what it is”.

“After flirting with someone who’s not me all night long, I would’ve thought you knew what you did wrong” he finally spoke up, yet still wouldn’t look at you.

That’s when it hit you. The awards the night prior — the ones you had performed your new collaboration with another idol at.

A love song. With a male idol.

Although Taehyung knew you would have to put on a show for everyone, and that there would most probably be some lovey dovey look exchanges on your end, for that was how most song promotions worked, he was not ready for you to sit down next to said other guy and spend the rest of the night chatting and laughing together.

You were his girlfriend, yet you had not once sat on the same table as him during an award show.

Then again, he would always have to sit down with all his six members, and it was not like you could choose who to sit with, for that was in the awards’ hands.

And, then again, no one knew the two of you were together.

“I wasn’t flirting with him” your words earned a scoff from him. “It was a love song, Taehyung. Of course we would have to portray some kind of emotion, but it wasn’t flirting”.

“Your fans think otherwise” he bitterly pointed out. “Twitter has been all about how you guys were looking at each other”.

“We performed together, we had to look at each other”.

“During the performance, yes” his eyes fixed on yours. “But you guys kept making eye contact the whole night, it was getting embarrassing”.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How was it embarrassing?”

“You guys were trying too hard. Anyone could tell it wasn’t real”.

“Trying too hard to what?” you were the one to scoff this time. “We’re trying to promote our song, not to make everyone think we’re in love”.

“Well, everyone thinks so now” he shrugged. “And it’s embarrassing”.

“You’re not even making sense, Taehyung” you shook your head. “Everyone thinks there’s something going on between me and him, but it’s embarrassing because we’re trying too hard?”

“Yes,” he simply said. “They’re all blind not to see it, I could tell from miles away”.

“Why are you jealous then?” you cocked one of your eyebrows. “Since you know it’s just acting”.

“Because,” he let out a heavy sigh. “You’re supposed to be with me. I am your boyfriend, I am supposed to be giving you that kind of looks and making everyone believe we are in love with each other”.

Staring at his miserable expression with a pout, you stood up from your seat, carefully testing the waters before you could come close to him. Once he didn’t move away from you, you sat on his lap, smiling ever so softly when he loosely wrapped his arms around you.

“We’ve talked about this, love. You know your fans wouldn’t take the news very well” you breathed out, arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him to your chest.

“I know…”

“And I never meant to flirt with him, it was just, that… promoting our song” you promised. “I’m sorry I made it look that way”.

“It’s okay…” nuzzled your neck. “I just hate the thought of you and someone else”.

“I understand… I would hate the thought of you and someone else, too”.

That had seemed to bring some reassurance to him. Pressing a lingering kiss to the uncovered skin on your neck, he pulled slightly back to lock eyes with you.

“You should make a song with me then,” Taehyung smirked. “So we would have to act like that in front of everyone”.

“Let me guess, a love song?” you chuckled.

He nodded. “More specifically, a secret love song”.

“Wouldn’t that be too obvious?” you couldn’t help but let out a light laugh.

“It would just be a collaboration,” he smiled. “Just a song. Let them believe what they want. They believe you’re in love with someone you have no chemistry with anyway”.

“Oh?” you playfully raised one of your eyebrows, laughing over the way he had just rolled his eyes. “I have no chemistry with him?”

“Not even one bit” he confirmed with a cute boxy smile. “The only person you have chemistry with is your handsome boyfriend”.

Noticing the way his lips had puckered up awaiting for a kiss, you didn’t have to think twice before leaning in to close the space between your mouths.

“You’re right,” your words were cut off mid-sentence by another kiss. “Too bad they don’t get to see it”.

Taehyung nodded. It truly was a shame. “A secret love song will have to do then”.

And then, when you pressed a small kiss to the crown of his head and he went back to his comfortable spot resting on your chest, he added:

“Hopefully soon it won’t be a secret anymore”.

#bts #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #kim taehyung #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #kpop #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts reactions #taehyung reactions #bts x reader #kim taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #taehyung

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yurievinstitute · 2 years ago

Text

Always on my Mind

by Sephi

Fandom: The Batman (2022)

Pairing: (F/M) Bruce Wayne/Edward Nashton (swimsuit fetish, porn with feelings, fem!Edward, high school AU)

Summary: The quiet, stoic Bruce Wayne keeps to himself, but he can't take his mind off of Edith Nashton, his shadow in the school corridors.

Read on: AO3 | FFn | Tumblr (under the cut)

・‥…━━━━━━━🦇💞❔━━━━━━━…‥・

A/N: This is inspired by @Lacryboy's art on twitter that has put a spell on me ever since I first saw it: (Here) and (here). Please give the artist some love!

Thank you to J (for everything), especially since I've handed you two Batman fics to edit in the same week.

I've decided to call female Edward ->; Edith. I honestly don't know if the fandom has agreed upon a name so I went with what felt right to me.

I listened to this song the entire time I wrote this.

I really, really enjoyed writing this and I am considering making this a series. Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading. Happy 6/9! [and happy belated crosspost lmfao]

・‥…━━━━━━━🦇💞❔━━━━━━━…‥・

Bruce had once again been instructed on what his plans ought to be for this late fall Friday night. A girl in his sphere of influence was throwing a very trendy pool party that he simply had to attend, renting out the entirety of the giant complex. It came packed with decorations, an ice cream cake served in the aquatic themed dining hall after hours of ‘free’ swimming for as many teens as she dreamed of inviting. The tactic, of course, was one would prompt their parents to rent the space and reap the rewards of inviting every person in school to come whether they liked them or not—because in order to be invited the promise of a birthday present was required.

Of course, she was here. Bruce sighed heavily, suppressing the swell of emotions that welled to the surface as soon as she walked through the sliding glass doors. While he couldn't put words to what he felt—disbelief and pleasure blending together at the forefront, the fear of getting caught in his attraction a close second—it hadn’t dawned on him that she’d actually show up.

It didn’t help matters that he could already smell her, a scent he’d never appreciated until he’d buried his face into the nape of her neck the very first time they’d gone there.

No one knew about Bruce and Ed’s secret afterschool hobby, and for the sake of his comfortable daily life, they couldn’t find out. Bruce belonged to a different social class, his pool of potential girlfriends predetermined by the hierarchy of the school years ago—not that he ever acknowledged them or had any interest.

Edith was a strange girl, a quiet, studious type, notorious for making the wrong outburst or remark in class or to her peers. She had long been deemed creepy, unwilling to socialize, let alone make friends. The first time she’d spoken to Bruce one on one, it dawned on him that he’d never really heard her make any sound beside her signature giggle, a mix between a snort and a laugh. Many of his classmates blamed her behavior on her strict, militant upbringing in an orphanage that masqueraded as a Christian organization. Yet her overall peculiarity was precisely what attracted Bruce in the first place, what made him respect and ultimately obey her quiet, giddy request from that first encounter.

Bruce watched Edith wander to the very outer corner of the entrance to the public pool, standing sheepishly under some birthday balloons and staring like a fish out of water at all of the other girls. As each took their turns placing the gifts they’d brought for the birthday girl atop the large pile in the center of the hall, he remembered their first time.

・‥…━━━━━━━🦇💞❔━━━━━━━…‥・

After the drama and chaos of previous years, the staff of Gotham High decided that lockers would be assigned through a random draw. This year, their final year, Bruce’s locker was right beside Edith’s. Many times, he’d close his locker to see her peeking out behind hers, cowering as soon as he'd give her a quizzical look only to resume staring as soon as his back was turned. She’d never talked to him, but she'd always made a point to stay there as long as he did, watching which book he took out first, and how. Or admiring how he smoothed his hair in his locker mirror.

Today, Bruce was late leaving classes; he'd had a few questions to ask his biology teacher about an upcoming test. The hall was a ghost town—everyone else had long cleared out to rush home—all save for Edith, waiting patiently at her locker, growing more and more giddy with excitement as Bruce approached.

Outwardly, he ignored her. Internally, he was fascinated. He screwed up his combination twice under the pressure of her heated gaze from behind her long bangs and thick glasses.

“Bruce…. Wayne…”

Her voice was as quiet as a mouse. If Bruce had been rattling inside his locker, he wouldn’t have heard it. He turned to face her with a respectful half-smile.

The silence dragged between them as Bruce waited patiently for her inevitable question. She giggled, breathing heavily as though she were drunk on his attention.

Before the tension could become unbearable, he asked: “Yes?”

Edith twirled her fingers. She couldn’t seem to stay still; she bounced on her feet gently, suddenly self-conscious and staring at her fingers. Her face flushed a warm pink.

“How dirty is your cock?” She blinked demurely, unflinching.

Bruce dropped the pencil and papers he’d been carrying. As he stared at her in shock, she bent low to pick them up. Edith made a point to look directly at where his cock sat in his jeans and inhaled deeply as she passed it.

“Do you watch porn?” She smiled gently. “Bruce…?”

She extended the papers he’d dropped as if it was nothing. “Are you circumcised?”

It didn’t take much for Bruce to turn a bright red. “What?”

Edith set his papers in her locker, closing it before stepping closer to Bruce, close enough that he could feel her shallow breath against his skin.

“Silly… are you circumcised, Bruce?” She laid a hand on his chest. “Can I see it? I’ve never seen one in real life before.”

Bruce felt all the blood in his head rush to his cock. He could smell her shampoo. Her hands were so soft and gentle. Her eyelashes looked so long behind her glasses. The evening sun leaked in through the windows at the end of the hall, turning the edges of her sandy-brown hair a glowing orange.

“Please?” Her fingers curled into the front of his shirt. “I really need to know…”

Bruce swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut. Her hand trailed down his chest before falling back to her side. Her gentle mannerisms beckoned him closer. She acted as though the questions she’d asked were all so normal, so simple…

“I can’t just do that—” Bruce’s hormones quickly overruled the response he’d been meaning to give, “—right here in front of everyone.”

Edith squealed with joy, covering her face in her hands, rocking back and forth ecstatically. “That’s okay, that’s okay! I know a place no one goes.” She hooked her arms into his. “Come show me what it looks like,” she whispered, “Master Wayne.”

Edith hurried to pull him down the corridor before he could come to his senses. She threw open the janitor's closet door, pushing him in first before following him, locking the door behind her. It was dark. Bruce had only a few seconds to balance himself between the dusty shelves of cleaning supplies before it went pitch black.

He gasped, shocked, as he felt her palm against his jeans, massaging and coaxing his cock gently into saying hello. It felt good. It felt really good. It wasn’t long before the tightness of his jeans became unbearable; he busily unzipped them, pulling his boxers down just low enough to expose his cock.

Edith pulled the string to the small lightbulb that hung in the closet. It was dim, but just bright enough to see Bruce in his full arousal, flushed just as pink as she was. She squatted down, bowing her legs, coming closer to get a really good look—as far as Bruce would allow before he reflexively started backing up against the shelf, rattling its contents.

“Wow…” Edith took a deep breath. “It smells so strong…”

Bruce blushed deeper, embarrassed, especially as he watched her continue to huff the smell after saying that.

“So this is what Bruce’s uncut dick looks like…” She sighed dreamily, licking her lips. “What does it look like when Bruce Wayne touches himself? I wonder…”

Bruce had never had a woman look at him like this; he was a private person, but the attention was intoxicating and the pleasure led his hand to act before he could think. He ran his fist all the way down the length of his cock to Edith’s gentle applause. He reasoned to himself he could stop after a few thrusts, but those few turned into many until he was fisting his cock exactly how he liked it, coming apart exactly as he did every night when no one was looking.

It didn’t take long.

“I wonder,” she breathed, “what does Bruce Wayne look like when he cums?”

That was all it took. He let it all go across her waiting face, most of it landing on her glasses. She grinned like a child at the foot of a Christmas tree.

Together, they had crossed the point of no return; that evening marked the start of their secret, special relationship.

・‥…━━━━━━━🦇💞❔━━━━━━━…‥・

Bruce thought about it the entire time he undressed in the men's changing room. He turned himself towards his locker and peeled off his clothes until he was down to his baggy swim trunks. Two long white stripes trailed neatly down his outer thighs in harmony with the smooth lines of his long legs. He was grateful for the way the shorts fit; the looseness afforded him some level of safety and privacy when it came to his sinful imagination.

He stood under the last shower, the broken one no one dared to use that only supplied cold water, hoping it would shock the arousal out of him. He should have known from all his many sleepless nights that there was no chance he would fix things so easily.

He didn’t bother to make small talk with his friends even as they all stood awkwardly in line. They had accepted long ago that he wasn’t the chatty type. Bruce maintained an ice cold expression, brows furrowed, deep in thought—even if those thoughts were only about Edith, her body, the way her hips curved, the heat of her plush thighs…

Bruce practiced counting down in his head from ten, trying his best to focus on the numbers instead of the memories of their secret encounters; the way her hands felt; the way he melted into her eager mouth… He tried pitifully to read the variety of bright posters plastered over the tiled mosaic walls, all futile attempts to coax his brain into memorizing the pool guidelines rather than imagining what she might look like, soaked through in a clingy swimsuit. His peers mistook his steady concentration for anger.

Despite his efforts at self control, Bruce started scanning the perimeters for a glimpse of Edith as soon as he was let through to the bright, open space of the pool. He knew she would be away from the rest of the girls, most of whom were throwing vibrant inflatables back and forth at each other in the sun shelf of the pool. The water glittered under the fluorescent lights, a serene aqua-blue that reflected all the colors of the energetic paintings along the walls and foundations. The complex was split into multiple pieces. The largest section of the pool was structured in a tiered grid. The rest of the concrete space was shared with a hot tub and a children's section under a bridge walkway connected to the most shallow entrance of the adults’ space.

Edith cowered under the shadow of the bridge, the only girl wearing goggles. The water lapped at her calves. Her swimsuit was tight, leaving no part of her anatomy to the imagination. It looked wet, glistening whenever the reflection of the light hit the latex off the face of the waters. Unlike the skimpy bikinis the others wore, hers was a single-piece suit, terracotta-green and undoubtedly a hand-me-down—if the outdated color didn’t give it away, the fit certainly did. She cradled herself, covering as much of her body as she could, her skin flushed a light pink—whether from embarrassment or arousal, Bruce couldn’t tell.

As his peers dove into the water, Bruce watched her, entranced. Her naked body… slick, wet and on full display. In public. He clenched his hands into fists. Counting wouldn’t help him now. He watched as she nervously spun herself back and forth, talking to herself. He wished he could make out what she was saying.

“Come on, man!” One of his friends grabbed his shoulder, leading him around the mouth of the deep end. Edith’s eyes caught Bruce’s. She smiled, knowing she had his full attention. She opened her arms, proudly revealing herself, her body, her perky nipples to her exclusive audience. One of Bruce’s friends pushed him into the pool while he was too busy studying the lines her pussy made in her damp swimsuit.

Under the waves, under the shock and pressure of the cool water, there was only one thought Bruce could hold on to. No matter what it took, he had to fuck her today.

・‥…━━━━━━━🦇💞❔━━━━━━━…‥・

Bruce waited at the vending machine, conveniently beside the exit to the girls’ changing room. He pretended to fiddle with it, pressing buttons every so often but never completing a purchase. He’d left the pool earlier than anyone else, changed quickly, and anchored himself here to capture the object of his desire. He’d have just enough time to take her outside, around the back of the pool, to the cover of one of the tube slides in the abandoned playground. That would be enough. He’d make it be enough.

She came out quickly, more quickly than Bruce anticipated—she must have been watching Bruce, following him as soon as he’d left the pool. Her hurried footsteps altered Bruce before she even made it down the long entryway filled with all of her classmates' empty shoes. She beamed when she saw Bruce stationed at the vending machine.

“Edith.” Bruce’s voice was quiet but had full command of his strength. Edith seemed stunned that he would address her directly, but her surprise melted into an expression of pure euphoria. She smelled of chlorine, her oversized blouse was soaked; she hadn’t even bothered to take off her swimsuit. Bruce was excited that she was only wearing her standard long skirt.

“Were you really waiting for me?” She breathed. She looked away, blush coloring her cheeks. “I’ve been waiting for you too.”

Bruce couldn’t stand to keep himself back any longer. He lunged forward, grabbing her by the wrist. Edith let her body go slack, let herself drift to his arms, let him lead her out through the glass doors into the chill of the crisp fall air. She giggled, questioning none of it, sweating and warm despite the cold.

They rounded the corner, stopping at the tall wooden fence of the playground that would offer the majority of their cover. Bruce let go of Edith just to launch himself over, offering her a hand from the top of the fence so he could effortlessly pull her over. They crashed into the gravel with a sound like fireworks amid the stars.

Bruce wordlessly carried her to the bottom of the covered, plastic blue tube slide. He pressed her down with firm hands, not caring about the puddle of water on the mouth of the slide she crashed into. She was wet anyway. He wanted her wet. Bruce stared at her for a moment, his eyes full both of tenderness and the pain that bloomed from his unending want.

Edith stretched her arms out to him and wrapped them around his neck. They kissed.

Bruce kissed her deeply until he had to pull away so they could catch their breath. He rested his forehead on hers, panting, feeling the relief of finally getting close to her after what felt like an unbearable time apart. Before he could even rest his hands on her waist, Edith was hurrying to unbutton herself, exposing the shiny, sultry swimsuit underneath. Bruce groaned as his hands finally slid against it—he could finally feel for himself how thin the fabric was under his fingers. Edith gasped, rolling her hips, bringing her legs up around Bruce’s waist to pull him in closer.

His knees buckled until he rested them against the edge of the slide, a steady force reigning over her eager body. His desperation and need washed over her, and he pressed frustrated kisses along the side of her jaw, then down her neck to the raised line where her swimsuit hugged her collarbones. She tasted like fresh water and salt. All Edith could do was bask in his advances, rocking her head back and forth as waves of pleasure shivered through her, her body trembling with excitement and bliss.

Bruce pulled her swimsuit collar down forcefully, although it eagerly bent to his command, revealing her milky skin, the crest of her tender breast. He thumbed her nipple through the slick, damp fabric, relishing the moans that escaped her lips as he worked. He touched her with severity and impatience. Her breast popped out of the tight material, instantly assaulted by Bruce’s waiting hand. He pressed her back deeper into the slide, grinding his arousal—physical evidence, proof, I need you—down into the damp heat of her pussy.

His strong hands trailed down her chest, down across the valley of her smooth stomach, quickly brushing down along the length of her legs until his fingertips met the edges of her long skirt, sliding it upwards, discarding it around her hips. Beads of water rolled down her thighs, steam ghosting along the small gap of space between her pussy and Bruce’s erection. Edith shook, pressing the pads of her fingertips into Bruce’s shoulders, pressing him closer.

“Are you gonna put it in me?” Edith whispered into his ear, her lips brushing against it gently. “You’re not going to use a condom, right?”

Bruce tightly clenched his fist around the edges of her discarded skirt as she spoke, a feeble attempt to control himself.

“I want to feel you all the way inside…” Edith gently carded her fingers through his hair, rolling her hips up to meet Bruce’s waiting dick. “Bruce… I missed your cock so much.”

Edith wasn’t just wet from the waters of the pool. The bottom of her swimsuit was slick with cum, a demonstration of how badly she needed him in return.

“Fuck,” Bruce groaned as if close to tears, “I can’t take it anymore.”

He pressed into her, gliding once, twice into the heat of her pussy. He brought his hand down to feel it for himself, feeling her twitch against his index finger as she moaned his name. His finger came back glossy with her cum.

He pulled the thin swimsuit to the side of her pussy, exposing it to the cool air. It was so pink, so warm, so plush… Instinctively, he ran his finger gently along the edge of her clit, savoring the way she rocked her hips and cried out into his neck. He let his finger slip between her folds, her pussy throbbing as though it was trying to suck his finger inside. Like lightning, he unbuckled his jeans, pulling down his boxers, crashing his lips into hers as he rubbed his thick cock between her legs.

“Yes… yes…” Edith purred against his lips between their passionate kisses. “Bruce… yes…”

Bruce hadn’t fucked anyone before, let alone Edith—the one he’d imagined being with the most. His cock wept for her, his stomach knotted in tight braids of ecstasy. He let his cock taste her cum, let it slide against her clit. He rocked against her, savoring each of their special moments, relishing his primal satisfaction at finally tasting the fruit he’d dreamt of.

Bruce slid inside Edith all at once, pushing in as deep as he could possibly get before pausing in shock. He couldn’t believe how good it felt to have her surround him completely, to squeeze him so tightly. He adjusted himself, trying to aim further, to feel more of her��quickly craving more, he pulled back in one fluid motion before crashing into her harder than before, lost in the fever. Bruce pressed both of her legs up to her chest, fucking her like an animal. The sound of their sex was loud, obvious, filled with Edith’s gasps between their sloppy French kisses.

This was all Bruce ever wanted. Every time he sank balls-deep into her secret embrace, the realization hit him harder and harder. Edith was all he had ever wanted. Edith was all he had ever needed. His cock shivered as Edith clenched down around him.

He had to cum inside her. He had to make her all his own.

Before she could protest, Bruce slammed her waist to the back of the slide so she couldn’t escape. He pounded her faster, sweating; now his legs were shivering as Edith’s had been the entire time.

He’d do it. He was going to do it. He was fucking Edith. He was inside Edith. This was what Edith’s pussy felt like. This is what Edith felt like inside, in the space no one else could fill. He was a part of her now. Now that he’d had it once he’d chase it forever. He broke from her lips, a trail of spit following his lips.

He wanted to see what she looked like when he did it.

“Edith.” Bruce sounded weak, contrary to the force of his thrusts. “I’m… I’m gonna…”

Bruce came hard into the deepest part of her, harder than he’d ever come before. Edith looked serene, face plastered with the gentle smile she only ever offered to him, the glow of their sex glittering off her cheeks. He sank to his elbows, leaning into her, nesting his face into the crook of her neck while he poured out all those unspoken feelings into the only person he felt mattered.

Edith, Bruce held her close, I love you.

#edward nashton #edward nygma #bruce wayne #riddlebat #the batman #fic rec #DS

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dreamerstreamer · 4 years ago

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Sleepy Streams

Pairing: Sapnap x gn!reader

Summary: Sapnap isn’t the only one getting sleepy watching Dream speedrun for hours at a time.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: requested by a very, very kind anon! thanks for all the creative liberty you let me take with this one. i hope you like it! (i wrote this while making pasta lol) this story was inspired by this video and this video.

“Oh, what? No way!” Sapnap gasped, his eyes widening at the sight on his screen. “You spawned in the middle of the fortress? That’s wild!”

Dream’s giddy voice echoed through his headphones. “I know, I know!!”

He leaned back in his chair, his lips curling upward eagerly. “First a Looting III sword, and now this? All in less than eight minutes? Dude, you’re so lucky today.”

Another voice came softly from his left. “Maybe this run will set a record.”

Sapnap turned, his gaze flickering to the chair beside him. His chest grew warm at the sight of you sitting with your legs crossed, your knee poking into his thigh as you scrolled through your phone absentmindedly. Your hair was a mess atop your head and you were wearing one of his shirts—the white one with the flame. He remembered how wide you had smiled when he gave it to you.

“It’s your shirt and it’s also your merch,” you had said. “It’s like... Sapnap squared!”

He chuckled at the memory of your shining eyes as you held the shirt close to your chest. Cute. You were so, so cute, even without trying, and you didn’t even know it.

He turned again, looking back at his screen just in time for Dream to locate the blaze spawner. “I’m telling you,” Dream said, the clicking of his keyboard accompanying his voice, “this seed actually just might be it.”

“I—“ Sapnap cut himself when he out an abrupt yawn, quickly regaining his composure just a second later. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it is, honestly.” He pressed a hand to his eye, gently rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes.

“Tired?” Dream prompted, blocking yet another fireball from a blaze.

Sapnap laughed. “Yeah, it’s like—“ His eyes darted to the corner of his screen. “—it’s like four in the morning. You’ve been speedrunning for nearly four hours, now.”

There came a laugh. “Well, you know. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as Dream continued to fight blaze. A muffled yawn came from beside him. Sapnap twisted his chair slightly, glancing over at you once again. You were still scrolling mindlessly through your phone, your lips twitching every once in a while. You were probably looking at some memes, or maybe just browsing through Twitter. He had tried to convince you go to sleep a few hours prior, but you had just shook your head at him.

“I like spending time with you.” He remembered you leaning up to press a kiss to his check. “Being quiet together in the same room makes me happy.”

A fond smile crossed his face. You always managed to make him smile. Just then, you felt his eyes on you and looked up, your eyes meeting his. You smiled at him, sending him a sleepy thumbs up. He smiled back, butterflies filling his stomach. The two of you had been dating for months now, and you still have him butterflies. It was crazy how much of an effect you had on him. Just how lucky was he to have you in his life?

“Alright, I have seven rods. Out of the Nether we go.” Dream’s voice pulled Sapnap out of his thoughts, and he turned to stare at his monitor screen once more.

“Let’s gooo!” he hooted, instinctively throwing a hand in the air in excitement. “You’re killing it, Dream.”

“I mean, I still have to kill a bunch of Endermen before we can say that for sure. Plus, I still have to find the stronghold, which is going to take forever, and—“ He sighed, uncertainty lacing his voice. “Maybe I’ll just quit.”

Sapnap frowned. “Dude, don’t say that. You’ve still got plenty of time. You just need to kill some Enderman on the way over to the stronghold, okay? Don’t sweat it. You’ve got this in the bag.”

Dream let out a soft chuckle. “Fingers crossed that’s how it goes.”

The next few minutes passed in silence, with Dream chasing after some Endermen and Sapnap letting out the occasional words of encouragement here and there. As much attention as he was paying to Dream’s current speedrun, his mind couldn’t help but drift back to the thought of you—you, who were so kind and warm. You, who made him laugh with hardly any effort on your behalf. You, who made loving and being loved feel so easy.

You, who had fallen asleep.

Slumped against his side, your head rolled onto his shoulder, your phone lying abandoned on your lap. Sapnap froze, inhaling sharply but immediately melting at the sight of your sleeping face. Your rosy lips were parted and your chest rose and fell with each breath you took. Your eyelashes cast a spiderweb of shadows across your cheek from the glow of his screen, and your cheek was smushed cutely where it met his shoulder.

He took back what he thought earlier. You weren’t just cute—you were adorable.

“Hey, uh, Dream,” he said, careful to be quiet so as not to wake you up, “I think I’m gonna go to sleep. It’s getting really late.”

Dream made a frustrated noise. “Still no pearls—oh, heading to bed?” He could hear the smile in his voice. “Let me guess, you have school tomorrow.”

Sapnap’s gaze darted to your sleeping figure. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well,” Dream laughed, “you have fun in class tomorrow, then. This run is probably my last one for the night. It’s probably scuffed or whatever, but I’ll let you know how it goes.”

Sapnap smiled. “Alright, thanks.” He moved his cursor to hover over the ‘end call’ button. “Goodnight, Dream.”

“Night, Sapnap. Sleep well.”

He clicked his mouse, finally exiting the call after a good three hours and fifty-two minutes. He then shifted his attention to you, your hair tickling his cheek. Oh so carefully, he wrapped one arm around your back and slid the other under your legs, hoisting you into his arms so that your head laid on his chest. Nudging his chair back, he made his way to the other side of his room. For once, Sapnap was grateful that he didn’t make his bed, if only so he could gently lay you under the covers without having to fumble for the sheets.

He was slow to slide himself into the space next to you, his eyes tracing ever edge of your delicate face as he tucked the both of you in. Raising a hand, he brushed back a stray piece of hair from your fluttering eyelids using the back of his finger, smiling when you unconsciously leaned into his touch. Suddenly, your lips moved.

“...Sapnap,” you mumbled, so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. “...love you.”

His heart leapt into his throat. Goddamnit. He swore it must be illegal to be this cute. It just had to be.

“I love you too, angel,” he murmured in your ear. He slipped his arm around you, holding you close to his chest and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he dozed off into a warm, hazy dream.

He wouldn’t mind spending every night like this with you—maybe for the rest of his life.

(A few minutes later, Sapnap’s phone lit up from a very, very excited notification from Dream.)

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peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 4 years ago

Note

Hey love, was wondering if we could get some more mean girl x soft boy with Peter with promts 10 and 37??

Yes!! My favorite, of course, I made reader a Stark too cause spoiled rich mean girl with soft little Peter kills me. Hope you like it!

Requests are still open guys, you can use the prompts or just request whatever you want to, I write for Peter and Tom, love you guys xx

Full of Surprises

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Summary: Peter wants you to take him to a party, which ends up being nothing like he expected

Prompts

Masterlist

Prompt #10 - “I don’t think you’re down for the parties I go to pretty boy.”

Prompt #37 - “You wanna sneak out?”

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

It would be hard to summarize (y/n) Stark in any sort of brief, meaningful fashion, she was too complicated for just a few sentences. If Peter had to call her just a few things he’d say she was complex and charismatic. She could be a little bratty, she liked getting her way, but most people still liked her, they still wanted to be around her. She was glamorous, with her designer clothes and nice cars and the paparazzi, she held the whole Stark legacy in a custom made, diamond encrusted pink birkin. Peter didn’t get the appeal of the money or the popular girl front she had at school, he thought the real her was a lot more interesting.

In getting to know her he had found she was actually a lot softer than most people thought, she just took a bit to warm up to people. He couldn’t blame her really, he’d seen firsthand the way kids at school tried to get close to her just for the exclusive invite or a Twitter follow, so he understood her hesitation. What he didn’t understand was why she wanted to be popular and famous, why she liked it all so much. It was puzzling to him, but he found both sides of her equally endearing. Even dorky little Peter couldn’t resist the pull of her glamorous life, he couldn’t deny that part of him wanted to be closer to that side of her too. He wanted to be the boy on her arm at all the parties she went to, but he had to get out of his comfort zone to do that…

“Yo Parker, you riding with me?” (y/n) turned around to face him as their final class drew to a close.

He nodded, “Yeah, if that’s cool with you.”

“I was hoping you would, I need your help,” she winked, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she stood.

He followed after her, his brows knit in confusion, “What do you need my help with?”

“There’s a party this Friday, dad said I can’t go,” she rolled her eyes, “So annoying, anyways, I was going to ask you to cover for me. I’ll tell him I’m at your place studying or something and you just tell him I’m with you if he asks. I know you're a perfect little angel, but I’ll owe you so big and I promise you won’t get in trouble with him. Plus I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

“You don’t need to buy me anything, you know that,” he blushed, biting down on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his next move, “There is, uh, something you could do for me though…”

“Oh really?”

He nodded, “I want to go with you.”

She paused right in front of the limo and raised a brow at him, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yeah.”

She laughed as she climbed into the car, apparently finding the suggestion to be the funniest thing she’d heard all week, “Peter it’s a party with people and dancing and alcohol, I don’t think it’s your scene.”

“Then I’ll sneak out.”

His cheeks flushed and he frowned, “I’ve been to parties, I want to go, you always have fun don’t you?”

“You’ve been to high school parties,” she rolled her eyes, “There is no way May would let you go to this kind of party.”

“You wanna sneak out?”

“I sneak out all the time,” he reminded, “I’m probably better at it than you.”

“Point taken,” she smiled brightly at him, “Okay, why do you want to go out to parties all of a sudden?”

He shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, “I might as well give it a try, maybe I’ll like it.”

She hummed, contemplating what to do for a moment, “Okay, I’ll take you, but no dorky t-shirts.”

“What’s wrong with my shirts?” he glanced down at himself with a frown.

“Well I think they’re cute, but they aren’t really party material. In fact I don’t know if anything you have is…”

He blushed at the compliment, “I can just wear a plain shirt then.”

“I’ll pick something out for you,” she smiled, “My arm candy has to match me.”

“Okay, but I’m not wearing the Spiderman suit.”

“You’ll wear what I tell you too babe,” she patted his cheek, smiling while his blush spread up to his ears, “Pick you up at 8?”

“Y-Yeah, sounds good.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

As promised, (y/n) arrived at Peter’s house at 8 sharp, holding a garment bag and dressed in a knee length tan trench coat.

“That’s what you're wearing?” Peter cocked his head in confusion, looking her up and down before quickly adding, “N-Not that you look bad or anything! I-It's just not what I normally see you wear to parties and stuff…”

His mouth went dry and he could only nod as he took it all in, “Y-Yeah, you look great.”

“I’ve got an outfit on under it, I just didn’t know if May would be home,” she pushed the garment bag into his hands with a smile.

“She’s working late tonight, I told her we’re going to the movies,” he shut the door behind her, his whole face blooming red as she tossed the trench coat off.

“Great, I look hot don’t I?” she giggled, spinning so he could admire her full outfit, a baby blue cropped cami and a matching skirt that fell just above her knee. The skirt had a slit leading up her right thigh and the whole thing was covered in a slightly darker blue Louis Vuitton monogram.

“I know,” she smiled proudly before gesturing to the bag in his hands, “Well come on, promise you’ll look hot too.”

He swallowed and opened up the bag to reveal a blazer with the same color and print as her outfit, “You don’t expect me to wear just this right?”

She burst into a fit of laughter and shook her head, “No, I was thinking just some jeans and a white shirt underneath, but hey, if you’re really feeling yourself I won’t stop you.”

“No, no, tshirt and jeans sounds great,” he pulled the blazer from the bag, “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t keep me waiting,” she sang as he disappeared into his bedroom.

Peter was only gone for a second, returning almost immediately dressed per her instruction, “Happy?”

She nodded, “You look great, blue’s your color,” she stood, grabbing the edge of his jacket, “And red, and yellow.”

“You just listed all the primary colors,” he laughed.

“And I was right,” she moved up to his collar, flattening it out for him, “You for sure look best in yellow, but I know blue is your favorite, so I figured we’d wear blue.”

“Thanks,” he didn’t know how else to respond, “So what are we going to do there?”

“Oh come on Peter, you know what happens at a party,” she laughed, her hands moving up to his hair, tussling it slightly, “Didn’t you tell me you went to parties?”

He blushed, “Well one party, and it didn’t go great… I mean it can’t be anything that crazy right? Just like spin the bottle or beer pong or something?”

“Oh sweety,” she clicked her tongue before stepping away from him and slipping back into her coat, “If that’s when you’re hoping for then I don’t think you’re down for the parties I go to, pretty boy.”

He went wide eyed, “W-What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” she smirked, “Ready to go?”

He nodded, his stomach beginning to fill with nerves, “I guess, I’m a little worried now though.”

“You should be,” she winked, “Not even Spiderman can save you from the night we’re gonna have.”

Her words had put Peter a bit on edge, and had him wracking his brain for every party he’d ever seen on tv. Once they got in the car he tried to drill her on the matter, but she only continued to tease him, never giving him a straight answer on anything, going as far as to tell him they were going to be summoning a demon at midnight. Something he had rolled his eyes at until they pulled around to the back of what Peter had to assume was some kind of club.

“(y/n) are you sure this is the right place?”

She nodded, “Yeah, it just looks sketchy from the back,” she flicked the car off and smiled at him, “Come on, you’re gonna love it here.”

He knit his brow in confusion as he followed her, “You sure about that?”

She rolled her eyes, “Yes, just come on,” she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the door.

He was hesitant as he followed her up to the large metal door, worried momentarily she might have been serious about the demon thing until she opened the door.

“Holy shit,” he swore as he glanced around the giant arcade.

She clenched her hands in front of her nervously, “What do you think?”

There was no party, not even close, in fact the only other people in the building were employees.

“I’m confused.”

She sighed, “I thought it was weird when you said you wanted to go to that party, I mean it’s not really your scene,” she glanced away from him, her normal confidence seeming to fade in an instant, “I don’t know, I kind of got to thinking maybe you just wanted to go because we were going together, and I thought that maybe you’d want to do something a little more personal so I rented out this old arcade,” she bit her lip, “I don’t know, maybe that was stupid, the party is real though, we can go to that instead if you want…”

Peter stared at her for a minute, trying to connect the dots, “L-Like a date?”

She nodded, “Maybe, I don’t know, it kind of seemed like that was the vibe.”

“No, no, no,” he grabbed her arms, stopping her from walking away, “I want to go on a date with you so bad.”

“So you rented a whole arcade?” he gaped.

“Oh come on Peter, you already know I’m excessive,” she groaned, “God, this was so stupid, let’s just go to the damn party.”

Her cheeks flushed, “You do?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I’m just a little shocked, you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“I didn’t really know what to do,” she fiddled with a piece of her hair, still unable to meet his eyes, “I mean you know I’m pretty sure of myself most of the time, but you make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” he went wide eyed while she nodded.

“I’ve never really liked a guy before, at least no this much,” she explained, “And I mean we can go to the party if you want still, but if you want this to be a first date I just thought something a little more special would be nice…”

A smile spread across his face, “There is nothing I’d like more than for this to be our first date.”

She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck, “We haven’t even started the first one.”

“Thank god, it would have been totally humiliating if you said no,” an airy laugh escaped her lips.

“There wasn’t a chance of that happening,” he assured, “I can’t really afford to rent out an arcade, but I’ll plan our second date okay?”

“No but you went through all this trouble, I figured you’d want another.”

She rolled her eyes, “You know Peter if this relationship is gonna work I think my ego is big enough for the both of us.”

He laughed and pressed his head to hers, “We’ll see how you feel after I kick your ass at every game in here.”

“There is not a chance in hell you’re winning even one game tonight,” she leaned in just a tad, “But I’ll tell you what, if you do I’ll give you a kiss.”

He smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her nose before pulling away, “You’re on.”

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clefairymuke · 4 years ago

Text

daydream | chapter one

next chapter

pairing: armin arlert x reader

themes: college/modern au, slowburn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut

tw: recreational drug use, drinking, explicit sexual content

word count: 1705

The clock was obnoxiously loud with its endless ticking as you struggled to answer yet another dreaded short response prompt, your eyes threatening to trail over to the paper next to yours. You cursed your professor in your head, wondering who had the audacity to dub them "short answer" when answering every nit-picking facet of the question required at least a page-long essay to respond to the prompt in its entirety. The pen would soon break through the paper with how aggressively you were pushing it down. Against your better judgement, you allowed yourself to glance at your friend's paper. All you were able to read was the scrawled cursive "Armin Arlert" at the top before it was pulled from the table and started its journey to the professor's desk. Armin shot you a side eye as he threw his bag over his shoulder, and you returned a feigned apologetic grin. You watched as he waltzed confidently to the front of the room. Everything was so easy for him.

You sighed as he laid his paper on Professor Hange's desk and left. You knew he'd be outside waiting on the bench by the sidewalk when you finally finished; it was looking like he would be there for at least an hour. You tried to focus. What exactly had you learned so far in Biology 220? As far as you knew, the answer was absolutely nothing. After another while of pretending to think while actually berating yourself internally for your lack of studying, you did what you do best: you wrote down 200 words of absolute bullshit and hoped for a passing grade. It had put you through a year and a half of school -- you hoped it wouldn't fail you now.

It made sense for Armin to do well. After all, he was a biology major on the premed track. You, on the other hand, chose English on the form last minute in order to take the least amount of science and math possible. Learning that general education required sequences instead of singular courses had smacked you in the mouth. You erased the last word and fixed your handwriting three times before you finally decided you were finished, taking the paper up front to join Armin's and relishing in the sunlight hitting your face as you left the building.

"How'd you do?" Armin asked sweetly, perched on the nearest of many walkway-side benches along the campus. You saw a coffee in his hand. As you got closer, you noticed one for you sitting next to him. You smiled.

"I honestly think I did fucking awful. I haven't retained anything from Hange's class at all. She's not even a bad teacher -- I think it just isn't for me," you answered, taking a seat and lifting the coffee to your lips. It was your favorite.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. He'd had a haircut only the day before; he always toyed with the prickly hair on the back of his neck for the first few days after one. You wondered if he'd ever get used to having his hair shorter. "I've offered to help you, you know. I always say I'll start studying with you, and you always say we will. Then I end up studying while you lay there on your phone halfway listening."

"Well, midterms are over now. Maybe I'll let you teach me a thing or two before finals. What's important is that spring break starts now." For a moment you could see yourself and Armin laid out on the beach, sun soaking into your skin with the soft crashing of waves present only a few yards away; that was the definition of heaven. You saw Armin grin as he started to pull his bag over his shoulder in preparation for your walk to his dorm. A common misconception about your friend was that he was a stick in the mud; however, this was decidedly the furthest thing from the truth. Although he was perfect academically -- 4.0 GPA, active in student organizations, one of the way-too-happy people that shows the freshmen around campus each year -- he knew how to have a good time. Perhaps it was years of corruption from you and your other friends (Eren and Jean, in particular), but outside of a god-awful science class, he was easily your favorite person to be around.

The two of you walked side by side across campus, chatting idly about the party you both planned to attend that night and the long drive that awaited you come morning. It was the perfect weather out, a sunny and comfortable 70 degrees. Armin was dressed in an old-looking T-shirt advertising some bedroom pop artist you were unfamiliar with, making it more than noticeable how much he had filled out since he bought it. Khaki shorts hung a few inches above his knees. You had to look up at him when you spoke, quite the contrast to the many years your friendship spanned before. His eyes, though, were still the same blue, and that was unlikely to change.

When you arrived at his building, you trudged up the stairs behind him, grateful you would soon be able to sit down. Walking everywhere was not your favorite activity, but the campus was quite small, and driving would be overkill. You waltzed into the room as you did nearly every day, throwing a hand up to greet Eren. He had his arm thrown lazily around a girl you didn't recognize, his half-up half-down hair falling in his face as he nodded back at you with a smile, eyes half-open and glossy red.

You practically threw yourself into Armin's bed, which was neatly made aside from the plush blue blanket that laid across the yellow duvet. You were quickly underneath it, making short work toward comfort as you nuzzled into a pillow. Armin took the time to put his things away and change into loose-fitting charcoal sweatpants before taking a seat at your side, fiddling with a time-passing puzzle game on his phone.

"I think we should just stay in instead of going to the party and taking that trip. I'm pretty comfortable, and I have plenty of sleep to catch up on," you told him, the joke barely present in your voice. He chuckled, leaning back across your legs onto the wall behind him.

"You're required to come to the party," Eren called over to you, taking his lips away from the nameless girl's neck. "We promised Jean. And you're required to come on the trip, because we can't afford the Airbnb without your charitable contribution."

"Besides," Armin chimed in, looking over at you, "you were lucky your request off got approved. Think of the poor souls that are stuck behind the register at Barnes and Noble this week. They wouldn't want you to use their vacation in vain."

"When you put it that way. . ." you laughed, checking the time on your phone. "What time did Jean tell us to come?"

"Nine," Armin responded quickly, switching from his game to Twitter. It was only 4:06, according to the white numbers above the picture of you and Armin at your high school graduation. You had quite a bit of time to kill.

"Want to watch a movie?" you asked the blond boy at your side. You were already holding the Xbox controller before he could reply. You got on Disney+, arguably your favorite part of being in Armin's dorm, then tossed the controller toward him to choose. He chose, as he always did, some superhero movie that you would pretend to hate and secretly love. He looked over at you and grinned wide, pressing play.

As the opening sequence rolled, you figured it wasn't the worst way to waste time.

---

The party was lame in the best way. Of course, no one outside of the typical circle had shown -- Connie and Sasha, Marco, the current girl hanging from Eren's hip (Ellie, maybe?), Ymir and Historia, and Eren's sister, Mikasa. Or, at least, he called her his sister. She was adopted -- and desperately in love with him -- and you wished he would avoid calling her that for the sake of saving face. Watching her sit angrily next to him while he toyed with the girl's hair was almost as awkward as the way Jean sat next to Mikasa, beer in his hand and flirting without shame. Connie, Sasha, and Ymir spent nearly the entire party trying to convince Historia and Marco to try smoking on Connie's new bong. Between all of these preoccupied people, you and Armin were left sharing a recliner, passing a blunt back and forth and discussing the plans for tomorrow.

Jean's apartment was trashed in the way a 19-year-old boy's would typically be, soda and beer cans lining the tables and clearly visible dust on his furniture. If you squinted, you'd see he was using his U.S. History textbook as a rolling tray. Professor Erwin would be disappointed.

Your thoughts had begun to become fuzzier and fuzzier. You could tell Armin was feeling the same by the way he giggled uncontrollably at a stupid joke Connie made across the room, causing you to chuckle. He was pretty when he laughed, white teeth poking past his lips as his clear blue eyes squinted into almost nothing. It didn't help that they were already half-closed, pink and red lining his blue irises. You and Armin were social smokers, and drinkers, and what came with that was the unfortunate fact that you were both very lightweight.

You listened absentmindedly to the soft R&B Jean was playing, obnoxiously enough, from Pandora on his TV. Every time an ad played, you died a little inside. You found yourself thanking those that didn't come tonight. Eventually, when you were all in some way intoxicated, you all gathered to watch a movie. You had never heard of it, but Jean and Eren were big fans, which meant it was likely some action film with a bit of plot if you squinted at it.

Before the title screen, you had your head laid on Armin's shoulder, gently drifting to sleep.

This was peace.

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jaminjims · 4 years ago

Text

lazy sundays {imagine}

anon request: Hiiiiiii can I request a A poly ot7 Bts where they have to talk and keep reminding with jimin or Jungkook about them doing so much skin shipping and spending so much time in bed together with u. Jungkook and jimin are so needy and just wanna be near you 🥺but the other boys want time with you.

a/n: omg yes i live for this concept! this prompt is so cute and i’m already smiling just thinking about it. jim and kook being clingy? sign me UP please. ahem neways, thank you so much for the request anon! i really do love writing for you guys

pairing: poly bts x gender neutral!reader

genre: just pure on fluff

warnings: i feel like putting any angst in this fic would be illegal so there are no warnings

words: 1.4k

~**~

you and the other boys always had time off on sundays and that usually led to a lot of lazying around and doing nothing productive

oh, and clingy-ness of course

actually, now that you really think about it, they were really clingy all the time but especially on sundays because it would be the time where they had you all to themselves and management wouldn’t be able to take you

but there were two members that came to mind when you thought about it, and that was your boys, jimin and jungkook

the two had always been touchy but recently they didn’t seem to want to let you go (not that you were complaining or anything) and it led to many... problems(?) among the fandom

whenever you would go out somewhere in public, it would either be jim or kook (or both) accompanying you and the public and media would just have a field day with all the fanservice

like when jimin intertwines your fingers and just casually kisses the back of your hand and sometimes your forehead

or when jungkook puts his arm around your waist and holds you to his side to make sure that you would be protected

and you were older than both of them and you were supposed to be the one taking care of them but they obviously did not see it that way and continued to be in contact with you anyway they could

and you swore it happened every single time you guys went out somewhere when articles and pictures would pop up all over the internet about how “y/n and jimin doing this or kook and y/n doing that” and sometimes they would be clingy with each other and there would be articles like “kook and jimin”

and it was all a mess, really

but it was a happy mess and you thought it was funny to see the reactions of army because oh my god they could be hilarious

and you guys would be trending on twitter and instagram for the next day at least and would just overall break the fandom

it had gotten to a point where the others had to talk with the two of them because it was getting out of hand (they liked to say it was because of their status and how influential they were but in reality you knew the others were just jealous because they also wanted to spend time with you too goddamnit)

namjoon would always start the conversation with “so you have anything to say?” and he would show the two a picture of you guys on twitter as you struggled not to burst out laughing

to that jungkook would reply casually with “i just want to spend time with y/n, why? are you jealous?” like the cheeky brat he was and then you really would burst out laughing and jin would have to pull you to sit on his lap before you fell over because you were laughing so hard

namjoon would frown at you and yoongi would cross his arms and pout (he would never admit that that but you find it cute)

then taehyung would come into the conversation and point at jimin and ask him, “what about you?” and jimin would get this blush on his face that was just so cute and he would squeak out, “i just love y/n a lot.”

and then you would have to look away and place a hand over your heart because you didn’t think you could handle the cuteness

and it seemed like your other band mates would also be weak to jims charms and forgive him because they all just couldn’t help it

hoseok would even get up and pull him into his lap and cuddle because ugh they were all weak

(but in all seriousness we secretly know jimin would be laughing evilly on the inside because he has all of you wrapped around his little pinky finger and he could get away with anything)

but that would be the end of that and the others would end it with a calm “please try to refrain from to much skin ship in public because one day it really would break the internet”

the two would pout but you would go a give them a tiny kiss on the forehead to make them feel better but then the others would feel left out and you would end up just kissing all of them

and you thought that would be the end of their extra level clingyness but oh how you were wrong

lets just say that sundays are now just labeled ‘cling days’ in your head

you would usually wake up on sunday morning with the two culprits in question and would groan because it was hot and you needed to pee but they wouldn’t let you go

and if you thought taehyung was bad then the two of them combined were next level

you could barely even move and would have to resort to pushing your hand into jungkooks face while you pushed at jimins torso to try to pry them off of you but there was really only a 50/50 chance of it working

well more like 30/70. and the odds were not in your favor

then you would call for taehyung to help you but he would get jealous that the other two maknaes got to sleep with you all the time and flop down right on top of you and then he would go to sleep and you still needed to pee

and you would resign to your fate of having to stay in bed till they woke up because the three of them together? their cuddle power was otherworldly

and you would cry because your bladder was going to give up on you one of these days

jin would usually be the next one in the room because he would notice the lack of trouble making going on and then he would smile and take a picture of the four of you but then get them to wake up with threats of no breakfast if they didn’t and you would spring out of bed and kiss him and thank the gods for giving him to you because yes, you could use the bathroom now

but jin would also get a little sad because so much of your time was spent with them and you would notice his slightly down attitude and would help him make breakfast and sit with him although out the morning to make him feel better

and then it would be namjoon who would come and eat, and he wouldn’t say anything but you knew he also wanted to spend time with you so after you were done eating you would usually go back in his room and read a book together

then it would be a couple of hours past noon when hoseok would come wondering in and look at you with those puppy eyes that he knew you had a weak spot for and ask you to play a game with him

the two of you would play just dance while the maknae line joined in and namjoon and jin would watch from the couch and laugh at all of the ridiculous dance moves because somehow you were all surprisingly bad at the game for being professional dancers

and the commotion would rouse yoongi to come out of his room and he would snicker at you each time you made a mistake and you would stick your tongue out at him but quickly resume your game because you were going to beat hoseok if you had anything to say about it

and then afterward you would get tired and probably fall asleep on the couch with yoongi while the others took pictures because the scene made them feel soft

and then all of you would have a family dinner™️ together because you all just really loved each other a whole lot

but it’s when jungkook and jimin go to your bed to sleep with you again that the others race to intercept them because they wanted y/n time too

and it would either led to scoldings from the oldest ones about how they can’t hog your time all the time or if they were feeling particularly generous the oldest ones would play rock paper scissors to see who gets to cuddle with you and the youngest ones would do the same

then the two winners would cheer and high-five and you would just roll your eyes playfully and laugh a little because you really did live with a bunch of dorks

needless to say, you loved lazy sundays, but you loved them even more

[end]

end note: this was so kfbskjgs you know? i just really loved writing this and it was so cute. the guys just want y/n time and i am here to give it to them. again, thank you so much anon! i hope it was what you were looking for and i hope you liked reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

~**~

masterlist

request something!

taglist: @boba-tea1206

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caiminnent · 4 years ago

Text

and you said, kiss me [kylux, rated M]

PROMPT(S): First Kiss (@kyluxpositivity, Day #: Past Prompts Revisited) & Surprise "Kiss a Ginger Day" Kiss (from YearofKylux on Twitter)

SUMMARY: The Master of the Knights of Ren shifts on his feet like a cadet. “I brought you a gift,” he says lowly, through a strange static. “One best enjoyed in private.”

Hux’s brain stutters.

“It’s food,” Ren elaborates before Hux’s overtaxed mind can conjure up any embarrassing ideas—around a mind-reader, no less. “Messy to eat. You would appreciate the ease of cleaning.”

Or: Ren returns from Gelda with a honeyfruit for Hux. Things get out of hand.

FANDOM: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

TAGS: Kiss a Ginger Day, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, First Kiss, Hand Feeding, Insecurity, Armitage Hux Has Feelings, Kylo Ren in Love, Love Confessions, If You Squint - Freeform

Photo by Alice Pasqual on Unsplash

3.5K || ALSO ON AO3

One last meeting and Hux can finally retire for the day.

With three dozen floors between him and Conference Room 11-E, he strides past the stairs without a glance, skimming the meeting objectives on his datapad on the way to the turbolifts. They will never cover all of these—not in the time they set. Sniping at each other and bickering make up half of every High Command meeting; they’ll be lucky to touch upon the important matters within the first hour.

How tragic, that the people tasked with deciding how to spend the First Order funds can’t even make effective use of two hours.

The turbolift finally stops on his floor. Hux puts his datapad away as the doors slide open, revealing only Ren inside.

Hux’s foolish heart soars. When the notification of Ren’s arrival wasn’t followed by a summons from Snoke, Hux assumed he would see Ren once—more likely, if—Ren deigned to write and drop off his mission report. After several weeks without even a status update, he will take thirty seconds in a turbolift.

“General Hux,” Ren says as Hux enters, dipping his head.

The button for the officers’ deck is lit. Hitting the one below it for level 47, “Ren,” Hux greets back. A fresh, light smell that reminds him of a forest hits him in the next breath. Odd. He’s more used to smelling ash and ozone on Ren after a mission. “I see you’ve returned.”

“Try not to sound so disappointed, General.”

The corners of Hux’s lips twitch, an errant smile quickly suppressed. “These missions of yours mean more work for me. How many of my troopers did you lose this time?”

“None.”

“Truly?” That must be a first.

“Yes,” Ren says, pride booming in his voice even through the vocoder. “The inhabitants responded favourably to a show of the Force. Your exceptionally trained men scarcely needed to fire a blaster bolt.” Arse. “The rest was ensuring a smooth transition of power.”

A smooth transition of power. Since when does Ren care about keeping things diplomatic and orderly when he could slaughter his way through a mission and call it done? Who is this man and what did he do with Hux’s co-commander?

Not that Hux is complaining. Any cause that means Ren will stop using his troopers as cannon fodder is good in his book.

In the small screen above the buttons, 45 flashes, switching to 46. “Well done, Ren,” Hux says with a nod as the turbolift slows around them. Ren straightens to his full height. “I’ll look forward to your report.”

Level 47 is a maze of offices and meeting rooms lined around endless corridors, which are empty enough this time of the day. The walk to 11-E stretches in Hux’s mind’s eye as he steps out of the ‘lift. Part of him wishes for Ren to accompany him to the meeting, to remain a solid presence by his side while Hux endures yet another bout of pointed looks and snide comments that all say he wouldn’t have been here if he weren’t Brendol’s son.

“I could brief you in your quarters,” Ren calls out after him.

His heart skipping a beat, Hux pauses mid-stride, glancing at Ren over his shoulder. Ren is keeping the doors open with a hand on the frame, one foot in the corridor. What Hux wouldn’t give to read his bare face right now.

“My quarters?” Hux asks carefully. In all their years of sharing the command, they’ve never done something so personal as to visit each other in their chambers. Does Ren even know in which section Hux resides?

The Master of the Knights of Ren shifts on his feet like a cadet. “I brought you a gift,” he says lowly, through a strange static. “One best enjoyed in private.”

Hux’s brain stutters.

“It’s food,” Ren elaborates before Hux’s overtaxed mind can conjure up any embarrassing ideas—around a mind-reader, no less. “Messy to eat. You would appreciate the ease of cleaning.”

Perhaps Ren has been replaced on Gelda after all. The idea doesn’t sound more far-fetched than Kylo kriffing Ren bringing Hux gifts and considering his comfort.

“Very well,” Hux’s mouth says with little input from his brain. “2100 hours. Don’t be late.”

-----------------

The meeting drags on.

Sixty-five minutes in, Hux caves and lets his attention wander. He’d calculated half the figures Lieutenant Mitaka is delivering anyway; he’s sitting at this table more out of duty than necessity—not to mention, to keep the High Command somewhat civil as they, quite inevitably, gripe about Starkiller Base. Simple-minded fools. Two more years—he will show the lot of them what his pet project can do.

As Captain Canady starts his own tirade about how strategically unsound putting such a sizeable portion of their resources into a single project is, Hux pulls up information about Gelda on his datapad. A tiny, nondescript system of no import besides falling on a trade route. Two high-ranking officers accompanied by three squads of Stormtroopers would have accomplished the same goal, freeing Ren up for matters which actually require his… unique skill set.

If only Canady knew how strategically unsound Leader Snoke’s missions can be.

Scrolling down, he reaches the Culture section—only to find it empty. Kriff. For the son of a kitchen woman, he’s woefully uncultured about galactic cuisine, much less that of a castoff planet in the Outer Rim. Although he doesn’t expect Ren to show up with a seven-course meal, the idea of being unprepared for the visit—which certainly isn’t a date, even if it carries the characteristics of one—leaves Hux cold.

It’s going to be all right. He’s survived countless diplomatic dinners at his father’s side, smiling politely as his throat swelled and the contents of his stomach threatened to rise; he can handle whatever Ren might bring.

-----------------

He makes it to his chambers with six minutes to spare. So much for changing into something casual and presentable before Ren comes.

Not that he’s sure he owns such an outfit to begin with. His few sets of civilian clothes were picked more for practicality than appearance. Although that green pullover and the dark pair of trousers that Phasma had wolf-whistled at should still be somewhere in his dresser, Hux doesn’t have time left to check thanks to Admiral Brooks’ desperate need to be the loudest person in every room.

Kriffing nothing goes according to plan today.

Exasperation pulling at his chest, he leans against the door and closes his eyes. There’s still time to salvage the situation. He’s lost his composure about this… private meeting; it’s his failing to face in due time. For now, he needs to make sure Ren won’t find out about the tizzy Hux worked himself into.

Taking a deep breath to ground himself, Hux pushes off the cold durasteel and goes about setting the stage. His greatcoat carefully draped over the coat hanger. His gloves carelessly thrown over the side table. While the water heater works, he unfastens the top handful of the hidden latches on his jacket and artfully dishevels his hair in the mirror. When the access panel chimes with a request for entry, everything around him communicates high-ranking officer unwinding in private after a long day.

As he opens the door, he can only hope it’s good enough to fool a mind-reader.

The ever-present helmet and gloves aside, Ren certainly pulled off casually presentable. Instead of his regular rags, he’s put on a shirt that outlines his form nicely and leggings, holding a bundle that’s tied off with an orange ribbon on one hand.

Relief courses through Hux at the sight. The fabric most likely holds a small fruit or vegetable. Unless Ren picked the weirdest harvest available to bring back, this should go without an issue.

Hux welcomes him, stepping aside to let him pass. Before closing the door, he checks for unwanted eyes in the hallway. All quiet, thankfully. An underdressed Commander Ren paying an after-hours visit to General Hux’s private rooms—Hux couldn’t hope to snuff out the rumours.

Ren is standing awkwardly in the middle of the living area, his free hand clenching and unclenching at his side. Gesturing at the sofa, “I was about to make caf,” Hux says. The water heater clicks off right then, as if backing him up. “Would you like some? I’ve only got the instant kind, but it works in a pinch.”

“Sure,” Ren says.

Hux doesn’t have a clue how Ren takes his caf, which matters little as he doesn’t keep milk or sugar in his kitchenette anyway. Palming two coasters, he brings the mugs to the living area. Ren, for his part, already made himself comfortable: unmasked, leaning against an armrest with an arm over the back of the sofa and a leg folded under himself. As if he belongsthere.

Hux knows, with the same certainty as the Starkiller’s future success, that he will make an arse of himself in front of Ren before the evening is out.

Talking about a planetary takeover with warm beverage in their hands and Ren’s gift on the table feels wrong somehow. Mirroring Ren’s position at the other end of the small sofa, Hux catches him up on what little happened in his absence instead. Shitting on the High Command and incompetent officers—which overlap—is always an entertaining pastime, and they do so unabashedly until the caf is gone and the conversation comes to a comfortable lull.

He waits for Ren to mention the gift first. Ren came here for a reason; now would be the perfect time to bring it up. Ren, however, is more interested in his own hands on his lap.

Hux suppresses a sigh. He’s got to do everything himself, as usual. “You mentioned a gift,” he says, tilting his head at it. “Am I to receive it before it spoils—or is it merely decorative?”

Face lighting up, Ren nearly knocks over Hux’s mug on the table in his haste to get to the bundle.

“There you go,” Ren says, offering it on two palms. It looks bigger in Hux’s hand; not big, but not as bite-sized, either. The binding unravels at the gentlest tug, the fabric falling away to reveal a round, orange fruit barely held within its tight skin, so bright it looks dangerous.

“I hope this isn’t an attempt to poison me in private,” Hux says, only half-jesting. He likes to think they are past the bitter rivals stage by now, but one never knows with Ren and his infamous mood swings. “That would make a poor end for our pleasant evening.”

Ren chuckles. Will wonders never cease? “Rest assured, General, I wouldn’t have resorted to poison if I wanted you gone.” He extends a hand for the fruit. “Here. I’ll help you with it.”

“I hardly need instructions on eating,” Hux points out, rolling his eyes. His curiosity is piqued enough to hand it over, though. Surely Ren doesn’t plan to play any Force tricks on it?

Appears not. Ren produces a pocket-knife like a regular person, flicking it open as he turns the fruit in his other hand. The skin parts easily under the sharp blade, a clear, glittery liquid oozing out of the thin cut and onto Ren’s gloves.

Ignoring the ruined leather, Ren cuts out a slice, offering it to Hux between the blade and his thumb. Hux reaches for it—Ren pulls it away, looking at him with open disapproval.

Hux pins him with a look of his own. “You can’t expect me to literally eat out of your hand, Ren.”

Ren gives the fruit a pointed squeeze. More liquid leaks out, dripping down the side of his hand. “Would you rather dirty your uniform?” he asks, catching a drop with the back of his other hand before it can fall on the sofa.

Absolutely not. The idea of dripping food all over himself with Ren watching turns his stomach. Still, letting Ren feed him feels shameful—in a thrilling sort of way, which only adds to the embarrassment. Tell-tale warmth has already spread across his neck, crawling up to his ears.

Ren extends the offering again, uncharacteristically patient. That alone should be suspicious where Ren is concerned. Nothing in his bare face hints at deceit, though; if anything, Hux reads nerves in the line of Ren’s shoulders, his sharp gaze walking the line between anticipation and trepidation.

Steeling himself for Ren pulling the fruit away at the last moment or mocking him for his eagerness, Hux leans forward, taking it with his teeth.

The fruit is predictably sweet, leaving a line of juice over his mouth as he sucks it in. Its flesh practically melts into a thick nectar on his tongue. Although he doesn’t normally prefer his food soft—if he can’t bite down on it, it’s not worth eating—he would gladly make an exception for this.

Resisting the urge to lick his lips, “What is this?” Hux asks. It reminds him of the birthday cake his officers tried to surprise him with once, creamy with a surprisingly dark aftertaste.

“Geldan honeyfruit,” Ren says. “It’s a rare harvest—takes nearly four standard years to grow. We were lucky to come across it.”

“And your infamous sweet tooth couldn’t resist it,” Hux throws back, mostly to see Ren pout.

Ren smiles instead, an unfairly appealing curl of lips. Curse him for making Hux feel like a cadet instead. “I don’t hear you complaining, General,” he points out. “Would you like more?”

Unwilling to seem too eager, Hux makes a noncommittal hum. Ren’s smile grows.

“On Gelda, honeyfruit is worth its weight in gold,” Ren says as he feeds Hux piece by piece, his naked voice washing over Hux. Hux keeps expecting the next piece to be one too many, for the light tingle over his skin to become overwhelming, for his pride to finally rear its head. “Their entire culture is based around it. The food. The folk tales and remedies. The calendar. Hell, if I don’t see another wedding in a forest for as long as I live, it will be too early.”

Ren places the last bite in Hux’s mouth with his fingers—that newfound, desperate part of Hux longs to chase after them, to lick Ren’s shining gloves clean.

What the everliving fuckis wrong with him?

Putting the knife aside, Ren strips his dirty gloves from the wrists up, rolling them inside out. Hux does not watch the obscenely slow reveal of skin. “And it might be just a superstition,” Ren adds, throwing the gloves next to Hux’s own pair on the table. “But Geldans strongly believe that not sharing a honeyfruit brings bad luck until the next season.”

The food sits heavy in the pit of Hux’s stomach.

Irritation rises in him, that pleasant stirring deep in his belly giving way to churning agitation in a heartbeat. Of course there was a punchline to this whole evening. “Ren, you kriffing—”

Ren slowly, purposefully, slides closer until his knees bracket Hux’s, a new weight to his dark gaze as he leans in. “Hux,” he mumbles, glancing at Hux’s mouth before meeting his eyes again. Hux feels a new tension coil between them, the air getting harder to breathe in. “May I have a taste?”

Words stuck in his dry throat, Hux nods.

The kiss is little more than a brush of skin, followed by a firmer peck on his lips. His lips stick to Ren’s as they part. Ren huffs out a low laugh before catching Hux’s bottom lip, sucking it between his own.

Hux flounders. There’s no kind way to describe it. He’s got a general idea what he should and shouldn’t be doing with his mouth, but reading up on the technicalities hadn’t prepared him for the kisses Ren peppers on and around his lips like straying too far would hurt him, mixing it up with the occasional nip. It definitely didn’t prepare him for the way Ren angles Hux’s face to his liking, parts his lips with a gentle tug and kisses him like he wants the air in Hux’s lungs.

The honeyfruit still coating Hux’s tongue is too thick to taste Ren through no matter how hard he tries. Inhaling sharply through his nose, Hux buries a hand in Ren’s hair—soft, how is it so soft—and slides the other underneath Ren’s shirt, just high enough to rest a thumb over the burning skin. Ren makes a sound low in his throat, palming Hux’s thigh and moving higher with that same, purposeful drag.

Stars. Stars, what are they doing?

Lightheaded, Hux pulls away, putting a hand on Ren’s chest to keep him from following. Ren stops without protest, sitting back far enough that they aren’t touching anymore and not an inch further.

“Is everything okay?” Ren asks, similarly winded. His hands are clenching and unclenching on his own spread thighs, his back a rigid line.

Hux nods again, focused on keeping his breathing regular and getting his heartrate back to normal. Some deep kisses, barely any contact and his body buzzes with want anyway, long starved for touch. He would have been ashamed of his enthusiasm, had Ren not been in the same state.

Once he can find his words, “That was… rather unexpected,” he says. Ren’s face falls. “I don’t mean unwelcome,” Hux amends, keeping his tone gentle. “I merely wonder, what brought this on?” Why now, after years of not even hinting at this sort of interest?

Ren runs his teeth over his bottom lip. “Are you familiar with Kiss a Ginger Day, General?”

Hux might as well have jumped into ice water for how effectively his leftover desire is doused.

Right. Right, it was today, wasn’t it. He hasn’t dealt with lewd remarks since he became a captain, long enough that he stopped dreading the date. How foolish of him to let his guard down. Of course Ren, the only one high enough in rank to dare, wouldn’t miss the chance to make a practical joke out of it.

The taste in his mouth turning bitter, “Leave,” he hisses.

Ren frowns, his expression caught between hurt and confusion. “General,” he says. “Hux. I didn’t mean to offend you, I was—”

“Let me guess,” Hux bites out. “You were trying to flirt with me.” It’s always one or the other. Does Ren think himself so clever, putting two and two together? Does he believe he’s the first person to make the connection?

A younger, softer Hux may have found the attempt endearing. Present-day Hux has been relocating obnoxious officers for calling him General Ginger behind his back since the effective day of his promotion. The attention stopped feeling flattering long ago.

“No. I mean, yes, I was trying to flirt, but your hair colour was irrelevant. Mostly.” Ren licks his lips. “Let me explain?”

Wasn’t that what Ren was trying to do? “You’ve got two minutes.”

Ren runs his fingers through his hair and grips it at the base, tightly enough that it must hurt. “I found out about this day last year,” he starts, the words practically tumbling out of his mouth. “Four days after the date. That was also the day where I realised, um. That I had feelings for you.” Breath catches in Hux’s lungs, his stupid heart quickening. “So I suppose I took it as, a sign? That I should do something about it. I swore to myself that I would, by that day next year.” He shrugs, stiff and jerky. “A year went by fast.”

A—small but loud—part of Hux can’t shake off the thought that Ren is having him on, that any minute now Ren will laugh at him for being foolish enough to think he might have any interest in Hux. The rest of him is captivated by the blush high on Ren’s cheeks, the way Ren keeps licking and sucking in his kiss-reddened lips.

“I didn’t come here expecting to kiss you, Hux. The fruit was just an excuse to be alone with you. If you regret it—” Ren takes a shuddering breath, gazing at Hux imploringly. No one deserves such earnest eyes. That’s simply unfair. “If that’s what you want, we can pretend it didn’t happen. It’s okay. Just don’t hate me for it.”

Hux’s heart clenches at the thought. “That’s not what I want,” he confesses, the words coming easier than he would’ve expected. He feels emboldened in the face of Ren’s evident uncertainty, of the hesitation colouring his words. “I want it to have happened—as long as this means it can happen again.”

“It can,” Ren says, a smile blossoming on his lips. Hux is quickly growing addicted to the sight of it. “Whenever you want. As many times as you want. And, um.” His smile turns wicked, a new glint in his eyes. “The honeyfruit. I brought back a small crate of it, if you wanted to try the other thing again, too.”

A small case, stars. Hux had never appreciated the man’s greedy nature until now. He will have to make sure they properly preserve it; four standard years is a long time. “You’re a menace, Kylo Ren.”

“That’s how you like me,” Ren says, a question lingering in his tone.

“Yes,” Hux admits. “Yes, I do.”

#kylux positivity week #kylux #Kylo Ren #Armitage Hux #Star Wars #Cai does words #finished fics #long post #Kiss a Ginger Day #and you said kiss me #I can't believe I finally finished this

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bauslut · 4 years ago

Text

seventeen days

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

word count: 1.022k

warnings: angst, lots and lots of angst, mentions of violence, cursing

a/n: this one is for a dear friend, @tempus-ut-luceant ! <3 the prompt from this fic was one from my list! my requests are still open, and i’m always happy to receive them! the repetition at the end is intentional! also.. strauss was actually... nice... for once..? i hope you guys enjoy! :))

prompt: “and when things have changed, i guess i’ll find out seventeen days.”

(i do not own this gif)

“you’re kidding right?” you scoff, pressing the phone against your ear, “it’s been so long since i’ve been out in the field, strauss. you know that.”

“yet i have been made aware how eager you’ve been to dive back in,” her voice is thick with satisfaction, and you can practically envision the smug smirk painting her lips, “if it’s not your speed or what you want, you can always step back. you have my full support on this matter, whatever you choose to do. i can only guide you, and i will in every way that i can.”

“what kind of position is this again?” gnawing on the inside of your lip, you reach across your desk, plucking a pen out of a mug, “i know you mentioned it only a few moments ago, but i wanted to write it down.”

“don’t fret, (y/n), i can repeat it for you. the behavioral analysis unit in quantico is in need of an agent within their department,” strauss answers, the words crisp and cool, “you would be working alongside supervisory special agent aaron hotchner, and his team, of course. does that name ring a bell to you? looking over your file here, it says that you two have previously worked together.”

aaron hotchner.

your hand froze, mid-way through scribbling down a sentence. your throat tightened, the pen suddenly becoming very slick in your grasp, trembling, marking up the paper with incoherent segments.

“i-i,” you stammer, the words nearly impossible to strand together, “i-i’ve worked with him before, yes.”

“oh perfect,” strauss chirps, “then the transition from the pentagon to the bau should be a breeze! it will certainly help that there’s a familiar face around. i will start the paperwork right away, (y/n). i am looking forward to meeting you in person.”

bringing a hand to your temple, your mind buzzes, clouded with a torrent of thoughts, “w-when do i start?”

“seventeen days!” strauss’ voice is shrill, piercing through the speaker, “if you need anything, jot down the number. have a good evening, (y/n).”

with that, the line clicked dead, nothing but static ringing in your ears.

inhaling a sharp breath, your eyes squeeze shut, your stomach twisted and knotted, bile rising in your throat.

the office is silent, nothing but the hum of the air conditioner echoing through the space, the twitters and chirps of birds sounding every so often, the rush of engines soaring down the street.

you’re perched in a chair, shoving the last few papers into your briefcase, grumbling under your breath. you’re so invested in your task that you nearly don’t hear his footsteps approaching.

“hey,” his voice is soft, laced with a tenderness that had your knees buckling, your heart all aflutter, “are you okay?”

“nothing that i haven’t seen or heard before,” you snort, a crimson blush tainting your cheeks, “i was more worried that he was going to lash out and hurt you instead.”

“oh it was nothing,” the chuckle that drips from his lips chimes like bells, “you know i’m always going to be there for you, right? no matter what happens, you’re always going to have my heart.”

“you’re worrying me aaron,” you swallow the lump of concern, “is there something wrong?”

“no,” he shakes his head, his mocha depths alight with happiness, “i’m just so in love with you, i’m not sure if i’ll ever stop.”

“oh aaron,” you murmur, reaching up to cup his cheek, cradling it with your palm, “i love you.”

“i love you too,” his lips curve into a broad grin, dimples and all, “more than you’ll ever know.”

“do you mean that, aaron hotchner?” you giggle, arching a brow.

“of course i do, lovebug,” the answer is instant, the words so utterly sincere, “of course i do.”

a tear drips down, splashing against the paper. with a jolt, a frown creeps onto your lips as the drop smudges the ink, ruining the letter.

“fuck,” you sniffle, desperately wiping away the streams trickling down your heated cheeks, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

yet, it’s no use.

the tears are flowing now, drenching the paper with splotches, the ink running all over the page.

just the mere mention of his name was enough to split your heart into two, tearing it apart. you thought the pain had subsided. after all, it was so long ago. you thought you were over it. you thought you had moved on.

but the pain was still there.

and it was real. unfiltered and raw as it overcame your body, the sobs shaking you to your very core. the sound nothing but gut-wrenching wails as you rocked back and forth, blubbering incoherent rambles.

as much as your mind was screaming that you didn’t have to. that you didn’t have to do it. that you didn’t have to move, you knew you had to.

you had to face him.

was he still the same man you knew back then?

the poised, charming, cool-headed, undeniably witty man? the man who held your heart in his tender hands? the man whose kisses sucked the air right from your lungs, leaving nothing but a blissful, airy feeling afterwards?

was he still the same aaron hotchner?

how could you know, you hadn’t spoken a single word to him since that day. no phone calls. no emails. no letters. nothing.

had things changed since then?

the queries lingering in depths of your mind were going to be answered soon enough.

in seventeen days, you would step in the confines of the behavioral analysis unit of quantico virginia, surrounded by bright, welcoming faces. in seventeen days you’d be starting a new chapter of your life, yet retreating back to old stomping grounds.

in seventeen days, you would face him, masking the hurt from wounds that he left. deep, jagged wounds that were not quite healed.

in seventeen days, you would receive your answers. and in seventeen days, you would realize that the feelings were still there. who knew if he still harbored those same emotions. after all, it had been years.

did aaron hotchner still love you?

in seventeen days, time would only tell.

#hotch #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch x reader #thomas gibson #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader

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uwu-shinsou · 4 years ago

Note

Sero with 3 and or 5?

Title: Lights Out

Prompt: I’ll cuddle you but only because it’s cold and definitely not for any romantic feelings, And They Were Roommates

Warning(s): Mild language

Pairing: Sero Hanta X GN!Roommate!Reader

Genre: Fluff, drabble

Word Count: 891

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SERO HANTA!! I knew I had to do one of my Sero requests to celebrate this sweet boy’s birthday and this one ended up being v cute. I once again present you with yet more fluff.

500 Event Masterlist

✿ .✿ .✿ .✿ .✿

The rumble of thunder echoed from outside, accompanied by the harshly pouring rain thrumming against the window. Outside it was cold, but inside your cozy living room it was safe and warm. As the next bout of thunder rumbled by, you let out a horrified gasp.

“Sero Hanta, did you just hit me with a red shell?!”

“Hey, you know that I play to win!”

You playfully stuck your tongue out at him as your place on screen dropped from first to seventh. Sero let out a hoot of delight as he took the lead, heading into the second lap ahead of you.

“You just wait until I get a blue shell, then you’re done for,” You muttered to yourself, drifting along the first bend of Dino Dino Jungle, narrowly avoiding the stomping feet of the dinosaur.

Sero was all around a good roommate, but game night was by far your favorite part of living with him, especially Mario Kart. And with the weather right now- cold, dark, and stormy- hot chocolate and video games was exactly what you needed.

You passed through an item box, grinning triumphantly as you got the lightning bolt. You activated the item, causing Sero to yell as it hit him while in the air, making him fall off the stage.

“NOOO! I was in first!” He whined as he button mashed, trying to catch up as he quickly fell down the rankings. “Why did it have to hit me in the aaaiiirr?!”

You let out a whoop of delight as you passed into first just at the last stretch. You avoided the geysers in your path, the taste of victory already sweet on your tongue. Just before you passed the finish line, the wind outside picked up violently. A growl of thunder so big and close that it shook the room rolled by, followed by a strike of lightning before everything went dark.

You slapped your hands over your ears, eyes wide as you adjusted to the sudden darkness.

You felt Sero shift on the couch beside you. “Holy shit, that must have been right on top of us,” He said as you heard his hands patting around on the couch until one found your leg. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he asked, “You alright?”

Slowly you lowered your hands from your ears, grabbing the controller you had accidentally tossed to the side. “I’m fine, but that stupid storm took away my win!”

Sero let out a snort of disbelief as he grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight. “Glad to see your priorities are in order.”

“Don’t sass me,” You retorted, also turning on your phone light. “If you had been in first you would’ve said the same thing.” You got up from the couch with your light, pulling out some candles and a lighter.

Sero found a lantern from the hallway closet and set on the coffee table, turning on the switch to provide a little more illumination in the room. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“As I always am,” You replied sweetly.

“I don’t know if I’d say that.”

“Well that’s why I said it for you.” You finished lighting the candles, the room now dimly lit. “I wonder how long the power is going to be out for.”

Sero looked up from scrolling on his phone. “I was checking twitter and it sounds like one of the electrical transformers in the area got hit by that lightning. People are thinking it might be out all night.” You sighed in annoyance, plopping down on the couch next to him. At least we have plenty of candles. It wasn’t until you both sat there on your phones that you realized something. No power means no heater.

Within minutes of that realization you could feel yourself growing colder, shivering in time with the pounding of the rain outside. Even after you pulled out blankets for the two of you, you were just so cold.

Well, sharing body heat might help more, but…

You stole a glance over at your roommate, only to find him already looking at you. “...What is it?” You asked, slightly embarrassed to have been caught trying to look at him.

“You know, these blankets help with the cold, but if this storm keeps up all night and the power stays out, well-” He paused, pulling his blanket tighter around him. “Well uh, sharing body heat might be better.”

He actually said it! Your eyes widened at his statement, but you still found yourself nodding along. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Sero smiled at your agreement, and he shifted to open up a side of his blanket in a silent invitation. You unwrapped part of your own blanket as you scooted in, pressing right up against his side as he situated the two blankets around you. As you settled, you sighed in relief. “I finally feel like I’m not gonna freeze to death.” You slowly leaned your head against his shoulder, inhaling sharply at the butterflies fluttering in your stomach as he leaned his head on top of yours. A smile grew on your face as you felt Sero’s hand fumble to find yours. You intertwined your fingers with his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. With the storm raging on, you and Sero fell asleep in the quiet warmth shared between you.

#bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagine #sero #sero hanta #bnha sero #sero x reader #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta imagine #sero hanta headcanons #mha #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia headcanons #my hero academia sero

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years ago

Text

For the Flame Always So Loved the Stars - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Kara Kent, Clark Kent, Lois Lane Pairing: jondami Summary: Nothing stays the same forever. But fairytales always end the same way. A/N: This is just a whole fucking lot of self-indulgent garbage. Takes place over 5 years, Damian is 18-23, and Jon is 15-20. The last section is just their superhero way of saying ‘I love you and always will.’ but like. Subtly. I wrote this for myself, but I’m pleased with how it came out, so I hope you like it too. Sorry not sorry for literally the first line of this fic haha. The legend was googled so I took the most similar parts in all the wikis I read. I ignored the part where they all said ‘their story always ends in tragedy and betrayal’ but I’m going for happy endings dammit.

Dick Grayson died when Damian was eighteen.

He wasn’t there. No one from the family was. It was a simple carjacking gone wrong. A single bullet, straight to the chest, from a scared kid who thought completing the initiation to the local gang was his only option to survive in this life.

It was almost funny. A single bullet. No poison, no torture. No evil mastermind, or world-ending apocalypse. No battles against armies, or lives and loves at stake. Not anything they dealt with daily.

Just an old car with a purse left on the passenger seat that someone saw. Just a weak spot in aged armour that was going to be replaced in the next year or so.

Just a single bullet.

Damian doesn’t remember much from after he was told, after he came home from class and found his siblings and Stephanie waiting for him in the parlor. He remembered knowing it must have been bad; Tim’s face was blotchy, his eyes red-rimmed and he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Stephanie was the one who told him. Cassandra held his hand. But that was about it. That was all his mind supplied.

That, and the fact that his first thought after being told was: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Not fair because Dick was the best of them, in every way. Because he was funny, smart, kind, and every single thing a hero should be. A good person.

Not fair because Damian only got eight years with him, his closest confidante, one of his only friends. Because Damian decided at age ten that a world without Dick Grayson was not one he wanted to live in, and yet here he was, in the worst reality he could think of.

He doesn’t remember much from after he was told. He remembers Stephanie saying: “Dick died, Damian.” He remembers thinking: ‘But that’s not fair.’

Then...he remembers a pain in his knees. Remembers blinking and finding himself staring at the floor, which was much closer than it should have been. He remembers his sister kneeling in front of him, allowing him to press his forehead into her shoulder. Remembers Jason next to him, rubbing his back, asking if they should get him water, or take him upstairs.

He remembers hearing Tim sob, and that might be the most memorable thing of the moment, because his body registered that that’s what he wanted to do too, he wanted to cry.

But he couldn’t, because you don’t cry over things that weren’t real. And that’s obviously why he collapsed, why he couldn’t form words to come out of his mouth, why his mind was refusing to remember this moment.

Because it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

Jon was antsy. Nervous.

Alfred had called days ago to inform him and his parents what had happened. And Jon had already been halfway out the door when the butler interjected to request that none of them visit, not right now. The Waynes and their closest companions were grieving, and needed to be alone.

And he hated that – he hated being away from Damian on a good day, but now, when Damian was going to need him? It was pure agony.

So two weeks later, when Clark gave him the okay, he took off to Gotham faster than he ever had before, and bypassed every bit of security measures that Bruce asked him to complete upon arriving.

He found Damian in the cemetery, and he had a feeling it was a place Damian didn’t often leave anymore.

Jon said nothing as he approached. Just plopped next to Damian and silently wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. Damian didn’t say anything either, but he leaned gratefully into the embrace, reaching up to cling to Jon’s forearm.

“I’m so sorry.” Jon whispered, leaning back. He didn’t leave Damian’s personal space, though. Kept their shoulders touching, knees keeping each other warm. “I…I don’t know what else to say. To think.”

“Me neither.” Damian murmured. His voice sounded dry, and Jon wondered when he last drank anything, or ate. “But…I’m glad you’re here.”

Jon let himself smile a little bit, and reached out to hold Damian’s hand. Damian didn’t refute the gesture, and even squeezed Jon’s fingers between his. “I wish I’d had been allowed to come sooner.”

Damian shrugged. “It was better you didn’t see any of us as we…were.”

“Were, huh?” Jon asked dubiously. He glanced forward towards Dick’s grave. Flowers and statues covered it as a makeshift memorial, and the flowers were starting to wilt. “…How are you doing with all this?”

Damian absently shook his head. “I don’t…I don’t know.”

Jon waited, sensing there was more. Had a feeling that in their grief-induced isolation, not many feelings were shared amongst the Wayne family. That they probably all suffered in silence, despite being together.

“I…I didn’t get enough time with him.” Damian continued, just like Jon knew he would. Because Damian didn’t trust easily, but when he did, he trusted you with everything. And Jon knew he was one of the few Damian trusted. Maybe the only one, now. “Eight years. That’s it.”

He squeezed Jon’s hand again.

“If I’d had known that’s all we would have gotten, I…I wouldn’t have wasted it. There was so much I wanted to do with him. Learn from him.” Damian sniffed, and Jon looked up at his eyes. But he didn’t see a hint of tears. In fact, he saw nothing. Damian’s eyes were empty. “But now I’ll never get the chance. I’ll never get to ask how he escaped Father and Gotham. How he survived on his own, and found himself, or how can I do that too. How I can leave Robin, and start over somewhere else like he did. How he rebuilt his life, how he became and remained kind. Did he think it was possible I can remain kind too? Did he…did he believe in me? Or what about how…”

Damian trailed off, and Jon was almost glad he did. Because in his ramblings, Jon heard something, and he wasn’t so sure Damian meant to let it slip.

“You want to leave Robin?” Jon asked softly. Damian’s mouth clamped shut. “Since when?”

Damian stared at the stone in front of him for a moment, before sighing and looking at the ground.

“A few months.” Damian admitted. “I…just don’t fit in it anymore, I don’t think. Or it doesn’t fit me. And I can’t stay in Batman’s shadow forever, no matter who is wearing the mantle. Besides, Grayson left it when he was around my age. As did Drake, even if it wasn’t by his choice. I might as well follow the tradition as well.”

“…Does your dad know?”

“…No. No one does.” Damian frowned. “I was going to speak with Grayson about it next time I saw him, but now…now you’re the only one who knows by default, I suppose.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” Jon smiled. He waited a moment, then looked up at the sky. “So…what do you want to do after you leave Robin? Find a new name? Quit and go on the straight and narrow?”

“I don’t know. That’s…what I was going to speak to Grayson about.” Damian admitted softly. “I want to still help, of course. But…is behind a mask the best way? Is Gotham where I’m best utilized?” He sighed, and curled his knees to his chest. Though he never let go of Jon’s hand. “But now…now I am even more confused.”

“Why?”

“Because Batman needs a Robin, and I can’t leave my father now, Jon.” Damian almost snapped, like it was obvious. “He’s grieving, and he’s lost. He shouldn’t be alone. He shouldn’t be left alone.”

“Absolutely not. I agree.” Jon nodded. “But…it can’t all fall on you, D. Just like it can’t fall on Alfred or Tim. He has his family, no matter where in the world they – you – are, and he has his friends. He has my dad, and Diana.”

“This is different. This is the loss of Richard. And not even Superman can heal that wound.” Damian shook his head. “Not to mention…if I left now, would my father see it as a betrayal? Abandonment? Would the family?”

“They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.” Jon argued. “You’re growing up, and they all know how it is. You can’t be stuck as the Boy Wonder forever, that’s not fair to you. Does the timing kind of suck? Maybe. But also…maybe this is the best time.” He hesitated, but squeezed Damian’s hand and said his thoughts anyway. “Maybe this is exactly what Dick would want you to do. Spread your wings and fly, so to speak.”

Damian stared at the ground. “…I don’t know what I’m going to do without him, Jon. I truly don’t. What if, without his guidance, I’m tempted by my mother again, and actually consider any offer she makes? What if I stray, and Batman cuts me loose, like I was burden in the first place? What if-”

“Hey, hey – stop. Don’t talk like that.” Jon shook their clasped hands. “None of that is going to happen, okay? Despite the fact that it won’t ever happen at all in the first place, I won’t let it. I promise. Alright?”

Damian didn’t look at him. But after a moment, he let himself tilt to the side, and lean his head on Jon’s shoulder.

“…Thanks for being here, Kent.” Damian whispered. “It means a lot.”

Jon let go of Damian’s hand, only to wrap his arm around his shoulders instead. He looked at the tombstone at their feet, sent a silent prayer up to Dick himself. “Don’t even mention it, D.”

A few months later, Robin had all but disappeared off the streets. It prompted news articles and primetime specials. Conspiracy theory websites and Twitter hashtags.

Jon liked to print them out and bring them to Damian every time he visited.

He was still in Gotham, and even still going out on patrol with Batman and the rest. But now his uniform was all black, and he stayed in the background as much as he could. This new shadow of Batman’s was never mentioned in the papers, never caught in a photo. A ghost, almost.

That wasn’t Damian’s new moniker, though. He still hadn’t chosen one.

“Not even a general idea?” Jon asked one day, as he and Conner visited. Tim had taken the newly printed article and was reading it over with an amused smirk, Conner cackling behind him. “Or like, a motif?”

“Not a priority.” Damian had shrugged. “Maybe I’ll never pick one.”

“Now you’re just being stubborn.” Jon pouted. “…How’s Bruce doing?”

Damian shrugged again. “Same as always. Attempts to lock himself in the cave, or in his office with work from Wayne Enterprises. I drag him out of the house at least every other day.”

Jon pursed his lips.

“But he’s been smiling lately. Like real smiles. So, it’s a start.” Damian promised. He knew Jon didn’t like this, Damian caring for Bruce. Because he knew that same care was not being reciprocated in the way it should.

“How long are you going to stay?” Jon asked, as he did every visit. “In Gotham, I mean.”

“I don’t know. Also not a priority.” Damian sighed. “I’m needed here, both in uniform and at home. When I feel I’m not necessarily needed, then I’ll start considering my options elsewhere.”

Something felt different when Jon was nineteen.

Clark and Conner found him sitting in the kitchen, staring fiercely into a soda can when they arrived home one afternoon.

“Hey, champ.” Clark hummed, leaning down to kiss Jon’s temple.

“Hey, Dad. Hey Kon” Jon sighed. “How was Gotham?”

“Gloomy, like always.” Conner chuckled, plopping down across from him. “Damian said hello, by the way.”

Jon felt himself blush a little bit. And he shouldn’t have, he’s known Damian forever. But lately, it felt like the two of them were growing closer, in a way he never expected when they were just teenagers trying to live up to their fathers’ legacies.

In a way that included flirting, holding hands in a park, in front of paparazzi. A way that included what may have been a date, since it ended in a quick, barely there kiss.

“He said he was going to give an answer to a question he knows you’d ask.” Clark continued, drawing Jon out of his reverie. “No, he has not decided on a new codename yet.”

Jon groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “He knows this isn’t like a blood contract or something, right? It doesn’t have to be permanent! It’s not that big of a choice!”

Clark held his hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger, son.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jon sighed. He sat back up and watched his father grab a glass and start to fill it in the sink. “Speaking of codenames and all that…”

Clark tilted his head as Conner sat up.

“I don’t…when do you think…” Jon huffed. “Conner, when did you realize you didn’t want to…be called Superboy anymore?”

Conner pursed his lips, looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Guess I never really thought about it. Just…stopped using it. And eventually everyone else did too.”

“I don’t think I knew that.” Clark mumbled sheepishly. “What do you go by now, may I ask?”

“Nothing, really. And not like Damian where I’m still deciding something. But just…Kon, usually. Different enough from Conner, honestly.” Conner grinned. “A lot of people also seem to think it’s Con – as in Pros and Cons? Works real well for the taunting wordplay and all that too.”

Clark snorted. “I’m sure your friends love the puns.”

“Bart does. Cassie, depends on the day. Tim is like a disappointed dad all the time anyway, so he doesn’t count.” Conner waved off. He returned his attention to Jon, whose attention seemed to be drifting off again. “Why do you ask, squirt?”

Jon frowned at the name, and that was new. Normally he didn’t mind the random nicknames his older brother gave him. “Because…I don’t…I don’t know. I don’t think…I want to be called Superboy anymore.”

Clark joined them at the table, sitting down carefully. “Why not?”

“Because, I’m not a boy anymore. I’m a teenager. I mean, I’m…I’m practically an adult!” Jon sounded exasperated already, like he’d had this conversation a million times. “It’s…it’s demeaning, and childish, and…and…”

He trailed off into a huff, slumping in his chair.

“I don’t even know if I want to keep the Super part, honestly.” Jon glanced at Clark. “Sorry, Dad.”

Clark shook his head, raising his hand. “None taken, Jonno.”

“Especially since I don’t feel all that super most of the time anyway.” He sighed.

“…If you want out of the life, Jon, I wouldn’t blame you.” Clark offered. “I’d love it, honestly. It’d just mean you’d be safer.”

“No, no. I want to be a hero. I want to help. I just.” Jon leaned back forward, hiding his face in his hands. “This is stupid. I feel stupid.”

Conner smiled and leaned forward, slapping his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Not stupid. Pretty sure every hero has gone through it at least once in their tenure. Even Batman.”

“And he settled on Bat. Man.” Clark winked. “So obviously not all names are winners.”

Jon looked over to Clark. “…You’re not disappointed?”

“That you want a new codename? Not at all.” Clark grinned. “My only request is…don’t take over four years to decide something like Damian is.”

Jon smiled. “I’ll try.”

“Maybe I’ll just go by Krypto.” Jon lamented from the bed. “He’s a dog, so I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“If you started going by Krypto.” Damian countered from the bathroom doorway. “I’m disowning you as my friend.”

Jon rolled to his side, deeper into the blankets. “What about as your potential bedmate?”

Damian’s face twisted, even as he came forward. “Christ, Jon. We haven’t even done anything, how do you still make that sound so dirty?”

“Because I know what annoys you. And if you’d just let me say boyfriend-”

“Which we are not officially.” Damian countered. “…Yet.”

“-Then I wouldn’t have to say things like bedmate, or friend with benefits.”

“We haven’t done anything, there is no benefit for either of us at this point.” Damian reiterated, even as Jon tugged at his arm when he got close enough. Damian sat on the edge of the bed, and almost smiled when Jon shimmied over to place his head in his lap. “Though I am finding your company less beneficial by the minute…”

Jon cackled, even as he felt Damian’s fingers twist into his hair. “Hey, if nothing else, I’m a good cuddle buddy, right?”

“My cat is better.” Damian shrugged. “Probably.”

“I’ll take the probably as a win.” Jon grinned. “…But hey, think about it this way.”

“Hm?”

“Even if I went by something dumb like Krypto, at least I picked a new codename.”

Damian frowned, and pulled his hand back. “For as charming as your parents are, neither of them taught you how to flirt properly, did they?”

Jon immediately pulled his arms out of the blanket, latching on to Damian’s waist. “You hate when I sidetrack a conversation. I was getting back on point.”

“…Fair.” Damian sighed. “I’ll allow it.”

“…Are you any closer to picking anything?” Jon asked. “According to Barry, you’re throwing off everyone’s betting pools.”

“I...have an idea.” Damian murmured, keeping his gaze away from Jon’s. “But I still need to think of a backup.”

“What? Why?” Jon asked.

“…Personal reasons.” Damian murmured. “And I don’t wish to get my hopes up.”

Jon watched him silently.

“But we aren’t talking about me.” Damian countered. “Have you thought of any other suggestions for yourself?”

“I don’t know. Something related to my dad, like Krypton? Or even like your dad – he named himself after what he was scared of, right? Or weakness. So, Kryptonite.” Jon listed. “Or maybe I should just be lazy and follow everyone else’s lead. Starman, or Sunguy or something stupid like that.”

“Hm. Well. Those are certainly…options.” Damian tilted his head apologetically. “I’d offer assistance, but…well…”

Jon laughed.

“Be my distraction instead, how about that?” Jon suggested instead. Without warning, he used his momentum to throw Damian back onto the bed, cocoon him in the blankets as he loomed overhead. “Because there’s totally a lot of other things I’d like to be doing than thinking of new codenames.”

Damian smiled as Jon leaned in for a kiss.

He didn’t know how Damian had lasted four years without a name. It’d only been a few months for himself, a few months of not using any name, and he felt like he was going crazy.

He also felt like he was a total letdown.

He was a Kent, for crying out loud. Son of Superman and one of the world’s greatest journalists. And here, he couldn’t choose a name, couldn’t pick a damn word.

Not to mention, it was detrimental in the field. When he didn’t notice an enemy coming behind him, or someone needed his help – he had no name to be called. And they couldn’t just shout Jon.

How did Damian make it look so easy? Because Damian and his family were freaks. They all moved too in-sync, too well trained. They were like animals themselves – they didn’t need to speak, movement was like instinct. Communication could be silent, because all of them were always three steps ahead of each other.

He let out a guttural groan as he entered the apartment, slammed the door behind him a little too hard. Heard the squeak of the chair in his mother’s office as she stood to greet him.

“Hi honey.” She called, walking into the room. She took in the annoyance on his face and gave him a sympathetic, knowing grin. “It’s not the end of the world, Jon. Names aren’t that big of a deal. So long as you’re helping, who cares what your name is?”

“I know, I know.” Jon mumbled, kicking off his shoes. “I’m just frustrated. It shouldn’t be this hard! Why doesn’t anything feel right?”

“Because it’s not.” Lois shrugged simply, leading the way into the kitchen. She motioned for Jon to sit, and got out a mug for him. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. It might take a while, but – when you know, you know.”

Jon groaned again. “Mom, I love you – but that was literally no help whatsoever.”

“Sometimes, the truth isn’t helpful.” She laughed, pouring him a glass of ice tea. She set it in front of him, and kissed his head. “But if you’re really struggling with this…talk to your father. He’s helped a young hero or two discover a new path before. You’re no different just because you’re his son.” She paused. “In fact, I’m a little surprised Damian hadn’t told you.”

“Told me what?” Jon stomach nearly dropped. “Dad finally helped him decide on a name too?!”

“Of course not. Damian is as stubborn and tight-lipped as his own idiot of a father.” Lois rolled her eyes, but it was fond. “No, his brother – Dick.”

Jon blinked.

“Nightwing was a Kryptonian name. From the Kryptonian legend of Nightwing and Flamebird.” She hummed thoughtfully. “Even if you don’t want you father’s help on a name, ask him about the story. It’s very good.”

Tim found Damian in the cave alone, and his gut immediately told him that something was off. Not wrong, but…not necessarily good.

“Hey.” He offered. “What’s up?”

Damian didn’t move from the computer chair. He looked too much like Bruce in that moment – slouched, hands steepled in front of his face, looking too thoughtful for someone so young.

“I’d like to talk to you.” Damian returned, just as vaguely.

“I’m all ears.”

Damian hesitated a moment. Dragged it to two. Tim was about to speak, to push the conversation along, when Damian sighed. “I…we didn’t do it right last time. And I don’t want to make the same mistake twice. Not here. Not with you.”

“…Damian?” Tim asked, moving towards him. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“No, no. I just.” He sighed. “I wanted to ask your…opinion.”

“On?”

“I think I’ve chosen a new moniker to go by.” Damian murmured. “But I want to make sure I had permission first.”

“Permission?” Tim repeated, bewildered. “I mean…as long it’s not like Red Robin or Red Hood or something, I think you can go by whatever you wa-”

“Nightwing.”

Damian’s voice was so quiet when he said it, Tim almost thought he’d misheard, or that maybe Damian didn’t actually speak at all. That it was maybe a breeze, or a ghost.

But when Damian said nothing else, eyes still not on him, Tim realized he said exactly as he’d heard. “…Really?”

Damian nodded, but seemed to swallow a lump in his throat.

“I mean, those are quite some shoes to fill, especially after all these years, but…” Then Tim paused, replayed what Damian already said. “…Wait, why would you need my permission to use Dick’s old name?”

Damian still didn’t look at him. “Because last time I changed names, I took yours.” He frowned. “I stole yours.”

Tim shrugged. “It was over a decade ago. I know you and I have held a lot of grudges in our lives, but trust me. I’m over that one.”

“And I know Todd would never want Nightwing.” Damian continued as if Tim never spoke. “But…you were next in line. You loved Grayson like I did.” Finally, he looked up, eyes boring into Tim’s. “And you’d deserve it.”

Tim stepped back like someone had punched him in the chest. “Damian…”

“You do, and you know it.” Damian continued. “You’ve fought tooth and nail for respect in this family, for every title you’ve ever carried. You fought for your independence, and have thrived as Red Robin. In a way, you are everything Nightwing embodies, and you deserve the title most.” Damian’s gaze dropped once more. “And I don’t want to take that opportunity from you. Not like I’ve taken everything else from you too.”

Tim just stared.

“He would have chosen you himself. I know it. If he were…” Damian trailed off. Seemed to have to take a moment to compose himself. “…If he were still here.”

Tim lowered his own eyes at the thought. It’d been five years since their beloved older brother died. Despite what the world tried to say, time didn’t heal all wounds, and the loss of Dick Grayson was a wound that seemed almost infected now, especially for Damian.

The world was less without him. Less bright, less kind, less happy – less everything.

Just…less.

After a moment Tim smiled. Picked his head up and moved forward so he could crouch next to the chair, leaning his arms on it. Despite being twenty-three years old, Damian turned his head away so he didn’t have to look at Tim, just like a child.

“I don’t want Nightwing.” Tim said honestly. “I’m happy with where I am and what I’m doing. But I appreciate you asking. I’m…honored, in fact.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I guess.” Damian mumbled.

“But I have to say I disagree with you.” Tim leaned his chin on his arms. “Dick wouldn’t have picked me to succeed him. He wouldn’t have picked anyone. But he would have been so proud to see you take it on after him.”

Damian closed his eyes, sucked his lips between his teeth.

“Because, for once, I’ll toot my own horn a little bit. I won’t disagree with you on this one. Maybe I do deserve the Nightwing name.” Tim admitted. “But I’m not the only one.”

Damian didn’t answer, but shook his head.

“You do too, Damian.” Tim reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. “You’ve overcome so much. You’ve done so much. And Dick was proud of you for it until the day he died. I know he was.”

Damian opened his eyes and looked at Tim. The tears immediately fell down his cheeks.

“And he’d be honored, knowing you wanted to follow in his footsteps, and carry on his legacy, for a second time.” Tim chuckled. “Especially after your first words to us when you were a kid was how badly you wanted to be Batman.”

“One day I still will be.” Damian blubbered with a laugh. Tim laughed too.

“I know.” He hummed warmly. “But that was all a long, surprisingly emotionally-charged way to say: while it’s not mine to give, yes you have my permission to become Nightwing.”

Even as his tears continued to fall, Damian stared at Tim for a few more seconds, before leaning forward and, once again to Tim’s surprise, enveloped his older brother in a hug.

“Thank you, Drake.” He whispered. Tim just let his smile widen as he held Damian just as tightly back. “Thank you so much.”

“Tim told me Damian finally picked a new name.” Conner said one morning, as the two of them sat on a rooftop overlooking Metropolis. “…He also mentioned you two might be dating?”

Jon’s eyes widened slightly as he tried to keep his heart rate in check. Damian had told Tim?

“He hasn’t told me about choosing a name.” Jon said instead. “When did this supposedly happen?”

“The other day. Maybe he hasn’t made it official yet.” Conner shrugged. Then he grinned. “Though you’d think he’d tell his boyfriend about it anyway.”

Jon frowned. “We’re not dating.” A hesitation. “Officially.”

“Ooooh.” Conner mocked, scooting closer. “Tell me everything.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but laughed as he pushed Conner’s shoulder. “First off, not your business. And second, there’s nothing to tell? We hang out. We hold hands. We…do things.”

Conner wiggled his eyebrows.

“Stop.” Jon chuckled. “I just…like being with him. Being close to him makes me feel happy. Safe. All that cliché stuff.”

“Has he reciprocated?” Jon nodded. “Then why not official?”

“His choice. I think he feels like he’d be judged for having actual emotions or something.” Jon shrugged. “I also think he feels like he’s…not good enough? Or a bad person, or something, and is hoping I might find someone else before we’re legit.”

“Ouch.”

“It sucks, but…I get it.” Jon sighed. “And he just…has stuff going on. Mentally, I think.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we started flirting a little bit right before Dick died. So our whole relationship so far, romantically, he’s trying to deal with the loss, with the vacuum that loss created in his family, and growing in his role as a hero.” Jon listed. “He’s stuck in his own head so much that honestly I’m just happy when I can get him to smile some days.”

“That’s sweet.” Conner grinned. “And proof you’re head over heels.”

“I mean…did I ever deny that?” Jon grinned back, but it was sad. Conner’s own smile fell slightly.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Jon exhaled a bitter laugh. “That obvious?”

“Does he know?”

“I think so?” Jon thought out loud. “And I think that’s why he thinks himself such a terrible person.”

“Because he doesn’t love you back?”

“No, no. I think he absolutely does.” Jon said confidently. “It’s just like I said – he thinks himself as a bad person, and that I deserve better.”

“That’s…” Conner pursed his lips. “…quite the conundrum.”

“Yeah.” Jon smiled wistfully. “But anyway, the name. Did Tim say what name he chose?”

“Nope.” Conner kicked his feet against the building. “Tim said it was incredibly personal, and he wasn’t the one to share it.”

“Interesting.” Jon muttered. “Wonder what it could be?”

He was twenty, very much an adult, but oh boy, did he feel like a rebellious teenager right now.

After all, how else were you supposed to feel when you and your not-quite-boyfriend were lying almost naked, cuddled up in your parents’ bed?

Somewhere in his mind he was panicking. If – when – they found out, he was doomed. He’d never live it down.

(But at the same time, it was also totally not his fault. Their apartment was closer to downtown than his was, and the room he still had here only had a single bed. There was no way they’d fit. And since his father was in space and his mother in the Philippines, the bed would have just gone to waste being empty, so…)

Though, simultaneously, any fear of repercussions was drowned out by the utter bliss he felt at being cocooned in Damian’s arms, and using his collarbone as a pillow while they watched the nightly news.

Under his ear, he felt Damian’s heartbeat slowing, a clear sign he was falling asleep. So it was the perfect time to ask:

“I hear you picked a new codename.”

Damian stirred a little and hummed, “Yeah.”

“What name did you pick, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Damian hesitated a moment, then whispered, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Never.”

“…Nightwing.” Damian answered sheepishly. Quietly, like he wasn’t allowed to say it. “I…decided to carry on Grayson’s legacy.”

Jon turned and looked up at him. Without thinking he cupped Damian’s cheek in his hand. “Oh, Damian, that’s wonderful.” Damian kept his gaze over Jon’s shoulder, face heating up in an embarrassed flush. “He’d love it, he’d be so happy.” He stroked his thumb across Damian’s skin. “I’m so proud of you.”

Damian snorted. “Nothing to be proud of. It took me five years to pick a name someone had already used.”

“For good reason.” Jon countered. “And an homage to a great man.”

Damian allowed himself to look at Jon now. He stared at him for a moment, taking in his face, then carefully took hold of Jon’s wrist, and leaned in for a kiss, which Jon ate up greedily.

After a moment, they separated, and Jon twisted back to stare at the TV, Damian’s arms still tight around him.

“…What about you?” Damian asked softly. “Any ideas?”

“I don’t know. Superdude is sounding better and better every day.” Jon said dryly. “But I guess I haven’t really been thinking about it either. Been focused on some other more important things lately.”

“Oh? Like what? School?”

Jon grinned, kept his eyes on the weather report now lighting up the room.

“You.”

Damian didn’t answer, but Jon felt him gently kiss his temple, and lean their heads together.

“Mom said I should ask my dad.” Jon hummed as he paid for their coffee. “But we haven’t seen each other in a while, and you know more about Krypton and all that stuff than he does, you know?”

“Sure.” Kara smiled, taking her cup from his hand. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re so interested in some old Kryptonian legend?”

“Just curiosity, mostly.” Jon shrugged. “Dad helped Dick Grayson become Nightwing back in the day, and now that Damian is taking the title on, I figured I should learn a little bit about it myself.”

“To support your future husband?” Kara smirked.

“Stop.” Jon groaned. “I should have never told Conner the truth.”

“I’m just glad to know you’re happy.” Kara squeezed his hand as they walked outside. “And also that I now have a viable reason to beat Damian up.”

“And that reason would be?”

“For the honor of my littlest cousin.” She winked. Jon found himself laughing. “Thanks for walking me back to the office, by the way. I’m sorry we couldn’t have lunch today.”

“I totally understand. I have to get back to campus for class soon anyway.” Jon waved off. “Rain check for a movie night, though?”

“Absolutely. Go buy a lot of tissues, wine and chocolate, because I am in the mood for some tearjerkers.” Kara demanded. “And…Damian is more than welcome to join us, if he’d like.”

“He’d never.” Jon promised as they jogged across a crosswalk. “But he’ll appreciate the invite.”

“Are you just saying that, or would he really?”

“Honestly, he really would.” Jon swore. “He’s trying not to take little things like that for granted anymore. Not since…well. You know.”

Kara frowned. “…I miss him too.”

“Everyone does.” Jon murmured as they stopped outside a building. Some people waved to Kara as they exited and jumped into a taxi nearby. “He was the best of all of us.”

“Give Damian my regards, and a hug for me. Tell him I’m sorry about Dick, if you think it’s appropriate.” Kara murmured as she turned to her purse, and began digging in it. After a moment, she held out a book. It looked old, and pages were misshaped, almost like they’d been gnawed on, or burned. “First, last and only edition.”

Jon took the tome, marveling at the etched green cover, and symbols seemingly floating around the image. But then he frowned. “Kara.” He sighed. “You know my Kryptonian isn’t that good.”

“Well then this will be a great tool to learn.” She smiled, squeezing his bicep. Someone suddenly called Kara from the door. She smiled and waved back before glancing to Jon. “Gotta go, kiddo. It was great seeing you! Tell your pops hi for me!”

She turned, and began to jog away, when Jon called after her. “Kara, wait!”

She did, glancing over her shoulder.

“Give me a quick summary?” He tried with a lopsided grin. “You know, to keep me interested?”

Kara twisted her lips in thought, then smiled. “Nightwing and Flamebird always find each other in the end.”

She took a sip of her coffee and disappeared into her office.

By two o’clock in the morning that very night, Jon sat at the desk in his apartment, tears pouring down his face.

The legend was magical, breathtaking, awe-inspiring…but heartbreaking. The most heartbreaking thing he’d ever read.

But it also made him realize exactly what he needed to do. Exactly what his future was.

Exactly who his future was.

Without thinking, he wiped the tears from his eyes, and laughed as he stood, turning towards his window.

It would be a quick flight to Gotham, and surely Alfred was still awake at this hour.

Damian stood on the top of Wayne Tower, staring at the city below him. The city he’d come to think of as home. The city that was…his.

He felt weird without the cape, without the hood. Was still getting used to the tight, plain bodysuit. The lighter armour. The dip of red across his chest.

He could take Grayson’s name, but he could never take his colors. That blue was too pure. Damian refused to taint it.

He inhaled and held his breath, then exhaled slowly. It was his first night in his new gear – would the villains know who he was? Would they mock him? Could he live up to his brother’s standards? Would he honor his memory?

“Damn.” He heard off to his side. “You look good.”

Damian glanced over, and found himself at a loss for words. The other man was in a similarly simple bodysuit, though instead of black, it was a deep blue. Opposite of the downward red arrow on Damian’s chest, the bright, near-blinding golden arrow on the other pointed upwards, almost looking like a phoenix rising from the ashes.

Damian stared for a moment, taking it in, before meeting Jon’s eyes. “This is new.”

“You like?” Jon asked, practically shy. “Alfred helped me make it.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm.” Jon stepped forwards. His boots, which matched the shimmering yellow on his chest, seemed to flicker as he walked, like fire. “I mean, he helped make yours, and it’s only natural our designs match a little bit.”

“Why would they need to match?” Damian asked. Then he squinted. “Jonathan Kent, have you chosen a new moniker?”

“I did indeed.” Jon grinned. “Surely Dick told you how he got his name.”

“He did.”

“Did he tell you the story behind it?”

“He did not. But I’ve heard of it.” Damian found his voice going quieter, his throat drying up. “Your father told me, I believe.”

“Mhm.” Jon reached out, gently taking Damian’s hand in his, raising it between them. “And do you remember how it goes?”

Damian blinked, then smiled. “Refresh my memory.”

“Nightwing can’t exist without Flamebird.” Jon smirked. He pressed his lips to Damian’s knuckles. “And no matter the universe, no matter the situation, they always find each other in the end.”

“…Well, Flamebird.” Damian whispered softly. “I’m glad you found me.”

“I’m glad you found me too.” Jon stood back up. “Ready for our first official patrol in the new digs? Say goodbye to Robin and Superboy forever?”

“Do you want to call it our first official patrol?” Damian let his grin widen. “Or perhaps our first official date?”

Jon gaped at him, eyes wide and hopeful. “For real?”

“For real.” Damian promised. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting-”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Jon surged forward, wrapping him in his arms and lifting him off the tower’s ledge as he smashed their mouths together. Damian let his surprise linger for only a second, before grabbing both sides of Jon’s head and returning the gesture.

The moment felt like it lasted both an eternity and no longer than a blink. When they parted, they were both out of breath, and trembling from the emotional adrenaline.

“Flamebird.” Damian breathed as Jon lowered him, his hands still on Jon’s face. “I think I like it.”

“Good. Because I didn’t have any backups.” Jon chuckled.

“It suits you, I think.” Damian smiled.

“Nightwing suits you just as well.” Jon countered. “…Dick would be so proud.”

Damian just lowered his gaze, but allowed himself to keep smiling.

“…Well.” Damian exhaled, looking out into the city. “Shall we?”

Jon bowed, holding his arm out. “After you, ‘Wing.”

Damian laughed and turned, stepping off the building and allowing himself to freefall. “Follow me, ‘Bird.”

Jon smiled, and jumped right after him.

#jon kent #Damian Wayne #jondami #Tim Drake #conner kent #kara zor-el #clark kent #Lois Lane

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yoontopia · 5 years ago

Text

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘁𝗵 𝗽𝘁.𝟮 | 𝗺𝘆𝗴

pairing: min yoongi x reader; genre: fluff; words: 2k (lol what was i thinking)

warnings: none!

prompt: “Stay with me” + “Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything” based off this prompt list. requests are OPEN!

Read Part One

You tried to focus on the work in front of you. It was a regular Tuesday afternoon at the office and your surroundings were quiet – the whirring of the photocopy machine in the background acting as white noise. Staring daggers at the spreadsheets in front of you, your brain refused to absorb any of the information. Your ears were tuned into the humming of a muted rap coming from the cubicle next to you, and a sound that you usually managed to ignore was somehow the one reason you couldn’t focus today.

Ever since a couple weeks ago, when your usually noisy and annoying work neighbour had offered you a hot drink and his spare clothes, you couldn’t get him out of your head. It was after a particularly bad day, what with you being dumped over a text and then ending up getting soaked in the pouring rain. Min Yoongi had gone from being someone you despised to someone you were now constantly thinking about at work.

‘All because he was nice to you once,’ you berated yourself mentally. How pathetic were you? To let one kind gesture affect you like this? Although, to be fair, Yoongi’s incessant teasing had significantly decreased over the past couple weeks. He was almost nice to you – he still joked and teased you, but it was now in the form of cheerful workplace banter and you found yourself not minding it one bit. And as if that was not the worst part, you had started to notice the little things you had somehow overlooked before.

Like how Min Yoongi was actually a very handsome man.

Letting your forehead hit your desk, you let out a light groan. Tapping your feet angrily on the floor you sighed.

“You okay there, squirt? You sound like you’re in pain.” a voice piped up and you lifted your head slightly to see the dyed white blonde of Yoongi’s head poking into your cubicle. One earphone still in, the other hanging down his chest, he had his eyebrows raised as he looked at you. You hated how cute his scrunched-up nose was.

“Yeah, m’fine,” you mumbled, waving a hand weakly at him. The last thing you wanted was for Yoongi to read your mind, he was weirdly good at doing just that. Yoongi looked at you disbelievingly, but he changed the subject.

“You coming tonight?” he asked. You tilted your head, so your cheek was resting on your desk instead, facing him. That’s right, tonight was the monthly work social. The human resources department, in desperate attempt to increase inter-work bonding, had arranged these. The email reminder you’d received yesterday stated that this week it would be laser tag. You usually passed up on these events, not really being too friendly with anyone you worked with.

“I don’t think I will.” You told Yoongi, hoping he’d drop the subject. Was that a flicker of disappointment on his face?

“Well you should,” he said instead, returning his focus to his own computer and typing away. “It’ll be fun and then I’ll have someone to show off my skills to.”

“Skills?” you snickered. The typing sounds stopped and Yoongi’s head reappeared outside his cubicle.

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I am extremely talented at laser tag,” He stated, mock offended. “I’ll buy you a beer so you can come, and I can prove it to you.”

“Damn you really want me there to show off your skills,” you said, chuckling, pushing yourself off your chair in order to go make some coffee. When Yoongi didn’t answer you looked back at him. He was looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Of course, I want you to come, it’s not fun otherwise,” he mumbled, his face unreadable. You blinked, your heart picking up its pace. What did he mean by that?

“Fine, if you insist, I guess I can stop by,” You said softly, playing with a strand of your hair. His face visibly brightened at that, making your heart flutter when he shot you a particularly wide gummy grin. “Do you want some coffee? Black right?” His smile faded again as he looked at you, expression unreadable once more. You desperately wondered what that look meant and a petty side of you wondered if he looked at other women like that too.

“Yeah, thanks, I’d love some.”

You stared at the meeting spot for the social in disbelief. It was a bar. You double checked the email on your phone to make sure this was a place, but you didn’t need to, since you heard your name being called. Looking up, you grinned at perhaps the one person you knew slightly well at work.

Jung Hoseok made his way over to you, brown hair curling, and his signature wide smile on his face. Hoseok worked in human resources, and you had a sneaky suspicion that laser tag had somehow been his idea.

“You came!” he yelled over the loud music.

“I thought we’re supposed to go to laser tag,” you responded jovially. Hoseok made anyone around him feel comfortable, and it was hard not to be friendly.

“We’re going after this,” he grinned, raising the bottle in his hand at you.

“Drunk laser tag? Really Hobi?”

“Please the place is full of like, ten-year olds, we need that extra kick,” You laughed at that and accompanied him to the bar to order yourself a drink. “How come you’re actually here though? Didn’t think this was your scene.”

Your fingers clasped around the cold bottle of Blue Moon that the bartender set down in front of you.

“Min Yoongi made me.”

“Min Yoongi – as in – the Min Yoongi in your department Min Yoongi?” Hoseok stuttered. “The one you got into a yelling match with at the Christmas formal two years ago?”

“Yes, the very same,” you sighed. “Where is he anyway?”

“Excited to see him, are we?” Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You scowled and flipped him off, but he only laughed good-naturedly.

The rest of your time at the bar was spent with Hoseok, Yoongi nowhere in sight. Trying to hide your disappointment, you laughed at all of Hoseok’s jokes and forced him to show you pictures of his dog. What felt like an eternity later, Hoseok said it was time to head to laser tag. Downing your second beer of the night you eyed the boy next to you.

“I’m gonna go round up everyone – wait for me by the doors?” he said before scampering off to go find others from your company. You slapped a few bills on the bar and made your way to the exit. Not wanting to look lonely, you fished out your phone and scrolled through twitter. Not for the first time you mentally berated yourself for not being more social.

“Hey, you,” a familiar voice said, and you looked up. Yoongi stood there, dressed in what you could only call a stark contrast from his usual semi-formal work attire. A cream baggy t-shirt, and ripped black jeans complete with a leather jacket. His ears glittered with multiple earrings, dangling every time he moved his head. His platinum hair shined in the lighting. You blinked at him, dumbfounded, trying not to hover over the fact that his gaze gave you once over. You hoped your casual sweater and jeans were up to standard. “How’s it going?”

You blinked again. You’d never known Yoongi to be the type to make awkward conversation openers. But you played along.

“Waiting for Hoseok so we can head down,” you answered, putting your phone away. Yoongi pursed his lips. “Where were you anyway? I arrived ages ago.”

“With the guys,” Yoongi gestured to a group of people you weren’t familiar with. When had he made friends at work? He had seemed even more anti-social than you, but you had assumed wrong. “I saw you with Hobi and didn’t want to interrupt.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, you heard your name being called for the second time. Looking up, you felt your stomach drop – but not in the fuzzy way it had when Yoongi had arrived.

Your ex-boyfriend stood there, looking surprised. It seemed he’d just arrived.

“It is you!” he said and made his way over. You gulped. “How have you been?” Your tongue felt tied, but you couldn’t help the burning anger that was bubbling up inside you. Yoongi must have sensed your change in mood.

“Hey man, I’m Yoongi.” He said casually, sticking out a hand.

“Hansol,” your ex said, taking it, a questioning look in his eyes. “Are you two--?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi replied casually and you whipped your head to look at him. His face didn’t betray anything. “We are. Let’s go,” he said, the latter part of his sentence addressing you. He grabbed you by the elbow and began dragging you out before you could say anything.

Once you were outside you huffed, pulling yourself out of his grip.

“I could have handled that,” you said angrily. “I’m not a damsel.” Yoongi shrugged.

“That’s him, right?” he asked, and you raised your eyebrows. “The reason you arrived soaked to the core that day.”

“How did you know?”

“Your expression,” he shrugged again. “Haven’t seen it since that day, he must be some scumbag.”

“You still didn’t need to do that,” you said, although your anger was fast dissipating. “I wanted to tell him off.”

“Well,” he said. “Do it. Yell, scream. Say something – anything. I’ll listen.”

“I’m not going to scream at you,” you huffed. Yoongi flashed you a crooked smile.

“Don’t take your anger out on people that don’t deserve it,” he said sagely. “But you also need to let it out at some point.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked abruptly. You assumed the alcohol in your system had given you the courage you needed to voice the question that had been plaguing your mind. “You weren’t before.”

“Ah,” he mumbled, scratching his ear nervously. “I’m sorry if I came off as mean. My brother told me that I was going about it the wrong way, but I think it was just a defense mechanism to tease you incessantly. Doesn’t make it ok though.”

“Going about what wrong?” He stared down at you; lips pursed.

“I’ve had a massive crush on you pretty much since I started working,” He said, his voice quiet. Your ears were ringing and suddenly your hands were feeling warm. “And I didn’t know what to do about it – and then I waited too long, and you had a boyfriend.”

“Hansol and I weren’t even serious,” you whispered.

“How was I to know that?” He stared nervously at you. “Have I made you uncomfortable? I could leave—”

“No,” you said, your voice still hushed. “Stay with me.”

Yoongi froze, hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket. You smiled shyly up at him. Before you could say anything else, he was leaning in, his hands coming out to cup your cheeks, tilting your face up.

His lips were soft and tasted like rum. The kiss was full of hesitation, but when you reached out to fist your hands on either side of his jacket and opened up to him, you felt him lean in, hands traveling to your head, fingers gently sifting through your hair. You could stand here all day getting drunk off Yoongi if it wasn’t for the rude interruption that came not seconds later.

“And what do we have here?” Hoseok’s coy voice sounded, surrounded by a few people from work who were emerging out of the bar, and you jumped. It seemed Yoongi was caught off guard too, for he let you go quicker than lightening.

“Shut up Hoseok,” you hissed, your ears going warm. Hoseok grinned as he moved his gaze along from you to Yoongi, who seemed to be suddenly very interested in the night sky. You reached out to hook your fingers through Yoongi’s, much to his surprise, and smiled when you felt his grip tighten around you.

“Don’t get left behind,” Hoseok said slyly as he turned and walked down the street. You groaned loudly and Yoongi laughed, a tinkling, delighted sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“I live just around the corner actually,” he coughed. “You wanna ditch?”

“I thought you wanted to show off your laser tag skills.”

“Are you kidding? I only said that to try and get you to come. I’m not about to get beaten in a virtual game by preteens in front of the girl I like.” He was smiling his full gummy smile down at you, and dazedly you thought you could get used to this.

#min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fluff #min yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #yoongi #myg #writings

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littlepanduh-writes-365 · 4 years ago

Text

Day 51

Title: “Half-Asleep”

Description: Heejin and Hyunjin talk before going to bed.

Prompt: “I know this is cheesy, but I love when you’re half asleep and you’re talking nonsense.”

Features: 2jin (Loona)

HOW HAVE I NOT POSTED 2JIN? THEY ARE MY FAVORITE SOFT SHIP.

Word Count: 1,360

Tags: Fluff

Heejin is not Hyunjin’s first girlfriend, nor is she her first love. However, despite dating for 6 months, there are many moments when she catches her puppy love for Heejin. It’s a rather odd feeling, but it’s warm and it simply makes her happy. Maybe it’s not a bad sentiment, but Hyunjin really thought she’d stop having these kinds of emotions a long time ago.

Puppy love. Hyunjin likes to give the excuse that Heejin looks like a puppy, but she really doesn’t know why Heejin makes her feel like a high-schooler falling in love for the first time. It’s crazy how just holding her makes her heart flutter and the smell of her shampoo causes her cheeks to turn pink.

Tonight contained one of those tender moments.

It’s nothing special. The two are just cuddling after a long night. Heejin had a midterm in the morning and Hyunjin had a long shift in the afternoon. They reconvened at dance practice that night and now they’re exhausted.

Heejin wants to catch up on lost time. She’s been ignoring Hyunjin since the sight of her girlfriend makes her want to ridicule her in some way and Hyunjin never lets her down without a fight. In a softer sense, Hyunjin also has her persuasive ways of getting Heejin to go to sleep early, so she’s spent late nights at the library.

Now, Heejin doesn’t have to hold back. She’s in Hyunjin’s arms, clutching onto that flannel shirt she hates and dozing off to the waves of Hyunjin’s breathing. The only light in the room is coming from the moon through the blinds. Conversation is low. Both of them were more than ready to pass out, but Heejin was eager to have conversation.

“And then I told Haseul-unnie.” There’s some muffled words. “I loved the smell of the ocean, you know?” Heejin says a few more jumbled words. Hyunjin wastes energy trying to decipher it. “I’ve always wanted to eat pizza by the river. It’s not the ocean, but it at least smells like water. It doesn’t smell good, but you know what I mean.”

No, Hyunjin doesn’t know what she means, but she’ll try to keep that in the back of her head. Throughout the six months they’ve been dating, Hyunjin has learned that Heejin partially sleeptalks.

It started when they were doing long distance over the summer. They’d video chat with each other until they fell asleep. Heejin insisted she’d stay awake because she thinks the sight of Hyunjin falling asleep was cute. However, Hyunjin would always wake up when Heejin was spewing nonsense with closed eyes and a face half-sunken into a pillow.

The topics were always anime-related or something on Heejin’s mind, specifically things she likes. Through her sleep-talking, Hyunjin learned the chord progression to Heejin’s favorite song, her favorite brand of clothing, and how she hates pigeons. Hyunjin has no idea how any of this information will benefit her anytime soon, but the idea of knowing trivial facts about Heejin seems very endearing.

“Now that I think about it, I think Haseul-unnie and Sooyoung-unnie are suspiciously close. What do you think, Hyun? If they get together, we should double date with them. How about playing DDR at the market? That sounds like fun.”

Ocean smells. Pizza by the river. Double dates. Dance Dance Revolution. Night at the market.

Actually, tonight was more beneficial than usual. Maybe Heejin really wants to go on a date. Hyunjin likes the idea of that. They can go to the night market on Friday night. Heejin always looks pretty under the city lights. It’ll be cold and Hyunjin can give her jacket or they can share warmth by holding hands. What food does Heejin want? It doesn’t matter. She’ll just get two things that Heejin suggests and they’ll share.

They’ll have to save the double date, the river date, and the arcade for another time. Hyunjin wants Heejin all to herself this weekend.

Oh wait.

Another time.

How much time does Hyunjin have with Heejin?

Hopefully, a long time.

Heejin probably likes that, too.

There are those butterflies again. How does the thought of a long time make Hyunjin giddy and why is she thinking of the unrealistic forever? She doesn’t care and maybe it’s stupid and dangerous, but it makes her happy and she’d like to think Heejin feels the same. Hyunjin is glad Heejin’s eyes are probably closed because she’d for sure tease her for the rosy cheeks.

The girl living in her heart rent-free distracts her. “What are you smiling about Kim Hyunjin? I didn’t even get to the punchline.”

Hyunjin quietly snorts. Was Heejin telling a joke? Nothing Heejin was saying even made sense. In fact, she was sure her girlfriend was about to fall asleep with how she’s speaking with slow and slurred words.

For a second, Hyunjin is a little self-conscious of how close they were—the way that Heejin could feel her smiling and it woke her up from any stupor. Her stomach churns thinking about how comfortably intimate they were.

“It’s nothing.” Her cheeks are hurting from smiling, but the amount of serotonin rushing through her body wouldn’t stop. (It’s not like she wanted it to stop anyways.)

Heejin lazily pinches her side, causing Hyunjin to pull away and grab Heejin’s hands.

“Heekkie!” She lets out a giggle before loosening her grip.

The owner of the nickname also lets out a low chuckle. “Just tell me.” The whine sounds like it was supposed to be paired with a teasing pout, but Heejin also has a goofy grin on her face. “I bet it’s not that cheesy. You’re too wise, like Eric.”

Hyunjin blinks a few times. She can’t decide if she wants to figure out who this Eric person is or just let Heejin begin her half-sleep-talking again.

Heejin answers her question. “You know? From Full Metal Alchemist? The guy with the mechanical arm?”

Upon realizing Heejin was talking about an anime character, Hyunjin huffs out some air. Elric not Eric. “Edward.”

The smaller girl just tightens her grip on their interlocked hands and she smiles. “Yeah. That dude.”

Hyunjin just tucks Heejin closer to her. “No, but this is cheesy,” she chuckles. There is a pregnant pause between the two, so Hyunjin decides to concede. “I don’t know. I just— I love when you’re half asleep and you’re talking nonsense.”

There’s silence between the two and Hyunjin’s slightly convinced that Heejin did fall asleep.

She’s about to sigh in relief, until Heejin slips away from below her and turns her back towards her. Hyunjin is completely flustered at the reaction. Did she say something wrong?

“Who are you and what have you done to my girlfriend?” Heejin clutches onto the blanket. She doesn’t want to show that she was equally affected by the puppy love even though it was really obvious.

This was their way of showing affection: making a joke out of it and shrugging it off. Hyunjin was supposed to be offended by it, but she wanted to tease Heejin a little more.

She scoots closer to her and puts her hands around her stomach. Heejin tries to wiggle her way out of it, but Hyunjin knows Heejin likes it.

Hyunjin leans in closer to her ear. “It’s not my fault you’re so cute.”

It’s almost laughable at how visible her ears turn red. Hyunjin makes note to take advantage of that response in the future, but for now, she knows both of them are tired and they have class tomorrow.

Heejin cannot muster up a response and lets out a whine. Hyunjin recognizes the annoyance and loosens her grip as she closes her eyes and gets a whiff of Heejin’s shampoo again.

It’s quiet and Hyunjin can feel herself sinking deeper into the bed, but Heejin turns around again. With heavy lids, Hyunjin opens her eyes, thinking Heejin would be staring at her, but Heejin was attempting to get back to her favorite position in the crook of Hyunjin’s neck.

Hyunjin pulls her closer and adjusts her head so Heejin could be comfortable. Within a few more breaths, the couple falls asleep.

------------

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#needed to post this after the angst i just posted lol #fluff is great #seriously how have i not posted 2jin i love them so much #anways #sof #littlepanduh #365 Challenge #2jin #loona #heejin #hyunjin #loona fanfic #loona fanfiction #loona fanfictions

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apharine · 4 years ago

Text

Sightseeing

Chapter 2

Pairing: Siane x Nanu

Fandom: Pokemon

Rating: T

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

My writing commission info!

Summary: Siane hadn't meant to wind up in Alola, under Nanu's care, while she recovered from a mysterious illness that left her prone to weakness and collapsing. But now that she's here and getting stronger, she wants to see more of Ula'ula than just the rainy skies and the Po Town wall by Nanu's police station. And who could be better suited to give her a tour than the Kahuna of the island himself?

Notes: Siane is the wonderful HybridDragoness’ OC and she is amazing! This fic is a commission for Hybrid and I’m honestly so honored to have been able to write for Siane and Nanu bc I love them so much! Hybrid is a really talented artist and you can find her art of Siane here! You can also find Hybrid on Twitter and AO3 under the same handle as on Tumblr!

_____________________

“That was brilliant,” Siane declares, hopping off the Charizard’s saddle. “Thank you so much! You were amazing! And the saddle really was helpful,” Siane adds, hopping around to give the Charizard a gentle pet on the snout.

“Here,” Nanu says, fishing some Poke Beans out of his pocket. “You can give him a couple as thanks. Not too many, though,” he adds, handing them over to Siane. Truthfully, his heart had been hammering out of his chest the entire time Siane had been flying on Charizard’s back. The fear that something might go wrong and she might lose her grip, or pass out and fall, had been forefront in his mind the entire time, and he’d urged Honchkrow to fly as close to Charizard as possible. As if he could catch her if something went wrong, he thinks to himself, then pushes the morbid thought aside. Siane’s okay, and that’s what matters.

“Thank you so much,” Siane says, holding her hand out flat with the Pokebeans on top of it. The Charizard nibbles them up, then taps her with its nose affectionately. “Have a good rest of your workday, okay?”

“Char,” the Ride Pager Pokemon agrees, then turns to take off to go to its next job.

“That was the first time I’ve flown in…I don’t know how long,” Siane says, turning around to grin at Nanu. Her hair is a little wild from the wind and altitude, but she looks absolutely radiant. If that’s how passionate one little flight could make her, Nanu thinks it’s no surprise that she decided to specialize in Flying type Pokemon. “It felt amazing.” Still smiling, Siane turns to take in the cityscape around her. “So, this is Malie City, huh?” She muses, drifting towards one of the great gates that mark the start of the main street.

“The one and only,” Nanu says, a little swell of pride bubbling up in his chest.

“The architecture is really cool here,” Siane agrees, touching the cool stone of the gate.

“Glad you think so, girl,” Nanu says, taking a couple steps closer to her. Was it just his imagination, or had she been a little wobbly on that step just then?

“You said this city’s on the ocean?” Siane prompts, a curious look on her face as she looks around.

“Yeah. You’ll have to make it down the main street a ways,” Nanu says, eyeing her appraisingly. The look flares something up in Siane, though, and she sucks in a deep breath, puffing her chest out a little.

“That’s not gonna be a problem,” she says confidently. Nanu chuckles.

“Glad to hear it. Let me give you the tour along the way, then. There’s a lot to see in the city,” Nanu says, taking a tentative step down the road. To his relief, Siane follows and lingers close to him as she walks.

Nanu points out some of the major shops and landmarks as the two of them walk by, including the glittering Malie Library and, in the distance, the Kantonian Gym.

“It’s lovely,” Siane breathes, taking in the structure.

“Hey, my favorite restaurant is actually coming up soon. They specialize in really high-end sushi…that sound like the sort of thing you might like?” Nanu asks, quirking one eyebrow in Siane’s direction.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Siane agrees. “I can pay for my half.”

To her surprise, Nanu waves her off quickly.

“Don’t worry about that, Siane,” he grumbles.

“It’s really fine,” she insists. Nanu frowns for a moment, then slows his pace until he’s paused in his tracks entirely. Siane stops beside him; she thinks she’s doing a good job of concealing the confusion on her face, but Nanu can see through her facade easily.

“This place…isn’t cheap,” he says carefully. “I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I wasn’t okay with paying your half.”

“What do you mean by not cheap?” Siane asks pointedly.

“I mean…it’s probably the most expensive restaurant in the region. They don’t usually do takeout, but Sensei knows me pretty well by now, so I figure they might make an exception for me,” Nanu says with a shrug, trying to play it cool. It doesn’t work particularly well, though, and he watches as nearly every emotion in the book passes over Siane’s face. The most expensive restaurant in the region…by the looks of some of these amazingly dazzling buildings, Siane figures that probably means that a single meal cost more than an entire year of groceries for herself typically would.

“I - I don’t usually…do expensive things. It - things weren’t like that for me over in Aedis,” Siane finally says. Nanu waits for her to elaborate, but when she doesn’t continue, he finally speaks up.

“Well - we don’t have to eat there, if it makes you uncomfortable,” he concedes. “But if you did want to try something really nice for once…I’d be happy to treat you.” Even he’s a little surprised by how much he allows his voice to soften as he says the words, and he watches Siane’s eyes widen a little - whether at his tone or the offer, or both, he can’t tell for certain.

“Um, well,” Siane stammers, clearly thinking a mile a minute. “Maybe…just once?”

Nanu smiles and nods and begins to walk again, checking over his shoulder to make sure that Siane is coming along as well. She’s staying close - good.

“You wanna stop and grab our food before or after seeing the ocean around Ula’ula?” Nanu asks, though he’s pretty sure he already knows what the answer will be.

“Ocean first,” Siane beams, and Nanu feels his smile grow just a little more.

***

“It’s so warm,” Siane sighs, sitting at the end of a pier and dipping her toes in the water.

“Everything’s warm here, girl,” Nanu says, though his words have no real edge to them.

“It’s nice. I really like it here,” Siane admits, one foot kicking up a small splash. The water droplets sparkle in the sun as they fall. She watches them, then raises her eyes to the distant horizon where seat met sky. Nanu watches her, noticing the way the brilliance of the ocean reflects in her eyes. “Everything is so…peaceful here. It’s, um. It’s nice.”

Nanu feels his eyebrows crease; he doesn’t know everything that’s happened in Aedis, but from what he’s able to piece together, Siane’s struggled with conflict nearly her whole life. The thought that a single day out, with no cares in the world imminent on her shoulders, could mean so much to her tugs at Nanu’s heartstrings, and he puts his arm around her shoulders in much the same way he would comfort Acerola. Except, somehow, it doesn’t feel entirely like comforting little Ace - but Nanu pushes that thought out of his mind for now.

“It is nice, here,” Nanu agrees. Siane turns those eyes of hers on him, and he adds quickly, “I’m glad you enjoy it.” Then, he pulls his arm away and moves away just a little, clearing his throat. “As you know, I work extremely hard to keep Alola as peaceful as it is,” he says with a wry smirk; his words have the intended effect, and Siane dissolves into unabashed laughter.

“Yes,” she says between laughs. “Your duties just have you running all over the island, trying to fight crime and dangerous monsters twenty-four-seven. And you get absolutely no naps.”

Nanu feels his smirk falter a little, because there was a time where he was running all over the island, and fighting Ultra Beasts, and trying to be the best Interpol officer he could be.

And what did it get him? What did it get her, besides chewed up by Guzzlord, never to be seen again?

“Yeah,” Nanu says faintly, turning away from Siane to look out at the ocean. “No naps.” He hears the tremble in his own voice, and hates it.

Siane notices - of course she does, she’s not stupid, Nanu thinks to himself - and scoots a little closer to him once more, putting her hand on his nearest shoulder. She leans into him just the slightest bit, and somehow the contact feels grounding for Nanu. The two of them watch the ocean in silence, and though Nanu waits for her to ask what’s wrong, she stays quiet.

Within a few minutes, the world around him begins to feel a little more real again, the echoes of the past fading in his mind. Siane is still peaceful and silent beside him, still grounding him with her touch, and he wonders how many other people she’s seen like this, back in Aedis. How many people has she provided her silent support to?

“Let me know when you want to go get sushi,” Nanu says instead.

Within an hour, they’re heading into the Malie Gardens, little brown bags of sushi in hand. Sensei had complained about how undignified the brown bags were, but had ultimately capitulated to one of his top customer’s request for inconspicuous takeout.

“Oh, wow,” Siane breathes, pushing a big fern aside so she can get a better view of the lush land in front of her. “It’s gorgeous here.” She doesn’t wait for a response, instead pushing forward and approaching the enormous golden-plated bridge that greets the Garden’s visitors. Nanu hastens behind her, both brown baggies cradled in one arm so he can steady her with his free hand if he needs to.

Not that he’s needed to so far today. But better safe than sorry, right?

“Is this real gold?” Siane asks, rubbing the banister of the golden bridge.

“Gold plated,” Nanu shrugs, hovering close by. “It’s supposed to be a sister bridge to one just like it in the Kanto region.”

“It’s lovely,” Siane says, already on her way across it, running her hand over the smooth banister as she goes.

Suddenly a thunderous noise draws both of their attention, followed by a quick flash of feathers and a multi-colored beak.

“What was that?” Siane asks, already enrapt. Another flash of feathers ensues as the Pokemon circles back around; on its second pass, Nanu is able to identify it.

“That’s a Toucannon,” Nanu says. “You know all the Pikipek you’ve seen? This is their final evolution.”

To his horror, Siane actually sets off at a jog after it. She’d just nearly fallen in the shower literally yesterday, and she was trying to jog today?!

“Its beak looks brilliant,” she gushes. “I need to get a better look at it.”

The Toucannon in question has roosted on a low hanging branch, and eyes Siane carefully as her footfalls carry her across the bridge. Nanu’s already running at nearly full bore, desperate to catch up to her - and to stop her from approaching a particularly strong, angry bird capable of spitting seeds strong enough to break boulders.

Fortunately, Siane stops well in advance of the Pokemon, and Nanu watches, fascinated, as her conservation training seems to kick in.

“Look - it’s got a bunch of Pikipek on the trees behind it. It’s likely trying to protect its family,” she says in hushed tones. “They’re all drilling into that tree, see? There’s probably lots of bug Pokemon inside, because it looks like pretty dead wood. They must not have any issue finding food, because that Toucannon’s beak is in excellent condition.”

“What’s a beak got to do with it?” Nanu asks, not seeing the correlation.

“A healthy, shiny, smooth beak means it’s eating a healthy and variegated diet. Birds that don’t eat well can have all sorts of issues with their beak. And do you see how glossy its feathers are?” She’s enraptured, but respectful. And, Nanu notes, she’s breathing hard, clearly more winded from her little jog than she’d like to admit. “It’s getting lots of essential fatty acids. Super important for feather health. You’ve got a pretty healthy ecosystem here, Kahuna,” she adds, finally turning away from the Toucannon and affixing a brilliant smile on Nanu.

His heart skips a beat.

“Well. Glad to hear your professional assessment,” Nanu says, though he smiles a little back at her, and he actually means the words as he says them. “Now come on, Siane. Let’s go find a place to sit. You’re tiring me out, running me all ragged like this.”

“I’m tiring you out?” Siane says with a laugh, raising her eyebrows. “Come on, Kahuna, you’re a fit man. Don’t pretend this is anything much for you.”

Nanu’s heart does another flip at this.

She thinks he’s fit?

“I’m old,” he says, as much for himself - as a reminder of the one, key difference between them - as for her. “Now let’s go.”

Siane’s smile falters a little, but she falls into step beside him readily.

“You’re not that old,” she pushes.

“Right,” Nanu snorts. “That’s why all my hair is gray. Because I’m not that old.”

“Gray hair looks handsome on you,” she says nonchalantly. “And besides, I bet you’re just the sort of person that started graying early.” When Nanu doesn’t respond, her lips curl into a smile. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Do you want to eat by the water?” Nanu deflects. It doesn’t work, though; Siane’s smile only grows. She knows she’s right.

“Sure,” she agrees.

***

Sushi by the waters of the Malie Gardens is an altogether peaceful affair. Nanu can see why that little tea shop submitted a zoning request to set up shop right in the middle of the Gardens; tea would be perfect right about now.

“How’s your food?” Nanu asks, turning to Siane. The sun is brilliant on her hair, which flutters just the slightest bit in the breeze.

“It’s…insanely good. This is absolutely the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” She’s been taking really tiny bites of her food, as if to make it last as long as possible. She’s probably eaten only half as much as Nanu has at this point. “I - I didn’t even really know food could be this good. I’ve had good food before! But…” She bites her lip and looks out at the water, and to Nanu’s surprise, little tears spring into her eyes.

If he thought she’d pulled on his heartstrings earlier, he has no words to describe how gut-wrenching it is to see this young woman start to cry.

“Hey, hey,” he says, quickly scooting closer to her. “Hey. Don’t cry, Siane. Don’t cry.” He reaches out to her just as she turns to fold into him, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to do. And if he’s honest with himself, holding her to his shoulder does feel natural, somehow. As if they had been made to support each other, to comfort each other.

But such a thought was preposterous. Wasn’t it?

She doesn’t break down into outright tears, but the arm wrapped around her shoulders still feels the way she takes a few deep, shuddering breaths.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “Everything here is just…so different than back home. It’s not bad,” she adds quickly, mumbling against his shoulder a little. “It’s actually really great here. And somehow, that hurts worse than if it had been just as bad here as back home. I don’t know if that makes sense,” Siane trails off.

“It does,” Nanu says, grimacing. “Believe me. It does, Siane.” He doesn’t know what to say about the fact that, for all he cares, she doesn’t have to go back. She could stay with him for the rest of the year, if that’s what she wanted. Maybe longer. But she talks about Aedis like she needs to get strong to go back there, so he tries a different tack entirely. “You’ve been through a lot recently. Things must be hard for you. I hope you know…I’m here for you, however I can be.”

Siane pulls away at this, but doesn’t go far. Her face stays close to his, and she manages a small smile for him. Then, to his surprise, she cups his cheek in one hand.

“I do know, Nanu. You’ve been nothing but incredibly kind to me,” she says, her voice low and a little shaky but somehow, so intimate. Nanu feels his jaw drop open, and he wonders for a moment if she’s going to kiss him.

“I - I’d hardly describe myself as incredibly kind,” Nanu stutters. He can’t even remember the last time he’d stuttered.

“Well, I would,” Siane says, and presses a small kiss to his cheek before pulling away. “So thank you.”

Nanu swallows hard, his hand drifting up to touch at the imprint her kiss had left on his skin.

“Yeah. You’re welcome,” he mumbles, and goes back to eating his sushi, too.

He has a lot to think about.

#nanu #kahuna nanu #officer nanu #nanu x oc #siane #siane oc #oc #pokemon #pokemon sun and moon #sumo #pokemon sumo #commission #aph writes

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