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soulmate-game · 3 years ago

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Well, here is the stupid thing I was alluding to. It’s mostly a filler chapter, but yeah.

Harley’s Plea for Help, Chapter 3

“Well, that took a while,” a relatively deep female voice smoothly drawled. The plants placed right next to the window pulled away, no longer blocking the pathway inside. The two figures who were perched right outside the windowsill took the invitation and climbed inside, the shorter of the two looking at the woman who had spoken and smiling widely.

“Auntie Ivy!” Marinette happily exclaimed, making the redhead across from her grin back.

“That’s me. It sure is nice to actually see you in person, little Marigold,” she held out her arms for a hug, which Marinette instantly ran in to accept. “Video calls are never quite enough, are they? You’re so tiny! Are you sure you eat alright?”

“Auntie Ivyyyyyy,” Marinette whined, knowing full well that Ivy was just teasing her.

“So, what took you all so long?” Ivy asked Red Hood, even as she kept her arms wrapped around her soon-to-be daughter in law. “Usually you bats are all about getting back on the streets to punch people, we didn’t think you’d be bringing her in at almost one in the morning.”

Hood shrugged, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Your little garden fairy nearly gave us the slip. Went straight out the back exit instead of doin’ anything showy like we half expected and we almost missed her.”

“I stopped as soon as I noticed who they were, I swear!” Marinette pulled away from Ivy, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t expect Momma to send them to babysit me before our first full day being in Gotham. In hindsight, though, I really should have.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ivy agreed with a smirk, ruffling Marinette’s hair and making her pigtails go a little crooked. “And I know for a fact that you’ve done some stunts off your balcony back in Paris, so at least I know you can be responsible and hold yourself back from doing the same here. Must get that from me, because we both know it doesn’t come from Harley.”

Marinette and Hood both had to laugh at that. Being responsible was definitely not a trait that Marinette could have inherited from anybody in her family tree, that was for sure.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me in front of my daughter?” the comically scandalized voice announced the arrival of one Harley Quinn, who walked into the room in white onesie pajamas with a poker print on them. All of the “joker” cards were crossed out heavily with red sharpie, and a few of them had black-sharpie devil horns and handlebar mustaches vandalizing them. Marinette even caught one such card with a googly eye on it, the matching eye having fallen off and leaving only a small circle of since-dried hot glue where it used to be. “If you guys are gonna be that way, fine! Ivy dyes her hair!”

“No she doesn’t,” Marinette deadpanned, clearly fighting against a giant grin. The corners of her lips gave her away, they never stopped twitching with repressed mirth. “But you do. I got the pictures to prove—- aah!” Harley tackled her daughter to the ground, attacking her with tickles immediately.

“Take it back! My hair is naturally blond!”

“Yeah, naturally— hahahahaha! Sandy blonde! You— hahaha! Have just as much brown— stop I can’t breathe! hahahaha!— as yellow!”

“Hmph,” Harley finally backed off, crossing her eyes and looking away from Marinette with an exaggerated pout. “How dare you reveal my darkest secret?”

“I was a natural redhead even before I got my powers,” was all Ivy had to say, looking all too amused at this turn of events. “Your original costume completely covered your hair.”

“Don’t worry, Harley,” Red Hood butted in, reminding the three girls that he was still here. His tone suggested that he was definitely smiling under his helmet. “We found out about your hair dye years ago.”

“I just cover up the brown parts! It’s not like I’m changin’ much,” she argued before standing up again. “Thanks for gettin’ my cupcake back safely, little birdie. Oh, that's right! I made cupcakes! Hang on, lemme grab one for your trip back!” with that, she span on her heels and ran back further into the apartment. Marinette dashed over to Hood, immediately shoving him to the window.

“Quick, save yourself! Momma can’t bake for her life!” she whispered urgently. “I’ll say you were called away for an emergency, just hurry!”

“It’s not even a lie, getting away from Harley’s baking is an emergency,” Ivy agreed, waving as the vigilante took their advice and fled. It was only three seconds later that Harley slid back into the room, nearly falling due to the feet of her onesie having pretty much zero friction. Her face immediately fell when she saw that her victim was gone, leaving her standing there with a cupcake that was about twice as much frosting as actual cake, covered in sprinkles like a kid’s craft project that was smothered in glitter. The frosting was also shapeless, just heaped on the cake like a half-melted scoop of ice cream. She sighed in despair.

“There goes my chance of giving a bat diabetes. You guys warned him, didn’t ya?”

They both nodded shamelessly. “We’re not that cruel, Harley,” Ivy defended, getting up from her spot on her cushioned armchair and wrapping an arm around her fiance’s waist before she kissed the top of her head gently. “Hood got our little Marigold back safe and sound, and he’s even started a garden at his apartment. He doesn’t deserve to be poisoned by you.”

“I thought you said he got a single cactus at the flea market last month,” Harley deadpanned, making Ivy shrug.

“Might as well be a garden for him, and it’s something he’s not likely to kill so that’s a plus to me. He’s actually taking really good care of the little baby.”

“Speaking of garden!” Marinette gently took the sad excuse of a pastry away from her mom and sat it down on a side table before ushering both of them over to the living room and onto the sofa. “My garden back home is growing so big, I don’t think I can keep everything much longer. I barely have room to walk on the terrace, with all the vines and leaves and branches. Got any ideas of what I can do?”

“Of course! Do you have pictures, Marigold?”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slipping back through her hotel window at six in the morning was risky, since it involved climbing the wall and hoping nobody saw, but her classmates were so unpredictable that it was the only way she could be sure nobody would find out that she had violated curfew and snuck out. Of course, having Red Robin waiting outside her mom’s apartment’s terrace to escort her back helped. At least she knew that no street cams would record her comings or goings, and his grappling hook made the whole scale-the-hotel-wall business much more efficient.

Once she was inside, she sighed happily. “Thanks, now—“ her apology was cut off as Red Robin held up a finger to tell her to wait.

“Hold that thought, be right back. Don’t move.”

Thinking, rightfully, that something was wrong, Marinette obeyed. She watched Red Robin leap off of her hotel balcony and disappear into the streets. Immediately, she began a search to make sure her room had been left untampered— everything important had been packed in the backpack that she had taken to her mom’s place, but still. Could never be too careful. By the time she finished checking for bugs or any signs of snooping, Red Robin landed back on her balcony.

“Here we go.”

Turning to face him, Marinette opened her mouth to ask what the problem had been— only to tear up a little and walk over to the vigilante.

“Oh, my hero. Truly, my one and only savior. Knight in shining red Kevlar. I’m running on two hours of sleep and you have read my mind!” The pigtailed drama queen eagerly took the coffee that he offered her, and he sipped from a larger cup that looked like he had grabbed it from the same place. Marinette almost instantly sighed in gratitude when the hot drink lightly scalded her tongue. This. This was the elixir of life.

To his credit, Red Robin was able to restrain himself to merely an amused smirk. Probably because he was running on just as little sleep as she was. “Sorry it’s only a small, I figured it was best to have something you could finish quickly and easily hide the evidence for. If you need more caffeine, I happen to know that Wayne Enterprises has a very good coffee shop in their main hall. You’ll be touring there today, right?” He asked, taking another sip as he waited for the answer that he already knew.

Marinette nodded absently, drinking in the euphoria of her coffee as she tried to both savor it yet finish it as quickly as safely possible. When she came up for air, she said; “Yeah, that’s right. We’re touring Wayne Enterprises for most of the day, having lunch there, and leaving for dinner after the tour. Then we have a visit to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art, and we’ll stay there until about eight-thirty before heading back to the hotel.”

Red Robin nodded, then turned and looked out the window at the slowly rising sun. Sunrise was always a bit later in Gotham, partly because of the abundance of high-rises and partly because of the thick cloud cover and ever-present fog on the edges of the city making everything seem darker than it should have been. He had to be at work soon himself, which is why he had been chosen to escort her to the hotel in the first place, but that meant that he had to be heading off.

“Alright. We arranged for a bodyguard we trust to keep an eye on your class during the WE tour, but he doesn't know who you are or that we’re the ones who asked. We’re still in the process of arranging someone to shadow you after the tour, but we’ll tell you about that once it’s solidified. Until then, follow the usual self-defense procedures if you suspect anyone of following you. You have the panic button we gave you?”

Marinette nodded, gulping down the last of her coffee and carefully putting it in her room’s tiny trash can. “Got it. Thanks, again. Seriously,” she met his eyes— or, probably did since they were hidden behind that weird white film that the whole Batfam had covering the eyeholes of their masks. “I mean it. For listening to me, for listening to Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep the panic button on me, and I’ll use it if I think I can’t handle a situation on my own. I’ll cooperate with the people you get to watch over the class, and I’ll do my best to not get into any trouble. No promises, but I’ll do my best,” she maintained eye contact until Red Robin nodded, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. After a second, he cleared his throat.

“Well then. We’ll contact you once we have anything to say about your intel. Until then, I gotta go. And by the way?”

Marinette tilted her head curiously as Red Robin paused for just a moment on her balcony railing, aiming a smirk back at her. “Yeah?”

“Welcome to Gotham.”

And if she couldn’t help but smile widely as he grappled off into the fog-veiled sunrise? Well, only she had to know. She wasted no time closing and locking the glass balcony door, and pulling the curtains over it completely. Once that was done, she couldn’t help but do a little shimmy of Joy. She was caffeinated, she met Auntie Ivy in person for the first time, she got to sleep next to her momma— and she was in Gotham! Technically her hometown— or town she was conceived in? Didn’t matter. Point was, even with the chaos and dark energy clouding the very air, she couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in that city. Like that was where she was always meant to end up, where she could thrive and the environment that she was made to thrive in. The environment that she was born to start fixing.

She beamed at herself in her bathroom mirror as she gave herself one more once-over. Yeah, so far her visit to Gotham was going much better than she could have hoped. Now, she just had to make sure it stayed that way.

Three businesslike raps sounded against the door to her room, just in time for Marinette to feed Tikki one more cookie and straighten her purse on her shoulder. Madame Mendelieve’s voice called out from the other side of the door in her usual no-nonsense bark;

“Dupain-Cheng! Room check! It’s time to get up, we’re meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes.”

Marinette ran up to the door, not quite able to contain her energy, and swung it open with her trademark large, beaming smile.

“Way ahead of you, Madame Mendelieve!”

Her science teacher blinked, adjusting her glasses on her nose as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Ah. You’re already awake and ready?”

Marinette giggled and nodded. “Yup! I was so excited for the tour that I could barely sleep! Does the hotel breakfast include free coffee?”

—*—*—*—*—*

The hotel breakfast did, in fact, include coffee. What it did not include, however, was free coffee that Marinette could reasonably stomach. Especially after the heaven in a cup that Red Robin had gotten for her earlier, the watered down motor oil in the hotel lobby had been unbearable. She had barely managed two sips before regretfully throwing the rest away. Which is what brought her to stand in line at the very same coffee shop that Red Robin had mentioned was in the main hall of Wayne Enterprises, as the rest of her class mingled and waited for their teachers to check their tour group in and their tour guide to arrive.

“Hmm. Sorry, this is my first time ordering here,” she apologized when she reached the counter, gaining a slight lopsided grin from the barista at the register. “Um, I usually like strong coffee, with a lot of caffeine, but I also like something sweet. I don’t need anything too complicated though, do you have any recommendations?”

The barista gave her a customer service smile that seemed just a tad softer at the edges than usual. “Sure! So, we can add an extra shot or two of espresso to any of our drinks, to make it stronger and give it an extra kick. If you’re looking for good sweet flavors, the classics are our white chocolate or caramel. But we also have a seasonal syrup right now that I personally love, which is our cinnamon butterscotch. Did you wanna try that?”

Marinette smiled widely. “That sounds delicious! Then, if I could have your largest size café latte, hot, with… two extra shots and that syrup? Does that sound good?”

The barista actually let loose a soft laugh, already keying in the order. “If you’re a coffee lover and a sweet tooth at the same time, then you’ll love it. If not, come back during your tour’s lunch break and I’ll make you something else.”

Marinette made a little more small talk as she handed over the proper cash for the order, and grabbed her drink after just another minute’s wait. She turned around, taking a sip of the unsurprisingly heavenly coffee and started off to join her class.

Only to realize none of them were where she had left them. She sighed, starting to reach into her purse to see if anyone had texted her about where they were going, but a heavy presence stopped her. She could feel him approaching from in front of her, slightly to her right, but she couldn’t hear him at all. On guard, she straightened up and turned to observe the potential threat.

A security guard. Marinette blinked, running over what she had been told earlier that morning. Was he..?

He seemed to notice her instinctually defensive posture because he raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he apologized. “I’m the guard that was assigned to your tour group. I offered to stay behind until you got your coffee while the rest of your group went ahead and got the run-down on all the boring rules and whatnot of the tour. Figured you’d already know everything they had to say anyway, you’re the class president right?”

Marinette relaxed her posture, nodding and sending the man a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Well, that explains why they left without me then. Usually Madame Mendelieve is strict about following rules though, how’d you convince her to go on without me?”

The man chuckled, jerking his head to show that she should follow him as he began to lead the way to a side door. Marinette kept her guard up just in case, but wasn’t too worried. If nothing else, she was still in the middle of a super crowded building and the other security guards around didn’t seem concerned. She could easily yell for help if she needed to.

“Well, can’t you tell it was my devilish charm?” He teased, grinning. He waited until she rolled her eyes to continue; “but really, I’m like a second tour guide. She made me show a lotta proof that I’m actually assigned to you guys and not just faking it, not that I can blame her. Eventually she saw the logic in my suggestion and agreed. See, there they are,” he pointed casually ahead of them in the large side hallway they had entered. Sure enough, near the end of the hallway was her class at what looked to be the tail-end of a standard rules-and-guidelines speech from the tour guide. “By the way,” the guard spoke up again, holding his hand out. “My name’s Jason. You’ll be seeing me more often, since I’m supposed to guard you guys for all of your visits to the Tower. Call me if you need help with anything, ‘kay kid?”

Marinette grinned, now positive that this guy really was the guard that Red Robin had said was assigned to her class. She switched the hand she was holding her coffee in so that she could properly grab Jason’s hand for a shake.

“Got it, Monsieur Jason. Let’s both hope I don’t end up needing your help though, I think that would be easier on both of us,” she joked, earning a chuckle from the large man. And— yeah, now that she was relaxed, he really was big, wasn’t he? Then again, Marinette didn’t always realize when people were a bit larger or more buff than they should be. Living with her dad had seriously skewed her perception of the normal size of an adult male (which, she learned when she was seven, most definitely was not almost seven feet tall and muscled enough to make a pro wrestler jealous). But she would like to think she had gotten better in that aspect, and Jason was definitely a big guy. A little over six feet tall, she thought, and though the guard outfit hid a good portion of his physique, she could tell he carried enough muscle to do serious damage if he wanted to.

With a wave, she left him to join her class and sipped at her latte. She had figured that the Bat Clan’s criteria for civilians that they would put to guard her class had to be high, but now she had to wonder just how high. Most police officers or security guards were fit, sure, but not like Jason. Casting a quick glance back at him, she confirmed that he had quite a few faded but visible scars. Again, more than your average officer even for Gotham. Who had they tasked with her class’ safety, exactly?

An elbow in her side distracted her from her thoughts, forcing her to blink and stop her cup from going back to her lips. The grin of none other than Adrien Agreste greeted her when she snapped out of her own head long enough to pay attention to her surroundings. He jerked his head to indicate that the class was already starting to move off.

“Come on, Mari or you’ll get left behind again,” he teased. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes but falling into step beside him as they followed at the back of their class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gonna marry that coffee. You haven’t zoned out that badly in years,” his tone was light and cheery, but Marinette didn’t miss the concern in his emerald eyes. She sighed, gently bumping her shoulders against his in silent reassurance.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. But this really is good coffee. Elixir of the gods,” then, just to provoke him, she took a giant gulp of the still steaming hot drink. Adrien grimaced in pained sympathy even though Marinette didn’t seem affected at all.

“Oww, Marineeeeeeeeeette,” he whined. “Don’t do that, my throat hurts just watching you guzzle hot coffee like that,” he complained, rubbing at his neck to make his point clear.

“Wimp,” she teased, unrepentant. Adrien just groaned dramatically.

“I’m not a wimp, you’re just concerningly used to burning your throat from the inside out,” he accused. “Anyway, how’d it go?” He was being deliberately vague, but it was obvious to her what he meant. He was only one she had told about visiting her mom, after all, just in case she needed a quick getaway.

In fact, he was the only one of her friends that she had even told about her biological parents. Alix knew too, but only because of time shenanigans. Marinette was fine with it now, but still.

“It went great,” she smiled widely at him, keeping her voice low but casual. “If I have a chance, I’ll introduce you sometime during the trip. I have a feeling you’ll love Auntie Selina, but I have to meet her first. All I have so far are stories.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed easily. “But you don’t have to, you know that right? I’d love to meet your family, but I’m also fine just being your pseudo-brother like I have been up until now. I know it might be a bit… uncomfortable, for you.”

“Nah,” Marinette shrugged. “Nerve wracking, maybe. But that’s also about half the things that I do in my life period, anxiety is no joke. I’ll catastrophize for a while, but I know you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Sounds like they have paw-some taste,” he didn’t even miss a beat with his puns, earning a playful glare for his efforts.

“Never mind. You’re a heathen. Disowned. Who are you?”

“Mariiiiii,” he whined, causing them both to laugh for a while before focusing on the tour.

So far, so good, Marinette thought.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1 Part 2

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the-modernmary · 4 years ago

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you’ll always know me || aaron hotchner x reader

Summary: "I would have stayed... If you asked me to.

After your high school graduation, you left without saying goodbye to Aaron Hotchner, your best friend, and nobody had heard from you since. Years later, you're back in DC, and catching up with Aaron brings more than you could have possibly hoped for.

Warnings: mentions of weed

A/N: I really wanted some soft Hotch content in my life after all the angst in my best habit, and this is about as soft as I can get. Inspired by Taylor Swift's "dorothea". Honestly, I was listening to evermore, blacked out for about three hours, and this is what came from that. There is no other explanation for this. It's written differently than my usual style, but I hope y'all like it still!

read on ao3 || masterlist

~~~~~~~

“What’s got you in such a rush?”

Rossi eyes Aaron carefully as the latter circles around his office, double and triple-checking that he didn’t forget anything. The last thing he wants is to have to come back to the office and cut his day short.

Aaron shoves a few case files in his briefcase. “An old friend from high school is in town and I’m meeting up with her.”

Rossi perks up at the word ‘her’ and he leans against the door frame. Aaron notices this, too, because he shakes his head quickly. “It’s not like that. We both got sent to boarding school for being problem children and we became quick friends. I haven’t talked to her since graduation. She just packed up her stuff and left the very next day.”

“You sound bitter,” Rossi points out.

“Not at all,” he lies, trying to forget the hurt of running to your dorm for your weekly breakfast together, only to be met with an empty room and a singular polaroid. “I knew she hated it there and her goal was to travel and see as many places as she could. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s back stateside at all. Last I heard, she was doing some art apprenticeship in Italy, but that was years ago.”

“You sound like you have a long evening ahead of you, so I’ll get out of your hair. And have some fun tonight, Aaron. You deserve it,” Rossi adds on as an afterthought.

The corners of Aaron's mouth lift slightly. “I will. Try not to let the building burn down while I’m gone. Reid is back on his physics magic kick, and I think I heard something about a lighter.”

Rossi gives Aaron a two-finger, half-hearted salute in acknowledgment, which is all it takes for Aaron to shut his office door and head towards the elevator. Knowing that you’re just outside, he has to make a conscious effort to slow his pace from an excited jog to just an anxious speed walk. The elevator ride is slow, seemingly stopping at every single floor on the way down, which gives his mind ample time to wander and think back to graduation day.

“There you are!” Aaron shouts from across the football field as he runs up to you, shoving through bustling groups of families trying to take pictures. He has so many stoles and cords and leis around his neck that you can barely see the suit he’s wearing underneath his gown. It’s a stark contrast to you, with only a singular chord for academic achievement, although a 3.2 wasn’t much of an achievement in the eyes of most people at boarding school.

“Here I am!” you laugh, throwing your arms around him in a hug and breathing in the smell of his cologne.

“Where’re your parents? Didn’t they come?”

“Of course they didn’t. They’re not ones for celebrating something as trivial as high school graduation, not when it’s just expected of me.” You roll your eyes. “What about you? I thought you and Haley were going to do the whole ‘meet the family’ thing today?”

Aaron is oblivious to the bitterness in your voice, although that’s nothing new. “We are, but I just wanted to give these to you.” It’s then that you notice the bouquet of flowers in his hand, although it’s now being pressed into your arms. “As a congrats. And a thank you for being there for me this whole time. You’re my best friend.”

You try to ignore the ache in your chest at his words. “Thank you, Aaron. I… I didn’t get you anything, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he waves it off. “If you want to get me something, breakfast is your treat tomorrow.”

“Okay, deal,” you agree, the smile coming back to your face. Selfishly, you don’t want him to go back to Haley or his family just yet. You want him to stay there with you so you don’t feel so lonely in the crowd of happy graduates. “God, I can’t believe you’re staying in D.C. for college. We always talked about getting out, seeing the world and never coming back.”

Aaron shrugs, and you watch as he brushes away a piece of his hair that falls into his face. “I’m hoping that going to GW for undergrad will make it easier to get into law school there.”

“And Haley Brooks is still here for another year,” you point out, half accusatory.

“Yeah, that, too.” Aaron chuckles uncomfortably before quickly switching the conversation. “What about you? Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“There’s an art school in Glasgow I’m thinking of going to. But, you know… George Washington also has an art program. It’s pretty nice, too. I’m still deciding.” You trail off, looking straight into Aaron’s eyes, giving him every chance in the world to make the decision for you.

Aaron hesitates, fighting an internal battle. “Go to Glasgow!” he says, fake enthusiasm in his voice, but your disappointment blocks out anything but his actual words. “Then I’ll have an excuse to visit Scotland.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was leaning towards, too,” you lie. “Aaron, I—”

You’re cut off by a voice calling his name. You both turn around to see Haley Brooks waving him over, her other hand holding 7-year-old Sean’s hand. She looks like spring personified, her blonde hair in bouncy curls and her pink sundress swishing around her long, slender legs. Her smile is so big that it could have parted storm clouds, and you want nothing more than to hate her with every single fiber of your being.

But then you see Aaron, returning her megawatt smile with his own, one you rarely ever saw, and how can you hate somebody who makes him so happy?

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” he says, although there’s not even a hint of regret in his voice. “But I’ll see you for one last Sunday breakfast tomorrow?”

“I’ll see you then,” you lied.

How Aaron could have missed the signs of your unhappiness, he’ll never know. At that time, all he knew was that you left without ever saying goodbye, leaving behind only a polaroid of the two of you from your weekend trip to Virginia Beach, both of you drunk and laughing with your arms wrapped around each other. He still has it, buried in his nightstand somewhere, but he hasn’t had the courage to look at it for a few years now.

As Aaron steps out of the FBI building, he recognizes you instantly, even though it’s only the back of your head, and it causes his breath to catch in his throat. He calls your name and watches as you turn around, your hair whipping around you, and the fact that you still have that same mischievous glint in your eyes is enough to make him feel like he’s sixteen again and nervously skipping class with you holding his hand and pulling him towards the school gates.

“Aaron!” You jog up to him and throw your arms around him in a hug, which he happily reciprocates. You press a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away, and Aaron’s entire face burns.

You keep your hands on his biceps, holding him at arm’s length, as you study him. He looks almost exactly the same as he did all those years ago, with soft hair and the slightest bit of stubble, but he looks less carefree. He seems more mature, like life had aged him 100 years. Still, as cute as high school Aaron was, it had nothing on how good he looks now. “Look at you, Mr. FBI, all suit and corporate-looking! I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ve changed quite a bit,” he admits, and the sight of his dimples makes you want to melt right there into the sidewalk. “It’s really good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you barely thought about me,” you joke, but hurt flashes through your eyes.

Aaron wants to argue, to tell you that he thinks about you all the time, but decides against it. He doesn’t want to spend the precious few hours he has with you bringing up old issues. “Are you hungry? Because there’s this diner a few blocks down with giant milkshakes.”

“Why are we still standing here, then? All you had to say was milkshakes, they’re my favorite.”

“I know. I remember,” he says, and that all-too-familiar pang in your heart comes back like it had never left. “Come on, we can walk and cut through a park.”

The two of you start your walk in comfortable silence, listening to the bustling city around you. Every once in a while, your hands would bump into his, and you were doing everything you could to ignore it.

“So did you ever go to that art school?” he asks suddenly, looking over at you.

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. “I did. You were right, I loved Scotland.”

“Where did you go after that? Nobody heard from you.”

Your eyes sparkle as memories of your life the past few years flash through your mind. “Everywhere. Literally. I took a bunch of odd jobs and spent my time traveling,” you admitted. “I taught English in Vietnam for a year, worked on a cruise ship that went around South America, was an au pair for a French ambassador, went on research expeditions… Even dated a pilot for all of six months. Anything I could do that would let me see the world.” You laugh to yourself, shaking your head fondly. “I really put that private boarding school tuition to good use, huh? My parents were pissed.”

“It sounds like you were living the life you dreamed of,” Aaron says softly, looking down at you.

“It was,” you agree, your voice a little sad.

“So then why are you back here in DC?”

You shrug, your hands clasped behind your back, and you step down on a particularly crunchy leaf. “I’m just passing through. I’ve been going around the US and looking for a place to settle down. Finally. Figured I might as well put that art degree to good use. Maybe I’ll open a gallery or something.”

Aaron nods slowly as the chill of autumn runs through his bones. It’s nice, though, in a weird way. He’s always preferred the fall over spring. “Where have you looked so far?”

“Lots of places. San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Atlanta, San Antonio, Miami… I’m heading up to New York next. Nothing’s felt right so far. But enough about me, how are you? I heard you married Haley Brooks.”

That same bitterness you felt in high school when you talked about Haley comes back with a vengeance. It’s unfair, and you know that. How was Aaron supposed to know that you were practically in love with him in high school if you never told him? Even now, you’re sure that he hasn’t put together the pieces.

You watch as his gaze falls slightly. “I did. She died a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and you reach out to give his hand a small squeeze.

“We got divorced a little while before it happened,” he explains, unsure why it’s so important to him that you know that. “I blamed myself for it for a long time. But I’ve, uh… I’ve made peace with it now.”

You give him a comforting smile, fully aware of the fact that you’re still holding his hand. “Aaron Hotchner, making peace with something in his life? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Aaron chuckles and bumps his shoulder to yours. “I’ve been known to do it a few times. But only a few. Haley and I have a son, though. His name is Jack. He’s 8 now.”

You shake your head in disbelief, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “And you’re a father? Wow, you really have changed.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, and you shake your head wordlessly.

“I like every version of Aaron Hotchner,” you promise. “Besides, change is a good thing. Especially since this city hasn’t changed a bit.”

Aaron looks around, eyebrows furrowed, like he’s seeing DC for the very first time. “It’s actually changed quite a bit. But it’s subtle. Only people who have been here as long as I have would even notice it, probably.”

The words cut through you both as a painful reminder of your abrupt departure from DC, and the silence settles over the two of you like a thick fog. This conversation was going to have to happen no matter what, you knew that going into this meeting with Aaron, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

“I would have stayed,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “If you asked me to.”

Aaron shakes his head as his Adam’s apple bobs. “I thought about it. But I couldn’t do that to you. I knew you wanted to see the world, and you said it yourself. This city had nothing left to offer you.”

You pause, rubbing your thumb over your fingertips with your freehand. “It had you,” you reply, and Aaron feels like he was just stabbed in the heart. “That would have been enough.” Seeing Aaron’s dejected face, you quickly keep talking. “But I get it, don’t worry. You were head over heels for Haley Brooks. Everybody knew you two were meant to be together.””

“What does that have to do with you leaving?” he asks, more accusatory than he intended.

“Everything.”

Aaron breathes out your name, unsure of what to say until he settles on: “I’m sorry.”

You wave him off, forcing a laugh. “Don’t be. I was 17 years old with a crush. We do stupid things, like want to stay at home for a boy. I’m glad I left. Besides, Haley Brooks was clearly the love of your life, and far be it from me to try and break up the golden couple.”

The two of you stop in front of the diner and you drop Aaron’s hand, much to his disappointment, although you’re still close enough to him to see your reflection in his brown eyes. “I didn’t know you felt like that about me,” he says.

“Which is surprising, because everybody else definitely knew. But you’ve always been a little clueless when it comes to stuff like that,” you tease, flashing him a toothy smile. “But it’s in the past. So come on, I want to hear about this FBI stuff and drink a milkshake so big it makes my stomach hurt.”

Twenty minutes later, you and Aaron find yourselves smushed together in a corner booth covered in cheap vinyl, splitting a chocolate milkshake and laughing as you stroll down memory lane.

“You know, I ran into Stephen yesterday! A little coffee shop not too far from here,” you tell Aaron.

Aaron almost drops the fry he was about to eat. “Do you mean Stoner Stephen? What is he doing back here?”

You take a sip of the milkshake, and Aaron’s gaze is intense as you wrap your lips around the straw. When you pull back, he’s still staring at the soft pink your lipstick leaves behind. “Apparently, he’s lived here for years. Also, did you know he’s crazy smart? Like… graduated 4th in our class, went to Brown undergrad and Columbia graduate, smart.”

Aaron’s eyes go wide in disbelief. “And this is the same guy who, completely sober, tried putting his mattress in the pool so that he didn’t have to sleep in his own dorm?”

“The very same one. He’s like a lobbyist now or something for some activist group.”

“Wow, I did not expect that. Do you remember when he got so high that he thought his joint was going to catch the dorms on fire?” Aaron asks, the words barely discernible through his laughter. “So he warned campus police that the whole school was going to burn down.”

“Yes!” you giggle, your head thrown back in laughter. “They thought it was an arson threat and they had to evacuate the whole school. I was taking an English final during that.”

Aaron’s shoulder pressing against yours makes a shiver run down your spine. You idly wonder how much closer he can get to you if he really tried.

As if reading your mind, Aaron turns towards you a little more so that your knees are touching and you can feel his breath on the side of your neck. “We went to the beach that weekend,” he says quietly, unwilling to break eye contact with you. “Drank cheap beer. You got stung by a jellyfish. I had to carry you back to the car.”

No, no. You were not about to fall for Aaron Hotchner’s charm again that easily. Not again. It took you too long to get over him the first time. Still, you were leaning closer to Aaron, and Aaron was leaning in towards you, and your noses brushed as you tilt your head to the side ever so slightly and—

And his phone rings. Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips one last time before pulling away, giving you an apologetic look.

“Hotchner,” he answers, and you pull your coat tighter around yourself as realization sinks into you. You feel like you’re 17 again, desperately waiting for Aaron to ask you to prom, only to hide in your dorm for days on end when he asked Haley Brooks.

When Aaron hangs up, he immediately reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, setting enough cash on the table to cover the tab and tip. “That was work. We have to fly out to Arizona. I’m sorry.”

You nod understandingly. “Gotta catch the bad guys. When do you leave?”

It’s silent for a few torturous moments before he finally answers. “An hour, at most. We brief at the office and then get on the plane.”

“Wow,” you breathe. “You weren’t kidding when you said that you live out of your suitcase. Can I walk back with you, at least?”

Aaron smiles, a small smile that makes you wonder how often he actually smiles now. It used to be a lot, but from what he’s told you, it seems like he’s had a rough go of it the last couple of years, and has a lot less to smile about. It makes you sad because when you were traveling the world, his smile was the one thing you missed the most.

“I’d really like that.”

The two of you make small talk on the way back, swapping stories about Jack and your various adventures around the globe. The autumn air is crisp with leaves falling all around you. At one point, there was a big gust of wind, and leaves and pine needles got blown onto the two of you, and you took your sweet time running your fingers through his hair, bushing it all off him.

When you get to the entrance of the FBI building, neither one of you says anything. You just stand there, both unwilling to say goodbye. You turn to face each other, just as close as you were in the diner booth.

“Oh, you have a…” Aaron delicately reaches his hand to your hair. His fingers in your hair make your stomach do flips, and you’re almost positive he can hear your racing heartbeat. His eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, never blinking. “Pine needle,” he whispers, holding the offending object between his fingers.

“Thanks,” you breathe, and you’re not sure if it’s the autumn chill or his hand reaching to cup your cheek that sends goosebumps throughout your body.

As if he were magnetic, you rise onto your toes, bringing yourself closer to him, and you press your lips against his. Aaron deepens the kiss and runs his thumb across your cheekbone. His other hand wraps itself around your waist. The kiss is slow and sensual and better than anything you could have dreamed of — and you dream of Aaron kissing you more often than you’d like to admit.

All too soon, the two of you pull away from each other, both wearing matching smiles.

“I should probably… get in there… before my team sends out a search party,” Aaron says reluctantly, pointing towards the entrance.

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Go save lives. I’ll probably be around for a few more days before heading up to New York. If you’re back by then.”

Aaron purses his lips, deep in thought. “You’re definitely settling down somewhere? Done with seeing the world?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Have you… Do you think…” Aaron takes a grounding breath, trying to gather the words he was too afraid to ask back at graduation. “Have you ever considered settling down here? There’s a pretty big art community here.”

You shrug, ignoring excitement building in your chest. “I think my work is a little too experimental for the people of the capitol.”

“You’d be surprised,” he chuckles.

You bring your lower lip between your teeth, chewing nervously at it. “I don’t know… I left for a reason. I just don’t know what DC has to offer me anymore.”

Aaron spreads his arms out at his side, palms facing you in an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. “There’s me,” he offers, and, when your eyes go wide, he adds, “And Stoner Stephen, if I’m not enough.”

A laugh bursts out of you uncontrollably, which seems to put both you and Aaron at ease. “That makes it a very tempting offer,” you tease.

“And I have a coworker who flips houses. He’ll be able to tell you where to get the best deal on an apartment,” Aaron presses as if you need any more convincing. As if your mind isn’t already made up.

“First, I need to know that there’s more than one good place to get milkshakes,” you point out, shoving your hands in your coat pockets. “You’ll have to show me around when you get back.”

Aaron’s lips quirk up in a hopeful smile. “It’s a date.”

He makes his way towards the entrance of the Hoover Building, but you call out his name, stopping him once more. “We’ll also need a new Sunday breakfast place. Since our old one is closed down.”

Now, his smile is one of pure joy, and his eyes are sparkling in a way you haven’t seen in years. “I know just the place. As long as you don’t up and leave without telling me again.”

“Never again,” you promise, and for once, the idea of staying doesn’t terrify you.

“Then we’ll get breakfast together as soon as I get back.”

You smile at him, already missing the feeling of his lips on yours. “I’ll see you then.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #my writing

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago

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Everything I Wanted (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2,700 + Warning: Adult language, adult situations Premise: After all this time, her social media posts have a way of captivating him...until he turns the tables on her. Part 3 of Lovely and Ocean Eyes.

________________ Ethan walked down the corridor on a seemingly normal workday, far too aware that his steps were lighter and the smile he fought so hard to conceal made its appearance more often than not. For the sake of his reputation, he schooled his features into his usual unwelcoming and severe expression, though part of him worried that he was fooling exactly no one.

Perhaps his face betrayed the way his pulse picked up pleasantly at the memory of the shy smile she offered him every time they crossed paths. The simple gesture was enough to brighten his mood, no matter how stressful his day. Somewhere down the line, Ethan had surrendered to the effortless way Dr. Lilac Allende drove him to distraction.

His good mood quickly soured, however, when he walked past the locker room on the third floor. Typically, he studiously blocked out all the mindless conversations that drifted out into the hall, but a particular name caught his ear.

“Damn,” a tall, burly intern was saying as he glanced at his phone. “I knew Dr. Allende was hot but.. just wow.”

His friend closed the locker door and walked over to glance at the screen, nodding in approval. “What's her deal? She single?”

The first intern scoffed, almost derisively. “Thinking of asking her out, Reyes?”

Reyes looked unabashed, maintaining an easy grin that was almost arrogant. It made Ethan want to punch it right off his face. “Can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Is she still with Lahela? They were a thing a while back, I think?”

Ethan had the mad urge to step in and correct the false statement, but he abstained. The two morons before him had no right to Lilac's personal life.

Reyes stared at the phone screen again and gave a low whistle. “Her Pictagram is a work of art. The things I'd do–”

“The things you're going to do, Dr. Reyes, are your actual job duties,” Ethan said through girt teeth, stepping into the room.

Perhaps it was his sudden appearance or the downright murderous glare the older doctor was sending their way, but the pair of interns fumbled, the first one almost dropping the phone. By the time they straightened up to face Ethan, they looked far too rigid, uncomfortable, and downright terrified. The verbal lashing he unleashed on them was one for the books. In the end, there was no trace of arrogant smirks as both interns walked away, pale and with the extra workload Ethan assigned.

Finally alone, he exhaled a sharp, steadying breath. At least there were a few guarantees in life, even if things had changed: he could still reduce grown men to tears and these damn interns were going to drive him to an early grave.

Considerably calmer, Ethan produced his phone from his pocket and opened the too familiar Pictagram page. One glance at her latest picture and the two idiots' reactions made sense, even if they were still not justified.

Fucking hell.

Just like his moronic predecessors, Ethan almost dropped his phone, stifling a cough. Any trace of gentlemanly thoughts vanished as his eyes took in her bare shoulder, exposed so intentionally and coyly. All he could think about was running his lips along the curve of it, his fingers slowly tugging the black robe lower until it pooled on his floor.

Before his primal mind could add his teeth and the moans she'd reward him with to this fantasy, his eyes fell on the caption.

Stay?

Ethan could hardly fight back the grin the single word inspired. The previous morning, as she had stopped by his office to use his coffee machine, he pointed out how useless Pictagram was. Lilac was quick to remind him that he seemed to be enjoying it, referencing the reaction he'd had to her previous posts. Determined to save face, Ethan had blurted that he might even delete his account.

A smug smile over her shoulder had been her reply along with a sultry promise. “I bet I can make you change your mind.”

She had accomplished just that along with taking root in his every thought. The need to see her became so acute, that he sought her out in every hallway he turned into. Finally, he found her in one of the break rooms, laughing and chatting with her intern, Dr. Ortega.

“This coffee machine is the worst,” he heard Ortega complain. She rattled the cup as though the action would force it to hurry. “I can't believe I'm going to be late because of shit coffee.”

Lilac laughed. “Shit coffee is better than no coffee.”

“Spoken like someone who has a mysterious coffee source.”

With another laugh, Lilac mimed zipping her lips shut. Dr. Ortega snorted with laughter, which was a rare enough sight.

“At least rounds are not with Dr. Ramsey this morning,” Ortega continued as she sniffed disapprovingly at her cup. “I'd be dead meat for being even two minutes behind.”

“And that's considering the guy's mellowed out in the past few months,” a nurse chimed in from his place at the loveseat. “He was far grumpier before. Something or someone is putting that man in a good mood every night.”

Ethan felt his neck flare up, his eyes solely on Lilac, looking as lovely as ever and utterly unfazed.

“That poor soul,” Lilac commented so convincingly, Ethan almost believed it. “Whoever that is.”

The nurse had no reaction, invested in his newspaper as he was and Ortega threw a hesitant smile at Lilac.

“I always kind of thought you two had a thing,” she confessed.

Lilac did not even react, taking a sip of her to-go cup. “Because I'm his so-called favorite?” When Esme nodded, Lilac shrugged. “Being on his radar comes with its cons.”

At this, Ortega nodded solemnly. “Yeah, he's harder on you, for sure.”

That was his cue. With absolutely no preamble, he marched into the breakroom, startling the three occupants with his mere presence.

“Allende, if you are done with your morning gossip session, I'd appreciate you getting me those labs I asked for.”

Lilac pushed herself off the counter at once. “Yes, doctor.”

They stared at one another, neither betraying a single emotion.

“Now. It's not like lives depend on it or anything.”

Ortega shot Lilac a sympathetic look, no doubt reconsidering her previous thoughts of their involvement. Without another word, Lilac followed Ethan out of the break room. Once they were alone in a deserted hallway, Lilac raised a brow at him.

“You didn't ask for any labs,” she said at the same time Ethan blurted out, “'That poor soul'?”

Lilac laughed and he joined her with a chuckle soon after, their bodies comfortably gravitating closer to each other. His hands throbbed with the raw, poignant need to touch her and the blinding disappointment of being unable to. The way Ethan longingly looked at her then, drinking in every one of her beautiful features, he imagined he looked like some yearning nineteenth century gentleman straight out of an Austen novel.

“Mine was more believable,” she pointed out, that witty, playful challenge in her eyes. An Elizabeth Bennet to his hopeless and bewitched Darcy.

“Not remotely,” he returned without missing a beat. “No one would deem the person having sex with me every night as 'poor.'”

“They would when said person could barely walk the next day.”

That made Ethan pause, the bravado slipping as his eyes fell on her rosy lips. His breath caught audibly at his throat.

They were standing so close together now, eyes locked on each other with palpable magnetism. If anyone walked by they would be found out without a doubt. Even more so if Ethan gave into the burning urge to kiss her right there and then.

Lilac gave him a coquettish smirk. “Did you like my post?”

Ethan found his voice again. “It was…”

There was no appropriate word to describe the delicious, sinful perfection of it.

“Nice?” she teased.

“Dr. Reyes and his idiot friend definitely thought so.”

Lilac snorted. “That explains the DM that sits unopened in my inbox. Jealous?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Good. They're not the ones who have me in their bed every night.”

Ethan almost stuttered like an imbecile. He fought back all indecent thoughts and returned, “You forget I have you against multiple different surfaces, Rookie.”

She paused briefly, eyes dark as they traveled down his body and back to his eyes again.

Fuck, she had him. He knew the look too well.

“Or against no surface at all, as you proved on your birthday.”

Ethan cursed.

Everything in her expression suggested that she fancied herself the victor of their Pictagram debate. Matching her smug smirk with a dashing smile of his own, he decided then to give her a taste of her own medicine.

________________________

Ethan, ever the prophet, had predicted the board meeting they were both required to attend would be pointless.

He had been right, of course. They both sat in the boardroom forty minutes into it, listening to Dr. Cyrus drone on endlessly about something that had little to do with patient care. Listening was a generous term because Lilac remained focused on her laptop, diligently updating patient files. Ethan, sitting across from her, was doing much of the same, the glare of his screen reflecting on his glasses.

Soon, the buzzing of her phone on the table pulled her away from her concentration. Her heart leaped when she saw it was a notification alerting to his latest Pictagram post. Confused, Lilac glanced up at him but he was too invested in his work to notice.

After ensuring no one was paying her any mind, she opened the app and regretted it at once.

One quick glance at artfully sculpted muscles and Lilac was reduced to a coughing mess. Dr. Cyrus stopped mid sentence to glare at her. Everyone else in the room followed suit to stare.

“Dr. Allende, are you alright?” Naveen asked with concern.

Ethan wordlessly handed her a bottle of water, his lips quirking ever so slightly, his fingers brushing hers. After a quick sip, she mumbled, “I'm fine. Sorry.”

Convinced, they resumed the meeting.

Lilac, meanwhile, attempted to catch Ethan's eye to throw him a glare, but he remained laser focused on his screen. Having no other alternative, she returned her attention to the picture. Soon, she was texting him.

Your one follower approves.

Her phone dinged almost immediately after with his reply. Her pulse spiked with excitement, which was ridiculous because she slept with the man every day.

I am aware. We all saw.

Cheeky bastard.

That was a low blow, Ramsey. And with a picture I took too.

He almost smiled when he read that.

Pay attention, Rookie.

She bit her lip, glancing up at him. Ethan was the perfect picture of professionalism, his stoic expression betraying nothing as he worked. Her eyes returned to the picture, her cheeks flushing.

Oh, I am.

To the meeting.

Oh. Dr. Cyrus has my undivided but unwilling attention.

Liar, he returned at once. For a man who claimed to hate texting, he was a master at sending them without anyone's notice.

I can tell because you actually look interested in what you're doing.

Lilac almost laughed out loud at that. She quickly turned her head away from the front of the table to avoid suspicion.

I am studiously taking notes.

Unless you're jotting down all of Cyrus's brown-nosing remarks to Naveen, I highly doubt that.

This time, a small squeak of laughter escaped her. Luckily for her, she was able to mask it perfectly with a dainty cough. No one at the table gave her a second glance, except for Ethan. Handsome as ever, his mouth quirked ever so slightly.

I don't need to take notes on that, she replied. I already know how to get on my boss's good side.

She watched as Ethan imperceptibly read her text, having no visible reaction.

Time to go in for the kill.

And the best side to get on is under him.

This time, it was Ethan who sputtered slightly and coughed. A furious blush started to color his neck and ears in a way that was entirely too satisfying. Unfortunately for him, she wasn't finished yet.

Although he actually enjoys me on top of him too.

Those piercing blue eyes found hers instantly, so dark and smoldering that she was struck motionless for a second. A familiar, molten heat pooled in her belly as Ethan's lustful gaze remained on her, unwavering. The longer they stared at each other, magnetized, the more evident it became that he would take her right there and then if it weren't for the company surrounding them.

When the meeting was adjourned for a break twenty minutes later, Lilac was assured that her texts had the intended effect. The tall, hard body of her boyfriend pressed hers flush against the door of his office the second it closed. A second after that, his full lips hungrily kissed her neck, his powerful hands gripping handfuls of her hips.

“You're determined to kill me,” he muttered darkly against her skin.

“But what a way to go,” she said in a whisper that gave way to a moan at the last word.

He agreed in the form of a husky groan that resonated deliciously against her throat. With almost lazy effort, he turned her body to face the door, strong hands guiding her backside to press urgently against him.

“The way you tease me, Lilac,” he whispered hotly in her ear, sending a powerful shiver through her. His hips began guiding her toward the nearest table with ease, his fingers slowly skimming their way up her thighs and under her skirt.

“You like it,” she challenged breathlessly.

Ethan hummed against her shoulder, pulling her blouse down in a perfect rendition of her post.

“It's torture.” Another searing kiss. “Seeing the way you look at me and not being able to take you against the nearest wall.”

Lilac had a witty response ready, but at that exact moment, his thumbs hooked around the lacy fabric of her underwear.

“Are these for me?” His voice was nothing more than gravel. Lilac's legs quivered, every sense proudly dominated by him.

“Yes,” she moaned, eyes fluttering closed in a heady rush. He had her bent over the table, her skirt bunching to indecent heights around her thighs.

Without another word, he removed the garment skillfully, sliding it slowly down her legs and bunching it in his fist. Lilac pressed herself further against him, aching painfully for him.

“Use them to tie me up,” she suggested in a ragged whisper.

Ethan cursed.

His hips jerked against hers, sliding the thick, hard column of his body against her. Lilac was so overcome with maddening need that her arms almost gave out from balancing her on the table.

She never found out if Ethan was delirious enough to take her whispered advice because both of their pagers went off with infuriating insistence.

“The meeting from hell that never ends,” he groaned. “Break is over.”

Lilac straightened against his chest, smirking when he made no movement to let her go. “To be continued?”

Ethan leaned in to kiss her neck. “Your bed or mine?”

Lilac swiveled in his hold, facing him with a smile that made her cheeks hurt. “Doesn't matter as long as it's you next to me.”

He matched her smile with an unfairly charming one of his own.

Though they were needed at the Board meeting, they stole another minute together in each other's arms. Lilac studied his handsome face briefly, feeling her heart restart as it often did when she realized he was finally hers. Perhaps he was hers in secret for the time being but he was hers nonetheless. The thought that after all the strife and hardship, she still found herself where she belonged, in his arms, made her smile grow wider.

“What?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I love you,” she told him, not for the first time.

It was his turn to give her a smile so incandescent that it stole her breath. “That's a relief,” he said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Given that I am madly and desperately in love with you, Rookie.”

_____________

Author’s Note: Are we okay after those two new OH chapters?

I’m not! I have some ideas for future fics but we’ll see if the writing gods are in my favor.

Thank you for reading this senselessness. I love you for it.

-Bree

_______________

Please let me know if I need to add/remove you. You might have asked me already but I can barely keep track of my life atm. Sorry!

@lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite | @angela8756

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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youngerdrgrey · 3 years ago

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love me wilder (love me more) // scenes from Ryan and Sophie’s relationship

about: Mary starts all of this. They’re on comms one night, and Mary asks, “Would I be Maid of Honor, or would it be Luke?”

and other questions about Ryan and Sophie's relationship. + you can read this on ao3 too.

Who asks the other on dates? Once they’re dating, it’s pretty even, but Sophie does get the credit for their first official date. It happens on the third time that Ryan bails on plans with Sophie and Jordan. They’re supposed to be seeing an art installation for their self-proclaimed ‘Black girl date night.’ But Sophie shows up to The Hold Up to pick up Ryan, and Ryan’s tending bar with an apologetic and frustrated grin.

Sophie stomps over to the bar. “Again, Ryan?”

Ryan slides a drink to the customer beside Sophie. “Yes, again. Patrice is sick and—”

“And nobody else can cover? You’re the manager.” Sophie says. “Call someone in.”

Ryan takes the credit card from the customer, who unabashedly watches Ryan as she swipes the card in the reader. Her work tank’s tied into a crop top like always, and she’s pulled her hair back in a way that really draws the attention to her neck.

Ryan says, “I don’t abuse my power.” It’s the sort of dig that a few months ago would’ve started a fight, but today it just makes Sophie groan and dig her elbows into the bar top to get closer to Ryan.

“You don’t do anything,” Sophie corrects. At this point, Ryan's either working as Batwoman, or working at the bar. She has no social life, which kind of screws things up for the one person who's actively trying to spend time with her.

Ryan snorts. “Okay, choice words from the lady going on a date with her sister on a Friday night.”

Sophie levels Ryan with a serious stare. “I’d go with you, but you’re too busy.” Ryan rolls her eyes, but Sophie isn’t joking. There’s no hint of a smile, no hitch in her voice. Ryan rewinds the last few minutes in her head.

“Wait —” Ryan circles her hands backwards in front of her. Rewind again. Reprocess the fact that Sophie used date and Ryan in the same context. “—are you serious? You’re... you’re actually—”

Sophie chuckles, and there’s a bit of a nervous shake under it. “And I thought I was the inexperienced one here.”

“You are,” Ryan says. That gets a glare from Sophie. Ryan plucks the receipt for the customer off the printer and slides that to them before turning her focus fully back to Sophie. “But I’m game.”

Sophie grins. “Really?”

Ryan flashes a full smile back. “Yeah. As soon as Patrice gets better.”

“Let me make her some soup then, damn.”

Who is the bigger cuddler?

Ryan. She’s very affectionate, and she loves snuggling up anywhere she can. Mary complains sometimes about how often she comes home to find Ryan and Sophie on the couch.

Luke cringes when Mary says it. His eyes jump from the Bat screens to Mary in the chair beside him. “Like on the couch?” Mid-deed?

“Ugh, I wish.” Mary quickly shakes her head, as a quick disgusted look passes her face. “Not like I wish, just like…. I come home, and they’re not even doing anything. They’re asleep on the couch, just wrapped up in each other’s arms and happy and comfy and….” She sighs.

Luke drums his hands on the keyboard. “And you want that?”

Mary slumps into her chair and lets her head roll onto her shoulder. The lights paint her softer, or maybe it’s the open vulnerability now that she doesn’t have to be the perky sidekick she usually is. It’s actually one of the good things about working with Luke; he doesn’t expect her to be happy, perfect Mary.

“I want something. We spend all day living our normal lives, then rushing away to help save Gotham, and it’s totally worth it. It is. But before, when the work was done, I went home to my best friend in the world.” Mary glances up at the monitors where the two dots tracking Ryan and Sophie rush across the Gotham map. “Now she has someone else. And no offense to you, but we’re not exactly swapping secrets and having sweet potato pancakes.”

Mary does love Sophie and Ryan. She loves that Sophie is moving forward after losing Kate, and she loves that Ryan has someone other than Angelique to care about. But Mary has also spent so much of her life begging people to care about her. It’s hard not to feel like this is Kate and Beth and her dad all over again. She’s getting really tired of being replaced.

Luke clears his throat. He even sits up straighter in his chair when he turns it. The monitors behind him almost make him look like an angel. Or whatever.

He says, “I can’t make sweet potato pancakes,” like it’s an apology, or maybe a concession from someone else who knows what it’s like to be the odd one out. “But I do make a mean crab cake. If you’re in the market for more friends.”

Mary can work with that. But at the risk of this feeling entirely too sentimental for a mid-mission chat, she adds, “Fine, but no cuddling on the couch.”

Luke smiles. “You wish.”

Who initiates holding hands more often?

Ryan cannot get enough of Sophie’s hands. She’s constantly reaching out during team meetings, or across the bar at The Hold Up. She believes in the reassuring squeeze. At the same time, Sophie’s the one who actually initiates the hand holding and interlocking fingers. She claims it’s her way of keeping track of Ryan, reminding her that “you’re stuck with me, and you trust me.”

“There are other ways to show that, Sophie,” Ryan taunts. Sophie uses their linked hands to tug Ryan over to her.

“Show me?”

Who remembers anniversaries?

Ryan smiles up at Sophie on the couch.

“Aww, babe, three years ago, you arrested me for the first time.”

Sophie rolls her eyes. “That’s the anniversary you remember?”

Ryan laughs. “It truly changed my life.”

“Okay, well, remember that when you want an anniversary present in three weeks—”

“Four,” Ryan corrects. “Three weeks is when the date should’ve happened, but you got a flat, then Black Mask attacked—”

Sophie nods, “Right, and we didn’t actually go out until after he was in holding. I stand corrected.”

Ryan preens until Sophie pushes her away.

Who is more possessive?

Ryan used to think she was possessive. She would do anything to keep the people she loves by her side. But then Kate Kane comes back into their lives, and suddenly Ryan’s on the verge of losing everything that she’s built for herself. She keeps jumping between being incredibly self-sacrificing and hoarding away her minutes with the rest of the team like Kate’s coming to snatch them away.

One particular night, Ryan drops down onto Sophie’s fire escape in the suit. Her feet barely hit the level before she spots Kate inside Sophie’s apartment.

Sans jacket, Kate’s tattooed arms look great in the moonlight. Her everything looks great. Ryan can’t see everything, but she can see the playful smirk on Kate’s face as she crosses the living room. Sophie’s not visible, which means she must already be in the bedroom. Is she waiting for Kate? Is she --

Ryan stumbles back. Sophie wouldn’t cheat on her. Ryan knows that, but if there was ever a reason to break up, it’s definitely the love of Sophie’s life wanting to start over again. And who is Ryan to stand in the way of that?

So, Ryan grinds her teeth and jumps back off of the balcony.

She gets halfway back to Wayne Tower before the comms buzz in her ear. She pauses on top of a random roof to answer the incoming call.

“Ryan, get back here.”

Of course Sophie saw her. The grappling hook isn’t exactly the quietest way to move either. Though, Sophie had certainly taken her time to reach out.

Ryan lets a bit of bitterness slip out. “Your plans with Kate fall through?”

“I don’t have plans with Kate,” Sophie says. She sounds tired and frustrated, like whatever conversation she’d had probably took a lot out of her. Or maybe just reuniting with her one true love did that. Who’s Ryan to know?

“Sure looked like it to me.”

“And if you’d looked any longer, you would’ve seen her grab her things and go. I don’t want to do this over comms, Ryan.”

“What, break up with me?”

“Why would you even —” Sophie sucks in a deep breath. “Kate was here to clear the air. She wanted to know if there was a chance that we could try again.”

Ryan needs to sit down. She needs to lean against something. Her eyes dart across the roof, but there’s nothing up here but spider webs and deflated balloons.

“Oh.” Ryan circles her jaw to try and stop herself from crying. She’s not going to cry over Sophie. She should’ve known better than to ever think that Kate Kane’s ex would choose her over—

“I told her no.”

What? The air rushes out of Ryan’s lungs.

Sophie repeats herself. “I told her no. Now can you please get back here before I have to drive all the way over to wherever the hell you are?”

“It’s faster by roof.”

“Give me the grappling hook, and I’ll try it out.”

Ryan clicks her tongue. “Can’t do it, that’s mine.”

“And you’re mine, Ryan. Nobody’s changing that, okay? Trust me.”

Ryan glances over at the long way back to Sophie’s place. The trek across the city that they help keep safe. “I do.”

Who gets more jealous?

Sophie really wishes she weren’t this jealous. She’s not super familiar with the feeling. With Tyler, her emotions never went this high. With Kate, there either wasn’t competition, or well, the guilt of how things went overshadowed everything else. But with Ryan — hot, flirty bartender Ryan — the opportunities for jealousy keep building.

It doesn’t help that Imani shows up from time to time for different fundraiser events. Sophie watches Imani and Ryan from across The Hold Up. Her eyes narrow, and she zones out of her conversation with Mary so completely that the young medical professional ends up waving her hand in front of Sophie’s face.

Mary steps over to block Sophie’s view of them. “You do know Imani’s not a threat, right?”

Sophie nods. She taps on the side of her head. “Up here, yes. But in here….” She rubs her hand over her heart.

“Ryan’s so into you, and you know that. Any jealousy is completely ridiculous,” Mary says.

Sophie nods. Again. “I’m gonna go over there.” She knocks back the drink in her hand and hands it to Mary, who mostly just clinks that cup with her own.

Mary mumbles to herself, “’Gee, Mary, thanks for being such a great friend. Let’s keep talking together instead of rushing over like a jealous lunatic.’” Her face perks up as she plays herself. “Of course, Sophie, so glad you’re being super reasonable. Love you too.”

By the time Mary finishes her own drink, Sophie’s leading a very amused Ryan up the stairs towards the loft. Mary sighs. She really may have to move out soon.

Who is more protective?

This one’s a tie. Ryan tries to protect Sophie by sidelining Sophie on the Bat Team. But Sophie is used to being in the field, or at least calling the shots. She doesn’t do well in the Bat Cave where she can’t physically assist. That back and forth goes on for months, but it comes to a head when Ryan needs to get on a plane again to try and catch their latest bad guy of the week.

Sophie hates the idea. She refuses to let Ryan go alone, and the more that Ryan tries to fight it, the more emotional Sophie gets. Ryan assumes that Sophie’s upset because the last private Kane plane ended with Kate in Black Mask’s clutches. But Ryan’s not about to go missing. She doesn’t have enemies like that, and most importantly, as Ryan yells, “Sophie, stop treating me like this! I’m not Kate.”

Sophie sputters before rasping out, “I know that. But the last time you flew, Ryan, you almost died too. In my arms, mind you. Forgive me for not wanting a repeat of that.”

Who is more likely to cheat?

No one’s cheating, but Ryan does have a particularly handsy customer who tries to kiss her once.

Who dislikes PDA the most?

Sophie’s still getting used to the idea of actually having PDA with a woman, but she’s coming around.

Who kills the spider?

Both of them, but Sophie does it more often. Mostly because she doesn’t want to hear Ryan taunting her that “Sophie freaking Moore can’t handle a spider?”

Who asks the other to marry them?

Mary starts all of this. They’re on comms one night, and Mary says, “Would I be Maid of Honor, or would it be Luke?”

The question makes Ryan stumble on her landing, and Sophie crashes into her since they didn’t exactly space out on the wire as they slid from one secret warehouse to another.

Sophie catches her footing first and says, “I’m sorry, what?”

Back in the Bat Cave, Mary ignores the glare that Luke gives her. She leans closer to the mic. “Hypothetically. If you two get married, it’d be a really small ceremony. We’re not inviting Alice. And Jordan will probably be Sophie’s Maid of Honor, so I just wanted to make sure that I get to be Ryan’s.”

Luke huffs. “Then why did you ask a question if you’re calling dibs?”

Mary turns to face him. “Because you can’t call dibs. It has to be her choice.”

“But you’re leading her to pick you. It’s not fair. You were already roommates—”

“Which is exactly why it should be me—”

“But we had to work on our relationship. The growth that we had is just—”

“But you had to work on it! We clicked immediately!”

“You click with everyone!”

“I do not!”

“You do—”

Sophie and Ryan yell into the comms, “GUYS!” Mary and Luke freeze.

Ryan chances a glance at Sophie, who has not actually moved since their friends started this conversation. They’ve been together for nearly two years at this point, and honestly, they’ve both been avoiding having to talk about this. Neither of them have their moms — for very different reasons — and Sophie’s already got one failed marriage under her utility belt.

Sophie readjusts the cowl on her super suit. “Could you wait until after we’re engaged to plan a wedding?”

Ryan does a double take. “After we’re what now?”

Sophie freezes. “Well, I just mean — if things keep going well, because they’ve been going really, really well…?” The damn cowl blocks off most of her face, but Ryan knows Sophie well enough to know that her eyebrows are halfway to her hairline. That higher lilt in Sophie’s voice means she’s reaching, and nervous. Ryan’s thankful that her own mask can cover the way her eyebrows drop as her nose scrunches up. Ryan is not about to cry on this roof.

Ryan goes for the joke. Makes her voice as teasing as she can handle. “Aww, you wanna marry me?”

Sophie crosses the few steps between them to take Ryan’s hand. “Are you asking?”

Ryan interlocks their fingers. “Not officially. Luke hasn’t made a Bata-ring yet.”

Everyone groans. The deep one from Luke is enough to get Sophie to smile, and it finally breaks some of the tension in the air. Ryan brings their linked hands to her lips and kisses them. She makes sure that Sophie’s focused on her before mouthing, Marry me.

Sophie leans in to kiss her, and they both get carried away. Lost in this moment of possibility before —

“Um, guys?” It’s Luke. “Are you working or making out?”

Ryan pulls back from the kiss and says, “Just for that, Mary, you’re Maid of Honor.”

“Ha!”

Who buys the other flowers or gifts?

It’s a trade off. Ryan loves bringing back little things from missions. Sophie is the reigning gift champion though. A few weeks after she joins the team, Sophie shows up at the loft with a plant for Ryan.

“It’s no desert rose, but well, Mary said how much you loved taking care of your old one.” Sophie holds it out for Ryan to take, but Ryan just keeps staring at her. Sophie shifts her weight from one foot to the other. She cringes inwardly. She’s probably tipping her hand too much by doing this. She can’t just show up at a cute girl’s place in her casual clothes and give her a plant. It’s… well, very gay, and probably invasive, given the fact that the last plant Ryan cared for was literally the thing to bring Ryan back to life.

Sophie groans. “Please don’t make me take it back.”

“No! You don’t have to.” Ryan reaches out with both hands to take the plant. She curls it to her chest, hugging it close. She stares down at it for a bit, and when she does look back up, a teary rim frames her eyes. “Thank you.”

Who would bring up possibly having kids?

Ryan really wants to be a mom one day. She’s fine not doing it now. But one day, she wants to do for someone else what her mom did for her.

Sophie gets weird about the idea once Ryan brings it up. Like, ducking out of rooms and coming up with all kinds of excuses as to why she can’t go on missions for a week. She even stays at Jordan’s place for a few nights.

Ryan has to go to Jordan’s apartment just to talk to Sophie alone. She barrels straight into the little two bedroom and plants herself next to the kitchen island. Sophie closes the door behind Ryan, but doesn’t step any closer to her fiance.

Ryan says, “I get it. If Batwoman can’t have a girlfriend, then she sure as hell can’t have a kid. But—”

Sophie cuts her off, “It’s not about Batwoman. It’s about me.”

“Oh.” Does Sophie not want kids?

“Before I came out, the thought of having kids and a family, it all felt so… not me. I told Tyler that I didn’t want kids, that I thought having kids in a city like Gotham was irresponsible and not something I would ever want to do.”

Ryan leans back into the island. Closes her eyes and tries to let the cool feel of the granite calm the pain of those words.

Sophie wrings her hands together. “But I honestly didn't want to do any of that, with a man. And you're right. It's completely irresponsible for Batwoman to have a kid. But maybe… maybe Ryan and Sophie Wilder-Moore could consider it. If we can help clean up a city, we can probably raise a pretty cool kid.”

Who is more nervous to meet the parents?

Sophie is literally shaking when they meet up with Diane Moore for the first time.

Thanks to Jordan, Ryan technically met Diane the week before. Ryan and Jordan were hanging out when Diane FaceTimed Jordan. Once Diane saw Ryan in the background, Jordan casually said, “That’s Ryan, Sophie’s girlfriend.” Then Diane’s entire face caught on fire, and she made an excuse to hang up. Fast forward five days, and Diane called Sophie to say she was “stopping by” for brunch. Reservations were made for four, and now Sophie is going to vibrate into another dimension from shaking so much.

Jordan and Ryan split a sympathetic look outside of Grits and Bear It, one of the best brunch places in Gotham.

Jordan tries to help. She says, “Just don’t mention the ex-con thing, and you’ll be fine.”

Sophie groans. Ryan steps up to Sophie and slips her arms around Sophie’s waist. “Babe, chill. I am a successful manager of a great bar—”

“A gay bar,” Sophie corrects.

Jordan winces. “Don’t mention that part either. Or Batwoman.”

Both Sophie and Ryan freeze. Sophie turns wide eyes up at Jordan and asks, “Why would we…?”

Jordan looks back at them like they’re five. “Because all you do is talk about how Batwoman’s the one person doing anything to help Gotham. And Mom still won’t say her name without gagging in her mouth.”

Sophie drops her head back down on top of Ryan’s. With their height difference, she can press her forehead to the crown of Ryan’s head. Hide away from the world for a moment. Whisper, “We should run. Now. Before she sees us.”

Ryan kisses Sophie on the cheek. “Maybe it won’t be that bad.”

(It is.)

(But thankfully Jordan takes one for the team and brings up her graffiti to take some of Diane’s fire. Ryan’s able to get one of very few smiles when she reminds Diane that Jordan’s working at the youth center now. Saving lives and what not. Still, nothing is enough for Diane. Ryan holds Sophie’s hand under the table.)

(Sophie doesn’t relax until they’re back at her place. Until they showered away the tension and curled up on the couch with Sophie wrapped around Ryan and a cheesy action movie playing on the TV.

Sophie holds on a little too tight. Sits a little too stiff. And she sniffles during a chase scene, which is really the final straw.

Ryan has to tuck her head under Sophie’s chin to look up at her girlfriend. “It’s her loss, you know? I’m pretty damn amazing, and you? You’re Sophie freaking Moore, and anyone who chooses not to love you is making the worst mistake of their life.”

Sophie sniffles again. “What if she never comes around?”

“Then you still have me, and Jordan, and Mary and Luke. You can even have Alice if you’re that desperate for a high head count. But you don’t need her to be happy.” Ryan wiggles out of the hold to sit up on her own. “And whenever you start worrying about what your mom thinks, just remember what the great poets once said.”

Sophie’s eyes narrow, and Ryan does her best to keep a serious look on her face.

“‘All I need in this life of sin—’” Sophie shoves Ryan away from her, and Ryan uses all of her strength to pull Sophie into her arms and sing right into her face, “‘is me and my girlfriend.’ Come on, baby, you know it.”

Sophie sings back, “‘It’s me and my girlfriend.’”

“See.” Ryan pecks Sophie on the lips. “That simple. Trust me.”

Sophie says, “I always do.”)

a/n: if only it were actually that sample. but hey, we can hope, and we can keep trying, you know?

so, what'd you think? any other random questions y'all would like answered? any prompts?

#batwoman #ryan x sophie #wildmoore #ryan wilder #sophie moore #mine #batwoman fic #headcanon #ship meme #luke and mary are also here because I love them #luke fox #mary hamilton #luke fox x mary hamilton

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shera-dnd · 3 years ago

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So remember when I mentioned that one of my projects was a whole ass AU based on a single line from some song lyrics? Well that’s the project!

Because why not take the lyrics to Smile and turn some of that shit very literal?

Also get ready because this fic is gonna be flowery as all hell.

Anyways there is the AO3 link up top and here is the fic itself for those who’d rather read it here

Camps and tents were set, and arenas had begun construction in the cold fields just outside the walls of great Atlas, the city of innovation, riches, and splendor. This could only mean one thing, the Vytal Festival was fast approaching and with it the nobles, knights, and representatives from every last human nation in Remnant.

In an official capacity it was a seven day long celebration of their long lasting peace. In practice people always arrive long before the festival proper, and then start a few festivities of their own until it is time for the main event, meaning the festival itself could easily span a full month of revelry.

That meant a crowd of strangers, countless new faces that no single person could ever keep track of, all gathered outside the gates of Atlas for weeks. Which made it the perfect time for a young fae to play her tricks. Honestly, the lords of men should all be thankful that she wished only to partake in their revels.

The fae woman gathered her belongings in the nearby forest, and checked her reflection in a little pond she had found. Of all the members of her court, she was the one that had achieved mastery over glamours with the most ease, still she planned on spending weeks among the humans, so she had to make sure everything looked perfect.

The face that greeted her was unfamiliar, but also perfectly human. Her skin was a shade darker than the pasty atlesians she would be mingling with, and little freckles marked it in incidental little patterns. Her long wavy hair was kept in a neat little braid even as little strands insisted on rebelling. Her eyes were a beautiful grayish blue, but carried in them an uncharacteristic exhaustion for someone her age.

This was all calculated of course. She had to be beautiful and fair like it was expected of a proper noble lady, but she couldn’t allow herself to look too perfect, or the humans would find her unsettling. It took an experienced hand to craft a face that struck such balance and was still so well suited to the fae that hid behind it.

Satisfied with her work she donned her human clothes - a simple, but charming dress of blue and gold, and a matching shawl to keep her warm - and made her way into the fields beyond.

Her kind had described the city of Atlas as a scar upon the natural world, a hungry parasite starving its host of all it needed to survive as it slowly expanded to consume ever more. The very epitome of all of humanity’s crimes given shape in stone and metal.

She knew these accounts to be true, of course, but standing before it now she found it difficult to not feel awed at the majesty of it all. The city was grand indeed, but to say so felt like an understatement. Grandiose structures rose above the city’s imposing walls and reached towards the sky above. Every inch of them was white marble and polished silver.

And yet it all felt colder than the harshest winter, as if this city was meant to be beheld in awe, not lived in. Every tile, every brick, every unnaturally clean stone, it all declared a single message.

“You’re not welcome here.”

She did what she could to ignore the city beyond and focus her attention on the fields that stretched before her. All around tents and camps were being set, and music could be heard even at such distance. This is what she came here for.

Delicious smells washed over her as she approached the gathering crowds. Many of the smaller camps had brought food from the nations beyond, and prepared their meals around their own campfires, or sold them to passers by, and she was more than happy to purchase quite a few of these unique delicacies.

Around her musicians and artists, from nations all over the world, prepared to perform before what would soon grow to be the largest crowd in all of Remnant. For now they were all street performers, travelling bands, nameless bards, and the occasional trickster claiming to have mastery over the magical arts.

Except some of that magic was very real. Their glamours were good, but no illusion could hide a fae’s true nature from one another. So she saw their faces as clear as crystal and they, in turn, saw hers. They were fae of the seelie courts, living a secret life among the human crowds, and she was the sole unseelie that walked among them.

It was in that moment of distraction, taking in the faces of her fellow fae, that she found herself being pushed aside with considerable force. She turned around, ready to curse whichever fool was responsible for this, only to find a very apologetic looking woman.

The woman in question had dark skin and long curly red hair. Though she wore no armor, her white and green clothes were clearly expensive and finely made. The presence of a staff in her heraldry betrayed her as a Knight of the Winter Maiden.

“My apologies,” the knight blurted out, “are you hurt?”

Something about the way she carried herself made it very hard to stay mad at her.

“I’m well, thank you,” she replied, “but please, do be more careful.”

“I’ll try to,” the knight assured her, before adding, “I don’t believe I have seen you around Atlas before.”

“This is my first time in the kingdom actually,” she lied with ease, “I’m Ilia of the Menagerie Isles.”

“Salutations, Lady Ilia,” the knight beamed as she bowed respectfully before her, “I’m Penny of House Polendina. I would be delighted to show you around the festival grounds, but right now I’m needed for a tournament.”

And with another bow Lady Polendina dashed away with just as little care as before.

Huh, a tournament, she had said? Now that seemed like a good way for Ilia to spend her time.

Said tournament was taking place in the only fully constructed wooden structure around. It was just a simple set of stands with enough space between them to form a somewhat proper arena, but having a proper space to fight in seemed to have gotten many of the knights’ hearts pumping with excitement. So much so that there seemed to be some sort of commotion waiting for her by the entrance.

Multiple men seemed to be arguing with a knight in perfectly white armor, or more accurately shouting at them, since they did not appear to say anything and just tried to make their way around the men and into the arena.

“Lady Schnee!” One of the men called and Ilia froze in her tracks. Years living in the courts around Atlas had left her with a burning hatred for the name Schnee.

With pale skin, and paler hair, the woman who approached them looked like she had been sculpted from a block of ice, and the look on her face was at least as cold as one. Lady Schnee was as severe and uncaring as her name would indicate.

“What is it you want?” She demanded.

“This stranger refuses to take off their helmet, or tell us their name, but they insist on joining the tournament,” the first man explained.

“Do you have reason to deny them entry, or are you simply insistent on wasting everyone’s time?” She said, with a tongue that was twice as sharp as that man’s sword, and thrice as sharp as his wit.

“My lady, the Vytal tournament was created exclusively for nobles and knights,” the other man tried, but a stare from her made him shrink in his armor.

“Do you think me stupid? I know the rules of the Vytal tournament,” she rebuked, “this is not the Vytal tournament, this is an excuse for bored fools to hit each other with swords. If you believe them unworthy of such noble competition, then perhaps you should prove so in the arena, instead of wasting everyone’s time with your pointless pratling.”

With that the men scattered and Lady Schnee made her way back into the arena. Though the white knight’s face remained hidden by their helmet, there was still a sense of amusement with how they held themself after this. Ilia certainly knew who she would be rooting for today.

With that out of the way Ilia joined the crowd by the stands as they watched the knights take turns dueling each other. Neither Lady Schnee, nor Lady Polendina seem to partake in the fighting, though they both took their roles as judges and organizers of the event. Though only Lady Polendina showed any excitement at her role.

Soon enough the duel Ilia had been looking for was about to begin. The white knight versus the loud fool from earlier. While the fool armed himself with a heavy shield and a heavier blade, the white knight seemed to prefer a lighter approach to combat, fighting only with a long and thin sword.

Unfortunately the build up had been much longer than the fight. In but three moves that felt almost like a single fluid motion, the knight had stepped through their foe’s defences, and placed the tip of their sword against his neck. The duel was over, and the crowd sat stunned.

It quickly became clear that no duel would live up to that one today, but that did not mean the crowd could not find entertainment in the matches that followed. Even though the white knight had not shown such swift brutality again, they quickly took the position of crowd favorite as they continued to win duel after duel.

That was until there only stood one soul who had not been bested by their blade. A knight in pure black armor, adorned with valean heraldry, and armed with a pair of shorter blades. Though that knight also hid their face, something about their stance seemed familiar to Ilia.

That sense of dejavu only grew stronger as the duel itself finally began. The swiftness of their movement, the lightness of their feet - even in full armor - the way the twin blades danced around them with ease. Ilia had only known one person who fought like that, but that simply couldn’t be her.

It made no sense.

Distracted as she was by that familiarity, Ilia was caught by surprise by the end of the duel. The knight in black had managed to pierce the white knight’s defense, and had a blade firmly pressed against their neck. The white knight put their blade down and conceded.

The crowd cheered as both knights offered each other a respectful bow and the white knight marched away from the arena.

Lady Polendina hopped and skipped her way to the middle of the arena, gesturing for the crowd to quiet down for a moment.

“It is with great pleasure that I announce the winner of our warm up tournament,” she announced and the black knight took that as their cue to pull their helmet away.

Though the face under it was unquestionably human, and clearly untouched by any magical glamour, there was no doubt in Ilia’s mind as to who she was. That may truly be impossible, but she had only known one woman with golden eyes like those.

“Lady Blake, of the Knights of the Fall Maiden!”

#rwby #prismatic ponytails #bumbleby #nuts and dolts #ilia amitola #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #medieval au #fanfic

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 4 years ago

Text

Getting back at writing, is, well, hard. My grammar and vocabulary and basically everything is messed up so I apologize in advance for that. It's been, almost a year ever since my last written fic. That time I was still crazy with Kimetsu no Yaiba and the KyoTan ship. I'll post it some other time ^^.

Anyways, I present to you my attempt in making a plotted work from a random thought that came over me this morning.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Basically none. Except for some curse words.

UD 01/10/21: Cleaned and revised some parts! Tried my best, hope it was enough.

•

Of Ice and Blood

Part 1

Quick backstory and some details I left out in the main work.

It was in summer, 28th of July, when Pearl Blackbell turned 19. She left her home and moved closer to the university she’ll be going to. She rented an apartment about five blocks from the school. Albeit small, it was cozy and proper, having what she needed: a kitchen, a decent-sized bedroom, a small living area with a worn but comfy couch, and a bathroom.

When she was younger, her parents started training her in martial arts and the use self-defense weapons. They needed to make sure she knew how to protect herself against assaulters and dangerous people, she was after all, their only child and baby girl . They want their daughter to be strong, both inside and outside, by the time she sets out on her own and leaves home.

Her favorite self-defense weapon was brass knuckles, despite her parents’ protests. She enjoys punching nasty people and feel the crunch of their bones beneath her fists, especially racists, sexists, bullies, and the lot. The main reason why she got into detention multiple times.

Painting it with a ruddy color, she keeps it in her person, no matter where she goes. She has two, one is for extreme situations, while the other has only two knuckles. It stills maximizes the damage dealt but it is relatively less dangerous than the full dusters. The second one is usually a spare, though she rarely uses it.

She also occasionally carries a pair of retractable nunchucks, which she designed to be hidden within her regular baggy clothes. Her father had trained her vigorously with them and she even bested him in a match before she left for the city.

Selkoth, the city of marvels.

Distant sounds of buzzing cars reached my ears as I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, the light shining from the spaces in my curtains rather helping, together with the warmth it brought to my chilled tawny skin.

[Start of the actual work]

I fully woke up as I registered the sound of my phone alarm, shortly getting up to prepare when I realized what day it was.

Monday, the first day of my college life.

I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, knowing I bathed thoroughly last night to save some time today.

Time management is key.

I dried myself down, turned to my closet and started putting on the outfit I picked out the night before.

Prioritizing comfortability over appearance, I wore my favorite orange cotton shirt, my blackish-blue hoodie (that had been stained with blood some time ago, but don’t worry, I know how to clean out blood. Mama raised no fool.) over it, together with a pair of black skinny jeans. And of course, tight black sports bra and boxers, even mentioning my underwear yes?

I looked over to my mirror and it was—

Simple. And I loved it. The more simple it is the better.

'“Keep a low profile over there, sweetie. Don’t get into fights when you can help it okay??? We already taught you and prepared you to the best of our abilities. Promise to us that you’ll stay safe, and healthy. Okay? And don’t forget to call sometime.”' I sighed, remembering my mother’s words.

"Yes mama, I will.”

With a smile, I did my hair and went for a tight Dutch braid, it going down between my shoulder blades and ending a little above my waist. I ran to my kitchen to eat breakfast, satisfied with my look.

I eat fast okay

Backpack, check. White sneakers, check. Phone and keys, check. Airpods on, playlist shuffled, I bolted out of my apartment and jogged all 50 blocks to school.

Exercise is always important, and what other way to utilize time for exercising than to do it while heading to your destination, right?

I snickered.

As I made my way to the university, I saw bizarre creatures and monsters of different sizes, coexisting, and interacting with humans. Even so, I noticed other people’s disdain and bitterness towards them when I passed by. My nose is awfully sensitive to scents that sometimes the ones their body releases tells me what they feel at the moment. It’s all science, I guess. I was made extra susceptible to these, so I wear a mask everywhere and every time I go out just to partly block most of the smells.

My first day at a university open to everyone across the country gets my blood pumping with excitement. To think that I’m going to study at Ernestine State University, the Ernestine State University!

I first heard about the uni back when I was a child. News broke out about Victor Ernestine, committing suicide by driving his car off a cliff because he couldn’t accept that his daughter was one of the major leaders who made the unity of all people, of all races, possible.

Dramatic.

Months after Mr. Ernestine died, all his properties and riches were passed down to her daughter, who took over as the new founder of the university and rebuilt it to accommodate everyone, no matter the size and shape.

The strictly all-human school, renovated, reshaped, and repurposed, was now the first university to open its gates to everyone in the country of Yundomia.

I’ve always yearned to get to know other species in this world. I didn’t get the chance previously because my parents sent me to an all-human, local high school. Which sucks. I hated how everyone had a certain hatred for the other races, especially orcs. They keep talking about how they are wild beasts and savages that aren’t meant to be in society.

They treated them like animals that are void of emotions and intelligence.

Come to think of it, I mostly fought with humans who were either racist, bullies, bastards trying to hit on me, or a mix of all of them together.

I chuckled, remembering how many times I got counseled on not punching people in the face.

High school was pure torture, being a human-exclusive campus making it worse, considering how everybody smells so horrible and the principal was an egoistic dumbass I was a hair away from gutting him. My poor nose.

But now I’m done with that! I’m starting anew in this school, in this city. Perhaps make some friends along the way.

Which is kinda problematic.

I’m not the social type. I tend to keep things to myself and hardly open up to anybody. I wanna make at least one friend that isn’t human! Or just, one good friend. I didn’t have or made any friends in the past since people tend to shun me out just because I can tell how they are feeling and find it creepy.

Or they’re afraid to get punched in the face.

Entering the campus gates was like stepping into another world. I was met with the sight of humans and monsters walking together and conversing! It was nice, and I don’t get to see this much often.

I walked around and took in the landscape of the campus. It was huge! And beautifully designed to have a great number of trees and plants, while also having space more than enough to accommodate every student going to their respective classrooms.

I was minding my own business and it was all serene, until some bastards pushed past through me and knocking me to the side. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I was gonna say something, but I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to cause any trouble on the first day for goodness’ sake. So I brushed it off and went straight to the gym for the orientation.

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

The orientation was, intriguing. The dean seems nice, though I couldn't smell him from where I sat. There's also a student council made up of both humans and monsters which is a good sign. The student council president was a Minotaur with a dark brown coat and horns curving front and pointing up. The vice-president was a male student who looked decent enough. The secretary was an elf. The treasurer, a dwarf. And the rest were humans. I couldn't scent any of them to tell me what they were feeling at the moment, but the Minotaur looked uncomfortable, his hands behind his back, body going stiff when they were introduced to the freshmen. There was a larger numbr of humans than monsters, which was expected. I also noticed how both were grouped, a white line in the middle of the gym separating us from them.

Maybe to avoid any misunderstandings?

We were informed that today will be for introductions to your classmates and subject teachers so there will be no lessons at all. Hooray!

I was walking to my first classroom when a damned familiar smell attacked my nose. I stopped to stand for a moment and adjusted my mask. I looked around to spot the one emitting it and of course, saw a human. He looked, well, the typical playboy cool boy who used too much body spray on himself.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot and prolong my suffering, I speed walk to my classroom and planned to sit at the back hoping no one would notice or ask why I’m wearing a mask.

That's always what they ask first. Not my name or how I was doing.

I expected to find no one inside since it was still early, but I was startled to see a massive orc sitting at the back looking out at the window. He was wearing a dark gray knitted sweater that was hugging his hulking frame very…well. Along with what looked like thick cargo pants and black boots.

He turned to look at me when I let out a small yelp, greeting me with his piercing, blue eyes.

Beautiful.

The orc had long, braided, jet-black locks. Two of them had distinct beads that trailed down from the side of his face and down to his chest, the rest of his hair behind him braided with intricacy and tied and ended halfway down his back.

I was pushed out of my trance when a person entered and crashed into me, swearing under my breath that it was intentional, nearly making me plant face-first on the trash bins if I hadn’t changed my footing at the last moment.

“Watch it, bitch, you’re gonna ruin my make-up,” she snapped.

Wow. She dared to call me that and not apologize like I’m the one who shoved her. Just wow. Usually at this point, I would have planted her face on the floor, but I stopped myself.

Low profile! Low profile Pearl! You’re in college now! You definitely don’t want to get suspended on the first fucking day of class now do you?? Keep it together.

Straightening up, I walked towards the back and sat beside the orc. Whose gaze fell on me, curious, when I wasn’t looking.

I made myself settled in my seat before the professor came in.

There were other races in my class. A blue tiefling sat three rows in front, wearing a casual outfit. A black-haired elf who looked and dressed clever, a row away. A cute pink pixie on my far right. A satyr wearing glasses, two seats in front of me, and a female lizardfolk a seat from of the pixie.

"Are you...alright?"

I almost jumped from my seat when the orc beside me spoke. I couldn’t help but admire how deep his voice was. I tried not to appear flustered, my mask helped with that.

“Uh…yes?”

The orc regarded me for a second before continuing.

“You were pushed earlier.”

Oh. He saw that?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at him. Then I remembered he can’t see my face. But I hoped the crinkling of my eyes gave it away.

“I’m Pearl, by the way.” I reached out my hand to him, socializing not my best suit but at least I tried.

He paused for a second before taking it into his bigger one, engulfing mine and shook it slowly. I was again, surprised by how gentle he was.

“Tai'chi.”

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you, Tai'chi.”

He lets go of my hand when the professor started talking up front.

“Nice to meet you too, Pearl."

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

Thoughts? I am wide open for constructive criticism :D

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Check pinned post for latest chapter updates💕

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ggreactionsandscenarios · 4 years ago

Note

hii, can i please request a yoohyeon fluff? wherein she and the reader hasn't seen each other for a while due to conflicts with schedule. Then the reader comes home one day, not expecting yoohyeon to be there as well then they spend the whole night chatting and maybe a little makeout sesh?? Thank youuu 💜

Yoohyeon x Reader

Night at home 🔞

As you were walking home, you thought about what you were going to eat once arrived. Your day had been pretty tiring so you weren't really motivated to cook anything fancy.

You tried to remember the last time you went out for dinner, the last time you went on a dinner date with your girlfriend.

Thinking about it, you came to the realisation that you actually haven't saw your girlfriend for almost a month. The thought made you miss her even more, lately her schedule was so heavy that she couldn't even leave the company for the night.

So when you opened the front door of your shared apartment you didn't expect your girlfriend to be there, sat on the floor playing with Pie. The sound of her barking would usually make you laugh but this time you were too shocked to even react.

Pie heard your steps and came greet you, you would have respond to the little dog if your eyes weren't glued to the figure of your beautiful girlfriend looking at you with a big smile on her face.

"Are you not going to greet me too ? Or maybe you prefer to keep staring ? I mean it's okay I would have done the same if I had me as my girlfriend."

Once finally realizing Yoohyeon was really home you run in her arms straddling her lap in the same time. She caught you easily, caressed your back in a slow path and kissed your shoulder before whispering in your ears.

"I missed you too Y/N."

You stayed there, in the comfort of her arms for quite awhile, before your stomach reminded you that you didn't have dinner yet. Yoohyeon was fast to tease you about it.

"Time to feed the bear I see. Let's go !"

She startled you by standing up while you were still in her arms, she brought you to the dinner table and made you sit on one of the chairs.

That's when you finally noticed the delicious smell floating in the air. In front of you were a well dressed table, a bouquet of flowers set in the center and few candles here and there. Yoohyeon came back from the kitchen where you didn't even know she was gone in the first place and she disposed your favourite dish right in front of you.

"Bon appétit, sweetheart."

And that's when you realized how much you really missed her, without her your life was so blank and monotone. Yoohyeon sure was a perfect soon to be wife when she was there. When she noticed the way you were looking at her Yoohyeon winked at you before signalling you to eat while it's still hot.

You had an amazing meal and you both crawled into bed feeling so full at the end of it. Still you weren't sleepy anymore you had so many things to discuss with your girlfriend, a whole month of little stories to tell.

"And guess what Siyeon answered to Sua ?"

"I don't know, oh no did she found worse ?"

"Oh yes she did, that stupid wolf said 'Do you want to bite my lip again ?'."

"How come nobody figure out they're dating seriously ? There are some many clues."

"I don't know haha but they're definitely teasing insomnias with their actions."

Yoohyeon was looking at the ceiling while chuckling at an other memory of her friends behaviour. And you, you had your eyes glued to her features once again.

You nudged the side of her neck with your nose, getting closer to your long time gone girlfriend and she put her arm around you. She kissed the tip of your nose before doing the same to your forehead.

"Good night angel."

God did you miss those little rituals before sleep and you thought that maybe they were the reasons you couldn't sleep properly without her.

The next day you woke up by the smell of pancakes lingering in the air. The bed was cold but knowing your girlfriend it didn't make you lose your smile. Yoohyeon and the art of feeding you was a long lasting love story, sometimes you wondered if she learned it from Jiu and the way she was feeding the members like a mom.

However you would never complain about that part of your girlfriend since it was so sweet of her.

You got up happy and excited at the idea of delicious food for breakfast. As you approached you heard Scream intro start and of course your girlfriend appear sliding with her socks on the floor and well of course already screaming Jiu's part.

You thank your appetite for having wake you up before that scream would've because even though Yoohyeon has a beautiful voice, her screaming was only pleasing in bed and when it involve you between her legs.

You lower the volume of the music because yes you did have neighbours even if your girlfriend tend to forget.

"But baby it was the best part ! My part !"

You kissed her pouting lips before heading to the fridge to get your favourite beverage.

"Okay I guess kisses are better anyway."

You chuckled when she came tickle you from behind. It was easy to make Yoohyeon stop sulking with kisses but make her stop kissing you was harder.

"Come on let's to go to the table and eat breakfast, I'm hungry."

------🔞----------🔞----------🔞-----

You didn't have to wait for long to hear Yoohyeon complain and refuse to let you go.

"I'm hungry too but I already found what I'm going to eat and it's not on the table, yet."

The way her nails met your hips wasn't the only thing that turned you on when she made you face her. The way she kissed your lips, her tongue dancing with yours was way more appealing and exciting than you remembered.

When Yoohyeon blocked you against the counter she couldn't restrain herself from checking you out and smirking.

"Damn I missed my girlfriend."

That was the only thing she said before grabbing your thighs and making you sit on the table. She undressed you, leaving you in your big oversized T-shirt, she liked the idea of taking you half dressed in the middle of the kitchen.

Her kisses got down on your neck, sucking and biting it from time to time. Her hands though were still on your thigh, drawing small patterns on it with her thumbs. You wished those circular patterns were drawn somewhere else so bad.

At the only thought of it your thighs pressed themself against each other, needy for more. Yoohyeon being the teasing brat she was, let a chuckle seeing you were starting to get desperate.

"Getting wet down there I see, maybe you need something from me ?"

Of course she had to make you beg for it. Nevermind you complied, too turned on to fight against her.

"Please make me cum, Yoohyeon."

Yoohyeon got on her knees and without losing anymore time she licked your clit making you moan in release. Of course your girlfriend had to be a sex goddess and make you cum ridiculously fast.

She gave you one last lick before standing up and kissing you on the lips while you were still panting.

"Let's eat breakfast now !"

You swear this girl would be the death of you one day.

Hi. Yoohyeon being my bias wrecker I can't refuse any of this so here it is. Hope you like it, give feedback 😁 Don't hesitate to request again and sorry for the time it took me, please forgive a fellow 02' liner 😅��-Ael

#dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher scenarios #kpop girls #girl group #girlfriend #dreamcatcher yoohyeon #kim yoohyeon #yoohyeon

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tenderlyrenjun · 4 years ago

Text

[2:05 A.M.]

You drag your feet into your bedroom and dramatically fall face-first on the mattress, mumbling something incoherent, even with the super hearing, through the blankets. Renjun closes the textbook over his lap, sitting up in anticipation for you to make an announcement. He waits another minute then reaches across the blankets to pull back your hair, checking to see that you are still alive. After he sees your blank stare (okay, crazy person), he reclines against the headboard, asking you to repeat yourself.

“We have to send Jaemin another letter.”

“Ah.” Renjun puts the contemporary art textbook on the night stand, freeing up his hand to thread his fingers in your hair. He outlines your ear brushing away a few strands to see your cheeks and moves on to the heaven’s pillar behind your neck, dipping two fingers in the pressure point. You jerk forward a little, unexpectedly relaxed by a treasure. Renjun thinks that you try getting into a better position and helps you lean on his shoulder. You kiss above his clavicle, wrapping an arm around it also, loosely hanging on him like a body pillow. “It’s late. Why are you studying at this hour?”

You know that he is talking about the family’s most recent addition, not the upcoming o chem exam that you are more than prepared for. Unfortunately, he has not been available in the last month to help train new members, with all the work he has for school, the internship, and Jaemin’s new stupid coven leaders rule that requires Renjun to be chained to a zoom meeting twice a day.

“The new recruit -”

“Aurora?” Renjun asks. His hand slides to your lower back, pushing you into his side, and he takes your leg, draping it across his waist. It is not your cycle to sleep yet, but the position brings a great sense of ease to your subconscious.

“Yeah,” you nod, verifying. You open your eyes slowly, tracing his pretty jawline as he takes a turn to close his eyes, almost equally exhausted. His arm raises behind his neck, acting as another pillow to slouch against. It feels like years since you two have been able to relax, despite having just went on a weekend vacation a few months before. You sigh one last time, melting into his collar during your exhale. “She’s only been a vampire for about a decade, and there’s so much to go over.”

“Any special abilities?”

Renjun leans over, manipulating your situations in a way that keeps him as the big spoon, an arm wrapped under your chin and the other supporting under your head. It feels even more comfortable. You shimmy toward his waist, hugging him even tighter.

“No,” you answer, shaking your face in his chest. Sometimes you wish his heart would be a little bit louder, because when it is this low, you know he will have to feed again, meaning that he needs to get up and you would be without a body pillow. It is the equivalent to a stomach growl. Although, his actual growls are pleasant in your ears. Still, you give in, slacking your grip enough, knowing that you likely need to drink something as well. Drinking in bed is something that he prohibited, after you ruined an 18th century duvet, but these informal meetings function like pillow talk, considering that the rather large water fountain by your window blurs out the conversation to outsiders. “She has excellent people skills, and she is very charming, but other than that, no.”

Renjun sighs. “We need to recruit new members with special abilities.”

You turn over, looking at the sparkles across his pretty cheeks, and tuck his hair behind his ears (it is not blocking his face, but the gesture is meant to be a tender display of affection, something to show that you love him). His strands start to neatly frame his forehead again, then you tangle your fingers in the ends. You reiterate his sigh, shoulders dropping with your hands.

“I know,” you tell him, fatigued by the politics and tensions. “I know, but I also don’t want to participate in another war.”

Renjun kisses the corner of your mouth, leaving his lips there too, to whisper cautiously, “It can’t just be Mark all the time. He needs a break eventually.”

“No, I know,” you lament again before repeating, “but I don’t want to participate in another war. I won’t be able to handle another loss like that.” The last war saw the complete annihilation of your coven, in terms of death and abandonment. Those who posed the greatest threat were slain without reservations, and neither of you ever heard from those who went off to fight after they left, so you assumed they either perished or took on an alias. No one won that last war, and everyone who fought assumed new identities hide the fact that they participated in the political upheaval. “And I don’t want to be like Doyoung’s elitist cult either.” The Kim Clan exclusively watched and turned noblemen for a few centuries in the late 13th century. They became the fourth largest coven, even to this day, with 29 people. “He keeps trying to absorb us; he wants you for his inner circle.” You bury your face in his chest again, trying to find comfort as his heartbeat slows and the breath leaves his lungs. “Everyone keeps watching over kids and mortals, waiting to turn them if they haven’t already, just for their potential abilities.”

“We’re all trying to protect ourselves,” Renjun reasons, combing the crown of your head. “We need to be able to defend ourselves, defend our people. We have nine members in their rooms right now, not accounting for the protection detail around the manor.” He sits up, pulling you with him, then he shakes you off his shoulder, awake. “Come on, let’s go to the kitchen and get something to drink.”

You fall back on him, hanging across his torso like asking for a small request.

“No,” he disagrees, dragging you off the comforter. “You’re not going to ruin another blanket. Come on, let’s get some blood and then we can finish talking about this tomorrow, when you’re not so exhausted.”

“Fine,” you cave, feeling slightly more enamored with him, a side effect of his special ability.

You slip off the duvet and accept his hand, trailing behind him through the corridor to the kitchen down the hall. He sets a teapot on the stove, straining a fresh pouch of AB positive over a few teaspoons of water, while you sit at the island, taking out two mugs from the cabinet below. You settle them across from Renjun and assume a seat opposite him, knowing that he will eventually lean over the top instead of sitting with you. When Renjun finishes his small tea ceremony, you stare at him.

“Is my presence enjoyable?” he joke while stirring a few sugar cubes. You nod once, slightly timid as he slides a cup to you, the ceramic squealing across the granite. “Well, then we will have to keep meeting like this.”

You roll your eyes, hiding a smile behind your nutrition. “Over talks about leading our coven?”

Renjun glares at you. “Stop using that word,” he growls. “It’s so ... cringey.” He shakes his head, “No, but I miss having these meetings with you and feeding with you.”

You sigh too, knowing what he means. The only time you even share a bed now is to sleep; your room is, otherwise, empty, for the most part. He is either studying, out of town, or in a meeting from time that the sun sets until it rises. And you are either training the new member, studying, or running one of your businesses, from the time the run rises until it sets. The moments when neither of you work are when you take time to relax a little bit, reset your minds from the 12-16 hour schedules. It gets hard, not seeing him, even if he is around the corner.

“I miss you, too,” you confess. You hesitate for a second, tapping the your nails into the ceramic teacup briefly. Renjun lowers his own mug, raising his eyebrow in a silent question, so you sigh .. again. “Do you regret signing up for college now?”

“No,” he answers near immediately, making you sit up straighter, at attention. Renjun groans. That is not entirely what he means. “I like going to college. I know it’s,” he hums, rolling his eyes and sucking in his lips jokingly (to which you roll your eyes, sarcastically), “trying, to you, but I really like it.” He walks around the island, hugging your waist from behind. “And I like that you’re doing it with me. Do I wish that we’re not the brink of war, or whatever the tensions are rising to, that keep making other clans enlist new members? Yeah, definitely, it puts a little dent in our 10-year plan, but I don’t regret this experience. I only wish to see it through.” Renjun rests his chin on your shoulder, not daring to meet your eye just yet, slightly scared of your reaction. You already were not on board with this decision (thankfully, he did not have to use his compulsion for this request, not that he would - you have free will either way, but you chose him in the end and he appreciates that). “Do you regret any of it?”

You place your hands over his, trailing your thumb across his knuckles comfortingly. He thinks, for a second, that you might answer yet, but you surprise him: “No,” you say honestly, “I don’t regret any decision that I’ve made with you.”

“Not even the time I convinced you to replace Ten’s entire blood collection with mentos in coke bottles?”

You smack his hands, then return to stroking them, alleviating any potential pain. “Do you have any regrets then?”

“Just the one,” he recalls bitterly. Renjun kisses your shoulder as another apology. Even a millennium later, he cannot believe that you forgave him, so he never forgets to show you that it was not the wrong decision to let him back into your life. “I love you.”

You spin around fully. “I love you too.”

“Wanna show me?”

#nct #nct renjun #renjun #huang renjun #renjun x reader #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct timestamps #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles #nct dream timestamps #renjun imagines #renjun drabbles #renjun fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff

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realityhelixcreates · 4 years ago

Text

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 5: Martian March

Chapters: 5/?

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags: Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:

I'm going back to Saturn where the rings all glow

Rainbow, moonbeams, and orange snow

On Saturn, people live to be two hundred and five

Going back to Saturn where the people smile.

Saturn-Stevie Wonder

our rooms glittered. They were faced in massive scale pietra dura stone patterns from floor to ceiling. Gray, black, and white dominated, with a surprising amount of green mixed in, as well as startling pops of orange-red, blue, yellow, purple, and bright pink.

The designs were large and geometric, almost a sister style to the classic Art Deco that you saw on the older buildings downtown, mixed in among the flavorless glass towers and Brutalist boxes that defined the 'modern' era.

This main room housed a delicately carved stone couch and chairs, around a low stone table, and several stone shelves and storage boxes. These were all made of a black stone that held numerous yellowish-green crystals in their matrix, all polished so that the crystals shimmered.

This same stone appeared in the patterns on the walls and floor, as very thin panes on a pale backing, highlighting the colors of their crystals. This, along with a similar black stone with reddish-orange crystals, and a dark gray, large-grained stone that sparkled at any angle, was contrasted against the now familiar creamy white and pale orange. Here and there, inlays of silvery wire brought organic shapes to the mix.

The cloudy crystal made a reappearance in a round, well-lit, domed room Loki described as a 'Solar', even though no sun could reach this place. Instead, the clearest of the crystal had been set into the dome, all of it covering the mysterious lights, creating a bright light source that illuminated the room to something close to midday. The walls were covered in the cloudy crystal, which, in the bright light, shone with veils and flashes of iridescent blue.

On one wall there was a subtle inlay of translucent gray stone, in the shape of clouds, that shone in splashes of blue and purple. Cleverly inlaid within them were specific pieces of the same type of stone, in the shape of lightning bolts that sparked yellow when viewed at the right angle, but were invisible from others.

He showed you the antechamber that connected your rooms and his, all in black and green. Even the lights were covered in thin panes of green crystals thickly packed in black matrix, casting a dim, viridian light over the whole chamber.

You decided that room was extremely creepy, and you never wanted to be in it.

The bath room was much better, ridiculously large, with a shower just out in the open, a wide counter with a mirror of polished metal, a huge tub carved right into a semi-finished block of stone, and a strange toilet tucked away in a stall in the corner. It was all big enough for you to move around in easily, though you mentioned that you would need a chair for the shower. Loki vowed to have one brought immediately.

But your bedroom was the obvious jewel. Loki puffed up with pride as he showed it off, as if he were the one who designed it. There were jewels in here, bright, bubblegum pink, golden yellow, and apple green in elaborate platinum settings, affixed to the walls. There was more cloudy gray and white crystal in here, with their blue and purple, pink and yellow flashes. The lights were clustered around the ceiling like stars, and the bed was another of the precious rare wooden objects, a four poster canopy bed, draped with a gauzy veil.

Most surprising of all, the bedroom had a window-or rather, a doorway out to a semi-circular balcony that overlooked what must be the main palace courtyard and entrance. When you stepped out onto it, you could see lines of guards-more people than you'd seen in one place since you'd been here. They framed the long, rectangular space every ten feet or so, in bright, brassy armor and sunny yellow capes.

This was clearly a cape kind of place.

It was very strange. You could have sworn you hadn't climbed any ramps, and you certainly hadn't gone up any stairs, but here you were, at least six stories up, and there were more stories above you.

“You must be clever builders.” you said without thinking about it.

“Our engineering capabilities are the envy of the galaxy, it's true.” Loki boasted. You believed him. All around the courtyard more balconies jutted out. Several dozen feet to the side of yours, the balcony you assumed must belong to Loki was connected to another large balcony on the opposite side by an elegant walkway, supported by slender pillars. There was a round platform in the center, and red curtains obscured the balcony on the other side.

“We can address large crowds from there, or call emergency meetings of the guards, or the other high nobles.” Loki said, following your gaze. “That's who lives on this floor. Myself, my brother, all of the most important Asgardians, and now you.”

But not for long, if you had any opportunity. “Uh, I'm honored.”

“How do you like them, though?” he pressed, “Is the décor to your liking? The size? We've been working on it for months, but we can still change things if you need.”

“Months?” you gasped, shocked. “You guys did all this in just months?”

Asgard had come to Earth a little under two years ago, decimated and begging for assistance. Thor led them, but no one knew Loki had come along. Thor himself served as his own liaison to the United Nations, bringing his case before the leaders of Earth, to secure a place for his people.

Obviously, it had worked. Thor's reputation and high-profile friends, as well as his surprisingly diplomatic and optimistic outlook had both charmed and discombobulated most people who spoke to him. People liked and respected him, but no one expected him to be savvy.

It had worked out very well for him and his people. They had secured some secret land that the entire U.N. had remained tight-lipped about. Then, a few months in, Thor had stopped making appearances, leaving Earth-Asgard relations to his advisors; an abrasive, undiplomatic woman whom you loved to watch, and a stoic and imposing man with unsettling eyes. Rumors flew for a while, but you hadn't paid much attention. There had been so much to fight for at home.

Did anyone even know you were gone? You were supposed to attend a march tonight. Or last night? You didn't know how long you had been asleep. Surely someone noticed you were missing.

But if they did, how would you even know?

“-harness the sun's energy over the long rotation period so that we can build even more efficiently.” Loki was saying. “We've done an admirable job for such a reduced population, but there is so much more to do.”

“And you took them away from that to build this for me?”

“I took them away from this to build special chambers for the princess of Asgard.” Loki corrected, “It was not a waste, nor was it superfluous. It was for someone important.”

“I'm not.” you insisted, “I'm just some rando they snatched up and tossed at you. I'm not princess material.”

“I will find out what is behind this.” he said, “But until I can, I want you to feel comfortable here. This is all yours now, and more.”

You couldn't, you couldn't allow yourself. You weren't supposed to be here. It was only a matter of time before this mix up was discovered, and a swap was arranged. You'd go home, and some other woman would take your place.

How horrible.

“But is everything to your liking? Do you need more light? More space? Is the bed all right for your leg? A good height?”

You were more than a little wary about getting into bed with him here, but as you hobbled over to it, he remained at a distance. You sank onto the plush mattress, with it's silky green sheets and thick comforter. It was very nice, soft and smooth, and warm, despite being placed on solid stone. Hopefully the blanket would ward off the slight chill that followed everywhere you had been so far.

“It's a good height,” you said, “especially if I get a new cane.”

“Excellent. Would you like to see my quarters?' he asked, “You may come and go between them as you please.”

Which meant that he could too. You didn't find that reassuring.

“Uh...isn't that, um, inappropriate?” you asked, casting about for any reason to refuse. “We haven't even, um, there hasn't even been a wedding!”

He paused, then his face broke into a beautiful, glowing smile. “Of course. I understand. You want that big celebration, naturally. Well, it is only fair, isn't it?” He sat down on the floor next to your bed, as if forgetting that he was a prince and a god, a powerful figure, abandoning his dignity to sit on the floor like a child.

“Do you want to plan it, or leave it to the advisors? Asgard is very good at grand weddings, but if you've had some specific plan for it, I'm sure we can accommodate it.”

“Uh...” This would be the perfect opportunity to stall. You could buy so much time with this! “I would like to plan it. There's things I've been wanting to do since I was a little girl. It would be a dream come true, to plan my own wedding.”

Not strictly true. Certainly, as a little girl you had contemplated flowers and a dress. There being a groom was far less important.

“Then begin any time you like.” Loki said warmly. “I'll have notebooks brought to you, and you can plan out whatever you want. Whatever it is, we can do it for you.”

You almost felt bad for what you were going to do, but on the other hand, you didn't trust him and his terrifying adoration, and horrible power over your life and safety. You'd make as many impossible demands and take up as much time as you possibly could. If it kept you safe. If it kept you from the nightmare scenario.

“I will have your bathing chair brought. You seem tired; shall I have dinner brought to you? We can dine in your audience room. We can have you measured for a new prosthetic, and for a new cane as well. The artificers will set to work on them immediately.”

“Um, sure. That sounds fine.” Dinner would be welcome, after only one apple and one cup of water. And a new, higher tech leg and cane might help you escape faster. You should take every opportunity available to you.

Loki helped you out to the largest room, with it's bookshelves and seating, and saw that you were comfortable. Then he bid you stay put and wait for a bit, while he got everything set up. You were in no shape to try for an escape right now; you would just bide your time.

You waited patiently, taking in the details of the beautifully precise stonework that made up your new-temporary-living quarters. What incredible workmanship. Shame it had been wasted on you.

Maybe someone else would have been thrilled. To have wealth and power, security and luxury, a handsome prince just handed to them with no effort on their part at all. That wasn't what you wanted though; you didn't want to join the lucky ones. You didn't want to be lifted out of your hardships and set above your peers, you wanted those hardships to be eliminated for everybody. You didn't want to be a social climber, you wanted a more equitable society. This fantasy was worthless to you. It had all been done without your consent.

A quiet knock on the door grabbed your attention. You didn't answer immediately, and the knock was hesitantly repeated.

“Um, come in?” you called.

The two adolescents you had run off before cracked the door open and peeked their heads in.

“Your highness?” the girl asked.

“May we enter?” the boy finished.

“Yeah, come in. I'm in a better mood now.” you said calmly. No need to be rude to them now that she knew what was going on. If Loki hadn't even known about the kidnapping, there was no way these kids were in on it.

“We were sent here to get measurements?” the boy-Andvarri wasn't it-asked shyly. “For a prosthetic leg, and a cane?”

“Yes, I was told you might be coming. I'm sorry about earlier: I was very disoriented and confused.”

“No harm done, your highness. This won't take long.”

The girl-Bjarkehilde-helped you stand as Andvarri took several measurements and asked about your preferences in weight and materials, flexibility and points of articulation, even colors and decorations.

They were going to put in a lot of effort to help you escape. A fine efficient leg, a sturdy lightweight cane, and Bjarkehilde even asked about what kinds of medication you needed, and for what.

Bjarkehild was surprisingly close to your height and build as well. That stayed in the back of your mind for a while after the two of them left.

As the minutes passed, you began to realize that you were going to need some kind of clock. You had no idea what time it was. There was no visible sunlight, the lights in your rooms hadn't changed at all, and no one had mentioned it at all. How did the Asgardians know? Was some kind of internal timekeeping part of their natural abilities?

Maybe it was the nebulous grasp of time, maybe it was the fading adrenaline and setting in of weariness, maybe it was residual drugs working their way out of your systems, but you began to feel strange as you waited for Loki to return. Either you felt hot, or the slight chill that was prevalent in this place was getting worse. Perhaps you had been staring at the artistic walls for too long, because the colors seemed to be vacillating between painfully saturated, and fuzzy at the edges.

It seemed to take forever for Loki to return, carrying a tray of food and drink. This he set on the lovely stone table before you, and then took a seat in a nearby chair.

“You must be ravenous by now.” he said, and you were. You leaned forward to inspect the offerings. The metal tray was filled with small stone bowls and plates, and two small cups of liquid. Was this how meals were traditionally served in Asgard? A great variety of small portions?

One of the cups turned out to be orange drink, from powder. You recognized that taste from your childhood. The dry air had made your tongue rough, and the acidic flavor was a blast on your tastebuds, as bright as the colors on the walls. The second cup was some kind of brown broth, possibly also from powder, as it got thicker at the bottom of the cup. There were dried apricots, soaked in honey, and dates, a barley porridge with a swirl of honey and a dash of cinnamon. There were common Saltine-type crackers that went with a very strange stew that looked like it was made, not just with re-hydrated vegetables, but re-hydrated meat as well. It tasted fine, but the texture left something to be desired.

You barely noticed. You wolfed it all down as Loki just sat and watched, having brought nothing for himself.

“I see you needed the fuel.” he commented, after every bite was gone. “Yes, I think you will need it. Beloved, I must tell you something about that apple you ate earlier. I can see it's effects are starting to take hold. Like I said earlier, I had thought to feed it to you slowly.”

“The apple? What...what's it doing to me?” Beloved? He was taking things a bit far, wasn't he? But you definitely were feeling weird. Uncomfortable. “I had just woken up and I didn't know where I was, or what was going to happen. I didn't know where my next meal was coming from.”

“And I understand that now, as I did not then, or I would have refrained from putting it out at all. But it's too late now. For several things. We will simply have to adapt and endure.”

“Endure?”

“I will not leave your side, you may count on that.” He promised. “But that was a special apple. Its tree came from a cutting, taken from a remnant grove in Vanir territory, as part of their peace treaty with us. A sacred tree whose fruits provided the Vanir with ageless warriors. For us, they heal terrible wounds and sickness. But for you, they are known as the Apples of Immortality, and they confer a great gift indeed. But it is not without price.”

You doubled over in pain.

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel)#loki x reader

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ambersky0319 · 5 years ago

Note

A human AU where the Light sides were all like a found family, until Logan runs away and they are determined to bring him back no matter what, only to find him with Dexter(Deceit) and Remus and looking far happier than with them. But Virgil hates it, pushing the two away from Logan and trying to force him back before screaming "They're fucking monsters, they could never love someone like you!" Which causes Logan to fight against him and leave the lights for good

Hope you’re happy with this! It was super fun to write but also fuck Virgil in this-

Can be seen as either platonic or romantic Intruloceit, your choice really

Warnings : Unsympathetic Virgil, Somewhat Unsympathetic/Highly Implied Unsympathetic Roman, Morally gray Patton, past suicide mention(none of the main characters), mention of a panic attack, lmk if I need to add anything else!

Masterpost

——————————–

It was just by chance, meeting Dexter and Remus. Though Logan had known about them for a while. They had a small community on YouTube for their random and often insane ideas, usually done in the name of “science”. They did have some more serious videos, though, one that caught Logan’s interest the most being one where they talked about toxic relationships. They had still made some jokes, mostly about their past experiences, but the video was extremely heartfelt and made Logan curious enough to do some research on his own.

What Logan didn’t know, was that Dexter and Remus actually lived in the same city as him.

Logan had left his and his friends’ house after a particularly harsh argument with Roman, and took a bus further into the city to find a place to relax. He remembered a coffee shop from a few weeks ago that Patton had dragged him to. While Patton didn’t really like it as much as he thought he would, Logan really liked it as the people inside always seemed to be full of life and had hearts of gold(seriously, the barista he talked to looked as though she was glowing in the afternoon light).

Stepping inside, there was only one table open which he took quickly, setting his things down before ordering his coffee. The barista, the same as last time he had visited(a shock to Logan in all honesty that she’d keep the job), made his drink quickly and handed it to him with a bright smile, wishing him a good afternoon. Once back at his table, he took out his laptop to work on one of his many projects. He lost himself in one of his favorites, a novel he was writing. Eventually though, he was pulled from his focus.

“Hey um, sir?”

Logan looked up, and he nearly gasped. Nearly. Standing before him was none other than Dexter, looking rather sheepish as he interrupted Logan.

“Sorry to bother you, but all the other tables are full and I was wondering if my friend and I could sit with you for now, at least until one opens up?” Dexter jabbed his thumb over to the counter, where Remus stood chatting with the barista as she made their drinks and another prepared some food for them. Logan almost forgot how to speak, and he cleared his throat.

“Um, yeah, sure. I don’t mind.” Dexter smiled and slid into the seat across from Logan. Remus joined them not long after.

“I’m Dexter, by the way. And this is Remus.” Dexter slung his arm around Remus once Remus settled beside him.

“I kinda knew. I really like your videos, they’re far more informational than I thought they would be.” And then, it was as if Logan just remembered that he didn’t know these two personally, and his cheeks felt a bit warmer all of a sudden. “Oh, and I’m Logan, by the way.”

“Well Logan, it’s always great to meet a fan,” Dexter said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah! Especially since most people just think we’re two idiots online, huh Dee?” Remus wasn’t really asking him, but he still got an affirmative hum. Remus tilted his head as he studied Logan for a moment. “Hey wait, I’ve seen you before! You’re in that one psych class!”

And that’s how the rest of Logan’s afternoon went. Other tables cleared, but Dexter and Remus didn’t leave Logan’s table as they spoke with him. And Logan’s computer was moved to his bag as he let himself open up to some people other than his main friend group. He wasn’t all too surprised that they had similar interests, and it was fun getting to complain with Remus about the number of projects their teachers gave them.

Over the following months, Logan continued to meet up with them and talk with them late into the night. He learned Dexter wasn’t in college and worked freelance as an artist to pay their house bills so Remus could focus on becoming a psychiatrist(Remus did do art commissions as well to chip in, but Dexter took care of finances the most). Logan also learned that Remus was the younger brother that Roman so often complained about, which initially pissed Logan off. When Remus learned that Logan was living with his brother, and heard of the things Roman had said, just shrugged and told Logan to not tell any of them they hung out. Dexter knew Virgil as well, though he was far less inclined to tell Logan what had happened, and just said they had a major fallout a few years back.

About two years into their friendship, Logan had sent the duo a text during their livestream(Logan had been doing homework and hadn’t noticed the two were busy). It was frantic, and Logan was stuffing essentials into his bag as he waited anxiously for either of them to text back. All Logan’s original text had said was “guys I need OUT”.

Dexter texted him back after ten agonizing minutes, asking what was wrong, and Logan called him, his voice unsteady as he explained the situation. Dexter listened as Remus ended their video so he could hear what was happening too. He and Virgil had gotten into a rather heated argument, and Roman had somehow been dragged into it. Normally Patton was there to calm them all down but he was working at the time, and Logan just couldn’t take any more arguing like this, not when it got so personal and to the point that Logan had been reduced to silence because of a panic attack.

“Do you want me to come pick you up? Lo, where are you?” Remus had snatched Dexter’s phone from his hand.

Logan swallowed thickly, his hand trembling on his own phone as he told them their address. “Virgil and Roman are both home though-”

“Just say you’re going to a last-minute meeting because our teacher is a jackass who does that and the things in your suitcase is this huge project he wanted us to do.” Further away from the phone, Remus called over to Dexter. “Got the keys?” Logan heard Dexter say something along the lines of ‘yes’ and Remus was back on the phone. “Alright, I’ll text you once we’re close by, kay?”

“Mhmm.” Logan took a deep breath, and before Remus could hang up he said, “Thank you, so much.”

He could almost see Remus grinning on the other end. “Don’t worry about it, Logan. See you in a bit.”

Twenty minutes later Logan was in the back of Dexter’s car, having faced no troubles in leaving the house and now on route to Remus and Dexter’s home. The drive was pretty quiet, the silence only filled by the radio playing some random songs softly.

They showed Logan to his new room, offering to take him out over the weekend to buy some paints if he liked and some other things Logan might want to add to his room. They had just given him their guest room, which was usually for the occasional friend to crash on(they claimed their friend Remy visited the most, but both were sure Remy wouldn’t care if Logan took the spare room). Logan declined their offer for going out shopping, saying that them just letting him stay was good enough.

He was able to move his things in quickly(he really didn’t have much while living with the others anyway), and Logan got to enjoy takeout with his new roommates as they lounged on the couch. Dexter was the first of the two to ask Logan if he wanted to talk about what had happened earlier with Roman and Virgil, to which Logan just shook his head.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Logan said after some thought, and Dexter hummed but didn’t push. He instead returned his attention to the documentary they had picked to watch.

Over the next few days, Logan ignored the explosion of texts he was getting from Roman, Virgil, and Patton, having already told them that he’d moved out about an hour after Logan had initially left. All of them just chose to ignore his message though, it seemed, and Logan actually grew frustrated with how many times the trio was calling him. Eventually, Logan just blocked their numbers and returned his focus to his papers that were due a few days from then.

About two weeks since Logan left the trio, and there’s an unwelcome knock on their door. Remus answers it when he realizes Logan is too caught up on writing and Dexter is busy making dinner, and he stares in shock at who he finds.

Logan looks up when he notices Remus frozen in the doorway to their home. “Rem?” He snaps Remus out of his daze, and Remus glances at him worriedly.

“Uhm.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Remus, just let us see him so we can talk this out!” Logan tenses at the voice, it’s unmistakably Roman’s, but then he just lets his shoulders fall and sighs. Taking this as an 'okay I’ll deal with it’, Remus lets Roman, Virgil, and Patton inside.

Logan closed his laptop, setting it to the side and staring up at the trio, the people he once called family. He still remembered the argument though, the words used which cut through him so badly Logan would have preferred to have been stabbed. “What is it?” He asked, resting his chin on his hand.

“What is it? Logan! You just up and disappeared for two weeks!” Patton exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. “You can’t just do that and make us worry!”

“Roman and Virgil were truly worried about me?” Logan sounded unimpressed. Patton glanced at his other friends as if daring them to answer otherwise.

“Of course we were worried, Logan, you’re like family-”

“So your ideal family is where you threaten to prohibit my breathing? Or claim that I was so annoying, always ruining everyone’s fun and curiosity with my 'boring facts’ and 'unwanted ramblings’ and 'caution’, and that it would just be better if I could disappear for a few hours? And that was just from our last fight!”

Dexter appeared from the kitchen, leaning against the wall that separated it from the living room.

Virgil bit his lip before letting out a fake nervous laugh. “Lo, you know I was only-”

“Oh Stormcloud, don’t play it off as a joke. You knew damn well how that would affect Logan.” Dexter cut Virgil off.

“Plus so many other things you two said!” Remus sang as he plopped down next to Logan, glaring at his brother momentarily. “Honestly, hearing Logan recount the argument, plus so many others you lot apparently had? It’s like none of you changed since we last talked.” Remus slung his arm around Logan, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “And Roman, reducing someone to a panic attack is low, even for you.”

Roman rolled his eyes, huffed, and blatantly ignored his brother. “Logan, c'mon, you can’t really just stay here.”

Logan glanced at Remus, then at Dexter across the room. He leaned into Remus’s embrace. “Actually, I can.”

Virgil glared, and he honestly hated how Logan didn’t even blink when he yelled. “But they’re fucking monsters! I mean, Dexter drove his mom to suicide and Remus is fucking Remus! What could either of them have that is even close to what you had with us?”

Dexter had wide eyes now, his confidence gone and Logan couldn’t tell if the look on Remus’s face was hurt or anger. Logan just stared at Virgil in shock.

“I mean, really! Neither of them could ever love someone like you, Logan, hardly anyone can put up with you-”

That got Logan to his feet, and as quick as the words had left Virgil’s mouth he was being shoved out the door, followed by Roman and then Patton(who was the only one of the trio to apologize to Dexter and Remus, and whisper his apology to Logan as he passed). Logan glared down at Virgil, and for once Virgil couldn’t come up with anything else to say.

“You know, there might have been the tiniest chance of me coming back. But now? Now I just hope you stay out of my damn life.” And with that, Logan slammed the door. He could hear Virgil and Roman argue with Patton about trying again, but it seemed Patton had convinced them to just leave.

Logan grabbed Dexter from where he was frozen by the kitchen entrance and dragged him over to the couch where Remus still sat. Once they both sat down, Dexter wiping away a few tears that had sprung to his eyes, both Dexter and Remus cuddled up to Logan. Remus laughed.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side!”

“Hush and enjoy the fact that the assholes are hopefully gone for good,” Logan muttered, and Dexter just hummed in appreciation. Their food was burned as they had all fallen asleep, and they just ordered a pizza and opted to watch some trashy horror film Remus had rented the day prior.

Midway through the movie, when Remus had passed out from sheer boredom, Dexter had looked up at Logan. “Lo?”

Logan looked away from their television just as one of the main characters was slaughtered(Logan couldn’t remember his name, he was destined to be murdered anyway so Logan didn’t bother to try and remember it). He tilted his head as he waited for Dexter to continue.

“You know we do love you, right?” Logan smiled slightly, looking back to the TV and he leaned his head on Dexter’s.

“I do. I love you guys, too.”

——————————–

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greenygreenland · 4 years ago

Text

Operation New Me: Father Figure Wu & Reader

-⛔if you're sensitive, to things like bullying, fist-fighting, mentions of insecurities etc, I don't recommend reading this⛔

-young Morro is in this because I love him

Summary: You're beginning your first day of high school despite being a dropout since like third grade

"Are you ready?" The question was quite innocent and short, yet held a deeper meaning only you seemed to catch. Morro didn't pay any attention to what Wu was saying as you stuffed the last of your supplies in your book bag, and to be honest, you weren't sure if you'd ever be ready for today.

You spent the past week meditating and reading whatever material you could to catch up on what you've missed, but it just wasn't enough--it'd never be enough. How could you even think of cramming seven and up years of knowledge you didn't even understand in a mere month?

"(Y/n)?"

You adjusted your bag around your shoulders and walked through the monastery doors to meet Morro and Wu on the front steps. "Sorry. Let's go." Morro gave you an odd look, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes with a huff. "Don't act so worried. If you can survive Sensei's training, you can survive anything." You snorted and ruffled his black locks. "Being a ninja is a completely different concept than being a student at school. You learn things you don't even use, so it's a waste of time."

Wu shook his head dismissively. "It is not a waste of time. What you will experience there is something even I can not teach."

"Which is?"

"Social skills." he plainly replied with a smile. You zipped up your (f/c) sweater as a chilly breeze passed. The sun had barely risen over the horizon, leaving the moon high in the sky for drifting clouds to cover. "All you know is the monastery," continued Wu, "and life as a ninja. What happens if you are thrown in a situation you cannot 'ninja' your way out of?" You pursed your lips together, which Wu took as an 'I don't know'.

"Exactly, which is why you must get out in the world and learn." he said with a reassuring smile. "You are sharp, so I have no doubt you will be okay."

You continued down the monastery steps in a comfortable silence. It wasn't unnatural for you to be quiet at this time of day, especially since you weren't a morning person. Once you finally descended down every last step, Wu summoned his elemental dragon.

When Morro asked why he didn't do it in the first place, Wu said it was to get a bit of 'exercise in' and to learn a lesson of 'gratefulness'. Boy did the last one stick, because despite practically living at the monastery for more than half your life, rarely had you ever ventured down the steps.

The cool, crisp air against your face, the natural wind in your hair made by nature and not Morro, and the view of the endless skies just made you feel so alive. In the air suspended upon a golden dragon was something you missed. "When was the last time we got around like this?" you shouted over the wind. Morro grinned as brightly as the rising sun. "'We should do this more often Sensei!"

He chuckled a little and gave his reins a good shake. "Hold on!" The dragon flapped his wings and you were suddenly speeding through the skies, cutting passed the cool winds at speeds no man could ever reach.

"SENSEI!" you screeched. He laughed loudly as Morro cackled in your ear. "SCARED, (L/N)?!" he shouted.

"I'M NOT--! SENSEI! OH MY--!"

The dragon steadily slowed, continuing into a descend towards the city below. Wu let out a playful laugh. "That was a lesson on keeping your guard up, no matter how comfortable you may be." You placed your free hand over your pounding heart with a long sigh. "Well that's a lame lesson, Sensei. I saw my life flash before my eyes."

"Did you now?" he inquired with a chuckle. Morro snickered along with him, a look of approval on his smug face. "Sensei," you grumbled, "you're more like Garmadon than you think."

Landing in Ninjago City was like being in a dream. It was bigger than any village you've ever visited, and the buildings, although in construction, remained taller than anything you've ever seen in your life. "Woah..."

Wu smiled, ushering both you and Morro towards the high school. When you set eyes on the building, you had to blink a few times to fully comprehend its size. Windows lined the three stories that seemed to stretch out all the way to the end of the block. As for te cream colour exterior, you thought it blended nicely with the modern-ish touches.

Wu guided you towards the front gates, where dozens of students plowed their way up the stairs and into the front doors. Some lingered on the front lawn to enjoy their breakfasts with friends. "It's a pretty big place, isn't it?" said Wu. Morro snorted and sassily crossed his arms. "That's why we're in a city Sensei." You rolled your eyes and pulled out your schedule.

Your Sensei placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "School is a ground for learning, so don't feel like you have to know everything. Just remember what we leanred together and everything will be fine." You tried to match the smile on his lips, but it just wouldn't happen. Besides almost cutting off one of your fingers with a katana last month, this had to be the scariest thing you've ever done.

"Our paths don't always go in straight lines," added Wu, "so don't feel like you have to have this day perfect." You nodded in understanding. Morro sent you a quick thumbs-up and a 'don't die' face that you snorted at. "Well, I'll see you after...school." You turned on your heel, preparing to march onto the school grounds like any other student.

Describing the school as 'big' and 'modern' was an understatement. It was humungous and actually quite nice to look at. You wished you could say the same, positive things about the students, but they didn't look too welcoming. Not only that, but for the first time in ages, you felt...

...out if place.

You really didn't fit in here with your sweater bearing your sensei's mark on the back and your own on the front. All the other girls here seemed to wear a skirt or dress in navy blue or black and plaid while you chose to wear trousers specifically for martial arts. The boys were no different with their white button ups, sweater vests or plain sweats.

You checked the dress code before hand to make sure you wouldn't embarrass yourself, but even then, here you were, already afraid of making the mistake of wearing the ancient fashion of your Elemental Master ancestors under your (f/c) sweater.

It didn't take a genius to know you were rhe new kid on the first day of school. Everyone else seemed to know each other from middle school or even primary and long before that while you had no one. They loved to gawk at you and side-glance your clothing as if you were some foreigner from a different realm. It was then that you began realising just how disconnected you had been from the trendiest and latest fashion.

"Only paintings wear her clothes."

"Don't tell me she's a villager."

"I bet her dad's a farmer."

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Your clothes were still widely used in not only martial arts, but villages and small towns. You also weren't a villager, and for the record, your father wasn't a farmer when he was alive. He had to be one of the greatest Elemental Masters and just so happened to pass on his element, light, to you.

You were proud of your heritage, but the amount of scorns you kept getting throughout the day kind of made you want to believe you were someone else.

Lunch was slow to come, especially during your algebra one class. When it finally hit you that it was time to eat, you made your way outside to take a seat far away from the students sat at picnic tables in the courtyards or laid flat on top of blankets on the grass. You took refuge from all the drama and scowls under a lone tree.

The music of its swaying leaves helped calm the ache in your heart. It was a reminder of all the lessons you learned throughout your life from your sensei Wu and Garmadon. You had to be patient, kind, calm and--

"Oh I'm so, so sorry." You looked up at the girl who had spilt her soda pop over your head. She and her two friends quietly snickered to each other as you wiped away the sticky mess with your (f/c) handkerchief. A strained smile made its way onto your lips. "It's...fine."

"Here, let me help you." One of the girls kicked at the dirt, sending pieces of fresh grass and pebbles into your face. She let out an evil laugh as her friends joined along. "Sorry, I can't touch you or I'll be infected with your grandma fashion." You wiped the dirt out of your face and jumped to your feet. "I dare you to say that again."

"If I touch you, I'll be infected with your grandma fashion." the girl repeated with a smirk. Perhaps Morro had rubbed off on you, or you had been thinking about your old Sensei Garmadon too much, because before any of the girls could blink, you snatched your lunch out of your bag and flung it at the group of girls.

One of them blindly lunged at you, making a mad grab for your hair and giving it a good tug. You wrapped your hand around her wrist and gripped it tight enough to cease her blood circulation. She let out a cry and let go as you swung around and blocked a punch from her friend.

A crowd began to form as you wrestled with the girls. All of the drama could have been over if you had gone full-out and actually fought back, but the Art of the Silent Fist worked well enough with them. You weren't about to give what your peers wanted: A fist fight.

"What is going on here?"

You dodged a punch to the face and spun around as another girl made a grab for your collar.

"Hey! No! Stop fighting!"

You paused in your footsteps as your History teacher parted through the crowds like the Master of Water, Maya. He suddenly let out a shout and threw out a hand, but you were too late to notice the uppercut to your jaw.

Later that day, you awoke to the one and only face of your Sensei, Wu. As you sat up in bed, he handed you a cup of warm Jasmine tea. "How are you feeling?" You rubbed your sore face and head with a low groan. "I'm dizzy."

"That must have been quite a punch, because you've been sleeping the day away." he said. You took a sip of your tea, surveying your bedroom with a frown. "You...picked me up from school?" Wu nodded. "Your bag is in the kitchen if you're wondering. Dinner should be done in another hour; I made some soup that'll make you feel better."

You caught a glimpse of your bedside clock, your jaw unhinging. "Eighteen thirty [6:30PM] already?" You jumped out of bed and scrambled towards the door. "Why didn't you wake me up? I have so much homework to do, and I was supposed to help you cook--" Wu calmly stood from his seat and placed his hands around your shoulders. You didn't even realise your hands were shaking until he guided you back towards your bed and took a seat at the edge with you.

"What happened at school today?" His calm eyes were swirling with a serious concern you couldn't ignore. It made your heart ache again, and all words everyone threw at you flow into your head like a broken record. The faces of your peers and their smiles they hid behind their hands, the pointing and the laughing, and then the fighting...

...oh, how could you forget, even for a moment, how awful that made you feel? Hos awful everything made you feel? The hot anger in your chest seemed to grow heavier and heavier.

If I touch you, I'll be infected with your grandma fashion.

Only paintings wear her clothes.

Don't tell me she's a villager.

I bet her dad's a farmer.

"(Y/n)?" called Wu. "Are you alright?" You heaved in a shaky breath to centre your hurricane of emotions. "I...I'm fine Sensei." You forced a smile. "Those girls were only looking for trouble. I got distracted by a teacher telling them to stop, so that's why I got hit. If I weren't distracted, you bet I would have blocked that punch." You chuckled a little to try and lighten the atmosphere, but Wu wasn't so easily convinced.

You should have expected that, but you hoped he would take the bait and just leave you alone for a bit. That was all you wanted, and that's how you liked it. Wu knitted his brows together as if he were searching your face for any clues of what else might've happened. "Is that all, or...?"

"Yeah." you casually replied. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch." Wu slowly nodded before leaving your side and venturing into the hallway. You were about to flop down on your bed, but he quickly popped back into your doorway. "I forgot to tell you, Garmadon's visiting for the weekend." Your eyes lit up, all that anger and weight in your chest vanishing. "Really?" Wu smiled so you did too, for real this time around.

"Yes. For real."

---

The only motivation keeping you from ditching school and running all the way back home was the fact that Sensei Garmadon would arrive in just two days. All you had to do was survive two more days of school before you were free on the weekend to do whatever the heck you wished. In theory, two days didn't seem so bad, but as soon as you entered the jam-packed building flowing with sleep-deprived teens, you realised just how long two days really was.

Along the way to your homeroom class, a guy had the audacity to spit his chewing gum at you. Of course, you dodged the flying projectile like a pro, but someone collided with you last second and the gum landed straight in your hair.

You remember spending the rest of the day dealing with fifty thousand insults about your clothing again, a few angry teachers giving fourty-five minute lectures about yesterday's fight, and having your whole grade blame you for the incident. Someone slammed you into a locker for payback while a group of girls decided it would be funny to trip you in the hall and scatter all your classwork on the floor.

You scrambled passed people's sneakers, madly grabbing at all the papers as if your life depended on it. You didn't have time to sort the jumble of packets and loose worksheets back into their respective places, so you threw everything in your bag and made a run for your next class.

Your teacher looked you up and down as you took a seat at your desk. "Late and running in the halls?" she inquired. "Detention! Tardiness will not be tolerated in my classroom." Your classmates sent you side-glances as you covered half your face with a hand. "Great. Could this day get any worse?" you grumbled.

Fast forward: it did. Passed the bullying and passed the tripping in the halls, the gum in your hair refused to come out, so during lunch, you had no choice but to cut it. You being you, whipped out a kunai knife that a teacher 'so happened' to see. And besides getting another detention slash possible suspension, you hadn't even started cutting your hair, leaving you with a wad of gum practically super-glueing all your locks together.

Wu had no idea about the detentions, so when you exited the school about an hour later than you should've, you deeply wished you hadn't left at all. He had his hands on his hips as you made your way down the front steps, and Morro looked like he wanted to give you a good punch in the face.

"I heard you had two detentions in a row!" exclaimed Wu. "What happened?" You handed him a yellow slip of paper and stuff your hands in your pockets with a huff. "Both my teachers want to have a 'parent teacher conference' with you tonorrow."

Wu looked like he was torn between being angry and confused, but maybe that was because he realised just how exhausted you looked. Your shoulders were slumped while your voice remained in a monotone, and you had your hood pulled high over your head (to hide the gum stuck in your hair). Morro stood on his tippy-toes to get a good look at the yellow slip of paper. "What did you do?" he questioned. "You're usually the 'good' one."

A bitter laugh escaped your throat that you couldn't hold. Wu frantically looked up from the paper to get a good look at your face, a deep frown spreading on his face. "Can you please take off your hood (Y/n)?" His voice was gentle and soft, as if he were afraid of scaring you.

"Yeah, I can't see your face."

Wu gave Morro a scolding shake of his head before turning back to you. "There's no point in hiding your face."

"I'm not hiding my face...I just...I like keeping my hood up." Wu folded the yellow paper and put it in his pocket with a sigh. "Come here (Y/n)." You hesitantly trudged over to him and he placed a hand on your head, gently pulling down your hood. Morro gasped as Wu's gaze bounced from your tired expression to the wad of gum tangled in your hair.

"Who did this to you?"

You wanted to tell him that it was an accident, that someone left their gum on the table and you were just unfortunate enough to lay your head down and get it stuck in your hair. But then you saw the fierce fire in his eyes and felt his strong resolve to help you. There would be no point in lying to him and Morro if he'd eventually find out anyway.

"Some guy at school did it."

"How?"

"He spit it at me. I tried to dodge, but someone pushed me and it got stuck in my hair."

"What about the detentions?"

You hesitated. "It...it was..." Morro pursed his lips together angrily. "Don't you dare lie!" he exclaimed. "Lying doesn't grt you anywhere." A sigh escaped your lips. "I was late to one of my classes because someone tripped me on purpose in the hallway. Some other guy threw all my stuff on the ground, so that's why I was late. I got another detention after that because I tried to cut the gum out of my hair with my kunai."

Wu's eyes doubled in size. "You what?!"

"I tried to cut my hair with a kunai knife because I didn't have scissors." you repeated. Wu ran a hand over his forehead. "Father, help me." he grumbled. "(Y/n), you do know that weapons are prohibited? This...school is..." He trailed off and motioned for you and Morro to follow him.

"How about we go home and discuss this over a nice cup of hot tea?"

PART 2

#ninjago x reader #ninjago #ninjagomorro #ninjagowu #ninjago masters of spinjitzu #lego #legoninjago

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fandom-collective-writers · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Taste You

Pairing: MLQC Gavin x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word count: 1,894

Written for anonymous by @rikumorimachisgirl

A/N: Sorry for posting this late. No offense to anyone named Dagny, I just couldn't think of any other name at the time.

Disclaimer: I don't own MLQC, but this fic was solely my idea.

You slammed the door of your apartment and made a beeline to the kitchen. It was half-past ten in the evening on a Saturday - the weekend of your high school reunion - and here you were back at your flat, getting ready to bake instead of partying with him and your friends.

"This is all his fault, " you thought to yourself as you cracked two eggs open and added them into the mixing bowl. "Him and that bimbo!"

Him. Gavin - Elite Police Officer, resident bad boy in high school, and your supposed date for the homecoming.

Supposed is right. You start beating the eggs into the mixture a tad harder than usual as your thoughts drifted back to what had happened moments earlier.

He picked you up at exactly seven o'clock, looking dapper in a crisp white shirt, a grey sports jacket, and jeans, carrying a bouquet of roses, which you hurriedly placed in a vase. He was the perfect date - holding the door open for you, seating you in the best spot at the venue, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to make sure you weren't cold, and whispering random stuff in your ear to get even closer to you. Amidst the crowded high school auditorium, all he could see was you. And it all seemed like a dream until she came along.

She. Dagny. She was in the same year as Gavin and she was quite the popular girl - with her long blonde hair, perfect figure, and her long legs. She used to have the biggest crush on Gavin. Judging by how she looked, it was plain to see that the years have been kind to her. And judging by how easily she managed to pull your date away from your side, you could tell she wasn't over him yet.

The faint sound of a Billie A-list song drifted to your kitchen from the open window, making you frown even more. This was exactly the song they were dancing to before you decided to leave. Sighing, you placed the mixing bowl down and shut the window - trying to shut off the images of how blondie was practically grinding at Gavin like her life depended on it, how Gavin made no attempt at shutting her out, and how they moved in perfect sync - almost like they were doing the deed on the dancefloor. They look so good together, you wouldn't be surprised if they hooked up.

If they hooked up. Those four words sent chills down your spine. "Argh! I hate this, " you growled and headed back to the counter where you left your mixing bowl. You needed a good distraction, and baking always provided you that. Sighing, you took the baking sheets and unceremoniously dropped spoonfuls of cookie dough on the ungreased sheets. You were so engrossed in your task, you hardly noticed the knock on your door.

"Hey, open up, please, " you heard someone calling from outside your flat. "I know you're still awake."

'Gavin? What was he doing there?' You were curious for a split second, but the scowl you were wearing since you got home soon took its place as you marched to the front door. You could feel your blood boil as you took one step after another from the kitchen to the living room, and by the time you got to the door, you were ready to scream his head off.

But all of those vanished as soon as you spotted a pale, and disheveled Gavin standing outside your door. His face lit up the moment your eyes met his, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"What are you doing here?" You interrupted abruptly, eyeing him coldly.

"I'm here because you left all of a sudden, and I was worried you'd had gotten in trouble."

"Well, obviously I'm okay, so you can leave, " you replied flatly, as you attempted to close the door on him.

"Hey, wait a minute, " he said, blocking the door. "Did I do something to upset you?"

You gasped, your eyes flew wide as saucers. Could he seriously be that clueless, you thought. "You mean you don't know why I'm upset?"

"I wouldn't be asking you if I knew."

"Shouldn't you be with her?"

He stared at you, more confused than ever. "Huh?"

"Dagny!" You cried out. "She was all over you earlier, and you didn't seem to mind. So, why aren't you with her? She was obviously into you. Didn't you notice?"

He cocked an eyebrow at you. "No, I didn't. I only danced with her because she had information about a high profile smuggler my team has been tailing for months and we didn't want to look too obvious."

"You mean she's an informant?"

"Yes. There's nothing going on between us. Besides, " he said, as he cupped your face in his hands and with the pads of his thumb, he wiped off some dough that had stuck to your cheek. "You're the only one I see, my little baker girl."

You blushed at his words and tried to break free, but the more you struggled, the more he kept you in place. Sensing the worst was over, he laughed. "So what were you making before I arrived?"

"It's -"

"Oh no, don't tell me! Let me guess, " he whispered and you gasped as his mouth hungrily sought yours, again and again, leaving you breathless and weak at the knees.

"Cookies, " he said in between kisses, as he pushed you inside the flat and closed the door behind him.

"Hm?"

"You're making cookies, am I right?" He said as he continued to kiss you while backing you up into the room until you reached the kitchen. He then let you go and turned his attention to the batter. "What kind of cookies are you making?"

"Butter cookies, " you responded when you finally caught your breath and looked at the mess you've made in the kitchen. "As you can see, it doesn't look very appealing right now. I didn't even bother tasting it earlier because I was just too mad and wanted to let off steam…" You trailed off as you watched him scoop a small dollop of cookie dough with his finger before making his way towards you. "Gavin?"

"Hm, " he asked, smiling mischievously at you.

"S-so what do you think?" You asked as soon as he came face to face with you.

"Let's see..., " he started while tracing your jaw and your neck with his finger, smearing the soft cookie dough on your skin. Leaning over, he replaced his finger with his tongue and lapped at the dough, and you gasped at the sensation of his wet tongue upon your skin.

"Well?"

"It's hard to tell with such a small sample. I'm gonna need to taste it some more." Bolder this time, he moved the mixing bowl near you. You wanted to move away, but he held your wrist with one hand, keeping you in place. As soon as he turned his attention back at you, the same naughty smile returned to his face and his hazel brown eyes darkened with lust.

With deft fingers, he unbuttoned your blouse, his eyes never leaving yours. It was trance-like, and you couldn't move if you wanted to. No sooner than he had completed his task, he circled an arm around you to unhook your bra, and shortly after, you saw him toss those aside. "Those were getting in the way, " he said, as he took another dollop of cookie dough and smudged it on your breasts, rolling it on your nipples. Your heart was pounding wildly, as he continued to coat your breast, still gazing at you like he was working on a piece of art.

"I can't wait to taste you, " his voice hoarse with arousal and it didn't take long before you felt his mouth on your breast, lapping on the soft dough he had smeared on you. He held your breasts together and moved his lips from one nipple to the other, licking, sucking, giving them equal attention. His lips trailed back up the hollow of your collarbone, up to your neck, until it found your lips once more. You wrapped your arms around him as he lifted you up and placed you on the counter.

"I'm gonna need you to lean back for me. I'm not done tasting you yet, " he said, pushing your skirt up, and spreading your legs. Smirking, Gavin took a generous amount of dough and spread it on your inner thigh, and you suck your breath in anticipation when he knelt in front of you. "I bet you taste heavenly, " was the last thing he whispered before he started licking the dough off, and you fight off the urge to moan louder. The only sounds in the kitchen were his incessant slurping and sucking as your muffled moans as his mouth moved higher and higher up your thigh.

A thin sheen of sweat coated your body, your nipples were pert from the cold air and the warmth of his lips on your thigh. You writhed and bucked your hips in anticipation. You wanted more - needed more. But he stopped lapping on your thigh so abruptly, you opened your eyes to find him looking up at you.

"This won't do, " he started. "How will you know the verdict if you keep your eyes closed the whole time? Look at me."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but your pussy was aching with need and you only managed a small nod before he lowered his mouth on you once again, his tongue roved up and down your pussy.

"Good girl, " he said, in between licks. Your whole body shivered as his tongue continued to probe your folds, sucking on your wetness. "No, no. Don't close your eyes. Watch me. Watch me taste you."

"It's impossible, Gavin… I… I..." you gasped, as he French kissed your lower lips, his tongue plunging deep into you as he watched your reactions.

"Sorry, Gavin. I- I can't…, " you finally said as you closed your eyes and bucked your hips against his face, allowing him to fuck you with his tongue.

"Gavin, I'm close…"

"I know, baby. Cum for me." As soon as you heard him speak, your walls clamped around him. You poured your juices, and he greedily lapped on it, looking at you the whole time.

He stood and held you firmly as you came down from your high. Around you were splotches of dough and your overturned mixing bowl, which normally would be enough to get a rise off you. You hated messy kitchens. But not tonight. Tonight, you were only concerned about one thing.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

You looked up at him curiously and saw his lips still wet with your essence. "I want to find out if you like what you tasted."

"Oh, that, " he said, his naughty smile returning. "I wouldn't recommend it to anyone else."Your eyes shot wide open, and he laughed as he watched your cheeks flush. "Because it's a taste I want to keep exclusively for me."

"I don't think that would be a problem. Will you do it again?"

"Over and over, " he promised as he scooped you in his arms, and you felt your heart race while you thought of the number of ways he was going to taste you.

End.

#mlqc gavin #mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mr love queens choice #mr love queen's choice gavin #mlqc gavin x mc #mlqc gavin x reader

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emybain · 5 years ago

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A “Bear”y Good Surprise

appreciate the pun lovelies. i didn’t sleep last night because i wrote this (and some other stuff...(; ). check for background info here written at 1am i think.

ao3

It was the perfect gift.

At least, Adrian thought so. He had spent over a month working on it, and it came from the heart. Since their six month anniversary, he had been brainstorming gift ideas for their next anniversary, which would be one year. Even though they had agreed on no gifts, as nothing could truly represent their love for another, Adrian still wanted to give the love of his life something that would mean something to her. Nothing materialistic or showy. She didn’t like those kinds of things. After searching and searching the internet, as well as snooping around her apartment for anything personal like photographs, Adrian was still at a loss for what to give her. Not knowing what else to do, he called up the person who was the closest thing Nova had to a father, Leroy Flinn, A.K.A ex-Anarchist. The middle aged man now lived a life in solitude outside of town, though Nova visited him often and made up excuses to see him. He always insisted that he enjoyed his new life as a hermit, being able to live in peace and experiment without interruption, but that never fazed Nova.

While Adrian wasn’t close with Leroy, they were now friendly with one another and Leroy seemed to accept that his daughter-figure had fallen in love with everything she was raised to hate. The phone conversation started out awkward, but upon mentioning trying to find a special gift, Leroy was quick to make suggestions. Nova had inventions, blueprints, books, and other belongings down in the subway tunnels before they were confiscated by the Renegades. This got the wheels turning in Adrian’s head; he could get that stuff back to her safely. But...she was owed that, and it wasn’t much of a gift. In fact, Adrian was surprised that the Council, who wasn’t so much the Council these days due to the reforming government, had yet to return her items. Or that Nova hadn’t gone in herself to retrieve them.

He brought this up to Leroy, who thought in silence for a bit. Adrian almost thought that he had hung up when he mentioned a bear of Nova’s. Adrian perked up. Her father had gotten her a stuffed bear when she was very young, and Nova had brought it to the tunnels with her as a reminder of her family. It wasn’t something she talked about much, but Leroy knew of its existence. It used to sit on her work table and be her company while she would tinker with inventions. Leroy wasn’t sure if she had it still, or if it ended up being confiscated with the rest of her things. Whatever the case, it surely wasn’t in great condition. According to Leroy, Nova always wanted to get it fixed up properly and cleaned, but she never had the time or money.

That led to Adrian straight to the Renegades Artifacts where he knew her items still sat. It took a while, but with the help of Snapshot, he managed to package up all of her belongings and load them up in his car. All of this had to be done in stealth mode, as Nova was at Headquarters that day presenting a proposal to Adrian’s dad, Captain Chromium. Then after that, it took about an hour to sort through the boxes. There weren’t many, but he and Snapshot didn’t know what all was Nova’s and what all belonged to the other Anarchists. He did find the bear, or what he assumed was the stuffed animal; it was the only one amidst all of the tools and weapons and clothing and other things. It was ratty and missing both of its eyes and there was a tear in its neck, causing a great loss of stuffing. What must’ve been a bow around its neck at one point was now a stained and brown tattered mess. Its nose had seen better days. An ear was missing.

It was perfect.

But even now, as Adrian tried to unlock the door to his house, with Nova’s arms wrapped around him from behind and her lips leaving tiny kisses on the back of his neck, he was nervous. He surprised her with a fancy dinner, telling her beforehand to dress nice. He picked her up from her apartment that was only a few blocks from his house, and she managed to blow him away with her attire. She managed to make a simple jumpsuit look like a million dollars. It was a dark turquoise, loose fitting on the legs with a v-neck and spaghetti straps. Adrian had to restrain himself from kissing her all over the second he laid his eyes on her. She knew how it affected Adrian, too, and seemed to like sauntering about in the thing all night just to get a reaction out of him. Damn her.

She protested against a nice dinner, but Adrian could tell she enjoyed it. He was aware how she hated being treated special, but things like this were an exception. After dinner, they drove around for a bit, just enjoying one another’s company and the music playing on the radio. Then finally, Adrian convinced her to come back to his house for a few minutes. Say hi to his parents and to Max and have some quiet time in his basement. It didn’t take much begging, either.

The front door opened, and Adrian announced their return. From upstairs, Simon greeted them and said they would be down shortly.

Nova walked in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck, craning her neck to look up at him. Her soft, content expression warmed Adrian all over, calming his nerves just slightly. “Thank you for tonight,” she murmured, kissing him gently. He returned the caress, hands going to the curves of her hips. “I loved every second.”

He smiled against her lips. “Happy anniversary, Nova.” The first of many, hopefully, he thought as she tugged him down once more to kiss him, this time much deeper and more passionate than the last. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted; he had a job to do. However, Nova’s lips were very, very enticing. He shouldn’t be surprised; Nova was good at everything, including kissing.

Adrian wasn’t sure if he should’ve thanked or cursed his family for choosing that moment to all come downstairs.

“That’s another dollar in the jar,” Max said with a fake gag.

Nova was the first to pull back, yet she took her sweet time. It was funny how much she had changed in the time they had known one another. When they first got back together, she was always embarrassed if they were caught in a moment, even if they weren’t kissing. She still liked her privacy, and occasionally got embarrassed if it was a stranger, but around their friends and family, she seemed to not care about being caught. Sometimes, she acted smug.

“Hey, Max. How’s the new Battlefield game treating you?”

He shrugged. “Good. You still haven’t lived up your promise to play with me in the zombie mode, though.”

She smiled. “Next weekend?”

“Deal.”

They exchanged greetings with Simon and Hugh, chatting for a few minutes. Adrian’s dads had grown to really love Nova; he could tell just based on their expressions and mannerisms with her that had changed and evolved since the Supernova. The feeling was mutual, although Nova would never admit it out loud. Both his dads had even helped Adrian gather supplies and tools for the stuffed bear. Speaking of…

“Well, I wanted to show Nova what I’ve been working on downstairs before I take her home,” Adrian said, narrowing his eyes at both his parents. They seemed to take the hint, and as they parted ways, Hugh clapped a hand on Adrian’s shoulder.

“She’ll love it, don’t worry.” Hugh winked, and Adrian tried for a smile.

Adrian cleaned his room for the occasion, making sure it was extra tidy for her. Nova didn’t mind a mess, but this was important. He wanted this memory to last, and a dirty room didn’t belong in it.

“What did you want to show me?” Nova swung their joined hands lightly, looking around his room for an easel. “Is it in your studio?” The jungle had disappeared when Adrian neutralized himself over a year before in the fight against Ace Anarchy, leaving him with his boring art studio again. He kept meaning to redecorate the walls. Maybe he would have Nova help him sometime.

“Actually,” he began, leading her over to the couch and sitting her down, “It’s in here.” From beside the couch, hidden behind the side table, he pulled out a large box wrapped in a silvery paper and tied with a red bow at the top. He placed it in her arms, heart racing.

“Adrian,” she groaned, eyeing the size of the gift. “I thought we agreed upon no presents.”

“I know, I know.” He sat beside her. “But...don’t think of this as an anniversary gift, okay? I wanted to do something nice for you...from the heart. I know you don’t want anything fancy or expensive.” He inhaled a shaky breath and took one of her hands. “This is because I love you with all I am and all I will be.”

She gave him a long look, conflict written in her features. Finally, she shook her head and closed her eyes with a resigned sigh. “I love you, too, babe.” And with that, she carefully undid the bow and tore the wrapping paper, pushing both aside to stare at the box.

“It’s not a crock pot.” He laughed at her confused expression. “That’s just all I could find to hold it.”

The corners of her lips lifted up, and she looked like she wanted to say something sarcastic but held back. She opened up the box and peered inside, pulling out tissue paper and at last, a brand new bear.

“What…?” Her nose scrunched up and she examined the stuffed animal. It had two button eyes and a newly sewn on nose, as well as two ears, a freshly washed exterior that took time and some replacing to make fluffy again, and stuffing to make its belly full again. To top it all off, there was a big, shiny blue bow tied around its neck. “Wait…” she brought it a bit closer and sniffed, her frown growing as she sniffed its coat once more. Adrian bit back his grin. Her eyes widened suddenly with recognition and she gasped. “Oh my skies,” she cried out, clutching the bear to her chest and burying her face in it. He heard, “It’s D…” and then incoherent words. Adrian placed a hand on her back as her shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. After a moment, she blinked at him through the tears that were ruining her eye makeup. “Are you serious?” She gasped for air and tried for a smile. “I smelled him and I knew exactly who he was. He still smells like Papà’s cologne and that stupid tobacco scent that’s been on him since day one. How….how? How did you get him?”

Adrian explained to her the past month of getting her things back and the process of fixing the bear, all while she tried to listen to him and hide herself in the soft bear at the same time. When he finished, she just stared at him in amazement. Her bottom lip trembled.

“All that...for me?”

Adrian blinked. “Nova, you’re worth the world.”

She kissed him through the tears and shakiness. Adrian let his fingers grab onto one of her curls.

“I love it,” she said when they pulled apart. “I love you, Adrian Everhart. I’m...I’m at a loss for words.” She sniffled. “Thank you. So, so much.” She cradled the bear in her arms, admiring his new look while attempting to wipe away her tears.

Adrian placed a kiss on her temple, wrapping an arm around her. “What’s his name, by the way? Leroy didn’t tell me.”

Nova smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. “Dolly Bear. Papà gave him to me for my third birthday. He’s...he’s one of the last connections I have with my family.” Her face crumpled a little again. “Adrian, you have no idea how much this means to me. I love you.”

“I love you, Nova Artino.”

The kiss this time was much slower than the ones before, although the most intimate. Nova ended up staying much, much later than originally planned, but Adrian wasn’t complaining. Not in the slightest.

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oneyanderegirl · 4 years ago

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Dance with the Devil

Genre: One-shot, Romance Rating: T Sasuhina Month 2020 Theme: Day 8 (Dance with the Devil)

A/N: Part of my one-shot series for Sasuhina Month 2020. You can read the other parts by going on my profile and clicking the fanfiction tab. They’re not written in a particular order since they are one-shots that are supposed to work as stand-alones, but there are hints here and there about when and where things take place. Anyways, hope you enjoy! Warnings: Mentions of death.

@sasuhinamonth (In case this doesn’t show up in the tags)

Sasuke did not know when it had started.

Perhaps it had started as early as seven, when his older brother had murdered his entire clan.

Perhaps it had begun when he first defected from the village in search of power.

Or perhaps it had occurred after the Fourth War finally ended, leaving a crumpled world behind.

He did not know.

But Sasuke had gained a reputation ever since he had returned to Konoha.

“ Devil.”

When he walked the streets, he would hear whispers from those that recognized him. They would clear the streets, but he would still hear their panicked voices in fear of his presence. He didn’t mind though. In fact, he had grown used to the nickname.

It allowed him to enjoy his own life in solitude without the worry of interacting with people he didn’t care to interact with. After years of being tormented by the death of his family, Sasuke had finally felt a bit of peace in his life. When the war had finally ended, Sasuke had decided to travel across the land. He explored the world and embraced the things he had learned during his travels. But after two years of travelling, he had felt it was time for him to go back to Konoha.

The place where he had once called it home.

A month had already passed when Sasuke had quietly settled back into the Uchiha estate. Though he had come back in silence, the news of his return had spread loudly across the village. Before he knew it, the civilians had already become afraid of him.

Though they did not outwardly reject him, Sasuke knew they did not accept him. In their eyes, he was a monster. He was a monster who had a part in igniting a war that had ended up killing many people. As long as he had the blood of the Uchiha running through his veins, the people would always be afraid of him. It was something he had learned to accept.

He remembered Itachi’s last wish before he had died. His older brother who he had hated years before the truth had been uncovered, wished for Sasuke to protect Konoha. Though it was Konoha who were the true cause to the Uchiha’s demise, Itachi had still wished for the village to be protected. He could not understand the reasoning behind it. Even after travelling for two years to find the answer, Sasuke still couldn’t quite understand his brother.

But he knew that innocent people did not deserve death, and they did not deserve another war. It was something that Sasuke realized during his travels. As long as there were innocent lives that existed, it was the job of the shinobi to preserve and maintain the peace that surrounded them.

So Sasuke spent most of his time training and working.

He would take on mission after mission. If he was not on a mission, he would be found quietly training on the open fields in the outer areas of the village or within the gates that surrounded the land owned by the Uchiha. The world may have been at peace now, but Sasuke refused to become stagnated.

“ Sasuke-kun!”

A soft voice greeted him.

She had long dark hair that always flowed with the wind. Her skin was as beautiful as the winter snow. With soft pink lips and lavender tinted eyes that reminded him of the moon, she would give off an ethereal presence no matter where she went. She was the only woman that was unafraid of him.

Hinata Hyuga.

His secret penpal during his two year absence front the village.

She was a mysterious one. It was she who had come to him two years ago as she grieved over the death of her cousin, whom she had thought of as a brother. It was her who had requested to exchange letters with him sometime during one of his visits to Naruto. He could never really tell what she was thinking despite wearing her emotions on her sleeve.

Yet he had gone along with everything she did.

“ Are you ready?” He asked.

She nodded her head in response.

And an exchange of blows began.

Truth be told, Sasuke did not mind the woman. Perhaps it was because of their shared pain in losing their brothers that he had understood her irrational actions. It was a desperate attempt for comfort in order to forget the bitterness in their hearts. So he allowed her to have her ways. Even when she had run to him in order to ask that they trained together from time to time, he had allowed it. Hinata never tried to take advantage of his yielding attitude towards her, so he continued to go along with her in return. It was a silent arrangement that worked in both their favors.

Each kick was met with an arm. Each punch was met with a leg. There was no chakra involved nor did they use any jutsu. It was just a physical fight between two users of taijutsu, a combative form of martial arts. It was an agreement they both had made because they understood that anything more would have put her at a disadvantage. The Hyuga were known for their prowess in taijutsu since it was integral with their Bakugan, so they both had decided this would be the training they would do together.

Sasuke was strong, perhaps the strongest person alive in the world, but that was only if he was allowed to use his powers in full. Without them, his power was greatly cut, though that did not mean he was weak. He was still plenty strong without them. That was what training was for after all.

However, Hinata Hyuga was something else.

She lived up to her name as the once former heiress of the clan. Though she was no longer able to become the next clan leader for reasons he did not know, Sasuke knew that she was strong. Though Sasuke was stronger, he was impressed at her strength. Her taijutsu was almost evenly matched against him. What he made up in pure brute strength, she countered it with experience.

It often resulted in an elegant dance between the two.

“ Are you not afraid of me?” He suddenly asked out of curiosity.

Another exchange of blows occurred.

She must have been surprised at his sudden question; he had managed to hit her back, knocking her over a bit. Though it only took a few seconds for her to regain her lost balance before returning his blow with a kick knocking his legs down. Without any hesitation, she looked at him straight in the eye.

“ I was never afraid of you,”

Another kick. Another punch. Another block.

“ Even if I am the Devil himself?”

This time Hinata gave him a smile. She knew of the reputation the villagers had spread about him.

“ Even if you are, I’ll gladly continue this dance with you.”

It was all Sasuke needed to hear to understand the hidden meaning behind her words. Though everyone else may have called Sasuke the Devil, she didn’t seem to care. In her eyes, he was just a man who had suffered too much and needed a sense of peace in his life. In his eyes, she was just a woman who needed comfort to grieve over the death of a loved one. Hinata had made a choice to seek him out, while Sasuke had made a choice to welcome her in his own ways. It was a strange relationship that only the two of them could comprehend. And though Sasuke was not one for words, their sparring sessions were always more than enough for the two to share an understanding with each other.

After all, it was the only kind of dancing they both knew how to do.

#sasuhina #sasuhina month #sasuhinamonth2020 #shmonth2020 #fanfiction #fanfics #writing #AL #personal

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omniswords · 4 years ago

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How to Open a Padlock, Part 1 [Nino Lahiffe/Camila Siddiq (OC)]

Four times Camila Siddiq ran into Carapace, and one time she found Nino.

I know I’ve been talking about her on and off on this blog, but I’ve had this piece I wrote about her ages ago, maybe a month or so after I even created her. Camila won’t make her Official Debut until the second half of Chronicles, but… here’s what things would be like if she were in the canonverse.

I hope you like it. I really hope you like it.

Before you start, just a quick content warning for explosions and an act of Islamophobia in this part. It’s. Shit’s real, y’all. And I want you to be safe, so take a step away if you need to.

[i.]

This is the sort of thing that’s only supposed to happen in horror stories on the news. In statistics. In social media, in hashtags, in videos blurred out for containing “sensitive content.” In some other country. Not here. Never here.

Camila isn’t supposed to become a statistic, but she just might be, in the Latin Quarter. And for all her supposed tos and shouldn’t haves, maybe she should have expected it after all.

She’s not particularly religious, not the way her parents are. But Friday afternoons are still sacred family time for her. They’re always blocked out for her to meet with her parents in front of the mosque after the lecture and prayer, and to treat them to lunch. It’s the one time she’ll go a little easier on the makeup, make sure her clothes aren’t too ripped or too sheer or too anything, and it’s mostly out of respect for her mother. Her father, as far as she’s concerned, is just there for the ride. Or, she supposes, the drive. It’s his car they all pile into, after all.

And the Latin Quarter isn’t so bad a place. It doesn’t have the same bustle as the eighth arrondissement, but it’s quaint, and quiet, and it feels like a movie sometimes. She’ll even stick around when she doesn’t have any more classes for the day, or even after her practicum, just to meet up with some classmates or friends for tea, book shopping, a casual game of Frisbee in the park or an adventure in one of the art-house cinemas.

It’s just not the sort of place she would ever expect to see thick, black smoke rising. Especially from the Grand Mosque’s dome. Or to hear screaming, especially from the people rushing out and the people still inside.

In the midst of it all, she can’t help but go stock still for a too-long moment, eyes darting around and scanning the crowd. This isn’t supposed to happen here. It isn’t supposed to happen anywhere, but especially not here. Not to her family. Not to her people. They haven’t done anything aside from wanting to live and be good to others. They haven’t done anything aside from wanting to do the things that bring them peace. For God’s sake, it’s in the name of everything they follow, everything they submit to. Why would anyone want to hurt that? Why are there people who still want to hurt that?

She should have known better than to think there was any country out there that could protect her.

Her mother. She can’t find her mother. But her mother should be so easy to find; she’s one of the few people Camila knows who still defies everything to wear her niqab, still gets slapped with the fine for it and everything. But every woman Camila sees pouring out of the side entrance, has her face uncovered, except where they guard themselves from the smoke with their sleeves. Some of them even have children in tow, and it makes her shake that they’ll have to carry this with them. That they’ll have to go around wondering if they’ll ever feel safe anywhere.

Her mother. She has to go get her mother.

Camila’s barely run a few feet before someone grabs her wrist and yanks her back. Before she can shout in protest, there’s an explosion that shakes the ground, and she screams instead and covers her head to protect herself. She’s gathered up in someone’s arms, against a body, and the ear-splitting sound of it is muffled by a shield.

Wait.

A shield?

Once the explosion subsides and the ground stops shaking, she looks up, slowly. There’s still chaos around her, noise and confusion and questions of when and how and why, but the person holding her barely acts like it. From what she can see under the hood, he’s all serious stares and gritted teeth, talking into some kind of communicator. To Ladybug. She hears Ladybug.

It’s him.

“Carapace?” she ventures to say. She’s surprised at how even she sounds. How she’s not breaking into scared sobs. Maybe it’s the stress hormones. Maybe it’s the fight-or-flight simmering in her blood. “What are you—”

“Akuma,” is his reply, and it’s only then that Carapace looks down to acknowledge her. “You can’t go in there, are you crazy? You don’t know what could happen if that guy gets his hands on you.”

“I don’t even know what is happening.” Camila never knows what’s happened. These akuma things were never a problem before she left home, and now it feels like they’re an everyday occurrence. An annoyance, until now. She struggles in his grip, but if anything, Carapace only holds on tighter. “And I have to go in there, let me go—”

“I can’t,” he says, covers her even more with his shield. “I’m not gonna let one more person get hurt if I can help it—”

“I’m not leaving without her!” she shrieks, and now she’s starting to shake, and she’s pretty sure her makeup is starting to run, and she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care what happens to her, as long as—

Carapace pauses, shifts back to hold her at arm’s length. There’s something almost… anxious in his eyes. She has to wonder how many times he’s felt this way. If any of these other superheroes in town feel it, too. “Who?” he asks. Soft. Maybe even a little scared.

It’s impossible not to trust him. She trusted him with her life long before they ever met. “My mother,” she croaks, and gestures in the air with a hand swiping over her mouth. “Her face is covered. I can’t find her.”

“I’ll get her,” he says, so firmly that she’d believe him if she didn’t already. He fits his shield onto his back, and gathers her up into his arms in a bridal carry. “But I’m taking you somewhere safe first. Can’t hurt your mother by letting something happen to you.”

Carapace has a point, as much as Camila hates to admit it. Reluctantly, she fits her arms around his shoulders—which are surprisingly, amazingly broad, and casts one last glance at the building, at her brothers and sisters rushing to safety and the lithe figures battling it out in the distance. It will all be fixed in the end, she has to tell herself. Ladybug will fix everything in the end.

Well.

Almost everything.

“You don’t have to look anymore,” Carapace says, a soft, gentle murmur that she can feel in his chest. And he turns her head away. His heart is pounding hard, she can hear that too, and he tells her to hold on tight before he leaps. She screams when he does, her stomach jolting like she’s on some roller coaster ride or an elevator drop, and she holds onto him even faster than before, and he tells her, “Don’t look down. Whatever you do, don’t look down.”

So she closes her eyes to fight off the temptation, and tries not to think about how Carapace is literally talking to her and carrying her, and settles for straining to hear the grumble of Arabic under Carapace’s breath. She knew he was Moroccan, ever since the Ladyblog confirmed it. But it’s still so strange to hear someone so above her, someone she and pretty much every other woman in her family look to, speaking words that are so familiar to her. Not that she’s heard many people swear in her dialect of Arabic—in fact, even the thought of it makes her shudder—but he drops a couple here and there, talking about a fucking akuma in the fucking courtyard, and how this Hawk Moth fellow had better prepare to meet God in his grave, and—

Oh.

Did he just—?

They’re tucked away near the Pantheon before she knows it, or can say anything. The fighting and the panic are still there, in the distance, and something pulls at her heart and makes her want to go back, makes her want to demand why Carapace took her away. It doesn’t take much from him to quiet that tension, though. Just an earnest look—something so familiar to her, painful in how she can’t place it for how rattled she is—and the same three words. “I’ll get her.” And then, three more: “Stay here. Please.”

She takes a slow, shaky breath, nearly slumping against the wall behind her. She would have loved to meet him some other way. Any other way. She just guesses there wouldn’t be any other way, if he only comes out when there’s danger. “Camila,” she finally says.

Carapace seems to freeze for a moment, fists clenched tight. But his stance relaxes, and his voice goes low and soft. “Is that your mom’s name?” he asks.

“It’s mine.” She swallows hard, fingers latching onto the gold hamsa pendant her grandmother gave to her years ago. “I figure you ought to know the name of the person who owes you one. Or two.”

For the first time since she met him, Carapace smiles. It makes his eyes glitter. Maybe it’d make her heart flutter, too, if he didn’t have somewhere to go. “Hey. You don’t owe me nothin’ but your safety.”

It’s not a very tall order, and she really does wish there were more she could do than just… wait. But if that’s all a superhero is asking of her, then maybe it’s all she needs. She steadies herself, stands up straight, can’t bring herself to look anywhere else but at him. “You…” she starts uneasily, clears her throat. “You think I’m pretty?”

He did say it before. How cruel someone had to be to attack such a pretty girl. Maybe he didn’t know she could understand. Or maybe he forgot. Either way, he blushes, deep red under that hood of his, and nods without a word, and then he’s off again.

Pretty.

Carapace, the hero of literally every Arab in Paris, thinks she’s pretty.

(Well. Of course she already knew she was. It doesn’t make her any less fluttery.)

The waiting game is the worst part. Having to listen for all those distant sounds, poking her head around the corner to look for the occasional person or two running away from the commotion, or maybe a bright green force field. Her body’s shaking so much that it’s almost hard to stand, but she said she wouldn’t leave. So she’s not leaving. She’s waiting. And waiting. Fixing her face, and holding herself together, and waiting.

When the flurry of ladybugs come and return the neighborhood to the way it was, she heaves a sigh of relief, and suddenly the waiting doesn’t feel so bad. It’s numbered, right down to the moment Carapace brings her parents back to her, and he slips away before she can even thank him again.

She hopes, in the time her mother is holding her together instead, in the time that her father is watching news of the arrest on his phone, that Carapace remembered her name.

(“I was there,” she tells Nino later over glasses of iced mint tea and sweets from Marinette’s parents’ bakery. “I was there, and I was scared to death, and I couldn’t do anything.”

Over the sound of a soccer match, Nino squeezes her shoulder, and then her hand. “But someone did,” he says, and he pulls her into a hug. “Someone did so you didn’t have to.”

Someone did, but it wasn’t her.)

#miraculous ladybug #camino #nino lahiffe #oc: camila siddiq #nino/oc #face in hands #please validation..............

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