#i keep wasting time with edits that always flop it's so tiring man :)))

[solcheeky]

our secret

summary: fratboy!donghyuck turns paperboy! when he needs some extra money for college stuff like textbooks. he thinks delivering way outside of campus will save face from being a measly paperboy, but little does he know, the front yard light he hits (and breaks) belongs to his significantly well off classmate... (3k)

warnings: strong language here and there genre: enemies to ..friends? a/n: I’ve merged these two requests together! meaning I have and haven’t included aspects of each, hope that’s okay! (2021 edit: hi I found this in my drafts from last year and idk why I never posted it so yeah, here we go)

“You’re late.” Your professor calls out as Donghyuck fails to sneak into lecture hall unnoticed

You sigh, you’d think he’d at least look ashamed to step foot into class at such a late time

You suppose with Lee Donghyuck, things were always different

The boy winces comically, inhaling between his teeth brazenly, and students stifle their laughter

Then with a simple raise of his hand, he gestures a flimsy ‘my bad’ and a ‘continue, continue’ before charmingly wiping the sweat off his brow and sitting in the empty seat saved by his friends

The professor frowns, “you’re late.” He repeats as if to encourage the young rebel to at least say something

“I’m Haechan,” the rebel says under his breath, flopping his backpack onto the desk, “not ‘late’” a sarcastic smile stretching his lips as his friends snicker at his dumb joke

You roll your eyes, he was unbelievable.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” The professor claps his hands. “And Mr. Late,” he emphasizes, “don’t think you’re getting away with anything.”

So he drops it on him like a bomb: “For the rest of this week, meet me in the office an hour before classes start.”

The grin on Donghyuck’s face immediately wipes off his face and his heart drops to his stomach

“Prof!” He whines back

Karma, you think. That’s what he gets for being so up his own ass

It wouldn’t kill him to wake up a little bit earlier. He relied so much on his ‘so loveable’ personality and popularity, you couldn’t stand it

If you even attempted to do half the things he got away with, you’d be expelled by now

You drop your pen and lean back into your seat with a sigh, you had no choice but to sit back and watch him waste valuable lesson time over this insolence

“You can’t do that!” Seriously, Donghyuck would do anything else other than doing extra hours in the morning

“And you can’t be late to my lectures all the time. What are you not getting here Mr. Late?”

“But I can’t.” Donghyuck immediately regrets saying that out loud like that; the vulnerability in his voice a little too close to home

“And, why not?” Your professor bounces back thankfully brushing past the genuine desperation in his students voice

The reason why not was something ‘Lee Haechan’ couldn’t say out loud. If he did, he’d lose everything

So instead, he sticks with his usual tongue-in-cheek mannerism, “because I don’t want to.”—A sneaky beat around the bush on his part because, little did everyone know, Lee Haechan, the star player and everyone’s favorite goofball, was a measly paperboy

Why?

Because he was dumb broke.

It was a job that required him waking up extra early to race around neighborhoods on his bike, something he had to do regardless rain or sun just tossing as many papers onto people's front porches,

Something he already was finding so much of a difficulty doing: racing to class and acting as if his muscles weren’t burning or the fabric under is backpack wasn’t drenched in sweat

But now this ‘meet me in the office an hour earlier than classes start’ bullshit

That would mean he’d have to wake up even earlier than he already did!

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to, you’re going to.” Is the last thing your professor says on that topic before swiftly moving on.

Oh to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth, is what he always thinks as he cycles his rounds in the wealthy neighborhood

If there was one thing he didn’t have, it was this. 

He looks at the blaringly affluent homes that surrounded him and heaves another sigh, the same road he rides every morning (and now this extra early morning) effortlessly reminding him of how absolutely poor his ass was

Grumbling under his breath in a tantrum about his professor in his head, he angrily hurls newspapers onto doorsteps

It was the fact that he had to deal with this at ungodly hours in the morning—as if this job wasn’t already enough

Donghyuck frustratedly hurls another newspaper, but this time around, it shoots straight into someone's front garden post light, knocking it over and completely disrupting the perfect order in which the other trail of foot lights were set in

What the heck?

Immediately, he hits the breaks, his tires screeching loudly in the quietness of the early morning

Profanities frantically leave his lips as he hurriedly drops his bike onto the sidewalk in a clatter, and runs ahead to see the damage he’s made

The lamp was perfectly struck to its side.

Well, that’s just great—he can’t afford college textbooks let alone the broken path lamp on some rich persons lawn

So, his first thoughts are to pull it back into the place, completely irrational, but it’s the only thing that runs through his mind when he’s on a time crunch to get off private property

Except, the damn thing is stuck; literally cemented into this lopsided tilt

Man, Donghyuck swears he could tug all day and it wouldn’t get back into place

It was like the universe was having fun being against him

You, on the other hand, were watching this boy struggle to fix your light back into place from the comfort of your window.

He looked ridiculously cute trying to tug that lamp back into place, curled almost into a ball in the middle of your lawn, his eyebrows sewn into a line of frustration and lips pursed

You knew he was your paperboy from the start of his laborious cycling trips, but did Donghyuck know he was delivering papers to his very own classmate every morning?

You guess not.

...Until now

You knock three times from behind the glass, successfully capturing the boy's attention before mouthing, “what are you doing?”

The agitation on his features drops and immediately his eyes widen at your familiar face

Except, he isn’t given much time to reply before the lamp between his fingers gives in to his weight and recoils back smacking him right in the nose

“Holy shit!” You forget you’re only in socks when you open your front door and race towards him

Donghyuck automatically drops the (now broken) piece of your lawn to cup his bruising face

“Ah- Fucking shit- Ow!” He bends forwards on his knees into the grass, forehead pressing into your lawn before he rocks back up again to scrunch a deep frown up towards the sky. “Jesus-”

“Are you okay?!” Dropping to your knees, you place a cautious hand to his back

“Yes.” He groans into his palms, rocking back down towards the grass again

He definitely wasn’t.

But he needed to get out of there quick; there’s no way he’d let you recognize him

Yeah, you weren’t that stupid.

“Let me see,” you carefully bring him up by his shoulders, your head leaning down towards his to see the damage

“No- Ow! Crap-”

“You’re bleeding!” You try to pry at his wrists but he rips away from your hands

That’s when Donghyuck finally looks up to scowl at you; a frown stitched hard into into his forehead, eyes watering, hair all ruffled, but most alarmingly—a scarlet ribbon of blood running down his wrists

“I’m okay.” He muffles into his hands.

And wow did he look like an idiot.

“Sorry about your-” 

“Jesus Hyuck, you’re not fooling anyone.”

The boy visibly stiffens at your choice of his name

“Haechan.” You quickly correct yourself

He gulps

You glance away

“Let’s just put an ice-pack on that.” Then you’re dragging him into your house

“Quit moving!” You dab a wet cloth across the cut above Donghyuck’s lip

“Well, it hurts.” He tries to complain without moving his mouth too much

You purse your lips and Donghyuck attempts to adjust the ice pack on his nose despite your warning

With a sigh, you take his wrist and bring his arm down to his lap, “Hyuck, if you keep-” you feel him stiffen under your touch. “Haechan.” You keep doing that. “Sorry.”

He just diverts his eyes elsewhere and mumbles, “It’s whatever.” under his breath

So, you bring your attention back to cleaning his cut, your cheeks heating up at the thought of how much of a creep you probably were by calling him by his old name

“I’m-”

“Y/n.” His voice was a little clearer this time, a soft frown on his face, “I remember.”

He kind of wished you didn’t though. This was so embarrassing.

You pull the cloth away from his reddening cheeks, that annoyed flustered look on his face pulling at the nostalgia in you

It was only natural to call him ‘Hyuck’ because you had been going to the same school as him for years

Ever since you were kids, through highschool and now somehow, still impossibly in college, you’ve been with him

You almost had every class with the loud idiot back when he was still ‘Donghyuck’

For as long as you could remember, he had always been the center of gravity in every class, his punchy personality and almost too friendly way of speaking easily giving him the ‘popular’ tag 

It made you have a bit of a crush on him when you were younger, but who didn’t? 

Now, you found him irritating. 

The only thought you had about him consisted of wishing he’d stop using his status to his advantage and just come to class right instead of wasting your lesson time

“Can I ask you something?” He dodges your hand for a second, eyes looking down as if to hide away his embarrassment 

“Sure,” you naturally reach forward again to dab his cut, but he stops you at the wrist

“Can you,” you lift your focus away from his lip to the slight grimace on his face, “not tell anyone about this?”

You blink at him, and a muscle works in his jaw

“Seriously, people can’t know about this.” 

But you simply pull your wrist out of his grip and go back to tending to his wound

You hadn’t told anyone since you’d found he was your paperboy, and that was weeks ago. So why was he so worked up?

Hadn’t the situation already called for it anyway? Who in their right mind would tell anyone after this? For you, it was obviously common courtesy

But before you can reply, he tilts his face into your line of vision. “Are you listening to me?” The frown on his face deepens and he instantly brings the ice pack in this hand over his face at the sudden pain through his nose

That attitude of his easily drove you crazy.

“That was a stupid question.” You give up on cleaning the blood on his lip and push the ice-pack deeper into his face, “if you used that stupid, egotistical brain of yours-”

“Ah! Ow- Ooow-”

“Maybe you’d realize I’ve never told anyone about your paper rounds before.”

“Ow!” He wrenches away from your frustrated grip, the look on his face just as annoyed as you. “You’re going to break my nose!” 

“You broke my yard lamp!”

He looks at you with a huff; a slight puff to his reddened cheeks, furrowed brows and tears ever so slightly brimming his eyes

If that lamp didn’t cost about five times the price of his bike he’d say something back.

You easily read that off his expression

“You don’t have to pay for it.” You start to pack up the first-aid kit you’d opened up on your coffee table just to not look at him in the eyes when you say that

As much as he irritated you, you weren’t that petty

“Really?” The genuine doubt in his face relaxing the annoyance in you a little

“Yeah.” Money wasn’t a problem for you, it was his attitude

But the casualness Donghyuck catches in your tone reminds him of the starkly different worlds you live in

So he musters it up within himself to at least show some kind of gratitude, “...Thanks.” 

And it’s almost inaudible when he says it under his breath like that

But you catch it as you pull a bandaid out of the box before you close it

“On one condition.” You turn to look at him dead in the eyes.

One of his brows slightly quirk up in interest

“Hand.”

He opens his palm to you and you purposely slap the bandaid into it.

“Stop coming late to class, you’re wasting everyone's time.”

Instantly, his jaw goes slack. 

Unable to say anything he stares as you rise from your seat in content, first aid kit in hand, before walking behind the sofa towards the kitchen

You didn’t have to say it like that.

He swings an elbow over the back of the couch, “Sorry for bringing you the paper every morning!” Maybe he was a little offended

You turn on your heels to face him, noticing the bandaid now crushed in the fist of the hand he had over the couch and ice-pack abandoned on the coffee table (the full glory of his bruising nose and cut lip on show)

“I said ‘don’t be late’ not ‘don’t bring me the paper’.” Then you disappear into the kitchen.

Donghyuck has to close his eyes for a second, exhaling a frustrated sigh before standing up in a huff and following your footsteps.

How could you say something so insensitive? Yeah, maybe he broke your lamp or whatever, but he tried to fix it!

And sure, he was sort of bleeding over your couch and used your ice pack, but he totally said thanks

“That’s just- You’re so,” He’s standing at the doorway by the time you’re done, bandaid still stuck in the frustrated grip of his hand

“So what, Hyuck?”

Seeing the all star, team favorite class clown crumble at the simple play of his old nickname made something in your stirr

“Insufferable.” 

You? Your lips turn up in amusement. He was the insufferable one, you almost scoff

“You and your big house, fancy first aid kit, stupid lamps on your lawn,” he takes a bold step forward at every reason until he’s one step to being chest to chest, “I’m just trying to do my job, and go to class.”

You look at him straight in the eyes. “Well, you’re hardly succeeding at either of those.”  

You...

Donghyuck runs his tongue across his inner cheek before biting down on his bottom lip in a brazen attempt to act unfazed by that fatal side comment

A coppery, metal taste pricks his tongue, and he realizes he’s reopened up the cut on his lip again

But that was the least of his worries. You had no idea what it was like being broke. If there was anything he didn’t have, it was everything you did. You probably couldn’t even fathom the type of shit he’s had to go through and even more so: hide.

The way you acted as if his biggest problem in life was as easy as brushing the dust of his shoulder just pissed him off.

“Have you ever thought of waking up earlier?” 

Ah, there it was again, Donghyuck wants to roll his eyes

“I sleep late.” He says dryly.

“Then sleep earlier.”

“I have other shit to do, like study.” 

“Then, manage your time better.” If he really wanted to ‘do his job’ and ‘get to class’, he could’ve done it by now.

He was always messing about with friends and organizing parties, stories spread around like wildfire on campus about the things he occupied himself with other than ‘having shit to do like studying’, you weren’t stupid

It was by the end of high school, when you began to see him as a person who valued himself with the amount of friends knew or the amount of partying he did

And at first you were mad that he had the things you never did, but seeing him easily get washed up by it all made you think maybe you didn’t need what he had

Now you figure his ego was so far up his ass he couldn’t even sit right—that’s probably why he couldn’t cycle to class on time

“And don’t use your bike, you’re clearly slow on it.” You tack on.

“I don’t even have a car!” He snaps back

He made you want to pull out your own hair. “Jeez, first this, then that, god Hyuck, you keep-”

“You say that as if it were so easy,” his words overlapping yours as you continue

“-making up so much bullshit because the only thing you really put effort into is your image,” Your words running over his too.

“-if I could get a car, don’t you think I’d have one already?”

“Then I’ll just take you!” That puts both of you to a stop.

“So, quit giving me stupid excuses to ruin my lectures every day.” If the things money could buy were what he needed, you had it

You snatch the bandaid out of his fist, rip it open and harshly stick it across his bottom lip. It was annoying to see him ignore it like that.

“You usually finish an hour before class right?” You frown up at him

Donghyuck opens his mouth then closes it again.

“Because if you reroute and make me the last house, I’ll take you with me by car.”

“What?” He manages to say. What the hell just happened?

a/n: okay so there was a lot more to the story and character development but it ran too long I had to cut it off bc I cba to edit lmao 

also I seemed to have gone way out of the request lines near the end my bad my bad, but I at least hope you’ve enjoyed it! thoughts???? a part 2?

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ malt whiskey on ice ] 

pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader (there’s an error in the header but i’m too lazy to edit it now i’m sorry)

word count: 2k words

@ah-kaashi​: dinooo im having chuuya brainrot hours right now ಥ⌣ಥ can i request a short fic of chuuya meeting bartender!reader at a bar and eventually starts pining for them? and he only goes to the bar to see them (ahh my heart) he probably would confess to the reader whilst drunk, thanks to his low alcohol tolerance :"

summary: chuuya has a crush on the cute bartender and tries to ask her out. unfortunately, drinking alcohol calms his nerves way too much

a/n: i’m--- i’ll just have a really long list of works under ‘chuuya nakahara’ at this point. also ahhh i hope you like this kei and sorry it took too long but i had so much fun writin this !!

“chuuya-san!”

chuuya could never get tired of hearing your bright, cheery voice greeting him as soon as he entered the bar, especially after a long and hard day. he smiles at you, fold his coat and leaves it on the counter beside him along with his hat.

“a good evening to you too, y/n,” he says.

“having your usual?” you asked, already getting out a glass.

“yes please.” 

chuuya knows it’s rude to stare, but he can’t help but do so as you prepare his drink. the fact that your humming easily puts a smile on his face reminds chuuya how much he has fallen for you.

“here you go,” you serve his drink up with a warm smile. “malt whiskey with ice.”

“expect some refills as usual later in the night,” chuuya joked.

“as long as i get to make sure you’re still able to drive home,” you chuckled. the bar was less than half-full tonight, something that chuuya was very much thankful for. you were an amazing bartender and you always interacted with your customers. chuuya was even amazed at how you could hold a conversation with anyone and remember all the stories that people would tell you.

but sometimes, he kind of wanted you all to himself. 

chuuya had been mulling that thought over for quite a long time: asking you out on an actual date instead of coming here every single night and looking at you longingly from across the counter. he did think he had a bit of a chance and you looked like you genuinely enjoyed talking to him and seeing him. but you were like that with everybody too.

“so, what’s been going on with you lately? finally finish that mission you’ve been stressing out on?” you asked while drying glasses behind the counter. chuuya smiled, dragging a gloved finger through the rim of his glass.

“well, if you’d really like to know...”

...

“you look like you’ve seen better days.” 

“huh?” chuuya blinked out of his thoughts to see the new bartender regarding him with a concerned expression. 

“you’ve been staring at your drink for the past... ten minutes...give or take,” you explained. “people do tend to stare at their drinks quite a bit but when it hits ten minutes that’s kind of raises an alarm for me,” you chuckled. “the ice even melted in your drink. want me to fix you a fresh one?” 

“ah, no. but thanks for the offer though,” chuuya smiled. “shame to waste good alcohol.”

“i hear you,” you shrugged with a smile. “so, wanna tell me what’s been going on?” you asked. “bartenders do make good listeners.”

chuuya raised an eyebrow up at you as he thought about what you said. “um, it’s kind of a long story and i don’t think i’m ready to get into it now,” he confessed.

“that’s fair,” you nodded your head. chuuya was grateful to you for giving him some space. actually, now that he thought about it, he was grateful to you for always greeting him with a smile and asking how he was, even when he came in with the sourest of moods. he knew it wasn’t easy to be a bartender, especially one whose clients were from the mafia.

“how about you though?” chuuya asked. “um, anything special happen to you recently?”

you looked genuinely surprised at the question which made chuuya think that people never really asked about you. “you know, no one’s ever really asked me that,” you chuckled. “but... it’s nice. thanks, nakahara-san.”

chuuya doesn’t know why, but his stomach was practically doing backflips when you said that. have you always looked this cute when you laughed? how come chuuya never noticed that?

“please,” he says. “you can call me chuuya.”

...

“you never chicken out of anything. come on, you can do this,” chuuya grits his teeth, remembering not to accidentally crush the bouquet in his hands. right after finishing his mission early, he headed to the nearest flower shop to buy some flowers for you. as much as he wanted to give you red roses, he thought it would be a bit too much and didn’t want to accidentally scare you. instead, he settled on some pink peonies that he dearly hoped you would like.

chuuya decided on going to the bar before your shift just to give himself some time to relax. except, when he sits down on the counter, the bartender, an old man who chuuya knows very well, eyes the bouquet in his hands and flashes chuuya a knowing smile.

“do you think they’ll say yes?” chuuya asks, very aware at how nervous he sounds.

“i think it’ll be very interesting,” the bartender says. chuuya groans at how ambiguous that sounds.

“can i have my regular? please?” he asks. the bartender raises an eyebrow at him. “it’s just for the nerves,” chuuya reasons.

he was right in thinking that the alcohol would help with his nerves. except, it works a bit too much.

...

you always give your reflection a once-over before leaving for your shift at the bartender. the bartender’s uniform isn’t exactly your nicest outfit but you try your best to spruce things up by putting on some lip tint and brushing your hair. you’re not even sure if chuuya will be coming in, he is a busy man, but you apply your lip tint carefully in the mirror and wish for luck.

when you finally leave the employee’s changing room to start your shift, your heart jumps up in your chest when you recognize the familiar hat. except, when you come closer, you find that chuuya is slumped over the counter with an empty glass and a bouquet of flowers at his side.

the sight of the flowers brings a lump in your throat but you push that aside momentarily as you tap on chuuya’s shoulder to check on him.

“chuuya-san?”

“hrrrmmm,” he groans but doesn’t move an inch. you tap him on the shoulder again and call out his name, much louder this time, until chuuya finally raises his head. 

his cheeks are flushed pink, no doubt from the alcohol, and his eyes clearly look as if he’s straining to focus as he squints at you. it’s unbelievably cute and you let out a chuckle. 

“it’s not like you to get wasted on a thursday evening,” you smile before your gaze lands on the bouquet of flowers again. “i... see you were planning to ask someone out.”

“huh? yeah,” chuuya drawls, nodding his head slowly. “s’pposed to ask this person out... was waiting for them.”

“and then you ended up drinking too much,” you sigh. “i mean, i keep telling you your alcohol tolerance isn’t that great.”

“wanted to be less nervous,” chuuya whines slightly as his head drops back again. you reach your hand out to hold him back from pitching forward and slamming his face onto the table.

“oh my god, let’s get you sobered up at least before you meet them,” you sigh. it was a thursday night and no one else was at the bar. it probably wouldn’t hurt to step out for a while, wouldn’t it?

you’re practically dragging chuuya behind you to the employee’s room and sitting him on the couch you have there. except, once he sits down he immediately flops on the couch and curls up on his side. you’ve rarely seen the mafia executive look as vulnerable as this with his hat barely even on his head, his red locks framing his sleeping face, and his curled hands under his cheek. chuuya looks just like a little kid and you smile to yourself as you brush a lock of hair out of his face.

you already knew he was a mafia executive when you first met him here, at the bar, and was understandably quite scared of him at first. ‘he’s just a paying customer, like everyone else,’ you reminded yourself before putting on a winning smile to serve him. 

little did you know, you were going to absolutely fall for him. chuuya was always kind and courteous, even tipping more than generously whenever he came in. but what struck you about him was that no matter what, even if he was having the worst of days, he would always ask how you are. as a bartender, you were used to being the one listening instead of being listened to. the fact that chuuya always asked about you and even remembered your ramblings made you smile.

part of you wondered if you had a chance with someone like chuuya. ‘but i guess not,’ you thought sadly, gently laying the bouquet of flowers on the side table. as soon as you did, chuuya shot up from the couch.

“ch-chuuya-san!” you yelped slightly in surprise. 

“flowers... where are they?” he slurred, blinking around at his surroundings.

“here,” you smiled, placing the bouquet on his lap. “that person’s lucky, you know? to receive flowers from you.” 

“yeah...” chuuya smiled. “y/n sure is.” and before you could fully process what he said, chuuya flopped back down on the couch.

“wait, what?” you squeaked. you turned to chuuya and shook him awake. “did you just say y/n?”

“yeah... you know them? works here, always smiley, looks hella cute,” chuuya chuckled before looking at you with the tiniest pout on his lips. “do you think they’d go out with me?” 

you’re astounded and let out a small laugh. “i... i think they would chuuya. just ask them, alright?” 

“alright,”  chuuya nods and yawns before curling up on the couch again. you, on the other hand, are beside yourself with giddiness and it’s taking you all of your self-control not to wake him up. instead, you leave a glass of water and some headache medicine that you keep in your bag and return to your shift.

...

chuuya wakes up a few hours later with one of the worst headaches he’s ever had and his mouth feeling like sandpaper. also, he has no idea where he is. 

he sits up, blinking at his surroundings as he struggles to remember what happened before he practically blacked out. ‘i was in the bar. i got a drink, and then...’  

chuuya’s gaze lands on you, curled up on a nearby chair with your jacket draped across your torso and suddenly he remembers what exactly he was doing at the bar in the first place. “shit, shit, shit,” chuuya curses and sits up. he actually got blackout drunk before even getting the chance to talk to you and now you had to take care of him. chuuya hated to admit that his alcohol tolerance was low and now it seems he’s suffering the consequences for it.

his luck takes a turn for the worst when the noise stirs you awake.

“chuuya-san? you’re awake,” you yawn sleepily.

“fuck, i... blacked out, didn’t i? y/n, i’m so sorry it must have been so troubling for you,” chuuya immediately apologizes.

“it’s alright--” 

“like, i came in before your shift and i thought drinking would settle my nerves a bit before asking you out and--” chuuya abruptly stops when he realizes what he accidentally blurted out loud. the look on your face says it all though.

“i... “ he starts and stops again. then, he realizes that the flowers he bought are still on the table. so, he picks it up and hands them to you. “i, i really like you, y/n. if you don’t hate me after all this, would you consider going out with me?” 

there’s a smile on your face when you take the flowers for him and chuuya takes it as a good sign. and then you say, “you know, you said a lot of things while you were drunk.” 

chuuya feels his face flush and lets out a groan. “oh god, like what?” 

“we can talk about it if you like,” you shrug. “i’m... i’m free on saturdays, after my five pm shift.” 

chuuya feels his heart leap in his chest and says “i’m free this saturday too,” a bit too enthusiastically, earning another laugh from you. he’s still feeling that euphoria when you stand up and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“also, you’re really cute when you’re drunk.” 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumusdomain​​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo ​ @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa​ @whootwhoot​ @liz-multifandom-hotel​​ @kac-chowsballs​​ @violentfarewll

[mxvladdy]

Ooh~ I got somewhat of an angst(/comfort -hopefully??) ficlette request!

Established relationship with Diavolo. He thinks everything is going great. Until one night MC tells him that he makes them feel inadequate.

He's so BIG (they are literally/physically so much smaller than him, man is IMPOSING) and it's not like they have demon stamina/strength. they're afraid he gets bored, or will, in time.

He is SO IMPORTANT to everyone and everything and always so busy and they're just a distraction when he could be resting between meetings or courting with the intent to make an heir and they're just a human, a pretty average one at that, can't even use their magic like Maddi or Solomon

*clutches my gay little heart* I'm weak for giant puppy boys 😢. I love this idea! Hope I did it justice! P.s-hope ya ain’t lactose intolerant like I am, cuz I got cheesy at the end lmaooooo

Edit: 6/15- Here is the link to part 2!

  You feel inferior or inadequate? No, not his little Giglio.

He doesn't see at first. He is observant, sure. It comes with the territory as a prince, but he is so blind when it comes to you.

You're perfect and he wishes your relationship to be just as perfect. He can't explain why. Somewhere deep in the vacuous pits of his hearts, he yearns for your happiness.

He courts you like any demon would. Showing off his strength and magic to a maddening degree. He will lay fresh kills at your feet for you too.

It makes demons and other creatures swoon, but not a great turn-on for humans it seems. Barbatos had to pull him aside several times to remind him that too much magic could kill you, and he was tired of getting blood stains out of the wood floors.

He just wants to prove he is enough to you too. He'll do more human courting rituals as time goes on. Taking you topside to eat at human restaurants or do quaint human traditions.

Even in your realm, he can’t get away from gawking and curious humans wanting to be in his presents. He has the magnetic pull only a devil could pull off.

He doesn't notice your reluctance to be seen with him or sullen attitude till it was almost too late.

Balls are a common occurrence for him. Keeps the royal families in check, strengthens ties, or, some unfortunate times cutting them down in a show of force and warning for the rest of them.

Diavolo doesn't hate these events. They come as easy as breathing to him after centuries of doing it. But the flocking, gawking, and borderline reverent guest did get stifling. Having you on his arm made it bearable. The courtiers at least gave him some distance. Where were you anyway?

The barest flicker of black and gold muslin catches the crown prince's eye. The expensive fabric flitting around the corner of the ballroom to the restricted section. He wasn't worried. Diavolo knew that outfit and the delectable scent of his most prized jewel that wore it. You were allowed anyway you wished. Though he wished you were on his arm right about now. Ah well-

He turns back to his compatriot nodding along politely at the dull topic and takes a sip from his flute. He hums delighted by the fruity dry drink. Honestly, he wasn't sure how many of these he had had anymore. But it was just as sweet and tangy as his first glass. The bubbles ticking his nose and the liquor make his head fuzzy and his stomach hot. Mmm... He would have to complement Barbatos after this was over. His experiments were simply divine. Diavolo excuses himself from his conversation partner politely. He needed another drink if he was going to have a chat as dry as that again and survive. Fresh drink in hand he scans the massive hall for you. You should have been back by now… Odd. Perhaps you had called it a night early? He can't blame you. The redundancy and boring pushes for political power did get old fast. Smiling into his bubbling glass he has half a mind to join you. Sleeping the night away with you in his arms? Hells, he just might trade the crown for a day for a bloody break.

"May I have this dance, your highness?" A petite little incubus bowed low, wrapping his tail around his leg respectfully. Diavolo blinked up from his glass. Ah, yes. The game wasn't done yet.

It takes another three hours of dancing and glad-handing before he could finally extract himself from the ballroom. His feet were sore and swollen in their tight leather confines, his formal attire becoming itchy with sweat. He was ready for bed. No, a hot bath, tea then bed. No. A hot bath with you, tea then bed. Yes, a perfect ending to make up for a sub-par party.

Your shared quarters were dark when he entered. The smoky smell of recently snuffled candles greets him as he slips in. He frowns. The outer chambers looked to be untouched. The hearth cold and empty of ash. Your evening outfit wasn't spewn over the lounge and floor like it normally would be after a ball.

You often retired early from these parties, but you always waited for him here. Nestled up in the furs in front of the fire. A warm welcoming smile ready to greet him as he enters. "My love?" Diavolo calls out to the empty room. He winces at how loud he was. Perhaps he had indulged in his cups a bit too much.

He cocks his head listening for the sounds of running water or your cute little snores. Perhaps you had already gone to sleep? Silence greets him. He begins to panic now. Were you some elsewhere in the palace? Had some oppositional little cretin tried to harm you? He knew some at his party tonight were vying for him to go back to the old ways. Eliminating you would be a prerogative to those fools.

No, Barbatos had his eyes everywhere tonight. The complex webbing of his magic was nigh impossible to circumvent. Diavolo could feel it crawling over his skin, though the feeling was fading now that he was in his private chambers. Lucifer and his brother were ever vigilant too at these parties. As much as they bickered and annoyed his other guest they were skilled watchdogs, and keeping you safe was a top priority to all of them.

He reaches out through the shadows of his chambers searching for you frantically. His magic bleeds into every corner of his large private rooms. The vice around his chest lessens when he senses you on the private balcony. He goes to you, shrugging off his collars and chains as he moves, leaving a forgotten trail of priceless treasure behind him. "Darling," he breathes a sigh of relief seeing your silhouette in the light of his realms many moons. "Was the party not to your liking?" Diavolo flops onto your shared bed with a groan of pleasure. His feet now happy to not have his weight on them anymore. He runs his fingers through the vast expanse of cold silk. It wakes him up slightly. "Perhaps I can make it up to you? I can think of quite a few things more pleasurable than a swarm of stuffy demons."

"You’re drunk Dia." You don't move to face him. Your eyes still upcast to look at the clear evening sky.

His head lolls to the side to watch you curiously. You can feel his eyes follow the trail of your hands while you stroke at the marble railing. His family crest glistening on your finger. "No, no, not drunk. Tipsy perhaps? Or is the word ‘buzzed’ more appropriate?" He chuckles. "Perhaps you could sober me up with a kiss? You always know how to make me feel amazing."

Your breath catches at his words. A pathetic little sob escaping you. He is sober now. Instead of a warm kiss alighting his muddled thoughts to bring the world back into sharp beautiful clarity, it feels as if he had been submerged in ice. He approaches you with inhuman speed. His clawed fingers were gentle on your shoulders.

He turns you to face him. Crystalline tears were trapped in your lashes. Your cheeks were ruddy and your lips were swollen.  In any other circumstance, such a visage would be a privilege to see. But these tears were cold and filled with pain. Lips red hot not by his kisses and fangs, but from nervous chewing and pulling. Your cheeks were streaked and puffy from countless hours spent alone and crying.

"Giglio mio, cosa ti affligge?" He cups your cheeks rubbing the chill away from your skin.

"Why- why do you even waste your time with me?" You hiccup.

“I don’t understand.”

You part from him, backing up to the railing. “What do you see in me?”  You ask, arm raised in question. He takes in your body. You were adorned in his colors and his scent, it makes the territorial part of him rumble in satisfaction. Your delicate human flesh radiates a warmth demons could never replicate. You were small, sweet, and his. What was he missing? “What will happen when you find someone better? Someone who will- who can grow old alongside you. A demon or witch, strong and talented.”

Your wavering words don’t register with him. How could you say these things? Did you think he would allow you to grow old without him? You were his, just as he was yours, or as much as he is able of being yours. It was a laughable thought but he knew to hold his tongue. Humans always get in a tizzy about death.“I don’t-” He starts ready to brush your concerns away. The flash of his perfect teeth only angers you.

“Do not play dumb with me!” You say jabbing a finger at his bare chest. “Look at you. Think of who you are compared to me. Look at how they all cling to you, all those pretty demons and witches with something to offer you.”

Something better than me.

The words hang unspoken between you and leave him stunned. He had so much he wished to say but knew tonight was an inopportune time. Your emotions were running high, too high for him to successfully navigate. Especially in his compromised state. He would have to admit defeat tonight. “I am sorry if I have neglected you and your feelings. Please, let's go to bed. I want- I need to understand. But-”

“You’re drunk.” You repeat chuckling without humor. You wipe at your face. “I get it. We’ll talk in the morning?”

Diavolo puts a hand to his chest. “Of course. You will have all my time tomorrow.”

You wake alone the next morning, the sheets beside you cool but not made. You expected that though. He was never one to stay in bed even on the rare days off. It was the downside of his status and routine.

You rise alone and head to the bathroom, the gargantuan space was still slightly warm and steamy. Good, that means you didn’t wake up too much later than Dia. You shower quickly, washing away the grime of lasts night’s nervous breakdown. You were so embarrassed, collapsing all over Diavolo in jealous self-pity. He had more important things to deal with than some weepy human.

You need to go find him and apologies, tell him not to worry about it. You knew what being courted by him would entail. You swore up and down you could handle it, and you could. You will. This was the worst time to falter too he had some pressing deadlines and important figureheads coming around this week. Even one loose gear in his well-oiled machine could damage any number of things. You refused to be the reason he failed. Steeling yourself, you dress quickly, determined to put your new plan in motion. Apologize, promise to do better, and then hide at R.A.D until you could face him again.

It doesn’t take you long to find your demon. He had been waiting for you. You enter the den in a flurry of movement phones in hand to check with Lucifer to see where the prince might be. “Join me?” His deep baritone makes you jump in alarm. Your phone flies out of your hands to clatter loudly on the tile floor.

Diavolo sits, sprawled out on his couch. His favorite terry cloth robe is tied loosely around his broad figure. He watches you with a growing frown, his strong jaw perched on his fist. You freeze. “Please?” He offers you his free hand. You take it timidly. He grasps you firmly and lifts you effortlessly onto his lap. You rest your head on his strong chest. He smells of juniper berries and oranges. Bright, fresh, and sharp. Their combined scents mixing with his natural musk put you at ease. The clenching panic around your heart easing slightly. You eye the breakfast layout before the two of you on the low coffee table. The banquet was still untouched though you do not know how long Dia had been sitting here. You felt the tiny pulses of magic radiating off the table.

“To keep it warm,” Diavolo answers your unspoken question. He moves you in his lap so he can reach for a plate. Filling it to the brim with an assortment of pastries and warmed jams he hands it to you before filling his coffee cup. “I didn’t know how long you wished to sleep.”  

You take the plate meekly. “I-thank you.” You eat in relative silence, eyes locked down on the treccia slowly disappearing on your plate. You were too nervous to look at Diavolo. “When do you have to get back to work?” You ask.

“I don’t-” He adds a hefty dollop of heavily whipped cream to his coffee. “I took the day off.” Your heart drops.

“I’m sorry.”

“Giglio.” Diavolo sighs heavily. He puts his coffee aside to cradle you. “Never be sorry for needing time.” His large hands rest over your thigh and shoulder. “I promised we would talk today, and I am nothing but a devil of my word.” He kisses your crown, his thumbs rubbing your skin comfortingly. “Tell me your worries.”

“What do you see in me?” You blurt out looking up at him. “What could you ever see in a human that you couldn’t get from someone closer to your stature?”

“You have something no other being has ever had before.” He answers effortlessly. He had thought about this time and time again in private. He had lost count of the nights spent in his study stewing over this very topic. You captivated him in a way he still couldn’t fully comprehend.

You scoff at the nonanswer. “What? A soul?”

Diavolo sucks his teeth in distaste. Your voice was so bitter. “Do you think I don’t have a soul?” He counters, smiling ruefully down at you.

“Do you?” You are genuinely curious. Satan had been very upfront with the fact that he didn’t and he was a full-blooded demon. When you had asked Barbatos he had just shrugged. 

Diavolo looks wistful for a moment. Golden eyes glazing over as he gets lost in thought. “Who knows?” He admits. “Souls are a precious commodity, true. But such things mean very little to me when it comes to you. No, the thing you have is my trust. You came here with nothing and expected nothing of me but a safe and successful exchange program. There was no social climbing or cloak and daggers with you- or perhaps you are so skilled I cannot see it!” His chuckle shakes you both. “I feel as though you do not see me as just a prince, yet you still respect the title, the authority, and the customs that come along with it. You see what I have to offer and don’t ask for more than I can give you.”

“What will happen when you find that I no longer do that for you? When someone else could do it better and give you eternity along with it?” His words bring you hope, but hope did little when you knew the inevitable outcome.

“Why would I look when I am more than happy where I am?” He dodges your question. He would cross that bridge and bear that cross when you find out on your own.

“But-”

He hushes you with a flurry of kisses across your face, dipping low over you. You squeak as he dangles you precariously over the side of the leather couch. “Come, eat with me.” He says between kisses. “Enjoy a day away from the prying eyes of scorned socialites. Let me show you how devoted I am.” He releases you to pick up a piece of bruschetta. Popping it into his mouth with a groan of satisfaction he turns back to the cooling food, his jovial mood returning. You huff, flicking off a stray bit of diced tomato from his chin.

“Fine- as long as you let me help you catch up on all the work you're missing tomorrow.”  

[buckysgoldenheart]

Hotel Room: August Walker x Reader

Summary: August, sick of you jumping from location to location trying to escape him, broke into your hotel room to interrogate you about you leaving him months earlier. 

Words: 2952

(First Person) (Both August x Y/N POVs)

**It is August, but in my head August isn’t evil, more just temporarily morally confused, so in this he’s an okay guy.**

Warnings/notes: angst, fluff, internal emotional thoughts (which always make me uncomfortable), mentions of sex. cursing somewhere.

****So the edit directly below was done by @eastwesthomeisbest for this story. I meant to add this to my story ages ago but something reminded me today, and i’m glad it did, because this edit made me so happy that I wanted to share it again. I love it so much! All of the edits made by @eastwesthomeisbest are freakin amazing!****

August POV

I would wait all night in this room if I had to, just to see her face and find the look I am horribly desperate to see in those eyes. The one I hope will reassure me of her feelings.

I want to believe that she can’t fool me; that I am as confident in her love as I seem to be, but she rules me in every way. If at any time, any single moment, anywhere, in front of the entire world, she told me to kneel before her, I would kneel like the begging puppy she doesn’t even know I am.

The silver knob of the door jiggles the slightest and a sudden fear bubbles up inside me that squashes my determined facade like a fly. What if she isn’t alone? What if she has some unworthy idiot she plans to take to her bed?

But no. Thank God.

Once on this side of the door, she closes it quietly behind her as if not to disturb anyone sleeping in the same hall and leans her forehead against the wood. She sighs, and I worry over that sound.

She doesn’t look up when she asks how long I have been in her room. She sighs again, and I worry again. I can feel her exhaustion from 10 feet away. It floats to me, hoping I might let some of the burden seep into me through my every pore just to relieve her. And if it were a physical possibility, I wouldn’t hesitate to take not just some of it, but all, until nothing weighed her down and she could straighten her spine for the first time in a while.

“Not long.” I say, pushing myself upright from my leaned position on the wall beside her.

She lifts her head and graces me with a glance. A tired glance, but something of a gift, nonetheless. “Get out. I’m in no mood.”

I cross my arms because they make my muscles bulge in a way that she could never resist. And I think that if that doesn’t get to her, well, at least it shows her I’m still strong, I’m still determined, despite how being around her always turns my brain to jelly. “I need to talk to you. That’s all I want.”

She would groan if she had the energy. I can tell by the way her lips thin when I say anything. “Then speak if you find it so absolutely necessary but make it quick, will you. And skip the part explaining how you found me again. I’m getting really tired of the whole ‘you’re not good at covering your tracks’ bit.”

I’m pushing her to the brink. She fakes nonchalance, but she’s irritated, at best. She’s the kind of irritated that has the ability to turn into something much worse over time, and I know if a baseball bat were nearby, mustering enough strength to beat me to a bloody pulp would not be as hard for her as I wish; but she has yet to kill me, so I say: “Fine. I am in love with you.”

She scoffs and puts her hands on her hips. My hips. They belong to me. They are for me to touch and grab and love. “So you have said, repeatedly. Is that it?”

“You are in love with me too, and I want you to come home.”

A beautiful, sarcastic chuckle sings in my ears. “Wow.”

“The truth is the truth.”

“I am not in love with you!”

“Yes, you are.”

She rolls her eyes, but all it does is lighten my heart. “You really are insane.”

“You love me. You do now, and you did when you somehow managed to pack up and leave in the middle of the night without me noticing. Which I still can’t figure out. Until that night, you couldn’t so much as shift in the bed beside me without me waking to make sure you were fine and safe.” I shake my head. I had replayed that night in my head too often for any sane man, and still couldn’t understand how she disappeared like a wraith. “But I woke up the next morning with you not next to me, because somehow you had slipped away without a trace.

“Apparently not, seeing as how you keep finding me wherever I go.”

“I told you a long time ago, I would always find you. If anything ever happened, I would protect my woman.”

“I’m not your—”

“I know you don’t want to believe it, because I was a bad guy who did some bad things; a bad guy you heard had done even worse things, unspeakable things, but this feeling is real despite that. Our connection…”

“We have no connection!” She yells before running her hands down her face. She is tired of this, but if I give up now, she will never allow the word ‘love’ to pass my lips in her presence again, if she even chose to speak to me.

“Y/N, I don’t want to be without you. I can’t stand another second without being able to have you, or hold you, or kiss you, or make love--”

“Stop it, August!” She snaps. “You live in fantasies and think just because you say things over and over that they eventually become truth and everyone around you will accept it as such.”

“We are not a fantasy! You and me, we are--”

“We are nothing!”

A quiver echoes around the room.

A crack in her shell.

Tears began to dribble down the soft cheeks I once kissed.

I move but she steps back with every inch I advance until the icy chill of the wall is flush against her back. And I see it: false hatred masking underlying fear in her eyes; a fear she has had since we met, a fear of loving me.

I brace an arm on the wall, my palm flat next to her face as my other moves to her body, down her arm, to the curve of her waist, to the silky soft flesh peeking from under her sweater for me to stroke with my thumb as the rest of my fingers firmly grip her hip. My hip.

“We are everything to each other…and you know it,” I say as I meet her eyes. They glisten, wet and shiny and beautiful in a way I hoped I would never be the cause of. Her teary gaze is unblinking, in utter disbelief that I was touching her again, that she was letting me touch her again.

“Don’t,” is all she whispers; one final plea as I firmly grasp the last brick of the wall she put up to keep me out and throw it away, out of sight where it could never be found again…I hope.

“August…” Another whisper.

“Y/N, I know I scared you and I know you heard a lot of bad things about me, but I would never hurt you, ever. And I’ll step away, I will, I promise I will, if you tell me to.” I never wanted to lie to her, but as the last of those words come out of my mouth, I know that is exactly what they are: A lie. I won’t ever step away.

I inch my head down to hers, my face closer to hers, my lips a hairs width away from hers, praying she won’t shove me away.

“Just tell me to.” I whisper against her lips.

But she doesn’t and so I press my lips to hers, taking her rosy, plump bottom one between my own.

She tastes the same. Too many months without this taste is like coming home after being at war and I savor every single generous second.

Then I feel it. A movement of her lips over mine, a small pressure that forces a moan from my throat, tingling both of our lips. I don’t waste another beat pulling her to me. Remembering this sensation of our bodies molded so perfectly together is intoxicating. I won’t, I can’t let her go. Not now. Not ever again.

 Y/N POV

I’m still.

So still.

I can’t move, and I tell myself it is only because he has trapped me; that my anger is strong enough to paralyze me; that he is abusing me, and I just see too much red to focus on that fact. I tell myself that the chill running down my spine is from the wall he has me up against.

He looks at me like he wants me. It’s the way he has always looked at me. Devouring. Begging. Desperate.

He is moving, somehow closer than he already is and my body reacts to him, sensing a familiar stinging heat though his skin has yet to touch mine. I can feel my heart’s uncontrollable excitement and I’m screaming for it to shut up, to stop beating for him, stop humming for him, just stop living if that’s what it takes for him to go away. But it won’t, or can’t, or just doesn’t want to. I have no idea anymore, but I can’t look away from the hand inching its way toward my arm.

If you touch me, I will kill you, I repeat over in my head.

But it, he, moves closer.

If you touch me, I will kill you.

And closer.

If you touch me…

He looks at me, right in the Y/E/C of my eyes and the air is sucked from my lungs.

…I will kill you.

Then he touches me.

His hand rests gently on my shoulder and skims down my arm over the fabric of my too-thin sweater. My waist feels it and my belly flops as he strokes the skin that hasn’t felt his touch in months. It sings for him, my skin. It cries in relief and thanks me for not shoving him away.

Finally, it moans.

I think this must stop, now. Break the contact. Don’t let him control you. You have fought so hard to become the woman you are, a woman who needs no one, and now is not the time to give in to this feeling, but it feels so good and he has only stroked a thumb, a simple thumb, along an insignificant amount of my skin.

I am numb to everything but the fire of his fingertips.

“Don’t.” What a pathetic whisper. A lie.

But his gaze is unwavering.

“August…” I cry his name in my head over and over, but once again, my mouth fails me and it comes out so quietly, so soft.

He tells me he will stop if I tell him to. But his face is so close, his lips are so close. I feel his puffs of breath stroke my skin and it warms me from head to toe.

He whispers something again, but the blood rushing in my ears doesn’t allow me to comprehend. I think I need to pull away.

Not now, my mind screams at me. Don’t be an idiot, it yells.

He kisses me and my brain shuts down. I only feel softness and slight pressure and a moan that tingles my lips, but I can’t tell who it came from.

The taste is the same. His taste is the same. It’s sweet with hints of whiskey he must have had recently and it shoves me back in time, into the body of the woman who let her guard down and was dumb enough to fall in love with a man like him. Then I move my lips, just my lips, and I’m pulled so close to him. I feel his muscles; firm ridges and valleys through his shirt against my stomach and breasts.

It’s too much and not enough.

My hands seem to rise on their own accord and slide to his arms, up to his shoulders; the opposite trail he had touched me with. He groans into our kiss as his arms hold me tighter than I thought possible.

By the time my fingers are resting on the back of his neck, pressing his lips harder to mine in the first greedy act I have taken, he’s hoisted me up. His hands grasp my bottom to secure me and I am forced to remember the last night we had together before I left.

Every feeling I had the last time I was on top of him, sinking down onto him, moving my hips in a way that made us practically weep from pleasure, swallows me whole. I remember the feel of his fingers as he grabbed my backside to keep me firm against him.

Imprints were left that night. Stinging from where he would roughly slap a cheek. Bite marks on my shoulders, my neck, my breasts, that didn’t disappear for days. He made sure to claim me in every way possible again and again.

And now he was back for me, my heart, my soul, my love. And he would not waste a single drop of the flood that was pouring out of me.

I plant my palms on the stubble of his jaw and tilt my head, parting my lips to give us the chance to deepen this kiss, and it allows him to slip his silky, soft tongue in to caress mine.

He turns us and walks to the large bed in the middle of the room, never breaking our kiss, before gently laying me down on the plush comforter and ripping his shirt off over his head.

He really is the same, I think. Everything is exactly the same. Perfect in every single way. Strong shoulders, and thick arms, and toned abs that lead down to a defined V that disappears under the waist of his pants. And he’s looking at me like I brought him back to life, just like he did for me before I ran.

“Come here.” I whisper, reaching out a hand for him to take; reassuring him that I want him, this, everything he has to offer me.

He gives me a tentative look and for once I see the vulnerability that being together can bring out in us. He’d perfected his craft of illusion long ago, but now I sense little of that mask.

August takes my hand in his and I tug lightly. He catches himself from falling completely on top of me and gently lowers his body onto mine in the most delightfully sensual way anyone could.

 August POV

She’s looking at me in a way that’s going to destroy me from the inside out; like I’ve hung the sun that only shines for her, and all I want is to see that look every minute of every day until I’ve memorized it so well I see it in my sleep.

‘Come here,’ she says, and reaches out her delicate hand. Fuck, I remember those hands on my body, and I’m almost not sure I can handle it again. If I have her now, I will need her forever, and it’s terrifying how much I want it.

But I take her hand and let her pull my body on top of hers, and I kiss her because I have to. Because if I don’t, I will lose my damn mind. It’s a horrifying feeling that only her lips can relieve, and I drink in every second that she lets me savor this; that she lets me kiss her top lip and then her bottom; lets me delicately bite one.

And when she moans, dear god, when she moans, my whole body tenses with desire for her. I want to wrap myself around her and run my hands through her silky, Y/H/C waves. I want to tear her sweater off and slip her pants down, until she is bare for me and me only, so I can show her just how in love with her I really am.

I want to feel every inch of her and rediscover every dimple in her flesh, every freckle, and every tiny mole that even she doesn’t know she has. Every scratch, every scar, and that section of stretch marks that I once ran my fingers along before trailing the length of them with kisses, I want only to be for me.

No one else, right? I want to ask her. There’s no other man but me, is there? Please let there be no one else. But she loops her arms around my neck and tugs me closer like she wants me to sink into her so we can just be one, and my mind momentarily flies out the window. Other men or not, from now on she is mine.

Then she pulls away and I’m afraid I’ve suddenly scared her, desperately wracking my brain for what I could’ve done in a matter of seconds. But she takes in a deep breath and her Y/E/C eyes meet mine as my name is lucky enough to be a sigh that passes through her plump lips.

“August…” She says again, and I close my eyes, dipping my forehead down to hers. I inhale and exhale. I would wait a million years for any words she would be willing to give me. “I do love you.”

And I was right.

She is going to destroy me.

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

tags: @dugan365 @moonlightimagination @pietrotheavenger @marvel-fanfiction @hawkeyeharrington @dani-si @wintersoldier98 @then-there-was-me-emily @prxttybirdz @xceafh @jazzwoman897 @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999 @ufffg @debra77 @rebelliouscat @anise-d-castle6 @projectxhappiness @buckybarnesappreciationsociety @lowkeysebby @notmyfault404 @jjamesbbarness @guera31 @sophiatomlinson23​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @hiddles-rose​ @mywinterwolf​ @picapicapicassobaby​ @genius2050​ @lokilvrr​ @sunshine-seven​ @missjayi​ @agniavateira​ @tumblenewby 

[rhysismydaddy]

Naughty Neighbors pt. 4 (Elriel)

I’m thinking there’s going to be two/three more parts to this. I know it’s longer than what I usually put out, but I did mention it’s a slow burn, so... Idk. I really like it and want to keep writing it. 

DRUNK NOTE: thank god I wrote this earlier because i’m too far gone to do much editing hahah sorry if there’s errors also sorry it’s short

__________________________________________________________

~Elain~

For exactly three horrible seconds of Elain’s life, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t so much as breathe as she stands there, holding him to her, mouth pressed against his. 

It’s absolutely horrifying. 

But then he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Holy fuck, Elain.”

And then he kisses her. 

Walking forward, he presses her against the wall, sheltering her with his body and caging her in. 

She’s quickly becoming addicted to the way his chest is pressed against hers, hard muscle dragging against her now-heavy breasts in a way that makes her pant. 

But that’s nothing compared to the addiction she was forming for how he kissed her. 

It’s deep and heavy and so seductive her knees go a bit weak. He--Azriel--seems to notice and slides a knee in between her legs, which helps keep her upright but does absolutely no favors for the growing ache at the apex of her thighs. 

Gods above.

Elain shoves her hands in his hair to keep him close to her, and his go to her hips, then slide around to her backside, then run across her waist. He’s everywhere, hands and body surveying every inch of her, but his mouth moves consistently slow against hers. 

She feels like he can’t get enough of her, like she's driving him crazy. And she fucking loves it, because she’s never felt like this before. 

Never... been kissed like this before. 

He moves to her neck, then down to the top of her breasts. “Azriel,” she moans. Or maybe begs. 

His head snaps up, eyes meeting hers instantly. His usual honey and moss colored eyes are dark, lined with urgency and desire and maybe just a little crazy. “That’s going to be the fucking death of me.”

Before she can analyze that, they’re kissing again, and Elain can’t stop herself from running her hands over his chest and abs, then pulling him even closer. 

Azriel presses his hips into hers, and she gasps into his mouth, making him smile. She reaches behind her to open the door and take him inside, but he stops her with a hand on her wrist. 

“Elain.”

Still a little breathless, she whispers, “What?”

Taking a healthy step away from her, he shakes his head and says, “We can’t... I’m not going in there.”

“What?” she repeats, beyond confused. She’d thought he’d wanted to... and his body had definitely wanted to...

“I’m not taking you to bed while you belong to another man, Elain.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Maybe not your body,” he agrees, placing a wide hand on her chest, right above her heart. “But I want this to be mine. And you’re going to give it to me.”

Her mouth is open, probably grazing the floor, but she just stares at him in disbelief. Azriel smiles softly, runs a thumb over her bottom lip, then kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Elain.”

Then he turns and goes inside his apartment, the door shutting between them with a deafeningly quiet click. 

~Azriel~

Yeah, I’m one dumb motherfucker. 

I had the girl I’d been pathetically pining for finally kissing me, finally admitting she wants me, and I told her I wasn’t going to have sex with her. 

And where does that leave me? With a fucking painful erection and the urge to put my fist through a wall. 

I head straight for the bathroom and turn the shower to the coldest setting possible. But even as the ice water runs over me, my blood continues to thrum. 

Good gods, I want to kiss her again. 

I want to kiss her all the time. 

Her full mouth fits mine perfectly, and the way she kissed me... no cold shower is going to get me to forget that. Not to even mention the way her body felt under my hands, the soft curves practically begging to be touched. 

Shoving my head against the tile, I try to ignore all that. But it doesn’t do an ounce of good, because then I think about the way she said my name. 

It was so natural for her, even though she’d learned it ten minutes before. She’d said it like it was everything to her, like a precious gift she’d never return. 

By the time I cut the shower off and flop in bed, I’m exhausted, so when the phone rings, I ignore it and shut my eyes. But it rings again, and I see that it’s Mor, so I answer. “What?”

“Wow, thank you for that heart-warming greeting,” she teases. “Bad night?”

“No, I’m just-” thinking about Elain and don’t want to talk to you at the moment, “tired.”

Thing about Mor is, she can always tell when I’m lying.

“Something happened! What happened?” 

“She kissed me,” I tell my best friend, smile on my face. 

Mor howls on the other end of the line, making me laugh. “I told you making her jealous would work!”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right. It worked. She wanted to...” Cursing, I cut myself off. She doesn’t need to know everything. 

She, apparently, doesn’t hold that belief. “And did you?” 

“No, we didn’t. I want her... I want her to love me first, Mor.”

She’s quiet for a few moments, but then she says softly, “You really like her, huh?” I stay quiet, but it’s answer enough. “Then make her fall in love with you.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” I chuckle, because it’s true. Now that I know what I’m missing, I don’t want to waste another minute without it. “But I have to be well-rested to trick fair maidens into loving me, so goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too, stupid.”

I hang up and stare at the ceiling, still smiling like an idiot. 

My very helpful brain thinks about Elain on the other side of that wall, lying in bed doing the same thing, thinking about me. 

I tell it to shut up and go to sleep, but the stupid bastard doesn’t listen. 

The last thing I think before finally falling asleep is that I can’t fucking wait to see Elain tomorrow. 

~

Elain doesn’t go to work all week. 

I know because it’s Friday, and I’ve been by the store every single day since Monday. Some girl named Christine has been there, and she gives me a weird look every time she notices me peeking in. 

Honestly, I don’t get it. 

Last time she tried to avoid me, she was embarrassed and knew I’d tease her. This time... I didn’t do anything wrong, right?

Maybe she’s sick. 

Or maybe she just feels guilty. That’s probably it. I haven’t heard the boyfriend come around this week, and she’s not the kind of girl to dump someone over the phone. So maybe she’s waiting until she sees him and ends things to see me. 

The thought makes me smile, drawing a raised eyebrow from the guy I’m currently tattooing. 

“You look like you’re thinking about a girl,” the old biker-looking man remarks with a gruff. I can’t help but grin and shrug and he sighs. “Just don’t fuck up my tattoo.”

I nod and focus, shoving all thoughts of Elain into a small box in the corner of my mind. 

But the damn box won’t stay closed, and by the time I leave work that night, I don’t care if she’s trying to do the right thing and avoid me. I have to see her. 

Even if nothing happens, I have to see her. 

The week’s been boring without her soft smiles and cute little dresses, and I want to hear what she’s been up to, cooped up in that apartment. 

I practically run up the stairs and down the hall to her door, already smiling as I knock. It takes a few minutes for the door to open, but when it does, the smile falls away and takes every last drop of happiness with it. 

She looks awful. 

I mean, she’s always beautiful, but she looks like she hasn’t slept or eaten since I last saw her. Her hairs a dirty mess, she’s in a raggedy sweatshirt and sweatpants, and there’s dark circles under her big brown eyes. 

Eyes that don’t hold an ounce of happiness to see me. “What do you want?”

The question throws me, but I answer honestly. “I wanted to see you. Are you alright?”

Elain doesn’t answer, just stands there for a minute. Then she says, “Leave me alone.”

The door swings towards me, but I jut a hand out and stop it from closing. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Because like Mor’s told me for years, it’s always the man’s fault. Even when it isn’t the man’s fault, it’s the man’s fault. 

Whatever it is, I’ll apologize and smile and tease her until she’s smiling, too.

“Did you do something?” she repeats in a small voice, eyes going a bit misty. 

The sight hits me hard, and I take a step forward, but she shoots out a hand and shoves me back. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

If it wasn’t the unusual curse that stops me dead in my tracks, it’d be the way her voice sounded as she said it. None of the usual warmth, no soft laughter. 

She sounds... she sounds like she hates me. And I can’t take it. “Elain, what the hell did I do?”

~Elain~

Is he serious? What did I do? 

The genuine confusion on his face makes the carefully-crafted dam she’s been building around herself burst. “What was this to you? Some sort of sick game?”

“What are you-”

“You tried your goddamn best to drive me crazy, and like a complete idiot, I let you! How stupid could I have been...” She looks up at the ceiling as if that will give her the strength to face him, to say the words. “To think you wanted me.” 

His eyes go wide, and she lets out a humorless laugh. “Elain-”

But there’s no going back now, and there’s no stopping the words from coming out.

“Oh, save the bullshit. You got what you wanted. You proved I’m a horrible girlfriend and an even worse human being, so just leave me alone.”

Before he can respond, she demands, “And what was that crap about wanting my heart? You’re a pathological liar. It’s just not enough for me to cheat on Lucien with you, is it? You want me to fall in love with you.”

His jaw is tight, hands bunched into fists, but he stays silent. 

Tears are streaming down her face, but she forces herself to glare and say, “That will never happen. I’m not stupid enough to love you.”

She slams the door in his face, then drops to the floor to cry. Pressing a hand to her chest, she tries hopelessly to ignore the voice in her head telling her if that were true, this wouldn’t hurt so damn much. 

____________________________________________________________

Uh, can I just say right now that I’m sorry? Hang in there. I TOLD YOU IT’S A SLOW BURN. Part 5

@bamchickawowow @astreia-oniria @keshavomit @elrielllll @januarystears @zukos-simp @whimsyrhys @lameomclameo @wineywitch202 @thedarkdemigod @captainthefangirlofhp @elriel4life @queen-of-glass @courtofjurdan @nessiantho @texas-shaped-waffle-maker @stardelia @myshadowsingeraz @tswaney17 @illyriangarbage @nicerhero @fancycrowncat @sjmships @poisonous00 @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[my-own-oracle]

Loving you- requested!

EDIT: this has been re-uploaded since my account was deleted! I am sorry for the inconvenience. 

Tfp bots with number 42-"I have never loved you as much as I do right now."

@a-bitchtm I love your enthusiasm, usually have a limit on the number of bots I have per request. But because I made you wait so long and I had a lot of fun with it, I did four of them. If you want to see any more, let me know. 

Ratchet

Ratchet was usually quite hard to approach: his no-nonsense demeanor often left interactions with the bot feeling flat, and with much to be desired. But he had been appointed your guardian, and a stubborn mech like the doc required a stubborn companion. 

You often spent your days at the base, watching the giant doctor work. But the evenings we're where the battles of stubbornness were indeed waged.

 You had been studying a map of your home city, it was only a state over and the proposed location of another artifact. You had been looking for a site that could hide, or be built around a 'mystical' cybertronian object. You had accepted this task, earlier this afternoon, but you still felt like you nad nothing. 

Ratchet was standing not far off. Mumbling to himself as he worked through the lines of gibberish, you recognized as cybertronian. You had tried to convince him to take a break and recharge a few hours ago, but he insisted he was fine. 

He wasn't. You could tell he was tired. His frame sagged, and his mumbling and squinting of his optics gave it away. A yawn caught you off guard as you checked your watch. 2:39 am. You had decided to keep him company. After all, you had work to do too, but your body was beginning to protest. Another yawn, you turned back to the maps laid out in front of you. 

"You need to go and sleep." Ratchet's voice filled the empty air, but his attention was still on the large screens. 

"So do you," you watched his helm shake slightly.

"No, I have to much to do."

"And taking care of yourself is also on that list." Ratchet turned to face you, and his optics looked dim. "Your tired, your frame is sagging," you raised a finger with each point, "your eye -ah optics, are dim and your starting to sway"'  

"You're infuriating. You are no better. You've yawned 36 times in the past two hours. Almost cycled off in to recharge 5 times in the past thirty, and if you want to call my optics dim, I would say yours have been snuffed out." His voice was firm, but it lacked its usual snark. 

"Since when do you keep such close track of me?" You stood up, waving your hand at his monitor. "You're always talking about how much more important your work is, but you're willing to use brainpower to keep track of the number of times I've started falling asleep?"

"It's my job to make sure all members of this team are in top form."

"All members?"

"Yes, "

"Then that includes yourself" He stammered a moment. Another sign to add to your ever-growing list. 

"Since when did you start fretting over an old mech?" A giant hand placed itself next to you, a silent offer. You climbed up, opting to sit in his open hand rather than trust your legs to hold you steady.

"Since the day I met you, Ratchet." He mumbled a response. You didn't quite hear it. 

"One more time, "

"I have never loved you as much as I do right now." You smiled, and so did Ratchet. You loved his smile, he should do it more. 

"Then love me enough to go to sleep; if you go to bed, I will too." Ratchet grumbled and smiled. With a few taps to his computer, he turned off the monitors and headed off to his hab-unit with you in hand to get some rest. 

Bulkhead

Today had played out so differently in your head. The dream had been waking up to no excitement. There is no need to storm an energon mine, no world-shattering event to stop. Thanks to a school-wide trip, no teenagers making errors could cause huge problems. At the end of this uneventful day, you would have all the time in the world to go out and watch the meteor shower that was occurring at 2am. Instead, you had been sent out on a mission with Bulkhead only to discover at its end, that the ground bridge wasn't working. 

"Why did we allow her to come again?" You turned and watched Miko as she played a game on her phone in the back. She was sprawled out in the back tired out from the rock show she performed for you on the drive up and the hiking around during recon. 

"Because her school trip got canceled, and I have a hard time saying no," Bulkhead's voice quietly filtered through the cab. You chuckled, Miko seemed lost in her own world at the moment, so you decided to give her space.

"You are wrapped around her finger" You all round a bend before you talk again. "How far are we from the base?"

"A good day's drive. Maybe more if we want to avoid major cities." You feel like sulking, you were definitely missing that meteor shower. "What's wrong, did you have a hot date tonight?" 

The eye roll was a gut reaction, as was your smile. "You know I don't have time for that; besides, you're starting to sound like Wheeljack." 

"Seriously then." you sighed, shifting to slouch lower in your seat. 

"There's this meteor shower tonight." You didn't know how much of this Bulkhead cared about, but he had been the one to ask…" I was going to spend time researching the best possible location to watch it from and see if I could bribe Ratchet to bridging me there and back."

"But now you get to hang with us." Miko injected, while Bulkhead realized the source of your frustration.

"You'd rather be watching it, hm?"

"Don't take it as I don't want to spend time with the two of you," you gesture to the cab, "It's just since I was little I've always wanted to watch the 'falling stars' my mom talked about seeing once." 

"It sounds nice," You leaned deeper into Bulkhead's seats.

"More like boring, but hey, to each their own." Miko flopped forward over the center console. "Hey, let's play a game while we drive." You smiled as Miko tried to describe her road trip game to Bulkhead. You spent a moment pushing the meteors out of your head; after all, it was not every day you got to spend quality time with these two. 

     * 

"(Y/N). Can you wake up?" The question was light. Bulkheads voice breaking the silence during another of Miko's and your naps. The sun had set at some point, casting the day into a soft and comforting darkness, illuminated by the milky way's thousands of stars. "(Y/N), wake up." Your head jerked awake at Bulkheads prodding. When had you fallen asleep? You had wanted to keep the giant bot company through the night since he was determined to drive as long as possible. 

"Is everything ok?" you started looking around. Outside looked peaceful, and inside was quiet except for the snores emitting from the teenager behind you. "Has Miko been asleep the whole ride?" You looked back in disbelief. It looked as though she had moved, but you had no evidence that she had woken up. 

Bulkhead chuckled, "You're delusional if you really think Miko would sleep for the majority of a day." You swatted at the headrest of the seat next to you. "Ok, ok. She was awake for a while after you fell asleep. I tried to keep her quiet." 

You were touched at the effort that must have taken. Miko was loud and brash, keeping her occupied and quite must have been a handful to do while trying to drive them home. "Thank you, Bulk." you shifted to lean against his door. "How far out are we?"

The sound of tires on the paved road filled your ears, and you watched as the wheel moved to keep them steady. "Not too far, but I'm taking a slight detour." He sounded guilty, 

"What was going on?" Slowly, being careful not to jostle the cab, Bulkhead pulled over to the side of the road. You felt the locking mechanism move under your back. "Step out, will you?" You eyed the dash, curious as to what on earth Bulkhead could want this late at night. 

"Bulk what's-" a man materialized in the seat next to you. He was a big broad-chested man with dark skin and an Autobot tattoo on his right shoulder. His black wifebeater and green cargo pants screamed military and soldier in your mind. His body had materialized with his hands on the steering wheel, his arms relaxed, and his eyes gently closed. He was still for only a moment, and in that moment, your heart sped up. From what you couldn't tell, but it was hammering. 

His eyes opened to reveal an unusual blue color, one more resembling the color of the bot's optics than any blue you had seen in a human. The man wasted no time opening up the driver's side door and stepping out. Hesitantly you followed. "What-"

"What do you think?" The man kept his head upwards towards the sky, his voice was Bulkhead's voice, but softer... almost. "The lights from all the major cities are far enough away you should be able to see this meteor shower you wanted to see."

"Who-" 

"Then again," Not-Bulkhead surveyed the flat landscape. "Miko had said you probably wanted to watch from an elevated area." He hurried past you back to Bulkhead's parked form and began climbing the back to reach the roof. Watching this man climb up, your close friend snapped you out of your shock.

"Just you wait one moment-" you grabbed the back of his shirt. "What's going on here?" you tried to pull the man down "Bulkhead-"

"Come on (Y/N)," He reached down gently, swatting your hands from his shirt and finishing his brief climb to Bulkhead's roof. Turning to offer you a hand up. "You didn't want to miss this, right?" the way he said your name, the gentle giant way he was caring about you, this was Bulkhead. This was Bulkhead trying to show you the falling stars you had always wanted to see. 

"How do you know we'll be able to see them?" You took his hand and let him haul you up into his arms. Letting him guide you into sitting in his lap. 

"I had Miko call Raph, and he looked up on his computer where we needed to be." His voice rumbled from his chest into your back. You knew you had to be smiling like a crazy person. "Look," one of his hands, previously holding him in place as he leaned back, was thrust forward-pointing up to the sky. You caught the tail end of it. The fading streak across the sky. It was followed by another, then another, soon enough, the sky was full of streaking silver light, and your heart was swelling. You laid back, eyes never leaving the atmosphere above you.

"Bulkhead, I've never loved you as much as I do right now." His arms moved to wrap themselves around your waist. Together, you stayed there, watching the sky until the last one had sailed by, before moving back into the cab and starting off to finish the rest of the road trip home. 

Bumblebee

Bumblebee loved Fridays. It was the best day of the week, especially since you had moved to the base. Every Friday morning, without fail, you would wake up at 7am and head out to the roof of the base. There you would lay out a massive tarp and roll out an industrial-sized shop vacuum you had bought off eBay. And it always leads to this. 

7:30am  

Bumblebee sat in the morning sun, his doors open to the world. You sat in an old pair of jeans, your knees on the metal roof vacuuming out his interior. To Bee, this was the most relaxing feeling in the world. You meticulously vacuumed his seats, driver's side, the back then, passenger side, afterword focusing on the floor mats. That's what you were currently on. Woking the vacuums brush against his transformation seams. Dragging out a week's worth of sand, dirt, and grit. 

He always told you it was unnecessary to clean him this thoroughly, but you insisted. 

"Bumblebee, you drive Raph and me everywhere. We, all though unwillingly, fill you with all the nasty and dirty particles of everything we walk through in a day. The least I can do is clean you out." 

After nearly two months, the strange feeling of the vacuum had become comforting. The feel of the brush, relaxing. The young scout would never admit this to anyone, but he especially enjoyed what came after. 

The vacuum shut off, the silence overtaking the air. You stood up, pulling a small white rag from your belt. You dipped it into a bucket of warm water, wringing it out before slipping off your shoes and crawling into his cab. 

The rag ran down his dash, cleaning up the oil and dirt that came off human fingers. Your hand pressed delicately against his leather interior, studying yourself as you worked.

"Everything alright?" you were scrubbing a little more forcefully on his steering wheel.

"Yes, There's just something a little sticky, I bet it's from a soda." you sighed, shifting to sit in the seat. "I can't believe you let me and Raph eat in here yesterday." You took the dry end of the rag, tracing back over every spot you cleaned with the damp side. 

"I knew you would be careful and take care of me later." You climbed out, chuckling at his comment like it was a joke. Throwing the now 'dirty' rag off to the side in favor of a new one, dipping it in the same warm water you had before. 

He shut his doors, he could feel you as you sat down next to him. Your presents brushing against his EM field; his door sensors, the ones that made up his 'wings' as you called them, lighting up at the gentle touch you had as you worked off scuffs and paint from other bots and cars alike. 

The strokes began to blend together as his processor slowed down; he wanted to stay in this moment forever. The chilly desert morning and his (Y/N) cleaning off the grime from the week. 

"I have never loved you as much as I do right now." He knew it was a strange thing to say, and an even more unusual way to thank you for all the work you were doing. But it didn't make the statement any less real. 

"I love you too." Bumblebee could hear the smile in your voice. Yes, if he had to pick any one moment to live in forever, this one was most definitely number one. 

Wheeljack

"I can't do this anymore." Wheeljack looked over, the thick book on your lap slamming shut registering in his audials. "This assignment doesn't make sense, this professor is a moron, and my school is a joke." Your hands were gripping the hair on your head. Wheeljack was no expert on humans, but he felt that that wasn't a good thing. "I'm done, I can't do this." he laughed to himself as you began shoving everything into the bag you took with you everywhere. "I can't do this, I can't. I'm done. I'm done." Your human optics are leaking a little. He watched as your face turned red, and your head shook back and forth.

He recalls Bulkhead explaining that leaking optics are a terrible thing for humans, It means there's something wrong. A soft whisper is let out amongst the noise, a whisper he wouldn't have heard if he wasn't so in tune with you.

"I'm a failure,"

Wheeljack was on his pedes faster than he had ever thought possible. You were hunched over that stupid bag, shoulders shaking. He had to get you back. He didn't know what exactly got you this upset, but he knew it had something to do with that university you kept complaining about this week. 

"Alright speedster, enough of that." As gently as a wrecker could, he picked you up. Dropping you from one hand to another. "No wrecker gets to sulk while I'm around, Stop your crying and brace yourself." The bot looked over to Bulkhead and the other humans as he walked to the center of the base. "Tell Prime: I'm going out."

Wheeljack gave you a soft toss upward, you yelped as gravity pulled you back into his open servo. "Ready?" You tilted your head, something he found cute but swore never to admit out loud. 

"What-what are you-you doing?" you stuttered between your tears.

"Fixing that look on your face." Wheeljack nodded to Bulkhead, who opened the base doors. Your bot tossed you up again this time a little higher, lurching forward he transformed around you, landing with you in his front seat. Before you could blink a seat belt was strapped around your torso. The two of you flying out into the desert. You watched as his speedometer climbed, 30 to 40. 50 to 70. 80 to 100. You were no longer on the road; instead, Wheeljack had turned out into the desert. The world was a blur out of his windows. He dared to look inward for a brief moment to check on you before returning his optics to his driving. Your soft hands were holding onto the seat and door. But the tears had stopped flowing, and a small smile was spread on your face. 

The wrecker pushed himself to go faster, he needed his speedster back, the one that laughed as he drove at unhuman like speeds that begged him to try and go even faster then he could go safely with you.  

150.

He was, for your sake, slowly climbing in his speed. Your grip loosened on his door, and he tightened the belt across your torso. 

170

Your body was shaking again, but not from tears, this was a familiar shake. This was you teetering on laughter. This was a shake Wheeljack loved to feel against his seats. 

190

"Wheeljack!" you were laughing. "I know you can go faster!" 

200

"I promised Ratchet I would go over 200 with you, he says it's dangerous." You hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Since when do you listen to the Doc-Bot?" Both hands were on his seatbelt, "I'm safe with you, come on, Faster!"

"I need you to say something first," He slowed a little, enough so he could glance inward again. "Tell me why you, of all people, would think you're a failure." Your face fell, not good, but necessary.

"I don't understand the work, my teacher wouldn't answer my questions." Your head sank. "She said I shouldn't be asking too many questions."

"Well, Frag her. She doesn't know what she's doing. It's obvious she's just bad at her job." you smiled again, "Now, if that's the only problem, I think we ought to see how fast we can outrun it." 

He gave a little yank on the strap, making sure your body was flush against his seat. 

He'd never tell you, but Ratchet had really freaked him out about hurting you. 

"Floor it!" 

He complied.

*

It was late in the evening, you both were tired, and your adrenaline had worn out, and Wheeljack knew he had burned through more energon than he should have. 

"We should call for a bridge." The car around you rumbled for a moment.

"Yeah, I'll patch us through." The two of you sat in silence.

"Are you even calling them?"

"No." You reclined his seat back. And listened to his engine idle.

"Thank you for making me feel better." 

"No big."

"Seriously. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you right now. Thank you."

His spark practically jumped, but he was grateful you couldn't see his faceplates. It would be nice to spend some more time with you, so you two sat in the quiet desert. 

Happy and content. 

Don't forget to share your thoughts with me!

[stars-a-n-d-scars]

decided to channel my depression into something creative - didn’t edit sorry for spelling mistakes.

Sirius took a deep breath. The anxiety had started to kick in, as he had always known it would. Standing out here, in front of the house on 44th street, he felt exposed. He hadn’t seen this house in 3 years. The cold stung him like a mother’s slap, and the rain poured from the sky, compensating for a thousand tears unshed. Slowing his breathing, he forced himself to stop thinking about everything that could go wrong and focus on the possibility that maybe, just this once, if the stars where in the right place and the universe was feeling kind, they might go right.

He knocked on the door.

The second the door opened, Sirius knew he’d made the right choice coming back. Those eyes, like the scent of a raging fire on a soft summer breeze, and his hair framing his face with such effortless grace that Sirius’ breath was swept from his lungs.

“Sirius?”. That voice. He hadn’t heard that voice since the night 3 years ago when he’d gotten too drunk and made the biggest mistake of his life. And in a moment, all the walls Sirius had built over the past three years tumbled down, and the memories flooded his vision. Memories of whispered promises made in the euphoria of the night. Memories of days perfectly spent wasted in each other’s company. Memories of long, hot nights, and long cold ones too. It had always been Remus. Sirius had tried to deny it, but there was no denying that little freckle above his left ear, and the curl of his smile could bring a man like Sirius to his knees.

“Sirius, what are you doing here?”. He was snapped back to reality, and reality hurt.            “I needed to see you Remus. I tried to deny it, I did, but I can’t live without you”. And then the words were tumbling out, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. It seemed that the dam had been holding them back too, and now there was nothing left to stem the flow of grief and emotion that had been building up in the back of Sirius’ mind for years. “Everything I’ve done over these past three years has been for you. Because without your arms in mine, I feel empty. Without your voice, without your smile, I have nothing left to live for. There’s nothing left, Remus. I’m nothing without you”. And then his voice cracked, and the tears fell, and the rain stopped. Anguish racked his body, and he only had a vague of falling to the ground on the step of the house on 44th street.  But when Remus bent down to pick him up, the touch penetrated his subconscious, making him realise how much he had craved that touch. “Remus”. His voice came out hoarse, but it was filled to the brim with emotion. “Everything I did. Everything I said. I was always screaming for you. It was all just another way to scream your name. Remus, I’m sorry”.

*

Remus sat in his favorite armchair, feeling quite strange. He had tried not to stare, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Sirius. Lying on the sofa, asleep, his wet hair plastered to his face, that man looked more beautiful than ever. That goddamn man. Although he hated to admit it, he had been a shell without Sirius there. The world had lost its colour, the sun had lost its shine, even the birds had lost their song. Every day, he’d make an effort to ignore the ache deep in his chest as he went about the same old routine, and every night he’d dream about those eyes. Oh, those damn eyes. A stormy grey, fierce but not to him. Always gentle, always kind, until someone hurt anyone he loved. Then, those eyes sprang alive with a fire unlike one Remus had ever seen before. It only took one look in those eyes for Remus to know that he was still in love with Sirius.

But love and forgiveness were different things.

Sirius stirred, and Remus quickly averted his eyes, lest he be caught staring. A groan escaped from Sirius’ lips, and a flush sprang to Remus’ cheeks. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be the one to make Sirius produce that noise again. But now wasn’t the time.

“Remus?”. The voice stopped his heart. It didn’t matter how many times he heard it, it never failed to make him feel like he was flying and falling at the same time. Falling in love all over again.

“Sirius.” Remus replied with a croaky voice. He was tired, and he hadn’t slept properly in 3 years. “Sirius, my love. I need you to hear me out. You hurt me. Coming home and seeing you with him was my worst fear, and you brought it to life. I know you were drunk, but that is no excuse”. He paused, partly to take a breath and partly to gauge Sirius’ reaction. His ex-boyfriend sighed, any remaining glimmer of hope leaving his eyes. He stood to leave, but Remus grabbed his hand.

“I’m not finished. It’s no excuse. But I’m too weak to turn you away again. Jesus Sirius, I crave you. I’ve tried to hide it, even from myself, but I can’t anymore. So stay. We’ll work things out. All I need is y-” he was interrupted by Sirius’ lips crashing on his. They tasted like whiskey and salt and smoke. The years between them melted away and the men sank into the kiss like no time had passed at all.

*

Isabel Lupin giggled as her Dadfoot caught up to her and swept her into the air. “You’re not getting away this time, you little mongrel”, Sirius said, as he started to tickle her. Remus smiled at his family from the doorway, a cup of hot chocolate in one hand and a book in the other. His beautiful husband set against the pink and orange streaked sky, and his daughter glowing in the twilight was a sight that never failed to make his heart flutter. When the two finally flopped down on the grass, exhausted, Remus walked out to join them, and the three Lupins sat and watched as the sun set over the house on 44th street.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #410

“oh baby, baby, does she take a piece of lime for the drink that i’ma buy her, do you know just what she likes?

Do you put candy canes on your Christmas tree? Ye. Have you ever written/drawn/painted random stuff on your bedroom wall? No. What do you currently hear? A slowed w/ reverb version of "If U Seek Amy" by Britney Spears. Yes, I have a serious thing for these edits of childhood songs, ha ha. Actually, no shame, I still love Britney lmao. What's your favorite flavor of Doritos? Cool Ranch. Do you like bagels? Yep. Do you ever worry about what the world will be like when you have kids? I ain't having any of those, so I don't have to worry about that. Have you ever seen a hippo in person? At a zoo, yes. Are you any good at HTML? Noooo. When was the last time you did something you knew was wrong? Recently, because I'm awful about downloading things illegally. What was the last thing you downloaded on your computer? A picture. Do you ever cry just to get your way? Hi, I'm 25. I at least have SOME adult traits. Have you ever been to any professional sports games? Yes. What's the most boring sport to watch? The only sport I enjoy watching is dance, so. I think golf has to take the cake for the absolute worst, though. Do you like lip rings on the opposite sex? UGH I just love lip rings on anybody. Do you have good or bad vision? Literally awful. Have you ever parked in a handicapped spot when you weren't supposed to? Hell no. That is so fucking inconsiderate and lazy. Have you ever been to a different country? No. When was the last time you finger-painted? Nooo idea. Probably not since I was a little kid. Do you say car-mel or car-A-mel? "Care-uh-mel." When you get out of the shower, do you use one or two towels? One. Are you uncomfortable with changing clothes in front of others? Absolutely yes. Hell, I don't think I ever really changed in front of Jason back in the day, so that says something about how self-conscious I was with a FIT body. Never mind this catastrophe I own now. Which is worse: Runny nose or stuffy nose? Both suck, but stuffy drives me absolutely INSANE. Who's been the most influential person in your life? My mom. Do you have any tan lines? Ha, yeah, no. How many different schools have you gone to? Six. Do you know how to slow dance? I mean, yes? It's not complicated. Have you ever taken The Impossible Quiz? (If not, you should Google it. :D) No, and I'll never waste my time doing that shit. I've watched people play and beat it, but it seems like such frustrating, pointless madness with zero rhyme or reason behind it. Has someone that you liked told you that you are a waste of their time? No. Who is the last person you were in a car with? Mom. In the next 6 months, what are you looking forward to most? Ummmm Christmas, maybe? That's always exciting. Is there anyone who hates you? Probably. Who were you with the last time you went out for food? Mom. If your boyfriend or girlfriend smoked pot, would you care? Eh... I guess if it was for medicinal purposes, I would be okay with it. I'm not keen on dating a smoker of anything. Do you want to start over with anyone? Just Jason, at least sometimes. It'd be really, really nice if we could be friends again and just forget about who we were all those years ago, but I genuinely doubt my ability to be "just friends" with him. Even though I haven't spoken to this dude in over FOUR YEARS, and I'm sure he's changed a lot, just like I have. We might not even be compatible anymore. As much as I may want it, I think it's probably for the better we remain unassociated. Do you eat the crust of your sandwiches? It's what I eat first. Are you completely over your last relationship? Not "completely," no. I still love her, but I'm in a headspace of accepting that now is not the right time with unfit conditions. What hoodie did you wear last? My Pikachu one, which is the one I pretty much always wear. Do you listen to Incubus? Probably surprisingly, no. I don't know if I've even heard a song. Do you wear flip-flops during the winter? More like always. Do you like the smell of Axe? If you don't use an obnoxious amount, yeah. What do you think of feminists? Absolutely necessary as pilots for change. HOWEVER, I do believe some can take the concept waaaay too far. Who was the last person to smoke a cigarette in your presence? Dad, probably. When was the last time you ate a cupcake? Oh my god, GUYS. It was my niece's birthday last month, and she did the CUTEST shit. She used to be very, very opposed to getting even slightly dirty (I mean like a speck of dirt on her would make her cry), and this kid decided to just C H O M P into her cupcake and get the frosting ALL over her face. She had two and got so messy, and that angel was just laughing hysterically about it. That girl is such a damn gift. Safe to say she was bouncing off the walls that night. Did you hug one of your parents today? No. Do you tan in the nude? I don't tan, period. Have you ever put a lot of thought and effort into a gift for somebody, only for them to act like it didn’t really matter to them? Oh god, no. That would really, really hurt, because I genuinely do try to be very thoughtful with my gifts. Do you follow the ‘five second rule’ when you drop food on the ground? NOOOOOOO. It's just a bullshit myth. I am NOT eating food that's been on the floor for a millisecond. If you had to describe yourself using a colour, which colour would you be? Maybe like... navy blue? Kinda dark and somber, but also has a calmness to it. Have you ever had to use another person’s toothbrush before? What were the circumstances? I WOULD FUCKING NEVER. Omg that is so gross. Have you ever crashed a car? No. Do you have a garden? Does it have flowers, vegetables, or both? No. Where do you want to raise your kids? I don't want kids, but if I did, absolutely surrounded by nature and animals. Have you ever been to Cracker Barrel? Yeah, I love it there. Damn, now I want some, lol. Have you ever seen a ghost? I sure as fuck saw something. As soon as you find out you are pregnant, who will you first tell? Who says I'm ever going to BE pregnant? 'Cuz it sure isn't in my plans. But hypothetically, the dad. Have you ever won a game of Minesweeper? Like ever? I've never played it. Who is your best guy friend(s)? Girt. I really should chat with him soon, it's been too long. If you had a tiny scar on your face, would you get it removed or just keep it? I'd keep it. Make me look more badass. ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ What is your hair naturally like? Brown and kinda-sorta wavy. Have you ever stared at a stranger and they said something to you about it? No; I don't stare at people. Is your father very protective of you? I wouldn't say "very protective," no. What would you do if your hero died? ffffffUCK THIS QUESTION HOW ABOUT NO HE'S NOT ALLOWED THAT'S VERY ILLEGAL Where was your first date at with your current lover? I don't have one currently. Are you friendly in the morning, or are you barely awake? Depends on how much sleep I got, but I'm generally in my best mood in the morning. Did your parents force you to go to church? Mom did. What made you pick up the last book you started reading? It was the next book in the series I'm reading, Wings of Fire. When was the last time you went somewhere for the first time? Hm. I dunno. Hypothetically and generally speaking, how would you go about breaking up with someone? Is there anything you would make sure to say, or perhaps not say? I mean it would really depend on WHY I was breaking up with them, but I guess in most situations I'd try to meet them face-to-face and explain why I wanted to cut things off. I think it'd be important for them to hear my tone of voice, and I think physically meeting somewhere would show that I care enough for them to cut time out of my day to see them and try to hurt them as least as possible, given the situation. What do you find particularly offensive? Would you say you’re easy or difficult to offend? DO NOT in even a minor way ridicule mental illness or belittle victims as "weak" or pull the "it's just in their head" bullshit. The misuse of the term "retard(ed)" also genuinely offends me. I wouldn't say I'm easy to offend, either. What was the last chore you completed? Changing my cat's litter. When was the last time someone saw you naked? It's been a loooong time, and it would've only been my mom when I was like, going into a shower or something. If you could bring someone back from the dead and spend an hour with them, who would it be and what would you do/say? Probably Steve Irwin. I'd go on and on about how his family has carried his legacy so brilliantly, and show him aaaaaall the public pictures of Bindi and Grace, especially. God, that man would be so proud of them all. What is the greatest lost you’ve endured? My first "real" boyfriend. How would you describe your current mood? A mix of tired and anxious. I don't feel like going to bed yet, and the storm we've got passing through has me nervous about tornadoes 'n shit. Do you ever drink or get high alone? I've had some light drinks alone. What is the “worst” drug you’ve done? Are there any you will never try, or any you want to try? I've never done any illicit drugs, and I don't want to. What is the most personal thing you’re willing to reveal? Probably that I've had a pilonidal cyst. It's awkward to explain, but I'll share it anyway if there's a good reason to/I'm asked or something. What made you stop talking to the last person you cut out of your life? Her just being the most toxic, drama-filled person with the biggest victim complex of any human I've ever met. Who was the last person to yell at you? Did you yell back? Mom, and my voice was raised. Where do you like to be kissed? This depends on how serious we are. Can go from just the cheek to a lot of places. Which season is your least favorite and why? Summer, because it's too goddamn hot and humid. Who, if anyone, do you compare yourself to most? Probably my little sister. She's on such a successful path, and then there's like... me lmao. Do you have a night-light in your bedroom? If so, what does it look like? No. What is your favorite breakfast food? How often do you get to eat it? Cinnamon rollssssss. I have 'em very rarely, though. I'll eat too many of them, which I definitely don't need. What is your favorite thing about autumn? What about your least favorite thing? AHHHHHH EVERYTHING. I love Halloween and the decorations that come with it, the changing leaves, the crisp air... just all of it. :') Who was the last person you asked for help? Mom, I'm sure.

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 2

[I didn’t edit again because I’m a lazy bitch, but here you go! It’s a lot shorter and I KINDA imagine many of Vegeta’s will be because this IS more about Nabooru. But it’s also about both of them and I LOVE writing pre-Z stuff so. Here you go.]

Vegeta

Beneath Frieza, Zarbon was at the top of Vegeta’s to-murder list, tied with Dodoria. But he would be sure to murder both of Frieza’s most trusted lackeys first and make him watch as he humiliated the smug generals. Slowly. In ways not even Hell could let them forget.

“Who do you think that girl with Zarbon was? Weird that he would be stuck with the task of toting a lowly new recruit around.”

“Who knows. Maybe the pretty boy pissed Frieza off and that was his punishment. Serves him right.” Vegeta heard Nappa hum and could see the large Saiyan folding his arms over his chest despite his position in front of his two cohorts. “Her power level was nothing to sneeze at. Neither were her ti--”

“Yes, she’s even stronger than you are, Nappa,” Vegeta chimed in before the conversation could veer off in the direction he sensed it going. He didn’t have the patience for their horny drivel on a normal day, and simply seeing Zarbon had lowered his tolerance. Thus, he refused to listen to them prattle on about this new recruit’s figure and whatever lewd fantasies they had already dreamed up about her. “If you’re not careful, perhaps I’ll have her replace you.”

“What? Come on, you don’t mean that!” 

“Perhaps I do.” A smirk curled the prince’s lips. “She’s stronger than you and much easier on the eyes. What do you think, Raditz?”

“I would say it’s a pretty sound strategy. Good chance she’s smarter, too.”

Nappa huffed. “If Frieza murders the two of you in this meeting, I won’t miss you.”

“Speaking of that, what do you think he wants with all three of us?” Radtiz asked. “He usually only calls for you.”

An unfortunate truth and the reasoning for the change of the tyrant’s usual habits escaped him. Even when the matter at hand involved all three Saiyans--a new job he felt the need to assign in person, to scold them for a mission he deemed botched by them, or to simply torment the Saiyan prince for his own entertainment--he only requested Vegeta’s presence, likely due to his station as the undisputed leader of their trio and would-be monarch that ruled them if he still had a domain and people to rule over. Perhaps he had finally decided to do away with the rest of their race by putting the three of them out of their misery after all.

Then again, Frieza had quite the penchant for torture of both the physical and mental variety. Death would be too merciful.

“I guess this time he wanted more of an audience for whatever hell he’s planned for me than just Dodoria and Zarbon.” He turned a corner, the other two Saiyans following him down the final stretch of hallway leading toward the base’s central hub. “With Zarbon busy, he’s down a lackey for the moment. Perhaps he wanted the room to feel fuller.”

“Too bad we’re not as prone to kissing his ass,” Nappa mumbled, his boisterous tone quieted as they approached the door. The three may not suck up to Frieza as to near the same degree as the emperor’s closest confidants, but they weren’t stupid enough to incur his wrath for even a minimal insult such as that. It pained them to live with such fear, to tiptoe around anyone like a trio of children. The prince likely more so than the other two with his royal blood, his top tier power level that still paled in comparison to Frieza and even his lap dogs. Treading on thin ice constantly wore on his psyche, his pride. But his ire for the tyrant and pure spite drove him to survive and kill him. For the years of torment and Vegeta’s suspicion of his role in his people’s demise.

He would take back all that was promised to him.

The double doors slid open and admitted the Saiyans into the heart of the base where they found Frieza with his back to them, finishing off a conversation with the captain of another base somewhere in the cosmos. The screen in front of him blinked to darkness again. “It’s never simple, is it Dodoria? It seems we’ll have to make a little visit to sector eight soon after all.” He turned to face them and the three bowed. “Ah, perfect timing. I just lost the patience for waiting around too long.”

"Of course, my lord." Vegeta rose from his bow, hoping the strain in his jaw loosened before he met Frieza face to face. "We hurried straight here when we received your transmission."

Dodoria snorted, but Frieza ignored him. "Obedient as always. I've trained you well. But I'll cut right to the chase." His crimson gaze shifted from Vegeta to his left. "I have need of your large nanny, prince."

It took a massive amount of control to keep the surprise from his face, but a glance at Nappa revealed he hadn't been near as successful, the giant blinking with a tensed jaw. Confusion was better than fear, though the three of them no doubt felt some degree of it. Nappa for his own life, Vegeta for the potential loss of his most loyal underling. Though dumb and weak compared to him, the oaf had proven himself more than useful over the years.

"I mean no disrespect, sire, but what would you have me do?" Nappa asked. Vegeta felt a rush of a breeze as the former General dipped into another bow.

"Training." The Acrosian emperor folded his arms behind his back. "I have an...interesting new recruit. A very capable fighter, but new to utilizing ki. As you know, I prefer my soldiers have more than a basic handle on their energy and using it. A few weak blasts won't cut it in the force, and I see potential in her power level if given some proper training in ki utilization specifically. I want useful soldiers, not dead weight."

Vegeta's dark brows lowered in skepticism, but before he could request further explanation of why he needed Nappa for such a task, Frieza continued on, proving his impatience and readiness to move on with whatever heinous plans he had for sector eight. "A combination of the reports concerning her and her people along with my own observations revealed they are not unlike you Saiyans in their lust for combat. A little less bloodthirsty, perhaps, but quick learners and more than happy to jump into any fight presented to them. This particular soldier embodies this to the Nth degree. I'm sure even your monkey brains have figured out my train of thought: with such similarities, what better teacher for her than a Saiyan of which I have three more than willing to assist with it? I chose your giant for his experience in the field since, if I recall, he had a hand in your training, yes?"

“That is correct.” A minimal one, but Vegeta couldn’t deny Nappa’s involvement in his early combat training. The basics of physical and ki-based combat Nappa taught the prince himself. Until the young Saiyan realized his own strength and it became a hazard to the advisor’s health. He had never been known for pulling his punches no matter the opponent, and with a formidable power level at birth, it wasn’t long before he could subdue Nappa in minutes. When a spar nearly cost him his life, Nappa decided besetting Saibamen on him would prove more effective, coaching from the sidelines rather than serving as the royal punching bag. Vegeta attributed much of his learning to his own natural prowess, however. A self-taught prodigy for the greater portion of his training and growth.

“Perfect. I know it will break your heart to be down one cohort, but I’m sure you and the other will manage for...let’s say a month. I believe that is more than enough time for her to adjust and reach the required levels. If not,” he chuckled and shared a smirk with Dodoria, “I suppose that will be the end of this little experiment.”

Of course this was all just some stupid pet project of his. A waste of time, likely, that would only serve to rob him of Nappa for much too long. Vegeta held his tongue and bowed his head again. “Very good, my lord.”

“Since I likely will not be here to assess her myself, I will expect daily reports on her progress starting tomorrow,” he told Nappa. “You two will continue your jobs as scheduled. I’m sure you can handle that a man down.”

“Yes, sire.” Nappa and Raditz mumbled their own affirmation in unison with the prince and took Frieza turning his back to them as their dismissal. They each bowed once more and Vegeta turned on his heel to lead them back into the hallway. 

Not until they reached the barracks sector and piled into the elevator did anyone dare speak, Raditz the first to express his thoughts on the matter: “You lucky bastard. You’re basically getting a vacation with a view.”

Vegeta rolled his eyes and pressed the button for the third floor with a huff. “Is that all you two think about? You don’t even know if that woman is the one he’ll be training.”

“Not all of us are content ignoring our needs like you,” Raditz retorted, folding his arms. “Besides, there’s a good chance it's her. She’s obviously new, didn’t even have armor yet.”

“Almost a shame she’ll have to change out of that outfit she was wearing,” mused Nappa, rubbing his chin. “Shit, even if it’s not her, having a woman around will be a nice change of pace in this place.”

Vegeta shot him a glare as they stepped off the elevator. “Your job is to train her, not bed her, Nappa.” He halted in front of his own door and typed in the four-digit code that offered him admission. He was keen on spending the few hours they had left before the final meal of the day without his cohorts. He had tired of them and their new strain of conversation for the moment. “Don’t do anything stupid that’s going to get you killed. You’ll be teaching her how to do it, after all.”

The prince entered his room, not caring for his subordinate’s reply as he closed the door behind him with the press of a button. He crossed his room to his bed and flopped down on it, arms folded tightly over his chest and a glare aimed at the ceiling. While the meeting with Frieza could have played out in far less favorable ways, it did nothing for his mood. He and Radtiz could handle the clutch of jobs assigned to them over the next month without issue, the possessive side of him balked at the idea of Nappa being anywhere but where he wanted him. What was the bastard up to with all this? Even if she was just a new recruit in need of additional training, there were thousands of other soldiers that could implement her training. His explanation be damned, Frieza hardly ever concerned himself with compatibility, so what was his angle? Was it just his own paranoia where the emperor was concerned frazzling him, or was there merit to his suspicions?

Vegeta groaned and flipped over onto his side, tearing his scouter off his face and resisting the urge to throw it against the wall. Patience was a virtue in short supply for him, but he had little other choice but to wait it all out. If luck favored him, though it rarely ever did, he would wash his hands of this mess entirely within a month.

[prettyfunkyunorganized]

Hanzo - Too Much

Hello! Still not feeling great, but I felt up to some editing, so here we are! 

Another Hanzo reader insert for you. One in an established relationship that involves a stressed outburst and Hanzo taking care of you. Then a surprising revelation about Hanzo at the end. *heh heh heh* Around 3,100 words.

WARNING: panic attack-ish?

It had been an absolutely grueling day since the moment you woke up. For some reason, your shoulders were overly tight and sore, you managed to drop makeup right onto your shirt two minutes after you got dressed, breakfast was a scarfed down granola bar, and the moment you got to your desk work was an utter shit show. It was one set back after another, one punch in the gut after another – literally during combat practice, and one reprimand from the other members after another. You were the new girl, so having people harp on you was excepted, but things were getting to you today. Maybe you were just being sensitive, but it felt like you were letting everyone down and they were beginning to lose faith in you. No matter how hard you tried, you never seemed to be enough.

By the time you slogged back to your room, you were painfully ready for a shower and a night of hiding under the covers. But then again, Lena said you ought to come hang out with the others to build team comradery. Fuck. All you wanted was to be alone and flop into a pile of exhaustion. You slipped into your dorm, tossed your coat to the floor, and kicked your boots to the side.

“I’ll take a breather,” you sighed. “Half an hour, and then I’ll go back to pretending I’m sociable.”

Then there was a knock at the door. Fuuuuck.

“Who is it,” you called, trying not to sound too disheartened.

“It is me,” Hanzo’s low voice rumbled.

“Oh thank god,” you chuckled, letting him in with a smile. The stressed look on his face instantly made you droop. Someone else was feeling as dreadful as you.

You waved your hand, silently inviting him in. “Thank you,” he said softly, sidestepping you and taking his seat at your desk as he always did. The two of you had been seeing one another for a while now, nothing immensely serious, but you spent as much time as you could together. You liked how honest he was, how he was always genuine no matter if he were happy or upset. He seemed to like how you giggled often and teased him gently. You made each other happy.

Most of the time.

As much as you adored Hanzo and all that came with him, he could sometimes be . . . needy. Not clingy, but when he did come to you with that look of tired frustration on his face, you knew you were in for at least an hour of consoling. Which was fine! You could relate. But today? Today you were struggling, too.

Before you could kiss his cheek and suggest a cup of something warm he launched into a description of how his day had fallen apart. You did your best not to rub your thumping temples. A headache had been toying with you for hours.

Hanzo’s problems were bigger than yours – you knew that. He was surrounded by people for the first time in years, he was trying to rebuild his relationship with his brother, he was overcoming being raised by a brainwashing criminal empire, and so much more. It was a lot to bear, you knew that, but some days it felt as if you weren’t allowed to have your own inner battles.

But you shouldn’t think like that. Hanzo needed you right now. You could push your own petty bullshit aside. Again.

And so you sat, nodding along and reassuring Hanzo as he vented for the better part of an hour. He finally finished and you internally took a deep breath of thanks. You placed a quick peck on his head and murmured one last encouragement in his ear before picking up your phone. Three missed messages from Lena.

“Seriously,” you groaned.

“What is it,” Hanzo said with a relaxed stretch. His ease made you jealous.

“Nothing,” you lied, sliding the screen open and reading the texts

‘Hey lady! You’re still coming to hang right?’

‘Hon where you at?’

‘Really girl?! Just blowing us off?! What the hell? I told everyone you’d be here. You need to step up and act like you want to be here if you’re going to stay.’

You snapped. Did she think you were just tucked away wasting time? Did she think you weren’t trying? Did she not understand that you might be a little overwhelmed? And how dare she threaten to have you booted?! You were stepping up. Every day. Giving Overwatch your all. Every. Day.

“For fuck’s sake,” you screamed, throwing your phone into the mattress in a fit of fury. Hanzo jumped, instantly standing and putting a hand on your side.

“I hardly think your cell phone deserved that,” he said jokingly. You gave him a deadly glare and he shrunk away.

“Could you not patronize me and act like I’m overreacting after I just sat through you whining about how Zenyatta and Genji are ‘too close?’”

He frowned, looking taken aback. “I did not know discussing my day with you was considered ‘whining.’”

You rolled your eyes. “Hanzo, for the past few weeks you’ve only been coming to me when you’re pissed off, and, I’m sorry to say it, but that’s exhausting! I do my job, I push myself every day, and then I see a message from you either saying ‘Long day, will see you soon,’ or ‘Dreadful day, may I come see you?’ So I either spend another night without you or I sit and let you vent. I get that relationships are about working through things together, but that’s not what we do! It’s always just me taking on more than I can handle. When I’m in the ditch, falling apart, you’re either not here, or you’re going off on your own tirade. Then, when you’re done with your rant, you either go back to your bunk or try to drag me into bed. I feel like I’m just someone to unload on, mouth then dick! I can’t do it anymore! I’m tired of feeling like I’m being used. You, Overwatch, and now fucking Lena! I just can’t have anything else piled on top of me. It’s like I’m breaking in half and I just can’t – ”

All this time you had been pacing around the room, trembling and pulling at your hair. Sobs were violently crashing from your throat now, to the point that you felt dizzy. You nearly fell to the ground, but Hanzo was there just in time to lower you to your bed, kneeling in front of you and petting your arms gently. He cooed and whispered to you, but you couldn’t hear him through your frenzy.

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” you eventually choked out, shoving Hanzo aside and crawling to your tiny trash can, dry heaving until you collapsed by the wall.

“Hold on, beautiful, please, just hold on,” Hanzo said frantically, “I’ll find Dr. Ziegler.”

“No,” you whimpered grabbing his arm, “I don’t want her to see me like this. She’ll want to send me home, too.”

He looked conflicted, but he was soon helping you to sit up, arms around you and pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. You leaned into him once you had caught your breath.

“I’m sorry,” you huffed, taking his hand. “I didn’t mean that. I was just worked up. You’re not using me, I’m just being – ”

“You are right,” Hanzo said firmly. “I have been mistreating you. You are always there for me, and I do not reciprocate as well as I should. I should have seen that sooner.”

“No,” you protested, twisting further into him, “I could have said something sooner. I should have. Either way, snarling at you like that wasn’t right.”

“Please stop scolding yourself,” he said softly, “you reached your limit, and you had to let everything go lest you crumble. I understand. I only wish I had seen how much you were struggling sooner.”

A thin smile crossed your lips as you snorted sarcastically, “I am good at putting on a brave face, maybe too good.”

Hanzo shifted so he could cup your chin and look at you. Almost automatically you ducked your head in embarrassment. You were a mess, but he still swayed into your line of sight. “My lovely, lovely woman,” he murmured, “you give so much of yourself. It is one of the things I most adore about you, but I believe you have given us all too much. You have worked yourself to the point that nothing is left, and I am ashamed to say that I have clearly been greedy with you. The last thing I want is to be the reason you are neglecting yourself. You are constantly making sure I am taken care of, and yet I have not been doing the same. I am sorry, my dear.”

“I’m sorry that I – ” you began, but Hanzo’s thumb pressed against your lips, silencing you.

“No more apologies, at least not from you. Just let me take care of you for now.” He kissed your temple and stood before offering a hand to you. His hand stayed around your waist as he escorted you to your bed as if you were a rag doll, unable to stand on your own. Truth be told you felt a little like that, too. You had been exhausted enough before your outburst, but now your limbs felt twice as heavy.

Once you were tucked under your covers and had a glass of water by your side, you finally felt a bit more stable, but the guilt of having exploded at Hanzo was still bothering you. As he sat beside you and held your hand your heart began to ache. He was a good man who was still learning how to be with someone again, and you knew that. You were both getting used to a massive change in your lives, so hopefully, he could forgive you as you were forgiving him.

“Have you been sleeping well,” he asked meshing his fingers into yours. You shook your head, rubbing your face. “What about eating? Have you been relying too much on those prepackaged protein bars again?”

You flushed and bit your lip to keep from laughing. He knew you too well. “Maybe,” you admitted sheepishly. He scowled. “Hey, don’t give me that look! Not everyone is a morning person like you.”

He shook his head amusedly with a small smirk, “That does not excuse you from neglecting lunch and dinner.”

“Touché,” you conceded.

Hanzo got up and retrieved your tablet from the side table, offering it to you with an oddly stern look. You raised a brow, but took the device nonetheless. “I am going to fix you something substantial to eat,” he explained, “please stay in bed, do something distracting, something that makes you happy. I will be back as soon as I can.”

“Hon,” you said, “you don’t have to do that. I’m sure I’ll – ”

“I want to,” he insisted, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before heading to the door.

“Wait,” you yelped at the last moment. Hanzo jolted and looked back to you worriedly.

“What is it?”

“If you see Lena, will you tell her I got sick or something? She wanted me to hang with her and the others and now is all kinds of bitchy that I didn’t show,” you sighed.

“Is she what set you off,” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Yeah,” you said leaning your back into the headboard, “she even threatened to have me kicked out.”

“Kicked out?”

“Of Overwatch.”

He let out a disgusted scoff and glared at the door. “I do not believe Miss Oxton has the right or the authority to do such a thing. She is just a cadet!”

“She still outranks us,” you shrugged. “I think.”

Hanzo pursed his lips and opened the door. “If I see her I will tell her you are not feeling well and remind her that this half-cocked organization can use all the help it can get.”

“No, Hanzo, don’t,” you tried to call out, but he was already gone. “Ho boy,” you chuckled, “those two already stare daggers at each other, and now I’m getting them extra riled up.” In the back of your mind, a tiny voice said, ‘Well, that’s what she gets for harping on you,’ but you tried to ignore it.

After an episode of your favorite old show, Hanzo was politely knocking on your door again, and you welcomed him back in.

He smiled as you set the tablet aside and beamed at him. You were feeling infinitely better after a bit of forced time to yourself. Plus, whatever he was carrying smelled phenomenal.

“It is good to see you with a light in your eyes again,” Hanzo said closing the door behind him.

“I haven’t felt this good weeks,” you said as you rubbed your neck. “Thank you for making me take care of myself.”

“My pleasure,” he said adjusting the bowl and napkin in his hand. You grinned.

“I thought eating in bed was quote, ‘One of the filthiest things a person can do,’” you said slightly teasingly.

“Very true. That is why I intend to change your sheets before I leave you for the night,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“But of course,” you giggled, taking the bowl as he offered it to you. The warmth from the ceramic spread from your hands to your toes, wiping away much of your built up tension. “This looks magical,” you said inhaling the incredible scent.

“A simple gyudon,” he said cozying up to you, your arms pressed together.

“Gyudon?”

“I suppose you would call it a beef bowl. The dish has always made me feel as if my problems could be lessened.” He leaned in to peck you on the cheek saying, “Hopefully it tastes decent. I am no chef, and I have rarely had to cook for others.”

You took a bite and groaned, “Holy shit, Hanzo! You need to cook for me more often. Like a lot more often. This is fantastic.”

“I am glad to hear it,” he chuckled. “Though I imagine anything that is not an almond and honey granola bar would be a delight to you.”

“Har har,” you said elbowing him lightly.

“I ran into Winston on the way back,” Hanzo said, his voice dipping a bit and making him sound guilty.

“What happened,” you asked, slumping.

He cleared his throat and rubbed his chin. “The good news is Lena will not and cannot dismiss you from Overwatch.”

“And the bad news?”

“I may have been a bit more . . . aggressive than I needed to be while speaking with Winston.”

“Hazno,” you half squeaked, half laughed. Having him defend you was sweet, but it was easy for him to get too impassioned.

“As I understand it, Miss Oxton and her girlfriend had quite the squabble – she’s been fraying everyone’s nerves today. Winston said he would have a word with her and is giving you tomorrow off.”

“Just how much did you tell him?” There was still a part of you that was afraid to let the others see you so stressed.

“Probably more than would have liked, and I apologize for that, but someone had to tell him that you needed time to recover. I only did what I thought was best for your health,” he said, running his hand over your hair.

“I understand,” you nodded. “Thank you.”

“If there is one thing I ought to I understand, it is letting your pride and expectations of yourself get in the way of your personal well-being,” he grumbled honestly.

“You’re getting better, though,” you assured him.

“Hopefully you will, too.”

You finished your meal in record time and wriggled deeper into your bed contentedly, looping your arm in Hanzo’s. “Thank you for that. For everything.”

“I am simply happy for the chance to make up for my lackluster performance over the past few weeks,” he said lolling his head onto yours.

“Thank you for staying with me after my episode, too. I swear I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, it just happened. I really, really don’t want you to leave me, Hanzo. That’s not why I snapped at you, I snapped because I want you here more often. I just want us to be better. You usually make me so happy but . . .”

“But recently I have been ‘dropping the ball.’” You let out a small laugh. Hearing Hanzo use such casual colloquialisms in his ever refined tone always made you smile.

“We all get a little wrapped up sometimes,” you shrugged, “I understand. Just please don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere unless you wish me to,” he promised, “and I will try to be more mindful of your needs if you agree to be more vocal when you are feeling daunted.”

You nodded and smooched his tattooed bicep, “Deal.”

Hanzo took a deep breath and stroked your cheek, “No matter if you are at your best moment or your worst, you are always a remarkable woman, and I will always be thankful to have you by my side.”

“Aw, Hanzo,” you whimpered, holding him tighter, “you’re going to make me feel faint all over again if you keep talking like that! I’m obscenely lucky to have you, too.”

As you let the tension from your muscles slip away, Hanzo silently massaged your hand. Until he suddenly snickered.

“What are you laughing at,” you asked twisting to look at him.

“Nothing,” he said shaking his head, “I should not be amused by your outburst.”

“Amused?!” You had to admit, you were a little angry.

“Perhaps not ‘amused,’” Hanzo backtracked, “it is just – what was it that you said? About me unloading on you, mouth and dick?” He couldn’t stifle the entertained smile that was forming on his face.

“Oh,” you mumbled a bit awkwardly, “yeah I think that was it.” You went red and began to giggle. “Alright, you got me. When you say it out of context like that ‘unloading on me, mouth then dick’ does sound pretty ridiculous.”

Hanzo grinned and kissed your cheek. “Sounds like a bad porno, or maybe some online smut.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Just what do you know about online smut?”

His eyes widened, and he winced. “Nothing!”

@collinssie @watch-your-grammer

[roseamongroses]

C3: 404 ERROR

Warnings: Heightened Anxiety (jumping to conclusions, nausea, all that), Sleep Deprivation

Characters/Sides Present: Logan, Virgil, Thomas

AO3

C1 C2 C3 C4

Thomas was curled up in his blanket.

Around him was an array of different wrappers ranging from chips to varied assortments of candy. The T.V drowned whatever show he decided to rewatch at the time, he thinks it’s Anne with an E, but honestly, he only had the T.V on because the night was too quiet and his house was too silent for him to not have it on.

After all any chance at productivity today was an absolute flop, since every place they went to film it seemed like there was so much they could do and just...He got a little off track.

Okay, so he really got off track. But he couldn’t sleep either. It had been a habit to stay up to write a script or edit a new video but he almost always caught up on his sleep soon after and got back on track. But lately...he doesn't know. The prospect of sleeping just seemed so wasteful when there were so man things to do.

But now even all those fun things he wanted to stay up to do an accomplish just seemed just as… He doesn’t know, the passion just wasn’t the-

“For fuck's sake, Thomas.”

“Gah!” Thomas jumped, hitting the floor with a thud.

Wearily he glanced up to see Logan, arms crossed, but visibly disheveled. He wasn’t wearing his tie, or his glasses, the only distinction that it was Logan and not some unknown side that they’re keeping from him is the distinct voice, so much like his own, but far more controlled.

“Shit, Logan,” Thomas groaned sitting up, “You don’t have to scare me.”

“This place is an absolute nightmare,” commented Virgil from the staircase, “What if someone comes over? If we get rats, what then? And I won’t even mention the- No yes I will mention the electric bill that’s most definitely racking up-”

“Well hello to you too, Virgil,” Thomas rubbed his eyes, “Can we leave the list of everything I’m doing wrong for later, I’m really t-”

“Tired, we know,” Logan commented.

Thomas hummed, “You know you’re doing the thing.”

“The thing?” inquired Logan.

“When you cut people off-that thing. Are you doing o-?”

“While I am not optimal,” Logan sniffed, “ I am functional at least,” his gaze briefly lingered on the remaining two spots, yet to be filled, “Roman as of now, is currently indisposed. He left for the Imagination to rest but never returned. Implying that this recurring habit of yours has managed to knock out even...” he blinked, trailing off in a frozen daze.

“Holy fucking shit,” Virgil muttered, his voice adopting a darker tone, “Logans dead, Logic itself is dead, how is that even possible? I mean..” his eyes darted around and he retreated further into the shadows.

Logan blinked, mouth twitching, but still frozen.

Thomas grimaced, his stomach feeling sick. He dragged the blanket from the couch, retreating into its warmth in a similar fashion as his throat felt tighter and his breathing felt even more-even more- even more-

The dark house seemed even darker…

Was there a time when it was-

Logan blinked, “And he managed to knock out even that destructive ball of energy-” His eyes darted down, “Thomas,” his voice commanded, “ whatever you’re seeing it’s not there. You need to breathe.”

Even though his words, made the situation feel a whole less real-made his chest feel less tight, his stomach still went in sickening waves and he curled in his ball tighter. Logan’s words were there, they were solid, but it felt so easy for them to simply fade. But everything's just been so stressful- so repetitive, so of course, he wanted a small break-.

He just needed some motivation, to just stop these urges to do every new and shiny thing that passed on by, he needed-he needed

Virgil’s mutterings only seemed to get stronger and stronger throughout the night. His voice was foreign, a crackling entity that seemed to fill the entire room, every space, but Logan’s voice still managed to stay afloat it all

Thomas knew he needed to get back on track, and quick.

He needed discipline.

But first, he will sleep.

C1 C2 C3 C4

[dasmuggler]

📖Excerpt from Borrowed Magic 📖

I’m the only healer in two hundred miles that would let a vampire dump a half-dead snack off on my doorstep. I’m also the weakest healer in over two hundred miles, my magical talent is in brewing potions and salves, but I can keep a necker alive if a vampire gets a little overzealous.

Which is why I’m opening the door to a half-dead woman who's bleeding out slowly on my front porch. Her neck is torn in two narrow strips from where they dragged a vampire off of her.

I drop to my knees and put my hand over her heart to take her pulse. It’s beating, but thready, and her skin is cold. I grab my X-ACTO knife from right inside the doorway and cut off her top. The poor girl isn’t even wearing a bra. Glancing down at her clothes I realize that makes sense; she isn’t exactly dressed for church, and any bra would have shown in that shirt.

I run my hands slowly and firmly down her torso, increasing blood production and warming her. Her heart beat regains some confidence as my magic wraps around it. It's moving under my skin like I’ve pulled it inside me.

I hook my hands under her arms and drag her inside. She’s fairly light, so I take a deep breath, then haul her torso up onto the table. Her legs go up next, then I roll her onto her back, but give up on trying to get her on there straight. I could use some help just for this part.

The emergency supplies are all laid out. The IV, scissors, gauze, and cleaning supplies. The IV bag is already hanging from the stand, ready to go. I don’t bother with gloves, but I do grab an alcohol wipe and scrub down her arm. The healing goes much smoother the sooner I can get fluids into the injured person.

A vein is easy to find, thankfully, and I slip the needle in carefully. This part has always made my stomach churn. I wish I could heal without all of this, but I’m simply too weak to rely on magic alone.

Now that the IV is started I can continue healing. Her body is sucking up the fluids like a sponge as I push my magic through her, encouraging her body to replenish the blood she lost. They had gotten her to me just in time. She had been very close to beyond my ability to help. I suspect she was fed on by several vampires; there are bites in various places on her torso. If she had already lost quite a bit of blood; having a young vampire lose control while feeding was very risky. The past six months worth of practice I have had pay off for her, maybe working for the vampires isn’t a total waste.

I had been contacted by a vampire about six months ago when I was a little desperate for money, working as a waitress doesn’t pay quite enough to live off of, and offered a job. The job was simple; I would do house calls to keep the humans they fed on healthy and help them recover more quickly so the vampires could drink from them more often. The vampires bring them to me if there is ever an 'unfortunate incident’, which is a professional sounding term for somebody losing control and nearly draining a necker. In return, I’m paid a decent salary, definitely more than I could get paid for my mediocre healing anywhere else.

Healers are rare, good healers even more so, and you almost can’t find a healer that’d stoop to help vampire leftovers. We can get a bit snooty since we’re a rare breed. Of course, I’m so far at the bottom of the barrel I’m barely even recognized as a healer. I’ve never been able to earn money from healing before. That’s enough to take the snootiness out of anyone.

The vampires also aren’t as terrible as I expected. They seem to take care of the people they feed on very well; I think they care about them, possibly even love some of them. It’s more of a balanced relationship than I had imagined. I should know better than to buy into stereotypes.

I measure out a small amount of my most used salve. It will heal the nasty tears on her neck in a matter of days.

“Who the heck are you?” The girl slurs as she tries to slide off the table. They always wake up faster than I want them to. I think the magic is stimulating.

“Nope, get back on the table, I’m not done yet,” I say as I grab her arm. She pulls against my grip with a shaking arm.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she says as she leans forward to try to bite me.

I do not understand why they always try to bite; it’s like they forget they’re the food and not the vampires. I smack her across the face, hard, and she jerks back, looking at me with wide eyes that are a little more awake.

“Sit down. Whoever you were playing with almost killed you. I’m in charge of fixing you. If you give me trouble, they will beat you senseless,” I snap, pointing at a sign hanging on the wall behind me.

It’s a simple sign, something I requested after the first few gave me trouble since they were waking up in a strange place with no idea who I was. It says COOPERATE OR BE PUNISHED. Beneath the words are the clan’s sigil and the clan leader’s signature.

The girl’s eyes go wide, and she slumps back down on the table.

“Sorry, lady.”

“Drink this,” I say, handing her a small vial. “It’s gonna be disgusting but don’t you dare spit any of it out. It’s expensive.”

The girl pinches her nose and chokes it down, cursing me and the vampires as soon as she can get a breath. “What the heck was that?”

“Something to replenish your iron and blood levels. You’ll probably have a headache until it wears off in a few days, and you’ll have a hard time getting drunk.”

“I’m supposed to go to a party tonight!”

“Guess you can be the designated driver,” I say with a shrug. “Lay down.”

She complies, still grumbling about her party. I push her chin to the side and spread the salve on the bites. She yelps and the skin twitches as the area reddens.

She reaches up to scratch it, and I bat her hand away.

“It itches!”

“I know, it’s going to itch until it’s healed, but if you scratch it, you’ll tear it open and then no one is going to want to bite your ugly neck.”

She sticks her hands under her arms, looking mutinous, but still complying. I grab one more potion off my desk and hand it to her.

“If you are going to let someone feed on you again within the next 72 hours, take this about an hour before.”

She slips it into her pocket, but the pout doesn’t leave her face. I toss a plain white t-shirt at her as well, and she pulls it on. My phone buzzes, it’s a text from the chauffeur service the vampires arranged.

“Your ride is here, you can leave through that door,” I say pointing at the door behind her. I made sure to set up this room so that no one would have to walk through my house to get out. The neckers had a tendency to take things when you weren’t looking. After my third patient, a six-foot-tall man had stolen my flip flops I made some changes.

I rub a hand down my face, I’m tired, but healing always gets my adrenaline going. There’s no chance I’ll fall back asleep now, which is fine since there’s order that I need to deliver, I glance at the time again, today. I have just enough time to make it and deliver it before lunch.

––––

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Note this was edited to comply with Facebook ads policy and has had cursing removed. This series does have a fair amount of cursing. You have been warned

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Masks - fic

Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Summary: The masks were infectious. He was too late for everyone else, but he would not let them infect Damian too.  A/N: I wrote this on a plane and in the middle of the night in airports. Poorly edited on a lunch break. I need so much sleep it’s silly. I meant for this to be much more metaphorical but, oops. Hahahaha.

~~

There was a rap of knuckles on the window, and Dick found himself already smiling as he moved to let his guest in.

"You're early." Dick hummed, shoving the pane upwards, watching Robin scramble through.

"I'm prompt. There's a difference." Damian clarified. "But I was finishing up a case with Superboy nearby. Seemed a waste to go all the way home and come back later."

"That's true." Dick admitted, pushing the window closed, spinning towards the room and gesturing towards the sofa. "You hungry? I don't have much but I'll make you something. Go make yourself comfortable."

He turned away before Damian responded, but assumed he gave his typical silent nod. He hummed as he went into the kitchen, searching the cabinets for easy treats. After a moment, he heard Damian sit down on the couch.

He found trail mix, and felt a welling of pride at himself in his own chest. Trail mix was the ultimate Damian food, in his opinion. Fruits, nuts, all that healthy stuff - with just a pinch of chocolate. Small bites he can graze, or do the silly kid tricks with, while he worked just as tiredly as his dad to save a city he was slowly starting to refer to as home - but still filling enough that Dick didn't have to worry.

But when he twisted back towards the room, he couldn't help but frown. Dick had told him to get comfortable - to himself that meant take your shoes off. In Damian's case, maybe lose the cape and mask too, at least.

But the child was in full uniform still, sitting rigidly on the sofa, fists tight and battle ready as they sat against his legs.

And it felt...wrong.

"Damian?" He asked softly. Damian's face scrunched in confusion as he looked up at him. "You okay?"

"...Yes?" Damian answered, though was clearly unsure why he had to. "Are you?"

But Dick wasn't sure what to say. Because he didn't know why this sight worried him so.

Maybe because he's been having such mental crises lately about his family in this life, about being a vigilante in general himself. Maybe it's because Damian was so young, and had already been through so much, and they all kept failing him more as he got older. Maybe it was because Dick knew Damian felt safest with him, but even now that didn't let the boy feel safe enough.

But no. That wasn't it, he realized.

It was because of Bruce.

Because Batman had consumed Bruce. Bruce barely existed anymore, and as much as Dick loved him, he'd known that since he was a child. Since before he made Robin. The cowl was the real man, and Bruce was the mask. Bruce was the ghost, had died when he was eight.

And these masks had taken over the others too. Jason, Tim, Barbara. They weren't them without them. Dick never noticed until it was too late, but soon they'd probably be just as bad as Bruce. Maybe even worse. Maybe they wouldn't exist outside the masks at all.

And the same was happening to their youngest too.

He felt safer in the mask. Hated himself so much he'd rather be a faceless hero than look at himself. And the mask not only hid his face, but any tells to his emotions too. His needs, his traumas, his vulnerabilities, his weaknesses. He was a good kid with all of those things of course - a great kid, Dick knew. But he could hide that behind that mask. Be mysterious, an urban legend, behind that uniform. Damian could disappear, fade from existence, just like he always wanted.

Just like Bruce. Just like Tim, and everyone else.

Dick had survived this, but barely. It was part of his funk now. But with his friends, with Kory and Roy and Donna - and even family like Cassandra and Damian himself - he'd survived the masks. He was still more Dick than Nightwing. Than a former spy, Batman and Robin.

He was still Dick.

And he'd already lost Damian. More than once, even. He wouldn't lose him again, not even to Robin.

"...Grayson?" Damian pushed, though remained on the couch. Dick blinked, but still didn't say anything. Instead moved forward, placing the bowl on the coffee table as he knelt in front of his brother, staring worriedly up at him. "...What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Dick smiled awkwardly, lifting his hands. "...May I?"

Damian glanced between his hands and gave an indifferent shrug. Dick took that as a yes enough, reached up and carefully peeled the green mask away from Damian's face. Exposed the bleary sea green eyes it hid, along with the dark shadows underneath them.

"Satisfied?" Damian droned sarcastically, keeping Dick's gaze nonetheless. "It's actually me under here."

Dick didn't smile at the barb, though. Focused on the lowered eyelids, Damian's rapid blinks to clear his misty eyes.

"...Damian, when was the last time you slept?" Dick asked instead. "Or even took a night off from all this? Went and saw a movie or something?"

Damian raised an eyebrow. "What does that matter?"

"Damian, please."

There was a moment of silence as Damian held out, but eventually he huffed a sigh. Looked away.

"A few days ago." He glanced back. "What? This was a large case. If it makes you feel better, Jon hasn't slept either. It's not just me this time. And Father has been awake much longer, so..."

Dick made a mental note to call Lois in a few minutes.

"As for days off," Damian hummed. "Well. What do you think I'm doing here?"

And that was right. They'd made these plans months ago. The circus was in town, and he'd invited Damian to go to the show with him. The kid had agreed to, even with the stipulation that he'd stay the night in this tiny, old apartment.

"Damian..."

"Oh, save the lecture. I'm too tired to-" He cut himself off, realizing his mistake. Still, though, he was his father's son, and ignoring the obvious was his specialty. "...I don't want to hear it. If that was your plan for my coming here to spend time with you, then I'll just go home."

"No, no, I wasn't." And Dick found himself grabbing Damian's hands and clinging to them as if his life depended on it. And hey - maybe it did.

Regardless, no more masks. No drowning in the cape. No disappearing identities for urban legends and silly monikers.

Not for this little boy.

"I was just going to ask." He smiled, even as Damian stared down at their hands. "Would you be heartbroken if we skipped the circus?"

Damian's eyes flew up in alarm. "But...you wanted to go."

"Sure I did." Dick laughed. And his heart swelled a little at the thought - Damian couldn't care less about the circus. Was only here because Dick wanted to go and wanted to take Damian, and despite the preconceived notion, Damian cared tremendously about things like that. "And now I want to order a pizza and watch crappy movies with you all night."

And despite his want - near need - to put Dick's happiness above his own, he saw Damian slump in relief.

"...I don't need a rest." Damian whispered. "I can still go to the show with you. I'll just...drink some coffee."

"You're thirteen. You don't need coffee." Dick grinned, squeezing Damian's hands. "What you need is to be cuddled in a blanket, junk food, and a night to just be Damian."

And just like Dick feared, Damian looked up at him, ocean eyes nervous, and whispered, "And what if I like being Robin more?"

"Robin's lame as hell. I don't want to hang out with him." Dick countered. "I want to hang out with my super cool little brother Damian, who I don't see enough and am very sorry about that."

Damian looked away, embarrassed. "...I didn't bring anything to sleep in."

Because he was going to go on another patrol after the show, and just so happen to take all night to do so.

Good thing he and Bruce taught him to break promises at such an early age.

"You know I keep clothes for all you siblings in the hall closet. Your shelf is the third down. Sorry you share it with Tim. Grab yourself some sweats, I'll find the number for the pizza place."

Damian hesitated as Dick drew his hands back, then nodded and scurried away. Dick laughed, shook his head, and stood, pulling out his phone to call Lois.

(Lois, of course, already knew her heroic son's state, and was in the process of calling Bruce to inform him of Damian's. She had the exact same worry as Dick, and had decided to have a calm, no-costume family night herself, dragging Clark back from the Watchtower with a well-placed, borderline-threatening phone call.)

When he'd finished his call, Damian was reemerging from his room, in an oversized hoody (an old one of Dick's) and oversized sweatpants (a hand-me-down from Jason's, which were originally a hand-me-down from Dick.) He made a beeline for the sofa, and retook his perch. Less rigid this time, though. Let himself sit back and melt into the cushions.

And when Dick sat next to him, Damian immediately curled into his side, like it was the only place he wanted to be.

"I want peppers on the pizza. With pepperoni." Damian demanded as Dick flopped an arm around his back. "And I'll accept pineapple if you wanted it. And breadsticks."

Dick smiled, ruffling Damian’s hair as he stared down at his open, unmasked face, dialing the restaurant.

"Sure thing, kiddo."