#its funny i got it like a month before the collection announcement

[sukisukidaysook]

WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM!!

[use-your-telescope]

Together by this Christmas Tree

Summary: The Avengers have an annual tradition of a Secret Santa Gift Exchange, and Theo’s life becomes a real life Hallmark Movie when she draws Loki’s name and has to get him five days of gifts. Because shopping for a god and a prince, especially one that you have a massive crush on, is easy, right?!

Author's Notes: HELLO AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS! This is a one-shot set in the WEMTBB world with our favorite sorcerers, however you do not need to be caught up on (or even have started) WEMTBB in order to enjoy this story! For those of you who are reading WEMTBB, this takes place in the future, when these two are in their “mutual pining idiots” stage; you will absolutely spot some easter eggs, but there are no major spoilers here.

This is for @sarahscribbles Christmas Collection, because I’m strolling in five minutes late with Starbucks for Christmas by posting this the day after Christmas. If you're a regular reader of WEMTBB, I am still planning to update it on Sunday (12/31).

Content: Absolute tooth-rotting fluff, Secret Santa, LOADS of mutual pining, Wanda being a very supportive friend, some pranks along the way, Loki in multiple sweaters, and lots of Loki getting the love, kindness, and attention he deserves.

Word Count: 8,104

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

—

When Steve first made the announcement, at the end of a mission debrief, Theo swore he was joking.

The idea of the Avengers making a point to celebrate Christmas seemed a bit strange - beyond the fact that there were two Norse Gods on the team, it seemed presumptuous to assume everyone else was Christian. 

Theo’s feelings about the winter holidays were, at best, ambivalent. Sure, she liked the holiday lights, and she was a sucker for a good holiday song. She enjoyed showering her niece, Katie, with presents - after all, what kind of auntie would Theo be if she didn’t absolutely spoil her niece? And any time Theo could visit Mémère for longer than an hour or two was a blessing in its own right.

But the holidays also reminded her of the family she lost, and being the single friend at every holiday party got tiring (especially when her well-intended friends kept trying to set Theo up with people that Theo had absolutely no interest in). It had reached a point that Theo often volunteered to work the holiday shifts, as chaotic as they were, just so she had the excuse to avoid awkward gatherings.

However, when the other Avengers lit up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree at the announcement of the Secret Santa gift exchange, Theo kept her mouth shut. She was still relatively new to the team, and it wasn’t the first time she had been subjected to workplace celebrations for holidays she didn’t celebrate. 

But of course, this was a group of superheroes celebrating, so it wasn’t a basic Secret Santa; no, of course not, because nothing about them was basic. It was five days of secret Santa. 

At least the rules were simple: each person drew the name of another Avenger. Then, you had to give the person whose name you drew a series of gifts with clues about your identity leading up to the final day, when you would give them a gift and a final clue. Then, each person would try to guess who their Secret Santa was. Regardless of whether or not they figured it out, each person would receive one final gift, something a bit more special.

Steve closed the announcement by informing the group they would draw names the following Monday, and would have approximately a month to pick out gifts before they completed the exchange. A certain buzz filled the air as everyone left the conference room, with some reminiscing about funny moments from past exchanges, while others pondered over who they might end up with.

It wasn’t until after the meeting that Theo had the foresight to ask if the Secret Santa exchange was meant to replace getting everyone their own gifts, or if it was in addition to getting everyone their own gifts. Wanda, ever the MVP when it came to explaining unwritten Avengers’ rules to Theo, explained that it was in addition to getting everyone else gifts. 

Theo spent the next two days praying she would get someone easy to shop for - after all, she already had to get gifts for a dozen Avengers, plus her hospital colleagues, and her family. She wasn’t sure that she had enough mental capacity to figure out gifts for someone she wasn’t as familiar with.

Of course, some deity had it out for her, because she drew Loki’s name.

Loki, the prince and ‘most powerful sorcerer in the nine realms,’ who could buy or conjure pretty much anything he wanted in the snap of his fingers.

Loki, who, besides being Theo’s best friend among the Avengers, happened to be the person Theo had a massive fucking crush on.

It wasn’t like anything would ever come of the crush - Loki had a firm rule that he did not date. He had no interest in relationships whatsoever. It was a tidbit of information Theo learned early on in her tenure as an Avenger, amidst a conversation about the love lives of the Avengers as a whole. Loki would spend one night with someone, but never allow it to become an ongoing thing - in his words, “everyone has certain needs to satiate, but courting someone is no interest of mine.” 

So, despite Theo’s unbidden thoughts of channeling her inner hallmark movie to reveal her feelings to Loki, she needed to figure out how the hell to navigate getting him Secret Santa gifts, a normal gift… oh yeah, and his birthday gift, because that was a week before Christmas.

Inevitably, once they finished drawing names, Theo immediately dragged Wanda down the hall by the sleeve of her red hoodie and into Wanda’s suite, since it was closer than Theo’s.

“What’s going on?” Wanda half-laughed as she closed the door and glanced, worriedly, at Theo, who had started to pace the room. “Are you okay?”

“I need your help with Secret Santa — What the hell do you get someone who could have anything they want for Christmas?” Theo flopped on Wanda’s bed with a dramatic sigh, her mind reeling with how to handle her predicament.

“That depends –” Wanda answered slowly, eyes narrowed as she approached Theo. “Why do you think they have everything?” 

“Because he’s a prince and a God who can conjure anything he damn well pleases with the snap of his fingers!” Theo tossed her arms up in the air, gesturing exasperatingly at nothing. 

Nothing - just like the ideas she had for Loki’s gifts. 

Nothing.

“So you have Loki for your Secret Santa?” Wanda sat down beside Theo, smirking at her.

“Yes!” Theo buried her face with her hands. “I had a hard enough time figuring out a birthday present, and I still haven’t figured out what to get him for a normal Christmas gift! But now I also have to give him a Secret Santa gift?!”

“Gifts, plural.” Wanda reminded her, smirk widening into a rather evil-looking grin. “Remember, it’s a week of lead-up to the final gift, because the goal is to try and have them guess who it is.”

“FUCK.” Theo let her arms drop to her sides. “This isn’t fair—“ she whined, earning a poorly stifled laugh from Wanda. 

“Oh come on, it’s not like he’s the only one who is hard to shop for,” Wanda attempted to sympathize, but the giggles that slipped out as she replied did little to help. “Can you imagine having to buy gifts for Tony?”

“Simple, get him booze.” Theo scoffed, propping herself up on her elbows. 

Wanda rolled her eyes and adjusted her ponytail, one auburn lock falling aside to frame her face.

“Look, half the fun is writing the little cards that go with each gift to give the person clues about who the gifts are from, and then trying to figure out the identity of your Secret Santa,” Wanda pointed out. “Besides, other than Thor, I’m willing to bet that no one knows Loki as well as you do!”

“That only makes it worse,” Theo complained and flopped back a second time, rolling over to bury her face in Wanda’s burgundy comforter. “Because I know he’s a picky bitch and nothing will be good enough for him.”

The snort that came out of Wanda did nothing to ease Theo’s concern, but it sounded ridiculous enough that even Theo laughed. 

“I think that he’d like any gift you give him, simply because it’s from you.” 

“That’s cliché as hell.” Theo pressed herself up enough to look over at Wanda, who, despite Theo’s whining and dramatics, still wore a small, knowing smile.

“And true.” Wanda shrugged. “You are, without a doubt, his favorite person on the team, and probably on this planet.”

“Yeah, for all the good that does me.” Theo grumbled to herself, but sat up all the way. “It’s not like I can tell him on day one that I’m his Secret Santa, so the gifts have to be good. No, they have to be perfect.”

“You’re overthinking this.” Wanda chuckled softly, then rose to her feet and held out a hand for Theo to grab onto. “How about we go shopping and see what is out there? Maybe you’ll get some inspiration that way.”

The petulant child within Theo wanted to complain for a bit longer about her predicament, but deep down, Wanda had a good point. If nothing else, it would give her a chance to get out and clear her head before the inevitable descent into holiday madness.

“Right. That’s probably a good idea.” Theo accepted Wanda’s hand and allowed her to pull Theo onto her feet. “I need to get gifts for my family anyways, so maybe i’ll knock it all out at once.” 

“Only if I can help you pick out gifts for Katie,” Wanda winked at Theo as she opened the door. 

“Deal.” Theo didn’t have to think twice before answering. “Do you have plans for this afternoon? I’m not working, so we could go today…”

Wanda held up her purse and grinned. “Let’s go!”

—

Shopping with Wanda, unsurprisingly, proved to be a fruitful venture. 

Sure, the pair went absolutely wild with gifts for Theo’s niece. Would Max kill Theo when he saw just how much stuff Theo got? Absolutely. Did she care? Not a bit; after all, she had to maintain her reputation as the coolest aunt.

More importantly, Theo managed to put together a list of ideas for gifts that referenced inside jokes from the time that Theo and Loki had known each other. Even better - the conversation between Theo and Wanda as they shopped, though wide-ranging and lively, gave Theo the inspiration for her final gift.

In the end, the gifts required some careful planning, calling in some favors, and a lot of sneaking to make it happen - not to mention a few sleepless nights as Theo put the finishing touches on certain details - but she managed to pull everything together, just in time for the first day of gift-giving.

Pepper had really outdone herself with the holiday decorations. On a normal day, the common areas within the tower could be described as minimalist: clean lines, lots of metal and glass, neutral tones everywhere, no knick knacks or soft touches to be found. Not even a throw pillow or blanket could be found in the common areas - whenever Theo wanted a pillow or a blanket, she had to bring it from her suite.

Yet, when everyone filtered into the living room after going out for dinner, they may as well have walked into a luxury ski chalet at Tahoe. In one corner sat a massive, lush evergreen tree trimmed with glistening tinsel, soft white lights, and a collection of beautifully coordinated ornaments in burgundy, cream, gold, navy, emerald, and eggplant. 

The fireplace had a beautiful garland of eucalyptus, cypress, and cedar draped across the mantle; tucked among the greenery sat pillar candles of varying heights in burgundy, navy, emerald, eggplant, and gold. Elegant, cream-colored stockings with each Avenger’s name embroidered at the top hung in front of the crackling fire (plus stockings for Pepper and Happy, since they were pretty much unofficial Avengers). 

Blankets and accent pillows, some in plaids that incorporated the colors of the ornaments and candles, others in solid colors, all made of luxuriously plush fabrics, found homes on the various seating throughout the living room. 

Even the coffee tables had coordinating centerpieces.

Theo quickly found her usual seat, but continued to gawk at the living room’s transformation. When the hell did Pepper (or, Theo supposed, whoever Pepper hired) have the time to decorate the living room? Just that morning, when Theo left for work, the living room had been its usual, minimalist styling. Maybe if she had stopped back in her suite before meeting the others at the restaurant she would have seen the living room decoration in progress.

Hardly a moment later, Loki sat down beside her. Dressed in a forest-green crewneck sweater that perfectly framed the planes of his chest and black dress pants that highlighted his long legs, Loki somehow managed to look holiday appropriate without even trying. His raven curls, just slightly disheveled from the wind and snow outside, framed his elegant features so perfectly; combined with the warm glow of the fire and the soft light of the christmas tree he appeared downright radiant, particularly as he grinned at something Thor said. 

“Quite magnificent, is it not?” Loki leaned over and nudged Theo with his elbow, interrupting her train of thought. Theo had to stop for a moment and consider whether he was referring to the himself, or the living room.

“Yeah,” Theo agreed, her cheeks growing hot as she realized Loki caught her staring. “Compared to when I left this morning, it is a night and day difference.“

“I suspect Miss Potts takes great pleasure in decorating for the winter holidays.” Loki offered Theo a soft smile. His soft eyes caught the flicker of the candles atop the coffee table as he studied Theo, and for the second time in less than a couple minutes, she found herself speechless.

Luckily, Dum-E saved the day when he dropped a present on Theo’s lap, and in doing so brought both sorcerers’ attention to the larger group. As it turned out, Dum-E distributed everyone’s gifts - all wrapped in the same paper, to make sure that the gift wrap didn’t give anything away - and as soon as he finished, it was time to open the first day’s gift.

They started with Bruce, then worked their way through a randomly generated list that Steve put together. The soft lights of the Christmas tree, glow of the fire crackling in the hearth, and joyous laughter as each person read their clue and opened their gifts filled the room with such warmth. It was the kind of holiday scene you’d see on a postcard, especially since snowflakes drifted past the tall windows and into the city below.

As they drew closer to Loki’s turn, Theo’s hands began to sweat. What if he didn’t like her gift? Sure, it was kind of corny, but it was a fun reference to how they spent much of their time. He didn’t seem overly thrilled by the idea of Secret Santa in the first place; what if her silly little gifts only made him hate the game?

Well, she didn’t have to wait any longer to find out, because it finally reached Loki’s turn.

Loki picked up the small box, turning it over and inspecting it. He tossed it into the air and caught it in one hand, lithe fingers curling perfectly around the container. 

“It is quite light, and rather small,” he observed. “Whatever is in this box does not jostle when moved, so it either fills the box or it is carefully packed in place. Let us see what is inside.”

Loki methodically removed the ribbons, then carefully tore away the gift wrap. He removed the lid in a graceful motion and set it aside, all the while peering into the box. He hummed.

Seeing the fabric folded and coiled inside, he reached in and tugged on the cloth, pulling it from the box. The fabric unfolded as he lifted the gift into the air, revealing the first gift: a pair of crew-length socks - black, with an emerald green heel and toe. On one side of each sock, placed so it would be visible while wearing shoes, was the design of an apple car driven by a worm, as well as text which read: “I’m on my way to the bookstore!”

“Aw, those are cute!” Wanda winked at Theo as she said the words, to which Theo casually agreed. 

Loki maintained a relatively neutral expression, though he let out a rather amused hum. He set the socks in his lap, then opened the card. As his eyes scanned over the text, one side of his lips curled up, then the other, until he wore a sheepish smile. He read aloud: 

“I know you love the bookstore,

We’ve been there a time or two,

But since I can’t buy the whole store,

I got you a pair of Crew… socks!

Sorry, I know you like poetry, but your Secret Santa isn’t a poet.” Loki chuckled, shaking his head, then continued: “These socks are from Out of Print, which has donated over 5 million books to communities in need and supports a variety of literacy initiatives.” 

He looked up from the card and glanced around at the group. “Well, thank you to my mysterious Secret Santa. I quite enjoy a whimsical piece of attire, and I am certain these will be put to good use.”

Next to Loki, Theo let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. 

First day was not a failure.

Only… four more to go.

—

The second day of gift-giving arrived, and with it came another day of second-guessing whether or not Loki would like his gift.  

This time, the idea came from a conversation early in their friendship. After falling asleep in Theo’s suite, Loki joined her for coffee on her balcony, at which point Theo explained a sudoku to Loki. At the time, he commented that there were “some puzzles he was still learning to solve.”

From that morning on, Theo couldn’t help but notice the way Loki approached briefings and missions as puzzles to solve. So when Theo found a pair of rather clever puzzle books (many of which provided a formidable challenge, even for her), she knew that it would be a perfect gift.

Yet, as the day crept on and the gift exchange grew near, Theo felt the seeds of doubt taking root once again. What if he thought the puzzles were stupid? He was a god, after all, and insanely intelligent. The puzzles might have been a challenge for Theo, but they were probably child’s play for Loki. 

Still, it was too late to turn back, so by the time Theo sat down with the others and the gifts were distributed, she simply hid her sweaty palms in her sweater sleeves and acted like it was any other night in the tower.

Loki, for what it was worth, seemed perfectly relaxed when he took his usual seat beside Theo; this time, he opted for a plain gray t-shirt and a black cardigan, paired with what were (secretly) Theo’s favorite pair of dark, slim-fit jeans. When Loki crossed one ankle over his knee, Theo noticed his emerald green and black socks and her heart skipped a beat - he wore the socks she gave him.

That was a good sign, right?

Once again, Dum-E distributed the gifts, then each person took their turn opening their gift and reading the card; this time they started with Yelena, but otherwise the order was the same. After what felt like ages, Steve finally gave Loki the go-ahead to open his gift.

Like the first day, Loki went through the same routine of examining the box, then peeled away the wrapping paper. 

For the sake of maintaining a bit of mystery (and making it slightly less obvious that the gift was a pair of books), Theo put the set into a clothing box and padded the sides. It wasn’t that sneaky, since the box was heavier than it would have been with apparel inside, but at least Loki wouldn’t know until he opened the box.

He opened the box and removed the first book. 

“The Master Theorem - Book of Puzzles, Intrigue, and Wit,” he read the title, then held it up for all to see, then held up the second book and read off the title. “The Master Theorem: Elite - Book of Puzzles, Intrigue, and Wit.”

He returned the books to his lap, pausing for a moment to flip through the pages and glance at the contents. 

“You gonna open the card?” Tony nodded towards the card that came with the box, which barely poked out from beneath the pair of books.

“Ah, yes, apologies.” Loki offered a half-smile, then retrieved the card and read aloud:

“While the identity of your Secret Santa is, well, a secret, it’s no secret that you, Loki, are pretty smart - like, ridiculously smart. And you’re a quick learner… Plus you’ve got a knack for problem solving. With that in mind, you seem to be a master when it comes to puzzles; even though you once told me there are still some puzzles you are learning to solve, the way you light up when you encounter a good logic puzzle or mystery makes me think there are few things you enjoy more than a good challenge.

“This series of puzzle books is notorious for its difficult logic puzzles - the New York Times called the first Master Theorem book “Mensa’s evil twin,” and the Elite edition is supposed to be exponentially harder. But with your sharp wit and attention to detail, I’m sure you’ll have it figured out in no time… And by the time you finish, maybe you’ll figure out the identity of your Secret Santa as well!”

Loki grinned as he folded the card and set it aside. “Thank you, my mysterious benefactor - I imagine I will be entertained for quite some time.”

For the rest of the evening, whenever Theo snuck a glance at Loki, she caught him flipping through his new books with a subtle smile and a twinkle in his eye, only half-paying attention to the others as they opened their gifts.

Day two: rousing success. Only three more days to go.

—

For the third day of gift-giving, Theo took a bigger risk.

At one point in Theo and Wanda’s shopping adventure, they stopped at a bakery to grab a snack and some coffee. While they waited for their drinks, they got on the topic of how, earlier that morning, Thor offered Loki a frosted pop-tart. In response, Loki nearly disintegrated the thing on sight, calling it an abomination to pastries everywhere.

And that was from Loki, the guy who was notorious for his sweet tooth. 

The conversation gave Theo an idea.

Ever since Loki roped Theo into his pranks, Theo had wanted to find a way to turn the tables and prank him. And what better way to prank him than to bait-and switch some sweet treats?

With a call to Theo’s favorite Bodega cashier, Carlos (who still hadn’t gotten up the courage to ask out that girl, but had at least he learned her name was Liza), Theo managed to get her hands on one of the big cardboard boxes that they shipped pop-tarts in. Importantly, it said pop-tarts all along the outside, so when Loki saw the box he would initially think it was a whole case of pop-tarts.

Instead of filling it with pop-tarts, Theo convinced Mémère to bake up all sorts of traditional Aneterran holiday treats to fill the box. Given Mémère already planned to make the treats, it was easy for the family matriarch to accommodate the request. However, when Theo explained her plan, a knowing, almost devilish grin spread across Mémère’s face; the next thing Theo knew, there were treats that Theo hadn’t seen since she was a child. 

Packing the treats into the box required quite a bit of attention to detail - it had to have the weight and heft of a case of pop-tarts, and it had to be packed tightly enough to not move around, but she also didn’t want to crush the treats. 

There may have been some enchantments involved to make it work, but hopefully Loki wouldn’t notice.  

Not wanting to make the prank too convincing, Theo made sure to leave clues that the box had been altered somehow; knowing Loki, realizing the box had been tampered with would make him curious enough to look inside.

When everyone gathered for the third night of gift-giving, the laughter and merriment from the first two nights returned almost immediately. But when it came to Loki’s turn to open his gift, Theo’s confidence from the day prior collided with her nerves, to the point that she clutched her mug of spiked hot chocolate so her hands wouldn’t shake. 

Just like the first two nights, Loki inspected the wrapped gift, lifting it up and giving it a gentle shake. “Much larger, and rather heavy,” he noted. “Yet, there’s a card that indicates I ought to open it before the gift. I suppose I ought to follow my Secret Santa’s request.”

He set the gift back in his lap, and quickly opened the card. 

“Heard you have a sweet tooth…” Loki read aloud, then glanced down at the gift and hummed. “Well, let us see what is inside.”

Loki started to tear away the wrapping paper, but paused part-way through; his face twisted into something unreadable when he saw the writing on the box. 

Theo bit her lip to not give herself away.

“Pop-tarts?” Thor exclaimed, cocking his head to the side with curiosity. “Brother, I did not think you to be a fan of the Midgardian pastry.”

“I…” Loki trailed off, face falling as he unwrapped the rest of the box. “Interesting.”

Theo’s heart stuttered in her chest - what if he didn’t think to open the box? Would she give herself away if she said something? Oh god, he looked like a kicked puppy — she should have realized that he might take it wrong because Thor likes pop-tarts and he’s the popular brother, shitshitshit—

“Loki, maybe you should open the box,” Bruce suggested, “There’s a weird wrinkle by the cardboard seam that makes me think it was opened, then closed again.”

If it wouldn’t have given her away, Theo would have leapt to her feet and hugged the man for his suggestion.

“Yeah, that box looks like it has been messed with,” Sam agreed, “and I think everyone knows you hate pop-tarts.”

The kicked-puppy expression softened as Loki took a second look at the box and noticed the obvious tampering that Bruce and Sam pointed out. A hint of pink rose on Loki’s cheeks - if Theo didn’t know better, Loki looked almost embarrassed at the realization - but he went ahead and opened the box. 

Theo held her breath, all of her attention trained on Loki as she waited for his reaction. 

Peering into the box, Loki’s shoulders suddenly dropped and relief flooded his features; he reached in and retrieved a treat similar to a chocolate scone, as well as a second card.

“Pleased to report that I was mistaken; it appears the box is filled with a variety of homemade treats, as well as a second card.” He let out a soft, almost hesitant chuckle as he opened the note and read aloud: 

“HA! Nearly got you, didn’t I?!” Loki laughed a second time, this time a little louder, and nodded his head. “You’ve pulled off some of the best pranks, but your Secret Santa is known for a good prank or two. 

“Jokes aside, did you really think your Secret Santa would do that to you? Of course not - I know you have a discerning taste when it comes to sweet treats (far more discerning than your brother, of course)! These are some of my favorite holiday snacks from growing up; I think you’d like them too. If nothing else, I promise they taste better than pop-tarts.”  

Loki returned the note to the box, then unwrapped the treat in his other hand. He took a bite, and his face almost immediately lit up. He chewed for a moment, then swallowed, and cleared his throat to speak. 

“Well, mysterious Secret Santa,” he said, “I will confirm that this treat is quite divine. However, you best watch yourself– “ Looking around at their teammates, a dark, sinister grin curled over Loki’s face. “– I am known as the Trickster god for a reason, and you may very well have started a war.”

When Loki briefly locked eyes with Theo, her heart skipped a few beats; in just a few moments he went from beautiful to downright devilishly handsome, and his threat should not have been nearly as hot as it was. 

Sweet baby Jesus, she needed to get her shit together. 

“Any guesses on who it is?” Bucky asked, tapping his vibranium fingers along the side of his still-wrapped present. 

“I’ve a few contenders,” Loki smoothly answered, the earlier signs of discomfort completely gone, “but I will wait to put forth any claims.”

“Who cares! The real question is are you gonna share!?” Shuri pointed at the pastry in Loki’s hand, then held out her own hand. “That looks amazing!”

“Maybe once the Secret Santa is revealed, they can bring us all some treats.” Wanda replied, though she gave Theo a pointed glance, to which Theo glared back - after all, she didn’t want Wanda to give her away. “But for now, I think Loki should get to enjoy all of his gifts.”

Loki, who was busy searching through the rest of the box, didn’t seem to notice Wanda staring at Theo. 

Shuri glanced at Wanda, then at Theo, then grinned as she made the connection. 

“Fine, but they better bring me some extras,” Shuri relented. “That thing looks amazing.” 

Theo smiled and rolled her eyes, just in time for Steve to inform Wanda that it was her turn to open her gift.

Day three, though nearly a bust, worked out. 

Only two more to go. 

—

After the scare of the third day, Theo went into the fourth day feeling more comfortable about her gift. Sure, Loki may shrug at it, and there was a chance he wouldn’t use it. But at least she wouldn’t run the risk of upsetting him by making him believe his preferences were the same as his brother’s.

In some ways, the gift seemed particularly timely: a winter storm raged outside the tower, with howling winter winds and heavy snow that made sitting in the living room feel like they were inside a snowglobe. Even with the heat on and the fire roaring in the hearth, everyone bundled up in sweaters and plush blankets, sipping on mugs of cocoa and tea in between opening gifts. 

On the fourth night, Loki’s turn to open his gift came even earlier. Similar to the first three nights, he inspected the box - small, slender, almost like a fancy box for a fountain pen. 

After making quick work of the wrapping paper, he glanced at the lid of the box:

“Museum of Modern Art Design Store,” he read, then shrugged and removed the lid of the box.

Nestled among chic black packing material sat a stainless steel tea infuser. Its design was what drew Theo to the gift - long, slender, with a hook on the top for easy removal, it looked downright elegant. And with the amount of tea Loki drank, an upgrade to his usual steeping methods seemed like the perfect sort of gift - thoughtful and useful.

Loki hummed, carefully slipping the tea infuser out of its packaging and inspecting it. The stainless steel glowed beneath the Christmas lights and reflected the smile curling over Loki’s face. He twisted the cap off, then closed it again, nodding to himself as he set it aside and opened the card. Like the first three days, he read the message to the group:

“A tea infuser that combines form and function?! It’s almost as stylish as you are (almost)! As the resident tea expert on the team, it seemed only appropriate to give you something for making your favorite (non-alcoholic) drink - after all, you’ve brought me, your Secret Santa, more than a few drinks over the course of knowing each other!”

The hint, in Theo’s opinion, was almost painfully obvious; Loki brought Theo drinks all the time. Coffee at the hospital when he knew she had a long day. Whiskey or wine when she needed to unwind. Tea when it was late and neither of them could fall asleep. Water when Theo just used her inhaler and needed to rinse out her mouth. Throughout the entire time she had been an Avenger, Theo never saw Loki bring anyone else drinks quite so often - not Thor, not Wanda, not anyone. However, the clue made so much sense, and there was only one more day, so it wasn’t like she had to keep the secret for much longer. 

What Theo didn’t account for, however, was almost every other person in the room making the connection between the clue and the identity of Loki’s Secret Santa. Over a dozen pairs of eyes all trained in on Theo as Loki glanced down to set the card and gift aside; the heat of their stares nearly made Theo lose her composure.

When Steve asked if Loki knew who his Secret Santa was, he simply smirked and replied “I’ve my suspicions, but I find I rather enjoy the suspense and anticipation of the grand reveal.”

Somehow, she held it together, but just barely. Sure, Theo was grateful that Loki seemed to enjoy the gifts up to that point, but “suspense and anticipation of the grand reveal?” If Theo was under pressure before, now she was on the verge of being crushed under the weight of expectation, and the whole damn team knew it.

Theo shot a terrified look at Wanda, who only sent back an impish grin.

Shit.

One more day to go.

—

The final day of Secret Santa arrived, and with it, the grand reveal. Apprehension loomed over Theo’s head like a storm-cloud; after all, the pressure was on - not only to give the perfect gifts, but to set up the perfect reveal as Loki’s secret Santa.

Despite the overall success of the first four days, by the time the last exchange began, Theo was too nervous to sit down. Instead, she leaned against the kitchen island with her mug of hot chocolate and whiskey clutched in both hands, offering little more than one-word answers whenever someone tried to ask her something. The only time she even considered sitting down was when Loki asked if she would join him on the couch, but then all the potential ways she might make a fool of herself flooded her thoughts and she politely declined, claiming that she needed to stretch her legs a bit.

If Theo didn’t know better, Loki seemed disappointed that she didn’t want to sit by him, but it was probably her mind playing tricks on her; after all, Theo was the one with the crush, not Loki.

At least from across the room, Theo could easily admire Loki in his thick, fair isle sweater - seasonally appropriate, of course, but like all of his attire, it fit him perfectly and highlighted his long, lithe form in all the right ways. Between her nerves about the gift and how distractingly handsome Loki was, she barely noticed when the first two Avengers opened their gifts and found out who was assigned as their Secret Santa.

For the final night of the exchange, Loki was the third person to open his gifts.

While Loki focused on the large box in front of him, everyone else stared at Theo. If she could have, she would have melted into the floor; instead, she stood by the kitchen island with her mug of hot chocolate and whiskey in both hands, shooting dirty looks at the rest of the group so they wouldn’t give her away.

… Not like Loki hadn’t already figured out that Theo was his Secret Santa, because he likely knew. If he didn’t know, he was about to figure it out, but that was beside the point. 

Of all the gifts Theo chose, today’s were the most nerve-wracking because they were the most personal: the pre-reveal gift referenced something Loki gave her when she ended up in the hospital with an asthma exacerbation and pneumonia a few months prior. The post-reveal gift referenced the time all the Avengers visited New Asgard, and Loki took her on a late-night walking tour of the community.  

The note on the card was, well, maybe a bit too sentimental - in hindsight, maybe she should have saved the message for a later card that she could have given him in private. But by that point the card was taped to the box in Loki’s lap, and Theo couldn’t do a damn thing about it, other than brace herself for the inevitable fallout. 

At least she had the sense to write a disclaimer at the top of the note: “You might want to read this to yourself first, then decide if you want to read it out loud.”

After four days, Loki’s examination of the gift box had become a routine: turn it all around, lift it up in the air, give it a shake - and once he seemed satisfied, he peeled away the wrapping paper. 

“Well, I do not have any guesses as to what is inside this box, so I suppose I ought to open it.” Loki remarked, tugging away the last bit of wrapping paper. He conjured a dagger to cut the tape sealing the flaps at the top of the box, though he was careful not to cut deeply and risk damaging the contents inside (which was good, because that dagger would have sliced through the gift like hot butter). 

Unlike the previous days, where he immediately looked inside the container, this time he made a show of looking at the others as he reached inside. Theo watched Loki’s arm muscles tense through the wool of his sweater as he grabbed the gift, while his brows furrowed with confusion.

As he turned back toward the box, he slowly pulled out the present: a snake squishmallow, in green, of course - after all, green was his color.

“That’s cute!” Natasha commented, though Loki didn’t seem to notice. He held the plush toy in both hands, turning it side to side as he gave it a once-over. Theo swore she could spot the gears turning in Loki’s head as he tried to make the connection between the toy and his Secret Santa. 

“Yeah, but why? I don’t see the connection.” Yelena added, pointing at the card. “Open the card. I want to know what it says.”

Loki slowly set aside the snake, as if still thinking about the gift, and pulled out the note. 

Theo watched as Loki methodically scanned the note. At first, he read with heavy brows drawn tightly together; after a few moments, the light from the christmas tree reflected off his sea glass eyes, glittery and shining amidst the soft glow. A shaky, small smile grew as he made his way through the message until it practically took over his face.

“Well, what does it say?” Natasha asked, craning her neck to try and read what was written on the card.

Loki, however, ignored her. Without warning, he closed the card and rose to his feet. In a couple of long strides, he stood before Theo, who could no longer bite back her nervous smile as he drew near. 

Theo barely had a chance to set down her mug before Loki scooped her into his arms and crushed her in an embrace, the strength of which forced a small “oof!” out of Theo from the impact. She didn’t waste a moment before returning the embrace, selfishly nuzzling into his chest and drinking in the scent of cologne on his sweater - cedar, bergamot, and smoke - as they stood, arms wrapped around each other and swaying gently from side to side. 

Loki leaned down, his nose brushing gently along Theo’s hair, then drew a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear. “Truly. Thank you.”

Theo’s heart damn near exploded. 

“Elsa, I really hope that Rapunzel’s your Secret Santa,” Tony, ever the troll, interrupted, “or this is going to get awkward.”

“Yeah, Tony, it’s me.” Theo laughed, her mind reeling as Loki shifted -  if Theo’s mind didn’t deceive her, his lips brushed against the crown of her hair. Still, he hadn’t let go, and as long as Loki held on, Theo had no plans of going anywhere.

“Now I wanna know what she wrote on that damn note,” Sam complained between shoving handfuls of caramel corn in his mouth. “Because damn, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Loki react like that.”

“Can we let him open the other gift first?” Theo asked, still hugging Loki as she looked over at Sam. “After all, there is a part of the message that won’t make sense without seeing the final gift.

“Fine, but afterwards I wanna read the damn note.” Sam grumbled and leaned back in his seat while Bucky leaned over and snatched some caramel corn from him. 

Theo begrudgingly pulled away from Loki, silently lamenting the lack of warmth that came with his touch. She rounded the Christmas tree and crouched down to where she hid the final box - a thin, rectangular box that was a bit larger than a poster - and brought it over to Loki, who had returned to his original seat. Theo sat down beside him, nervous but excited to see how he reacted to the last gift.

This time, Loki didn’t spend a moment examining the package - he went straight to tearing off the wrapping paper. With paper crumpled up and tossed aside, he carefully slid the lid off the box.

Centered on a bed of white tissue paper, was a painting - a canvas covered in thousands of small dashes of paint, the result of more than a few sleepless nights as Theo raced to finish the painting on a tight deadline. During the day, Theo hid it beneath a stack of other canvases so if Loki stopped by her suite, he wouldn’t notice; the moment night fell, Theo was elbows deep in oil paint as she added layer after layer of color.

“It’s New Asgard!” Thor exclaimed as he peered over Loki’s shoulder.

“Those are the gardens…” Loki breathed, one hand hovering over the canvas as if he wanted to touch it and prove to himself that it was real. 

“The gardens that you created, and that your people and countless tourists adore.” Theo added, her cheeks slightly pink. 

Loki’s focus went to the bottom corner, where Theo scrawled her name. It was tiny and borderline illegible because of the paint, but if someone had ever seen her handwriting, they would know instantly who it was. Loki traced his fingers over the letters almost meditatively.

“You made this?” When Loki looked up at Theo, she caught the slightest shine in the corners of his eyes, though his expression was nothing but pure awe. “Was this from memory?”

“God, my memory isn’t that good - I mean, yeah I painted it, but it wasn’t from memory,” Theo rubbed the back of her next, heat rising on her cheeks as Loki continued to gape at her. “I got Val to send me some pictures for reference, and then I worked on it every night after everyone was asleep. I wasn’t sure it would be done in time, if I’m honest, because oil paint takes forever to dry, but it dried just in time. The paint is still going to need some time to fully cure, so I’d be gentle with it.”

For the second time in minutes, Loki pulled Theo into another heartfelt embrace. 

“I am… I am speechless. I’ve no words, truly.” He laughed, a rumbling sound that Theo felt as much as she heard it. “Thank you.”

“Okay now we need to know what the hell was on that card.” This time it was Shuri, who looked like she was one step away from snatching the card and reading it out loud herself.

Loki unfurled his arms from around Theo so he could set the painting on the table in front of them, then retrieved the card.

“I think you ought to read it,” Loki held the card out to Theo, his cheeks now flushed with crimson. “I imagine it will sound better in your voice, since you wrote the message.”

Theo rolled her eyes, but accepted the card. She got the sense that Loki felt a bit sentimental himself, and was probably a bit out of his comfort zone; re-reading the message aloud might be more than he thought he could handle. So, despite her heart still fluttering like a goddamn school girl, Theo tried her best to steady her breathing, then cleared her throat and began:

One of Thor’s favorite stories to tell is when you were children and turned into a snake to trick him. One of my favorite things is watching the little smile you get every time he tells the story, like you know you shouldn’t think it’s funny and it makes the story even funnier. I bet you’re making that same smile right now as you think about the story!

This clue will probably give me away, but you once gave me a gift much like this - a plush toy of an unexpected creature, because you realized that the creature shared a connection to my sister. You didn’t make a big deal out of it - telling me you “happened to pass by a shop window and it just seemed like something I would like,” but it meant the world to me; to this day, it is easily the best gift I’ve ever received. 

In many ways, that gift is such a great example of why I am so lucky to have you as a friend - you are so incredibly thoughtful and kind, and when you sense that someone is having a tough time you go above and beyond to help, all without making a big deal about it… God knows you did that for me constantly when I first got here! There are, obviously, other reasons that you’re an amazing friend (your sense of humor, intelligence, and patience in putting up with me are also high on the list). 

I know none of my Secret Santa gifts have been big or flashy so far, and your final gift isn’t exactly big or flashy either. If I’m honest, I panicked when I drew your name because, well, what do you get someone who could have any gift they wanted? But the more I thought about it, the more I came back to just how lucky I was to have the gift of your friendship (yeah, corny as fuck, sorry - you’re the silvertongue, not me!). I can’t ever give you a gift that would compare, but I can at least make sure you know just how grateful I am for you and how much of a difference you make. Without a doubt, my life is better because you’re in it, as are the lives of many others. 

So, for your final gift, I made you something that I hope will remind you of not just the impact you’ve made on me, but the impact you’ve made on countless others, every time you see it. 

Merry Christmas Loki. 

Yours,

Secret Santa. 

P.S. I hope you can forgive my sentiment. Not all of us can be as cool as you.”

By the time Theo finished reading the message aloud, her entire body felt like it was on fire from the combination of her nerves and the others’ burning stares. With trembling hands, Theo slowly closed the card and set it on her lap, eyes focused downward the entire time.

“I didn’t realize it was possible to win at Secret Santa… ” Peter finally broke the silence, beaming as he looked at the pair. “... But I think Theo just won Secret Santa.”  

“I think everyone’s going to want you as their Secret Santa next year,” Steve chuckled, nodding along. “Still, we aren’t done with this year’s Secret Santa - I believe Wanda, you’re up next?”

With that, the attention shifted away from the two sorcerers sitting side-by-side on the couch, and onto the rest of the festivities. While Wanda made a scene trying to deduce clues about her gift, Loki casually slipped his hand over to Theo, interlacing his fingers with hers. In turn, Theo leaned her head on Loki’s shoulder and settled into his side.

By that point, she was only-half watching as Wanda opened one last gift. Frankly, Theo hadn’t heard who Wanda’s Secret Santa was, but she wasn’t that interested. 

“Merry Christmas, Loki,” Theo whispered, giving Loki’s hand a squeeze.

“Merry Christmas, Theo,” he murmured, turning so his lips brushed Theo’s temple. “I think this might be the first year that I’ve understood why one might enjoy Midgardians’ holiday festivities.”

Cozily tucked into Loki’s side, amidst the golden glow of the holiday lights and the spirited laughter of friends, Theo had to agree: maybe the holidays weren’t so bad after all.

[the-bjd-community-confess]

I have one friend irl that I share doll stuff with. We’ve been friends a very long time and we often take trips to thrift stores and craft stores to buy accessories and supplies for our collections and dolls together.

I’ve been deaf in one of my ears since I was a child due to a genetic condition and I never really complained much about it I just dealt with it. I had issues with it in school because I couldn’t hear people talking to me, but doctors never really wanted to help me with it because the deafness has been gradual because of the condition I have. I’m in my mid 20’s now so I can’t hear anything in that ear anymore besides ringing and it’s been difficult as of late and this doll friend has always been kind of insensitive about it.

He often stands on the wrong side of me or faces away from me when talking (I usually read lips) and I’ve told him a thousand times that I’m hard of hearing and lately because of the pandemic and people wearing masks I’ve had to say “I’m sorry, can you speak up? I’m hard of hearing.” Over and over in public, so I got tired of it and finally went out of my way to get a hearing assistive device. I figured I could justify it because I’m like 90-95% deaf in that ear now. It’s pricey (even though I got a very generic and simplistic one) so I had to skip out on some doll stuff I wanted last month.

Anyway I’ve been wearing it now when I go out and I’m still getting used to it. I have to adjust a lot especially in small rooms or cars because I get a lot of feedback if people talk too loud, but I’m kind of excited about it. I really like that I can hear again but it also makes me happy as a disabled person (I have a few invisible disabilities) to have something to show people to “prove” I’m disabled because I feel like people just don’t believe that I’m deaf in one ear because I didn’t talk about it a lot growing up, so I’ve been pretty happy about it. I don’t talk it to death though and I’m not constantly fussing with it if I don’t have to adjust it and I don’t go around announcing that I’m deaf or that I have a hearing aid to people if I haven’t already asked them to speak up.

So the other day, my doll friend and I decided to go shopping at a thrift store and then a craft store and then to get lunch because I have a new doll on its way and he’s been wanted to get some craft stuff and also look at playline stuff at the local thrift shop and like I said, I’ve still been testing the hearing aid because I only got it a week or two ago. He doesn’t like the feedback so I make sure to adjust it before I we go out and only adjust it if we’re not really close together in case it feeds back.  I talked about it a bit at the beginning of the trip because I had an issue with it that day where someone yelled so loud it had like screeched at me and I thought it was funny and then in the thrift store the cashier was wearing a mask and I struggled to hear my total even with the hearing aid on so I told her that I’m hard of hearing and we laughed about it and I told her I’m still learning my hearing aid and it was a nice moment, but my friend didn’t seem to think it was funny.

The trip was mostly fine but it came up again when someone in the craft store asked about it and then I made a joke about it when my friend and I were laughing at lunch about how hard it is to hear people with masks on, but when I made the joke he got kind of rude. He did the sort of “yeah, yeah, I get it you wear a hearing aid” with the implied (you don’t have to keep talking about it). Sometimes I talk too much (usually about dolls tho) and I get t that, so I would’ve just taken that as it was, but he’s been insensitive about my deafness in the past so it really hurt my feelings.

Now I don’t know how to feel because it’s kind of soured spending time with him because I feel like if I can’t hear then I can’t ask for anyone to speak up or he’ll get frustrated with me. Also I have a doll that was originally just supposed to be mute, but now I’m thinking about making her partially deaf or making a new deaf character doll, but I feel like I can’t share that with him because clearly it annoys him.

He can be kind of shitty sometimes, but most of the time he’s a cool guy and we’ve known each other a very long time, but this really hurt my feelings and idk how to feel about this whole thing now.

~Anonymous

[paulbunyanstatue]

“You are being ridiculous. Just give it up.”

“I will not,” Damian growled fiercely, glowering up at Jason with a look that could rival that of a madman. He was still clad in his Robin suit save only the cape, which he detached and dropped to the cave entrance as soon as he stepped out of the Batmobile. Despite a disappointed tisk from Bruce, the black cape remained in a crumpled heap by the passenger door, where it would stay for the few remaining hours of the night. Patrol with his father was boring that particular evening, giving Damian ample energy to waste arguing with Jason now in the cave.

“You are not stronger than me.” It was obvious Jason was trying not to laugh at the absurdity, which only infuriated Damian further.

“I am.” Damian snarled. “My training greatly surpasses yours. No offense, Father,” he added softly and Bruce rolled his eyes from his chair at the computer to the side. He still wore his suit, but his cowl was pushed back to reveal tired eyes scanning the files on the screen before him. “I was trained by my mother, my grandfather, and now my father, in case you have managed to forget. Therefore, I am far superior than you in every aspect. Including physical strength.”

“Funny you should mention your mom, kid-"

“Jason!” Bruce snapped and turned in his chair to glare warning daggers at his second child.

“I was just going to say, I was also trained by his mother,” Jason hissed back, but he couldn’t hide his obvious amusement. “And you, for that matter.”

“Your time with the League was more considered babysitting, Todd, since your brain was equivalent to a scrambled egg.”

“Damian,” Bruce sighed, rubbing at his temples with his pointed fingers and turning back to the computer screen.

“You’re insane,” Jason chuckled passively, and he thought Damian was going to screech like a pterodactyl at the dismissal.

Tim entered the cave from the main staircase digging the palm of his hand into his eyelid and chewing loudly on the tip of an empty plastic Go-Gurt tube. Bruce looked him up and down, taking in his pajama shirt and boxers with a frown. His hair stuck up in several directions, like his head had met a pillow for a short time before he got up again.

“What are you doing down here, ziskayt? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Bruce asked, voice low with a specific kindness he reserved just for his family.

Tim should have been in bed. He and Bruce made an agreement that Tim would stay in bed tonight and sleep before they worked intently together on a fast-approaching case the following day and evening.

Tim perked up with sudden intensity and approached Bruce with fast footfalls while ripping the yogurt tube from his teeth. His cheeks were only slightly pinkened at the endearment Bruce called him, as it was one his grandmother used when he was very young. “Well, hang on a sec, B. I actually had to come down here and inform you of a break through I found in our case. Check this...” he unfolded the stapled packet of papers previously tucked securely under one arm, and he smoothed it out over the table in front of Bruce. The man listened silently while Tim quickly explained his findings, leaning over the table and occasionally pushing the bangs back from his heavy eyes. Tim’s hair was longer now than it had been when he first became Robin at thirteen, to the point that he sometimes pulled it up into a runt of a ponytail just to keep it from cutting irritatingly into his eyes.

“Very impressive,” Bruce murmured after the presentation, picking up the packet for himself and flipping through the discoveries. Tim beamed and hopped up onto the computer desk, sitting down next to the monitor and facing Bruce. He returned the plastic to his mouth and chewed aimlessly, watching Bruce for his next instructions and kicking his legs lightly. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Jason speak next.

“I bet you can’t even lift Tim,” Jason planted his hands on his hips and smirked, knowing exactly how this challenge was going to end.

Tim wrinkled his nose and furrowed his eyebrows. From his perch on Bruce’s desk, he quickly intervened before this developed further.  “No, no. Absolutely not. I am not getting involved in-“

“Too easy. Drake maintains atrocious self-care habits,” Damian interrupted with an eye roll directed toward Jason, acting as though he didn’t hear Tim at all.

Tim frowned at the blatant insult to his person, and lifted his arms up with irritation. “Hey, wait a sec-"

“He’s far thinner than he should be. That’s way too easy. Pick something harder,” Damian demanded, pointing an aggressive finger at Jason and nearly growling.

Tim scoffed and muttered, chewing furiously on the plastic, “Bruce, your kid is out of control. You should consider muzzling the mashuganas whelp.”

“Timothy Jackson-“ Bruce reprimanded and reached up to yank the Go-gurt tube from Tim’s mouth. The plastic ripped from his lips with a pop and left behind a surprised O-shaped mouth in its wake. Bruce crumbled the garbage and tossed it into the trash can tucked beneath the desk.

“He started it, didn’t you hear what he said about me?” Tim asked in bewilderment, still spinning after receiving the dreaded middle name.

“I did hear him. And shouldn’t you be in bed now?” Bruce repeated his earlier question with an eyebrow ticked in curiosity.

Tim wrinkled his nose. “I will. But I was hungry and also I had to tell you about this case first, and-" Bruce leveled a warning look at him and Tim rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “Point stands, he is being a mashuganas whelp.”

“Drake, you should learn to keep your opinions to yourself and save us all the wasted time of listening to you speak,” Damian snapped in defense, fists clutches firmly at his sides.

Tim laughed loud and harsh at that, a sound that felt grating in Bruce’s ears with the onset of a headache. “I should keep my opinions to myself? Have you even heard-“

“Boys, that’s enough,” Bruce demanded, voice low and holding up a hand to cease all arguing. The only sounds resonating in the dimly lit cave were the quiet snickers of Jason, muffled by his own hand pressed firmly to his mouth. “I am going upstairs now.” He faced Damian with a serious eyebrow raised and stated factually. “You have school in the morning. And you,” he faced Tim, who was silently chewing on the inside of his cheek in the absence of his Go-gurt tube, “will be staying home from school tomorrow because you obviously have several hours of sleep to catch up on yourself." When Bruce found out that Tim had dropped out of school during his unfortunate leave of absence, it took him nearly an entire month of near-begging and vague threatening to get Tim to go back. Once Alfred got involved and asked Tim in the kindest, softest voice if he would please consider finishing high school, Tim was unable to refuse. "I expect to hear both of you upstairs and walking into your rooms within the next fifteen minutes.” He stood up from his chair and walked toward the cave entrance with long strides. “You do not want me to come back down here and collect you, trust me.” And without another word or a look back at the stunned faces left in his wake, he strode into the locker room to change, and then reappeared just to walk up the stairs.

But Jason wasn’t quite finished yet. “I can pick up Tim, Damian. Prove to me that you can and I’ll admit that your training was ‘far superior.’” He crossed his arms with a smirk, and Damian could no longer deny the thrilling desire to annihilate his brother in this argument.

“And that I am stronger than you,” Damian demanded and Jason agreed. “Fine then!” He threw his arms up and spun toward Tim, who scowled deeply and shook his head in response. “Oh come on, Drake. This will only take a minute. Might as well make your time down in the cave useful, for once.”

Tim scoffed and slid off the counter. He flipped his middle finger up in an insult directed toward Damian and stalked off toward the cave exit, following Bruce’s path to the main part of the house. Before he reached the stairs, Jason appeared next to him, grinning hugely like a villainous cartoon cat and wrapping a halting hand around Tim’s wrist.

“No, Jay. Stop it!” Tim hissed and tried to pull away, but Jason ducked down and scooped him up, holding him tightly in a bridal hold. “He can’t carry me, this is a waste of time.”

“Lies!” Damian protested.

Jason ignored Tim and approached the youngest. “You have to hold him for thirty whole seconds. Count starts as soon as I let go. Ready?”

Damian straightened and raised his chin, nodding with confirmation and reaching his arms out in preparation.

“Jason.” The last-second plea fell on deaf ears as Jason bent forward and delivered him into Damian’s arms. The transfer was shaky and Tim grasped at the collar of Damian’s robin suit, wishing to drag the brat down to the floor with him when he would inevitably end up there.

Jason stepped back and waited, smirking.

Tim realized with an eye roll just how annoyingly close to the ground he was in the arms of the child, but his grip didn’t loosen based on principle. Damian was huffing quietly, redness tinted his cheeks.

“See, Todd?” He hissed through teeth clenched tight with effort. “Easy.”

“Sure, bud,” Jason snickered. “You make this look so easy. Twenty seconds left.”

“This is a bad idea,” Tim muttered as he felt Damian’s legs shake beneath his carrier.

“Fifteen,” Jason announced, watching with raised eyebrows that Damian misread as surprise, when instead he was waiting for the expected result. “Ten.”

Tim grimaced, bracing himself for a hard landing. At Jason’s announcement of five seconds, and right on his expected schedule, Damian’s legs buckled and he fell forward, dropping Tim to the ground and landing with his sharp knees digging ruthlessly into his brother’s side.

Tim huffed and slapped his palms to the cold ground beneath him. “Shocker,” he murmured sarcastically and stood up, pushing Damian off of him in the process.

“That landing was pathetic, Drake. No wonder Grayson chose me,” the kid growled, wiping at the suit covering his knees.

Tim’s mouth fell open in response, a hurt crease created between his furrowed brows. But before he could respond, Jason reached out and lightly smacked the back of Damian’s head, sending him a furious warning look.

“The brat is only joking, Tim,” Jason confirmed quickly. “He’s just lashing out because he’s angry that he is the weakest person in the room.”

“The room? Absolutely not, I demand a do-over! I know I’m stronger than Drake.”

Half an hour after Bruce’s departure from the cave, he groaned dramatically under his covers. He never heard his children walk past his door and retreat to their own bedrooms. So now, due to his thin-veiled threat, he had to go get them. He threw the covers aside and heaved himself from the mattress with a grumble. Upon walking down the cold steps to the cave, he heard loud shouts that he was unable to decipher. His feet quickened on the tile until he reached the bottom, where he froze and watched with an irritated, and slightly amused, frown.

“Damian, lift more!” Tim shouted, his arms tucked under Jason’s armpits, and straining to lift his top half to Tim’s bellybutton. Damian held Jason’s calves on his shoulders and was groaning near-constant.

“Focus on your own side!” Damian cried out, more desperate than Bruce has heard from him. Damian pushed his palms up against Jason’s calves but they hardly lifted.

“Ha!” Jason crooned, sounding comically relaxed compared to his struggling brothers. “Told ya you two couldn’t lift me above your heads. My weak, baby brothers.”

Damian growled at the taunt and Tim laughed, his shaking arms dropping Jason’s top half an inch closer toward the ground before he recovered again.

“Boys!” Bruce snapped and looked at their frozen forms with narrowed eyes. “I told you to go to bed. Come up here right now before I carry all three of you up.”

They gracelessly released Jason to the floor, who landed with an “oof” that brought a chuckle to Damian’s throat and a twitch to the corner of Bruce’s mouth.

Tim and Damian fell in line to follow Bruce up the stairs when Damian asked, “Father, can you really carry all three of us at once?”

He did.

:) From my fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32502511/chapters/80612944#workskin

[passable-talent]

Is this even necessary? Yes please part 6!!!

and so we return, one whole month later

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

After Azula’s attack, and the forced flee from the Western Air Temple, you spent a few days being pissed at Zuko. Like, really pissed. You didn’t speak to him at all. This was something that concerned and confused the prince, because it had seemed like the two of you were making real progress only a few nights before.

What had happened?

He didn’t try to fix it before he left with Katara. Partially, he thought, to give you space, and because he assumed that your issue would be easier to fix than Katara’s. So for a day or so you simmered, just like you had back at the Western Air Temple, rage as always masking your hurt.

When he returned, and things with Katara settled down, he found you perched among the jagged stones that lined the pathway up to his family’s old vacation home. You were still hidden here, but felt even excluded from the team, which let you think, and sulk.

“Y/N,” he said, announcing his presence as he climbed up the rock. You had your back to him, and your shoulders tensed up. You didn’t face him.

“What do you want,” you asked, giving him a shoulder so cold he’d lose his firebending.

“I want to know why you’re angry with me,” he said, and you looked up at the sky, frustrated, as though he should clearly know without you needing to tell him.

“That so?” You spat, and as you weren’t wearing shoes, you sensed as he walked closer to you, arms at his sides. It seemed he was attempting to be non-threatening.

“Yes. I realized I’ve done a lot of explaining, and not much listening. Whatever is keeping you so angry at me, I’ll listen.” You fixed your gaze to the stone in front of you, glaring, before you shut your eyes tightly. Your fists tightened up, and you brought your arms to your chest, and it was like your body was contracting to prepare for an explosion.

It was.

“You want to know why I’m angry with you?” You shouted, turning around while throwing your hands down to your sides, “it’s because you’re so stupid!” Your gaze avoided his, but not purposefully, instead because your anger manifested in rapid movements while you spoke. “You get ambushed by your psychopathic sister, who has been known to manipulate you, and you- you go after her anyway?” You held up your hand, four fingers shown to him, just in case he’d forgotten how to count.

“She had four airships. And you had nothing. No backup. You didn’t let Aang or I follow you, and you charge off into battle.” You leaned forward, a snarl on your lips.

“I watched you fall. I thought you died!” With the final exclamation of your anger, you stepped forward and shoved him backwards, but with a twist of your planted front foot you moved out of the way some of the jagged rocks he might’ve stumbled or fallen onto. Anger finally released, your expression turned to one of pain, of fear, of sadness.

“You told me you’d make it up to me. You can’t do that if you’re dead.” You turned to the side, now avoiding his gaze as he collected himself from the ground, and felt tears begin to fall.

“For so long I mourned Lee, right? Thought that the guy I loved was gone, because who you are isn’t who he was. And I finally figure out that that’s not true, that you are almost as good as I thought you were, and then I think you’ve died...” you trailed off, wiping the wetness of your face with a roll of your shoulder.

“I’ve already mourned Lee, I cant mourn Zuko, too, okay? I don’t want you to die, especially not by something stupid, like charging into a battle you couldn’t win.” You turned your eyes back to him, and found him staring at you, an expression you’d never quite seen on his face. It wasn’t a clear expression that you could pin, other than that he looked so... young. Surprised, almost.

“What?” You asked, voice still a bit jumpy from being choked up.

“You said you loved me.” It took a mental backtrack through your words to realize that you had, indeed.

“Zuko...” you breathed, and you turned toward the horizon, where the sun had long ago dunked into the ocean but still it reddened the sky. You brought your hands to the other’s bicep, as though it could help you protect your heart, and you forced some of your own hesitation away as you breathed out.

“Zuko, I loved you,” you admitted, finally, and that rush of it almost made tears re-emerge. “I did. You were sweet and funny and we got on so well.” You heard him step toward you, and you looked away from where he was near to being. “But the reality I thought I was living in... the floor fell out from under me. The Dai Li were secretive, and they weren’t what I thought they were. Iroh wasn’t just a kind old man, but was a fire nation general. The new leader of the Dai Li wasn’t a brilliant young soldier, but was a fire nation princess. A manipulative and snakish warrior who wanted to topple the earth kingdom. There was a war going on I’d never even heard of!” After the volume of your statement drained away, you hung your head, closing your eyes before your gaze could find the ground.

“And I wouldn’t have minded finding out you were the prince of the fire nation. Some part of me says I should’ve figured it out myself. What hurt me was that... you had so much more anger than I thought you did. Sure, you could be moody, but when we found you in those catacombs, the way you looked at Aang...” You let out a breath, and opened your eyes to look out over the ocean.

“I didn’t know you could be so... malicious. It was something I’d never seen from you before.” You turned your gaze to him, and let your mind wander to the moment when you stood between him and Katara, when Aang was dying. You remembered that predatory look in his eye.

“Did you even see me, that day? Or could you only think about getting to Aang?”

He didn’t answer, and you spared him from needing to. You didn’t think you wanted to know his answer.

“I think that I’ve blamed you for everything that went wrong that day. Aang’s death, your betrayal, the Dai Li’s betrayal. And I guess that isn’t fair. But I can’t seem to let it go.” You felt tears well up again, and Zuko slowly slipped his hand into yours.

“I want to forgive you,” you said, squeezing your palm around his fingers, “I want to let go of all this anger, and grief, a-and confusion, but I look at you and I... I see this boy who made the wrong choice. And that’s so frustrating, because you’ve made the right choice, again and again, you’ve defended us and helped us and fought alongside us. It’s not fair of me to focus on your mistakes when you’ve been making up for them.” You took a deep breath, and with its shaky exhale, let go of some of the sadness still clawing at you.

“I just want to let it go, so I can love you again.” There was an instant’s pause, when the prince took in your words, an instant’s pause in which the waves crashed on the shoreline and a bird cawed overhead. An instant’s pause, and then Zuko tugged you by the hand into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You hugged him back, tightly, almost squishing his torso into yours while a final few trembling breaths fought their way out of your lungs.

“I’m sorry,” he said to your shoulder, and you could hear emotion in his voice. “You deserve so much better than me. I’m so sorry. I- Y/N, I loved you then, too. If it weren’t for you, I might not have had the courage to leave the fire nation. You helped me change, and you didn’t even know it. Please, please don’t be mad at yourself.”

“I’m glad I met you,” you whispered, when a few moments had gone by.

“Me too,” he said back, laying his face down and into the crook of your neck.

You could’ve stood there and hugged him forever. You could’ve stayed in his arms, where you knew it was safe to be conflicted. He understood, and didn’t ask you to change, or make a decision. Maybe Zuko was better than Lee after all- he was flawed, but he chose to overcome those flaws and be a better person in spite of them.

It made him stronger. And, you thought, it would make you stronger.

Your heart had been broken. You’d been lied to, and cast aside. But you found it in yourself to forgive him, and to be honest with him, and to keep him close to you.

“Zuko?”

“Hmm?” You pulled from his chest, your eyes dry of their tears but heart still raw and open. You were ready to forgive him, and to move forward.

But there was one more thing.

“I need you to tell me what happened to Iroh.”

request for pt 7

edit: pt 7 requested!!

edit: | part 7 | part 8 |

-🦌 Roe

tag list- @furblrwurblr @eridanuswave @bernadineisreborn @angxlicwanda @lmaoashley-blog @celamoon @mywigglybaby @silentwhispofhope @the-girl-in-the-box @mavix @eury-dice3 @ninipoo1 @bigbuckyenergy @lucensei @srgania @uncovered-mad-man @11mb0 @pillowjj @ilovespideyyy @heavensgaymenace @thearachna-kid @llama2264 @anime-simp @akariblue @lostgirlheart @kacchasu @jainaixo @ctrl-alt-jeon @tadpoledancer @i-bitch-you-bitch @wetleafwrites @vintageroses1014516 @kittyddandnyla @smol-vy @lana-isabelle @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak

[intergalactic-padawan]

Season 2 Ezra with a S/O who is super forgetful? (I’m an Ezra simp so get ready for many asks)

Relics - Ezra Bridger x reader

Requested: yes!

Warnings: preprare for some strong feels if you catch the reference! It came to me in a dream and now you all have to deal with it. You're welcome.

A/N: It's no problem at all, please, fill my asks with as many ideas you want! Sorry this took so long as well, i wanted it to turn out really good but my teachers had other ideas. Hope you like it?

Pronouns of reader: she/her

*ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! I make mistakes just like everybody else 😉*

-"And you did all of that just for one meiloorun?" - You look back at Ezra, guiding him through the packed streets of the open market in a strange planet Hera had landed to refuel, and he gave you a smile. Your question was very serious, though: there was no way that was really the origin story of the 'Commander meiloorun' inside joke he and Zeb shared.

-"Funny enough, that's exactly what that trooper asked" - you snort at his reply and stop at the front of a busy stand of off-world fruits, grocery list in hand and bag of credits at your side.

-"welp, hopefully this time we can find some that are actually avaliable for buying"

Their selection was truly impressive. Not just the stand, but the market as a whole: jewelry, souvenirs, toys, books and foods all found themselves mixed and admired by people who had to yell louder than their neighbour to sell something today.

Ezra continued with his story, examining the apples as you'd instructed him, but you only paid half-attention this time: something had caught your eye, and you couldn't believe how lucky you were that no one had found it sooner.

A genuine DC-17 hand blaster was sitting beautifully two stalls to the right of you. For the looks of it, it was genuine, at least. The sign also advertised it as such, so it was truly a wonder no one with the minimum of firearms knowledge had grabbed it before.

Ezra said something that vaguely sounded like a question beside you, and you nodded, absent-minded. He then handed his shopping bag to you - probably to be able to bend over the table and get a few kiwis from the back - but you didn't turn to him.

-"I'm going over there, take a look at something real quick" - you announced, but didn't wait for an answer before navigating the sea of people to meet the woman selling the blaster.

Firearms weren't reallly the only thing she was selling, you noticed. There were holo-shields, vibro-blades, shoulder paudrons, darts and- was that a kama?

-"It's a nice arsenal you've got here" - you strap Ezra's bag to your shoulder and carefully take the folded fabric to analyze its flexible leather. It was lacking a utility belt to secure it, but seemed to be in very good conditions for something that old; you notice how the style didn't match with any of the ones you'd seen mandalorians wear, much less one of the native fighters from Rotas V. Which means it must have been worn by a clone trooper of the old republic back in the Clone War.

-"It's a keen eye you've got" - the lady retorts, setting down her datapad -"but that's not a skirt, you know that, right?"

She looks amused, almost like she's testing to see if you know the real value of the things offered here. You've got to hand it to her, everything seemed legit; wich only makes you question even more how did she get those things in the first place. She stares at you for a few seconds and briefly reaches for something from below the small counter, placing it on top of a pile of restraining bolts.

It's a dark grey and blue kama, the same size as the one you're holding, though it seems like it has seen better days. The pattern's more detailed in this one: diagonal lines that meet in the middle, forming an arrow-like shape framed by a black seam. The colour reminded you of a worn-out shade of blue similar to the one Captain Rex uses to paint the last pieces of his armour - and you wonder if it's just a sad coincidence or probably the last remainings of a fellow soldier from the 501st.

-"Straight from Coruscant, my great-uncle got a hold of it few days before the Empire became... well, the Empire" - her tone was something you'd been told to avoid using in public when speaking of the Empire. Perhaps it was that courage that had gotten your full attention in the end. Was she with the rebellion in some way as well?

-"Hasn't been worn ever since it was stripped from a dead clone's body" - she continues, checking you up and down - "and maybe it's a bit more your style".

-"Looks decent enough" - you comment and she nods her head in aknowldedgement - "but it does raise the question: how and why are you selling these things... here?"

-"Well, for starters, it's harder to get caught out here. Some of these aren’t exactly... legitimate purchases, as one would say.” - you raise an eyebrow and she chuckles - “this is a legitimate business, I swear. It’s just that my family’s been having difficulties and we're having to sell some relics.”

You can see she's telling the truth as she takes back the kama you'd first grabbed to the side, folding it again. You reach for a different credit pouch out of your pocket: your personal credits.

-"I see. Well, I do need a new blaster, and this one looks like the best i've ever seen in months. Despite the clogged barrel, of course."

-"shall we start negociating a price, then?" - she takes the datapad back and types a few numbers. Before you can say anything, however, you turn back to see Ezra rushing towards you looking desperate.

-"Oh, thank the Force, there you are!" - he brushes the long hair out of his forehead, not sparing a glance to the lady behind the counter -"you just walked off! I didn't know where you were!

Faced with a confused expression from the both of you, he scowls

-"I was at the bathroom! You didn't hear me telling you to wait for me?"

You look at him, suddenly tuning back to reality. All of those relics seemed to have filled you with a melancholic sadness you didn't know, but you managed to snap out of it the moment Ezra came back.

-"Can't believe you forgot me just because of this old junk" - he grumbles, a bit offended. You take his hand into your own.

-"I didn't forget you, Ezra, I swear. I was just distracted for a moment, that's all" - you reassure him, placing some credits on the tray where the lady collected them.

-“I'll be taking this, please” - you take the purse back off of your shoulders and hand it back to Ezra - “you can start taking this back to the ship. I think the list is over, I'll just be taking this and go."

-"wait, Hera didn't tell you to buy this, did she?"

-"It's a personal purchase, with my personal credits. I think I'm allowed that much, right?" - you give him the money bag again, and he shoves in his jacket.

-"Well, can you at least get me something as compensation for forgetting all about me back there?" - you scoff and let go of his hand to slap him on the shoulder

-"Just go along Bridger. I'll be there in a minute"

You turn back to the vendor, who's placing the pistol in a bag with the holster that came along in a slightly larger bag ithan necessary. You also notice the shape of the folded kama peaking though it.

-"Wait, wait! I didn't buy that, I don't have enough credits for that!"

-"Just... consider it a gift" - she smiles and winks - "this specific piece here doesn't really fit anyone's style, anyway. It's better off with you, trust me."

Before you can mutter any type of 'thanks', Ezra calls for you again, making sure you didn't forget your own head back there. You run off to him without looking back, ready to smack him Zeb-style before taking his hand again, reminding him gently he'd never have to worry about being abandoned by you.

[taeyungie]

miss emily, your package is here! 🚚

🗓️ July

Interviews

07/01: SiriusXM - Butter and Dynamite

07/03: Smash. Music blood x bts (undisclosed talk - part 1)

07/03: Smash. Music blood x bts (undisclosed talk - part 2)

07/08: Amazon music

07/14: Zach Sang

07/17: Most Requested Live

07/19: 102.7KIISFM

07/23: Spout Podcast

07/26: Weverse - JK

07/27: Weverse - J-hope

07/28: Weverse - Jin

07/29: Weverse - V

07/30: Weverse - RM

07/31: Weverse - Suga

08/01: Weverse - Jimin

07/28: BBC radio 1

BangtanTV

07/01: Autograph time (BTS the best)

07/08: Army Playlist

07/12: Butter Jacket Shooting Sketch

07/15: Army Membership Renewal Message

07/16: Permission to Dance balance game

07/18: Permission to Dance mv shooting sketch

07/21: Suga LOG - he showed up after they got permission to dance #1 on billboard chart ❤️

07/25: P. to. D Project - a very funny video of bangtan trying to dance PTD along with their own suggestions

07/31: Butter epilogue film (in my opinion, the most lovely, special and emotional video from the whole month of july ☹️💗)

Performances

07/02: SiriusXM - Butter

07/02: SiriusXM - Dynamite

07/03: The Music Day - Butter

07/14: FNS Music Festival - Butter

07/27: Live Lounge - Permission to Dance

07/27: Live Lounge - Dynamite

07/27: Live Lounge - I'll be missing you (cover)

Adverts

07/02: COWAY x BTS (making film)

07/08: FILA 110th anniversary

07/11: 110 years FILA (black and white video)

07/19: Smile to Smile

07/30: Samsung - get ready to unfold

*

07/05: BTS with Lee Hyun (part 2)

07/06: Army calendar (ep 1 - all member)

07/09: Butter message card - J-hope, Jimin, Suga, JK, Tae, Jin, RM

07/09: Butter album "thanks to" ☹️❤️

07/09: Army membership - Our story chapter 3, last chapter (more like a behind of scenes of the fairytale photoshoot they did a while ago)

07/13: BTS land (ep 1 - Jin, Jimin and RM)

07/16: Jin listening to Lee Hyun's song before its release

07/20: Snack time - RM

🗓️ August

*Bubble gum talk: voice hint (this is so cute ☹️☹️)

*08/10: Army calendar (ep 2 - all member)

*08/13: Memories of 2020 - you can watch it here (you should make an account first)

ATOZ V (on twitter) is scanning the pictures!!

*08/09: mini fanmeeting through zoom call - a brief explanation

about two or three weeks ago, there was an announcement on weverse about this mini fanmeeting. Armys with membership, passports and ID in korean kakaotalk would be able to meet BTS through a zoom call. 200 armys were randomly picked and they had to wear pijamas (just like the boys did). It started around 7/8 am KST and it was divided in 4 sessions of 30 min each. i'm sorry i can't tell you where to watch, i've seen many many clips from many different accounts, but videos and photos will be uploaded soon by weverse! ☺️

BangtanTV

08/07: 2020 MAMA

Adverts

08/09: Samsung - just bts humming in a ethereal way (it hits me everytime i hear it) ☹️💜

08/11: Samsung - Butter

08/11: Samsung - Over the Horizon by Suga ❤️

08/11: Samsung - Suga explaining how he created his version of Over the Horizon

08/11: BTS meets LDF photoshoot (part 1)

08/11: BTS meets LDF phoshoot (part 2)

08/12: Previous of FILA fall collection

08/12: Samsung - photozone in ZEPETO (part 1)

08/12: Samsung - photozone in ZEPETO (part 2)

Yet to come

08/17: they'll be on tokopedia again ☺️

08/17: BTS land ep 2 (taekook)

i skipped their lives, selcas, bangtan bombs, jimmy fallon performances and WIRED interview, 'cause they are very easy to find and i think you saw all of them already 💜

i also skipped the choreography video of permission to dance and the louis vuitton show and its behind the scenes, since you have gifs from them

i didn't mention their "Permission to Dance anywhere" video, 'cause i saw you talking about it the day it came out. the same goes to their SBS interview

in case you haven't seen their "Butterful Getaway" performances yet (which happened after the release of permission to dance mv), they were all uploaded on BangtanTV. their full talk isn't there tho, but you can see it here

there are also their weverse interactions, short youtube videos and smash content

* is for the contents i didn't know where to fit in

that's a lot... i hope it really helps you ❤️ it was actually funny to do this (??🤓) maybe i should be a personal assistant in the future? i'm almost completely sure that i wrote everything from the past two months, but i can't garantee you, since bangtan are truly workaholics 😩 anyway... i know how hard it is to feel lost and late in midst of all their contents, so i just did what i felt was right. i had the time to do, so why not? 💗💗💗

okay once again thank you so so incredibly much for this PLS EVEYONE LOOK HOW LONG THIS ASK IS 😭😭😭😭 YOU DID ALL OF THAT AND YOU EVEN INCLUDED LINKS AND YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO THAT?????? YOU'RE AN ANGEL FROM HEAVENS I SWEAR 😭😭😭😭 i didn't find like half of all these and i'm so excited to watch everything now 😭😭😭 THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR TAKING YOUR TIME TO DO THIS FOR ME YOU'RE INCREDIBLE ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble

A/N: A Draco fic no-one asked for! I’m rereading A Discovery of Witches so it’s got me inspired. I don’t plan to post anything over the weekend, I want a couple of days off before I post every day next week. This wasn't requested but I was inspired, so I hope you enjoy!

Title: Macbeth, Act 4: Scene 1

Summary: Draco needs a new stockist.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF - SO MUCH FLUFF.

Word count: 2.2k

Of all the avenues of employment open to Draco Malfoy after his graduation from Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, he surprised everyone by staying on at the school to apprentice under Professor Slughorn.

Horace Slughorn had retired once before and was eager to do so again; already fantasising about his golden years in the countryside. Draco Malfoy was his first and only choice for successor to his post – his grades in class rivalling those of Hermione Granger.

Draco’s training took two years where in that time he became able to rattle off ever potion ingredient and method just from hearing the very name of the potion.

Three years into his career and his first year teaching without Slughorn at his side, Draco’s stockist retires – also desiring a life in the country.

It leaves him in a lurch. 

He spends an entire month of his summer holiday researching potion shops before discovering one off the beaten track in Diagon Alley – closer to muggle London than the rest of the shops. So much so that the shop wasn’t protected by the enchantments surrounding Diagon Alley and as a result, the shop seemed to have a steady stream of muggle customers.

Draco enters Cauldron Bubble and is immediately taken back by the sheer amount of stock. Potion ingredients, materials for poppets, prayer candles are just a few of the items that catch his attention. The intoxicating scent of myrrh and sweet orange washes over him. A heady smell that soon opens up to more delicate notes such as vanilla and tansy.

Draco doesn’t immediately seek out the items on his list, but instead walks slowly around the shop, committing it all to memory. There are shelves of books dedicated to the craft of potion brewing but also in the art of divination; particularly tarot readings and palmistry. The entire back wall of the shop is dedicated to what could be hundreds of small draws; each filled with their named herb or plant.

He wanders through the store, feeling entirely at ease with the idea of spending the rest of his day here, discovering the shop’s deepest secrets.

A voice greets him as he finishes his circuit of the small shop, “How can I help you today?”

Draco smiles in greeting, “I’m hoping you have these ingredients,” he says, handing you his long list.

You read over the list, “I do. I have all of these – would you like to take them now or would you like them delivered…” you trail off, looking at him for his name.

“Draco Malfoy. I’m the Potions Professor at Hogwarts.”

“Draco,” You confirm, “I can get these for you now unless you’d like them sent to Hogwarts?”

“Now is fine,” he smiles, “I’m intrigued by your collection if I’m honest.”

You laugh, nodding knowingly, “It’s my pride and joy.”

Draco agrees, leaning on the counter, “It’s bigger than my stockroom if I’m being honest.”

“Now that makes me even happier.” You declare, pointing at the Professor.

The ingredients take time to be collected, but the silence that should be awkward, isn’t. It’s filled with conversation after conversation about the curriculum at Hogwarts and how long Cauldron Bubble has been open.

Draco admits to himself, as you finish tying the final string bow on his parcels, that he feels a little sad about leaving. He had enjoyed his time with you regardless of how short it had been; he felt as if he knew you. He felt as if he could form a friendship with you.

You hand him his parcels in a paper bag, smiling, “I hope to see you again soon,” you say in goodbye.

Draco smiles at you, “I hope to come back soon.” He offers as his parting.

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

On a bleak January morning, Draco walks into your shop, stamping his feet to get the last of the sharp, winter cold out of his body.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” You smile.

Draco grins in reply, handing over his list, “Another stock up.”

“Another? You came in before Christmas as I remember.” You smirk at the blonde-haired man, “Did someone miss me?”

Draco blushes, stuttering out his answer, “The… the students have had a few weeks off, they’ll have fallen into old habits with potion ingredients.”

You laugh, “You are one smoother thinker, Draco. It’s a good job I knew you were coming; I have your usual stock set aside.” You read down his list, checking you have everything put away, but you stop at one item. “Agrimony?”

“It’s coming up to Valentine’s Day.” Draco offers as explanation.

One of the properties of Agrimony is that it can break enchantments. Draco uses the yellow flower in his antidote for love potions. He frowns at the thought of how much antidote he would have to brew for those on the receiving end of an unwanted love potion. If he could ban any potion, it would be Amortentia. Not that he didn’t believe in love or anything along those lines, but the effects of Amortentia are never real and the aftermath is often worse than being under its spell.

Through his last two Valentine’s Days at Hogwarts as Potions Professor, he had to comfort countless students through the aftermath of the potion as well as deduct house points and hand out detentions to the students who think it funny to unknowingly drug a fellow student.

In his antidote for students, Draco also sprinkles in the petals of Feverfew and Boneset to ensure protection from enchantments or a broken heart, Draco never knows but he makes sure that his students are protected, nonetheless.

You nod at Draco, understanding the need for a potion to break enchantments through this particular holiday. “Here’s your Agrimony as well as your usual stock, is there anything else you need?”

Draco thinks it over, “I better stock up on Boneset, Feverfew, and Adder’s Tongue too.”

You raise an eyebrow, “It’s a very thorough potion you’re making here, Draco.”

He nods, “Too many students are drugged with the Amortentia potion and little is done to control it so I do what I can to protect any student I can.”

“That’s a wonderful thing to do, Draco.” You say quietly; touched by his words.

“I don’t just make potions with the plants and herbs. I make charms to go in their bags and to hang in their rooms too. Anything to protect.” Draco states; thinking back to a group of fifth year girls who had become targets by a group of sixth year boys; each girl suffering through a love potion before coming down from its high. Draco had made sure they each had a charm to carry in their bag as well as a vial of the antidote should one of them ingest the potion again.

You nod silently; overcome by the emotion in his words. You know then and there just how dedicated Draco was to his profession and the students he sees every day. You hand him his bag of herbs and plants with a smile which he returns before walking to the door.

He’s almost out the door when your voice calls out again, “Draco, I know we don’t know each other very well except for when you need to fill your stockroom, but you’re a good teacher and a good man – you know that right?”

He turns to you with his hand on the door handle; silver lining his eyes, “Thank you.” He whispers before opening the door and leaving.

-----

Your words play on his mind through the week leading up to Valentine’s Day and the week after the holiday too. He spends all of his spare time in the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey; offering the antidote and words of comfort to each and every student that come in with symptoms of being drugged with Amortentia.

From Madame Pomfrey’s ceaseless ranting through those two weeks, Draco knows that she feels just as strongly about the need to rid the world of a potion like Amortentia.

Draco starts to think of you more and more, especially after each visit to Cauldron Bubbles where you go through his ingredient list with the practiced precision of a Potioneer.

His feelings for you really do take him by surprise. It comes with elation as he finally has a name for the butterflies in his stomach and the racing of his heart whenever he thinks of your smile or your focused look as you check and recheck the ingredients on the list.

He starts to visit Cauldron Bubble more often; making his way through the Professors at Hogwarts to see if they may possibly need something for their class. Professor Trelawney always has something for him to pick up, and Draco feels the urge to apologise to her for every time he was rude to her when he was a teenager.

Draco’s feelings for you only increase with each visit. He craves to see your face light up when he walks in the door; the bell above the door announcing his arrival. The light flirting with each visit was pushing him towards something more.

If only he could think of how to tell you.

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

Draco ropes Madame Pomfrey into his plans to woo you; though she doesn’t necessarily know that

“Please, Poppy, you must have something you need to stock up on… I mean Madame Pomfrey,” Draco corrects when he meets her glare.

She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed with the former student, “You’re awfully interested in my stock cupboard, Mr. Malfoy. Whatever for?”

“Call it my New Year’s Resolution.”

“It’s May,” Madame Pomfrey nonchalantly reminds him, replacing the water jugs at the side of each hospital bed.

“Of the New Year,” Draco emphasises, following her, “And mine is to help more. So are you sure there is nothing I can’t get you?”

Madame Pomfrey sighs, bustling back to her desk. She notes down a few ingredients, “I’m running low on these herbs and plants for a tea I brew so you can get these for me.”

Draco beams, taking the list, even going so far as to kiss Madame Pomfrey on the cheek before sprinting back to his private quarters where he can floo to Diagon Alley… and to you.

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

“Draco!” You call, “Back already? You aren’t due another visit for oh… another week or so.” Your eyes alight with mirth as you pick fun at the Professor.

He blushes, waving his list in the air, “Sent on an errand by Madame Pomfrey.”

“Don’t keep it to yourself! Hand it over, let’s see what Madame Pomfrey needs.” You cover your mouth to stifle the laugh as you read over the list from Draco, “Madame Pomfrey gave you this list did she?”

“Handed it to me herself, why?”

“Draco, to say you’re a Potions Professor, you can be quite dense.”

He frowns; you laugh at his puzzled expression. “Madame Pomfrey sent you to get the ingredients for a tea that curbs the menstrual cycle. A form of contraception.”

Draco doesn’t need to look into a mirror to know he’s blushing; he can feel the heat radiating from his cheeks – he’s sure it could heat his own cauldron. “Ah,” he begins, “Well, that’s a very responsible thing to have in a school like Hogwarts, wouldn’t you say?”

You nod, “Very much so. Madame Pomfrey to be admired.”

“Yes, I agree.”

“And you as well. For being her humble servant for this task.”

Draco rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “It was nothing. Truthfully, I pestered her until she gave me a list of ingredients.”

“Now why would you do that?”

“To see you,” He admits, eyes shining with truth.

“You pestered the Matron of Hogwarts for a list of ingredients… all to see me?”

He nods silently. Your eyes crinkle with your smile, “That has to be the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me. How long have you been coming here to see me as well as to get potion ingredients?”

Some part of Draco wants to scream as he admits, “Since January.”

“That long?” You ask, eyes wide.

He nods again.

“Why didn’t you just ask me to dinner?”

“I didn’t want to offend you and lose you as my stockist.”

You laugh, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me out since January you know?”

“No, I didn’t know.” He almost shouts; hating the fact that he could have been dating you all this time but was too scared to make a move.

“And you wouldn’t lose me as your stockist even if we did date.”

“No?”

“Haven’t you noticed that I’ve been undercharging you for your ingredients?”

Draco does the quick math in his head; thinking of how healthy his department budget had been when he handed it in to McGonagall back in March. “No… I didn’t notice.”

You nod your head slowly, “That was my way of flirting as well as the open ended questions.”

Draco rubs a hand over his face, “I can’t believe we’ve been dancing around each other for this long.”

Laughing you make your way from behind the counter. You pull his hands from his face, keeping them in yours, “Hey Draco, want to go to dinner with me?”

He grins down at you; letting the joy run through his body, “I’d love to.”

******

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @harrypotter289​ @dreamer821​ @kalimagik​ @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @the-hufflefluffwriter​ @figlia--della--luna​ @bforbroadway​ @idont-knowrn​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell​ @obxmxybxnk​ @obx-beach​

[dweetwise]

dbd retrospection: bhvr’s negligence and our spending habits

i’m making this post following the talk of a dbd boycott and the (justified) outcry in regards to bhvr’s continuing subpar treatment of the game and its community.

it’s going to be a lot different than my usual content, and if you don’t want the negativity right now and just want to keep enjoying the game, it’s completely ok for you to ignore this post!

the problem

over the years i’ve been playing dbd, it’s always had a lot of jank and bugs—some of which were even said to add to dbd’s charm. funny flying survivors and falling through the map glitches aside, the last 6 months have made it abundantly clear that the bugs and myriad of performance issues have only gotten worse.

bhvr is no longer a small indie studio and you’d think that the more experience the devs got, the less issues would make it through to the live version of the game, right? wrong.

bhvr struck gold with dbd and they’re taking full advantage of the cash coming in while putting in minimal effort. from the way they handle things, i’m pretty sure their business model is as follows:

attract new customers with dlc every 3 months (doubly so with licenses)

sell as many dlc:s, skins and rift passes to those customers as possible

ignore all complaints when those players get tired of the game and focus on getting new customers in their stead.

new players are more valuable because they spend more money. they’ll buy not only the base game and newest dlc that attracted them in the first place, but they’re also the sole demand for old dlcs. who else buys the halloween dlc in 2021, if not new players wanting to play as horror icon michael myers or get access to the only perk that prevents them being tunneled as survivor?

think of all the times bhvr has ignored the community’s complaints: hud, spirit, keys, legendary skins and so on. not to mention the issues they take months or even years to fix: iri head, haddonfield, blight pov, old ds, infinites and moris to name a few. it screams loud and clear that they don’t care; and why would they? the opinions of existing players don’t matter, when new ones will flock in to replace them anyway.

i’m almost convinced the devs have the competence—they’re just lazy. when the almo controversy happened, it took less than 24 hours for the colorblind mode to be announced. either they were able to code it in from scratch that quick and just didn’t want to, or they’d been working on it as an (inexcusably) low priority feature before, having it nearly ready but just couldn’t be bothered to push it out before it directly affected them—to be honest, i don’t know which option is worse.

sometimes, their business practices are outright predatory, like the recent resident evil locked sets and the original mettle of man. this time, the outrage was enough to get the affected players a refund, but we’ve forgotten every other instance where that was not the case. and the refund still doesn’t solve the problem; if anyone wants those leon and jill outfits, they’re still paying nearly $4 for an identical haircut—which brings me to the next issue.

skins

i could write an essay on dbd skins alone. in a nutshell, they’re overpriced af and the issue gets completely ignored because they’re an optional purchase.

remember skin rarity? where the quality of the skin was supposed to reflect the rarity, and therefore the price? then let me ask you; when was the last time we got anything less than a very rare (=full price) outfit after a character’s initial release? well, let me answer that for you: july 31st 2018, with ace’s lovable rogue, meg’s athletic active, and dwight’s wine n’ dine collections.

and, sure, you could argue that the cosmetic team has only gotten more skilled since then, with a few skins standing out as having an incredible amount of detail and completely changing the character’s appearance. but that’s not the case with the majority of the skins. how does ace vegas or cowboy jake have the same price tag as apocalypse jeff or harajuku nea?

and don’t even get me started on auric cell only skins. even when skins were cheaper and came in several color variants, bhvr has had a nasty habit of locking the best skins in a collection behind a paywall. never mind the fact that it takes nearly 100 hours of time spent in actual matches to even get 21 600 shards to buy one skin, very rare skins are priced at over two times the price of one entire character and their perks.

one very rare skin costs:

50 % of the base game

216 % of one character through the in-game store (auric cells)

240 % of one character through the in-game store (iridescent shards)

250 % of one character when buying a chapter (2-3 characters)

476 % of one character when buying a chapter on sale.

it’s no secret that the majority of the sales from existing players come from skins. let’s assume that over a period of three months, a player with moderate spending habits buys the new dlc chapter, the rift pass and one skin for their favorite character. in that scenario, actual new content (the new chapter) only accounts for 28 % of the money spent. is it any wonder, then, that new chapters are riddled with bugs and issues, if the majority of the $$$ comes purely from cosmetics?

there’s also the issue that fog whisperers only exist to sell skins and promo dlc:s, but i don’t want to open that can of worms. the fact that they get free codes for the newest skins speaks for itself.

the rift pass and fomo

you didn’t think i’d skip this one, did you? no matter how much “value” you get from the pass compared to buying skins from the store, it’s still a blatant cash grab that’s essentially making us pay for playing the game.

“but you get your money back!” hey, if you see paying $10 to grind for bad recolors and filler charms as a worthwhile investment, good for you. no matter if you religiously play dbd enough to complete every rift, you still have to fork over that $10 the first time. bhvr has advertised a 25 million playerbase across all platforms, and even if only 5 % of those players have bought the pass once, that’s still a hefty income just for the rift—not to mention the fact that most people don’t get anywhere near tier 70 and end up with a net loss.

it’s a genius marketing move that preys on people’s fomo. by including exclusive charms and recolors that you can’t get anywhere else (cries in ace’s card shirt) and placing the best items at the very end, even light spenders are tempted to buy the pass or at the very least grind the free track. and once you’ve bought the pass, you feel obligated to play as much as possible to get your money’s worth—and the more you play, the more likely you are to buy new characters or skins from the store.

what can you do?

after all this negativity and complaining, it sounds like i think we should just stop playing the game and never pay for anything, huh? not at all.

i think what everyone can and should do, is reflect on their own spending habits when it comes to dbd.

do you buy the newest chapters as soon as they release, even if you know bhvr’s track record of recent dlc:s?

do you hate the way cosmetics are handled and the multiple fiascos regarding legendary sets, but still buy several different skins for your favorite characters?

do you buy the rift pass because oh god it has ace charms that i won’t be able to get anywhere else and i need them for all my characters—you get the point.

we can whine and bitch all we want, but as long as bhvr continues to make money even off of disappointed and angry customers, nothing will change. i’ve heard friends proclaim they hate the game and that bhvr’s actions are inexcusable, yet they, like me, continue to buy into the hype of new content or cosmetics masked as content.

what i’ll do from now on and i hope you’ll also consider:

hold off on buying new chapters until at least the worst of the bugs are fixed. if initial sales drop even after all the hype bhvr always tries to create, they might finally be forced to take action.

alternatively, buy new characters with shards. if you mostly play one side like me, 9000 shards is well worth an original character. it also lowers the sales of a chapter release, which hurts bhvr.

think long and hard about buying the rift pass. is there only one skin you really, really want? then the grind and price isn’t worth it, as rift exclusives get priced as rares when eventually released the store: aka 675 cells instead of the 1000 of the pass.

save up shards to buy skins. yes, i just said they’re overpriced, but if you buy the sets piece by piece the grind isn’t unbearable. and usually by the point you’d have enough, you might realize there’s only one part of the outfit that you actually want, or a better skin has been announced. saving your money and hurting bhvr; win-win.

ok whew, i think i’m done! thank you for reading my little rant. if you have any thoughts feel free to yell in the tags or replies, and remember that it’s completely ok if you enjoy the game as it is and want to keep doing so! you’re not forced to boycott anything or feel guilty about spending money. the game brings or has brought all of us a lot of joy and we’re free to enjoy it however we want <3

in a nutshell, i love the game despite its flaws, i only wish bhvr treated it (and the community) with the care it deserves.

p.s. my regular content will resume tomorrow <3

[theladyofdeath]

A Man in Uniform {Lysaedion}

31 Days of Halloween: Day 13.

All installments co-written with @snelbz​

Based on a prompt sent in by @letstakethedawn : “ Lysaedion - Lysandra is a sexy police officer for Halloween and she ends up being arrested by real police officer Aedion oops “

Warning: language, alcohol. 

Autumn/Halloween 2020 {Collection}

Lysandra was drunk.

She knew she was drunk, knew it was going to be a rough night when she was stumbling out the door of the club. Halloween had its pros and cons. At the top of the pros list was dressing up for girls night as they hit the town.

In between the pros and the cons list was the fact that they had Halloween drink specials, and none of them tasted much like alcohol, but they surely left you drunk.

And Lysandra was drunk off her ass.

She was dressed as a cop, although no cop she had ever seen was dressed like she was. Her dress was tight, her cleavage on full display. She wore a hat, too, and had handcuffs dangling from her belt. 

“Lys! Wait!” Aelin was hurrying behind her, her arm looked through Elide’s. Aelin was dressed as a zombie bride, while Elide was much tamer in her classic witch costume.

They were both just as drunk as Lysandra, though.

“Should we call an Uber?” Lysandra slurred, looking both ways before crossing the street. 

“We walked here, we can walk back to our place,” Aelin said, stopping by Lysandra’s side. 

She shrugged and the three of them were heading back across the small town to her small house.

Thanks to the holiday falling on a Saturday, everyone was out and the creatures and costumes that milled about ranged from impressive to terrifying.

When a tall, masked figure jumped out in front of them and the three girls screamed, Lysandra was fairly sure their lives were over. Until Elide’s boyfriend removed the mask and he was laughing so hard his face was already turning red.

“Lor!” She cried smacking at his chest. “That’s not funny!”

“You have no idea how funny it is,” he said, still laughing as he pulled her against him. “Y’all heading home? Done at the club?”

“Yeah,” she said, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Perfect,” he said, nodding at Aelin. “Rowan just got off work. He’s heading home now.”

Aelin had been crushing on Lorcan’s roommate since Elide had started dating him a few months before. Lysandra rolled her eyes and stepped down off the sidewalk and into the street. “Look who gets to be the third wheel again.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Aelin laughed, following the group across the street. “You want me to go home with you instead?”

“No, no,” Lysandra protested. “Go with the lovebirds. Whitethorn is handsome. Get some.”

Aelin blushed and shook her head. “I’m not going to-.”

“Yes, you are,” Lorcan called from where he and Elide had started to head to his apartment. Elide shushed him, but she was drunkenly giggling.

Aelin’s cheeks were absolutely red, but Lysandra was pushing her towards their friends. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m basically home anyways.” It was true, Lysandra could even see their driveway from where they stood at the corner. “Go,” she said, hugging her friend.

“Okay, I love you,” Aelin said, hugging her tightly. “I’ll call you in the morning, yeah?”

“You better,” Lysandra smirked and then Aelin was hurrying off to catch up with Elide and Lorcan.

With a yawn, Lysandra was walking down the sidewalk, thankful she’d opted for black combat boots, rather than the black pumps she’d initially bought for tonight. She couldn’t wait to curl up on her couch and watch The Haunted Mansion, a childhood tradition she’d kept up year after year. But as she made her way up her porch steps, she froze and patted her few pockets. Her phone was where she’d kept it all night, but her keys were… Where had she put her keys?

Oh, of course! She’d slipped them into the pocket of Elide’s bag, which was…with Elide. Halfway to Lorcan’s apartment.

“Shit,” she breathed.

Pulling out her phone, she tried Aelin first, knowing Elide was likely distracted. No luck, though, so she tried to call Elide as well. Her phone went straight to voicemail.

“Shiiiiit,” Lysandra said, a little louder, peeking under the welcome mat, for a key she knew wasn’t there.

After her breakup with Arrobyn, she’d removed the spare key, just in case. She always had her purse with her, so it shouldn’t have ever been a problem.

Until now.

Nothing but dirt, dust and a squished bug were under the mat.

“Fuck, okay, think, Lysandra,” she said, out loud. “What do we do?”

A brisk wind blew by, and it reminded her of the window she’d cracked open last night to let the breeze in while she slept. She hurried around the side of the house and found it still barely open.

“Yes!” Her fingers couldn’t even fit into the small crack. “No!”

Looking around, Lysandra spotted a long, thin stick that had fallen from one of the nearby trees. After testing its strength, she carefully slipped it into the cracked window, feeling some resistance. With a little force, Lysandra was able to wiggle it through enough to shift it up. Using leverage, she was able to widen the gap enough to get her fingers in and open the window up.

“Thank the gods,” she sighed, relief pouring through her.

Lysandra was just about to climb through and flop down onto her bed when she heard, “Hold it right there!”

She froze, her eyes fluttered shut. “Oh, shit.”

“Feet on the ground, hands in the air!” 

Without a word, Lysandra was climbing back down to the ground where she slowly turned around, her hands in the air.

Only to be met with the amused grin of Aedion Ashryver, her best friend’s cousin.

“Damn it, Aedion!” she yelled, running her hands down her face. “That’s not fair! You can’t use your cop-status to scare the shit out of me.”

“Looks like I’m not the only cop tonight,” he crooned, coming closer to her under the streetlights. “Looking good, Ennar.”

Lysandra blushed, looking away from her best friend’s far too attractive cousin. He’d recently graduated from the police academy and despite Aelin’s begging, he was unable to get Halloween night off to come out with them. Which was how he ended up standing around the side of her house, with his flashlight on her.

“I got a call that someone was attempting to break in here,” he said, eyes flicking to the window. “Everything good?”

Lysandra groaned, looking around Aedion to the busy body who lived across the street who couldn’t mind her own business. “Yes,” she sighed. “Everything is fine. My keys are in Elide’s purse. Elide’s purse is probably at Lorcan’s by now.”

“Ah,” he said, laughing. “So you’re breaking into your own house?”

“That’s what it looks like,” she said, chuckling.

“Care for a boost?” He asked, and she prayed he hadn’t noticed how she’d definitely been flailing to get through the window before he’d announced himself.

With a relieved sigh, she said, “If you don’t mind.”

A kind smile and a lift later, Lysandra was hurrying through her house and throwing open the front door, finding a smirking Aedion on the other side.

“You’re not going to arrest me, right?” She asked, falling back onto her couch in her living room.

“For breaking into your own house?” He sat down on the couch and pretended to think for a moment. “No, but it would be hilarious.”

Lysandra narrowed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Childish, yes, but it got her point across quite eloquently.

“So where’s Aelin?” He asked, chuckling.

“Rowan got off work early so she went with Elide and Lorcan,” she said, untying her boots and tossing them into the shoe basket by the door. “So I guess I’ll be watching The Haunted Mansion by myself.”

“Seems he’s not the only one who got off early,” Aedion said, chuckling. “Guess I should have texted her to see where she was.”

Lysandra nodded, nibbling on her lip as she pulled her hair up into a loose bun atop her head. “So, you’re off duty for the night?”

“On call,” he said, shrugging. “But, other than that, yeah.”

Lysandra’s mind began to wander, but before she could make confident with a decision, Aedion said, “Well, anyway, Officer Ennar, I’ll get out of your way so you can have a sad movie night by yourself.”

Lysandra’s eyes narrowed as he pushed himself off the couch with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll just be going back to my apartment, alone, with nothing to do on Halloween.”

He took a few steps toward the door, and Lysandra couldn’t help but shake her head and laugh at his ridiculous display. 

“Would you like to stay and watch the movie with me?” Lysandra asked, pointedly. “I’ll even let you have a glass of wine.” 

He turned and looked back at her. “I think drinking on the job is frowned upon, especially for a police officer.” Lysandra was about to apologize when he came back and sat down on the couch by her. “But I think I can probably keep a secret if you can.”

She was blushing, which was ridiculous. She’d known Aedion nearly her entire life, but recently, she’d started to notice different things about him. How his eyes lit up when he was excited about something. How passionate he was about the things he cared about. How nicely he filled out his uniform.

“I can keep a secret,” she said, with a smile. She stood and headed for the kitchen, coming back with two glasses and a bottle of wine. “I’ll be right back,” she said, sitting the wine on the coffee table. “I just need to go change and-.”

“Or,” Aedion said, interrupting her. “You could leave that on.”

Lysandra looked up, and found his tongue peeking out, wetting his lips. She cleared her throat and said, “Or I could leave it on,” and sat down on the couch, nibbling on her bottom lip.

“You look nervous,” he said, quietly. 

Lysandra tried to convince her hand to remain steady as she poured the two glasses half-full. She slid Aedion’s across the coffee table to him, but he didn’t touch it.

“Why would I be nervous?” she asked, chuckling as the rim of her glass touched her lips. 

Aedion shrugged, still not touching his glass. “So, movie?”

“Movie,” she said, quietly, setting her glass down before finding the Haunted Mansion on Disney+. She was fully aware that he was watching her the entire time she searched and pressed play.

Just a few minutes after the movie started, Lysandra’s phone started ringing on the coffee table and she reached for it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Oh, my god, your keys are in Elide’s purse!”

Lysandra pulled the phone away from her ear. Aelin’s volume told her they had definitely continued drinking when they got to Lorcan and Rowan’s apartment. “Yes, they are,” she chuckled. “That’s why I tried to call you both.”

“You tried to call us?” Aelin asked, and she could hear Elide in the background saying, “Tell her I’m sorry!”

Lysandra laughed quietly, tucking her legs beneath her. “It’s okay.”

“Do I need to call Aedion?” Aelin asked. “He’s on duty tonight, I can have him break in for you.”

Glancing over at the man in question, Lysandra cleared her throat. “No, it’s okay, I left my window cracked last night, thank the gods. Besides, I don’t think being a cop gives him the right to break into someone’s house.”

The puzzled look on Aedion’s face had Lysandra stifling a laugh.

“So you’re home, safe and sound?” Aelin asked, and Lysandra could hear murmuring near the phone.

Murmuring that sounded distinctly like Rowan Whitethorn.

“Safe and sound,” Lysandra said, unable to stop her smile. “Now, get off the phone and go about your business.” 

Aelin didn’t need to be told twice. “Fair enough. See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Lysandra crooned.

She could practically hear Aelin roll her eyes. “Bye.”

“Do I need to stop by and do a welfare check on my way home?” Aedion asked, taking a drink from his glass.

“Don’t you dare,” she laughed, reaching for hers.

Aedion was smirking though and she asked, “You don’t exactly look comfortable. Can I get you anything?”

He smiled. “No, I’m actually very comfortable. The uniform isn’t great,” he said, gesturing down to his attire. “But I’ll live.”

She nodded, smiling, and turned her attention back to the movie. It didn’t take long for them to be refilling their glasses, laughing at the bad CGI, and both moving closer and closer on the couch, until somehow, Aedion’s arm ended up draped around her shoulders.

Which is exactly where they were when Aelin quietly unlocked the door the next morning and tiptoed in, careful not to wake them.

[itsmeevie01]

Bio!Dad Bruce Month Day 6- Meeting the Justice League

I just wanted to pop up here to give the heads up that there is some mild cursing at the begining here

Marinette was furious. When she had left to fight the Akuma earlier in the evening, she had expected a normal fight. One captured butterfly and a fist bump later, she was turning, ready to go home and finish her schoolwork for the evening. That was when she had seen the cape. Parisian heroes didn’t wear capes. That specific accessory was left for idiots like the Justice League. The one-time Chat Noir had mentioned the horrific items, Ladybug had nearly attacked him. Paris’ Heroes didn’t do capes. EVER.

That was why it was so suspicious that there was a flash of a cape on the rooftop across from her school.

Ladybug scowled but made her way over, landing a little harder than necessary, as she took in who was standing there. The “S”, the blue, the fucking cape. Ladybug was known as a nice hero, a gently hero, a just hero, but she couldn’t help the snarl that ripped its way from her throat as she looked at The Blue Boy scout. Oh, she had heard of him. His great deeds, how he cared for his city, His Powers. Paris’ Heroes didn’t do capes, they always led to bad situations. Bad situations, like an akumatized Superman. Shit.

When the man was fully facing her, Ladybug groaned. This situation just became 100 times worse, because she knew Superman. Flipping open her yoyo, Ladybug pulled up her partner’s contact. “Bug? Everything ok?” the concern in the Cat’s voice made her smile, but her eyes stayed focused on the hero in front of her. The hero wearing a cape.

“Chat, there is a situation. Come to my location, immediately.”

“On it, Ladybug!” as soon as she hung up, the spotted hero fixed her death glare on the rooftop’s other occupant. The Kryptonian shrunk under her glare. A very familiar glare, that he had seen more times than he would like to admit.

“Get out.” The venom in her voice made the Super flinch.

“I- “

“I said get. The. Fuck. OUT!” He started at her, shocked. As the two glared at each other, two telltale thumps told of others on the rooftop. One was unmistakably Chat. The teen hero had spent the last year finding the best ways to silence his movements. Ladybugs was well aware what his landings sounded like, when he decided to announce his presence. The other landing though…her eyes narrowed at the vigilante behind Superman. Great. The Bat was here.

When Bruce had heard that Clark was going to Paris to investigate, he knew there was going to be trouble. For the past six months, he had been prodding information out of his daughter, and she had made it very clear that there was to be zero outside interference. When he had raised his worries about her statement, she had simply laughed.

“Dad, Ladybug tried to contact the Justice League. She tried ten times. Every time, she was told that she was wrong. That there wasn’t a problem in Paris. Civilians reached out for help, submitting video evidence. They were told that it wasn’t funny to waste the Oh So Precious resources. Paris has been cut off, and Ladybug doesn’t want anyone swooping in now. She has set up a support network, and people are adapting in the meantime.” That conversation was the first time Bruce had heard Marinette truly angry. By the time she had finished talking, her eyes had been sparkling dangerously and the hard set of her jaw had told him just how livid she was. When Clark had insisted on investigating, Bruce had huffed and gone to prepare to rescue his friend. There was no way that this was going to go well.

What he encountered when he finally found his friend was…interesting. The teen heroes were standing there glaring at Superman. The girl had her hands on her hips and a glare worthy of a Bat on her face. The boy behind her had his arms crossed and his tail was whipping back and forth dangerously. The way the young heroes were on edge reminded Batman why exactly Paris was currently such a dangerous city to be in. “Superman, perhaps we should take this somewhere more…neutral?” the spotted hero visibly jumped at the sound of his voice. The cat shot her a concerned glance before turning towards them.

“I think I know a place.”

When the four heroes landed in the field, Ladybug huffed and leveled her glare on them. “I am going to say this once, Paris is under our protection. If the Justice League enters the City of Paris, they forfeit their lives.” The viciousness in her voice clear took Superman by surprise, but Batman had expected it. From listening to his daughter, he knew that the hero would not hesitate to protect her city. If that meant that she had to scare away every member of the League, she would. At the look on Superman’s face, Batman paused. The other Hero looked too calm for someone who had just been told off. No, Oh No. Batman knew what that meant. Superman had called the rest of the League. They were off the deep end now.  A moment later when Wonder Woman joined them Ladybug narrowed her eyes. “What is this?” the way she practically hissed her words made the slowly arriving League pause, nervous. “Did you summon the rest, just because I told you to get lost?” the way her voice got dangerously quiet reminded Batman a little too much of both Sabine and Marinette for his comfort. When Superman shifted uncomfortably, Ladybug threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Since I know you have ignored my requests for help, how the hell did you find out about this?” at her question the entire League froze.

“You. You asked for help? When?” The shock from Wonder Woman seemed to jolt the rest back into action.

“Yes! I asked for help at the beginning! When we were fighting our friends and family because they had a bad day! When Chat Noir and I were Handed Magical Jewels and Told to Figure It Out!” The sharpness in her voice, the pointed barbs flying from her mouth, the way her partner moved to calm her without hesitation…Suddenly Batman knew why the duo were so comfortable with this field. He knew why Ladybug was so angry too. And suddenly, he wished he had taken some time to introduce his daughter to the family secrets.

Later, once Wonder Woman had started to dig into the locked files in the League and they had uncovered the ten videos from the past few months, the group sat down to talk. When many of the older heroes offered to come and help, the Cat and Bug exchanged glances. “We…think it would be better to keep people who can be…taken advantage of outside of the city.” When the Cat spoke up many of the others looked offended. “as it is, Ladybug and I are confidant in our abilities to protect each other and call on allies as needed. We don’t want to disrupt the dynamics that have formed or go up against one of you if you let your emotions get out of control. LB and I…we have coping methods. Many of you though? You would get akumatized in an instant.” The duo continued to hold firm until Batman interrupted the newest round of arguing.

“We need to respect the fact that Paris is their city. For now, let us keep communication lines open. If they need us, we can be there, but we will not take over in a fight we do not understand.” After the Bat’s declaration, the Leaguers started to collect themselves. As they were leaving, Ladybug paused.

“Batman? Could I borrow you for one more second?” the Man nodded in response. When they had walked a slight distance away, and he was blocking her from the rest’s view, the younger hero took a deep breath. “Tikki? Spots off.” There was a small flash, and suddenly it wasn’t the young hero that Batman had been working with for the past few hours, it was-

“Marinette.” The girl nodded, twisting her hands nervously. A small red creature floated up to settle on his daughter’s shoulder, sending her a sour look.

“I- thank you. Dad, I- “Batman froze.

“how- “

“it was your voice. I just…I’ve gotten really good at recognizing people. Just like I knew immediately that it was your friend Mr. Kent. That he was Superman.” Batman glanced over his shoulder, checking to make sure the others had left. In the time they had been talking the Cat had vanished as well. When he was sure there was no one else around, he slowly peeled off his mask.

“Marinette.” His daughter smiled up at him, her blue eyes sparkling. The next moment he was gently holding her in a hug as she relaxed, the tension that she had been holding the entire meeting draining out.

“Please don’t tell my brothers about this. I don’t need them mother henning any more than they already are.”

hey! so far so good right? i appologize if some of the characters were ooc…

i figured it would happen eventually.

in other words, we are getting close to then end of Marinette being 13. im probably tackle her birthday next… its not going to abide by cannon, but in this world, cannon is bending to my will and filling in any space i dont have written.

see ya tomorrow!

[dreamiesdotcom]

careful (slow spin-off) | l.jn, n.jm

Summary: With Jaemin, things are just... a lot nicer. Lighter.

Word Count: 1.6k

"Hyuck, stop staring. Jaemin seems sweet and all, but he looks like he's ready to pick a fight," Mark groans then slouches at his chair.

Was he up making music again? Why is Mark so devoted to helping that guy? Jeno doesn't really understand.

He looks at Donghyuck, then to where he's staring at. He briefly recognizes Renjun and his friends, one of them with entwined fingers as Na Jaemin. That's the person Donghyuck has been staring at for the past fifteen minutes.

"Hyuck. Seriously, I don't think you even know his best friend's name."

"That lovely person right there, you see, is Y/N," Donghyuck proudly states. He scoffs, "Please, I don't go around flirting with strangers. "

Jeno returns a similar expression, momentarily bringing down his book. He tilts his head, "Well, have you ever hung out?"

He pauses, breathes one beat late, and then sighs. Mark sits up straight, steals a glance at the other side of the room, and then waits for Donghyuck's answer.

The sunkissed boy just shakes his head, "No."

There's just enough pause there, enough hesitance in his voice that he cannot be trusted. Instead of pointing that out, Jeno laughs, shrugs, and sets his eyes on his book. Whatever the hell it is that happened between pages 108 and 112, he doesn't understand at all.

Jeno tries to recall an old memory: he remembers being teamed up with Huang Renjun for a while because of a photography project. He remembers staying up late with the boy at a convenience store, editing pictures, and drowning in coffee.

They didn't talk much — the only time Renjun talked about something other than the task at hand was when he was pointing at the park across, and that brings him to the question; Why did Donghyuck lie?

"Let's just get out of here," Mark announces, drinking his coffee quickly.

Jeno absentmindedly collects his belongings as Hyuck blushes over whatever it is they heard that he didn't, and then stands up and heads for the door. He lets them walk first, then he watches for a while.

What is it exactly that brought him to this point?

"Careful..." were the words Mark drawled out to Jeno back then when they were much younger. Then, after that, he'd smile, "You look at Hyuck like you're about to fall. Careful, Lee Jeno."

But Jeno didn't need to hear that, not from Mark at least. He was responsible and rational, he thought things through before he dived deep — Mark does the same, but he's all blurs between safe and dangerous and the last thing Jeno needs is Mark telling him to be careful because the older's definition of careful is most people's careless. That was a piece of advice, though. Jeno should've listened.

Jeno didn't need Mark to tell him to watch himself before he falls, because he knows what's proper and what's not. It was out of his control that everything seemed right with Donghyuck.

###

What does blue taste like? Jeno read from that one time Mark's recent subject has left his notebook. He didn't mean to look at what doesn't belong to him, but the question has him curious enough.

The answer? It's something Jeno can't seem to get out of his mind.

What does blue taste like? Repeats the question. The answer comes in rough cursive, sloppy, and messy handwriting, as if the writer couldn't see through the emotions they felt as they scribbled out: For me, it's sometimes bitter, sort of sweet, and it's overwhelmingly strong. It's watching your friends fall in love with each other. It's falling in love with one of your best friends.

Sometimes it tastes like the orange juice you drink as you watch said best friend fall in love with somebody else, sour like the realization that it wasn't you he fell for when all you've done is crash to him.

And truthfully, the kid was weird, but he was adorable. He's tall, handsome, and he danced like he was born for it, so good that Jeno really wouldn't be surprised if he was, but he was shy and awkward and clumsy as well, far from the bubbly and confident people his best friend liked. He didn't see why Mark was so interested in this kid.

As he accidentally reads this page, however, he doesn't care for all of that. He just wonders how sweet smiles carry such heartaches, and maybe, he thinks of how similar they are .

He doesn't know what the hell it was that happened within those months his best friend — the one he's hopelessly in love with — shined brighter than the others, but right now he thinks he has a clue: playing the guitar side by side with Mark on Christmas Eve, watching Donghyuck kiss the love of his life under the mistletoe (which he manually holds above their heads) after singing that person a song he wrote for months. Jeno's pretty sure he doesn't need any context anymore. He just keeps on thinking about the excerpt he accidentally read from Park Jisung's notebook and then laughs along even if he doesn't understand anything going on.

He walks home that day without telling either Mark or Hyuck.

###

Na Jaemin was an occurrence that happened every now and then.

They were friends when they were younger, that's something he wouldn't deny. Somewhere around the room, he knows he still has photos with him laying around. It was a seasonal kind of friendship, and then the occasional kind as they grew up, until it was just... not there. He doesn't know what happened. They're in good terms, he knows that as they've worked on a task together before, but they've never really hung out like then.

Well, not until their best friends got together, at least.

Their circles just kind of merged after that Christmas. There wasn't much change in their routines; they still go on sleepovers, eat lunch together, walk home in groups. Only that this time, there are more people, and there's more laughter, and Jeno isn't looking wistfully at someone all alone.

Jaemin does the same.

It's kind of funny, really. These past few months, it feels like he's catching up to all those lost touches with Jaemin — he's the same weird guy he knew from childhood.

It was awkward at first but then before he knows it, they're all falling into their places like puzzle pieces. Before he knows it, months have passed and they've got closer and they're hanging out at his place, just the two of them, staring at the plastic stars on his ceiling. Unlike before, the unspoken feelings he has for Donghyuck only hurts a little.

With Jaemin, things are just... a lot nicer. Lighter.

"Jisung needs to stop leaving his goddamned notebook around," Jaemin complains, lowering the volume of his speakers so they could talk. Jeno rests his face on his palms, carefully watching the other boy. "He's great at writing but honestly, Jeno, I'm starting to feel guilty. I keep on accidentally reading his stuff and — I need to stop. Oh my God. He's working hard for that showcase and I'm here, peeping at his secret notebook!"

"Well, just ask him? You've been friends for a while now. You even said you basically raised him."

"Well, I did, but I wasn't even supposed to know about it, Jen."

Or maybe you are, Jeno thinks in his head, making some space on the bed for Jaemin who crawls right next to him. He sighs deeply, maybe you keep on stumbling around it because he hopes you'd see. Maybe he hopes you'd realize that he's in love with you.

They stay like that, quiet for a while. After ten minutes, Jaemin seems to fall asleep — he doesn't know when they grew close enough to doze off cuddling, but maybe it's just... always meant to be like this. They'd get their hearts broken and then they'd find solace with each other and they'd grow fond.

He thinks of Jisung for a little, and then he thinks of Mark. He's pretty sure Chenle could be thrown in the mix as well — he thinks of how he and Jaemin used to be part of that unspoken mess, too. Perhaps it's because something weird makes you fall in love with your best friend, like an odd charm. Or maybe it was just them.

These days, Donghyuck doesn't make his heart race as much — he gets excited, sure, seeing him and hanging out, but not for the old reasons. He's happy to see him. He loves him still, too, but it's a different kind of love — the kind he shares for Mark. The kind he's slowly starting to share with their newfound family.

Something changed, too. It felt like a new world after choosing to let his feelings for Donghyuck go, and it seemed like the past weeks, he feels something similar beginning to bloom.

When did it start? From the heartaches they shared stories about? The time they spent together? Did it begin from when they'd started hanging out again? He isn't really sure — all that he's certain about its that beside him, Jaemin looks peaceful and safe, and then Jeno muses to himself: "If you continue being like this, I might fall in love."

He could just hear Mark's voice right now — "Careful, Lee Jeno." — and he could just recall Jisung's hastily written words — 'You look at that person and you feel like you could conquer the world with one hand, but you choose to fall' — and oh, he could.

He could fall.

He's so sure of it — he could fall.

Later, when Jeno keeps his eyes closed at a failed attempt on sleep, Jaemin opens his and presses closer — "Please do."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Omertà👄12

Warnings: noncon sexual acts; tags to be added throughout series

This is dark!Bucky and dark! Loki and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father was a bookie and taught you everything you know about numbers. After his death, you were taken on as a bookkeeper for Loki Laufeyson, resident crime boss in Manhattan. But can you keep your place in the background when a man from Brooklyn threatens to drag you to the forefront?

Note: Chapter 12!? I didn’t think I could get through it but I did. God, these men are driving me mad.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Your meeting ended. At last. Bucky’s hand kept straying to your knee and each time you scraped your chair away, he inched closer. You ignored him for the ledger but he didn’t relent until you had thoroughly reviewed every digit.

You stood and Bucky did too. Steve yawned as he pushed himself from the stiff armchair and adjusted the belt of his pants. You collected the ledger and your purse. You flitted to the door as the latter neared and whispered to Bucky. They laughed and you hurried through the open door.

“I’m sure Loki has a lot to figure out and we’ll be on our way back soon enough. It’s a long ride.” 

You went to the next door but were stopped by a hand on your arm. Bucky turned you to face him.

“Doesn’t sound like a fun ride, though,” He winked and you wriggled away from him. “I need a word with the boss before you head out.”

He reached past you and turned the handle. You almost tripped as you moved out of his way and he entered without pause. You spun and followed him, barely slipping between him and Steve as the henchman kept close behind. Loki’s voice died and he stood from his desk as he hung up his phone.

“Hello?” He greeted tersely.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Bucky tucked a hand in his pants pocket. “We just finished up and I didn’t want to waste any more of your time. I know you’ll be heading out soon and all that.”

“Hmm?” Loki lifted a brow dryly and straightened his jacket.

“Me and Steve are gonna stay and keep cleaning up around this place. My crew will be here tomorrow to start clearing out most of it.” Bucky pulled his hand from his pocket, a black rectangle in his hand. “I think it might be easier if you packed a bag… stayed in town tomorrow.”

Loki stared as Bucky offered one of the tiny black folders. Bucky shrugged and neared to tuck it in Loki’s front pocket before he patted it. He then turned to you and handed you the other.

“The rooms are all taken care of for the month,” He explained as you carefully opened the small black folder to reveal a key card. “I just figured it would save you time and gas. You’re no doubt antsy to be out of here as soon as you can.”

Loki sighed as his tongue poked his upper lip. He rubbed his long nose and glanced at you.

“I suppose you’re right,” He ceded. “Your hospitality is admirable… and appreciated.”

“Not at all,” Bucky gave a crooked grin. “We should really start working together, don’t you think? This place could be a goldmine with the two of us in charge.”

Loki squinted. “Certainly.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you any longer,” Bucky backed away to the door as Steve hovered on the other side of the frame. “I’d be all too happy to go back to the city…” He paused and peeked over at you. “And unwind.”

“Hmm,” Loki checked his watch. “Yes.”

Bucky tapped the door frame before he left. You let out a long breath and rested the ledger against your hip.

“How was the meeting?” Loki asked as their footsteps faded away.

“A meeting. You’re not going to like the numbers.” You warned.

“I’m not so worried about those,” Loki’s eyes lingered in the doorway. “Did he… do anything?”

“Nothing unusual. Boasting, mostly.” You replied.

“And you? What did you do?” He challenged.

“My job,” You hissed.

“Your job,” He mused as he strode closer. “Always so diligent. Well, let me tell you what your job will be tonight. You will have thirty minutes to pack for tomorrow’s return and then you will come to mine and help me pack.” He preened and smirked down at you. “And then we will ‘unwind’ as he so eloquently put it.”

You blinked as your cheek twitched. You nodded and turned away from him. You looked down at the little folder in your hand. You should be thankful that Bucky got you your own room but you suspected it was more for his good than yours. And a plastic card wouldn’t keep either of them away from you.

👄

Your night went as expected. Loki was angry and didn’t withhold his temper. The prospect of a new venture with Bucky embittered his already caustic demeanour. And the thought of a whole month in Atlantic City with the man barely helped. Either of you. 

You dreaded whatever ploy this was as you slumped in the car seat and Loki drove. The occasional grumble of displeasure wisped from his lips. Thor was to meet him at the casino later that day. Lopez would oversee the antique store as the rest of Loki’s business was overseen by a man called Heimdall who had flown overnight from London to do the older brother a favour.

You pulled up to the casino before noon and yawned. You grabbed your leather tote, the ledger stuffed inside, and followed Loki across the pavement. The doors were propped open and men in dusty jeans and canvas overalls passed in and out. The days work was already underway and you doubted it would be done before sundown.

You heard a familiar voice booming from inside. As you entered, you were stunned as the now bare windows lit the immense space of the foyer. You shield your eyes as a particular slat of sunshine made you teary. A figure approached from your left as Bucky ceased his demands and appeared before you and Loki.

“You made good time,” Bucky clapped Loki’s shoulder. “I hope you had a restful night.”

“Mmm,” Loki rolled his eyes and peered around. 

“Your contractor is around here somewhere,” Bucky looked at the men as they went about their work. “I think he was having a look at the east staircase.”

“Darby?” Loki uttered. “Well, he should be able to take care of himself well enough.”

“Better roll up those sleeves,” Bucky nudged him as he turned to stand beside him. He admired the storm around him. “We’re all hands on deck today… except you, sweetheart. We got you a nice little space upstairs where you won’t be disturbed.”

He looked around Loki and winked. Loki’s lips curled and he shook his head.

“I can help too,” You insisted. “No sense in sitting around while you all--”

“In those heels. In that dress,” Bucky scoffed. “These men don’t need a distraction.”

“Excuse me--”

“Anyways, there is one thing you need to do,” Bucky continued on as Loki’s hand strayed to your lower back and he stepped closer to you. “You’ll need a desk. There was one up there but uh, not very stable. We trashed it last night.”

“A desk?” You crossed your arms. “I can make do with a table. Or my lap.”

“Nah,” He waved away your protest then signaled across the foyer. “I’ll have Steve take you around. The office is all cleaned up for ya, just needs a lady’s touch so while you’re out, grab whatever else you need.”

“This is really not--”

“It’s almost noon,” Bucky announced as Steve approached. “More than enough time for you two.” He looked to his henchman and grinned. “You good to take her now?”

Steve dusted off his palms and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. His shirt sleeves were pushed halfway up his forearms and a tail had come untucked.

“Let me just find my jacket,” Steve winked at you. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“Take care of the desk,” Bucky jabbed Steve’s chest. “Oh, and don’t forget a chair. Can’t have her sitting on a stack of rubble.”

“Course, boss,” Steve smirked. “Think I can handle a shopping trip.”

“Think you can?” Bucky mocked as he turned back to Loki. “Right, we should go find this Darby guy.”

“In a moment,” Loki frowned. “I just need a word with my bookkeeper.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover the desk and the like,” Bucky assured as Loki began to usher you aside.

“It’s not a worry,” Loki sneered. “We do have other business.”

Loki grabbed your upper arm and your heels scuffed across the floor as he urged you away from the two men. His jaw ticked as he glanced out the double doors.

“I hope Thor arrives soon. Always late.” He muttered before he cleared his throat. “Darling, you behave.” He felt around and reached into his jacket. He flipped out his wallet and plucked a black card from its folds. “Spend what you must. I’ll not have this man acting benefactor.”

“Um, okay,” You took the card hesitantly. “Loki, I--”

“I am not stupid. I see what he is doing. Him and that drone of his,” Loki growled. “Keep your eye on that oaf.”

You covered the card with your hand and chewed your lip. It would’ve been funny to see Loki so perturbed in any other circumstance, but you suspected you were as much the butt of the joke as him.

👄

If you thought the car ride with Loki the day before was awkward, the one with Steve was grueling and suffocating. You sat in the passenger seat of the flashy sports car and picked at the leather along the door handle. His hand rested on the stick even when he wasn’t changing gears, his fingers tapped on the bulbous head as you felt him peeking at you in the rear view.

“You know,” He finally broke the silence which had thickened after he asked where he was going and you shrugged. “Every time I see you, I just can’t help but think of that day.”

You crossed your arms and went rigid in the seat. You bit the inside of your lip and glared out the window without a word.

“I’m sure you’re wondering which one? The club or the shop?” Steve taunted. “And I really can’t decide if I prefer your ass or your mouth.”

“Would you shut up?” You spat as you finally looked at him.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t ignore this tension between us.”

“Oh, do you mean the sheer hatred or the pure revulsion?” You challenged.

“Don’t act all innocent, honey,” He pushed his shoulders back as he steered with one arm and his other hand gripped the stick. “We both know what-- who you did.”

“The worst thing about you men is you don’t seem to understand the concept of silence,” You hissed. “Or many things, to be fair.”

He pulled into a lot and snarled. He pulled into a spot and the car jolted to a stop. He put the car in park and looked at you.

“Actually, I can think of several ways to keep you quiet,” He snickered. “One I already know to be effective.”

Your nostrils flared and you glanced past him to the plaza. You swallowed and reached for your door handle. He hit the locks and the door clicked loudly. You fell back against your seat and crossed your arms.

“Steve,” You huffed. “We’re here to find a desk.”

“We got time.”

“No,” You pressed yourself to the door and avoided looking at him. “Just let me out.”

He killed the engine and the keys jangled loudly before they were muffled behind fabric. His large hand stretched over your thigh and he rubbed you through your skirt. You drew away and crossed your leg over the other. 

His fingers crept up to the waist of your skirt and he picked at it cloyingly. He leaned across the middle of the car and his warm breath singed your cheek.

“Well, come on then,” The doors unlocked loudly. “Let’s go find that desk.”

👄

The furniture store was almost maze-like. The imported furniture was set out in winding pathways and arranged in carefully plotted scenes. Each piece was unique and every single one was expensive. Steve followed closely as you strolled along, pausing to look closer at a mother of pearl vase or a novelty pen cup.

The selection had yet to intrigue you. It didn’t matter anyway. You didn’t really care what your desk looked like. When all was said and done, you’d be back in New York at the tiny one nestled in the back of The Attic. 

You stopped before a display with a zebra print rug rolled out beneath a marbled black desk. The golden legs spiraled up to support the thick top and an array of paperweights and stationary was laid out across it.

You hated it but you didn’t mind the chair behind it. The dark suede looked comfortable; a lush purple cushiony hug. You stepped closer and picked up the golden pen propped up in an empty inkwell. You twirled it and tilted your head at the bookshelves on either side of the display. Those would actually be useful.

As you set the pen back, you sensed something behind you. Steve’s hands brushed along your waist as he pressed himself against you. He gripped your shoulders and inhaled the scent of your hair.

“This would be nice,” He remarked. “Sturdy.”

He reached down with one hand and touched the desktop.

“Just bend you over a little,” He pushed on your shoulder and you caught yourself against the desk. Your arms trembled as he tried to force you down. He rubbed his crotch against you. “Or maybe you could crawl underneath and--”

“Steve, what the fuck?” You struggled against him. “Someone will see.”

“So,” His hand left the desk and ran over your stomach. “Not our problem.”

“Stop,” You caught his hand before he reached your chest. “I mean it. I doubt Bucky--” You turned with effort and shoved him away. He barely flinched. “Sent you to fondle me.”

“You don’t think so?” He grinned.

“What the fuck does that mean?” You felt behind you and grabbed the pen from the inkwell, tipping the little golden cube over.

“It means I can do whatever I want and the boss will pat me on the back,” He stepped closer.

“You do,” You brought the pen around and pointed the sharp nib at his throat. “And I’ll make sure you never touch anyone again.”

He blinked then tilted his head. His eyes drifted down to the pen and he chuckled. He raised his hands and backed away.

“You’re cute,” He said as he tucked his hands in his pockets. “Come on, let’s find you a fucking desk.”

[oneweekoneband]

her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages.  (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time. 

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. 

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift,  she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

[brokutosan]

Title. We Are Your First, Last, & Only Line of Defense Against This World of Scum

Pairing. Seijoh 3rd Years x Platonic!Reader

Summary. In which growing up is hard, but it’s a lot less harder if you’re doing it with the bestest friends you could ever ask for in the world (and Oikawa Toruu). Or; a journey through the friendship of the third years of Seijoh’s volleyball club.

Warnings. Manga spoilers up to chapter 395. Lots of cursings and mentions of anxieties about growing up. Kind of incoherent and mostly ramblings + not much dialogue, but I’ve been enjoying writing these types of things. Full disclosure: this is completely based on that official art of them at a karaoke bar. Title is from Men in Black by Will Smith.

Oikawa Toruu was 6 years old when he was crying about some kid stealing his pudding cup. And Iwaizumi Hajime was 6 years old when he dreamt of becoming a cop once he grew up, so he sought to bring justice for Oikawa’s pudding cup. L/N Y/N, also 6 years old, had declared that she would marry Hajime once she was old enough to, so she thought it was her job as his future bride to be his partner in solving this crime. (Oikawa Toruu could care less, he just wanted his pudding cup back).

Long story short, Iwaizumi Hajime ended up scuffling with said kid after he called him “stupid porcupine head” and Y/N jumped in the fray to save her future groom, while Oikawa jumped in to reclaim his pudding cup. And that was just the start of their long series of getting into trouble together.

When Oikawa Toruu was 14 years old and in his last year of junior high, the ugly green monster had reared its head and caused hostility between him and a certain kouhai. Y/N, always the kind one, had called him out on his bullshit and told him to get his act together. Oikawa fired back and called her out on her “pathetic crush on Iwa-chan,” effectively setting off the cold war between them that lasted all of summer. Iwaizume recalls having to go back and forth between the two because they refused to be in the same room together.

By the time they were 15 years old and entering highschool, the two ended up being in the same class. Oikawa pretended not to know her and hung out with “Makki” from his volleyball team. Y/N tried branching out and making friends with the other girls in her class for once, but she was shunned out for being close to the Oikawa Toruu back in middle school.

Their three months of silent treatment ended on the second week of the new school year, when Oikawa was enraged by the nasty rumors spreading about his childhood friend. Some guy Y/N rejected during the third day of school had spread rumors that she was involved in a reverse harem with Oikawa and Iwaizumi and that he didn’t bother going out with her because she was “too easy.”

Oikawa, 15 years old, threw the first punch. Iwaizumi, also 15 years old, held back his friend until Oikawa shouted out, “This bastard’s running around calling Y/N-chan a whor-” Oikawa didn’t need to finish because by then Iwaizumi had thrown the second punch. Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro, both 15 years old, tried holding back their two new volleyball teammates.

And that’s how Y/N and Oikawa tearfully made up, and the two, “Mattsun” and “Makki”, as Oikawa affectionately named them, joined their little friend group. Y/N ended up joining the volleyball club as a manager per Oikawa’s request (command) and finally everything was back to normal, with everyone forgetting about the “cold war” between Oikawa and Y/N.

It didn’t take long for Hanamaki and Matsukawa to fit into the group because anyone that could tolerate Oikawa deserves a reward (and that reward is the friendship they’ve built over the years, but none of them actually liked to get sappy).

By the time the five friends were 16 year olds in their second year of highschool, Oikawa has made a name for himself as the great setter of the Seijoh volleyball team. The other three were close behind in terms of popularity, but none were quite as open with it as Oikawa was. Y/N, on the other hand, did not get to enjoy the joys of the glory brought by the four players. She made heads turn, but the sight of four glowering boys right behind her made them turn back.

But there were a few exceptions.

Y/N was 16 years old and in second year of highschool when she got her first boyfriend. It wasn’t Oikawa, or Iwaizumi, or Hanamaki, or Matsukawa, no, it was a fellow second year in the same class as her (she was lucky enough not to be put in the same class as any of her idiot friends that year).

All five of them have forgotten his name now, but when they do talk about him every now and then, he was given the affectionate nickname, “Pighead.” Because two months into their relationship, Pighead had the nerve to demand Y/N to completely cut off her four friends.

Because she was young and naive and under the illusion of puppy love, Y/N was thrown into a dilemma. She mulled over it for weeks, lost sleep over whether or not she should comply, until Iwaizumi snapped her out of it and made her spill what was bothering her.

Once the four boys found out they offered to wipe Pighead off the face of Earth, but Y/N just cried and apologized for even just thinking about cutting off her amazing friends. They had a sleepover that night and Y/N still remembers it as one of her best childhood memories.

(Because of that one incident Y/N had decided to completely cut off immature boys from her highschool days).

Come their third year of highschool the five were as close as ever (and Oikawa, regrettably, much more annoying). They’ve built up seemingly unbreakable bonds that would last a lifetime, and Y/N was glad that she was able to take part in it. Having the four boys throughout her teenage years certainly was enjoyable, and she wouldn’t trade the memories and years of friendship they’ve attained for anything in the world. As long as she had the four of them (even Oikawa), she believed she could face off anything and anyone in the world.

When Y/N began worrying about college and growing up, they were there to help cheer her up. When the boys lost to Karasuno in the Prefectural Qualifiers, Y/N was there to cheer them up. She still remembers the tearful afternoon spent in the gym they’d spent three years of their lives in. And despite not being as hurt as the boys were after losing, Y/N had found herself shedding a few tears of her own. As they closed the gym doors one final time, they’ve also closed the doors to their childhood.

Teenage years go by, and as quick as they’ve entered highschool they found themselves graduating. Growing up. Taking the next step into adulthood. The four boys she came to love as her found family were now four men, and they’ve done well growing up.

And just like that tearful goodbye at the Seijoh volleyball club gym, Y/N finds herself preparing for another one. All five of them are adults now. Iwaizumi is going off to California to study in an American university, Oikawa’s going to Argentina to play volleyball, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa are moving to Tokyo together to study in a university. For once in her life, Y/N finds that she’ll be all alone in Miyagi, while her friends take the next few steps to growing up.

The five of them find themselves in Hanamaki’s childhood bedroom, for one last weekend sleepover before everything changes. They’ve strewn out blankets and pillow on the floor, and are laying down in a circular formation. They’ve been in this bedroom hundreds of times, in this same exact position, but now it’s completely different.

All his posters of celebrities are taken down and wrapped neatly on a pile sitting on his desk. His clutter of figurines and plushies collected over the years are in boxes, ready to move with their owner. His closet is empty, the clothes inside stuffed into their own labeled boxes. And his volleyball jersey that’s usually hung by the door is no longer there, no doubt already packed somewhere safe. Y/N tries not to dwell on the somberness of it all, and instead forces a laugh when Matsukawa makes a joke.

Y/N realizes she messed up when four pairs of eyes turn to look at her. “I know I’m a riot, but that joke wasn’t even that funny. I’ll admit to that.” Matsukawa speaks up.

“What’s on your mind?” Iwaizumi finally asks. His arms are behind his head and he’s staring up at the ceiling, no doubt lost in his own train of thoughts.

Y/N contemplates if she should ruin the peaceful vibes surrounding their group. They’ve already cried tons after losing to Karasuno, so do they even have any tears left for a goodbye? Y/N looks to her left and realizes all their attention focused on her, waiting for her to answer Iwaizumi’s question.

“Nothing. Just that maybe this’ll be our last weekend together.” She sighs, letting her emotions get the best of her. “We’re all going our own separate ways, who knows what could happen, y’know?”

It’s Oikawa that reacts first, but that’s no surprise since he’s Oikawa. “Y/N-chan! Are you trying to say you’re gonna miss me?” He asks with comical tears in his eyes. Y/N immediately regrets speaking up.

“I think I might miss you the least.” Oikawa feigns hurt at the comment, but he knows his friend better than anybody. ‘I’ll miss you more than you could even imagine.’ Is what she’s trying to say.

“Oi. No more crying.” Hanamaki finally says something. He can see the tears forming at Oikawa’s eyes, and a few that already shed from Y/N’s, before he feels the familiar burning sensation in his throat. “Damn it.”

“Nothing’s gonna change. We’ll all keep in touch, plain and simple.” Matsukawa announces, almost as if he was sure of it. “And if anyone,” Iwaizumi adds, looking directly at Oikawa, “decides to be a dick and try to cut us off, we’ll all personally fly out to South America to kick his ass.” A chorus of ‘yes’ sounded out as Oikawa gasps at his friends’ reactions.

“Why does it always get violent with you, Iwa-chan?!” He whines like a child, causing an outburst of laughter from the other four.

Hanamaki notices Y/N staring off into space again before he sighs, placing an affectationate hand on her head. “Relax, loser. It’s not like we’re gonna totally forget Miyagi. If anything me and Issei are gonna come back home more than you think. You’ll get tired of us eventually.”

Y/N wipes a few stray tears and nods, finally showing a genuine smile. “I’ll kill all of you if you even try to forget about Miyagi.”

“Impossible.” Iwaizumi says with a gentle smile on his lips.

-

The next morning the five friends make their way to Narita Airport, where Oikawa’s flying off to Argentina to become a better player. Their eyes are bloodshot red from staying up all night crying and reminiscing old memories together.

The walk from the parking lot to the boarding gate is quiet, until Oikawa breaks the awkward air between them. “When I get back, I’ll wipe the court with Tobio-chan.”

“You’re still not over that? Grow up.” Y/N glares, suddenly remembering their childish fight during their last year of junior high. Hanamaki laughs first, followed by Matsukawa, and finally Iwaizumi. The people around them stare strangely as five teens laugh with tears streaming down their eyes.

“Try not to miss me too much, ‘k, Y/N-chan?” Oikawa winks, just barely dodging the fist swung at him. A boarding call for Oikawa’s flight fills the airport, and they finally remember why they’re there in the first place.

“I’ll miss you guys.” He finally says seriously, tears freely falling down his face. Y/N cracks first, flinging herself to his awaiting arms and cries as she realizes this is his goodbye. Hanamaki, Matsukawa, and Iwaizumi follow, forming a group hug in the middle of Narita Airport.

Oikawa pulls away, dragging a sleeve to wipe away his tears. He opens his mouth to say one final goodbye, but is interrupted by a plethora of voices overlapping each other,

“Try not to make your teammates hate you too much. Make some friends.”

“Don’t even think about calling me at midnight about your stupid problems.”

“If you come crying to me about your knee, I’m just gonna say I told you so.”

“Once you get back, I’ll be sure to give you hell.”

“Oi, what kind of curse are you all placing on me?!” Oikawa whines, the somber atmosphere replaced by their usual energetic one.

With one last ‘goodbye,’ Oikawa strides towards the airport gates, and away from the ones he’s grown to love over the years. He looks over his shoulders, taking a mental picture of all four of his closest friends waving and giving him nods of encouragement so that he’d never forget what he’ll always have back home.

The world can throw anything it wants at them, but as long as they had each other, nothing’s ever too scary or too tough.

A/N. Thank you for reading this totally self-indulgent fic with my fav third years! A Miya twins version of this fic is in the works! Also, I’m thinking of making a mini series off of this oneshot where you chose a route with one of the boys (romantically). Let me know if you guys would also be interested in that. - chuu

[crystalwillow]

Tryyy.. Detective Ramsey

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Casey Valentine (F!MC)

Rating: NSFW/18+ 😈

Word Count:5.7K

(This idea came from a conversation I was having with @deansmyapplepie).

=================================

It was nearing that time of year again, where usually Casey would go out and buy herself the Valentine’s Day special in a café with every intention of loving herself for the day, but it would always go terribly south and she’d end up crying into her pancakes back at home as she ate them from the to-go container cold. It’s the one day of the year she absolutely hated her last name. Everyone expected her to play cupid and help them fall in love within 5 minutes, or help them make a move on their crush. So this year, she was thankful to have work. Arriving at Edenbrook she entered the diagnostic office with purposeful strides, she placed her coffee cup from Derry Roasters on the table and her bag on the floor underneath, before taking her coat off and hanging it on the back of the chair with a flourish.

As she sat down, she sighed contently. Zoning out as she picked up her coffee, sipping it as her mind drifted to the one man she wondered if she’d be seeing personally today.

“Good Morning, Dr. Valentine.”

Casey jumped as the man’s voice greeted her, choking on her sip of coffee and spilling the rest down her white coat.

“Ahhh!” She spluttered.

She stared at herself and the mess in disbelief before looking up to meet his sapphire crystal blues with her forest greens. Was he… laughing?

“This is not funny Ethan.” Casey scolded.

“I beg to differ. From where I’m standing.. it’s hilarious.” He chuckled fondly.

Casey narrowed her eyes, not in the mood for bullshit from anyone today. Sighing heavily Casey snatched up the box of tissues from the middle of the table and started soaking up the mess. Ethan was still laughing to himself as Baz joined then a short while later.

“Morning Casey! Morning Eth..an? … What’s got you so smiley?” He questioned.

“I scared Casey. Her coffee went everywhere. Her face was a picture! Quite priceless really” Ethan explained.

Casey was fuming at the table still mopping up the mess. Baz looked over and gave her a sympathetic smile. She tried to return it but she couldn’t force it so just gave a curt nod as she let out a weary sigh.

“I’ll be back in a moment Baz,” she said as she tied up the trash bag which was now full of coffee-soaked tissue.

Baz gave a friendly nod as Casey took herself and the tied up bag out of the office and towards the locker rooms, after she was gone he turned to Ethan and raised a brow.

“What?!”

“You’re being mean Ethan.”

“Oh sure, I’m the one being mean. She was the one calling me at 2 am because she couldn’t sleep without my voice.”

“And what did you do?”

“Told her what any rational person would. Go back to sleep and call me at a more Godly hour.”

“Ethan! No wonder she’s pissed.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s supposed to be your girlfriend. Yet, you refused to soothe her when she couldn’t sleep. And you’ve made her spill her coffee everywhere and laughed in her face.”

“So?”

“Have you given her a special good morning dose of affection?”

“Why would I need to-”

“It’s Valentine’s Day Ethan! You know. February 14th!? That poor woman probably just wanted to do her work, share a few flirty glances, and lunch with you. Then come round yours and spend the night. But instead, you’re bullying her!”

“Don’t be ridiculous Dr. Mirani. If she wanted that she’d tell me.”

“... is that… how… you feel? That- that I should ask to be pampered by the man who’s supposed to be my boyfriend on the one romantic global holiday of the year.” Casey shuddered from the doorway, now wearing just a plain pair of large scrubs.

“Babe I didn’t-”

But his protest went unheard. She was already gone, the elevator doors closing behind her as she jumped in behind Ines.

She left the hospital and hopped in a cab, heading to Ethan’s. She hated Valentine’s Day even more now. And right now she hated Ethan. She stormed up to his apartment and let herself in with the key he gifted her. If that’s how he felt, she’d take the few bits she’d moved to his apartment and take them back to her own. She grabbed the small suitcase she left in his cupboard and started tossing in all her clothes. She turned to the nightstand to pack her books she left when she noticed a new stack with a post-it note stuck on top. She read it aloud.

“Put away before rookie sees.”

She was curious so she looked at the stack in closer detail and her jaw dropped. Ethan had specifically said he wasn’t one for this type of novel, yet here the whole collect sat on his nightstand. Grabbing a pen from her pocket she added to the note.

“Oops. Guess you forgot, Mr. Grey.”

She chuckled to herself then finished tossing the contents of her belongings into the suitcase. She was just zipping it up when she heard a key go in the door.

“Rookie?... Dr. Valentine?!”

She quietly tucked the suitcase into the corner of the room and slid under the bed after a split-second decision of wanting to see him sweat. Okay, so yeah. It was a petty action to take but in her eyes, was so needed. Her key was on the table by the door, that would be the first thing he noticed. Second? She was hoping it would be the addition she made to the note. She knew that would really get him panicked. She silenced her phone, dull the screen, and turned off the vibration. She knew that would be his third step. To contact her and apologize. She wasn’t ready for that though. So she waited patiently under his bed with bated breath. Just as she’d suspected.

“Shit. How could you be so reckless Ethan! You stupid- Fuck! Her books are gone!”

She giggled to herself internally. She was making him sweat and loving it. Listening intently she heard him pull his phone out and sit in his chair with a heavy sigh.

“Come on. Pick up.”

She watched her phone screen light up and go off at least 10 times before he threw his phone down with a growl of frustration.

“She’s left her key. Took her books. Isn’t answering her phone. What- what have I- I have to find her. Where else would she-? Ah! That niche diner she introduced me to.” He choked through a sob. It broke Casey’s heart hearing him like that. She listened as he grabbed his keys and phone from his desk and ran out of the apartment, door slamming behind him.

Once it was safe, Casey slid out from under the bed and hobbled to the bathroom. She was busting for a pee. After that, she grabbed her suitcase and made for home. Leaving her key to Ethan’s apartment behind. When she got back to her apartment, she discarded the suitcase in her room, grabbed a change of clothes & coffee to go, then headed back to Edenbrook on the next bus. When she arrived, she sought after Naveen. They rescheduled her shift so she was now working overnight and she went to an on-call room to catch some sleep.

Later as she stumbled out of the on-call room, she slammed into someone as she rounded the corner. Too tired to care and in desperate need of water, she carried on without a word.

“C-Casey..?” A broken voice ushered

She stopped in her tracks, turning her head to the side but keeping her back to the person. “What?”

“You- I- Where have you been?”

“Sleeping.” She replied bluntly then faced forwards, carrying on her route to the cafeteria.

“Casey.” She stopped as she felt his hand gently grab her wrist.

Taking a deep breath, she yanked it from his grip. “I need to go. My shift starts in 5 minutes. Anything you need regarding diagnostic patients will have to wait until morning, Dr. Ramsey. Good night.” And with that she carried on, Ethan swallowing harshly then turning on his heel, dragging his feet to his car. He’d truly fucked up. And he’d have to do everything in his power to make it right.

In the middle of the night, his phone pinged on the nightstand and he awoke to read the words he never thought he would. “Dr. Ramsey. We’re over. From now on, we’re colleagues only.”

And suddenly it was too much. He felt everything at once. Love, anger, sadness, spite, grief, and just about every emotion a human can feel before all he felt was a painstaking numbness throughout his entire body. He doesn’t know when they started but as he looked in the mirror he saw the hot tears that streamed down his face. The pain in his eyes. He was broken, and the only person who led to this happening was himself. He reflected on the past few months where Casey had stopped her teasing of him over his quirky ways, how he didn’t like it so he thought if he started teasing her back, she’d tease him again. But all he’d done was drive her away. He’d lost her. Well and truly.

He arrived at work the next morning, red rings around his eyes, bag slung over his shoulder, and coffee cups in hand. Out of habit he’d ordered for Casey but… that was a habit he’d now have to break. In the early morning quiet, the elevator dinged loudly to announce its arrival on the ground floor. It drew his attention of course and he watched as Casey stepped out and walked confidently to the exit and outside into the fresh air. He wanted to follow her and give her the coffee in his hand, but he found himself frozen to his spot, his voice dying in his throat. As he stood staring at the doors Baz and Zaid stopped behind him and shared a worried glance.

“Uh... Dr. Ramsey?” Zaid spoke.

“Hrm?” Ethan hummed, still staring at the doors.

“Are you okay?” Baz asked.

“Hrm?” He repeated.

Baz sighed and gave a nod to Zaid in goodbye, “Come on. We need to get to the office.” Baz said

“Hmm,” Ethan said, blindly following Baz to the seventh floor.

Once they were in the office, Baz shut the door and closed the blinds, facing Ethan as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, what’s happened? You’re doing the zoned out hrm thing.”

Ethan swallowed. He hated that Baz could pick up on things so easily, and was so no-nonsense about getting to the bottom of things to sort the problem out. “Why would you assume something happened?”

“Ethan,” Baz sighed as he pulled up a chair and sat opposite him at his desk, “you’re zoned out and not paying attention to me. Are you feeling okay?” He empathized.

“Just suffering a broken heart. I’ll be fine by the end of today.” Ethan mumbled, hoping Baz didn’t hear him.

“A broken heart? Did- are you and Casey…”

“No more? Great observation Dr. Mirani. You’ll forever have a spot on my team for that.”

“But I don’t understand. You only scared her and made her spill coffee. Is she… on her period or something? Overreacting?”

Ethan sighed wearily, “No. she’s not. I’ve been behaving like that towards her for months. She stopped teasing me about my quirks one day, I disliked that she stopped. I thought maybe if I started teasing her, she’d get annoyed enough to start doing it back. But I was stupid. I took it too far and now I’ve lost the most amazing woman that’s ever walked into my life. She didn’t only light up the room when she walked in Baz, she lit up my heart and my whole day. She knows me, better than I know myself. She’s quirky and fun and cute. My age is no secret, before her, I always used to sit at home feeling it, but she came along and I felt young again. I felt like I could talk about anything with her, indulge my inner child by having fun and she wouldn’t judge me. She was… still is a breath of fresh air, my lotus flower in the desert. And I… I scared her away.”

By the end of his speech, Ethan’s voice was breaking as tears rolled down his cheeks, eyes glistening with the ones that sat unshed. “Sorry. I uh… Thanks.” Ethan stuttered as he took a tissue from the box Baz held out to him.

“You should go home.”

“But I’ve got patients to see. This team has work to do. I can’t stay off because my relationship ended. It was an unethical one anyway.”

“Unethical or not. You can’t treat your patients when you can barely focus. I’ll take your patients for today. You go home. You need to process your emotions before you make a misdiagnosis.”

“… fine. I hate it when you’re right.”

“No, you don’t. You just don’t want to open up and let people in because of past trauma with your mom leaving. That hurt you. You never want to feel it again, yet… you’re feeling it right now and you’re beating yourself up because this time, you’re part of the reason the person’s left. But you can also be part of the solution that brings them back. If you act quick enough, that is.”

“But I-”

“Go home, Ethan. Better yet. Go to Casey’s home. Apologize for your behavior, explain yourself, and ask for a second chance. If I know that woman, she loves you too much to not give you one. I guarantee she’s hurting too right now.”

“Baz I cannot just up and leave everyth-”

“Go. Before I page Naveen.”

“Fine.” Ethan huffed, like a sulky teenager as he collected his things and dragged his feet to the door.

“And pick your feet up before you fall over them.”

“Yes, dad” Ethan said, Baz chuckling to himself as Ethan left the room.

Later in the afternoon as he was taking a break, Baz’s phone pinged in his pocket. He took it out and smiled at the screen.

“What’s got you so happy?” Zaid pondered aloud

“Hm? Oh, nothing. I just... I think I may have helped save a relationship and stopped this place from becoming a hostile work environment.”

“What do you mean?”

“Casey broke up with Ethan after he got too much with his teasing of her and playing pranks. I had to send him home today, he was a mess. I advised him to try and talk to her and fix it before it’s too late. Looks like he took my advice.” Baz smiled and turned his phone to show Zaid the Pictagram post, Ethan just made and tagged him in.

/// The next day ///

It was now a brand new day, and in reality, two days since the coffee incident. Casey walked through the halls with confidence as she headed to check on her next patient when she clocked Zaid approaching her.

“Ah! Dr. Valentine. There you are.” He exclaimed, placing a gentle hand on her forearm.

“Zaid! What can I do for you?” Casey smiled.

“Dr. Ramsey wants to see you in the gardens upstairs.”

“Well.. he’ll have to wait. I’m now checking up on my paediatric patient.”

“He said it’s urgent. I’ll take the patient.”

“No!... You won’t.” She snapped.

Zaid stared at her with a bit of shock.

“She’s… family. I promised to bring her Auntie Casey special medicine for tummy pain. Dr. Ramsey will have to wait.”

Zaid opened his mouth to protest but closed it rethinking his words before speaking them, “I’ll relay that message for you.”

“Thank you.” Casey nodded and entered the paediatric ward to find her patient.

As Zaid re-entered the gardens a few minutes later, Ethan turned and frowned.

“Where’s Casey?”

“Busy with a paediatric patient. She’s family and I- I said I’d take them for now but she-”

“It’s fine. Family’s important to her. She knows I’m here, yes?”

“She does.”

“Then thank you Dr. Mirani. You may go back to work now.”

With a single nod, Zaid turned and left the gardens and back to work. 20 minutes had passed and Casey still hadn’t come up to the gardens so Ethan made the decision to page her. Another 20 minutes passed, and another and another, until eventually 2 hours had passed and Casey hadn’t even read his pages. Sighing, Ethan left the gardens and entered the elevator, heading back down to the 7th floor. When he exited the elevator he stumbled straight upon a scene of chaos, and in the center, the one he’d been waiting for.

“Dr. Valentine!” He shouted and ran over kneeling beside a nurse. “What happened here?”

“We’re not sure Dr. Ramsey. I was walking with her to the elevator when her legs just gave out. She’s conscious but unresponsive. No head injuries, she just… passed out.”

Ethan listened intently, nodding in all the right places. “Do we have a bed for her?”

“Dr. Mirani and Marlene have gone to find one, but they’ve been gone for 20 minutes. That’s roughly the time she’s been out of it.”

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath as he lowered his head. “Okay. We need to get her to the couchin the diagnostics office, then I’ll need you to ready me a cold glass of water and I’ll prepare her favourite snack. … Just as I suspected, dehydration.”

Beside him Sarah gulped. “Oh Casey.” She sighed, truth was, since Casey had started at Edenbrook she and Sarah had grown so close they were practically sisters. Seeing her like this tore a little at Sarah’s heart, she swallowed and looked back at Ethan with a nod.

“Ready?” He asked

“Y-yeah.”

“Good. You take her legs, I’ll take under her arms.”

Assuming their positions, Ethan counted to three and they lifted Casey and carried her to the couch.

“And lower.” He said as they hovered her over the couch cushions. “Thank you.”

“No problem, I’ll get that water.” Sarah said, giving a sad smile. Once she had completely disappeared, Ethan closed the blinds and broke down as he knelt beside Casey’s limp form. He took her delicate hand in his own and gave her knuckles feather light kisses.

“You’ve done it again, haven’t you? Overworked yourself to stop the pain. Pain that this time I’m the cause of.”

He turned to the door as a knock sounded, Sarah entered with the glass of water. “Here you go. I made sure it was from the tower and not the tap, I added exactly 3 ice cubes and Dr. Trinh is on her way up with her straw from her locker.”

“Thank you, Sarah.”

Sarah nodded and backed out of the room, the doors hissing shut behind her.

He handed his patients off the Naveen for the next few hours as he stayed by Casey’s side as she woke up and slowly returned to her rounds. For professional reasons, he was there as he attending to make sure her performance was up to scratch and she wasn’t slacking. But personally, he was there as her boyfriend, first and foremost. In moments when nobody else was looking, concern creased his brow. His heart ached. He’d been the catalyst in this scenario. After her shift finished, Ethan was there waiting outside the locker room.

“You’re staying at mine tonight.” He stated

“Dr. Ramsey. I’m fine now. And besides, I live in a house full of doctors.” Casey smiled and gestured to Sienna and Aurora, who she was leaving off with.

“No buts or bargaining Dr. Valentine, you’re staying at mine.”

“Ethan.” Casey said sternly, “You’re letting guilt eat away at you again. Stop it!”

“That may be so. But I would rest easier knowing you’re under my roof tonight.”

Casey rolled her eyes good naturedly and turned to her friends, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Save some cookie batter for me to bake okay?”

“Sure thing Case. See you tomorrow.” Aurora smiled

“Bye Casey!” Sienna chimed with a hug, and followed Aurora out of the building.

A short drive later, Ethan walked through the doorway of his apartment, holding Casey’s hand tightly.

“You can loosen your grip, you know. It’s kinda starting to hurt.”

“Hm? Oh! Sorry.” He apologised.

Casey smiled and sat on his couch. “I thought you didn’t finish until about half 9 tonight?” She queried.

“I’ve bargained with Naveen to finish an hour early. But until then, you’re here on your own.”

“Ethan!” She whined, “I could have gone home with the others and made my cookies!”

“You can make cookies here. I have the ingredients.”

“No. Making them alone is something you do when you want solitude and to relax. I wanted to have fun with my friends, talk and relax. Now I have to sit here for 5 hours and try to find something to entertain myself with.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage. Now, I have to get back to work. I’ll see you later sweetheart.” He rushed and with a quick peck on her lips he was gone.

Casey sighed and looked around the apartment. After lounging on the couch browsing TV shows for about an hour, she decided to go and have a bath. After her relaxing soak, she grabbed her key for his apartment, which was still sitting where she left it and went for a walk to get food and drink. She made the conscious decision to stop by her apartment and bake her cookies, by the time she returned to Ethan’s it was 9pm. She cringed as she turned her key in the lock and entered the apartment juggling bags and a tray of freshly baked cookies, knowing Ethan was inside. When she rounded the corner, Ethan was standing there, a stern look focused at her, accompanied by a scowl and his arms crossed over his chest.

“What’s in the bags?” He asked

“Dinner.” She answered matter of factly, “and I went home and made us dessert, I hope you have whipped cream and chocolate for shaving in your kitchen because I didn’t pick either of those things up.” She busied herself taking it to the kitchen and laying it all out.

“I could’ve got dinner on my way home. I could have made us something.”

“And miss out on playing Cluedo with me? No chance.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You heard. I want to see if the infamous Detective Ramsey is as good as he’s acclaimed to be.”

“Is that so?” Ethan smirked closing in on Casey

“Mhm.” She giggled as he closed in on her, eventually his hands grazed her hips and he brought his lips to her own, “or should I call you… Mr. Grey.” She whispered a mischievous smirk growing on her features.

Ethan inhaled deeply and Casey bit her lip as she felt him hardened slightly against her thigh.

“And why would you call me that?” He husked in her ear sending electrifying chills down her spine all the way to her toes.

“Just… A suggestion.” She replied barely above a whisper.

“Is that so?”

“Mm.” she replied as Ethan placed his lips against hers, slow and sensual at first, gradually heating it up notch by notch until they pulled away from each other gasping for air, their desire for one another reflecting back at them as their gazes connected. “You know. I don’t think you’re anything like Mr. Grey.” Casey teased with a raspiness to her voice.

Ethan raised an eyebrow, “Is that a challenge?”

“I don’t know,” Casey started, backing away out of the kitchen, “you tell me. Sir” she winked as she turned on her heel and entered the living room. Ethan hot on her trail. “Why tell you. When I can show you.” He smirked as he hovered over Casey.

The air crackled with the sexual tension between them, were they anywhere else, others would be making themselves scarce as it’s clear they aren’t able to hold back. And as quickly as one can snap their fingers, Casey and Ethan’s lips met again in a fiery frenzy. Desperate. Needing. Desire. The three things fueling them the most.

Somehow, without any accident they blindly made their way into Ethan’s bedroom. He kicked the door shut, spinning their positions and pinning Casey to the wooden panel.

“ ‘Not like Mr. Grey…’ I’ll make you eat those words young lady.”

“Just those words?” She flirted

“Oh? … I don’t think you’re in the correct place to be asking questions now. Do you?” He rasped as he removed his tie in one swift movement. Casey gulped as she watched him ravel it around his hands.

“Wh-what are you doing with th-that?”

“Oh wouldn’t you like to know.” He smirked and gestured to the bed, “sit.”

Casey flicked her gaze from Ethan to the bed and back again.

“Sit.” He repeated as he raised a questioning brow as if daring her to disobey his command.

Moving her gaze to his hands, she gulped audibly as she noted his veins raised slightly. Using her better judgement, she slowly made her way to the bed and sat on the edge.

“Good girl.” Ethan praised and he knelt on one knee behind her. “You don’t mind surrendering your sight for a while, do you?”

Casey shuddered at his whispering breath that tickled the shell of her ear. “Do you?” He repeated pressingly. She slightly shook her head. She’d meant calling him Mr. Grey to be a tease. But she’d be lying if she said that the adrenaline she was feeling right now was exhilarating. Her breathing turned from normal to deep yet shallow as the world was shut out and she felt Ethan securing his tie around her head. Listening intently she gasped a little as she heard his belt buckle open and then hit the floor. The seconds that passed felt like hours as she listened to drawers and his closet open and shut again.

“E-Ethan…” she stuttered.

“What’s wrong?”

“W-water. Please. I-”

“Shhhh. It’s okay. I’ll get you some” he whispered, kissing her forehead gently before leaving the room.

After she was sure he was gone she rubbed her shoulders and shivered from the small amount of cold that bit through the warmth of her body. Her heart dropped when she heard the frown in Ethan’s voice.

“You’re cold too,”

“Only a little. It is the tail end of winter.”

“Did you need water?”

“Yes. Please.” She said, opening her mouth. Ethan guided the straw to her lip and rested it there gently and watched as she took a reasonable gulp before nodding and he took it away, placing it on the bedside table.

“Could you guide me to the middle? Of the bed?” Casey questioned. Ethan gave a gentle smile despite the desire he was feeling.

“Of course. Would you feel safer there?”

“Yes.”

Ethan picked her up and moved her to the middle of the bed. “Why don’t you lay down. Make yourself comfortable, and… put your hands above your head for me.” He spoke lowly, peppering soft kisses from her earlobe to her collarbone. She obeyed and laid there whimpering from the electric feeling that was tingling her skin. She wanted- no needed more than what he was giving. As she laid there she continued to listen and heard the sound of handcuffs and swallowed as she felt Ethan grab her wrist gently.

“Detective…”

“Hmmm?”

”Shouldn’t you remove my sweater and bra first?”

She bit her lip as he moved slightly brushing himself against her leg and silently cursed her smarts, undressing her before cuffing her to the bed frame. Once she was safely secured, Ethan used a delicate hand and moved her hair from where it had stuck to her lips before hovering over her.

“You’re so beautiful Casey. Wise beyond your years. Your intellect is,” he took a deep breath “my biggest turn on. And I may not be the best at dirty talk but my god are you the best thing I’ve ever tasted. You light me up in more ways than one Casey Jane. And if you'll allow me. I’d like to share with you my wildest fantasy.”

His breath was shallow, words no more than a desperate whisper and his hand trailed down her side and back up over her stomach and the valley of her breasts. Stopping at her nipple to softly tease, eliciting a whimper from her throat.

“Was that a yes? You’ll allow me?”

“Y-yes.”

“Tryyy.... Detective Ramsey. Let me hear you.”

“Y-yes. Detective R-Ramsey.”

Taking a deep breath as he connected their lips again, Ethan trailed his hand down Casey’s body again, slowly sliding his hand under the waistband of her skirt and toying with her panties. He trailed heated kisses down her body and he slid her skirt and tights off, discarding them on the floor, trailing his hand up her inner thigh as he kissed back up from her hip.

“Nnng.” She whimpered at his teasing touches.

After a few minutes of teasing, Casey gasped as Ethan moved from above her and his warmth was replaced by a shuddering cold.

“Ethan?” She croaked lightly.

“Shhh.” He hushed as he laid beside her on the bed.

“What are you do- oh…” she gasped as she heard a vibrator click on.

“Open your legs.” He cooed, gently coaxing them open with his free hand. Moving her panties aside, he gently gave her a single stroke over her now super sensitive bud earning an audible moan from her and she arched back. “Ah ah ah. Down.”

“Mmmmm.” Casey whined as she lowered herself back to the mattress

“Good girl.” He smirked and brought the vibrator closer to her area. She sucked in a sharp breath as she felt it move closer.

“Ahhhh!” She shuddered as he placed it on her and he muffled her whimpers with a kiss as he moved the device around building her pleasure, edging her closer to her climax and stopping just before she released.

“Nnnngghhhh. Ethaannn.” She cried, pulling at her restraints and writhing her hips to try and find contacted again but she admitted defeat when she heard it click back off.

Casey laid on her back in anticipation, waiting as she heard Ethan shuffling around before she felt something warm graze her lip.

“Detective?” She whispered.

“Shhh. Just suck.” Ethan soothed, sliding his cock in her mouth

“Wha- mmmmm!” She exclaimed and started sucking his dick gently.

“Mmmm” he hummed as Casey moved her head back and forth. He let her edge him as much as he had her before pulling out and moving away leaving Casey gasping for breath as he moved around again. She felt his hands snake round her head and undo the tie around her head and remove it. She blinked a few times to adjust her sight to the room.

“So beautiful.” Ethan whispered as her gaze landed upon him before their lips joined again in a searing kiss. Ethan rolled over, supporting himself with both hands either side of her torso.

———————

Night had turned to early morning by the time the pair laid side by side panting heavily and giggling like giddy children. Casey turned her head and was met with Ethan’s side profile.

“Ethan?” She yawned.

“Mm?” He hummed quietly, turning his head to face her.

“I… I love you.” She smiled earnestly.

“I …… I love you too, Casey.” He smiled back, bringing a hand to stroke her cheek with a gentle caress.

Casey smiled back and they joined their lips in a lazy and tired kiss before pulling each other closer under the covers and intertwining their limbs, falling into a deep slumber.

A few hours later Ethan’s alarm shrilled on the bedside table, and he groaned as he stuck a hand out from under the covers to turn it off. Casey stayed sound asleep on top of him, unfazed by the sound.

“Casey.” He groaned but got no worded response, just a tickle of her breath across his chest to which he chuckled and gentle peeled himself away and made his way to the bathroom. It wasn’t until he had properly woken up he took in the full damage of purplish bruises over his skin in varying shades. “Sssshhhhit.” He cursed, hissing at the pain he felt as he touched some of them.

“H-h-homeostasis!” Casey shouted from the bed which was followed by a thud. Ethan rushed from the bathroom to her side but she remained asleep.

“Casey. Babe wake u- hoooly fuck.” He cursed, assessing the damage of his brutal assault from the night before on her neck. Slowly, Casey’s eyes fluttered open and she gave Ethan a sweet smile.

“Hey, handsome” she greeted, not yet noticing the damage she had done. She moved and winced at a soreness she felt. “Ow!” She exclaimed quietly.

“I know. You fell outta bed. And uh… I’d check your…” he gestured to her neck and torso as he looked down guiltily. Frowning in confusion, Casey pulled herself up with Ethan’s help and walked into the bathroom, looking at her reflection she gasped then reappeared smiling.

“You’re… not mad?” Ethan asked.

“No.” She replied, taking in his chest and neck, “are you?”

Ethan took a couple steps forward to meet her, “Not one bit.” He chuckled, sweeping her head out of her face.

“Well then. I have one thing to say. We need to shower, get dressed, have breakfast, and get to work.”

“What?! People will see the!” He exclaimed as he gestured to their necks, Casey just laughed.

“So? If people wanna talk, let them talk. We lived the moment. So any rumours that cultivate will be from jealousy.” She went up on tip toes and pressed a loving kiss to his lips, stepping back and smiling widely.

“The day you cease to amaze me Casey Valentine, will be the day I die.”

Casey giggled as she pulled them into the bathroom and they started their day how it ended. Steamy and full of love.