#it appeared in my head while i was listening to wine red by the hush sound

[omori-sv-au]

the sea is wine red

this is the death of beauty

[headcansxfanfictions]

HisokaXIllumi DRUNK! Fanfiction

AN: Im new at writing so please give me feedback. I got writers block so I’m gonna post this as a part one PART TWO ON ITS WAY.

TW: drinking- dead body- assassination- blood- its literally about Hisoka and Illumi

If you would have told Illumi Zoldyck that by 6am he would be playing shot poker with Hisoka AND winning he would have laughed in your face. (Which for Illumi means subtly sneered while keeping his distance.)

11:06 pm

Illumi is on the phone listening carefully as his most recent client gives him information about the target, “You’re information has been very helpful. I’m confident I can get the job done within the next 12 hours at least.”

12:24 pm

Illumi is sitting at a bar of a grand casino in YorkNew City. He has zeroed in on his target. A 43 year old ginger woman in a very expensive looking cream dress adorned with pearls. She was accompanied by a tall old man of maybe 75 years. Not a threat. This would be an easy job.

12:25 pm

Illumi’s eyes flick sharp to the left head not moving. His eyebrows raise as Hisoka waltzes to his side, glace of red wine in hand. Sure Illumi wasn’t expecting to see Hisoka here but he has learned to expect the unexpected, there is no need for theatrics.

Hisoka obviously disagrees, “Oh what a surprise! I didn’t take the Zoldycks for gamblers!”, his voice dripping with theatrics.

“Hush Hisoka, don’t go announcing me like that,” Illumi replies swiftly, gauging any change in the targets behaviour though he is sure she is out of earshot.

Hisoka follows his gaze to land on the ginger woman, “ah I see. You’re on the job are you?”

“Yes and I should be done soon this target is rather easy.”

“Thats a shame. I was hoping to see some fun. I’ve been very bored. Could I possibly tag along incase any fun does arise?” Hisoka uses his best ‘mock-innocence’ voice.

Illumi considers, all the while not loosing sight of the target. “Well I guess so. I don’t see anyway a job this easy could be messed up.”

Hisoka gives Illumi a stink eye for that comment but quickly recovers, “Oh goody!”

4:43 am

Hisoka looks at the lifeless body of the ginger woman in the hotel-room bathtub. Illumi cleans the blood off himself and sets the scene to look like a suicide. His face is emotionless but if Hisoka had to put an emotion to it he would say Illumi looked somber. Or maybe somber was Illumi’s natural state.

“Well that wasn’t any fun. She was so weak. Why would anyone want her dead.” Hisoka sighs turning to Illumi.

“I know nothing but the job I am given. It is not my place to question my employers.” Illumi states matter of factly.

Hisoka groans is annoyance, “Why must you always speak like a living dictionary.” Hisoka strokes his chin, “don’t you ever let your hair down?… figuratively of course.” He adds with a wave of his hand. “You could be so much fun if you did.”

“Fun?” Illumi dries his hands and walks out the bathroom door, Hisoka right behind. “I have no need for fun. Fun doesn’t get you anything. Training and work does.”

“Well aren’t you the life of the party.” Hisoka’s words drip with sarcasm.

“Look, you got that job done quickly. You said so yourself. That means you probably have oh I’d say 6 hours before anyone is even expecting anything of you. Lets have some fun shall we.”

Illumi doesn’t look convinced so Hisoka is surprised and delighted when his answer comes sooner than expected. “Fine damnit. What do you have in mind.”

Hisoka smiles slyly. “Hisoka I am NOT having sex with you.” Illumi states flatly.

Hisoka shrugs, “Oh well, was worth a shot. Speaking of shots, have you ever played shot poker? I feel like gambling AND drinking. We are in a casino afterall.”

“Lets get going then.” Illumi grabs his wallet and heads for the door but Hisoka catches him by the wrist.

“I’d prefer to have our very own private match here,” Hisoka waves his hand and a full deck of cards appear in his hand all fanned out, “I brought up some wine and whiskey earlier, It should be in the fridge.”

Illumi wordlessly heads for the kitchenette and pulls the rather small bottles from the fridge. There are six in total. Two red wine, two whiskey and two are something Illumi can’t identify.

“Ah you found them.” Hisoka smiles. He is sitting on the floor around the oval coffee table shuffling the cards and laying out the glasses.

Illumi places the bottles on the floor next to the table, “Right, so how do we play.”

“I assume you have played poker before?”

“Yes yes but what are the additional rules. For one I see no chips.”

“That is because we bet with shots instead.” Hisoka explains. “Unlike with regular poker it is the looser that takes it all. The looser will down all the shots bet.”

“And how does one win this game?” Illumi enquirers leaning back on his hands.

“Simple! In our version we win by making the other too drunk to keep playing.” Hisoka’s smile is thin and excited.

“And what determines ‘too drunk to keep playing’?” Illumi asks eyeing the six bottles.

Hisoka looks annoyed at this question. “Till one of us passes out, throws up, or admits defeat.“

“May I add to that list?” —Illumi

“Be my guest.” —Hisoka

“Well as you know my family trains all of us as kids to be immune to poison. This means that I could be unaffected by alcohol if I chose to. However I have found a way that allows me to get drunk or high like anyone else if I want to. My condition is that neither of us use such protections.”

“Well if that is all lets begin. I bet 1 shots of whiskey.” Hisoka looks for any reaction but Illumi has a resting poker face as it is.

“Then I bet 2 shots of wine.”

Hisoka wins this round and Illumi drinks the shots, “I’ve never liked whiskey but the wine is actually good.”

Hisoka wins the next rounds and Illumi is suffering from it. Even without using his poison protection abilities he has a high tolerance for alcohol, but 3 shots of wine and 2 shots of whiskey in he is definitely feeling it.

“Come on Illumi, you can do better than that dont make me stay sober the whole night.” Hisoka teases.

The next round goes to Illumi and Hisoka smiles with surprise. He had bet 2 shots on this one.

“There almost even now.” Illumi says his voice loose with alcohol, as Hisoka downs his 4 shots.

Hisoka looks down his nose at his now empty shot glass. “Hmmm I have to disagree with you the whiskey is much better than the wine.”

Illumi giggles and Hisoka’s focus snaps to him in shock. “Why you staring at me.” Illumi slurs, still giggling to himself.

“Illumi you’re giggling.” Hisoka laughs.

“What, I giggle!” Illumi looks confused and that just makes Hisoka more amused, “You cackle sure but you don’t giggle!”

Illumi shrugs lazily. And tips over with unintended grace to lay on his side “I think I’m drunk.”

“You THINK?” Hisoka gets up to grab Illumi (an himself honestly) some much needed food and water.

“Lets keep playing Im fine.” Hisoka hears Illumi’s deep voice whine and a hand grab his arm.

Hisoka is taken aback by the contact Illumi is not a touchy person at all. “I’m just getting us some food and water so we can continue.”

Illumi reluctantly releases his grip and flops back down. Hisoka can’t help but notice how pretty Illumi is. The man’s raven hair matches his void eyes and long lashes.

PART TWO COMING SOON

A Favorite fan art:

(Unfortunately do not know original artist.)

[dhudjsnnans]

alright

in my experience, alot of mid songs that i skimmed through, but there are gems in here, ....most of which i've already listened to- anyways here we go.

[absolutely]

these are songs that made me bop my head, and a handful of these songs will be songs i will most likely listen to again.

-The villain i appear to be (connor spiotto, molly pease)

Ah fuck yeah this one, i love this song; as is with most people i knew of this one cause of a certain animation; it was a pleasant surprise suddenly hearing it here and yeah what else am i going to say? everyone knows it's a good song.

-Mixed Messages (Tom cardy)

The moment i heard the first beats of this song i immedientally smiled, i love this song and "red flags." if i were to tear out bits of my spontaneous abnoxious scorpio asshole side and convert it into a musical, i'd have the same vibe as this beaut.

-Hello, world (Louie Zong)

Really gives me the moods, i like it plenty, it's an echo of the past; the computers first words were a greetings to the world, and it's main goal that stands till this day is to simply serve and provide for us.

the cosmos bred nature, and nature bred man, and man bred computers; it's a new aspect of the world and it is no better or worse than it's forefathers and foremothers, just another instrument for the harmony of life.

and having that thought while this song of a machiene introducing itself to us really hits me in a soft spot, i like it.

-Talking 'bout bri (MegaGoneFree)

So i think this is a song about some trans person talking shit about their past self, or smth i think? idk; but it sure does rock, or well, jazz; the instrumentals that dance in the background and the nice vocals really come in unison with this one, it's a bop.

-Help let me go (Danny Gonzalez)

Alot of late 2000's vibes with this one yeah? love it, love that; i like songs that are just plain fun and aren't bound to anything, and tell some funny nonsense story; this is the most banger call for help if i've ever seen one.

[eh sure]

these are songs that were a pleasure to listen to, but i most likely wouldn't actually listen to again lol.

-Wine Red (The Hush Sound)

the singer who goes all GLORRRRIAAAAAAAAA was pretty good, but yeah all in all it's neat.

-Remember you (Adventure time trillian cover)

sweet sounding lullaby, it's pretty sweet.

well, i mean it is just a sweet sounding lullaby i don't really have any other word for it other than sweet.

-Saint Bernard (Lincoln)

i have an animatic planned out for this one, and it's the only reason why i listen to it over and over; standing on it's own as a song however? it's just fine; i'd rather just listen to your cover if i actually wanted to hear a better version of it.

-Introduction to the snow (Miracle Musical)

alastor is that you? anyways i'm pretty sure everyone's made that conclusion before; but i've seen this album before "miracle musical", still haven't gotten to give them a listen however, but this one's a nice little introduction to their album, or well show i think?

-Easy to breathe (Jack Stauber)

love jack stauber and i love opal, but this song about the grandpa is just fine; some metaphor about people who spend too much time on screens and also smoke alot.

-The consequence of imagination is fear (junie & thehutfriends)

i like the powerful industrial vibes, vocals are fine but too monotone for my liking; it felt like it was gonna build up to something better but no it stayed in the course of the waters, and it was fine i guess.

-We'll never have sex (Leith ross)

hey look mel, ace rep.

this is a pretty sweet song, cute lyrics, cute singer, all about simple love without expectations of getting dirty with it; it was simple, it was sweetness, makes me sit awhile.

-Community Gardens (The Scary Jokes)

i mean, yeah i suppose it sounds sweet.

-How i'd kill (Cowboy Malfoy)

sexy cowboy, that's all i'll say.

-Interlude IV (showtime) (Zack Callison, Grace Rolek)

alot of Hamilton vibes in this one; i am dead certain there has got to be a hundred thousand animatics about this one.

-Flight of the crows (Jhariah)

too bombastic for my taste, didn't click for me; sounds cool though.

-Bad End Theater - True End (NomnomNami)

idk, sounds neat i guess, it has portal vibes that's all i'm saying.

[i made a bed with apathy with these]

these are songs that i don't really care about, or are just subjectively bad.

-Nights like these (Pigeon Pit)

sounds like a shared panic attack; it has charm and it was going for a style i'll admit, but it's just, eh? *gestures*

-You're not welcome (Naethan Apollo)

"oh oh! don't ya know? that this song ain't very good!" mid, sounded weird, didn't like, it's most likely the worst song on the playlist; no offense to the author of course. it was a bit catchy i'll give it that.

-Digital Silence (Peter McPoland)

sounds like something i'd hear in a 2000's stick fighting animation; it does not sound good on it's own but i believe it'd go hard if it was accompanied by something that outweighs how bad it is.

didn't like, but i could like it.

-I Fucked yr Mom (Sorry Mom)

despite the humorous name it's just one massive shitpost made into a song, "it was funny the first time but 2 times is fucking annoying y'know?" alot of angsty energy, and not the good kind.

Spotify Discovery 10/2

Lot of ukulele tracks in this one, and it’s a mixed bag. I cannot explain for the life of me what makes a ukelele song sound not bad to me but when I crack that code you’ll know.

Generally good though! The bad tracks though I hated more than last time. Also sorry for the delay I had work and a litany of other things (other writing projects) that distracted me lmao.

Good:

Playing on Train Tracks: Very Mountain Goats in its execution, note that it does cover self-destructive behaviors so be wary but the honesty here is captured so well. I love the use of language and metaphor, cutting live wires, standing on the cliff but never jumping, standing on the train tracks, it hits. The simple instrumentals isn’t overly “stripped down” it fits the subject. Good stuff.

What We Have is You: A song from Kipo, a nice little lullaby. Don’t remember what the context of this bit was in the show but I really liked it. Sterling K Brown has a nice voice.

The Dragon of Climate Change: Not one I’ll listen to frequently but I did enjoy the jaunty folk feel combined with the “fuck the rich” vibes. Calling out carbon credits was a good bit. Very bard core.

Lover (take me to the moon): Gives me confused person in love and I think it works. I wish I could really say what makes these sorts of songs click with me vs brush them off as kinda overdone but I’m afraid it’s a mystery to me as well.

Ghost Choir Vocals: Gives the iconic Ghost Choir lyrics in the style of “Mr.Sandman” and the singer is absolutely lovely. Fun and short, always a treat to hear the ghost choir in general and Louie’s instrumentals lend to the singer’s voice.

Davy Jones: I’ve listened to this cover a shit ton on Youtube and still love the vocals. The Davy Jones/Calypso storyline is a fav and there’s just. Mwah. Chef’s kiss vibes. Not much to say here other than absolute banger. (For an improved experience look up the duet version).

Suffering: A dance to agony, it works in a way of celebrating despite it all. The singer is lovely, the guitar is jaunty, and the rhythm is fast and fun. I like it! Gives me Crane Wives vibes and that’s always a plus for me.

Medusa in a Stone Garden: There’s an interesting energy around this one kinda folk rock? I like the Medusa energy, the repetition can wear on at times but other than that? Excellent.

The Water is Fine: Gives me Mariza/Delta vibes, there’s nice overlap on the vocals, there’s energy here too that is fun. A bit Oh Hellos, a bit Amazing Devil.

Anywhere But Here: A lovely little music box style waltz, very romantic. Melancholic too, and just the sort of thing I like to wind down to.

Duet in Death: Another classical piece, I’m sure if I knew more about the webtoon Nevermore I’d have more of an affinity? But a duet between a piano and a violin is one I’m always a sucker for. I adore violins when they’re done well and this one is spectacular.

Devil’s Flesh & Bones: Another WTNV alumni! Eliza Rickman is neat, she’s got a very distinct voice, kinda Cabaret and kinda jazz. This one all works for me.

Neutral:

Rises the moon: The vocal performance of this cover is… a little shaky at times? But I like the song and I think that it’s alright.

Tough to be a Bug: A twee little ukulele ditty, it’s cute but not really one that I’ll listen to. A bit too soft for me ig.

Bird Song: Not the Florence and the Machine song, but a different one. I enjoyed the folk vibes but the chorus has this kinda tropical electronica and that’s just not my vibe? The song has a general montage feel which works for what it is but a meh experience overall.

A Shitty Gay Song About You: The guitar plus the twinkly xylophone and the monotone vocals aren’t… really my vibe. The lyrics are kinda neat, but it’s not for me. I could see someone making a cute animatic to it though.

I think I want to be alone: Relatable but the style is a little too TikTok for me with the playful vibes combined with the depressing lyrics? Doesn’t scratch an itch for me.

Nah

Katarina Josephina: I’m not really sure what to make of this one. It’s got the trappings of a folk story song but it’s got a strange energy to it. Not certain what to say doesn’t work for me, but the trap break definitely does not.

The Spider’s Face: I like the song Nothing from this musical but goddamn this one is too “playful sing song evil” for me. The plucking strings and the vocals… it does not do it for me. Very unpleasant to listen to.

Aisling Song: I do not enjoy listening to children sing. This is a child singing in a very ~dreamlike~ way. I’m sure this works in the movie “Secret of Kells” but without the visuals I would really rather not listen.

PATROCLUS MEETS HIS FATE: I love orchestral stuff, I love video game music, but the artificial strings really take away any of the grandiosity for me. It’s very canned and I’m not a fan.

Typical Me: DSMP song and not a good one. I don’t like the vocals or the lyrics. Very monotone and unpleasant.

Give a Little: The saxophone and vintage swing feel are neat but I reaaaaally don’t like the vocals. They ruin it for me. Sorry CG5 but really not doing it for me.

64 Little White Things: This is Scary Jokes with the vocal style and again. Not a fan of that. There’s something about the vocals that just sets my teeth on edge, the sing/talking style with the modulation and the carnival music… no. Can’t do it.

[woos-lil-oreo]

Love Scene

Pairing: Song Min Gi x Female! Reader

Word Count: approximately 3.1k words

Warnings: Slight Voyeurism???, Mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing/swearing, biting, spitting, Reader is a slight pillow princess, UNPROTECTED SEX (plastic wrap your peenie weenies), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, slight use of pet names... I think that's it.

Author's Note: Most of this is a BIG self-indulgence XD and that Mingi gif always get me going... AnYwAyS, This fic is NSFW!!!! If you are uncomfy, do not read! If I miss anything, please tell me. If you wanna join the taglist, send me an ask and let me know. Don't steal... all that ✨ jazz ✨ music. Drink your water and enjoy my dirty lil harlots 😉

Taglist: @shusan @woowommy @ceopjy @joongsprincess @yunhofingers

Intro and Masterlist ✨

This is the happiest day of your life. You are dolled up in a beautiful snow-white dress decorated in speckled sequins and intricate rhinestone designs.

Your makeup is simple yet glamourous with a simple natural smoky eye with a shimmer in the inner corners. There is this aural glow of happiness around you, and you genuinely feel like a princess.

You are standing in front of your handsome fiancée with your hands holding each other, who is decked out in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt accented with a deep royal blue tie and shiny black Oxfords.

Hongjoong’s friend, Maddox, recites the point in the script where the vows would be repeated by you and your soon to be husband.

The vows. A spiritual binding of words that will connect the two of you until the end of eternity… or until you two get tired of each other, whichever comes first.

As you repeat after Maddox, Mingi’s eyes glisten with tears of joy. As much as he willed himself not to, one little miscreant of a tear dared to fall. You drop one of your hands to go wipe the tear stream off of his cheek.

The guests proceed to awe in adoration. Seonghwa fans his eyes to prevent his tears from falling, while Hongjoong is sporting a runny nose and a giant crocodile tear down his cheek, clinging to Seonghwa’s shoulder.

As you listen to Mingi recite his vows, tears start to well up in your eyes. You grip Mingi’s hand a little tighter to calm yourself because your makeup is beautifully done, and you’d be damned if you let a teardrop and a dried tear stain appear on your cheek. Jae-hee would have your ass. You got through the ceremony without tears!

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” Maddox proclaims. You turn to Mingi, who now has one of the brightest smiles ever on his face, and he leaves a nice, sweet, lingering peck on your lips, still holding your hands.

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that!” Wooyoung screams out, earning himself a nice smack to the forehead from Yeosang. Wooyoung winces and rubs the spot while the guests laugh at their interaction and turn back to you when Mingi lets go of your hand and smirks.

Mingi pulls you to his chest, grabs you by the waist – pulling you close to him – and kisses you. As the kiss gets deeper, he places his hand on your cheek – steadying your head, and your hands work their way to the back of his head.

The crowd begins to root the two of you on, and Jae-hee screams out, “You guys are literally about to get a room!” You both pull away from each other and look at your husband. Mingi has a very thin layer of shimmer lip gloss on his mouth, and his cheeks and the tips of his ears are red.

A now very flustered and blushy boi Maddox quickly recollects himself from what he just witnessed and mutters, “They don’t pay me enough,” with a chuckle before he announces, loud and proud, “I-I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Song Min Gi!”

Everyone stands up from their seats and creates a round of applause as the newlywed couple leads the processional to the area where the wedding party, which is beautifully attired in soft peach pink dresses and deep royal sapphire blue accented suits, is to take pictures of one of the most important days you will never forget.

~25 minutes later~

The host has completed the introductions for the most chaotic wedding party that has ever existed, and everyone is getting to their seats in the venue.

The reception hall is absolutely stunning! The same colors of the wedding party are accented with gold. Diamonds are loosely scattered across the table, tealight candles alit floating in water vases, giving the room a soft glow in addition to the dimmed lighting.

The caterers are dressed in a clean white shirt, a black vest, and slacks. The guys have a royal blue sleeve garter, and the girls a soft peach one.

Once everyone has settled at their tables, Jae-hee and Yunho approach the front of the makeshift stage to make their toasts as Maid of Honor and Best Man.

Jae-hee grabs the microphone first, and she is already tearing up, and she is usually not one for emotion often. “Y/N, we have been friends for so long��� we are practically sisters. I’ve watched you grow into a beautiful and confident woman… and even though I put you through some shit….” All of ATEEZ shakes their head and groan in agreement, and the rest of the guests laugh in response.

Jae-hee rolls her eyes and continues. “I’m so happy that you have found the love of your life and that I wasn’t the first to get married.” You roll your eyes and get up to hug her, and she meets you halfway. While in her embrace, she whispers, “I love you, baby girl,” and you respond with the same hushed tone, “I love you, too,” letting one measly tear run.

You two kiss each other’s cheek, and you return to your seat, and Jae-hee returns to the stage. She grabs Yunho’s handkerchief to dab away her tears before they fall through mascara. “Mingi, I officially welcome you into the messy integration that is our family.” Mingi chuckles and nods in response.

The mic is passed to Yunho. “Mingi, you have grown into an immaculate young man who is decorated with accomplishments and people who love you. I’m really proud of you, and I wish you two the best of luck. Y/N, I have watched you become each other’s yin and yang. You may be a bit of a handful,” you roll your eyes and chuckle. “… But we love you so much, and we welcome you into our quote – end quote ‘messy integration that is our family.’” Yunho walks over to give you a kiss on the cheek, and bro hugs Mingi.

“Cheers!” After an emotional toast from Hongjoong and Seonghwa, it was time for the party to begin, and I mean both aspects of the term. Which explains why you are now seated in a chair in the middle of the dance floor. Mingi is standing across from you with a slightly evil glint in his eye.

Hope You Do by Chris Brown blares through the speakers in the venue. You immediately cover your warm cheeks with your hands to conceal the blush and warmth there, knowing what is to come. Mingi starts to remove his suit jacket… and Yeosang, Yunho, and surprisingly, Jongho remove their coats as well.

As the trio wines and grinds on the floor behind the Groom, Mingi moves closer towards you to go and remove your garter.

When he reaches you, he does not even take the time to bunch up your dress and goes straight into hunting for the garter. His big hands rub around the top of your knees to find it.

When he does, he drops his hands to the floor to give himself leverage. He proceeds to leave a speckled trail of kisses up your leg and bites right below the garter, causing you to yelp in surprise and the crowd to holler out.

Mingi drags the garter down your leg to your ankle and removes it from your foot. At this point, there is a tension between you two that begs and pleads to be relieved.

Mingi stands to his feet, grabbing your hands to guide you straight up off the chair. You two make eye contact, and you can see the tension. “Alright young bachelorettes, come out to the floor and catch you a bouquet!” The host says in the mic, and all the women move to the floor, ready to start drinking, the actual after-party, and the real fun.

When all participants are on the floor, you pretend to throw the bouquet to keep them on edge. After a few false turns, you finally throw, and Jae-hee sprints to the front to catch it effortlessly.

“Yeahhh bitches, I’m next to get married!!!” She jumps up and down as you laugh and the other ladies leave the floor.

The host announces that it is the fellas’ turn to come out on the floor. It was not as many males as females, but there was a good amount present. Mingi played the same card as you: pretending to throw the garter until he did.

In an ironic twist of events, Jongho caught it on the top of his head like a flower crown. When he patted his head to confirm he sort of caught it, he made eye contact with Jae-hee.

They both quickly look away with a bright pink flush on their cheeks, which causes you and Mingi to laugh together. He wraps his arms across your shoulder blades and squeezes your shoulder. You look at him questioningly, and he nods to the door. You nod and grab his hand, running to the back door with your husband.

Seonghwa will have your ass for running out and leaving him and Hongjoong to clean up your mess, but that is a tomorrow problem, and you have more… pressing matters to deal with.

Mingi is flying down the street with you in the back seat to compensate room for your dress. As he tries to get to your home without getting a ticket, you untie his tie and proceed to rub down his chest, slow and meticulously popping one button after another.

Before you could decorate his neck in pretty little hickeys and love bites, the car jerks to a stop, and he power strides to your door and opens it. He grabs you in his arms bridal style out of the vehicle.

You were surprised at how easy he made that look, especially with all of the extra fluff on your dress. He carries you into the threshold with ease, kissing you as if his life depends on it.

When Mingi blindly finds your room, he puts you down on your feet, spins you around, and begins to unzip your dress. He kisses under your ear and down your neck as your dress pools around your feet. He breaks away to rest his forehead on yours.

“As much I would love to pound you into the mattress right now, I would like for our first time as a married couple to be gentle,” he breathes out. You nod your head, and he slowly turns you around to unclip the black strapless bra, allowing your breasts to drop.

He returns his mouth back to your neck and softly twists your nipple between his fingers, eliciting tingles to run all over your body. As good as the feeling was, you remove Mingi’s hand and spin around to face your husband. You walk backward until the back of your legs hit the mattress and lean back.

MIngi crawls on top of you and slowly kisses you. You can feel the passion and love through it, causing you to shiver. Mingi, once again, pulls away from you to drag your black lace panties down your legs. He throws them across the room and stands from the bed, peeling away the dress shirt you opened in the car.

The shirt drops to the floor, and he begins to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor. The pants come next, along with the boxer briefs, and they pooled around his ankles. You bite your finger and lick your lips with lust-darkened eyes as you are being blessed with this private show.

Mingi returns to your V of your legs and brings your ankle to his mouth, leaving delicate kisses down the inner side of your leg until he reaches the inner thigh, where he leaves a bite – causing you to giggle and squirm a bit.

He lifts himself to where his penis grazes your labia. He rubs the tip along your slit and teases the tip inside of your core. “You ready, baby?” He sticks the reddened tip inside, just to pull it back out, and repeats this a couple times until you are a whining and moaning little mess. He finally pushes his dick past the tip and slowly moves into you, allowing you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock.

You moan in relief and very, very, VERY slight pain due to his girth, and Mingi doesn’t stop until he is at the hilt, meeting you pelvis to pelvis. He doesn’t move for a second, trying to collect himself before he busts in you from the tightness of your honey pot. You shiver as he pants in your neck, leaving goosebumps wherever his warm minty breath hits.

You grind your hips around, signaling that you have adjusted to his size, and he moans out at the action. He begins to pump inside very slowly in and out of you, with his brows scrunched and his bottom lip being bitten.

You hear the squelching noises from his slow pace. When you started getting louder, Mingi moves a bit faster, seeing that you are slowly reaching your orgasm, and frankly, so is he. “Baby, I love you so much,” he mutters like a mantra as he helps you both reach new heights.

You two have made love before, but never to this extent. After every mutter, your heart from knowing that this is the man you will spend the rest of your life with. You place your hand on the back of Mingi’s neck to kiss him, but before your lips could make contact, Mingi stops.

He licks the base of his thumb and places a firm pressure on your clitoris, and then kisses you, his tongue swirling around your own. You two are seeing specks of light under your eyelids from cumming so hard. It may not have been anything degrading, rough or intense in that sense. Still, it was absolutely beautiful joining souls with your lover.

~The Next Morning~

You wake up feeling floaty, like you are lying on a cloud. Your husband is asleep with his arm draped around your waist. As you face Mingi, his features are soft, and it looks like he is in bliss. You place your hand on his cheek and caress the apple.

When you are done admiring your husband, you carefully move his arm to his side to make breakfast. You are successful in not waking Mingi and hop out of bed, still naked from last night’s escapades. “Wow, it feels nice to say that,” you think as you grab your husband’s dress shirt and run to the bathroom to clean Mingi’s cum that has dripped down your leg.

~A few minutes later~

You are now in the kitchen, whipping up some waffle batter. The table is decorated with a nicely plated array of bacon and a bowl of freshly washed and cut fruit. You finish plugging in the waffle iron when your husband wraps his arms around your shoulders and spins you around.

He quickly lifts you on the counter. “Good morning, Mrs. Song.” He says huskily from his morning voice. You try to reply with a greeting, but Mingi catches the words in your mouth. Your lips are smashed together from Mingi’s fervency, and his long and slender fingers start to move down to your hole.

“Oh my goodness, babe. You’re so wet for me.” He teased. You moan out while he rubs your entrance, spreading your slick up and down. “You like this, don’t you?” He asks when he pushes a finger in, causing you to scream in response. “Those weren’t proper words, but I’ll take it.” He responds while adding another finger in and drastically changing his pace. You cry out due to the incredible speed. Mingi looks up at you.

Your head is tilted back, tiny pants coming from your mouth, and hands grabbing the counter as if to ground yourself. Mingi lets a drop of spit fall from his mouth and adds another finger to add more lubrication and bring you closer to climax.

You start to squirm on the counter, which is now soaked in your fluids, and whimper softly. A telltale sign that you are almost there; you just need that one little push. Mingi kneels down to be face to face with your cunt, and he stares at your dripping core as if he was hypnotized by how well you are taking his digits.

A loud moan from you knocks him out of his trance, and he adds one more finger and starts to apply suction on your button. A blinding white light flashes behind your eyelids, and a fuzzy warmth roams all over your body.

You breathe heavily from your high, and Mingi slows his speed, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. He slowly removes his fingers, causing you to whimper from overstimulation, and brings them to your mouth.

You immediately open your mouth to welcome in the appendages and begin to suck them as if your life depends on it. The spit dribbles from your mouth down your chin and along Mingi’s forearm. He gently pulls at your jaw to open your mouth and spits in your mouth.

“Swallow.” He growls, and you do not think twice about disobeying him. He returns to kiss you, mixing your natural taste with your juices and his tongue.

He pulls away, and your fucked out state is adorable: your eyes are dilated from here to Hell, saliva glistening your chin, your cheeks are heavily flushed, and your ass is drenched with your cum.

“If this is what I wake to every morning, I’m not complaining.” Mingi chuckles. “You didn’t even get to have breakfast yet.” You laughed. He looks with an eyebrow raised… “Oh, you meant actual food?” You nod your head.

“As long as I have you, I don’t think I’ll need anything else.” He cheesily says. “Yeah, sure, that’s not what your body will be saying.” You retaliate as you jump off the counter, cringing when you hear your butt peel off the corner from your juices.

Mingi laughs, grabs some paper towels to clean that. When he’s done, he washes his hands and proceeds to help you cook so you two can build the stamina to christen the rest of your home together. Well, christen is not the right word… more like fuck like rabbits until the morning light returns.

~~~~~

And there's the fic ✨ hope you enjoyed the read ✨ leave an ask and say hi or even follow me or reblog if you did

[mrsalwayswrite]

Hvítr gown, nýr life (Ubbe x Reader)

This is my contribution to @geekandbooknerd​ 2k followers challenge! Congrats again, my dear! 

My prompt was: "People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." - Cassandra Clare, City of Glass. 

Couple notes for this fic- Bjorn & Torvi are still together because reasons. Italics mean speakers are using Old Norse. 

The title means ‘White Gown, New Life’ in Old Norse. 

Also, this is my first time writing Ubbe so.... hopefully its not OOC?

Words: 4800

Warnings: one or two swear words. implied sex. I think that’s it???

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

"You cannot truly be considering this!" Bjorn thundered in the small, enclosed room. 

 Ubbe observed his elder brother- a man he had aspired to be like his whole childhood, a man he still looked up too, regardless of his faults. "Of course I am."

 Bjorn slammed his hand on the wooden table, making it shake, as his voice shook like thunder in the room. "You are throwing your future away!"

 "I am protecting our future!" Ubbe snapped, finally rising to his feet, irritation leaking into his tone. He met Bjorn's incensed blue eyes with his own resolute gaze. "We need allies, alliances, everything to make father's dream come true. If this is the price I must pay to fulfill Ragnar's dream, then I will gladly do it. It is not about me. It's for our people."

 After a long, tense moment, Lagertha pushed off the wall she and Torvi were leaning against. Gliding closer, she moved to stand in front of Ubbe, tears swimming in her eyes. Gently, she cupped his cheeks. "Your father would be so proud of you, Ubbe. I pray the gods bless you with happiness in this."

 "Thank you, Lagertha." Relief swelled in Ubbe's chest. If he had Lagertha's support, he knew Bjorn would come around. 

 Since they fled Kattegat and came to England, he had watched the shieldmaiden age before his eyes. He could not help but wonder if her soul yearned for Valhalla and to be reunited with Ragnar. Not that he could blame her. To hear her speak of Ragnar and his approval of Ubbe's actions, it only further solidified his choice. 

 Torvi spoke up, surprising him.  "I think Ubbe should do it." When Bjorn opened his mouth to interject, she snapped her gaze over to her husband. "This is his decision, Ubbe. He has asked for our advice but it is up to him. We need security and this, though we don't trust them, this can provide that security."

 Bjorn huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine! Do what you want!" 

 "Thank you." Ubbe softly said, looking at all the family he had left in this world. "I'll go inform King Alfred now." 

 With a firm stride, he left the quarters they had been given in Wessex. After some time trying to locate the young king, a passing servant was able to tell him Alfred's location. Thankfully the king was in his private study, reviewing petitions from the worker's guild. The guards at the door allowed Ubbe entrance only after the king called out to allow him entrance. With a look of unrestrained animosity, almost begging him to give them a reason to throw him out, the guards opened the door for him to pass. Ubbe nodded his thanks, but never removed his hand from the sword at his side until the door closed behind him. 

 Straightening in his chair, Alfred looked up from the papers spread out over his desk. "Good afternoon, Ubbe. I suspect you have sought me out because you have an answer for my proposition."

 "I do, your highness." Ubbe paused, knowing how his life was going to irrevocably change once he answered. "And I will accept. I will take a Saxon wife to further the alliance between us."

 "I am greatly pleased by your decision." The dark-haired man pushed away from his desk. He moved to a nearby table to pour them both a cup of wine, something these Saxons seemed to favor, as he continued speaking. "Alliances must be built on trust and understanding. A political marriage certainly helps solidify that trust."

 Ubbe received the cup, missing the taste of ale from his homeland. After taking a small sip, he stared at Alfred. "So what do we do now? Do I meet some potentials or is there a matchmaker?"

 "No, I already have someone picked out for you. My cousin." Alfred answered without hesitation before pausing in contemplation. "What your father and my grandfather would think of this arrangement….our families tied by blood."

 "Yeah…. What is her name?"

 "My cousin? Lady Y/N. Fear not, she comes from a well-respected family and with a substantial dowry. She has spent most of her life at a nunnery, so there is no fear of her virtue being tainted."

 "Great." Ubbe sighed out. Though he knew Alfred meant all that to be reassuring….it felt anything but. 

 *****

 It was not until almost a month later, Ubbe met his intended bride; with the wedding set for three days after her arrival. Apparently King Alfred and some of the Saxon noblemen were keen on the arranged marriage happening as soon as possible. 

 Ubbe stood off to the side in the throne room. With his hair freshly braided and pulled back and wearing one of his nicer tunics, he hoped he appeared princely. Even if by Saxon standards, he knew he fell woefully short. Lagertha had given him a nod of approval as they waited in the throne room. Though outwardly he kept his face passive and calm, his insides twisted into knots and his hands were clammy. 

 "Are you still certain about this, brother?" Bjorn clapped Ubbe on the shoulder as he whispered, eyeing the Saxons standing around. 

 The flaxen-haired Viking glanced over at King Alfred, who sat on his throne, talking in hushed tones to one of his advisors while his mother looked on with a sour expression. 

 Ubbe answered solemnly. "Aye, we need this alliance."

 With a grunt, Bjorn removed his hand but stayed at his brother's side. Something Ubbe appreciated. Although Bjorn had no issue airing his thoughts on this foolish alliance and how Ubbe was making a mistake in regards to choosing a wife again, he kept his complaints behind closed doors. In front of the Saxons, they presented an united front. 

 The large doors to the throne room opened with a groan. All eyes turned to witness as a sole figure cautiously yet gracefully walked forward, head held high and hands clasped in front of her. 

 "Cousin!" King Alfred exclaimed, rising from his throne, arms spread wide. Immediately, he descended the few stairs with a fond smile on his face. "Your presence has been missed here at court."

 The woman dipped into an elegant curtsey, her dress gliding around her like water. "You are far too kind, my king."

 As King Alfred embraced his cousin in a warm hug, Ubbe could only stare in shock. Standing there in a deep red gown, the woman looked like a goddess. Ubbe had prepared himself mentally for his intended bride to be marginally pretty like most of these Saxon women, but someone he easily overlooked. Not her though. Without even saying a word to him, he felt beguiled by her. It was more than just her physical beauty, it was in the way she carried herself, with grace and a nobility. It reminded him distantly of his mother. A woman who knew her place and dignity. This woman, his intended bride, was truly stunning. He could not help but wonder if the true reason for her prolonged residence at a nunnery was not because of piety but to preserve and protect her. Something he was suddenly immensely grateful for. 

 "This is your betrothed." Alfred walked her over to where the Vikings stood, at the bottom of the steps leading to his throne. With a pleased smile on his face, he introduced the two. "Ubbe, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, this is my cousin, Lady Y/N." 

 She curtsied to him, her movements so graceful like they were part of a dance. When she spoke, he was further enchanted, for even her voice was beautiful. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Ubbe."

 "It's just Ubbe. Since we are to be married, we can skip the formalities."

 A coy smile played on her lips. "As you wish….Ubbe."

 "Excellent." King Alfred beamed. "Perhaps a walk in the gardens to better acquaint yourselves would be desirable?"

 Before Ubbe could whole-heartedly agree, wishing to learn more about his intended bride, a sickly-sweet voice interrupted. 

 "Y/N has only just arrived. We have wedding plans to finalize and she must try on her dress." Princess Judith interrupted, wrapping an arm through her niece's while pointedly ignoring the Vikings. "Maybe another time, but I am sure y/n will be quite busy with preparations. Come, my dear."

 With that, she swept her niece out of the throne room as if the Vikings had the plague and she refused to breathe the same air as them. But before y/n disappeared, she peeked over her shoulder and met Ubbe's gaze with a tender smile teasing her lips, then disappeared from view. 

 "There is much to finalize and my mother wants to ensure the wedding will go smoothly. You and y/n will have time after the wedding to become acquainted." Alfred said, studying the direction his mother and cousin vanished. With a sigh, he pulled his gaze back to Ubbe. "Now that introductions are made, I have matters with the clergy to attend to."

 Ubbe barely paid attention when Alfred walked away, returning to his throne and listening to some priests whine about something petty. 

 A bump of a shoulder against his own drew Ubbe's attention back from thinking about y/n. 

 Bjorn leaned over to whisper conspiracingly in his ear. "Well, at least you won't have a problem bedding her." 

 *****

 The wedding ceremony was outlandish and dragged on for entirely too long. Between the many prayers of the priests and the rigid formality of everything, Ubbe was ready to draw his sword and spill some Christian blood, just to break up the monotony. Even Lagertha appeared ready to fall asleep from where she stood. 

 The only aspect that kept his attention was his bride. Watching her walk down the aisle, he almost swallowed his tongue, leaving him gaping at her in a slack-jawed awe as she slowly approached. In her flowing wedding dress, a crown of flowers in her hair and eyes alight, she appeared ethereal. Standing in his nicest tunic and pants, he knew he paled in comparison to her, but he did not mind. 

 When the priests tried to forcefully convince Ubbe to dress in Saxon clothing for the wedding, he not-so-subtly threatened to decapitate them if they mentioned it once more. He was a Viking and would dress as such. Besides this was to be a physical representation of an alliance between Saxon and Viking, it would make no sense for him to dress as a Saxon. 

 Thankfully Alfred agreed with his thoughts, so the clergy kept any further comments to themselves. 

 Once the wedding concluded with Ubbe and y/n proclaimed man and wife, the couple was escorted to the celebration. The following feast was beyond lavish, with drink and food in overflowing abundance. To his dismay, Ubbe found himself unable to converse with his new bride. Either Alfred was introducing him to someone new, some nobleman pestered him with questions or worst of all, Judith purposefully continued to make excuses that pulled y/n away. When their eyes met, he could see the apology in them, which lightened the stone in his heart. 

 As the feast progressed, Ubbe found as more time passed, the more his gaze drifted to his bride. The gods had truly blessed him with this marriage. Watching her, he was captivated. Although, he found his hand frequently shifting to reach for the hilt of his sword no longer strapped to his side. All the appreciative or lustful looks she received from other men did not go unnoticed, and if one of them tried to lay a hand on his new wife, he would not be held accountable for his actions. His fists could be just as deadly as any weapon.

 Finally, the time was called for the bedding ceremony. 

 Alfred and some of the clergy explained to Ubbe what happened during a bedding ceremony when he was learning about the wedding's customs and the vows he would have to recite. To say the Ragnarsson was shocked was an understatement. It sounded barbaric…. and him and his people were called the heathens. But he understood the need to maintain protocol for building the alliance and the trust of the Saxons. 

 So that was how he found himself walking down a corridor with Bjorn at his side, while the feast and celebrations continued on without him. 

 "Are you sure about this?" 

 Ubbe rolled his eyes at his elder brother, his stride never faltering. "You did not have to agree to it."

 Bjorn scoffed, keeping pace. "And miss out on all the fun?"

 The two brothers laughed, the sound loosening some of the tension in the bridegroom's body. When Alfred told Ubbe he needed a witness to represent his people at the bedding ceremony, Bjorn was the only option. When Ubbe initially told his brother about the tradition and asked for Bjorn's presence, the hulking Viking had doubled-over in laughter, followed by making several crude comments about the need to instruct Ubbe on how to properly bed a woman. The discussion ended in a brotherly tussel but Bjorn agreed.��

 Especially when Ubbe explained his plan. 

 The bedroom was in the wing of the royal families' rooms. Since y/n was related by blood, she was given a room there whenever she came to visit and naturally, this meant it was where the marriage would be consummated. Several candles were lit but the bedroom was kept dim to give an illusion of privacy. A quick glance at the bed made Ubbe raise an eyebrow at the generous size and the curtains draped around it. A fire burned in the fireplace providing warmth in the bedroom, a sharp contrast to the stern, cold faces of the clergy who waited. 

 The bishop who married them stood off to the side with two other clergy, all in their robes and barely suppressed looks of disgust on the priests' faces. Two female attendees fussed over y/n, clearly everyone waiting for Ubbe and Bjorn. Once again, Ubbe had to force himself to keep his eyes from staying glued to his new wife. She stood there in a thick robe, with her hair falling about her shoulders loosely, free from the bridal veil. Her gaze jumped from Ubbe to the clergy and back as she nibbled on her bottom lip, clearly nervous about what was to occur next. Cheekily, he sent her a quick wink, hoping that would help settle her nerves. If the blush that grew on her cheeks said anything, at least she was not repulsed by him. 

 The bishop stepped forward. "Are you prepared to consummate your marriage to Lady Y/N before God and man?"

 "I am." Ubbe defiantly met the man's eyes. 

 "Then by the power given to me by the Holy Church, let the two become one in the sight of God and these witnesses and the marriage shall be complete." With that, the man drew their strange cross sign in the air and stepped back to rejoin his fellow clergy. 

 The two attendees helped y/n out of her heavy robe, revealing a thin, white nightgown that seemed to only enhance her beauty and innocence. Desire thrummed in his blood at the sight of her, but Ubbe ignored the sensation for the moment. The heavy robe was laid on a nearby chair and the two women left the room with a quick curtsy, leaving only the men and y/n. 

 After a shared look with Bjorn, Ubbe walked over to his new bride, keeping his movements slow so as to not startle her. Her hands were clasped before her, but even as he approached, he could see the faint tremble in them. Her gaze never strayed from the floor. The confidence seen previously in her seemed to have melted away into anxiety, making him think of a skittish colt. He could not help but wonder what changed, if it was due to him or what was supposed to occur between them. 

 Standing before her, he gently reached out to take her soft hands in his own larger, calloused ones, pleased when she did not flinch at his touch. Although her gaze remained downward. 

 "Are you alright?" He whispered, aware of the four pairs of eyes watching their every move. 

 "Of….of course, my lord husband."

 "Remember, I told you to call me by my name."

 That caused her head to snap up and meet his gaze. Now he could see the tears welling up in her eyes and her swollen bottom lip from constantly worrying it. 

 "It'll be alright." He tugged her bottom lip from between her teeth. The way her breath hitched at the intimate touch made his heart pound. He gave her hands in his, a quick squeeze. "Trust me, yeah?"

 After a moment, she gave a faint nod, still eyeing him warily but appearing less like she wanted to flee, mutely squeezing his hands back.

 A voice broke the stillness in the room, immediately causing her to tense again. 

 "The two of you must proceed to the bed to finalize the union. We do not have all night to wait for confirmation of her virginity and consummation." One of the priests drawled with an apparent undertone of disdain. 

 "Then it is a good thing you don't have to wait any longer." Ubbe retorted, narrowing his eyes at the priest. The man huffed but a quiet rebuke from the bishop had the priest pressing his lips together. With one final, assessing scan, the flaxen-haired Viking shifted, pulling his new bride into his side and wrapping an arm around her waist. He felt her tense against him but ignored it to stare at the three clergy with a mocking smirk. "Bjorn."

 At the sound of his name, his brother moved from leaning against the doorframe. A scowl on his face, and with the shadows cast over him, made him appear more looming and menacing. "Everybody out."

 The three clergy looked back and forth between the two Viking brothers, clearly confused and intimidated. 

 "You can't….we must witness…."

 "I SAID EVERYBODY OUT!" Bjorn roared, pulling the axe from his side and waving it in the air. "OR DO I NEED TO SPLIT YOUR SKULL TO HELP MY WORDS REACH YOUR TINY BRAINS?!"

 The three scrambled, eyes wide in terror, tripping over their long robes in a pathetic attempt to reach the door faster. The bishop turned around, hands grasping the golden cross hanging from his neck. "King….King Alfred will hear of this." He stuttered out in feigned confidence. 

 A deafening war cry from Bjorn practically shook the room in answer. That was enough to silence the bishop and have him flee, following his companions.

 At Bjorn's roar, y/n began shaking like a leaf, her hands tightly holding onto Ubbe's arm wrapped around her. He further pulled her against him, providing shelter from his brother's fury. Even as the room fell back into silence, he could still feel her trembling in his arms. He prayed to the gods that this did not darken her view of him and cause her to fear him. 

 Once the room cleared and the pounding footfalls of the clergy could no longer be heard, Bjorn turned around with a grin, scratching the back of his neck with his axe. "You know Alfred will be upset when he finds out." 

 Ubbe smirked. "We can't let him have everything he wants, yeah?"

 That made Bjorn chuckle. "I'll go guard the door." He pointed his axe at Ubbe, still grinning. "You owe me for this."

 "Scaring priests shitless isn't enough for you?"

 Bjorn scoffed. "I can do that whenever I like."

 "We'll name our firstborn after you."

 Bjorn waved him off, opening the wooden door and stepping out. When the door closed, the echoing sound seemed to fill the empty space in the room. 

 Ubbe peeked down at the woman in his arms. "Are you alright?"

 "Your brother….is….frightening."

 "Aye, don't tell him that though. It would only inflate his ego more."

 Once he was certain she was steady on her feet and would not faint, he pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her head before striding away to the other side of the bedroom. Quickly he pulled off his tunic and boots, tossing them onto a nearby chair and then flopped onto the massive bed in only his pants. If nothing else could be said for tonight, he knew he would sleep well. The bed was comfortable, even rivaling his own bed back in Kattegat. With a pleased groan, he tucked an arm under his head and settled under the covers. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, his eyelids sliding closed.  Even though he felt like he spent most of the day standing around and kneeling for the wedding, it was still tedious and draining. Thank the gods it was over. 

 "Um, my lord…." 

 "Ubbe." He interrupted, lips twitching in amusement. "Or husband. Whichever you prefer."

 "Ah, Ubbe….are we not….?" Her hesitant voice trailed off, but the unspoken question lingered in the air. 

 He snorted. "I have no plans to force myself upon you just to appease your priests and bishop."

 "But we must consummate the marriage."

 "I will only have sex with you if you desire me as your husband and not just to fulfill an obligation."

 The following, prolonged silence caused him to open his eyes and look over at his new wife. It was apparent she had not moved from where he left her. He expected to see fear on her lovely face or revulsion at the idea of her ever willingly wanting him to touch her. Instead, she seemed to be studying him with a mixture of curiosity and respect. That confident woman he had previously met, making a reappearance. 

 After holding her gaze for a moment, he patted the bed next to him. "Come lay down. I doubt standing there all night will be pleasant."

 With a soft smile, she stepped over and crawled under the covers, but maintained an arm’s length distance between them. They both laid on their backs, together yet alone. The only sounds were of the crackling fire and their breathing. 

 Before he realized it, Ubbe found himself speaking, filling the silence with his babbling but strangely felt he needed to share these thoughts with the woman beside him, the woman whose life was now tied to him, whether she wanted it to be or not. 

 "I doubt this is the marriage you were dreaming of as a little girl. Probably expected some prince or lord….not a Viking. Your people only see us as heathens, as barbaric devils, at least that's what one of the noblemen said. That we cannot stop the evil and destruction we cause because we are possessed." He snorted, rubbing a hand down his face. After a deep breath, he turned his head to look at her, amazed to find her already watching him. His tone softened as he continued. "I'm sorry you were forced into this marriage. I know it might not mean much to you but I vow I won't ever physically harm you or force myself upon you. After all the wedding ceremonies, you can return to the nunnery if that is what you want."

 Her eyes widened momentarily, then drifted away as she worried her lip once again. As he waited for her to speak, his gaze traveled over her face, taking in the small details that until now he had not been able to observe. It would be a blatant lie to say he did not desire to lie with her, to touch and taste her. The current state of his manhood was evidence enough of how simply gazing at her beauty affected him. He made a vow to her. If nothing else, he hoped they could be friendly to one another. 

 To his shock, she rolled onto her side, facing him completely, hands tucked under her cheek. Without hesitation, he mirrored her action, but kept his head cradled on his arm. 

 "I have not traveled much," she quietly said, almost shyly, "but there is one thing I've learned through my studies and the observation of others. People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." She paused as if choosing her next words carefully. "I do not think you are a barbaric devil or….or possessed. I think…."

 "What?"

 "I think you are very brave and strong. Not many would seek an alliance with those that fervently claim them as an enemy….nor be kind to a simple noblewoman."

 He smirked, finding himself charmed by her honesty. Carefully, he reached over and brushed a thumb over her cheek. "You are no simple noblewoman, my lady."

 "If you are just Ubbe, then I request you call me, y/n."

 An unexpected, loud banging on the door startled them both. Y/n gasped and rushed to sit up against the headboard, eyes wide with fright. Ubbe immediately pushed himself up, making sure to put himself between his wife and the door, unsheathing a dagger he had subtly slipped under his pillow. 

 "Are you two done yet? Some ugly priest out here wants to know!" Bjorn shouted through the door. 

 Ubbe groaned, putting the dagger away, before calling back. "No! This woman is insatiable! Tell the priest to come back in the morning! Hopefully I can still walk!"

 A harsh bark of laughter preceded loud arguing, which could be heard through the door. Raised voices crept underneath the door frame, the loudest being that of Bjorn. Ubbe stayed perched on the bed, to assist his brother if the need called for it. No matter what Alfred or those whiny clergy ordered, no one would be witnessing any consummation of his. Ever. Eventually, the voices dwindled like a dying flame until only silence could be heard from outside. Ubbe figured Bjorn must have won the argument, or used enough threats of bodily harm, since no one entered the bedroom. 

 The dagger returned to its sheath under his pillow. A habit he had since childhood. A glance to his side showed his wife still shifted as far away from the door as possible, hands clutching the sheets in a tight grip. He reached a hand out to her. "It's alright. Bjorn won't let anyone in."

 She took his hand, still eyeing the door warily. "What did you say to him?"

 "Ah, nothing important. Just to keep the priests away."

 "Ok."

 "We should go to sleep. Today has been long." He stated after he coaxed her back under the covers and no longer sent glances towards the door. Only after she was settled did he relax. Laying on his back, an arm behind his head, his eyes closed almost instantly. He could hear her shuffling occasionally but he paid it no mind. Sleep slinked into his mind, hovering on the edges. 

 "Ubbe…." A barely-heard whisper pulled him from the brink of sleep. 

 "Yes?"

 "What if….what if I want to."

 "Mmmm?"

 "Um, fulfill our marital duties."

 Well, that got his attention. He turned his head to the side, noting how her gaze traced over his bare chest slowly then lifted to meet his gaze. "Are you asking me to have sex with you?"

 "Yes." She bit her bottom lip, even as her eyes never strayed from him.

 "Are you sure?"

 She nodded. 

 "Hmmm….well, I may be convinced but….you have to kiss me first."

 Cautiously yet deliberately, she scooted closer until they lay side by side. In a graceful movement, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his in an innocent, chaste kiss. Her lips were softer than even the pillow beneath him and by the gods, she was going to be his undoing. After a moment, she leaned back, gazing down at him with a nervous yet endearing smile. Before he could say anything, to encourage or instruct, her lips descended on his once again, but this time hungrily. His initial surprise transitioned to a carnal satisfaction when a soft moan slipped out of her after he tugged on her bottom lip. Their mouths connected with a needy kiss, sending a jolt of electricity through him. All thoughts of sleep forgotten. 

 Suddenly, he flipped them over, pinning her underneath him, taking charge of their love-making. She giggled at the abrupt action but that was quickly silenced by his mouth crashing against hers and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. 

 As she kissed him back passionately, he wondered if maybe this marriage was not such a bad idea. If the way her lips eagerly sought his, her hands gripped onto biceps as if to keep her steady, her back arched as he trailed open-mouth kisses down her neck….maybe the marriage could be more than just political. 

 Soon enough, all thoughts vanished from his mind that were not related in regards to exploring the exquisite body of his Saxon wife and listening to her moan his name repeatedly. 

[shivada-jade]

soulmates! (2)

soulmate!au BECAUSE IM WEAK. YOU'RE WEAK TOO.

characters: ganyu, kaeya, thoma ➡ mentions: cloud retainer, ningguang, adelinde, diluc, crepus, rosaria, traveler warning(s): like- just one swear

part one: (bennett, zhongli, diluc)

ganyu: can see footprints where soulmate has recently stepped on. if followed, they will be lead to their soulmate. sort of like "hot and cold" cold if you're far and hot if you're close

she knew she is a very busy person. she surprises herself when she asked ningguang for a day off.

"you want a day off?" she remembers ningguang's composed face deteriorate and herself doing the same thing.

ningguang let her rest for two weeks even if ganyu had only requested one. now she has so much free time.

the first thing she did was sleep, but she couldn't- not when she spots purple footprints.

as part adeptus with one heck of a good eyesight, she always assumes that the footprints on the ground are because of her eyesight, but cloud retainer says otherwise.

"child, you have a soulmate system of which," the old bird starts. "where one has the ability see where one's soulmate has been, and if they've been there recently."

blue footprints that fade away means her soulmate had left a long time ago. red-ish-orange footprints mean that her soulmate is very close by, but it's never been that colour in her eyes.

ganyu strolls along the grassy plains of liyue, admiring all the sweet flowers. she lightly touches her horns, a habit she got from being awoken from naps on a field of sweet flowers.

the footprints were purple, which is the closest to red ganyu had ever gotten. blue is the colour she always sees like her vision, her hair, the waters of liyue, and the glazed lilies.

the purple is also as beautiful.

"fate will bring two together at the right moment. thou need not rush." ganyu can hear cloud retainer say, so she didn't run after the footprints.

the half-adepti thrums her fingers on her leg, unsure what to do with all the free time given to her. she supposes she can head back to liyue and have tea with madame ping.

meeting madame ping confuses ganyu. the elderly woman keeps asking of her soulmate system and if she's met them.

"ganyu, have you met them?"

"ganyu, why not chase after them?"

"ganyu, ganyu ganyu-"

ganyu politely sets her teacup down, "i have yet to find them."

madame ping chuckles in her elderly woman way, like those smug elderly women who know more than others but will act clueless to amuse them.

"you know, i have a special gift, some speculate it as a curse, but i think it's wonderful," she said, pouring more tea for ganyu. "i have the ability to see red strings that connect soulmates. i can connect, i can break connections, but i can't see my own."

ganyu frowns slightly, "have you met yours?"

"no, but it makes me happy seeing the strings connect with people," she blows on her tea to make it cooler and turns her head to avoid looking at ganyu.

"madame ping, why-"

"you," a person behind ganyu seethes.

meekly, ganyu turns around and finds someone glaring at her. "may i help you?"

"ganyu, right? why do you always walk so fucking fast. i can never catch up to you when i see your footprints, and you're always going from place to place. one moment you're in liyue, the next your in somewhere like fontaine or something. it's like you're spiderman."

ganyu's jaw goes slack, "you're my soulmate?" she looks at the ground, seeing red footprints of where her soulmate had just walked. she now understand why madame ping kept asking her about her soulmate, because madame ping knew her soulmate was going to meet her.

ganyu clears her thoat, standing up to offer her soulmate a seat, "would you like to join us for tea?"

her soulmate blinks, and looks at the tea set then back to ganyu, "sorry, i didn't mean to intrude your tea party. i'm [name]."

"hello, i'm madame ping," the woman speaks "and your soulmate is ganyu. have tea."

ganyu stifles a laugh and sits on a chair next to her soulmate. "i apologize for walking too fast."

kaeya: he hears what his soulmate sings

at first kaeya thought he was going crazy when he kept hearing music in his head.

"dad!" he cried, forcingly rubbing away the tears that fell down his cheeks. the kids near the winery had come over and played with him and diluc, and that was when the first notes started. it never bothered him. he brushed it off until it became a full sound of a voice and a song.

not understanding scared kaeya to death. he always knew something, but this is the first where he doesn't know. he felt like he was going insane with this voice in his head, singing in his head; a voice that wasn't his.

"dad!" he called out again more desperately. diluc held him by his side, worried for his brother.

"father!" dliuc called this time, "father, kaeya's feeling sick."

diluc brought in kaeya, rubbing his back in attempt to comfort him. he saw adelinde and waved to her.

adelinde gasped when she spotted the blue-haired boy sobbing. she dropped her feather duster on the shelf she was dusting and dropped herself next to kaeya, inspecting of there were any wounds on his skin.

"kaeya, dear. what's the matter?" she quietly tells diluc to get his father in the wine cellar and gently pushed kaeya to take a seat near the fireplace.

diluc silently obeyed and ran, unlocking the door that led to his father.

kaeya hiccupped, unable to form words.

adelinde hushed him. her motherly fingers soothed his head, "what's wrong? breathe with me, dear. just until your father gets back."

she inhaled and exhaled in a steady manner for kaeya to follow. the boy shakily did the same. he did it a few more times, inhaling and exhaling slowly with adelinde. he calmed down. the crying stopped and his breathing was normal again. adelinde took this as another chance to ask him what's wrong.

"are you ready to tell me?"

kaeya blinked the tears off and gripped his clothes to stop himself from crying again. "it's happening again. i- i don't understand miss adelinde."

adelinde placed a hand over kaeya's for him to know she was listening. "what don't you understand?"

"i keep hearing things. i always hear a voice that isn't mine in my head-" kaeya sputtered.

diluc and crepus open the door from the cellar. crepus' face etched with worry when he spotted kaeya crying to adelinde. diluc had told him as much as he could but all the information he gathered was kaeya started covering his ears and crying.

"-all the voice does is sing and sing. i don't even like some of the songs it sings! i don't- i don't know," kaeya stammered, not noticing the two others that joined. "i don't know what happening to me. i'm scared."

crepus smiled at adelinde and nodded to her, signaling that he can handle it from here. adelinde gave a grateful nod and brushed herself off the floor to continue her duties.

"my boy," crepus smiles, kneeling in front kaeya to see him better. he brushed his face with a thumb and hugged him. crepus chuckled when kaeya hugged him tighter.

"my boy," the man continued with a knowing smile on his face. "that's your soulmate system. you can hear them singing if they sing as they can hear you singing when you sing."

kaeya lets go from crepus' hold and sniffled his tears away, "what? but isn't a soulmate system when things fall on you?"

diluc from the back of the room silently listened in, also confused as kaeya. didn't everyone have the same soulmate system?

crepus pats kaeya's shoulders, "we all have different ways to know who our soulmate is. yours and diluc's soul systems are different from everyone."

"master crepus is right." adelinde piped in while dusting off the dust on the shelves. "my soulmate system is a countdown to when i'll meet them."

kaeya looked at the woman shocked, "so not everyone has things falling on them?"

"correct." crepus raved, "but unlike diluc's soul system, instead of things falling on me, it appears on my hand for my soulmate system."

diluc eyes his brother, picking up a stray book on a chair and handed it to adelinde to help her.

kaeya pulled a cheeky grin and pointed to diluc, "diluc's eavesdropping."

the said boy gasped and turned his body around to make it look like he was doing something busy.

crepus bellows a laugh, "so what song is your soulmate singing?"

...

to be frank, kaeya had no idea what his soulmate sang that day. it was random words jumbled together. in fact, most things his soulmate sings are songs he has never heard before. it progressed from simple tunes, but now kaeya feels like his soulmate might be a song composer.

when he was younger he'd brag to diluc saying "my soulmate sings so well! what does your soulmate sound like, hah!"

to which diluc would respond with

he grins, swirling his wine around the glass as he watches a stack of papers hit diluc's face while bar tending on the first floor. kaeya clinks his glass on the table, watching people enter and leave the tavern from above.

today, his soulmate sings a song he's heard of.

'the wellerman,' and judging from the pauses and missing lyrics, kaeya safely assumes his soulmate was singing a duet with someone.

"soon may the wellerman come, to bring us sugar and tea and rum!"

kaeya hums the next few notes, never singing. after hearing his soulmate sing for the first time, his thought was to never sing- not when his soulmate could be a billionaire for singing with their voice.

only on occasions he would sing to let his soulmate know he was there.

he finishes the last sip of his wine and descends down the tavern stairs, raising a hand to acknowledge rosaria drinking in the corner. he airily chuckles, seeing diluc scrunch his eyes at the papers in front of him instead of looking at kaeya.

kaeya pushes the door open, humming along to the song his soulmate sings. he strolls by the alleyways, waving a hello to flora and a couple dogs that bark at his feet, scratching behind its ears.

he hears a bard singing at the plaza and saunters towards the music, climbing up the stairs and his frame almost freezes when seeing someone acting out to the song playing in his head.

good hunter's table tips over with a person on it. they land smoothly to the ground with a grin while singing with a resident bard.

"one day when the tonguing is done, we'll take our leave and go," they sing with so much melody and soul. the bard in green rumbles with cheer, raising his hands and dancing with the other with an arm latched around another.

kaeya watches, mesmerized by the singing and clapping around the plaza. he claps along and laughs when the bard drags his friend up to the walls of the fountain, singing louder.

the makes eye contact with the singer and waves. the singer waves back, unaware of what kaeya now knows.

soulmates.

he clued the pieces together and admired his soulmate from a distance, not wanting to disturb the performance.

"she'd not been two weeks from shore, when down on her a right whale bore!" the bard sings in glee.

kaeya quietly sings the next part, blending with the crowd. the whoops and cheers grow louder, chanting for his soulmate to sing the part kaeya sand under his breath, but to his surprise his soulmate tenses.

"WAIT! stop!" they hush the crowd with a hand and confuse everyone, "my soulmate's singing! but they're a bit too quiet. they never sing so shh, this is rare!"

the people murmur, watching kaeya's soulmate covering their ears to hear him clearer. kaeya grins, taking this opportunity to sing out loud.

"soon may the wellerman come to bring us sugar and tea and rum!" kaeya waltzes in front of the people who create a pathway for him.

his soulmate's eyes snap to him and he steps up next to them, standing on the fountain. the bard grins, and cheers. the crowd follows his cheer, watching their cavalry captain sing to his soulmate.

kaeya takes his soulmate's hand and presses a kiss on the back, "hello darling, i'm kaeya."

his soulmate doesn't hear him talking, no. they hear music when he speaks. though, kaeya's introduction threw them off, who's to say they couldn't return the gesture.

"a pleasure to meet you at last," they place a hand over their forehead for drama. they grin taking kaeya's waist closer to them and whisper in his ear, "you have a marvelous voice."

mondstadt had never seen kaeya at loss for words and a blush rising his face.

thoma: you taste the same things your soulmate tastes, no matter how strange- even when you're already eating something else

for most times, you were envious of your soulmate for eating the most lavishing food- food only one with money can get. you so desperately wanted to try the food they ate.

you didn't know what they ate, but only knew of the taste. sometimes it clashes with what you eat, like one time you ate an orange while your soulmate started toothbrushing. it wasn't very pleasant to say the least.

you were minding yourself, gathering food for your dinner until you taste something horrible.

wtf is my soulmate eating

it is a vile taste on your tongue, and no amount of water can wash the taste off. you try rinsing it, you tried eating something with a stronger taste, but no matter what, the thing your soulmate ate just stays there. it's disgusting.

you buy anything sour to un-taste what you tasted, and it still doesn't work. walking nearby a tea house, you see a man of blonde, clutching his stomach and laughing at a traveler from afar. call it fate, because it probably is, you know by the second he says his stomach hurts, he is your soulmate.

you point at him with a pointed glare, "what on earth did you EAT?!"

you take a bite of a sliced purple melon in your hand and the man in front of you widens his jade eyes, noting the food you're eating and the blooming taste on his tongue. the traveler next to him knits their brows, looking between you and their friend.

"thoma," the traveler calls. "who's this?"

thoma looks at you apologetically and sheepishly rubs the nape of his neck. "hey? i did it to win a contest... i couldn't let my pride down." he pauses, looking at you, "forgive me?"

you wanted to throw a punch on him, but you knew he had it worse with a bad aftertaste and a stomach ache.

you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. and place a mischievous grin, "take me on a date with food that's actually good, and then i'll think about forgiving you."

[hazeltiberiuslee]

Is My Life of Value? (Noelle & Zhongli Fanfic)

Noelle paused as she reached out for the cup of water on the counter. Dejected at the thoughts consuming her mind, she gripped the air tightly before lowering her hand.

As she glimpsed at the waters reflection, she saw her distraught expression looking back at her.

This was her eighth time taking the exam to become a knight of Favonius, and again, she had failed it. This time, Jean had come up to her to explain why she had failed.

“Though you have all the traits of a wonderful knight Noelle, you are a tad too reckless when it comes to yourself. A knight must treasure themselves, and value their own lives while aiding others. I wish for you to take this time to truly think about the value of your life, and not just everyone else’s. You’re special too, I only wish you could see that.” Jean said.

Noelle held her head as she kept thinking about it. Was she really that reckless? She only wished to give her all when it came to her aspirations. She didn’t think that was a bad thing.

But that had been exactly what kept her back from becoming a knight.

She sighed before heading outside of the shed to gaze at the sunset dipping lower into Teyvat. Gripping both her hands anxiously, she desperately looked around in vain to see if there was anyone in need of her help. Straining her ears, she tried to hear any horses footsteps, or a cry for help that she can assist with. But no one uttered her name, only the sounds of snoring from a boar who laid near a tree.

Shoulders drooping, she sighed deeply and decided that maybe she needed a walk to clear her head.

As the light from the sun diminished, the stars took its place to guide Noelle in her walk. Dandelions wavered in the air with its luminous blue glow, and Noelle finally stopped at the end of a giant cliff.

“Acting grand master Jean had told me to take some time off to rest and figure things out. I should do as she says since it is her order, however��” Breathing in another heavy sigh, Noelle sat down at the edge and let the wind rustle gently past her cheeks.

Her perfect posture made her sit upright, hands automatically folding itself on top of each other, neatly resting above her lap. The breathtaking view of Mondstadt filled her eyes as her mind wandered.

Did anyone call her name in hopes that she would arrive? Did someone feel an ache of disappointment, as she did, that she was no longer available to help them in their moment of need?

“…It is…quite lonely when I’m not doing my duties within Mondstadt.” she whispered.

She missed the feeling of being needed. Being wanted.

“Am I naive in thinking that chasing after your dreams without stopping is the right way to go?” She wondered out loud.

Keep your eyes on your goal and never stop working to get it. If you slack off, you’re being lazy. Never stop racing towards your dreams. Those had been the messages that came through while growing up as a child.

Is it possible those messages have been always wrong? She thought.

“Sigh…”

Closing her eyes, Noelle let herself go and flopped to the ground. The grass tickled the sides of her face as she listening to the rustling of the trees. All of it had somehow started to calm her raging thoughts.

It had been years since she rested like this. The only time she had done so was before her dreams ignited within her chest, as a child to be a knight. Ever since then, she had read hundreds of books about knights and their moral code.

Every time she read about them, the words had fanned the flames of her passion higher than it did before.

As her consciousness started fading, she felt a tug deep within her guiding her to another direction.

Looking around the dream, Noelle heard a sigh, and a slight whisper. She didn’t understand the context of the words, though the voice sounded oddly familiar.

“That old blockhead sure likes to put me to work even though there’s no wine to be exchanged for it.” It muttered.

‘Huh?’ Noelle voiced.

“Ah well, it’s not much work anyway. Well then, have a good talk Noelle! And next time, drink some wine with your friends! Wouldn’t want you to end up the same as that workaholic.” It sang, before a flash of light appeared and faded.

Out of habit Noelle shielded her eyes and blinked rapidly, only to find her breath escaping her.

‘Wow.’ She exclaimed.

All around her she saw pools of water and a low, wide tree centered on the small patch of land that she was standing on top of. Near her, a stone table stood with ceramic cups filled with herbal tea.

“Come child.” A voice called out.

Gasping in surprise, she snapped her head to look at the source of the voice and saw a tall gentleman with long brown hair and amber eyes. He gave a small smile and gestured her to sit.

For some reason, she found herself easily doing so.

In normal instances, she would have refused and instead asked if he required assistance before serving up some snacks.

He chuckled as if he knew what was going through her mind.

“I heard that the exam didn’t go quite as you wished.” he stated.

A pout began to form as Noelle’s lips puckered out. ‘It didn’t go well at all! Though I got everything right.’ She slumped in her seat.

‘From the physical aspects to the written parts, I’m sure I aced everything! But… I failed because master Jean said I didn’t care for my life well enough. But isn’t knights supposed to be able to put their lives on the line anyway to serve?’ She moped, hanging her head low.

A part of her was dumbfounded that she was suddenly acting like this but she couldn’t stop revealing her true feelings to the stranger. It was quite baffling.

The stranger didn’t seem to mind though as he smiled and gave a hearty chuckle.

“You have a strong sense of duty and loyalty to Mondstadt. That is what I quite liked about you, which is why I gifted you your vision.” he said nonchalantly. Bringing the cup close to his lips, he breathed in the scent of hot green tea.

Under normal circumstances, Noelle would have opened her eyes wide in shock at the revelation that the person in front of her was the Geo Archon. But whether it was the fact that they were meeting in a dream or not, she remained calm, accepting the situation easily.

Picking up her own cup, she followed Morax and breathed in the tea before drinking it. The warm taste of green tea penetrated her being and strangely put her in a calmer mood despite her misgivings.

While staring at the tea’s reflection, she found that the knots holding her complicated emotions tightly in a knot were slowly unwinding itself.

‘I don’t understand… Why is my life important if others may benefit from my actions, especially if Mondstadt finds itself in dire need of my assistance? As long as I am okay with it, is it not fine to continue the way it is?’ She pondered.

There was a moment of silence as Morax stirred his cup. He closed his eyes before lifting his arm. The air behind him shimmered before revealing the knights of Favonius headquarters.

In there, Jean and Kaeya were in a hushed discussion with each other. Jean’s face was furrowed with concern while Kaeya had his arms crossed but tried his best to comfort the acting grand master.

“She’s going to be fine Jean. The doctor said she will live, and that Noelle didn’t suffer from frostbite. Just need a few days rest and she’ll be back up ready to take on the world as always.” Kaeya reassured. He flashed her a charming smile but a corner of it twitched.

That didn’t escape Jean’s eyes and she just sighed with worry. She didn’t want to be acting like this but she had no one else to express her concerns to.

“She took on a reckless mission all by herself. What made her think that it was okay to do this without telling us?! Noelle barely had enough water and food as she went up into the mountains, and continued on even though her armor iced over after discovering the missing man.” She sighed.

Rubbing her face with both hands, Jean felt the stress building back up at the memory of Noelle nearly collapsing in front of Mondstadt gates. Jean had been making her rounds with Lisa when a guard yelled out in shock. Everyone had turned around to look expecting an attack, but found Noelle in the distance pushing herself to carry the man back through Mondstadt walls.

Everyone had ran to help her but it was as if Noelle couldn’t see them. Her eyes hazy and breathing haggard, she kept muttering that she’ll make sure that they both arrive home safe. For the man to hold on for his family. That it will be warm soon. She kept repeating those lines over and over, and those around her found it hard to make Noelle let go of the man on her back.

Kaeya suddenly stepped in and grasped Noelle by the shoulders before leaning in. “Welcome back. You did well Noelle, thank you for your services. Because of you, both you and Nimrod will live to see another day. Now let go of him, we will take care of the rest.” he said.

Transfixed on the voice speaking to her, Noelle lost grip of Nimrod and like a puppet with their strings cut, collapsed into his arms.

Jean felt thankful for Kaeya though she wondered how he knew that’d work.

The scene changed, and an image of Noelle unconscious on a patient bed appeared. Klee was looking concerned at how red Noelle was. Though red was her favorite color, she didn’t like it on Noelle like this.

Rummaging through her bag, Klee happily brought out a slightly crisp fish. She placed it on a plate that she brought out separately and left it on a counter before sitting up on the hospital chair.

“You need to get better so that we can go get some more fish together okay? Don’t tell master Jean, but I have the perfect spot to go to so that we can get a fresh meal! Fish is the just the best!” Klee exclaimed loudly.

There was no response from Noelle as Klee nestled her head onto the bed next to Noelle’s hand. Klee gently grasped the unconscious maid’s hand as she closed her eyes.

“Wake up soon so that we can together. I’ll even stay inside just for you, so that we can go together later. So please, wake up soon.” Klee whispered.

And with that the images from the past ended. Noelle stared stunned in silence. The Geo Archon had brought up a past incident and the reminder that she had worried people stung her conscience.

“You wish to charge in without rest and regard to your own life. As heroic as that may sound, it is not the way a knight should live.”

Morax set down his cup and looked into Noelle’s wavering eyes.

“Were it any of them marching through the dangerous winters of Dragonspine, would you also not fret for their lives?” he questioned. Noelle’s face flushed with guilt as she started understanding.

“Though there will always be situations where one puts their lives at risk for the safety of others, it is not ideal to completely disregard it.”

Bringing the cup to his lips once again, Morax sipped on the remainder of the tea.

“A knight is a citizen of their country. And what good country would want to needlessly throw away the lives of their citizens?”

Refilling his cup, Morax watched as Noelle looked down once again. A kind smile formed on his face.

“It is good to have the spirit of a knight, however, do not forget that you are a individual. Your life isn’t just yours once you build connections as well. There will be those that grieve for you, and those who will happily share their moments in life with you.”

He got up and stopped in front of Noelle. Reaching out, Morax patted her head tenderly like a father would with their daughter.

“Do take care to enjoy those moments yourself, and to share your times of suffering as well. Enjoy life, and you will shine like gold in the memories of both yourself and others.”

Closing his eyes he gave one last smile. “Now awaken and go home.”

Authors note:

Please like and subscribe! This is from my archiveofourown account as well https://archiveofourown.org/works/34323085

You can find more fanfics on my archive account as well, under HazelTiberiusLee. Have a nice one! <3

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar Of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby

Day 14: There Is Only One Way To Load A Dishwasher

Warnings: Bad Language Words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N- Oh we are getting closer. And this particular scenario happened between my father and me one night. Luckily no one cut themselves, but we were in a severe disagreement as to how sharp knives were to go into the dishwasher. Turns out I was the logical one. Don’t forget to keep an eye out for @what-is-your-plan-today​ and @ohthankevans13​ for there updates. 

Series Masterlist

There was the loud sharp sound of laughter from the outdoor patio, which Ransom joined in as well with his own genuine laugh while having a firm hold of your thigh under the table, his thumb sweeping back and forth over the soft material of your leggings while your hand was clasped over his in reassurance, easing his hand loose to weave your fingers through his. 

This evening a couple friends of yours came over to the house to visit and have dinner, which you knew Ransom had been a bit apprehensive with. Not that he didn’t like your friends, sure he did, they were perfectly nice people you had grown up with, Rick and Sandy. But they weren’t like Ransom’s usual friends, other people in the same arrangement he had been, trust fund kids who didn’t give two shits about anyone but themselves. Perhaps that was a good thing. He was still learning how this whole being married thing worked. 

So Ransom was a bit nervous all damn day, brushing it off though as in ‘He was Ransom Drysdale and did not give a shit what anyone thought about him.’ You knew this to be a lie, that he actually wanted to make a good impression on them. Just from the way he was acting all day, double checking there was enough wine and beer for your guests. That the house was generally picked up looking. He even offered to go pick up dinner, which you were not going to say no to. Writing out a list with a firm “Just pick up this list, NOTHING ELSE.” 

And it just raised your suspicions when he came home with steaks. High end expensive steaks that had been hand cut by the butcher at their local shop. You gawked at them as you had actually put burgers on your list. You peeked in the rest of the bags. There wasn't the buns, chips or anything else you had written. But the ingredients for grilled veggies, potato and garlic bread. 

“You didn't have to do this Ransom. I thought you were going to stick to the list?” You remarked as you looked at the steaks he so carefully let laid to rest on the kitchen counter before taking them to be grilled. 

“Well if we're going to entertain, we’re doing it right.” He responded and that's when it clicked, this was his way of showing he could take care of his family, be something more than what everyone thought him to be, so you dropped it. Going to your tiptoes, you pecked his cheek with a thank you, and went from there. 

Now it was the end of dinner, you felt Ransom relax more and all four of you enjoyed a fun conversation, some of which was Rick and Sandy filling Ransom in on some of your younger years, a devilish grin would spread across his face. “Oh trust me, she's still just as bad, just better at hiding it.” 

“Hush I'm an angel.” You made a move to gather some dishes when Ransom sprang up to take them from you. “You are the one who fully corrupted me Ransom.” you smirked at him, which you could see a bit of color rise in his cheeks and his eyes crinkling in the corners with a grin. 

“Something I take great pride in Princess. I got the clean up, you continue visiting.” He offered and you smiled a thank you while settling back down. Rick and Sandy gathered their plates, with nothing but praises for the whole meal, especially those perfectly grilled steaks, which you glanced at Ransom to see a slight satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his lips before you turned back to your friends. 

Ransom headed back into the house from the patio with the plates and utensils, listening while you restarted the conversation. He didn't bother shutting the door, leaving it open to let the conversation flow into the house as well as the breeze of the evening. Flicking on the overhead light, he popped open the dishwasher and started to randomly put plates in wherever they fit as the dishwasher was already half full from the night before’s dishes as well as their breakfast ones. Then he started dumping the utensils into the tray lining the side made specifically for them. He wasn't paying attention though, forks were going in tines down or up, spoons shoved in any spot they would fit and the wickedly sharp steak knives went in handle down, their points glinting maliciously face up, ready to strike any unsuspecting hand. 

Which Ransom did, when he grasped another bundle to shove in, and his palm, slid along the tip of the knife along the meatiest part, near his thumb. 

A blossom of red spread on his hand, as well as a sharp surprising pain, making him jerk back and clatter the handful of forks across the dishwasher and floor. “Son of a Bitch!” He yelled rather loudly in shock as red droplets dripped over the dirty dishes and across the tile floor till he got to the sink and turned on the tap. He could feel a wave of naseau wash over him as his vision blurred a moment and sharpened seeing the red swirl down the sink. 

You happened to hear Ransom yelp and curse as the door was open, as well as Rick and Sandy who looked with concern towards the house. A glance over your shoulder showed Ransom standing at the kitchen sink, and you could see from there that his face was tensed and almost in pain looking. “Excuse me.” You said hurriedly and pushed from the patio table to rush inside. “Ransom? Oh god what happened?” You grabbed a hand towel to press against the gash on his hand to get the bleeding to stop, his face whiter then usual. “Breath Ransom, don’t pass out.” You tried to draw his attention to you instead of at the red welling up again before you pressed the towel against it. 

He hissed when you pressed down from between clenched teeth. “Fucking knife got me while I was loading the dishwasher.” 

You glanced at the dishwasher and could see the mess that it was left in. Knowing you would have to set it straight, especially the knives, as half of them appeared to have been tossed in point up. 

“Christ Ransom, you gotta put the knives point down for this reason.” You said hurriedly as you pried the towel up to take a peek at his hand. “We have to take you to the emergency room, this is pretty deep. You are going to need stitches.” 

“Nah- I should be alright.” He started when he wobbled a bit, his other hand grasping the edge of the counter. Its that moment Sandy poked her head in. 

“Do you guys need any help?” 

You were immediate before Ransom could protest. “How about a rain check on Cards Against Humanity? I think we need to get some stitches for Ransom.” 

Sandy then came in fully to take a look at Ransom's hand. “Let me take a look? I’m a nurse, and can tell you if they will give you any stitches.” 

Ransom lifted the hand towel once more and she hummed while looking at it. “Yup, looks just like the cut Rick had a couple years ago. Steak knife get you?” 

“Not fucking intentionally.” Ransom growled a bit, getting agitated now feeling he was under scrutiny. 

“Ha, Rick said the same thing.” Sandy chuckled and her husband came in, happening to hear her.

“Well I forgot I put the knife in the water when I was washing the dishes.” He came to Ransom’s defense with a dumbass excuse and at this point Ransom was ready to go to the emergency room, just to get out of this curve of a disaster the evening took.

Sandy dabbled at the wound with the cloth when the blood welled up again and Ransom this time felt his head swarm. “Im going to...” and thats when he slumped, you and Sandy trying to catch him and Rick managing to get his arms under Ransoms armpits and ease him down to the floor. You straightened up with a hand against your lower back and one pressed to your baby bump, sighing. 

“Ransom can’t handle blood... I’m hoping this isn’t whats going to happen with shitty diapers to.” 

***************************

After You managed to get Ransom to the emergency room, and he was once again patched up and left alone, you were sitting nearby, counting your fingers and muttering to yourself. 

“What are you doing Y/N?” Ransom winced as he flexed his hand a bit, and you smirk at him. 

“Counting how many times we have been to the emergency room in the past 6 months. This makes three times. You are like a walking talking disaster Ransom, I’m a bit surprised it has been this long since we’ve last visitied.” 

He glared at you while he stood and took his coat from you to shrug it on. “Eat Shit Y/N, I never visited the emergency room till I hooked up with you. What does that say?” 

You shrugged. “That I’m not as much as a dumbass as you Ransom, but that’s okay. I love you anyways.” You tuck into his side as you two leave the room. 

“Yea yea, Love you to Y/N.” He rolled his eyes, wincing as he dug his injured hand into his coat pocket, looking for the Beamers keys.

[harryspet]

Could you possibly write some dark Bucky Barnes ? Maybe the reader is super innocent and he takes advantage of it?

party princess | bucky barnes 

[Warnings] dark bucky barnes x innocent reader, natasha x reader (sort of), nanny reader, manipulation, affair, drunk consent (dubcon?), little editing

A/N: I’m gonna be honest and say that I basically DNF’d this one-shot after working on it for awhile. I liked the idea at first but then towards the middle my interests in it got a little iffy. anyways, I hope you can still enjoy it for what it is. I’ll def try to write more stories like this in the future! 

In which married Bucky takes advantage of the birthday party princess. 

word count: 2.5k

“Okay, let’s see, who wants to have their wish granted?”

The crowd of first graders erupted but you quickly held up your hands to shush them, “Before I can use my magic on any of my little friends, I have to make sure you’re all good little girls and boys. How many of you are kind to your friends and listen to your Mommies and Daddies?”

Hands raised and you smiled, “That’s very good, my friends. If you want to be a princess like me or a prince, then are certain things you have to do. Princess’s are polite, kind, and most important of all …” A hush fell over the crowd as they listened patiently before you suddenly exploded with giddiness, “They like to sing and dance! Will you sing a song with me, friends?”

Bucky watched from behind the glass door as you twirled around on the terrace. He sipped at his bottle of beer, noting how your eyes lit up as the group of children gather around you. They wanted to touch your ball gown and have you tap them with your fairy wand so you could grant their wishes. You seemed to be in your element and you hadn’t fallen out of character once as you pranced around in your fairy princess costume. It was a character from the latest Disney junior show that his daughter had recently fallen in love with and Natasha had the idea of hiring a party princess for her fifth birthday party. 

Both Natasha and Bucky were surprised when you volunteered to do it. You loved makeup and the idea of making their daughter’s birthday spectacular seemed like fun. Besides, you had only been nannying with the Barnes family for a couple of weeks and you wanted to make even more of a good impression. 

“I’m starting to think she actually has magic,” Natasha commented, and Bucky turned to see her placing candles on their daughter’s birthday cake, “I can barely handle our baby girl alone and yet she’s tamed fifteen of them.”

“She’s really something, isn’t she?” Bucky smirked and Natasha grinned, lighting the candles. 

“Keep it in your pants for now,” Natasha stated slyly, “C’mon Daddy, let’s sing happy birthday.”

As he opened the sliding door for Natasha, she rolled out the cake and the entire terrace erupted with singing. Bucky joined along, of course, watching as his daughter grabbed your hand and dragged you over to the cake. You sang happily, encouraging her to blow out the candles and make a wish when the song had ended. 

Natasha took a million pictures of you and, out of the corner of your eyes, you could feel Mr. Barnes’ gaze on you. You hoped that meant you were doing a good job. Keeping a smile on your face for that long was quite a lot of work. You watched as the birthday girl ran up to her father and he swung her in his arms.

You had already noticed what a beautiful family they were and how incredibly lucky they were to live in such a nice part of town. You hoped to have something like this one day and to find someone as attentive as Mr. Barnes. You were holding a little girl in your lap as she was asking if you personally knew Mulan before you heard a gagging noise.

Before you knew it, icing colored vomit was dripping down the bottom of your dress. 

Her mother came quickly, swooping the little girl from your arms, “I’m so so so sorry! She must’ve had too much cake,” You only smiled, trying to hide any disgust that you felt. 

“It’s okay,” You stood, making sure the little girl wasn’t embarrassed, “Even princess’s get tummy aches. Besides, I have lots of dresses in my castle.”

You felt a hand on the small of your back and turned to see Mr. Barnes, “The princess will be back in just a moment,” He spoke to the crowd of first graders as if to say that he’d personally help out with your accident. 

“I’m just going to return to my castle for a moment, friends” You assured the little ones with a smile, as Bucky helped you with the long train of your dress. Natasha had spent a fortune on the dress just to make sure it was realistic. He helped you inside, and as the sliding glass door closed, you let out a breath of air. 

Your smile fell a little though you didn’t want to appear completely tired in front of Mr. Barnes. One hand carrying your train and the metal one on your back, he led you towards the master bedroom. At first, you blushed but then you realized that was probably where the most room was. 

“You looked like you were having fun out there,” Bucky commented. 

“It’s nice making them smile,” You spoke earnestly and part of Bucky told him to beware. You were too pure for him to dip his fingers into yet he still wanted to taste you. 

“Do you want to take off your dress?” Bucky smiled evilly as your eyes widened and your cheeks heated with embarrassment. 

It took a minute for you to realize what he was actually asking, “W-Well, the show must go on, right? I think I can just try to wipe it with a wet washcloth and hope for the best. I don’t want to let this ruin the party.”

Bucky nodded though he added, “My daughter loves you so I doubt you could ever ruin anything.” That made you genuinely smile because you knew then that the impression you were trying so hard to make was definitely good. Natasha had even said you deserved a raise before you’d gotten thrown upon. 

Bucky led you into the bathroom before he retrieved a washcloth and ran in under the sinkwater for you. You couldn’t help but admire the luxury of it all, the tall ceilings and the chandelier that hung. You could fit the size of your entire apartment in their bathroom. 

You sat down on the tub and began to scrub at your dress, “I really appreciate you guys giving me a chance. I know I didn’t have as many qualifications as the other girls,” Bucky knew you’d be grateful for that. Your interview with them was good and Natasha liked your personality but Bucky wanted you because of your beauty and youth. 

“You’re a hard worker, Y/N,” You liked the way your name rolled off his tongue like you could hear the satisfaction in each syllable. “Natasha and I were thinking … I’m not sure she’d want me to mention it yet-”

“What were you thinking?” You looked up with curious eyes, “I mean, of course, you don’t have to tell me, sorry.”

Be patient with her, Natasha had told him. But looking down at how the heart shape neckline of your dress exposed your breasts, patience was the last thing on his mind. 

“We wanted you to stay with us, join our staff full time. Nat wants to start working more and it’s hard for both of us to keep up with things around the house.”

“Really?” You perked up, your eyes wide with excitement, “I’d love that. I’d love that so much, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky admired the light in your eyes and knew the power he held over your life. You wanted this job desperately since it was probably the best you were going to do. You’d probably do a lot to keep it as well. 

“I’m sure Nat will be glad to hear it …. and you can call me Bucky, Y/N. Might as well drop the formalities if we’re going to be getting closer.”

Closer in proximity is what you thought he meant, “Sounds good, Bucky.”

+

It had been a few weeks since you’d moved into their luxurious home. It had been a complete dream especially with the huge pay raise that it had earned you. 

“Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?” You looked up abruptly from where you were wiping down the kitchen counter. Natasha was sitting down at the island, typing away at her laptop, while she looked you over. You still had paint on your hands and on your cheek from the painting session you had with her daughter. Now the little girl was down for her night and Natasha thought it was the perfect time to get some information, “I mean, you just never mention anyone.”

“I-I don’t,” Your cheeks heated from embarrassment, “Dating isn’t really … my thing.”

“Why’s that? You’re a lovely girl, Y/N.”

Why was she saying all this? Why the sudden curiosity? Was she worried you’d bring someone around her daughter?

“I-It’s just hard. With kids, I’m confident but, with adults, not so much.”

“Bucky used to be that way,” You weren’t expecting to hear about him, “When I met him, he was very closed off. He thought dating was still like it is in the ’40s. Sure, it’s nice to settle down but everyone these days is so … open. You know what I mean?”

You tilted your head to the side, “But you and Bucky settled down?”

“Yes, we love each other and I wanted kids so it made sense. But we still like to keep things interesting. We want to make sure each of us happy.”

“How … How do you do that?”

Natasha bit down on her lip as she thought for a moment, “Let’s have a glass of wine,” She spoke, getting up from her seat.

“Oh, I don’t drink,” You rushed out nervously, “I mean, I’ve never done it before.”

She was still moving towards the wine cabinet, “There’s a first time for everything, right? C’mon have a drink with your boss.” Your boss, right. She was speaking so casually that you had almost forgotten the line between you. 

“Are you sure? What about-”

“Bucky won’t be home until late and the little one is fast asleep. We can have some girl talk, it���ll be fun. One glass won’t do any harm,” Natasha sat the two glasses on the counter before she started to pour you some red wine. 

You’d probably be good after one glass but the universe didn’t work in your favor that night. There was a second after the first glass and now you were a giggling mess. 

Natasha managed to reach into the deepest parts of your past and had you laughing at the same time. You were exactly as she had previously predicted. You had a sheltered life, you grew up disadvantaged but had religious parents. They shamed you into not doing a lot of things but Natasha manages to drill into you that “you shouldn’t be ashamed of anything you do”.

When Bucky strolled in later that night, he found you and Nat sprawled on the couch in the living room. Whatever plan Nat had was working on, it was clearly successful, “Bucky, honey, come sit with us!”

You set your glass down, realizing how comfortable you had gotten, “Don’t be shy now, Y/N,” Nat said to you as Bucky took a seat beside her, “Y/N was telling me about her love life.”

You stared at Nat in disbelief. You understood talking about this stuff with her because she was a girl but with Bucky? “It’s exciting, I hope. There are lots of people in New York.”

“A-Actually, I-”

Natasha placed a hand on Bucky’s leg, taking another sip of wine before saying, “She’s a virgin.”

Bucky looked you over with a smirk, “And I thought the fairy princess stuff was an act ... “

You weren’t sure if you should be offended so you only said, “It’s not like that. I still know things ... “

Natasha handed her glass of wine to Bucky before standing and walking to where you were sitting on the couch. She held her hands out to you and you took them hesitantly. She pulled you up so you were standing impossibly close to her, “How much do you know, honey?”

“I … “

“Don’t you want to learn some things? So you can please the man in your life?”

“You won’t be much use to your future boyfriend if you don’t know how to please him,” Bucky interjected, leaning forward. 

You hadn’t even thought of it that way …Maybe it was the wine or something because you didn’t object to their words. “I don’t think I can ... “

Natasha still held your hands as she guided you over to where Bucky was sitting, “Of course you can,” Before you knew it, she was pushing you into his lap. You felt his hands tightening on your waist and you began to panic. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes-”

“It’s okay,” Natasha grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at her as his cold hand roamed over your thigh, “We’re gonna help each other out. You can’t go the rest of your life without knowing how to please a man. How I please Bucky is with girls like you, understand?”

It was so far from anything you had ever experienced that you weren’t sure if you did understand. That didn’t stop Bucky from pressing his front to you, grabbing at your breast and rubbing circles against your nipples through your top, “Let me teach you, Y/N, I promise I won’t bite” He whispered into your ear and it must’ve been the wine that makes you whisper back, “O-Okay.”

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about Bucky in that way but the thoughts had never gone far because of Natasha. 

Natasha stepped away from a small grin on her face. After Bucky got his hands on one of the innocent dolls like you, it seemed to turn him into a complete animal in bed, and Natasha loved dealing with the consequences, “Bucky’s going to be very gentle with you, honey. Just give a shout if you need anything.”

Bucky watched as his wife stepped away, knowing he liked to watch her go. He turned his head back to you, dipping his face into your neck, starting to kiss the sensitive area there. It sent fire through you, not only to your cheeks but all over your body, “What do you know about kissing, Y/N?” Again, he could tell you were only pretending as you stuttered over your response, “Then I’m your first?”

You nodded. Nat had really hit the jackpot. He was going to thank her really well later. 

Bucky’s hand stroked your bottom lips for a moment, “Just relax,” You did your best but you couldn’t help but tense as he leaned into you and pressed his lips against yours. You thought it would be a short moment but his hands roamed over your bare legs as the tip of his tongue began to pry open your mouth. 

You let him and soon you were trying to copy his movements by moving your mouth against his. When he finally did pull away, you thought you might have totally embarrassed yourself, “Was that bad?”

Bucky immediately shook his head, “You’re a natural, baby.”

+

i really wanted to write more but i kinda just lost inspo : / and I didn’t just want to not post it. 

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream VIII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 182

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream; Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter IX: He Loves Me

We were coastin' on the coast when you opened my eyes

Made me notice where the ocean was holding the sky, right

I was blinded, your smile shining behind those green eyes

The horizon so enticing, please, say you'll be mine

The second Friday in the month of November finds Iris at home as she usually is, tucked into her living room sofa, a large glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, right next to a loaded pipe.

This week in particular has been grueling, though in the best way. Her classes are going swimmingly, so much so that she might be able to skip the final in her multimedia journalism course; but that means she has to stay on top of every single assignment, making sure everything she turns in is up to par. Not only that, Her segment on Good Morning, Central City is in less than a week, and with the television promotions for it, there has been an increase in traffic on her blog, an increase in comments on her posts, an increase in stories in her inbox waiting to be told. It’s mind-boggling, and Iris finds herself so giddy, she doesn’t always know what to do with it.

Some of it she channels into Barry. Since opening up to one another after Barry’s visit to his dad, everything about them has been more: more exciting, more passionate, more intimate. Iris can honestly say that she’s never been fucked as well as Barry fucks her, and she can’t decide if that’s just because apparently nothing turns her on more than Barry sliding thick and slow into her and muttering, ‘yes, take all of me, baby; good, good girl,’ or if she feels the way she feels because it’s him, because he is a dream of a man, some fantasy she must have conjured up in a daydream she doesn’t remember having. She finds herself always wanting him: the heavy fullness of him, and the way he smiles at her every time he sees her after they’ve been separated for even minutes; the whispered words of ardor, and how his eyes always track her movements, watching and observing and cataloging; the feel of him lean and long and hard on top of her, and the attention with which he listens to her, validates her.

And when she thinks she needs even a moment from that, there is her Friday night ritual. She’s already showered and dressed in a silk nightgown, this one in a deep purple color with thin straps and an open back. She takes a sip of her wine as she scrolls through her phone looking for a song; she chooses one, don’t wake me up ‘cause i’m in love with all that you are, and then she settles into the sofa corner, pipe in hand. Lighting up, she inhales, and releases.

She is full and high when her phone rings sometime around midnight.

Movements slow, she grabs her phone from where she’d tossed it on the table next to the half-empty carton of pad thai. Barry’s name flashes on the screen over the picture taken of them at Wally’s birthday party. Her smile is easy and so is the absurd little flutter in her belly.

(But high Iris will concede that, while she figures she should be past this stage now, this jittery, nervous stage, she’s not at all ashamed that it is still how she feels, because there is something so delightful about being with someone who gives you butterflies, even as time keeps passing).

Her stomach dips as she brings the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hey, baby.” The sound of his voice, a little bit deeper than normal, a little bit slower than normal, makes her stomach tighten even more.

“Hi, Bear.”

It’s then that she notices the sound in the background, music and loud voices. She thinks she hears someone saying, “Barry, are you talking to your girlfriend?” but then Barry hushes them and comes back onto the line.

“What are you doing, beautiful?”

“What I’m always doing on Friday nights.”

“Getting high in those sexy pajamas you like wearing?”

Iris laughs softly, noting the effect of his voice on her, how even over the phone and even when he’s apparently surrounded by people, it travels, quiet and steady, over her skin.

“Are you drunk, Barry?”

“A little bit,” he says, “mostly tired though.”

Iris shifts on the sofa, snuggling deeper into the couch. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. At some bar with Cisco and Chester. We were only supposed to grab food and a couple beers but then they had some sort of two for one special happening, and Chester and Cisco are degenerates, so here we are.”

Iris shakes her head at that, and there’s a short pause before Barry speaks again.

“I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” The part of Iris that wants to appear less affected by him is glad that he can’t see the grin that lights her eyes as her cheeks warm, as she bites her bottom lip. “And we talked this morning.”

“Hmmm,” Barry hums. “Tell me you miss me.”

“What if I don’t?” Her taunt is quiet, like the whisper of her hands on her own body, trailing along her thighs at the hem of her nightgown.

There’s another pause and the sound behind lowers a little, becomes duller. Her own music comes to her attention again, you make me see the truth in things, i think that you are, the remedy for everything, it seems that you are, the truth itself ‘cause nothing else can take me so far, and it makes her shiver from the truth of it.

“I wouldn’t believe it,” Barry tells her, finally. “Yeah, I saw you yesterday, but I had you shaking on top of me.”

“Faking it,” she quips back and Barry lets out a small bark of laughter.

“Tell me you miss me, Iris.”

She licks her lips slowly, thinking of last night when she had seen him, the encounter he’s talking about, when he’d had her climb into his lap after dinner at her small little dining table and fucked her right there.

“Tell me, baby.”

“Yeah, I miss you, you cocky jackass.”

His answering chuckle was a low thing, deep and dirty. “Now tell me what your pajamas look like tonight?

“Barry, are you asking me this around your friends?”

“No. I'm standing outside of the bathrooms now. Boys' night shifted when they saw a couple of pretty women and I got tired of fifth-wheeling. And I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

She can picture him, standing in the corner and leaning against a wall, a hand in his pocket as he clutches the phone to his ear; his cheeks are probably rosy with his indulgence and his lips pink from licking at them, his hair messy from touching it.

His voice dips again. “Now tell me.”

Iris can admit to herself that she likes when Barry gets a little stern with her, when his voice deepens and he sounds so sure of what he wants, what he needs from her. It makes goosebumps crawl along her skin, and it does so doubly now, her senses already loose, dipping into the warm, heady place that intoxication takes her.

“It’s a nightgown,” she explains. “Purple. Silk. Stops at the middle of my thighs. Has a low back.”

His groan is loud and clear. “You had to come from one of my dreams. There’s no way you’re real.”

The statement sobers Iris, if only a little, but enough that the smooth and easy flow of her breathing stutters, much like the beat of her heart, stilling until she thinks she’s gonna lose breath, and then hammering back.

“I could say the same for you.”

The responding silence is piercing, expansive, a space where words left still unsaid are scattered along the floor, merely waiting for one of them to pick it up and say it.

“Iris,” he starts, and then he pauses again. “Can I come over? I know it’s your self-care night, and you can tell me no, but I need to… I really just want to see you.”

She doesn’t even think about it. “Yeah, Barry. You can come over.”

Twenty minutes later, she peels herself off of the sofa to open the door for him. He’s standing on the other side, in dark blue chinos and a baby blue and white checkered shirt, his favorite tan desert boots on his feet. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he’s leaning against the door frame when she pulls it open. His hair is a mess and his jaw is covered in stubble, but other than the faint red tinge in his cheeks, there is nothing that tells her he isn’t as lucid as talking to her had made him seem.

She smiles up at him, aware that her own eyes are probably low and red, but he smiles back, just as softly. He doesn’t come in right away, instead reaching out to pull her to him, one big hand holding the back of her neck. He looks down at her, eyes traveling down the length of her body.

“Hey my good girl,” he greets at last, and before she can respond, he leans down and kisses her. The kiss is chaste at first, one peck and another. Then he pulls back, only enough to scoop her up, gripping her by her waist and settling her in front of him, her legs wrapping easily around his hips. She yelps at the action, but then he’s kissing her again, and they’re moving into the apartment, Iris noting the faint slam of her door behind them.

He carries her to the couch and drops down in the center of it, keeping her atop him, keeping his mouth on hers. The kiss is slow, so slow, the sort of kiss that has no purpose, not one other than allowing them the space to be together. He holds on to her by her hip, free hand trailing up and down the length of her exposed spine, but he doesn’t make any move anywhere else. He seems content to just kiss her, this deep, open-mouthed kiss.

It’s like he’s trying to get inside of her, to climb in and settle down, to take up space with his searing, insidious presence.

It’s as if he’s trying to tell himself that this isn’t a dream, that it’s really her, it’s really them, moaning into each other, holding onto each other, breathing each other in.

It’s as though he’s trying to cement their story, to write it clear into her skin so that she can’t deny it’s veracity, like he’s promising that the only thing she’ll get on the other side of her climax is this, a gentle, effortless sort of fall.

Her eyes close and she lets herself lie in the feeling: opens a space for him to stay as he slides his tongue against hers; lets the feel of his mouth on her pull her from the dream she swears she’s been living since she first laid eyes on him; stencils the same story back onto him, plotting out a scene that only ends after forever comes and goes. She lets the kiss say what she can’t yet, reminds herself that he’s talking with it too, that he’s telling her what she’d seen in his eyes yesterday, and in his touch the week before, and in the curve of his smiles weeks before that.

When he pulls back, Iris cannot say how much time has passed. She only knows that her body has molded to the shape of him, that her heart has found the rhythm of his, that she’s there with him, my afternoon dream when the world is speedin’, i am still sleepin’, in my blue dream.

“What was that about?” she asks him. She stares back at him, and the way he looks at her is more intoxicating than the wine he’d just tasted on her tongue, more so than the weed that so effortlessly floods her bloodstream.

“Told you I missed you,” he replies, voice husky with exhaustion, and likely the arousal she doesn’t think ever really disappears.

She nods, a little dazed. They sit together for a while longer; Iris tucks her head into Barry’s neck and he keeps rubbing his warm hands along her spine. The atmosphere is delicate, peaceful. She takes him in, inhaling the citrusy scent of him, savoring the feel of him so close to her, surrounding her. They stay that way until Iris feels her own exhaustion tugging at her. She climbs off of him and, after turning off her music, she pulls him through her bedroom and into her bathroom. They brush their teeth, Barry with the toothbrush that he’d bought to keep at hers, and Iris reties the silk scarf she’s wearing on her head.

Inside her room, Barry strips down to his boxers, laying his clothes neatly on the arm of the chair by her window. They get into bed, Barry spooning her, his arm holding her tight against him. She settles in, fitting herself snuggly against him, and he kisses her temple before resuming his stroking, this time on her belly through her nightgown. It doesn’t take long for her to drift off, her breathing deepening before evening out. And just before she goes under, she hears it, Barry muttering, “I love you, Iris,” into her hair, so low that she’s sure she’s only just dreaming it.

When Iris wakes up, the first thing that happens is she hears it again, hears him, Barry’s night-rough voice whispering “I love you, Iris.” It runs in her head on a loop, an anaphora to every other thought, every question she’s having: i love you, iris, did he think she was asleep? i love you, iris, did he mean it? i love you, iris, does he want her to say it back? i love you, iris, i love you, iris, i love you, iris.

Over the past few weeks, Iris has become more comfortable with the idea of it, with the reality that what she feels for Barry is real and big and grand. It still takes her aback, how quickly she’d, they’d, fallen into it. As naturally wary as Iris is, she can’t discount what she’d felt last night when he’d kissed her, when he started into her, like she was the sun and the stars and every other bright light in the galaxy all at once; with awe and reverence and yearning; like he wanted to be consumed by her, and he didn’t care how close he got to that fiery, burning light, as long as she was standing there waiting for him.

And it’s enchanting to be looked at like that. Iris has been trying to get it out on paper, that feeling, trying to make sense of the contradictions: the fear that comes with caring about someone enough that they could break you; the power that follows knowing it’s the same for him too; the overall potency that comes with falling in love.

Still, the thought of saying it aloud, right now—when she’s still working on writing it all out, still trying to explain it to herself first—makes her seize up, her eyes darting wildly, her limbs frozen in anxiety.

Barry begins to shift behind her, loosening his arm from around her, and she takes the opportunity to slide out of the bed. She pads across her carpeted bedroom floor into the bathroom where her feet meet cold tiles. She uses the bathroom, washes her hands and brushes her teeth, and throws water on her face. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, chocolate brown eyes bright in her face, her skin clear, her mouth turned down in consternation.

She goes back out into her room. Barry is fully away now, lying on his back, both of his hands cradling the back of his head. Her comforter is pooled at his hips. She takes in his bare chest, the way his biceps bulge in this position, how clear his eyes look in the sun, even as his lids are low with sleep. Those candy eyes catch her as she walks over to him, staying on her as she kneels on the bed and crawls over him, settling herself on top of him. He’s half hard under her and he lets out a soft little grunt when she sits her butt right on his crotch.

“You sleep okay?” she asks him as he reaches up and traces at his iris tattoo. She loves it, the violet ink that has sunk into his skin, the hints of blue and orange giving it depth, the fact that it’s an iris, placed big and pretty over his heart.

“Are you alright?” he asks instead of answering her question. His voice is still sleep-rough and scratchy. The sound of it sends a soft little tremble through her.

She smiles, the gesture real but uncertain. Well, maybe not uncertain, but she’s aware that she’s in her head again, trying to parse through her feelings. Or, rather, trying to figure out which of her feelings is taking precedence, which one she thinks that she should address first.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

Barry hums as he drags a hand from behind his head, placing it at her hip. “You know it’s okay not to be, right? Okay, I mean. And you can talk to me about it, whatever it is.”

He gives her hip a squeeze.

“No, I am okay. I’m good, really. I just…” she licks her lips as she hesitates, unsure if she’s even ready to bring it up, unsure if she even should. But she knows that she’ll think about it all day, will hear it in her head all day, will wonder and question and drive herself sick with the thoughts of it. So she bites the bullet, lets out a long exhale, and takes him at his word that she can talk about it.

“I heard what you said. Before we fell asleep last night.”

His expression doesn’t change, but his entire body stiffens, his hands stilling on her hip. He doesn’t break, though, and continues to watch her face in that way that he does. For a moment, Iris wonders if he even remembers what he said, if the words were just some half-drunk confession he hadn’t actually meant to say,

(and the flicker of disappointment that follows is tangible, an almost visceral response that tells her much more than anything else could have).

“Okay,” he says after a moment, tilting his head. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She wishes she was as good at reading him as he is at reading her. She’s supposed to be able to make the observations, to understand the truth behind what people don’t say. Sometimes she thinks that she can, thinks that when she really looks at him, she can see what’s simmering in those eyes, can understand his intentions in the grip of his hands, and the curve of his spine, and the shape of his mouth. But it doesn’t feel constant, not like he is with her, and that fact is doubly true right now. Because she can’t tell anything about what he’s thinking, his only tell being the way his hand is still on her hip, tighter than it was before, holding her to him.

“I don’t know,” she tells him, truthfully. “Did you mean it?”

For the first time, he averts his eyes, gazing over at the window. There’s nothing to see; the blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, but he focuses there for several long seconds, brows furrowed and lips pursed. She blinks, and then she’s suffused with something foreign, something cold and bitter.

“You didn’t,” she says, and it isn’t a question. “Okay, that’s, that’s…”

She moves to climb off of him, but he’s quick, bringing her back by sitting up and wrapping both of his arms around her.

“Where are you going? I’m not done.”

Her eyes flash. “Well you haven’t said anything and I don’t need to sit here like this and listen to you tell me that you didn’t mean to say you love me.”

“What are you upset about, Iris?”

“I’m not upset, Barry,” she says, her frustration evident. She tries to move again, but he holds on to her. “It’s fine. Of course you didn’t mean it. It’s only been a few months. We’re just…”

“We’re just what, Iris?”

He’s looking at her again, with those pretty, too-knowing eyes, and she feels a little like she can’t breathe. Because he didn’t mean it. And the thought that she’d managed to get this all so wrong is, is horrifying.

“I don’t know,” she mumbles, and even though she didn’t actually believe it to be true, she continues, “sex, I guess. Apparently.”

She shifts again, but he tightens his grips even more and she can’t understand it, why he’s still surrounding her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him so potent.

“Is that really what you think?” he asks, and he doesn't sound angry so much as annoyed. “That I’m just here for sex. When it’s you that initiated all of our first encounters, when…”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, fuck you, Barry. Like all that slick talking isn’t initiating. You’ve got some fucking nerve.”

This time, when she tries to yank away from him, he lets her; and with a grace she doesn’t feel, she climbs off the bed. She strides towards the living room, but she doesn’t get far because Barry grabs her by the arm and presses her body against the wall near the door.

“Let me go, Barry,” she says, heart hammering angrily against her rib cage. He releases her arm immediately, but he cages her in, planting his hands on the walls on either side of her.

“Look at me, Iris,” he commands, his voice a raspy whisper. She blinks over his shoulder, taking in the messy blue comforter on her queen bed in the middle of the room, and the pale cream curtains on the windows to the right that don’t hide much light, and the blue and cream striped lounge chair where Barry’s clothes are.

“Baby, please,” he tries again, and it’s the pleading that makes her turn.

He looks a little like he sounds, frazzled and out of sorts, his eyes darting quickly across her face and the shadow at his jaw far past 5 o’clock.

“I meant it.” The words come out softly, a little strained, and he blinks once, twice, before repeating. “I meant it. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

“No,” Iris shakes her head. “You’re just saying that now. You didn’t mean it.”

Barry lets out a heavy sigh as he steps back from her. She doesn’t move, though, she can’t. Instead, she watches him, her body lost in the turmoil of the past few minutes. He walks towards the bed, then steps away again, stepping in a circle before coming back to her. This time, when he looks at her, she sees it, him, his feelings.

“You looked terrified this morning, Iris,” he explains, “thinking about what I said. I think that I can read you, that I can see into what you aren’t saying to me. I see the way that you look at me, the way that we are together, and I can swear that you also…”

“What if that’s just sexual chemistry?” she interrupts, because she’s still spiraling, her body still so heavy with the range of emotions she’s experienced in the span of just minutes. And what if he really didn’t mean it, what if she’d actually started writing this story wrong, what if this has all been some dream she’s just starting to wake up from.

Barry stops pacing to look at her, incredulous, and then he narrows his eyes at her.

“Is that really what you think, Iris?” He steps, no stalks, towards her, steps slow and measured. He looks up and down the length of her, eyes lingering at the spread of her hips, the dip of her cleavage, before settling on her face. “You really think that the way we are together is, is just sex?”

She opens her mouth but doesn’t answer, and he closes the distance between them. He stands so close that she has to throw her head back against the wall in order to see up at him.

(She tries but can’t find it in herself to be ashamed of what this does to her, even as she’s not happy with him, having his attention on her like this, having his hard length pressed against her like this, the look of him and the smell of him and the feel of him like this.)

“I know that no one else fucks you like I do, Iris.”

That makes her snap and he pushes at him and he stumbles back near the bed. “You’re a smug fucking bastard, Barry Allen.”

She moves to grab her phone off the counter, intending to, she doesn’t know, throw it at his head. But then she’s plucked off her feet. She squeals as he tosses her onto her back and straddles her hips, holding her by her arms above her head. She bares her teeth at him, but doesn’t try to get away from him this time. She’s breathing heavily, and he is too, and for a second, Iris thinks that this love stuff is too much. Because that’s what’s going on here, isn’t it? It’s their first fight and it’s about love, about the fact that they’d slipped into it so simply that they (and by they, she means she) is finding it difficult to just let it be.

“I don’t mean it in an arrogant way, Iris,” he murmurs. “I just… you are a fucking goddess, baby, and if you’d ever been with anyone the way you are with me, there’s no way they would have ever let you go.”

He presses down on her arms a little, presses his hips into hers a little. “And no one has ever made me feel like this, the way that you do, in bed and out of it. And you don’t have to say it back. Not until you’re ready. I meant what I said but I didn’t think you would hear me. I just needed to say it.”

His eyes roam her face and she stares back. Her breathing has begun to level out, but she’s still left with, with adrenaline or something, a heavy, aching sort of feeling flooding through her, making her warm and jittery and, and wet. Which, she’s never been turned on by arguing before, but, by god, she is. She is. Turned on and in love and so gone on the man above her that she doesn’t think of anything at all before she leans up and kisses him.

For the first time since they’ve started doing this, Barry doesn’t take his time. He kisses her back, just as hard, the kiss more teeth and tongue than mouth. He keeps a hold of her arms in one of his big hands and then reaches down to push her dress up over her hips, lifting his own hips just enough that he can pull himself out of his boxers and spread her legs, hiking them over his waist. He doesn’t bother with taking her panties off; he just yanks them over to the side, probably ripping the delicate lace, and then runs a couple of his sure fingers through her slit to see if she’s wet enough to take him. Satisfied, he grips himself and then slides into her.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he groans, dragging the word out, and Iris seconds that, throwing her head back at the heavy, hard, full feeling of him. He gives her one experimental thrust, and then another, and then he’s setting a pace, fucking into her in hard, shallow strokes. He clenches hard around her, her head filled with the press of his body and the smell of his skin and the thought of his love, i know the meaning’, for all the seasons, you are the reason, my love. Then Barry leans down on her, so that his chest brushes her nipples and his pelvis rubs against her clit every time he rocks into her, and her head clears of everything but this.

“God,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed.

He moves his mouth to her ear as he picks up his pace, murmuring as he always does, “fuck, baby, yes, you feel so good, girl; my good girl, shit” but his words aren’t as smooth as they usually are. He is frayed, his breathing choppy and his pace brutal. She likes it though. Her pussy grows wetter with every thrust, her hips rocking up to meet him, and she breathes out through her nose when she finds her mouth stuck in a round “o.” They’re both slick from the exertion and Iris can’t tell if it’s his sweat or hers or theirs. He holds on to the meat of her thigh, widening her so that he can ride her deeper, harder. She drips, down onto her thighs, soaking him too, and she knows that were she to look down, his dick would be so obscenely slick with her. He kisses at her ear, down to her neck, along her jaw, biting and licking and sucking on her skin. His grip on her is hard, and it isn’t so much rough as it is raw, inelegant and sensual and crude and so so so so good.

The thought of it is just as arousing as the act of it, and Iris manages to breathe out, “shit, Bear, how, how, how are you always so gooood?”

He flashes her a grin, her Barry coming back to her, and he says into her ear, “because it’s us, baby. Because I love you and you’re falling for me and we were meant for this.”

When Iris comes, it’s so hard she swears she goes blind for a minute. The world darkens and all she can do is feel: passion and euphoria and ecstasy and every other expression like it.

She’s thirty minutes late meeting Linda for their monthly brunch..

She and Barry shower together, and she drops him off at his car downtown and then she drives the couple blocks over to Golden’s. Before he gets out, he leans over and kisses her, a long slow sort of kiss, licking deep into her mouth as he cradles her face gently in the palm of his hand, and then he taps the top of her car twice before ambling over to his jeep without saying a word.

She feels a little funny after all of that, wondering why she still hadn't been able to say the words to him. He hadn’t said much to her as they’d dressed and gotten ready to leave her apartment. But he hadn’t stopped touching her either: taking her loofah from her and washing her down in the shower, running his hand over her hip after she’d hopped into a pair of light denim boyfriend jeans, rubbing on her thigh as she’d driven them downtown. She doesn’t think he’s upset with her; he’d told her she didn’t have to say it back. But he’d retreated, at least verbally, and it’s fucking with her, making her realize how much her fear is keeping her from him.

Golden’s is already open by the time she gets there so she walks in through the front door, throwing a hand up at Kamilla as she heads to the back in her stiletto heeled ankle booties, tugging lightly at the long, faux pearl necklace lying over her white half tucked in sweater. It’s packed as usual, the Saturday lunch crowd filling most of the seats, and she has to walk around chairs half pushed in and groups of people laughing and enjoying their Saturday.

She slides into the booth across from her best friend, the table already littered with food, Linda’s mango mimosa mostly gone. The other woman looks up at her, perusing, her brown eyes curious. Iris ignores her to grab her champagne flute, dropping a frozen mango slice into the glass and pouring a smidge of juice in, topping it off with champagne. She downs half of it in one gulp.

“You’ve been fucked,” is the first thing Linda says, when she finally decides to speak.

Iris chokes on her swallow of mimosa.

“Freshly,” Linda adds. Her red painted lips curve up in a devious little grin. “Is that big ass hickey you’re sporting the reason you’re late?”

She rolls her eyes, but touches gently at where she knows it’s sitting, an uneven patch of darkened flesh about the size of a quarter on her neck just under her left ear. She’d been in too much of a daze while she was putting on her minimal makeup earlier, the moisturizer and a little concealer, a bit of bronzer on her lids, liner and mascara. She hadn’t noticed the hickey, not until she was putting on her lipstick in the car and she didn’t have any foundation to cover it with.

“I’m too old to have a hickey,” she says to Linda instead of responding to her question.

“Tell your boo that,” Linda responds.

Iris wrinkles her nose at “boo” and starts spooning some sticky sesame chicken onto her plate. She forks a dumpling and bites at it as she goes for the lo mein and she doesn’t realize she’s reaching for the edamame until Linda stills her hand.

“Okay, what’s up?”

Iris chews the rest of her dumpling. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re eating.”

“Is that not why we’re here?”

“No, I mean you’re eating, doing that thing where you just throw food into your mouth without stopping or even really tasting it. You only do it when you’re really anxious and there’s no notebook or wine handy.”

Iris stills with a piece of shrimp in her hand. She drops it back onto the platter and sits back into the booth, chewing and swallowing while Linda waits patiently, sipping from her glass.

And then she blurts, “I’m in love with Barry.”

Linda nods, not yet committing to a response. “Okay.”

“And he told me he’s in love with me and I didn’t say it back.” Iris lets out a breath, tension releasing like a pressure valve has been turned.

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

“Because I’m a coward,” she answers.

Linda’s head shake is automatic, her brown waves brushing at her neck. “There’s not a hint of coward in you, baby girl.” Iris takes her best friend’s white silk blouse just as she says, “Now why don’t you really tell me what’s up.”

To give herself some time to put it all together, she finishes her mimosa and mixes another, though this one with less champagne, and she eats another dumpling, chewing slowly. Then she clears her throat.

“For a while now, I’ve been feeling, I don't know, lost. I was single, school was boring. Work was too, and it seemed like all of you were moving forward while I was just watching. Nothing felt exciting, not even my blog really. And then Barry came along, and I swear, the moment I saw him, it’s like my entire world lit up. There was this, this spark, and even when I was claiming that he was just around for sex, there was always this feeling that it was bigger than all of that, bigger than anything I’ve felt before.

And suddenly, I feel so different. I feel good, Linda. Everything is starting to feel good. My blog is getting real recognition now and Dr. Jamison must also be getting good sex because she’s been an actual joy to be around. And Barry...and Barry is…”

“Putting you to sleep every night?”

It makes her laugh, the way Linda wiggles her eyebrows as she says it, the way her eyes light up with mirth, the way her smile is a soft thing.

“Yeah, he is,” Iris says, her mouth twisting wryly. “But what if it’s a fluke, Linda? This man is everything I’ve wanted in a man and so much more than I even knew I wanted. What if we do this and I learn that he’s been, just, fucking with me this whole time?”

“You know that’s not true, Iris.” Linda picks up her own glass and drains it.

“But how can I trust this?” she pushes. “This happiness that seems to have only come when Barry stepped into my life?”

Linda reaches over and grabs Iris’s hand, and Iris clasps it like a lifeline, her pale orange tipped fingers pressing hard into Linda’s hand and Linda’s own pink tipped fingers pressing back. “There are no guarantees. So maybe we do find out that Barry has been faking this entire time. But what if he’s not? What if he’s as kind and loving as you say he is? ” She lets that digest for a moment.

“Love, and life, is a series of ups and downs, of good experiences and bad, Iris. The timing of it all is just coincidence. And I hear you. It feels so scary to realize that someone has that sort of power over you; that the care of your heart is in their hands. But what I’m learning with Dan is that love, love is always worth it. Because what you’re feeling, it doesn’t go away just because you don’t say it back, just because you don’t acknowledge it. And when you don’t you risk cutting it, him, off, and you’ll get hurt anyway. And that, my love, will be your own fault.”

Iris thinks about Linda’s words as they finish brunch, moving the conversation to Linda’s upcoming trip to meet Dan’s family. She thinks about it as she gets into her car and drives back home, forgoing working on a story in favor of plopping down on the couch and letting music play, my mind is open, so wide since you came inside, i feel so alive, without you life just passes by, passes by, lost in the reality of what she’s feeling.

She thinks about the words as she goes out to grab dinner, picking up a salad for herself and a chicken sandwich and fries for Barry, the intention to take him food not one fully realized until she’s parking in front of the precinct that Barry works out of.

She thinks about the words because Linda is right.

(She would never tell the other woman this, but she is right more often than she’s not, her poise and curious nature making her one to offer sound advice, always realistic and with love.)

She loves him, she does: his wit and his hands and his eyes; his compliments and his patience and ability to make her feel as if everything he’s ever wanted is present in the curves of her body; as if it is his profound pleasure to coax it out of her, with every touch, every moan, every dirty, mumbled thing.

Buoyed by the fact that she’d said it aloud, at the very least, and she didn’t wither away after she had, she grabs the food bags and her purse and walks up the steps to the precinct.

Her dad is working tonight but since she’ll see him tomorrow at dinner, she doesn’t drop by his office. Instead, she heads downstairs to where CSI is located, following the stairs to where they’ve apparently put them in the basement. The hallway is well lit, and there are several windows covered in closed blinds that lead to the lab door. She balances the bags in one hand and opens the door with the other. And she’s stopped short at what she sees.

The room looks like how she’s always imagined a crime lab to look like: lots of white, microscopes, and computers, shelves full of test tubes and petri dishes. Barry is there and so is the Cisco guy she remembers from Fall Fest. There’s a woman there too, in the utilitarian black pants and matching blazer that Iris knows is the norm for detectives. And it’s not that she’s there, because that’s not weird. But she’s there, next to Barry, close to Barry, leaning on his counter with her hand on his arm as she talks. She’s as tall as Iris is in the four inch booties Iris is wearing, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the sort of white girl next door look that men fall all over themselves for.

Cisco notices her first, as the door closes softly behind her, and Iris feels a bit mollified at the way his grin rises up when he sees her.

“Iris,” he calls, eyes twinkling. “Nice to see your beautiful face.”

Iris winks at him, pulling out a flirtatious grin so that she doesn’t scowl at the sight of the woman touching Barry.

(She’s not jealous. She’s not, but Iris can’t stand the thought of Barry looking at someone else the way that he does her, can’t stand the thought of him touching someone else the way he does her, can’t stand the thought of him whispering, yeah, baby, fuck, ride me just like that, to someone else the way he does her.)

Cisco, though, is loud enough that Barry hears him, and she watches as he straightens at the sight of her, eyes wide. “Iris!”

He gives her his look, the one where he rakes his eyes over the length of her and then lingers on her face, always trying to read her. She’s still a little frustrated at how she’s always such an open book for him, apparent after he’s finished his perusal and he smiles, slow and with more smirk than anything else. The woman next to him only moves her hand from Barry hesitantly, turning to see what all of this commotion is about. She gives Iris the same once over that Barry did, though decidedly colder, and Iris tilts her head at her before settling her gaze on Barry.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Iris says. “I know that you’re busy, but I thought I’d drop off dinner for you.”

She steps further into the room, and her heels clack loudly in the too quiet space. She pauses in front of where Cisco is sitting. She turns to him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring you anything. I should’ve texted Barry to see who else was around, but I was picking up dinner and just decided to get him some too.”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You can get me next time.”

Iris passes him and lets her eyes wander back to Barry and the detective, who’s stepped back in a bit. As soon as Iris catches his eyes again, Barry steps away from her, moving around to meet Iris. She stops at a point along a wide expanse of empty space on one of the tables, and Iris feels it’s a safe enough spot to place the food without contaminating anything. As soon as she drops the food on the table, Barry cups the back of her head and stares down at her. His thumb traces the mark he’d left on her neck.

“Hi, beautiful,” he says, eyes wondering, smile tender.

She looks over his shoulder to where the woman still stands, looking at her too. She gives her a smile in greeting. Iris thinks it’s returned.

“I’m sorry. You look busy,” she responds. “Should I go?”

“Absolutely not. I’m just surprised to see you.” Without stepping away from her, he turns to address the detective. “Patty, I’ll come down as soon as I have the results for you.”

Her gaze trails over to Iris once more, observing where Barry holds onto Iris’s neck, onto her waist. “Of course,” she murmurs, finally.

She walks out of the room, her low-heeled boots nearly silent on the floors. Both Iris and Cisco watch her go, but Barry doesn’t pay much attention, his focus on Iris as he continues to rub along his mark.

Cisco stands, sort of abruptly, his chair skitting across the floor. “Barry, I’m gonna step out for a minute.” He shrugs out of his lab coat, tossing it on the back of his chair. His thick brown hair brushes against his shoulders with every shake of his head. “It’s good seeing you again, pretty lady.”

Iris offers him another smile. “You too, Cisco.”

She turns back to Barry who’s eyeing her, expression curious. “You’re here,” he says, voice low.

“Yeah,” she nods at the bags she’s placed on the table. “I don’t know, I went to get dinner and I was, well, I was thinking about you.” She shrugs with a nonchalance she doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Barry’s answering grin is wide, and a little bit boyish, cheeks reddening; it makes Iris smile back in turn.

“Come on,” Barry says, picking up the bags and walking over to a desk tucked into the corner. “I've got a few minutes.”

The desk is messy, stacks of folders and sticky notes all over the place, and he moves some papers around so that he can place their food down. He rolls his desk chair over for her to sit in and he grabs the bag, pulling out her salad container and his sandwich and fries and placing them in front of their spots.

She waits until he sits down in the hard back chair he’d gotten from under one of the computers and she snaps the top of her salad before she says, “so why wasn’t I introduced to the detective?”

Barry takes a bite of his sandwich and looks at her in question. “Who? Detective Spivot?”

“Don’t you mean, Patty?”

Barry pauses with a fry poised for his mouth. “Sure,” he says. “Patty is one of the detectives on the case we got called into.”

“Hmm.” Iris stabs at her salad. She takes a bite and chews, though she doesn’t really taste it.

Barry places his half eaten sandwich into the cardboard container and he turns to her, giving her his full attention. He inclines his head, watches for a second. She thinks that the corner of his mouth tilts up, that humor brims in his eyes.

“What do you want to say, Iris?”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed that she can’t focus on how cute he looks with his lab coat and glasses on, annoyed that that woman was touching him, annoyed that she’s annoyed.

“I didn’t know you were so close to the detective. Y’all were very...touchy.”

Shaking her head, she starts to go back to her salad, but then he drops his food and rubs his hands together. He leans towards her.

“Come here,” he says.

She ducks away, but he grabs her wrist gently and pulls at her. She goes, because her tripping heart and her heaving chest and her warming sex won’t allow her to not. Barry sits her in his lap, sideways so that her legs are half hanging over his. She’s a head taller than him in this position, and he presses a hand at the small of her back as he looks up at her.

“You’re jealous,” he announces, seemingly pleased with the fact.

Iris rolls her eyes. “Of course not.”

Barry laughs. “So you’re just really grumpy right now?”

“I’m just curious,” she says.

“Oh?”

“About the touching.”

“She’d literally just put her hand on me as you walked in the door. I was about to move it.”

Iris harrumphs. “Doesn’t Detective Spivot know that you’re…” Iris waves her hand as she trails off and it makes Barry’s slight grin widen.

“That I’m what?”

Even she knows that the huff she lets out would only be completed with a foot stop.

“That you’re taken,” she says, boldly. Because whatever she was feeling, whatever he was feeling, this morning, they are still them: two people who’ve crawled into open, waiting hearts and made space for one another; two people who are pages deep into a story that the stars must have already been writing; two people hours into a dream that is so vivid, it has to be real.

The statement seems to sober him, because his eyebrows furrow. “Am I?”

She wants to be bothered by the genuine question in his eyes. But they’ve never blatantly talked about them. There has been some conjecture, sex-fueled mutterings that hinted at the reality of them, of their feelings. There have been looks between the two of them that tell far more than Iris has ever even realized could be portrayed through eye contact. He’s told her that he loves her. But they’ve never defined or drawn out the lines or made it real.

But like she said, they are them. And he is. Taken. So she slowly licks her lips, and nods her head. “Yeah, you are.”

This time, Barry’s smile is a sexy, lilting thing. “I’m fully yours, Iris. You have to know that.” He turns her so that he can hold her gaze, and reaches up to curl his fingers around the back of her neck, his thumb hitting that mark again. Then he says,

“I love you. I will until you love me back and forever after that. And that means that I don’t see anyone but you. I haven’t seen anyone but you since the minute I laid eyes on you in that slinky dress you had on, dancing in the middle of the crowd by yourself.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Even before, for months before, I couldn’t see anyone else. Because I was waiting for you, Iris.”

He gives her another kiss, this one longer, deeper, like the one he’d given her before he left her car. She finds herself humming into his mouth, her arms tightening around his shoulders. He rubs against her thigh, higher, then a little higher, until Iris is opening her legs to try to get some sort of friction.

Minutes or moments or eternity after, he pulls his mouth away, though he doesn’t move away from her fully. Instead, he looks at her, and she finds herself lost in him, in this dream of a story. She sees the words of it, my afternoon dream, when the world is speeding; i am still sleeping, in my blue dream and i know the meaning, for all the seasons; you are the reason, my love, and she wants to add to it, wants to let herself live in it, wants to finally fall into this love story without fear or reservation.

“Barry,” she says, whispers, and she notes how hooded his eyes look through the wire-framed glasses he’s wearing and how just the act of sitting here on his lap calms her at the same time that it inflames her. Then she thinks about his infinite levels of patience as he’s waited for her to be ready for him and how he’s always been interested in what she thinks or feels and how no one has even treated her body with the, the homage that he seems to. And she...and she loves him. “Barry, I…”

“Alright, Barry, we have…whoa.”

Iris blinks out of her haze, startles out of the confession she was about to make, at the sound of Cisco’s voice. Still, it takes a second before she’s able to pull herself from Barry, and from the expression he’s saddling her with, she thinks he might have an inkling of what she was about to say.

“None of this hanky panky,” Cisco continues, either oblivious or uncaring, Iris doesn’t know. “Spivot and Mitchell need to see us.”

“Alright,” Barry calls over her shoulder. “I’ll be down in five.”

When Cisco nods and leaves again, Iris is pulled back into Barry’s orbit. He palms the back of her neck, thumb brushing the mark on her throat. She assesses him.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

“I’m sorry.” He immediately goes red. He averts his eyes for a moment, before they drift back to her. “It’s tacky, I know, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late. This morning, I was, I don’t know, confused about us and I just…” He pressed his thumb into her skin. “I told you I’m not composed around you; I’m a mess.”

Iris covers his hand where it’s still on her throat. “You know that I’m yours too, right?” The earlier moment seems to have passed, but she can, needs to, give him this. His stare is hard and almost unreadable.

“Yeah,” he says after a while, sort of breathless. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

She wishes that she could stay in this moment with him, such a stark deviation from the way they’d left each other this morning. So she takes that feeling with her as she packs her salad up and helps him clean up the trash. Together, they venture into the hall and Barry leads her back out into the bullpen where Cisco is standing with Spivot and a tall, dark-skinned man with a baldhead and a beard. All three of them turn at the sound of Iris’s boots on the floors. Something about the look of them makes Iris grab Barry’s hand. Barry stops her a few feet away and leans down.

“I like how territorial you’re being,” Barry all but whispers in her ear. “I’ll come over after work and remind you why you don’t have to be.”

The thought of them this morning, the hard press of him, his breath rough in her ear, makes her look up at him, her eyes bright, bottom lip between the white of her teeth. It’s only Cisco’s pointed throat clearing that keeps her from falling mouth first into him.

Barry’s grin is knowing. “Bye, baby,” he says, a little louder this time, and Iris shakes her head, knowing he’s saying it in front of Patty for her benefit. He drops a kiss on her check and Iris nods at his coworkers.

“Detectives. Cisco.” She squeezes his hand once and drops it. “See you later, Bear.”

She steps away and walks out of the station, but not before she hears Mitchell say, “Damn, Allen, how did you bag that?”

She wishes she could explain that she’s the one that doesn’t know how she got him.

Barry does come over later, and as soon as he walks through the door, he pushes her up against the wall and fucks her, groaning “mine, mine, fuck, mine” into the bite on her throat, as Iris moans it back in kind, “yours, yes, Barry, I’m yours.”

My afternoon dream when

The world is sleepin'

I am still thinkin'

Of my blue dream

It's bliss

[plush-rabbit]

Bleeding Knees

Warnings: Religion (Christianity)

Word Count: 2.3K

Fandom: Obey Me

-

It's a restless night where no matter what you do, you can't sleep. You toss and turn and try to shut your eyes for the tiniest bit of sleep but it leads you nowhere, just limbs lost in blankets and a mind that wanders and lingers too much on unpleasant thoughts.

With a huff, you throw the blankets off, and slip into your slippers, the floor is steady underneath and doesn't alert your sleeping roommates. The door opens without a squeak and clicks softly when you close it. You walk around aimlessly, your fingertips tracing along the walls, your ears falling flat as you ignore  the whisperings of paintings.

You lose yourself within this palace, the walls blend in together, paintings full of color and life make you hesitant to to watch and admire, knowing that they would scrutinize you and huff and puff.

The closer you get to the end of the hallway, the chiller it becomes. There's a gentle breeze that makes you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself, your hands rubbing down the sides of your arms for comfort and warmth. 

You crane your head over the corner, spotting a balcony door open wide, curtains fluttering and creating ghastly shadows. There's a bubble of anxiety that starts to rise but your body has a mind if it's own, walking towards the open door and stepping onto the balcony. 

You breathe in the fresh air, the cold air nips at your lungs, not ready for the change of temperature. Your brush your fingers against the mental railing, the obsidian railing shines, the intricate details are etched upon the metal. 

The moon shines brilliantly above you. It's full, large carters visible with a light, warm yellow glow. Stars are visible, hidden for moments behind passing clouds, but shining just as bright when you look at them again.

"It's usually a clear night here. Sorry that you stayed up late for nothing," a gentle voice fills in the night chuckles.

You jump and turn your head. "Ah! Lord Diavolo! I-I'm so sorry," you quiet to a voice in a hush, your cheeks burn red. "I didn't mean to be awake at this hour, I just couldn't sleep." You try to keep his gaze but fall at the tip of his nose, clasping your hands behind your back you look at the open door. "I'll just be on my way," you mutter.

"Oh no. Don't go. You're free to look around." He stands next to you, his arms resting at his sides, bright golden eyes watching you. "I just wish you had asked. I wouldn't want you to get lost." He pauses, his lips form a smile and there's a twinkle in his eyes. "Again."

You let out a nervous laugh. "Right." You pause and force your jaw to unclench. "I just- It was late and I didn't want to disturb anyone."

He hums next you and shifts his gaze to the garden. "May I ask you something personal?"

You stare at him, an eyebrow quirked before you return your gaze to the front of you. "Of course."

He's silent for a while that you begin to wonder if he really didn’t have a question and just wanted to make conversation. In the short time that you’ve known him, you wouldn’t put it past him but then his voice fills the night. "Do you ever think about death?" 

Your hands still above the railing. "All the time," you whisper, your fingers scratching the metal railing.

"Would you accept death?" His voice lowers to match yours, his posture straightens and eyes grow heavy.

"With open arms," you answer honestly. Your eyes glance to the side, and meet his for a second. "I feel as if you're threatening me, Lord Diavolo," you say, your tone both teasing tinged by a hint of fear on your words. 

He chuckles. It's a nice sound, deep and rich. "I would never threaten you." 

You nod, the smile that had been beginning to form falls and you're both left staring at the scenery in front of you. Your eyes make out the outline of a hedge, following the gentle curves of the art. 

The silence that fills the air is light. The lanterns outside cast a soft orange glow, flickers of shadows dancing across the both of you, your shadows bleeding out into the night.

"Do you fear death?" You ask, breaking the silence.

There's a twitch of his eyebrows, his expression unreadable before it relaxes, a coy smile plays on his lips. 

"No. I'll live longer than you can ever comprehend." Exhaustion laced his voice and for a second he appears older and much more tired. It’s a sight that makes your stomach churn. "Long lifespans make for great kings." He winks at you, a cheeky grin returning to his face.

"I'm sure you'll make a great king, Lord Diavolo." You stand up straight and let out a breath. The trees rustle in the night, branches looming over head. 

"Why don't you fear death?" His voice cuts through the night, rushed and shaky.

You let out a thoughtful hum. Your posture slinking back down to rest against the railing as you try to find the right words. You open and close your mouth. Tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth and peeking out to wet your lips.

"I suppose," you start out, "humans- some humans have religion to turn to and I suppose that makes it easier to handle death."

"Do you turn to religion in your time of need?"

Your eyes narrow and gaze hardens. "No."

"Why is that?" He pries further, gentle prodding of the sleeping bear.

You stare at the sky, it's endless and vacant, ends at the horizon and full of stars and colors.

"Religion," you pause, the word heavy on our tongue, "is something that you're supposed to dedicate yourself to." Your stomach churns as you speak to the Lord. "You're supposed to bleed for God. To kneel and wail praises to the Lord- to God. You should scream and pray until your throat is hoarse and bleeding." You want to claw your throat. "There is no benevolent God. No God that you can pray to when you're sobbing in the middle of the night and trying to grasp for air. No, that God is hungry- aching to hear your prayers and sins- to whisper them in the night in hope for forgiveness. You're supposed to be willing to die, to rip out your heart, to claw your throat and offer God everything you own." Your throat is burning and it's getting harder to talk. "You have to beg on the floor like a dog, to kneel and give thanks for everything that you own. That that God," you spit out the word, "is holy and above, can do no wrong. That everything you have and are is because of them." You bark out a laughter. It's sharp and humorless. "Don't get me wrong. The minute you're different- the minute that you deviate from who you're supposed to be, that you cast aside God's little vessel, you're thrown away and told that you are nothing more. You're beaten until you're black and blue, until you're crawling and spitting blood, promising to everyone above, that you won't do it again because if you do, your spirit is going to hell. You'll be tortured and murdered above ground before you ever reach hell." Your teeth are bared and you're speaking through clenched teeth. Eyes sting with unshed tears. "You eat his body and drink his blood but that isn't enough to protect you. His body is bread and you have to rip it apart- dig your teeth in and bite. His blood is wine and it's bitter and burns your throat and you have to drink it all as it stains your insides." You look back at the Lord, golden eyes that shine too bright make you look. "We're told that demons are evil. Manipulative. That you'll do your best to whisper lies into us and pervert us." Your jaw clenches and fists tighten. "If we suffer, it's all because our faith wasn't enough." You don't have the courage to look him in the eyes so you stare at his medal, the light catches on it and it glimmers. "We're made to pay the church, we're forced to give money to a place while we're told God did everything for free. That he washed the feet of prostitutes when no one else would but the believers, his followers, will turn their nose up at the thought of getting near someone like that. They'll scowl and spit and yell, insults hurled and whispered all while they go back to church and sing and hold hands and talk about doing good." You take in a deep breath, the tips of your ears burn and your nails dig into your biceps. "We're supposed to suffer for God. To praise and pray and sob and bleed," your voice cracks and a warm brown hand twitches, fingers inching towards you. "We are dogs. Loyal and willing to die. Below our Master. On our knees until we bleed." Your whole body grows heavy, arms dangling over the railing. "We don't get to be who we want to be. We have to hide ourselves and pray for this wickedness to go away." You let out a breath that you hadn't realized that you've been holding in. "That's religion in the human world."

Tears burn in your eyes, a lump in your throat makes it hard to bread and bright red lines paint your arms. You turn around and lean on the railing, arms crossed in front of you as you try to regain your breathing. 

"Not a very good relationship with religion I see." His voice whispers, holding no sarcasm or attempt at a joke- just pure, genuine curiosity.

You chuckle, it isn't totally devoid of humor. "Yeah." You nod your head. "Yeah, I guess you could say it's not a good relationship." 

It's silent for a while after. Gentle breeze makes the hair on your arms stand and you think about asking where the breeze comes from but you hold your tongue.

It's comfortable. Two beings enjoying each other's company while one listens to the other and their relationship to the outside.There is a silent understanding- to no poke or prod. 

Your words hang in the air, heavy yet light. Burning yet cold. You've gotten your grievance out and while in no way you are healed, the wounds open and bleeding, you feel lighter. Your shoulders don't carry a burden, your stomach has lost the everlasting knot, your head feels clear and your heart aches and wants to wail until you can't speak but you feel as if it's easier to beat. 

"Not all religion is like that," you whisper. "In some you aren't condemned to a life of torture." You stand a bit taller and wipe your eyes.

"But you still believe in a God?" He asks, attention fully on you. You nod. "What God do you believe in then?" He turns to face you, a gentle smile and reassuring eyes urge you to explain.

"I believe in one that is just," you answer honestly. "One that doesn’t condemn every one who disobeys to a life of torture, one who loves and welcomes everyone." You look back at Lord Diavolo and grin. "It's silly to a demon, but to a human whose life goes by so quick but lasts so long, it's a nice comfort to have."

"Humans are very strange." He runs a hand through his hair, deshelving it in the process.

"Is that why you want relationships to strengthen between the three Realms?"

He nods. "It would be nice to interact freely." He smiles at you. "Even if not everyone is as passionate as you." He gives you a chuckle.

"Heh. Are you teasing me Lord Diavolo?" 

He waves his hand and shakes his head. "Please, I appreciate the title but you're free to call me Diavolo. You aren't my subject." He grabs your hand gingerly in his. "You are my guest." He bows, lowering his gaze and meets your eyes, staring intently into them. 

You can only hold his gaze for a second before you turn away, thankful that the orange glow casted by the lanterns on the walls will blend in with the pink that has begun to settle on your face. You shuffle and force out a yawn. "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll be heading to bed now." You pull your hand away from his and glass your hands together intertwining them and watching him rise back to full height.

The way his eyebrows quirk makes you sure that he doesn't believe your statement.

"Allow me to walk you back." He offers his hand towards you, his cape draping and falling off his shoulder.

You give him a gentle smile and place your hand in his.

The walk back to your room is silent, steps echoing in the empty corridors, paintings that come to life watch and try to peer out of the frame as you both pass by hand in hand. He squeezes your hand every so slightly, fingers rubbing along your knuckles. You smile softly whenever he does this, feeling a sense of bond grow between you.

You arrive at your room, the door still closed and silent inside. You both stand there, hands still collapsed tightly against one anothers. He clears his throat and you turn to face him. His eyes look deep into yours, full of an emotion that you can't place.

There's a moment that lasts for too long, with breaths being held and your palms starting to get clammy, where you can feel butterflies make a home in your stomach. 

"Good night Diavolo." You smile at him and the name on your tongue makes your heart skip a beat. 

He presses his lips against the crown of your head and bids you good night, his hand slipping out of yours with ease, his fingers dragging and committing the feel of your hand to memory. 

Once he hears the door click behind him, he brings two fingers to his lips delicately and smiles softly.

[insufferablelust]

The dying and Its blossoming.

The one where Y/N love Spencer Reid, but soon find out that he might or might not have found someone else.

OKAY HELLO, this is the angst i talked about yesterday, it’s sad.. but has a happy ending so don’t cry just yet! anyway the reason why i write this is because i’ve been numb for few days and i want to cry bad so i just decided to write. And this is what i came up with, it made my soft ass cried so hopefully.. it can get through to you too, happy reading! oh and TAAHM is also uploading soon!

MASTERLIST OF ALL MY WORKS.

WARNINGS : ANGST, heartbreak stuff, fluff at the end, thats it i think!!

————🍃————

It was the little things he did that caught your eyes since you joined the team. The way he first introduced himself to you, shaking your hands with the brightest smile beaming on his face. The way he always put a coffee on your desk before you arrived. The way he would review all the case with you, going over the files together and staying late to work on paperworks together. The way he called you a week after Maeve’s death and asked you to stay on the phone. So on and so forth.

Falling for Spencer Reid is inevitable, how can it not be inevitable? when you and him practically do all things together, Dr Who marathons, Drive to Rossi’s, even accompanying him to Vegas one time to visit his Diana.

The first time you felt it, felt the spark— you shook away your thoughts and scoffed at yourself, it’s just a stupid crush. You tried, tried so hard to believe that it was just a stupid crush. Yet the more time you spent together, the more your heart take over your brain, convinced you to love him, and convinced you to think that he’s in love with you. Truth and confession aside, you could’ve sworn he’s in love with you, these are facts right? all these moments? surely it has to mean something to him, like it meant something to you.

Confuses and frustrated, the next person you called was Emily, your closest friend besides Spencer. She knows how head over heels you are for him, and how much you’re willing to do anything for him. So that night you spilled all your confusions and worries as you sipped on your wine, your teeth constantly biting your nails— if Spencer was here, he would’ve told you that “Y/N, do you know that biting your nails—“ and you would listen to him contently even if you already knew what he was about to say.

“It’s just— i’m not crazy to think he loves me back right? or at least like me?” You stresses, chugging down the last bit of your drink as you hear Prentiss chuckled on the other side.

“What? No Y/n, look i’ve practically grown up with you guys, and all i can say is that you both really need to realize how much you actually need each other, so stop worrying, go get your man.”

Now when Emily said that, she didn’t mean it as literally going over to Spencer’s house like what you were doing right now. Only wearing an oversize sweater and pair of jeans, you looked so comfy inside those sweater paws that you let out an annoyed huffed, ‘now he’ll think i’m a child’ then an idea popped inside your head, causing a big cute smile to appear on your cheeks. Your hand reached to the backseat, sighing when you find what you were looking for; Spencer’s purple sweater.

Now you didn’t stole it, he gave it to you, because you’ve mentioned one morning that “They are all sold out Spence! you’re one of the lucky ones” The annoyed look on your face must be so embarrassing that he gave his godforsaken lilac sweater to you the next day, with the Spencer reid’s famous smile “Here, you can keep it, i already washed it but it’ll probably smells like me still cause i smell like my clothes and i used my—“

“Lavender, you always use lavender for your clothes, i remember Spencer! oh my heavens! Thank you.” You can’t forget how seemingly happy he looked, cheeks flushed, as flushed as yours.

You sighed contently at the thought, as you exited your car, clutching his sweater on your chest as you head up to his apartment. Now you see, if the plan does work you’ll just say that you need for him to wear it again because the smell starting to wear off, which made you giggle. So you jog upstairs quickly to his apartment door before knocking, “Spencer?”

You frowned, usually he always opened his door right after you knock, why’s he taking so long? so out of worry you knock few times “Hello? Spencer?” this time you were met by voices of two people, giggling and hushing each other, as they got closer, you giggled in thought ‘maybe you’ll find garcia there who knows?”

But the moment someone opened Spencer’s door your eyes went wide, and your brain tries to make a sense out of what you’re seeing. Here standing in front of you is a girl, a stunning woman you’ve neither met or recognized but one thing you recognized is how well Spencer’s sweater clung on her body, and how happy she looked while she’s standing on his door wearing his clothes with his mug in hand.

“May i help you?” She asked with a smile, you could see the blue colored scrub bottom on her, A surgeon, judging by her uncharacteristically warm welcome, you guessed pediatrics. Damn it Y/N no time for profiling.

“Is spencer he—“

“Who is it, love?”

Oh... so this is why he canceled your usual movie night two days ago, this is why he’s been saying he’s busy when you asked him to drive you to your usual hangout library, this is why he’s been so happy recently.. this is the reason. a mid 20 possibly 30 years old gorgeous Surgeon with a warm smile and impossibly sweet attitude.

“Uh i think she’s your friend from work, Y/N right?”

You concluded then and there that you don’t like how she said your name, it was selfish but you hated how kind it sounds whilst you’re here standing in front of her, eyes glassy and lips trembling. Then when you thought you’ve seen it all, your eyes locked with Spencer, he— looked so content and comfortable, happy. He looked so happy with his...

“Y/N, hi what are you doing here so late? oh and Y/N meets (G/N) and (G/N) meets Y/N, she’s my best friend from work”

So thats what you were, Best friends who acts like a couple, best friends who hold hands, best friends who shared a drunken kiss, best friends who poured everything to each other, best friends who— you can go on and on yet you can feel how tight your chest is becoming, Anxiety— fuck you have to get out of here.

“Y/N?”

“I-i, uh here’s your um sweater, i— figured you might want uh it back, alright i gotta go now.” Spencer didn’t missed how your hand trembles so bad when you handed him the sweater, or how glassy your eyes looked, or how your face looked like it was drained of color, and how you struggled to breathe, her anxiety attacks.

“Y/N wait!” Before he could mention anything, she went down quickly and running towards her car.

“What was that all about?” His girlfriend asked him, which he shook his head in reply, and muttered “no idea, let me check” So he went down, to no surprise, her car was speeding away.

What Spencer didn’t know was that Y/N came home wishing she could’ve been smart enough to noticed the damn signs, or smart enough to never let her heart fooled her into thinking a genius, a guy like him would ever have any feelings for her.

She went to the bathroom, not bothering to wash her face instead she sat down near the sink and then she cried, she hugged her knees and Y/N cried that night, cried so hard that she tire herself out, falling asleep on the floor of her bathroom.

——————

The next morning, she woke up with a headache that’s practically yelling at her to take some meds and drink, her eyes opened slowly as she found herself laying on the cold bathroom floor. Slowly she tried to get up, holding onto the nearest wall as she feel her knees buckled and her head pounding, she let out string of curses before managing to stand fully, leaning over the sink to see herself in the mirror.

The sight is terrifying, her eyes bloodshot red, her face looks dull drained of color, her lips dry, her hair is a mess and her nose is runny. She continue to stare at her misery some more until her phone rang, flaring up the headaches. Great.. Must be a fucking case.

“Hello?” She mentally cringed hearing herself, she doesn’t sound like herself, she sounded like she just drank 30 bottles of alcohol then managed to broke her vocal cords.

“Hi... Y/N are you okay?” Emily’s voice was soothing at least, she sighed as she gulped down an aspirin and took some clothes out of her closet.

“Yeah, We have a case?” She knew that Emily would dig up the conversation more if she didn’t jumped straight to the point, and Y/N is in no mood to talk.

“Yes, wheels up in 40 but if you cant—“

“I’ll be there in 10.”

—————

Y/N took a quick shower, before putting on your work pants, a simple V-neck t-shirt and top it with a blazer, quickly gulping the rest of her water before combing her hair and then head out the door. When she parked her car, her memory drove back to last night, causing her to groan in mental and physical pain— tears welling in her eyes as she violently hitting the steering wheel.

“Not now, Not fucking now.” She closed her eyes before leaning back against the headrest and take a deep breath, calming herself down. She prayed to herself that she won’t break down if she sees Spencer.

She won’t break down.

She keep chanting that inside her pounding head as she walked out of the elevator, entering the bullpen, quickly grabbing her go bag and place it on top of her desk before heading upstairs to the meeting room.

She knew where he usually sit, so when she entered the room, she tried her best to look at Garcia, presenting the case. “Sorry i’m late, traffic is a damn bitch, Double homicide Garcia?” She asked, as she sit down between Emily and JJ, looking down at her files, noticed how stupid she was to use files instead of the tablet which she refused so she could review the cases with Spencer on the plane, Now look who’s laughing. What she didn’t realized realized is that all eyes were on her disheveled looking state, no amount of make up could cover the misery, i suppose.

“Yes, we’re thinking surrogates for a blond woman with wealthy family. Y/N are you okay?” She visibly tensed, hearing his voice is like opening up a fresh wound and pour some acid on top. She wished he could just shut up and not talk to her anymore, not now or in few days at least.

“Fine. Garcia, any other leads?” Y/N looks up to Garcia, to find her with a frown on her face, clearly wanting to say something. But Y/N has the pleading look in her eyes, and the way she tilted her head made Garcia shook her head and replied with a small “Nuh uh thats it, the rest is on your file” Nodding at her with a silent thank you, you get up and left the room, which in other cases Emily won’t appreciate but she let it slide because she knew something’s wrong.

“Y/N” Not him again, you muttered on your head, as you zipped up your go bag.

“Y/N..” Then he touched you, touched your arms, he touched you and you exploded, all your willpower ceased to exist as you swat his hand away and giving him a warning.

“Don’t touch me unless necessary, don’t talk to me unless it’s about the case, and do not call me by my first name, it’s agent Y/L/N, have a good day Dr.Reid”

—————

Throughout the entirety of the case, neither you nor spencer talk to each other, only piling up opinions about the case, the team have caught the unsub of course, so now you’re heading back to DC.

The longer you sit on the very opposite end to where Spencer sit, your mind started to wonder back to what happened three days ago. Being on the case has definitely helped distract you from the reality that Spencer Reid has a girlfriend and that you’re a fool to ever believed that he could love you. You’re so deep in thought whilst looking at the soft curls of his hair, you didn’t realized Emily has sat down next to you.

“A girlfriend?”

“What?”

“He has a girlfriend doesn’t he?” Your eyes darted to Emily’s as you sighed heavily, closing your eyes and leaned your head against her shoulder. “She’s a surgeon, pediatrics i think, she probably smarter than i am, um she smile a lot and she’s holding a cup of coffee when i arrived so i’m guessing she’s a nice person, there’re cat fur on her hair so i guess she has a cat which he should’ve hate being a germaphobe and all but i guess she love that kind.” Y/N half whispered half yelled, as she stared at his poking head still that is before she heard Emily burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, Y/N you profiled her?”

“Em!” You whined as you shove her shoulder, you crossed your arms on your chest as you huffed and pout like a child. “I’m sorry it’s just.. oh god you even notices cat hair” She laughed again, which caused you to laugh loudly, feeling the joy overcome you in full force before you started to cry, not knowing why. Tears kept on falling down your face as Emily hugged you and rubbing your back “Its okay, let it out sweet girl. I got you.” That was the last thing you remembered before falling asleep.

—————

It’s been a week since the last case, you’re finally able to hold yourself up and not cry every 2 hours is an achievement. You spent your time on an autopilot mode, woke up, work, avoid Spencer depending if there’s a case or not, then lunch, cried in the bathroom, paperwork, avoid Spencer, return home, cried again watching Dr Who, falls asleep, woke up and repeat. That’s how you’ve been for a week, and you know how difficult it is to move on but you’re trying and thats what matters.

Knock knock

You furrowed your brows at the sound, Emily wasn’t supposed to be here until 2 PM, so why’s she visiting now at.. 11 am? You sighed as you put down your tub of ice cream and opened the door only wearing your pajamas since its sunday.

“Emily, its way to early to— Dr.Reid?” You can’t believe your eyes when you see a very nervous looking Spencer at your door, your heart still thump hard at the sight of him which you whined at inside— you still love him after everything. Damn it. You took a deep breath as you heard him say your name, before moving backwards to slam the door at his face,

“No! no no wait Y/N hear me out! please!” His voice cracks as he hold the door so you won’t have a chance to slam it in his face.

“What the fuck do you want? Is being an asshole and destroying my life enough for you?” You half yelled, as you turn around and let him see your angry tears. You were so mad at him, you hated him so much, yet you still love him just as much if not more.

“I know, i know you hate me and i deserved it. But please hear me out, you deserve explanation.” His voice are quivering, signaling he was about to cry as you chuckle darkly,

“Damn right i am. But i’m done, done with your games, i can’t keep up with you— i will never be enough and you have.. have someone so please just go and i’ll forget this will ever happen” You plead as your voice soften, you’re just exhausted, you want it to stop, you want to stop hurting. So you shoved him away before pushing the door,

“I love you! I’ve always loved you.” Your movement froze as you hear him continue, your tears still falling freely from your eyes

“The only reason why.. why i dated her is so that i can get over you. I thought.. i thought you’ll grow tired of me soon, and i don’t want to be the one who’s hurt so i.. i found her but i love you, i never stopped”

“You cant just assumed things like that Spencer! You can’t. You should’ve asked me you should’ve told me!” You’re full on yelling now as you let him in, god your neighbors is going to hate you.

“I know! I know but i never handled rejection well and you know that! everyone left me, my dad, Gideon, Morgan, Emily at one point, Hotch, and maybe my.. mom soon. I’m sorry Y/N, i really am, i’m— i’m sorry for being such a coward, for not telling you, for not—“ You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips against his in a desperate ‘i love you’ manner, you didn’t care, you just love him, and he could be lying but why? why would he be lying? You pulled back as you stare at him

“Have you end it?”

“5 days, 17 hours, and 28 minutes ago” You chuckled, the first time you chuckled after such a long time, as you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

“I love you too..” You whispered, causing him to hug you tightly as you both sob into each other’s arms, whispering I love you’s again and again like it’ll never be enough.

“I love you, Y/N Y/l/N, i swear.”

“I love you, sorry about calling you an asshole” You laughed nervously before he chuckled and leaned to push you on the couch, “You might have to make it up to me..” He teased, and you let out a grunt. “Fine, Blow jobs for a week anywhere you want..” His face beamed and he blushes before tickling you, “Deal, Baby.”

“Wait Spencer so does this mean—“

“Y/N, will you be the girlfriend of this asshole?” You let out a tear before nodding and tackling him to the couch to hug him tightly “yes, yes, yes i will” He kissed your lips quickly, reaching for his satchel and pull out a lilac sweater,

“I believe it’s yours”

“Like you’re mine?”

“Yours, always.”

——————

blurb requests are open! send some in, any genre is fine, and please like + reblog! if you have any constructive criticisms or feedback please private message me, thanks!

[the-duke-of-nuts]

The Battle Over Wine

 After 3 months I’ve finally gotten around to finish writing one of the Loceit headcanons/prompts as a oneshot! This is the first fanfic I’ve ever written that’s in actual sentences and not in script form so forgive the MANY grammar mistakes and shitty plot for I am terrible at writing and don’t know how spacing works on Tumblr (*cough* Betas hit me up *cough*) ANYWAYS literally nothing in this makes sense but it’s fanfiction so roll with it. Hope you enjoy I guess!

Prompt/Headcanon by the amazing royalty of Sanders Sides headcanons/prompts @imma-potatoo: Janus and Logan constantly battle over which wine is better (they are both wine moms) Janus says red wine, Logan says white. They can and will get into hour long debates over this

Pairing(s): Loceit, Background Dukexiety

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: Alcohol, Arguing, Blood mention (Nothing major just comparing the color to wine), Remus being Remus (Let me know if there's anything else)

It was a typical day at the mindscape for the Braincell Gays. They had just finished filming a video with Thomas about helping him with his mental health and his overworking issues. Janus thought both of their inputs and solutions were a success and decided to have some celebratory wine with Logan.

"Today was a success, wouldn't you say darling?" Janus said wrapping his arms around Logan's waist. "I must admit, today was pretty satisfactory, especially since we both helped Thomas with his dilemma and we were both actually listened to for once." Logan replied wrapping his arms around Janus' neck. Janus smiled and pressed a quick soft kiss against Logan's lips to which Logan of course reciprocated. "I say this calls for a celebration." Janus said. "What did you have in mind?" Logan asked, curiously. Janus smirked and summoned two empty wine glasses "I think you know~" "Ah yes, how can I forget your traditional celebratory wine." Logan playfully rolled his eyes. 

"Oh you know you love it".

 "You're correct about that." Logan chuckled.

 Despite both of them having "serious" and "professional" demeanors around the other sides they enjoyed the little moments where they can actually goof off and make each other laugh and smile during their alone time.

 "So, what will it be for the menu for today my love? Will it be the best and most savory of flavors of Roscato red wine, or are we feeling a little fancy and want to celebrate with champagne instead?" Janus asked. "Oh, well I was thinking we should have something far much more adequate like white wine." 

The sound of glass shattering immediately followed after Logan’s response,

 "I beg your pardon?" Janus stared in disbelief trying to process what his lover had just said. Logan, his darling, the light of his life, his beloved, had just disrespectfully claimed that WHITE wine was better than red in his own home! Well, their home and the other sides' home but that's besides the point! This is wine they're talking about here! "Well, I thought I made myself clear but I shall repeat myself, I said that I was thinking we should have something much more adequate than red wine which I suggested white instead." 

Janus took a deep breath in trying to keep his composure

 "Starling?"

"Yes Janus?"

 "You know I love you right?"

 "Of course I do, you show and tell me everyday."

 "Well you're making it reeeeeal hard for me to want to show and tell you right now." 

"Why? Is it because I was simply stating facts that white wine is much more superior than red?" Logan crossed his arms raising an eyebrow. "Those are NOT facts those are lies! Red wine is much more tastier than white wine!" Janus argued. "Yeah, if you have a figurative bitter tooth! Red wine is way too bitter and the sweetness isn't as flavorful as white wine!" Logan argued back. 

"Y'know considering the fact that we have to deal with 4 other nincompoops in this damn house you'd be glad that red wine is stronger than white!"

"Janus, just because red wine contains more ABV than white wine doesn't make it the better beverage!" 

"Oh says who!?"

 "The literal personification of LOGIC and literally anyone who isn't you!"

 "Okay you know what? That's it!" 

Janus has had enough of the ridiculous bickering and decided to take matters into his own hands by summoning himself, his darling nerd, and all of the other sides back in the same exact courtroom him and Patton were in trying to convince Thomas to go to the wedding or callback. 

"We're going to settle this debate once and for all!" Janus dramatically pointed at Logan. "Janus, this is ridiculous! Who exactly are we defending for this to be a courtroom scenario!?" Logan glared at his lover. "Ourselves and the law of wine!" Janus declared. "What the hell does that even mean!?" An annoyed, confused Virgil yelled from the jury box sitting next to Remus and Patton. "Hush Virgil the adults are talking." Janus said not taking his eyes off of Logan.

"We're the same age!" 

"ENOUGH chit chat and questions." Janus made Virgil cover his own mouth growing tired of his complaining and faced Roman "Now, your honor would you kindly read off the charges please?" "Oh, we're doing this again, well alright let's see here uh, The state of Logan Sanders yadda yadda yadda, Janus, prosecuting for the state of Logan Sanders, under oath, information makes that Logan Sanders... Count one: Unlawfully and disrespectfully claimed that one alcoholic beverage was better than the other. Count two: Has terrible taste in drinks but better taste in men. Count three: Being too damn attractive for this world. Count four: Making Janus break two perfectly good wine glasses. Count five: Unlawfully not participate in self care by leaving his books all over the floor whenever he falls asleep while doing heavy research when he's supposed to be taking a break causing Janus to place a bunch of bookmarks in said books and put them away for him." Roman read off the charges Janus summoned him. 

"And how exactly were those last four charges relevent?" Logan asked. "Because they are and you know it! Your honor, continue." Janus said. "Being so charged, Logan Logic Sanders, how do you plead?" "Not guilty." Logan said deadpan. "Count six for being too confident in that answer." Janus coughed out. 

Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head, he didn't know who was more dramatic, Roman or his lovable self care wine loving snake.

"To make this quick and effective we're going to skip the other nonsense and get straight to the point by giving our UNBIASED views to each person and have them decide to see if Logan is truly a horrible wine 'expert'." Janus said as he arrived at the front of the courtroom 

"Alright, fair enough. Prosecution, your first witness." 

"I would like to call Remus to the stand!"

Remus appeared in the witness stand and immediately stood up and was about to jump over it and run "I can't go back to jail!" "Sit down Remus you're not going to- Wait what do you mean back?" Janus looked at him after doing a double take. "Nothing! So uh what's the question?" Remus immediately sat back down trying to change the subject. 

"Alright Remus, red or white wine?" 

"That's it?" 

 "That's it." 

"Alright, uhh hmm..." 

Remus thought about it thinking of the possible outcomes that could happen if he chose a certain answer. Janus noticed him struggling to make a choice and had an idea and smirked 

"You know Remus, if you're having a hard time deciding, just putting this out there, red wine looks like you're drinking blood and I think you enjoy that thought VERY much~" Remus gasped and instantly became excited by the thought "OOH! You're right! I could even add bone shaped ice to give it that realistic crunching sound!" "Objection persuading the witness with a biased opinion." Logan said. "Overruled. It's not really persuading since we ALL know my brother actually enjoys anything gruesome like that regardless." "I sure do!" Remus cackled at Roman's statement. 

Logan sighed a little frustrated, this was going to be harder than he thought.

"I think I rest my case your honor." Janus smirked and blew Logan a kiss as he walked back to his table to sit down. Logan blushed and shook his head to quickly snap out of it and walked to the front and cleared his throat as he adjusted his glasses and tie 

“Remus."

 "Nerd."

 "You enjoy pranking and getting on Janus' nerves is that correct?"

 "Yes that is VERY correct." Remus snickered. 

"And you despise when he forces you to partake in proper hygene as well as making you eat actual ingestible foods unlike deodorant and other non edible items?”

"Yeah."

 Remus crossed his arms hating remembering the times Janus would force him to take a bath and purposely safety locking the cleaning supplies cabinets just so he had no other choice BUT to eat regular food. 

"You also are not how they call a 'lightweight'?"

 "Nope!" 

That was a lie. Remus could drink three cups and he'd already become a drunk chaotic mess.

"Okay, so hear me out here." Logan started and Remus leaned forward becoming interested in what he was about to say. "Remus, white wine is clear therefore you can always "pretend" that you're drinking water so Janus doesn't question it for self care reasons nor harass you about it." 

Remus went wide eyed at the realization and wagged his finger at Logan. "You... I like you... Keep talking."

 Logan smirked, he got Remus right where he wanted him and continued. 

"Also if you were to spill it there would be no noticeable stain therefore making it impossible for Janus to become upset."

"Wow, you make some VERY compelling points Four Eyes."

 "Objection! I don't appreciate you persuading my son with your biased statements by using me as examples." Janus interjected. 

"Janus, Remus is not your son!" 

"You're right, my apologies. I don't appreciate you persuading OUR son with your biased statements by using me as examples."

 Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head not wanting to bother arguing with Janus about his logic. 

"I believe I've made my points your honor." Logan walked back to his table. "Alright, can I go now?" Remus asked. "Almost Remus. We just need to know your final answer, then you may leave and sit back down with the other two." Janus answered. "Okay umm on one hand I very much LOVED Jan's point about how red wine looks like you're drinking blood buuuut I would have to go with Nerdy Wolverine on this one and choose white wine because I enjoy pissing Janus off." 

"Yes!" Logan whispered victoriously to himself. 

"Oh you rat son of a bitch of course you would-"

 "Language!" Patton interrupted. 

"English."

 "Spanish! Now you!"

 "German. No! We're not doing a word association game!" Janus yelled frustrated. "Aw, what's the matter my charming smooth scaled serpent? Realizing you're losing against Logic?" Logan smirked. "NO and don't you dare flatter me using snake related petnames when you're looking like that in a suit!"

 Logan smirked at Janus' flustered expression, "Alright, then bring out your next witness then." "I will! Remus, you can leave now." Finally!" A relieved Remus announced as he summoned himself back at the jury box. Janus summoned Roman to the witness stand wanting to get straight to the point. 

"Roman?"

 "Yes Janaconda?"

 "You're the romantic one out of all of us correct?" 

"Oh my god you already know he is just get to the point!" Virgil yelled from the jury box slowly losing his patience even more. "Since you are an expert on the matter, would you mind sharing with the court which wine do you think is more romantic on a date?" "Oh that's easy, obviously red wine." "Interesting, care to elaborate?" Janus smirked and glanced at Logan. "Of course! Imagine having a romantic candle lit dinner under the stars or a picnic date watching the sunset, red wine gives those beautiful moments of being with your beloved partner a general relaxing and romantic atmosphere and it also tastes marvelous with various different foods. I'm actually quite surprised Specs didn't side with red wine considering it's good for digestion." Roman stated. "Wow, you really ARE a romantic expert! I don't think I have any further questions." Janus smirked and walked back to his table. 

Logan went wide eyed there's no way he can convince Roman, his answer was obviously clear but it's worth a shot. 

"Roman, have you ever considered white wine being just as “romantic” as red?" 

"Not really no."

 "Okay, well uh it can because-"

"Logan, I know you're trying here but trust me I know what I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, white wine is just as delectable as red but I'm gonna have to side with Janus on this one." Roman interrupted and summoned himself back on the judge chair. Logan sighed and walked back to his table, he knew by the amount of confidence in Roman's answer there was no convincing him. "Fair enough..."

"Alright, Prosecution next witness?" Janus decided to summon Patton in the witness stand next and smiled innocently clasping his own hands together "Patton~" "Uh I know this is probably a really bad time to bring this up now but um I don't really drink wine so I don't really have an opinion..." Patton blushed a little embarrassed. Janus sighed frustrated and put his head down on the podium and summoned Patton back in the jury box "Of course you don't." 

There was only one person left and that person was Virgil, it was 2 out of 2 and his choice would be the one to officially break the tie and put an end to this illogical ridiculous debate trial. 

Janus summoned Virgil in the witness stand " Alright Virgil, what do you think cause I'm sure we all know you don't have an important input." 

"You wanna know what I think!?" 

Virgil was fed up and snapped his fingers causing him and the other sides to appear back at the house and summoned two glasses of wine, one red and the other white. He shoved the glass of red wine in Janus' hand and the white wine in Logan's

 "I think the two of you dorks-" 

"Dorks. Whale penises am I right guys?" Remus interupted snorting. 

"-Should actually ACT like you both have a braincell and never debate about something as stupid as this ever again!" Virgil continued angrily. "Maybe the reason why they both don't have a braincell anymore is because they both fu-" Virgil interrupted his boyfriend from finishing his inappropriate sentence by covering his mouth and dragged him out of the room. Roman and Patton followed them not knowing what else to do. 

The Braincell Gays stood in awkward silence holding their wine glasses realizing their silly little arguement was stupid after all. 

"Truce?" Janus asked raising his wine glass. 

"Truce." Logan smiled and raised his glass as well. 

They both clinked their wine glasses together and drank their wine happily enjoying each other's company and soon made it up to each other by agreeing to have a self care day together the next day.

[lettrespromises]

you taste like moonlight. - dracule mihawk.

@theastroooooworld​ sent a letter : ❝ Hi, I hope you're okay! I want to ask you two things. First of all are you French? and second, can I ask for a script with Mihawk discovering that he is in love with his fem s/o but hesitating to reveal his feelings, believing that his s/o is in love with Shanks (which is not the case) and he is even considering to cut the bridges with her? I hope you'll be able to write it down, 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝘆𝘄𝗮𝘆 💙🤪 ❞

author’s letter :  ❝ hello you lovely human being, i’m doing amazing, i hope you’re doing good too!! aaaa, this is my first one piece request, i’m so excited!! thank you so much for trusting me with your request, this is such a wonderful prompt- the brain you have, it amazes me!! in the meantime, enjoy your promised letter.

sincerely yours, nikki. P.S: oui, je suis française, comment t’as deviné? ❞

genre : kinda fluff, kinda angst. warnings : mentions of alcohol, drinking. word count :  3.2k

Mihawk was unsure if being able to state that Shanks was in his inner circle was a blessing or a curse, perhaps it was both at once, the acerbic poetry of paradoxes. He was, without the shadow of a doubt, his polar opposite. And yet they clicked- he secretly both thanked and cursed Shanks’ ability to socialize in the blink of an eye. 

Metaphorically speaking, they were the two personifications of two celestial bodies : Shanks was as bright as the sun, a sun that rises and never sets. Mihawk was as dazzling as the moon, a moon that beams the most amongst the quiet scenery of the stars and the sky. And yet, they were closer than they would admit- the moon lets the sun shine through and brings out its most secret and breathtaking sides. And in return, the moon reminds the sun that it’s never quite alone and that they will always meet, one way or another.

They would always meet one way or another, in a way, they copied the mechanisms of the celestial bodies. But no matter how long the process was, they were meant to cross each other’s paths, and today was that day. 

When the moon and the sun would meet in the sky, Mihawk and Shanks met on the land. 

Given his position as a Shichibukai, Mihawk bent under the obligations of assuming his responsibilities as the Marine’s hidden ace. Shawks, on the other one hand, had the influence to shift the weight on the balance. And as much as Akainu hated to admit it, his help, or rather the help of a pirate from the fleet Admiral’s point of view (one of the emperors no less) was deemed as reasonable according to the Gorosei. 

The holy land of Mary Geoise was bound to be stepped on by all the crowned heads of the oceans and lands, it was only a matter of time before the Reverie. It was yet another meeting required by the higher circle of the Marine, and to them, it was yet another way to testify the loyalty of their Shichibukai, make sure that their own personal beasts were still obedient. 

Both you and Mihawk were considered as the Marine’s deadliest weapons, and yet, you still held the status of being pirates. Isn’t it ironic? Once again, the acerbic poetry of paradoxes. The Shichibukai, although they were affiliated with the Marine, could not afford the oh so marvelous prestige of going to Mary Geoise. How shameful would it be for vulgar pirates to walk on the same land as an endless list of personifications of divinities? Instead, you were deemed to remain on an island close enough to the Holy Land, and in the worst case scenario, intervene if necessary.

The rules were strict, especially given that you were pirates- you were not allowed to leave the island nor the property of the Shichibukai, not allowed to ask about the Reverie nor the people attending to the event, you were doomed to sit and wait for a desperate call, if needed. Nonetheless, there was only one exception on the list of people staying, and much to Mihawk’s pleasure or misfortune, the special guest happened to be Shanks.

Mihawk was seating on the sofa displayed in what was supposed the center room, eying meticulously the Den-Den Mushi throning on the center of the table. He never dared to let his stare roam elsewhere, not even a centimeter next to the Den-Den Mushi, after all, you never knew what could happen, correct? The deafening silence was coating Mihawk, enveloping him in an invisible cocoon, if you will. He felt the most natural amongst a quiet scenery. He wished this silence was eternal.

Oh, anybody could have recognized his booming voice, his equally as loud laugh and the sound of beer being poured in his glass like an infinite loop. Mihawk didn’t bother spare a glance in Shanks’ direction, he recognized right away who was the protagonist who made an entry worthy of a dramatic character in a play. Shanks, on the other one hand, let his pearly whites shine through as soon as Mihawk’s frame enter his field of vision as he dangerously reduced the space separating him from the Shichibukai.

“Well, would you look at that? When was the last time we saw each other, old pal?” Mihawk reiterated himself, he wished this silence could have been eternal. “Akagami no Shanks. It appears you are as lively as ever.” Mihawk’s facial expression remained still, even after feeling the cushion bend under Shanks’ added weight. He needed to remain focused on his duties. 

“And you’re as, how can I say that without coming off as rude, you’re still as you as ever! C’mon, don’t be all you, all serious like that. I’ve seen you having more fun than that in the past.” Shanks smirked as he reminisced himself of the time when the ever so serious Mihawk let his façade combust under the influence of alcohol, a pure rarity. “This is no laughing matter, Shanks. You must know why you have been summoned here with the rest of us Shichibukai.”

In return, the redhead offered him his most victorious smile despite knowing that Mihawk was not ready to observe anything else but the Den-Den Mushi, it was a lost cause, but he secretly dared himself to make him let loose, for old time’s sake. “Man, you sure as hell are not the life of the party. Look, the Marine is already protecting Mary Geoise as we speak, they’re not gonna’ call you, nor your friends. There’s plenty of booze here, c’mon, I know you like yourself some fine wine, so let’s drink!” Mihawk didn’t even have the time to say anything in return, Shanks was already out of the room, focused on his quest to find the perfect bottle of wine to satisfy Mihawk’s hushed desires. 

Truth be told, Shanks had little to no idea where the oh so famous bottles were at, but he was so motivated to find them and lift his friend’s spirits, so perhaps it was even more important than to find the wine itself. 

On his journey, Shanks recognized a familiar frame, but more importantly- said frame was holding Mihawk’s precious liquid darlings in their hands. “Oh, oh, oh! First, Mihawk and now you? Aren’t I one lucky bastard?” You could picture the grin adorning his facial structure as he spoke, it was so contagious, that even yourself felt the need to mimic the smile plastered upon his face. “Fancy seeing you here, Shanks! I haven’t seen you in forever.” You met on rare occasions, but said rare occasions were more than enough for Shanks to recognize your strength. “What are you doing here with all this booze? If that’s too much for you, I happen to know this one guy who can help you.” Oh, the wink sent your way didn’t go unnoticed, but you followed him anyway.

And oh boy, did you regret your decision. Hell, you were expecting Buggy, or even Trafalgar Law, but not him out of all people. The words pouring out of Shanks’ mouth increasingly became more and more hushed, your eyes were laying on him and him only as you and the redhead stood next to the open door. “Were you even listening to what I was saying, doll?” Broken out of your dreaming state, your eyes shifted onto Shanks’ figure, you were caught red-handed. “I’m sorry, I was... Distracted? So, you were saying?”

Shank’s glance balanced between you and Mihawk, Mihawk then you, you then Mihawk, and then it clicked. A dangerous smirk full of ill intentions drew on his face, before he could even speak, you covered his mouth with the palm of your hand while your cheekbones reacted to the nervousness shaking your body. “Please, just for once in your life, shut your mouth.” You frantically whispered while looking at him with alarming eyes. Knowing Shanks’ teasing nature, if he had figured on your attraction to the sword specialist, it was over for you. “Ha? Me? I would never dare to say anything about your ridiculous crush on Mihawk over there, right, Y/N?” You elbowed him in his stomach in a weak attempt to hush him, and your cheeks had never burnt this hard before. 

Here you were, entering the room with both of your hands cradling the bottles of wine against your chest, accompanied by Shanks’ frantic laughter. You had no other desire than to disappear on the spot, could Kuma come and teleport you away, just this once? “Oi, Mihawk! Look at who I found, and a little birdy told me that Y/N is a huge fan of you, if you know what I mean.” You elbowed him a second time, knowing very well that it wasn’t going the last time you would do so. 

The sound of your name was enough, and for the first time since since he had arrived in the leaving room, Mihawk’s golden orbs left the Den-Den Mushi and instead, he drank your frame in. You were absolutely breathtaking, even more jaw-dropping than the last time he saw you. What was your secret? How can you become more beautiful each day passing by? His interrogations found no answer. 

But the sight of you also included seeing that Shanks’ arm was wrapped around your shoulder, his body engulfed yours, he was too close to you for his liking. But after all, this sense of proximity was very Shanks-esque, he couldn’t deny it, he secretly envied this ability of his. Instead, to heal his shattered hopes, he pictured himself instead of Shanks in his mind- his arm circling your shoulder, perhaps even circling your waist while his thumb would brush your delicate skin in circular motions. A dream.

“Y/N, what a pleasure seeing you here.” The tone of his voice was so stable, almost expressionless to some, but Shanks had already picked up the slight hint of pleasure in his voice. “Did you see that? A pretty doll and wine? Isn’t Y/N a keeper?” Each word leaving his lips silently infuriated Mihawk, the thoughts of you and Shanks appearing close, or even worse, in a relationship, were intoxicating him slowly, yet, he didn’t find the courage to let his eyes wander elsewhere than on your face. ‘Breathtaking’, he thought.

Shanks knew what kind of game he was playing now, he called that ‘helping his friends out’, but deep down, he perfectly knew there were higher stakes, and one wrong move could anger the sword specialist. He was on thin ice, of course, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. And perhaps, the burning fire of jealousy would melt the ice away. 

You, on the other one hand, silently understood Shanks’ intentions- you knew that each touch, each glance sent your way, each laugh at anything you would say was specifically executed to diminish Mihawk’s patience, it was a dangerous game, but you both knew the secret rules. 

With his arm draped over your shoulder, tugging you even closer to his side, Shanks had everything figured out, and seeing the way Mihawk’s gold colored eyes never left you, even amongst the ramblings and the fit of laughter coming from the redhead, Shanks knew you were the sole holder of all of Mihawk’s attention. But little did he know how much this was hurting him on the inside, the toxins of his jealousy kept on spreading. 

“... And that’s how Y/N earned their Shichibukai status, you should’ve seen them, pal! Don’t let the pretty face fool you- they’re a beast, aren’t you, doll?” The wink sent your way, the slight squeeze of his hand on your shoulder, the smirk forming upon his face- this chain reaction caused Mihawk to delicately place his glass of wine on the table, or at least, as delicately as a person burning with silent envy and anger could allow. “I believe I’m interrupting something. I shall leave you two lovebirds alone.” He didn’t mean it, but he spat the word ‘lovebird’ with so much acerbity, each one of his words was coated with hurtful intentions. Perhaps he was better off without you, but the emotional burden would still follow him around. And once his line was pronounced, he left his seat and headed out of the room, out of your sights.

Your mouth was set agape- your brain screamed for you to do something, pleaded you to run after him and appease his ill thoughts, but your body was rendered numb. You felt numb. And if you were careful enough, you could feel the agonizing sensations of your own heart breaking. All this time, you were silent, thinking that Shanks knew what he was doing, but it seems that the game ended sooner than he had anticipated. 

“Y/N, look, it’s my fault, I get th-...” Shanks started, but you interrupted him right away, as soon as you felt an outburst of confidence fed by despair coursing through your veins. You escaped his one-sided embrace, the root of all of Mihawk’s toxins, and threw a last glance in Shanks’ direction : “I think you’ve done enough.”

You rushed yourself out of the room, its atmosphere was so heavy, so heavy that you could feel it at the tip of your fingers. In the hallway, you snapped your head frantically while desperately looking for the hint of a gigantic sword adorning the back of the one you loved. You wanted to find him, correction- you needed to find him at all costs. 

And eventually, you did.

“Mihawk! Please, wait! I think you misunderstood all of this.” You were out of breath, not because you had run through the long hallway to catch him, but because your heart was pumping so much under the pressure of your emotions. His back was facing you, not even the sweet melody of your voice was enough to catch his attention. “Please, just listen to me.” 

Your pleadings were agonizing to him, the pain embedded in your words cut deeper than he had expected. As a matter of fact, you affected him more than he had expected. He turned around, and you found the familiar sensation of his golden orbs boring into yours. “You have two minutes to explain yourself, Y/N.”

Your lips almost quivered upon hearing the solemn tone of his voice, there, only there you could recognize that this time his voice was indeed expressionless. But you had two minutes to explain the situation, two minutes to clear his head from any haunting thought, two minutes to confess the feelings you held in his regard. 

“I think you misread the situation. Shanks and I are not dating, far from that actually.” You caught your breath before continuing. “Shanks tried to make you jealous.” His brows furrowed at the sound of your sentence. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Explain further.” And now you were doomed- it was a back to the wall kind of scenario, the one you feared the most because it meant exposing the nature of your feelings to the freezing moonshine. 

“Mihawk, I do have feelings for someone, it’s true. But it’s not Shanks, and never has been. The person I have feelings for is... you.” You felt like the weight of the world had been taken off your shoulders, you could finally breathe freely. But you met silence in return, causing invisible knots to form in your stomach. You knew you pushed the game too far, but it was impossible to go back. “Y/N, with all due respect, I do not think your words are genuine. If you’re trying to keep your relationship with Shanks secret, then so be it, but do not hurt me in the process.” And with that being said, he turned around once more and continued on his way without having a clue where he was actually going, he just knew he needed to be away from you.

Hurt him? The knots felt tighter. He walked away on you? Your body felt constricted under your emotional pain. You had never felt so hurt before, and you couldn’t even dare to imagine how hurt he must have felt. 

You tried one last time to run up to him, perhaps it would have been the last time, but it was worth it. Your hand grabbed his wrist forcing him to face you, you and him were both surprised at the spontaneous gesture. His lips were parted, he had the words ready on the tip of his tongue, but you didn’t feel like giving him the chance to hurt himself any further.

Your palms cradled his cheeks, and you met the contrast of the soft sensation of his flesh and the roughness of his beard, this contrast was like him in a way. For the first time, the nature of his glance expressed surprise, he felt numb in your touch. And for the first time, the toxins settled in his mind were starting to fade away under the spell of your touch.

Without thinking twice, your lips crashed onto his, your brows furrowing in the process as a sign of concentration while your lids were now shut close. It took a few milliseconds for Mihawk to grasp the nature of your actions, and then, it clicked. The delicate sensation of your lips on his were enough to comprehend that your words were genuine. 

Your kiss spoke nothing but pure passion, both of your lips melted against each other, as if they had been lingering for this moment forever, as if they were in fact made for each other. You completed him, and he completed you. 

Due to the lack of oxygen, you felt obligated to break the kiss, against your will. Your eyes fluttered, and eventually, you found the courage to look at him. He was a living, breathing masterpiece. “Do you believe me n-... Humpf!” This time, it was his turn to cut your ramblings to a halt. His arms encompassed your waist, so delicately, he was secretly afraid that the aftershock of his pent-up anger would explode under your hypnotizing tendencies. 

This time, your kiss secretly echoed to apologies, but it was fiddled with sweetness, with pure compassion. It was, indeed, his way to apologize. After all, he was a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. A scenery taken straight out of the most beautifully written novels about love met two crushed souls finally melting into one another. You were both at peace, enveloped in one another’s love. 

The moment when Mihawk’s lips left yours, you slightly pouted at the feeling of vacuity left upon your lips. “I do believe you now.” But said vacuity was soon replaced by the overwhelming feeling of the gleam of love shining through in his golden orbs. 

.

.

“Well, it was about damn time!” yelled a drunk Shanks from the doorframe.

[octalove]

IX: Bullets (And Other Things That Don’t Go Back)

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Description: Reader and Jason are out for revenge- it doesn’t go as planned. Previous.

TW: Description of gore!!! Seriously.

This was the Bowery. Darkness became blackness here; the shadows were mountains too steep to be climbed. Each clinical electric light on the Estate didn’t seem to make a dent in the depth of them. The air was suffocating, smelling of smoke and sewage. I knew what kind of people were tucked within it; a nest of hornets. The kind of people who kill women in their homes- their beds.

The kind of people who killed my parents.

Jason was beside me, helmet yet to be pulled on as we watched from the shadows, taking in the composition of the place. His warmth and sturdy presence was reassuring; I felt nervous, and I knew why. This was personal.

At the heart of this hornet’s nest was Adriano Cliffs. He’d successfully broken up the families and rekindled a war, blaming the Pellegrinos- Kane Pellegrino specifically- for Penelope’s death. With no marriage, the families were once again enemies and competitors, and pointing the finger at Penelope’s husband was the salt in the wound that finally spurred Olivier D’amici.

Jason told me that she signed Cliffs’ deal at her granddaughter’s funeral.

He was here, tonight. The old Estate was bought with D’amici money, and inside were a dozen armed men on the D’amici payroll. Drug packaging, maybe. I wasn’t too concerned with the particular crimes taking place at the Estate; there was only one crime I wanted revenge for.

The objective was simple; find Cliffs. Whatever Red Hood did thereafter, I wouldn’t stop him. Cliffs had no children, no family. Nothing but his depraved ambitions, and as far as I was concerned, the world was better off without them.

The inside of the Estate was something out of ancient Greece. White marble floors and limestone Corinthian pillars- including a Greek-style statue in the center of the large foyer. It depicted a dramatically-posed bearded man who appeared to be reaching skyward, with the direction of his upturned eyes, a cloth swirling around his form by grace non-existent wind; ever-frozen in time.

On either side of the grandiose room were large, winding stair cases leading to a second floor with intricate railing. It was the kind of house that was built before the Bowery fell to crime and poverty. Even in the dark, with all the boxes, crates, and plastic-covered furniture, the house was a work of art.

We could hear voices carrying from back rooms and hallways, as laymen busied themselves with packing the crates with who-the-hell-knows.

Red Hood was incredibly quiet for the two-hundred pounds he was. He fell into shadows seamlessly, so still you couldn’t see the motion of his drawing breath. We moved together, common tongue of small nods, and barely perceptible hand signals. Slow movements.

Toe to heel. Steady breath. Nice and easy.

Red gave me a slight head tilt, and headed for the East wing, while I crept down the main hall. A stark, stand-alone light was in the enormous living area, illuminating some internal construction- remodeling of some kind. There was paint, ladders, and tools strewn about. I moved forward cautiously, inspecting the many corridors that the living room made way for. The narrow hallway was nearly pitch black, but I heard voices from behind a couple of the closed doors. Hushed, urgent. I pressed my ear to one.

“...What’d he say?”

“Dunno. Somethin’ bout how Cliffs got some guys want him dead for this.”

“For what? Workin’ wit the old lady?”

“Nah, not that... says Cliffs was the one who bumped off the granddaughter.”

I strained to hear them more clearly, my ear and hands pressed to the cool wood.

“Hey!”

I whipped around just as two men rushed toward me in the dark hallway. I stood, and charged them before they could draw their weapons, hitting one in the temple, and kicking the other one into the wall with concentrated force.

I turned back around just in time to see the two men I’d been eavesdropping on bursting from their room, pistols raised. I ducked as one fired a shot- one that rang like an alarm and echoed off the marble and limestone.

So much for quiet.

I slid low, and swept my leg beneath the shooter, knocking him to the ground, then delivered a left jab to the throat of the other. It was too late- I had the attention of the entire mansion now- hearing shouting and footsteps coming from all directions. As three more men appeared from the corridor, I darted back into the open living room.

More gunshots came from behind me, and a reflexive cry escaped my mouth, as I rushed for some form of cover in the nearby structures. I ducked behind an old drywall just as spray of bullets cascaded along it.

Something grazed my right cheek, and I knew the laceration was there even before I felt it. I drew a sharp breath, back pressed against the wall.

Something that sounded like voices, shouting, could be heard outside. Gun flashes ripped through my peripheral vision, hitting the man that was firing on me, who recoiled and made a disgustingly grim sound as he fell.

The wound on my face stung with ruthless irritation. My hand moved absentmindedly to cover the flesh and keep it together, but I felt the immediate fervid heat of cascading blood flood onto my palm, and through the spaces in between my fingers. It had to be deep.

“Fuck,” I whimpered. “Fuck. Fuck!” I pulled myself from my hiding place as a goon ducked behind it, not having enough time to notice me before I delivered a mean right hook.

My knuckles hurt upon the impact, but then, my whole body ached, making it hard to tell. Lines of pain blurred. It frustrated me that I felt helpless. Floundering in what was sure to be a terrifying and inglorious death, full of bullets, to become another corpse for a team of men to find and send back to the City Morgue. Burned in a cremator and reduced to nothing.

The sensation of my own blood pouring over my arm made me panic. There was so much of it, and it was so thick, and hot. I listened for more adversaries, light-headed from the loss, and the adrenaline.

As I pulled myself back into the fray, I halted in the open room, just in time to find myself eye level with a gun, staring down the barrel like my own funeral.

My gaze trailed from the gun, along the arm of my assailant, and settled on the familiar face I’d been inches from at the D’amici party.

The last time I’d been this close to him was when I was afraid I was going to make him spill his wine. His blue eyes were hard and full of hate. My stomach dropped, because I knew it was the last thing Penelope ever saw.

I was going to die.

I held my breath, closed my eyes.

But nothing came. There was a thud, and a cracking noise. As I opened my eyes, he was on the ground, and Red Hood was standing over him.

“Wrong fucking move, Cliffs.”

Irately, he kicked his stomach. Twice. Then, he circled, swung low and grabbed Cliffs by his hair. He made a struggling sound and tried to grasp at Red’s armored wrists, to no avail.

“You wanna put a bullet in another girl, that it?” His voice was full of unraveled anger as he dragged Cliffs. Dropping him forcefully, then picking him up again.

“You picked-“ He slammed Cliff’s head into a marble pillar. The sound was soft, but I flinched, and then shrunk under the sound of Cliff’s agonized cry.

“The wrong-“ He slammed it again.

“Fucking-“ Again.

“One.“ Again. The last blow was a wet, squelching sound as all the flesh had broken away, revealing the skull beneath. When his body finally crumpled lifelessly, a torrent of blood followed, flooding across the marble. His face was featureless- pieces of broken skull fragments indistinguishable from the teeth jutting out in all directions, flesh and hair melding with the blood. My eyes were glued to it.

I let out a shuddering exhale; a breath I’d been holding since the barrage began. I hadn’t even realized I’d sunken to the floor until I felt the cold marble beneath my hands, steadying me.

Red Hood leaned back in a tired way, catching his breath, before turning on me. I was sure for a moment I looked afraid. He gave no indication that he noticed.

“Can you walk?” His voice was harsh, jolting me back to a reality I didn’t know if I wanted to face. Automatically, I nodded.

He knelt down, his leather glove tipping my chin as he surveyed my face.

“Who shot you?”

“I... I don’t know..” I breathed. My mind was still catching up, reckoning with the fact that I was alive. “He’s dead.” I added.

Satisfied with that conclusion, Red turned his wrathful gaze on the back door, where some echoing gunshots could still be heard.

He stood, and pulled me to my feet as well. I only swayed a little, before I composed myself with some desperate sort of intrinsic resolve.

Pull yourself together. You’re Batgirl, for God’s sake.

He held up a gloved hand as we reached the exit, scanning the darkness. Then, together, we paced into the open night.

I wanted it to be over. I wanted to run, so I moved quickly over the concrete patio. There was a small garden in the back- dead trees and bare bushes from the harshness of winter’s height. The chill of which pricked my skin.

Suddenly, Jason grabbed my arm, pulling me to a halt. He tugged my body closer with ease, muscles tight with tension. He surveyed the dark garden, and as I followed his gaze, only then did I notice the silhouetted figure at the back gate.

I was petrified. I crouched, and knew my mask and hood covered my face, but I felt utterly visible. Luckily, Nightwing seemed more interested in Red Hood, who stood there, equal opposite to him, looking like a pissed snake about to strike. I believed it. I’d just seen it. Very abruptly, the tides of my fear shifted- so much so that the pain in my cheek dulled to a lulling ache. I was afraid for Dick.

“Jason,” Nightwing said. It was an odd thing; I knew that everyone knew who he was, but all this time it felt like my knowledge. My secret. My Jason. Now, night and day were crashing into one another, and my illusion was wavering. It was all wavering.

“Jason, I’m sorry. What happened to you- I’m so, so sorry.” The emotion in his voice made my chest hurt. “But you can’t keep doing this. Just talk to us. I miss you, little brother.”

Looking at him, I knew Red Hood was all static; charged up and willing to take out the aggression on the nearest medium of opposition. Nightwing may as well have been talking down a brick wall.

“If you don’t move, brother,” Red’s robotic drag was a sneering mockery and an earnest threat all at once. “I’ll move you.”

I was cemented to the darkness that concealed me, and still reckoning with my wounds, I didn’t know if I could help in a fight. I wasn’t sure who I would fight. Nightwing drew closer, his footfall against the garden’s gravel and the rustling wind were loud in my still-ringing ears. Red shifted his weight, blood-coated hands hovering above his holstered guns.

I stood, slowly. What the hell kind of Batgirl was I if I watched them tear each other apart?

But then, I wasn’t Batgirl, was I? Tonight, I wasn’t the hero. Under all the blood and black clothing, I was just me.

I reached out, my hands grasping at the hem of Red’s jacket sleeve, holding the leather tightly, like if I let go, the night sky would fall from where it hung above us. I pulled softly, a wordless plea, tugging him away from the jaws of a fight, wherein no victory lie- not for anyone.

He stood firmly, and drew his gun. In the time it takes to blink, he fired a shot at a goon who was emerging from the house’s back door. Nightwing and I both jumped, and then he looked back and forth between Red and the man’s body.

After a second more of resistance, Red resigned, turning to usher me into the steep shadows. Nightwing didn’t give chase in favor of trying to save the man’s life-if he could- and we peeled away into the dark.

*

“Jesus. Fuck... fuck.” I was shaking. Muscles trembling from the adrenaline and heart racing from our near-miss with Nightwing, and the way Cliffs’ eyes and blood vessels and skull looked smas-

“Hey. Easy.” My hands were in Jason’s. I must have missed when he shed his helmet, gloves and jacket as we entered his safe house. His skin was warm, his hands still as death. “Easy, little bird.” His eyes were so dark and deep, they looked like the grim, black waters of Gotham River. It was impossible to identify the multitude of emotion that lay swallowed below his torrent gaze. Concern, apathy, vigor, anger, all of it. More, that I couldn’t begin to understand. It wasn’t fair.

“Sit down.” He said. I did, pulling my gaze from his and effectively breaking the spell. He inspected the bullet graze on my cheek, the skin dark with blood.

“I’ll get some gauze.” He muttered, turning away. I focused on my breathing as he pulled off his holsters and set them with a loud clatter on a metal desk he had. He sighed.

“Damn. I wanted Cliffs alive a little longer.“

I looked at him, but it was a full thirty seconds before I comprehended what he said. After that, there was sudden knock in my mind.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” I breathed, before I could think it through.

He studied me considerately. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you just- everything went- you... you destroyed him. You didn’t stop.”

“Don’t tell me that actually surprises you.” I drew a breath, calming down enough to try and gather my thoughts.

“I don’t know. That’s... That’s not who I thought...“ It came out before I could think.

“Who did you think I was?”

I let his mind fill in the blank, because any answer I supplied was going to sound stupid. I didn’t know who I thought he was. Not good and not evil. He was decidedly human. I couldn’t look at him any other way, no matter how else my perception swayed depending on my company.

“A murderer?” He asked, an edge to his voice like a blade heating up in embers. I stayed silent. “A criminal? A psychopath?”

I bit the inside of my lip. A small taste of coppery blood.

“That was- I don’t... I did. I did think that. But then you... then you were Jason.” I said. He scoffed at that.

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me you didn’t see what I’d done before you started meeting me. Oh, no- wait, wait- you didn’t really think you could fix me? You’re smarter than that.” He was pissed now, and the look in his eyes was what I imagined Alphonso Kuznetsov saw before the coffin lid slammed shut.

“Baby, I’ve been a charity case before, remember? Just like you.”

“That’s not what I am.” I managed to fire, leaning forward. Maybe just to remind him I was worth my weight in a fight. But maybe I wasn’t, when it came to him. “I earned my place-“

“As Barbara’s replacement? I don’t think so.”

I let out a dry, frustrated laugh, and turned my head, letting the urge to yell and scream burn in my chest. A deep breath to smother the flame. Then, I retreated back to the previous point.

“You’re right. I did know what you’d done, and I knew what you were capable of. But that was before all of this.“

“And what is ‘this’?”

This- this this. This neurotic back and forth. Ebbing into him and flowing back to my family just to feel like whoever was more important to me was whoever I was with at the time. I wasn’t on the fence, I was the fence. I had no right of my own, no place on either side. I could offer mediation. Mediocre comfort. Nothing more.

“This. Us. Working with... with you and Batman, and I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong.”

“You don’t know?” He sounded disbelieving. “Face it, babydoll. He doesn’t give a shit about you, or what you ‘earned’. You’re a tool to fuel his fucking self-serving ambitions, just like your parents were.”

“Don’t talk about them.”

“Why? They worked for him and so do you. Only difference is they worked for Bruce and you work for Batman.” His tone was dangerously condescending. I was meeting ice with fire, and it wasn’t working. “You’re a brand. Just like Robin. Doesn’t fuckin’ matter who wore the mask before, or who’s gonna wear it next. You’re nothing to him.”

A long, strangled moment passed. I’m not even sure if he was awaiting a prolepsis, or thought I’d given up, but both of us were left to rot in the apprehension.

“I’d hate to die like you did.” The quiet, vicious acidity that dipped into my voice threw even myself off kilter. A consequence of months of keeping all these goddamn secrets. My head felt like some dark, noxious lightning in a bottle. The edge in my tone was just a cork coming loose.

He met my gaze, and for the first time, looked like he couldn’t tell what I was thinking. His eyes narrowed a little, his muscles tense, coiled deep.

“But just because he forgot about you doesn’t mean he’ll forget about me.”

His infuriating silence that usually encouraged me to open up now hung in the air, tremendous, and growing still, until it was bigger than both of us. I held my ground, even as his eyes bore into me with eerie, hollow fury.

[shintorikhazumi]

“Dance For Me.”

A/N: Here’s your pole-dancing AU you bunch of thirsty… people on discord. Idk, I’m bad at… trashtalk if it’s not for self-defense. I also don’t cuss unless it’s in fics. Because I’m technically not cussing, the characters are *wink wink*.

Batting second after Lary! Khazumi~ Coming in! Unless someone already finished before I did and I didn’t notice, haha.

I’m not one to write NSFW. At least not for public… consumption. Borderline, yes. But like… I suck at NSFW, not gonna lie. I’ll try my very best?

I'm also sorry that I can't write pole dancing very well. Hope you can... picture out what's going on. haha.

Weirdest thing I searched for confirmation while writing this was ‘during intercourse are your pupils constricted or dilated’ Because my mind is so lost rn hahha.

My timeline here is before Christmas. I’m sorry. I need it.

Basically, I'm sorry for this trashy fic.

ayt.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi 

This… is not quite what Diana expected when she left Akko this morning for work at the estate.

The past few months, Akko had been busy with teaching her classes at Luna Nova, on top of performing her scheduled weekend shows in town that the woman just wouldn’t give up the chance to do. Always for the smiles, always for the people’s happiness.

And Diana loves her for that, she really does. Dear Beatrix, she loves her wife- of three years now- to death.

But while she had been excitedly looking forward to the holidays, winter rolling around, expecting that she’d finally have her wife-mind you- all to herself, said wife had other plans, it seems.

Akko had agreed to be booked almost daily this season, and despite being home in Diana’s arms each night, she had absolutely zero energy to do anything but snuggle up to the former heiress and fall asleep in the blink of an eye.

Diana had pouted for days on end, telling Akko to give her one day, to spend just one day with her.

Akko, despite all her regrets of leaving her wife like this, couldn’t just cancel. But she had promised to dedicate the two days before the twenty-fifth, right up ‘til the end of vacation to her lovely spouse.

And Diana has to reluctantly agree. She knows in her heart that this is Akko’s passion, it’s what makes her the amazing woman known for her beautiful believing heart.

Diana just needs patience. So much patience.

But then, on the day of Christmas Eve, she gets a call from the manor. It’s related to the estate. About a sudden accident with one of her people. She couldn’t not go. At least she’d try to finish up early so she could offer her remaining time to-

Akko’s phone rings.

It’s a special request. A little girl’s birthday. And she just had to see the amazing Kagari (-Cavendish) Atsuko perform her special magic. Now this wouldn’t have been that much of a problem had the party been in the morning or early afternoon, however it appeared as though it would take place around five pm. Diana knows it will run overtime. It always does. Everyone loves to bask in the presence and utter warmth of ‘Atsuko’ after all.

So, Begrudgingly, they both prepare for their respective agendas, Diana feeling absolutely depressed over the fact that she would be coming home for Christmas eve to an empty house, cold halls, devoid of the calming scent and lovely voice of her wife singing her favorite Shiny Chariot showtune from the kitchen as she cooked all of Diana’s favorites.

Akko notices. She always does.

She walks up to the sulking blonde, cupping her face in her hands, chuckling at those pouty lips, those teary eyes. “I’m really sorry, my Diana.” She whispers. “Really, I am.”

Diana sighs in defeat, pulling her wife into one last bearhug before work.

“Can I at least have my own Magical Atsuko show?” She uncharacteristically turns her puppy eyes to her wife, only ever showing Akko this spoiled child within.

“I’ll only give you the very best.”

“With a little song?”

“Whatever you’d like

“Mm…” Diana nodded, looking down at her feet before raising her head, one last question on her mind. “Dance for me?”

“Sure, sweetheart.” Akko laughed, nuzzling her nose on Diana’s. “But for now,” She pinches the taller witch’s nose playfully before planting a kiss. “This is for the kids.”

…

This is DEFINITELY NOT “for the kids”. For any kids. For anyone for that matter. Diana would never show this to anyone. Over her dead. Lifeless. Fucking. Body.

Nonononono. Diana shakes her head a thousand times internally.

No.

Just no.

Diana gasps as she drops her suitcase on the floor, the contents spilling out at the impact. She had not expected this of all things. She imagined coming home to an empty house, no Akko, and miserable reheated food.

She hadn’t expected unlocking her door to the smells of a rotisserie chicken, some wine, and Akko’s homely scent.

She wasn’t expecting the low thrum of music in the background. She didn’t think that her wife would stand in front of her, in her usual show outfit- no. Wait. This isn’t her show outfit.

Like hell she’d wear that to a children’s party!!

No, this. THIS… This is a knock-off Shiny Chariot costume that is far too skimpy to be sold to the young and pure fans of Chariot. This is one of those costumes you’d see them sell adults for dumb pranks on Halloween, or see it at those kinds of shops.

How did Akko even get that?

Online?

The internet is truly fearsome. Shameless. So Shameless.

And so is Diana as she gawks at her pretty wife, donning a very short white skirt, a top that very much exposes her midriff- technically, only holding together those perky mounds-, a cape that is probably the only thing covering her wife that can be counted as decent, thigh-high- gosh- those thigh-high boots, hair free of that small side pony-tail; and that signature white witch hat tops off the ensemble.

“Welcome home~” Akko greets with her usual cheer, expression innocent and beaming, before it shifts a sultry color, tone dropping into a hushed invitation. “Diana.”

Said woman is quiet, she struggles to form a response.

Akko.

‘Let’s try saying your wife’s name now, Diana Cavendish.’

“A-A-A-A… aaahhhh…”

Oh, Great Beatrix, give me strength.

A lot of it. A trolley’s worth, if you must.

…-and stamina. Please. Strength and stamina to endure.

And Clearly Diana isn’t wishing to hold her ground against temptation.

She might just have a long night ahead.

“Diana.”

“Y-yes! I’m l-listening. Very clearly… most…. Definitely…” She says whilst staring at the gracious amounts of cleavage-

“Of course you are, babe.” Akko chuckles in that sickeningly sweet tone, taking a step forward as Diana takes one back. “Where are you going?” She takes another, as does Diana in the opposite direction, her back meeting the hard wood of their front door.

“N-nowhere, I’m… I’m Home.” Diana feels her hands become clammy, shaking, as she wonders where to put them.

“Heh~… I thought you were running away or something.” Akko smiles kindly, actions not as kind. She traps Diana with her body, arms on either side of her head. “And I wouldn’t like that. Would you?” Her eyes flutter innocently, lashes long, eyes wide.

There was clearly only one correct answer.

“N-no.”

“Good.” Akko laughs like gentle chimes, pleasant to the ear.

Diana smiles, feeling a little more relaxed.

-Before one hand comes off the wall and now climbs up her torso, Akko’s index and middle fingers walking up to Diana’s tie before her hand takes it, pulling it out of the vest.

“I always liked it when you wore ties.” She murmured, eyes blank and scrutinizing the tie. Before Diana could respond, Akko was already resting her head on Diana’s chest, hand absent-mindedly twirling the thin red tie. “I also like that you wear my colors on you.” Akko raised her head, pulling on Diana’s tie so that their faces came so incredibly close to one another, lips a hair’s breadth apart. “Tells people that you're mine.”

That effectively steals the air out of Diana’s lungs as Akko steps back, still holding fast to the tie, pulling Diana along, as if on a leash. Her Japanese wife leads her to the living room and sits her down on their amazingly comfortable couch.

But not even that could ease Diana’s tense nerves.

“H-Hi.”

“Hi, Diana.” Akko greets back, leaning over her wife, a finger gliding from the base of Diana’s throat to her jaw, tipping it up to guide blue eyes up to meet the most intoxicating wine. “What was your last little request for me this morning, again?”

“I- I… uh… um…”

“Yes?” The brunette lowers her body onto Diana’s head tucked between the poor heiress’ shoulder and neck, peppering kisses along her jaw. “Please remember, darling. I really want to do it for you, you know?” She chuckles, biting on a certain spot near Diana’s throat making her yelp, then licking the area to ease the pain. “I prepared really well for it. I tried so hard for you.”

Definitely not the only thing that was hard, Diana thinks.

An uncontrolled whine tears its way out of the blonde’s mouth, mind desperately trying to remember what the hell she last asked.

Then it clicks.

“D-dance…”

“Hmm?”

“Dance for me…?”

Akko seems elated with her answer, nuzzling her neck once before pulling away, Diana missing her warmth… or heat. Or both.

“With pleasure.”

Diana is sure there will be a lot of pleasure involved.

With a flick of her wand (where had Akko hidden that?), a pole rises from the floor in the open space of the room. Akko stalks hypnotizingly towards it, grasping the hard metal with one hand before smoothly pulling herself into her first twirl.

‘Oh Great Nine. This is one of those dances, isn’t it?’

Diana swallows so painfully, finding her throat constricted, the opposite to her dilating pupils as she watches her wife with the focus of a predator waiting on its prey.

Off goes the cape, and Diana only now realizes just how little of her wife’s ass is actually covered by that skirt.

She loves Akko’s ass- She loves Akko. Period.

-along with her thighs and bottom.

She admires her better half’s toned body, muscles flexing and simply wonderful as Akko spins herself around the pole gracefully, hanging onto it with only one hand. The elegance of the movements allows Diana to forget her barely restrained arousal, leaving her in awe for a few moments.

Then a toned leg wraps itself around the pole, Akko rolling her body up against it, turning her gaze to Diana, eyes half-lidded and so sinful. All that talk about grace- screw it, right now.

Another twirl, and another, and another.

Akko climbs her way up the pole so sensually, Diana wishes she were the one being climbed like that. Then Akko stops near the top, almost as though she was frozen. Diana waits with bated breath, before Akko’s hands suddenly release the pole, falling backwards; and Diana panics, thinking something happened and her wife was about to hit the ground hard- but only the hat does so. Akko’s body hangs smoothly in the air, legs squeezing tight, flexing those amazing thighs.

Oh, to be between them instead.

The spinning restarts. Repeats over and over, legs stretching out, then pulling in. At times, an arm would reach out, almost as if it were inviting the audience in, to come closer; to come touch this performer. Then Akko lowers herself to the ground, movements sophisticated, nimble, body poised, and oh so sensual. It’s an interpretative dance, and there must be story behind it.

Diana just doesn’t have enough brain power to process it.

She gasps as her wife stands up; the skirt is forgone, leaving Akko in racy black panties that matches her top that might as well not exist. And again, she’s on that pole, embracing it, caressing it with one hand, down to her body, allowing her palm to slide down her chest to a taut stomach, abs glistening in sweat, before reaching down her legs, and between her thighs, then out, back to latching onto the pole.

The loss of garment shouldn’t distract her. She’s sure this action was to give her wife better grip on the pole. Definitely the reason. Yes. Not because this was… was a… that.

Of course.

Breaking the unspoken rule of silence, a voice suddenly begs for her attention.

“Diana…”

…

Fuck.

“Nnmm!”

Diana throws her head back for a second, needing to relieve her burdened senses at the sight that had just greeted her mere moments ago.

Akko had basically rubbed herself against the pole, her most intimate place surely touching it as she slid up then down, dropping into an air-split, barely hovering over the ground, still twirling, yet painfully slow this time, basically presenting herself to the very red mess breathing heavily on the couch.

Diana’s not sure she can stay seated anymore. She’s been holding back. She’s certain she can’t keep holding back.

“But why are you holding back?”

The question throws her for a loop, eyes so wide, as she stares at Akko’s tantalizing figure, draped over her pole, breathing as difficultly as Diana is.

She releases her show equipment, leaving the pole to disappear as she strides forward provocatively, halting in front of Diana, placing her hands down on the blonde’s open lap, freeing them from their squeezed-together position just moments ago. They massage at Diana’s thighs, and the heiress moans, unsuppressed.

Her dancer takes a seat on her lap, hands busying themselves with loosening Diana’s tie a bit more, removing it from her before Akko slings it around her own neck.

“You are so mean, Diana… even after I called for you so many times…” Akko whispers against her lips, eyes fiery and slightly angered. Diana’s hands are guided to rest on Akko’s hips as she grinds against her wife needily. “Utterly horrible.”

It should be the winter season as it was Christmas. Diana knows that the outside world was harshly cold and chilly, but that temperature did not seem to apply to her. Most definitely not within Diana, and most definitely not between her leee-heeeeg- ‘damn you, Akko’.

“Why would you not come for me?”

‘Which ‘come’ might we be discussing here’, Diana wonders.

“I… I didn’t know… my apologies.” Diana stutters out, distracted by the hand touching the inside of her thigh.

“Even when I made it so obvious?” Akko pouts, biting Diana’s shoulder angrily as her hands make quick work of the taller witch’s buttoned shirt. Those same hands splay against her collarbone and shoulders, caressing and teasing, moving to the back of her head to massage her scalp. The Head of Cavendish gets pulled into a long kiss, her significant other’s tongue pleading entrance as it licks along Diana’s full lips, thighs squeezing Diana’s legs.

Diana permits, giving the appendage access to explore her mouth completely, sometimes brushing against her gums, and gliding along her teeth, entangling with her own tongue. Akko pulls away with a rough nip on Diana’s lower lip.

The latter’s hand is held captive, guided somewhere along her lover’s body.

The heiress fails at hindering any sounds from escaping her as she feels hot liquid drip onto her fingers, before pooling into her open palm. So that’s where Akko had brought it.

“Diana.”

Her eyes are bewitching. Fitting of her occupation. They hold Diana’s gaze a prisoner, not against her will. They compel her to do something. Akko rubs against her once more, and Diana whimpers aloud.

“Diana.”

Arms tighten their loop against Diana’s neck. Akko’s voice still sounds calm and controlled, but her actions tell Diana that she is anything but. She’s basically riding her at this point.

“Diana.”

“Y-yesh?!” Hooded, dark, tempting. Akko’s eyes were all those things. And maybe Diana’s were too.

“Diana.”

“Yes…?” Diana feels a switch flip as her finger slips into that wet, heated space and makes Akko cry a lovely tone. She goes deaf to the world, all her focus on the woman shivering delightfully in her arms.

  “Diana…”

  “Yes…”

  “Dance with me.”

A/N: So… sequel?

~Shintori Khazumi