#it’s always that quiet person who knows the obscure answers

[pleader600]

Quiz time/Trying to figure out a nickname for Ralph

[swordmunch]

Hmmmmm time to pick a name for my Vaguely East Asian™ Female Love Interest!!! I shall name her….Ching Chong. Wait. No. I should change it to have plausible deniability—I’m not racist, and if I do this as a joke the libs will get mad at me for completely unfounded reasons. I’ll just change that “o” into an “a”…and shorten up that first name, and….her name will be Cho Chang! A perfectly not racist name to call a Vaguely East Asian™ Female Love Interest!

[draconic-desire]

🔶 Rex Dracorum 🔶

Yandere Zhongli x Reader

At this year’s Lantern Rite, you happen to cross paths with a dragon, much to the chagrin of the one who holds you in the palm of his hand. The result has you trapped between them.

Warnings: Very brief mention of nsfw at the end, implied kidnapping, forced relationship, yandere behavior. Basically my version of what would have happened if Zhongli and Neuvillette actually met at the Rite…

Despite the contract irrevocably binding you to the Lord of Geo, its progenitor allows you a surprising number of freedoms.

Sometimes, you can pretend like he didn’t steal your life away with a simple signature. That he didn’t back you into a corner, making you decide between two evils: to be his wife and mate, or watch as everything and everyone you ever cherished suffer the wrath of the rock.

Why me?, you would plead aloud, desperate for any loophole, any escape from your contract. Why a mortal geologist with only a few mora to her name?

You’re one of the few who appreciates the rock over the gem, my precious lapis, he’d reply cryptically. Always riddles and non-answers, layered statements garnished with polished words.

If you could reverse time, you would have refused his invitation for tea that first time. Little did you know that each of those subsequent meetings, each time you spent listening to his fantastical tales shared between steaming cups, you were digging your grave a foot deeper, his hold on you constricting an inch further.

Perhaps if you had rejected him outright, he would have viewed you not as a unique mineral, but as another insignificant pebble in a sea of endless, colorless sediment. As no more than the dirt beneath his boot.

Instead, you must seek refuge from him and his stifling, suffocating presence in the times between the cracks, like now, as you take in the transformed Liyue Harbor, adorned with lights and colors brighter than any precious stone.

Hailing from Liyue, the Lantern Rite has always been a time of celebration and reflection for you and your family. Now it represents one of the only times the invisible shackles are lifted from your frame.

Although Zhongli does initially insist on walking you through the harbor, arms interlocked as he parades you around while monologuing about Liyue’s rich history, he permits you to venture off on your own and explore while he entertains his associates or work clients during the day. Although you know there are constantly eyes on you, usually a certain grumbling yaksha, this precious time almost feels like normal.

Today, you’ve decided on a stroll through Qiaoyang Village. The quiet, leisurely existence that its inhabitants have adopted fills you with a rare tranquility. Walking at a slow pace among the many street vendors, the scent of tea leaves, fresh mint and spices, permeates your nose, beckoning you forward. Your tea stocks at home are getting a bit low, you mentally remark, and having some of your own gives you an excuse to occasionally opt out of the times Zhongli wants to drag you out again.

Your mind set, you turn to find yourself a fraction of a second from running straight into a wall of boxes.

No—looking down, you spot a pair of black and gold boots, leading up to black trousers and elegant blue robes. A pair of matching gloves holds the boxes in place. There’s actually a person carrying all of those parcels.

Due to the boxes obscuring their view, they notice you too late—with startlingly quick reflexes, they manage to avoid running into you, but given their sudden halt mid-step, the boxes in their arms go toppling to the ground.

You gasp at your stupidity and immediately drop to your knees to maintain the stranger’s fallen goods. Embarrassed at your carelessness, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t see you—”

A gloved hand rests on your own scrambling fingers, calming your frantic attempt to organize the items. “No apologies necessary. I am the one at fault for not being more alert.”

Turning to face the stranger, who is now crouching beside you, the air in your lungs extinguishes as your eyes lock.

Undoubtedly, this man is one of the most handsome individuals you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Long, silver hair cascades around his sharp, defined features: almond eyes with striking lilac irises, high cheekbones and full lips, a tall, muscular frame clearly sculpted with subtle muscle. His attire—sapphire robes, adorned with lighter accents and intricate whirls of ocean blues—is clearly of expensive taste and sophistication. The jabot and dewdrop pendant around his neck suggest he’s Fontainian, perhaps associated with the court there.

You must look like a gaping fish out of water, for the man helps you to your feet with a kind smile. “I must have given you quite the startle. Are you feeling alright?”

His deep baritone rings through you, similar yet so unlike the proud voice of the Geo Archon you’ve grown accustomed to. Blinking twice, you regain your bearings and pray to the Seven—excluding one in particular, who would be very unhappy with you—that the man didn’t notice you gawking at him. “Ah, yes, I’m fine. Again, I’m very sorry for being so distracted. If any of your items are damaged, I’m more than happy to pay for replacements.”

“That is quite generous of you, but I can assure you that won’t be necessary. You see, these boxes merely contain tea, nothing more.” To prove his claim, he bends down to retrieve a box that opened when it landed, revealing simple, sealed bags of leaves.

Your shoulders sag in relief. It truly seems like no damage was done. “Well, at least let me help you wrap them up together. I know a trick that will make carrying them all much easier.”

The white-haired male nods, followed by a subtle smile. “That’s very kind of you. I accept your proposal.”

After a quick stop at another stall to buy twine, you start to work on binding the boxes together. You count more than ten in total—who needs that much tea, anyway? The amount of it is almost comical, but you can’t bring yourself to actually poke fun of the man. Not when he’s looking at you with such an endearing smile. Like he’s seeing you, not just the wife of the Lord of Geo.

Your face heats. “So,” you start, trying to focus on your knots and ties and not the stranger’s eyes boring into you, “can I ask why you’re carrying so much tea?”

“Well, I originally was transporting some goods back to Fontaine for my friends and colleagues, but I decided to partake myself. It was buy ten boxes get half off,” he replies, as calmly as if he were stating an obvious fact.

You can’t help it. A giggle escapes your lips as you quirk your head to the side. The innocence with which this man admitted to being scammed endears you greatly, and you can’t help but play along with him. “You know, that’s a pretty good deal.”

He smiles, then, a subtle thing paired with a tinge of pink along his cheeks. “I thought so, too.”

Your smile grows in tandem. Speaking to others, especially other men, without your husband hovering above the conversation is quite rare for you these days—though you have no doubt you’ll be questioned about it later once Xiao reports the encounter to him, if he hasn’t already—

A hand rests on your shoulder, the landing a bit too heavy and the grip a bit too tight. “Ah, my beautiful wife. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The sound of Zhongli’s voice sends a jump through your bones. Archons, you knew you were being followed, but you’ve never been located and corralled this quickly. A flame of indignation, which has long since dimmed from an inferno to a mere flicker, sparks in your chest. You’re rightly upset that your time has been cut short, and even before you learned this interesting and undeniably attractive foreigner’s name.

You look up at Zhongli and open your mouth to explain the situation, that you were merely helping the other man secure his absurd amount of tea boxes, but the words die in your throat.

The Lord of Geo’s amber gaze is sharp and deadly as stone, directed at the other man. His jaw tightens and he grinds out, “Neuvillette.”

The silver-haired man’s eyes narrow as his gaze roams from the hand on your shoulder to meet Zhongli’s glower. “Rex.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance back and forth between the two men who look two moments away from ripping each other to ribbons. It’s obvious they know each other, and the name Neuvillette rings a bell of recognition in your mind. But what really concerns you is the term by which Neuvillette called Zhongli. To your knowledge, no one refers to your captor as Rex Lapis except Xiao, who knows of his draconic—

Oh. Oh.

The realization slams into you with a wave of clarity as your head slowly turns toward the other man. The silver, slitted pupils, the shimmering blue horns and pointed ears, the aura of power and hydro around him…

Horrified, your mouth falls open as you truly take in this man, Neuvillette.

No, not a man. The restored leader of Fontaine, the Hydro Sovereign.

You’ve been casually conversing with not only a dragon, but also the Chief Justice of the Region of Justice. One of the original powerhouses of Teyvat, from which the Seven gained their gnoses. And, given the death of the Hydro Archon, there is currently only one in existence restored to their full power.

“Shit,” you breathe, a bit too loudly. Purple and gold irises snap to you in sync, one filled with thinly veiled concern and questioning and the other with building anger and possession.

On cue, Zhongli snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you taut against his side. You swear you feel the hint of claws digging into your skin through the fabric of your dress, the remnants of his exuvia form.

“I had hoped to avoid meeting you here,” Zhongli states, eyes roaming over the scene, the scattered tea boxes, the twine in your hand, as he pieces together the situation, “but my wife is too kind for her own good sometimes.”

Neuvillette’s eyes browse over your form, examining your tense muscles and downtrodden eyes, the arms that remain at your sides. He’s seen cases just like this time and time again in court, but even so, it doesn’t take a legal profession to ascertain that you’re not particularly fond of your husband. And given Morax’s propensity for contracts, Neuvillette’s senses immediately go on alert.

The Chief Justice clears his throat. “Not at all. I think it quite generous of her to have dedicated her time to making my travels easier.” He tries to give you a reassuring smile, but you’re too focused on Zhongli who, despite his collected demeanor, you realize is a thread away from snapping.

Just what kind of battle between dragons have you gotten yourself into the middle of?

“Is that so? Perhaps she took pity on an old man such as yourself. I hear it can be difficult to carry so much after you’ve departed from your prime.”

“Old man?” Neuvillette barks a laugh, but quickly coughs and regains his composure. “Quite ironic coming from you, Rex. Besides, I feel quite reinvigorated these days. One can only assume it’s due to the balances of power returning to their rightful due.”

Zhongli flashes a hint of his canines, the only giveaway to his building rage. “Rightful is quite a biased term. We wouldn’t want to start a war now, would we?”

Neuvillette’s eyes glint like a sword ready for battle. “And you would know quite a bit about inciting wars, wouldn’t you, Rex?”

Dear Archons, you need to stop this before these two lunge at each other’s throats.

“Zhongli,” you try to placate with a soft voice, the name and tone you know he so adores from you, “I believe that Neu—uh, the Chief Justice was on his way back to Fontaine. I only wanted to help him wrap up his purchases correctly for the journey. If we assist him together, then we can head to the Pavilion for tea after, yes?” Part of you is disgusted at yourself for having to grovel, but you can’t allow two immensely powerful draconic beings to brawl over tea in the middle of the village.

Though you have an strong inkling that the argument isn’t over tea.

Your suggestion lands. Zhongli’s muscles relax as he peers down at you, those immovable, amber eyes softening slightly as he drinks you in. The roaming hands across your back and waist, however, hint that you’ll be getting an earful in private. Though of the likely punishments he has in store for you, that’s the least of your worries.

With a single snap of his fingers, Zhongli uses the power of geo to bind Neuvillette’s parcels together. “There. Consider the issue resolved. My wife and I have matters to attend to.”

Zhongli quickly begins to pull you away, and you think you hear a growl over your shoulder from Neuvillette’s direction. “Careful, Rex. I would be most displeased to have to take one of your contracts to court. In the face of the law, they aren’t as omnipotent as you believe them to be.”

You wince, the statement hitting a bit too close to home. Zhongli, on the other hand, goes as still as stone. “That sounds awfully like a threat, Neuvillette.”

“A mere warning. It is of your own fault to read too deeply into it.”

Neuvillette then turns his attention to you, placing a single tea box into your shaking hands. You have no clue when he separated it from the rest.

Leaning in, his voice drops, low enough to be directed to you, yet you know Zhongli hears it clearly. “You are more than welcome to Fontaine. I will see to your accommodations personally, if you so choose to visit. I believe a spirit like yours would be greatly appreciated in our nation.”

All you can do is shake your head forlornly. Never in a million lifetimes will Zhongli allow it, not even before this encounter. You’ll have to settle for seeing Fontaine through your dreams alone.

Straightening with a frown but understanding the position you must be in, of the contract that binds you to the Geo Archon, Neuvillette lets the matter drop. He turns to leave, but not before throwing over his shoulder, “And her name isn’t wife, Rex. It’s…”

You swallow thickly. “(Y/n),” you finish, a mere breath.

Neuvillette gives you a final smile in return. “My offer will always stand, (Y/n). Happy Lantern Rite.”

Moments after he’s out of sight, Zhongli dips his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and rubbing his over your skin. “You stink of that other male…but I know how to amend that.”

Needless to say, you did not make it to tea that afternoon.

It wasn’t until that night when Zhongli was asleep, clawed limbs and scaly tail entangled with your naked form, that you deem it safe to open the tea box Neuvillette gifted to you.

Core pounding, you grimace as you stand, the many possessive and claiming bite marks and bruises across your skin even worse than usual. He didn’t lie about wiping any scent of the other dragon away, if the past few hours of nonstop sex were any indication.

You make your way to the kitchen trash, where Zhongli had immediately disposed of it upon arriving home. Heart pounding, you lift the lid.

A shimmering blue vision reflects in your pupils.

[loki-cees-all]

Space Oddity {Avengers!Loki x Female Reader One-shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : While preparing for Stark Tower’s Halloween party, Loki misunderstands the point of a Halloween Costume. Luckily he has you to help him navigate such tricky waters. 

W/c : 10k words

Content / Warnings : Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Loki being a little massive shit and also a silly goose.

Author's Note : Last year a certain LIFE-RUINER (affectionate) dressed up as Ziggy Stardust/David Bowie/Aladdin Sane for Halloween, and it permanently altered my brain chemistry. Because of (or in spite of?) the ensuing brain rot, it took 11 months of me staring at that picture to finally come up with an idea to include Loki in that delicious little mix.

P.S. I do recommend listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie while you read this. If you start the song at "Humanity’s wide variety of music..." then depending on your reading speed, the song's first Verse should start right at the big reveal 🤭

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

A crisp, hazy mist obscured your view of the ground from the 22nd floor of Stark Tower. Sunrise was yet to fully finish, and the Earth below was quiet, still adjusting to the uneasy transition from slumber to consciousness. Within that ambiguity, it was easy to believe that you’d somehow awoken on an entirely new planet. 

You often wondered what that was like, to feel the soil from an uncharted world give way underneath your boots. To feel a breeze coming off an ocean no other human had ever seen before, or to look up into the night sky and see the stars of a brand new galaxy. How colossal, how surreal, how inferior it must make someone feel. 

On lazy mornings such as this one, you’d often ask your partner what it was like to be an astronaut. He’d hand you a steaming cup of coffee as he rejoined you in bed, and with a contemplative expression, he’d always respond with a brand new answer. 

You suspected the change in response was just due to him recalling his first trip to a different realm, and each time you always listened very carefully. You always closed your eyes and tried to lose yourself in the picturesque descriptions of fantasy worlds you’d probably never be able to see personally. 

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could almost smell the forests of a brand new planet. You could almost taste its fresh water and its different fruit, and feel the immaculate breezes of its unstudied seasons. But then you’d open your eyes again, and when you looked through the skyscraper’s window, the few dapples of orange and yellow leaves breaking through the dense fog would let you know this was still planet Earth. 

But that wasn’t always so bad. Occasionally, there would be several weeks without a world-ending threat breathing down the Avenger’s necks, and that meant you could pretend you were all just regular people. You could sleep in or get up extra early to watch the world come to life, you could rush around and do any of the million things that needed to be done, or you could simply lay there and bask in that sweet silence. 

Today, after having coffee in bed, your only concrete plan was a shopping trip in the West Village with Wanda and Nat. Your only solid goal was to finally settle on the perfect costumes for the Halloween party happening just a few days from now. 

It was no secret that the Avengers had acquired a sizable contingency of cynics over the years, ones who weren’t shy about openly criticizing the entire team. From the collateral damage incurred during battle, to the individual actions of its members both on and off the team - anything they did was suspect, and absolutely nothing was beyond complaint. Thus, Pepper Potts had made it her personal mission to finally correct the planet’s opinions of its heroes. 

In addition to the team’s assistance towards rebuilding efforts after their battles were won and having its members performing very public charity work, Stark Tower was starting to host more “fun” events in order to further boost the team’s positive image. 

“To get your names in the papers without a rising death toll immediately afterwards,” was specifically how Pepper had explained her initiative. And naturally, that meant a Halloween Party was deemed absolutely necessary. 

Anyone who was even tertiarily related to the Avengers was going to be there: from the low-level, but still notable, world government leaders, to the honorary members from all corners of the globe. And of course, plenty of reporters and photographers would be in attendance, all of them ready to document every single fun moment. It was set to become an impressive party, and knowing Pepper, a very classy event - so it shouldn’t have been at all surprising that most of the team had become hyper-focused on winning the party’s costume contest. 

Initially, everyone kept their costumes a secret from one another, and the trash-talking was of a mostly friendly nature. But then rumors started flying around, and gradually, some members of the team started taking the competition far too seriously. Alliances were formed, and subsequently broken. The taunting soon became serious, and then reached devastating levels, which ultimately escalated into a four-day period where Tony and Steve couldn’t even be in the same room together without a physical fight breaking out. 

Thankfully, the girls were far more casual about it, and that afternoon’s shopping trip was planned to be one of mutual support. Wanda was hoping to finalize her couple’s costume with Vision, and even though she hadn’t mentioned it directly, you knew that Nat was attempting a similar endeavor with Bruce, despite his timid insistence that he wasn’t a “costume guy”. It was so adorably endearing that it almost gave you a toothache. 

Unfortunately, things were not so cut and dry with Loki. 

He had yet to mention the Halloween party on his own, nor had he participated in any group discussions on the subject - he even ignored Tony's attempts to goad him into verbal sparring matches, something Loki ordinarily enjoyed. Not that anyone should be genuinely excited about performative media relations disguised as a fun party, but nonetheless, you were starting to become concerned about his lack of interest.

Private conversations with him about finding a costume had gone nowhere. He didn’t understand why he needed to dress up at all, or why you cared so much about it. And while he wasn’t saying it out loud, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess why he had reservations: everyone else already believed he was an actual monster, so shouldn’t he just be himself on Halloween? 

Only a few weeks had passed since you’d moved in together, but it was going really well, all things considered. The otherworldly being you’d fallen in love with still didn’t understand most Earthly customs, and you very much enjoyed being his Midgardian teacher. But coming to terms with what he’d done while under the influence of the Mind Stone was still an ongoing struggle for him. 

Loki had good days, but he also had very, very bad days. He still had nightmares about his past, and frequently his worries about the future kept him helplessly trapped in bed. It broke your heart to witness, and even though he’d probably never reveal the full details about his time with The Black Order and Thanos, he at least never stopped you from offering him comfort in the middle of the night. 

Because he wasn’t the monster his critics or inner demons claimed he was, no matter how convincing they were. He deserved a good and peaceful life just as much as everyone else did, and you wanted nothing more than to help him finally have one. 

When you’d left the apartment later that morning, Loki was lounging peacefully on the living room couch, his nose buried in the oldest book you’d ever seen. A gentle smile had tugged at his lips while you kissed his forehead on your way out, and with tremendous love in his eyes, he said that he’d miss you terribly while you were gone. 

After an early lunch at The Coppola Cafe, the three of you spent the afternoon browsing what felt like every single vintage clothing shop in the West End. It didn’t take long for Wanda and Nat to finalize their costumes, and eventually you did manage to find something for yourself, but deciding on your partner’s costume was another story entirely. A terribly complicated task, one that was impossible to accomplish and rotten with trap doors and landmines hiding within the deceptive labyrinth that was Loki. 

The girls did their best to make helpful suggestions during the shopping trip, offering such innocent and guiltless ideas like a mailman, or a stuffy professor - or perhaps he could dress up as Shakespeare so he could spend the entire party wandering around quoting Hamlet. Or maybe instead, he should just wear a Ghostface mask and a long black cloak, so he had a good excuse to stay concealed and silent all night long. 

You appreciated their efforts, but none of those ideas were quite right for him. You couldn’t really explain why, but they just weren’t…Loki. 

By late afternoon, your mind had turned into a jumbled mess. Unable to think clearly anymore, you resorted to aimless purchases of extra things neither of you probably wouldn’t ever use - cheap makeup sets, bottles of fake blood, a set of vampire fangs, a pair of cat ears. Several brightly colored wigs, a second-hand cape, and a large bag of Halloween candy to stress eat later finally completed your purchases for the day. 

The group came back to the Tower just before dusk, and the living room of your apartment was quiet when you walked inside. A few lamps illuminated on the end tables gave the space a dark, brooding mood, which was greatly appreciated after such a busy and disappointing day. But unfortunately, Loki was no longer on the couch where you’d left him, and that old book was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey! I’m home!” you called out while setting your shopping bags down by the front door. 

An odd silence was the only thing that greeted you. 

Usually, Loki would be at the front door, ready to sweep you up in his arms whenever you returned home. But the apartment remained unmoving, even as you called out a second time. When he still didn’t appear, you poked your head into the kitchen while shrugging off your jacket and slipping off your shoes. But that room was also completely vacant, with no evidence of dinner being started or already had. 

Loki preferred spending most of his time alone, but occasionally he’d allow an enticing bribe from Bruce or Thor to drag him out of the apartment; maybe he was just studying something interesting up in Bruce’s lab, or perhaps he’d agreed to help his brother play a prank on someone. Grateful for the opportunity to wallow in solitude for a bit, you pulled the giant bag of Halloween candy from a shopping bag and made your way towards the back of the apartment. 

You padded down the empty hallway where there was still no sign of Loki. Everything in the entire apartment was clean, and in its place. There was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet it felt like the weight of the entire world was resting heavily on your shoulders. You tried to reassure yourself that it was nothing that a coma-inducing amount of candy couldn’t fix, but even that was becoming less believable with each step forward. 

As you approached the bedroom, you thought you could hear the very faint sounds of guitar strumming through the closed door. That gave you pause; certain that you hadn’t left anything on before leaving that morning, you cautiously moved closer, until your ear was pressed against the door. 

Yes, that was music you were hearing - familiar music, even though you couldn’t quite place it yet, and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. Loki was home after all, and he had been entertaining himself with music while you were out. It thoroughly warmed your heart with an unexplainable feeling of serenity, and pleased that he’d remembered how to use the record player on his own, you waited behind the door to listen for another moment. 

Humanity’s wide variety of music was one of the few things about our culture that he’d expressed genuine interest in - which of course, you happily encouraged. It was so much fun introducing him to everything from the classic composers of the 18th and 19th centuries, to the psychedelic rockers of the 20th century. From the upbeat pop groups of your middle school years, to the angsty singers that made up the soundtrack of your early twenties.

You closed your eyes to focus solely on whatever he was listening to now. The music itself was playing low, the singer’s impassive voice just barely audible to you. But you couldn’t tell if it was a really old recording, or if the sound was just distorted after passing through the door. 

Off in the distance, a punctuated drum stroke marked the countdown to some inconceivable event, and adrenaline suddenly filled your bloodstream. A low hum vibrated underneath the drum, steady until it wasn’t, and then gradually it shifted into a cosmic wail that seemed to be transmitting itself across all of time and space. A cacophony of instruments, from both the planet Earth and of the stars themselves, finally crescendoed together in a powerful array of astronomical declaration. 

A declaration that something was happening at that very moment. Breathed into life with a static kiss, that something was so astonishingly important, and it vehemently demanded immediate witness. 

Your curiosity, overwhelming to the point that you couldn’t take it any longer, forced you to carefully reach for the door handle. Its metal, both warm and cold simultaneously, felt like home. It felt unreal. 

This felt like opening the hatch to an ancient spacecraft. 

This is Ground Control to Major Tom…

You pushed open the door, and immediately let out a startled laugh. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror was a tall and lanky figure, turning himself back and forth while carefully examining his reflection. That part wasn’t surprising; but rather, it was the way he’d dressed himself that was completely unexpected. 

You’ve really made the grade…

Bright red and blue stripes lined the figure’s jumpsuit from shoulder to toe, each one evenly separated by thin lines of white. Familiar dark curls cascaded and twisted down past a pair of golden, glittering shoulder pads that only amplified his already impressive stature. Across his right eye, stretching from well below his cheekbone up to meet with his natural hairline, was a crimson lightning bolt. Its perfectly jagged edges were outlined in shimmering blue, and the leather platform boots on his feet were a brilliant, shining red. 

And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear…

You knew it wasn’t actually Ziggy Stardust standing there; logically, you knew that much to be true. David Bowie had died several years ago, and while you now believed in alien life on other planets, and magic, and superheroes - you still knew the matter of ghosts to be entirely science fiction. 

Rational thought, if you had been capable of it in that moment, would have told you that this was just your celestial partner practicing another one of his illusions. But this mirage was so much more powerful than reason, or fact, or reality could have ever hoped to be. While shoulder-strung spectral harps blared from the record player and the harmonized magnetism of flesh and blood and God stood before you, the only conclusion to be reached was that you’d finally lost your entire mind. 

Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare…

Other than his hair, his illusion was categorically perfect: the only hint of Loki underneath this glamour was the flicker of mischievous green hiding behind heterochromatic eyes. But those weren’t Loki’s cheekbones, or his lips, or his nose. 

They were David fucking Bowie’s. 

This is Major Tom to Ground Control…

Your jaw dropped even further when he finally noticed you. He turned someone else’s body, and he lifted someone else’s chin. The illustrious and supernal smile he flashed in your direction tugged at someone else’s lips. But the confidence that radiated out of him, like the infernal rays of an ever-bursting star, belonged to Loki, and Loki alone. 

It was different from Bowie’s, but still somehow the same; despite the oddity of both their ensembles, neither outfit had worn either man. And similar to that ethereal mortal from over 50 years ago, Loki’s aura overrode any bewildered question of why, and instead begged the eternal question of how? 

I’m stepping through the door…

How was he making this look work for him? Just like Bowie, Loki was equal parts striking and ridiculous. He was magnetic and breathtaking, he was pulling you in while simultaneously stunning the oxygen from your lungs. No thoughts, no words, no sounds could ever truly capture the true essence of this scene, and all you could manage was another stunned laugh as you looked him up and down. 

His lips finally moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. A symphony of guitars and keyboards and organs and stringed instruments all crescendoed together to effectively pay tribute to the creation of this universe and drown out his voice. The sound, dizzying and disorienting, overpowered the feel of the floor beneath your feet until gravity was no longer enough to keep you tethered to the Earth. 

And I’m floating in the most peculiar way…

Your mind, completely overwhelmed by the glowing specter just ten feet away, had become entirely blank. You were rendered so totally speechless that you forgot every single detail about your past. You simply weren’t you anymore; you were an astronaut from a distant planet on the other side of the universe, and you always had been. 

You weren’t standing on the 22nd floor of Stark Tower, you were opening the hatch of an imaginary spacecraft, you were taking that first step out onto an unexplored moon. You were leaving the very first footprints upon its previously untouched surface, and you were carving your name into its virgin moondust. You were leaving your mark for future generations to someday gaze upon, in sheer awe of the audacity to wonder what else could be out there. 

And the stars look very different today… 

Without even noticing, you let go of the bag of Halloween candy; whether it also began floating or if it crashed to your bedroom floor was no longer any of your concern. All you could think about was if it felt this surreal, this mind-blowing to look upon the real David Bowie. How did anybody manage to not spontaneously combust in his presence? 

All sense of relative dimensions lost their meaning. Space was completely irrelevant, time was a fictional construct. The universe was never going to stop expanding, so would anyone ever be able to see it all? How could a numerical value ever be assigned to the entire concept of time? Why were any of us here? 

For here, am I sitting in a tin can? 

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but at some point, Loki must have realized that he’d broken you. Without losing his proud smile, he waved a hand in the direction of your record player. Its needle lifted, and an eerie silence immediately descended over the room. 

As soon as the music stopped, part of the spell clouding your mind vanished. A rush of oxygen suddenly filled your lungs, and your heart finally returned to its beating. Blood resumed its journey through your veins, and the floor became substantial underneath your feet again. You blinked once, twice, three times and shook your head, trying to clear it so that you might be able to ask just one of the million questions that all popped up at the exact same time. 

“Something the matter, dear?” 

Your eyes flew back open. Unfortunately, his glamour was still in place, and it was Ziggy Stardust that gingerly approached your position by the door. And when he’d spoken, it wasn’t Loki’s voice you’d heard - it was the voice of David Bowie. 

Unsure of what to do with yourself, inundated and engulfed in sensations of the most flustered manner, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Your arms crossed and uncrossed, your knees locked and unlocked as your weight shifted back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head again. 

“Loki, um…What the…” You had to pause to let out a deep, shaky breath, to run your hands up and down your face in a desperate attempt to wake from this very confusing dream. “What, um - are you doing, exactly?” 

The air around you warmed considerably as he stopped in front of you, and the amusement in Bowie’s voice, so smooth and so sure of himself, was more than palpable as he spoke. 

“Preparing for the masquerade, my dear. The same thing you were doing all afternoon.”

A gentle finger tilted your chin upwards, silently requesting that your eyes open again. When you did, it was Ziggy Stardust staring down at you from his impressive height, his expression curious and the unnecessarily tall boots he stood upon just making everything worse for you. 

You gasped breathlessly. Your brain almost melted entirely. The massive crush you’d had on David Bowie when you were 13 years old suddenly roared to life once more. You’d never told anyone about it, because everyone else your age was in love with the much more socially acceptable choices of Nick Carter or Justin Timberlake. Back then, admitting to a near-fatal attraction on an androgynous, bisexual and eccentric musician from the 1970s would have been akin to signing your own death warrant. 

Nowadays, such a crush was far more acceptable to have, but you thought those feelings had faded away with adolescence. There’d been no reason to bring it up, not even when you’d first introduced Loki to Bowie’s music. And now you were standing face-to-chest with the physical embodiment of your lie by omission. 

Overwhelmed once more, you backed away from him and covered your eyes. “Okay, can you - take those boots off, please? You’re already ridiculously taller than me, so you don’t need them…” 

“As you wish, darling.” 

His voice, though sincere, was still someone else’s. Admittedly, it was intoxicating to hear Bowie’s voice addressing you in such a loving, familiar tone - but it was also incredibly intimidating. You were already on the verge of collapse as it was; you didn’t need yet another reason to make a very rapid crash landing to the floor. 

Carefully, you let out a very slow breath to steady yourself. “And - can you also go back to using your voice, please?” 

There was a brief moment of silence, and a part of you wished you could see the enchanting smirk he almost certainly wore at that very moment. When he finally answered, it was in his own voice again, but it was just as amused as Bowie’s voice had been. 

“As you wish, darling.” 

You let out a shuddered sigh of relief, and your body relaxed somewhat. When you cracked open your eyelids from behind your fingers, he was still Ziggy, but the sight was a little easier to deal with now that he stood at his normal height and spoke with his actual voice. 

Now that he was closer, you took in the comforting notes of citrus and cedarwood on his skin, scents you knew to be Loki’s. You swallowed hard, your pupils dilated wildly as you finally allowed yourself to look him over. 

“You did this for the Halloween party?” you asked softly. 

Loki’s expression was much more reserved now, and he nodded earnestly. “Yes, I thought you would enjoy it. Is that not the case?” 

Your breath hitched as you reached out to touch him. Your fingertips brushed along the golden collar around his neck. The material was soft and pliable, not like the polyester you’d find on a cheap costume from a pop-up Halloween store. No, the fabric Loki wore was both real, and it wasn’t. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was both mortal and ethereal simultaneously. 

“And what made you choose this version of David Bowie to imitate?” 

The reimagined figure of Ziggy Stardust shrugged nonchalantly. His gaze, as intent and dedicated as ever, remained locked on your expression while your fingers drifted over to his shoulder pads, and then back down to the center of his chest. 

“Well, the other night you remarked on how much I supposedly resembled this particular mortal…” 

A shy smile pulled at your lips. “Okay, go on…” 

He reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb soft and solid against your skin. “And I was thinking about that film you showed me. The one that used music to tell its story…”

You stifled another giggle by pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Both of your hands found their way to his chest, one of them pulling the zipper of his jumpsuit until you could see just the barest hint of his chest hair. 

“A music video. The Space Oddity music video, specifically…” 

Ziggy, or Loki - whomever it was - donned a playful grin. “Yes, of course. With the oscillating, dark-green lines. I quite enjoyed that one…” 

You nodded absentmindedly. Your fingers, like they had a mind of their own, tugged the zipper down just a little bit further. Its metal teeth, crafted with the utmost precision possible, gave way and unlocked so easily to reveal even more of his skin, and your heart hammered inside your chest. 

It was impossible that Loki couldn’t see right through your expression, that he didn’t know about the salacious thoughts swirling around in your head. Like he’d expected you to have this very reaction, he gently slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed all the way against him. 

“Darling, I know that the stress of preparing for this particular soiree has been weighing heavily on your mind as of late…” he continued with a soft murmur as he delicately spun you both around and guided you back towards the bed. “And I wanted to do something to help alleviate that burden for you…” 

Your heart leapt violently into your throat. At first, it was the surprise that he’d noticed your inner turmoil that did you in, but then it shifted towards dismay over you apparently not hiding it as well as you thought you were. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with an innocent smile as he slowly lowered you both down to the mattress. 

But yes, of course you’d been feeling tons of pressure lately about the party. The Avengers had all known about your relationship with Loki for a while, but the rest of the Tower still didn’t - and neither did the rest of the world. They were all going to find out at the Halloween party. 

Loki chuckled and allowed his weight to fully settle on top of yours. “What have I told you about good girls who like to lie, my love?” he murmured softly, his lips brushing teasingly against yours. 

While you didn’t really care what everyone else thought about you, what they thought about Loki was many magnitudes of greater importance. He was already in a very precarious situation as it was; depending on the pundit or publication, his every scowl was interpreted as one of disdain for the human race, his every word a threat that he was just moments away from leading another alien invasion. 

They already hated him, and they’d never forgive him for New York, no matter how well he’d behaved since. 

Your breath shuddered, and your fingers couldn’t help but tangle between the dark curls that were so effortlessly Loki’s. “That they should…do it more, probably?” 

Any mistake he made in the field was grounds for his dismissal, anytime he drank a glass of wine instead of a beer was his blatant attempt to dismantle democracy itself. His every move was overanalyzed and deciphered by a bunch of people who had never even met him, who never even cared to know what he was like behind closed doors or in private, when he actually felt safe to be himself. 

They didn’t even care that he’d been corrupted by measures of torture they’d never have been able to survive themselves. Or that it had been entirely against his will, or that even while his invasion was taking place, he was subtly laying the groundwork for the Avengers to be able to stop him in the first place. 

“A valiant attempt, darling, but we both know that wasn’t what I meant…” he whispered hotly, nippling at your jaw. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and he began to roll them against yours. 

You moaned softly in response. Your mind began to melt, this time in pleasure instead of shock. The juxtaposition of Loki and Bowie and Ziggy, though confusing at first, started to make sense. It scratched an itch you couldn’t possibly have guessed that you had, and it created an intense need deep within your soul.

Unable to resist him any further, you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, and he eagerly returned it. His mouth worked hard and fast against yours, in a brand new style of coruscating and devastating passion. Hot and heavy, the kiss tasted just like Loki’s always had, but now it contained an extra dose of stardust. 

Loki's hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones, his hips again rolling against yours. His breath was quick against your skin, his needy groans like music to your ears. This transcendental combination of the past and present, of both the mortal plane and of the stars themselves, somehow craved you this badly and he wasn’t even afraid to show it. 

It was so strange; Loki may have come from the stars, but somehow, he was still beholden to you here on Earth. 

Within moments your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip, requesting entry, and he granted it. Your hands drifted to his neck, his drifted to your thighs, and your bodies writhed together, eagerly, desperately, hungrily. 

The heat between you escalated even further - the kind of heat that usually precipitated the creation of a new star in the sky. Just as you began to yank the jumpsuit’s zipper down further, a shimmer of emerald washed down your bodies, effortlessly and fully undressing the both of you. 

You fucking loved it when he did that. 

Loki could use his magic to do anything he wanted; he could, and had already, used it to destroy, and to maim, and to control. But now he only used it to protect the ones he’d previously tried to conquer. Now he just used it to love - or when he couldn’t handle not being inside you for another second. 

His skin was hot against yours, his hands worshiped your curves. Your body stretched and arched underneath his, taking him in, making love to him like it was the very first time. It always felt that way, like you were floating one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, like the stars were finally within reach and only now could you actually reach them. 

Your fingernails dug into his hips. The sound of the creaking bed was soon drowned out by breathless moans against your ear, of prayers and curses and promises. Your toes curled, your eyelids fluttered shut. Wild movements crescendoed into the purest form of what you knew to be the truth: the Earth was blue, the moon was silver, and Loki’s love would always be with you no matter where he went. 

The orgasm ripped through you like a gravitational force collapsing the entire universe. Your muscles tensed, your body trembled underneath him. Pleasure seeped out of your pores and you cried out for him, incoherent and delirious. It felt like you had left your body entirely - remarkably disconnected from reality, but still safely anchored to him. 

Loki fell off the edge just after you did. His muscles contracted as he clung to you, his voice nothing but shameless groans and heated gasps. With parted lips and a heavy breath, he intertwined his fingers with yours, he buried his face into your neck, and together your bodies finally collapsed within that mutual satisfaction. 

An immeasurable length of time passed during the quiet contentment that followed, and by now, the sun had fully set. Unsure of whether you were just dozing or if you’d actually joined the astral plane, you allowed yourself to remain limp and boneless in his arms. Once again, gravity had no authority here, and you found peace just drifting aimlessly through the ever-growing expansion of outer space. 

“You never answered my earlier question, darling….” 

Loki’s demulcent voice gently pulled you back down to Earth. Your eyelids struggled to open underneath the pressure of the planet’s immense gravity, and suddenly you couldn’t remember anything that had transpired beforehand. 

“No, I’m...pretty sure I answered it already,” you replied with a false confidence, stretching your body against his in an obvious attempt to distract him. 

He chuckled and shifted with you, propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand traced a swirling pattern along your hip. “And I’m quite certain that you didn’t, love…”

For someone called the God of Mischief, he was surely determined to never let you get away with anything. You let out a laughing groan of frustration, and as your eyes opened, as you looked up into his, your breath vanished from your lungs. 

The stars looked so different now. They weren’t Ziggy’s, nor Bowie’s, anymore - they were Loki’s. His glamour had started to fail while you were making love, and now the large constellations of the deepest greens and blues, of Loki himself, were all that stared lovingly back at you. 

Loki grinned when he noticed the awe in your expression. His brow arched in a curious and teasing fashion when you couldn’t answer him. 

“My goodness, she’s turned into a cosmonaut and floated away, hasn’t she…?” he murmured softly, pretending to talk to himself. He took his fingers and made them dance against the sensitive skin of your neck to get your attention. “Hello, darling? Are you still there?” 

Almost immediately you were drowning in a fit of giggles. You scrunched up your shoulders and tried to squirm away, laughing and cursing at him while Loki continued his teasing. But his fingers, tender yet relentless on your sensitive skin, made it impossible to keep your eyes open or coordinate your muscles enough to put a stop to his attack. 

“Yes, hello? I was wondering if you’ve seen a beautiful girl in there?” he continued in that same vexatious tone, his hold on you tightening as he nuzzled his face to yours. “She’s my darling companion, and I’ve been missing her terribly. Can you tell her to come back to me, please?” 

You let out more breathless laughs, you made more desperate wriggles in his grasp. If you’d been able to see anything, you would have seen his cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, all lit up with mirth and devilry. There was absolutely nothing Loki loved more than play, and perhaps that was the true meaning of life anyway. 

But when you finally cried out for mercy, he instantly relented, granting you more benevolence within a single moment of play than he’d ever been given in centuries. And all things considered, Loki was still quite delicate in his handling of you. After all, he had gentleness woven deep within him - the kind that had developed out of defiance, not because it was taught, and that just made him all the more genuine. 

Dutifully, like it was an honor, he shifted your bodies so that he was on his back and you were nestled safely to his chest. Your leg curled around his, and after his fingers completed their soothing motions over the skin he’d just attacked, they moved in wide swoops along your back. 

“I suppose I should repeat my question then?” he murmured softly after kissing your temple. 

His skin, soft and smooth and pale, now smelled like an ancient fire that could burn his way through anything, if he’d wanted it to. It was intoxicating. You wondered if that was the same scent that had once filled the air of Asgard, if you’d ever get to experience it yourself someday. 

“Mmm, yeah. I think you should…” 

Loki cleared his throat, hesitating. His fingertips drifted up to the divot of your shoulder. “Did you truly not enjoy the costume I chose?” 

His voice was so quiet, so tender that it made your heart ache a little bit. You shifted on the bed, leaning up to look him in the eyes. 

“No, I did love it, Loki! It was really thoughtful of you, and for a second, I…” You smiled fondly, recalling the moment you first saw him, while one of your favorite songs ever blasted from your record player. “I really thought it was actually David Bowie, back from the dead…” 

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “And so naturally, your first reaction was to…laugh at it?” 

Your lips pursed together, trying to suppress another one. “Okay, I’m sorry about that. But I wasn’t laughing at the costume, it was honestly just…really overwhelming to walk in and see so unexpectedly…”

“Oh, you found it to be overwhelming, did you?” Loki grinned again, apparently possessing an infinite supply of them. “My poor little dearest, I’m afraid you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Me?!” you laughed incredulously. “But I’m the victim here!”

So sure of himself, Loki gave a teasing nod. “Yes, you see, darling - I was in the process of choosing the appropriate level of detail for the illusion when you so rudely interrupted me…”

You maintained a playful, sarcastic expression as he explained himself. “Sure, sure. Or you could have just, you know…locked the bedroom door if you didn’t want to be interrupted…” 

Loki chucked and playfully swatted at your hip. “So then tell me, what about it was too much for you? I had already decided that the red hair was a bit excessive, but should I alter the clothing as well? The voice?” he asked, his hand now softly soothing the skin he’d just swatted. 

You silently thanked whatever it was other there that Loki had decided to keep his actual hair; it was one of his best features. Almost automatically, your fingers drifted through those gorgeous strands of caliginous curls, relishing in their strength and fluidity. He let out a tranquil hum when your touch grazed his scalp, and the sound was so effortless, so real, that nothing else could ever compare. 

Unfortunately, your thoughts then drifted towards far less pleasant topics. 

No one in their right mind could ever bring Loki’s capabilities as a sorcerer into question, especially not during battle. In fact, Wanda had previously expressed feelings of inadequacy when comparing her talents to his. But he had spent entire centuries perfecting his craft, he’d dedicated entire human lifetimes to his studies - to the point where most people remained completely unaware of its full extent once an illusion had been cast. 

A large part of that was because he preferred to remain an unanswerable question to everyone else, especially after the attack on New York. He’d rather they looked at his daggers instead of at his soul, or at the black heart he worried was the true source of his seidr. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was truly capable of, lest they fear him even more - or try to use his own knowledge against him. 

But if he wore the illusion of one of Bowie’s personas to the party - not dressed as, but if he actually was the physical embodiment of Ziggy Stardust come back to life - then everyone would know just how afraid of him they should be. You could see the fear-mongering op-ed headlines already - Former Alien Invader Transforms Himself into a Dead Rocker. What’s to Stop Him from Imitating the President Next? 

And the critics who didn’t make that massive jump towards an impossible conclusion? You already knew that if he wore the wrong costume to the party, they’d have even more reason to pick him apart; if they secretly loved his costume, they’d simply accuse him of pandering. There was literally no direction for him to go that wouldn’t result in more needless hatred being spewed at him. 

Even more pressing than all of that, what if they accused him of corrupting an innocent human when they learned about your relationship? You desperately didn’t want to make his life harder than it needed to be, but neither could you face bringing that concern up to him; what if he secretly agreed with them? What if he decided he was defiling your entire life just by existing within it?

What if he decided to leave you, in order to correct that grievous mistake? 

Your fingertips gently traced the angle of his jaw. His eyes drifted closed as he clearly savored your touch, and his expression was just so serene, so peaceful. You couldn’t let him sacrifice that tranquility for the sake of a party; Loki may not have needed your protection on the battlefield, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him wander into danger back at home. 

“Well, maybe the issue is that you were using an illusion, instead of a costume…” 

His eyes fluttered open beneath a furrowed brow. His pupils widened before fixating on you. “I don’t understand. The goal is to become the subject in question, is it not?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh again; sometimes he surprised you with how human he was, and other times it was because of how alien he was. Letting out a slow breath, you pushed yourself up to sitting next to him. Your legs curled over to the side, and you draped yourself across his chest. 

“I think the real issue is that you might be slightly misunderstanding the point of a costume contest,” you began with a gentle smile. “Using magic to alter your appearance for a contest could be considered…cheating, by some people.” 

His expression was tender, but unrelenting. “I’m still not seeing the problem, darling. If I’m to become someone else in order to participate, then I’m going to become someone else…” 

“But the whole point is how much effort you put into the costume,” you explained with a gentle head tilt. “It’s about how creative you can be with either a limited skill set, or a small budget, or shortened time constraints…” 

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before continuing.

“And I’m so sorry, but using magic just…isn’t that much effort for you. No matter how amazing or lifelike the illusion is.” 

He nodded, and his eyes flickered with understanding. For a very brief moment, he seemed to be taking your words to heart. But when his lips curved into a cheeky grin, you knew he was about to make another snarky comment. 

“You’re saying Stark will have a conniption if I win the costume contest at his own party? Is that it?” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes while matching his smile. It was actually incredible that he still had this much energy to devote towards acting like a total menace. “Yes, if it helps you to think about it like that, then that is exactly what I’m trying to say…” 

Loki continued thinking about your explanation for another moment, his gaze distant while his hand ran along the length of your arm. Eventually, the grin on his face slowly shifted towards one of true sincerity. 

“Alright then. What would you suggest I do instead?” 

You met his gaze with an even bigger smile of your own. All that remained of his illusion was a jagged, crimson lightning bolt stretching down his cheek, and you brought your fingertips down to gently trace along the bolt’s edges. His skin was so very soft, the transition between alabaster and crimson so seamless. It was only then that you remembered one of the purchases made earlier that day with Wanda and Nat. 

“Well, for starters…I think we ought to actually paint this design on your face.” 

Before he could even respond, you had already hopped out of bed - not that you would have responded to him anyway. And while wearing nothing but a scheming grin, you practically soared across the room, stopping just long enough to grab a few clothes from the bedroom floor on your way to the living room. 

“We ought to do what, darling?” Loki’s incredulous voice called out after you disappeared through the doorway. 

As you hurried into the living room, you bounced on one foot, and then the other, while pulling the pair of panties up to your hips. After clumsily slipping the t-shirt over your head and guiding your arms through its sleeves, you lowered down to your knees next to the shopping bags left by the front door. 

Did you have any experience with painting faces? None whatsoever.

Was that going to stop you now? Absolutely not. His illusion may have been overwhelming, but Loki’s inspiration of picking a David Bowie character for his Halloween costume was beyond perfect, and you were going to do whatever it took to make that idea a more feasible reality. 

Rummaging past the bright pink wig and the fringed flapper dress and the vampire fangs purchased earlier that day, you finally found it: a palette of Halloween make-up. The flat, rectangular box contained a few small brushes and a row of circular discs, each one filled with a different and very bright shade of creamy, metallic make-up. 

It was definitely a very cheap make-up set, and probably had way too many questionable ingredients that you’d never be able to fully investigate, but it should work just fine for this little trial - as long as Loki let you anywhere near him with it. You were sure that he would after batting your pretty little eyelashes at him. 

Back in the bedroom, you could hear him shifting on the bed. You shot back up to your feet. “Don’t get up! Just stay right there, Loki, I’m coming back!”

You carefully ripped into the package as you padded across the living room. Not only was this your first time painting someone’s face, but it might be the first time Loki’d ever had his face painted as well. A twinge of excitement, laced with a hint of unease, swam freely inside your veins; there was a good reason why your skillset had led you towards a career of getting beat up on a professional level, instead of towards a quieter, peaceful career of make-up artistry or hair-styling. 

Complicating matters even more was the fact that Loki was quite particular about his appearance. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin this newfound interest in the Halloween party. 

When you returned to the doorway of your bedroom, Loki was seated on the edge of your shared bed. His long legs were spread wide, with delicious expanses of thigh peeking out between the tousled sheets. His expression was dreamy and brooding as he ran a large hand through his midnight curls, like his thoughts were a hundred thousand miles away while he smoothed and detangled. 

His face lit up when he finally noticed you, but then it dropped when he saw what you were holding. “Please tell me that’s a joke. You’re joking with that, yes?” 

You grinned and shook your head like you were trying to fling your nervous energy into a nearby galaxy. “Not a chance. Scoot!” you laughed, waving your hand to get him to make room for you. 

He complied, but still let out a frustrated groan as he shifted to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Darling, be reasonable. I’m already getting a rash just looking at that preposterous concoction…” 

“Oh, come on! ” you whined, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you know he both loved and hated. “I know it’s not Armani, but you’ll survive a test run with it, right?” 

Loki sighed, and then he softly patted the mattress next to him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable…” 

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse for you, isn’t it?” 

Having won the first battle, you settled next to him on the bed. Your legs curled up underneath you, and with an innocent smile, you blinked at him once more, a silent request that he drop the final remainder of his illusion. The lightning bolt on his face disappeared with an emerald glimmer, and a playful smirk replaced it. 

“Yes, it is. And you’re going to be so very embarrassed if this folderol does actually kill me…” 

You carefully pried open the palette and dragged a brush through the creamy, red substance on the palette. “Oh, please. Of all the things that could kill you, it’s not going to be drug-store brand holiday make-up…” 

Starting at his forehead, you made gentle strokes against his skin, testing to see how well it absorbed the cream. As expected, it didn’t smear very well, the edges were smudged and uneven. But there was no need to panic just yet - it was still completely fixable. That is, as long as you avoided direct eye contact with him, or else you might become even more flustered than you already were. 

Loki’s gaze shifted as you worked, watching either your hands or your face depending on whether you were gathering color or painting his skin. His features were soft, his eyes still dreamy as he watched you work, but you carefully kept your attention towards the task at hand; his attention was like a black hole of colossal proportions, and once you were caught in it, the only thing keeping you from splitting into a million different strands of yourself was Loki himself. 

When he realized his alluring good-looks weren’t enough to distract you this time, he switched to a different tactic.

“Darling, do you really expect me to believe that Stark is allowing Miss Potts to paint his face for the party?” 

You snorted, expecting nothing less from someone called the God of Mischief. “If Tony knows what’s good for him, he is.”

As you pulled the brush across the bridge of his nose, Loki let out a chuckle and titled his head. “Is that some sort of veiled threat, darling? What happens if I refuse to cooperate with you?” 

That little movement was just enough to ruin what might have been a decent brush stroke, and it made you smear crimson down the length of his nose instead of diagonally across his cheek. 

“Hey, stop moving!” you gasped and laughed at the same time. “Or you’re gonna wind up looking even more ridiculous!” 

“Would it be rude to say that I find that difficult to believe, my love?” 

Ignoring his comment, you licked the tips of your finger and swiped it along the edges of the lightning bolt, trying to smooth it out. When the makeup just smeared instead of erasing neatly, a new rush of panic settled in your chest. You licked your finger again and rubbed it harder over his skin, and then you tried using your other, untainted fingers - but all that resulted in was the tips of those digits, and now your tongue, turning the brightest red to have ever existed. 

“Something the matter, darling?” Loki asked knowingly, repeating his earlier question. He pursed his lips together, just barely attempting to suppress a vindicated smile as he watched you struggle. “Is the inferior product you insisted upon ruining the homemade look you’d imagined for me?” 

Forcing your expression into one of neutrality required a tremendous amount of effort. “Nope. Everything’s going perfectly, my love,” you lied, switching the makeup palette to your other hand. Within seconds, the fingertips of both hands were traitorously stained with the truth. 

“Really? You’re absolutely sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced at the make-up palette. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but there seems to be more tint on your fingers than what’s left in the container…” 

Your face scrunched up in amused frustration, and the unpleasant taste of chemicals and oils now completely coated your tongue. “Mmhmm, this is a…totally normal part of the process.” 

His comments were just making everything worse, but you were still determined to see this attempt through to the end. At that point, the makeup palette was discarded entirely and soon became lost within the bed sheets as you pushed yourself up to your knees and shifted closer to him. You took the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up in a desperate attempt to finally fix the bolt’s outline and salvage your work. 

You swiped the soft fabric down the length of his nose, but the make-up must have believed your t-shirt to be a brush, and all you did was push the red deeper into his skin. Silently cursing yourself, you pulled your t-shirt up further and tried to focus on gathering as much color as possible. Secretly though, you prayed that effectively flashing him like this would distract him from making more teasing comments at your expense. 

But that didn’t quite work either, and Loki’s chuckle from behind your t-shirt was both leery and leering. 

“And now you’ve resorted to seduction as a means of distraction from your lies…” he purred, the sound almost a growl as he brought his hands to your waist. “I’d say our relationship might be having a negative effect on your morality, darling, but you’d be much better at this if it was…” 

You were still determined not to let him win, even as a shuddered breath tumbled from your lips. Your heart beat faster in your chest as the entire front of your t-shirt became tinted with red, and your face warmed from the feel of his hands gliding down to your hips. 

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Loki. Trust me, I’ve done this a million - ” 

“Sweetheart.” 

Loki’s voice was kind but firm when he interrupted. He leaned back as he pulled your shirt down, revealing the devastation on his face that your attempts to fix had caused. “Please just admit that you’re not very good at this…” 

You gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. There was red everywhere - in his eyebrows and his eyelashes, across his right cheek and somehow, underneath his chin. The combination of mess on his both serious and amused expression was a horrifying, delightful sight, and you only barely managed to swallow the giggle bubbling in your throat. 

Loki arched a suspicious eyebrow. He flicked his wrist and produced a small, handheld mirror with his seidr, and he stared at you expectantly - granting you one final opportunity to come clean, as it were. 

“Come on, darling. I will love you no less if you just admit it.” 

But you couldn’t; all you could manage was to laugh, cover your eyes and brace for the inevitable as he finally looked at his reflection. 

“This is absolutely marvelous, darling,” he finally replied in a wry tone of voice. 

You shook while trying to suppress another laugh, but it was all over now. He’d seen the abominable, unskilled attempt at facial decoration you’d left on his skin, and you knew he was never going to let you hear the end of it despite the fact that he was laughing too. 

“And you were absolutely right, this is so much better than using magic. Perhaps I should go into battle like this. I could simply frighten our enemies to death…” 

You let out a heavy laugh of defeat and let your hands fall to your thighs. You were sure there was probably red make-up smudged all over your own face as well now, but you didn’t care anymore. “Alright, so. Maybe I’m not that great at painting faces…” 

“Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl…” Loki chuckled as he tossed the mirror away and pulled you closer, settling you over his lap. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose to yours. “This is impeccable work. Stunning, even…” 

“No, stop it! You’re making a mess!” you laughed and tried to look away, but his face followed yours, no doubt just smearing even more make-up all over each other. “Loki! You’re ruining all of my hard work!” 

His arms tightened around you. He began to kiss and nip at your jaw, your nose, your neck. “Or am I making it more authentic? Did you ever think about that, darling?” 

Resigning yourself to retaliation at Loki’s level, you matched his every kiss and nip with another to his jaw, his nose, his neck. He let out an encouraging chuckle and cupped your jaw with his hands, angling your face properly to his. When your lips finally met, he let out a soft hum, and then his kiss shifted into one of reassurance. 

Your arms slid around his neck as he leaned back against the headboard. His lips moved slowly and tenderly as he held you close to his chest, and they said everything that you needed to know. This was okay, he was okay. Aside from a few errant, washable streaks of crimson on his face, nothing real was actually amiss here. 

He may have been teasing you before, but he was also loving you. The experiment had yielded far less than stellar results, but that was still okay. A suitable ensemble for the party would be found eventually - or perhaps just better make-up products - and the two of you were still going to have as much fun as someone could have at a corporate holiday party, even if there were a few extra pairs of wandering eyes there. 

After another moment or two, the kiss broke naturally. You let out a slow breath and pressed your forehead to his. “Alright, I fully admit that I completely suck at face-painting. We don’t have to go down that route…” 

Loki smiled and nodded. A glimmering wash of emerald erased any evidence of red from all skin and clothing. “Yes, I’m quite certain that we can come up with something else…” 

By revealing his mortal partner to the world, you’d hoped it would soften the rough edges of Loki that his detractors wanted to keep illuminated underneath a hateful microscope. You’d wanted to protect him, to make his life simpler, to possibly ease his troubled integration on the planet he’d once tried to subjugate. 

But the relaxed smile on his lips told you that he didn’t need you to do any of those things. Loki was from the stars, yes, but he only ever clung to one specific thing. He may have come from on high, his perspective and past experiences originating from a millennia away from yours, but he was still here, looking at you. Loving only you.

You were his, and he was yours. No amount of criticism, or any blades held to his throat, or cruel darts thrown at his loving eyes were ever going to avert his gaze. They could make him climb mountains on mountains to get to you, but as long as there were sunbirds to soar back down with, then it was all worth it, wasn’t it? 

Your hands slid into his hair, gently tangling themselves within his dark curls. Your eyes roamed slowly over his angular features and icy blue eyes, admiring the planes of his cheekbones and the true depth of his gaze that simultaneously showcased both the wide expanse of outer space and your own reflection within his irises. 

Loki was timeless. He was broken and hopeful, grateful and almost too intelligent to not know better. He was pensive, and he understood light and dark better than anyone else you’d ever met. The noir shadows of his heart were what had initially drawn you in, but the hidden brilliance of his glowing soul was what had made you stay. 

A new idea coalesced inside your heart, and you settled your hips to his with a sly grin. “Are you by any chance familiar with my favorite David Bowie persona?” 

Loki smiled again, but this time he shook his head. “Are you really only telling me now that the Space Oddity himself is not your favorite persona of his?” he murmured curiously. 

You bit your lip and reached for your laptop on the nightstand, eager to introduce him to something brand new once more.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

[hxney-lemcn]

The Riddle of Love — Gotham! Edward Nygma x gn! reader

summery: Edward's interest shifts to someone who indulges in his love of riddles.

tw: bullying (?), kristen kringle is a warning all her own in this fic, implied rejection (not really tho, Ed's just awkward).

a/n: I hope so much that I wrote all these characters correctly. I have riddler fever rn and really wanted to write for him, but I've always been scared that I'd write him too ooc. I think I did good tho.

wc: 3.1k

Master List

“What is it that no one wants to have, but no one wants to lose either?” I asked. I already knew it was a lost cause. Edward Nygma was the smartest man I had ever met. Dorky? Yes. Nerdy? Absolutely. Smart? Incredibly. So trying to impress him at his own game wasn’t exactly the smartest move. Yet, the first time I gave him a riddle to solve (which he solved ridiculously fast), I don’t think I’d ever seen him so happy. So I continued to scour the internet in my free time to try and find obscure riddles. 

Although this riddle wasn’t that obscure. I was running out of riddles to find, and I sure as hell couldn’t make my own. 

“A lawsuit,” Eddie replied without missing a beat, still focusing on testing blood samples. 

I couldn’t stop the pout that formed on my face, “It’s not fair how smart you are.”

I didn’t see Ed’s lips twitch up, how the praise I didn’t think twice about saying impacted him more than he’d like to admit. It was quiet for a few minutes, and I looked back down to the papers I had brought with me. Sometimes, I found myself working in the forensic lab when I could. One of the perks of being a criminal data analyst. I could make my notes on paper, and then just copy them into the computer later. 

Since I was a data analyst, I was in the record archives often. I was acquainted with Kristen Kringle, which obviously led me to Edward Nygma. She would complain about him if I came in after he had left. At that point I didn’t know him, but I also found her complaints unfounded. I’d let her vent, but I’d also speak up for him, which made her glance away in what I assume was guilt. Then there were the unfortunate times that I’d walk in on his awkward flirting. I’d just tensely put away or take the files I needed for my research and leave them to it. 

But after enough times, I’d caught him in the middle of one of his riddles. An easy one, probably to dumb it down for Kringle so she’d be enticed to answer it in the first place. Yet he had caught the attention of the wrong person. Although that didn’t seem to put a damper on his mood. He only sent me a tight lipped smile with a little ‘ding ding ding!’. That’s how I was caught hook line and sinker. His mannerisms were oddly endearing to me, and that’s how our odd little friendship formed. 

I was brought out of my reverie as Eddie shuffled over to his microscope, “I am a nine lettered word and rhyme with perfection; I am another name for love. What am I?”

I blinked, not ready for a riddle, even though I always should be in the presence of him. I looked up from my work, and I noticed how Eddie was sweating, his cheeks flushing a bright red. I tapped the metal table anxiously, the word love had thrown me off my game and my brain felt empty of anything else. I mumbled words under my breath that rhyme with perfection. 

“Deception, reception, perception,” I mumbled, yet none of them fit the rest of the rhyme. The longer I took, the more anxious Eddie seemed to get. “Affection. Oh! The answer is affection!”

Ed cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses, “Y-yes, that is correct. G-good job.” My proud smile fell into a more awkward one, thinking over the implications. That riddle sounded like one he’d save for Kringle. Was he running out of riddles as well? The thought alone was preposterous. It was tense for a bit. And when I realized I had nothing left to do but input the current data I had on some wanna be gang leader. The sad part is I knew that the cops aren’t going to be the first ones who get them. 

Even though I needed to leave, it felt wrong for some reason. To leave the situation after Edward had seemed to admit something in his unique way of sharing. I didn’t want to assume his feelings, yet I knew he also wasn’t one to just state them willingly. Biting my lip anxiously, I decided to just do it. 

Walking over towards Ed’s hunched form, I leaned down to place a light kiss to his cheek, “I’ll see ya later Eddie.” Then I booked it out of the room, leaving behind a very flustered dork. 

It wasn’t much later in the day when Doctor Lee Thompson entered my office. It wasn’t much of an office. The dark walls made the space feel enclosed, and it barely fit my desk and the few cabinets it held. Yet I didn’t mind it since it was a space for myself. Lee, on the other hand, was another acquaintance whose office was nowhere near mine. She’d only come to my office for a few reasons, if it was work related (which was rare since our departments weren’t similar), or if it was personal. Sometimes she fessed that it seemed I needed some company, that it would do me no good to spend all this time alone in my office. Other times…it was on a more personal note, about Eddie and I’s relationship. 

She plopped a candy bar on my desk, a placating move that was all too familiar.

“You must’ve done a real number on Ed,” She smirked, sitting on my desk. Due to the tiny size of the room, and the nature of my job, I didn’t have a seat for guests. 

“What do you mean?” I asked. Deep down, I knew exactly what she meant. I knew Edward was an awkward man, and his experience with flirting was an ultimate zero. Yet it was hard to imagine that he was still affected by a small gesture of affection… Okay maybe the gesture wasn’t that small, for either of us, but still! 

Lee’s smirk widened, “I think you know exactly what. Poor little Ed kept stumbling over his words when I brought you up. Something must’ve happened.”

I unwrapped the candy bar as she spoke, wanting to avoid any thought of the earlier moment. Looking back it was so awkward and a terrible attempt at…what? Flirting? Was that my intention? I didn’t even know my own intentions! 

I took a bite from the candy bar, savoring the sweet flavor before having to explain the painfully awkward memory. When I managed to explain the event, Lee couldn’t stop herself from chuckling, causing me to finish my candy bar with a bitter look. 

“That sounds like something you’d both do,” She smiled.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” I huffed, trying to fight off the flush of embarrassment I felt. 

“Nothing,” She sighed wistfully. “But you two really take your time, huh?” 

“Shut up,” I scowled. 

“Okay, okay,” She threw her hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll stop teasing…for now. But seriously, I think you two would be cute together.”

I let out a childish groan, “I get it. Is there anything else you need?” 

“No,” She smiled as she stood up. “Just wanted to see what had Ed all wound up.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart skipped a beat at the implication. As Lee saw herself out, my mind kept racing. What was Ed doing right now? What was he thinking about? Did he really care enough about my opinion, about my affection, that he was still affected by it? I stared at my computer screen, the cursor blinking mindlessly. Glancing at the time, I scowled as I realized I still had 30 minutes left to my shift. The idea of going home, having a relaxing dinner and then maybe treating myself to a warm bath. 

…

That was only the beginning. It seems that Eddie’s admiration had shifted from Kristin Kringle to me. It was flattering, to say the least. At least to me. Once I gained Ed’s attention, I seemed to have gained his colleagues attention as well. Typically, I didn’t work with the officers, I’d research criminals, then that data would be added to the files. So when I walked past James Gordon and Harvey Bullock, I never thought twice. But when Ed had waved at me, that cute tight lipped smile on his face as I waved back, a smile of my own adorning my face, it drew the attention of the two detectives. 

"Careful Ed,” Harvey mocked. “Don’t wanna scare them off.” Jim only glanced up briefly, not interested in the situation in the least. I watched as Ed’s smile twitched for a second, Harvey’s words seeming to get to him. I felt my smile slip, not liking how they treat him in the slightest.

“He…didn’t do anything wrong,” I shrugged, before waving goodbye, making my way to the record archives. Not only them, but even Kringle was looking at me more than just as a person to vent to. 

“I feel sorry for you,” She stated, adjusting her thick rimmed glasses. Her hazel eyes held their usual air of judgment as she placed some files back in their spots. 

“Why?” I asked, flipping through to find the person I needed. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” She asked, raising one of her perfectly maintained eyebrows. “Edward’s got his eyes on another victim.” I frowned, anger bubbling within me at the way she always found new ways to insult him. 

“I wouldn’t describe it like that,” I managed to grit out. “I find the sentiment sweet.”

“Wait,” Kringle paused, turning to look at me with disbelief. “Do you…like him?”

I sighed, finding it hard to focus on the task at hand with this irritating conversation, “Would there be something wrong with that?”

“Isn’t it kind of weird how fast he switched?” She asked, a hint of jealousy in her tone. “I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he loses interest in you.”

I slammed the cabinet shut in a bout of rage, leaving the room before I do something I may regret…or lose my job over. As I exited, my scowl worsened when I realized I didn’t even get what I needed. 

“Hello!” Edward’s excited voice greeted me as I entered the break room. When my gaze landed on him, I felt my expression soften, my shoulder’s relaxing. His brown eyes were so expressive, that silly smile on his face never failed to melt my heart. 

“Hey,” I muttered back. Looking over the options in the vending machine. Just get something to eat, and hopefully I’ll feel better. 

“Is…something the matter?” He asked, fidgeting with his glasses. I let out a long sigh as I sat across from him at one of the few tables. 

Taking a bite of my snack, I took some time to gather my thoughts and feelings, “Sometimes I just hate people.”

His eyebrows raised, nervously fidgeting with his tie, “Th-that’s…understandable.”

“Sorry,” I muttered, finally cooling down. “Someone was just saying some really mean things and it got to me.”

Edwards’ demeanor changed in an instant, a frown replacing his smile, and his eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of concern and anger, “Who?”

I blinked, “What?”

“Who insulted you?” He asked, fists clenched. This wasn’t what I was expecting. He would get annoyed, yeah, but he’d always just stew in it until he calmed down. And he was barely angry when I was around, which was something I was proud of. So seeing him react so harshly was unusual. It made me feel a bit appreciated, that he cared enough to get this angry over it, yet it was also unsettling.

“They…they were insulting you,” I clarified, rubbing my arm awkwardly. “And trust me, I was ready to do some things that would’ve gotten me fired.”

Ed blinked, calming down drastically at the revelation, “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “I swear if she says one more damned thing about you I’m gonna…” I strangled the air, the only way I could express how frustrated her insults made me.

Edward fake coughed, his cheeks tinged a light pink, “I assume you mean Miss Kringle.”

I paused, hoping it didn’t hurt that his past interest was still as rude as ever. “I didn’t even manage to get the files I needed,” I grumbled, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

“...I can get them for you,” I felt my heart crack. Was he still interested in her? Was that why he was so ready to go into the den of the woman who so readily insults him? 

“Oh, no you don’t have to do that,” I shook my head. “I’ll just have Lee do it.”

Ed blinked, seeming to think over something before standing up, “I’ll be right back.” Before he was fully out the door he paused, “Whose case files did you need?”

I couldn’t help the tiny grin at how eager he was as I gave him the names of the people I needed files on. Yet that smile fell. Was he really so excited to get a chance to see Kringle that he almost left without knowing what files he needed? I finished my snack, getting a drink from the vending machine while I was at it. My mind continued to make up terrible scenarios that could be happening at that moment. How she could manage to crush Ed’s precious heart even more than she’s already managed to.

Ed was back quicker than I realized. It took him less than ten minutes! He set the files I needed on the table, that tight lipped grin on his face as he waited for my input.

“Oh! Thank you!” I thanked, flipping through the files to make sure they were all there. “She didn’t give you any trouble, did she?”

“No,” He replied simply. As I met his gaze, that’s when I finally realized that he was truly over Kringle. I should’ve felt disturbed at how intense his gaze was, at how strong his emotions seemed to be when he wasn’t even trying. Yet I only felt flattered, important, and wanted. Emotions I wasn’t completely used to, and caused my heart to stutter at how strong my own emotions were becoming. 

Standing up, I leaned in and kissed his cheek again, this time a bit more confident then the last time I did. I waved goodbye as I walked out with the files he gave me. I felt pride swell within me as I watched Eddie become a flustered mess as I left. It was a good mood lifter as I watched him fumble with his usual nervous ticks, before he was finally out of my sight. 

…

Edward’s courting tactics only seemed to grow after that. I wasn’t sure what changed him to do so. I could only speculate that Lee had something to do with it. She kept stopping by my office, asking how Ed and I were doing like she hadn’t just seen us the day before. I can’t lie, I was reveling in the attention that Ed was giving me, and I could tell he’d revel in my attention as well. A mutual pining on both sides. 

Normally, I’d be okay with that. Too scared to try and push things forward. Edward Nygma was different. He was just so…amazing. I’ve never felt so strongly towards someone. He was sweet, attentive, smart, and overall lovely. I couldn’t just settle for pining, I wanted to experience what it would be like as his lover. 

Which led me to this horrendous mess up of a confession.

I dressed up a bit nicer than usual, hoping to impress the cute dork. I felt confident in myself, an emotion I don’t feel regularly. I greeted Lee, who seemed like she guessed the occasion and sent me a wink when I walked past. 

“Hey Eddie,” I greeted, setting a cup of coffee down on the counter.

“Oh! Hello,” He greeted me, smiling. “You seem chipper this morning.”

Nudging the coffee towards him I smiled back, “It’s a good day today. I got you a coffee.”

“You didn’t need to,” Ed replied sheepishly, not used to people giving him things. 

I only shrugged, “I wanted to.” I tapped the counter I was leaning on as nerves started to slowly creep through me. So, before my anxiety could get the best of me, I blurted out, “What is mine but only you can have?”

With furrowed eyebrows, Ed actually paused to answer a riddle for the first time during this little game we had. His eyes flitted around the room, like he was trying to avoid the answer. I know he was smart enough to figure it out, so the fact he was taking so long to answer caused my heart rate to spike from anxiety. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I was reading the room wrong. I blame Lee for feeding me a wrong understanding. 

“I…uh…” Ed stuttered over his words, sweat dripping down the side of his face. Shit, shit, shit! I shouldn’t have said that. He does know the answer, I found it online easily, he obviously knows. He doesn’t feel the same and now he’s trying to find a way to politely reject me. 

“Nevermind!” I exclaimed, trying to quell my nerves by getting the fuck out of here. “Stupid riddle! Never needs an answer. I should get to work.”

“W-wait!” Eddie called out, making me stop in my tracks. So close yet so far. “I can be a fruit, I can be on a calendar, I can be important, and I can be forgotten. What am I?”

Turning back around, I watched as Eddie picked at his nails. We both seemed like complete messes at the moment. It was hard for me to think of anything due to my previous failure of admitting my feelings. I bit my lip awkwardly, trying to stop myself from making any more of a fool of myself.

“I…I’m not sure Eddie,” I chuckled solemnly.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted his glasses before admitting, “A date. W-would you accompany me on one?” I stared at him with wide eyes, unsure if I heard him correctly.

“Y-yeah! Of course I will!” That tinge of embarrassment was quickly overpowered by exhilaration. The smile that stretched across my face almost hurt with how big it was. Eddie’s smile was also wide as he still couldn’t meet my eyes.

“Is…is tonight okay? Dinner? 7 o’clock?”

“That sounds perfect.” 

And to make the moment better, I kissed his cheek before parting, excited for what the night held for us.

[meanbossart]

Just thinking thoughts about Orin and Drow lore, and idk if this has been asked already, but

If Orin had just disappeared for like a year, not even Sceleritas could find her, with how obsessive pre-tadpole Drow was how would he handle that? Aside from being prideful and murdery, I don’t remember in the pre-tadpole Drow lore about any instance (after he made it to the temple) of him expressing anything else. Did the two ever have a wholesome moment?

Hmmmm not wholesome, no. I'm sorry to disappoint people who might wanted to see a more explicitly vulnerable side to both of them at that stage in their lives, but that's just not... How I envision things. I don't think anyone born into the temple would have had much room to express themselves in the way average people do.

What they did have was an undeniable connection and mutual understanding. This lasted for about 7 years, so between ages 18-25 for DU drow. (Canonically he's currently 28, give or take). I think that, sometimes, they also silently understood among themselves that things weren't always fair or good.

This might sound like a whole load of nothing to some people, but based on the culture within the cult, Orin's story, and the behavior of everyone involved in it, it seems huge to me that two people who were essentially groomed to be the embodiment of murder would harbor any kind of care for one another, even if it was subtle. The fact that they could share a bed, talk shit about Sarevok, and seamlessly work together and share in the glory of their deeds as equals is what intimacy looked like for them - before DU drow's ego (and the very need of a more explicitly intimate connection with someone, to be fair) got to his head.

They killed together, they rolled around in blood together, they bickered and fought and one time Orin stabbed him in the gut and DU drow punched her jaw out of it's socket. Then they flopped down on the ground and cackled about it while Sceleritas rushed in to stop the bleeding. Is that wholesome? I think for deified bhaalspawn who know nothing but that life it's the closest it gets.

There had to have been quiet moments I'm sure. Like Orin waiting around while DU drow got ready to go somewhere, him adjusting her headpiece, Orin slicing her brother's long hair off when he first arrived and looked like some sort of sinewy wood's creature. At night, they probably laid in bed in silence and sometimes stared at each other until either fell asleep.

I am very interested in not inventing an obscured, soft side to Orin that we didn't get to see, you know? While she wasn't always the level of manic we see in-game, she was completely unfit to function normally due to her upbringing, and this reflects in her relationships. DU drow is also undeniably emotionally stunted, just in a slightly different way.

I got off rambling to no one's surprise LOL but to answer the first part of your question - I don't think he would have been quite as dramatic about Orin just up and vanishing, as there's no explicit suggestion of death in that. He would have been insufferable to be around for a while, but in that scenario I could see his duties keeping him busy.

Not to mention that, while through death, she would be leaving him unwillingly - disappearing with no trace implies the uncomfortable possibility that she truly, honestly, just didn't want to be around him. That allows room for contempt and bitterness to fester until you wrongly convince yourself there was never any love there at all, even if just to soothe your own conscience.

He would have just become a much, much worse person that way in the sense that he would have nothing to focus on besides for his lord's will - as horrific as his attitude towards Orin was, it is very much a human feature to desperately cling to connection. With Orin around, he had a little bit of fucked up tenderness and love in him - it was a personal desire completely separate from his "job", a vestige of free-will. Without her, he just has Bhaal and whatever Bhaal wants.

Orin has always unwittingly anchored him, and then, later freed him. And he never ever deserved any of it.

🤷

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days Two - And the Rest is History

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here

Previous Chapter

The softball field at Lakeview is - to put it nicely, a piece of shit. The field is uneven, the grass almost never gets cut, and the bleachers have millions of spiders living in them. It’s not like the school doesn’t have the budget for it. They do but the pitch still looks like this because Principal Orangebottom could care less about girls sports even though they win more than the boys. 

The horrible conditions of the softball field don’t keep them from winning. In fact, it motivates the girls to win even more. Hours and hours of practicing on a field that can be only described as hell teaches them teamwork. 

Having a team that can overcome anything is what makes Abby’s job easy. No matter what, she can always count on her girls to get her through anything. Right now, Ellie was getting Abby through a particularly grueling session in the gym.

“So, about the new girl. She seems nice. A little quiet but nice,” Ellie said as she handed Abby her bottle of water. 

Abby was intrigued by what she saw in you. She remembers when she first saw you, your figure blurred by the stainless glass window in your bedroom. In the blink of an eye you were gone, but not from her memory. The U-Haul in your driveway gave her all the information she needed. You were new to town and she hoped that you would go to Lakeview. It’s always been a fantasy of hers to become friends with someone who didn’t know who she was, the daughter of Bellevue’s esteemed surgeon, Jerry Anderson, and the girlfriend of all-American football player, Owen Moore. She just wanted someone to treat her like a normal human being rather than just some accessory. 

And when she first spoke to you she knew her prayers were answered. 

“Yeah. I sit next to her in history. She's pretty smart,” Abby nodded along. 

“Do you think she’s gay?”

That stops Abby in her tracks. The not-so-simple question that always leaves her perplexed. What does it mean to “be gay?” one might ask. Abby asked herself that question multiple times. Not because she is gay but simply because she'd like to understand it more. 

Abby looks at Ellie, confused. “Number one, It’s none of my business. Number two, why does it matter? And number three, I’ve only known that girl for two weeks. It’s not like she’s gonna tell me something that huge in such little time.” 

Ellie shrugs and grabs her gym bag. “Just curious.”

“You know what they say about that cat.”

“What cat?”

Abby rolls her eyes and gets off the weight bench. “Never mind.”

In the library, you’re hunched over a math assignment. The thinly lined paper is filled with tiny holes in obscure spots from your constant erasing. No matter how hard you try to study, math just isn’t your strong suit. You’ve always been jealous of people who simply have a knack for it but their constant bragging about how “easy” math is gets on your nerves. 

Jesse laughs a little too loud which earns him a glare from the librarian and her assistant. His chortle breaks you out of your math day blues. He turns his phone around to show Dina a video and she just shakes her head. 

“Why are you on Youtube shorts? The only person I know that willingly watches YouTube shorts is my four-year-old cousin and he can barely read.”

“That’s because he’s four!” Jesse yells. The realization of his mistake is automatically recognized as he turns around and apologizes to the librarian. She simply glares at him and returns to her computer.

“You two fight like an old married couple.”

“We get that a lot. Sadly,” Jesse nods.

Dina scoff, “Sadly? As if you’d ever be lucky enough to get with this.”

Ellie swaggers into the library with Abby by her side. The evidence of their workout being their glistening skin and their athletic clothes clinging to their bodies. 

Ellie sits down in Dina’s lap and kisses her on the cheek. Dina holds her nose and tells Ellie that she needs to shower. Abby smiles at the exchange, happy that her best friends were lucky to find each other. What Dina and Ellie had could never be replicated. 

The thought of Owen and her becoming an IT couple scared her. There’s too much responsibility when it comes to being the couple everyone looks up to. You have to hold hands all the time, make out in the hallways, be with each other all the time. That honestly sounded like a chore that Abby wasn’t willing to do.

“I’m having a little get together at my house this Saturday if you guys would like to come. It’s a little beginning-of-the-year celebration. There’s gonna be booze, chicks, weed, video games, pizza, and salad if you’re into that vegan stuff,” Ellie declared. 

Dina looks at you, “When Ellie says ‘little get together’ that means that the entire school is gonna be there.” 

You gulp. You’ve been to parties before but those parties had max twenty people. This party sounded like it was going to be one of those parties you only see in movies. 

“I’ll be there,” you say. 

It would be good for you to get out of the house. Staying home and doing nothing was starting to kill your social skills so some time partying like a normal teenager would be good.

As Dina, Ellie, and Jesse debate on whether or not Jesse could jump from Ellie’s roof and into her pool, Abby leans in and whispers in your ear, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’ll make up an excuse for you if you’d like.” 

“No, thanks. I really should get out of the house more. The silence is killing me.”

“Tell me about it. My dad’s at work all the time so when I come home it’s just me and Alice, my dog.”

Abby doesn’t seem like the type of person whose parents would neglect her. She’s so kind and vibrant, the complete opposite of you. Maybe she had the type of parent that tried their hardest to stay present while still working hard shifts. Or maybe she had parents like yours. You hoped that she didn’t. 

Ellie gets off of Dina’s lap and grabs her duffle bag. She taps Abby's shoulder who reluctantly gets up from the table. “Let’s go, Abs. We gotta talk to the coach before we go to our next class.” The two of them wave goodbye before exiting the library. 

Your eyes linger on Abby for a little longer than they should. To an outsider it would look weird but you knew your intentions were innocent. The mysterious aura that she carries makes you want to just look inside her brain and learn everything that there is to know about her. 

In history, Mr. Miller makes his dramatic entrance and sits down at his desk in the front of the room. His glasses sit at the tip of his nose. He looks at the class over his circular framed glasses making him look like a cheap version of Harry Potter. 

He takes out another stack of papers from his messenger bag and starts handing them out. Students sigh or laugh with glee as they see their recent test scores. Mr. Miller quizzed all of you on what you’ve learned from previous history classes. It didn’t really matter grade wise but some people still took it seriously, like you. 

Mr. Miller reaches your desk and hands Abby her test first. Then he slides your test face down across your table. Your heart drops. In previous classes, teachers only did this if you did horrible on the test. You reach to flip the test over with shaky hands. Your fingers feel the paper under their tips and with a deep breath, you flip the test over. A perfect score and a note that says ‘see me after class’ are written on the front of it.

You nearly collapse with relief as Mr. Miller leaves your table with a smirk on his face. He must get a kick on almost giving his students a heart attack. 

You glance over at Abby and see her glaring at her paper before shoving it in her backpack. Her right hand keeps clenching and unclenching, almost as if she had an invisible stress ball in her palm. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, hand almost going to touch her shoulder but she jerks it away. Your hand makes its way back to your side, embarrassment taking over. 

“Fine,” she says. 

After class, Mr. Miller waits for all the students to exit the classroom minus you and Abby, that is. You look at her in your peripheral vision. She’s manspreading in her chair, her leg is bouncing up and down, and her hand is still clenching and unclenching. You wish you could help her but she seems like she just wants to be left alone right now. 

“Now, I asked the two of you to stay behind because both of you were on both sides of the spectrum when it came to the test.” 

Mr. Miller says your name in a way that can only be described as proud, “She got a perfect one-hundred while you, Abby, got a ten. It would be good if you were going for gold, but unfortunately, I want you to pass my class and stay on the softball team. So, I propose the idea that you two get together once a week and study.” 

He claps his hands together, “So, what do you think?”

You look at Abby for her response but she just stares at the space in front of her. 

“Fine,” she grunts. 

“I accept,” you say. 

You’re a little hurt that Abby isn’t more excited about this. Granted, she got a ten on a test but she has the opportunity to better her grades. If this were you, you would be jumping up and down and kissing the person who was so willing to help you…Okay, maybe that was a little much, but still. You’re going out of your way to do this for her so more than a grunt would be nice.

Mr. Miller smiles. “Great then. I look forward to seeing how both of you do on our next test.”

Abby rushes out of the classroom, leaving her pencil behind. You snatch the pencil and run it to her, your backpack bouncing up and down as you run down the hallway. 

“Abby, wait up.”

She slows down but doesn’t stop. Your frantic running turns into more of a fast walk as you catch up with her. 

“You left your pencil.” 

You hand her the simple number two pencil. She thanks you and continues to walk. 

“So, umm, when do you want to start?” you ask, hoping that your question doesn’t strike a nerve with her. “Monday,” Abby replies. 

You nod, already planning out how you’re going to tutor Abby and still make it on time for your - that's right. You have absolutely nothing else to do. This is going to be your life for however long Abby needs you.

You watch as Abby’s baby blue ford pickup truck makes its way out of the empty parking lot. You wave goodbye as the truck skirts off. 

Until Monday, Anderson, you think to yourself, your hand still waving to the empty abyss that is the Lakeview student parking lot.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @soupycloud

Thank you all so much for reading!

[leggerefiore]

cw: loneliness, post ingo disappearance Emmet, comfort, Silver Fox Emmet

pairing: Emmet/Reader

Busy… Everyone felt so busy.

Busy schedules, no spare time, endless things to do…

You hated to complain. You hated to say a word. You bit your tongue. It was easier that way – Better than way. Everything always felt so fragile and ready to burst. Like the moment you vocalised your feels, a bubble would burst and leave you to true isolation. A social attack that would make someone finally officially drop you instead of slowly and subtly doing so.

Or, maybe, it was just you. A bitter form of jealousy that haunted your mind. Someone having what you did not. A friend with more friends and no time for you. It was childish. You swallowed your feelings. Bring an adult meant burying such thoughts and feelings to keep a status quo. A peaceful existence. Painful things would have to go ignored and unaddressed lest you unravel the whole fragile tie and undo everything. This was a foolish endeavour that lead you to feeling less like a person and more like an annoyance. A barrier of sorts. Maybe they all kept you around out of pity. You hated the self-doubt and loathing that would continue to plague you.

It was on a late-night train ride to head back to your apartment that you found someone like yourself. Another lonely soul who fought back the urge to ask for any attention. Someone who lurked within the obscurity of just being acknowledged yet scarcely sought out. An employee, you could tell, a senior one at that. He was definitely aged. A black hat sat heavy on his head, mismatched with the rest of his white uniform. Eyes has heavy bags under them and his lips were frozen in a neutral expression. His words were quick and impolite with most of those he spoke with. You did not know why you listened at first. Nothing about him would have otherwise piqued your interest. Something did, however.

When your gazes met, you felt strangely small. He basically ordered you to move the bag from the seat beside you, but almost phrased it like a question. His intention was clearly not to be rude, somehow. You nodded, but before he could go off, you called out to him. A quiet request to know who he was. The darkness of the subway tunnel shined with a monetary brightness. A Subway Boss… Emmet… It was unfamiliar, yet you clung onto it, repeating the name and title carefully. A small smile broke out across his face after you did so. You returned the expression back to him.

You did not think that you would ever see him again.

Yet, you did.

At a café, you spied the familiar man sitting alone with a black cup of coffee steaming across from him. An emptied plate of what may have previously been a dessert sat in front of him. You wondered if his conversation partner had slipped away for a few moments, but they never returned if they had. The coffee remained completely undisturbed. Why? You could only ponder the answer to that question. The man's gaze drifted to you as you sat nearby in your single seat table. He gave a polite smile again. A tip was left on the table as he got up to leave. The coffee left to cool down and be forgotten and not drunk.

The barista scoffed at the sight, but before she complained, an older employee shook her head to scoop up the drink. “… I know it seems a waste,” she explained, “But… But he said he's waiting on someone. They never show up. I doubt he likes wasting money on a drink like that. It seems awfully cruel to keep standing him up, doesn't it? You'd think he'd just give up.” The barista seemed less upset after hearing that, more empathetic. Your gaze stared out of the window into the busy Nimbasa streets.

Who was he waiting on? You agreed with the older woman's thoughts. Why did he keep trying?

You tried to pretend that you had not faced your own many similar situations. Desperation was the answer. Desperation for anyone.

The first time you properly spoke was when he encountered you. A friend had promised to meet you at the amusement park in Nimbasa yet they never showed. You sat on the bench, staring out in the crowd with empty eyes. Again. It happened again. They insisted they had tried to tell you earlier, but… You lowered your head. The laughs and happy conversations around you felt mocking. Was this some kind of cruel punishment for an action that you could not recall committing? Tears burned your eyes.

Yet, they did not have a chance to fall.

“Are you okay?” a voice called out. You assumed it was not to you. Then, someone sat beside you. You nearly jumped back. It was him, albeit in casual clothing. His eerie eyes stared into your own. “I am sorry,” he apologised, “I did not want to startle you.” The question was repeated. You felt lost. There was no way that you could dump that on a complete stranger. A hand came to rest on your shoulder. A genuine smile was on his face. “Ah! You rode the night train,” he realised, “I hope I did not come across as mean. My job is verrrry stressful, and I have to do it alone. My mood gets low towards the end of a shift.”

You nodded. He went silent. You wondered what this was.

Suddenly, you were not alone.

Not at all.

Emmet became an odd fixture in your life. He was a bad conversationalist, but he seemed to simply just enjoy being in your presence. Words were not needed – you both found peace in having consistent company. He was someone you easily scheduled things to do with whenever he was free. You felt that he was working hard to make even more time for you. It was nice. No more wishy-washy replies and schedules. There was someone you could rely on. Even if he was a bit older.

Your closeness with him slowly began to blossom into something more. Polite touches shifted into affectionate gestures until an outright declaration of feelings were made. A simple “we should date” from Emmet started a new page in your life. The desolate state that you had lingered in before was almost wholly gone. Moving in with him made everything even better. Sure, he might have sometimes had to work late, but he always tried to make it home if he could or send a message to let you know if he could not. You did not think that you had felt such contentment in a while.

You had even opened up about your situation, which had made Emmet huff. He chided you for not standing up for yourself and demanded that you spoke to your friends openly about the issue. Many felt mortified that they had done such a thing to you, apologising for how they had acted, but a few had behaved in a less than understanding manner. Needless to say, you did find who truly cared and who did not. Yet, you found yourself wondering about Emmet. Why had he been so lonely? He never seemed too eager to tall about his past. You barely knew much other than his hometown and that he had a brother.

It had not been until you encountered a certain model that you had been learnt more. Emmet was a twin… And that twin had suddenly gone missing. It all had been as messy affair. She claimed that she worried that Emmet may not ever recover from it, yet that he had seemed happier lately. Many thanks were lavished onto you for helping that. You had gently confronted Emmet about that later. He was mortified by your words. His bright smile fell into a fixed frown. There was a distance in his gaze. He shook his head and took off his black cap.

“My older brother was my other half,” he said simply, “We were two pieces of a whole. I am not whole without him. Yep.” The hat was clenched in his hands. You saw tears brimming in his eyes. Your arms came around him tightly as he began to cry. He shook pitifully, almost like a small child. You understood what Elesa had meant now. He almost did not seem like himself. His sobs were quiet, almost unnoticeable. “I miss him…” he mumbled, “I have done everything that I can to search for him! Oh, darling, what could have happened to him!?”

He hugged you tightly to himself, burying his face into your shoulder. You wished that you had an answer to his question. Your mind flashed back to how he and comforted you when you nearly began to cry. Your hand rubbed his back. His name left your lips a few times. Emmet only cried more. “... You are too nice,” his words startled you, “You should not waste your time on me. I am verrry old and gross.” You fought back the laugh that almost left you. Old and gross? You could not agree. Your thoughts were vocalised. He flinched.

“… Why?” he asked simply, “… Is it because I help get rid of your loneliness?” Was it? Maybe at first… But now, well, it was much more. His age was irrelevant, and so was his mental state. You pecked a kiss on his temple. Your love was proclaimed proudly. Emmet froze. “Oh, darling,” he mumbled again, “Darling… You could have anyone.” You wanted him. He closed his eyes. “… I… I love you, too,” he spoke truthfully as he stood up straight. His gaze met yours. He leaned down to nuzzle his nose against yours before giving you a kiss on your lips.

“Let's keep helping each other's loneliness,” a weak smile came across his lips, “… Ingo would have liked you. Yep, Ingo would be verrrry jealous that I have you all too myself.” He squeezed you tighter to himself.

Ingo… You hoped to meet him one day.

You were definitely going to scold him for leaving Emmet in such a state first, though.

[athenadione]

i wanna wear his initial (on a chain around my neck)

I know it's super late, but I wanted to share my fic for damirae sauce week. I hope you enjoy! (Rated E for explicit sexual content) Words: 2,059 Read HERE on a03

Raven’s sure that most people would never consider Damian to be a generous person. It doesn’t help that he keeps even the closest of friends at arm’s length. She’s also sure that it doesn’t bother him that most people refer to him as distant and cold. He’s always held his cards close to his chest, and keeps those he cares about most even closer. 

And as his favorite (a true honor), Raven knows that Damian is more generous than he’d ever admit. So much so in fact, that Raven isn’t surprised in the slightest when he’s knocking at her door with a quiet excitement in his eyes. All while holding something behind his back with both hands. Refusing to show her until he’s completely inside, away from the prying eyes of their teammates. 

“What is it?” Raven asks, taking the elongated velvet box from him carefully. 

“Open it and see for yourself habibti,” Damian tells her, affection clear in his voice. Her eyes flit up to him a moment, already feeling the smile growing on her face. Her lithe fingers make quick work of the sheer bow wrapped around it. When she lifts the top she doesn’t hold back her surprise. 

“Damian, this is…”

“Adequate?”

“…expensive.” 

It’s obviously hand-crafted, probably from some obscure jewelry artist requiring a password to meet at a secret location. (She’s kidding, well mostly). Even so Raven can only begin to imagine how Damian had the time to commission this without her knowing about it.

“Tch, you deserve the best omri. I won’t stand for anything less.” 

She touches the outline of the necklace delicately. It’s pure silver, and simple. A dainty chain, ending with an embellished ‘R’ full of tiny emeralds. R for Robin, so she can wear it out in public. My Robin. 

“It’s beautiful, put it on for me?” She asks, handing the box to Damian.

“Of course.” 

She turns around and walks to her mirror, gathering her hair over her shoulder. When she feels the ghost of his fingers at the base of her neck it sends a shiver down her spine. Then his hands come around her head with the necklace. 

“So…you like it?” He asks as he starts to clasp it. 

Raven trails down the R with her forefinger, staring at her reflection. The chain settling against her neck is cool to the touch and electrifying. Wearing his initial around her neck feels…thrilling. 

She turns back around to face him as he finishes. “I love it,” she says, standing up on tip-toes to kiss him. Her arms wrap around his face and his hands find her waist when she pulls him down to bring his lips to hers. “Thank you habibi,” she murmurs against his lips. 

“It’s just as much a present to me,” he admits against her skin as his voice drops an octave, “now everyone will know exactly who you belong to.” 

A sizzling heat settles in her lower abdomen as goosebumps rise on her skin where his breath tickles her ear. “All those poor women are in for a world of hurt once they realize Robin is officially off the market.” 

“Good,” he says, nibbling the shell of her ear, “they should have known I’d never be interested in any of them anyway. How could anyone ever compare to you?” 

Raven’s never been great at accepting compliments, but with Damian she’s learning. Still, it doesn’t stop the light shade of red she feels heating her cheeks as she answers him with another kiss. 

The heat of his mouth moving against hers is a slow burn. They take their time exploring one another, delighting in the pathway of their hands on each other as Damian takes the lead—nibbling softly on her bottom lip. She sighs at his ministrations, relaxing further into his hold. Damian starts to play at the zipper on the back of her leotard while leading her backwards towards her bed. 

“Is this okay?” he asks her, and Raven nods, helping him slide the straps down her shoulders.

“Yes,” she breathes, “It’s more than okay.”

She leans into his chest, fingers slipping underneath his belt to tease him as his hands skin over her arms. Marveling over the gentle way he cups her face in his hands, and the care he takes to help her undress. Trailing soft kisses down her shoulder, following the path of her leotard as it slides down her legs. 

“Tabdū rāʾiʿan, you wear our initial so beautifully,” he whispers with reverence against her calf as he helps her step out of her spandex. Raven sighs at the feels of his 5 o’clock shadow scratching lightly against her leg. It’s not enough friction, she needs more, but she knows better than to rush him. Damian likes to take his time, and she’s learned the hard way what happens when she tries to push him. She nearly shivers at the memory. 

That night he had turned her into a wet, sobbing mess. It had ended with her begging for mercy as he had continued to make her come again and again. So many times that she had eventually lost count. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks and looks up at her, and Raven’s breath hitches at the sight of him. Inches away from where she needs him the most, hands tracing delicately over her skin to reach the swell of her hips. 

“You of course, and how very talented you are,” she teases, her hands finding themselves playing with the strands of his dark, curly strands of hair. 

He hums, “you flatter me,” his hands tighten around her hips and he lifts her up onto the edge of the bed, “but you’re just as talented you know.” 

“No argument there,” she laughs at his raised brow before drawing his face back up to hers for another kiss. Letting him push her back until she’s surrounded by pillows, and his frame settles over hers. Close enough that she can feel the warmth of his arms around her face. 

“I think you’re overdressed,” she says, her hands gripping the edge of his uniform tucked into his pants. 

He stops her with his hand on her wrist, “Not yet, I want to look at you first. I want to watch you come for the first time wearing my necklace.” He fingers the chain between her breasts, before brushing his thumb over one nipple. “All mine,” he says as he teases the bud into a tight peak, “I want them all to know you’re mine.” 

Raven moans, chest heaving as he turns his attention to her other nipple—taking it into his mouth. “Y-yes,” she stutters when his tongue swirls around it, “I’m yours beloved.” She pants as he continues, as wetness continues to gather between her thighs. She wants to squirm, press her legs together to relieve the tension that’s building there so quickly, but she knows the pay-off of waiting. So she doesn’t plead with him, just whimpers, when Damian traces a single finger around the hood of her clit, so devastatingly slow. 

“So good omri, you’re being so patient,” he grips one of her thighs before hitching it over his shoulder, the act giving him more access to her. “Can you be still for me? I want to taste how sweet you are.”

“Yes, yes, albi, please,” she responds, gasping when he lowers his mouth over her clit. Her back arches off the bed just a little as she struggles to not move. Her hands tangle in the bed sheets as hot pleasure starts to build inside of her. His lips expertly nibble as his tongue darts out, sketching circles around her nub. Then he slips a finger inside of her, and it starts to pump in a rhythm that drives her only higher towards her peak. 

Her orgasm catches her by surprise, ripping through her body, and she cries out—her hands reaching to entangle in his hair again as he helps her ride through it. He plants small kisses to both of her inner thighs, murmuring words so low she can’t understand what they are. 

There’s a light ringing in her ears and she’s covered in a line sheen of sweat when Damian starts again. Enclosing his mouth around her clit once more. Raven shakes her head against her pillow as her hands shakily reach to pull him up, “Please, no more Damian. I want to feel you inside.” 

He glances up, and brings his fingers up to his lips, covered in her essence. “You do taste sweet Raven. So sweet that I want seconds.” His mouth lowers unto her again, “One more, then I’ll give you what you want.” 

She’s shaking by the end of her second, gripping his shoulders like a life-line as he pushes her back over the edge. He tells her how beautiful she is, a goddess incarnate, when he considers going for thirds. She begs for him to stop instead, “You promised,” she says, still breathless. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry omri. You just taste so good, I couldn’t help myself,” he says as he moves to stand, giving Raven a short reprieve. She watches as he undresses, taken by the way his muscles ripple under the light from the nearest window. 

He catches her staring, sending her a light smirk before it melts into something more intimate, “Are you okay? Do you need a break?” he asks. 

Raven smiles warmly and shakes her head, “I’m good, just enjoying the view.” 

“Likewise,” he quips, moving to settle his length right over her core. He kisses her shoulder as she moves to grip his forearms. 

They groan together, breath intermingling, as he moves inside of her. Going slow until he finally bottoms out, and Damian gives Raven a moment to adjust to the feel of him. The delicious way he fills her up. And then he moves again and she throws her head back with a moan as he starts a punishing pace. One that she can’t help but be swept into, can’t help but drown in the tidal wave of their pleasure. 

Damian quickly finds the spot that draws out more whimpers from her lips, and he lowers her mouth to swallow her cries. She drinks in his kiss greedily as he builds them both back up to orgasm, his fingers finding her swollen clit, rubbing tight circles that contrasts his more shallow and well-placed thrusts. Then he pushes them both over the edge together with a final stroke, moaning her name into her neck as he spills inside of her. 

Her own orgasm is mind-blowing, and Damian continues to thrust languidly, drawing it out as long as he can. He moves the sweaty strands of hair out of her face, curling them behind her ears as he kisses her again. Long and slow and full of devotion. For her. It makes her heart squeeze with emotion. 

“I love you,” she says, accepting more kisses at her temple. 

“I love you more,” he tells her, rolling onto his back while pulling her on top of him. She listens to his heart beat as it starts to slow, relaxing in the afterglow of their love making. One of her favorite parts. 

Damian makes them sit up as he reaches for her mini fridge, pulling out two bottles of water before uncapping one and handing it to her. She accepts it while murmuring her thanks, and takes a few greedy sips, not realizing how thirsty she really was. After a while they settle back against the headboard as Damian uncaps his own bottle.  

Raven starts to play with her necklace, admiring the shine of the emeralds as it reflects against the light. “You know I really do love my present, but next time I have a different necklace in mind to wear,” she says with a light smirk. 

Damian catches the playful lilt of her voice and looks down at her with a raised brow, “Oh? And what did you have in mind, beloved?” he asks, just before taking a sip of water. 

“Your hand.” 

Raven laughs as he chokes on his water in shock. The mess on her comforter is completely worth the look on his face. She’ll pay for it later for surprising him like that, but that’s okay. 

She’s counting on it.

[gnreadergames]

We can be heroes, just for one day

Pairing: Clark Kent X GN!Reader

Clark and YN’s date is interrupted, forcing Clark to make a choice that could change his relationship with Y/N forever…

Content Warnings: some wine mentions, mentions of a gun, some light kissing, mostly fluff and flirting

A/N: enjoy some short fluff I wrote while being utterly and horribly sick last week. Clark deserves a little wine and a nice kiss.

Word count: 10,085

➽──────────────❥

As they sit hunched over your cluttered and cramped desk in the dim newsroom of The Daily Planet, they will themselves to stay awake.

The aroma of stale coffee and old bagels lingers in the air, a bitter reminder of what’s waiting for them in the break room and their lazy leftovers at home. With a defeated sigh, they contemplate going for another cup of the watered down brew that’s called “coffee” around here. It’s the only caffeine they can get without actually leaving the office besides lukewarm energy drinks in the vending machine.

Their saving grace comes in the form of Clark, who slides the warm cup of some obscurely named café across their desk. “You looked like you could use it,” he smiles, rendering them speechless, but they’re thankful all the same

They perk up with a smile.

“Thank you Clark.”

They found the man charming, although he was less authoritative than his peers and less outspoken, they found his intellect and his shy sense of humor fascinating.

The two of them had talked for a while last month at the office Christmas party, and ever since Y/N had noticed that Clark and them had been spending their free time around the office doing small favors for one another, such as bringing each other coffee.

They notice him drinking from his own cup of coffee, still smiling as he turns to look at them. He takes his time drinking it, but his eyes meet theirs again as he sets the cup down, his smile bright and endearing. "So have you been enjoying the holiday break?" He asks, not wanting to make eye contact in case he ends up staring.

“It’s been good.” They nod. It’s been quiet in their house since their ex left right before Christmas, and for a fleeting moment it dampens their mood, but then the next sip of good coffee that their work buddy Clark brought them cheers them up.

“How has yours been? See any family?” They ask, they know Clark is a big family man and cares a lot for his parents, so you can only imagine he’s been visiting those friends he’s always saying he’s out with and his family at his home home.

"It was great, I had the chance to spend time with my parents and I..."

Clark's voice trailed off as he realized he was about to give away too much personal information. He had never spoken about his family before to anyone besides those close to him, at least not at length, but talking to them felt safe and... different. He wanted them to know they were more than a co-worker, despite the fact he was still figuring out what they were.

"Nothing too exciting" he finished, feeling himself smile uncontrollably once again.

“Well I’m glad you got some rest,” Y/N smiled. They wanted to touch base with Clark about what exactly they were, never quite touching the lines between acquaintances and friends…

But before Y/N could do anything, Clark spoke.

“Listen,” he said, voice low. “Would you maybe…want to get a drink with me after work sometime?” He asked, leaning against their desk.

The two of them stood in a comfortable silence, each aware of how much rides on this simple decision.

"Will you join me?" He asked, looking into their eyes once again.

"Just a drink, let's keep it casual"

They swallowed. It was so soon after their ex had left them…especially for her. They weren’t sure if they were ready yet but….

It was Clark.

They trusted Clark.

“Sure” they said. Smiling softly up at him, they lifted their cup in a silly gesture of cheers. “Toast to it?” They asked.

There it was, he had his answer. He was filled with elation and relief in that moment.

"Of course" he replied, clinking their cups together and taking a sip. They were going on a date, this was really happening.

Clark's heart soared as he smiled back at them, it was going to take time for things to develop, but at the very least, he felt confident they had taken another big step.

-

Time that day had seemed to go ever so slowly in the office. Y/N kept finding themself staring at the clock, waiting for the time when they could clock out and go home to get ready for their meeting with Clark.

Their date with Clark.

The hours dragged on, time felt like it was moving at a glacial pace, but finally, they were able to clock out and head home to get ready.

The prospect of the date had them feeling a mix of emotions, mostly excitement but there was also a hint of slight hesitation, not due to Clark but rather the recent heartbreak.

Time to get ready and hopefully try to relax a little.

They slowly prepared themselves the best they could. After a long shower with their best products, they put on their best collared shirt and a jacket, and their very best pair of jeans that hugged their ass just right.

Maybe that last part was a little vain. Y/N didn’t mind.

They then sprayed their best cologne on them, especially in the crook of their neck and around their jaw. They wanted to be tempting, even if nothing happened tonight.

Which they would also be okay with, they knew Clark liked to do things the old fashioned way sometimes. You could tell he liked to take things slow, but there was a spark, a hint of passion underneath it all.

It would take more time, but it was worth the wait.

Y/N went to the bar they agreed upon at promptly 8. The front looked like a romantic cigar lounge, the inside lit with a warm lighting and deep red interior with dark wood. Y/N liked this.

People on the street milled about, and it was still chilly since it was mid January now, the Christmas lights still wrapped around the light pole outside. They began to look for Clark to arrive, as he was almost always punctual.

Clark had made sure to dress appropriately, he had taken his time, but he was ready for this date. The night and the cool air was a good excuse to wear a coat and Clark was prepared to play the part of the gentleman for every second of it.

It was easy to spot the bar, located in the heart of the town; it was bustling with life and energy. He looks for Y/N and sees them looking out for him, their hair shines in the light and he smiles to himself.

Y/N suddenly spotted a tall but non-imposing figure in the crowd. They were always surprised how much Clark could blend in one minute and stand out the next. It was like a superpower or something.

“Clark!” They called, waving over a few couples walking past. They locked eyes with the man and smiled as he crossed the sidewalk to meet them at the entrance.

Clark's heart raced a little as they locked eyes, he didn't say anything at first, simply choosing to look at them, their eyes glowing in the lighting.

He looks them up and down, appreciating the time they obviously spent getting ready.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long?"

”No, don’t worry you- you didn’t,” Y/N shivers. They can’t tell whether it’s the cold air or the fact that Clark is closer than usual right now but they feel all warm despite the snow on the ground. “Should we go in?” They asked, cocking their head towards the bouncer at the door.

"We should," Clark replies, moving to guide them inside. He notices the shiver and his heart flutters slightly, he's going to have to be careful. His intention was to take it slow, but with the chemistry between them, his mind kept wondering what it would feel like to kiss them.

‘Calm down, it's been hours not months, one step at a time’ he reminds himself.

As they approached the Boucher side by side, Y/N handed over their ID. They watched the bouncer scan it, scan their face, and scan their age before slowly handing it back to them with a nod.

Quietly, Y/N stepped to the side.

Clark then stepped up, they could see the bouncer inspect his ID, and as he read Clark’s name his eyebrows raised.

“Clark Kent?” The man said. “You’re that one journalist! I’ve read your articles.”

Clark smiled and nodded at the bouncer, he knew his fame would be followed him around, but he didn't mind too much. It was always surprising to see how many men and women knew him, and it always gave him a little ego boost.

"It's my hobby" he responded, before gently guiding Y/N inside with him, hoping he wasn't intimidating them too much.

Y/N smiled, sticking a little closer to Clark’s side. Suddenly, they swallowed their nerves and wrapped their hands around one of Clark’s arms at his side.

“Impressive,” Y/N said as Clark led them both further inside.

The interior of the bar was as expected from the impression outside. It was dim but intimate. There was a short but steady melody of jazz coming from a live band in a corner of the bar towards the front window in a pit like stage.

Clark smiled as he felt their hand wrap around his arm, it was the perfect amount of familiar but without being too much, he liked that.

That was a great atmosphere for a date, the live band playing a mellow and seductive song added the perfect element to the evening.

It was almost like they belonged together, even at this point.

"You know, when I'm not being a journalist I'm just a regular guy" he says, hoping they don't see him as anything other than who he was.

Y/N quirked and eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Why don’t you find us a seat and tell me more about what you do besides journalism,” Y/N smiled. “No other dark serial killer personalities I should be worried about though, right?”

Clark laughed softly, he couldn't resist laughing. It was funny to imagine himself with multiple dark personalities, and he loved that they went back to their conversation from the office.

"Well, there's no serial killer...that you know of," he replied, not able to help himself from teasing them a little.

Dark secret personality number two: Unwitting flirt

Y/N laughed softly. They didn’t know Clark was a tease.

They tucked that information away for another time.

Clark led them both to a booth in a corner, close enough that the jazz was a nice background to their conversation but not loud enough to interrupt.

A waiter came by shortly to get their order.

“What will it be?” The girl said in her neat black and white uniform with her pencil and pad.

Y/N looked at Clark. “I don’t know what’s good here. What are you getting?” They asked shyly.

Clark sat beside them in the booth, he loved how close they were in that small little moment. The dim lighting made it even better, like he was sitting with his significant other. It felt nice and he was a little nervous.

When the waiter came he replied with his order, his voice slightly deeper than normal. "I'll be having the salmon with white wine please."

He turned his attention to them. Hmm, I wonder what that cute little mind of yours is going to order? He thought.

”Can I have the steak with the red wine please, then?” Y/N said after a moment of consideration. Then, they glanced over at Clark staring at them and blushed.

The girl took their order and hurried away to serve more people. They would give her a big tip after this.

“So, Mr. Not a Serial Killer, what do you do in your spare time?” Y/N asked, propping their chin on their hand with their elbow resting on the table near the tea light candle in the center. They locked eyes.

Clark chuckled as he saw them blush, it was too cute to resist, and he enjoyed that he made them blush.

He watched the waiter leave with their attention, but quickly returned it back to Y/N. He couldn’t help but admire how beautiful they were, it was almost hard not to stare.

"I play basketball at the local rec centre, read a lot and go to the gym” he said as part of his reply, he added a bit of a smirk as he did.

“Oh that’s nice!” Y/N said.

The waiter came back with both of their wines respectively and placed them in front of them both. Clark took a small sip of his after swirling it so Y/N did the same.

It was sweet and heady, and went straight to their head. They shouldn’t have more than 2 of these tonight…probably.

“I read a lot too…” Y/N said, placing the wine glass back on the table.

He took his glass and sipped from it, looking up and watching as he saw Y/N take a sip of theirs. The sweet taste was nice on the pallets, and the feeling of the slight intoxication that it gave them was pleasant as well.

"Oh yeah? What kind of books? I like action, thrillers and mystery," he asked, his voice slightly slowed but still under control, he didn't want to seem like a drunkard right now by downing wine too fast, even if he couldn’t get drunk.

Y/N smiled.

“What a coincidence, I love a good thriller and mystery.” They suddenly leaned forward, face lit lowly by the small candle, “But I’m also a fan a good romance.”

Y/N smiled guiltily and pulled back to watch Clark.

Clark's voice caught in his throat like a school boy, his face flushed and his heart was pounding. How could Y/N have just hit him with that information so suddenly, his heart was thumping against his chest.

He wasn't sure how to respond, he had hoped there might be some hint of interest but he wasn't sure enough to try yet.

You idiot, he thought to himself, you'll ruin this if you don't play it perfectly.

The waiter came back with their food soon, and the mood cooled down. They both ate in relative happiness, occasionally taking sips of their wines.

Y/N was obviously becoming more affected than Clark was. But of course, they didn’t know Clark wasn’t affected by human alcohol like a normal person.

The jazz was nice as a filler to no conversation at the moment.

They finished their meals and sat back, ready to talk. Y/N smiled, finishing their last sip of wine.

Clark finished off his meal with ease, he wasn't an exceptionally hungry person, but he was a little surprised by Y/N’s reaction towards the wine. They made a cute lightweight.

He finished his food, setting his utensils down as he settled back in his seat. His attention was still on them, and he could tell the wines had affected something as he saw them smirk and finish their glass. He was a little nervous to ask them out on a second date but he knew he was going to.

”So, farm-boy,” Y/N slightly drawled, “Tell me about yourself.” They set the glass on the table and smirked.

Farm Boy? He hadn't expected that line, it caught him off guard, and his blush was definitely visible now. He could imagine his face was red as a tomato by this point. As they finished speaking though, he had to regain his composure.

He laughed quietly to himself, before answering them. "What exactly would you like to know?"

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N asked, genuinely confused for a moment, but Clark didn’t seem to pick up on it.

Thankfully, at that moment, the band began to play another song that was low and brassy, with a sultry tone.

Y/N nodded along for a moment, enjoying the feeling the wine gave them.

“Anyways,” they continued, “you like to read huh? I know you have family, tell me about them. Your mom and dad? The farm? What’s it like being a pampered only child?” They asked.

Clark laughed at first as he took no offense to their tone, it was a bit sharp and teasing, but Clark knew they meant no ill will by it and enjoyed the flirting that was happening between them both. The change of music also provided a nice cover and backdrop to their conversation, which was nice.

"Oh so you want the full origin story?" He asked teasingly, looking at them and raising his eyebrow.

“Yeah I think I do,” they said.

The waitress came by to refill their wine.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yourrssss…” Y/N teased as they drew their index finger around the rim of their wine glass.

Clark tried to not appear too affected by their teasing but it was no use he was already under their spell, he had to bite his lip to not smile or even laugh at their words.

Clark was tempted to continue with the flirting but held himself back for the sake of maintaining a little bit of control. Instead of going straight into the full origin story he decided to meet them halfway.

"Okay how about we flip a little script?" He says looking them square in the eyes.

”What does that mean?” Y/N asked. There was a very good chance Clark was going to ask for a juicy secret in return for something perfectly mundane.

Clark couldn't help but smile as Y/N asked the question, they were clearly curious now to what he had in mind, and the mystery of it intrigued them.

"Hmm how can I explain this so it makes sense?..."

A light bulb went off above Clark's head as he got an idea to help them understand.

"What if I ask you a question instead?"

“Go ahead.” Y/N said. They were intrigued as to where this was going.

He took a moment to think, his mind running a million miles per hour right now after the wine and their continued flirting.

"Okay, well let's keep this short and sweet, what is your most embarrassing memory?"

Clark thought this would be an easy one to start with, it was a safe bet for him, and also he was secretly hoping it would help get to know a bit more about them. His mind was filled with anticipation and hope.

They flushed harder, and this time it wasn’t the wine.

They couldn’t think of anything for a moment, but then- it hit them.

Could they tell Clark this?

Really?

Well…

They sipped their wine ever so slightly again. This was the best answer they had.

“Oh god…” they bemoaned. “I guess…” Y/N sat backwards in the seat for a moment and took a big sip of their wine, preparing. They sighed.

“Don’t tell anybody this, okay?” They said sitting forward suddenly leaning close to Clark. “When I was a teenager, I had this…boy on my block. We were childhood friends but we hadn’t talked for a few years. Then, when I graduated, all of the sudden at my graduation party he showed up uninvited and dragged me…” Y/N swallowed. The alcohol was getting to them, “…he dragged me to a bathroom upstairs away from everyone and uh…that was my first time. Then I never saw him again after that party but I think about him every now and then and I also think about how I had to use my sister's makeup to cover my hickies in 10 minutes before going down to cut cake.”

Clark's breath caught in his chest as he heard their story, the way Y/N was sharing something so personal and a bit embarrassing was extremely attractive to him. He felt his heart beating faster and couldn't stop staring into their eyes.

As they finished their story he gently grabbed their hand to hold it and support them, it wasn't just for them though, it was also to keep him from reacting more than he normally would. He smiled softly at them as they ended their story.

“Don’t laugh!” Y/N giggled. They couldn’t help it, it was a pretty pathetic and embarrassing story. But now, Clark was at their mercy.

“So, now you owe me one question.” Y/N said.

Clark raised an eyebrow. They were now over the small candle of the table.

“What’s your biggest fantasy?” Y/N asked, quietly.

Clark was tempted to say some joke about his biggest fantasy involving them in the most romantic way possible, but that was too predictable and he realized there was no need to. Instead his mind went straight to an actual fantasy of his.

"Oh boy, my biggest fantasy" he said with a smirk as he thought about it, it was a lot less embarrassing than theirs but still a bit embarrassing.

"Ahh...well, you're not going to like it."

Y/N wasn’t so sure. “Go on!” They said, insistently. “Tell me all the little details, you owe me.” They slurred, crossing their arms against their chest, humpfing loudly.

Clark thought about sharing his fantasy, they had shared theirs, so it was only fair he did the same. And it was slightly cute how much they wanted to know.

Clark smiled, he was enjoying their flirty demeanor, that slur and them crossing their arms, it made him chuckle. He was finding it way more entertaining than he should have, but he couldn't resist, even if was going to result in embarrassment. He was being led down a path he couldn't say no to.

Clark leaned forward slightly, so they could hear him better.

Y/N leaned closer so they could hear at all.

Clark was close enough to almost feel their breath as he spoke.

"So for me, my fantasy is basically…to have a family..."

He smiled nervously, trying to keep his cool but it wasn't working, he felt his face become flushed from their closeness.

"That's it. Plain and simple, my biggest fantasy is to have a family of my own one day."

Y/N’s nose wrinkled as they smiled wider and wider before laughing loudly.

“Really?” They said, catching their breath. But after a moment, they considered it. “Actually…that’s really sweet. You really are a sweet guy.” Y/N said leaning back in.

Clark couldn't stop the smile forming on his face as they laughed, the sound of their laughter was soothing to him that even their laugh was attractive to him.

When they finally leaned away, he did as well, but it was impossible to hide his blushing. The whole interaction he was caught in a trance with how sweet and endearing they looked.

He wanted to reply to their compliment, but all the was coming out was a soft, awkward chuckle.

”You know what mine is?” Y/N said quietly.

Clark leaned in, intrigued suddenly.

“Affordable Housing” Y/N giggled.

Clark rolled his eyes.

“I’m kidding!” They smiled and played with the stem of Clark’s wine glass. “It’s actually to be content. Don’t ask me what that means, I’m not sure I’ll know what it is until I find it, but I think it involves someone special and a steady paycheck.” Y/N sighed.

Clark laughed at their play on words, and even their follow up explanation. They were sweet and playful, and he was growing more fond of them with each interaction. Y/N mentioned something he could agree with, a steady paycheck and having someone special in his life would definitely make him content.

Clark leaned forward slightly, his voice becoming softer, more genuine as he replied to them.

"I can understand what you mean, I think the same too. Especially the second part."

”Yeah?” Y/N said. “I think you’re doing pretty good for yourself Mr. Clark Kent getting recognized by the bouncer and is friends with Louis Lane herself” they rolled their eyes playfully.

He couldn't help but chuckle at that, they were right, he was doing pretty good for himself, but he didn't feel like explaining it to them just yet. Not to mention the fact at he was enjoying their playful teasing, he actually loved it.

"I try." He says smilingly, "That doesn't mean I don't wish my life was a little more stable and less dramatic though."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” They sniffed the last half of their wine. “What do you do on the weekends besides read Sherlock and write amazing articles?” They sighed and their eyes moved up suddenly to look at Clark over their glass.

Clark was feeling comfortable enough with them now to share a little more about himself, after all they had just shared their deepest and embarrassing secret so it was only fair he also said more about himself too. And his answer wasn't much different from their initial assumption.

"On the weekends, I try to read as much as I can, I also enjoy watching documentaries and playing certain games here and there...and that's about it."

“So, I guess you really don’t have any secret B side personality you’re hiding from anybody, huh?” They asked.

Clark started to sweat. They needed to know about him…eventually, maybe just not right now.

Clark was caught off guard, they had read him like a book, he definitely didn't want to reveal too much about the double identity he led, but at the same time Y/N wasn't dumb, it'd be inevitable that they find out, unless he did something to prevent that.

Clark smiled nervously with a chuckle.

"I mean-" he starts to reply hesitantly and hesitatingly, he pauses for a second, he can't just reveal everything now.

"Not entirely."

Y/N smiled. “Well we all have secrets, Clark…” they teased.

“I guess we’ll just have to figure these things out about each other, huh?” Y/N looked at the band playing across the bar now.

Clark would tell them. Not now.

But definitely eventually.

“Maybe I’m the crazy serial killer,” Y/N said, unconvincingly, throwing their hands out half-heartedly and bearing their teeth.

Clark couldn't help but laugh at the idea of Y/N being a serial killer, especially when they bared their teeth. The image of that scene playing out was enough to make him chuckle loudly.

"I mean..." he starts, a sly smile on his face, "I haven't seen any evidence that disproves it, so you never know I suppose."

“Well, if I get caught, you can have the first interview with me in prison.” Y/N promised solemnly, with their hand over their heart slightly drunkenly.

“But I can’t promise I won’t eat your heart out first,” Y/N winked and slid a 20$ bill on the table as a tip to the waiter along with more cash for the payment.

Clark chuckled at the idea of interviewing them in prison, but it was all a nice image to paint.

"I look forward to interviewing you then, you can also count on me to bring you some real food besides me." He joked back, playing along with their teasing.

Clark was impressed by how generous they were with the tip, a sweet personality and generous too, he could definitely see why he was crushing on Y/N, his admiration was growing by the minute.

”We should go, it’s gonna snow harder soon.” Y/N said, slurring slightly. They tipped off the last half of their wine and Clark did the same. He still wasn’t affected by it, but Y/N was feeling warm and confident.

The outside of the bar was a bit colder than it was earlier. There was more snow on the ground, but just barely enough to crunch underfoot as they walked. Y/N clung onto Clark’s arm as they slowly sauntered towards both of their apartment buildings.

Clark was enjoying Y/N's affectionate behavior, the way they were clinging onto his arm, the fact that they were drunk and clingy was quite adorable to him. The whole scene was quite cute, it felt safe and comforting in a way he hadn't experienced a lot before. He enjoyed being here, if not for the weather, it'd almost be perfect. He was enjoying this, it was a lot nicer than he had expected.

The walk home was silent, besides Y/N’s occasional humming of a commercial jingle or show theme. Ever so often, Y/N would find the courage to grab Clark’s hand and drag him along confidently towards the end of whatever street they were walking on at the moment, almost skipping and twirling around happily.

Clark had to admit, their actions when they were drunk were cute and endearing, they were so carefree it was hard not to feel happy around them. They were also rather comfortable with being affectionate as well, which he loved a lot about them.

He continued to follow along the lead, but was occasionally tempted to lift Y/N up for more of a romantic carry, but he wanted them to be comfortable at the same time, as cute as they acted and their actions he didn't want to cross any boundaries.

As they got closer to their homes, they also reached a part of town that was dimly lit. They slowed down, Clark pulling the slightly less sober Y/N closer just to be safe.

He was glad he did, because as they tried to round a corner a man decided to test his luck and step out of the shadows with a gun pointed in their direction.

Suddenly, Y/N sobered up real quick.

Clark could see and feel the sudden jolt of cold reality for Y/N, the sobering and shock was a complete 180 from what was happening only a minute ago. Their whole mood and demeanor were almost instantly changed by the sight of the gun and they suddenly became scared and alert.

Clark instinctively pulled them tight and close to him, his body instinctually shielding them with little thought behind the action, he didn't like that his mind automatically assumed he would protect Y/N but knew it was the right thing to do regardless.

”Clark…” Y/N said, backing up slightly, gripping Clark’s arm.

Clark tried his best to calm Y/N down, by the sound of their voice he could tell they were scared and he tried his best to reassure them.

"I'm right here..."

Clark kept his grip firm around their arm while moving slightly in front of them, he couldn't stop the protective feeling towards them and the fear that took over. They were right there in front of him, the thought of anything happening to them was unthinkable for him.

“Wallet. Now. “ the man with the gun said. He was in a dark hoodie.

Y/N fumbled with their pockets. They had their wallet somewhere they swore.

Suddenly, they heard a step towards them, and the seconds slowed down into a quiet silence in time as Y/N watched the gun raise, Clark step further in front of them, and the muzzle flash.

There was a loud noise. And then silence.

“Oh my god,” Y/N breathed, horrified.

In the clearing panic, Clark didn’t seem hurt, if anything, even more angry than before.

He rushed forward, surprising the man with the gun and jerking his arm so it was pinned and he could slam the guy against the nearest wall and knock him out.

Clark's reaction came as soon as they heard the step behind them and saw the gun raise, he moved on pure instinct, all thoughts of being careful and gentle leaving his mind instantly. He moved faster than he ever had before, his anger and a sudden violent urge to protect Y/N overtaking his entire being. He slammed the man against the wall with little difficulty and knocked him out. He had become almost robotic in his movements, acting purely on instinct and adrenaline.

Y/N was shaking with panic, adrenaline, and guiltily…excitement seeing Clark move like that.

“Are…” Y/N took a shaky step forward. “Are…you okay?” they asked Clark with wide, dilated eyes. They couldn’t see a mark on him despite a deep singe on the stomach of his sweater vest. It….

The bullet should’ve gone straight into him with a mark like that…

It was straight to the gut…

How?

Clark was breathing hard, his body was trembling slightly, he was a little out of breath for now he tried his best to stay put together and not show how affected he was. The adrenaline was starting to slow down in his system and leave him feeling exhausted after the sudden jolt.

He managed to give Y/N a small smile, their concern about him was endearing to him and the realization that they must've thought the worst was a bit heartbreaking. He was relieved to be standing here with them now though, safe and unharmed, that was all that mattered.

Y/N was glad to see that Clark was unharmed. But…more importantly, confused.

“Clark…” Y/N asked with a trembling voice, “How did you do that? How are you okay?”

Clark was still breathing hard, his body was feeling weak now that the adrenaline was slowly wearing off. He decided to be honest when it came to their question.

"I'm...I'm not sure, I just...reacted and went off instinct." He replied softly, he could tell Y/N was still shaken up and he tried his best to steady his breathing and heart rate.

"Why, what did you see? Did anything happen to me?"

Y/N’s voice cracked with desperation and disbelief as they frantically stepped forward and grabbed the bottom of Clark’s vest, pulling it so he could see what they meant.

“That bullet should’ve killed you! It bounced off you like nothing!” Y/N yelped.

Clark was taken a little aback by the sudden and strong reaction from Y/N, but he couldn't blame them at all. If he was in their position he'd be freaking out also. He looked down at the vest and realized there wasn't even a scratch on the skin beneath it.

Shit.

They knew.

“Are…” Y/N behind to realize that Clark’s glasses had gotten cracked when he had shoved the attacker against the wall, and they become concerned about the glass around his eyes, they grab the broken frames and pull them away from Clark.

Suddenly, Clark becomes very familiar when he straightens up a little.

“Oh my…Oh my god you’re…” Y/N shakes, Clark panics.

Shit.

He did not want them to find out this way.

”You’re Superman!” Y/N squeaked.

Clark was startled by Y/N's realization and sudden realization. He couldn't believe they figured him out with such ease, he had been hiding his identity from them for so long, and now all of it was laid bare at this moment. He was in too deep now, Y/N already knew the truth, he was powerless to stop them from knowing that now.

Clark had thought the situation was under control, but he quickly realized it wasn't. There was no way he could spin this to make it seem like he wasn't Superman.

”I…” Y/N swallows dryly. “I have…I have so many questions.”

Y/N stepped forward, dropping the broken frames onto the snowy ground.

Clark felt dizzy. He couldn’t tell whether it was adrenaline or giddiness at Y/N being this close to him that was doing it to him.

“What’s it like?” Y/N asked, in a whispered tone.

Clark cocked his head.

Clark could feel his heart beating faster as they were now closer to him, he felt slightly overwhelmed by how close they were to him, but the words coming from their mouth were more concerning to him now.

The fact that they knew his secret, and now wanted to know more about him, Clark was panicking a little on the inside, he didn't really know what to tell them or what it would be like to talk about his identity. He could trust them, he knew that already, he just had to come to terms with the fact that they knew who he was.

Y/N’s left hand came up to reach the edge of Clark’s vest around his arm underneath his armpit, his white dress shirt was soaked and his jacket was on the ground nearby.

“I’m sorry if I’m being to forward I- I just-” Y/N stammered. “I wanted to know you before but- but now?” Y/N laughs a little breathlessly, leaning more into Clark.

“You’re incredible.”

Clark's heart started pounding faster the closer they came, Clark also felt rather hot and flushed from the heat emanating between their bodies, and the excitement from what was happening in front of him.

He smiled gently at the compliment, their admiration and affection was something so new to him, it was a lot to take in but he understood how they felt, what was he was feeling now was new and exciting for him too. He was glad they wanted to get to know him deeper and not push him away now.

“Glad this isn’t a dealbreaker for you…” he said quietly, shoulders untensing ever so slightly.

“Are you kidding?” Y/N threw their head back in disbelief. “You’re superhuman!”

The free hand that wasn’t clutching Clark’s vest came up to trace along his jaw.

“But you’re also a beautiful, and unbelievably kind man, with a lot of very simple and meaningful dreams.” Y/N said, sort of reverently.

Clark was taken aback by their praise and sudden touch, his heart was now beating out of his chest and it was taking all he had not to take advantage of the closeness and pull them into a kiss.

"You...um.." he started, but the only words that came out were those of a stumbling school kid.

"How... um..."

Clark couldn't formulate a proper word or sentence, he was in awe at what they were saying to him. They loved him, they didn't reject him. That was all that mattered to him in this moment.

Y/N just smiled at him and leaned into him. It was cold.

Snow was beginning to fall around them now.

“Clark…” Y/N started. “We should leave and get back home.” They said.

"Right, you're right..." Clark mumbled, he was also slightly annoyed that the sudden change in weather meant the night couldn't go on as long as possible.

"My apartment or yours?" He asked, he didn't really care which one they chose, he just wanted to be near them again. His mind was still racing, what had just happened was so overwhelming that it would be nice to just relax in the warmth of another person's presence as soon as possible.

Y/N’s face flushed as they realized Clark expected them to stay together for at least the rest of the night. It made them warm and fuzzy inside to think that Clark liked them.

“We can go to either, which would you prefer?” Y/N asked. They wanted to let Clark make the rest of the decisions tonight. They wanted to show that they trusted Clark still.

Clark was still slightly giddy and overwhelmed from the situation, not only was he accepted despite his secret being known, but he was also offered a choice in who's place they would stay together for the rest of tonight.

The whole situation was a first for Clark, but he didn't want to let a single moment of this opportunity go to waste. He was happy to be offered the choice, but he decided quickly which he preferred.

"I'd like to come to your place." He said softly.

“Okay,” Y/N said weakly.

It was cute to Y/N that Clark could literally take a bullet for them and still be this shy directly after. They were glad he was fine anyways.

Slowly, they led the way back to their place and made it to their front door without incident. They fumbled with their keys, small keychains dangling on their loop while they fished it out of their pocket and unlocked the front door.

It was modest, but spacious. Y/N wasn’t sure if they liked that they were probably easily readable from just their living room, let alone the rest of the apartment.

“Home sweet home,” they said, dropping their keys in a bowl by the front door and kicking off their shoes by a rack.

Clark watched as they opened the front door, once they let him inside he stepped into their home, it was impressive how they managed to fill the space with such simple details, their whole home was filled with their personality. He loved the vibe they had going on here, and for him it was refreshing to see an apartment that wasn't filled with every fancy feature a high income level could afford.

He stepped inside, removing his shoes and hanging his coat up before setting his backpack down nearby. He walked over to Y/N, not sure what to say next.

”Hi…” Y/N said quietly, as they turned around to face Clark standing closer than before, having to look up to meet his eyes.

Clark smiled slightly, his heart fluttered as their eyes locked, even if it was just a simple "hi" that was all he needed. He stepped closer to them again, leaning his body gently against theirs, he was more comfortable with their closeness now than he had been earlier.

"Hi..." he replied softly.

“What’s up?” They asked, popping the ‘p’ sound on the last word.

Their hands drifted to rest on Clark’s hips. They loved how large Clark was compared to them but they didn’t expect him to be this close to them.

Clark's heart was beating so hard and he was starting to breathe faster as their hands drifted to his hips. He had wanted to get closer to them so badly, to feel them close to him like this, and now they were right where he wanted them to be.

"Uh..." he said before the words quickly faded, he had lost most of his ability to form words and sentences at this point. All he could manage was an occasional grunt or slight noise as he leaned into their touch.

“So…” Y/N sighed. “Do you want to make some hot coco and sit down…maybe, talk about some things?” Y/N asked. There was a certain implication in his words. He wanted to know more about Clark’s real life. His Superman identity included.

Clark was almost disappointed that the invitation wasn't a direct offer to make out at this very moment, but he understood why they wanted to do something else first. He was still happy with the suggestion and was more than open to telling them the truth about himself, he was ready to trust them.

"Yeah...that sounds great!" he replied, with some more enthusiasm than before.

He loved when Y/N made the decisions and took the lead on things, it was refreshing and they seemed to do a good job of choosing an appropriate option to keep things moving forward.

Y/N shuffled away to make them both a warm cup of hot coco. Clark stood in the foyer. They were both slightly damp from the light snow. Y/N looked stunning in this lighting, low lamps and the cold city lights outside the window.

“Clark, you know you can make yourself at home, right?” Y/N teased. “If you want, you can shower and I can see if I have…anything that will fit you since your clothes are…well..” Y/N turned his head and glanced at Clark’s singed vest with a nearly bullet burned hole in its stomach. His white shirt was none the better.

Clark couldn't help but blush a little at the teasing, he was a little bit flustered in every sense with the flirting and touching now, and hearing them say they didn't mind him showering in their place sent that flustering feeling into overdrive.

"My clothes are a bit wrecked, yes." Clark replied, glancing down at the damage on his clothing.

"It could be nice to get comfortable, if I've been invited to stay the night here..." his words trailed off, but he liked where this was going.

“Sure,” Y/N tried to sound nonchalant about it despite their heart fluttering.

“The bathroom is in the hallway to the left, I’ll just knock on the door when I’ve found clothes,” Y/N mumbled the last bit. They would burn that bridge when they got to it.

Clark's chest was now feeling the heat build up as his heart raced at the implications from their words, he loved the suggestion and their subtle teasing about it. It was so unexpected, like they had his whole night planned for him, he liked it.

"That sounds good, I can shower and you can go through your closet and see what you can find, I'm sure I can fit in some of your clothes." He said, smiling at them.

”Go on then, Wonder Boy,” Y/N smiled. They were stirring milk on the stove now. Clark shuffled off in their peripherals to shower.

-

Wonder boy, he really enjoyed when they called him that, although his thoughts were of other things... Like removing his own clothes. He smiled and then started heading to the bathroom off the Hallway, not even waiting for them to confirm if it really was to his left. They were clearly paying attention and he liked that, he felt their focus on him now as he left the foyer.

During the shower, Y/N knocked on the door. The bathroom was foggy but Y/N didn’t hear a response so they turned the knob cautiously.

“Clark? I found some clothes I-I think may fit.” Y/N said, trying to speak through the warm fog. They resisted the urge to look further into anything as they placed the clothes on the counter, but they turned around and couldn’t avoid getting a fleeting glance of Clark’s shape through the silhouetting shower curtain.

Y/N blushed clear to their chest.

“I-I left them on the counter!” They yelped, heart racing, and tried to leave quickly.

Clark was just standing under the steaming hot water with one arm on the wall, he had lost track of time in there and was now only focused on his thoughts. Until he heard the knock, at which point he froze for a second. He decided to keep it simple and not say anything and let them believe he hadn't heard them.

But he did hear them, and their words made his cheeks flush even more. Hearing them call his name with such a cute tone set him on fire. He quickly exited the shower, wrapping a towel around himself before going to check the clothes.

Y/N was curled up on the couch, clothes changed and hair toweled off. They had fuzzy socks on with tiny cats printed all over them.

“Bet you're used to saving a lot of these out of trees, huh?” They said, sticking their foot out and wiggling their toes at Clark.

Two mugs sat on the coffee table in front of Y/N.

Clark stepped up the couch, looking down at the fuzzy cat socks and letting a small, playful grin form on his face as he saw their foot sticking out at him.

"That's right, I love how innocent and adorable they are, they make me want to put them in my pocket and take them home with me." He said jokingly, playing along nicely with them.

He then sat down on the couch, facing them as he took one of the mugs and took a sip.

“Is it good?” Y/N asked, grabbing their own mug.

Clark smiled around a mouthful of coco and nodded.

Y/N chuckled and took a sip of his own.

“It’s my own recipe.” Y/N said.

Clark took another sip of his cup of hot cocoa, savoring the warmth in his mouth as he swallowed the comforting flavor.

He nodded again as he swallowed. "It's delicious. I don't know what you did to make it so good, but it's absolutely phenomenal."

He took a larger sip as he continued staring at their cute fuzzy socks.

“So,” Y/N crossed their legs. “Tell me about yourself, the real you ,Clark.”

They cross their legs and sit back on the couch, facing more towards Clark.

Their eyes pierced through Clark as he drank his coco.

They fiddled with their mug nervously. The snow continued to fall outside with a soft rush.

Clark watched them shift their position to be facing him, he was enjoying this more than he'd liked to let on, he enjoyed when they wanted to know about him. And now here was a question he could answer truthfully, finally telling them the real him. He took another sip of his hot cocoa, not able to resist their piercing eyes for too long. His cheeks were still flush from the shower and the interaction they just had. He set his drink down before responding.

"You really want to know about me, huh?"

“I really like you Clark, of course I want to know about you,” Y/N said softly.

If it was possible to melt like the snow outside from a single sweet word, he would have been nothing more than a puddle now. His breath became quick and short as he smiled and sighed, this was going to be such a big step, but he wanted this, he wanted to make them happy and trust them. He looked up from their eyes to their face and smiled, his heart beating faster than before. He took a short moment to get his thoughts together before replying.

"Okay...where do you want me to start?"

“Why didn’t you tell me you were…” Y/N found themselves having trouble saying it “…Superman.” They finally said.

“And who else knows?” They asked.

He'd feared this question so much, but he would have to answer it honestly. If he wanted to make things work between them, he would have to be 100% honest about everything. The fact that they wanted to know about the "real" him meant they really did like him, and hopefully their opinion of him wouldn't change now that he was being honest with them. He breathed a sigh and took a second to prepare himself for the answer.

"Well, the only other people who know are the Justice league.And obviously, my parents." He said quietly.

”Does Louis know?” They asked. “And the Justice League? God, I forgot how terrifying your job is outside of Metropolis.”

The mention of Lois reminded him how much he cared for her, and also her reaction when she first learned his identity. He shook his head and smiled at the question about his job.

"Oh Lois knows...she knows everything about me as Clark Kent or Superman, actually, she was the one who figured it out." He said, sounding genuinely proud of her.

"And yes, the Justice League. They're basically a group of superheroes who all keep the world safe from danger and help each other out when a villain or other crisis arises."

”So this is how you get all your good information for articles, huh? Using the superhuman charisma power you have?” Y/N asked.

The truth was that Clark did not have the ability to convince most people to tell him almost anything, he didn't use his powers to get information. But it was more fun to play along, so he nodded his head as his smile turned into a mischievous grin.

"Uh yeah, exactly, everyone just wants to tell their little secrets to me. So I can hear all the juicy gossip, not that I would do anything unethical with the information though."

He said with a teasing chuckle, he liked their playful approach. He took another sip from the mug.

Clark was a terrible liar. Y/N could see right through him, but they scoffed anyways.

“Guess that’s why I find you so irresistibly charming, hm?” Y/N drawled enticingly. They moved closer to Clark on the couch.

Y/N's words sent his heart into overdrive and his mind into a daze, this was exactly what he had wanted, exactly what he had hoped to hear from them. He smiled widely as they got closer to him and he couldn't help but let his eyes trace their figure as they talked.

"Is that the reason why you find me irresistible?" He replied back in the same playful manner, not able to stop himself from leaning in just a little bit.

Y/N smiled crookedly, unabashedly. “You tell me…” they said, leaning in. Clark obviously wasn’t going to break his gentlemanly persona anymore tonight, so Y/N would have to do it for him.

Their lips brushed for a brief moment, and Y/N pulled back a hair with a noise like they’d been burned.

Then, in a surge of desperation and want, both Y/N and Clark surged forward at the same time and met in an open mouthed kiss, mugs abandoned on the coffee table.

The first brush of their lips sent a surge through him, causing him to lean forward without any thoughts or regrets. All he was thinking was how much he wanted them in his arms. Their lips soon joined and he kissed back with as much passion as he could muster, every second felt like an eternity in the best way imaginable.

Finally, it seemed like they both couldn't hold back anymore, and suddenly they were kissing furiously like no one else existed besides them. The mugs on the coffee table could wait, they never should have been there anyway.

Y/N pulled back briefly, slightly, having to use their hands on Clark’s chest to push back in his strong grip around their back that had moved there during their quick descent into madness.

“Clark-“ they breathed. “Wai- wait-” they said as Clark looked at them with eyes like a kicked puppy, kisses aiming for their mouth having ended up on the corners and sides.

Clark was not yet ready for this kiss to stop but that didn't matter to him anymore, he wanted to listen to Y/N as they pulled back. He was more than a little flustered as he looked up from their hands to face them, his heart was thumping wildly in his chest. He wanted to say something but he was having trouble gathering his thoughts.

He was so excited, and a part of him would have been happy to listen to them say something about stopping, but another part of him was worried they might say something else. He could feel the heat rising on his cheeks.

”Can we just-“ Y/N swallowed, mouth red and slightly swollen from kissing, “can we just sit here, put on a movie and kiss? I don’t want to go any further tonight. I wanna’ take it slow with you,” they pleaded.

Clark’s grasp around them became tighter. “Yes, yes, absolutely,” Clark wanted everything with them, but he could wait forever if they needed to. And honestly at heart, he didn’t want anything else tonight either. He was getting so much just from what was happening right now between them.

He loosened his grip on them slightly, as it was still a bit embarrassing for him to have acted like that, but he really couldn't help it. He had wanted it so much.

”Hold on, let me just-“ Y/N wriggled out of Clark’s grasp quickly and scurried over to the tv set, fumbling to turn on a show. A re-run of ’The Notebook’ was playing and Y/N laughed thinking about something so sappy playing behind them and their new lover making out and enjoying each other’s company less than 10 feet away.

Clark watched as Y/N’s body swayed and moved as they fiddled with the TV finally settling on something. Clark recognized it and laughed sardonically a little.

“Where were we?” Y/N said, spinning on their heels and turning to face Clark in their sweats and cat socks.

Clark's eyes couldn't help looking at all of Y/N's curves and their movements as they moved to the TV. He was enjoying all the scenery, he had to try hard not to smirk as they laughed at the TV show that was playing. The notebook was definitely a cheesy watch.

Clark laughed at the last question and got up from the sofa, moving closer to them as their bodies and faces became inches apart.

"We were kissing furiously I believe," he grinned, "and you want to keep that up?

“Yes, please-“ Y/N said, moving to straddle Clark’s lap. They halted suddenly, “Ah- but only if you want to,” they said quietly.

Clark's mouth fell open slightly as they climbed onto his lap, it was one thing to be standing near each other and kissing, but having them straddling on his lap was a whole different story. The fact that they suddenly paused and asked a question with so much hesitance had him almost melting just from the tenderness of the gesture.

He placed his hands on their hips and looked up at them with an eager smile.

"I certainly don't have any objections to that plan."

Y/N smiled.

“Good,” they ran a hand over Clark’s neck and leaned in again to kiss him sweetly while they rested on his lap.

Clark was more than happy to be in this position with Y/N, having them straddling him for a make out session was just as wonderful as he'd always imagined.

He leaned forward himself and wrapped his arms around Y/N's waist, pulling them close against him as their lips pressed together once again. His hands ran up to their back to hold them close to him, he couldn't help but let out a few moans and grunts of enjoyment as he kissed them back with equal enthusiasm.

Y/N felt Clark’s tongue brush against their lips. They opened their mouth slowly, letting Clark take the lead. The room felt nice, and they were glad they had put on an old record while Clark was in the shower.

Clark gently probed their lips with his tongue as he took the lead, he was loving every minute of this and was enjoying every second of being so close to them. Y/N's presence and their scent was intoxicating and his arms wrapped tighter around their waist as he enjoyed them more and more.

After a few moments of savoring the kiss, Clark pulled away just slightly as he was feeling a little light-headed from the heat and intimacy of it all.

Y/N felt warm for a different reason this time. They were just so content in Clark’s arms.

“Sleep in my bed tonight?” they asked with lidded eyes and a lazy smile on their face.

Clark was very grateful for this pause because he'd never felt so giddy and warm in his entire life, this had been beyond anything he could have ever thought possible.

A slight chuckle escaped him as he caught his breath, his gaze looking at Y/N with longing and amusement.

"I'd sleep on your porch if you'd let me. " He replied with a mischievous grin.

“Well then, that settles that,” Y/N laughed, a little ditsy off of the wine from dinner now that they had calmed down and a little bit from how Clark was holding them in his grip.

“Let’s go, screw the movie, I want to cuddle,” Y/N brushed a lock of hair behind Clark’s ear and kissed his forehead softly as they smiled.

With that, they both proceeded to cuddle up together on Y/Ns bed and watch the snow fall gently outside. It was warm, they were happy, and the world spun on.

➽──────────────❥

Final note: okkk thanks for reading everyone :) lmk if yall have any requests for me because i am slowly running out of ideas right now and im in a writing mood so this window will not last long sadly

[0anonnymouslyours0]

rowan laslow 🕴🏻🔪 me want rowan

yessir 🫡🫡

warnings; not proofread, smut ( p in v ), kissing, teasing, rowan abuses his telekinesis powers, reader can read minds, fluffy aftercare

you were fairly new to nevermore, so you didn't know many people, except for yoko your roommate, and enid. and then by extension wednesday. and although classes kept you busy, and yoko and enids persistent social activities took up much time as well, you still had time to think about the rowan laslow. rowan laslow who you almost felt was a ghost. he was barely in class, and when he was he always was at the very back of the room, obscured from your vision.

yoko had invited you to join the nightshades, a highly coveted invitation. and you must admit, your eagerness to join the group was only heightened when you discovered rowan was apart of it. rowan didn't talk much during meetings, opting to sit in a corner, flicking through one of the many books in the library, and just listen. the only person who he seemed to talk to was wednesday. so of course, you pestered her about him.

"what's rowan like?"

"i'm unsure."

"your friends with him!"

"am i?"

this didn't really go very far, so you had take it upon yourself to make an extra special effort to get to know him. he was quiet, obviously smart, brown hair swept in a side part, thick rimmed glasses, about an inch taller then you, and you were quite tall. you weren't very sure when the curiosity turned into blind attraction, maybe it was when you were observing him in a nightshades meeting, as he walked laps around the room looking for a book. his hand swept along the shelf, long fingers tracing the spine of books in a way that made you shiver. or maybe it was his little habit of biting his lip whilst he was concentrating in class. you stared at him quite a bit in class, to the point you were surprised he hadn't caught you.

all of this came to a head, when you were called for an emergency nightshades meeting. you decided to go a little early, browse the shelves. and it seems someone else had the same idea was you, because when you walked in rowan was already there. sitting in his usual corner, book in hand.

"hey." you said, waving awkwardly.

rowan didn't jump at you presence, he didn't even look up. he just replied a curt, hello, and re-focused on his book. you frowned, not expecting him to be rude.

"what are you reading?" you asked, walking over to him and dropping your bag to the floor.

"nothing."

"your clearly reading something.." you pestered, and it was then that the book simply lifted itself off his lap and flew back to its position on the shelf.

he looked up at you smiling, "am i reading something?"

you laughed, deciding that rowan wasn't rude, perhaps just a little awkward.

"i'm y/n." you say, extending a hand, then immediately pulling it back in, thinking better of shaking his hand.

rowan laughs, a light and breathy sound, before extending his hand out to you. you smile down at it, before shaking it firmly.

"i'm rowan, charmed to meet you." he says, a joking air to the statement, he was continuing with the old timey-joke.

and you laughed, leaning against the wall next to him and sliding down. rowan sat above you, looking down.

"your new?" he questioned, and you nodded.

"whats your.. power?" he asked, shrugging at the choice of word.

"i can read minds." you said, simply.

and it was then that rowan freaked out a little, sitting up straighter and brushing his hair away from his forehead. his hand came up to loosen his tie, in an action that had you a little flustered.

"like can you tell what i'm thinking?" he asked, nervous for your answer.

"no, i'm not really good at any random peoples thoughts, but if i touched you, i would know." you answered.

rowan relaxed a little.

"when i shook your hand?" he asked.

"nope.. too short of contact." you replied, and he nodded.

"where as if i.." you reached up, placing a hand on rowans upper arm, clutching it softy. rowans eyes flitted down to your hand, gulping at the contact, and trying to keep his thoughts pure.

you closed your eyes, focusing.

"shes touching me.. god rowan think of something else. what were you reading in that book? you can't remember can you because she walked in. think positive.. i wonder if she can tell what i'm thinking now?" you smiled softly to yourself.

rowan observed your reaction.

"she's smiling.. why is she smiling? shes really pretty, wait no stop! look away."

your breath catches in your throat. and you grip his forearm a little stronger, unknowingly propping up your tits in the shirt your wearing.

"shit.. look away.. no don't look, god she looks good in that top. why does this have to happen? surely she can't tell what i'm thinking.."

you pull your hand away suddenly, surprising rowan.

"uhh.." you say, standing up quickly. rowan does the same, standing in front of you.

"listen- i well-" he begins, and is then cut off by the sound of footsteps.

"y/n!" enid cheers, running forward to give you a small hug.

"hey." you say, forcing your eyes away from rowan.

the rest of the nightshades filter in, grabbing chairs and placing them in the circle. for the first time, rowan moves his chair in, and directly opposite you. he holds eye contact as he does so, in a way that makes you feel hot, eventually having to move your eyes away from him.

bianca begins talking, but you can't focus, because rowan is staring directly at you. and you look at him quickly, taking in his spread out legs, and relaxed posture as he leans against the chair frame. its a position that he you thinking all kinds of things you shouldn't, and has your thighs squeezing together, something rowan takes notice to. and then you feel it, a slight shiver that runs down your left thigh. your mouth widens a little, looking up at rowan, who is full on smirking at you. his hand his slinging off when chair, but his hand moves, and you feel that invisible trail run up your other thigh.

you shuffle in your chair, heart pounding. and then rowans trailing up both your thighs, getting further to the soft skin of the inside of your thighs. it has you shivering in your jeans.

"you cold?" yoko asks, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

"p-perfectly fine." you say, crossing your arms, and pressing your thighs together for some relief.

yoko gives you an odd look, before turning back to focus on the debate between wednesday and bianca.

the invisible hand stops, and you breath out, hoping for a break, but a tickle runs along the the underside of your boob, and you gasp, surprised. the invisible lean circles your chest, brushing closer to your hard nipples. yoko shoots you another strange look. nudging enid.

"y/n? everything good?" enid now asks, catching the attention of the group.

and you turn to answer, but then rowans swiping along your nipples, and then theres another trail that runs along your thighs at the same time. and you gasp, clutching your chest quickly.

"yes, y/n are you alright?" rowan perks up from the other side of the circle, a small smirk on his face. and you glare at him, after all your strange behavior was his fault.

"do you want to go back to the dorms?" yoko asks.

"i can take you-" enid offers, but shes soon cut off by rowan.

"i'll take her." he says quickly, getting up. and your pulled off your chair, rowans hand on your waist, walking up the stairs, strange looks following you.

once your out of the room, the secret door securely closed, rowan has you pressed against the wall, his hands still on your waist. your chest is heaving, and wetness has pooled in your underwear. you feel overwhelmed, and rowans face so close to yours doesn't help.

"how are you feeling, sweetheart?" he asks, and your brain momentarily short-circuits at the nickname.

"i-" you stutter out.

and rowan leans closer to your face, a smile still planted on his face.

"do you want me to.." he trails off, eyes falling to your lips.

"god yes." you murmur, hands pulling at his shirt, until hes impossibly close to you.

and his lips are on yours, and he doesn't even wait before his tongue is gliding along yours. his hands fall from your waist to your hips, pulling you against him. and you can hear his thoughts, so loud there almost screaming at you.

and he's thinking about how good this kiss is, and how he wants you, now. and he thinks he can maybe take you right now against this wall, but then anyone could walk past, not to mention the nightshades. and then hes thinking about how your tits are pressed against his chest, and how your hips are grinding against his.

and your flooded by his thoughts, your thoughts, the overwhelming attraction. and you squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to turn it off, wanting to be able to think.

you break contact, leaning back as his thoughts disappear from your mind.

"my dorm?" he whispers, hands still on your hips and face only centimeters from yours.

you nod and then your rushing to his dorm, stealing short kisses as you climb the stairs, and then your stopping altogether and rowans got you pressed against the wall next to the stairs, again. and he's kissing you with such intensity that you feel dizzy.

the kiss is broken and rowans holding your hand, as he guides you the rest of the way to his dorm. as soon as the door is closed clothes are being thrown off in a flurry, eyes raking across each others bodies. rowans kissing you again as he pulls you over to the bed, falling back down. your on top of him, and you instinctively straddle him, grinding down. rowan groans out at the pleasure. you've only got your panties and bra on, rowan only in his boxers.

and he breaks the kiss, to trail his hands from your hips up to the sides of your bra, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. his hand comes up to unclip in, revealing your breasts. rowan can't help but moan at the sight, hands palming them lightly. his real thumb trails along your nipples, and you throw your head back at the feeling.

he continues to palm your boobs as he leans up, placing kisses along your neck, something that will surely leave a hickey. you pull away, slipping down until your off him. you tilt your head at him, smirk playing on your lips as you snap the band of his boxers. he watches, eyes wide and pupils blown. you pull them down slowly, eyes also widening as his hard dick slaps against his stomach. your fingers trace along his happy trail, right to the base of his cock, an action that has him panting. your thumb teases over the head of his cock. rowans loosing it, the pleasure too much. your sit up, raising your hips so you can take you panties off. shuffling forward again you hover above him. rowan watches as you sink down onto him, moans leaving both of your mouths as you bottom out.

"holy shit.." rowan mumbles, and your thinking just that as you start to move your hips.

rowan hips thrust up into you, and you moan out his name. leaning down to kiss him once again, you set a rhythm. rowan can't seem to decide where to touch you, his hands are on your hips, your boobs, your waist, your cheeks and you smile at his eagerness. and then finally his hand trails down further then your waist, towards your clit.

"rowan.." you pant as he presses his thumb against your clit, circling lightly.

your rhythm has been broken, your movements erratic as pleasure clouds your brain. rowans groaning belief you, as you clench around him.

"so, so good baby." he says, kissing along your collar bone to leave more hickeys in his wake.

your so close, and you can tell rowan is too. your hand comes up to pull at his hair, something that his him practically crying out, hips stuttering against yours. and you do it again, and rowans moaning out as he finishes inside you.

his hand continues to work against your clit, and then your cumming too, head thrown back and vision blackening as you cry out rowans name. you fall down onto his chest, and his arms wrap around you, both your chests heaving as you come down from your high.

a kiss is planted on your forehead, as rowan slowly moves you off him. your tired, body exhausted from your efforts. rowans up and getting a towel to clean you up, and one of his shirts to cover your body. and then hes back in bed, allowing you to cuddle up to his side. his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and kissing you one last time before you fall asleep.

[angellayercake]

Banchetto: Aperitivo

Papa Emeritus III x Reader

AO3 |  Masterpost

You always preferred to use your hands. Baking required the use of all your senses but the best way to get the perfect dough was to touch. Feel the ingredients combining and merging, changing state. The movement was as important as the measurements and you could close your eyes and know if the bake was going to rise as you intended. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘I do not need a babysitter!’ He objects, petulantly turning away from his brothers to look out the window. You watch them glance at each other in exasperation but tune out their continued argument wishing they had thought to stage their intervention before you had arrived. 

Instead you look at him. It had been little over a month since he had been unceremoniously removed from the Ghost project. The day he had returned to the Abbey the shouts could be heard ringing through the halls. Senior members of the Clergy had been hurrying back and forth trying to keep the siblings in the dark but the tension had permeated through the whole building even as the news spread. No one had seen him since that first week whether because he had been hiding himself or because he had been locked away by his father and brothers but looking at him now you could understand why. 

The first thing you had noticed was his hair falling lank and greasy against his face. His paint was hastily applied, smudged, patchy and uneven and doing nothing to obscure the gaunt look of his face. What you could see of his skin looked grey and dull and you could make out the hollows of his cheeks and sunken eyes. He looked almost skeletal in his usual suit, creased and stained as it now was. He had always been slight but this was an extreme change and you could understand his brothers concern. He was clearly not eating. The shirt and jacket billowed out as he paced across his reception area in agitation as they continued talking.

That answered one question for you at least. Which was why your presence was requested. Your cooking skills had garnered you attention from very shortly after your arrival and although day to day you assisted with the typical group meals there were times when your more advanced skills were needed and apparently this was one of them. Finally it seemed they were finished as three pairs of mismatched eyes turned to you. 

‘So it is settled then Sorella, as of tomorrow you will be relieved of your kitchen duties so you can cook personally for my brother.’ Primo states drawing you out of your thoughts and back to the present. You nod in agreement sparing one last look at Terzo who was frowning at you with an otherwise unreadable expression before you were dismissed. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

There was a knack to rough chopping nuts, pressure but not too hard, movement but not too fast. The last thing you needed was almonds flying across the room. You slide them into a bowl efficiently using the back of the knife with one hand and toss them in seasoning with the other.  

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You arrive the next morning early with his breakfast already prepared. The first task today was to inventory his kitchen so you could acquire what was needed to fulfil this new role that you had been given. Keeping this in mind you had brought some pastries and fresh fruit from the Abbey kitchens hoping that would suffice for today. Entering his quarters you find the rooms dark and quiet as you pass through quickly to the kitchenette. 

If the previous day had not been so fraught you would have asked to see it then but it didn’t matter now. You locate the plates during your search and clean them of the dust of neglect so you could lay out what you had brought with you. You considered how much preparation was necessary not wanting to make him feel patronised by you cutting up bite size pieces but you decided to go for the presentation not wanting to just hand him a plate of unpeeled fruit and cold pastries. You find a knife and make quick work of slicing and peeling until the plate contained a rainbow of fruits arranged around the croissants.

Checking your watch you decide the time is reasonable enough that you should take his breakfast to him. As you approach his room you listen carefully for any sign of life but there is nothing and then as you knock still nothing. You listen and listen, glancing at your watch again. It really wasn’t early but perhaps he did not want to be disturbed but then you remember the stern talk Secondo had given you yesterday and you knock once more. 

‘Che cosa?’ he shouts and you wince at his tone. 

‘I have your breakfast Papa.’ You don’t want to open the door until you have his permission, it felt a step too far even for this odd situation you found yourself in. There was movement within and you are taken aback when the door is abruptly pulled open but even more by his state of undress. His face had told a clear story of his state the previous day and what you could see of his body only reinforced it. 

He was skin and bone, painfully thin, ribcage visible and now you truly understood his brothers concern. This was not a man who was looking after himself, as though his will to live had been ripped from him as he had been ripped from the stage. When you hear him clear his throat pointedly you realise how rude you are being and instead offer him the plate with a nervous smile. Which he did not return, only looking down at the food with the same unreadable expression but he takes it from you not saying another word as he closes the door in your face.  

When you return with his lunch you find the plate of fruit outside the door, untouched by anything but flies. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You break your own rule as you gradually add to the mixing bowl but you don’t want to interrupt the delicate chemical reaction happening as the dough rises. Some things are better completed hands off you thought as the almond pieces break down further and salt and pepper crystals distribute throughout.    

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

By the end of the first week you begin to panic. He had barely taken a bite from anything you had prepared for him. Sometimes he would reject it in person, pushing aside the plates you presented him, leaving them to sit ignored while he sat staring into space. More often you found them abandoned around his quarters meaning the first part of your day consisted of tracking down these dishes and disposing of them before racking your brains for something else to try. 

You were fighting back tears as you entered the kitchen the following week having failed again to entice him to eat anything other than a few bites. In your mind you were already anticipating the conversation you would have to have with Primo and Secondo. You were failing, had failed and you weren’t sure if there was anything else you could do. The dishes were dumped in the sink and you stand for a moment breathing deeply in an attempt to collect yourself. You had tried asking him what he wanted, asking others what he liked but nothing had worked. 

Making quick work of the cleaning you resolve to go and speak to them now. They would be disappointed in you, you were sure but there was no use delaying the inevitable. Drying your hands as you turn a small book placed in the centre of the dining table gives you pause. The cover was worn, the fabric covering fraying at the corners and the once colourful pattern faded by time and food stains. 

You lift the cover slowly, the spine creaking in complaint and trace your finger across the greying handwriting inside. The swirling script fills every page in a format you find familiar. These are recipes, page after page of them. The titles are Italian but the ingredients and instructions had been painstakingly translated by a different hand. The ink looked fresher and you wondered if this is what he had been doing for the last week. On the last page there was a note that broke the pattern of the preceding recipes that had not been translated. 

Per il mio piccolo Renzo. 

Questi sono i nostri preferiti 

e spero che ogni volta che li mangi 

ti ricordi quanto ti amo. 

Mamma x

You try not to speculate on the message as he clearly hadn’t translated it for a reason but you knew enough Italian to get the gist and it is as you are tracing your finger over the elegant script that he enters the kitchen startling you from your thoughts. 

‘Ah bene, you found it already.’ You flick back through the pages as he comes to stand next to you not wanting to get caught prying. 

‘Yes, these are recipes Papa.’ He looks better rested today but that's about all you can say. He looks ill you think but you try not to dwell. ‘Would you like me to make you these going forward?’ That has to be the only reason he would give you something so personal. 

‘Si, you have lasted longer than I expected Sorella and if you insist on obeying my fratelli idioti then you should make these.’ Turning to him you are about to ask which he would like you to start with but he is already gone leaving you with something you suspect is more precious then you can fully comprehend.

• • • • • • • • • ��� ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Floured fingers and even pieces twisted, turned and intertwined. You have ensured the flavour and now you must create the texture. Though repetitive you find your rhythm and fill tray after tray.

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘Preforito di Renzo’ was the title of the recipe you decided to try first. You were unsure of exactly who Renzo was supposed to be but whoever they were they gave this recipe a ringing endorsement and it seemed simple enough to complete by the afternoon. However you would need to stop by the main kitchen to acquire some of the ingredients. The trip there was uneventful but the pantry was already occupied when you arrived. 

‘Ah Sorella, how are you today?’ Secondo greeted you sounding as cheerful as his gruff demeanour allowed. 

‘I’m very well thank you Papa,’ you replied, actually meaning it for the first time since you had started your new role.  

‘And Terzo? How is he?’ Something had changed for you when he had given you the notebook and you were loath to break his trust now which surprised you. So you started collecting up your ingredients, shooting Secondo a smile and buying yourself some time to think of a vague enough answer that would still be believable. 

‘He seemed in good spirits this morning Papa. He even requested I make something for him.’ Positive but neutral enough you hoped but he still looked at you in surprise. 

‘Is that so?’ He seemed to be deep in thought as he continued. ‘The reports I had heard said… well no matter it is good if he is asking you for food I suppose.’ You’re not shocked that he had been keeping tabs on you 

‘I think so Papa,’ you say in an attempt to reassure him and as you follow your train of thought you think it must be good. At least showing a willingness from him you had not yet seen thus far.

‘Yes of course and what has he asked you to make Sorella?’ A safe enough question to answer you thought as he hadn’t actually asked for anything specific had he?

‘Well he gave me a choice of recipes he had written down. I decided to make the pepper taralli.’ Something changed in his expression as you finished but you couldn’t decipher what it was only hoping you hadn’t said the wrong thing. 

‘Interesting, very interesting.’ He wandered towards the door still lost in thought only remembering to say goodbye when he reached the door. You shook off the strange encounter eager for once, to return to Terzo’s quarters. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Golden crisp and they are finished one by one added to the metal racks near the open window. The cool breeze pulls away the rising steam helping them cool quickly and evenly and carrying the sweet savoury smell further into his rooms.

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You could hear him coming before you had finished transferring them to the cooling racks and you couldn’t help but smile. Finally you have done something right, you just hoped that they would live up to his expectations. He comes bounding into the room soon enough the most animated you had seen him since you had taken on this role. 

‘Does my nose deceive me Sorella or have you been making taralli?’ He was eagerly trying to lean around where you were standing in front of the racks and you giggled. Mostly due to his antics but a part of you felt flustered at his proximity. He didn’t look much better then the first meeting but he did seem in better spirits. His clean fresh scent washed over you as the soft material of his jumper brushed against your arm as he reached. His hair while still not in his usual slicked style looked clean and soft and you had to resist the urge to tuck the lock that had fallen forward behind his ear. Thankfully you were spared any more impulses to touch him as he had acquired his prize and had retreated across the kitchen already devouring one, another grasped in his other hand.

‘Careful Papa! They are still hot from the oven,’ you chided him but he turned to you with a grin on his face. Even covered in crumbs he was handsome enough to take your breath away. 

‘But Sorella, this is the best time to have them, si?’ After popping the final piece in his mouth he starts cleaning his fingers, sucking one at a time into his mouth, moaning obscenely as he picked up the last traces of flavour. You are transfixed by his display so you barely notice when his eyes flick open and catch you watching. He draws the last finger out of his mouth so slowly, catching on his bottom lip and you have to swallow as you suppress the thought of his finger elsewhere. You meet his eyes and feel the blush blooming on your face. 

He saunters closer to you never taking his eyes from yours and you can’t breathe in anticipation of what he is going to do. He stops just in front of you and you feel yourself leaning ever so slightly forward as if he had his own gravitational pull. Then in the blink of an eye he has snatched another three and is halfway across the room. 

‘That will be all today Sorella, grazie.’ And then he is gone but you can hear him whistling on his way. You collect yourself as quickly as you can, not wanting to dawdle when you had been so clearly dismissed.

[marshmallowprotection]

Kait, you've had played with that thought before of two Saerans meeting each other, didn't you?

I was wondering… Did you ever think of SE Saeran meeting VAE Saeran before?

Two scared men who survived their own deaths, cursed on their body with a permanent reminder. What do you think their interaction would look like?

"...What happened to you?"

"I should be asking you that question, you know?" his dry response came like the beat of a drum. "After all, out of the two of us here, you're the one covered in scars... You look like a fucking mess... not that I'm any better but... did the bomb go off?"

Did you set it off?

"...In a manner of speaking," Ray's quiet voice echoed against the walls of the room like the worst kind of chamber.

Saeran eyed him, his red hair obscuring most of his vision as he tried to get a better look at the frayed skin on Ray's body. It was obvious that those scars covered every inch under his clothes.

How far did it run?

That was hard to say.

He wasn't going to ask more. There was no point when he already knew the answer. It was the same way he imagined Ray was able to understand where the coarse edges of his hands had come from. It just... wasn't any of his business. He didn't have the right to know or the right to understand why he made that decision in the first place.

It wasn't his place to pry.

It didn't matter why he ended up in this place or how it came to be before he blinked at the sight of someone like Ray, the only thing that mattered was how he well understood what the person in front of him was feeling. They weren't the same and yet they were all at the same time.

Different circumstances, different choices, but a similar conclusion.

It was something Saeran understood on a near microscopic level. Regardless of what they chose to do in the heat of the moment, action led to a reaction and a consequence. In his case, it was the blood on his hands that would never wash away, and the cracked skin on his hands was a testament to how many times he tried.

The scars that were on Ray's body were from something similar.

"And... your tattoo?" Ray asked. His eyes flickering between Saeran's face and arm. "Is that something you did willingly?"

Did you choose to have that tattoo because you believed in what you were doing or because you felt like there was no other choice?

Saeran looked at his arm. No matter how much he thought about trying to get rid of it for himself, no matter how much he thought about getting it covered up with more ink, or how many times he considered clawing at his arm to fray the image, he could never bring himself to get rid of it.

It was a reminder of what he did and who he was.

As long as he never allowed himself to forget, he would never go back to being that person. Even if he didn't know what he wanted out of life, he knew he did not want to be that same miserable, angry, lost person.

"In a manner of speaking," he replied, using the same words Ray had.

They were one in the same no matter how they decided to slice it.

A part of him always hoped that maybe there was another universe out there where things worked out better for him, but seeing this broken man in front of him made him feel as though there might not have been.

Saeran's jaw felt tense as he said, "Are you content with that?"

Ray smiled, a bittersweet kind of smile that felt so familiar it could have been his damned reflection. Painful. The words were painful. "I think you and I know... we have no choice but to be."

Of course.

No matter what universe, no matter what parallel dimension, it seemed as though his life would always be a laughing stock to the universe. A silly little game that a God was playing to see how far somebody could be tortured before they cracked.

Yet, Saeran could only bring himself to ask—"Do you.. have the sky?"

"I do. I don't know where I would be if I couldn't watch the clouds all day. I hope it's the same for you," Ray whispered.

[nikatyler]

List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to simblrs whose sims you adore 💜

Thank you! I felt like answering for Caleb this time. Probably some long time followers will remember some of this but I haven't talked about him in a while sooo yeah, nothing too obscure today :D

Caleb very rarely raises his voice. He's always very quiet, it's just how his voice is. He often has to repeat what he said because people didn't understand him the first time, which he hates and he's very anxious about it, but at the same time, talking louder is just so hard.

In his brief teaching era, he was really nice to his students, maybe too nice sometimes. He found it difficult to engage them in some activities and he often let it slide. They rarely misbehaved in his classes but joked about him a lot behind his back. But then there was also a small number of people who actually really liked him and his classes and felt sorry for how people viewed him. (Shoutout to my favourite uni professor, you were the goat even if you seemed like you were scared of us, you didn't deserve half the things people said about you)

He literally didn't believe in aliens until he gave birth to one. Sure, he thought there is intelligent life out there somewhere, but not that they'd be the classic Earth depiction of an alien or that they'd even want to make contact with humans, let alone pollinate them (and in his case, also fix his infertility issues by that)

Speaking of that, in the old original legacy, he eventually had twins with Rachel, it took a while, but whatever the aliens did with him, years later it kicked in and well Caleb and Rachel found the hard way lol. I'm not sure how to go about it now. Do we keep the twins even in the new canon, what do you think? I feel like I should keep them but also, I just don't know. How about them adopting instead? Or they have one biological child and one adopted -- oh hold up yeah what if they decide to adopt and then surprise, you're actually expecting too, so they end up having two kids. Or is that cheesy. Idk. I mean it's the sims so it can be cheesy I guess. Thoughts?

He's got this aura of a smart mature soft person around him, people would actually be surprised how full of swearing his inner monologue is :D They're always shocked when it comes out and he's just like -- that's normal, stop freaking out? 🤨 And then it hits him that he normally doesn't speak like that out loud.

Thanks for the ask! ♥

[eponymousfics]

Ooo monster alternate universe ? 👀 I mean, there's beyond just a few AUs with them as monsters/mythical creatures but what do you personally view as 'most fitting' for each brother ... ?

This. Um. This answer spiraled and really got away from me. Sorry it took so long to get to it >_>

But here's some visual aids:

(The rest is going under a cut bc the explanations get long. because i'm incapable of shutting up lol)

OK so roster of sextuplets as monsters according to their personalities and most "monstrous" traits:

Oso:

I went with a kind of tanuki yokai thing because they're associated with trickery, laziness, crassness, and shapeshifting. Also drinking lol

The idea is he's pretty low-level and weak compared to other yokai but he still has magic, which is more than can be said for any human he comes across, so that inflates his ego and emphasizes his absolute worst traits.

He'd be kind of a devil figure, someone who makes underhanded and twisty deals where whatever service he provides you either sucks or only lasts long enough for him to get his payment and book it.

If you run into him in the woods he will follow you and pester you until you agree to a shitty deal.

But he's also not that bright so if you're careful you can wriggle out of the worst consequences, get away with just a lot of wasted time.

Kara:

Classic werewolf, to emphasize his two-faced side. I think he would try his best to blend in among humans, and Kara is Kara so that involves trying to be a cool biker guy to varying degrees of success.

I think he's lonely and subconsciously looking for a pack, but he's also got some "no babe, i'm a monster, i'll hurt youuuu" kinda angst working against him. I think his wolf transformations are a toss up between Slavering Eldritch Wolf Beast that will kill indiscriminately and completely harmless doggo who will beg for treats incessantly

He can be very protective and kind and loving but he is also a monster, he can be petty and vicious and violent, and I think the melodrama of werewolf transformations and symbolism (especially the animal instinct vs. humanity thing) fit him pretty well. Of the brothers, I think he'd be doing his best to actually integrate with human society, not just prey on it or play with it.

Choro:

He's an evil ghost. He looks innocent at first glance, some quiet young man who asks for some innocuous help or offers to do a small kindness for you, like walking an old lady across the street.

But the moment you accept his offer or ask him for anything, he's bonded to you and starts to slowly leech your life force for himself.

He's very polite the whole time, and while his requests might get more and more demanding as you grow weaker, his pointed smile never wavers. It gets harder and harder to say no, until you finally fade away yourself, and he moves onto the next sucker.

However, if you decline his request he won't ask again out of sheer embarrassment, so as long as you cotton on to the fact that he isn't human at the start, you're fairly safe.

Wherever he's standing, for some reason, there always seems to be a huge flat expanse of nothing stretching out behind him, partially obscured by fog.

He wants and he wants but he only knows how to take, never how to give or reciprocate beyond the shallowest, lowest-effort means.

Ichi:

I picked boogieman, but specifically the Discworld variety, where they're always hiding behind doors or under beds and scare children simply because children believe they're real, and therefore they are. They can be defeated with a blanket over their head, because everyone knows that boogiemen disappear if you put your head under a blanket, therefore if you put their head, the boogieman believes that he doesn't exist.

Which is very distressing for the boogieman.

So he's fairly easy to defeat, but I think he'd have a great time scaring the shit out of people and hiding/lurking in dark places. Rifling through people's private closet stashes, whatever they are.

He's potentially befriendable if you see him but show you're not scared. You can try offering a glass of milk. He loves scaring people but is also curious and lonely.

Jyushi:

Anthropomorphic personification of destructive fire.

He's an unstoppable force of nature, and while he isn't malicious, he has so much energy. And unfortunately, it burns everything to ash. He can do his best to rein himself in, but it doesn't change the fact that to touch him is to burn.

He's very cheerful though, definitely a lot of elements of Calcifer in him, but he also revels in fulfilling his purpose: burning shit to the ground.

He can be tamed, briefly, in campfires and hearths, but requires constant supervision. He can be everywhere at once in a breath, and you'll die sucking down his smoke.

He likes people. They give him so many places to live, and so much to eat. He wishes they would last a little longer when he comes around to visit.

Todo:

Fae, but specifically using a glamor to make himself look nice and princely. Underneath he's something more like a lich, and his pretty persona is there to lure you in.

He likes toying with people. He likes tricking them and pulling the wool over their eyes, both visually and in the twisty deals he makes with them.

Which he never refers to as deals, they're just pinky promises. That's not threatening, right? It's just a little promise. Don't worry about it. Don't look beneath the glitter.

Like Kara, he's extremely two-faced, but unlike Kara, he doesn't really care about humans or being part of their society. He'll take what he wants from people (which doesn't always cost them their lives) and disregard the rest. He needs to eat, after all.

SO that's my serious personality-based answer, I also have alternatives though because I love monsters. These are like, if I were picking monsters specifically for more wholesome or romantic AUs. The above ones would technically be romanceable, but the genre would probably be more horror and angst, vs the following are for lighthearted fun.

(you can tell which set i drew first lol)

Oso:

Classic incubus/devil, the transactional and non-commitment based nature of it works for him. He could be persuaded to fall in love with someone, maybe, but he lovessss sleeping around with no strings attached.

Once again, being a monster gives him actual powers, so he winds up being insufferably smug. You can tell that I don't like drawing feet lol

Kara:

Like a satyr but with bull parts instead of goat? I'm not sure what to call those. I'd say minotaur, but that's specifically with a bull's head and human body, not this way around.

But similar to the Greek Minotaur, he's kinda isolated and lonely, too big and too awkward to fit in with normal society. He tries to make himself small and quiet and appealing by learning music and things like that. Kind of a gentle giant thing.

Choro:

Frog prince, but caught in between. He's like a half-metamorphosed tadpole, with the arms and legs, but still with a tail. Idk I just wanted him to be slimy and awkward.

I'm not sure why I keep choosing washed out colors for Choro as a monster, maybe because I think he'd be the most self-conscious or distant about it? Like, most of the others would revel in or embrace their monster status, but I think Choro, while fulfilling his "job" as a monster, would always hate that he was one deep down.

A simple kiss probably won't break his curse. In the original fairy tale, the princess needs to learn to look past her disgust at having a frog husband, but in this case Choro needs to learn to look past his own sliminess and find worth in himself and others.

Ichi:

Blobby shadow monster, idk what to call it. He's got a bit more substance and weight than mere darkness, it's a bit more drippy and fluid.

But like the boogieman version, he can hide and blend in shadows and scare people, although he mostly chooses to watch. I think he's an accretion of the misery of the isolated, and goes to keep them company as they die. Or get help and get better. In the former case, their souls become part of him. In the latter, he just leaves.

In some ways, he wants to help. But he doesn't think there's anything he can do but be a witness. So he watches.

Jyushi:

Cyclops/oni thing, absolutely huge and cheerful and unfortunately clumsy. He does his best but he breaks things all the time. People still like him though, they just have to be very very careful. Luckily he has amazing hearing so he's so far managed not to step on anyone.

He could act as a guardian for a city, or as a transport service between towns. He can also rip up trees and deposit them directly in lumberyards for people to start chopping up. He's very useful.

But he does get a bit lonely. People are always happy to see him, but it's usually because they have a request. No one every wants to hear about this fun new game he invented using boulders and his club.

His laughter often causes avalanches on nearby mountain ranges.

Todo:

Classic vampire, because at least one of them had to be. I think it's fitting for Totty, who once again can use his appearance to lure people in and get what he wants from them.

Only, of course, most people nowadays are quite happy to have the attention of a vampire, even if they know where it's going. And he loves getting to dress up and be fancy.

He's arrogant and entitled, but less malicious than his fae persona.

END

ANYWAY I'm SO SORRY this spiraled so hard, I was just typing up a reply and then next thing I knew I was hunched over my drawing tablet and it'd been six hours. I might need to write some monster AU one shots now please fucking shoot me

[allsaiint]

↠ john price/reader

↠ word count: 1800

↠  masterlist | next chapter

↠ description: late nights and fireworks don’t mix as well as late night and price does.

↠ warnings: implied lead up to smut?

↠ author’s notes: funny that price is the first character i post for. figured it would’ve been ghost or soap but whatever. i kind of wrote this with them as mercenaries in mind? i have a whole thought process behind it but it doesn’t matter much. i may actually write a second chapter if i can get the hell out of my own way.

It was cold out. It was freezing outside, with snow piled up three feet deep and obscuring the gravel and dirt driveway to the main road. It was a pitch black, moonless 2am, but there you were, leaning against the column with half a cup of lukewarm tea in your hands. Given it was New Years, the fireworks were expected, but it did little to help you sleep through them. The memories of artillery fire and smoke were the pleasant parts of your dreams compared to some others, and you had had too much experience with your own nightmares to attempt any more sleeping tonight. What you would give to be Soap or Gaz or Rodolfo, who were able to sleep through anything. What you would give to be Alejandro with a family to go home to for comfort.

Another round of fireworks went off, and you were torn between watching them with fondness and ducking. 

Amidst the popping and sizzling, the door opened behind you. You smelled him before you saw him, recognized Price by the smell of cigarillos and aftershave and thick smoke permeating the ice thin air.

“Cap,” you murmured without turning, letting your head rest on the column. 

Your name was a soft reply from the doorway. He was the only one to use your real name with any regularity. Soap was all about the pet names, and the rest used your call sign almost exclusively. The cup in your hands was replaced with another that was full and still steaming. The ceramic warmed your stiff fingers while a jacket was draped over your shoulders. Then he said, “Can’t sleep?”

The answer was obvious, and though it was posed as a question, it was more of a statement. Price was anything but presumptuous and always gave you an in or an out when it came to anything personal. If you wanted to say yes, he would be glad to listen. If you wanted to say no, he would let you lie.

“I keep thinking about our first mission, the test to see if I could join the 141. The fireworks always remind me of it, how I honestly thought I’d killed you by blowing that barrel up,” you said instead of answering.

Price was quiet for a moment save for his breath a little heavy in the crisp silence. Then, you heard the snow that was piled up on the porch crunch beneath his feet. A hand landed on your hip, another on the railing, and suddenly you were warm as he said, “I never doubted it when you said it was the only option. It was you that spotted the ambush, realized the comms were down. I doubt we’d be here if you’d hesitated.”

“You were in the hospital for six weeks,” you said, tipping your head back. Instead of his shoulder, you bumped his chin. 

His head turned down and his nose brushed your cheek. His breath was warm on your skin when he said, “Better than the alternative. Should’ve realized something was fucked when they tried to court martial you for it.”

You laughed, and the cold air made your lungs burn. “You know it was unrelated. I still worry they were right, sometimes. It was dangerous. Stupid.”

It was something you had held onto for a long time. It rarely bothered you anymore, but it was too close to the anniversary, and you had had too little sleep in the last few days. 

Price, in his quasi-omniscient way, seemed to understand what you were unable to say. The hand on your hips slipped further, his arm latching around your stomach to hold you still so he could press closer. You lamented the thick jacket separating you from really feeling him. His arm was bare but he was still so warm through the thin t-shirt you wore; you knew he would be better than a jacket. 

“Everything we do is dangerous,” he said, and your eyes closed at the feel of his lips, then his beard, on your temple. “You’re anything but stupid. You wouldn’t be here if you were.”

His hand, resting on your other hip now tightened when yours covered it. He stilled further when you canted your head, and the brush of your lips along his bearded jaw hung in limbo— a silent, obviously subtle question left in his hands. If he chose to ignore it, you knew you could leave it to hang in the past and move forward into the new year. Your life had always afforded you that ability. Compartmentalize and never dwell when there were more important things to move towards. Only in the dead of night when life suspended between the real and dreams did you consider anything other than your next step and how to leave your pasts behind.

You found, as he sighed against your lips, that even if you were unable to move forward from it, you wanted to linger in the moment for as long as he would allow. Peace was less rare since breaking off from your official duties. You chalked it up to your ability to choose. There was no danger now of some faceless stranger missing a crucial detail, sending you into an ambush, or betraying them. You had yourselves and each other to rely on and, if you were unable to rely on one another, there was no one.

“You sure, love?” Price asked, the words a subtle rumble in his chest. “No going back from this.”

As if you wanted to. Strings of relationships that were doomed to fail before they could truly begin had followed you for as long as you could remember. Most were unable to deal with the time spent too long away or how much you loved your job. Those that could see past it often grew jealous of the time you spent alone with a team full of men; those were the ones you cut loose the fastest. Anyone else that made it past those two hurdles inevitably folded in the face of the weight you always brought back with you after a deployment. Nightmares were the worst. Distance was often a close second, with your partners often unable to understand why you refused to burden them with what you had seen and experienced. You never wanted to relive it yourself, let alone force someone you loved to.

Was it any wonder, then, why you would gravitate towards someone who could understand? There was no need to hide the worst of yourself from Price when he had already seen it. Your nightmares were shared, the distance understood for what it was, like the things you were still unable and unwilling to talk about. The expectations were none because you knew what it meant to have them crushed.

So, with more surety than you had ever felt with anyone else, you said, “Yes.”

“Good,” Price said, a whisper before he slotted his mouth against yours. Your shirt caught and pulled up before you realized his hand had moved. By the time you did, it had cupped your cheek, and his fingers had threaded into your hair. This had always lingered between you, starting the night he rescued you even if neither had been willing to acknowledge it. Blurred lines being what they were, you would be a liability in the field. It was easier to ignore in yourself if he ignored it too.

The kiss was shorter than you would have liked, but Price’s thumb dragged across your lower lip, the skin chapped from too long in the cold. Even though it was obvious enough, he still said, “Should get inside, get you warmed up before you lose your fingers.”

“That an offer, Cap?” you teased, following his gesture towards the door. 

His answering laughter rumbled, splitting the crisp air. “Suppose it could be, if you want.” Just inside the door, he caught you up, pressed you back against the chipped wood. “And it’s John, love. You know that.”

Ever courteous, he was. It made you smile, small but not insincere. You were distracted by the way his mouth moved when he said the word love, the way it ticked up at the corner beneath his trimmed beard. You wondered if it hid dimples, scars, beauty marks. He had freckles splattered across his face from too many years spent in sandy, sunny places. They remained, even after joining the task force and shipping off to countries cold and rainy and snowy. You thought he belonged in a speakeasy somewhere, tucked into a shadowed corner with a glass of bourbon and a cigar. 

You could hear the rich, slow jazz that would accompany his smoky baritone as he asked, “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

You would let him, and only him, get away with such a question.

“Right,” you said when you had dragged yourself from that particular image. Glancing up into his eyes, you could see the blue was glittering, knowing, amused. “Is that an offer, John?”

His lips twitched again, and a palm pressed flat to the wood beside your head. The thick sweater he wore stretched taut then rose to expose a sliver of toned stomach, a hint of happy trail disappearing into the band of his sweats when he braced his other arm over your head.

“You want it to be?”

You had to drag your eyes up to his again, and it was a task to meet them without your face warming. You reached up to curl your fingers into his sweater, pulling yourself closer before they slipped down to that peek of skin. The jacket fell to the floor forgotten as the fingers of one hand dipped beneath the band of his pants while the other cupped over the sizeable bulge resting against his leg.

“Oh, pet,” he breathed, so low it was almost unintelligible, “you’re asking for trouble.”

Your fingers were wrapped around him as much as you could given the barrier, and you squeezed tighter before dragging the pressure down the impressive length. You had to stand on the tips of your toes to reach his jaw as he let loose a low, shaky groan. Lips against his beard, you agreed in a whisper, “I’m trying to be. Please?”

Another groan erupted, too loud this time in the otherwise silence of the house. You both froze for just a moment before bursting into quiet laughter. The house remained silent, and your fingers were starting to tingle with the warmth returning to them.

“C’mon, then,” Price said, pulling you away from the door and up against his chest. “Sounds like I’ve kept you waiting long enough, love.”

They left the jacket forgotten on the floor.