#i just added the other tags as an afterthought :)

[kaleidoskuls]

you're my best friend *kisses you on the mouth*

[usertoxicyaoi]

also! a very good desi gl movie that hit the bollywood mainstream that i would reeeeally rec is ek ladki ko dekha toh aisa laga (2019) available on netflix!

The Absence of India in Discussions on Queer Asian Media

So, yesterday @lurkingshan tagged me in an ask she got from @impala124 about the absence of India when we're talking about queer Asian media. I was intially just going to reblog it with my thought, but as it kept growing I figured it'd be best to just make my own post. Please read the ask linked above first so this makes sense.

*cracks knuckles* this is going to be the most fun I've had writing a post in ages. (For a little background, I'm a queer Indian, born and raised)

So, this is a very interesting question on a subject I've been rotating in my head for the past several months. There's a lot of different variables that contribute to the noticeable lack of discussion on Indian and South Asian queer media in general, so I'm just going to talk through the ones I've noticed a little randomly.

Talking about Asian media in general, it's well known that the mass popularity of kpop and anime has contributed massively to the increase in popularity of Asian media. If you've been in the Asian media fandom for any amount of time at all, you'll have noticed that media from Korea, Japan, and China gets by far the most attention from international audiences; all East Asian countries. There may be several reasons for this, but in particular, it's no secret that the fetishization of East Asians is a massive proponent in the popularity of media from these countries, while there's no such interest in South Asians. If we shift our focus to queer media specifically, media from these three countries is still extremely popular, with the addition of Thailand and the Philippines to some extent; both South East Asian countries. From what I've seen, there's very little international interest in media from South Asian countries (although, if we're talking about India specifically, I can't exactly say anything. Bollywood has not been good lately). If we talk about queer South Asian media, the scope of interest falls even further. If you'll notice, MyDramaList, one of the most commonly used websites for finding and tracking Asian shows only allows for East and South-East Asian shows. So, that's one reason—there's just not much international interest in Indian media in general. As Shan said in the initial post, it's partially because of a difference in priorities. Korea is notorious for using media to gain global standing, the role of the 'soft power' of Thai bls in the recent bills for equal marriage in Thailand has been widely discussed, the list goes on. Could racism also play a part in the massive gulf of interest in media from East Asian versus South Asian countries? Probably. But I'm not going to get into that too much.

Moving on, there's obviously a massive lack of queer media in India. I think this is greatly exacerbated by the fact that it's very hard to support the people making queer media beyond buying and/or streaming their work. The majority of people engaging with Indian queer media are queer Indians, and a lot of us have to do so in secret because of the society we live in. This means that creators that have to push through several obstacles to publish their work often receive little incentive to continue doing so because of the lack of engagement. Because of the lack of media, international fans are less likely to become interested in queer Indian media, and the cycle continues.

I will say though, contrary to what Shan said, I think Indian media, particularly anything that came out post 2019 might actually be on the easier end of the spectrum when it comes to access. This may simply be bias, so forgive me if I'm wrong here, but from what I've seen, a lot of queer Indian shows are in fact available on streaming sites, and at most you'd need a vpn to access them. I think the two main things that actually hold back queer Indian media from becoming more popular are a lack of noise and it's relatively lower quality.

The main way we find out about new shows in this space is through either word of mouth (well actually, post) or because we follow production houses known for producing media. Because of the sparse nature of both the media and the consumers, there's very few people who learn enough about the media to want to give it a shot. For example, there's a film on netflix called Badhaai Do (hindi for Congratulate Us) that I've been meaning to watch for a while. It centers around a lavender marriage and I've heard a lot of good things about it, so I was slightly surprised to see that most of the people on tumblr I interact with who have been engaging with queer media for far longer than me had never heard of it. There's also a, Indian BL from 2017 called Romil and Jugal that I've written about before here, and I would've never learned of it's existence if not for a friend hearing about it from another friend of hers.

Because there's so little queer indian media, it's natural that the quality leaves much to be desired. The main issue is, because the queer asian media market has become so saturated lately people are becoming a lot more selective with what they watch, and for good reason. This means that queer media from india is simply unable to grow and improve over time, leaving it stagnant. Back in 2016-2018, the overall dearth of queer media from Asia meant that a lot of people were willing to watch shows that were average or even worse. Thailand particularly seems to have benefitted from this, being able to grow and evolve its queer media due to the successes of shows like SOTUS, 2gehter, TharnType and more even recently, KinnPorsche. Queer Indian media will have a much, much harder time with this because of all of the factors I've talked about and more, meaning that it is much harder for queer media to evolve. Honestly, though I haven't been able to watch/read much queer media from India, the stuff I have seen is really quite decent, it's just that it tends to fail in comparison to some of the brilliant stuff we're seeing from other countries. A while a ago, I bought four queer books by Indian authors, and of the three I've read so far, I'd genuinely recommend two, albeit one with quite a few reservations (I'll be writing about them sometime in the future, just haven't found the time yet). While talking about this with @neuroticbookworm, she brought up the excellent point of how Indian media in general has just been of fairly poor quality lately. It seems to me that a lot of it is catered to more conservative audiences, which results in people like me becoming disillusioned with Indian media and simply moving onto things from other countries. It has been a long time since I've watched anything worthwhile come out of Bollywood. So, it becomes even harder for queer Indian shows to be found at all; a majority of their target audience has already forsaken Indian media as a lost cause.

So, those are a bunch of reasons because of which there's not a lot of discussion about queer Indian media in fandom spaces like Tumblr. Something else I'd like to point out is, it's very hard for queer shows in India to gain much traction whatsoever. Live television slots are ruled by the infamous Indian serials, the majority of the audience being people in their late thirties and older, particularly women. And while homophobia is just as prevalent amongst the youth of India as it is amongst older generations, younger people are far more likely to be engaging with queer media, in India at least. This means that it would be near impossible for queer shows to air on live television the way they do in countries like Thailand and Japan. The majority of Indian youth use global streaming services to watch shows, hence the greater concentration of queer shows on service platforms. (Romil and Jugal is something of a dark horse here—I don't believe it was ever aired, but it was produced by a producer who has a few decently popular serials under her belt and is available on an Indian steaming service—another reason I'm determined to research how tf this show ever came into existence) If we talk of movies, the industry is limited by the iron fist of Bollywood, another reason it's very hard for queer movies to be produced and why they're generally found on streaming sites.

There's just not a lot of people who have the balls it would take to make a queer Indian show/movie and push it to the Indian public beyond a streaming service. I mean, we're all seeing what's happening with the Love in The Big City drama right now, and believe me, public backlash in India would be the same, if not much worse. And if no one in India is watching these shows, why would anyone in any other part of the world? There's barely any public figures that would be willing to participate in such a project, so queer media stays underground. Currently, Karan Johar is the most popular—and one of the only—out celebrities in Bollywood, and, well, he's treated as something of a laughing stock by the public. He has one or two queer adjacent shows under his belt as a producer, but once again, they're barely known and available only on Netflix. There was a movie called Dostana in which he played a straight guy pretending to be gay but, well, that speaks for itself. And well, I can't exactly blame him for it, knowing how the Indian entertainment industry is.

To talk a little more about the specific comparison between India and Korea, I think you're fairly accurate in saying that the two countries seem to be roughly on par in terms of homophobia, although that's an extremely vague statement that's rather hard to either prove or disprove. While the difference in international attention towards Korean and Indian media is certainly a major component of the difference in discussion about the queer media from these countries, there's obviously other things that go into it as well. There's this video I watched some time ago on the progression of queer representation in K-dramas that's quite well researched. It's an hour and a half long, so in case you don't have the time to watch it (though I do recommend it), it basically talks about some of the dramas with queer rep that have aired on Korean television and their impact. While it's hard to gauge the level of impact of these shows on the availability of bls and gls in Korea, they certainly had an effect, if only telling the queer population of Korea that they are seen and heard. To my knowledge (although I may be mistaken), no such queer rep has ever aired on Indian television, meaning that there's nothing to push creators to put queer media out there. There have been old movies and shows that depict queerness, but none of them ever reached the sort of the scale where they may have some sort of impact on the industry. As I mentioned earlier, the widespread popularity of K-dramas (and k-pop) does make it easier for creators to make queer media since there's a much higher chance of the shows being successful thanks to the international audience. Bringing back Love In The Big City, the success of the book abroad and the high probability of the show being well received internationally is probably one of the reasons it was able to be produced amongst domestic backlash.

Now, I've been talking a lot about how it's difficult for queer Indian media to gain any sort of international recognition with domestic attention. However, it's not necessarily the case. Here's where I start rambling (I say, as if this post isn't verging on 2k words). It's been proven that the presence of the international market allows for greater creative freedom in spaces beyond television. The best example comes from Korea's very own 'soft power'; K-pop. There's a K-pop group called Dreamcatcher that debuted in 2017 with a rock sound and horror concept that was extremely rare in kpop at the time. They succeeded mainly by focusing most of their promotions to the foreign market, knowing that their concept would not be well liked in Korea. And they succeeded. Today, Dreamcatcher has a sizeable fandom and has even been growing in popularity in Korea, with the Korean public warming up to their genre and having influenced other girl groups to try out similar sounds. We've already talked about the lack of international attention for Indian media, but there's also the issue that the producers of queer Indian media aren't marketing to foreign audiences, which remain ignorant.

That's all I have, this is so long good lord. All in all, there's a bunch of factors that feed into each other creating a cycle which means that, unless there's a break somewhere, queer Indian media will remain unrecognized. I'm excited to see what other people have to say, because this is a topic close to my heart and I'd definitely enjoy seeing more discussions around it.

[aventurineswife]

hear me out!

Reader was in a relationship with aventurine and Dr. Ratio, BUT! It was like Aventurine and Rayio liked eachother more than they liked the reader!

You following along?

Good! Cause I'm not done!

THEN! Reader goes to bar gets a little tipsy (read as drunk) and ends up venting their sadness and frustration to kind strangers willing to listen! (Aka Argenti and Boothill!) Things end up almost getting, suggestive to say the least before reader ends up stopping any more advances and leaves, little does reader know that her encounter with Argenti and Boothill would leave them desperate for more...

(Basicaly Yandere poly Argenti and Boothill x Reader)

And, this is just something else I wanted to say but what if Aventurine and Ratio notice reader kinda drifting away, ad they notice that reader is starting to make more friends and reader starts trying to spend less time with them? Maybe somehow they findout Argenti and Boothill are obsessed with reader? I see Aventurine and Dr. Ratio being possessive of things or people they consider "theirs" and slowly they start becoming as obsessive as Boothill and Argenti and now reader has 2 couples vying for her attention!

( I totally understand if this is to much or confusing!)

“I Wanna Make You Mine”

Summary: You are in a relationship with Aventurine and Ratio, but you began to feel like an afterthought as your partners’ interest in each other overshadows your bond. One night, seeking solace and a brief escape from your lonely frustrations, you meet two enigmatic strangers at a bar—Argenti and Boothill. Both quickly become captivated by you, their admiration bordering on obsession. You find yourself ensnared in a dangerous game of affection and desire, with each group willing to do whatever it takes to win your undivided attention. The question is; Who are you going to be choosing?

Tags: Aventurine x Reader x Ratio, Argenti x Reader x Boothill, Polyamory, Not really a love triangle since you pulled 4 men/Love pentagon, Jealousy & Possessiveness, Yandere Themes, Slow Burn Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Longing, Light Drunkenness, Obsessive Behaviour, Emotional Tension, Emotional Angst, Slight Cheating Behaviour.

Warnings: Possessive and Obsessive Behaviour, Light Alcohol Use, Yandere Themes, Emotional Distress, Do not try this at home or think this is cute and all. This is fictional.

A/N: I'M DEFINITELY HEARING YOU & DON'T WORRY ANON I UNDERSTOOD YOUR REQ!! 🤭 THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR STUFFS LIKE POLYAMORY RELATIONSHIPS (SO DON'T COME AFTER ME IF I DID SOMETHING WRONG!!) AND YANDERE! 😪 I personally don't ship any characters in HSR but for the sake of this fic, they're being shipped.

In the dim glow of a hazy bar, the soft clinking of glasses and murmurs filled the air as you downed your third drink. The evening had started with only a desire to escape the gnawing ache that Aventurine and Ratio had unwittingly left in your heart. For so long, you had been the third in your relationship, watching the connection between them bloom far more intensely than their affection for you. It was hard to pinpoint when exactly you began to feel this way, but tonight, the loneliness finally hit.

You sighed, stirring your drink absentmindedly, lost in thought until a warm voice cut through the fog of your mind.

“Are you alright?” Looking up, you were met with the striking gaze of a man with fiery red hair and green eyes that sparkled with curiosity and concern.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine...” you muttered, masking your sadness with a weak smile. But even before the words left your mouth, you knew they were unconvincing.

“Ah, doesn’t look like it to me.” drawled another voice from beside you. Turning, you found yourself facing a man who looked like he walked straight out of a rugged holo-western. He had a silver gleam in his eye and a smirk that promised trouble, yet there was something comforting in his casual demeanor.

They introduced themselves—Argenti, the knightly-looking redhead, and Boothill, the roguish gunslinger. They struck an odd pair, yet somehow, they both seemed genuinely concerned. That genuine concern, however small, was enough to tug open the lock on the emotions you’d been bottling up.

“I just feel like… no matter how much I try, I’m always a shadow between them,” you confessed, the alcohol loosening your words. “It’s like I’m just… there. I know they love me, but sometimes, it feels like they’re happier with each other.”

Argenti’s gaze softened as he leaned closer, his voice rich and sincere. “A soul like yours deserves to be cherished, never neglected,” he said, his tone filled with a quiet reverence. “I see a light in you, something so rare and beautiful. Anyone who fails to treasure it is unworthy of your heart.”

Boothill leaned in with a sly grin, his eyes flickering with something darker. “If they can’t see what they have, then maybe you’re wastin’ your time on ‘em.”

The warmth of their words and the way they leaned closer, as if drawn to you, sent a flutter through your heart. It had been so long since anyone looked at you like that—with full, unbridled interest.

His hand moved gently to the small of your back, his touch radiating warmth. “Allow us to show you what it means to be honored—to be loved without restraint.”

His words lingered in the air, weighted with a knightly promise. You felt your pulse quicken at his sincerity, yet even through the comfort of his presence, something held you back.

The heat in his touch and Boothill’s gaze made your heart pound faster, and for a dizzying moment, you felt tempted. But, catching yourself, you pulled back, gathering the scraps of your resolve. “I… I can’t. Not like this,” you stammered, stumbling up from the table. “Thanks, but… I need some air.”

You barely noticed their longing stares as you left, desperate to clear your mind, unaware of the yearning spark you had ignited in both men.

Days passed, and you tried to shake off that night. But a strange unease began settling over you. Everywhere you went, you could feel eyes on you. Argenti’s soft, almost reverent gaze in places he couldn’t possibly be; Boothill’s devilish grin, catching you in your peripheral vision even when he wasn’t there. As if they were everywhere, waiting.

The more you found yourself in their orbit, the more their obsession seemed to grow. Argenti, once chivalrous, was now desperate for every glance, every smile you gave. Boothill, once a lighthearted scoundrel, grew possessive, his words laced with dark promises of keeping you safe… from anyone who dared come between you.

Your time with Aventurine and Ratio was no longer as comforting as it once was, either. They sensed the shift in you. Aventurine’s charming smile had faded into something sharp, his eyes assessing as he caught sight of Argenti and Boothill’s names in your messages. Ratio’s typical aloofness twisted into jealousy, his usual intellectual grace tempered by a fiercer intensity.

One evening, as you arrived home, you found Aventurine and Ratio waiting. Ratio was seated calmly, but his piercing gaze was anything but passive. Aventurine leaned casually against the wall, his fingers twitching as if he longed to reach out to you—or hold onto you, tightly.

“We’ve been worried.” Aventurine said with a soft smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Ratio inclined his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me, have you… made some new friends?”

The question caught you off guard, and you stammered out a response. But their knowing expressions only confirmed the suspicion that had been growing in both of them.

That night, they wouldn’t let you go. Aventurine’s once-teasing nature had turned possessive, his charming smile a mask for the tension simmering beneath. Ratio was no different, wrapping his arm around you, his touch firmer than usual, as if reminding you that you belonged to them. They held you close, more than ever before, but their embrace now felt like a cage, one you couldn’t escape.

And just as you thought you had nowhere to turn, there came a knock on the door. The sound was calm, persistent, carrying a strange sense of finality.

You didn’t need to open it to know who it was. The question that burned in your mind wasn’t if it was Argenti and Boothill waiting outside. It was what they would do now that they had come for you. And with Aventurine and Ratio on the other side, waiting to stake their claim, you realized you were caught in a game where escape might be impossible.

The question was: who would be the first to make their move?

Don't ask for part 2 lmaoo💀

[cod-thoughts]

Day 26 of 31 days of COD

Words: 1.8k

Relationships: NikPrice

Tags: slightly ooc, banter, attempt at humour, fluff

Price looked up, confused but intrigued. “Mishka?” he echoed, brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Nikolai’s mouth quirked into a smile, a touch of amusement in his eyes. “It means… ‘little bear,’” he said, the words thoughtful, as if he were measuring each one. “It fits you, I think.” Although not necessary at all it won't hurt to read day 23 for a smidge of context Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

Soap, leaning forward with a gleeful grin, decided to push the teasing a bit further. “So, Captain…Mishka. That name, it’s got a bit of history, yeah?”

Price paused, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He glanced at Nikolai, who gave him an encouraging nod. With a soft chuckle, Price gave a half-shrug, acknowledging the memory. “Yeah. Comes from way back. Out in the cold, out in the middle of nowhere. That’s where it started.”

Nikolai’s face softened, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by something far more tender. He looked at Price as if seeing him for the first time again, as if the memory were as vivid for him as the present moment. “You remember, don’t you? First time I call you Mishka?”

Price nodded, his voice quieting slightly. “Reckon I do. That mission went to hell quick. We were both damn near frozen.”

---

It was the kind of night that crept into your bones, the cold biting with a sharpness that no amount of gear could shake off. Price and Nikolai were holed up in a cramped safehouse, somewhere far from backup and close to trouble. It wasn’t their first time in a place like this, but something about this particular night felt heavier, the quiet between them a little too thick, the walls pressing in closer than usual.

They sat across from each other on the floor, leaning against opposite walls, the only light coming from a dim oil lamp flickering in the corner. Price was watching Nikolai intently, though he’d be the last to admit it. The mission had been hard, harder than they’d planned, and he couldn’t shake the way Nikolai had looked, blood on his cheek, laughter on his lips, utterly fearless.

“Crazy bastard,” Price muttered, shaking his head.

Nikolai smirked, a tired, easy grin slipping across his face. “You like it,” he replied, words careful but smooth. He leaned his head back against the wall, his eyes fixed on Price with that same glint, equal parts challenge and affection.

They’d been here before, caught in this charged silence that felt like it could burst open with one wrong—or right—word. In moments like this, it didn’t matter who else was around or what they were meant to be. They were just themselves, stripped down to the barest truth.

After a few minutes, Price shifted, crossing his arms over his chest as he fought off a shiver. It wasn’t the cold that got to him, though; it was Nikolai, looking at him like he could see straight through to the core of him. The one man he could never really hide from.

“You don’t back down, do you?” Price said, his voice softer now, almost contemplative.

Nikolai chuckled, the sound rumbling through the small room. “I have my reasons,” he replied, his gaze never leaving Price’s. There was a beat of silence, then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “One of them is… you, John.”

Price’s heart kicked up, a little quicker than he’d like, and he looked away, trying to mask the reaction. But Nikolai’s next words caught him off guard.

“Mishka,” Nikolai murmured, the word soft and tender, a sound so foreign in the dark silence. He let it hang in the air, as if testing it out, seeing how it felt.

Price looked up, confused but intrigued. “Mishka?” he echoed, brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nikolai’s mouth quirked into a smile, a touch of amusement in his eyes. “It means… ‘little bear,’” he said, the words thoughtful, as if he were measuring each one. “It fits you, I think.”

Price snorted, an attempt to brush it off, but there was something in the way Nikolai said it that tugged at him, that softened the edges of the moment. “What, ‘cause I’m stubborn?” he shot back, though there was no bite to his tone.

Nikolai shrugged, a teasing smile playing at his lips. “Stubborn, yes. Strong… loyal.” He paused, searching for the right words. “Bear will protect who he cares about, even if… it is not wise.”

Price’s face softened, the usual lines of tension easing as he absorbed the words. It was more than a compliment; it was an acknowledgment, a way for Nikolai to say what neither of them could say directly. There, in the dim light, something shifted between them, something real and grounding.

He didn’t reply right away, his mind still wrapped around the way Nikolai had looked at him when he said it. And then, without a word, he nodded, accepting the name as if it had always belonged to him.

“Mishka,” Price repeated under his breath, as if testing the sound, letting it settle into something private and precious. “Just between us, though.”

Nikolai chuckled, reaching over to squeeze Price’s shoulder, the gesture lingering a moment longer than necessary. “Only us,” he murmured back, his voice filled with a warmth Price could feel all the way to his bones.

---

Gaz, now fully invested, leaned forward, curious. “So it just… started back then?”

Price chuckled, brought back to the present. “Aye. It was something he said one night, in that old cabin we found. Could’ve picked anything, but he called me ‘Mishka.’ Said it suited me.” He met Nikolai’s gaze, a soft smile crossing his face. “Stubborn, strong, all that.”

Nikolai grinned, repeating those words he said that night, “A bear will do anything to protect those he loves. Even if it’s foolish.”

Ghost, who had remained silent through most of the conversation, finally spoke up, his voice calm but tinged with a rare hint of amusement. “Explains why you two are still alive, really. Sheer bloody-mindedness.”

Price chuckled, nodding. “That about sums it up.”

The team chuckled, shaking their heads, as Nikolai, thoroughly pleased with himself, leaned in close to Price, his hand resting comfortably on the back of Price’s neck. “You see, captain? They all understand now.”

Price gave him a long, affectionate look, the kind of look only someone who’s been through the fire with another could give. “I reckon they do.”

Price let Nikolai’s hand linger, his heart lighter than it had been in years, grateful for every bit of love they no longer had to hide around their make-shift family.

Nikolai didn’t stop there, however. To the team’s bemusement, he seemed to be on a mission of his own, making sure no one missed the fact that Price was his.

Sitting beside him, Nikolai once again reached over, casually brushing an invisible bit of lint off Price’s shoulder, then letting his hand fall around Price’s shoulders before deciding that it clearly wasn’t enough and wrapped his other hand around Price’s waist.

Soap groaned, though he couldn’t hide his grin. “Alright, mate, we get it. But I’m startin’ to worry you might break the poor bloke, clingin’ to him like that.”

“Oh?” Nikolai raised an eyebrow, and with a theatrical sigh, he tightened his other arm around Price and pulled him halfway into his lap. “But my Mishka is strong. He does not break,” he replied with a sly smile. “Why else would I choose him, da?”

Gaz, failing to contain his laughter, shook his head. “Mate, if you get any closer, you’re gonna fuse together.”

Price merely chuckled, completely unfazed by the display. He patted Nikolai’s hand where it rested on his shoulder, almost reassuring, as if to tell him to carry on. In fact, the only indication he even heard the team’s comments was a slight narrowing of his eyes, the hint of a grin barely hidden beneath his beard.

Ghost, who had been watching quietly as usual, leaned back with a sigh that sounded suspiciously like amusement. “I’m just surprised Price hasn’t pushed him off by now,” he remarked dryly.

“Oh, I’ve tried,” Price replied, his voice tinged with fondness, though his eyes were twinkling with a hint of playful defiance. “Doesn’t get him anywhere. He’s got a grip like a bloody octopus.”

Nikolai grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “It is true. Johnathan can try all he wants,” Nikolai lowers his voice and winks at them all “but I am verypersistent.”

Soap rolled his eyes, folding his arms with mock impatience. “Bloody hell, just get a room already, the both of you.”

“Oh, don’t tempt him,” Price replied, throwing a smirk in Soap’s direction. “He certainly doesn’t need much encouragement.”

To everyone’s surprise, Nikolai leaned in then, softening his voice with a soft chuckle. “He is right, you know,” he said, entirely unbothered by the team’s reactions. “And since Mishka is so good at hiding how soft he is… maybe I am the only one who can bring out that side, no?.”

Soap practically choked on his coffee, while Gaz shook his head, both amused and horrified. “Alright, alright,” Gaz managed, chuckling, “You two could at least try to keep from making the rest of us sick.”

Nikolai, amused by their discomfort, only leaned closer to Price, his tone softening as he moved his arms to be fully secured around Price’s waist. “They’re jealous, Medvezhonok,” he said in an exaggerated whisper. “Not everyone finds a bear who is fierce and gentle.”

Price’s response was just a soft chuckle, and instead of pushing Nikolai away, he brought a hand up to Nikolai’s cheek giving it a light pat. “Let them be, my love” he murmured, his voice low but warm. “I reckon they’ve got enough to handle with just watching us.”

Gaz finally threw his hands up in defeat, laughing. “You know, Captain, we thought you’d be the one to tell him off if he got too much. Turns out you’re just as guilty.”

“Hmm, well,” Price replied, entirely unfazed as he gazed at Nikolai, “not much point in telling him to stop. Wouldn’t want him to anymore anyway.”

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence as the team took this in, seeing a side of Price they rarely witnessed. It was clear that Price and Nikolai were beyond caring what anyone thought, and the weight of years spent hiding their relationship had finally lifted, leaving behind only the easy affection they shared.

Soap, still recovering from the display, finally shrugged. “Guess it’s true then—what they say about old bears and their habits.”

Price smirked, his arm now resting comfortably around Nikolai’s shoulder. “Oh, I suppose so, Sergeant. Not planning on changing anytime soon.”

Nikolai’s smile softened, and he leaned in just enough to whisper something the others couldn’t hear. “Good. Because this, Mishka? It suits you.”

Price let out a quiet chuckle, his expression unreadable but content, as he gave a final nod. “Yeah, I think it does.”

And as the team settled into the familiar rhythm of laughter and easy banter, Nikolai kept his arms around Price’s waist but moved him off his thigh instead, unbothered by the groans or amused complaints. Because after years of hiding, there was nothing he loved more than showing just how fiercely he cared, his Mishka right by his side.

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this as a part of my falltober fics, I hope you like it!

It is a Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x female!reader imagine.

Thank you @famfan-1034 for proofreading!

Day 26: Scary stories to tell in the dark

Warnings: none

“-and then they all died,” an eight year old Jake Seresin suddenly screamed, shocking everyone around him, but especially the seven year old you.

Your brows furrowed and you felt tears well up in your eyes, gripping the fabric of your pajamas as you tried to calm yourself down.

You were at Jake’s birthday party which had turned into a sleepover, and someone had decided it was a good idea to tell scary stories in the dark.

You certainly weren’t a fan, more scared of the story than anyone else, and as soon as Jake realized he of course decided to make fun of you.

Leaning forward he stretched out his hand, pulling gently at one of your braids.

“Are you scared, little scaredy-cat?” He asked and you tried to swallow your tears, shaking your head despite everyone knowing the truth.

“No, I’m not, shut up,” you replied quickly, but the others laughed nevertheless.

While you went to sleep unaware, tossing and turning occasionally because of your unease, Jake moved to sit next to your bed to keep an eye on you and reach out to hold your hand whenever you made a noise.

Years went by and your friendship was more or less neglected, until he asked a few of you to come by for a reunion.

You weren’t exactly excited about it because what you had heard from Jake’s life he had become a fighter pilot and most of all a womanizer, something so different to your calm lifestyle, but you went anyway.

It was only because of your constant crush on him during your childhood and time at school that you gave yourself a final chance to see him again.

The event itself was nice, just the few of you eating and drinking at Jake’s place, and Jake was as handsome as ever.

As you had expected Jake was rich enough to have an extraordinary home, with a beautiful campfire site in his garden.

Midnight was drawing closer so Jake assembled everyone around said fire in the dark, each with their beverages and preferred snacks.

There were blankets and they were reached around until everyone was comfortable, and you found yourself sharing one with the host of the party.

Jake seemed smug, but that was his everyday form, so you didn’t pay it any mind, but you were happy to be able to snuggle closer to him.

Time went by and Jake, with a playful grin towards you, started to tell a story that was awfully familiar to you.

You shivered due to the October cold and because Jake was telling a story that had haunted you for years, as well as the boy who had told it all those years ago.

The story went by and people laughed, talked and drank, until one by one they all went home.

You were one of the last ones left when Jake approached you, a small gleam in his eyes as he did.

“That’s the same story you scared the shit out of me with when we were kids,” you referred to what he had told by the fire, and a smile ghosted over his face.

“Yeah. Actually I watched over you when you slept that night. Reached my hand out to hold yours whenever you were getting bad dreams,” he said so softly that you weren’t sure you had heard right, but by the sincere look on his face you were sure you did.

Shock spread through you as your eyes met his, as well as realization.

“I really liked you back then,” you said softly and he chuckled, his eyes never leaving your face.

“I really like you now, too,” he replied.

“You’re single, right?” He added like an afterthought, and you had to let out a laugh.

“Yeah, I’m single. And interested,” you replied, and before you knew it you had a date with the boy you had dreamed about your entire childhood and adolescence.

tagging: @starkleila @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @letsfvckingdance @iangiemae @kmsryles343 @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @dempy @bespinnn @tipsykeen @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @marvelandotherfandomimagines @luckyladycreator2 @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @mavrellover91 @allivingstone01 @rhettabbotts @withakindheartx @trikigirl271 @cherrycola27 @airedale17 @bonitanightmxres @ratcatcher2world @glowingtree @wingmanvenus @classyunknownlover @oliviah-25 @natasharomanoffisbaebby

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

[st4rbe0m]

SUMMARY ▸ 20 years ago, a gruesome murder shook the town hard. A type of murder that should've never happen, much less in their quaint town. A lovely family killed in cold blood with an unforgiving axe wielding maniac - a mother, a father and a little girl. It's been 20 years down the road, hasn't it? Then why are these 11 teenagers stuck in a loop of the same day, being haunted by a little girl who died 20 years ago?

PAIRING ▸ Park Jongseong (Jay) x reader ; additional pairings between characters as well , multi chapter story

TAG LIST ▸ open!! send an ask to be added

WC ▸ 1.8K

WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE THE BODY SEARCH ?

▊ yes -> CHAPTER 2 ▊ no -> masterlist

TEASER TRAILER BODY SEARCH MASTERLIST

The alarm is harsh in its morning call. It’s blaring and blaring and all Y/N thinks is, “alright, alright, I get it goddamnit.” It’s a mild day outside, and there’s a fickle beam of sunlight entering in through the crack in the blind. It’s Tuesday. Neither here nor there in terms of days of the week. But for Y/N, everyday was nothing. Nothing, considering the week always needed her to go to school.

Stretching out limbs stiff from a listless sleep and quickly finishing up a hasty morning routine, she stumbled down the steps to the kitchen to where her mother stood, meticulously packing food for both Y/N and Y/N’s father. “Ah darling, good morning!”. Y/N’s mother was the kind of woman who gave strangers on the street hope - with a radiant smile and a positive demeanor glowing like an aura around her, Y/N often found it almost impossible that they shared almost half the same DNA. Now Y/N wouldn’t she’s of the nihilistic type - she wasn’t one to brood about impending doom and darkness. No, she’d just say she’s just more of the demure type.

“Your dad already left, so I’m planning to drop his lunch off at his office later. I made fried tempura prawns today, way too many I think”, her mother added with an afterthought. Handing the little bag into Y/N’s hands, she added offhandedly, “Share them with your friends, alright?”, that characteristic smile blinding. Mustering up a small smile, she just said, “Sure!”. No point in ruining the morning mood with burdens now, is there? Maybe she’d tell her mother some other time - “Hey mom, guess what? I actually don’t have a single friend in the school I’ve been attending for 4 years! It’s quite fun how they all avoid me like I have the plague.”

Shaking her head, she headed out the door, backpack slung over haphazardly on her shoulder. Too grim for a time like this. 

The bus stop was only a few paces for Y/N, but she liked to take her time with it. She’d use any time she got to stay away from her classmates anyways. A horde of other classmates were sprinting or jogging down the sloped pathway, eager to meet friends or catch a good seat in the bus. It just so happened that one of such eager classmates bumped harshly into her shoulder, making the bookbag that was unfortunately only half zipped, to open up completely, spilling out some loose papers and notebooks.

“I’m so sorr-”. It was a voice she knew too well. Rich, velvet smooth. Good tone, and a lilt of apology added to it. Too bad she couldn't spend more time admiring the voice, considering the next voice that interrupted wasn’t pleasant at all. Exasperated, it said, “Are you mad, Jay? Don’t talk to that loser.”

Ironically enough, it managed to bring a wry smile to her face. It was foolish anyways. At least she got to hear that voice for a bit, however fleeting it was. 

Another interruption made her jump harder now. Gosh, what was with all these jumps today? She looked to where a sorry view greeted her - a little cat, run over by the school bus' back wheel. 

She arrived to her class as she always does - sitting down by the little window at the back of the room, while the rest raised a ruckus just before class started. Girls giggling by the back, some rowdy boys chuckling at themselves as they stuffed the envelope with money collected for the school festival into the desk of the unassuming student by the name of Yang Jungwon, a traditional nerd picked on for, you guessed it, being himself.

“Heyy, who stole the festival money?”, a teasing voice of a female, another one of the accomplices of Jungwon’s tormentors called out like a messenger at a market. “It’s here, on Yang's desk!”, called out Haruto with a satisfied smirk on his face, locking eyes with Jungwon who had just walked in, brown eyes wide in shock of what was happening already this early in the morning. “Ayyee, Yang, that’s not like you”, a second boy jumped in, a rough hand locking around Jungwon’s neck while all the boy could do was stand still in fear. “Guys, really? It’s 8AM, give it a rest right now.” The affirmative yet kind voice of Park Jongseong cut in. “Jungwon, sit down. Haruto put the money back.”. Honestly, this was the only part of the conversation that had captivated Y/N’s attention. The yellow light made his brown hair look softer than usual, and that sharp nose crinkled in distaste with the actions.“What happened to the money?”, asked class president Ning Yizhuo. 

Ethereal, charming, absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, Ningning, as she was affectionately referred to by everyone (everyone was her friend, who could even say no?), was the closest class 3-A had seen to perfection. Perfect grades with all the extracurriculars done up to a tee, who could really go against her? The competition ended there itself. Perfect Ning, always paired up with the Perfect Jay, they made Class 3-A shine. 

Classes went by in a blur to Y/N, who paid attention where it was required and dozed off where it was not, until the shrill, longer bell signaled their lunch break. That’s when the sad realization hit her - that she was carrying an extra box of fried tempura prawn that her mother wanted her to share with her friends. Friends that she didn’t have. Friends that she wished for, badly.

Heading down to the bench of the school chapel to eat her lunch, she noticed the barricades and the construction material littered around the area. Looking up, she noticed the machinery and equipment around the metal framework. Guess they finally decided to renovate, she thought to herself. Settling down on the stone bench, she chewed on the food slowly, flipping through the pages of a novel she’d acquired from the library to kill time. A slight breeze ruffled her hair and sent a slight shiver down her spine. It was a disquieting sound that the wind made, eerie wails fluttering about her ears, that made her apple roll off the bench onto the ground. Huffing, she bent to get her apple, until she noticed something out of the periphery of her eye. Looking up to directly look at the well beside the chapel, it was a strange thing - something red and wiggling. 

Until they all clambered out. Hands. Several hands, atleast twenty or thirty, all covered in blood. Grasping at the air in fevered attempts to claw out, blackened nails slicing at the air. No sound escaped her mouth as she fell back in terror. Y/N dug her own fingers into the ground as she tried to get away from the well, horrified yet transfixed to the scene. A loud crash next to her broke her out of her stupor - one of the metal bars on the chapel had fallen right next to her bench. A sorry looking foreman jogged up to her, bowing. “I’m sorry young lady, but could you clear out? This zone is a construction site.” Bowing in apology, she ran past the school’s side, taking a shortcut considering lunch would end soon enough. The wind knocked a flower pot over as she ran inside, trying her best to keep the memory of the well out of her mind. 

The sound of sports shoes skidding across the lacquered basketball court was nothing new to Jay, as he dribbled past his best friend, Jake, avoiding his close overtake. Shooting a hoop with ease, he turned around to make a teasing remark at Jake, who was already speaking to him. “Guess who’s on the bleachers for you again, mm”. A wolfish grin plastered across his face, he beckoned his head over to where Ningning sat with some of her friends, eyes on the game while the rest of her crew sat glued to their phone screens, no doubt checking the outreach of their new social media posts. Shaking his head slightly, in an attempt to divert Jake away from the frankly awkward and uncomfortable topic, Jay just said, “Man, if you paid that much attention to your layups we would be in a better position for the championship semi final, wouldn’t we?”. Scowling one last look at his friend, Jake and Jay resumed their practice back, with a few intervals from both the boys to look at their phones, awaiting texts from their friend Sunghoon. And with each of their texts left on delivered, the more lines of worry creased their foreheads. 

It wasn’t like Y/N was unaware of the date of the semi finals, unlike team member Park Sunghoon. No, she had it marked down on her calendar in a soft pink marker pen. An important day, not for her personally. Well, in a way it was. It was supposed to be the day of her attempt. An attempt to maybe talk to the boy from her childhood, her friend that always pushed her on the swings and let her drink his lemonade.

Getting ready for bed, her phone buzzed quite abruptly. This was new. No one ever texted her, much less this late in the night. It was a new Kakao text, from an unknown number. A single text, in distorted font, read, “Will you find me?”.

Pranks were already unamusing to her, but such an obvious one? Scoffing, she clicked her phone off until it lit up again with a new text from the same number.

“Found you :)” .

And again.

And again.

“Found you :)”

“Found you :)”

“Found you :)”

“Found you :)”

The phone kept buzzing. Over and over and over and her hands shook, staring at the distorting font. Shrieking slightly, she threw the phone on to the table and hid under the duvet, shaking until it lulled her to a nap. 

It was dark when she opened her eyes. And she was on her feet. The moonlight streaming into the chapel made the building look older than it seemed, and she looked towards the single light source in the middle, shining down at an empty coffin. 

“What the fuck?” 

The voice cut through the night as she realised she wasn’t the only one here. Underclassmen Kim Sunoo and Nishimura Riki were standing, staring at the coffin with scrutiny. Yang Jungwon, who was also there, was slowly shuffling towards it, while a surprise appearance of Park Sunghoon sat in the corner, disinterested.

“What the hell is happening you guys?”. This voice grabbed her attention. Park Jay appeared right next to her, looking right at her. “Hey”, he offered amidst the confusion. All she could do was nod her head. Opposite to her were class president Ningning and another girl from 3-A, Uchinaga Aeri, or popularly called Giselle. The loud voice of Sim Jaeyun, or Jake as he liked, was also robustly calling out to everyone. Everything was so weird and creepy, and she hated it. What the hell were those texts? What even was happening?

“Guess they renovated this fucking chapel finally”. Park Sunghoon’s cold and aloof voice broke through amidst the confusion.

[outofangband]

Comparing the Captures of Maedhros and of Húrin thoughout versions

Note: I did not include all volumes of HoME in this however with the exception of Volume Eleven which contains The Wanderings of Húrin there are few meaningful differences. I will make a later post for more HoME content

Second note: I also have a post comparing the fates of Morwen, Aerin post Nírnaeth and Dor-lómin generally which I also will work on to revise and republish

It is notable to me that Húrin and Maedhros are among the only named figures Morgoth successfully orders the capture of by name. I wanted to explore the similarites and differences between varying versions.

Here are the two that are probably considered most canonical, from The Silmarillion and The Children of Húrin respectively

Maedhros was ambushed and all his company were slain but he himself was taken alive by the command of Morgoth and brought to Angband (The Return of the Noldor, The Silmarillion)

...but they took him at last alive by the command of Morgoth who thought thus to do him more evil than by death (The Battle of Unnumbered Tears, The Children of Húrin)

Morgoth’s intentions for Húrin are far more clear than for Maedhros. He knows ( “by his art and his spies”) that Húrin had the friendship of the King (Turgon in this case). It’s not entirely clear yet if Morgoth has heard rumors that Húrin had been to Gondolin but he certainly knows of the brothers reunion on the battlefield with Turgon and makes some quick connections. The conversation between Húrin and Morgoth spans almost the entirety of chapter three and has some of the most dialogue for Morgoth in the entire Legendarium

@tolkien-feels once made a joke about the conversations between Túrin and Sador in chapter one being like forced to go through the Athrabeth with a child and I think The Words of Húrin and Morgoth function almost in a similar way; some of the deeper philosophical questions of the universe involving mortality and fate and the reach of the gods are raised in these horrifying circumstances.

(I won’t go into it too much here because there is so much to say about this, but I’ll link a couple of my posts on it just for my own reference and organization here and here

Morgoth certainly tried to use the capture of Maedhros to his own advantage when he sends word to his brothers claiming he’d release him if they retreated but this attempt is rather perfunctory and I don’t think he truly thought it would go anywhere. At best, the Fëanorians might be spurred or goaded into further recklessness trying to recover Maedhros. At worst, nothing would happen for some time. 

A fascinating difference between the notes of Tolkien that later became this part of the published Silmarillion is that in the original notes, two more words are added to the quote above. Maidros was ambushed, and all his company was slain, but he himself was taken alive by the command of Morgoth, and brought to Angband and tortured. (HOME V, p. 274)

In the version in the Book of Lost Tales, Maedhros is captured at the gates of Angband during a siege. He is tortured for information on jewel making, no word given on the success of this interrogation, and then released alive though maimed in an eerily vague afterthought. I have more on this in my BoLT tag, I find it fascinating for the ways it mirrors Húrin’s release in later canon

In the Lays of Beleriand Maedhros is mentioned only briefly though interestingly, most of his mentions include note of his torment, the most prominent appearing in The Lay of the Children of Húrin 

in league secret with those five others, in the forests of the East fell unflinching foes of Morgoth Maidros whom Morgoth maimed and tortured is lord and leader, his left wieldeth his sweeping sword

Both the use of the name Maidros as well as the specifications of ‘maimed and tortured’ appear to take after the Book of Lost Tales version however the Lays goes further and confirms that the maiming left so vague in BoLT did indeed include the loss of Maedhros’s right hand. And of course it’s notable that Morgoth did this, not Fingon during rescue. 

Húrin‘s capture and imprisonment remain fairly consistent throughout the more known versions of the story, that is, in the Silm, in the Narn, and in the unfinished tales. Even in  BoLT and the Lays the general outline is similar. In the Silm and the Narn, the story is consistent though of course much is cut out in the Silm version. Unfinished Tales has no significant changes to this section of the text. 

In BoLT which is not considered canon, Úrin as he’s called there is captured during battle and both threatened with torture and offered great riches to betray Turondo (Turgon). When he refuses, Melko sets him in a ‘lofty place of the mountains’ and curses him to watch the doom of Morwen and his children.  (”at least none shall pity him for this, that he had a craven for a father”). Húrin has not been to Gondolin in this version. This version is notable in this regard for a few things: One, Morgoth spends far less time with Húrin and no mention of physical torture apart from threats of it is noted prior to his imprisonment in the mountains and the curse.  Two, the actual dialogue between them is rather different and briefer. Morgoth tries to take advantage of the poorer views by the elves towards humans by offering employment to Húrin but without success. 

The version in the Lay of the Children of Húrin is more similar to the Narn and Silm. There is more extended contact between Morgoth and Húrin (though the contents of their talk is still different). It’s also perhaps the most vivid in descriptions of torture and imprisonment and the only version where actual methods of torment are mentioned or implied (namely whips and brands). 

I definitely want to go into this version more later! As always please feel free to ask more! I will also go into more versions throughout HoME of both these storylines if there’s interest!

Final notes:

No version of Húrin in Angband will be as disturbing to me as Húrin’s imprisonment by his own kin in Brethil in The Wanderings of Húrin

[diodellet]

the kindest place to place a kiss (jamil viper x gn!reader)

@mochimiyaas tagged me in this post and now i am double-buried under these Gushy Gooey Feelings and thought of uno reversing jamil (ignore that last tag...life came up and hit me in the face with a metal bat that's my only reason for posting this late *punts my impostor syndrome across the ocean*) content warnings: light descriptions of kitchen injuries ++lots of loving and physical affection, established relationship shenaniganery. mildly unbeta'd all mistakes are mine. word count: 1.06k words

Jamil Viper was indifferent to pain. Getting splattered by cooking oil, handling hot pans and plates, getting nicked by knives, these were only the usual occurrences that came with working in the kitchen. A fraction of what constituted his daily life. 

It could be said he was indifferent to anything and everything less than pain. The life he led had no room for such. 

Not to say that he held pride for his position in life, but he was (unwillingly) secure in the knowledge of what he had.

That was what he thought, before you tumbled into his life.

It started slowly, with little gestures of concern: helping out here and there with chores, stealing Kalim away when Jamil’s patience was about to boil over, offering a pack of medicated pain-relief patches. Little things that he wasn’t expecting to receive.

(Maybe it was the way that you were attuned to him—the things he would brush over in favor of his other obligations—that these feelings started developing.)

One good turn deserves another, doesn’t it? 

He made sure to return these gestures, under the guise of offering a helping hand. (Jamil doesn’t mention aloud how it almost felt natural to work side-by-side with you.)

People just sort of…assumed you were already together. So it wasn’t really a surprise when the both of you decided to make the relationship official. 

Which was good, the both of you were already left to your own discretion. Save for the initial embarrassment that came with breaking the news, it was good.

Nothing much changed, outwardly. You saw each other whenever your schedules allowed for it (usually at Scarabia).

The most important thing was being able to spend time together. To share in these brief idle moments where the both of you weren’t busy with your responsibilities for the day.

That doesn’t mean he was free of those—little insecurities—worming their way into his thoughts.

He asks you, “doesn’t it get boring, being with me?” Waiting for Jamil to finish cleaning up, to finish making his final checks around the dorm.

“No, not at all.” You shake your head, before adding, “I’d be fine as long as I get to see you.”

Jamil ignores how that simple admission makes his heart skip a beat. Playing off his fluster with a roll of his eyes. “So you’d be fine with exchanging greetings and moving on for the rest of your day? That’s nice to know.”

Your expression doesn’t change. Though you take a few seconds to formulate a response. “I suppose I’d be fine, I mean—I don’t want to get in the way of your work,” you say.

“Though I would… miss you terribly,” you add as an afterthought. And you have the audacity to sound bashful.

The only reaction you would notice is the brief moment his eyes widen in surprise and the reflexive twitch of his hand itching to tug on the drawstrings of his hoodie.

Okay, maybe that was his cue to stop fussing over work for today. 

Quality time together was different in the privacy of Jamil’s room. At least, in here, he felt free enough to be less guarded. To hold you close and to return your affections in full.

(For just a moment, he was free to shed his facade as a retainer.)

One thing to know about Jamil Viper: he is touch-starved.

Grown up too fast, taught to care for another over himself, resigned to his fate—no matter how much he rationalized it, these long-ingrained thoughts would reach a point where it became overwhelming.

So when you welcome him into your arms, whenever you sit close together, or when he lets you undo his braids, it all melts away with your touch.

When you ask him for help with a difficult problem in your coursework, he is absolutely draping himself over you and leaning against your shoulder.

When there’s soft music playing in the background, he is absolutely resting his hands on your waist as you sway in time with the beat.

And when you’re staying over for the night (an increasing occurrence), he’s absolutely trapping hugging you in his arms.

(Or just hug him instead. He won’t admit it aloud, but he likes the feeling of security that being the little spoon brings.)

It’s almost… strange how calm his thoughts run when you’re cuddled against him, resting your head against the top of his chest.

Tentatively, Jamil reaches a hand out. The tips of his fingers grazing against the curve of your cheek. At the contact, you meet his eyes. Wide, anticipating, trusting.

He lightly pinches the skin in between his fingers. It's irritatingly endearing how you watch him with that look.

The gesture elicits a short laugh from you and you lean into his palm. The action reminds him of an affectionate cat.

But it’s this—the gentle press of your lips against his skin, a gesture so light and faint—that it sets his nerves alight, that it makes his heart somersault.

“What are you doing?” Code for: why are you suddenly being this bold?

“Nothing, I just…love your hands,” you reply without missing a beat. 

Your next kiss is pressed against the back of Jamil’s fingers, atop another faint scar. “They’re pretty. Like you,” you say, while cradling his hand in your palms.

“Flatterer.” But he makes no move to pull away from you.

Instead of growing shy, you press another kiss to his inner wrist. “It’s true though. Every part of you is pretty.”

Jamil doesn’t know what to say in response. He’s watching you, trying not to shiver as you tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear.

A gentle kiss to his neck, the side of his jaw, atop his nose, against his cheek, the corner of his mouth—

Is this what you’re holding yourself back from, whenever you saw each other during the day?

You never ran out of heartfelt praises, but hearing them—whispered softly into his skin, accompanied with your earnest gaze—was a different matter altogether.

(It’s nice to have someone put away his doubts.)

But don’t think that Jamil would take all of this lying down.

The moment you meet his lips, he’s cupping the back of your head, savoring the surprised noise you make and drawing out the kiss for longer.

After all, it’s only fair that he gets to be affectionate with you too, right?

A/N: lowkey got a bit paranoid to throw this ramble in a reblog so i decided to improv a bit and make this its own post HUHUHUHU NE WAY the key takeaway here is that jamil viper should be the little spoon more!! he deserves to be held!!!!! aaagh!!!! i have one more draft to chip away at.... let's hope i get to post it during this month....(or next month knowing how my uni sched is getting a bit more busy) 🥴🥴title is from this song, hahaha help i have too many feelings. tagging my fellow jamil simp hi lods hihi😇😇: @merotwst

[kaleidoskuls]

you're my best friend *kisses you on the mouth*

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | mature | 2.1k | tags: outlaw!eddie, future fic, starcrossed lovers finding each other, happy ending, the happy ending to he's all that I've got (don’t take that sinner from me) we deserve | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is the only thing we can take with us by @thefreakandthehair | AO3)

Sometimes Eddie wondered how many times you could lose everything and be forced to start over before you just...gave up.

The first time the world as he knew it fell apart, he had only been ten, too young to really understand what it meant as his mom grew weaker and weaker until the doctors took her away. He had been allowed to visit her one last time to say goodbye, and even at ten he had understood that from that day on things would be different.

There would always be a before and an after.

Sitting on a cliff in Maine, overlooking the sea with a crumpled photograph in his hand, he remembers the last time he spoke to his ma, curled up against her on the too-small bed in the too-white room.

"I miss you, Mama," he had whispered, his voice hoarse from crying so much lately. He didn't want to cry now, because he knew it always made his mommy sad when he cried, but he couldn't help the little sniffle.

His mom had stroked his hair. "Oh baby, I know. I missed you too, my sweet little boy."

"I asked Daddy when you were coming home to us, but he didn't say. He just said I had to stay with Uncle Wayne for a few days." The hand in his hair had felt good, soothing. His mom was soft and warm under his cheek, and even though she didn't smell like the perfume she usually wore, it almost felt like they were just cuddling in her bed after one of his nightmares.

"You're not coming home." Eddie added, not really a question because he might only be ten and sometimes school was hard because he was so bored and distracted, but he wasn't stupid. No matter what some of the kids on the school bus said, or his dad when Eddie could smell the bitter stench of whiskey on his breath.

His mom had pressed a kiss to the top of his head and sighed. "No, baby. I'm not." And then, in an even softer voice, "I have to go, even though I don't want to leave you."

"Then take me with you!" He had blurted out, scared and sad and angry at the world for taking his mommy away when she didn't even want to go.

"Baby."

"I don't want you to be alone, Mama." Because even though Eddie didn't really know much about death, he didn't want to think about his mama going somewhere dark and scary and being all alone without him to take care of her.

She had held him as tightly to her body as her dwindling strength would allow. "I won't be alone, baby. I will have you and Daddy and Uncle Wayne with me. Your love for me and my love for you. That's the only thing we can take with us, Eddie. That's why it's so important that you find people that you can love and that love you back, so that you're never alone. You will always have them with you."

His mom died the next day, taking all his love with her.

It was a long time before Eddie found that love in his heart again. Wayne helped a lot by teaching him that love came with no strings attached. Love was just because. Gareth and Jeff and Grant helped too, sharing his passions, looking up to him and giving him a place to be whoever he wanted to be, no matter how nerdy or loud or brash.

But it wasn't until Dustin, oddly enough, that he found that selfless love in his heart again. He gladly sacrificed himself for the kid who always believed in him, who looked past his masks and antics and shields and saw him, and embraced the man he found underneath it all with all his might.

And then Steve Harrington stumbled into his life and turned it upside down. Well, even more upside down than the actual Upside Down, which in a strange, roundabout way meant that Steve made his life feel right again.

Falling in love with him was both inevitable and almost an afterthought.

He was accused of murder. He ran away. He met Steve. He found out that monsters were real and fought them with a bunch of teenagers. He got to know Steve and liked what he found, a lot. He almost died. He woke up from a coma to find Steve at his bedside. He kissed a boy for the first time and liked it, a lot. He liked the boy, he liked Steve, a lot. He had to run from the law before he could even tell him he loved him.

His mama had been right, though.

Eddie had to leave everything behind, his guitar, his books, the only family he had left, his friends, hell, even his name.

He had to leave Steve behind, hopes and dreams turned into an almost.

The only thing he took with him was his love for Steve.

It made him reckless and stupid, selfless and brave. It made him seek Steve out, over and over again, and he found that he was taking Steve's love with him as well.

He risked getting caught again and again, and that would not only mean prison or, more likely, the death penalty. It would mean they might get the idea that Steve had helped him escape. Or Wayne. Dustin and the other kids. That's why Eddie stayed away from them, because it was safer for them.

He couldn't stay away from Steve, not until Steve asked him to.

At first, Steve never would; he would only ask Eddie to stay or to take Steve with him. He couldn't do either of those things because he knew what kind of life Steve would face if he came with Eddie. A life that was cold and bleak, hunger and loneliness, homesickness and the struggle to survive that ate at you every day.

No, Eddie couldn't, wouldn't ask that of Steve. All he ever wanted for Steve was a safe and comfortable life. Some nights, when he couldn't sleep, he thought about what he would have wanted for their future. A small house, a dog. Waking up in Steve's arms under warm covers. Eating breakfast in their sunny kitchen. Laughing and dancing barefoot to old songs on the radio like he had seen his parents do. Coming home to the smell of freshly cooked food and someone waiting for him. Kissing and touching and loving Steve as the sun set in the west, only to do it all over again the next day. And the next.

It took Steve eight years, five months and fifteen days to ask Eddie to stay away. He was so sad, so heartbroken when he told Eddie, "I love you and I can't keep waiting for a future that will never come. I want to be with you so bad, Eddie. You have no idea. But I can't keep doing what we're doing. I can't just have pieces of you twice a year."

They had made love that day, even if it had been on their knees on the dirty ground in a dark alley, and then Eddie had walked away.

Now, in the middle of nowhere in northern Maine, he thinks about those words. Playing them over and over again. Hoping the pain will kill him, thinking it might. Steve's love was what kept him warm, kept him going, even if he didn't really know where. At least he had Steve, so it didn't matter that he had nothing else.

Eddie had thought that his love was enough for Steve as well, but he should have known better. Steve deserved so much more than waiting for a future that would never come.

He plays the scene again, twisting the knife deeper, hearing Steve say, "I can't - Eddie, I can't do this anymore. It's killing me, never knowing when you'll be back, if you'll be back."

A large fishing boat honks in the distance, the sound barely registering as he thinks of the future he had always dreamed of with Steve. Coming home to him every day because they had a life together, whatever that looked like.

It wouldn't matter because they'd have each other.

The fishing boat honks again as it approaches Cutler's harbor. Maybe he could get a job on a ship again, he thinks distantly, it had been surprisingly good work. Busy and smelly, but good. It's nice here, secluded, so far from the hustle and bustle of the big cities. No one knows who he is, most people don't really care about national news, because what do they care? It's more important to keep up with local events.

Looking back at the one and only picture of him and Steve, an idea begins to form in his mind.

Eddie feels lighter as he slides the postcard into the mailbox before walking back up the driveway to his house. The mailman would be here in two days, but Eddie couldn't wait any longer, afraid he'd chicken out and wait another six months before working up the courage to actually send the damn thing. It's been 730 days since he last saw Steve and he feels every one of them etched in his heart like a prisoner marking the passing of days with scratches on his prison wall.

It's a risk to reveal his whereabouts like this, especially considering he doesn't even know if Steve is still in Indy or has finally moved on, moved to be with his friends instead of waiting for Eddie's ghost to haunt him. Eddie didn't give his address or even the town he lives near. Just that he's in Alaska and a hidden clue he hopes Steve will be able to understand. Just a little line tucked away at the bottom of the card, far less obvious than the Hey, Big Boy that says, "I took the road less traveled, I see you at the end of it."

Now all Eddie could do was hope, his love wrapped around him like a blanket as he continued to build a life here, at the end of the road.

Opening his front door while holding back an excited puppy is a feast he's still trying to master. Cerberus is an Alaskan Malamute destined to be big and strong, and the fact that even as a puppy Eddie has little chance against the bundle of excited energy doesn't bode well for him.

"Bear, come on, go to your place," he commands as he pulls the door open, his foot holding back the ball of fur that is trying to get to whoever is on the other side first.

"I'm sorry, he's not really trained yet and he's stubborn to boot," Eddie apologizes, not even looking up at his visitor as he continues to wrestle with Cerberus. It's probably the mailman or Mrs. Jenkins, the closest thing to a neighbor 'James Smith' has, since she lives only five miles from him. She likes to check on him from time to time, saying that a young man like him shouldn't be alone. He strongly suspects that she wants to set him up with her daughter.

"I guess it's true what they say, like owner, like dog, huh?" a warm voice chuckles and Eddie freezes. Cerberus takes the opportunity to leap over his leg and into Steve's arms as he bends down to greet the little traitor.

The puppy immediately begins to lick Steve's face with enthusiasm and wriggles in his arms to get even closer, making Steve laugh with his whole face. Eddie makes a mental note to give Bear some extra treats.

"I think he really likes me," Steve delights, and Eddie manages a weak chuckle of his own, still reeling from finding the man he loves and thought he had lost on his doorstep.

"Like owner, like dog, I guess."

That gives Steve pause, finally looking up from the bundle of enthusiastic puppy love in his arms.

"Eddie," he breathes out in wonder, his eyes taking in Eddie's body from head to toe, and Eddie wonders if he still likes what he finds. His body has changed, bulkier from all the physical labor he does, but also older. More scars, a beard against the cold, his hair cut shorter to look less distinctive.

"Hey, Stevie. It's James, actually."

"Yeah, they told me when I asked around and gave your description. Wasn't easy finding you." Steve adds, not angry, just a fact. Like he doesn't mind. As if he didn't travel thousands of miles to find Eddie.

"But you did."

"I did. You wanted me to, right? That's what your card was for?"

Reaching for Steve to pull him inside, Eddie closes the door behind him and takes a step toward him. Steve puts the puppy down and Bear, bless his heart, goes to his place without being told.

"Steve," Eddie says as he slides his fingers between Steve's, "I always wanted to take you with me, but I never felt I could. Not until I could offer you something. Well, it's not much, just a small house and an untrained, stubborn puppy, but it's something. If you want it."

Pulling Eddie in with their joined hand, Steve wraps his arm around him.

"It's you, that's all I ever wanted."

[flowercrowngods]

the ever lovely @cuoredimuschio tagged me in six sentence sunday

and i’m half passed out in bed already but i gotta do what i gotta do 🤍 some time travel au words with double/triple sentence count bc lord have i been tagged a lot in those lately 🫶

Owens wants to talk with him — well, as much as the scientist leader of a secret government project that makes political super weapons of unborn children can ever just want to talk with someone like Steve. It makes him shudder every time Hopper mentions it in an off-sentence, just a side note over the sizzling food on the stove, just an afterthought when he grabs a beer for himself and a coke for Steve.

And every time, Steve freezes with the ice cold rush of panic, his jaw clenching shut and the nausea he’s been fighting all day crashing on him tenfold.

Steve knows what they do to helpless children and their mothers; he knows what they do to people who ask just the wrong question, or who know just a bit too much. He doesn’t even want to imagine what they’d do with him if they find out what he knows. If they get it in their heads that he knows everything; if they make him out to be someone who’s a lot more than a scared, confused teenager who got wrapped up in some bullshit that’s so much bigger than him.

Owens wants to talk with him. It didn’t go so well last time — images of broken skulls and bodies ripped limb to limb come back to him, swirling in nausea and feverish fear that leaves him immovable and deaf to the world at least once a day.

“Told him I’d put a bullet through his head if he tries,” Hopper adds that night, and Steve, still frozen and suddenly feverish, lifts his eyes away from the nothingness to look at him. Hopper is looking at him, too — because they do that now — and there’s something in those eyes. A surprising genuineness. Fierce. Familiar.

And suddenly it’s like the walls are extending around him, the ceiling ascending as the world outgrows him and leaves him tiny and pathetic and with one more reminder that he doesn’t belong here. Now. It’s pathetic, how much relief it brings to hear Hopper utter such a direct threat, announcing he would kill someone for Steve like he’s talking about the weather.

It’s twisted, the feeling of security so wrong in its nature, and yet so pure. It battles all the other things he’s feeling; all of them leaving him without the energy to speak.

So he remains still, tempests of emotions and thoughts and memories warring inside him, and all he can do is hope that Hopper understands his silence for now.

Please don’t kill anyone for me, he wants to say, but also Yes, please and Thank you.

With a grunt and a nod, Hopper turns back to his food, and Steve envies him for his ability to move right now; for the ability to eat anything at all. He envies him for not knowing.

But he takes that envy and shoves it into the tempest, feeling only tendrils of it lingering in his mind, and adding to the mess of things he carries inside his chest.

It will burst one day, he knows. It already feels too tight to breathe.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 17 - While most of me is still intact

Masterlist; Chapter 16 Summary: The aftermath of the flood. Warnings: Swearing, canon-typical violence (only a mention), angst™️. Author's Notes: I am back 🙈 Still writing, still here, only it's slow and for that I'm sorry. If that's any consolation, this chapter is long. 8k long. It's fluffy too, because it seems my idiots needed some respite before the ultimate conclusion... I'm still not sure how many more chapters till the end, since this one was supposed to be longer. But I'm definitely going to finish the series. Until then, thank you for sticking around and let me know what you think? 💕 Tag list: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid, @siriuslydestiny, @ms-dont-care, @raphaelaisabella, @itsmytimetoodream, @brightjimini, @castellandiangelo (let me know if you wanted to be removed/added).

Once upon a time, an image had been planted in your mind, the biblical allegory for a hopeful intervention. The Red Sea parted precisely when safe passage was needed. Something you never once dreamt of seeing with your own cynical eyes. Until the election night in rainy Gotham. Until the metal railing was biting into your hand, the cold seeping into your bones. The fear was so familiar you could no longer tell it apart from anything else.

Until the dark and murky waters below had been lit with a single red flare, the unmistakable shadow of Vengeance wading through the sea toward the stage. He was alright. Your hand relaxed on the railing as a collective gasp rushed through your small party. Your gaze inadvertently found Selina, taking in the worry on her face, the palpable terror you could feel coursing through your veins, too. When she turned to look at you, you quickly dropped your eyes back onto the scene underneath.

Bruce made it to the stage and began extracting those trapped underneath from within the mess of steel and debris. In the background, you could hear Gordon calling in for backup and choppers, and medical staff for the wounded. The bustle of the police forces intensified, and you knew it was just a matter of seconds till you would be addressed. Till the reality would have to catch up with what had unfolded.

It seemed like you were not the only one with the realization. A muffled shout behind made you turn to find the source, finding Gordon leaning over the railing on the other side of the bridge. You quickly crossed the space to join him, watching as Selina leapt down the ladders and constructions. Her body filled with feline grace you could barely fathom.

“You’re going to do that too?” the gruff voice cut through your consciousness, turning to see Gordon staring at you pointedly.

Despite the weariness and exhaustion, you could not help but crack a wry smile:

“Nah, I don’t fancy dying tonight,” and, then, just as an afterthought you could not hold back, you added, “I’m not that good,”

You really weren’t. It was nearly impossible to ignore the running thoughts, the questions piling in your head, begging to be answered. Like: what if you never showed up on the bridge? What if Bruce never saw you? And what did Selina have to do with all of it?

You did not dare hope it was the last you would ever hear or see of her. The universe was never quite that kind. Or generous.

“Well, I’m glad because I want to talk to you sometime. Once it all quietens a little,” not allowing your brain to go on a tangent, the cop’s conversational tone was once again the one to bring you back to the present.

“What like a witness statement?” you eyed him suspiciously, never the one to eagerly enter the police station and confess your thoughts at the white desk of shame.

But there was no cunning to be found in his face as Gordon nodded:

“You can call it that” as if reading your thoughts, he cracked a wry grin of his own “Don’t worry, you’re not a suspect,”

Perhaps Bruce was right, and he was one of the decent ones. A lone bastion of decency in the GCPD ranks, if you will.

“I should hope not,” you levelled him with one final hard look, hoping to show that you would not be easily intimidated, police forces or not.

One alliance, pulling you right into the centre of this mess was quite enough. And you could not even pretend you were willing to let go of Bruce. It simply was not happening.

Before you could contemplate the logistics of getting back home with the streets flooded, Gordon broke the silence again:

“For now, wait here. I’ll send someone with you to get your head checked out and to get you home safely” only once reminded of it, you felt the throbbing pain pulsing through your skull.

“Police escort, huh?” rolling your eyes, you allowed the uncertainty to speak, “Am I that important?”

The question was not aimed at Gordon. But he was there, and the only person you wanted to ask was… unavailable.

Judging by the expression on his face, you were very transparent on the matter. James threw one look at the stage below and turned away with a simple statement:

“It seems like to him, you are,”

He left you with the words resonating in your head, unaware of the consequences. Unaware of the fact that the statement would haunt you for hours to come. Until you could look into Bruce’s eyes and ask him too.

***

Hours passed since leaving the Garden until you could finally step through the doors leading into the Wayne Tower. Sometime between the fifteen minutes spent at the back of an ambulance (no head trauma, sweetie, but take it slow for a couple of days) and the police car, you decided not to go home. Directing the cops to a random street near the tower, you lied through your teeth, pretending this was home and they could leave you alone. Luckily, they were eager to comply. The excuse you had prepared in the quiet of your mind was that you were safer there. And conveniently more likely to find Bruce once he made it back.

The list of things that needed attending was getting longer as you crept through the familiar foyer and into the creaking lift. You had to call the hospital and inquire after Alfred, the worry gnawing at your heart relentlessly. You were hoping you would stumble upon Dory, too, wanting to let her know Bruce was relatively unharmed. Some dry clothes would have been nice, as well.

Some of those prayers had been answered, for as soon as you stepped into the study, you noticed the warm lamp glow by the bookshelves. One of the armchairs was occupied. As you crept closer, you could easily discern Dory curled up in the chair, her head propped on the backrest, eyes closed. She was dozing. A soft smile spread over your face as you closed the distance and whispered:

“Hey, it’s me” even with all the softness you could procure, Dory sat up startled.

You watched as her wide gaze slowly gave way to recognition and relief. A tentative smile inched its way across your face as she stood up from the armchair and gathered you into a tight hug:

“I’m so happy to see you, darling. I wanted to call someone, but I didn’t have your number, and master Wayne wasn’t picking up. I was so worried” Dory’s voice was smothered by the embrace, yet you heard it well enough to feel the tears gather in your eyes.

Blinking them away, you gave the older woman a final squeeze and stepped back. It was nearly impossible to ignore the uptick of fondness and the part of your brain that already forgot what it was like to be cared for. What it felt like to be important to someone.

“I know. I’m sorry it took me so long” swallowing down the emotions, you sank into the nearest armchair and allowed yourself to relax.

For the first time in hours. Only now, you could feel just how much everything hurt.

The subtle wince did not escape Dory’s worried eyes as she scanned you intently before settling on a question:

“Are you alright?” she added another as you opened your mouth to speak, “Were you there when…?”

She need not finish it.

“Yes, I had a front-row seat to the whole ordeal… I’m fine, though” shrugging halfheartedly, you chose to ignore the aching body and the tarnished confidence; instead, you aimed for another reassuring smile as you added, “Bruce is alright too, he um… helped people there. I’ll wait for him tonight” noticing the dark circles underneath her eyes, you made sure to soften your voice “You can get some rest; I’ve got it all covered,”

It took one long look between you for Dory to agree. She stood up slowly, gathering her bearings and casting one final glance around the space. And then back at you. Eyes filled with fondness you could barely process without bursting into tears.

“Thank you” as if pulled by an invisible string, you got up and allowed her to take your hand between her palms and squeeze it tightly, “He’s lucky to have you,” the sentiment was uttered with enough sincerity to make your heart ache.

A protest was ready to be launched, but you tried to push it down, unable to look away from Dory. From the look in her eyes begging you to accept it as a fact. You closed your eyes to gather your thoughts, knowing it was futile anyway.

“I’m not sure he agrees, but… I’ve always been hard to get rid of” shrugging helplessly, you opened them again only to turn away with a wry smile.

You could not stand it anymore. The housekeeper must have taken the hint, for she gathered the rest of her things and left the room without another word. For once, the loneliness did not hurt too bad.

***

After that, you moved like a ghost through the tower. Careful not to dwell on your actions, you slipped into Bruce’s bedroom to find spare, dry clothes. The set he gave you days before was still there, carefully laid on the chair as if he did not want to put it in the washing yet. That, too, was a thought best left in the dark. Hoping he would not mind, you put them on and dared yourself not to linger as everything there reminded you of his presence and of the safety you were not sure you deserved in the slightest. But it did not matter. You promised Dory to wait upon him, and so were going to do just that.

Calling the hospital was a much easier feat to achieve. It did help to discover that the last time Bruce was visiting Alfred, he had put down your name as someone trusted, and hence it took no effort on your side to get information. What mattered was that he was safe. It took the invisible weight off your chest as you collapsed into a chair in the kitchen and rested your forehead on the cold marble.

It took a great deal of self-persuasion to make a sandwich your stomach badly needed and to convince yourself you should wait downstairs in Bruce’s underground station. That way, you would know exactly when he arrived and could see him right away. And there was no telling when that would happen. Eschewing the importance of clocks and watches, you took a blanket from the sofa in the study and got in the lift to take you down.

The shiver shook your body as the chill of the underground station hit you in the face. Careful not to pay much attention to the late hour or the temptation of everything scattered around the place, you curled up in one of the chairs and burrowed in the blanket. Before long, you were sound asleep.

Waking up was no less jarring. One moment, you were dead to the world, lost in the nonsensical dreams that offered no comfort, and the next, an engine roar made you jerk awake with a start. When your senses adjusted to reality, Bruce was in front of you, the vehicle door closing behind him. He was still wearing full armour, standing motionless as if arrested by your gaze. Just as you were rendered frozen by his.

He was the first to make a move, raising his arms with a quiet groan to take off the cowl. The motion mussed his dark hair, making it fall in disarray over his forehead. Over the attentive eyes, now encircled with smudged black eyeshadow. Your heart stuttered in your chest. A traitorous blush spread over your cheeks as you fought to keep looking him in the eyes, hoping Bruce would not notice the internal crisis.

A flash of surprise followed by recognition and a faint smirk twisting his lips blew those hopes with the wind of your embarrassment. But you did not have enough time to dwell on it. Your legs finally became unstuck as you started closing the gap, exactly when Bruce came to the same conclusion. You met in the middle, bodies colliding almost chaotically, except for the needs controlling every movement. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands came to rest on his shoulders. Eyes met for a split second to fulfil the soul’s desire before Bruce delved in for a kiss.

You gasped, pressing against him, instantly opening your mouth underneath his prodding tongue, giving in to the longing sizzling in your veins. It was easy to slide your tongue alongside his, to let your teeth nibble on his lower lip, revelling in the groan he let out. To press your hand to his cheek, pouring the feelings into the kiss, hoping the message would get through. That you missed him. That you loved him, against all hope and reason. That all you wanted was for this to last. Somehow.

Perhaps it did get through. Perhaps Bruce understood if the way he kept chasing after your lips was anything to go by. Kissing you with all his might, devouring your mouth like a dying man. Like there was no hope left. Nothing but this. But you.

You only broke the kiss when you could hardly breathe, taking half a step back but keeping your hand caressing his cheek lightly. Bruce whined quietly, his hold reluctantly easing to let you go. When your eyes met again, it was impossible not to exhale sharply, shocked to the core by the depth of yearning in his gaze. Mirroring your move, Bruce cupped your face with careful fingers, wincing as soon as he felt the cold skin:

“God, you’re freezing” the slight rasp in his voice was another reason for the stumble in your heartbeat.

Leaning into his palm, you cracked a wry smile and shrugged:

“Yeah, well… You forgot to turn the heating on” your grin widened upon seeing Bruce's faint smile, yet you chose not to dwell on it, “Sorry, I fell asleep” feeling the awkwardness slipping in, you took another half-a step back.

But Bruce did not let you. The arm he kept around your waist stayed right where it was, making it impossible to move further away. You could only stare back as his eyes worriedly scanned your face, looking for any signs of pain. When he found nothing apparent, Bruce gently cupped the back of your head and asked:

“Are you alright? Is-” you could barely tolerate the concern you saw in his eyes, so you stopped him before another word could get out.

Before you got used to being treated like you mattered to someone.

“I’m fine. Got checked up, no head trauma, so as good as it gets” another shrug, taking over the inability to deal with everything you were feeling; you scanned his face with a scrutinous glare before settling on a simple statement, “You, on the other hand, look terrible” proving the point, you dragged your hand through his knotted hair, unable to fight off the fond smile.

The offence you had been awaiting never came. Instead, Bruce mirrored your uncertain smile and sighed, evidently letting go of the invisible weight perched upon his shoulders. His body sagged just a fraction as he finally let go of you and replied:

“I feel like it too” as if not knowing what to do with himself, his gaze ventured over the equipment in the station with palpable restless energy, “I wanted to check up on Alfred, but-”

It felt good to be able to offer him some solutions. You cut right into his sentence, briefly summarizing the discoveries:

“No need, I already called them. He’s safe. Their ICU is on higher floors, so they managed to keep the water under control. They’ll let us know when it’s alright to visit him” running out of steam, you remembered one last crucial bit of information; all the while ignoring how it felt to have Bruce’s eyes fixed on your face with intent, “Caught up with Dory, too, and told her to go to bed,”

You could never have foreseen the reaction to your recap. Before you could do as much as blink and find a new way of filling the silence, a blanket was draped over your shoulders. You whirled around with a gasp, meeting Bruce’s soft stare with wide eyes of your own. He only nodded, answering your unasked question.

“Thank you. I really mean it” seeing the gratitude in his eyes, you could only offer him another tight-lipped smile before turning away to conceal the blush spreading over your cheeks.

You wrapped yourself tighter in the blanket and shot back the remaining two revelations you felt Bruce should know. Those were harder to say out loud without hesitation.

“Um… Gordon wants me to visit him in a few days, so… yeah,” taking his silence as all the encouragement you would get, you added; voice wavering pathetically, “And Selina got away, unfortunately… Sorry about that”

Any idiot would have been able to detect the glaring lack of compassion in the sentence. Not for her, anyway. And Bruce Wayne was many things, but definitely not an idiot.

As if seeing right through the bullshit in your head, he laid a careful hand on your shoulder and forced you to face him. The haunting blue eyes stared into the depths of your soul as his fingers inched higher, caressing your neck in tentative strokes. Unable to maintain eye contact, you squeezed your eyes shut just in time to hear the murmur:

“I don’t care” the sheer conviction in his voice was almost enough to make you believe him.

Almost. Gathering the remains of courage, you chose to face Bruce again:

“She saved your ass up there. You don’t have to pretend it’s nothing” you could tell that bitterness was seeping through each word, the resignation forcing you to stop the rouse, even if just for the moment, “Not for my sake, anyway,”

The flash of annoyance in Bruce’s eyes was almost enough to keep you there. He sighed with frustration before surprising you for the umpteenth time within the past quarter of an hour. Tipping your chin so you could not escape his gaze, Bruce closed the gap to lay a gentle kiss on your parted lips. He leaned back before you could think of chasing after him. The steel-like resolve is still there, written in his blue eyes and the clench of his sharp jaw. As if he was done with your nonsense and yet unwilling to let you go. It was another thing to get you hooked on, so you could never dream of getting over him. As if.

“I’m not pretending. The only person I wanted to see after it all was you” the sincere statement is the one to cut through your internal monologues.

The force of it was enough to rejuvenate the blush on your face and to bring back the stutter in your voice. You stepped back out of his grasp and dropped your gaze to the floor. How did he dare?

“… okay, I… We should go to sleep I think” how eloquent, goddamn it, “You must be exhausted,” it was as good an excuse as you could ever find.

You knew Bruce saw right through it. His eyes flickered over your face with something unidentifiable, but it was clear he had given up. Instead, he found something else to fret over. It became apparent the moment he looked at you helplessly, hands gesturing at the armour with something close to shyness:

“Could you… could you help me get out of this?” his blush had synced up with yours.

One glance at all the different straps and fastenings holding together the upper part of his suit was enough to make you understand. You only nodded, already dropping the blanket on the chair and approaching him with a blank expression. Wordlessly asking for pointers.

The next fifteen minutes had been spent on the painstakingly slow process of disassembling the armour. Quiet was only disrupted by Bruce’s directions, patiently narrating the process so that you knew what you were doing. It was almost pleasant to be this close to him without any pressure of time or case needed solving. Feeling the trust and knowing that this experience was not one many have lived. Perhaps only Alfred had done it before for him. Albeit selfish, the thought gave you comfort. And the courage to think about what came after. About what you wanted (and needed) to offer.

Placing the breast plating on the rack Bruce showed you, you hesitated, eyes slipping over his torso, still hidden by a black shirt. You knew you had been caught once you noticed him stare at you back, head cocked to the side in silent question. There was no point stalling anymore.

“I can stay with you… in your room, if you’d like that” as soon as the words left your mouth, you winced, internally berating yourself for every one of them, “Just to sleep, of course. I don’t… I know you wouldn’t-” the ramblings were cut off with a simple whisper carrying your name.

Making you glance back up at Bruce, at his smile and kind eyes that showed no malice. None of the feared sneer either.

“I’d like it very much” a relieved sigh was inescapable.

As was the flustered smile and maddeningly fast pulse pounding in your ears. It was part of the deal, unfortunately.

You were the first one to break the sickly-sweet exchange of giddy smiles. For the first time in a while, that hopeful spark in your chest was not unwelcome. You allowed yourself to feel it burn as you grinned at Bruce:

“Good. Me too” your lips twisted into a smirk, one Bruce was so familiar with, as you dropped your voice to a faux seductive timbre, “As far as I recall, you’re quite a comfy pillow, hun,”

The delighted laughter you got in return for the nickname was worth the faint headache. And the battered heart.

***

The awkwardness crept back in before you could get in bed and get lost in the dream world. Sometime between getting into Bruce’s bedroom, closing the door, and settling in for the night, everything became harder to ignore. Like the extent of the bruises underneath his shirt, the sheer uncertainty that lays after the flood and the closeness between you that was still terrifying. Having convinced Bruce to let you rub the ointments into the worst of bruising, you settled in between the pillows while he disappeared into the bathroom to get changed. It gave you time to manage the inexplicable spike of anxiety that began to get out of control. Because it was the first time you were going to sleep next to Bruce without any other reason. Because you both wanted to be close to each other. And it was utterly frightening.

The crisis hardly got smothered when Bruce emerged from the ensuite and joined you under the covers. The familiar shy smile graced his features, making it so easy to mirror his position and turn onto your side to face him. You did not have to look for words to fill in the silence:

“Come closer” Bruce extended a hand toward you, fingers trailing over the length of your forearm.

What had been a respectable space between you suddenly felt like nothing. And Bruce wanted you closer than that. Cursing quietly, you levelled him with as a serious look as you could manage, all things considered:

“You sure?” the act was easy to see through.

You wanted to close that gap, perhaps more than anything. But Bruce’s bravery was still something new, something you were not used to. It was best to check lest you could fuck it all up somehow.

“Very, very sure” as if reading your mind, Bruce gave you a reassuring smile, his arm winding around your waist as you gave in to the pull and closed the distance.

Without a word, you laid your head on his pillow and pressed the length of your legs against his. Placing your arm around his middle, you felt instantly enveloped in an embrace that would keep you safe. As did the look in his eyes, trusting and open. The chatter of your thoughts at once grew quiet.

“You know, for a minute there, I was scared I’d never be able to do this again… It was terrifying” laying this close to each other, you could feel each word Bruce spoke with a warm rush of air over your mouth.

Nearly distracting you from the meaning of his words. And what they revealed. Once it sunk in, you closed your eyes and allowed the honesty to speak.

“Will you tell me what… what happened there?” hoping the inflexion would do the work without you having to put it into words, the anxiety raging in your brain made you add, “You don’t have to, is just that… I’d love to get that gap filled in with something other than assumptions” Bruce squeezed your arm in reassurance, confirming he understood.

That he was willing to elaborate on what was, without a doubt, a vulnerable moment. You still were not ready to open your eyes.

“I saw one of them take you out with a blow to the head, and I… Guess I just fucking lost it” the bitter tone with which he threw out the curse felt like a punch to the gut.

It was why your eyes flew open, and the words rushed out.

“But you could barely move, I-” Bruce never let you finish.

“I used an adrenaline shot. Always got a couple in the utility belt” although his voice was rid of emotions, you could see the urgency in his eyes.

As if Bruce was begging you to understand what he meant by it all. You understood enough. Even if you could not bear to think about it without risking your sanity.

“I never heard you swear before” it was why you chose to deflect, holding onto the least important of facts.

Bruce’s eyes widened at the question, and his mouth fell agape in what would be a comical expression if the circumstances were any different.

“Really? Is that the takeaway?” there was a flash of that previous annoyance in his eyes.

Yet still, Bruce tightened the hold over your body, pulling you a fraction closer to the heat of his frame. Close enough that you could melt into him, admitting to the reasons for your foolishness. The why of all the omissions:

“Yeah, because I don’t want to deal with the rest of what you told me” you met his searching gaze, hoping your eyes could show the words that got stuck in your throat.

You pressed your palm to his shoulder blade, feeling the warmth of his skin through the shirt fabric. After a beat, Bruce mirrored the gesture, his soft hum getting lost in the space between you. The silence stretched for a short while, enough so you could feel your heartbeat settle, falling for the chance of peace. Yet it did not surprise you when Bruce spoke:

“I’d do it again if I had to” his voice was still soft, treading that familiar territory between a sleepy confession and a nonchalant observation.

You knew it was not really the second one. Tightening the hold over his body, you moved a fraction closer to brush your nose against his and whispered the reply:

“Let’s hope you’ll never have to” there was nothing else to add.

Nothing else you could say without showing how much his admission meant. It was almost incomprehensible to think someone could willingly risk it all for your sake. Without reason or obligation. It made it dangerously easy to believe you were worth something.

For a while, neither of you spoke, seemingly content to drift off to sleep entangled like that. Although his eyes were half-closed, you could see Bruce glance at you every few minutes. It was impossible to say what he was thinking. Once you could feel the sleep pulling you under, you risked asking what was on your mind:

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” even to your ears, your voice sounded embarrassingly insecure.

There was no guarantee he would be there. No certainty that whatever had happened over the night would prevail the next day. You were not sure you could cope with it if the morning changed how things were. It was doubtful.

From the briefest of winces passing through Bruce’s face, you knew you had hit the jackpot. Your hand trailed down his arm to thread your fingers together. Waiting to be disappointed.

“I don’t know. The city needs me, now more than ever” the excuse was weak, and Bruce knew it.

As if trying to recompensate, he squeezed your hand but averted the furrowed look you immediately sent his way. You did not feel like giving in to what was utter bullshit.

“Yeah, but you need to rest” when Bruce still did not meet your gaze, you added, tone firmer this time, “Gotham is still going to be there tomorrow. And I hope you know you can’t help everybody. You can’t save them all” it must have struck the chord for he raised his head, the boundless blue of his eyes troubled “Some are beyond helping” it was hard to say what made you finish the speech on a vulnerable admission “Like me,”

One that made Bruce’s face twist into a look of pure dread. He disentangled his hand from yours to cup your cheek, the tenderness tearing your heart apart as you stared back.

“You’re not-” deciding you did not want to hear it, you used an empty hand to shut him up.

Your fingers traced the outline of his mouth once he fell quiet. His lips were an easier point of focus than the eyes seeing into the depths of your soul.

“Bruce, please. Not tonight,” the whisper filled the silence, pleading without saying so.

He understood. Nudging your chin upwards so that you were both forced to look at one another, Bruce searched your eyes. That same emotion settled for good in his gaze. The one you could never identify. Though you could sometimes guess…

“Okay… Can I kiss you?” the simple question acted like an instant brain freeze.

You did not have to think hard about the answer.

“Yeah… but only if you’ll stay with me” for once, it did not hurt to be exposed.

For once, it was okay to know he saw you. All the faults and weaknesses. All that you would rather reject than embrace.

“I’ll stay” Bruce sealed the promise with a kiss.

Fragile and gentle, the pressure of his lips was almost tender. It was still easy to sigh into his mouth and lose yourself in the hope that flickered in your heart. The hope that maybe it meant enough to last. This time, you made no moves to devour him, no intent to make a mark. For this one was only a vow. And when it was over, and you could press a final peck to the tip of Bruce’s nose, it was so much easier to lay your head over his chest and close your eyes.

***

It was almost surreal to wake up enveloped in an embrace you had no desire to escape. Slowly opening your eyes, you allowed them to adjust to the morning light peeking through the curtains. The rain was pattering against the window; the sound was acting like a mellow soundtrack. Realising you had moved through the night, you found your back pressed against Bruce’s chest. It felt like being spooned by a heater. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. That much was certain.

For a beat, you were content to simply lay there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the muffled snores escaping his throat. It was impossible not to grin, tightening the hold over Bruce’s hand around your waist. The throbbing headache at the back of your skull was almost worth it. Because although it was still terrifying, you could not deny yourself the bliss felt at that moment. Everything else be damned.

Only once you felt him stir you began to move, turning as gently as possible to face Bruce. The sight alone was breathtaking. His dark hair was tousled beyond saving, several strands falling over his eyes. His forehead was clear from the frown lines; the long eyelashes fluttered over the sculpted cheeks. Although his eyes were still closed, you could tell he was not sleeping anymore. Ignoring the warnings alarms in your head, you shifted, so you could see him better and kissed the edge of his jaw. Then laid another peck on his chin, smiling involuntarily upon hearing Bruce gasp shallowly. His arms tightened over your frame as he slightly lowered his head to catch your lips in a chaste kiss. You were more than happy to give it to him.

Only then did Bruce open his eyes, the blue irises catching the light and immediately focusing on you. His lips twisted into a small smile as you noticed:

 “I think you needed that sleep” on its own accord, your hand rose to let the fingers trail over his features.

Bruce’s smile widened into a bashful grin. You could feel his hand caress your side, slowly inching closer to the shirt’s hem. You were happy to let him do that too.

“Probably,” acquiescing, Bruce was interrupted by a wide yawn.

Giggling into the pillow, you briefly contemplated what it would take to convince him to stay in bed with you forever. Or at least for the whole day. But then, the reality crashed. Even without being able to see the city outside, the memories came rushing in like the sea water breaking through the walls last night. It was the darkness at the edge of the peaceful morning that made you ask:

“What do you think will happen now?” as soon as the words were out, you could see the frown return to Bruce’s face.

Damn it. The apology was already on your tongue when he replied.

“No clue. But it’s going to be tough. People like the Penguin are going to try to use this mess to their advantage” a tired sigh acted as an interval while Bruce seemed to collect his thoughts; his eyes were trained on the world outside the window, “I should probably do patrols every night, aside from keeping in touch with Gordon” the reluctance in his voice felt like a stab in the fabric of your soul.

With a start, you realised that you would probably do anything to make it go away. To stop whatever was making him hurt. But there was nothing you could do.

“Work is cancelled with everyone urged to stay inside, so if you’ll have anything to work on, count me in” feigning nonchalance and failing miserably, you waited with bated breath for Bruce to look at you again.

To say anything to the thinly veiled plea to let you work with him again. The answer was more important than life itself. Slowly, Bruce turned his head to rest his heavy gaze on you. His mouth stretched into a smile:

“No please?” he grinned, taking the weight off your shoulders and making you giggle breathlessly.

“Nah, you didn’t earn it” an attempt at schooling your features into a mock seriousness went horribly, yet Bruce still seemed pleased with the quip.

His hand, which was still tracing patterns on your side, slipped underneath the shirt. Now the warmth of his careful touch was acting like an anchor, making it much easier to stay present. When his eyes met yours, it still felt like a jolt to the system.

“I will” Bruce’s voice dropped into a lower timbre, dragging a shiver through your body.

If he noticed, he did not let on. Ignoring the response of your betraying body, you raised an eyebrow, fixating on the conversation you were having. Or on one that lay beneath the words that filled the silence.

“Earn it?” as if following the invisible pull, you allowed your hand to reach out; your palm pressed itself to his chest over the heart.

To feel its rhythmic beat, wanting to memorise it for the future where you never got to touch Bruce like that.

“That too” as though he was reading your mind, Bruce pulled you closer, his words a murmur you wanted to trust.

You wanted to believe whatever changed last night was an indication of how things were now. And how they were going to be. But trusting was not in your blood. You buried your face in the crook of his neck to breathe in the calming scent. Only after a few minutes have passed in the near-blissful quiet, you could begin to seek the courage to voice one last desire. You could only say it when there was no chance of Bruce’s eyes finding yours. So, you took one final deep breath and tried to shoot the shot:

“Will you have some breakfast with me? Before you leave to do whatever?” with every word, you were wincing harder, trying to focus on the movement of his chest underneath your palm.

All because of how much rejection would hurt. Sure, you had already gotten so much more than you ever bargained for. But the longing never ceased anymore, growing more insistent by the hour.

“That’s a question or a request?” Bruce’s question had a cheeky edge, easily throwing you out of your head.

He had no mercy for your desire to hide. Leaning back to catch your chin in his hand, Bruce met your blushed cheeks and half-closed eyes with a confident smirk. An expression you were slowly getting used to, to your surprise. It forced a shy smile to appear, despite your wishes.

“Depends on what’s more likely to work on you” your tongue darted out to wet the suddenly dry lips.

Immediately, you noticed Bruce’s eyes trace the movement, keeping the eyes fixed on your mouth. Way too long for it to be accidental. You knew it wasn’t.

Bruce groaned as if in response to the dance between you and pressed his forehead to yours with a fake pained expression. In response, you could only raise an eyebrow and catch the bottom lip between your teeth. The giddiness in your chest began to spark to life.

“You’re just so…” it only grew brighter when you heard the yearning in his voice.

Bruce seemed speechless; his eyes were fixed on your face with something akin to devotion. As if he had so many words to describe you but none that would fit the bill. None that would express what he wanted to say. You decided to help:

“Annoying?” Bruce shook his head in silent exasperation, so you decided to use it, “Yeah, I know. So?”

His smile was the answer you had been waiting for. Soon, your face was bound to hurt from smiling so much.

“Okay,” Bruce nodded, making your grin shine even brighter.

Caught up in the feelings evoked by this moment, you never saw when he leaned in to catch your lips but felt it when Bruce kissed you. Slowly and thoroughly, responding to the playful back and forth you had been indulging in. You deepened the contact when you felt his tongue swipe over your lips, gasping when Bruce licked into your mouth. The taste of him was already familiar, and the more you had of it, the more you craved it. Following the pull of your heart, you pulled up on your forearm to lean over Bruce, feeling his hand slip to the small of your back. He caressed your skin while his mouth devoured yours, and all you could think of was how much you were willing to sacrifice to never let him go. Somewhere in between another swipe of your tongue curling around his and the playful bite as your teeth sunk into his bottom lip, you had to swallow the three words. The ones that would destroy everything. The ones that kept appearing on the tip of your tongue, following the letters of his name. The ones you traced onto the material of his shirt. I love you.

Not that long later, when you had climbed from the bed, and locked the bathroom door, you whispered them against the wooden frame, choking on the weight of the feelings you should never have had in the first place:

“I love you…”

***

The crisis had passed by the time you sat at the kitchen island and sipped on the coffee while gossiping with Dory. She had hugged you tightly when you entered the room, relieved to find you still in the building. In return, you filled her in on Bruce’s whereabouts and asked for help in preparing the breakfast spread. Once it was ready and you had convinced the older woman to join you for the meal, you settled by the countertop, waiting for Bruce to join you. Somehow, you knew he would. Breaking promises did not seem to be in his nature. At least, you had hoped so.

He proved you right ten minutes later, walking into the kitchen just as you were telling Dory about the police escort from the night before. Your story was interrupted when she laid her eyes on Bruce, let out a surprised noise and instantly dropped the milk carton to gather him into an embrace. A smile planted itself on your face upon the sight, observing with the familiar happiness as Bruce returned the hug and squeezed the housekeeper with fondness permeating every cell of his body. After a moment, you turned away to give them privacy for the hushed conversation and tried to occupy yourself with the toasts, which had just popped from the toaster. The only reprieve from the task came when you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder and turned your head to find Bruce standing right next to you. He smiled and wordlessly asked for the plate, forcing you to marvel at the domesticity of the situation. So different to the other breakfast at the Wayne Tower, only days before. Once you were all seated and picking at the spread, it was that memory which made you ask:

“So… are you going to eat, or do I have to force you again?” you levelled Bruce with a pretended serious look and sneaked a glance towards Dory.

As expected, she was unsuccessfully hiding the laugh behind the coffee mug in her hand. Turning back to Bruce, you found him matching the faux glare with one of his own. His mouth was curled into a smile as he picked up the buttered bread and used it as an accessory to accentuate the response:

“I will. I will. No need to force-feed me the toast” Bruce took a demonstrative bite with no heat in the pointed look in his eyes.

A spark in his gaze told you he remembered well the moment you alluded to.

“Good” signing off the comment with a wink, you reached for the mug again.

You did not get to swallow the sip of the warm beverage.

“Though, admittedly, I did enjoy the last time” Bruce’s response was the sole reason for you choking on the coffee and the coughing fit which followed.

He must have felt responsible, for within seconds, his hand was between your shoulder blades, firmly hitting the space to ease the coughing. The concerned frown on his face was almost enough to help you take a breath again and find the courage to place your hand on his knee underneath the kitchen island. You squeezed it once and measured him with a steady look:

“I see” the company in the room did not matter anymore as you met the blue of his eyes and remarked, “You’re a strange creature, Mr Wayne” the way Bruce reacted to the name never got old, and you could not help but smirk with satisfaction at the pink tint appearing on his cheeks.

He caught his bottom lip between his teeth as if to hold in something he did not want to say out loud. Composed himself and took a toast bite to find a breather. You could only watch him, feeling Dory’s observational gaze rest on both of you with quiet contemplation. Whatever she saw between you surely was not that far off anyway.

At last, Bruce must have found his footing again, for he returned your taxing gaze and muttered a reply:

“Yet you’re still… around” the inflexion on the last word suggested he was surprised by it.

That he never really expected you to stay around for so long. You did wonder whether telling him that it was a surprise to you, too, was a reasonable move. You ignored it, softening the smile on your face and fully aware that the look in your eyes was nothing short of affectionate.

“I never said I don’t like strange creatures” finishing the sentence, you moved your hand up from his knee to the lower thigh, hoping to convey everything your heart felt.

You signed off the sentiment with a cheeky wink, feeling your cheeks burn under Dory’s scrutiny from the other side of the worktop. At that moment, you quickly decided to discard this line of the conversation and include the older woman in your discussion. It was what you did then, sharing with her your recounting of the night before, happy to have Bruce join the story. Afterwards, you both promised her to keep in touch to avoid anxiety-filled nights and confusion.

Still, it was not a surprise that as soon as Dory finished her breakfast, she excused herself from the kitchen, wishing you both a good day. A blush on your face was a permanent fixture by now. For a beat, you and Bruce stayed quiet, sipping the remains of the coffee in companionable silence. Until he cleared his throat and placed the mug on the worktop with a hollow sound. Your eyes darted to Bruce anticipating the unknown. Although there were no reasons to suspect anything bad, you still felt anxious as you watched him intently.

“I’ve been thinking and… I think it would be best if you stayed here for now. Until it all settles a little in the city” Bruce rushed the words out almost breathlessly, staring at the marble surface as he added, “Of course, you can say no, but… I wanted to put it out there, I guess” with each word the conviction in his voice grew weaker until it disappeared completely.

The proposition surprised you, making it difficult to find an answer before Bruce managed to talk himself out of it. You could see him battle himself, so you blurted out the only question that made sense:

“Why?” it was the magical word that made Bruce look up at last.

He met your searching gaze with a simple shrug, the look in his eyes helpless but not in denial anymore. This time he had the answer ready.

“Because I’d feel better knowing you’re somewhere safe,” his voice grew softer as he silently begged you to understand and agree.

The statement broke through the reluctance in your heart and melted the hard shell, as it always did. It was tempting and oh so easy. Another excuse to stay by his side and feed your needs as long as he would allow it.

“And here I was hoping you’ll say you want me in your bed again” you dropped the tone to a private timbre, eager to make Bruce blush again.

It did the job. As soon as he registered your words, his cheeks turned a vivid shade of pink, lips falling agape to sputter words of denial that never came. You were right. Kinda. A triumphant grin planted itself on your face upon the sight, acting as a driving force behind the decision to stand up and drape your arms over Bruce’s body from behind. Your chin came to rest on his shoulder as his hands came to cover yours over his torso. Before he could begin to question himself again, you whispered an agreement into his ear and leaned back an inch to leave a playful bite on his earlobe. It was enough to make Bruce gasp sharply. And to widen your smile, silencing the voice in your head that always reminded you it would not last. For now – it would. And that was enough.

[damagedintellect]

Nakahara Chuuya x Reader

💌 Would this be considered a social suicide? : Chapter 6 💌  

Summary: You knew it was dangerous to take walks at night but hearing the water rushing under the bridge was calming to your nerves. You didn’t imagine you’d ever fall into the river and somehow wake up in your favorite anime. The isekai that I’m sure will come back to haunt me. It’s kept me up all night but I might as well get the brainrot out.

Notes: Reader is Isekai’d into BSD, Slow to start, Chuuya is endgame but there’s a fair bit of reader & Dazai moments too okay like a lot of Dazai moments, implied poly but not really

This will be the last update for a while because Artfight starts in a few days and it takes place during the whole month of July. The theme is Vampire vs Werewolves which has me laughing my ass off, IT'S LITERALLY BSD THEMED I CAN'T IT'S TOO MUCH!!! I'm planning on siding with Vampire's since *SPOILERS* home boi is under the vampirism.

Tags: @celestair​

💌 Word count: 2,871 💌 Available Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

A few days later was the day Kunikida had a very important schedule to uphold. Everyone was left to their own devices and it was a nice change of pace compared to the past few weeks. You had mostly finished up your tasks for the day and were acting like you were still busy so no one would bother you. Kunikida had left a few minutes ago when you got a message from an unknown number. You had no idea who it was but they had asked you to meet at the station. The one Kunikida was currently at. Could it be Chuuya? You observe Dazai as he agonizes over not being able to ruin the blonde's day yet. It's possible he gave Chuuya your number but you didn't want to ask. You would rather not get involved. It's not like the redhead didn't have other means of gaining that information.

You left with Yosano since you were going to the same area. Upon arrival you knew you had time to spare. You waited on the bench that you remember Chuuya sitting on knowing he would show up after he was done reporting the bomber incident to Mori. You shot him a quick text and waited. Something along the lines of "Don’t worry about the vendetta bomber guy, glasses mans has it handled :3" yes you added the face. It was a necessary component to the message.

It wasn’t too long after that you felt the rumble of Kunikida's beckon to Yosano. Judging by the lack of Chuuya he probably stayed to watch despite your message. You don't blame him. In fact this just makes you fall for him more. Even if Kunikida wasn't the one to save the day he stayed back to make sure and would have stepped in accordingly. Are you giving him too much credit? Probably, but you also wondered why he even called you to the station and having time to kill makes your brainrot show.

"Your ability confuses me ya know. It’s like having a less malicious Dazai."

You looked up when Chuuya’s standing in front of you. "You're not wrong," that's how this entire experience felt like to you anyways. It’s interesting being able to manipulate the situation simply because you know everything. You know what they say, knowledge is power and all. "So why'd you wanna meet up?" 

He looked off to the side fiddling with his hair as he walked off waiting for you to follow him "See confusing, I figured you'd already know that." He spoke soft as if it was more of an afterthought as he rubbed the back of his neck avoiding your gaze. "Even if you did know I guess you'd want to hear me say it." He stopped to turn to you fully. "I want to apologize for the other night." 

Your face was dusted with color at the memory "Oh" this was unexpected. Did he really feel that bad? He grabbed you by the hand pulling you along before you could interject. When he got to the gate he dropped a ticket and pushed you through before inserting another ticket for himself. He resumed holding your hand as he led you to the platform. He was being awfully quiet and you had no idea where he was taking you. If you were taking the train it must be far, otherwise he would have just drove you there instead. You were taking the Keikyu Main Line but that didn't help you much with your very limited knowledge of the area. After all, you didn't originally live in Yokohama. He practically threw you into a seat while he leaned on the pole next to where you were sitting. He pulled his hat down but you could see the faint red that ghosted his cheeks and ears. 

Was he embarrassed about the other night or holding your hand? It could be both. You didn't know how long you'd be on the train for and you didn't really have anything to occupy your time but you didn’t want to stare at Chuuya for the entire journey. You turned slightly to stare outside. You watched the outside for 20 minutes  before Chuuya said anything "We’re getting off here." He offered you his hand again. You couldn't help your heart fluttering. What was going on? Where was he taking you? 

He pulled you to another platform on the Kanazawa Seaside Line. This time the cart was fully packed. You were both pushed into the corner of the cart right in front of one of the windows. The gravity around you shifted as the train started moving while everyone had felt the jerk in momentum you and Chuuya stayed in place as he put an arm on your shoulder. He was facing out the window but was still side-eyeing you. You tilted your head still lost at what was happening. "Where are we going?" You genuinely had no idea.

"Look for yourself." He motioned out the window.

He pointed across the way to the big ferris wheel. He was taking you to the amusement park? Was this a date!? When he saw your flustered expression he was taken aback. "It's not what you think! It's just that I wanted to make up for the other night. Shitty Dazai told me I should send flowers to the office so I decided to do the opposite and take you out instead." He seemed just as flustered as you. So this was Dazai’s doing. After you told Dazai about your implied polygamous relations you hadn’t spoken about your fake past. The lanky motherfucker doesn't bring it up either but when he looks at you there's something new in his eyes. You still can't read him to save your life. You wish you could have heard his inner monologue about it. He probably told Chuuya knowing the redhead would do the opposite of what he suggested. Landing you some alone time with one of your forgotten lovers.

Before you could stop yourself the words flew out of your mouth. "So it's a date then."

"It's an apology!" He near shouted in his defense before adding "but if your ability wants it to be, then yes, it's a date." He grumbled, turning away to look out the window. His minor attraction to you was becoming apparent. You'd have to thank Dazai for this later. He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the car once you got to your stop. 

Hekkejima sea paradise. It was a free aquarium and park that had paid attractions, rides and experiences. There were a lot of couples walking around. With the way Chuuya was holding your hand it definitely felt like a date. You started off walking through the aquarium. As you looked at all the fish you couldn't help but recall one of Chuuya’s units from the mobile game where he was at the aquarium. In the picture he was wearing a dolphin necklace. When you go to the giftshop you should get matching ones. You wondered if he'd actually wear it.

You were spacing out thinking about it when he snapped his fingers in front of your face "You still with me? I asked if there was anything else you wanted to see." Chuuya sighed defeated. He knew this was a stupid idea, maybe he should have just gone with the flowers. "If you're that bored we can do something else-"

"No it's not that!" You frantically cut him off. "I was just enjoying Chuuya’s company. Guess I got carried away." You rested your head on his shoulder. He jumped slightly at the contact. Once he peered around a bit he leaned into you as well. You relaxed further into his side. This moment was perfect. You don’t know how long you stayed like that for since you were watching the fish swim around the tank. Then it occurred to you just what fish you had been staring at. You started laughing almost maniacally catching Chuuya off guard “What’s so funny?” He looked to you in confusion searching your face for any answers. You just couldn’t, it was too funny to you. You lifted your shaky hand pointing at the tank. “That school of fish, it’s mackerel!” you had another laughing fit as you took out your phone. Chuuya stifled his laugh but he was laughing more at you then his shitty nickname for Dazai. You pulled him in closer, turning your phone to try and get a photo with you, Chuuya and the fish. Obviously you were going to send it to Dazai asking him “what’s he doing there?” You didn’t even care that the mackerel was blurry. You captured Chuuya mid laugh. It was a really cute picture of you both. You didn't even think twice before sending it off to Dazai.

After you finished making your way around the aquarium you ended up at the giftshop. They did in fact have the dolphin necklace in stock.

"Hey Chuuya, do you…" You trailed off, it was kind of stupid anyway. He peeked at what you were looking at. “Hmm?” He had been staring at orca plushies. You were still holding the two necklaces. He raised an eyebrow at you “Can’t decide which one?”

“I uh, no not really I just,” You don’t know why you were stuttering. It was a simple question. “You wanna get matching necklaces?” 

He blinked for a second not expecting that to be the question you were going to ask. You gave him the puppy dog eyes. Who could resist those adorable wide eyes of yours not to mention you know the redhead is a sucker for puppies. This was going to work, it needed to work. Today was about you anyhow why would he say no to you. He kept looking from the necklaces to you, he was confused. “Why?”

You sighed, of course you had to spell it out for him “I don’t know I like the idea of matching friendship necklaces, ignore me for being sentimental.” You knew it was too good to be true but to be fair, him stealing you away for the day was already an accomplishment. You shouldn’t try to push your luck anyhow. He studied your face while you were putting them back but before you managed to put them back on the rack he grabbed them from you. "If you feel sentimental over this we're getting them." He declared firmly walking up to the register to pay. You watched him walk away with a smile. You felt special, like you were living in a daydream. Walking out of the gift shop Chuuya pulled you over to the side to put the necklace on you himself. He was already wearing his and you couldn’t help but grin.

The park made an announcement that there was going to be a dolphin show and that any visitors who wanted to participate should make their way over to the viewing area. Chuuya smirked, grabbing your hand pulling you along with him. “You like dolphins right? Then you’ll love this.” You let yourself be dragged along while you giggled to yourself. You had a feeling that he’s seen the dolphin show before. There was a sparkle in his eye as he managed to secure you both front row seats. The attendants were passing out rain ponchos for the first three rows but before you could take one Chuuya refused for the both of you. His excitement was rubbing off on you even though you could guess that he was trying to impress you with the nature of his ability. You couldn’t help but laugh at his dorkiness. When the show started he draped his arm around you prompting you to scoot closer to him and as the dolphin made their entrance they splashed the audience as they passed by, but like you predicted you and Chuuya remained bone dry. You cackled uncontrollably at his antics to the point you were starting to tear up. “Oh you’re cute you know that!” In your laughing fit you completely missed the way Chuuya froze blush creeping across his face as he smiled at you.

As you continued to walk around the park you were starting to see more and more couples having crepes. Naturally if this was supposed to be a date then you guys needed to get some. This would also make up for the fact you didn’t get to have crepes with Atsushi and Kyoka that one time. You were trying to locate the vendor when Chuuya started pulling you in the opposite direction. You were about to complain when you saw the crepe stall up ahead. He laughed at your stunned expression “You wanted a crepe right? Everytime I come here it’s usually with Elise and Mori. It’s tradition at this point.” His smile was so radiant you never wanted this day to end. When the sun was starting to set he claimed that there was still one more thing you both had to do. You got in line for the ferris wheel as it hit golden hour and the colorful park was washed in a sea of gold. Maybe you should have gotten in line earlier to watch the sunset from the highest cart. By the time you made it to the front of the line the sun was nearly gone. As you guys entered the cabin you frowned seeing the sun fade away.

Chuuya cleared his throat, breaking your focus from the horizon line as he joined you by the window idly putting his hands on the railing provided for balance. “You’re probably sick of hearing me say it but I’m sorry for the other night,” he trailed off looking out the window at the view. “I’m not about taking advantage of people for their ability. It’s a shitty existence being used like that.” He looked down thinking about his past. Talking with you was hard because he didn’t know what to say when you could already read him like an open book. You place your hand on top of his. “I mean I agreed to this. I could have just not told you anything if I really didn’t want to help you, ya know.” You know in your heart of hearts you were using him more than he was using you.

He grit his teeth annoyed at your words “See this is what I mean when I say it’s like having a less malicious Dazai but you I just don’t get.” He turned to look at you “You don’t gain anything from helping me and you said it yourself I wouldn’t do anything to you knowing you’re the only one who can answer the question. So what gives, why would you even bother?” 

Sighing you gave him a lopsided smile “I’m much more selfish than you give me credit for.” You contemplate telling him the same lie you told Dazai. It wouldn’t really do much either way but you think you should take a slightly different approach. “Contrary to popular belief it does seem like Dazai’s ability has a few exceptions. Since I don’t particularly have to touch people it makes sense but it was still unexpected. When I started working at the ADA and was around Dazai all the time, I started getting these visions of this cute feisty redhead. Guess you could say I took an interest in him. You can imagine my surprise when we finally met and he wanted to speak to me personally.” You shyly avoid his gaze peering out the window. It seemed like the cart you were in was just about at the top and you borderline just confessed to him. Depending on his reaction this was either going to be the worst ten minutes or the best ten minutes of your life.

He grabbed your chin guiding you back to look him in the eyes as he chuckled. “Oh so you’ve had a crush on me from the start.” he gave you the smuggest smirk known to man. You were toast this was it this is how you die. He opened his mouth but you both snapped your head to the window when a loud explosion went off in the distance as the sky illuminated with fireworks. This was better than a sunset. You both watched the fireworks, neither of you moved from your position. When the first wave had a brief dip Chuuya resumed what he was about to say “The feeling is mutual." Your eyes widen taking in what he just said as you both stare into each other’s eyes making sure this wasn’t some elaborate joke. This time you didn’t hesitate taking a step forward to capture his lips with yours. The fireworks in the distance faded without either of you noticing as you melted into each other. It wasn’t like the heated almost desperate make out you had weeks ago. Every touch felt deliberate and reassuring like this was how it was always supposed to be. You didn’t even realize the ride had ended until one of the employees cleared their throat. The two of you separated instantly, walking out embarrassed like school children.

<= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

[november-rayne]

Chapter Nine: Family Dinner

A/N: Loki prepares to meet Sigyn's family again. Frigga's boy mom patience is tested.

Word Count: 3000

Rating: Mature

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+

*Minors DNI*

Tags: Loki and Thor laughing about things they shouldn't, Frigga is over it, Loki being a gentleman

Chapter Index

Loki’s new chambermaid was very efficient and matronly; older than his mother. He learned that her name was Margit and that she is married, has had four children, and has seven grandchildren. She can afford not to work but chooses to because she enjoys it. Before accepting the job as Loki’s chambermaid, she worked part-time in the kitchens. She was kind but stern with Loki when he took too long to choose a tunic to wear to dinner. She reminded him of a nursemaid he had when he and Thor still lived in the nursery.

“I will send this tunic back to the tailor for alteration. These three are too worn out and should have been discarded ages ago. This one does not suit your coloring. These trousers are too short for your legs. This pair of boots need repair. Don’t get me started on your cloaks. Honestly, child,” Margit was muttering to herself as she tore apart his wardrobe.  Loki was getting dressed in the clothes she laid out on his bed, smiling to himself.

He bathed again and dressed in his second-best tunic. He took extra care to look his best. He was feeling much better than he did this morning, though he was getting increasingly nervous as dinnertime approached.

“Well, Margit, do I pass inspection?” Loki asked.

“Let us have a look at you.” Margit turned her attention away from the wardrobe and pushed her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. She ran her hands over Loki’s shoulders and down his arms. She took his chin in her hand and turned his face back and forth. She nodded approvingly, ran a finger behind each ear, and inspected them. “All clean and so handsome. I approve!”

Loki broke into a wide smile. “Thank you, Margit.” He had not been mothered in a long time, and it felt very comforting. Even if he would never admit it out loud, it was just what he needed right now. “Can you arrange for my tailor to bring me some sample fabrics? It seems my wardrobe is in desperate need of an update.”

“Yes, My Prince, good idea. I will see to it after your breakfast in the morning.” She went back to the pile of clothes on the floor.

“I will not be requiring breakfast in the morning. Now that the King has returned, I must catch up on work. I will head straight to my office in the morning.”

“Nonsense!”

“Excuse me?”

“You cannot be of any help to the realm with an empty belly. I will have breakfast ready for you when I wake you in the morning. Your Highness.” She added the last part as an afterthought

“Well, if you insist.”

“I do,” she replied matter-of-factly.

Loki chuckled when she missed his sarcasm.

“Now, stop dragging your heels.” Margit made a shooing motion with her hands. “Your mother will be cross if you are late for dinner. Scoot, Your Highness.”

“How have I made it this far without you, Margit?” Loki smiled widely as he made his way to the front doors of his apartment.

“Norns only know. Have a good time!” she said with a wave as she ushered him through the door.

Loki shook his head as he went to the small formal dining room on the other side of the palace.

Thor and Frigga were already in the receiving room outside the dining room. Loki bowed to his mother and then leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Mother, Thor, greetings.”

“You look well rested, Brother.” Thor clapped Loki on the arm.

“Thank you. I am feeling better.  Mother, I need to tell you something before our guests arrive.” Loki said in a hushed voice.

“Does this have to do with the maid called Sera?” she asked.

He could not hide his surprise, “Mother, I did not invite her into my rooms. She must have convinced the guards to let her by. I was sound asleep, dead to the realm. Honestly,” he threw his hands up in defense, “I did not even realize what she was doing to me until-”

Frigga held up her hand to stop him.

“Wait, what happened?” Thor’s curiosity was piqued.

“I was informed. I have already discussed this with the head of security. Sera has been removed from the palace grounds. We have secured her a room and employment elsewhere.”

“Sera?” Thor asked. “The chambermaid with the nice…smile?” He quickly amended the end of his sentence when he saw Frigga’s face. “What did she do? What happened?” he asked again.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Frigga said.

Loki mimicked a blow job to Thor behind her back, and Thor’s eyebrows shot up. Frigga spun around, and Loki dropped his hands quickly.

“The two of you are the future of Asgard. Norns help us.” She rolled her eyes and headed straight to the wet bar in the corner of the room to pour herself a drink.

“Really?” Thor whispered to Loki when Frigga was out of earshot. “What the Hel? How do you sleep through that?”

“You know how exhausted I was. I thought I was dreaming.” Thor started giggling. Loki was trying to keep a straight face, “It is not funny.”

“No, it’s not.” Thor’s face was turning red, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Boys!” Frigga scolded as she made her way back to the pair. “That is quite enough.”

“Apologies, Mother. It has been quite the whirlwind of a day, and we have not even had dinner yet.” Loki offered.

“How do you like your new chambermaid?” Frigga asked, trying to change the subject.

“Margit is…unique. But she is delightful. Thorough and efficient,” Loki said.

Thor raised his eyebrows, “Is that so?” he asked and pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

“No!” Loki threw his hands up in defense, “No, no, no, no, no, no. That was not how I intended that to sound.” 

Thor could hold it no longer. He started laughing so hard that tears sprang to his eyes. “You should see your face!” Thor threw up his hands and mimicked his brother’s face.

“She’s ancient!” Loki howled, “I would not even think about-”

“Unless you were asleep, apparently.” Thor roared. Loki joined him. 

Frigga drummed her fingernails on her wine glass and tapped her foot, waiting for the guffaws to stop. But each time they thought they were finished, one brother would start the other off again.

By the time they had gotten all their laughter out, Loki’s stomach was hurting, and Thor was wiping tears out of his eyes.

“If you two are quite finished?”

“Sorry, Mother.” They both spoke in unison, just like when they were small.

Then, the doors opened, and Lord Anderson and his family entered. Loki’s eyes immediately went to Sigyn. To Loki’s surprise, she quickly sought him out and gave him a shy smile. Her hair looked almost black in the low light. She was dressed in light blue tonight with silver jewelry and embellishments. The dress was simple and flowed almost weightlessly to the floor. She was just as lovely as he remembered.

Loki heard Thor let out a low whistle.

“Will you please stop doing that?” Loki said, not taking his eyes off Sigyn.

“Apologies, Brother. But…damn. The Norns are truly smiling upon you.”

“Yes,” Loki replied without really thinking.

“Ah, Your Highnesses!” Lord Anderson bowed deeply. “Thank you, My Queen, for the hospitality.”

“Of course.”

“I see someone is feeling better.” Lord Anderson clasped Loki’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

“Yes, well, a good nap can work wonders,” Loki replied.

“The man rebounds quickly!” Lord Anderson winked at Sigyn and gave her a nudge with his elbow, “You will appreciate that once you are married.”

Sigyn smirked at Loki. He caught the glint of mischief in her eyes and felt his cock twitch.

“Erik! Mind yourself in front of the Queen. Apologies, Your Majesty.”  Lady Anderson stepped forward and curtsied. “All those years in the army have blunted his manners.”

“Think nothing of it.” Frigga waved her hand. “I am quite familiar with how men speak when they think we are not paying attention.”

“Who wants a drink before dinner?” Thor motioned toward the wet bar and took Lady Anderson’s arm. “My Lady?”

“Ah, you are reading my mind!” Lord Anderson followed suit and offered his arm to the Queen.

Loki and Sigyn remained behind.

“Sorry about my father, Your Highness. He is always trying to find new ways to embarrass me.”

Loki chuckled, “Your father and my brother will get along very well, it seems.”

She smiled, “Do not let me keep you from getting a drink.”

“Oh, no. I have had enough lately to last me a couple of lifetimes,” Loki smiled back.

Sigyn stepped closer to Loki’s side. She fiddled with her bracelet, not meeting his eyes. “You…you were away recently?”

“I was.” Loki kept his hands clasped behind his back. Her eyes met his when he said, “But I am back now, and I am not planning on leaving again anytime soon.”

“I am glad to hear it.” She reached up and plucked a piece of fluff from the arm of his tunic.

“Truly?” Loki followed her hand with his eyes as she let the fluff fall from her elegant fingers.

“Truly.” She clasped her hands together in front of her. Their eyes met again. She gave him a half smile. “Is the King ever on time for dinner? I am famished.”

Loki laughed, “Never.”

oOXOo

The King eventually arrived, and the group enjoyed a pleasant dinner, just the seven of them. It was a nice change of pace from eating in the dining hall. The conversation flowed easily. Lord Erik Anderson was boisterous but not obnoxiously so. He got along well with the King.

He was an excellent storyteller. He did make a few more jokes of a sexual nature with the intent of embarrassing Sigyn. Loki noted that she seemed unfazed by the remarks each time, even rolling her eyes at him at one point.

He was a large, barrel-shaped man. Not fat, but stout. Loki figured he looked like Thor would when he got to his age.

Lady Astrid Anderson was reserved. Sigyn got her beauty and grace from her mother. She was tall, and her figure was still youthful. Her frock showed off the ample curves of her breasts and hips and the flat plane of her stomach. Her face was graced with very few lines.

She asked Loki and Thor about growing up in the palace and which places in the nine realms were their favorites. Loki remembered they had lost two sons in battle and humored her as she focused her attention on the pair of princes.

Loki studied Sigyn every chance he got. She dug into her dinner with enthusiasm. Minding her table manners but not seeming to care about how much she ate, much unlike the ladies he was used to dining with, who barely ate their meals. She sipped her wine but favored her water goblet. She conversed with everyone, even the king, offering honest opinions and counterpoints.

Loki could tell she was just as educated as he was.  She was a good storyteller, just like her father, offering the group a tale of her last trip to Midgard, where she toured a sizeable indoor marketplace called a mall and watched a piece of drama that was projected onto a wall of canvas using light.

She would catch him staring at her from across the table and give him an authentic smile. What he saw in her eyes was genuine; he believed she looked happy to be here. Unless he was just fooling himself.

When Odin stood, signaling the end of dinner, everyone returned to the sitting room. The King and Queen took their leave first after some small talk. Loki grimaced involuntarily when he noticed the hungry look his mother gave his father as they made their way into the hallway.

‘I could have done without that.’ Loki thought.

“Are you feeling ill again, Your Highness?” Sigyn caught him by surprise.

“Oh,” Loki chuckled as he placed his hand on her lower back, “No, I was just remembering something unpleasant.” He quickly returned his hands behind his back. “I am feeling much better, thank you.”

Thor and His Lordship were back at the wet bar, trading stories of battles past and comparing scars.

“Would you ladies allow me to escort you back to your chambers?”

Lady Anderson looked impatiently at her husband, and he waved her on. “Don’t wait up for me, dear. I will be of no use to you this night.” Thor laughed, slapped him on the shoulder, and raised another glass of spirits.

“Honestly, Erik, we are in the presence of royalty.” She huffed and fiddled with her necklace. “Sigyn and I would be honored. Thank you, My Prince.”

“Of course, My Lady.” Loki led the women to the hallway and offered them each an elbow. He pointed out a few key pieces of art as they walked. When they reached the front doors of their guest chambers, Loki looked over and caught Sigyn staring at him.

“Thank you for the escort, Your Highness.” Lady Anderson curtsied. “We shall see you at the betrothal feast tomorrow night.”

“Rest well, My Ladies.” Loki nodded to the Lady as she made her way to the double doors.

“Come along, child,” she said as she noticed Sigyn made no move to release the prince’s arm.

“Might I take a moment, Mother?”

The Lady glanced between the pair and saw the surprise on Loki’s face. “Very well, but only a moment. I will be just inside,” she warned, shutting the door behind her.

Sigyn dropped her hand and moved to stand directly in front of Loki. She stood about half a head shorter than he did. ‘She is the perfect height to plant a kiss on her forehead.’ He imagined doing just that.

She played with her bracelet as she raised her eyes to him. “May I speak freely, Your Highness?”

“I would prefer it,” he replied, intrigued.

“You had me worried when I first arrived. Mother was beside herself, believing they had promised me to a drunkard. I was starting to believe the royal portraits I had seen of you were a farse, but your looks seem to be improving.” She grinned at him.

Loki laughed, “Oh, I am usually very swoon-worthy. Give me another day or two, and you will say that the royal painter did me no justice.”

He regarded her for a moment. “I… apologize, My Lady. I do not usually drink myself to illness. I did not handle the news of our betrothal in the most mature way. I regret that more than you can know.” He moved to place his hand on her arm but stopped himself at the last moment. “That is no reflection on you, My Lady. You are more lovely than I could have hoped for.”

“But?”

He hesitated. He was looking right into Sigyn’s big green eyes and was having trouble remembering what he was making such a fuss about.

“But I do not know if I am ready to be married.”

“I see,” Sigyn smiled at him, “You believe you will never have another day of fun once we are wed? That I will be demanding of all your precious time? That you will never get to spend time with your friends or brother again?”

Loki looked at his feet in response. Sigyn placed a finger under his chin and raised his head to look at her again. “I know that you know very little about me, and you have no reason to believe me, but I can assure you that I have no intention of forcing you to become someone you are not.”

Loki thought for a moment, not taking his eyes from hers. “How do you know that I am deserving of such grace? Hmmm? You know very little about me as well.”

“I know more than you think I do, Your Highness. Prince’s secrets are rarely secret.” She gave him a knowing smile and returned to fiddling with her bracelet.

“Is that so?” He smiled at her. She bit her lip. Loki felt a fire start in his body and let out a slow breath. He wanted to kiss her so badly.

“Lady Sigyn, tell me, what have you heard about me?” He gave her an innocent smile. He squeezed his hands tightly behind his back to avoid reaching for her.

She smirked and reached up to play with a lock of his hair. “A story for another time, perhaps. It is getting late, and my mother will drag me back inside by my ear if I do not make haste.”

Loki took her hand from his shoulder and kissed it. Then he kissed her palm and placed it on his cheek, holding it in place. He noticed her breaths pick up. Her chest rose and fell so temptingly. His skin was burning under her touch.

“Another time, then.” His voice was low and velvety, “Good night, My Lady.”

“Sweet dreams, My Prince.” Her eyes danced with mischief.

With that, Loki took his leave. Every cell in his body was aching to stay and stand beside her, but he forced himself to turn and stride quickly down the hall to the stairs.

By the time he returned to his apartment, he was grinning like a fool.

‘Pull yourself together, man.’ He chastised his reflection in the bathroom mirror. ‘She is just a woman. Just a woman, like all the rest.’ But he knew he was lying to himself as soon as he thought it. She was not just another woman. She was the woman.

She was intelligent, funny, and beautiful. ‘Could she feel the same way about me?’ he wondered. ‘You have known her less than a day. Quit acting like a schoolboy.” He scolded himself as he slipped into bed.

He rested there for a moment before he got back out again to look under his bed and check his wardrobe, just to be safe. Confident he was alone, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

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Tag List: @gigglingtiggerv2 @chantsdemarins @superficialdomina @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger @trickster-maiden @simone818283 @gruftiela

Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list. Thanks!

XOXO- Rayne ����

[therealgchu]

WIP Wednesday - To the Shore

thanks, @fangbangerghoul for the tag. tagging whoever else wants to share something.

got a really WIP here for the upcoming new chapter for To the Shore. this chapter won't get published soon as it's being intransigent and cranky with me. but, this part i did write up last weekend that i thought was pretty funny.

this friday i'll be publishing a new fic, The Pilot.

To the Shore lives here on ao3.

my other stuff on ao3.

andreja is a bit annoyed

When Andreja and Hwa got back on the ship, Andreja sought out Sam and found him on the lower deck checking through Cora’s homework. She approached him with a worried expression and glanced around to see if Hwa had followed her, but found herself alone with him. 

Sam looked up at Andreja’s approach and jumped up when he saw her face, “What’s wrong? Did something happen with you and Hwa?” he asked.

Andreja shook her head, but maintained the worried expression. “Sam, I do not know how to ask this.” She paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. “You and Hwa seem to work well together? You two have succeeded very well in obtaining more artifacts and very extensive surveying.”

He nodded, “Yeah, we do. She’s the best partner I’ve ever had. Why?”

“I thought as much,” she said thoughtfully. “But, do you ever have difficulties in your work with her?” she asked.

Sam became visibly nervous, “Is she OK? Are you OK? What happened out there?”

“I am sorry, I am not expressing myself well. It went fine. She is very good at the job. It is just that. Well…I am concerned,” Andreja said.

“Andreja, you’re worrying me. If there’s something wrong with Hwa, you’ve got to tell me,” he demanded anxiously.

She sighed and looked around to see if anyone else was around, “I have not noted any sort of mental deficiency in her, but, well,” Andreja paused again and leaned into Sam, speaking softly, “does she get constantly lost with you?”

He let out a loud laugh, “You had me worried! And here Hwa was so worried you’d hate her!” he got out between guffaws.

“I do not see what’s so funny,” Andreja said, annoyed. “Where I am from that sort of… propensity to get lost is cause for concern.”

“Andreja, she just has a bad sense of direction. She grew up, well, she can tell you where she grew up. But she never had to develop a sense of direction. It’s completely normal and nothing to worry about,” Sam tried to assure her.

Andreja peered closely at Sam, “If you say this is normal, I shall believe you,” she said.

“Good, because it is. Don’t worry about it.”

She nodded, “I will not. However, it was very…trying at times. It took almost double the amount of time it should have to have cleared that lab of Spacers. I did not want to feel like I was trying to be the leader, so I let her find her way,” she explained. “I think we covered the same ground three times,” Andreja added as an afterthought.

Sam chuckled, “Yes, that does happen. The first time in the Well she got lost for three hours.”

“I do not think I could stand that,” Andreja replied with distaste.

[glitch-pep]

Under the cut is a post talking about the designs I made for this Halloween post right here.

Alright I'll explain the thought process behind these, in order in which I designed them in.

1.) Charlie

For Charlie I was torn between two ideas, cowboy or pirate. Due to my bias for cowboys I was leaning more towards that but eventually a certain someone, you know who you are, I ain't gonna tag you >:D reconvinced me to go for the pirate idea due to the thief part and then I realized that an eye patch would cover her right eye so I was sold. Designing her costume was pretty easy to be honest, I just kept adding stuff to make her look cool. Also, I had to make a Hawkshaw reference, I couldn't possibly resist once I thought of it. I'll probably draw her as a cowboy eventually though. Also, I let her have sharp teeth in the final drawing, as a treat.

2.) Cursed Treasure

Due to the lyrics I came up with I needed to give Charlie some sorta cursed treasure, so I thought a cursed golden Barnaboo statue would look cute and do the trick. The eyes and bow are meant to be gemstones and I made the face looks off so that the cursed part is a bit obvious.

3.) Milo

I actually sketched Charlie's and Milo's designs and finished them in the same day. Milo's was a quick one, I knew immediately that he had to be a vampire cuz he would definitely be something that's somewhat elegant. The hair looked a bit weird to me so I put the sunglasses there to cover it up a bit, and honestly he's pulling it all off better than what I expected. Also his teeth are perfectly goofy enough as to where I can't take him 100% seriously, which is how it should be.

4.) Parasol

The parasol was an afterthought after I had already finished Milo's design. It's inspired by the parasols that Draculaura and Poppy Pointer have. Although I screwed it up by making the handle black instead of white in the final drawing, I was going to fix it but when I started doing that I realized that there's already a lot of white in his design so I kept the black handle.

5.) Mina

For Mina I had to go for the obvious option, a witch, mostly due to lore reasons. It's canon that Mina insists on being a witch every year for Halloween because she told the culdesac kids that "Witches show their true form on Halloween." and she has to keep up that story, although her mom doesn't want her to have the same outfit each year, so she makes a different witch outfit each time. It's a pretty regular outfit with a witch hat slapped on top, but for Mina it perfectly does the trick.

6.) Molly and Mr. T. Bear

It was all fun and games until I started to design Molly's costume. The first idea I had for Molly was for her to be the Tooth fairy. Perfect idea, right? It's somewhat sleep related, Mr. T. Bear can be a tooth and it'll look cute. That's what I told myself. After 3 days of furiously looking through the web trying to find some sorta inspiration or color pallete I actually like, I gave up on the idea. I hated all of the concepts I made to the point where I got tired of the idea. Thing is... I didn't know what other costume to give her. The only ideas I could come up with were: a bed bug, sleeping beauty and Molly and Mr. T. Bear as each other. I didn't like any of those enough, so, in a moment of desperation I asked my friend for help. She told me that she noticed a pattern between the costumes I picked, that all of them were some sorta villans. Vampire, pirate, witch... she was right... I didn't do that on purpose. If she hadn't told me I would've never noticed it... Anyways, she basically suggested that Molly could maybe be a wolf. I was like oh she could be a werewolf because of the full moon and she's a moon you get the gist. And then, later on, when I was looking through the web I came across a drawing of the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood dressed as the grandma. That's when it clicked in my head. Molly as the wolf and Mr. T. Bear as Little Red Riding Hood. I was sold and I ended up liking the designs and finishing them on first try. The friend mentioned here wanted to get credited this way, since she doesn't have any socials.

And that's about it! As much as I dreaded the process because it took me ages, I do think the effort paid off. I'll definitely draw these again! :>