#like the grapple hook alone opens up quite a bit

[ganondoodle]

your totk rewritten is pretty cool, its got a lot of nifty ideas! i really like the possibility of an ending where ganondorf gets a proper burial, esp considering, you know. the Situations hes been through (-> a whole conspiracy to kill him, being sealed in a way thats designed to keep him barely alive possibly for the rest of eternity, being used as a living battery to power a gazillion things al at once for thousands of years) (this last part is also really nice, showing the sheikah as still shady af but also why it was so easy for their technology to get corrupted since it came straight from the power source in a way)

thank you!

i want to write a more coherent version of it sometime soon where i summarize a lil more and split it up in clear parts (like basic plot, surface, underground etc)

my main goal is to bring it all full circle really, the zonau acting as an inspiration for the shiekah (them not being 100% perfect good guys too like you said), the thing with repeating history bc you blindly follow its warning (like how botw happened with trying to replay the first calamity and it backfiring, so did the zonau follow the warnings of old and thus caused what they wanted to prevent), it building more on the shiekah tech in itself and giving a good reason to why so much of it turned useless, and while i love ganondorf as he is i personally like the idea of him while maybe not having been 100% good either (bc who is really) that him being mistreated like that lead to him becoming irrevocably hateful and angry and you having to stop him although you know he has every right to be that way

like this totk rewritten project is less of a complete AU and more meant like a reshuffle, except for the time travel (actually that might be turned into a travel to ganondorfs memories where you get to run around in .. maybe at the end of the halfway battle- sorry getting ahead of myself nfkdnhdjk) all pieces are still there, but put together a little differently

i really hope people will like it :D

[galaxywhump]

The Fall

[Caged Canary masterlist]

Some more AU Bradley, this time from before the kidnapping.

contents: heroes and villains, electrocution, fall from a height, broken bones, emetophobia, concussion, hospital setting, needles, self-loathing, traumatic experience.

~~~

It was supposed to be a straightforward team operation, tracking down a minor group of villains. The one Bradley ended up chasing once the group had scattered - which wasn’t the ideal outcome, but the heroes still outnumbered them - looked young and acted frantic, clearly frightened by him of all people running after them. They ended up in the harbor, in an abandoned warehouse, where the villain discovered that the way they had come through was also the only way out.

He had them cornered. They weren’t ready to accept this, so they made a last-ditch effort to use a grappling hook to get to a beam high above ground. How they planned to get back down after sprinting along its length back towards the only exit was a mystery, but Bradley didn’t wait for it to be solved; he scoffed, amused, and nearly flew after them, pulling himself towards the beam. Once he was standing on it, he smiled, grabbed a weapon, and approached the villain, it was over, he’d won - until they crouched and pressed their hands to the beam, electricity crackled and traveled towards him, and all of a sudden he was completely frozen in place, unable to move. The crackling extended to his costume, sparks danced between the metal elements, his every muscle tensed up, his jaw locked, he couldn’t even scream. It wasn’t exactly pain, it was something else, and when it stopped, when the hold of electricity on his body disappeared, his balance was skewed. He tried to regain it, but he swayed on his feet, stumbled - and fell.

Air whistled in his ears before he landed hard on his side and this time he was able to cry out when agony exploded in his arm, his head hit the ground and the world rang, and air was knocked out of his lungs, leaving him panting in panic as his vision was slowly shrouded in dark fog. The villain appeared in his field of view, having made their way down safely; they threw a brief glance at him before turning around and running away. He tried to crawl after them, rolled over onto his stomach and cried out in renewed agony. He managed to prop himself up on one elbow - dimly aware of his right arm most likely being broken - lifted his head, tried to get up, but vertigo hit him and turned into nausea that made him retch. Everything was spinning, he desperately pushed himself backwards, overcome with confusion and dizziness so intense he wasn’t even sure where he was and what had happened anymore.

“Mercury!” he heard right before the fog swallowed him entirely.

-=-

When he woke up, the first things he felt were pain and nausea. He tried to open his eyes, but that just made matters worse, and he choked.

“Hey, here.”

He threw up again - thankfully, into a bucket that someone put close to him. He felt terrible, sick, and he couldn’t open his eyes more than a little bit. Too much bright light made the nausea even worse.

“Light hurts,” he whined, feeling tears gather in his eyes solely because of his physical state; he wasn’t able to think clearly yet. “C-could you-”

“Of course, sorry!”

He exhaled when he heard curtains being drawn and lights being switched off, and it finally got darker. He slowly opened his eyes; it made him dizzy, but he managed to keep his nausea at bay.

He was in a hospital room, and that sight alone made some vague memories come back, the sense that something had gone terribly wrong. He blinked as if in slow motion, and flinched when someone appeared in his view, a person he couldn’t quite place at first, but it didn’t take him long to realize who it was.

“Hey, Bradley.” Ruby sat down on a chair next to his bed and smiled with worry written all over her face. “I assume the answer is no, but are you feeling better?”

He frowned and shook his head out of habit, then cursed himself when the painful pounding in his head intensified.

“I-I don’t…” He trailed off, looking down only to see that his right arm was in a sling and there was an IV needle stuck in his left arm. “I don’t know. I still feel sick.”

Ruby nodded slightly, her lips pursed in consternation.

“Just holler if it gets worse, I’ll fetch you a bucket. Ah, wait.” She grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand and handed it to him. He accepted it - wincing when he was forced to take it in his left hand - washed his mouth and spat into the bucket, then sipped the water slowly.

“Thanks,” he said with a forced smile.

The air in the room was unbearably heavy.

“Sorry it’s just me. Mom and dad were here too, before you woke up, but they had to run. They’ll visit you soon, though.” He nodded, and she continued. “What happened? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting through the pulsating pain and the fog in his mind until he started to recall what had led up to… this.

“It’s okay,” he muttered.” I… fell, I think. Yeah.” But there was more, the reason why he fell, and before he knew it his hands started to shake. “They had electric powers. We were on a metal beam and they touched it, and my costume… I… I fell.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“It’s-it’s fine,” he lied. He was shivering, and this time his tears weren’t only caused by his pain and confusion.

“Bradley…”

“It’s fine,” he repeated. “Just a headache.”

He knew Ruby wasn't buying it, and he hated himself for not hiding his weakness better.

Weakness. He was weak, crying, and metal had a weakness too. He’d always been able to manipulate it, use it to his advantage, having full control over his powers after years and years of practice, and now it had hurt him, made the shock worse. He was suddenly acutely aware of every metal element around him, the bed frame, the needle in his arm, the lamps, everything - and he was… scared.

And Ruby could see that plain as day.

She was the last person he wanted to see him like this, the kind of hero he'd always aspired to be. He'd admired her his whole life, and now… now she was here, in this hospital, while he was in most likely the worst state he’d ever been in.

“Hey,” she said, laying her hand on his left shoulder and rubbing it a bit to comfort him. “Things like that… they happen, you know? Our job is dangerous, and sometimes the villains like to remind us about that. But you’re still an amazing hero, Bradley. Mercury.” She smiled, and he cracked a smile too, even though he couldn’t help but think about her and their parents having never had gone through anything like this, as far as he knew.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Thanks. For being here, too, it’s been a while, huh?” He let out a nervous short laugh. “I wish the circumstances were different.”

“Yeah, but it’s good to see you regardless. You should visit sometime soon, when you’re feeling better.”

“Sure. I will.”

He wasn’t entirely sure, though. Not when he was suddenly hit with a strange feeling of inferiority.

“I, uh…” He swallowed. “I think I’m gonna have to get a new costume. Get the whole thing redesigned, with… less metal? Crap, I should’ve thought of that sooner. I feel like such a moron.”

“You aren’t. It was fine for years.” Ruby shrugged. “My costume has metal elements too, you just… you got unlucky. You can change your costume and it won’t happen again.” She squeezed his shoulder. “It will be okay.”

It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, he thought, but didn’t say it out loud, opting to simply nod instead.

Ruby's words were logical, and on the surface he knew she was right, but deep down there was something that blocked her reasoning out, focusing on putting Bradley down for his stupidity and lack of foresight. There had been times when he felt inadequate, sure, but in those moments he would push further until at least the people around him were satisfied with his abilities and achievements. This, however, was different. He felt disappointed in himself more than anything else, uncertain, full of doubts, and he’d never felt this way this strongly before.

Something had changed back there, as if he had left something in that warehouse, something important - the thrill of the chase, the confidence and trust with which he’d always used his powers, the pure love he’d had for being a hero.

All lost on the beam along with his balance before he plummeted to the ground, defeated in what felt like every possible way.

~~~

taglist: @funky-little-glitter-bomb @lonesome--hunter @redstainedsocks @maracujatangerine @null-whump @make-them-scream

[kidheart]

So I've begun doing brief writing exercises with prompts with the team. It's just a fun way to get to write when I can't work on a longer project. Here's the first one with my usual two.

Prompt: Trapped in an Elevator with the Power Out.

Trapped

Zip!

Then it was black. Very black. Even the emergency lights didn't kick on to offer any aid. With our ride up lurching to a sudden halt.

"Well, that's a bit annoyin'," his Brooklyn accent cut through the silence some.

"They might know we're here," I gave a bit of a sigh.

"We should probably start movin' then, before-" there was a sudden shift of the metal box we were enclosed in.

"C'mon!" He breathed while looking about quickly, spotting something overhead.

The door that was just out of his reach, "I'll give ya a lift!"

I didn't question anything as I Very suddenly felt his hands at my sides, before he lifted me up. With the extra bit of reach gained, I slid my hands along the ceiling until my hand caught the latch I was seeking.

Snap!

Not much time left as suddenly the floor under Duke began to slant to the left! I'd held onto the found mechanism to keep us somewhat balanced. As I then gave a bit of force into my push upwards.

Pop!

The door was open and I was able to scramble up and out of the quickly grumbling elevator.

Once up, I offered my hand down to him, feeling his firm grip take hold. Gloved hand holding the other tightly, I had enough adrenaline racing through me to lift enough as he reached for the frame of that opening. Able to climb up the rest of the way, we heard it again-

Blast and Snap!

The metal box gave its metallic death rattle, as it began to drop.

Leaping to our feet before our ground pulled us down with it, we barely had time to notice the ledge that was the 10th floor drop off. Precious seconds left, we took that shot in unison. His gloved hand made a firm purchase. Mine had at first, but the fabric of my own glove began to slide.

A sharp gasp escaped my lips as I began to lose what little grip I had. Attempting again did little as I started to fall.

"I've got ya!" The drake made quite certain as he instantly caught me by my wrist.

My heart racing in my chest, I looked up at him. A quick rush of relief escaping my lips as I gifted him a smile.

A short groan escaped his beak as he then shifted and contorted his arm a bit to allow me a more stable climb up onto his back, "There ya go, sweetheart."

"Odd place to take a breather," I whispered to him.

"I'd say it's the perfect place for it before continuin' our date night," he chuckled, "Alone in the dark, with ya intimately close. Dressed like that an' drivin' me crazy."

Knowing I was blushing from the heat on my face, I replied, "If you have the energy to flirt right now....perhaps..?"

"Darlin', I could flirt with ya anywhere an' anytime," he was giving a confident smirk that I couldn't see, "An' id certainly love to share a dance with ya."

As I brushed a kiss over his feathered cheek, feeling as they fluffed some, I whispered, "Shall we?"

With that he looked up, finding the top of the elevator shaft, and shot out his grappling hook. Before pulling us up and getting a jump on those quite alarmed to see the two of us after hearing the thunderous crash of the elevator seconds before this. Giving us cover to grant us that element of surprise.

As we jumped into that dance!

[butwhyduh]

Sex pollen

Dick Grayson x reader

Warning: It’s on sex pollen so there is a dub con warning despite the fact that they are willing participants.

Summary: all of the batboys are dusted with Poison Ivy’s sex toxin and think they’ve taken an antidote. It didn’t quite work. This is the story about what happens to Dick.

Beginning Jason Tim Bruce

Dick pushed off of the roof before feeling weightless as he fell towards the ground. He shot the grappling hook and swung to another building. He leaped into a flip before swinging to yet another building where he did a handspring before landing. He ran across the roof before leaping again. This time he landed quietly on a fire escape.

Down below was a pair of drug dealers talking. Dick watched for a few minutes before jumping down in front of them. They yelled out before pulling guns. How predictable. Dick dropped a smoke bomb before leaping over to kick the gun from one guy. He twisted midair to elbow the other one in the face. The first guy throw a punch that Dick ducked.

He swept the guy’s legs out from under him before kicking the other guy in the head. The first guy ran at Dick with a knife. Dick shoved him against the wall and placed plastic cuffs on him. Dick’s heart beat quickened and he was confused. Why the fuck was he horny? He quickly cuffed the second guy and jumped up to the roof and over a few buildings before calling in to GCPD about the men.

He adjusted his cup in his suit and started moving again. What the hell? It’d go away on its own. He’d had boners as Robin a few times as a teen. Excitement of the job had made blood flow and it wasn’t sexual but just awkward. Thank god for a cup back then.

He noticed a guy pushing a woman in the alleyway. It looked like a domestic abuse call. Dick jumped down in front of them.

“Why don’t you hit someone your own size,” he said with a dangerous smirk. The guy frowned and shoved the woman behind him.

“Get out of here, mask. We don’t need you,” he said.

“I knew you’d say that. Let’s leave the lady alone for the night, hu? Take a walk,” Dick said. She gulped.

The guy tried to throw a punch at Dick who grabbed his head and pushed him against the wall. The guy fell down unconscious. Abusers can never take a hit. The woman ran to Dick and gave him a hug. He almost jumped away from her as his body reacted. Okay, that was awful.

“No problem ma’am,” he yelped before swinging to the roof. Go home, Dick. Don’t be a weirdo mask running around with a boner saving the city. He swung back to his apartment and in the window.

“Hey Dickie, lookin good,” you said as you made tea. He almost jumped out of his skin. That’s right, you were staying at his place as your apartment was being fumigated. “Did I scare you?”

“No. My mind was elsewhere,” he said with a smile, pulling off his mask. “I’ve got to shower,” he said moving up the bathroom. He turned on the warm water and started pulling off his suit. The cup was painfully constricting and he sighed with relief as it was gone.

Dick stood under the water and started stroking himself. You were his girlfriend but he didn’t know how you’d react to him coming home with a raging boner after patrol. He was too lost in the sensations to hear the bathroom door open but he heard the shower door open as you walked in nude.

“Woah,” you giggled. “Caught you.”

“You did,” he said feeling his skin turn pink.

“Mind if I uh help out,” you said with a wink. You walked up behind him and wrapped your hand around his and controlling the stroke. After a little bit, your hand took over and Dick made a soft sigh. He turned his head to kiss whatever he could reach, the side of your head and hair at the moment. He slowly turned in your arms and grasped your face to kiss you deeply. His tongue slid against yours. His other hand played with your breast, squeezing and running a finger along your nipple.

The water poured over your bodies and you felt your skin heat up and all you could think about was Dick. Specifically his dick. As if he could read your mind, Dick reached his hand down to rub your clit and dip down to finger you. He let open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you mmmn, but I like it,” you breathed. He chuckled against your skin. Dick kissed over your breasts and down your belly and on your hip bones before kneeling in front of you. He ran a hand up one of your legs before lifting it on his shoulder. He licked a long strip up your slit and you gasped before holding his shoulder. Dick began to vigorously eat you out. You gasped and moaned and clung to him.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop, I’m close,” you whined and he hummed against your skin. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked as his tongue swiped over the bud and you lost it. You moaned loudly and your hips jumped as he continued through your high. You had to push his face away as you stood shaky. Dick smiled up at you.

“Come on,” you said and he quickly complied. Dick slid his tongue in your mouth again and you wrapped a leg around his waist. He moved his hips to slid in. Dick pushed you against the shower wall and held the tiles above your head as he thrust in you. His thrusts were slow and languished and he seemed to want to feel every inch of your core. He gave a strong thrust and you almost fell down scrambling to grab him.

“I got you,” he said. “Let’s get to bed,” he said pulling out and helping you from the shower. The look on his face quieted your protest at the water on the floor and the shower still running. He wanted you badly. Dick picked you up in the hall and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He fucked up into you as he walked towards the bed. He settled for the dresser that was perfect height. You ass sat between the alarm clock and a book as he thrust up in you. Dick’s pace increased and you knocked the book to the floor. You held the mirror behind you as he overwhelmed your senses. It didn’t take much for you to cum again. Dick shortly behind with a few rough thrusts through his high.

“Fuck that was,” you panted. Dick picked you up by the waist. You yelped in surprise.

“I promised you the bed,” he said with a husky voice. You raised a brow but let him carry you to the bed. Okay, someone was in a mood. You weren’t complaining.

Dick hiked your legs on his shoulder and slid in again. You yelped at the suddenness. He slowly circled your clit while keeping a steady pace with his hips. You moaned and closed your eyes as you got close to another orgasm. Dick quickly pushed you over the edge and you clenched around him. His pace didn’t slow down and you looked at him in surprise. He was usually cum around the same time kinda guy.

“Baby,” he whined as he pounded in you. You felt breathless and your senses were overwhelmed.

“Are you close?” You asked and he nodded. His hand holding up your legs tightened as he came. Dick roughly shoved himself deep before stopping. His heart pounded and you could see him sweating. He pulled out and looked down at you. His fingers went to touch your pussy and you pulled away.

“Okay tiger. 3 is enough for me,” you said and he stopped. Dick made a plaintive whine and began jerk himself off.

“What’s gotten into you,” you frowned sitting up on your elbows. He looked desperate.

“Sex pollen,” he breathed and you gasped. You’d heard of it but never seen it. “Hurts. Hurts when I stop.”

“Lay down. I’ll help you,” you said and he quickly complied. His cock stood at attention despite earlier activities. You took him in hand and started stroking him. Dick groaned and his hips jumped every once in a while. You tried to keep him going but not push him over the edge too fast. A bunch of orgasms could be painful so just long sessions had to be better, right?

“Please let me cum,” he begged. Or maybe not. You sped your hand up and he came quickly on his stomach. Dick’s chest heaved as he tried to pull you into a kiss. “Do you need more,” you asked and he nodded quickly. You bent between his legs and settled down to blow him.

Dick groaned pornographically. He gripped the sheets tightly. You slowly bobbed along his link when you heard a knocking at the window that caused you to jump. You pulled off to look over to see a small robot holding a bag. Dick whined when you got up to look at it. The Wayne Enterprise symbol on the side had you opening the window and taking the bag before it flew off.

Dick had gotten up and stood behind you. He rubbed his cock against your ass and kissed your neck as you read the note. You pulled out a set of vials of grey liquid.

“Take this,” you said handing him one. Dick looked at it weird before downing it. You took the other one just in case. You hadn’t kissed Dick in a while and felt pretty clearheaded. He grabbed the side of your face to pull you back under. His tongue gently pushed into your mouth and you moaned at his touch. He pressed his cock between your ass cheeks and rutted against you.

You bent over and pushed your ass out for him to slide in. You gasped and held the still open window sill as he thrust inside you. Your body was exhausted but you wanted more. His fingers between your legs had you clenching around him one more time. He was borderline crying by the time he orgasmed.

Dick simply held your waist loosely as he tried to catch his breath. He whined when he pulled out. Dick simply flopped on the bed. You climbed next to him. It was finally over. You turned to look at him but Dick was already asleep. You quickly followed. You would worry about the aftermath later.

[glowingbadger]

It is the S/O’s first time and she has to deal with, as you call it, Seteth’s “foot long Dragon cock”? That one text post where you wrote that still has me rolling

/cracks knuckles/ FAIR WARNING folks, we're going full Size Queen today and I am not about to apologize for it.

And like idk if this is even good I just went into a fugue state and got carried away and here we are xD

Seteth (FE3H) x Reader's first time

NSFW 18+

Seteth had been absolutely meticulous about your pleasure. If your sense of time weren't so thoroughly scattered by now, you'd guess he'd easily spent an hour worshiping your every curve, seeking out your every precious sweet spot. You'd felt stray locks of emerald hair tickling the flesh of your chest and stomach, the harsher graze of his beard along your inner thigh, the long, luxurious warmth of his tongue pulsing at your cunt. All the while, large, strong hands explored and adored you with barely restrained hunger. And Goddess, you longed to see that restraint crack. To see what lied beneath the trappings of Seteth's day-to-day existence of paperwork and reports, stern looks and perfect posture.

Yet as of now, he hasn't even removed his breeches, though you'd been bared and thoroughly pleasured already. He wraps one arm under you as he lies by your side, and his free hand brushes tentative fingers along your soaked lower lips. Your breath hitches in your chest, and you barely manage to focus your eyes enough to meet his.

"Seteth," you say, closer to a moan as a fingertip presses to your entrance, "You... don't have to- to do all of this for me," the words rush out of your lips so you can finish your thought before he pushes into you. Your head tilts to the side, nuzzling against his shoulder, and you force just a few more words out, "What about you...?"

"I am quite content attending to you, Y/N" he says, his voice low and even, even as his finger curls at some wonderful spot, and your body arcs into him. Once he's satisfied with the first, he pushes a second digit into you, thrusting at a deep and steady pace. He varies his movements and angle, slowly opening you up, relaxing your body beneath him and coating his fingers in your juices.

"Please..." you whisper, clinging to his sturdy frame, "I... I want- mmmh-!" You're already close again. His fingers spread apart, stimulating you in a completely new way. When your pleasure-blurred eyes meet his, you can just barely glimpse the restless need behind them. "I want to help you... fell good too... Please, Seteth?"

He exhales heavily, and his fingers ease out from you. You catch your breath as he pauses in silence for a moment, seemingly grappling with some last hesitation. You're still collecting yourself when he gets to his feet to finally discard the last of his clothing, but when your eyes refocus and you glance over at him, your heart skips and your body warms through.

"Oh... I, uh... wow." Your pupils are blown wide as you size him up. Sure, you had never been with a man before- not really, anyway -but you know enough to quickly realize that the pious man before you is near impossibly endowed. His massive cock stands almost entirely erect, yet pulled down just slightly by its own sheer size and weight. Seteth clears his throat, a hand sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

"You understand now why I have been so insistent upon preparing you," he says as he moves to join you on the bed once more.

"I suppose so..." you mutter, unable to keep your eyes from wandering his body in a way that any devout believer would consider sinful.

"Men of my kind possess certain... reproductive advantages over humans." he goes on as he positions himself over you. A hand beneath your chin urges you to look him in the eye, "Promise me you will tell me if I hurt you."

You nod. And then, you feel the tip of his manhood, hot as it pushes between your lower lips and against your opening. Seteth's brow is furrowed in focus, his expression so intense he's practically glaring at you, and it's all you can do to keep your eyes on his as he begins to spread you open. In a moment, the bulging head of his cock is nestled inside of you, pushing out against your inner walls as he stays himself for a moment to check on your comfort.

You're already panting softly despite yourself. Your cheeks are flushed a dark crimson, burning almost as hot as the rest of your body. With nothing but unabashed lust in your eyes, you look up at him and whisper,

"Seteth... muh- more, please..."

The holy man utters a low groan and grits his teeth. His head dips down to rest on the pillow beside yours as he sinks deeper and deeper into you.

"Don't... I can't bear it when you plead with me like that."

And for a moment, you think to test that bit of new information; but then he's pushed several inches into you and he's stretching you like nothing you've ever felt before, and it's all you can do to spread your legs just a bit wider for him. Wordlessly, he reaches down and hooks an arm under your knee, drawing your leg further up and opening you up more for him. Before he's even thrust all the way into you, his hips begin to sway just slightly, and you're grateful now that he made sure you were wet enough to take him. Every stroke of his cock sends a jolt of electrifying, stimulating pleasure up your spine.

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. His breath is hot, panting softly against the crook of your neck, and now he's bucking into you just a little harder. The muscles of his back are wound so tight, and his moans are shaky, unsteady. He's doing everything in his power to hold himself back for you, and you can tell, but you know it's for the best. Every time he drives deeper into you, you're more full than you ever thought possible. Soon enough, his thrusts do bring a tinge of pain amidst pleasure- yet you don't think for even a moment to ask him to stop.

And it dawns on you that, in some way, you find it intensely thrilling that the Church's Right Hand is fucking you so deep you can't think with a cock that would seem like an exaggeration to speak of. Even the pain is arousing, and you wonder if Seteth would believe you if you told him. For now, you simply cling to him until with one final push, he pauses. His arms have both traveled under the arch of your back to hold you flush against his body, and your legs are wrapped around his hips, and he growls against your chest,

"That's... that's all of it..." he huffs out a deep breath, then raises his head to kiss you so sweetly that you wouldn't think his manhood was stretching you to your limit at that moment. Your eyes are watering just a bit, and he murmurs your name softly.

"Goddess..." is all you manage.

"Language." he replies with surprising levity, and it barely even registers in your mind that Seteth just made a joke- on purpose, at that. But then he's shifting his hips against you once more and your mind is dashed of all but your heart and body's worship of Saint Cichol. He pushes himself up from you just a bit. Just enough to watch your expressions, either out of caution or fascination or both. He begins slow, easing in and out of you until you adjust fully to his size- at least, as well as you possibly could.

Then, his hands are at your hips, holding you firmly in place, and he's bucking into you harder and just a little faster and you can feel his abdomen flex with each tightly controlled motion. He checks in with you at least two or three more times as he edges closer and closer to fucking you in earnest. You're impressed at how coherent you manage to be when you tell him not to stop, that he feels incredible, that you adore him. His head tilts back for a moment, and at long, long last he lets out a true and unabashed moan of pleasure. The sound alone floods your body with new heat, and you feel yourself clench around him, your thighs shaking. You're not certain how long you manage to last after that, but by the time one more electrifying climax has swept through your body, Seteth has lowered himself to hold you close to him once more.

And once he does, his hands grip you more tightly, his fingers digging down your back. You gasp aloud as his entire body shifts forward over you and his hips meet flush with your inner thighs. Every thrust sends a jolt of pain and pleasure up through your core, radiating through your nerves. His voice is low and husky when he frantically says,

"Where-"

"Inside- please, Seteth-!" you don't need to consider this for a moment- it's how you'd always imagined it. Hissing your name through his teeth, his entire length throbs powerfully inside of you, and suddenly the intense heat of his orgasm begins to fill you. You feel the first shot or two, but before long you're so over-full and over-stimulated that you merely allow him to pour out his load into you while you lay beneath him, boneless and panting and utterly giddy.

You're both entirely spent. Seteth exhales as he carefully pulls himself from you, even this one last moment of friction causing you to squirm beneath him. He collapses at your side and rests his head on your chest, a hand lazily tracing loving paths along the curve of your waist. You can feel his cum trailing down your backside, but you're too sore to move and too content to care.

"I... I apologize if I-"

"Hush." you kiss his hair, and he softly laughs, his breath feather light across your skin. "I won't have you apologizing for making me feel that good." you add, your arms cradling him in turn. He smiles and blindly kisses whatever inch of your skin is closest- anything will do if he can show even an ounce of his adoration.

"Then I apologize for underestimating you. You are far too good to me, my love."

[hardkuna]

asmr

› 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 

› 𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚍𝚘𝚖/𝚜𝚞𝚋 𝚊𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜. 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔. 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐.  𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚜𝚊𝚔𝚞𝚜𝚊 𝚊𝚜𝚖𝚛 𝚊𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘.

› 𝟸𝟼𝟻𝟸 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜

You’ve always had a fascination with sounds and movements. The gentle rustle of a bag being rummaged through often sent a delicate sensation over your scalp, for example. The sensation was similar to fingers ghostling along your hairline, trailing down the back of your neck and continuing down your spine. If the sound or motion were specific enough, goose flesh would prickle your skin in its wake. With it came serenity - a peacefulness that helped lull you into sleep.

Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response, or ASMR, is what it was called.

There were, however, some sounds that sent your nerves into a short circuit. Sometimes hearing them would break any attention you’ve devoted to another task, making your thighs squish together ever so slightly. You would be lying if you said you didn’t fantasize while listening to the gentle hush of whispers or the light clicks of a tongue over saliva. The sharp trickle of consonants commanded a strum within you in ways you couldn’t fully explain. You’ve tried with previous lovers, asking to wear headphones and lose yourself in a soundscape, but would come to no avail. Many didn’t understand the interest in the first place, let alone sexually.

That was until you met Sakusa.

(Like yourself, he was one to binge video after video of audio, especially while in a crowded space. He didn’t get the same physical response but it did calm him down and distract him in the ways that only ambient, repetitive noise could.)

There were many nights where you’d lay in bed with headphones in and that particular sound would wrap warm tendrils along your senses. The caress on your spine made your muscles twitch with each subtle click. Sakusa often felt the gentle sway of your hips as you rubbed your legs together in a feeble attempt to rid yourself of the ache between them. Or he took note of the way you take shallow, shaking breaths, struggling to keep your lungs in control. A dry swallow peppered here and there confirmed his suspicions.

One night, Sakusa decided to find out just what was on your phone to make you so aroused. As he reached over you, nudging your phone screen up, he saw it. An asmr video put on repeat of someone speaking closely into the microphones. They moved from side to side, lips moving in ways unread. He hummed to himself, settling the phone back down. One long arm wrapped around you as he tucked your body into his.

All of it was quite baffling. Why wouldn’t you just tell him that something as mundane as mouth sounds or whispering turned you on? Originally, he wanted to refrain from caressing your form until you brought it up to him. He wasn’t in competition with anything. So long as it made you cum, what did it matter to him what you listened to? But then he recalled the stories. One of your ex’s who belittled your interests. Weaker men, truly.

With a plan in mind, Sakusa came to a resolution.

-

Thumbing through youtube, you aimed to find the perfect video to sleep to. Your back leaned into Sakusa’s chest, comfortably forming to him. There was a peculiar expression he wore, upper lip pursed and brows slightly furrowed. Defensively, you hugged your phone to your chest, cheeks puffing out, “What? What’s that look for?”

“I can do better than them.” His voice vibrated within you, deep and gravely, triggering a sudden chill to lick your core, freezing you in place. The ravenette craned his neck so that his lips rested next to your ear. He let out a little sigh and a small ‘tt’ sound of his lips separating flushed your cheeks.

He scrolled through the videos with you, making small noises as he’d stop at one to read the description and move on. The thing about Sakusa’s hands was that despite the thickness of his lengthy fingers, they moved with a fluid grace. It was bewitching, the smallest sense of comfort and tiredness inching its way into your periphery. Visual triggers were a very specific spell to cast on you.

Small and hushed, you questioned, “Do better in what? Against who?”

Not that you could see from your  vantage point, but you could hear the way his lips pulled back into a smile. Or was it a smirk? “Do better at turning you on. Fucking you,” The syllables swam laps around your left ear. His voice dipped and crackled in just the right way to make your back twitch against him at its call. At the first long release of air form your nose, he pulled the device from your fingers and set it at the night stand. His chest pressed you forward as his muscled arm reached for the light, tapping it to the lowest dim.

The hand now found its home at your mid-thigh, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing the bare skin as it danced up, up, up. It pressed on the fabric of your panties at the hip, dragging it slightly before letting it go, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” He dropped his tone to a whisper, practically pressing his lips to your ear, “How every night you’ve been denying yourself a simple satisfaction?” The hiss of the ‘s’ and click of each consonant triggered your body to move. You pressed into him, crossing one leg over the other in a squeeze.

Sakusa kept speaking, but of nonsensical words made up of nonsensical syllables. His own breath was heavy, lust lacing each sound as your body rhythmically rolled into his. By the redness in your cheeks and the effort to restrain the swirl of your hips against his, he could tell you were trying to be good for him. It was amusing to see how flustered you got that such simple sounds could make you react in this way. He tsk’d thrice, large palm slinking to and then sinking into your inner thigh. Fingers wrapped hard into the flesh, pulling your leg away from its cross.

The motion alone would have had your cunt clench at nothing, but paired with the low lights and entrancing quality of his tone, you were dripping in anticipation. To make matters more complicated, the arm underneath you began to wrap around. He pressed heavily into your breast and let the warmth of his palm be the only signal for you to tilt your chin up for further purchase of your throat.

You were trapped into him, feeling his cock harden through his sweats at your back. Sakusa muttered into you, “Is this what you’ve wanted?” He hooked your leg around his, propping you open for his fingers to prattle up to the lining of your panties, “For me to whisper close to you? You’ve held back from me, baby. I don’t like that.” The fingers around your throat squeezed at the words and you bit your lip to cage the mewl threatening to leave them.

His forearm pressed into your chest, keeping you locked into place against him. He made it damn well apparent that you were in his control. And god you needed him to stop fucking around! The way he teased with a single finger, so lightly slipping up and down your slit was torturous. Sakusa let a low groan out as he rocked his hips against your ass in time with each teasing slide. He loved the desperate pulse of your heat every time he passed the entrance. He adored your high whine when he just barely touched on your puffy clit. Your body ached in wanton need and suddenly you regretted every night you went without being filled.

Weakly, your left arm wandered up so that dainty fingers slid into black waves lapping at the sands of his neck. He planted a small kiss along your cheekbone. With a bit of a devious streak, his lips carried back to the shell of your ear, where the tip of his tongue languidly traced the curve. His fingers nudged away the fabric of your panties. The pad of his index made circles against the quiver of your entrance. You shuddered in response, mouth opening just enough for a drawn and annoyed moan to escape, “Saa- ah!” The first breath you took, he pulled his finger back, slipping over the nub of nerves begging for his attention. Your sharp change in pitch was music to his ears. An instrument for him to play a tune of pleasure.

All the while, he continued to mutter nonsense into your ear, drowning you with the sounds you craved to engulf you. Your mind swam at each sense slowly being taken by him. His voice filling your mind with filth and praise. His body pressed so tight against yours that his warmth overpowered your own. Even your hands grasped at whatever surface of him they could find. Your existence was Sakusa Kiyoomi. Just how he wanted it to be.

Pleasure snaked into his insides with your grinding hips, his own following their rhythm. Cock twitch angrily, jealous of the finger that swirled still at your entrance. His lungs caught as the sticking sound of slick weeping onto his hand echoed. It was a gentle sound that he wanted to push farther. This was barely all his effort yet.

For as much as Bokuto or Atsumu could brag about getting their lovers to cum as fast and as many times as possible, Sakusa preferred the long and arduous route. He wanted begging. He wanted you so frustrated by your own desires that you couldn’t think of anything other than his cock stretching your gummy walls. He could rut you out from the start, but the way you drew his name out when you were at a breaking point was sheer decadence.

Sakusa was enamored by the beautiful glass sheen of your eyes as he agonizingly pressed the tip of his finger into your heat. You blinked a frustrated tear that clung to your lashes, lips prettily swollen from the abuse of your teeth. You were close, but stubborn. His own sex ached to be in you, his mind caught up in the fantasy of it. He growled, “How do you manage to stay so quiet when you’re swallowing up my fingers? I want to hear you. U-use your words, brat.” His brows twitched as the satisfying throb of you against his fingers.

Frustrated grappled with the words. His composure was crackling. Your mouth fell open at his admission, mind beginning to fog as his finger pressed fully into you, “Oomii,” your whine was throaty, barely squeezing past tense vocal chords, “just, ah- I want- your cock!”

“Where, baby?” The words were made in efficient haste. He would have chuckled when your hips roughly rubbed into his had he not been throbbing to be in you so urgently.

“In me. Now. Please, please,” Your pleading repeated into muddled huffs as his thumb drew circles on your clit. That was the last straw. Desperation drew your hand from his hair and to his pants. Your back arched to accommodate the room as you slinked your hand through his waistband to pull his length out.

In a succinct motion, you wet your hand with saliva, and pumped him twice. A deliciously loud, “Hng!” vaulted past his open lips, which pressed hungered kisses onto your jaw. The hand at your throat now cupped your breast, teasing the sensitive bud in its grasp. His mouth littered violent along the freed and smooth surface. Fingers slipped from your cunt and occupied themselves with your clit instead, tapping lazily, “My pretty baby is so responsive. So sensitive-“ His lips moved along your colored nape.

You shimmied up, aligning him at the entrance and letting go once his tip pressed firmly at your arousal. You couldn’t wait. You didn’t want to wait. Sakusa’s teeth sank into your shoulder. He wouldn’t let you just pull him around. Swiftly, he tugged you on your knees, fingers digging into the crease that thigh made with hip. The tip of his cock eagerly shoved past your twitching entrance. All that teasing, keeping you right at the cusp per his will built to this. Your eyes glazed as your walls stretched to accommodate him. Every small movement felt like a mile slide, sparking fire quick in your core. Legs shook with impatience.

Sure, his composure may have crumbled, leaving behind raw instinct to kiss at your cervix, but he still snapped you back with his movements forward. He still held you up with strong, calloused palms as your legs threatened to collapse. In only a few strokes, your walls clamped down on him, pulling him greedily back for every stroke out. You could feel the nails of orgasm claw its way from your walls to your throat, a beast ready to escape a cage holding it for far too long. Your fist balled the once pristine-pressed sheets beneath you.

Every muscle in your body tense, chaining back what threatened to unleash. Sakusa ran a hand through messied locks, pushing them back to admire the beauty of your blissed out expression. He leaned forward, left hand now entangling in your hair while the right rubbed your clit. He rutted mercilessly into you, a crisp and wet smack then stick filling the four walls around you. You wailed, “C-cum now puh-lease?”

Rough, careful, and managed, Sakusa tugged you onto your hands, leaning over you so only his voice took residence within your mind, “Mhm, but I want to hear you scream.” His breath hitched as you released. Your throat burned with a loud, low, and uncontrolled howl of his name. Every once tensed muscle spasmed so that the only thing keeping you up was the adjusted grip Kiyoomi had on you. From your hair, his arm supported your torso and pulled your back close to his chest in a kneel. He pumped through your orgasm, burying his nose into the crook of your neck as his own body wracked itself free of pent-up pleasure that curled at his stomach. A swallowed hummed filled the space between the two of you as his cock pulsed against your twitching walls, ropes of hot cum coating you from the inside and dripping out as he unsheathed.

Strong arms wrapped around you in an embrace as he flopped onto his back on the bed. Rapid pants conversed back and forth. Reality came back to you in slow pieces, recollecting like shattered porcelain glued by gold. Coming to was always the roughest part, even if the session wasn’t exactly the hardest. Kiyoomi kept his lips on your forehead, deliberately ignoring the sweat trickling on it and the cum spilling onto his thigh and bed. His large hand rubbed circles at your back and in turn, your fingers traced shapes along his chest.

Just as his own mind cleared, he grabbed the phone from the nightstand and clicked on a video he knew you liked. While the audio wasn’t exactly the same without headphones, you both collected your wits to the gentle sounds of wood-surface tapping. When you called his name, peering up through thick lashes, he felt his heart clench. Your voice was soft and filled with exhaustion, “Thank you. I love you. A lot. I mean it. So much.” You cooed at him, mumbling your praise and adoration. He returned each on in some way, whether it be a small “love you too” or a light press of his lips to your temple.

He had a goal to tear down the fear that he’d judge you like the others may have. To you, he not only tore the notion down, he disintegrated it to nothing.

 The thing is, Sakusa Kiyoomi, the man who seldom spoke past commands during sex, just devoted an entire session based on the sound of his voice for you.

[c-rose2081]

Finding Home

Chapter 1 [Part 1] (Dave & Roxie)

—

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

The chopper pilot’s voice was stolen by the wind as Roxie and Dave leaned out the side door to have a look at Isla Nublar approaching on the horizon, “this is a suicide mission! You’ll probably die! I can take you back to the mainland right now!”

“Not a chance!” Roxie yelled back to him, tightening the backpack they had filled with rations and camping gear for the trip, “I’ve waited three years for this! Drop us there, on the North Shore!”

“You’re both crazy!” The pilot complained, turning the chopper anyway to begin descent towards the Island, “I’ll be back in four days for you! If you’re not there, I’ll assume you’re dead and leave without you. This is an unsafe fly-zone!”

“Just do as the lady says!” Dave called through the wind, clinging to the doorframe and his own backpack of supplies, “you don’t wanna be on her bad side!”

“It’s your money, amigos! I won’t be landing here though, you’ll have to jump for it!”

Nodding affirmatives, and with Dave throwing up his thumb, the pilot shook his head in disbelief and lowered the chopper down close to the shore. In the midst of billowing sand clouds, Dave and Roxie leapt from the chopper and onto the beach. Their boots sunk in the soft dunes, and ache from the landing quivered up into their knees. But as they turned, they could only see the bottom of the chopper’s blue and white cabin as it rose back up into the pristine sky.

“We made it,” Roxie breathed, brushing herself off and turning to look at the jungle ahead of them, “we’re actually here.”

“You know he’s right though,” Dave commented, ruffling his hair as to shake away sand grains, “we could get eaten before four days is up. We might not even get past today.”

“I’d rather die trying then never have tried at all,” Roxie shot back, “you’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No. Just making an observation, that’s all. So, where exactly are we?”

Removing a folded paper from her interior pocket, Roxie scanned the map of the island. There was a red X on their landing spot, and the place they’d have to get to should they catch the chopper again.

“We’re here, on the north shore,” Roxie said, pointing to the spot and tapping it, “Camp is...was...just across the main Gyrosphere paddock here. It’s a straight shot, we could get there before nightfall,”

“And what if we encounter a dinosaur before then?”

“We shouldn’t if all the fences are still up. A Compy or two perhaps,”

Dave didn’t appear to agree with her assessment of the situation, as his normally loose and humorous brows furrowed up into his hairline. But he said nothing on it, merely exhaled a puff of air and nodded.

“Ok. You have the map memorized, you lead the way.”

“Keep close to me,” Roxie insisted, reaching out her hand for Dave to take and giving the warm palm a solid squeeze, “this place has probably grown a lot in three years. It’ll be a miracle if there’s anything left to see,”

Walking carefully into the underbrush, the mission was officially underway. Roxie wasn’t sure what she was expecting upon finally getting back here. After all, it felt like a lifetime ago. She could memorize and map all the trails and access roads she wanted, but jurassic undergrowth was a menace. For a while, the two of them walked in silence, listening to a slight breeze which rustled the leaves in the canopy. They strained their ears for noises which sounded out of place, but there was nothing but nature.

“So...” Dave spoke up eventually to break the silence, nearly giving Roxie a heart attack, “have you thought about it?”

“It?” Her heart jumped at the oddity of the question. Of course, she knew what it was, and the truth was that she had put quite a bit of thought into it.

But marriage?

It was a lot to take in.

“Though I appreciate your transparency on the matter, love. I’m not sure this is the right time to be having this conversation,” Roxie managed out finally, placing each word together as though pulled from a scrabble bag.

“I don’t see why not,” Dave complained jovially, “I mean, it’s kinda romantic being out here with you. And we don’t have much else to talk about,”

“I hate when you make good points,” Roxie mumbled under her breath, only to stop and slam her arm out for Dave to halt as well, “hold on,”

“What?”

“Shh...I hear something,”

Roxie listened hard again, and for a second she thought maybe she’d just imagined it. But then, somewhere in the distance, was a familiar guttural roar. But it wasn’t my dinosaur which Roxie knew. No, this roar was something else...something far more familiar.

“Is that a car?”

“Rox...”

“No, no I’m serious,” listening harder, Dave was moving across the ground, causing it to crunch under his feet.

“Roxie...”

“It’s an engine. But that not possible...”

“Roxanne!”

Whipping her head up, Roxie was just in time to duck as something was swung at her head. The whoosh of air made the skin on her ears tingle as the attacker pulled back for another go. In a blur of motion, Dave reached up a hand and grabbed whatever was being swung, only to grunt as a foot made contact with his exposed chest and sent him reeling backwards.

“Dave!” Roxie cried, wincing in solidarity as her boyfriend hit the ground with a moan of pain. She was just in time to move as a baseball bat nearly crashed into her outstretched arm, and she realized finally that this wasn’t any animal attacking them, but another human being.

Shuffling backwards to put a few more feet between her and the newcomer, Roxie wondered how they hadn’t seen or heard them coming. Hidden in the deep indigo shadows of the trees, a pair of shining green eyes stared out intently.

“W-we don’t mean you any harm,” Roxie said, grappling for the pepper spray hooked via carabiner to her backpack strap, “please. We’re here to help,”

The stranger said nothing, merely shuffled closer as the baseball bat in their hand dragged across the dirt. To Roxie’s surprise, it fell to the ground with a wooden clunk a moment later. For a second, she wondered if the person would stop. If they would leave them alone. But there was a silver glint in the dark as a knife was pulled from inside a hidden sheath, making a horrible scraping noise.

“Oh...god,”

Jerking as she found herself with her back against a tree, Roxie yelped in panic as the figure leapt at her. She saw a metallic shimmer as the blade sliced through the air and forced her eyes closed. She waited in anticipation for the pain, or the feeling of flesh tearing open. But there was nothing; just a pained, raspy panting and the overwhelming smell of forest and decay. Cracking one clenched lid back open to see what happened, the serrated knife was still held in the air, poised to strike.

The person holding the knife was now fully illuminated by a patch of sunlight, and Roxie had to pause. Green eyes met brown, and the knife lowered as a teenage girl stepped back with a harsh gasp of surprise. Roxie opened her mouth to speak, but there was only a croak.

“...Brooklynn?”

The name almost didn’t fit on her tongue. How she somehow connected the pink haired social media star to the figure before her, Roxie want sure. The stranger — identified now as Brooklynn — tilted her head, furrowing her brows up into her hairline. Unlike three years ago, the pink to her hair was all but a memory. A brown, ratty mess was pulled up behind badly sunburned ears, and skin freckled by long afternoons sparkled with a sheen of mud and sweat. Some of that mud was more red then brown, and Roxie realized it wasn’t just dirt, but also blood that coated her body.

Brooklynn stared at Roxie for a hard moment, her brain whirring behind those piercing green eyes. She then turned to where Dave was now sitting up, rubbing a hand against where he’d been kicked.

“...oh...”

Had she not been so close, Roxie would’ve missed the word. It was barely a whisper, one which was easily taken away by the breezes. Two adults stared down a teenager who had been ready to kill them not a moment before, jaws agape.

“Brooklynn...?” Roxie asked, causing the girl to glance up at her. Her eyes were wild and uncertain behind long bangs, “what...w-what happened to...you?”

It wasn’t a good question; but what really was at this point? What could she ask that she didn’t already know deep down somewhere? Roxie had dreams of rescuing children; the children she had left behind. The children who’s eyes would light up like fireworks at the mere mention of Dinosaurs. But she wasn’t expecting them to actually be alive after three years. She had been expecting to pick up some old relics to bring back, to show the families just to prove she had been on the Island and had done everything in her power to make things right again.

She wasn’t expecting to nearly be murdered by one of the kids she was supposedly here to save.

Brooklynn didn’t say anything, merely pressed her lips together and glanced down at the knife still held in her hand. It almost appeared as though she were forcing it away; like her arm wouldn’t respond to the command of letting them live. The metal scraped back into its holder, and Brooklynn mechanically walked back towards where the baseball bat lay in the grass. She picked it up, clutching the bottleneck grip in both hands.

Then, in a second, she was gone.

Roxie didn’t even have time to call out; the girl had vanished while her eyes were wide open. Were she not still pressed up against a tree with the smell of decay lingering close to her nose and throat, Roxie might’ve believed she was simply seeing impossible things.

“Rox? You ok?”

Jumping as Dave’s hand brushed against her shoulder, the woman opened her mouth but no sound came out.

“No,” she choked finally, turning to the broad chest beside her and seeking solace between his arms, “Dave, we thought none of them survived,”

“Yeah,” glancing down at one another, Roxie felt a horrible thought creep into her gut, “you got really pale all of a sudden,” the man above her commented, “what is it?”

“Dave, what if all of them survived?”

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Soulmarks, Part 18

First part

Previous

~~~

Tim hugged himself. He was, in a word, shaken.

In many words, though, he was absolutely terrified of what Inamovibi-Lady had become. From dropping him and Bruce off a building to murdering Harley and Joker in gruesome ways, she was extremely amoral in how she achieved her goals. Sure, he’d known that akumas have their own moral code, but it had never really sunk in until he’d been faced with it.

And the akuma had told him that Marinette was inside there, and that she wasn’t particularly against anything she was doing.

But how true was that?

It appeared that she was just now starting to process what she’d done. She was shaking a little bit, her eyes wide. He hesitated and detransformed momentarily to get his jacket and then draped it over her shoulders. It wasn’t a shock blanket, but it would have to do.

She looked at him for a second and seemed to smile a little more (it was hard to tell) before looking down at her yoyo.

He went back to standing a careful distance away, his eyes wandering to his family. Everyone seemed a mix of sickened and frightened by what had happened.

Adrien was full on crying, curled up on the floor with his head in his knees. Fair enough, this really wasn’t his night. He’d found out his father was the supervillain he’d been fighting for years, had his best friend akumatized, had difficulty communicating with everyone, and now an akuma that he’d helped create had brutally murdered two people. A breakdown was pretty much inevitable.

Dick sat down next to him and pulled him into his side. Adrien didn’t seem to know what to do with the affection for a second before burying his face in his shoulder.

“Master Fu’s house, please,” said the akuma, bringing his attention back to her.

He hesitated slightly.

He was definitely going to be alone for this one. Even if he could break the moral barrier keeping him from taking a crying Adrien along to fight her, he doubted that he would be of much help.

But it wasn’t like he was really getting any choice in this. Her next target after the ‘Master Fu’ person was definitely going to be Hawkmoth and, though he could admit that she was stronger than normal, they definitely weren’t prepared to fight him. He had to beat her.

How, though? Sure, he at least knew that she wasn’t trying to hurt him (he’d just found out what would have happened to him if she had actually wanted him dead), but that didn’t mean much when she went to drastic measures to ensure that things went her way. He didn’t know how lenient she would be with him if she actually thought him a threat, because she obviously didn’t --. 

He felt a hand rest on his arm and pulled himself from his thoughts to send Inamovibi-Lady a smile.

“Sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest. He tried not to think about the bloody handprint now on his arm as he glanced at his family. Still no help. Great. How dare they be in shock?

He gave Inamovibi-Lady an awkward smile and opened a portal underneath them.

When they dropped into the tiny shop it took everything in Tim not to slam his head against a wall. Master Fu was just sitting at the table, drinking tea and eating sandwiches. He’d had a five hour warning, why the fuck hadn’t he even tried to run?

She twirled her yoyo, her black eyes narrowed to slits.

“Hello, Marinette.”

“Inamovibi-Lady,” she corrected. Her head tipped to the side. “You’re not going to run away?”

“If you’d like to air your grievances, I would love to hear them.”

The akuma, if possible, looked even more suspicious. “Really?”

Master Fu shrugged and gave a tiny wave of his hand before leaning back. “Mhmm. Go on.”

“I…” Inamovibi-Lady began, then stopped. There was a few times where she opened and closed her mouth, unsure what to do in this type of situation, and then she shrugged and brought her microphone to her hand. “Right, um… citizens of Paris! I’m back, and I’m here to do hearing number five! Well, four for you guys, but five total! With us today is Wang Fu!”

The old man caught Tim’s gaze and then flicked his eyes to the side quickly. Was Tim sure it had meant something? Yes. Did he have any clue what this guy was trying to say? No.

“Now, what he did was particularly messed up. Imagine, you’re a kid on their way to school, and you see this old man about to get run over. You help them. And, because of this, this random guy decides to give you the responsibility of making sure the entire city of Paris never falls to a superterrorist!”

“You must understand --.”

“Shut up. I’m not done.”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and took a few short steps back so he could hopefully stay out of this conversation.

He also took the chance to detransform out of Inamovibi-Lady’s view. He didn’t know if Hawkmoth could hear and see everything that the akuma could, but he wasn’t going to test it. Kaalki floated over to Master Fu and stole the bread off of his sandwiches before settling herself on Tim’s shoulder to eat.

“Let’s skip over the fact that you asked two thirteen-year-olds to protect an entire city for now, because let’s talk about the fact that I didn’t have a choice!”

“You could have refused at any point.”

“Like hell I could! The city was under attack and it was obvious no normal person could do it, and then after that I was too popular to just disappear! At least the Americans recruiting kids ask them if they want to do it before they set them up as vigilantes!”

Tim transformed again and crossed his arms over his chest as he considered what to do.

He kind of wanted to let her attack the old man -- he knew first hand exactly how stressful being a vigilante is, and the idea of being thrown into it without warning was enough to make him wince -- but, at the same time, letting her do that would be kind of messed up of him.

Also, he had no plan at all, which was kind of a problem if he was going to be trying to stop her.

“So, now for your judgement.”

Shit!

“How about…” She tapped her finger on her chin as if in thought for a moment before smiling widely. “I take those miraculi off your hands. You’re clearly too old to make proper decisions about who to give them to, and I have someone better in mind.”

He needs a plan! And now!

Ah. There’s one. A bad one. But one nonetheless.

He launched himself at the akuma from behind and they both cursed as she stumbled and threw them off-balance.

But, instead of just falling to the ground for a wrestling match, her back hit something invisible and they screamed in a mix of panic and confusion as the illusion broke to reveal that they were in the turtle miraculous’s shield. They had bigger problems, though, as they rolled through the room.

They came to a stop when they hit the wall, which was unfortunate considering they were at the top. They fell the few feet to the bottom of the hamster ball and groaned.

Tim peeled his face out of her stomach and slowly pushed himself up and looked around.

Master Fu was wearing both the turtle and fox miraculi.

Well, now he knew what he’d been trying to tell him earlier: to move so he wouldn’t be caught in the hamster ball, too. Wow. Wish there was a hand motion for that or something, because Tim was not eager to be back inside, and especially not with a particularly angry akuma.

Actually, now that he was thinking about it, she was taking this remarkably well (for an akuma). Inamovibi-Lady laid back in the hamster ball and started doing tricks with her yoyo.

“You can’t keep this up forever, Fu. You have to sleep. I don’t.”

Oh. That made sense. Unfortunately.

“Besides, since Hawkmoth knows you have miraculi here, I’m expecting him to come by at some point. Gonna protect yourself and the miraculous box or keep me in here?”

Can she please stop making sense? Just for a few minutes?

He sighed and covered his ears. He needed to concentrate. He needed a plan. He had quite a bit of time, he assumed, but the faster he fixed this the faster everything could work out.

Well, not work out, they were long past that point, but at least it would be over.

His eyes found their way to her yoyo. Of course they did, it was moving around wildly, and the human eye is attracted to movement. But…

Tim shrugged to himself. A terrible plan came to him, it was really too bad they were desperate. He grabbed the akuma’s arm and opened a portal underneath them.

And they were falling.

Inamovibi-Lady screamed obscenities as they plummeted towards earth, the Eiffel Tower whizzing past them at lightning speed. He pulled her actual yoyo from his belt just in case he was wrong in how he thought this would play out...

She pulled him to her side and he breathed a sigh of relief as she threw her yoyo. She hooked it around a beam and their fall came to a jerking stop that he was not ready for. He swore he left his stomach about ten meters up.

But no time to think about that! He wrapped his arms around her as well.

“That went to plan,” he said.

“Really? Your plan was to almost die, then?” He couldn’t tell for sure, but he knew she was rolling her eyes. “You’re literally so stupid. You and Chat should have a stupid-off.”

He grinned.

She looked around for a safe place for them to land. “You might need to climb the string to get up. How good are you at that?”

He gave a tiny shrug and made a move to push himself up, only to pull the earring from her ear.

Relief flooded through him as purple and black engulfed her and her weapon. Done. Finally.

He only came to realize his mistake the moment her yoyo started to disappear.

And they were falling again.

And she was barely conscious.

And he had no idea how yoyos worked as weapons or grappling hooks are you kidding me?

He looked at the one in his free hand and shrugged mentally. He either doesn’t try and they both end up dead, tries and fails and they both end up dead, or tries and actually succeeds. He hooked his arm and legs around her as tightly as he could and prayed that it was even slightly like his grappling hook as he threw it.

They swung to safety. Kind of. He caught them pretty close to the ground, and the yoyo didn’t really hook around the beam all that well, so it mostly just slowed their fall, but outside of a few bruises they’d probably be fine when they took off their suits.

He groaned quietly and crushed the earring in his hand and caught the akuma.

And then he let himself lay down beside a confused and groggy Marinette.

Tim watched the sun start to rise and sighed, bringing an arm up to cover his eyes.

It had been a long night, but it was over now.

~~~

Next part

Taglist

@pawsitivelymiraculous @golden-promises @salty-fang @kitsunebell @sassakitty @octobitch @glastwime859 @miyla-lokidottir @onlyabatfan @ira-sairain @2confused-2doanything @ultimatetornshipper @ladybug-182 @laurcad123 @we-want-mini-mini @roguishredaxion @just-reblogs-by-h @futursworld @magic-miraculous @nathleigh @smolplantmum @vroomtaka  @emimar7 @toodaloo-kangaroo @charme-de-malchan @spicybelladonna @fusser90 @indecisive-mess-named-me @rosesgonerogue @celestialsiren @bluesimani @loysydark @trippingovermyfeet @goblinwhoships

[writtenjewels]

Hook Up

Maxwell took a drag on his cigarette and let the smoke out slowly. Sometimes going to these bars ended with a bit of entertainment. Tonight that came in the form of the dancers. Many of them were quite good and a few were taking advantage of the music's rhythm to move suggestively against their partners. He smiled and scanned the room for anything else interesting that might be going on tonight.

There was a table whose occupants seemed to be having a good time. They were going through a large quantity of alcohol and laughing over some unknown joke. One of them stood up and headed over to where Maxwell was seated, likely to order another round. It was a young man with a fine beard along his jaw. Very nice-looking, too. Maxwell hadn't come to the bar for a hook-up but there was no harm in flirting.

“Hello,” he greeted. “Having a nice evening?”

“Oh, yeah.” The young man turned and smiled at Maxwell. He liked the look of that smile; it was almost devilish. “It's been a very good evening so far.”

“Any plans on making it better later?”

“Mm, I don't know.” The young man studied him thoughtfully. “Why?”

“Why not?” Maxwell countered with a grin. The young man stared at him for a few moments. He looked... interested. The bartender was done making all the drinks and after another glance to Maxwell, the young man took them and headed back to his friends.

The evening wore on. The others at the young man's table were enjoying their drinks but he kept glancing over at Maxwell. Every time their eyes met Maxwell did something to see how the young man would react. Once he licked his thumb to smooth his mustache; another time he ran a hand along his thigh; yet another time he simply quirked an eyebrow. The young man started countering back with things like slowly licking a drop of beer off his mug. Maxwell liked that a lot.

He saw his chance when the young man left the table. Maxwell got up as well. The man was heading straight toward him so he promptly sat down again to wait.

“Are you always this much of a tease?” the man demanded.

“I would prefer calling it seduction. Something tells me it worked.”

“That's very cocky of you.” The man snatched Maxwell's cigarette out of his hand and took a drag. “My name's Jacob, by the way.” He passed the cigarette back so Maxwell could have a turn.

“Mine is Maxwell.” He liked the way Jacob was looking at him. It was a little surprising, though, that a man considerably younger would find him appealing. “How much did you drink earlier?”

“I can hold my liquor, don't worry about that. I'm more worried about you. Should you really be out so late, old man?” Jacob's eyes smoldered at him. Maxwell wasn't insulted by the taunt at all; in fact, it was arousing that Jacob was challenging him. This evening got a lot more interesting.

Maxwell stubbed out his cigarette and leaned in a little closer. “My stamina may surprise you, my dear.” Jacob let out a laugh and leaned in as well. His nose lightly brushed across Maxwell's scar. He felt his pulse kick up as the young man's breath teased his skin. Where the hell had Jacob been before now? He was so bold, mischievous, and Maxwell wanted more of him already.

“You going to make good on those words?” Jacob wondered. Challenging him yet again. Maxwell had no idea that would be a turn-on for him, but it was definitely working. He couldn't wait anymore so he turned his head to capture those lips in a kiss. Jacob's mouth was more than willing; it parted for him without a fight and probed with tongue.

“Want to leave?” Maxwell hinted.

“Why not?” Jacob replied with that devilish smile. He let his friends know he was leaving before joining Maxwell outside. They spent the ride to Maxwell's place in heated kisses. Both of them managed to get the first few buttons of each other's shirts loose. Jacob was extremely enthusiastic. The eagerness of youth, perhaps.

“When was the last time you got laid?” Maxwell asked him.

“Look, you're sexy and I'm horny. Who cares?” Jacob retorted.

“Sexy?” That was not even close to the list of words Maxwell heard to describe himself. Jacob rolled his eyes and caressed the patch of chest he managed to expose.

“I'm not going to stroke your ego when I'd rather stroke your cock. Let's get inside so we can fuck already.”

Maxwell was really, really growing to like this young man. They made it inside before they started grappling at each other's clothing. Maxwell heard a tear followed by the scattering of loose buttons. Jacob had actually ripped his shirt open. Fucking hell, now Maxwell was wondering if that strength transferred to fighting. He hoped he would get to see it. He popped a few buttons loose himself and shoved the shirt off Jacob's shoulders.

He liked the sturdy build of that chest. He traced his finger along the bird tattoo and slid down the trail of chest hair. Jacob's lips moved across his shoulders, each pant hot in growing desire. Maxwell grabbed the young man's ass in both hands and squeezed hard.

“Where's the fucking bed?” Jacob demanded.

“This first.” Maxwell moved his hands around to undo Jacob's trousers. “I believe you promised to stroke my cock.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He didn't usually do this but he was feeling greedy: he wanted to see Jacob completely naked. The young man was more than willing to oblige him. A hand got on Maxwell's cock as promised. He could feel the strength of that hand, the callouses that made its touch a little rough.

“Are you a fighter?” Maxwell wondered.

“Not professionally, but yeah. How'd you know?”

“Your hands, darling. They're the hands of a fighter. See?” Maxwell wrapped his hand around Jacob's cock and stroked slowly. “Can you feel it?” Jacob shuddered and rolled toward the touch.

“Mhm, yeah. Careful or you'll get me off.”

“I intend to.” Maxwell grinned wickedly. “Stamina, remember?”

It turned out they got each other off. Mostly by hand but there was a fair bit of grinding as well. With the initial lust satisfied they could move on to the bed and take their time. Jacob's body was worth exploring: the muscles, the tattoos, the various scars. Then Jacob rolled him over and explored Maxwell with the same meticulous interest. Seeing the young man above him sparked Maxwell's desire.

Oh, how he would love to see Jacob ride his cock. Watching those powerful muscles tense as he moved, feeling the strength behind every shift, looking at the expressions on that handsome face... Maxwell rolled them over again to get a good view of the young man on his back. Jacob's legs got around him and held him in place.

“You really want me to fuck you, don't you?” Maxwell remarked.

“You don't have to look so bloody smug about it,” Jacob retorted.

Maxwell laughed and kissed the young man's lips fondly. Despite not intending to get a hook-up tonight, he did have the supplies needed for this to be enjoyable. Jacob was a lot tighter than he expected which made him wonder...

“Have you done this before?”

“ 'Course I have,” Jacob grunted. Maxwell frowned and kept working to get the young man loosen and open. Jacob hissed in a sharp breath. “Just... you know, it feels different... Your fingers.”

“You mean you've only done this alone before.”

“I told you I was horny.” Jacob shrugged his shoulders. “I'm not a virgin, but yeah... First time with a man.” Maxwell had no idea what to make of that. Jacob was so quickly receptive of his advances he hadn't considered it. Jacob's lips twisted into a grin. “Congratulations, you're taking my ass virginity.”

“Maybe I ought to fuck your mouth first, darling,” Maxwell shot back. Goddamn, but Jacob was getting him hot and bothered. Jacob grinned tauntingly up at him.

“You think you can get it up for that, old man?” Maxwell answered by kissing him hard and pushing his cock inside Jacob's body. He tried to pace himself since it was Jacob's first time but the young man was so damn eager. How in the world had he gone this long without a good ass-fucking?

“Don't know,” Jacob mused when Maxwell asked him. “Guess I'm just into older men with facial scars.”

“Sexy older men,” Maxwell corrected him.

“Please. Swell that head any bigger and it won't fit between my legs to suck my dick.” Jacob nudged him playfully with a toe. Maxwell raised an eyebrow.

“I don't recall ever saying I was going to do that.”

“No, but I want to see if your voice gets any rougher, and I figure that's the best way to find out. Unless you're tired.” That devilish smile was back. Once again Maxwell's only response was to kiss him.

He could already tell that the problem wasn't going to be if he could get his cock up again; the problem was if he would ever be able to get it up for anyone other than Jacob.

[flightfoot]

A New Challenger Appears

AO3/FFN

“You’ve never played a video game?!”

Kagami shook her head.

The two of them had been chatting about various competitions they’d been in. She’d listed a series of fencing tournaments she’d done well in, while Adrien talked about something called “Mecha Strike III”, and a class tournament he’d come in second place at.

“Mother never saw the point of such distractions. Anything that didn't help to further my mental or physical development was deemed a hindrance.”

Her boyfriend paused, searching her face for a moment. “...would you like to try?”

Would she?

Truthfully, she didn’t see the point of them either.

But… Adrien seemed to like them.

Maybe it was worth taking a chance on.

“Yes, I would.”

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

“Where are we going?”

Adrien’d called for a break partway through fencing practice, telling Mr. D’argencourt that he was getting tired and needed to cool off for a bit.

Which made no sense to her. She could always tell when he was getting tired, with how sloppy he got. If anything he seemed to be buzzing with energy, more lively than usual.

As he’d left he’d turned to their fencing teacher, giving him a long, slow wink.

Why…?

According to the books she’d been reading on body language (as good as she was at predicting an opponent’s moves during a match based on how they held themselves, predicting their thoughts and feelings outside of it was extremely difficult for her), a ‘wink’ was often a way people conveyed that there was a hidden meaning behind their actions or words.

Considering that Adrien had gone right through the locker room (after they’d both taken off their gear) and was heading upstairs, gesturing for her to follow him, she had a feeling something more was going on.

“Don’t worry, I arranged this with D’argencourt beforehand. If anyone asks, I got severe stomach cramps and wasn’t able to finish the practice. Sadly you were unable to do more than practice alone as best you could.”

Oooh… one of THESE.

Wasn’t exactly the first time they’d used fencing practice as an excuse to sneak out.

These excursions always promised to be memorable.

Holding open a classroom door, he gestured for her to enter.

Inside a giant TV greeted them, a device hooked up to it on the floor.

A screen filled with many different strange mechs blared invigorating music.

“Mecha Strike III?”

He grinned at her. “Father would never let me have you over just to play video games and I’m betting your mother’s even LESS likely to let you go so I thought, why not just try it here?”

Pulling up a large bean bag, he plopped down on one side, motioning for her to sit beside him.

Settling down, he put his arms around her as he gripped the controller. A bit of an awkward position, but right now she didn’t really care.

Physical affection was rare in her household, and with not having any friends or… well, really anyone else before Adrien?

Both of them melted into each other’s touch.

He selected a fighter. It took a bit of adjusting for his hands to be free and his field of vision to be clear with her laying on his lap, but eventually they managed it.

Huh. A black-and-green cat-like mech.

Not what she’d expected from him - he’d always been a huge Ladybug fan, so she’d figured he’d choose the mech that looked more like her - but she approved.

This mech reminded her of Chat Noir.

Chat Noir… she hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to him - to talk to either of Paris’s resident superhero duo really - as often as she’d like to.

Still, whenever she HAD had the chance, he’d been kind and sweet - if sometimes a bit goofy.

He’d held her so gently as he took her back after being purified from her second akumatization…

“This button performs a basic kick, and this one’s a grapple, and when you combine them together…”

He played a quick level against an AI opponent, showing off the various combos.

Turning to her, he smiled, arcing an eyebrow. “Are you ready to give it a shot?”

Oh.

OH

A challenge.

She took the second controller from him. “Are you ready to lose?”

He threw back his head and laughed, a gleam in his eye.

----------

The first few times, she lost badly.

He let her get her bearings first, just trying out various button combinations before entering the match proper.

She studied his every move, her eyes flicking between his hands on the controller and the action on-screen.

It likely made her defeats those first few times even more lopsided with her attention split like that, but the intel she gained from it more than made up for it.

The combos of button presses began to feel more natural, muscle memory taking over.

Her mech was an extension of herself, much as her foil was.

Block, parry, grapple-

It wasn’t dissimilar to her fights on the mat.

And she aimed to win.

“Winner: Kagami!”

Adrien’s mouth formed an “O”, his eyes widening.

She smirked. “Ready for another round?”

They played three more, trading wins and losses back and forth, before they had to call it quits. Mr. D’argencourt and Gorilla could only cover for them for so long.

Adrien gave her a cheeky grin. “My class is holding another mini Mecha Strike III tournament next week. What a shame that it happens during one of our fencing practices.”

Oooh.

She smiled back, giving him a wink. “Yes. A shame.”

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

mystic meadow and the sweet spot

pairing: harry styles x reader (farmers market au)

warnings: anxiety, awkwardness, shy!baker!harry, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, cockwarming

word count: 6.8k

synopsis: harry hates working the farmers markets, but the girl in the kombucha booth is cute

author’s note: hope you enjoy! xx all the love

masterlist

—

Harry used to hate working the farmer’s markets; there was so many people, so many awkward encounters, and so many stupid questions. The heat of the midsummer didn’t help either. He hated having to set the booth up and take it down, with the help of nothing more than an inadequate coworker, who spends most of his time on his phone or flirting with the other vendors. He hated working the markets, which is why he honestly contemplated quitting when his boss told him that he was scheduled to work the new rounds of the summer circuit, but the pay was double what he was normally making, in addition to mileage compensation.

It’s been a couple weeks since the market season began; every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, he has to set up his booth, put on a fake smile, try to sell as much as he can, and take the booth down, only to start it all again the next day in a different location. It’s exhausting, draining.

Today isn’t as bad as others. Cas, his poor excuse of a coworker, hadn’t even bothered showing up, but other than that, Harry hasn’t had any rude customers, and Andy, the guy who owns the spirits booth, gave him a couple bottles for cheap. By the end of the day, he sold most of the product, with only a few pastries and macarons to save for tomorrow, which will be handed out as samples.

He’s nearly all packed up when a girl meanders over near his booth. A loose yellow tee hangs off her shoulder with pale pink lace peeking out from the top of her chest, and she offers Artemis, the elderly woman who works the soap booth next to him, a soft grin. They make eye contact, and she gives him a warm smile. Thinking she’s a straggler who doesn’t know the market is closed, he offers her a tight smile while not-so-subtly boxing up the remainder of baked goods.

“Hmm, macarons,” the girl mumbles, fingering at the blue and white plaid tablecloth. “Any good?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says softly. He has never been really good when it comes to small talk, which is one reason why he probably isn’t able to have any lasting relationships; he barely had any acquaintances, let alone meaningful friendships. He scratches the back of his head, beneath a wool beanie he apparently had to wear, even though it’s been burning hot all day. Sweat seeps into his hair, threatening to drip down his neck. She nibbles on the inside of her cheek. He slides the tray of eclairs onto the side table, wrapping it with a healthy amount of plastic wrap before placing it in the insulated tote.

“And you’re not just obligated to say that since I’m a potential customer,” she smirks.

“Would never lie to such a pretty girl,” he says, smiling. He honestly can’t believe that those words actually came out of his mouth. A blush makes its way from his neck, to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears, and he prays that she can’t see it. The sun is setting; dull oranges and pinks peek over the tops of trees and wrap around her like wings, bright and comforting. He wipes his forehead, trying to conceal his blush from her. Just by looking at her, he’s sure that she wouldn’t even bat an eye at the rosy flush to his skin, but his stomach still balls up.

“Smooth,” she says. “You come here often?” Regret passes over her features as soon as she asks that, brows furrowing and head shaking. “Sorry, that sounded stupid. I just haven’t seen you. It’s normally Ryan or Cas,” she explains. She starts folding the tablecloth when Harry packs the final trays of pastries away.

“Well, Cas didn’t even show up today.” Harry can’t help the bitterness that seeps into his voice. He doesn’t mean to dump all of his anger on this poor girl, but she’s looking at him with such understanding eyes, it’s hard not to completely break and rant about everything that’s been building up. She hands the cloth to him, which he takes with an appreciative nod. “But, yeah, ‘ve been workin’ this fo’ a couple of weeks,” he says. Feeling like he’s being a little too standoffish, he offers her a smile, nudging the tray that caught her eye toward her. “You like macarons?”

It takes a bit for her to answer, and she bites at her lip, fingers wringing together. The skin of her palms are stained a pinkish-purple.

“Yeah,” she says. “They’re my favorite.”

“Here,” he says, scrambling to get a box. He digs into the tote, easily ripping into the plastic wrap. “Take some. Better you than me. ’Ve had enough sweets to last me the rest of my life.”

“Thanks.” She takes the box of pistachio-honey, raspberry-basil, and orange cream. “Pretty,” she says, fiddling with the gold ribbon he tied around it and already picking at the label. She lingers for a little bit, like she’s waiting to find something else to talk about, fingers tapping nervously on the table top. “I, uh,” she stutters, gesturing toward the booth across the way from his and a little to the right, “work the kombucha stand over there.”

It’s a large booth with large, draping black curtains shifting. If the wind catches it just right, he can see streams of warm colors painted on them, layered and bold. Two men are taking down a large banner that says ‘Mystic Meadow Kombucha’ with the outline of a bull’s skull beneath it, wildflowers winding around it. It seems to be more extravagant than Harry’s setup, with 3 large kegs in the front, decorated with fake vines and flowers.

“D’ya paint?” He asks suddenly, gesturing toward her hands.

“I do, but these are from some beets. We were testing new flavors, and I, well—” She bares her hands, laughing lighty, “I wasn’t careful enough.”

“I see.”

“So, I’ll see you around,” she says after a minute, offering him a shy smile. Before she walks away, she raises the box of sweets with gratitude. “Thanks, again.”

“See ya,” he says, eyes lingering on her, watching her skip back toward her booth. One of the men looks at Harry and smirks, nodding knowingly. The rest of the night, he finds his gaze wandering back over to her booth. A couple of times, she catches his eye, and when they leave, in an old van with a flaking paint job that wobbles over every bump in the road, she waves at him.

It’s ten at night before he gets back to the bakery, the sun long gone, but the dry heat still hangs heavy in the air. Marty, the owner, is still in the office counting the money for the night that she probably wasn't able to get to earlier. It’s a fairly small operation, with only two baristas, two managers, Marty and Ryan, and two bakers, himself and Cas, who probably won’t have a job after today’s no-call-no-show. Harry leans against the doorframe, handing her the bank pouch.

“‘M headed out,” he says. “See ya tomorrow.”

“How was it?” She asks before he can leave. He turns around.

“Wha’?”

“The market,” Marty supplies. “Is it still as bad as you thought?”

“Today was better than others,” he says vaguely, his mind wandering to the girl at the kombucha stand. A smile plays on his lips. Marty cocks a brow, leaning back in her chair.

“So you wouldn’t mind working next week?”

“Nah,” he says, “Tha’s fine.”

That night, he dreams of a girl, with pretty eyes, a yellow t-shirt, and stained hands.

In the weeks following their first encounter, Harry takes the time to visit the kombucha girl before the market opens, and at the end of the night, she stops by to get a box of leftover baked goods. He’s learned a lot of things over the past few weeks: her name is Y/N, she’s the daughter of the owners of Mystic Meadow, her main jobs being selling at local markets and businesses and coming up with the different flavors, she’s working on her bachelor’s degree, she’s single (Harry found it difficult to contain his joy when she told him that), and she’s an all-around sweet girl, who’s wonderful with people.

Harry also found out that he hates kombucha.

But that doesn’t stop him from getting one every time he stops by. It’s normally before the market is actually open to the public. She just gets so excited whenever he tries a cup of the newest flavor, normally an odd mixture of spices or herbs with vinegar and a fermented fruit flavor—it’s not even good fermentation, like with alcohol— it tastes absolutely horrid, but Y/N looks at him with such hopeful eyes the first time he has a sip; he couldn’t bear seeing the disappointed look in her eyes, so he accepts the little plastic cup from her, nodding thankfully, and takes it back to his booth, where it will sit for the remainder of the night, untouched and dripping with sweat, leaving faint rings on the tablecloth.

“I brought you something,” she says to him one afternoon.

It’s early August, the sun at its peak, beating down on his black tee; he really needs to learn how to dress for such heat.

“Yeah?”

She lugs a black glass bottle from the cooler in the far corner of the booth, hidden behind the wooden chair for her. Her smile stretches from ear to ear; it’s hard to contain his own, but why would he want to? When you’re in the presence of beaming sunlight, you shouldn’t shy away, rather, embracing it because you never know how long it’s going to last. Her finger is hooked in the small hole near the top, and she slams it down on the table, the decorated glass jar filled with inspirational quotes and stickers with the Mystic Meadow logo on them nearly toppling over. He clumsily grapples for it before everything falls.

“Sorry,” she laughs, rubbing the sweat that has already formed on the bottle. She holds it out for him to take. “It’s a growler of the pear and pink peppercorn,” she says, smiling. He takes it gingerly from her hands, turning it over and feeling the weight.

“Wha’?”

“You said it was your favorite,” she says, her grin falling slightly. His heart stops for a second. Guilt floods him as he smiles widely, dimples settling deep in his cheeks.

“Ah, yes,” he says. “Thank you.”

It’s quiet after that. Neither of them, he’s noticed, are very good at making conversation. Y/N is normally the one to initiate the pleasantries, but it still takes a little bit before they can actually get into a deep conversation. Sure, when they finally find a subject that the both of them are passionate about, they can talk for hours, like her paintings or his music, but the starting off is always difficult. Granted, that’s not abnormal for Harry; he’s never been much of a talker. He can fake it if he has to, but he’s a bit of a blundering idiot sometimes, and he’s learned that the less he speaks, the less likely he is to embarrass himself—especially when he’s around Y/N.

He’s been trying to find the courage to ask her out on a date for the past few weeks, hell, ever since the day they met, but of course: he hasn’t. Granted, he’s never had much luck in the dating scene, probably because he can’t flirt for the life of him. There are some times where something charming comes out randomly, but it’s soon followed by an uncomfortable silence, and he gets embarrassed.

He just needs to go for it. He knows that. He tells himself that every time he misses his chance, when he waits too long, and the window of opportunity is slammed in his face. Y/N is a wonderful match for him, and she’s too sweet to completely laugh in his face or flat out reject him.

But it’s still scary. His heart is in his throat, and his palms are sweaty. He wipes them on his jeans, noticing the slight tremor. He tucks them in the pockets of his jeans (yet another terrible clothing choice for such a hot day).

He just needs to do it, rip it off like a band-aid.

“Was wondering,” he blurts out, shifting nervously on his feet. “Do you have plans on Saturday?”

“No, do you have something in mind?” She looks at him with hopeful eyes, and he melts. He wishes he could be as comfortable as Y/N, to not be constantly worried about the approval and validation of the people around him. He wonders what it’s like to wear his heart out on his sleeve.

He wishes he could live like that.

“Uh, I have work,” he says, “but after, maybe, we could get dinner?”

“Sounds like a date.”

—

The Sweet Spot Bakery and Cafe is a cute little shop on a corner in downtown, ironically next to a nutrition store. A blue neon sign shaped like a mug flashes in the corner of Y/N’s eye. Rain pounds onto the red and gold striped awning, dripping onto the flooded concrete. There’s cute flower boxes beneath the windows, but the flowers look sad and droopy, the dirt splattering out with every powerful raindrop. Antique metal tables are stacked in the far corner, out of the rain. Y/N shakes off her umbrella.

A sweet chime sounds when she pulls open the door. Inside, the scent of coffee and sugar fill her senses. There is just something so comfortable about being in a bakery or even a cafe that always reminds her of warmth, of intimacy, of home. The shop is fairly empty, with an older man reading in one of the corners, snug in a velvet chair, and a couple quietly chatting on the other side, hidden behind a hanging plant, their legs crossed over each others’ on a leather stool.

An older woman greets her from behind the counter, obscured by a gold espresso machine. She’s short with graying black hair, brown eyes peeking behind horned glasses. Her red painted lips stretch into a smile.

“How can I help you, sweetheart?”

“Hi, is Harry here?”

As if he could hear her, Harry stumbles out from the back, the door swinging idly behind him. Flour coats his arms to his elbows, with a few stripes on his nose and forehead. The green bandana struggles to hold back his hair, curls slipping onto his forehead.

“Y/N,” he breathes out. He wipes his hands on the apron, a cloud of white billowing out. He coughs. He shoos the woman away and leans against the counter, his features impassive. To the untrained eye, he looks normal, fine, calm, even, but Y/N has learned how to read him; from the faint blush on his cheeks to the look in his eyes, which are unable to meet hers. He looks anxious, more so than usual, and there’s a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Sorry, I forgo’ to tell ya, but I’m scheduled to close tonight.”

“That’s fine.” She tries to hide the disappointment in her voice. “We can do this some other time, then.”

“I can take my break in a bit. Marty doesn’ really mind how long it takes. D'ya wanna sit? Be out in a minute,” he says quickly.

“Sure,” she says, nodding. She opts for the corner booth, away from the other customers. Harry comes out from behind the counter only a moment later, like he promised, clean with a large white mug clutched in one shaky hand and a white box, wrapped in a pretty gold bow, in the other.

“Here ya go,” he says, sliding a large mug toward her. Foam sloshes over the edges and onto the table, wetting the napkin under the cup as well as her hand. He curses under his breath, grappling for the napkin dispenser. A poorly shaped face made with cinnamon smiles up at her, and she wants to aw at the sight, her lips pouting.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wiping her hand with a stale paper napkin.

“It’s fine, H,” she whispers, placing her hand on his.

He doesn’t really know why he’s so nervous (more nervous than usual). It’s not like this is his first time meeting her; they’re comfortable with each other, and they joke around, and he also knows that she’s interested because of how understanding she was when he told her that his shift changed, or maybe that is a sign that she’s not interested.

He really needs to stop overthinking these things.

He’s a grown man. He should be able to talk with her without his hands clamming up or his heart beating out of his chest. Maybe it’s the pressure of it being defined as a “date” that makes it even worse. He just hopes that he doesn’t psych himself out.

“Thank you.” She grins.

“No problem. Remembered that ya told me once that you liked honey and cinnamon.”

Her heart swells at his words. Even though Harry puts on an uneasy exterior, he’s very attentive and loving. None of her exes would have remembered how she took her coffee after she mentioned it once.

“Sorry,” he says again suddenly, looking at the sad excuse of a smiley face on her drink. “Don’ normally work the front unless it’s too busy.”

“You should. Such a pretty face, I can’t keep it all to myself.” She pinches his cheek, and he shys away, swatting at her hand playfully. He nudges the box toward her.

“Macarons. Your favorite,” he says, and she nudges it to the side, taking a large gulp of the coffee.

“How’s it been today?” She asks, rubbing some of the foam off with her thumb.

“Slow,” he admits, breathing out shakily. His feet tap nervously on the floor, tapping back and forth, from heel to toe.

“Hey, it’s just me,” she says, placing a gentle hand on his. “No need to be nervous.”

“Right,” he says, nodding. “I jus’ feel like I should apologize again. I should’ve said something to you about my shift change.”

“It’s no problem, Harry,” she reassures him.

“I just got promoted. Marty needs help with orders and stuff, so I’ll be the bakery manager, now. She wanted me to close as a part of my training.”

“That’s great,” she smiles, lacing their fingers. He stares at them, his thumb tracing over her knuckles gently. Her skin is calloused and warm. He tugs her hand up to his lips, and she gives him a shy smile.

“You’ll still be working the markets, right?”

“Ya can’t get rid o’ me tha’ easily, lovie,” he smirks.

“Good.”

They talk for a good ten minutes, but the conversation is no deeper than the short interactions they normally have at the markets.

Harry wishes that wasn’t the case.

“Harry,” Marty calls from behind the counter, interrupting them. “A timer’s going off. What’s it for?”

“Oh, um—” He stands up, looking at Y/N with apologetic eyes. “I promise I’ll make it up to ya. Tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she says, downing the last of her drink and gathering her things.

“Brunch? I’ll text ya?”

“Harry,” Y/N calls out after he slips behind the counter.

“Yeah?”

She presses a quick kiss to his cheek, not missing the red forming on his neck.

“See you tomorrow.”

She gives him a wink before leaving. Harry stands, stunned in silence, his fingers tracing the warmth lingering from her lips.

“Whipped,” Marty mutters, a soft smirk toying on her lips.

“Shut up,” he scoffs.

“I’m not judging. It’s cute, H.”

“I don’ need this, ‘kay?”

She throws a wet towel at him, catching his leg before the door to the back closes.

—

As promised, they had Sunday brunch, with bottomless mimosas and American biscuits, something he still isn’t used to, with jam and poached eggs. Y/N, who is a lot bolder when she has some alcohol in her, chattered on and on about her friends, her parents, and her classes. College never seemed like an option for him. He always held the belief that in his career choices, a baker or a musician, he doesn’t need a degree; you either have it or you don’t type situations.

But Y/N, the smart little cookie, loves school. She talked about how she may get an education degree, but one is plenty of work right now. She commended those brave enough to be in a double major. She asked him about his family and his job, mostly; he would rather listen to her than talk, so he kept his answers short and sweet.

Afterward, they went to the park, cliche as it seems, because even though he’s lived in the area for nearly five years, he never took the time to stop by any of the parks, and Y/N took full opportunity of this: she gawked at him, pulled him out of his chair at the bistro, and slammed some cash onto the table. He tried to argue with her, that he should at least leave the tip, since he was at fault for their date yesterday not going to plan, but she wasn’t listening.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been to any of the parks,” she said, tugging him along the sidewalk. “There’s a nice one around here, only a ten minute walk. It has a pond and that cute little playground equipment—you know, the tiny slides with tiny stairs for the little kids. Do you remember those?” She stops. “Should we get bread to feed the ducks?” She shakes her head, answering her own question. “No, we can do it some other time.”

They spend the rest of the day by the pond, people watching, another one of Y/N favorite past times. After dinner, Harry didn’t get home until after sunset and went to bed with a smile on his face.

The next day, Harry spends two hours contemplating whether or not it was too early to send a good morning text. He nervously rolled around in his bed before he accidentally sent the message. She responded quickly after, and they talked for the entire day (seriously, he didn’t get up unless he absolutely had to).

Tuesday, market day, comes around quickly, and Harry gets there earlier than usual, not so subtly waiting for the Mystic Meadow van to chug through the grass lot, and when it does, his heart speeds up, but he doesn’t recognize the girl that hops out of the passenger side.

His mind runs amuck, as usual. Even though they talked nonstop the day before, he thinks that maybe she’s not here because she doesn’t want to run into him, that she was annoyed by him already, his wariness and nerves. His heart skips a beat at the thought. He tries to reassure himself that there are so many other possible explanations, but his anxiety wasn’t having it.

It takes him a while to gather the courage to go over to the booth, and he tries to act as inconspicuous as possible, pacing slowly in front of the other booths, organic fruit, soap, paintings, and jewelry, until he’s at Mystic Meadow. The chalkboard sign that usually says Y/N’s name in fancy lettering says, ‘Florence will be helping you today’ instead. A girl with very long, very bright hair turns toward him. Thick blue eyeliner outlines her eyes, and smattering of freckles enlivens her pale skin.

“Can I help you?”

“Where’s Y/N?”

She looks taken aback by the question.

“Sick,” she answers slowly, brows furrowed.

“Oh,” he whispers. “‘M Harry,” he says. Her eyes widen suddenly, and she gives him a quick once over, leaning her hip against the table.

“You’re Harry?” She laughs. “We thought she was making you up.”

“Tha’s...” Harry doesn’t really know how to feel about that; it’s a cacophony of pride, excitement, and little anxiety. Pride for the fact that Y/N talked about him to her coworker (and potentially even more people, since Florence said “we”), excitement from the fact that Y/N seems very interested in him, and, of course, anxiety from this stranger's piercing gaze. He wonders what Y/N said about him; maybe she talked about how awkward he is or his gauky figure or his clumsiness—

“How sick is she?”

“Not too sick,” Florence says, winking.

“Oh, tha’s not—“

He hates the fact that he actually sounds disgusted, even though he honestly doesn’t mind the thought of it. Sure, Florence is right; he wouldn’t mind being with Y/N in that way, but that’s beside the point. They have only been out on two dates, and the first one was at his work, of all places, so he doesn’t really count that one. He wants to take their relationship slow.

“I’m messing with you,” Flo laughs, crossing her arms, “Although, it is nice to see a grown man blushing.”

“‘M not blushin’,” he says, wiping at his cheeks petulantly. “Uh, is Y/N alright? How sick—” He swallows thickly. His skin heats up even more, struggling to find his words. He’s trying to figure out how to ask where Y/N lives without sounding like a stalker. Maybe he should just ask Y/N himself.

“Where, um, does she—”

“Here,” she says, chuckling. She rips a piece of paper loose from under the register box and writes down an address with looping script.

“Thanks.” He leaves the booth with a quick nod, the paper clutched tightly in his sweating palm; hopefully, it doesn’t smudge the ink.

“Hey, Harry,” she calls out. He turns. “You’re a good guy. I’m glad she met you.”

If he wasn’t blushing before, he sure as hell is now.

—

Y/N looks worse for wear when she answers the door to her apartment, eyes tinted red with exhaustion, puffy and droopy, and she sniffles, a stuffy breath slipping through her lips. She’s wrapped up in a fluffy blanket. Her eyes widen, and she tries to hide slightly behind the door when she sees that it’s him.

“What are you doing here?” She squeaks.

His nerves spike again, worried he’s intruding or maybe it was too soon for him to start showing up at her house unannounced, when he’s never even been there before (he knew asking Florence for her address was a bad idea). They have only been on a couple of dates, and now, he probably ruined any chances he had with her by acting impulsively and like a total creep.

“I asked Florence,” he answers softly. “Said you were sick.” When tears fill her eyes, he’s sure she’s going to yell at him for disturbing her and tell him never to come again. He doesn’t think he’s ever regretted anything so much; his skin is hot, his racing heart sinking into his stomach. “‘M sorry. I jus’ thought, since you were sick, you may wan’ some company. I’ll leave, sorry, sorry—”

“No,” she says, grabbing onto his arm before he can leave. “I’m sorry for freaking you out, but…” Her throat closes, and she tries her hardest to not start ugly-crying, but with Harry standing on her front porch, visibly drained from work, arms full of grocery and pharmacy bags, makes it very hard not to break. It’s exhausting having to take care of yourself when you’re feeling ill, and with Harry simply there, and knowing that he was thinking about her, makes things so much easier.

“You’re so sweet, H,” she says, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“May I?”

“But—” She hesitates, nibbling at her lip. “I’m in my PJ's,” she says softly.

“And ‘m all sweaty from being in tha’ sun all day,” he smiles. He lets himself in, thick boots thundering on the hardwood. “I came straight from, but I did pick up some soup and Sprite and tea. Hope you have honey and lemon,” he rambles, tugging everything out from the bags.

“Wasn’t real sure what kind of sick ya were, so…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I got everythin’.” He gives her an awkward tight smile.

“Thank you,” she sighs, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. “Do you wanna shower? I’m sure I have some clothes that can fit you.” She guides him to the bathroom, laying some towels and clothes into his arms. “The shower head screams sometimes so don’t be worried. It normally stops if you wiggle it a bit.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. Her shower is filled with dozens of half-filled soap bottles decorated the shelves and the little basket hanging from the shower head. The hot water is nearly all gone by the time he decides to use the no-more-tears strawberry shampoo. Her towels are warm and soft, softer than he thinks he’s ever felt before, and they’re big enough to nearly swallow him whole.

He finds Y/N in the kitchen with a warped mug, seemingly handmade, filled with steaming tea. She stares at the cap of medicine on the counter, breathing heavily. He can see the confliction on her features, one moment she’s nearly convinced that she doesn’t need it, that her body can take care of it overnight, but she also knows that if she didn’t take it, she’ll be in for one hell of a terrible night; then she remembers how awful it tasted the last couple of times she’s had to take it.

Her nose scrunches when she finally decides to down it.

“Thanks for the tea,” she says, “I was just about to head to bed.”

“Oh, uh,” he says nervously. “I don’ want to impose. I’ll leave. I jus’ wanted to make sure ya had everything ya needed.”

A part of him wanted her to invite him to be with her; that part that is touch starved and eager to be near her again wants to toss any worries to the side.

“As long as you’re fine listening to my coughing all night, I’m fine with you staying the night.”

She listens to nature sounds to go to sleep.

How cute is that?

For the first couple minutes, they were ocean sounds, but she didn’t like the seagulls; she had him switch it to rain after a little bit. She looked a little embarrassed when she started playing them, but Harry listened to music in order to fall asleep, so it’s really no different. He never thought about listening to nature sounds, but it’s definitely something he could get used to.

It takes them a bit to finally get settled together. They start on their own sides of the bed. Not wanting to push his luck and make her feel uncomfortable, Harry stays on his side, trying not to hoard too much of the blankets, with a pillow hugged to his chest. She’s afraid that he won’t like her being so close to him, given her current state of health. They stare at the ceiling stubbornly, one occasionally glancing over to the other.

Soon, the night-time medicine kicks in, and Y/N throws caution to the wind.

“Fuck it,” she whispers, rolling onto her side, one arm nestling underneath him with the other prying between the pillow. “You okay with this?” She looks at him with pleading eyes, and he smiles.

How could he say no to her?

“Definitely.”

And so, she snuggles deeper into his chest, eyes growing heavy at the feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp, the scent of strawberry shampoo and Vix lulling the both of them to sleep.

—

Kissing her is something he doesn’t think he could ever get tired of. The feel of her soft lips over his, with tongue and teeth, aching and messy, is addicting. He never understood why people liked kissing so much; granted he’s only had five other ones to go off of, only two of them ever lead to a full-blown make out session on his bed, but still; how much fun could it be to practically suck another person’s face off?

But he severely underestimated the power of Y/N’s lips. The first time he felt them was a couple days after he spent the night with her when she was sick. It was a quick little peck he gave her when he dropped her off at her apartment, and ever since, he was hooked. It still completely baffles how much he aches for her lips when he can’t see her, and when he finally gets his fix, it feels perfect.

He finds himself craving the taste of her tongue.

How can someone’s mouth taste good?

It’s December, now, the market season long gone, and he and Y/N have been together for nearly five months. It’s more serious than any of his other relationships. Obviously, that’s not saying much since he hasn’t had many, but Harry slowly found himself opening up more toward her, which is more than any of his other ones.

He nips at the skin of her neck, tugging off her tee, and he finds the hickey he left a couple days ago, just below the collarbone, tongue pressing lightly on the tender skin. She whimpers.

“Fuck me, H,” she moans. She’s wearing a pink, lacy bra, the same one she was wearing the first day they met. He slips the straps over her shoulders, leaving a trail of kisses behind it. Her head lolls back against his, and his hand finds its way to her neck, caressing the warm skin. He can feel her heart rate pick up.

She slips her pajama pants and panties down, kicking them across the room. She slips further down the sheet, his hands firm on her hips. He tugs her frail bra up over her head. He fondles her breast for a bit before his lips trail down the valley, his warm mouth wrapping around her tender nipple, tongue soft against the pebbling skin. Y/N feels herself melt into him, skin sensitive to every teasing kiss he leaves down her body.

“Hey, babe?”

He rests his chin on her tummy, the thin hairs coating his jaw ticking her skin.

“Yeah?”

A sweet smile crosses her face at the chills that cover her skin when he speaks, lips so close to her skin, her pussy throbbing. Her thighs twitch. She runs her fingers through his hair, fingers smoothing the flyaways down. He kisses her bellybutton.

“I love you.”

He isn’t expecting that.

He chokes a little bit, his throat closing up on him.

“What?” He lifts himself up, crawling back up her body, and she cups his face. “Really?”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek.

She’s not afraid that he won’t say it back. Hell, there's a part of her that doesn’t even expect him to say it back. (There’s an even smaller part that thinks that he’s just going to leave, but she doesn’t want to think of that). She’s not afraid because she knows that she needs to be the one to reassure him, to love him, to coax him out of his shell, and she’s completely willing to do that, to put forth the time and effort, because she is wholeheartedly enamored with him.

She waits for him to process everything; she can see the confliction in his eyes. Ever the worrier, Harry is thinking of the negative outcomes that can come if he goes about this the wrong way, but he doesn’t dwell on them for too long. He thinks of the mornings that he woke up in her arms, the afternoons they spent in tje park, a new tradition for them, the evenings they spent in contemplative silence, where she would paint his profile and he would serenade her with another love song, and the nights they spent making love.

Loving her is probably the easiest decision he’s ever made.

“Love you too, babylove.”

Y/N lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and she pulls his forehead onto hers.

He wants to thank her, for being patient, for being understanding, for loving him, for just being her, really. He doesn’t think she realizes how much of an impact she has on him.

She sits up and pushes him beneath her. He leans against the headboard. It’s cold against his hot skin, sweat slipping down the small of his back. They both struggle in pulling off his pants; he almost hits her in the head. She settles low on his thighs, straddling him, and her feet tuck beneath his calves. She spits on his cock, wetting the red tip, and strokes him slowly. He moans, pouting slightly.

“No teasin’.” He tugs her forward, until their chest to chest, his hands settling low on her hips, rocking her wet pussy back and forth over the length of his cock. Her clit rubs against the head, making her hips jolt within his grasp. He easily slips inside of her, his head knocking against the headboard. She teases him, still, just barely putting the head inside before pulling out slowly. It takes a couple more tries before she sinks fully onto him, a drawn out groan slipping past his lips. He pulls her back in for a kiss, fingers trailing along the curve of her spine.

“So deep,” she moans, her thighs twitching and quivering at his side. She caresses the skin of his belly, thumb teasing along the thin hairs.

“There ya go, baby,” he coos. “Takin’ me so well.” He sets his hand on her lower abdomen, feeling the little bump. “Can feel m’self,” he smiles. He waits for her to start moving. It takes a little longer than usual, probably from the lack of preparation, but she doesn’t let that stop her. She moves her hips back and forth, wiggling about to find that one special spot.

He thrusts himself into her, and she nearly collapses completely onto him, with a broken whine breaking from her chest. Hands gripping her fleshy ass, he moans against her neck. She tastes of sweat and cherries, addicting, and she grinds harder into him, hands gripping the headboard, which hits the wall with every move of her hips. The mattress creaks noisily beneath them, but they can barely hear it over the sound of each others’ moans of pleasure.

“Love you,” he says against her lips.

She breathes out her response, a pledge of her own love; it’s weak, but that’s no surprise, since she struggles for air when he bucks his hips, hitting the deepest part of her. The aching in her chest only adds to the pleasure, the burning fire in her stomach. Her arousal slips down to his thighs.

“‘M gonna come, babylove,” he whines, skimming his nose over hers. Her teeth nibbles his lips, riding him faster.

“Come in me, H, wanna feel you,” she says breathily. His arms quiver around her, squeezing her tight to him, his face digging into her neck. Her toes curl when he comes, his nails digging into her skin. She eases him through his high, cupping his cheeks and wiping the sweat from his forehead. She pulls his head to her chest, fingers carding through his curls; his heaving breaths leaves her skin wet. She moves up, whimpering softly, but he stops her, feeling some of his cum slip out onto his thighs.

“Hm, no, lovie,” he whines, wrapping an arm around her waist. He gently moves them onto their sides, while keeping his cock nestled deep inside her. “Wanna feel you.”

She loves being so close to him, warm and full. She’s never done this with anyone. It’s intimacy at its core, with Harry holding her so tightly against him. It nearly brings tears to her eyes. She’s so glad that she met Harry, so thankful that she took that leap of faith and talked to the cute guy at the baked goods booth, who had wise eyes and a nervous smile. She’s glad that she inched past that guarded exterior to find his soft, gooey middle. Harry kisses her forehead, shifting slightly, and her sensitive walls flutter around him.

“Feels good, baby,” she moans, rubbing along his waist.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah,” she says, still at a loss for breath, her fingers absently tracing over his inked skin. Goose pimples rise in their wake.

“I don’ like kombucha.”

“Good, ‘cause I don’t like macarons.”

—

[doomstypewriter]

would u do forbidden love, secret relationship moceit? i was thinking a pseudo-historical au, ideally with homophobia as the motivator for the forbidden/secret part but if u absolutely dont wanna do that janus being an outlaw would also work i suppose. just some whacky bois sneaking through windows to hang out, nearly being caught smooching, funny hijinks, then! sudden melancholy about how in love they are & never being able to show it

Finally, anon, I am done!!!!  I gladly present to you the final chapter, just in time for Valentine's Day (call that timing (once you read the thing you'll get this reference)). 

 Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for giving me the chance to write something this cool! 

<< Chapter 1                                       AO3

We call it an affair because it's a forbidden romance 

Word count: 9376 

 Summary: Janus is dumb. He may be intelligent, but intelligence isn't at odds with poor foresight. So he makes a mistake that can get him killed. Romina is very gay and very angry. Patton is confused but does his best. Virginia is the only one with a functioning brain cell. Or, how a chain of misunderstandings almost ruins everything. 

 TW: Seemingly Unsymphathetic fem!Roman (not really, she is just feeling very hurt and angry and it is all resolved eventually), mild transphobia, mentions of blood, mentions of violence (there is a sword fight), mild misogyny, internalised misogyny, internalised homophobia, homophobia, mild threats of violence (again, the sword fight), swearing... I think that's all, but if you spot anything else tell me. 

Chapter 2: The rest of their lives 

The light raised above the darkness and it was morning again. In two days time, Patton would be meeting the countess, just so he could start properly courting her, not because his father wanted to get a title and land for his son. To suggest such a thing would be ridiculous. Scandalous even!

Reputation ruining…

Janus got up from his cot, unfit for the heavy silks that covered it, some stolen, some gifted by Patton. He looked at the things surrounding him. His house wasn’t so bad. It was in fact bigger than the places inhabited by most peasants, and a palace compared to the things in which people like him had to sleep… the things where he had had to lay in. The house consisted of one room, like most, but the size made up for the lack of divisions. 

This was a cave reimagined as a home. The walls had been lined with timber and thoroughly coated with stucco, the curving grooves of its application were not that noticeable, Janus was not a professional but he had certainly done his best. Aside from the absence of windows, it didn’t resemble a cave. There was a section of rock he had left uncovered at the very back, where water seeped out of the wall and provided him with a steady source of the thing. He would prefer not drinking watered-down stucco. 

He began to get dressed. All of his clothing was stored within a small but beautifully carved cupboard he had stolen from a manor in Bohemia. He had plenty of garments from here and there, five outfits in total! Stolen as well. 

In the house, what he hadn’t crafted himself he had stolen. Perfume bottles from France, boots and gold from the Kingdom of Aragon, a stiletto and a medium-sized silver mirror from the Republic of Venice… he even had two tapestries. 

But, even then, it was nothing compared to Villa Morandi. He surrounded himself with opulence to quench his thirst for wealth, the easy life of those above. His home was an illusion, a taste of richness, in which a poor man could pretend. This was not a place where Patton could live, let alone want to. 

If he was to spread rumours, then what? A plan of keeping Patton to himself would not succeed and his lover’s life would be as good as done. 

After packing his fanciest clothes and putting on the ones he used for travelling, he set to leave. He carried his stiletto, a grappling hook and a sword, all three perfectly hidden under his cape. 

Using a hidden pulley system, Janus moved the boulder that hid the entrance to the cave, returning it to its place afterwards. No one would find his home no matter how long he left.

The path down the slope of the mountain twisted and turned. Janus was in no disposition to waste time, so he went across the forest. Half-lost in the trees lay the cabin of a woodsman’s family. A while ago, Janus had left them a steed along with one florin. The family cared for the horse, not knowing exactly what to do. As the horse appeared and disappeared, bringing them thirty soldi each time, they began to get the gist.  Upon reaching the cabin, he headed for a well-built timber shed where his horse waited, fed and rested. 

He left thirty soldi on a small stool at the corner of the shed, mounted his horse, and galloped away. 

The Regio county manor was two days away by horse. 

Patton left yesterday, as his carriage would take longer to get there, stops and all, than one man on horseback. 

Janus paused at the base of the mountain. With one whistle his hawk surfaced from the sea of trees to land on his forearm-length glove. 

“You are to find Signor Morandi’s and Patton’s carriage. Follow them without drawing attention to yourself, find me and report to me at dusk. If anything urgent were to happen, come to my side immediately”.

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

His room at the inn felt quiet despite the muffled sounds from down below, where people chanted and told stories. 

The cool breeze wouldn’t be half-unpleasant if he wasn’t leaning on the ledge of a wide-open window. I also didn’t help that he was in his underwear. Father would certainly scold him for letting himself be seen in his linen undershirt. Some may think he was waiting for some disreputable company. 

It was more hoping than waiting. Also, Janus couldn’t possibly be disreputable. Out of costume, he had no reputation whatsoever. He liked to keep it that way. His real identity had no friend nor foe, in that he found safety. It had been hard to trust each other. Believe a criminal could be good. Let the son of a merchant become a friend, form an opinion of Janus, the original one. A part of him felt so proud, to see him grow, believe him, love him… another part found it sad for people to miss on such a wonderful person. 

Nights like this made him nostalgic. The first floors had tallow candles cast their diffuse glow onto the streets. Cobblestones seemed softened by the warm tint. Darkness rendered malleable to the light. It all made him miss Janus even more. 

The touch of his palm, holding the weight of his lazy head, a poor substitute to Janus’ hand. 

On such a night they had met. How scared he had been! A bit angry too… captivated as well, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself at the time. 

Patton smiled in contemplation. 

He had spotted him right there, sitting out of the adjacent window, ready to jump and make a run for it. 

“Stop! You will get hurt, good sir!” at first he did not realise the true nature of what was happening. 

To think Janus could be harmed by jumping off a window! He knew better now. Balconies were his true weakness. Thankfully, the only balconies he climbed now were his. 

“Oh, I’ll stop at once. Care to join?” Janus said as he pulled a stiletto out of his cape. 

“You are stealing!” 

“I would never!” he feigned indignation.

“Then what is it that you are doing, good sir?”

Oh, Patton could still hear the laugh that had followed, velvety and insincere. It brought a chill up his spine. 

“Stealing, of course”. 

“That is vile!” 

“Is it? You’re all allowed to provide for yourselves by buying fabrics and goods created by others. Am I not doing as you do? Are merchants not thieves? How can you tell a vile man from another? What do you know of this world, dear?” 

“Well… I... I know for certain that the woman in that room, the one you are stealing from, sir, is not wealthy. She may look the part, but that is thanks to heirlooms. Her family has been impoverished for two generations”. 

“Does it make you virtuous to spread the secrets of others? Isn’t gossip frowned upon by those of…” he lifted his gold rosary from under his shirtfront with the tip of his blade “your inclination”. 

“I am merely explaining so you may be persuaded to accept my gold in exchange for returning her possessions”. 

“Why shouldn’t I just take your gold and keep her stuff too?”

“We may be allowed to provide for ourselves in ways others may view as vile, but should we condemn those who cannot on the account of not wanting to express vileness or having no means to? I do not mean to intrude, sir, but the thoughts behind your words betray your stance in this dilemma. You shall find more satisfaction in stealing what you believe was already stolen. A poor woman is not worth your pride, nor ridding you of the chance to make me lose mine”.

Janus frowned as if he didn't expect him to say something like that. Later he would confess to him that what shocked him was hearing him say something smart. It keeps on surprising him whenever he does.

"Quick, hand me your gold and I might consider it". 

"No, sir, I expect you to leave what you have taken first". 

He did try to hide his eagerness. But, how his cape rustled, once inside, betrayed him. What kind of thief was so noisy? He thought to himself. Once they had built trust, Janus explained that he had been quite shaken up by his offering. He neglected to mention the reason why. Patton imagined it was because he found his disposition to put himself in harm’s way for others ridiculous. 

The thief’s half-concealed face emerged from the window. 

"Will three florin do?" Patton asked, pulling his coin bag. 

Janus looked at the rich embroidered fabric almost in awe. If only, for a second. 

“I suppose…” 

“Well, then, there you go, sir”. 

His hands pried the bag open, ready to pull the golden coins. 

“Hmm…” 

“What is the matter?” 

“I could always just go back and get all the stuff”. 

“Is it not enough for you?” he showed him the three pieces of gold in his open palm. 

It was as if he could almost feel him licking his lips. The part of him, dark, often chastised, made him shake and quiver. His knees felt weak, somehow. This hunger in the thief’s eyes, almost akin to wonder, at the sight of gold, as if he had never seen so much before, it made him want to… dear Lord, no!

“To put such a price on mending the error of my ways” he laughed, staring right through him with those green eyes. Patton’s knees threatened to buckle for real.  “It isn’t very much, now, is it?” he leaned forward, and if Patton leaned as well maybe he could… what? Fall from this height for a pretty thief?

“What do you want, then?” 

That had been a first for Janus, Patton was certain. He didn’t quite get his reaction, but, picturing it again some days later he figured the thief was taken aback. 

“Uh… tha-that fancy coin bag of yours will do. Consider me a gentleman, I wouldn’t want to fleece you completely, the first time”. 

“Oh, I’m sure”. 

“Ha”, Janus stared at him in disbelief. 

Patton felt mortified. 

“I-I mean…” 

“Are you always this eloquent or is it just poor skill when it comes to existing?” the sentence did not sound as condescending as it should have, more like borderline flirtatious. 

Words would not come to him. 

“The coin bag, please”. 

His arm moved on his own, careful to avoid touch. It would be a bad idea to give this man a chance to tip him over the ledge. For a moment, he hesitated. This bag had been gifted to him by his father, he had two made for the two of them. It was two of a kind. But… the woman next door’s wellbeing was far more valuable than any piece of fabric. No matter how treasured. 

Janus dangled the bag from his pointer finger, right next to his face. Side-eying his price, he spoke again: 

“Looks like the virtuous are also the most stupid”. 

The thief readied himself to jump. Patton knew he had to say something, because, this moment, it told him he would regret it if he didn’t. 

“It is not about virtue, but goodness”. 

For a moment he thought he had heard him stop breathing. Then, he jumped. Patton jumped in his place as well. He couldn’t help but bring his entire torso out of the window. 

There he was! Running. He had made no noise in his landing. 

Just when he was about to disappear into the shadows, this weird new acquaintance looked at him one last time. 

Back then, Janus vanished for a while. Patton had come to learn that he would always return one way or another. 

Like now. 

A shadow moved, carefully, on the roof tiles at the other side of the street. Patton whistled, trying not to be too loud, not that anyone below would hear him. Knowing it had been spotted, the shadow flew to his side. 

“Hello, big guy”. 

After a rustle of feathers, the hawk landed at his left. 

“Why the grumpy face?” Patton laughed. “I know it’s just your brow feathers.  You’re so handsome” he caressed the top of the bird’s head with one finger. 

“He sent you all the way here. You must be tired. I don’t have any food for you here, but I’m sure I can get you something to drink”. 

Patton poured some water into a basin and carried it to the window, he placed it on the floor. 

“There, it’s supposed to be used to wash your face… I guess you can do that too if you want”.  

The hawk flew inside and drank it all dry. 

“You ought to tell Janus”, he began saying as he bent his knees, “to stop worrying so much. I am okay. I know he is concerned, but it will all be fine. Also, when you get home, ask him when is he going to let me visit, I’d love to go”.

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

The carriage clattered over the stone pathway. Inside, the curtains were drawn, but a pang of curiosity made it so Patton moved them, ever-so-slightly, aside to take a discrete look. 

Big was an understatement when one tried to describe the Regio manor. It was a three-storey building comprised of a first floor with a rusticated facade that had four small windows on each side, the centre being interrupted by a wide mason staircase presided by a classic structure of pilasters, then followed by an entablature and a pediment with the most ornate of tympanums. He imagined the staircase lead to the primo piano nobile. To both sides of the main entrance were two sets of four architrave windows built in perfect symmetry. Above it all, was the third floor, which mostly mirrored the second, but had a total of ten slightly smaller windows, as there wasn’t another central element to interrupt their flow. 

If this marriage agreement moved forward, one day, this would be technically his. It will be his wife’s, but, as spouses, they are supposed to share it all. Villa Morandi will be hers as well, it was only fair. 

A part of him felt bad for not having had the chance to keep contact with Lady Romina Regio previous to now. How was one supposed to feel when they get no say in who they marry? Father, at least, had asked him. Yes, he risked disappointing him, but, ultimately, the choice was his.  Will this woman, on the account of her status, be allowed such a choice? He feared her parents were the only people who would decide. Father too. Does she even want the father of her fiancé to take this from her? Is it right to deceive themselves like this, to have God bind them when no love is to arise from this union? Is a potential friendship worthy of the sacrament of matrimony? 

Patton knew two things with certainty: he wanted to be a good friend to Lady Romina Regio and he could not sacrifice his feelings for Janus to achieve it. 

They were guided inside by Virginia Fusco, Lady Romina Regio’s personal servant.

The entrance consisted of a corridor, divided into three naves, by two rows of ionic columns made of rose gold marble. Above that, there was a straight ceiling with five rows of twelve coffers, all richly painted with floral and geometric motifs. His boots looked cheap in comparison to the flooring they walked on. Big and polished terracotta tiles in a diamond pattern covered the ground, the corners were clipped to accommodate small white marble accents. 

Once they passed the entrance, this father was led upstairs by another servant, while Virginia instructed him to accompany her elsewhere. 

“I am glad you arrived here safely after leaving Villa Morandi. Has everything been well?”

She stilled for a moment. 

“Uuh… thank you for the kind concern, sir. Things in the house have been… busy due to the news of your engagement to her ladyship” she began walking again. 

“I was asking about you”. 

“Pardon?”

“When I asked, before, I wanted to know if you have been doing well. It must be stressful to be sent back and forth between the palazzo and Villa Morandi during the last weeks, especially being a personal maid to her ladyship, it is uncommon for someone like you to be used as a messenger”. 

“I shall do anything her ladyship requires. Any task”. 

“Oh! Sorry! I did not intend to say you would not”, Patton stopped dead in his tracks. 

Virginia turned around and stared at him in confusion. 

“I… when you first arrived I did not expect her ladyship’s personal servant to be at my home. Her ladyship’s maid is supposed to stay with her, so I thought something bad might have happened… The trip in between is not too long but done enough times it can prove to be energy-consuming”. 

Patton was met with even more confusion from Virginia, so he kept babbling in hopes of fixing his mistake. “Not that you would not be willing to put up with it for her ladyship, I am sure. I did also not mean to assume anything, that is why I asked in the first place, I only meant it kindly…” 

“Sir, it is alright”, she began saying. 

If Patton had not been as worked up with the conversation as he was he may have detected the slightest hint of amusement coming from Virginia. 

“Her ladyship is--”

“Oh! Oh, that too! I did not mean to not inquire about her ladyship’s wellbeing, part of me dared to hope I could meet her today and ask her in person…” 

“Sir, please, follow me. I am afraid we cannot keep the person I am taking you to waiting, you see, her ladyship finds it upsetting”. 

Patton laughed. 

It caught Virginia off guard. People were not supposed to behave so… openly within these walls. At least she wasn’t used to it. 

“You must excuse this man’s oblivious nature, I should have realised where you were taking me earlier”. 

“Sir, I am undeserving of your apologies. But, if we keep stalling, her ladyship will require one”. 

“Of course, lead the way”.

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

His horse reached the palazzo just in time to see the Morandi’s carriage passing by. 

Unlike his dear Patton, he did not have an invitation. Sneaking past the guards, an easy task if you asked him, had to suffice. 

The place was huge, it was to be expected from such a family. Janus couldn’t care less for the grandeur, not when he couldn’t get his hands on it, and that wasn’t the reason why he had come there. 

It would seem the Regio had it going on. The palazzo was relatively new, built, at most, fifty years ago. If you checked the list, all of the items relating to appearance did justice to the status of the family. Looking closely though… 

There were only two boys and an old man tending to the gardens. Gardens as big as everything else, mind you. So, clearly, they were understaffed. Which was precisely why Janus had been able to hide between a set of unkempt bushes to change into today’s costume. As long as he managed to avoid getting any leaves of brunches stuck, it would all be fine. 

Back to the Regio, though. If one was as much of an expert at judging other people’s wealth as Janus was, save that one time with a woman at an inn, it became obvious that the counts were missing on the money. Firstly, the manor had been built recently, but most certainly not after the war. Secondly, the guards were as many as one would expect, but not as… on guard -curse Patton’s sense of humour- as they should. This just told him they weren’t being paid that much. Then was the matter of understaffing. 

And, of course, Patton’s presence here. 

Janus had not forgotten Signor Morandi’s words. Patton could only afford to marry a countess because the Regio could not afford anyone less wealthy. 

The clothes were on and he was inside the house. 

Why did these people never put any sort of vigilance at the servant’s entrances? It never occurred to them that even if people wouldn’t steal their laundry, perhaps they would get in with the laundry. Pathetic. 

It made his life easier, though. 

He was in. 

He was in and he was going to… what? 

For starters try to find any dirt on Patton’s dear future wife. Maybe any belongings that could give him some leverage. Just to be safe. 

Janus knew Patton would keep his word, even if it destroyed him, and it would. Nobles always wanted offspring. Janus just wasn’t sure if Patton would be up for the task when someone did not have his pretty eyes and his masculine figure. 

Causing troubles for his beloved was the last thing he wanted. But, if it came to it, Janus would do anything. Whether that meant creating accidents, blackmailing or appointing a convenient kidnapping during a wedding night. 

He went up the servant’s stairs and reached a second-floor gallery, open to the courtyard below. 

Just when he was about to leave, his ears caught some hushed shouting coming from above.

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

“How could she do this to me!?” 

Romina stormed the third-floor corridor, without any bearing nor destination. 

“Your ladyship, please, we must go back!” Virginia ran behind her, speaking between her teeth. 

“Did you see him, Virg?”

“Yes, I did, your ladyship”. 

“I-- this is outrageous!” 

“I beg you, can we not have this conversation here, your ladyship?” 

Despite Virginia kindly pointing out that the third-floor gallery was hardly an appropriate location for such or any kind of discussion, Romina did not heed her request. 

“I was going to become a princess! And because of this, I am deprived of royalty! Because my sister fancies herself a man!” 

“For the love of…, you know what, no. I am tired of this. She dresses like a man, she talks like a man, she looks like a man and she feels like one. In which way is she, no, he, not a man?” 

Romina grimaced at her own words. Still, she was far too angry to let go of her resentment. 

“In the fact that he has no honour. He lied to me, several times. First by promising we’ll stay together. Then he did not care to tell me I had a brother, didn’t even trust me for that, and now he has abandoned me. And what for? He saw that pretty ‘scientist’ or whatever he calls himself and decided to follow him to the end of the world. How come he gets to be a pirate when I have to become a wife?!”

“Romina, please, shut your big mouth before anyone overhears us” Virginia warned. 

“So now I must be quiet!”

“Yes! For your sake, you dumbass”. 

“Well, I will not be quiet, you… you sonnetist of elegies!” 

“That’s not even a--” Virginia placed her hand on the bridge of her nose. 

As if to make her point clearer, Romina kept walking into the gallery. 

“I don’t care! You know why? Because now I have to replace him in a destiny none of us wanted, but at least he had been prepared for! What am I going to do?” 

“How about you begin by coming back--” 

“He leaves me like this, to be mocked and compared to him,--” 

“Oh Lord, why do I even bother--”

“--who ran away. How could he be so selfish!? Let me ask you this instead, how can a man surrender his word and his honour so readily?”

Then, Virginia stilled completely. 

She didn’t know whether she felt angry or deeply saddened.

“What wouldn’t any of us do to seize the freedom that we have forever been denied? And, who wouldn’t cast away honour to be free and loved? Can’t you identify with that, or are you a liar too?”

“I…”

“Is it Remus who you’re angry at?” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think. I am still going to have to get married to some random person--!”

“Oh, shut up! At least he’s nice! Do you know what he did when he met me? Because he came to personally receive me, you see. He asked for my name! Not only that, but he remembers it. Just when I was taking him to see you, he asked me how had I been! Have you any idea how many people do that? You are so privileged you cannot get your head out of your stuck-up ass, Princess. Nobody ever cares how people like me are doing!” 

“Oh, so that is what this is about! Well, sorry I can’t pepper you with attention every waking moment, love--” 

“Fuck off, I already know that, stop making this about you!” 

“But it is about me!”

“You’re so lucky you get to marry a kind man! Any other person would just use his status to be a self-righteous narcissistic asshole, yes, Princess, like you, but not young Signor Morandi so quit mopping!” 

“Well, if you like him so much, then why don’t you marry him instead?!” 

Her hands gripped her apron tightly. Virginia could not bear her gaze at the moment. She bit her lip as if that could help her to cope with the backlash at the sheer stupidity of Romina’s words. 

“I am sorry”. 

“You… at least you’re… hmm…” she took a deep breath. In part to give herself time to consider what to say carefully, but, also, to calm down. “Male-inclined. I… your ladyship, if I did not serve you I fear I would only be any good left in a nunnery. You must understand, if I could choose who to marry, well, kind and considerate is not much of my type, as you must be aware. Neither is Signor Morandi”. 

“If…” 

Romina returned to her side. 

Her hands, littered with all sorts of rings, made Virginia’s hands give up on holding the apron. The labour-stained pair were squeezed safely. 

“Please, please look at me”. 

The request made Virginia want to refuse. But, aside from her position, these were the kind of situations in which Virginia could not deny Romina. 

“If I could choose who to marry, it would be one who would make me a princess, not on the account of status, but with word… if you know what I mean”. 

Virginia rolled her eyes. 

“The only one that dense here is you”. 

“The mouth on you. I am going to have to keep you by my side”, she paused for a second and then whispered, “my love”. 

Her gaze was most intense upon hearing that. The pair of dark brown eyes opening in a way that could be described as feline. 

“No nunnery could be at your level when it comes to sarcasm and bossing other women around. I, at the very least, can hold my ground for longer until you get me to do your bid--”

Finally, Romina was quiet. 

Virginia gripped her shoulders, squeezing the puffs of her dress’ sleeves, with the tips of her fingers touching against the golden netting that covered Romina’s chest. It was as if she was trying to drink the life out of those lips. Her very being was buzzing with want and anger. 

The bejewelled woman became pliant, yet passionate, under the touch. Bravery, whenever it surfaced in Virginia, was something to behold. Even more of a thing to experience. 

“Fuck” Virginia covered her mouth with her hands as she abruptly parted. 

“Likewise. Oh, I feel dizzy” she smiled. 

“No, not that way. I… shit… I just did...that! And here!”

“Now, now”, Romina grasped her hands. 

She caressed the base of Virginia’s thumbs with a devoted look. 

“Ro…”

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that” a voice came from the other side of the gallery.

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

The room was quiet. 

No. 

The room was completely silent and Patton had no idea what had gone wrong. He never intended to say something that could harm anyone’s sensitivities. It just never occurred to him that someone could be offended by a pun about the weather. 

This first attempt at friendship had not been… great. 

His father would certainly laugh at Lady Romina Regio’s decision to storm out of the room upon hearing a silly joke. He would make nothing of it. He’d say womanly outbursts were to be expected. Darn it, most people would say so.

Ignoring it would be simple. 

Patton could not ignore it. 

Firstly, it became clear to him that her ladyship had no say in her marrying him. Not only that, but she might feel strongly against it. Secondly, and most important, he intended to build a friendship with her. 

Considering the circumstances, the best he could do would be to find her and speak from the heart. If he explained to her that he meant no ill by making a joke, or to be insensitive by indulging in frivolities in the face of such a serious matter as their first meeting, she might feel better. And, if she still refused him, he could offer to call the entire thing off. 

Except that would be a terrible idea. Her family needed the money and going back on his choice would make her chances even more difficult. But, maybe, she wanted that. Her reaction pointed to it. Father would be very disappointed, the last thing Patton wanted was to be a bad son. But wasn’t it worse to force a woman into a marriage? Also, Janus. He’d be free to remain with him for longer. 

What was he going to do? He didn’t know what the right answer to this was.  

Talking to her. Patton could start by doing that, but first, he needed to find her.

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

This wasn’t the kind of dirt he had expected to find, but only a moron would look a gift horse in the mouth right now.

The servant girl’s passion came out of nowhere. He almost wanted to take notes. 

“No reason to panic, my nightly gale”, said the countess, still entranced at the sight of her maid’s hands. 

She had just given him his cue, so Janus could not help but oblige. 

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, he said leaving his hiding spot. 

Instantly, they turned to look at him. The countess let go of the other’s hands in a jolt. Her demeanour changed in a second. So, not only was she a countess, but also a terrific actress. 

“Oh! Good day sir! Are you, by any chance, lost? My servant can…” she looked at the aforementioned. 

Her maid was having none of it. She eyed him suspiciously, ignoring how her mistress’ body language asked her to calm down. 

“Were you coming to see his lordship? I am afraid he is busy at the moment”. 

“Oh, well yes. I was sent by Marquess Sanders to inquire about a series of matters relating to war expenses” he said as he took off his cape. 

By revealing his outfit he hoped to gain some credibility. Looking rich always got people off your back. Especially when you carried a sword. 

The countess’ eyes lit up in recognition of his dusack. Dusacks were one of the main weapons sent by Marquess Sanders during the war, this one so happened to also have the family crest attached to the scabbard. 

Normally, he would have covered it to avoid getting Thomas into trouble. 

“Well, in that case--” Romina began to say. 

“Excuse me, sir, but I am sure her ladyship would first like to see the letters that his lordship always has his people carry”. 

“Is your maid often allowed to talk over you, your ladyship?” 

“I...uh…” Romina looked at her maid for help. 

“Well, that is to be expected, as she is allowed to do much more than that, is she not?” 

The maid squinted at him. 

“Oh, that thing? It was a… a token of friendship!” the countess proudly proclaimed. 

While she may be a fantastic actress, she surely was a terrible liar. The maid scoffed in the way Janus could not, whether it was due to hearing her lover say something that ridiculous or because of the awful lie he could not tell. 

“If that is how I treated all my friends I am certain my lovers would be confused”. 

Both women caught their breaths. 

“I would, of course, not be so indiscreet as to say anything, for a price, that is”. 

“What is it that you want?” 

“I’ve heard you are soon to be married--” 

The maid looked at him even more intensely, and then…

“Your ladyship, this man is deceiving you”. 

“Yeah, I can tell, we were just discussing--”

“You dense ass, not now, all the time! His money bag over there, it’s Signor Morandi’s!” 

Oh, fuck. 

Well, it couldn’t be helped. 

Janus unsheathed his sword and pointed it to the maid’s neck. 

“I suggest we keep this matter quiet, or else I’ll have to keep it quiet forever”.

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

Patton’s efforts to find Lady Romina Regio or her servant, Virginia, had not been successful so far. He had explored the main areas of the house, now finding himself at the first-floor courtyard. 

The smells coming from the kitchen, where the staff worked in their earnest to prepare tonight’s dinner, danced in the air. Patton sat at a stone bench, wondering what else he could do. His only chance would be waiting until both families dined together. He’d wish to apologise to her ladyship before that, so they could indulge in the dishes without any looming over. 

Then, the faint sound of a voice coming from above called his attention. 

It was barely hearable due to the clankings of nearby cooking. But there was no way he wouldn’t recognise it. 

“I would... be so indiscreet … price...” Patton could make out. 

Indeed, it was Janus’ voice. If that and the words ‘indiscreet’ and ‘price’ were anything to go by, he was blackmailing someone. 

Her ladyship was nowhere to be found and Janus was being Janus nearby. It didn’t take too much to put two and two together. 

Patton moved around the courtyard while staring upwards. 

There they were! He only had to find a way to…

Oh no. 

Janus was pointing his sword to Virginia’s neck. 

Before Patton could realise what he was doing, his feet were already running upstairs.

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

This would have been a great time for both of them to bail, hadn’t a sword been pointed at her. But, that's life. Some days you wake up next to your lover in her chambers with a deep feeling of dread over, well, everything; other days you are about to get basically beheaded, what can you do. 

For starters, Virginia was going to fight, because she didn’t feel particularly inspired to think at the moment. 

“Please, do not hurt her, I beg you”, Romina said. 

Wonderful. Virginia was either about to get hurt or be very lucky on her own accord. 

She quickly leaned back and ducked, taking advantage of the man’s attention being redirected at Romina’s plea. 

Definitely, she was getting hurt, not lucky, as the sword fell down on her with a swift swoop. 

That was it. 

Then, Romina pulled another sword from the pocket opening of her dress, crossing blades with the thief, but, most importantly, saving her life. She was going to be really cocky about it, if they made it out in one piece. 

“Well, this was a lovely surprise”, the thief said as Romina and he circled each other, edges sliding in a sharp sound, “but if you don’t give it up, you’ll end up maimed and, after that, let’s say… your maid may take a nudge downstairs”. 

Romina slid the sword away and twirled it back to strike. The thief had enough reflexes to put his dusack across his face before it got cut in half. 

A strong clank echoed all over the gallery and the courtyard below. 

“You foul fiend! You may be brave enough to threaten me, but your overconfidence in thinking you can get away--” she struck again, “with endangering her--” Romina turned them, making it so Virginia was behind her, as if to underline her words, “shall be your downfall”. 

“Thank you for enlightening me, your highness” the thief began to say. 

He overpowered Romina by twisting their swords. She collided against Virginia’s chest after the villain shoved her away. 

“This has, clearly, proved how friendly you are. By all means, tell me, are you also willing to die for all of your friends?” 

His next move was more successful now that he had gained more range of attack. The thief plunged forward in a piercing motion. Romina stopped it with a backhanded sweep, then turned on herself, making it so his blade pointed to the ground. 

“I would die for her, any day”. 

Virginia did not have the right to feel as flustered as she did, not when they were in mortal danger. Somehow, Romina’s best romantic lines happened whenever she did not speak them directly to her. Seeing her look that fierce when fighting may also factor into it. Why did Princess always have to be so intense?

“Is this a confession? Scandalous!” 

“It is a promise”. 

There was a delicate balance between each other for a moment. Their eyes locked in a stare. 

It was so strange, Virginia thought. This man keeps on threatening them, but he hesitates. What was holding him back? Also, why steal a coin bag when you plan on blackmailing someone? Yes, it had to be planned, otherwise, the marquess lie made no sense, too much preparation involved for that to be a coincidence. Could he actually be sent by the marquess? But, why? The Regio and the marquess had had a wonderful relationship over the years. 

Something didn’t fit. 

The thief moved ever so slightly. Romina, clearly, wasn’t taking any chances.

In a display of quick reflexes, she side-kicked him on the chest, making him stumble backwards. 

While the thief struggled to regain his footing, Romina sliced through the cord keeping Signor Morandi’s coin bag attached to his waist. She smiled playfully. 

“For someone so smug, you are surely a clumsy opponent”. 

“I’ll give you clumsy” he replied stepping forward and thrusting with the sword. 

Romina blocked his attack effortlessly, but, soon, Virginia realised that wasn’t the thief’s intention. His right foot was just in front of the bag, ready to move it towards him like a hook. 

“Ro, the bag!” Virginia warned. 

She looked down and smirked. 

“This the price of greed”, Romina mocked as her sword turned to strike the thief’s right leg. 

The dusack crossed blades, again, with Romina’s before it could do any damage. 

“Your willingness to lose a leg over some gold only proves the worth of your lot”.  

He leaned closer to Romina, looking at her in the eye as he twisted their swords to get the upper hand. 

“You know nothing about me or what I stand for”, he said in a deep and menacing voice. 

Romina laughed in between her teeth. 

“I may not, but I know one thing”. 

“Oh, and what is that?”

“You just got distracted”. 

Romina’s foot slipped past the thief’s, kicking the coin bag away from him. He ran to his left while blocking Romina’s attacks at his right. 

What was so special about a coin bag anyway?

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

Patton began to hear sword fighting noises just before he reached the entrance to the stairs. 

What was Janus thinking? Engaging in a face-off with Lady Romina Regio, who not only was a countess with an apparent disdain for weather puns but also a remarkable swordswoman, had to be one of his worst ideas to date. 

While he had faith in Janus’ skills, he also knew that her ladyship’s fencing instructor had been fired, as a lesson, after she stabbed a man on the shoulder during a ‘casual’ duel.

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

The coin bag was kicked and pushed from one place to another by the thief and Romina while they dodged attacks.

“Is it the gold you are fighting for or is it your pride, villain?” she said, smirk reflecting on her blade. 

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to project your desires onto others? So honourable protecting her frail maiden!”, he pushed forward. “Still… it would almost seem, not because of the self-indulging banter, that you only duel to flatter yourself”.

“The one who is so set in getting a stolen coin bag dares to lecture me on selfishness!” 

Romina used her weight to stop him from making her retrocede any further. Her grin widened, satisfied in this victory. 

“Takes one egoist to know one”.

Right then, the thief made a sudden move. 

“Romina!” Virginia exclaimed. 

“I’m fine!” she said, wiping the bleeding cut on her jaw. 

The thief looked at the prized coin bag that he now held in his hand. 

“Loved beating you, but I think I will take my lea--” 

He was interrupted by Romina’s scream. Her sword wooshed several times in front of his face, barely leaving him time to bend backwards to avoid it. The dusack clancked against the floor. 

“Shit” the thief cursed. 

Things looked dire for the thief. With his sword out of reach, there was little he could do. Romina’s sword flashed by one more time, slashing through his left upper arm. Despite the painful burn of the cut, his left hand did not let go of the coin bag. Nevertheless, he fell on his knee, clutching the wound with his free hand. 

“I will make you an offering, villain”, Romina pointed at him with the sword, gloating over his tilted gaze. “Return Signor Morandi’s coin bag to me, and I shall let you go”. 

“Your ladyship, kindly get stabbed in the chest”. 

She turned his back on him, twirling her sword while at it. 

“As you wish”. 

Time froze before Romina could even think about delivering the killing blow. 

Virginia saw the thief reach for his boot, pulling out a stiletto. He stood up and positioned his knife pointing upwards. Because of this, Virginia panicked, already imagining the tip breaking through Romina’s lower back and into her chest. 

Immediately, she ran in front of the thief, head empty of thoughts, only consuming fear. At the same time, the thief began a descending motion, making Virginia realise where he aimed for. 

‘He’s going for her leg!’, Virginia thought. 

This would not help. When they crossed, the thief’s knife was at the height of Virginia’s gut. 

Virginia looked at him in terror. 

The thief looked at Virginia in panic. 

The fabrics of Romina’s dress could be heard twisting in the air, as she turned around, only to see the back of Virginia’s head. 

“No!” Romina cried. 

In yet another display of quick reflexes, the thief let go of the stiletto, just before it could do any damage. 

Romina only heard the blade fall as she shoved Virginia aside. 

She punched him on the left cheek, leaving the outline of her rings imprinted on his skin, red and slowly swelling. 

The thief’s boots staggered backwards. 

He fell face up in the middle of the gallery corridor. 

Faster than ever, Romina’s sword moved and settled its tip at the base of the thief’s neck, sort of mirroring how he had threatened Virginia. 

Virginia brazed herself against the wall. Her breathing heaved like the bellows trying to get the fire back up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw young Signor Morandi emerging from the path that connected to one of the third-floor staircases. 

“Please, do not hurt him, I beg you”, he said while catching his breath. 

Romina looked upwards to stare at him. 

“What is the meaning of this?! Do you know this man? Did you send him?!”

Sometimes, Romina could outmatch Virginia when it came to reaching conclusions. This just so happened to be the worst possible moment. 

“I--” 

Only Virginia saw how the eyes of the thief went wide at hearing young Signor Morandi’s voice, his frown when Romina accused him. 

“Look at me!” the thief shouted. 

“Trying to protect your master, villain?” 

“That is not quite… this is a complete misunderstanding, if we talked--” young Signor Morandi began to say. 

“Shut up!” both Romina and the thief replied in unison. 

“Stop talking nonsense, your highness”. 

“Oh, so it is nonsense! He seems to know you, how do you explain that?” 

Virginia squinted at them, getting the sense that she was missing something more than ever. 

“Janus, please, let me tell them the--” 

“We now have a name for our thief!” she announced triumphantly. “So you do know each other! Let me tell you, Jolliest Caesar, he has betrayed you. Whatever you paid him seemed to be less than enough, so he stole your father’s coin bag”. 

Young Signor Morandi’s eyes went straight to said item, lighting up in recognition and some other emotion much harder to identify. 

“Is this the outcome you desired? I thought you were silly, I was... persuaded to believe you were kind. But, this? Do you owe your father so much disrespect?” 

He grimaced in response, looking away. Meanwhile, Janus pursed his lips in a thin line. 

‘Why does it matter to him?’, Virginia wondered. 

“Signor Morandi is an upright man, someone who carries himself proud and virtuous. I will not insult him by denouncing you to my family, but I hope you learn to have--” 

“Oh, poor and noble Signor Morandi! Rid of a coin bag, whatever will he do?!” Janus shouted.  

The gazes of all people present turned to him.

“It’s not as if he could buy another. Are we to pity him?! He is so good! You defend what you think to be the property of a man who would gladly pull any pair of lovers apart. Gift his son to a stack of classist swine in exchange for a title! What an estimate of his worth!”

One could almost marvel at him having the nerve to spit his anger even under the point of a blade. Romina frowned, taken aback.  

“But he’s so upright! Admit it, you couldn’t care any less about this ridiculous coin bag, you just want to use it as an excuse to keep your affair with your servant hidden. Am I the one you wish to kill or does it make you feel less powerless to pretend you’re stabbing another man? None of us gets a choice”.

Young Signor Morandi held his breath. 

Virginia let hers out. That was it! Of course! How could she not have realized earlier?

“Spilling my blood won’t change that! I may not be good, but I can at least see through the lies, and you aren’t good either. You’re as selfish as I am and you won’t get to keep her, we never do”. 

“What?” Romina answered. 

She looked at Virginia, then at young Signor Morandi, then back at him. 

“Are you seriously doing this? I could make these your last words! What is wrong with you! This is madness. I am about to die” she began to mock him, “let me make this moment into a speech about society and another man’s stolen money. Who does that? I know I am dramatic, but, at the very least--!” 

“Princess, shut up!” Virginia shouted. 

“Excuse me, I was only trying to give some fair critic--”

“Not the time. Also, you are completely missing the point! 

“What do you mean?”

“Do you know how we always talk after dinner?” 

“That is not what we do after…”

“Yes”. 

“So what is your point? Oooooh!” 

“Now you get it…” she closed her eyes. 

“They also talk…” Romina smiled.

“Hmm”. 

“And he is actually…!” she pointed back and forth between the two with her sword. “They are…!”

“We are, and if you would” Janus flattened himself against the floor. 

“Your ladyship, please, my Janus has had enough of sharp objects for…” young Signor Morandi looked at him. 

“For forever, put the sword away”. 

Romina did as requested and promptly offered a hand to help Janus get on his feet. 

“You are one menace of a woman”. 

“Thank you”. 

“What is going on?!” 

A large set of rushed footsteps accompanied the question. The four turned around to see his lordship, Count Regio, his wife, Signor Morandi and a myriad of servants. 

“Oh, father, mother!” Romina exclaimed. “Signor Morandi”, she greeted more formally. 

“Romina, what is the meaning of this?” said Count Regio. 

“Your lordship, your ladyship”, Janus spoke after a bow. “I was sent by Marquess Sanders”. 

Romina turned to look at him. His attire was mostly back in place, a part of her couldn’t help but be impressed. After spotting the family crest on Janus’ dusack, the counts’ expression changed from confusion to shame. 

“Romina, did you duel this man? Apologise this instant!” Count Regio looked livid as he spoke. “We already had to be rid of her fencing teacher, do not worry, Signor Morandi, we will also dispose of her swords”, Countess Regio reassured. 

In the scandal, Virginia was the only one to notice the coin bag forgotten on the floor. She stepped to the side, knowing no one would pay attention to her, as per usual, especially with such chaos. The coin bag disappeared under Virginia’s skirts, dragged by her foot. Young Signor Morandi walked past her and nodded in a silent gesture of gratitude. Perhaps one person did notice. 

“Your ladyship, that will not be necessary, I come as a new fencing teacher, an early engagement present of Marquess Sanders”. 

“But how did he know…” Virginia muttered. 

Janus did hear her and went on: 

“He was very impressed by the letters sent by your daughter. Marquess Sanders believes that someone with such impeccable diplomacy, and a disposition to secure the future relationship of her family, should not be deprived of outstandingness. To preserve such remarkable, dare I say, rare, qualities on a lady, he sent me. Marquess Sanders hopes my instruction can further her skills and aid her to grow more accomplished than ever before”. 

“Oh, that is fantastic to hear!” Count Regio said, looking a lot more uncomfortable than her tone would suggest. “But, Lady Romina, as you already are aware of, is engaged now. We ought to hear young Signor Morandi’s opinion on the matter”.

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

All eyes turned to Patton. 

“Actually…” 

For a moment, he doubted himself. 

Lying, as he had always been told, was sinful. But so was ignoring the struggle of the weak, breaking your word and not honouring one’s spouse. 

Most importantly, Patton had to honour his heart. 

If lying was the price to pay… well, so be it. 

“I asked her for a demonstration. I have always harboured a burning admiration for her dexterity with the sword. Her ladyship is truly heroic and radiant when duelling”. 

Romina turned to look at him.

It would seem he had managed to become friends with her after all.  

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

The moonlight shone in its quiet dance with the nightly air. This was, once again, a clear summer evening, but it marked the end of an insane day. The sounds of dining and chatting had died out. Everyone, gradually, left for their rooms. Janus, crossing the gardens, intended to do the same. 

Climbing with a wounded arm made his ascend harder than usual. Luckily, the ostentatious facade of the palazzo gave him countless points to anchor himself to. Slowly but surely, he got to Patton’s open window. 

 As what felt like always, Patton held him by the lapels of his cape and pulled him inside. 

Rather than saying hello, Patton kissed him. It was gentle, devoid of the despair that had marked all their meetings during the last weeks. Patton pulled apart just as softly. 

“Here”. 

Janus stared at the coin bag in his hand and smirked. 

“Dear, if you keep on offering me your money you’ll turn into the worst noble ever, and I, the worst thief”, he said with no real smugness. 

Patton laughed. 

“Virginia retrieved it when nobody looked”. 

“I’ll remember to thank her”. 

“Please, be nice this time”. 

“You saw that?” 

“Yes. Janus, pointing at someone with… that thing… don’t do it again”. 

Janus shrugged and leaned in to kiss him again. A pair of hands pulled on his cape, that fell on the floor, forgotten. 

“I don’t think” Janus half-laughed, “I could get away with it again”. 

His bandages were fresh. The bleeding had stopped, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Patton stared at it and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“I could have lost you today”. 

“You saved me again”. 

“Well, that isn’t entirely true”. 

“Oh, why would that be?” 

“You managed to stand your ground until I could save you”. 

“Call it good timing”. 

Patton smiled. 

“What’s so funny?” Janus smiled as well. 

“I’m happy. We… we are going to be together after this. I even gained two friends”. 

“You keep meeting the strangest people, dear”. 

“I’ll have to make sure that you kids don’t get hurt”. 

“We’ll try to be in our best behaviour”. 

Patton got closer and whispered:

“Liar”. 

Janus swallowed and stared at him, suddenly feeling defeated, yet happy about it. He loosened his belt, letting it fall to the floor with his dusack. 

It made an awful lot of noise. Patton looked down, almost in disbelief at Janus’ newfound capacity to make a sound. 

“Hmm. Where did you really get that sword? Romina could get in serious trouble if…”

“Don’t worry, Thomas won’t mind covering for me”. 

“Thomas? You know the marquess?” 

“Let us sit on the bed, I think that you deserve to know this secret”. 

Both of them got comfortable on the ridiculous wall of pillows placed against the headboard of the canopy bed. 

“I used to work for the Sanders family. Ever since I was a boy, I tended to the horses, which is how Thomas and I became friends in the first place. As we grew, he decided to make me his personal servant, and, aside from learning to lie as easy as speaking, I also learned I hate rich people. Thomas is okay though. I think you and Thomas are the only rich people I tolerate”. 

“Well, that’s rich”. 

“Patton! I’m telling you my tragic story!” he said, not at all bothered. “Anyhow, I decided that wasn’t for me, so I told Thomas. He was sad, but he respected it. Before I left, he gave me his own sword, I guess as a safe-conduct of sorts, maybe to remind me I could always come back”. 

“That is… a lot”. 

“I know. He’s a good friend. Believe it or not, I’ve never used it until today. I… couldn’t let you get caught in any of my… shall we say, activities, so I figured…” 

Patton grabbed him, mindful of his wounds, and pulled him close. 

“You need to let other people in, Janus. I know I’m kind of silly, but I can still help. I wish you could see that when you let people know you they want to be on your side. You are someone worth knowing”. 

“And you are more of a bastard than people give you credit for”. 

His laughter made them shake a little. Janus stared at Patton’s joyful expression feeling satisfied. 

“I guess I am”. 

“Pity you don’t want to do anything wicked with it”. 

“I’ll leave that to you, just, tell me beforehand”. 

“How else would I be saved last minute, dear?” 

They stared at each other for a while. It hadn’t fully hit Janus until now that this, this thing right now, would be his life from now on. Thinking that, perhaps the world wasn’t as cruel as he had always made it to be. 

“You are so good”. 

Patton kissed him again. 

“Only when nobody’s looking”. 

“Jan, name’s Patton, not nobody”. 

“You think you’re so funny”. 

“Am I not, when I make you smile like this?”

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

Taglist: @joylessnightsky , (the following interacted with my tagging request post, so I assumed you wanted to be tagged, if not, please tell me) @jerasings , @daemoade , @grandhairdofarmgoop . 

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #514

Top Ten Things 2021

It’s that time of year again! That time when I look back over the last twelve months and analyse what I liked best about it, entirely from a cultural/entertainment point of view. And, once again, we’ve suffered through a year where many things outside of flickering screens or printed words were, well, utterly crap. Idiots are running the show, we’re still being ravaged by a pandemic, and the world is quite literally on fire. But things were a little better than 2020, weren’t they? A bit less pandemic-y, a lot less Trump-y. And as far as these end-of-year roundups go, it was very okay.

For a start, I actually got to go to the cinema. Yes, it’s true, I didn’t really go all that much. But all the same, just being able to go to the cinema was quite a thrill. I went in September, and I hadn’t been since March of the year before, which is probably the longest I’ve ever gone without seeing something on the big screen since I first went to see Bambiin 1986. That alone felt like we were limping back to normal, however slowly.

It was also a great year for games. I know a lot of games coverage at the end of the year was banging on about how few big titles there actually were – still no Zelda sequel, no news on anything from Rockstar, and Sony’s big follow-ups to Horizon and God of War ended up in 2022 – but for me there was a consistent stream of good games to play. But I’ll talk more about the whys and wherefores of that in a moment.

So I think the combination of being able to play more, and the fact that a lot of big movies remained easily accessible from home, combined to make 2021 feel a lot more friendly, entertainment-wise. I guess there weren’t that many huge events throughout the year, but a bunch of biggies in the last couple of months have helped kick off 2022 with a bang. And, yeah, I can’t really think of anything more to say without getting into specifics. So I might as well do that right now.

Here we are: the best bits of 2021. Woo and indeed hoo.

MCUTV: after a very dry 2020, the Marvel Cinematic Universe returned in a big way last year, with four movies (more on which later). But the really big thing for me was how successful their foray into TV was. WandaVision absolutely blew me away with its meta-mystery box setup, and sealed the deal with its beautifully sad central relationship. Although some of the other shows weren’t as superb, the intriguingly trippy Loki(another great relationship!) and the delightfully Shane Black-y Hawkeye(relationship triple-bill! Not a sexy one this time, tho). So, yeah: absolutely fantastic start for Marvel’s big TV trip.

Game Pass in general…:so when I first I first got Game Pass a year or so ago, I figured it wasn’t a forever kind of thing. I had a big backlog, it was quite expensive for a person who’s not mainlining games, I’d just stick with Gold for now. But dammit if Microsoft aren’t doing their level best to make it indispensable. It’s not so much the big games that I might have bought anyway (yer Halos and yer Horizons); it’s the games that I like the look of but wouldn’t have had time or money for: Flight Simulator, The Ascent, Outriders. It’s the much smaller games, too, the cool-looking indie games that I now have an incentive to try: Unpacking, for instance, which is one of my favourite games of the year. It’s an incredible service and I honestly think it’s a forever kind of thing.

…and Halo in particular: I’m a big Halo fan and I’ve been looking forward to this one for ages. Harking back to what made the first game so good, it’s like my memories of it brought to 4K life. Back in 2001 I marvelled the ground texture which featured the image of individual blades of grass; now we have actual three-dimensional waving fronds. But it’s the gameplay, that sublime perfect Halo gameplay, with the added frisson of a semi-open world and the amazing addition of a grappling hook that lets you Spider-Man your way across the environment. And the multiplayer is great too! Okay, so there’s a bit of dodginess in the package (I’m still not happy about the lack of customisation options) but this has been a joy, my game of the year.

Spider-Mans:how do I talk about this without it being a phenomenal spoiler? Is it still too early? Bugger it, stop reading if you’ve not seen No Way Home. What a joyous movie. I don’t care if it just tickles my nerve glands (erm, my David Tingle?); I honestly had tears in my eyes when Peter’s lawyer was revealed to be Charlie Cox’s Matt Murdock. Why? Why am I so happy to see these guys share a screen? I don’t know, but the way the film not only integrates past Spider-Manproperties but also deepens and adds to their pre-existing mythologies is an unbelievable triumph on a par with Infinity War and Endgame. It legitimately makes the Amazing Spider-Man 2 a better film. It just does such a great job, it makes me so happy. I wanna see it again.

All about Dick:my favourite fictional character is Dick Grayson, but if I’m honest I’ve not adored any of his solo outings as Nightwing. Sure, he’s had cracking storylines in the past, but I tend to love him as part of the ensemble in Teen Titans or Batman; or, especially, when he actually was Batman. But Tom Taylor’s take on the sexiest bum in comics does everything right: bringing back what worked best (Bludhaven, Blockbuster, and Barbera) and adding in an adorable three-legged dog. Bruno Redondo’s artwork is tremendous too, showing the gymnastic artistry of the acrobat-turned-crimefighter. Add in a couple of great villains, an intriguing femme fatale, and some delightful anti-billionaire rhetoric, and you’ve got the comic of the year.

Steepling: speaking of comics… is this a cheat, a comic that didn’t even start this year? But if I can talk about ongoing comics or TV shows, I can talk about this. Steeple is a webcomic by John Allison that follows macabre and spooky goings-on in the sleepy seaside town of Tredregyn, with the delightful twist of everyone seemingly being unfazed by the fact that a Satanic Church is rubbing shoulders with plain old C of E. Like a frothy, funny mix of Hot Fuzz and Lair of the White Worm, it’s hilarious both in its absurdity and its quaint, quiet Britishness, and also a fun and exciting action horror wotsit. Check it out!

Murders and Buildings oh my:here’s a fun fact. A year or two ago, I suggested to my wife that we go see Steve Martin and Martin Short when they were on tour. She said she didn’t fancy it, but it was all an act and she actually bought tickets anyway for my birthday. And then the bastards cancelled their Manchester dates. But they’re so damn good I forgave them! And a good thing too, because here we have a really bloody funny and also well-structured whodunnit, eking out its mystery, providing genuine thrills, and offering a surprisingly tense story. Martin and Martin are great and hilarious – obviously – but kudos to Selena Gomez for going toe-to-toe with these heavyweights. Mavis from Hotel Transylvaniadone good.

Machine-ations: there were two Disney films this year and they were both good, but the standout animation was undoubtedly The Mitchells vs the Machines. In a similar way to Into the Spider-Verse – also a Sony animation produced by Lord and Miller – it mixes engaging family drama with humour, action, and some truly inventive animation. Nearly thirty years after Toy Story, CG ‘toons are often pretty straightforward in their visuals, but here we have wackiness reminiscent of the best of Looney Tunes. It’s just great.

Cinematography: I alluded to it in my intro, but really one of the biggest joys of the year was just the sheer fact that I could go to the cinema. Kinda hoped I’d get to see more than I actually did, but all the same, fillums at the pitchers! Yes, I know, we’re still knee-deep in plague, and all things considered the country would probably be a slightly safer space if they’d shut the cinemas in November or something, but it’s been nice to, y’know, get to go. just experiencing the big screen, seeing stuff with an audience – albeit a tiny, fragmented audience, apart from Spider-Man, which was packed. I hope things continue to improve in 2022. Oh, and my film of the year is probably Dune, although Spidey runs it a close second.

I’m actually going to talk about music for once: I’m not much of a muso. I’ve got relatively broad taste in music, and there are certainly a fair few acts and artists that I like to follow. But I don’t seek out new music. I don’t really listen to the radio or anything. I just like what I like and every once in a while something new filters through somehow from the ether. The last time I genuinely remember feeling like I’d discovered something new was Arctic Monkeys about twenty years ago. But one of the weird things about having kids is it broadens your taste. Long story short, I ended up listening to new music for the first time in a long time, and then I find out about this girl from Bizaardvark. That’s a show that my youngest discovered on Disney+, and now one of the leads has gone solo. But what really impressed me is that her music is great – soulful pop ballads, a 21st century teenage version of the female singer-songwriter stuff that I liked from the nineties. And carrying on the Alanis Morissette vibes, Olivia Rodrigo – for that is she – has written an entire angst-fuelled album about brutal break-ups. Drivers License – my favourite song of ’21 – isn’t quite You Oughta Know but it carries that song’s passion and fury, and also has a similarly expert use of an F-bomb. For one so young, Rodrigo is very good at swearing. Might not show that part to the kids.

[alexiessan]

Never alone - Chapter Four - Soulmate AU

AO3

Previous - Here - Next

Master List

For most of his life, Damian has been told by his mother and his grandfather that soulmates were nothing but a nuisance and a weakness. His mother told him he was lucky that he didn’t have any physical sign of having a soulmate bond, even if it was unlikely that he didn’t have one.

She told him that it would be better if he didn’t have one, but there was nothing they could do about it. At least, he didn’t have any way to communicate with them, which meant no distraction in his training.

Damian knew better than to express his opinion when he was in the league of assassins. He has been taught to repress his emotions, and he was good at that. Too good, even, but it didn’t mean that he didn’t have them.

The boy disagreed with his mother and his grandfather. He liked the idea of someone out there meant for him. Whether it was platonic or romantic, it didn’t matter. Growing up practically alone without anyone his age around, he felt a bit lonely. So knowing that someone was out there, who would be there for him and understanding, who would be his perfect match, it gave him hope.

A hope that he could never show as a child.

When he met his father and his brothers, and Alfred, their thoughts on the matter of soulmates were different. For them, the bond was something to cherish, to look forward too.

Damian preferred that point of view.

He still struggled with showing his feelings. Repressing them for years made some damage, and while he was doing better now, at fifteen, he wasn’t quite there yet. He knew that people around him thought he was a cold, emotionless teenage boy. He heard what his classmates said about him. They called him the “Ice King“, laughing silently as they whispered about how he didn’t have friends, how he would never find a girlfriend and spread rumors about him not having a soulmate at all.

He didn’t care. But his brothers and best friend did.

Jon would always try to defend him, saying that if you were brave enough to try to get to know him, Damian was a nice guy.

A blunt guy, without any filters, but still a nice guy.

Well, maybe not nice. But a good guy.

The son of Bruce Wayne would gut himself with his swords before admitting this out loud, but it made him happy that his friend thought so highly of him.

Like he said, even if he didn’t show it, he does have feelings.

So, when he met this dark-haired girl with bright, bright blue eyes and saw her eye change as their eyes met, he was happy, if a bit shocked.

He wasn’t prepared to meet his soulmate.

Especially not as Robin.

“You ok there, baby bird?”

Nightwing’s voice woke him up from his thought. His older brother was smiling at him, a hand on his shoulder.

Five years ago, he would have violently reacted to the touch. Today, he appreciated the gesture.

His brothers didn’t say anything about the change in him, but he knew from their smiles and the way they always tried to subtly touch him that they appreciated his progress.

One day, maybe, he would tell them that he was happy they were a family.

Just, not today. Not yet.

“Yeah, I’m ok. I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Nightwing laughed.

“I can imagine. A bit awkward that you met your soulmate as Robin, but I’m sure you’ll manage. So, what’s her name?”

Robin paused. Damn, he didn’t get her name. What kind of idiot forgets to ask for their soulmate’s name?

“Shit, I forgot to ask.”

As Nightwing laughed, Robin caught a movement from the hotel. He watched as a window opened and saw his soulmate looking down at him, waving and smiling at him.

She had a nice smile, he thought as he nodded to her.

“We agreed to meet at one though, so I’ll get her name then.”

“Alright. Do you want me to tell B?”

Robin thought about it. They rarely talked about soulmates as most of them didn’t find theirs. It would probably be awkward as Bruce was as bad with feelings as he was, but he should tell his father the news himself.

“No, I’ll tell him.”

Nightwing smiled at him. It was this ‘I’m proud of you’ smile that always made him feel weird, in a good way.

“It’s probably better that way. Nice eye, by the way. Blue eyes suit you.”

Unconsciously, Robin raised a hand to his left eye. He sighed.

“As nice as it may be, I have to hide it if I want the press off my back. I need to ask you something.”

Marinette looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was currently in the bathroom back in their hotel room as Alya was on her laptop.

It had been difficult to hide her eye during dinner with everyone. She was always repositioning her bangs, so much so that the reporter asked her what was wrong with her hair.

Now, it was 10 pm, three hours until Robin’s visit. She was lucky that her best friend was an early sleeper, if 11 pm could be called an early bedtime.

Then again, Marinette was a night owl, so she wouldn’t really know about healthy sleeping habits.

As the designer looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but stare at her left eye.

The eye that was now green, the color of her soulmate’s eyes.

It was a really beautiful jade green color.

The blue-eyed girl still couldn’t believe that she met her soulmate. And that he was a vigilante from Gotham, America.

That would complicate things. She always imagined, when she met her soulmate, that she would tell her parents right away. They would be so happy and hug her. She was sure her father would even cry tears of joy.

But she couldn’t tell anyone that Robin was her soulmate. If one day, he chose to tell her who he was — and she hoped he would one day, just not now, she knew all about secret identities — it would compromise his identity if people knew about her soulmate being Robin.

So, no. There was no telling anyone.

But she was so happy, she felt like dancing and smiling like crazy. She couldn’t repress her smile and the small laugh that escaped her.

“I’m so happy for you, Marinette!”

The tiny kwami was smiling at her, her big blue eyes shining at her holder.

“Thanks, Tikki. I’m happy too. I can’t wait to get to know him.”

The tiny god smiled.

“You’ll find that soulmates have a very special bond, Marinette. You will get attached faster than with anyone before, but it won’t force any feelings on you. It will be all you.”

She knew about that already. The soulbond made you attached really quickly, but it was pretty much all it did, besides telling you that this specific person was made for you.

The baker’s daughter looked at the mirror once more.

“I still need to hide that eye, though. Even if I don’t want to.” she sighed.

It was one o’clock sharp when Marinette heard a knock on the window. The girl looked at Alya, who didn’t react at all to the sound, still sound asleep.

The French girl opened the window and didn’t hesitate to the hand that Robin was extending. She wasn’t scared when he pulled her to him and only watched as he closed the window behind her, letting only a few inches open so she could open it later.

With his grappling hook, they were on the roof in seconds, the sensation not unlike the one she got as Ladybug.

They were silent for a few seconds before she decided to break it.

“Hi again.”

“Hi,” he breathed.

The fashion designer only smiled, struggling a little to come up with what to say next.

“Oh, I didn’t introduce myself earlier, did I?”, she asked, talking in English.

Robin shook his head.

“Then, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m fifteen years old, and I come from Paris. I’m here with my class on a trip for two weeks. And I guess we’re soulmates. It’s very nice to meet you.” she smiled.

Robin watched as his soulmate smiled at him. It reminded him of Dick’s smiles, the ones everyone called ‘Sunshine smiles’.

The vigilante looked at Marinette, really looked at her for the first time since he met her. She had bright blue eyes, one of them jade green now, that were shining with happiness. Her hair was black with blue high lights and he could see freckles on her nose and cheeks.

She was pretty. But there was something about her, he was sure that he’s seen her before, but where? He obviously didn’t look at her in the eyes back then, but she seemed familiar.

And he’s been silent for too long.

“It’s nice to meet you, Marinette.”

He tried, but he has always struggled with the French accent, so he was pretty sure he said her name the wrong way.

But she only smiled at him.

“I’m Robin. I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more than that… Ah, I’m fifteen too.”

“It’s ok, I understand.”

There was another silence then.

“Ah, I have something for you.” he finally said.

He searched his pockets and got a small white box out.

“I found contacts that should match your eye color, if you want to hide your left eye.”

She beamed as he handed it to her.

“That’s great, thank you! Not that I want to hide it or anything! I don’t want to! But it would be easier than to explain, and it could compromise your identity!”

“It’s ok, I know what you mean.”

His soulmate smiled and sat down on the roof. An idea struck him as he took his cape off and put it on her, pulling the hood on her head.

“Just in case some journalists decided to go on a night walk. We wouldn’t want you all over the front page tomorrow.”

She laughed.

“No, we wouldn’t want that. Thank you.”

He nodded at her.

“I know you can’t tell me who you are, but we can still get to know each other, right? As long as I don’t ask for personal informations that would expose your identity to me…”

He gave her a small smile.

“Alright, ask away, Marinette.”

Tag list:

@bigpicklebananatree​ @animegirlweeb​ @crazylittlemunchkin​ @northernbluetongue​ @cutechip​ @justafanwarrior​ @iloontjeboontje​ @resignedcatservant​ @maribat-is-lifeblood​ @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff​ @toodaloo-kangaroo​ @mikantsume​

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Fili x Reader: Stranger

Author’s Note:  To the peeps who follow me for my Hobbit/LOTR stories, thank you for being patient!  After all that Star Wars stuff, I finally got some more Hobbit fanfics going here!  Not to toot my own horn, but I had a lot of fun with this idea.

This is set after Battle of the Five Armies where Fili, Thorin, and Kili all made it out and are rebuilding Erebor (the ending I’ve basically accepted instead of the one in the movies :D ).  I hope it is to your liking!

(ALSO please excuse my sorry excuses for Middle Earth names I put in here... I sort of invented them at work. You’ll know them when you see them :I )

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

    It was springtime in Dale, and everything was in full bloom.  The city had made an excellent recovery since the people of Lake-Town had made it their home again.

   Your relatives had been survivors of Lake-Town’s desolation and even had been successful enough to open a shop in the new city.  With the citizens of Erebor back in the mountain opening up trade again, Dale became a place of plenty.  It was because of this your relatives had sent word to your family offering a job and place to stay for any who desired a new start.  Your parents thought it would be a good experience for a young woman like you.  You’d learn the ins and outs of a successful business and also be of help to your relatives who needed the extra help as more customers came in.  Not to mention it would be an entirely new place with new people to meet.  You had been eager to travel a bit and see a little more of the world outside your little town.

   Your relatives were fairly distant, but you just called them Aunt Mirrim and Uncle Rhain.  They had two daughters that you referred to as your cousins.  Lilly and Gwennifer were sweet little girls, but also mischievous.  It wasn’t uncommon for them to play jokes on you or ask you repeatedly about your love life, to which you insisted you had none.  They just liked to hear your exasperated sigh, for reasons unknown to you.

   The days were busy with plenty for you to do in and out of the shop since Dale was still in the process of rebuilding in some areas.  You had even caught glimpses of the short and stocky  citizens of Erebor that came down from the mountain to trade or purchase goods.  Some were gruff, hesitant to trust your people since there had been a battle over gold merely months before.  Most were relatively friendly, however.  The women were generally more friendly towards you.  Your family sold clothes and accessories among other things, and even though the females had superior items made in Erebor, they expressed curiosity about the fashion and goods your people produced.  Once in a while you’d get questions or compliments from them.

   Today in particular was a beautiful day.  The air was warm and fresh, and yellow sunlight shone down from a clear blue sky.  Some trees had started to bud while others bloomed flowers.  You stood outside admiring the way white petals fell from a small tree in front of your aunt and uncle’s shop.  A spring breeze carried them gently to the stone walkway where they lay scattered.

   Uncle Rhain poked his head out the front door.  “______________, would you be so kind as to help me raise the banner?” 

   You nodded, taking the cloth banner from him  “Of course!”   The banner was a way for customers to know when the shop was open.  You paused, waiting for your uncle to take the other rope and help you raise it, but he had disappeared back inside.  “Oh, well, I suppose I’ll do it myself.  Shouldn’t be too much trouble!”  Normally he helped because the pulley could be tricky, but perhaps he forgot.  Rather than bother him, you figured you’d try to raise it yourself.  You unfolded the banner, hooked it onto the rope, and began to hoist it up.  It got stuck a few times, but fortunately, you seemed to be able to handle it.

   Then a gust of wind blasted through.

   It pulled the banner swiftly, dragging you forward as you grappled with securing the rope.  A few passersby watch with concern.  You were sure you looked silly.  Another strong gust of wind attempted to pry the banner from your hands, and you gasped as it tugged on your limbs.

   A set of masculine hands grabbed the rope in your peripheral.  He -whoever it was- pulled the entire banner straight up to its rightful place at the top front of the store.  You quickly tied it down and exhaled in relief, brushing hair from your face. 

   “I can’t thank you enough,” you told your rescuer, turning to face him.  He was clearly from Erebor, much shorter than the average man and of stocky build.  For someone to have been able to raise that banner as quickly as he did alone, he must have been very strong.  He had a long blonde mane and beard with blue eyes that shone in amusement as he smiled at you.  

   “No worries,” he assured you.  “What are you doing out here wrestling with this thing all by yourself?”

   “I, um,” you were a little stunned.  He was quite handsome, after all.  “My uncle usually helps, but I think he got a little distracted.  It’s very busy around here.”

   “I’m sure.  It’s been a period of rebuilding for all of us.”

   You nodded.  “Yes, it has.”

   “My name is Fili,” he introduced, extending a hand.  

   “I’m ___________.”  You took his hand briefly in greeting, marveling at how warm and strong it was.

   He gazed at you as if searching for something.  For a minute, you weren’t sure what to say.  Finally, he spoke again.

   “You’re not from Lake-Town, are you?”

   “Oh, no I’m not.” You shook your head.  “My relatives are.  After Smaug was defeated, they opened up this shop.  Since things are going so well, they invited me to come work for them a few weeks ago.”

   “I thought so.  See, I went to Lake-Town when Smaug paid his...visit… And I don’t recall seeing you.  I’m sure I would’ve remembered you if I had.”

   You fought the warmth that crept into your cheeks at his words.  “I’m sure you say that to all the young ladies you meet here.”

   “Definitely not,” Fili chuckled.  “This has been my first time here since the Battle.  I’ve heard good things about the progress your people are making here, and I was curious.  I wanted to see for myself.”

   “And what do you think?  Now that you’ve seen it?”

   “I think…” he narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment.  “I think I like it.”

   You smiled.  “Well, I’m honored to have been part of your first visit to Dale since it was a pile of ruins.”

   “I’m honored that you’re honored.”

   The conversation ebbed into a mutual silence, though neither of you seemed bothered by it.  Things changed when another shorter man with long hair, though lacking in a full beard, approached.

   “Fili, we need to get our things and get back, or Thorin would be much displeased.”  He took notice of you and smiled.  “Well hello there.  Are you a friend of my brother’s?”

   “We only just met,” Fili replied, rolling his eyes, before looking at you again.  “This is my brother, Kili.”

   “Pleased to meet you,” you said, smiling.

   “Not as pleased as I to meet you.”

   Fili rolled his eyes again.  “Well, I must be going...  Although, I wanted to ask,  what sort of things do you sell?”

   “Dresses and accessories as well as traveling gear.”

   He nodded.  “Traveling gear? Very interesting... I think I’ll have to stop by.  Mind if I come by tomorrow at the same time?  Perhaps I can help you with the banner again.”

   You beamed.  “Of course.  I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

   “Yes, see you tomorrow.”

    “Have a good rest of your day,” Kili chimed in.  

   “You too!”

   Even as Fili and his brother walked away, he snuck a glance or two back at you.  In fact, he almost walked right into another gentleman’s way since he wasn’t paying attention like he should.  After he was gone, you found yourself unable to stop smiling.  You went back inside the shop thinking over your interaction with him.  A part of you was surprised and uncomfortable with the fact you found him so attractive and couldn’t wait to see him again.  After all, you were from two totally different cultures. 

   “You look so deep in thought, __________.” Aunt Mirrim’s comment interrupted your thoughts.  “Is everything alright?”

   “Oh yes, everything’s fine.”  You quickly resumed organizing some of the items that had been misplaced by customers the day before.  “I just wanted to let you know we will be expecting a customer right when we open tomorrow.”

   She grinned.  “Very well!  Might I say that we really appreciate your help, dear.  We’ve noticed more customers since you came along to encourage people and help them find what they need.”

   “I appreciate this opportunity,” you insisted.  She walked past to continue her work, and your thoughts returned to the mysterious Fili.  What was his job in Erebor?  Was he a blacksmith or tailor?  Perhaps he was some sort of writer or educator?  You figured you’d ask him the next day.  Either way, you counted the minutes until your paths crossed again.

[lettheladylead]

avoid the unhappy ending (ch3)

ships/characters: Goldie, Donald, Duckworth, Scooge/Goldie

words (ch3): ~1600

summary: Goldie comes to town to see Scrooge. Instead, she somehow manages to run into literally everyone else.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108943/chapters/66232663

Chapter 3 below the cut:

The conversation with Launchpad had faded and turned to him singing along to the radio once again, and Goldie was perfectly content with that. Or at least she found it tolerable. Him thinking she and Scrooge were married was giving her a strange headache, but she couldn't deny it was definitely a benefit...pretending to be Mrs. McDuck was never at the top of her con list, but maybe she’d consider it in the future.

Didn’t want to lead Scrooge on too much, though. He might get excited if he caught wind. Or maybe he’d be pissed. Hmm...

They arrived after a short drive and Launchpad rushed to open the door for her. Goldie was going to comment on the surprising lack of crashing that happened, but she turned around and saw several bushes, trees, lamp posts, and small animals attached to the back of the vehicle. He had that radio volume set way too loud for her not to notice any of that.

“Thanks, L…” she started to say, until realizing she didn’t know this man’s name. She knew it began with an L! That was pretty good! “...Lunchbag?”

Launchpad just smiled and saluted at her. “You’re welcome, Ma’am! Anytime!”

She nodded and headed towards the front door, satisfied that she got his name right. It was an odd name, but surely he would’ve corrected her had she been wrong. The closer she got to the door, the more she could see inside the front window, and the more that made one thing clear:

Bentina was right. There.

Goldie froze in her walk and turned her head around to see if her hunky young escort was still watching. He was - though if she was being honest he didn’t look like he was processing much of anything. There was a butterfly fluttering near him that seemed to capture most of his attention. In an effort to avoid the resident bodyguard, Goldie turned to the left and started her short trek around the side of the manor. It was easier to get up to Scrooge’s room without arousing suspicion if she went from the side.

The walk was longer than she remembered - or maybe she was just getting too old - and Goldie turned the corner to see Donald’s familiar houseboat sitting in the pool. She’d forgotten about this odd little arrangement he had with Scrooge. The old miser probably didn’t even share his electricity with the poor kid.

“Goldie?

She twisted her head to the side to see Donald watering some plants in the back. Internally, Goldie was screeching at herself. She was supposed to be a stealthy thief! She’d broken into the manor a thousand times, completely undetected! Past bodyguards and children and Scrooge himself! And now she’d been seen almost immediately? Was she really getting that old? She needed to visit Ronguay again.

Externally, she put a hand on her hip and smirked. “Donnie!”

Donald tossed his hose to the side and walked over. “What are you doing here?”

Goldie took a second to play his words in her head and make sure she understood him correctly. After three and a half decades, she was definitely getting a hang of his unique way of speaking. “Just visiting your uncle. Same old, same old.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you gonna steal this time? Another map?”

She brought a hand to her chest in feigned offense. “Why, Donald, I can’t believe you think so little of me! Your dear Aunt Goldie was just in the neighborhood and thought to stop by!”

He scoffed and pointed to her side. “And where’d you get that umbrella from?”

Goldie looked down. Oh. She’d completely forgotten about the umbrella - kind of thought she’d left it in the limo. “Good question,” she said, tossing it behind her and ignoring the loud crash. “But it doesn’t matter now, does it?”

“I...guess not?” Donald frowned. “If you’re here to see Scrooge, why’d you come to the pool? He’s usually in his room around now.”

“Is that so?” Goldie looked up at the window she knew connected to just that spot. “I thought he’d be at the Bin, now I'm just trying to avoid Beakley. I’m sure you understand.”

Donald grimaced. “Yeah....she’ll kill you if she sees you.”

“I’m counting on it,” Goldie laughed and grabbed a grappling hook out of her endless bag. She tossed it up to the window with ease. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

“Wait!”

She didn’t move and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Donald sheepishly rubbed his arm. “I...well...look. Scrooge was really happy after Florida.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really happy, Goldie.” Donald waved his hands around for emphasis. “So please don’t...just run off with his money, or whatever you’re planning.”

Goldie blinked a few times and turned away from Donald, smiling sadly. She let out a short laugh and leaned over to pat him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Donnie. I was pretty happy after Florida, too.”

Donald didn’t get a chance to respond before Goldie launched herself up towards Scrooge’s bedroom. He supposed he didn’t have that much more to say.

Undoing the latch on Scrooge’s bedroom window was as easy as breathing - she’d done it so many times it wasn’t even funny. A quick pop and up it went - so she crawled and crouched, landing on the floor unfortunately not as gracefully as usual. Her poor knees screamed at her.

She stood up with a smile and scanned the room, ready to hear some complaints in a thick Scottish accent.

There were no such complaints.

Instead, she was alone. Still. This was getting to be too frustrating. But after putting in this much effort, it wasn’t like she could just give up. She’d spoken to too many people already, and they’d tell Scrooge, and then Scrooge would be able to hold that over her for years to come.

She glanced over at his desk. They’d had hundreds of conversations over the years with him sitting at his desk and her standing nearby or leaning on the windowsill or sitting on his bed. Not often did she have an opportunity to sit and go through it herself.

And so she did. Goldie sunk into the chair and just sat there for a minute without moving, basking in some memories. She was starting to understand why Scrooge did it so often. Every scratch or nick on the surface of this desk could be tied back to a specific moment - several of which Goldie remembered exactly the night they were from. Good times.

She leaned forward and rubbed circles around one particular dent that was bugging at the corner of her memories. Ah, well. She had a good memory, but she also had 150 years worth of things to remember. No one was perfect.

Her finger trailed down the wood and over the side, where she landed on one of the drawer handles. A small tug and her suspicions were confirmed - locked. After a thorough check, it seemed all of the drawers were locked. Nothing that she couldn’t handle, of course.

She reached into her hair to grab a bobby pin when there was a sudden aggravating chill behind her. Her spine tingled and she waited only a moment before ducking down and grabbing the chair, flipping it over and holding it in front of her like a shield.

She was greeted by a very unexpected sight.

“...Duckworth?”

“Miss O’Gilt,” the floating, translucent figure said. “Nice to see you again.”

“You’re, um…” She cautiously put the chair down and walked closer to him, sticking out her hand and swishing it through his middle. “...a ghost?"

“Observant as always.” He floated through her, stopping between the thief and the desk that he knew Mr. McDuck wouldn’t want her meddling through. “Are you looking for something?”

“Hmmm.” She took note of where he chose to float, and now she definitely wanted to see whatever was in that desk. “Won’t know until I see it.”

Goldie walked back towards the desk and ignored Duckworth when he tried to get in her way again.

“How exactly are you going to stop me? You’re a ghost.”

In only a second, she watched as Duckworth transformed from a mild mannered British dog into a gigantic ferocious demonic figure - who immediately leaned down into her face and lurched his fingers into her arms.

She could feel him, very clearly.

“Alright, alright, I’m convinced!” She held up her hands in faux-surrender as he turned back to normal. She’d just come back here later and look again, when there wasn’t a terrifying pseudo-poltergeist hanging around. “So is this what you do now? Hang around and scare off beautiful thieves?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was brought back only recently and was bored silly in the afterlife. Cleaning up after Mr. McDuck gives me something to do, especially considering how little Mrs. Beakley does.”

“Oh?” Goldie put a hand to her beak. “And I’m sure you’ve said as much to her.”

“As often as possible.”

“I would pay to see her reaction to that,” Goldie said with a laugh.

Duckworth gave her a hint of a rare smile. “If you mention payment, perhaps Mr. McDuck can have something arranged for you.”

This time she rolled her eyes and shooed him with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Where is he, anyway? I’ve been looking all over.”

“I believe I saw him downstairs earlier, but he’s been shuffling around quite a bit today. Something on his mind, perhaps.”

Goldie hummed.

“Is this one of your anniversaries?” he asked without a hint of judgement.

She was already halfway to the door. “Not with me. Maybe it’s his anniversary with some other gold digging ne’er-do-well this time.”

“Doubtful. I hope you find him soon,” Duckworth said as he started to float down through the floorboards. “He looked a little melancholy this morning.”

She frowned and watched as the ghost faded away. Only at McDuck Manor, she supposed.