#idk if a lot of the tips were particularly useful but it was reassuring. i think thats the point of self help books.

[themslash]

i was feeling real down about the undisclosed misogyny event that happened to me over the weekend (if u know u know) so i looked around the kitchen to see whats in here and made coffee and banana waffles. please clap.

[marbleheavy]

Who needs Tinder when you have Romantic Literature

I have decided to start posting some stuff here too, maybe it will motivate me to write more. Anyways, this is moderately fluffy I’d say. It’s a mortal and college AU. Idk how to introduce this tbh, but please enjoy!

(Also, just throwing this out there because this blog is kinda new, I’m down to write requests too!)

Pairing: Solangelo 

Word Count: 3,197

Rated: Teen

You can also read this on AO3! 

Will knew she was coming before he saw her, he had heard the door slam and the unmistakable rapid steps. Whenever Charlotte had a new development with the boy in her Romantic Literature class, Will was always the first to know. He sighed, already prepared for the impending word vomit he was going to endure.

"Will!" Charlotte shouted.

Will turned around to smile at her. Don't get him wrong, he and Charlotte were friends, they chatted in class all the time, they studied together, they even sometimes went to parties together, but it was all very superficial. Charlotte had never met his boyfriend or any of his truly close friends, and he hadn't met hers. However, that didn't mean he was exempt from listening to her pine.

"Hey Charlotte," Will grinned, "What's up?"

Charlotte plopped down on the stool next to him and let out an exasperated sigh, "I can't handle it anymore, Will."

Will frowned, his eyebrows furrowing, "What?"

"I can't handle him anymore. He is so fucking pretty that I am going to lose my mind!"

"Charlotte, I'm sure that you'll be okay."

"No, you don't get it. Like he's hot, we knew that, but he is also so pretty. Like, Greek God pretty. It's truly unfair. I don't know how to handle myself," she ranted.

Will chuckled, shaking his head, "You know, you could always talk to him."

Charlotte looked appalled at the suggestion, "Oh no, absolutely not. I'm way too afraid, I've been basically stalking him all semester. Plus, there is no way someone that attractive doesn't have a girlfriend."

"Hey, you never know, maybe just test the waters, you could be surprised," Will said, trying to reassure her.

"Yeah, maybe, or maybe I will be rejected and I will have to drop out to save myself from further embarrassment. I will just pine from afar."

"You know, my boyfriend is in that class, I could ask him and see if he knows anything," Will offered.

Charlotte grinned at him, "Really? That would actually be great. By the way, what's your boyf-"

Charlotte was cut off by the professor entering and starting the lesson. Will glanced at Charlotte, but she waived him off, already dropping the question.

--- Will opened the door to their apartment and let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't a particularly difficult day, but Will hadn't slept much the night before. "Sunshine, you home?" Will called out.

Will heard a response from the kitchen, so he dropped his bag on the floor and kicked off his shoes, making his way into their kitchen.

"Hey darling," Will sighed as he walked up and wrapped his arms around Nico's waist, resting his head on his shoulder.

Nico smiled, tipping his head back to Will as he continued to stir whatever he was cooking on the stove. Will pecked his lips, not wanting to distract Nico, his hunger outweighed his desire to properly kiss him, which is a rare occurrence.

Nico hummed, "How was your day?"

"It was fine, I'm just worn out. Charlotte had another development with her Romantic Lit boy, it was all I heard about during our Chem lab. How about you?"

"Good, I only had the one class today so I spent a lot of time in the studio. Got a lot done, I should be ready for my showcase a few weeks in advance," Nico said.

Will grinned, "That's great! I can't wait to see it, I'm sure it will be incredible."

Nico scoffed, "Will, you've seen my stuff before, I wouldn't call it incredible."

"I disagree, you're only saying that because it's your work. I am, as always, a totally unbiased source who just happens to believe that my boyfriend's art is the best in the world, because it is."

Nico smiled, turning the stove off and moving to face Will. He looked at him, and reached for his face, "You're too nice to me."

Will leaned down, his forehead pressing against Nico's, "Oh darling, I can be way nicer."

Okay, so maybe Will wasn't actually that hungry.

---

Fridays were Will's favorite day. His only class of the day was his Chemistry Lab and that wasn't until noon, which meant that he could lay in bed with Nico until at least eleven. Nico had seemed particularly angelic that morning, with his hair splayed across Will's chest as he used him as a pillow. Maybe he was just extra appreciative because of all the discussion about gorgeous boys.

Having to drag himself from bed this morning was harder than normal, and as he sat at the lab table stool, he was still longing for Nico. He had just settled into his spot when Will heard his name from across the classroom and saw Charlotte walking towards their table. He smiled brightly at her and moved his bag to make space.

"Hey, Will! Did you ask your boyfriend about the Romantic Lit guy?"

"What? Oh! Um, no, I'm sorry, I-" Will paused, blushing brightly, "I got distracted. But I will ask after class today and text you."

"Oh, okay. No worries, I was just wondering. The other day, we were discussing Walt Whitman's poetry, and oh my God, he's literally perfect. He is smart and well spoken, and he's so gorgeous. I seriously don't understand how he is allowed to exist on this planet," Charlotte lamented.

Will chuckled, “I understand, I genuinely cannot comprehend how my boyfriend is allowed to look the way that he does. The struggle of incomprehensible beauty is real.”

“Oh, speaking of! I really want to meet that boyfriend of yours, maybe he will tell me more about himself since you spill so little. My roommate and I are hosting a party this Saturday, you should come and bring him!” she exclaimed.

Will grinned widely at her, “Yeah! I just have to double check with him but that sounds great! I need to get him out of the apartment more anyways.”

“Perfect! Anyways, I had a question about the lab, I screwed up my balancing of the equations somewhere, was the product nitrogen oxide or nitrogen dioxide?"

Will and Charlotte worked throughout the class, working hard to finish the post-lab questions and the write-up, neither wanted to have to work on it over the weekend.

As class ended, they quickly collected any notebooks and papers and walked out of class, desperate for a break. As they stepped into the hallway, Will assured Charlotte he would check with his boyfriend about the part and the Lit boy, and Charlotte smiled brightly in response.

Will pushed open the door to the science building open and stepped into the fresh air. Spring was just starting and trees across campus were blooming, but he didn't stop to admire the beauty or appreciate the warmer weather as he walked briskly towards his apartment. He knew that Nico didn't have any classes today and wasn't planning to go to the studio, which meant it was more than likely he was still in bed and Will would be able to climb right back in and pretend he never left.

As he rushed up the stairs to their apartment and jammed his key in the door, he was already shedding off his bag, coat, and shoes. Normally, he is much more organized, but today he left his pile of things on the floor next to the door as he scurried to the bedroom. Just as he suspected, Nico was still curled up in bed, dozing lightly. Will heard a hum as he padded into the room and Nico stretched out towards him, silently reaching out to him. Will grinned and climbed into their bed, pulling Nico close to him. Nico quickly curled into Will's chest and sighed. The wave of peace that washed over Will was unexpected and he quickly fell asleep.

---

Waking up late in the afternoon, either because of a nap or some really extreme sleeping in, has never really been Will's thing but as he felt Nico tighten his grip on him and seemingly climb even more onto Will, he decided it was okay. No matter how they fell asleep, Will always woke up with Nico on top of him, not that he minded. Will stared at his boyfriend's face resting on his chest, studying the curve of his nose and the shape of his lips. It didn't really matter how long they've been together, he never got tired of looking at him. Will didn't notice Nico's eyes open so when he finally made eye contact, he jumped a little. Nico chuckled, pulling his head back slightly to look at Will.

"You're a dork," Nico said.

Will huffed, feigning offense, "I don't know what you're talking about, I'm cool. I'm a cool cat."

Nico smiled, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Will's jaw lightly and mumbling into his neck, "No actual cool person has ever referred to themselves as a 'Cool Cat'."

"Well, there is a first for everything."

Nico sat up slightly, but not really. He was lying on top of Will so he wasn't ever really able to sit, but he shifted so he was straddling Will's hips, leaning down over him.

"How was class?" He asked as he leaned down to slowly kiss up Will's throat.

Will let out a breath, "Good, by the way, my friend Charlotte, I talked about her yesterday? Well, uh, she uh-" he stuttered as Nico began to bite lightly on his throat, "She's in your Romantic Lit class, um, and has a crush on this guy and she asked me, ugh, to ask you, uh, if you knew who he was? She said that he's super hot," Will stopped talking as Nico suddenly froze his movements.

Nico moved his head up to look at Will sharply "I'm clearly trying to get in your pants right now and you want to talk about other hot guys?"

Will grinned sheepishly, "No! No, no, I just, I don't want to forget! But I'll wait, yeah, I'll just wait. It's fine, but please, get in my pants."

Nico smirked at Will's excuse, but clearly he accepted it as he leaned back down to finally kiss Will on the lips properly. Will reciprocated immediately, moving his hands from Nico's thighs to grab his face. He hummed into Nico's mouth, biting lightly at his lips and Nico sighed. Nico's hands were on Will's shoulders to stabilize himself as Will began to kiss and suck along the edge of Nico's jaw.

"Tesoro," Nico moaned, leaning into Will's touch.

Will smiled through his kisses, nipping at his ear lobe and whispering, "Yes, darling?"

Nico groaned in frustration and grabbed at the hem of Will's shirt, tugging it off. Will stopped to look at Nico, his chest rising rapidly with his erratic breathing, his face flushed. Will always thought that Nico was pretty, but this was hard to beat. Nico, annoyed by the lack of kissing, quickly moved to reconnect their lips, tangling his fingers in Will's hair. He kissed Will, the kiss surely bruising their lips as he worked Will's mouth open. Will couldn't get enough of the feeling of Nico on top of him, of the feeling of Nico kissing him, it was overwhelming. Every time they did this, it was like the first time, except this time Will knew that if he put his hands near Nico's neck he would moan and if he traced his fingers along his torso he would sigh. His favorite part though, was when he would suck hickeys into his neck and Nico would whisper his name like it was the most divine word in the world. Will pulled his lips down Nico's throat and started biting lightly at his collarbones and pulse points.

"Will," Nico sighed, and Will smiled, there it was.

Just as Nico started to work his hands towards Will's belt, Nico' phone rang. Will pulled away and sat up, keeping Nico on his lap and watching as he reached over to grab his phone from the bedside table. Nico groaned as he saw the caller, "Will, I'm so sorry, but it's Hazel."

Nico answered the phone, greeting his sister, and Will dropped his head to rest on the crook of Nico's neck, still nibbling lightly.

Nico let out a squeak, pushing Will's head away lightly, "William," he scolded, "Stop that."

Will grinned at Nico, looking at him playfully as he heard Hazel chuckle over the phone. He leaned against the headboard as Nico talked to his sister about his gallery opening. When their conversation was finally done, Nico tossed the phone to the foot of the bed and wrapped his arms behind Will's head, "Now, where were we?"

Will smiled, "Sorry darling, I'm starving."

Nico rolled his eyes but climbed off of Will's lap and stood up, "You're such a cockblock."

Will laughed as he stood up too, "I'd say your sister is, so don't get mad at me."

"I can be mad at you all I want, first you talk about other guys and now you say you're 'too hungry'" Nico joked.

Will shoved his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen and toward the fridge. Nico hopped onto the counter, watching as Will searched for food. Will pulled out some leftover pasta and decided to microwave it, "So, that possible boy in your Romantic Literature class that Charlotte loves, do you know him?"

Nico shrugged, "I mean, maybe, I don't really pay attention to the other people in that class."

"Charlotte said that he was talking during your Walt Whitman discussion the other day," Will added.

Nico frowned, "I don't know, not many people participated that day, it was mostly me."

"Well, that's okay. I mean, I'm sure she will figure it out. Also, how do you feel about going to a party tomorrow night?" Will asked.

Nico nodded, "That's fine, but can we go separately? I was hoping to be in the studio tomorrow, and I don't want to make you wait for me."

"Yeah, of course, but I don't mind waiting for you, darling," Will reassured.

Nico smiled softly as Will walked to stand between his legs against the counter, "I know, but you don't get to go out often, and I'm not sure how long I'll be."

Will bent down and kissed Nico softly, resting his forehead against Nico's, "I love you."

"I love you too, Tesoro."

-----

Will had been at the party for about 30 minutes when he finally saw Charlotte. He waived at her as he walked up, and she grinned at him.

"Will! I'm so glad you came! Where is that boy of yours?" Charlotte exclaimed.

"He's on his way, he had some work to do before he could come. Also, he has no idea who your Romantic Lit boy is, sorry," Will said, shouting slightly so she could hear him over the music.

"That's okay! I'm hoping he will come tonight, we invited a ton of people and I'm hoping word got around to him," she explained.

Will smiled and continued to chat with her, sipping at his drink every so often. He knows in the back of his mind that Nico should be there soon and he should keep an eye out, but he figured it would be fine. Charlotte suddenly grabbed his arm, and grinned wildly at him.

"Will! He's here! I'm so excited, look," she whispered excitedly.

Will turned his head around and searched the crowd, he didn't see anybody who could be her Lit boy, but he did see Nico approaching and smiled at him, their eyes meeting. Will noticed Nico's shirt, it was Will's favorite button up with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He liked seeing Nico in his clothes, it gave him a rush of pride.

"Will! He's so cute! And the rolled up dress shirt thing is so hot!" Charlotte said.

Will whipped his head toward Charlotte, confusion etched in his features. Suddenly it hit him. Oh. Oh no.

"Oh my God, Charlotte wait, no-" he started.

It was too late, Nico had already made it all the way over to them and he smiled brightly, his stupid, charming smile. Will felt Charlotte drop her grip on his arm and adjust her shirt.

"Hi! I'm so glad you could come!" Charlotte said, her tone shifting to something far more flirty.

Nico seemed a little shocked by her, "Oh, yeah. Hi. Thanks for inviting us."

Charlotte's brows furrowed, "Us?" she started.

"Hey Tesoro, how was your day?" Nico asked Will, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers.

Charlotte's head flicked between Nico and Will.

Will could feel heat rising in his neck as he looked at Charlotte, "Um, it was good. So Charlotte, this is my boyfriend, Nico. Nico, this is Charlotte."

Charlotte was frozen, staring at Will widely as he panicked, terrified that she would freak out. Instead, she finished the rest of her drink in one gulp and then laughed.

"Oh! Really? That's hilarious! We really do have the exact same type!" She said, giggling.

Will seemed a little shocked, he was unsure if this was real or if she was about to start crying.

"Um, what?" Nico asked.

Will, without taking his eyes off Charlotte who was still laughing, explained "So, you know how I was telling you how Charlotte has a giant crush on a boy in her Romantic Literature that you are also in? Well, that boy is you."

Nico looked quickly at Charlotte, "Oh, um, sorry. You're really nice and smart but I'm super gay and very much dating Will."

Charlotte shook her head, "No, really it's fine! I'm just shocked this miscommunication lasted so long! I'm happy for you! You're gorgeous by the way, like truly, ten out of ten. Will, you caught a great one."

Will was still off balance by Charlotte's reaction and her lack of anger or sadness.

"Are you," Will paused, "okay? Do you want us to leave?"

"God no! Really Will, I'm okay. It was just a crush. And I know how you talk about your boyfriend, I would never try and interfere with that," Charlotte reassured, "But, I'm gonna go get another drink. Please stay, though."

Charlotte walked away and Nico turned towards Will. Will looked down at him and smiled lightly, but he still seemed like a deer caught in headlights. Nico grabbed Will's face, "Are you okay?" Nico asked.

Will nodded, "Yeah, this is all just crazy. I've been listening to her talk about that boy for months and turns out that it's you! I'm just not really sure what to do."

"Well, start by taking a deep breath," Nico said, "And then you can start repeating all the things you said about me to Charlotte that made her just laugh about this."

Will seemed to relax even though his cheeks turned bright red, "Hmm, I don't know. Maybe I won't."

Nico grabbed Will's wrist and sorted dragging him to the nearest closet or bathroom or bedroom, "No sir, you owe me for cockblocking me earlier."

Will laughed, "I didn't cockblock, it was an IOU."

Nico smirked, "Well I'd like to cash that in now please."

[ranger-jedi-knight]

A New Hero Chap 12

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887313/chapters/56262946 Taglist: @vixen-uchiha

So here’s the next chap!!! I hope you guys enjoy it!!

Mari beamed as Damian approached her and Chloe as they waited by Chloe’s limo. “Over here, Dami!” Mari called and Damian gave a small wave as he picked up his small bag off the ground.

“Hello again, Mari, Chloe,” Damian greeted as he reached them. He put his bag down and gave Mari a hug and shook Chloe’s hand. “So when do you want to finish this movie of yours?” he asked as they entered Chloe’s limo.

“We’ll be doing it in a couple of days. We just want to film one or two more things before you come in,” Mari explained and Damian nodded understanding at that. “How was your flight?”

“It was alright. Quite boring to be honest,” he answered and the two girls nodded understanding as they pulled up to Chloe’s hotel finally. “I’ll be right back. I just want to put my bag into my room,” Damian said and the girls nodded as the limo pulled to a stop. He grabbed his bag and quickly made his way into the hotel to check-in.

“So, Dami~?” Chloe teased and a blush grew on Mari’s cheeks.

“I-it’s nothing! Just a nickname!” Mari said and Chloe hummed with a smirk.

“Just a nickname? And the hug. Damian isn’t known for those,” Chloe remarked smugly. Mari looked away as her blush deepened.

“It’s nothing! Text Xan already, Dami will be back soon,” Mari grumbled and Chloe laughed as she sent the warning text to Xan who sent a thumbs-up emoji back to her.

“There, he’s been warned,” she replied and Mari nodded. Not a moment too soon either. Damian opened the limo door and got back in and sat next to Mari.

“So, what is this surprise that I can’t tell anyone about?” he asked, looking at the two girls. Mari smiled at him as her blush finally went down. “Is everything ok? Your face is red.”

AND

her blush is back.

She smiled at Damian and nodded her head. “Yeah, everything’s good. And the surprise is at my place,” Mari replied and Damian nodded, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get her to budge on telling. The drive to the bakery was short and quiet. They soon reached it and the three got out of the limo with Chloe waving as they drove off. Sabine and Tom waved to them as they walked into the bakery.

“Hello, Damian! It’s so nice to see you again. I hope your flight was fine,” Sabine said and Damian nodded.

“My flight was fine, Mrs. Cheng,” Damian said and Sabine smiled at him.

“Please, Damian, call me Sabine,” she said and Damian nodded. “I’ll bring you and your friend’s cookies in a bit, Mari,” she continued and Mari nodded.

“You don’t need to mama. I can do that myself!” Mari called and Sabine smiled.

“Alright, the cookies are in back,” she said and Mari beamed as she grabbed the plate waiting and pressed a kiss to her parent’s cheeks before following Damian and Chloe up the stairs. They soon reached her place and Mari smiled as she set the plate on the coffee table in front of the TV.

“Come on down!” Mari shouted and Damian could only look at her confused before hearing her trap door open and watched as a teen boy come down. He was about Damian’s age with brown hair, the tips were dyed teal, a scar on his right cheek, and silver eyes. He looked familiar to Damian. When the teen saw him, he flinched and Mari went over and squeezed his shoulder.

“Who-” he started but stopped as Mari looked over at him. The teen gave a nervous wave to Damian before turning a bit to look at Mari but that allowed Damian to catch a glimpse of a scarily familiar tattoo peeking out from under his tank top. They heard his breath catch and looked over at him and the teen shrunk down.

“Dami, this is Xander...Lana and Alya’s missing brother,” Mari said Damian could only stare intently at Xander, finding every little scar that wasn’t hidden by his clothes.

“Was he-?” Damian started and this time Xander nodded.

“Yeah, I was. Y-your mother talked a lot about you while I was there....that alone was the reason she stole my-me,” he stumbled and Damian nodded understanding. He knew what it felt like to talk about his death and revival.

“I’m....I’m sorry my mother did that to you, Xander. She’s a horrid woman,” he said and Xander gave a lifeless snort.

“No kidding,” he muttered.

“How long have you been in Paris, Xander?”

“I found him nearing a year ago after an Akuma battle,” Mari said and Damian nodded.

“I’m guessing you want to make sure Lana and Alya don’t know so they can have a surprise when you come to Gotham?” Mari nodded at that and he glanced at her before looking back at Xander. “Xander, would you mind talking to me in private?” he asked and the teen looked shocked but nodded. “We’ll be back down soon,” Damian said to Mari before leading the boy up to their shared room. He took a moment to look at how different the room was. A proper pillow was on the chaise and a Robin(his alter ego not the bird) themed blanket was half on and half off it. He could see some knickknacks that belonged to Xander. On the mannequin was a Gotham inspired jacket. Around the room was random items that belonged to Chloe or Adrien. Xander sat on the chaise and Damian pulled the chair from the desk to be in front of him and sat down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you know what they’re talking about?” Chloe asked and Mari glanced up at the closed trap door. She then turned to look Chloe in the eye and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry. Dami’s just making sure everything is alright with Xan. He knows what his mother is like. Xan needs this, needs someone who understands what he went through. Master and I can only do so much to help. But Dami and Jason, they can truly help him in ways that we can’t,” Mari explained and Chloe nodded slowly to that.

“Ok, do you want Lila, Nino, and Adrien to come over? We can talk about the scene,” Chloe offered and Mari hummed at that.

“Well, Lila could help Xan out once they’re done talking. Maybe just Lila and Adrien. We can talk about the scene tomorrow,” Mari said and Chloe nodded while pulling her phone. As she started rapidly typing, Mari glanced back up at her trapdoor and got out some milk, having a feeling the cookies would be needed soon.

Soon, Lila and Adrien where there sitting on the couch talking with them. “So what’s up?” Lila asked nibbling on a cookie.

“Well, Damian is here and he’s talking to Xan. Not to worry, but Damian is helping Xan through some stuff and I figured he’d benefit from you being here, Lila. You two are close,” Mari explained and Lila nodded.

“Of course. I’ll do my best,” Lila said and the two shared a smile.

“And me?” Adrien asked as he wrapped an arm around his girlfriend.

“Well, figured you wanted to get away from your father for a bit. Nino would have come but I knew he was working on some editing and didn’t want to be bothered. As it is, he has to worry about his little brother interrupting him,” Mari explained and Adrien nodded to that.

“That is true. So, how does it feel to be almost done with the movie?” he asked and Mari sighed.

“Good. It’s been hard. I imagine everyone feels that way,” Mari answered and everyone nodded agreement.

“I feel bad every time I have to do something to you, Mari. We still need to do the bathroom scene, Nino’s mother accidentally deleted it thinking it was something else,” Lila agreed and Mari groaned.

“Well, we can do that tomorrow. Mr. Damocles has bee very lenient with letting us come to the school when needed, thankfully,” Mari replied and the group nodded, thankful he would allow them to come in during the weekend. After a little longer, Xander came down behind Damian, looking tired.

“How’re ya feeling, Xan?” Lila asked as Xander sat down next to her and Damian sat next to Mari. Xander glanced over at Damian then turned back to Lila and gave her a small smile.

“I feel good,” he replied and she smiled at that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mari could barely hold her composure when Lila threatened her. She knew it was fake. That everything wasn’t real. But it felt real. Alya and a few others had been particularly harsh earlier when they were coming to the school to reshoot. She couldn’t quite understand what was going on. They weren’t shooting then. They knew that. They sent out another email saying on Monday, the filming would be over. That Monday was the final day of filming. So...

Why!?

Why was Alya and a few others being so harsh? Lila and Xander were frowning after it happened. Nino and Max were waiting in the girl’s bathroom with the camera’s set up waiting.

It was just becoming too much. She leaned against the bathroom wall holding her hair tightly as her breaths quickened. “Mari,” Lila called grabbing Mari’s shoulders as the girl spiraled. “Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t take it. A-Alya and the others are-they’re-they’re so harsh. I-I know it’s for the movie b-but-” Mari started and Lila pulled her in close for a hug.

“It’s ok, Mari. I understand. Once this is over, I’m sure they’ll make it up to you for the harsh words,” Lila said as Mari started crying into her shoulder.

“I-I don’t understand though. W-we weren’t filming then so why?” she asked and Xander came over and wrapped his arms around the two.

“I don’t know, Mari. We’ll figure it out though,” Xander said feeling Mari and Lila nod agreement.

“We don’t need the scene, Mari. We can make it work without,” Nino replied and saw Mari nod agreement.

Damian @WayneDarkness Landed safely in Paris. Hanging out with Mari and her friends while we wait to do the final scene for the project they’re making

Jason @i_live_assholes That’s good. Give her a hug from me alright?

Damian @WayneDarkness Will do

Ok, so I lied. This is gone be a two-parter. Lol. Next part will be out…..at some point. Idk when. Anyways, I hope u enjoyed this!!! Until next time!! -Love Willa<3<3<3

[a-splash-of-stucky]

Come Back To Me

Pairings: Bucky x Witch!Reader

Summary: Purging Bucky of the Hydra’s presence.

Warnings: Blood (mentions of), suicide (mentions of), idk some angst? maybe?

Notes: For @rotisserierogers halloween writing challenge. My prompt was #38: A chalice of blood rests on the ground, surrounded on either side by lit candles - the ritual was never meant to be done, much less completed. It’s in bold somewhere in the fic.

This was so much fun to do! I’ve written it in a rather abstract way, very different to my other pieces — hopefully my concept comes through and it all makes sense. As always, I’d love to hear your feedback!

There once existed a force so dark and powerful, it corrupted everything it touched.

It was known as the Hydra.

The Hydra could not be described as a being, per se. It was an entity of pure chaos, originating from the dark-realm, the most evil of the four realms of magic. The Hydra lacked a physical body, which in turn made it that much more dangerous; it wreaked havoc by touching the minds of its victims, planting seeds of dark energy deep within their innermost thoughts. These seeds then grew into foreboding trees of destruction and eventually, the trees formed a forest — an army of dark, mind-controlled soldiers, who waged a long and arduous battle against the witch-folk.

Thankfully, the Hydra has long since been dead and with it, most of its soldiers.

But with that being said, a part of its dark force still remains.

Seventy years ago, the love of your life suffered a fate worse than death. Bucky’s mind and body were taken captive when he was possessed by the Hydra. The exact mechanism of the possession remain a mystery to you and your friends; Wanda’ best guess is that the Hydra cleaved off a part of its dark essence and placed it inside Bucky. This meant the whilst the Hydra was still alive, it could use this artificial bond to control Bucky, turning him into the fabled Winter Soldier.

Now, with the Hydra gone, Bucky is slowly regaining control over himself. But, progress has been slow, hindered by the lingering remnants of the Hydra’s essence inside him. He is still prone to turning into the Winter Soldier without a moment’s notice, endangering all those around him.

Tonight is the last night of the tenth month, commonly referred to as Halloween.

For the human-folk, it is a night of spooky festivities, where children dress up in costumes and walk through their streets, knocking on doors and calling ‘trick-or-treat’ in cheerful voices. It is a night of horror-filled fun.

For the witch-folk, the last night of the tenth month has a far more significant meaning; it is a time for ancient, powerful and most of all, difficult spells to be cast.  

If you are to have any hope at healing Bucky, the ritual must be performed tonight.

You finish tying the sash on your navy blue ceremonial robes, then step out of the bathroom. Bucky is sitting on the bed, clothed in nothing but a pair of white linen pants, head held in his hands. He looks up when you come in, allowing you to see the dark rings under his eyes and the grim set of his jaw; Bucky is downright terrified, though you can tell that he is trying hard to disguise his fear.

The thing is, you’ve known him for an eternity. You’ve seen what he looks like when he’s staring death in the face, know with intimate familiarity the slant of his mouth and the curl of his cheekbones, and understand what it means when the muscles in his cheek twitch a certain way. Bucky’s like an open book to you and right now, all you’re reading is sheer terror.

You come to stand between his spread thighs. Bucky places his hands on your hips — one flesh, one metal — and tips his head back to look up at you. Your right hand cradles his cheek and he leans into the caress, eyelashes grazing the tops of his cheekbones as his eyes slip shut.

“Come back, okay?” you breathe, voice barely audible despite the stillness in the room.

“I might not,” Bucky murmurs, turning his head to press a kiss on your palm.

“Try,” you plead.

Bucky doesn’t respond to that. His silence is promise enough.

“You’re ready?” you ask.

He nods, opening his eyes once more. There is nothing left to be said.

Bucky follows you out of the cottage. You lead him down the cobbled path in the back garden, through the gate and further still, into the depths of the forest. The route is familiar, even in the cover of night; you and Steve have made this journey so many times, you’re confident that you could do it with your eyes closed. Though you hear no footfalls behind you, no crunch of leaves or snap of twigs, you know that Bucky is matching your every step.

After what feels like an eternity, the dense shrubbery gives way to a clearing. Wanda and Steve are already there, heads bowed in conversation. Wanda looks stunning, her long hair woven into an intricate braid down her back, her scarlet robes billowing about her petite figure. Steve, by contrast, is swathed in robes of majestic emerald, emphasising the pale shine of his blonde hair in the moonlight.

What the three of you are about to attempt to do tonight is beyond risky; it’s life-threatening.

For one thing, you don’t know if Bucky will survive the process. Possessions are almost unheard of in witch-history — very few have attempted the process, as the risks far outweigh the possible rewards. Most people cannot bear the burden on an evil entity in their mind for long; they go crazy from it, often killing themselves to put a stop to their suffering.

The very fact that Bucky is still alive, despite having this dark energy plaguing him for seventy years is both troubling and reassuring. You don’t know who widely the Hydra’s energy has infected him, how deeply it has ingrained itself into his very bones.

Tonight, you’ll be attempting to rid Bucky of every last trace of the Hydra’s presence. You walk to the centre of the clearing, where Wanda and Steve have already set everything up. A chalice of blood rests on the ground, surrounded on either side by lit candles — the ritual was never meant to be done, much less completed, and that fact makes you particularly uneasy. No one — that you’re aware of, at least — has ever attempted this ritual in all of witch-folk’s history.

The blood in the chalice is Bucky’s, collected from him earlier this evening. The chalice is about two feet high, made of pure gold and ornately decorated with intricate carvings and precious gems, that sparkle in the dim candlelight. There is a line of fifteen candles on either side of the chalice, forming a path of sorts. At the end of that path, on the far side of the chalice, is a simple stone altar, upon which rests Wanda’s leather-bound spell book as well as a single candle; thirty-one candles in total, to signal the thirty-one nights of the tenth month.

Steve and Wanda walk over to you, Bucky trailing along behind them. He’s more agitated now, fidgeting nervously with the ties on his pants.

“A few more minutes,” Wanda says, “We should prepare ourselves,”.

All of you take your places; Wanda behind the stone altar, you and Steve on the opposite end of the candle pathway. Bucky lies down in front of the chalice on the side nearest to you, his head near one row of candles, his bare feet almost touching the other.

Though the four of you have discussed your plan of action for tonight extensively, a lot of uncertainty is still present.

Bucky has been possessed by magic originating from the dark-realm — one of the four realms of magic that witches and other gifted beings draw their powers from. The Hydra was, without a doubt, one of the darkest beings to ever exist on this planet, thriving solely on chaos and discord, dissonance and misery. Its essence (or rather, what’s left of it) is so powerful that it will require you, Steve and Wanda to pool all your energies together in order to rid Bucky of its presence.

Tonight, Wanda will be the one to facilitate the ritual. She draws her energies from the fire-realm, channeling the primal forces that sustain life itself; passion and strength, determination and fierce courage. Wanda will be the one to intonate the spell that will unhinge Bucky’s soul from his body and, in the process, untether the Hydra’s essence as well.

You glance to your left as Steve readjusts his robes, arranging the hood over his broad shoulders. The green colour symbolises Steve’s alignment with the earth-realm. He brings harmony and safety to this ritual, and is tasked with guarding Bucky’s physical body, preventing it from being taken over by some meddling entity whilst his soul is unhinged.

And then, there is you. Your powers are drawn from the last of the four realms, the wind-realm. Where Steve is concerned with the physical, you are concerned with the spiritual; your magic will anchor Bucky’s soul to this world, preventing him from wandering too far into the chasms of the dark-realm. You are Bucky’s beacon of stability. In the event that his soul does get lost, you are to be the one to guide him home.

(You’re still not entirely sure how that’s supposed to work, but that’s a bridge that you’ll cross when you get there. Hopefully, if all goes to plan, it’s a bridge that you won’t have to cross at all.)

The candles begin to flicker wildly, their small flames dancing in a mystical wind, glow brightening and dimming irregularly. It is the sign you’ve been waiting for; the magic in the atmosphere is at it’s peak, the highest it will be until this time next year. You can feel the magical energy surging through your veins, unbidden power that is demanding to be utilised, aching to be channelled. It’s a burn in your fingertips, a tingling in your gut. The energy is so tangible, it’s almost like a physical presence.

The ritual has to begin.

“Bucky,” Steve says softly. Bucky’s eyes are closed, but he is not asleep; you can tell this by the way his fists are clenched by his sides. His chin dips slightly, an indication that he’s heard.

“We’re going to start,”.

Bucky breathes out shakily, then gives another, terser nod.

Steve turns to you, then to Wanda, and gives a tiny jerk of his head. You hold your palms out in front of you, close your eyes and blow out a deep, fortifying breath. Wanda starts to speak, her voice a monotonous drone in a language you can’t understand. You let the energy in the atmosphere pour through your being, trickling down your veins and into your fingers.

When you open your eyes again, blue tendrils are swirling lazily around your palms, brighter and more iridescent than they normally are. Your eyes flick over to Steve and Wanda and you see that they too are channelling their powers in green and red flashes of light respectively.

Wanda’s voice begins to rise, her tone taking on a note of urgency. Instinctively, you begin to project outwards, encouraging the tendrils to uncoil from your fingers and reach out towards Wanda and Steve. Blue, red and green light all tangle together, forming a misshapen triangle over Bucky’s body.

Bucky’s eyes are shut tight and his fingers are fisting into the grass beside him. His skin is coated in a thin veil of sweat and his lips are downturned in a grimace.

The candles flicker, then go out entirely, as if a strong gust of wind has blown them all out. You don’t panic; Wanda had said that this might happen. Bathed only in the silver moonlight and the glow of your tendrils, Bucky looks eerily pale, sickly almost.

“The purging,” Steve breathes, “It’s happening. His soul’s just unhinged,”.

Even as he speaks, you feel an invisible force tugging in the back of your mind, wrestling with you for control of your body. It’s dark and foreign. Your first instinct is to recoil from it’s slimy, deathly-cold embrace, but you force yourself to remain clam, to be strong. For Bucky. His skin has gone even paler, translucent enough that you can see the network of veins beneath it.

Without warning, Bucky releases a blood-curdling scream.

The noise sends a sickening chill down your spine. It’s a sound of pure terror, conveying his anguish and torment. The word stop is on the tip of your tongue, but you reign yourself in, force yourself to keep it together. You’ve come too far now; the ritual must go on.

Bucky’s back bows off the ground, curving into an impossible angle, as if something is being yanked out of his body. He stays contorted like that for nearly a whole minute, before slumping back down, limp, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Inside the chalice, the dark red blood darkens to an ominous shade of black. A couple of candles burst into flame, but die out a few seconds later. The wind starts to pick up — where did it even come from? — whipping around the clearing, making your robes flap around you. An uneasy chill sets in your bones. You don’t know how you know it, but something is very, very wrong.

“He’s wandering!” Wanda calls, “I can’t feel his life force, he’s gone too far!”

“You have to find him, Y/N,” Steve says urgently, turning to look at you, “Call him back,”.

“I—I don’t know—,”.

“Just try!” Steve begs, eyes wild with terror.

You wet your lips, bob your head in some semblance of a nod. If Wanda is right, then this moment is crucial. You must do everything you can to ensure that Bucky’s soul comes back safely. Closing your eyes, you let Wanda’s voice wash over you, allowing yourself to be swept away by the current of her magic. Instead of focusing on what she is saying, you direct your attention to the soles of your feet, where they touch the ground. You picture them growing roots that wind deep into the earth below, anchoring you in place. If Bucky needs help finding his way back, you must ensure that you are rooted in place, to make this process easier.

In your mind, you imagine yourself cupping a light in your hands. It is an ethereal blue, as entrancing as the colour of Bucky’s eyes. It takes all your focus to channel your magical energy into that light, coaxing it to shine brighter so that its glow may illuminate the darkness; a beacon to signal the way home.

A dark presence — probably the lingering remnants of the Hydra’s essence — lurks around the edges of your consciousness, its repulsive tentacles brushing over the periphery of your mind. It’s trying to distract you from the task at hand, but you stoically ignore it, knowing that you can’t afford to allow yourself to be pulled into the dark-realm’s evil lure.

You picture yourself stepping though a doorway, clutching the blue light in one hand. Your mind-self attempts to brush past the tendrils of darkness trying to cloud your thoughts, but they swirl around you in thick, tar-like waves of dark, oppressive energy. Mentally gritting your teeth, you forge on, going deeper and deeper into the waves in search of Bucky, willing yourself to sense his presence, his generosity, his kindness, his—

And then, you feel it

A brightness, something pure and golden and good amongst all this dark chaos. You know it’s Bucky, but where is he? How can you get to him? The only thing you can do is focus on the blue light in your hand, pouring all your energy it. It shines as bright as the sun, blinding in its intensity.

“Y/N?”

“Bucky?” you ask — but can this be considered asking, if it’s all happening in your head? His ‘voice’ is muffled, but near, so near you can taste it. “Where are you? Are you—,”

“I’m okay,” he assures you, “I—the thing, Christ, it’s gone. I got—I don’t know where it is, but it’s not with me anymore,”.

“Come back, then,” you urge, “Can you see me?”

“Y/N,” Bucky says again, but his voice is weakening, your name falling from his lips like an afterthought, the tail-end of a breath.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you growl, “You come here right this instant or I will haul your ass out,”.

Bucky chuckles, the sound echoing hollowly around the void, dreary and tired. “I—don’t know how,” Bucky says and your heart breaks, because his voice is now even quieter, more distant. You can barely feel him now, the golden glow of his—soul, or whatever, has diminished.

“Just find me,” you plead desperately, “I’ll bring you home, or—wait, I’ll come find you,”

“How?”

“Keep talking, Bucky,” you say, voice sounding a little breathless inside your head as you push past the darkness, “Help me find you,”.

“What do I talk about?” Bucky asks helplessly

“I don’t—what are we doing?” you prompt.

“Huh?

“When this is all over, what do you want to do?”. The darkness surges and shifts, one moment appearing in front of you as an imposing wall, the next moment towering behind you in a threatening wave. You race towards the direction of Bucky’s voice, clinging to the blue light in your hand, hoping that he will soon be able to see it and come back to you.

Bucky laughs weakly. “I’d like to take a nice long bath,” he muses. Great, his voice has suddenly become a little less staticky, like someone’s adjusted the radio to the correct frequency. You must be getting closer.

“Yeah? Can I join you in that?”

“Mm, only if we get to use the lavender bath oil,” Bucky jokes.

“Done deal. What else?” His essence is becoming stronger, something that you can feel in your gut. It’s like his soul is becoming more solid, even as the heavy darkness around you is trying to block your path to him, trying to tear the two of you apart.

“I dunno, really,” Bucky admits, “Food, I guess. A nice long nap,”.

You’re so close. He’s there, he’s right there, his presence so strong it rivals the strength of the evil around you. Bucky is pureness and gold, sunshine on a rainy day, mirth and laughter, everything you cherish in this life and—

“Y/N!” he calls, “I—you’re—,”.

Your heart sinks. Bucky is near but simultaneously distant, the voice speaking to you from two separate places, as if his essence has been scattered, his soul ripped apart by—whatever the hell possessed him. The golden light is right in front of you, a luminous iridescence amongst the tendrils of black. Bucky is here, but incomplete. The hand not cupping your blue light reaches out tentatively, your fingers brushing over the edge of his—soul? energy? essence?

“Sweetheart,” Bucky breathes. He’s not really here, not physically anyway, but this golden thing is talking to you like he is. A distant part of your mind marvels at how crazy the situation is.

“Come back, Bucky,” you whisper, “To me. Please?”

“But—I’m not all here,” Bucky says, “I don’t know, when I shook it—off, I couldn’t—it took—,”.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, holding a hand out for him to hold. “Take my hand. Let me guide you home,”.

The light hesitates, flickering and rippling agitatedly. Then, it moves, wrapping a single coil of gold around your wrist. You gasp at the contact, amazed at being connected so closely to Bucky’s innermost thoughts. The tendril holds on for a second, but is forced to let go of you, torn apart by the roiling waves swirling ever-nearer.

You need to get him out quickly.

“Just focus on me,” you say to Bucky, “Focus on this,”.

The way out is calling to you, as if a thin thread ties you to the doorway you’d stepped through. You know where to go, how to push aside the darkness to get back; you’re not entirely sure how you know this, but now is not the time for questions. As you make your way back the way you came, you leave a trail of memories behind you for Bucky to follow, like a path of breadcrumbs. Hopefully, the parts of his essence scattered about this god-forsaken wasteland will be able to latch onto them to find their way home.

It is a mixed-bag of memories you leave behind.

You and Bucky curled up in bed together, your leg slung around his waist, Bucky’s nose pressed to the hollow of your throat.

The next one is of him tackling Steve to the floor in a playful tussle, Steve’s eyes going comically wide in surprise.

Another one of you and Bucky, this time sitting side-by-side on the roof of your cottage, gazing up at the stars.

You leave as many memories as you can think off, pulling them out from all corners of your mind and dropping them in your wake. You’re desperately hoping that you’re going about this the right way. The golden light continues to float behind you, so that has to be a good sign.

The doorway you’d envisioned looms ahead. You can feel the darkness swooping in, making one last-ditch attempt to draw Bucky back into the clutches of the dark-realm. Its efforts are futile, though, because now that Bucky — or, at least, Bucky’s essence — has something to latch onto, it has gotten stronger.

In an effort to help him ward off the dark energy — and, possibly, pull together the dregs of his consciousness still floating around — the last few crumbs you leave for him to follow are of memories not yet made.

They are images of you and Bucky as you hope to see him on your wedding day, smiling and joyous, dressed in ceremonial robes of white. It’s Bucky with your future child in his arms, a smile playing on his lips, looking tired but satisfied as he leans against the headboard. You picture your future together, your future with him — because, damn it, you will be together, you will get him out of this, even if it’s the last thing—

“Y/N!” Wanda yells.

Your eyes snap open. The darkness is gone, replaced by acres of greenery in every direction you turn. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you will it to slow down, taking in deep draws of air to calm yourself. As you cast your gaze over the clearing, you see that the candles have come back on, and Steve is crouching beside Bucky. Wanda runs over to you, one hand outstretched to help you stand up — when did you sit down?

“Are you okay?’ she asks worriedly, checking over you for external injuries, “Are you—what d’you—,”

“I’m fine,” you assure her, brushing her hand away, “Bucky?”

Wanda moves aside, allowing you to rush over to him. You collapse onto your knees beside Steve. Bucky’s skin is still deathly pale, though not as sickly-looking as it was before.

“He’s breathing,” Steve says gently, “And it worked. Whatever you did, he’s back—,”

Steve is cut off when Bucky let out a long, low moan. His head lolls to the side and he cracks his eyes open into thin slits. “Y/N?” he croaks.

“I’m right here,” you reply immediately, placing your hand on the centre of his chest. “Right here, sweetheart,”.

“We did it,” Bucky murmurs, one side of his mouth crooking up into a half-smile. “It’s gone, I can’t…god, it’s so much quieter now, I can’t feel it anymore,”.

Wanda makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat and Steve whistles through his teeth. Bucky motions for you to come closer with a jerk of his head.

You lean over him, turning your ear to his mouth. Bucky’s hot breath ghosts over the side of your cheek. “I saw,” Bucky whispers, awe evident in his tone, “I saw you, at the end…the wedding, and the baby and—that wasn’t real, right?”

“No,” you breathe, smiling to yourself as you turn to look into his eyes, “But I’d like it to be,”.

Bucky’s hands come up to cup your face, drawing you nearer so that he can press a tender, reverent kiss to your lips. “I love you. Thank you,” he says fiercely.

“I know. You came home to me,”.

------------------------------------ Tagging: @feelmyroarrrr @rda1989 @bidianaprinxe @lumelgy @hollycornish @youtubehelpsmesurvive @knock-around-meg-blog @amour-quinn @moonbeambucky @aquabrie @sanjariti @srgntjbarnes @ssweet-empowerment @kudosia @in-winchester-we-trust @badassbaker @jurassicbarnes

[porkchop-ao3]

Can I request something angsty for rick j19z7? Something where he gets upset with you and idk makes you sleep on the couch? Anything really? Just something angsty that maybe leads to fluff? 🧡

Well, at first this request really scared me because I couldn’t possibly imagine how pure, lovely J19Z7 and angst could mix… But then I started writing and got really carried away and had so much fun with this. I liked to explore the idea that Doofus Rick still has regular-Rick traits deep down inside, only he’s less inclined to let them out and well… In this fic he does. I know you didn’t ask for smut but… Yeah. It led to smut. It’s pretty long, over 3K, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The world seemed to slow down for a moment as I watched the heavy, high-tech object slip out of my hands, and make its descent to the concrete floor of the garage. When it hit, bits and pieces flew out in every direction, a horrible, clunking, cracking sound filling the room. My mouth went dry and my eyes widened, and I immediately looked up at Rick sitting at his desk on the other side of the room. His shoulders hunched and he flinched at the sound. He slowly swivelled in his chair, an unreadable expression crossing over his features as his eyes met the broken gadget on the ground.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Rick! I just picked it up to look at it and it… it just slipped out of my hands.” I rushed to amend my actions, dropping to my knees and gathering up the broken parts, futilely trying to guess where they went, somehow hoping to fix it.

“That’s my Hadroneutronic Fleurific Converter.” He said in a small voice, rising to his feet and striding over. He didn’t even look at me as he took it from my hands, carrying it back over to the desk to inspect the damage.

“What does it do?” I asked meekly, not moving from my spot on the floor.

“M-more like what did it do. It’s completely dead. The neutronic regulator is shattered.” He told me, and it was one of the rare occasions that he actually sounded irritated.

“I’m so sorry, Rick. I didn’t mean to.” I said, rising to my feet, feeling guilty and sick.

“Of course you didn’t mean to, but you still-” he started in a snappy tone before halting himself, taking a deep breath. “It’s okay. Accidents happen.” He amended, but it sounded forced.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Just… just sit down somewhere and d-don’t touch anything else. Please.” He sighed, turning and looking around on the floor. “I might be able to fix it if the Blurthro clip is still intact, that’s what makes it-”

Crunch.

I wanted to die right then and there. I wanted god to smite me down at that precise moment in time, because of course, that electronic component under my foot couldn’t have been anything other than the Blurthro clip, could it? I winced and paused mid-step towards the garage door, turning my head slowly to look at Rick. He twitched a little, his eyes fixated on the object under my big fucking stupid baby elephant foot.

“GOD. FUCKING. DAMN IT.” He exploded, slamming his hands on the desk as he stood up with a force that sent his chair tipping back and clattering to the ground. He stepped over it with long slender legs, marching over to me and grabbing my wrist. He manhandled me out of the way before snatching the component off of the ground and groaning in annoyance. “Can you- why can’t you just use your eyes? Or even better, your brain!” He shouted, and I could see in his eyes that something had snapped.

I stared slack jawed at the man in front of me, suddenly unable to see J19Z7, instead all I saw was every other Rick. Angry. Nasty.

“Do you know how hard it was to get hold of this? It cost me forty thousand flurbos!” He exclaimed, holding the thing right in front of my face. “Which, in case you’re too dumb to realise, is a lot.”

I gasped, recoiling at his words.

“God. Why is everyone so- and they call me the Doofus! They think I’m so stupid! But they all just love you, don’t they? Every time we go to the Citadel they’re all kissing your ass, aren’t they? Jus- just cause you’ve got a nice body and a pretty face, but they don’t see just how… how inept you can be. Unable to follow simple instructions.” He seethed, letting it all pour out. I stood there and took it, crossing my arms over my chest, refusing to let my tears become any more than just a little moisture in my eyes.  “You-you’re always in here, touching my things, asking me questions that you’re never gonna be able to comprehend the answer to. You’re pretty and you’re nice but there’s no point in trying to explain anything to you.”

“I never claimed to be as smart as you, I’m just interested in what you do.” I said monotonously. “And I can comprehend the answers to my questions, I at least get the gist of most of the things you say. I’m not completely brain dead.” Rick’s expression seemed to soften, and I caught a glimpse of the Rick I fell in love with, rather than the monster that had just reared its ugly head. The parts of him that were intrinsically there simply because he was a Rick, the parts of him that he kept under control, that he didn’t usually let get the better of him.

I turned away from him and left the garage, making my way through the house towards our bedroom. I threw myself face down onto the bed, and let it all go. I cried and shook and sobbed. This is not what I signed up for. J19Z7 was not like that. He was kind, sweet, understanding, forgiving. He wasn’t angry or mean, and he didn’t have the superiority complex that most other Rick’s had. He never spoke down to me or insinuated that I was stupid. He was better than that. I hated that I’d caught a glimpse of what he kept buried, something had obviously snapped in him, he had reached the end of his tether with me and had obviously needed to vent for quite some time. I wanted the memory of him yelling gone from my head, it was the only time I’d ever seen him get genuinely angry. It just wasn’t an emotion he usually shared. Maybe that was the problem; maybe I pissed him off on a regular basis and he’d been bottling it up. Maybe I’d just witnessed that bottle over flowing, unable to hold any more of my ineptitudes.

Hours passed and I just laid there. Replaying the situation over and over in my head, analysing every word and every expression, trying to figure out whether he actually meant it or not. But Rick wasn’t the type to say nasty things out of spite, if he said something unpleasant then it was a big deal, and likely that he really meant it. That’s what made my stomach churn. Rick really did think I was dumb. He really did get annoyed with me asking so many questions and picking up his inventions out of curiosity. And it was sad, because those were some of my favorite memories with him. Just him talking to me, explaining things to me in a way that I could get, having an answer to every question. I’d learnt so much being with Rick, and it hurt a lot to know that he didn’t particularly like being my teacher.

I heard the bedroom door open. I tensed up, not quite ready to see his face or hear his voice again. Scared that he was about to call it quits, tell me to pack my shit and move back in with my parents because he was sick of putting up with me. Another sob rocked me at the thought. Rather than speak, however, Rick put his hands on my shoulders, pulling me up and turning me around. I didn’t get a good look at him before I was buried in his chest, and his hands were rubbing big circles in my back. I just lay there limply, slightly stunned, and I heard him sniffle. My heart gave a chilling throb at the sound.

“I’m s-s-so so sorry, (y/n).” He said. His voice was small, fragile and thick with emotion. He was quite clearly crying, and by the sounds of it, had been for a while. “I-I-I’m no better than the rest of them. I’m just as nasty and awful. I will understand if you don’t want anything to do with me after this, but I had to come and apologise you.”

“Rick, you’re not nasty and awful.” I murmured into his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist and squeezing him tight.

“I’m not looking for comfort or reassurance, I’m being honest. I-I let my anger get the better of me and I was unforgivably horrible to you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” he told me, taking in stuttered, jerky breaths between words. “I try so hard to keep that side of me locked away, b-but sometimes it just comes out around the people I love, who deserve it the least.

“You aren’t dumb, and you aren’t inept. You’re smart and beautiful and I love having you around, I love telling you things about my inventions, I love that you’re curious and you want to learn. But sometimes… despite myself, I get annoyed when you don’t understand something, or you do the wrong thing or- or make a mistake. I try to be understanding, because I hate that I feel so unreasonably irritated, because you don’t deserve it. It’s okay to not understand something, it’s okay to make mistakes. You’re human just like me, and sometimes I come across things that baffle me and I just can’t wrap my head around them. You don’t get angry with me, even when I come to bed at four in the morning after trying to figure something out, and wake you up. You don’t get mad when I go days in a row without devoting time to you, without kissing you and holding you like I should do everyday. You’re so lovely and understanding and I hate that I’m not like that all the time. I have these horrible thoughts that I just can’t stop, and they all came out today, and I can’t say sorry enough.”

His admission warmed me, and I understood every word. Things were clear to me, and I couldn’t find it in me to hold a grudge. I’d forgiven him, just like that. I loosened my grip on him and looked up at his face, reaching my hands out to wipe away the tears on his cheeks.

“It’s okay, Rick. I understand where you’re coming from. It’s not intrinsically bad that you feel annoyance, it’s natural. It’s the fact that you don’t always take those emotions out on the people around you, that sets you apart from the other Rick’s.”

“I don’t want to ever take my emotions out on you though, an-and I failed.”

“That wasn’t a failure, that was human. I forgive you, no harm done.” I reassured him, cupping his face and offering a little smile.

“It did do harm. You’ve been crying, I made you cry, (y/n). I don’t ever want to do that.” He whispered, his eyes filling again. I pushed forward and kissed him, and he sobbed behind my lips. I pushed him back onto the bed, laying down on top of him. Rick soon calmed down, returning the kiss with as much passion as he could muster. I parted my legs and straddled him, lining our hips up and pushing my groin into his. He let loose a strangled sound, and broke the kiss. “W-wait, this is- you’re making me-” he cut himself off, turning red.

“Making you hard?” I asked, feeling him grow between my legs. He nodded and gulped. “That’s the idea.” I leaned down to whisper in his ear, nibbling on an earlobe quickly after.

“Wh- you want to do this right now? After I said those things?” He asked, looking stunned. I rocked against him, and despite himself, he moved with me.

“Yes. This could be a good way to make up.” I told him between kisses to his neck.

“Ah, ahh- But I don’t d-deserve it.” He mewled, but his hips betrayed him, grinding faster against me. I sighed softly closing my eyes and getting lost in the sensation.

“You don’t have to deserve it. I want it. Are you going to deny me because you feel guilty?” I asked, looking down at him. He paused for a while, before finally shaking his head. “Good boy.” I smiled, shocking myself. Where the hell did that come from? Rick’s lips parted slightly, and he flushed deeper.

Rick seemed to gain a rush of confidence, sliding his hands down my body to my pants, unbuttoning them quickly and slipping his hand inside. He rubbed me quickly, trapping my clit between his index and middle finger as he stroked them in circles. My reaction was immediate, I rolled my head back and gasped shakily, tilting my hips so I ground my ass against his hard on, while giving him better access.

“Is… is that nice, beautiful?” He asked, his voice lowering with arousal. I nodded eagerly. I could feel my underwear dampening at an almost alarming rate, and got to work undressing, needing more. I pulled my top off and tossed it to the floor, my bra joining it immediately after. Rick moaned softly at the sight of my bare breasts, bringing his free hand up to play with them. He squeezed them gently one by one, rolling each nipple between his fingers.

“So good… so good.” I breathed, whining under the unrelenting stimulation. I involuntarily picked up the pace of my hips, Rick’s cock rubbing between the cleft of my ass, I looked down and noticed a dark patch forming on his pants. I licked my lips and gorged on the sight, revelling in how worked up I was getting him. Rick’s noises got louder, more frantic, and suddenly he grabbed my hip to halt me.

“St-stop, I’m gonna-” he gasped, his body shuddering beneath me as he struggled to gain back his control. “That was close.” He said sheepishly, out of breath.

“I need you inside me. Now.” I told him, and he nodded in eager agreement. I pushed his lab coat off of his shoulders and removed his shirt, taking a moment to stroke my hands over his chest, and press a few kisses into his collarbone. He took control, a somewhat rare occurrence, and rolled me off of him to lay on the bed beside him. He hooked his fingers in my pants and finished undressing me, letting his eyes roll over my naked form in appreciation. I couldn’t take my eyes off the tent in his pants. Rick was big, a lot bigger than one would imagine given his build, and I was embarrassingly needy for him. I reached for him, cupping his arousal and having a self indulgent grope. We groaned in unison, and I unbuttoned his pants and tugged them down, freeing his erection and watching it bob in the air, flushed and glistening with precum.

“Are you ready?” He asked me, coming up to kneel between my legs, placing his hands under my knees and pushing them upwards. I loved it when he moved me, positioned me, handled me. It was something I wish he did more often.

“Yes… please. I need you.” I said, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt and failing miserably. He was merciful, and lined up at my entrance without hesitation, pushing forwards slowly. There was always that initial sting, being stretched open by his generous girth, but once he was settled, that sweet sweet pleasure emerged.

“Oh my g- ahh. I’m worried I'm… I think I’m gonna cum too soon. You’re so tight.” He admitted, his head hanging low as he stared at where we were joined. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You won’t.” I assured him, his admission doing nothing but arouse me further. He took a few deep breaths, his face scrunching in concentration, before he started to move. His thrusts were cautious at first, slow and gentle, and they created tingly little bursts of pleasure that built and built, every one rubbing against my g-spot.

“Uhnn, uhh, oh God. So good, you’re so perfect.” He told me breathlessly, his pace increasing.

He would fuck me in waves, thrusting fast and hard for a while, bringing me right up the the brink, before slowing, grinding against my clit and giving me a moment to catch my breath. He did this over and over, edging us both until I was a shaky, sweaty mess with a pounding heart, on the brink of orgasm. Rick never rushed sex. It was always drawn out, built up slowly, every moment was savoured and prolonged. At times it was torturous, but it was worth it when it reached a certain point, and it all felt so good, so intense, it was almost like every thrust was a mini orgasm itself. I felt like I was constantly coming yet teetering on the edge at the same time, I was practically incoherent, able to do nothing but pant and groan, whining every time my climax built only to be washed away by the stalling of Rick’s hips. I nearly came when his cock twitched inside me, it throbbed against my g-spot as it filled me with another load of precum. Things were so slick down there and at this point I didn’t know who was the most responsible.

I stared up at Rick, who’s eyes were lidded, almost closed, yet he was still watching me. Hair clung to his forehead with sweat, and I knew I was in the same state. He leaned down and kissed me, squeezing my breast with the hand that wasn’t holding him up beside my head. Another wave came, and he thrust hard and fast, grunting and groaning against my mouth, building me up and up to my climax for the umpteenth time that day. I was waiting for him to slow, expecting that pleasurable drop in the pit of my stomach when my orgasm was robbed, the low spread of tingles as the friction suddenly stopped. But it didn’t come. He kept going, faster, sloppier and more frantic. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead into mine, wailing loudly, his grip on my breast tightening.

We came together. A beautiful moment that Rick always seemed to manage to set up perfectly. He throbbed deep inside me, filling me with his seed and I pulsed around him, milking him of every drop. My eyes rolled back, and I swear I was close to blacking out with how intense it was, it was almost too much. Almost, but not quite. It seemed to go on forever, the ebb and flow of incredible pleasure, subsiding slowly, leaving in it’s wake absolute exhaustion. The room was filled with panting when he finally pulled out of me. I felt his cum leave my body, and I could tell that there was a lot of it. I didn’t give a shit about cleaning up, I was too spent. Rick laid down beside me, draping an arm over my tummy.

“I love you so much.” He told me, still breathless. “I promise I’ll never shout at you again. And if I break that promise you- you’re free to do whatever you want to me.”

“Let’s be rational Rick.” I chuckled, interlacing our fingers together. “Whatever I want? I’d probably just do this again.”