#like. being stuck in a big building without a way to contact each other otherwise than phone which also doesnt always have signal

[tasty-littl-snack]

Ryan saying I hear this footsteps now and immediately walking over to see if it’s really him, like my boy was worried about his emotional support skeptic. And Shane hugging Ryan?! I will never get over that. They were both worried and relived when it was finally over. ;-;

Yeah.... Ryan worrying about Shane so much he goes to see him and is surprised he comes from another angle and the relief he felt. "I feel a sort of calm confidence right now." (maybe because Shane was there and came back safetly, and Ryan being self sacrificial knows that if he dies it will be a good show but at least Shane is safe now.) Also the hug lives rent free in my head, the way they have this tension of "we didn't hear you at all" like, the way they look at each other before Ryan's solo, I think Shane searches for a way to kind of calm Ryan down but the jokes don't work really, so he just. Goes for a hug afterwards because what else is there. I said it once but I really think it's one of the more cinematic hugs where the characters are finding solace & comfort in each other's arms. Like you know in movies when people don't see each other for a long time and then find each other. I think it was kinda like that.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Canary, Part 1

It was a good day. Why did stuff always have to go wrong on ‘good days’, Marinette thought bitterly as she rushed through the city, the rough edges of her phone digging into her palm. The message she’d been sent was burned into her eyelids.

She pushed the spiraling thoughts from her mind as she stared at the street sign nearest her. Only a minute and she’d be there and her fears would be either confirmed or denied.

She leaned against the wall to gather her thoughts. If she had messed up it had to have been today because, otherwise, he would have done something earlier. Did she mess up? She allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she thought back.

~

She’d woken up on an uncomfortable mattress on the floor and rolled off of it, the sheets sticking to her sweaty skin. It had been a particularly hot day for Gotham and she had been too concentrated on typing up a report for work to turn up the AC before her impromptu nap (translation: she’d passed out).

She rubbed her eyes until she managed to get her brown contacts out and set them in the weird not-quite-water that she had never bothered to learn the name for so her eyes could rest while she took a quick shower and changed.

Then, she’d waited. She sat in the window, eyes barely poking over the sill as she watched the building across the street. She didn’t feel like moving for a long while but, alas, the meeting was supposed to be that day and she was running out of time for that thing with Calendar Man and… yeah. Unfortunately, Marinette had to be productive that day unless she wanted more enemies.

She saw movement and her face lit up. She might get everything done soon, at least, and then she could pass out for a hundred years like she oh-so-desperately wanted to.

She checked that her gloves were firmly in place, pulled on the plague doctor (gas) mask that had accidentally become her trademark, and toed on her boots.

Then, she made her way up to the alleyway next to the building she had been watching. She’d been lucky enough to have a job right next to one of her safe houses and she kinda wished that it would happen again. It was nice to not have to travel a half-hour or more just to listen in on one boring conversation.

She pulled out her knives and, after testing to make sure they were still strong enough to hold her weight, began picking her way up to the roof.

She set everything up for the thing with Calendar Man. It took approximately five seconds. Yay her.

Alright, next thing: listening in on a boring conversation that, if she was lucky, would end in someone getting shot so it wouldn’t last too long. It was going to be even hotter inside the vent and she did not want to end up cooked. That would be embarrassing.

She crawled into the vents and dutifully wrote down everything they said on a notepad. They were negotiating a drug deal and her client wanted to intercept it to try and get both the money and the (… Big D? What the fuck is Big D?) drugs. From the sounds of it, it wasn’t possible but, hey, her job wasn’t anything more than gathering intel. If her clients wanted to die stupidly that was on them.

… maybe she’d kill her client herself, she thought angrily as she readjusted in the vent in hopes of not getting stuck to the metal. It was easy money but wow was it awful.

Or, at least, it was awful until a hand grabbed her by the hood of her leather jacket and started dragging her out. She tipped her head back, grin on her face in seconds.

“Signal. Hi.”

He sighed and pulled her the rest of the way out. She let herself hang from his grip like a reprimanded cat.

“So, what’s up?” She asked brightly, as if hadn’t just caught her listening in on a private conversation.

“Great, thanks for asking,” he said. “Even better now that I’m taking the famed Canary to Arkham.”

“We both know that’s not going to happen.”

He leveled her with a cold look for a few more seconds before splitting into a grin. “Yeah. Probably not. Got a backup plan?”

“Of course.”

“Is it even worth trying?”

“Probably not. But who knows? You could get lucky.”

She waited for a minute as he mulled over the idea in his head before he sighed. “I gotta ask: what’s with the egg?”

She swatted at his hand until he let her down and then led him over to her science experiment. “Know how there’s that expression that says ‘it’s so hot out you could make eggs on the sidewalk’ or something?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, the pavement physically can’t get hot enough to do that and also we’re up north so: aluminum foil to try and get the process to work a little better.”

He stared at her for a while before snickering. “Need a magnifying glass? We can ‘kid with an anthill’ this.”

“Sure.”

He reached into his tool belt and started looking for his spare. Unfortunately for him, it seemed to be gone.

She could feel his sharp gaze turn on her even if she couldn’t see his eyes behind his helmet. He wasn’t stupid and magnifying glasses don’t usually just disappear into thin air unless they’re Plastic Man in disguise. She held up her hands for a quick search but, when he couldn’t find it on her, he just sighed and looked down at the science experiment. It didn’t seem to be going well. The egg was still distinctly not cooked.

Eventually, he groaned and sat down. The light around him flickered and started to move at his will. Marinette watched intently.

Ten minutes later, they had a cooked egg. They high-fived, delighted. They weren’t going to taste it, obviously, it had been out for a while without supervision and who knows what could have happened to it… but it was an egg! Yay them!

“My old science teacher would be so proud of me,” Marinette joked.

“My current science teacher would be proud of me.”

“Oooooh, going back to school?”

He smiled. “Yep! Robin is finally in college and Red Hood convinced me to go with him. You should, too, it’s actually not that bad.”

“Please. If I was going to do that I’d go back to my home country. American school is expensive and not all of us are sponsored by billionaires.”

“... aren’t you a millionaire?”

She grinned. “Of course. But why would I want to spend that much of my own money?”

He hummed his understanding. Then, she pushed herself up with a groan. “Right, we both have jobs. See you later.”

He hesitated and then held a hand out for her notepad. “Is it bad?”

She held it out of reach with ease. “Nah, just drugs. Unless someone got shot while I was gone but I doubt it. They’d been almost as bored as me last I heard.”

“If it’s nothing then let me see.”

“Ugh, do you really want to fight? It’s too hot for that,” Marinette complained. He started to square up and she, after a second’s thought, added a little something to convince him: “Also, there’s going to be a breakout today so you should really save your energy.”

“... really think I’m going to fall for that?”

There was an explosion in the distance.

“Yeah. I’d hurry. I’m pretty sure it’s Joker’s turn to get out.”

She waved him off with a smile… only for her smile to drop when she remembered her other job. She groaned again and stretched out while she still could.

Tikki floated over the side of the building, a magnifying glass as big as her head in her tiny paws.

Marinette rubbed the kwami’s head. “You’re the best.”

Her kwami sighed. “That I am,” she said.

Marinette grinned and sent the film of Signal using his powers to her computer so she could give it to Calendar Man when it was due.

People were always so predictable in Gotham.

~

She supposed she really had been tempting fate when she’d thought that. Still, that didn’t mean she liked it that Fate had called her bluff.

But, actually, it seemed that Fate was the one that was bluffing. That had been her entire day. She had finished up her work and then went to one of her more stocked safehouses for a nap. She’d woken up to the buzzing of her phone when she’d gotten the message. She didn’t think she had messed up anywhere…

Her shoulders relaxed. She was probably fine. Which meant it was just Oswald Cobblepot being annoying. As usual.

Marinette flung the doors to the Iceberg Lounge open. Every eye in the room fell on her, but she only cared about the eyes of one person.

She stalked through the lounge, pulling one of her twin karambits from its sheath and pointing the curved blade towards him.

“What the fuck do you want? You really think that, after almost seven whole years of rejecting your wrinkly ass, I’m suddenly going to say ‘oh, yeah, I guess I’ll work for him now’? Leave me alone!”

Cobblepot wasn’t concerned even as her knife came to rest under his chin.

“Canary,” he greeted, regarding her cooly through his monocle.

Guards surrounded them. Marinette somehow managed to look unimpressed without anyone being able to see her face.

Everyone present held their breath… except for the two with weapons pointed at themselves. They knew that they would never follow through with it, especially not in a place as public as this. It was little more than a warning, a reminder, that either of them could kill each other at any given moment and chose not to.

For now, at least.

Cobblepot dismissed the guards with a wave of a gloved hand and she, after a few seconds, lowered her knife.

“What do you want?”

“Currently? For you to get off my table,” said Cobblepot.

She snorted but hopped down with ease. “I meant: why did you call me here?”

“... we should go somewhere else to discuss this. I assume you don’t do all of your business meetings in public?”

“Only if I know ahead of time that I’m going to say no,” she said.

He motioned for her to walk with him to a private room and, reluctantly, she followed. He had to think he had something on her, otherwise he wouldn’t have tried calling her there. She was curious.

They came to a room with a metal door and she cringed a little. Fun.

She dropped eight knives down into a tray and Cobblepot put down a gun, a knife, and his umbrella. She let a female goon pat her down and then checked Cobblepot over herself. Nothing she could find, but she was sure he had found some way to hide one somewhere.

They stepped inside as a pair and each took a seat on opposing ends of the wooden table stationed awkwardly in the middle of the room. She leaned back in her chair and propped her feet up.

“So, what’s the job?”

“I’m surprised you’re even going to hear it.”

She shrugged. “I’m curious.”

He nodded slowly before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

“Power poses don’t actually work, you know, that’s just lies so companies don’t actually have to deal with all the discrimination.”

“Is that true?” He asked.

She shrugged again. “Probably. I’ve never worked for anyone, so…”

He chuckled. She didn’t like that.

But he didn’t say anything on that subject. Instead, he just smiled a smile that looked weird on his face and gave her her mission briefing: “I want you to figure out the bats’ identities for me.”

Marinette stared at him for a minute before breaking out into laughter. She couldn’t seem to stop. She stood up to leave, still giggling. Really? Did he really think that would work? People had asked many times, of course, and the bats’ identities weren’t common knowledge so she had to have said no. Why would she suddenly do it for him? She didn’t even like him.

She rested her hand on the knob but held off on leaving for just a second. She flashed a grin at Cobblepot. “Interesting offer. Bold. But no. Couldn’t pay me enough to do that.”

“Good thing I have no intentions of paying you, Marinette.”

~~~

And behold a new section I call ‘Marinette is a menace to society why would anyone let her on twitter’

(… the name may need a little work)

OliverQueenOfficial: Why does that one Gotham villain go by Canary? Black Canary already exists.

TheBetterCanary: if youre gonna vague tweet maybe dont put my name in it

TheBetterCanary: but anyways someone else named me that and it stuck before i could think of something to change it to

ScareCrane:… @/RiddleMeThis she’s dissing you

RiddleMeThis: LISTEN UP. IT WAS THEMATIC. DON’T ANY OF YOU KNOW ANYTHING OF DRAMA? EVER HEAR ABOUT CANARIES IN COAL MINES? FUCK ALL OF YOU AND YOUR UNCULTURED, UNEDUCATED ASSES. NOT TO MENTION IT WAS MAKING FUN OF THE BIRD THEME ALL THE VIGILANTES HER AGE SEEM TO HAVE. (1/14)

TheBetterCanary: @/ScareCrane why would you do that you knew he was going to do this

ScareCrane: Joker just broke out so Arkham is boring… needed to entertain myself somehow

TheBetterCanary: fuck you im not visiting this weekend

OliverQueenOfficial: Wow do I regret asking. I didn’t need all this family drama in my comments.

~~~~~

Next

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the surprise

Part 5 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different  point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, cockwarming (later chapters)

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

“C’mon, where are you taking me doll?”

Bucky trailed behind you, his feet dragging as he continued to moan about your late night adventure. You’d lured him out with a promise of pizza but as you exited the train in Queens, his mood had turned sour. 

“Not much further, I promise” You waited for him to catch up and looped your arm through his. “Have I ever steered you wrong?” 

“Pineapple on pizza comes to mind” He muttered, eyes darting around the quiet street.

With a sigh you dug into your purse and retrieved your secret weapon “I’ll give you these if you stop whining” You shook the bag of cashews you’d picked up from the store in front of his face before swiftly moving it from his grasp. “Nope! Hey!” Bucky had made a grab for the bag but you’d quickly anticipated his move and spun on the spot, taking it out of reach. 

As you turned, Bucky’s arm moved with you, pulling him into your back as you bent over in an attempt to stop him from getting his snack.

You laughed as he snaked his arm around your side, pulling you flush against him as he tried to take the bag from you, his fingers brushing your sides in an attempt to tickle you. 

With a jolt, your ass pressed back into him in a vain attempt to free yourself from his grasp. You both stilled as your behind pressed into his crotch, acutely aware of just what you were feeling. Bucky was the first to act and swiftly removed his arms from around you, glancing around in embarrassment. 

Standing straight, you adjusted your dress which had become dislodged. “Shall we?” You asked, trying to act as though nothing happened. 

“Yep.” He responded, a bit too quickly. 

To try and ease the tension, you ripped open the bag of nuts. “Here” You threw one toward him which he caught with his mouth effortlessly. “Thanks doll” 

You smiled back and looped your arm back into his, directing him down the road. 

A few minutes later you arrived at your destination and you held your breath as you both looked up at the building. 

“What do you think?” 

Bucky simply glanced down and smiled at you, his white teeth catching the light from the street lights. 

“This is one of the very few perks I get with my job, I figured who better to enjoy it with?”

“How do we get in?” Bucky asked, pulling you towards the doors at the front. 

“Security will let us in, they’ll be doing the odd patrol as standard but apart from that, we’ll have the place to ourselves” 

“Y/n… this is incredible” 

“Yeah well… I knew you wouldn’t come here because of the crowds and I didn’t want you to miss out.”

You’d brought him to the New York Hall of Science in Queens way past closing time. After dedicating to a ridiculous amount of unpaid overtime, your boss had finally relented and given you access to the contacts who ran the museum. Using your company's connections, you’d manage to swindle full exclusive access to the museum for the entire night. 

Over the past few months you’d picked up on Bucky’s interests, one of them being technology. Despite spending most of the last 70 years in a big freezer, he loved technology of the modern age, often speaking of the projects Shuri was working on in Wakanda.

You spent the next hour or so strolling around the many exhibits, reading up on each subject and interacting with the activities throughout the building. Bucky didn’t know where to look next, each section of the museum peaking his interest more and more. 

“Okay so I may have one more surprise for you” You confessed as you gently steered him towards the theatre.

Bucky remained silent as he felt himself become overwhelmed. He was genuinely touched by the thought you’d put into the entire evening, slightly bewildered why you even bothered with him in the first place. He knew he could be hard work, he often spent days being a miserable bastard, responding with only sarcasm. Yet you stuck around and got to know him and his quirks. Heck the two of you had gotten that close you knew how he’d been eager to pay a visit to the museum but hadn’t due to the worry of being recognised.

He’d now stopped kidding himself and accepted he felt something more than friendship for you. At first he brushed his feelings off as purely physical as afterall it had been over 70 years since he’d been with a woman and he’s not blind. Everything you did drove him insane. It took all his self control to stop himself from kissing you senseless every time you hung out. 

The closer you both got, the deeper he fell for you. He tried his best to find fault with you but he came up short every time. 

He loved how easy you were to talk to, how you never pushed him too far or tried to change him into something he’s not. He loved how selfless you were, always thinking of others before yourself. He also loved how thoughtful you were, constantly coming up with plans or ideas on what you both could do so he wasn’t cooped up in his apartment all day. 

Bucky had fallen hard.

“Now we do have other options if you’re not feeling it but I thought we could watch the original Dracula!” 

Bucky couldn’t hold back his smile as you looked up at him with excitement etched across your face. All he wanted to do was kiss you. 

“So what do you think?” You asked, waiting for his response. 

“I think you’re incredible.” You beamed up at him and led him into the quiet theatre which was housed within the museum. 

“Grab a seat and I’ll be right back” 

Bucky nodded in response and picked one of the seats in the middle of the empty theatre, pulling his phone out as he did. He flicked through some of the pictures you had both taken throughout the evening, landing on the one of you both in the space exhibit. He’d bent down to your level for the photo to be taken, your arms not quite long enough to get you both in frame otherwise. You’d flashed a smile for the photo, leaning back into him, pressing your face against his as he did his best to pose for the photo. It had been a long time that he’d had a photo taken that wasn’t linked to a crime. Smiling to himself, he updated his settings and set it to his background. 

The lights then dimmed and the screen changed as the movie began. A moment later the door swung open and closed as you entered the theatre, your shoes stomping down the isles as you raced over to Bucky, eager to get there before the film started.

“I remember seeing this when it first came out.” Bucky confessed, a small smile gracing his face as he recalled the memory. “Me and Steve snuck in shortly after it started, we were too broke and young to get in on our own. He was so worried we’d get caught he spent the entire movie watching the door.” 

You laughed along with him, struggling to imagine the Captain America you’d seen on the news sneaking into a movie theatre. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out the blanket you had brought with you and covered you both in it, sinking into the warmth it gave as the movie began.

Although it was a horror, you both couldn't help but laugh at some of the scenes, special effects had come a long way since the 30’s. 

The evening had gone exactly as planned. You’d wanted to do something special for Bucky for a while, knowing he didn’t venture out much due to the large crowds making him a bit uneasy.

Your friends at work had teased you about it after they heard the hoops you had jumped through to pull the entire thing off; knowing you wouldn’t put in so much effort for someone you regarded as just a friend. 

You’d wanted your relationship with Bucky to develop into something more for a while now; you couldn’t deny the attraction you had with him and the bond that had developed. Deep down though, you knew he had a lot going on that he needed to work through and you didn’t want to get in the way of that. You heard his tortured screams on a night as the nightmares took a hold of him. You never brought it up but you saw how it affected him. The dark circles under his eyes were always a dead give away.

Although your body craved something more with him, you were content on leaving things how they were. You genuinely enjoyed spending time with him and wouldn’t risk losing it.

It was the early morning when you both left the museum, having thoroughly enjoyed yourselves. Due to the late hour you agreed on hailing a taxi and sat in comfortable silence on the journey home as you struggled to keep your eyes open. Begrudgingly you watched as Bucky paid the driver as you reached your apartment building and accepted his hand as he helped you out of the cab. 

“Thank you for tonight” 

“Don’t mention it” You replied as you entered the empty elevator, pressing the button for your floor. 

“The last person who did anything like that for me was Steve” He confessed as he rubbed the gold markings on his vibranium hand, not quite knowing what to do with himself.

“You’re making me blush Serg” The nickname slipped out without you realising and you glanced a peak over at the man beside you. 

He simply shook his head, grinning to himself as he followed you out of the elevator. 

[qlala]

Is it cheating to submit a fic request for the pride post you just made? I neeeed the whole thing (I'm on my laptop, but insert the big gay eyes emoji)

fjskdgjslg "big gay eyes emoji" you know what? just for you. just for you i have written this. i'll clean it up and upload to ao3 later but for now: have 2.7k of len dragging a sunburnt, tipsy, and glitter-covered barry back to his apartment, and happy pride!

Len wasn’t the type to begrudge anyone a good time, especially when the good time involved loud music, leather harnesses, and throwing water bottles at cops. Central City’s annual pride parade came as close as it got to challenging that attitude; families, fellow queers, and queens descended on the city waving more flags than the United Nations after a hurricane, all decked out in color combinations that Len hadn’t been able to keep straight since the ‘80s. 

The end result was the kind of crowds that could make a grown man feel claustrophobic in the middle of a city block, and that was without the visible haze of alcohol wafting off the whole event. 

But what the parade lacked in personal space, it made up for with one very important commodity: unattended wallets. 

The flock of sunburnt twinks in denim cut-offs made Len’s job almost too easy—a hand on a sweat-slicked lower back, a flash of blue eyes, and most of them wouldn’t have noticed their wallets going missing if Len had dangled their IDs in front of their faces afterwards. (While there were plenty of women dressed in just as little clothing whom Len certainly wouldn’t have minded getting within robbing distance of, he’d found queer women as a group to be less enthusiastic about uninvited touching and more enthusiastic about wallet chains, even when three sheets to the wind off of canned rosé.)   

He’d taught a dozen visiting suburbanites the importance of not keeping valuables in their back pockets by the time he spotted a familiar profile in the crowd. 

His usual red getup wasn’t much more modest than some of the outfits Len had already seen, but even knowing the shape of that body didn’t prepare Len for seeing Barry Allen stripped to the waist, bright-eyed and flushed and shimmering all over with a fine dusting of glitter. Len noted, on auto-pilot, that it didn’t seem like he’d put any of the glitter there himself; he was standing dangerously close to a drag queen throwing handfuls of the stuff on anyone who got within arm’s reach of her. It set the sun refracting off every dip and plane of muscle across Barry’s chest and stomach. Barry’s hair, already wild and dark at the roots with sweat, was full of it.   

Len’s feet were carrying him closer before he gave himself permission to move. Barry managed to drag Len into his orbit at the best of times; visibly tipsy and dripping sweat, Len would’ve had better luck resisting the turning of the earth. 

Up close, Len could take that Barry had lost his shirt somewhat recently; the slight touch of pink spanning his shoulders and chest had nothing on the serious flush across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. He had a spray of new freckles as well. They were barely distinguishable under the haze of glitter stuck to his skin, but Len noticed them at once, the change unmistakable on an otherwise unchanging face (not a scar to be seen, even after three years of running into burning buildings and jumping in front of bullets; Len was equal parts frustrated and relieved).   

It looked like someone had painted a few strokes of color across one of his cheeks at some point, but it was smudged to hell and back. The back of one of Barry’s hands was stained a tell-tale matching purple, and Len could only guess at what it had been at the start of the day. 

He stepped into Barry’s space as easily as he had the rest, taking care to keep Barry between him and the source of the glitter, and hesitated for the briefest moment with his hand above Barry’s spine. He’d never touched Barry like this, skin to skin; the gloves had never come off between them, metaphorically or literally. Kept things neat. 

Nothing about Barry was neat right now. He turned even before Len touched him, and the movement brought Len’s hand into contact with his side instead. It took everything in Len not to pull it back in a flinch, and he met Barry’s curious glance with a tightly-controlled smirk. 

He’d expected Barry to step back, maybe add a bit of blush to those already-pink cheeks. Instead, Barry’s eyes took a belated second to focus, and then he gave Len a face-splitting grin. 

“Snart!” 

That time, Len did have to pull backwards to avoid Barry dragging him in for a hug. To think he’d been concerned about a hand. 

Barry didn’t seem the least bit put out, smiling loose and easy like Len hadn’t iced him to the door of a bank vault the last time they’d seen each other. He hadn’t taken Barry for such a cheerful drunk—he seemed inclined toward melodrama on a good day—but Len would take it over any of the alternatives. 

“Barry. Fancy seeing you here. And so much of you, at that.” He let his gaze slide down his bare chest and stomach, pulse ticking up at the warm brown of his nipples and the sharp vee of his hipbones that invited his gaze further down. 

“You’re overdressed,” Barry disagreed. He wasn’t quite slurring, but there was a careful deliberation in his tone that told Len it was a near thing. He took a step closer and peered at Len, suspicion evident in those pale green eyes.   “And… sober.”

“I’m not here to score. Perks include keeping my shirt on.” 

For the briefest second, Barry looked almost disappointed. But it was gone in a blink, confusion taking over. He glanced down at himself, puzzled. Then his expression cleared, and he looked up with another easy-going smile.  “I got hot.” His gaze dropped again, to Len this time, and he licked his lips. “Aren’t you… you gotta be hot in all that.” 

Len was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and thin jacket, and it hadn’t hit eighty degrees all week. But he wasn’t in the mood to argue with drunk logic. And besides, another scan of the nearby revelers had made something unpleasant begin to scratch insistently at the inside of Len’s chest, and he tapped Barry under the chin with one knuckle to bring his attention back up. 

The contact startled both of them—Len’s control had slipped, something he could not afford to happen around Barry Allen—but Len recovered first. “Where’s the rest of your team of do-gooders?” 

“Lost ‘em.” Judging by the return of Barry’s crooked grin, it was an accomplishment, not a concern. “Cisco said the shot was too strong, but I didn’t wanna go. He’s the d…” He faltered, brows pulling together as he frowned. “S’the designed. Designinated, superhero, anyway. Shh!” 

He shot a pointer finger toward Len in a movement that Len clocked, alarmingly, as intending to be pressed to his lips, as if he were the one who’d been chatting about Vibe’s secret identity. Len had three years of dealing with the Flash to thank for being able to catch Barry’s wrist in time to stop him, and he glared at him for the attempt. 

But Barry only gave him a crinkle-eyed smile and twisted his hand in Len’s grip to clasp his wrist back. “S’so good to see you here. I didn’t think…” 

“Don’t tell me you had me pegged for straight.” 

Barry made a frankly insulting noise halfway between a scoff and a hiccup and tilted Len a condescending look. 

“Speedster, remember?” he asked, far too loudly, even for a crowd currently screaming along to a pop song that’d been bad enough the first time Len’d heard it in 2000. “I see it when you...” He let go of Len’s wrist to make a gesture with two fingers, parting them in a V and sweeping them up and down Len’s body, the muscles in his forearm shifting distractingly under Len’s hand. God, the kid had to be a hundred degrees. “When you check me out. In the suit.” 

Len smirked. “It’s cute you thought I was being subtle.” 

“You’re cute,” Barry muttered, childish and sulky, and Len took it for the compliment it wasn’t. 

“You had a point, Barry.” 

Barry still looked displeased with him, but his brow was furrowed again when he met his gaze. This close, it was impossible to ignore that Barry had an inch or so on him. “About what?” 

“You didn’t think…?” Len prompted him. 

Barry stared at him blankly, and Len rolled his eyes and let go of his wrist. 

“Get out of the sun, Barry,” he said. “Find a park bench. Wait for your little friends to come find you. Shouldn’t be hard—you’re as red as your suit.” 

Barry either ignored his last comment or didn’t hear it. “Iris is here somewhere,” he said, possibly to himself. “She’s…” He twirled his finger absently beside his head. “Curly, today. And… bikini.” 

Len strongly considered abandoning Barry to his sunburn to go find out for himself. But Barry was beginning to sway a bit, and a man closer to Len’s age than Barry’s was giving Barry’s toned back a speculative look from a few feet away, and Len gave in to the unsettled feeling gnawing at his ribcage. He refused to call it worry. It was annoyance—or, at the very least, the feeling was annoying him, which was close enough.   

“As much a sight for sore eyes as that would be,” he said, allowing a magnanimousness he didn’t feel to color his tone, “I doubt Miss West ran away from her group and got heatstroke. Unlike some people” 

Barry didn’t look the least bit chastened, lips curving up mischievously in a way that drew another couple interested looks. Len needed to get them both out of the crowd before he started breaking noses.

“Tell you what. Give Cisco a call, tell him you went home. My bike’s on Kingsbridge, away from the parade route.” 

Barry’s smirk sharpened. “Trying to get me out of here, Snart? I thought you weren’t here to score.” 

Len gave him a flat look, ignoring the decidedly interested way his body was reacting to Barry’s tone. 

“You can barely stand.” 

Barry’s eyes glittered at the challenge, and Len realized his mistake. 

“Barry—” 

He hadn’t even finished biting out the second syllable when the world spun out from under him, the noise and the heat and the press of the crowd swallowed up in a hair-raising charge of yellow lightning. Exactly two and a half seconds passed in a blur of movement, just long enough for Len to realize Barry was supporting the back of his head with one too-warm hand. Then the world came skidding to a stop around them. Barry’s momentum carried them both forward several feet even after their new surroundings materialized, and they very nearly went straight through a window again before Barry seemed to remember how to stop. 

Len considered pushing him out the window anyway for the stunt. True, he’d been itching to get another taste of that feeling, the ozone snap-drag of Barry’s power like a live wire under his hands, but he’d rather have waited until Barry could pass a breathalizer. 

He realized Barry still had an arm around him and shoved him off. It did nothing to dim Barry’s self-satisfied grin, and Len had to look away or risk giving into the interested once-over Barry was skimming over his body again. 

“Pretty sure the point of a designated driver is not doing that.” 

Barry followed him when he took a step back. Len made a calculated decision, decided the risk of touching Barry again was worth it, and pressed his fingers to the middle of Barry’s chest—right where the Flash insignia would be on his suit, his brain offered unhelpfully—and pushed him backwards, hard. 

Barry unbalanced and wheeled back a step. Then the backs of his knees hit the edge of the couch, and he toppled, satisfyingly, back onto the dark leather cushions. 

It was a nice couch. The whole apartment was nice, actually. Len could’ve drawn a perimeter of possible locations based on Barry’s speed and how long it had taken them to reach it if he hadn’t already known the address. 

“Sit,” he said. And then, with a smirk: “Stay.” 

Barry rolled his eyes. “Gonna have to ask nicer than that if you wanna boss me around in bed.”

The way he threw it out there, easy as anything, almost made Len miss a step as he turned away. He wasn’t going to lay a hand on Barry, not when he was drunk on sunlight and skin and whatever concoction Cisco had apparently cooked up for him. But hearing him say it, like they’d already gotten all of the messy parts out of the way—it set off warning bells in Len’s head, flashing past all the possible off-ramps he would’ve taken if Barry had ever tried to have the conversation in a more linear fashion. 

“You’re drunk,” Len said, which was a coward’s answer, and behind him, Barry made a vague noise of agreement. 

“Probably,” he acknowledged. “You could stick around ‘til I’m not.” 

Christ. Len didn’t trust himself to look at Barry again, not when he knew he’d find him sprawled out and shedding glitter all over what had looked like a very expensive couch. “Stay,” he repeated, and went off to find the kitchen. 

By the time he got back with two glasses of water, the problem had solved itself; Barry was out cold on the couch, his painting cheek pressed to the throw pillow he’d curled himself half-around. He was shivering faintly in the air conditioning, all cooled sweat and goosebumps, and Len resigned himself to the now-familiar impulse to help him that stirred in his chest. He put one of the glasses down on the table and, not trusting his hands, knocked his knee into one of Barry’s where it was bent close to the edge of the couch. 

Barry buried his face into the pillow with a noise of displeasure, and Len said his name again. 

“Last warning,” Len said. “Ten seconds, you find out if I put on steel-toed boots today.” 

Barry groaned, and if the sound hadn’t made Len’s pulse skip, the easy shift of muscles in Barry’s arm as he pushed himself up to sitting again would’ve done the trick. 

“Water,” Len said, unnecessarily, as he passed him the glass. 

Barry took it with the tips of his fingers, as if it were something personally offensive to him, and took a single, polite sip before putting it down beside the other with no small amount of distaste. Then he glanced between the glasses, and up at Len, a dirty spark already lighting behind his eyes again. 

“Don’t get your hopes up. They’re both for you.” 

Barry let out a breath with audible annoyance and dropped back against the couch cushions to glare at him. 

Len felt a modicum of sanity return to him. This, at least, was familiar ground: Barry, frustrated, asking for too much, too soon. True, it had always been about the hero business until now, but Len knew a pattern when he saw one. Give Barry an inch, and he always took a mile. 

Len gave Barry one last, appraising look. He looked ridiculous, all self-righteousness and bare skin. There was only one break in the otherwise even coat of glitter, there on Barry’s side: faint, but unmistakable, the outline of Len’s hand on his waist. The feeling in Len’s chest coalesced into something pleased and possessive. He met Barry’s glare with a slow curl of his lips, then gave him an inch.  

“Call me when you’re sober, Barry,” he said, letting his voice slip into the Cold drawl just to watch Barry’s eyes go dark. “And you can show me how well you sit up and beg.” 

He could see the impatience radiating off of Barry’s frame, the effort it was taking him to stay on the couch instead of closing the space between them. 

“Call your friends,” he reminded him. “Enough people got a look at your face today without the CCPD splashing it on every milk carton, too.”

In the elevator, Len reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the thin black wallet he’d liberated from Barry during their sprint across the city. Two and a half seconds: child’s play. A little extra incentive for Barry to track him down in the morning, not that Len thought he needed it. He flipped it open, noted the deer-in-the-headlights picture of Barry on his driver’s license with amusement, and then thumbed open the bill compartment. 

Len smirked. Barry wouldn’t miss a few dollars; he owed him for the dry-cleaning it was gonna take to get the glitter out of his jacket, anyway. 

[blitzturtles]

Title: Freezing

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: DCU / DC Comics

Pairing(s): JayTim w/ Batfam

Summary: “He’s in DKA.”

“He’s what?”

“Diabetic ketoacidosis. It’s-”

“I know what it is,” Jason says a little too quickly, but he doesn’t understand. Can’t wrap his head around what it means in this particular situation. “He has a pump. You got him a pump.”

Notes: For my 100th fic on Ao3, I thought I'd go back to the beginning. What got me back into writing: DC Comics and the Batfam.

Also, full credit to my wife (@sexyvanillatiger) for not only beta reading this thing, but also helping me with the information on DKA and rewriting several bits of the story to make it work.

For the record, this is an extremely unlikely scenario that most people with an insulin pump won't have to worry about. It has more to do with Tim's particular style of pump originally being one with an external catheter, as well as his being a) underdressed for the weather and b) out for far too long in said weather.

I will say that, though it is unlikely, pump failure due to freezing temperatures has happened, so please be mindful when you're out and about!

-

It’s three in the morning and freezing, and the last thing Jason expects is to hear Dick’s voice ring through the comm in his ear while he’s midair, between the end of one building and the beginning of the next. He’s busy, very nearly disconnects on the spot given the mood he’s in, but Dick seems to sense the impending end of the conversation.

“Wait!”

“What do you want, Nightwing?” He grinds the name out with far too much disdain. It’s not Dick’s fault that he’s in a bad mood.

“It’s Tim. He’s-”

Truth be told, Jason hears nothing after that. After ‘Tim’. Not Red Robin, not Red, not even Babybird. No, just Tim.

“Shit!” He very nearly goes careening off the side of the next building with the abrupt shift in his momentum and the loss of focus. There’s ice clinging to every other surface, which wouldn’t be a problem if he weren’t distracted. He can hear Dick’s frantic voice on the other end of the comm, but he can’t bring himself to care enough to explain.

“Where is he?” Jason demands once he’s regained his footing and has a moment to school his tone into something near neutral.

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. He-”

“What do you mean, ‘We don’t know’? What the fuc-”

“He missed his last check-in,” Dick finishes, unphased by the interruption.

“How long?” Jason asks, barely noticing how his voice shakes.

“Only twenty minutes, but-”

“But he’s working on a goddamn human trafficking ring, and it’s fucking freezing,” Jason finishes. He doesn’t need Dick to explain to him why twenty minutes is suddenly a big deal and not Tim losing track of time. “What about his tracker?”

“He turned it off after his last contact. We’re not sure why, but Oracle is working on pinning down possible locations based on his last. Look, B’s- Anyway, he doesn’t know I’m getting you involved, but you know that side of Gotham better than any of us,” at least on practical experience. Jason has spent months blending into the crowds in the past, as much as he hated every second of it.

“That’s just great, Dickie,” to hell with codenames. And to hell with his helmet. He tugs it off his head and tosses it at the nearest surface. The damn thing doesn’t so much as crack from the impact, but he can breathe again.

For a moment, he forgets that he has a secondary comm in his ear, which is why he flinches when Dick speaks again, “You also know Babybird better than any of us. I was just- hoping, I guess, that you would have a better idea once Oracle came up with her list.”

“Yeah, yeah, send it my way, will you? And his last location. Whatever files the computer has. I want all of it.”

“Done.”

Jason scoops his helmet off the ground and secures it in place again. No time to waste now. He starts shifting through the information the moment Dick sends it over. There are names that he recognizes. Places that he’s been too. Clubs that he’s spent the wee hours of the morning pretending to get plastered in, while flirting with the sort of men he’d happily put a bullet in any other time (for several of them, he had). But none of it tells him where Tim might be now, or why he thought going AWOL was some brilliant idea.

And here’s the thing, Jason’s in the mood he’s in because of this whole human trafficking bullshit. He knows Tim’s been working on it for the last few weeks, though Jason only found out about it in the last couple of days. Probably because Tim’s smart enough to know that Jason doesn’t want any of them so directly involved in that shit, least of all Tim. But there’s no stopping his-- he still doesn’t know when Tim went from ‘the’ to ‘his’-- Replacement when he gets an idea in his head.

It brings Jason no comfort to know that the temperature outside is frigid. He can feel it sink into his bones, despite the warmth of his suit. Technology can only get them so far without impacting agility, and Tim is a lot like Dick in that he likes to fly through the air, unhindered.

Dick passes Oracle’s findings over a few minutes later, when Jason’s already halfway to Tim’s last location. He’s on his bike. Going on foot would take too long, and they’ve already lost-- fuck-shit, thirty-two minutes now.

He tears through all the clubs in the area. Takes out more kneecaps than he has in months, but it doesn’t get him anywhere. The rooftops don’t help either. The advantage is lost when tracking a fellow Bat. Tim moves with purpose, and he does it without leaving a trace.

At least until Jason stumbles into an alley by sheer luck. One that could be in disarray for any reason, but he catches sight of a Batarang. It’s surface glints off the streetlight behind him. There’s no blood. No fibers stuck to it. It looks like it’s been dropped more than thrown, and he doesn’t know what to make of that, but his stomach is turning painfully.

Something is definitely wrong; he just doesn’t know what.

Dick chirps updates in his ear. Brief lines of information; none of it useful. The rest of them are having as much (or less) luck as he is, though he doesn’t immediately report his findings. It could be something; then again, it could be nothing, and they don’t need to all bunge together just to step on each others’ toes with no chance of finding Tim before someone or something gets to him.

The next three alleys look similar to the first in that they could all but in the state that they are because they’re part of the seedier night scene of Gotham, but something about them rings wrong in Jason’s head. There’s a garbage bag that’s strewn across the asphalt, like someone knocked it over rather than it having been pushed or thrown, and eerie signs of a scuffle that don’t look right either. There’s no blood and no sign of reciprocation. Only the snowy remains of a chaotic waltz littered throughout.

And that’s when he all but stumbles into a body. Curled and small with lips that are too close to blue and a face that’s ashen white.

Jason’s on his knees in an instant, calling Tim’s name-- Red? Robin? Drake, he hisses the last one in barely a whisper, but none of them yield results. Tim stays there, unmoving. His chest barely moves, but the bizarre part is how there doesn’t seem to be any injuries besides a trickle of blood that might be coming from Tim’s temple. His suit is otherwise intact, and who would leave a Bat incapacitated without finishing the job? Around here, not a single bastard.

He’s lifting Tim up before he can think to call for help. He carries him back to his bike and manages to maneuver them both onto the seat. He keeps Tim in front of him, awkward as it is, with one arm hooked around the limp body. The only saving grace in the moment is how goddamn small Tim is.

“Nightwing,” he calls as he starts the bike. “Cave, now.” He severs the connection before Dick has a chance to respond.

By the time he gets to the Cave, his heart is pounding away in his chest. Tim still hasn’t woken up. Still hasn’t so much as shifted in his unconscious state, and Jason is getting frantic. More and more terrified with each passing second, and it’s all he can do to keep one foot in front of the other when he pulls to a stop and gets Tim in his arms once again.

The face that greets him isn’t Dick’s, but Bruce’s, and Jason’s too afraid to give a shit. Too out of his depth. He can stitch wounds and even remove bullets, but he doesn’t know what’s wrong with Tim or how to fix it. He’s completely at Bruce’s mercy, and that would ordinarily piss him off, but, right now? He can feel wetness build in his eyes and his voice shakes as he looks at Bruce with desperation.

“Please,” he begs, knowing that he doesn’t have to, but unable to stop himself anyways.

Bruce doesn’t miss a beat. He’s already reaching for Tim, and it feels like someone pulling the rug from underneath Jason’s feet the moment his arms are empty again. There’s nothing keeping him steady, keeping him moving forward. At least not until Bruce glances back over his shoulder and calls,

“Jason.”

Jason scrambles forward, falling in after Bruce, and he feels all of about twelve years old again, following behind the Bat’s massive silhouette without question.

Alfred meets him in the infirmary, and the two make quick work of stripping Tim out of his suit. It would be impressive, considering the security measures, if Jason were able to take the time to appreciate anything, but he’s too wrapped up in his ever growing anxiety. The more skin that becomes visible, the more alarmed they all become. There’s no bruising, no blood. No explanation.

They start him on fluids for lack of anything else to do, and there is a minor contusion on the side of Tim’s head that indicates that he must have hit it at some point, but it's apparent to Jason-- the way it is to Bruce and Alfred-- that the trauma happened as Tim hit the ground and not as the result of someone getting the better of him.

“Oh,” Alfred breathes, and two pairs of blue eyes snap in his direction. He’s holding a strip of paper-- the results of his blood test-- with a frown etched into his features.

Bruce reaches out, and Alfred passes them over wordlessly. He moves around the infirmary in a flurry, gathering supplies with renewed purpose. For some reason, it only makes Jason’s heart beat that much harder in his chest.

“What is it?”

“He’s in DKA.”

“He’s what?”

“Diabetic ketoacidosis. It’s-”

“I know what it is,” Jason says a little too quickly, but he doesn’t understand. Can’t wrap his head around what it means in this particular situation. “He has a pump. You got him a pump.”

“He does, and I did,” Bruce agrees with a grunt. It’s clear that he’s just as lost as Jason, but he doesn’t have the chance to say anything else before Alfred is calling him over, leaving Jason to stew on the information and watch from the sidelines because diabetic complications are definitely outside of his scope of practice.

He feels useless. Beyond, even, and he can’t stop looping back to the pump. That’s the whole reason Tim has it. So he can patrol without complications. He remembers the excitement when Tim first got it. All the information he had to absorb as part of being approved in the first place. He’s been stable on the damn thing for months. So why is his blood sugar through the roof?

It feels like hours until Alfred lets them know that Tim’s responding to treatment-- which includes a complicated setup of three different bags of fluids that Jason couldn’t identify for the life of him-- and beginning to improve. Jason doesn’t know how much time has actually passed, but he’s been in his head the whole of it, replaying the same questions and spiralling down the same, horrific scenarios. His cheeks itch with the feeling of dried tears, though he doesn’t know when he started crying (or when he stopped, for that matter).

He sits beside Tim diligently, despite his exhaustion, and holds his smaller hand in both of his own. It’s the only thing keeping him grounded, especially as everyone else comes and goes. Alfred never goes far, though Bruce disappears entirely to do god knows what. Dick hugs him, but he’s smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Damian’s about as comforting as he never is, but the worry is apparent in his eyes, even as he insists that Tim’s situation is more of a nuisance than anything else.

Cass stops by before Stephanie. A quiet presence that actually soothes Jason’s nerves, only to be followed by a quiet that sets them alight. Stephanie is rarely so subdued, but she disappears quickly, evidently unable to handle just standing there. She mutters something about finishing the job. It would concern Jason more if he weren’t already certain that none of them were going to be able to fly under Bruce’s radar for a bit.

Speaking of, Bruce announces his return by not-so-gently placing something on the little metal cart by Tim’s bed. It takes Jason a moment to recognize it as Tim’s pump, though it’s been pulled apart and now sits in multiple pieces.

“What-”

“It froze,” Bruce says before Jason can continue.

“What?” Jason repeats.

They can freeze? Is that something they knew? Why the hell hadn’t Tim taken precautions going out into sub-zero temperatures?

“Not the whole pump. This,” Bruce traces the remains of the clear tubing that typically goes from the pump to the injection point that sits under Tim’s skin. The line, itself, usually sits on Tim’s hip. “The catheter. The vial has enough insulin in it that it would have been fine, if not for this and the weather.”

“Why-?” Jason can’t finish the question. Doesn’t know what he means to ask in the first place, but Bruce doesn’t hesitate to answer,

“He didn’t know. Neither did I, for that matter. It never occurred to any of us.”

Oh.

Jesus.

Tim could have died, and not one of them would have realized why until it was too late.

“From what I can find, it’s not typically a concern,” Bruce goes on, though Jason’s only half listening. He supposes that makes sense, though, considering most people aren’t spending hours in the cold. He wonders how long Tim had been struggling. Alone and dazed and stumbling over his feet. That explains the condition of the alley. There really hadn’t been any fights. Just Tim, grabbing at anything and everything.

“If I had to guess,” and Bruce doesn’t look happy with the idea of not knowing, “He turned his tracker off in confusion.” Possibly while trying to call for help, he doesn’t say, and it makes Jason sick to think about.

“That shouldn’t fucking happen,” Jason snaps, less at Bruce and more at the universe.

“I know,” Bruce answers when the universe remains as silent as ever, “Lucius is working on it now. We’ve already discussed the possibility of adding a second, remotely activated tracker.” All of their trackers can be remotely activated, unless they’re turned off. Having a second just means that they would have a backup should anything happen to the original.

“Good,” Jason says, for lack of anything else to say. He finds some comfort in the idea, but it doesn’t exactly make him feel better now. Particularly not when Tim is without a pump entirely, which means they’re back to constant checks and needle drawn injections, both of which he knows Tim hates. Both of which interfere with Tim’s ability to patrol for any extended period of time.

“Tim will be alright,” Bruce tells him in a tone that’s entirely too gentle to be coming out of his mouth, “Alfred says his numbers are looking better.”

“Yeah,” Jason’s mouth feels dry, and he feels his eyes burning. He works his jaw a few times to try to regain control. He doesn’t need to cry a second time, not when everything’s fine now. Tim will wake up in a bit, probably feeling like shit, but he’ll be alive.

“He’s alright,” Bruce reiterates as he crouches in front of Jason and tugs him forward. Jason doesn’t resist, allows himself to be maneuvered until his head is pressed into Bruce’s shoulder.

Neither move for what seems like an eternity, but Jason finally breaks the contact and wipes as subtly as he can at his eyes while looking Tim over. “He’s going to hate using needles again.”

“He should have a new pump before the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Jason breathes, “He’ll- thanks.”

It doesn’t fix the current problem with the cold, but there are measures they can take against that. Measures that Tim won’t like, but it will be better for him to have his pump so that he doesn’t have to draw up his insulin, which, from what Jason understands, is less accurate than the pump anyways.

Bruce hums his response before opening his mouth to add, “You should go get washed up. Or changed, at least.”

Says the man still wearing his giant Bat suit, but Jason doesn’t feel like starting an argument for no reason when he’s still on edge. “You gonna stay here?”

“Of course. I’ll be here until you get back.”

“Okay,” thank you.

“Take your time,” you’re welcome.

______

By the time Jason showers, changes into some of the clothes kept in the dresser of his old room, and makes it back down to the Cave, Tim is still out, though there’s finally some color in his cheeks. A nice little dusting of pink that makes him look alive, and his lips are slowly beginning to regain some color, too.

“Alfred just came by,” Bruce says when he sees Jason, “He says that Tim should wake up soon.”

“Good,” Jason says, voicing the most subdued version of what’s going on in his head.

After too long, or maybe too short of a pause, Bruce says, “I need to get to work on a few things. Will you be alright?”

Jason has to brush away his immediate irritation (of course Bruce needs to do shit while another one of his kids is recovering from a near death experience; what else would he be doing?) and remind himself that Bruce has spent the better part of the last forty minutes sitting with Tim. That might as well be a lifetime in Bat years. Jason rarely sees Bruce sit still that long without a computer screen reflecting in his eyes.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“Will do, B,” he probably wouldn’t, but word would get to Bruce eventually.

______

The first time Tim opens his eyes, Jason’s excitement and relief are crushed almost immediately. Tim’s far from his usual self. He’s more out of it than Jason’s ever seen him, with his head lolling back and eyes flickering. What comes out of his mouth is mostly babbled nonsense in between groans.

Jason calls for Alfred immediately, and he’s just this side of his anxiety getting the better of him when Alfred reassures him that the state that Tim is in is to be expected after what his body went through. Besides, his carbon dioxide levels are still low and his blood sugar hasn’t come down very far yet. It’s going to take time for Tim to fully recover, but it’s a lot for Jason to take in all at once.

“Turn ‘ff the lights,” Tim grumbles, startling Jason from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Fuckin’ lights, turn ‘em off.”

Under any other circumstances, the uncharacteristically grumpy demand would have Jason laughing. Right now, it just makes his chest ache.

Alfred dims the lights before speaking, “He may be a bit grouchy.”

Jason lets out a small snort, “Thanks, Alf.”

Alfred offers him a small smile. Evidently pleased that he’s managed to lighten Jason’s mood, even if only a little bit.

“Stop,” Tim groans, causing the two to turn back toward him.

“Sorry,” Jason mutters at the same time that Alfred says, “Apologies, Master Tim.”

Tim huffs at both of them before seemingly drifting off once more.

______

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call you next time,” Jason grumbles at Bruce’s retreating back. The man is being even more stoic over not being told about Tim’s wake-up, which, to be fair, hadn’t been that remarkable, beyond the amount of stress that it had caused Jason. Besides, if Bruce weren’t so damned busy with whatever it is he’s doing, he might have known that Tim had woken up briefly.

Bruce says nothing as the door closes behind him, apparently aware that Jason is more irritable than usual and unwilling to get into a fight over it.

Jason huffs and sits back in his seat. Part of him wishes Bruce would start something. He’s getting antsy sitting in the Cave this long. Hell, he’s just tired of sitting, but there’s only so much pacing he can do.

“You should be nice,” Tim croaks from his spot in bed, effectively startling the shit out of Jason in the process.

“That was nice, and fuck you,” Jason answers easily, but his heart is bounding away in his chest.

“For which part?”

“All of it, Replacement,” the part where Tim scared the shit out of him and the part where he has the audacity to comment on Jason’s shitty people skills first upon waking up after nearly dying.

“Ouch, I’m back to the Replacement, huh?”

Jason snorts, “You’re damn right. Only a Replacement would pull something like that.”

Tim winces, “Sorry.”

Oh. That’s not fair. The sad look in Tim’s eyes and the pained expression. That’s just plain cheating. “It’s okay,” Jason sighs, “I’m just glad we found you in time.” He doesn’t mention the part where he had been the one to find Tim. Unresponsive and blue in the face. Looking more dead than alive.

“Who?”

“Dickiebird, obviously.” Blue enough.

Tim huffs a small, would-be laugh. It quickly turns into a cough and a groan. “Feels like I got hit by a train.”

“You kinda look like it, too, but I hear that’s just your face.”

Tim blinks at him, slow and owlish, but the joke seems to register after a moment and he shoots Jason a nasty look. “You can leave whenever you want.”

“You’d like that.”

“I really would.”

“Too bad.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Something fucking stellar: me.”

Tim snorts, but his expression sobers after a moment, “I’m sorry. Really. I- I didn’t know what was happening. I still- did my blood sugar drop?”

“No, the opposite actually.”

“Wait, what?” Tim’s frown deepens and his brows come together, “But-”

“The insulin in the outside part of your pump froze.”

Tim’s hand suddenly reaches for where the pump typically sits. A frantic effort in a tangle of IV tubing that comes up empty. “Where-?”

“Bruce took it. He says you’ll have another one by tomorrow, but I think that one’s pretty shot. He took it apart.”

“Oh,” Tim deflates slightly.

“It almost killed you, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim breathes out. “I know, it’s stupid. Just… Sucks, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Jason answers, for lack of anything else to say. He reaches for one of Tim’s hands and squeezes scarred fingers with his own, calloused pads. “No more patrolling when it’s this cold, I guess.”

“I guess,” Tim echoes, a sign that he doesn’t actually want to agree, but knows that Jason’s right.

Jason squeezes his hand again. This time he gets a gentle squeeze back, which is something of a reassurance. “At least not alone,” he offers after a moment of hesitation. He’s not sure he should give Tim that hope, but he wouldn’t mind company every so often, and the human trafficking shit is something Jason works with on the regular. He can always put aside his more… lethal habits for a bit. There’s nothing stopping him from hunting down names in the future and taking care of business when Tim’s not looking. It’s not as if Tim doesn’t already know what Jason gets up to in his spare time.

“You- really?”

“Really. I’ve worked with a team before.”

“Doesn’t mean that you’d want to now,” Tim points out with a frown.

“It’s you,” it’s different. Maybe Jason will learn how to say half the things he means aloud, but he finds he doesn’t usually have to. Not with Tim, the little deductive prodigy that he is.

“Okay,” Tim smiles at him. A weak, shaky thing, but it’s there, and Jason smiles back.

______

Bruce steps into the infirmary with that usual, severe expression on his face that doesn’t give much away. He’s holding a small box with absolutely no markings on it, and he passes it to Tim wordlessly.

“What’s this?” Tim asks with his brows knitted together, but he doesn’t actually expect an answer. Instead, he opens the box up carefully and finds a new pump sitting inside.

“Freezing won’t be an issue,” Bruce explains before Tim can ask about the lack of a visible catheter. “It’s a single unit. No external catheter, and there’s a warming component that automatically runs under certain conditions to keep the insulin at the ideal temperature.”

“Oh,” Tim breathes, eyes widening as he processes the words. “You-”

“Lucius helped,” Bruce answers with a half shrug and eyes that stay focused on the thing in Tim’s hands rather than the wonder in his son’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth tug upward before he can stop them, “We just want you safe.”

“Still, thank you.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment, before he says, “Anytime, Tim.”

[moonlit-mizukage]

Chapter twenty-two: 11 things I hate about you 

Summary: Y/l/n Y/n, a third year at Sakura High School, is just a girl with a bad attitude towards anyone outside her small circle. When y/n’s younger sister starts first year, she gains a lot of attention. Unfortunately for everyone in school, the Y/l/n household has one rule, No dating till y/n does. Some people become just desperate enough to pay the leader of the “Monsters”, the trouble making group on campus, to date y/n. What will happen when she finds out? (All characters aged up to third year unless otherwise stated)

Tw: Swearing, fights, violence, oikawa piece of shit, black eye, teachers a dick, crying 

Word Count: 1.3K

An: So theres only 8 more chapters left of this story :0 I cant belive its almost done. I will be making a pull for my next idea maybe on chapter 26!!

An part2: Sorry my poem is so bad ugehgvy Tumblr wouldn’t let me format it nice so it is italicized !!

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Third person pov- Time skip tp Monday 

Y/n closed her locker as Tendou was standing behind the door. 

“What the fuck do you want Tendou?” 

“Please just hear me out Y/n. It really isn’t what it seems.” 

“You took the money Tendou. You got paid to date me. So step the fuck back. I don’t want to be late to class.” 

“Y/n… Let me explain, please.” 

“See you in English if you decide to go again asshole.” She pushed past him and headed to where Shirabu was. 

“What did he want?”

“Just to try and make up some shit probably. I don’t have time for assholes.” 

“Speaking of assholes, you know how you showed me that shit from Oikawa at your place?” 

“Did he already try something?” 

“He walked up to me and apologized to my face.” Shirabu said. 

“Are you for real? He really talked a big load of shit about it and then took 5 steps and gave up.” Y/n said with a laugh. 

The two walked in the direction of their first period as Tendou walked outside to the underside of the bleachers where the Monsters hang out. 

“Guess... you look like shit. Where the hell were you all weekend?” Hanamaki asked.

“Nowhere.” He said as he lit his cigarette. The others looked around at each other. They know something was off with him. 

Second period came quick and Tendou ventured into his class today on the off chance Y/n would give him even the shred of attention. 

“Good morning class, Oikawa I need you to take off those sunglasses you are inside after all.” Mr Yagami said. Oikawa removed the glasses to reveal a large balck eye beneath them. 

“Looks like someone finally got tired of your shit Oikawa.” The teacher said with a laugh. “Well would anyone like to be the first one to present their writing piece today?” Y/n raised her hand faster than anyone else. “Ah Mrs. Y/l/n. Please come up to the front.” 

She stood up as she grabbed her notebook from her desk. She walked to the front of the room and made direct eye contact with Tendou in the back. 

“Start when you are ready Mrs. Y/l/n.” The teacher said, giving her permission to begin. She took a deep breath. 

“I hate the way you approach me, and the way you have so much confidence about it 

I hate how you made me give you a chance, only to show me your true intentions so much later, 

I hate your dumb hair cut and  how proud you are after spending all that time to style it. 

I hate how you call me babe and how you could easily change my mind about things, 

I hate your dumb motorcycle and how you drive it when I am with you, 

I hate how you never texted or called, not even left me an email.

I hate when I was upset with you, you knew exactly how to cheer me up with your dumb smile,

I hate how you knew I would fall for you from the start and you even called it, 

I hate how you made me laugh like I never experienced before. 

I hate how everything you told me was based on a lie,” 

She took a deep breath, tears began to flow from her eyes at that moment. 

“I hate how you made me fall for you but your feelings were only a big dumb lie, 

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you...

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

She slammed her book closed and grabbed her bag as she ran from the class room, now sobbing.   

Tendou stood up as he chased after her but she was already gone from the halls without a trace of her presence even being there. 

Oikawa appeared behind him.  

“Looks like your nickname was more accurate then I could have ever thought.” Tendou turned around as he grabbed Oikawa’s shirt. He slammed him into the locker behind him. Before anyone even had the chance to blink, Kyotani and Terushima were behind him. 

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but once highschool is over you will be nothing. Enjoy being a piece of shit for a little more time before we knock you down a few, monster style, you asshole. You fucked with the wrong man’s paradise. You will pay for it. How about another black eye to match the one Mei gave you hmm? I think that is honestly too nice to do.” He slammed his back again before he threw him to the ground and spit on him. Tendou stormed out the other two Monsters now joined the three that were there as they all left the building. 

Lunch time- small time skip 

Y/n was seated at the table next to Tsukishima who was next to her with Yamaguchi sitting across the table. Shirabu walked up with Kuroo and Bokuto behind him. 

“What the hell do you demons want?” Y/n spit out as them. 

“We come in peace. I promise.” Bokuto said as he raised his hands. 

“Unfortunately for me I have managed to befriend these two demons. Bokuto through volleyball and Kuroo by association. They told me some interesting shit about Oikawa though.” Shirabu said in a monotonous tone.  

“You can sit with us if you really want. I’m sure you will start beef with Oikawa though.” 

“He’s kinda in love with you so he probably thinks we would be doing reckon. That’s not why we are here though. I know what happened at the dance. Iwaizumi told us both about it.” Kuroo said. 

“I am so sorry Y/n! Please forgive me!” Bokuto shouted dramatically. He looked into your eyes and she could see he was on the verge of crying. 

“It’s okay! It’s not like you made him do it.” She said to him.

“No but I did get your number for him!” 

“He is exaggerating. He told Oikawa what locker number was mine and Oikawa went through my private property to get it.” Shirabu spoke up. 

“I won’t blame you for your friend being a massive piece of shit.” Y/n said with a smile. 

“Wow straight to the point, I like that.” Kuroo said.

“We can prove to you we are done with Oikawa if you’d like.” He pulled out his phone and showed her before he rescinded that he texted Oikawa ending their friendship. “Anyone who doesn’t support my deepest love for volleyball will never understand me.” He said with a serious look on his face. 

The rest of lunch they spent together, the few who had just met them had begun to feel different about the once Oikawa lackeys. They discovered they were not who they once thought and the same for the two new people who sat there today. The warning bell rang as they all were ready to separate. 

“Before we part, sorry shirabu. I talked shit about you one time in our old group chat with the other guys, not bokuto, I just felt like it would help me fit in.” Kuroo said. 

“I talked shit about you too cause I thought you were an annoying asshole like Oikawa. No hard feelings.” Shirabu said in his monotonous voice once again.  

“Wow all of you are brutally honest. I think I will like it here.” Kuroo said with a laugh. 

Everyone was now split up as Y/n was at her locker. Her phone Vibrated as she opened it to see another unknown number messaging her.  The message read: 

We need to talk after school...please… It’s satori by the way. I know you will say it too when you respond so I already told myself to Go to Hell before I sent this message. 

She sighed and put her phone back in her pocket. Her mind was stuck on him for the rest of the day. Even on her ride home with her friends and Mei, she could only think about what he might say to her when she finally answered.

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Previous | Masterlist | Next 

An: Sorry again about the bad poem,,,, 

Taglist: @belongtothewcrld @elianetsantana @its-the-aerieljeane @london-quynh @vhskenma @denkithunder @swagdaddycam @ems1des @tendouispretty @senpaisbadass @elephantloser @smolbbgorl @mikeys-thighs @kuroolilchibichan @softesyoongi @ouijaeater15 @xxsilverwingxx @prettyinblack231 @kookie-doughs  @mikesdeath @bruh-kill-me @skeet-skeet-double-fckn-yeet @d0llpie @0-hysteria-0 @katsumi-sumi @rintarawr @sirachano0dles  @satan-ruler-of-hells @himboos @maer-333 @pastel-prynce @tanakasimpcorner @atria-avior @mrswhitethornbelikov

[iamtheblondestblonde]

The Clark Kent Effect

Part Three

AN: Imma be honest, I’m not happy with this part. I feel like my brain isn’t entirely ready for writing yet, it’s still wired to argue cases so please bear with me as I get my shit together. I still wanted to give the people who follow this story something though (you have no idea how happy I am about every single one of you) and I sincerely hope that this is good enough, apologies if not :) 

Song: Catching Feelings - Drax Project (this will be a thing from now on)

Word Count: 4,6k 

Warnings: explicit language I’m pretty sure but thats it

Masterlist / Part One / Part Two

You felt foolish really. It was as if your entire life had turned into a soap opera overnight. You wouldn’t call yourself cynical by all means, you loved love and everything that came along with it far too much for that, but you would’ve at least described yourself as rational.

Up until now.

Up until now you’d been convinced that if people really wanted to, they would be together. Up until now you’d been a believer of where there’s a will, there will be a way - relationships that would classify as statutory rape excluded of course, age was a bit more than just a number in those cases - but you, you, you had been stopped by the Bro-Code, which was just absolutely ridiculous.

Imagine telling that to your parents: Hey mom, so I met this great guy but I can’t do anything about it because he’s friends with my ex. Your grandma would straight up laugh in your face if you told her, the badass bitch had married her former lover’s rich best friend after she’d gotten the news that her fiancé hadn’t survived the war. Without needing to call her you knew that she’d tell you to go for Mat in a second, no matter how much she’d adored Tito back then.

But you weren’t your grandma and Tito hadn’t died in a war so here you were, pining over a guy you couldn’t have and practically living out a tragic romance novel. Technically you didn’t even know if Tito would have anything negative to say about the entire situation, it may all be water under the bridge by now, but you also couldn’t just casually ask him without giving anything away.

The only good thing about this situation was that Tito had brought a great group of people along with him into your life. He’d always been good at making friends, that certainly hadn’t changed from when he was younger and since the two of you had hit it up again your friend groups had seemingly merged without issue. It sure made for an interesting dynamic. You’d had some explaining to do whenever you initiated someone new into a group that also included your ex, but the result was definitely worth it.

Spending time with Tito was just as easy as it used to be, back before feelings complicated everything. Somehow you’d managed to fall back into a completely platonic relationship, one that worked just as well when the two of you were alone as it did with others around.

You’d missed having him around the years before, his view on things and the way he’d always managed to make decisions easy by providing simple solutions.

Should you get a puppy right now? - No, your apartment is too small for a big dog right now and no, you also shouldn’t settle for a purse-sized dog because you’ve always wanted a big one since you were little.

Maybe a cat instead? - No, you are allergic to cats, don’t be stupid.

What about one of those naked ones? - Also no, you need to bathe those frequently because of the built up oils on their skin and you don’t even have a bathtub in your apartment.

(You really had to bathe those from time to time, you’d looked it up. Apparently they could still trigger allergies as well, which straight up sucked.)

Should we grab Thai or Chinese? – Chinese, you told me about this new place you wanted to try out like three days ago.

What can I do to stop this one coworker from belittling and making fun of me? - I’ll help you make her jealous, how about some courtside seats to watch the Nets since she likes basketball?

The last idea had actually come from Mat (since Tito didn’t know shit about basketball), who had also pulled some strings to get four tickets so you could attend the game with Dana, Tito and him. Mat had even taken some pictures of Dana and you in your jerseys and at the game so you could post about your night excessively on your social media, making sure that said co-worker would see it. They’d also given you a tour of the building and you were surprised to say that their locker didn’t smell as bad as you’d expected.

Said coworker hadn’t said anything ever since by the way, but you could still see her lurking on your Instagram.

For all the advice Tito provided you with, you still hadn’t asked him the one thing you needed an answer to:

Is Mat off limits?

But you couldn’t do that and therefore it somehow became a normal thing for Mat and you to walk on eggshells around each other after the “incident” at the bar.

From time to time there were moments that made it blatantly obvious how good things could be – the time he’d excitedly side hugged-you after the Nets turned the game that one night before realizing what he’d just done and quickly letting go, how he’d found you in the crowd and looked straight at you after scoring a goal at one of his games before being swept away by his teammates or simply how you could see him looking around until he found you whenever your group met up – but they never lasted more than a few seconds.

The two of you were stuck, neither of you wanting to hurt Tito’s feelings. At least with your big group moments with Mat alone were rare. They still happened from time to time though, especially since the majority of your friends wasn’t even aware of your dilemma, which was why you found yourself in the passenger seat of his car on a Friday night.

Emily’s boyfriend Rafael had finally returned from a two-month-long work trip to Spain and was dead set on making an authentic recipe he’d been taught over there for everyone. Unfortunately he’d made the mistake of putting Emily in charge of getting the needed groceries and in true Emily fashion she’d forgotten to buy tomatoes. Something neither of them had noticed until Rafael had wanted to start cooking as soon as everyone arrived at their place. Maybe Emily had done it on purpose or maybe she hadn’t been thinking properly in that moment, too caught up in the fact that her lover was with her again, but she’d tasked Mat and you with a last-minute errand run to the store.

You couödn’t stop yourself from checking out the wine aisle though, leaving him waiting behind, dutifully holding a bag of fresh tomatoes and checking his phone while you inspected the options. Rafael had asked you to bring some wine as well but the one he’d requested was apparently out of stock.

“Barzal”, you called for his attention, inspecting a label to try and figure out if it was a suitable replacement, “you think Rafael would like this one?”

As you turned around with the bottle in your hand you were taken by surprise by Mat’s proximity. You hadn’t even noticed how close he’d moved until now and for a couple of seconds you were caught up in your daydreams again. He seemed to struggle with the same thing, his pupils blown and his breathing growing uneven while the two of you just stared at each other. His lips were so close and so incredibly inviting, his mouth slightly agape.

If I leaned up on my tippy toes right now I could-

You quickly stopped yourself from finishing that thought, looking down so you had a couple of seconds to gather your thoughts, thoughts Mat seemed to infiltrate constantly. By the time you dared to look up again he was running his hand across his face in frustration before slowly breathing out and returning to his cool and collected regular self.

“I’m the wrong person to ask this, he was drinking some red wine earlier and the one you picked out is obviously red but that’s about it. Wine culture is definitely lost on me, sorry. I prefer beer.”

“Stereotypical hockey player through and through, I see.” Later on you’d tell yourself that the smirk that followed made your brain short-circuit, because there was no other way to explain why you’d keep on flirting otherwise.

“Maybe one day I’ll teach you, only if you’re nice to me though”, you teased, maybe in an effort to take control over the situation, maybe because you simply couldn’t stop yourself but his laugh made your heart soar for one second, until you remembered why this shouldn’t be happening.

Maybe you simply were an undiscovered masochist because even though you knew you should stay away from him you kept finding yourself in situations like this one way too many times. Deciding that you’d simply drink the wine by yourself if anyone had an issue with it - drowning your sorrows seemed like a great idea either way right now - you handed him a second bottle before moving to leave the aisle and in turn his personal space.

Making eye contact with Colin standing a couple of meters away from you got you to do a full 180 though, almost smacking into Mat in the process, who had obviously followed you towards the cashiers.

What was it with Mat and you?!

While a collision was thankfully avoided, Colin’s presence could cause other problems, since he hadn’t exactly appreciated you breaking off things over a month ago. Because you hadn’t known him for long it had taken you longer than you liked to admit to realize that he was a manipulative bastard, you weren’t proud of that, and you had no idea how he’d act right now.

“What’s wrong?”

“My ex is over there and I don’t want to talk to him. Is he walking in our direction?”

Mat lifted his concerned glance from you to look over your shoulder so he could be on the lookout.

“If he’s the one wearing a Gucci hoodie that is so obviously fake then yes, he is walking in our direction.”

You let out a snort at the casual burn but you weren’t too happy about having to face Colin right now. He hadn’t even crossed your mind in these past few weeks but for him to cross paths with you while you were with Mat of all people seemed to be yet another one of these odd twists of fate your life seemed to attract lately. Maybe your guardian angel had decided to start a meth lab instead sometime recently, there was no other way to explain what was going on instead.

“Uh.. you look good, don’t worry, he’s definitely the one that missed out. Do- do you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?”, Mat stuttered out nervously, probably noticing your anxious shifting and you couldn’t help but smile at his words, despite him being wrong about the reason behind your nervousness.

“Thanks for the offer”, you gave him a gentle smile of reassurance before continuing, “but no, it’s not about the way I look or anything like that, I don’t give a fuck what he thinks of me because he’s an idiot. I just don’t want him to cause any problems and if I could I’d just run away from him forever so he doesn’t have the chance to ever ruin my night again.”

“Well I’m no expert on forever, but I’m here right now and I say fuck that guy”, he responded and with that he grabbed your hand and started running towards the cashiers, leaving you with no other choice but to run along with him so he wouldn’t rip your arm out of its socket.

Oh how you wished you had a picture of the expression on Colin’s face as Mat and you ran past him, hand in hand and cackling like maniacs.

He was apparently too stunned to follow you as you fought over who would pay for the stuff - Mat ultimately winning - but you didn’t let that stop you from running all the way to this car as well. Of course hand in hand.

Masochist.

Somehow the weird tension between the two of you seemed to lift sometime during your little sprint but you weren’t sure if this would be permanent or if it was a spur of the moment thing. You’d be damned if you didn’t enjoy it while it lasted though.  

The entire ride back you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his hand had felt in yours and what a perfect fit it had been, desperately wanting to feel it again as the two of you sang along to the songs playing over the speakers, perfectly happy in your little bubble.

-

As Christmas approached Emily roped everyone in to accompany her on her mission to make Rafael appreciate the cold that taken over New York. According to her he dearly missed sunny Spain but all you could see was a man who was happy to be home again. You weren’t about to tell her that though, you’d long figured out that whenever she’d set her mind to something it was best to simply follow along. Everyone else had apparently come to the same realization because no one objected to her plans.

Emily wanted to take Rafael ice skating and since the Rockefeller Center apparently wasn’t good enough and too crowded, she told everyone to meet at Pier 17. Dana and Mariah were on board of course and you’d managed to convince Tito to come along, who had in turn invited Mat.

In a ridiculous attempt to not get spotted, both Mat and Tito had donned a pair of glasses and while you were used to seeing them on Tito by now, seeing Mat with them again knocked the breath out of your lungs for a second.

It had been almost two months since you’d last seen him like this and the fact that you hadn’t recognized him that night seemed impossible to you now. Maybe it was because you’d gotten to know him since, seeing him in real life instead of only on pictures and memorizing his handsome features in the process but as you tried to get a good glance at him without anyone noticing you realized that he’d never be Clark Kent to you again.

Whether that was a good or a bad thing was still left to decide though.

“Need help with those?”, Mat’s voice ripped you out of your thoughts. You’d been so lost in them that you hadn’t even noticed that everyone else had already laced up their skates and walked out onto the ice while you’d been staring at your hands for who knows how long, laces wrapped around your fingers but not doing anything. Tito and him had brought their own skates while everyone else had to rely on rentals and his were already laced up perfectly of course.

You nodded, despite full well knowing how to do it yourself but you weren’t about to stop Mat from pulling your leg into his lap so he had better access. Besides, you’d stupidly forgotten to bring gloves and you’d gladly take any chance to leave your hands stuffed inside the pockets of your jacket as you rapidly got colder.

His fingers worked quickly, tightening the laces with expertise and you watched his hand moving in awe.

If hockey ever wasn’t an option for him anymore, hand modeling definitely was. He had such nice hands, strong and big and perfect. For a quick second your thoughts drifted to what else they could be capable of, before you reeled them back in, mentally scolding yourself. It really wasn’t your fault, not thinking of him seemed impossible these days.

His eyes were mostly focused on his work but from time to time he’d lift his gaze and give you a small smile, one you happily returned despite the mess inside your head. He had just finished tying the second one when someone banged on the glass, making the both of you jump a little.

“Ayo Barzy get your filthy paws off Y/N!”, Tito yelled before zooming away again laughing loudly, leaving an awkward silence behind.

Was this just Tito being his usual little-shit-self or was he actually serious?

For a couple of seconds you couldn’t do anything but stare at Mat as he looked down onto his hands, one of them still loosely wrapped around your ankle. Carefully you pulled your leg off his lap, set both feet on the ground and got up.

It was apparently time to face reality again.

You waited until there was a break in the throngs of people circling around the rink before stepping onto the ice, muscle memory from your childhood kicking in immediately. Once you were convinced that you weren’t going to fall on your ass you did a couple of little spins until you were facing Mat again, who had followed you. He looked at you with a slack jaw and you laughed at his expression.

“You can skate?!”, he asked bewildered and you laughed again, moving so the both of you could skate beside each other at a relaxed pace.

“Obviously. Sorry to ruin your late night fantasies of teaching me how to skate but I’m a good Canadian girl and I did some figure skating when I was younger. I actually used to be pretty fast.”

That caught his attention and you smiled at the way he looked down at you with a conspiring grin.

“Oh yeah? Show me what you got then”, after a couple of seconds of contemplation he continued, “last one to reach the others owes the winner coffee.”

You looked around to find the rest of your group, spotting them on the other side messing around. Of course.

“You’re on, Barzy. I hope you’re ready to lose though”, you winked at him before racing towards your friends, leaving him and his exclamations about you being a cheater behind, now definitely not cold anymore.

-

Something in your relationship seemed to shift after that, at least whenever you were alone with him. Things were still difficult around others, especially with the way Emily kept prodding you for updates and Tito constantly disturbing the few moments you had alone with him. You weren’t sure yet if he did it on purpose or if he simply had awful timing but it wasn’t like it made a difference.

Christmas came and passed just as fast, the team leaving for a roadtrip shortly after. You’d celebrated New Year’s Eve with your friends in a club, unable to kiss the person you wanted to either way so your lips had stayed untouched as the fireworks went off at midnight and the days following.

Tito had announced that the guys would return later in the day though, already making plans in the groupchat to meet up tomorrow. While you wondered where he got all this energy from you suspected it was a way to distract himself as the trip hadn’t been successful - to put it mildly. In reality they’d ate shit, losing all of their games, some to teams that should have been an easy win.

It was hard to watch on TV but even harder to talk to the guys afterwards.

A couple of hours later you sat on the couch, a book in hand that you’d meant to read for weeks and enjoying staying in on a Friday for once. You were so lost in the story that it took you a couple of seconds to realize that someone had knocked on your door.

Who could that be?

Tito or Emily were most likely to show up unannounced at your day but you knew that Tito would be on his way to his home so he could sulk by himself and Emily was away on a ski trip with Rafael. Unwrapping yourself from your fuzzy blanket you padded towards the door, taken aback by who was waiting on the other side.

“What..”, you trailed of questionably, not even sure what you were going to say in the first place.

Mat looked so out of place in the dimly lit hallway, dressed in a suit that fit him so nicely, bag set on the ground next to him.

“Can I come in?”, was all he said and you nodded, unable to bring yourself to say anything else.

How could you even refuse him?

You didn’t move from your spot beside the door and after taking off his shoes he took a couple of steps inside your apartment, hanging up his coat before turning back around to face you.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here but if I’m honest I can’t even tell you. I just didn’t want to be alone tonight and since you seem to constantly be on my mind either way..”, he trailed off, seemingly gathering his thoughts before continuing, “I don’t know if you watched the games or-“

“I did and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to”, you said softly as you interrupted him, sensing his apprehension. You decided that you weren’t about to touch his admission of thinking of you all the time with a ten-foot-pole, instead focusing on the rest of his sentence. He looked so broken and lost standing there so you couldn’t help but take the few steps it took to reach him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

You knew from personal experience with Tito that athletes tended to take losses personal and if you had to take a guess you were pretty sure that Mat was one of those guys that blamed himself for them as well.

At first he seemed surprised about your bold move – it was the most the two of you had ever touched so far – but he quickly caught himself, hugging you even tighter to his body. For a couple of seconds you stood just like that, simply basking in each other’s proximity.

It was as if your bodies were made for each other, your head resting perfectly in the crook of his neck. Despite probably just getting off a plane he smelled so good and you were trying to figure out if you could take a deep breath without raising any suspicions. Before you’d managed to make a decision however, he pulled away and you unfortunately had to untangle yourself from him.

“Feel free to stay as long as you want to”, you said to fill the silence, leaving out the part where you hoped he’d stay for the night as well. He simply nodded before asking where he could change into more comfortable clothes. While you were sad to see the suit go you directed him to your bedroom, glad to have taken those thirty minutes earlier to tidy up.

He returned in a pair of grey sweatpants and a hoodie and it took every last remaining bit of your willpower not to drool at the sight of him. Somehow he managed to look even better in sweats than he did in his custom suit, which really wasn’t fair at all.

You had to admit it was a little weird to see him in your apartment though. He’d been over a couple of times to pregame etc. but he’d never been here alone. Somehow it felt strangely intimate to have him over by himself on this Friday night. To prevent your thoughts from going to a direction they definitely shouldn’t, you asked:

“Do you want some tea? I know technically you still owe me that coffee but I’ll be generous and let you off easy this time.”

For good measure you even threw in a wink at the end and your words had the desired effect, breaking the loaded tension completely.

“You cheated! I would’ve won if you hadn’t started early”, he exclaimed but the way he was laughing showed that he was anything but butthurt about the situation.

“Mmm keep telling yourself that, it’s okay”, you kept on teasing as he followed you into your small kitchen that was definitely at maximum capacity with two people in it. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t enjoy the closeness the tight space prompted though.

With a steaming mug of tea the both of you settled onto your couch shortly after, also small enough to keep you close together. You’d been wanting to buy a bigger one for weeks, but right now you certainly didn’t mind its size.

Masochist.

“Oh I love that one, the chimpanzees are so cute”, Mat said to your surprise as he finally realized what was playing on your tv and you looked at him in utter disbelief. You certainly hadn’t pegged him for a guy that liked to watch nature documentaries but yet here he was, constantly surprising you.

“What? Documentaries are very soothing”, he defended himself and you had to laugh at the way he looked like a little kid with his floppy hair and the cute way his eyebrows had scrunched up.

“I know. That’s why I love watching them as well.”

You hadn’t exactly pictured yourself watching documentaries with him on a Friday night, something that felt way too domestic if you were being honest, but yet here you were.

As the hour grew later both Mat and you sunk further in the cushions and while you had no recollection of how exactly it had happened, your head apparently ended up on his shoulder somehow. Your only regret was that now it wasn’t as easy to sneak glances at him from time to time without him noticing. At one point he’d even wrapped his arm around you, moving both of you into a more comfortable position before covering your bodies with the fuzzy blanket and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you to sleep before you even knew it.

The soft sound of your name woke you up sometime later, you weren’t exactly sure how much time had passed but the credits of the second documentary you’d started were already rolling and you were pretty sure you’d only caught the first half of it. In your sleep you’d cuddled up even closer, your arm wrapped around Mat’s midriff and you quickly sat up, embarrassed about turning into a koala in your sleep. Maybe you could blame it on the documentary?

“Sorry for waking you but I should probably head home. Otherwise my back is going to kill me tomorrow.” His voice was a little hoarse and it was obvious that he’d fallen asleep as well, his hair now sticking up in multiple directions. You suppressed a giggle at the disheveled sight of him, instead appreciating that he let down his guard enough for you to see him that way.

“Yeah of course. I’ll show you out.”

“Thank you for tonight. It means a lot to me”, he said quietly as he stood by the door, ready to leave.

“Anytime Mat. Get home safe.” It was the first time you’d called him by his first name, after months of first calling him Barzal then Barzy and he must have noticed as well because his smile could probably make glaciers melt at this point. You weren’t even sure why you’d given up your pathetic way of distancing yourself from him – despite the fact that it was very much obvious that it wasn’t working – but to not call him Mat would feel wrong after this evening.

“Have a good night, Y/N”, he simply said, still smiling as he leaned down to kiss you on the forehead before walking out the door, leaving you speechless.

 -

Tagging: @jamiedrysdales​ @nazdaddy​ @itrocksmysocks​ @yeeehaw-hockey​ @whitesummerx​ @teenagekook​ 

[gukyi]

ice prince (post-script) | jjk

summary: you travel the world together as the country’s favorite ice dancing couple and celebrity romance, but you can’t help but wonder what the future has in store for you and jungkook. 

{established relationship!au, ice skating!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff word count: 1k warnings: none a/n: thank you to @sopseokjin​ for commissioning this piece and donating to the #blacklivesmatter movement!! i had so much fun revisiting the ice prince couple. if you remember me writing the entire 22k fic in 4 days, you qualify for a veterans’ discount.

There is something different about hotel windows. 

They’re always enormous, always spanning the size of the wall, a big Plexiglass screen separating you from the world outside. They always come with two curtains, a semi-transparent one that lets you see into other people’s rooms, and a thick one with the pattern of an old wallpaper or vintage couch. 

And they always make you feel as though you’re both looking out into a sea of lights, into a city slowly beginning to fall asleep, and as if you were trapped inside, the window being your only source of contact. 

It’s no wonder you always find yourself staring out of it, wrapped in a white robe after hopping out of the shower, a long day of competing and skating behind you. Normally, you’d soak your feet in the bathtub as well, letting the water wash away of the soreness, but you feel quite light tonight. 

You gaze out into the city, looking over the roofs of buildings, over the air vents and grey cement that covers all of the skyscrapers that surround you. The yellow glows in the top-floor windows of the buildings are your stars tonight, lighting up an otherwise empty navy blue sky. It’s such a shame that there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and yet you cannot see a single star. Your window doesn’t even face the moon. 

“A penny for your thoughts?”

You look up to see Jungkook standing behind you in the reflection of the glass, soft brown hair tousled and messy, like he just got out of the shower and let it dry as is. He’s wearing an old shirt from your home rink and some shorts. Comfort clothes. 

“Just looking out the window,” you tell him, letting him come over and watching your reflection as he wraps his arms around you, swaying softly. 

“It’s pretty,” Jungkook meets your eyes in the window. 

“Is it weird that, no matter what city we go to, I always feel the same when I look out the window?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, then says, “No. I feel it, too.”

Does he? 

Does he feel the way that even if the world changes you feel as though your place in it has remained stagnant? Feel like you’re trapped repeating the same few days over and over and over again? Ice skating is perhaps one of your truest passions in life, something that you seldom dread doing despite all of the injuries over the years. But it is as though you do not exist without your skates. That your sense of belonging is defined by being on the rink rather than off of it. 

You wouldn’t know who you are without ice skating. It’s brought you so much joy, so much love. It carried you to Jungkook. 

“I shouldn’t be complaining.” you say with a shake of your head, pulling yourself out of his grasp and settling down on the side of the bed. The sheets are tucked into the bed frame so tightly you’re half convinced that they might rip if you pull them any further. “We get to go to so many nice places and stay in fancy hotel rooms and skate for a living.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t find negatives in what we do,” Jungkook says with his eyebrows turned down as he joins you on the bed. “You can be grateful and critical of things at the same time.”

“I just feel like…” you sigh, unable to find the right words. You aren’t by any means discontented with your life, with what you get to do. Every morning you wake up and look forward to what the day has to offer, look forward to tugging on your skates and getting onto the ice, look forward to seeing Namjoon and Hoseok and Taehyung and, especially Jungkook. “Like we’ll be stuck doing this forever.”

“You know that’s not true,” Jungkook tells you, reaching out to take your hand in his own. He strokes the back of it with his thumb, calloused fingers pressing against your skin. “We can dp whatever we want with our lives.”

“I don’t really know what I want,” you admit. You’ve always been rather indecisive. It is one of your greatest flaws. 

“You don’t have to know,” Jungkook assures you. He has always been so driven, so focused. He looks to the future fondly, rather than in fear. His heart guides him through each and every day, and even if he makes a mistake he knows it will never steer him in the wrong direction. “You just have to see where life takes you.”

You turn to him, watch his eyes grow bigger as they stare into yours. “Where do you want life to take you? When this is all over, what do you want to do?” When younger skaters far more talented than you will usurp you, will achieve far more complex jumps and challenging lifts, effectively sending you on a slow decline out of the top leagues. When the spotlight will no longer shine on you, lighting up your path on the ice, when no more medals will hang around your neck and no more trophies will be placed into your hands. 

“I’m not sure,” Jungkook says. “I’ve always wanted to learn piano.”

“You can do that now,” you remind him. 

“Not with our schedules, I can’t,” he says. 

“There’s a piano in the lobby,” you remember. It’s an upright, nothing too fancy, but no staff seems to play it and barely anybody spares it a second glance. “You can try.”

“Maybe some other time,” Jungkook says with a laugh, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. You’re still facing the window, but it’s different when you’re sitting down, further away from it. Like you’re watching a late-night movie. Like you’re not a part of the scene at all. “I’d also coach, maybe. Like Namjoon and Hoseok, I think that’d be fun.”

Ice skating will never leave him.

“You think we’ll still be together after all of this?” You ask. It’s a weird, hopeful sort of ask. Like you hope he says yes even if the odds are against it. There’s a part of you that fears, that has always feared, that ice skating was your only link, the only thing keeping you connected. You would not have known Jungkook without skating, and you know him now as someone who is just like you. But what will happen when all of that ends?

You feel the way Jungkook sits up straighter, feel how he stiffens, making you look up at him. It’s an honest, candid question. What does the future hold for the two of you? Is there even one to begin with?

“What do you mean?” He asks. “Of course I do.” A pause. “Do you… not?”

“No!” You tell him. There is nothing you fear more than being away from him, than losing the last part of your life that preserves what little personality you have left. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I just—I wasn’t sure.”

Jungkook reaches his other arm out, both of your hands wrapped up in his own, and he squeezes tightly, making you look at him. He’s got that steely, certain look to him, the same determination you see right before a competition performance. 

“I don’t know what goes on in that head of yours,” he begins, “but you have nothing to worry about. Not about ice skating, or competitions, or our future, or me. Because I love you, and I’m proud of you, and I know that whatever you end up doing will be beautiful and meaningful to all of the people whose lives you have touched. And I will always stand by your side, even when we stop skating, even when we are cranky coaches, and even when we are old and lazy.”

The words are music to your ears. A soft smile draws itself on your face, and he lifts a hand up to press it under your chin, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. It’s incredible, what he makes you feel. 

“I’ll marry you, one day,” he promises. “And we can live wherever you want. We can have cats and dogs and plants and, maybe one day, we can have kids too.” 

“If we do have kids, I hope they don’t inherit your ego,” you tease, making him laugh. 

“No,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “They’ll inherit my devilish good looks, instead.” You giggle, and Jungkook shuts you up with another kiss, taking away all of the breath in your lungs, making your skin tingle. “I love you, did you know that?”

You grin. You did, but you love hearing the words anyway. “I love you, too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget i’m still taking commissions!

[violet975]

Random thoughts.

So i replayed BOTW a while ago for the first time and decided to write down some of the random thoughts that i get while exploring Hyrule, here they are.

… A lot of these things gave me some fanfic ideas and I hope that they will do the same for someone more competent.

It's realty in character that the response to being asked why you took the man's torch is either to bludgeon things to death with it or to be a pyromaniac.

When the tower pedestal shines, Link instinctively leans back for a second before diving right back in because curiosity kills the cat.

The message from the slate/tower is to watch out for falling rocks which either means that 

1: zelda is writing them (and has a fair bit of free reign still).

2: the ancient Sheikah could see the future.

3: Ai to the likes of Fi.

Ganon kinda reawakens when the towers are up so maybe he was resting and building a body until he was interrupted here, which could be why his form later is such a hodgepodge of the Blights?.

Link is not too naive since he kinda clamps up in his answers to the totally unimportant old man.

Did Link briefly make eye-contact with the camera when he got the spirit orb!?

Link is a bit freaked out in his "How did you know!?" Response cas now he knows something major is up when the old man directly mentions the spirit orb.

Again, in character that you can choose to be an impatient brat with the "paraglider please?" Or inquisitive when Roam points out the slate.

Either run out of temper with the "that wasn't the deal!" Or be resigned with "so I need more now?" When the old fart sends you off to the other three shrines.

Ohh, another adrenaline junkie option with the "got it!" Over climbing the tower for a good view or a Deadpan "are you joking?".

"Or so i heard quite some time ago.. I do not know if it actually works as such" so they did not get teleporting to work before? or he just didn't learn how it was done.

So the monks, according to how the Triforce signs they held, apparently associate Power with Magnesis, Wisdom with bombs, Stability with stasis and Courage with cryonis?

The monks dissipate into green specks like Ganon’s soul does under the castle!

I'm not into men but damn if Link doesn't look good in the Warm Doublet.

Oh. My. God, he was King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule!!!!!

Link is such a dumbass, you get to ask Kass "are you a ...bird?" As if the man isn't standing right in front of you. No shit Sherlock! What next, is that a recorder?.

OhhohoHO! You either say "no(, i have not heard of them)" or "Ancient songs?" As if you do not initially realize why they are thought to be ancient which either is old memories warring with the now world or Link not realizing what impact The Calamity had on culture.

Another flat-faced sarcastic remark everyone!

When Manny mentions that his job is checking for beauties/sus people you can either be a dumb dunce and ask about the said beauties or a little menace with "sounds though".

Manny is an Incel, talks a big game and puts himself on top of a pedestal alongside being demanding and a creep.

Does Hateno not have a goddess shrine? Just the ~Evil~ one?

There is a pair of rusty knights sword and shield by the leftmost part of the walkway of Fort Hateno. Some knight probably died laying there, watching out over the field of guardians having been/being purged by Zelda.

A traveler (Chelessa) is interested in history and wants to question Impa about it, and is on her way to do so in fact. . Describes her personality as very pleasant, that must be wrong.

The Yiga know exactly how Links first waking moments played out so either they have extensive knowledge about his character and the setup of the Shrine Of Resurrection or Ganon was watching in on Zelda's call and relayed it to a minion in the clan.

"Hero boy" - derogatory.

Arrow in the eye of the bridge at the entrance of Kakariko, the Yiga are petty and I love it.

Piano's (the painter) hair bun thing that is styled like a pencil has paint on the tip... this man painted with his hair.

So the great fairy Cotera makes it sound like she will enchant your gear because you rejuvenated her, not because you bring the materials to do the enchanting.

The levels of enchantment seemingly depends on physical closeness to the Fairy (blow< indirect kiss< kiss < sex)

She can not enchant beyond Lv 1 without her sister's help, so they share power?

Paya specifies that they have watched over the Orb since the grandmother of the grandmother of Impa, that's 9 whole generations of long lived Sheikah! roughly 1000 years of recorded history!

Again with Link being a dense Shonen protagonist with "where is it?" Or a sly bastard with "really, though?"... maybe so that she would want to prove it ;) 

…”I'll answer you some day, just not today!”

Either Paya is just not ready for that or she is so nervous that she did not think about the fact that her own grandmother was in the room when she said it!

“Served the royal family in secret” so it's not common knowledge that the royals have a village of Magic ninjas!? No wonder it took a damn demon to topple it instead of rebellion or infighting... probably has been like this since the old old king banished 'em.

"The royal family was destroyed, and the members of our tribe scattered."- okay so it was probably some Sheikah that either thought the royal family was completely extinct and either fled or, according to this next bit- "Sadly, there were some who swore allegiance to Ganon at that time. They joined together as the Yiga Clan, seeking out all who opposed Ganon... cutting them down, one after another." 

So from that we get to know that not all Sheikah deserters became enemies (unless the Sheikah dislike defectors enough to hunt them down) and others who either joined an existing opposing group or simply up and created the Yiga clan that then aligned itself with Ganon... probably under either the belief that Hylia's line was extinct and that it was join or die or because they wished to spite the goddess and her followers.

I actually like this way more because it makes no sense that the Yiga could survive before the Calamity when the Royals would have an entire damn country and anbu black-ops to hunt them down with.

"Master link, now that you are awake, you are surely the most formidable opponent standing against them!" Either hero worship or the Sheikah are freshly out on capable warriors with Ninja magic tricks, probably the latter which would explain why the world isn't infested with Lynels or why hynoxes haven't just trampled every settlement.

"No doubt they will come for you, employing whatever underhanded methods they can device" 

oh come on! Do not tell me that i'm stuck with the goodie two shoe ninja clan!? Underhandedness is your bread and butter! No wonder you served the royals in secret because you and them by proxy would have been a laughingstock otherwise!!!

"The great fairy Cotera... few remain who know that this village was built under her watchful eye." So the village is fairy new and the Yiga came about before Kakariko or it is old and so well protected that they can't get in... at least not easily.

"The mysterious power of Cotera is that of sacred protection..." so the Great fairies are linked to either Hylia or the gods, good to know.

So it’s not that Cotera “-would be happy to help” but, instead “i can't think of any reason why she wouldn't be happy to help you”. so either she only directly helps men or the earlier "you can put your trust in the great fairy" means that she judges more favorably for the chosen hero.

"I heard that the weather is going to be beautifully tomorrow... to bad you won't be alive to enjoy it"

So they have weather accurate~ich prediction? through magic or old time methods?

Again: Hero boy - derogatory... It's a common nickname for Link within the Yiga.

The lush green shrine could tell that a buck was on it, so the platforms are most definitely scanners.

A travelers sword by a campfire at the foot of mount Lanayru, so someone either took a swim and died to the Lizardfo, dramatically quit or got killed in their sleep.

Love the effect when you have metal weapons on the ground and swing a ThunderBlade!

You automatically reflect the Octorock's rocks, goes faster if you do it manually.

There is a hollowed out part of a hill/mountain with a lot of fic potential to the North-West of the Sword by the campfire.

Located where the lines meet if you draw a line to the right from Rabia plain and up from Trotter's Downfall.

Koko of Kakariko has been deceived by my cunning and slight-of-hand. 

Yes, Sagessa (woman by the lake of the Dueling peaks stable), there is, in fact, something "quite romantic" in Link's "endeavor" to save Zelda, thank you for noticing!

The chests inside the shrines can only (non-violently) be opened by use of the Sheikah slate so why not steal a few? prefect safe-keeping for more stuff to keep in Links house.

Dunce moment everyone! 

The Yiga traveler tries to seduce Link and you either go with "OK..." so he either has no damn idea about what is going on or is just not good with women? 

Orrrrr you go with a straight "I refuse!" cas you see through their ruse and want to rub their face in the dirt!

According to Mina the Hylian, taking out two Bokoblins is considered as great martial caliber which both she and her traveling companion could not do while decently armed.

Best way to deal with a guardian scout when you have weak weapons: hit with electricity, switch weapon, hit 2-5 times, switch to electric, repeat.

When you first enter the area around Hyrule Castle, smoke Ganon throws a fit until Zelda slaps him away. 

This either means that Zelda canonically gets a larger workload from there on and out or that the both of them push harder against each other every time you get close.

According to Zelda's diary, Link was assigned as her guard after the champions had been appointed.

How Link was focused on her yet did not voice his thoughts apparently "makes my imagination run wild!". Either romantic or dense.

Link admits to staying quiet because of the pressure of being the boy chosen by the sword. 

King Rhoam mentions that he decided to honor THE royal family's traditions by naming his daughter Zelda, and that he is "not a man accustomed to frivolous musings". 

Basically confirming that he is not the parent of royal blood.

They probably knew about The Calamity for a good while cas the page after zelda's naming speaks of the fortune teller, probs 3-8 years since Zelda was described to already have vast interest in the relics.

Pikango gets up at 10 past 5, I spent the night watching him and Beetle sleep.

According to all known laws of aerodynamics, Rito should not be able to fly, is Revali's gale then just an absurdly strong variation of some kind of sky Arcanum that all Rito possess? Do all the races possess one as Well?

Slimes ate the Bokoblins in the tree base at the center of the west Hyrule fields.

Savelle is a helpful guy without a pension for violence.

Munk Shae Loya is just flexing on all the other Munks, those old farts need to sit down while he's been squatting on one leg the last 10'000 years.

Chork of the Tabantha Bridge Stable is drunk.

Toren is either naive or a simp for the Faireys.

If you have the Hylian hood equipped with no weapon while riding at max speed then your cape will flap.

"Sweet boy..." "...I see now that my first impression of you was correct. You most definitely are pleasant to look at." 

So link has some kind of presence/soul-thingy that appears pleasant to mystical creatures? Might be the spirit of the hero or this link in particular.

The Fairy Kaysar makes Link blush! No player input needed! We’ve found one of his types!... either that or he's just shy.

The fairies almost never use normal materials to enchant, it's always either monster parts that don't dissipate or things that grow in magical arias.

The Sheikah towers are sturdy as all hell, the Tabantha tower did not even get a scratch from a giant fucking pillar falling on it.

Okay, am I just crazy or is a Lizardfo and a Moblin holding a class for 5 bokoblins just to the left of the Tabanta fairy fountain!?

Lester, the wise curry rice guy at Rito Stable, describes Link as sunny boy, another point to the soul/aura theory thingy.

Phontos laughs to hide the pain.

According to the story that Kass sings. 

Calamity Ganon was the result of sealing the enemy at its source.

It fought not only the spawn of the Goddess and the bearer of the Spirit Of The Hero but also the army of Guardians and the Champions that piloted the Divine Beasts for quite some time, as implied in the "and the guardians protected them throughout every hour".

So what i get from this is that the attack 10 000 years ago was the first sighting of what we know as calamity Ganon. 

It was also far stronger than the one that attacked 100 years ago which implies that that one was either a rush job or that Ganon bounds had been tightened, both of which would drive him to seek out other methods like corrupting the Guardians.

...And the Guardians are apparently powered by the ancient blue energy which was, time-line wise, first shown when the Golden Goddesses created the world.

No wonder that Ganon was capable of doing this since he most likely is running on fumes, spite and the power of the Triforce which likely is made of/channels said energy.

According to the rumor mill, you need the blood of the Hero in your veins to wield the Master Sword, if this is accurate then that means that Fi is sentimental or that Link has magic blood.

Wildberrys are fucking massive.

Genli (the salmon child) is a cunt, one kid was crying about someone Vah Medoh killed and then Genli is all like "no don't stop it, if you do then i have to go to class again!", She would fit right in with today's youth.

Monk Akh Va'quot has the best position so far, he is just done with your shit.

"You adventurers are Crazy" -> "you're right"

You get nothing if you melt all the ice by the Tabantha tower! You lose! Good day sir!

Monk Daka Tuss got bored during his self-inflicted quarantine and started stacking his arm bands.

Tula (the bathing Zora) said "wow either you are a Hylian or hideously deformed"

Phura has vandalized and mounted one of the spirit frog statues above her door.

Okay but the fucking noice that comes out of Bolson when you buy everything!! It's as if you just walked up and twisted his nuts with the power fit to shield block a Lynel’s charge.

Is the flower by Link's bed a Korok version of a Silent Princess?

The monsters of Hyrule are show to have interest in consumption based on three accounts. 

1: the Bocoblins and the Moblins by Hateno bay steal cattle. 

2: Hynoxes carry around warriors foodstuffs. 

3: Moblins (or at least the ones by the camp near the Serenne stable/forgotten temple) have a resting animation where they dig through the dirt and stuff something down their goblet.

...not to mention that nearly every camp has a bit of meat roasting by the fire.

Koyin has joined the fan-club!

God, the Naydra snowfield is fucking loaded in chill-shromes!

Stasis is perfect for looking for ingredients in forests, just open it, look around and bam! No more hidey hoe.

Why no shiny text for hylia's statue!?

I really do not like that they changed Naydra's colors when the malice was removed, they were so cool and then bam! White! White is not the color for ice and cold!

When praying by the spring of wisdom you are facing Hyrule castle, the same with courage and power if my memory serves me right.

...The master Torch

The Katona Aug shrine is just fucking mini-golf, how is that meant to prepare the hero?! Imagine how that Monk goes to the afterlife and has to look his fellows straight in the eye and admit that he was so lazy that not only did he make the hero play golf, not only was he so lazy that he made the Hero play mini-golf, but that he was so lazy that he did not even make a course! It is literally just a straight line!

Robie wants to see Links scars to verify that he is who he says that he is, Robie was likely one of the ninja that took Link to the shrine of resurrection.

Oh and Robin has two interesting sketches in his lab, the first is a detailed graph of a Sheikah tower so those were likely known about long before Link activated one (the one closest to Robin would be the one covered in malice and guardians so he could not have gotten enough detail from that one).

And the other is a sketch of what I believe is either a tier 2 or tier 3 guardian scout. Now, how can Robin know how that looks if only Link can/could enter shrines?

The Sheikah shrine that has the Barbarian helm is located at the end of the Sinai maze, did they just plop the shrine down there and steal the treasure of the ruin to later present to the hero?

There is one usable room in the citadel.

There is no compendium slot for the malice eyes that litter Naydra, Hyrule Castle and the Divine Beasts.

You can change the element of already elemental slime, not just the neutral kind.

Those head-spitting fuckers inside the divine beasts! They are partially reanimating mobs! So it's not that the Blood Moon is the time where Ganon is at his strongest, it's just where he chooses to revive everything.

The edge of duality can also be found in the shrine at the top of the dueling peaks.

[chuckbass-love]

Hey darlin’! Your Henry Cavill fic was incredible! If your requests are open, how about one with some fluffy smut with Henry and reader after they’ve put their daughter to bed?

I hope this is good enough because i want this to be perfect! Also thank you for the kind words about the last Henry fic, i was so nervous to upload anything for him for the first time but seeing everyone’s reactions. I’m glad i did! Glad you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it.

I was supposed to upload Sunday. But i’m off to my sisters today, to stay the night and then Saturday i’m working. So i wanted to give this to you early!

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count: 1,354

Warnings: fluff and smut

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @jacquellinejoy go check them out 💕

Forever and Always 

You arrive home after what feels like forever at the office, your feet kill and your back aches so being able to kick your heels off is heaven to you.

You hear some noises coming from upstairs followed by a loud scream. You rush up to find out what’s going on, only to discover that your husband is giving your 2 year old a bath. She hates baths and you never manage to give her one without her kicking up a fuss.

You lean in the doorway, watching on as she splashes half of the water onto him, soaking his shirt, it’s now see through. Not that you mind.

“Looks like your shirt needs changing” you mock, his head shoots round to find you staring down at him.

“Hey baby, how was work?” he stands up, leaving Rosie to play for a couple of minutes.

His lips brush past yours quickly before you kiss him.

“Work was fine, missed you two too much though” he chuckles. 

“Tell you what, you go change, put your feet up and i’ll do bedtime duty tonight” a soft smile forms it’s way on your lips at the thought. 

“You really are the best husband and father ever aren’t you?” his eyebrows raise, nodding his head in agreement.

You kiss him once more before going to greet your daughter.

“Rosie baby, be good for daddy okay?” she squeals, splashing her hands in the bath water and soaking you in the process.

“She’s all yours big guy” he swats your ass as you walk of, causing you to gasp.

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

“Well, it’s safe to say, she is out for the count. It only took 4 bedtime stories. 1 song and a whole bunch of cuddles” you lift your head up from the book you’re so engrossed in to find your husband stood there, still in his wet clothes as he places the baby monitor down onto the coffee table.

“You should really change babe before you sit down” he just rolls his eyes making his way back up the stairs to change, making sure to be extra quiet so he doesn’t wake her up.

“Is this any better?” he wonders in, wearing just some pyjama bottoms. No shirt.

You put your bookmark in the book and place it down, crossing your right leg over your left, squeezing them together. 

You can’t help but ogle him. You always feel so lucky to have him as your husband and not just because of his looks and sexy body but his personality. The way he’s so gentle and caring and his heart is made of gold.

He sits down next to you, pulling you onto his chest to rest your head whilst he strokes your hair.

“So when are you back at work?” you ask, nervous to know the answer.

“Next week, so i’ll have to contact Jen and see if she’s free to have Rosie” you shake your head.

“No need, my mom offered to have her. I spoke to my boss, he’s gonna help out with hours so i can spend as much time with her whilst you’re out”

He kisses your forehead. 

“I love you so much, you know that right?”

“I do and luckily for you Mr Cavill, i love you too”

You lift your head up as you say it, his beautiful blue eyes, staring into yours, making your legs turn to jelly. Just like he did the first time you met him all those years ago.

He gets down on his knees in front of you, smirking.

“What’re you doing?”

“Just relax okay?”

He lifts your night dress up, exposing the fact that you have no underwear on.

His breathing hitches. 

“No panties?”

You gasp the second his mouth takes your clit, sucking on it.

His tongue laps over your folds, no part left alone. He’s always been incredible at this. You’re never left complaining when he finishes.

“Cum for me darling”

Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly. You can feel it, it’s coming. You know it’s not going to take long.

“Oh shit, Henry” you cry out, hands in his hair, trying to push him off but he keeps going. Taking all of what you have to offer before lifting his head and sitting down next to you.

“You really are the sweetest little thing”

You get on top of him, straddling him. You lift up to give him room to remove his pyjama bottoms and he lines himself up with your entrance. You sink down slowly. 

Nothing rough about this time, it’s slow and romantic. 

“You’re always so big” you hiss, his cock stretching you out again. 

You can still recall the time you first had sex. 

Henry was your first and to this day, he still doesn’t know. You wanted to seem like you had everything together, like you were mature enough for him, which of course you were but the only thing that would have said otherwise was your lack of experience in the sex department. 

So you never told him. He was the first and the only man to ever have you and you know he won’t be mad but you’re nervous to say anything.

“You always take me so well, god i love the way you feel” he groans, letting you bounce up and down slowly. Your head buried in his neck. 

His hands roam your body before resting on your hips.

“Here, let me help you darling”

He moves slightly as his hips buck up, thrusting into you with such ease. Your head falls back and he takes the opportunity to kiss your breasts. His tongue circling over your hardened nipples as he sucks. 

“I’m gonna cum Henry” his thrusting pace picks up slightly at your announcement. 

You can quite literally feel it building and building.

Your legs start to shake a little as you cum all over him, his thumb rubbing at your clit to help. 

Your legs are still going, the overstimulation is a lot. 

He doesn’t stop though.

“Let me” you move his hands away and continue as much as you can to bounce up and down, grinding your hips in a circle each time he bottoms out.

“Keep going baby” he grunts, you can tell he’s close. His face gets all flushed and his mouth hangs open whenever he’s about to.

“Just like that, oh shit” you continue with all the usual tricks that send him into a moaning mess. 

And just like that he reaches his peak, pulling you close to him, his arms wrap around your body.

His lips crash to yours passionately and you feel his love.

“I got something to tell you”

He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, staring into your eyes.

“What is it love?” one of the many nicknames he has for you, makes the zoo return to your stomach.

“I lied to you when we first met” he motions for you to continue

“I was a virgin when we first had sex, i told you that i wasn’t because i had a feeling that you’d no longer be interested if i said i was”

He chuckles, your forehead resting on his.

“I already knew you were”

You move back, looking at him with a shocked expression.

“It was obvious, for starters, you were ridiculously tight. I could tell you were in pain for the majority of it, despite you waving it off as me just being the biggest you’d had, i could tell and you had no clue what you were doing”

That smug bastard.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you i guess, i could tell it was something you felt insecure about so i left it. Plus, i fancied the pants off of you and didn’t wanna risk making you feel like crap if i planned to be with you forever”

You feel your heart melt. Your smile is huge and cheesy as roll your eyes at him.

“Forever huh?” you mock

“That’s right baby, your stuck with me now. Just me, you and little Rosie. Forever and Always

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

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[unholyplumpprincess]

Winner Winner Porkchop Dinner

Cryptage commission for @trashyoctopus !

Summary: Crypto and Mirage are set up on a blind date, with neither knowing that it was each other. Rivalry COULD have gotten in the way, if Elliott wasn’t too fucking pretty for his own good.

(Older content)

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog the fics you like :D Minors and ageless blogs DNI or you will be blocked!

Relationship: Crypto/Mirage

Fandom: Apex legends

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, both Crypto and Mirage are cis, anal sex/fingering, Crypto being a bottom baby, tears, overstimulation, fucking on the floor

Words: 3.2K

_______________

Dating for legends was rather difficult. In a world that saw you as stars, people could become rather obsessive. Crypto was no stranger to the ‘starstruck’ vision upon seeing a legend. He had been one of the people who had set up the drones to broadcast them all fighting, after all. It was no different to him to pick and choose favorites.

Except now he WAS a legend. Walked among them the same way they walked with him. Partners or rivals, it didn’t matter.

Dating, again, for legends was rather difficult- and yet, Elliott Witt, better known as ‘Mirage’, famous trickster of the arena. Well, he got along just fine.

Or so he had made it seem.

~Rest under the cut~

Elliott talked a big game. Had a big mouth, for that matter. Talked about both men and women he could charm, even those who fit neither category. Last, of which, he boasted whilst making finger gun motions at Bloodhound who had waved him off with a ‘shoo’ motion as if he was a horny dog.

Something Crypto thought to be rather amusing when the flirty legend had pouted in response.

Being among them all, he’s learned they’re all much like a family. Romance could blossom between specific people within their circle, he’d seen it himself with Wraith eyeing Anita from across a room. Only to look away the second the woman’s eyes looked back at him and he’d pretended he’d never seen her looking.

Because loving while being part of this bloodied sport wasn’t an option. To stay available and don’t let feelings get in the way of how brutally they could kill each other. Only to wake up again like it never happened, except now you hold a grudge in your heart for the pain one caused you.

All for sport- entertainment.

Yet, the sponsors seemed to go crazy if they could see one of the legends being soft. The media loved it too. When someone like Wraith had seen her teammate, Bangalore, get knocked- normally she wouldn’t have thought twice about gunning down those around her and going back for the beacon. However, you could see her hesitate, flick her head back and run for her downed squad mate with an open portal to safety.

This is when Crypto truly began to get interested. Media where he was from- if someone was that popular, they would have been KILLED for daring to date someone. It wouldn’t have made them ‘available’ for minds all around. But, it seemed media across all planets alike delighted in the idea of love blossoming in war.

He’d watched it himself online. Different articles popping online. How Wraith would huff and throw a magazine across the legends’ lounge room or toss it at Elliott who’d playfully tease her about it.

It affected legends as well.

And when he’d picked up the magazine and looked at the headline, with a still of Wraith and Anita making eye contact whilst picking one another up, with the words ‘LOVE IN KINGS CANYON?’?

Well. Maybe he wouldn’t mind it if something like this affected him either.

It’s why he agrees to this stupid blind date thing. A mutual of his, someone he didn’t quite trust but she was at least a nice enough person, had a brilliant idea of a blind date. Said she knew someone who was JUST his type. There was no need for awkward ‘do you like girls or boys?’ conversations to happen, thankfully he knew it was at least a man he was meeting.

Crypto could only feel anxiety when he woke up that morning. Twisting in his stomach about who they could be. What did they look like? Would they mind if he was a quiet person? Would they worry and fret too much over him not talking the whole time? Would they be funny? Would they have curly hair- long hair- were they kind?

So many questions.  

The unknown made him paranoid.

The woman leads him to a nice café. Crypto, for the date, adorned an oversized black hoodie that’s left unzipped, a lower black face mask with a filter on it, a low cut white shirt and ripped black skinny jeans. He felt more punk than anything, but it was casual for a setting like this. Except, perhaps, all of the jewelry he wore around his neck.

She guides him to the back to sit down, a nice little area while she excitedly chirps that she’ll be right back with his date.

Crypto’s on edge the entire three minutes and twenty two seconds she is gone. Fussing with a little fidget toy in his pocket to keep a hand busy and keeping his other resting on the table in case he needed to jab at someone.

Prepared, not paranoid.

The chatter of the café is quiet. The music is soft, and yet his shoulders are taut.

But then he sees her walking back over, someone behind her, taller, curly hair-

“Oh! Hey, buddy!” Comes from the man as he comes padding over excitedly like a dog, sitting in front of Crypto with a big, dimpled smile on his face.

Elliott Witt.

No fucking way.

Crypto’s eyes widen, and he looks up at their mutual friend who passes him a wink and a, “Have fun, boys!” Before she’s off.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Elliott continues with a bit of a laugh exhaling from him. Fiddling with his hands uncharacteristically in his lap. Nervous, it appeared, as Crypto’s eyes smooth over his frame. “S-so ya’ like coffee? No- no it was tea, right? I can order for us! Er, Wraith was saying sometimes you come out at night and make tea?” Definitely nervous.

He cleaned up well enough without wearing his sponsors or his gear for that matter. A v neckline on a black t-shirt that was form hugging, a yellow and black printed flannel with the sleeves rolled up just above his elbows to show strong, hairy forearms. Form fitting black jeans hugged him just as well and his hair was styled to the side. Curls looking washed and fresh with their fluffy texture.

He cleaned up extremely well.

Elliott is fussing again, nervously displaying his hands out on the table as he fusses with his hands. Crypto can’t help but think it’s kind of...endearing.

They’d been rivals on the battlefield ever since their first match together. Mark on the scoreboard, he supposed that may have been his fault for counting and rubbing it in Elliott’s face. But...

“Tea would be nice.” He finally speaks up, cutting Elliott off as he pulls his mask down to rest around his neck so he could prepare.

He watches Elliott’s eyes light up like an excited dog’s, nodding his head quickly as his curls move with the motions. “Yeah! Y-yeah, yeah of course, gimme a sec. Preference?”

And that’s how they spent that afternoon. Not as legends, or as rivals. But as two people set up on a blind date and enjoying one another’s company. Even laughed when Elliott had sputtered and quietly shout-whispered the question of ‘YOU HAVE A TONGUE PIERCING?!’ when Crypto had stuck his tongue out.

Crypto hated to admit it. But he had a great time.

And then an even better time the time after that, and then the next. Aaaand another.

Until the new headlines were now saying ‘LOVE BLOSSOMING IN NEW “MELTDOWN” ARENA?’ with their faces on it.

--

Their relationship was under wraps. No one knew, no one was allowed to know in full, but the media could speculate. That much Elliott allowed. Little teases to the public whilst Crypto preferred not to do interviews.

Their relationship blossoms from there. They become close- turns out they both had missing family members. Crypto opens up about his sister, Mila. While Elliott opens up about his brothers. He speculates they may have passed in war, but that he holds out hope. While Crypto opens up that he worries that she was killed, and that if she wasn’t, that she was not in agony.

There, they build their foundation on. Trust and love. Opening up to each other slowly. Elliott is much easier to open up about himself and his interests, Crypto is harder. He doesn’t talk anymore on his past from his sister or his mother, only bits and pieces. He allows Elliott into his life slowly, more and more until one another cannot stand to sleep alone.

Wraith teases Elliott nowadays on who is making goo-goo eyes now. Crypto over hears it through the walls and tries not to smile at their antics.

It’s in the ring they have to be more mindful. After the first guess of their relationship, Crypto had to explain to Elliott that though his partner may have loved the cameras, Crypto did not. The attention became too much, and Elliott immediately made that all die down. With his charming smile and a joke about how if he had chosen someone to settle down with, don’t you think he’d be all over them?

Oh, he was all over them. Crypto couldn’t go a day without hands jerking him close. Even if at first he had rolled his eyes and huffed at it, Elliott quickly found out that this tough cookie was just giving him a rough time. Especially when Crypto would give up the ruse and lean back into him.

No, it’s in the ring they have to be careful. Otherwise, anywhere else? Free game. Other legends could shut their lips.

Hence why this match was going rather roughly.

Mirage, Crypto, and Lifeline all on the same squad. Ajay makes a joke about ‘old times’ and how they should keep score again. Playfully bumping Crypto’s hip with her own and earning her a bit of a smirk before it’s turned to Elliott with a cocky look and a soft hum of, “I am sure that the old man has learned his lesson.”

Which earns him wide eyes, a gaped mouth, and, “Hey! Not that again!” Before Ajay is shoving them both off the dropship for round two.

The teasing in the ring could be seen as rivalry. They do count the kills, oh they do. Crypto keeps the lead by one point as Ajay keeps score. They bicker and huff the entire time, especially when Ajay takes down a newbie that was hanging in the back and trying to get a drop on them.

At some point they are under squad fire, a grenade heading their way and rolling on the ground. Ajay calls it out from afar, Crypto is the one who spots it.

His fingers twist in Elliott’s coat, yanking him close to his body and throwing their bodies to the side so it only can get a fraction of their shields.

The tension in the corner of the room with Crypto on top of him, both panting and looking into each other’s eyes. So close and so good-

Is their ultimate down fall when they’re shot in the back.

Ajay at least laughs about it in the med bay, saying that, “Ya looked like a proper married couple. Keep ya heads down, ya hear me?” With a tease.

And then a call back, “Oh! Crypto? Two points in the lead.”

--

There’s a gasp as Crypto’s back hits the door of Elliott’s dorm. Inside his room as Elliott fits a leg between his thighs, grabbing his chin and tilting it down ever so slighty so he could devour his mouth. They were about equal heights, with Crypto maybe being an inch taller. Something he took a bit of amusement in.  

But right now, that’s not on his mind. What is, is the pressure on his cock through his pants. How Elliott’s tongue licks into his mouth. Feeling over the piercing on Crypto’s tongue and groaning in reply when Crypto’s hands fists into his jacket and yank him closer.

Their mouths move in sync. Having kissed each other a hundred times over, they know their pace. Crypto presses, sinking his teeth into Elliott’s full lower lip just to hear him let out a shaky breath through his nose in response. His hands come up, fisting Elliott’s curls and tugging him closer with a growl.

The knee between Crypto’s thighs presses up, grinding until he’s pulling back with a whine, head thunking back against the door. This leaves him open for Elliott’s mouth to kiss at his exposed neck, mindful of where the cybernetics were most exposed and aiming for the sensitive wiring. His teeth lightly bite into the flesh feeling silicone, feeling Crypto yelp in reply with pleasure as his leg hitches around Elliott’s waist.

He’s biting his lip, keeping quiet and stubbornly trying to yank on Elliott’s hair. That won’t do.

“Think you can embarrass me like that in the ring, baby?” Elliott’s voice is steady in situations like this. His stutter maintained if he tried not to think about it too hard. His breath hot on the shell of Crypto’s ear as his tongue follows, just to feel him shudder against him.

He’s melting. He couldn’t stand being a brat for too long.

“T-think you just- ah- can't keep up.” Is Crypto’s haughty reply, followed by a huff when Elliott’s hand moves from caressing his cheek to his hair. Yanking on it to pull his head to the side to expose the other said of Crypto’s neck for another onslaught of kisses and hot bites. Pushing at his jacket with his other hand until it falls to the floor and Elliott can bite at the crook of his shoulder instead. Sucking a dark bruise there.

“Really?” Elliott breathily laughs. Tripping up Crypto behind his knee before pulling him by his hair to the floor. Watching him hit his knees almost too easy and looking up at Elliott with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Because from what I saw, you just about bent over for me in front of a camera.”

A sniper position, one so open that Crypto wouldn’t normally take. Lying prone to get a good shot- that's what he’d told Ajay. But he knew exactly what he was doing when he shifted his hips eeever so slightly for the trickster behind him.

He huffs through his nose, embarrassed at being caught, looking to the side. But, Elliott coos under his breath, catching his chin and dragging his gaze back up. “No, no, none of that. C’mon, kitten, you can make it up to me, can’t you?”

The nickname has Crypto’s cheeks flushing red to his ears. Surely spreading down over his chest as Elliott works on his own pants. Pulling out his cock, the head shiny with pre-cum when he smooths his hand over it a few times. Pumping to show how hard he was, pulling back foreskin and making Crypto’s mouth water.

He huffs again through his nose, followed by a whine. He about chokes when Elliott smirks, “Theeere’s my good boy. See? Can’t be mad at me for long.”

No, no, he couldn’t. Especially with his mouth stuffed full of cock and his fingers desperately pawing at Elliott’s hips not a few minutes later. Cryptos own clothing removed and his own cock aching as Elliott cradles his jaw, fingertips pressing lightly to feel the bulge in it every time he slides into his throat. Another appreciation for his piercing met every time he swipes it over the swollen head.

Crypto’s sure he’s drooling. Even by the time Elliott pulls out and is calling him a good boy. Even with the bed in the next room, Elliott can’t seem to wait. Lying Crypto down on the living room floor on his belly as he finds lube left behind on the coffee table from their LAST root around. Squirting a generous amount onto his fingers and working one into Crypto. Caressing his hip with his other hand and petting, telling him he’s a good boy, good baby.

Crypto hums in reply, cheek resting on his crossed arms under his head like a pillow. Cock jumping under his body, trapped and caged. By the time two fingers are in him, he’s sure he’s going to leave a stain on Elliott’s rug. Rocking his hips both into the rug for friction and back onto his fingers.

“Yeah, just like that. Keep it up, sweetheart.” Elliott is full of praise when he slips in a third finger. Making Crypto bite into his arm and shudder with each twist of fingers, scissoring them outwards and crooking them upwards.

A spurt of pre-cum leaves his cock and he can’t help the sob as his hips jump a bit as if stomping his foot. “Fuck me! Just- just fuck me, Elliott, I can’t take this!” Crypto hisses out, earning him a laugh from his boyfriend and an ‘alright, alright’.

He’s rolled onto his back. From there it’s a blur. The slow enter of Elliott leads to his legs around the trickster’s hips, arms around his neck and burying his face into his shoulder. No clothing between them, naked chest to naked chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

Crypto’s cock is jostled with each thrust. Grinding up against Elliott’s slightly fuzzy abdomen and providing enough friction to keep him very much interested. Even if Elliott is hitting just right to where pleasure bubbles in his abdomen like butterflies.  

His teeth sink into Elliott’s shoulder just as Elliott begins fucking him harder. Whining into Crypto’s ear in response when the other tightens his hold around his waist. Biting at the shell of his ear, nuzzling at his hair, murmuring praise just below his ear where his lips brush and his stubble scratches pleasantly.

Crypto cums suddenly and without the warning of budding heat. It happens with a shock and his nails rake down Elliott’s back with a cry. “I love you- I love you I love you--” Escapes his lips in soft sobs as his hips buck upwards into Elliott’s abdomen. Smearing the cum there, which will make for a mess to clean up later.

Instead, Elliott only groans at the sudden tightness and whines back, “Fuck, I love you-” As his hips piston into his boyfriend beneath him.

It’s all too much. Crypto’s eyes are welling with tears from overstimulation. His legs tighten even further, giving Elliott not a lot of room to work with except grind. And even then it’s all too much.

He sobs as a dry orgasm wracks his frame, just in time to hear Elliott deliciously moan in his ear like a whore as he cums. Pressing a hard kiss to Crypto’s temple as they hold each other through it all on the floor.

With a satisfied sigh and tension leaving both their frames, Elliott carefully peels back to assess the damage. Looking down at Crypto splayed out, legs still locked around his hips but looser, his hands resting by his head and his head turned to the side. Face flushed, eyes teary, lips wet and swollen.

He looked beautiful.

Elliott says so too, with a soft sigh of, “Absolutely gorgeous.” As he cups Crypto’s chest with one hand. Running his thumb over a nipple just to watch him jerk and moan softly, smacking at his hand with a grumble.

He may have lost in the ring, but in the bedroom, Elliott ‘Mirage’ Witt always won.

Always.

[reapers-carino]

Ife Mi

Five months had passed since that fateful night and each day had felt like blissful paradise and anxious agony. Akande Ogundimu’s face had been plastered on every news station, domestic and international, for a month after his escape. The news speculated over who broke him out, how or if he was involved in the death of the sketchy Venitian businessman Augustin Venturo, and what plans the man had since he had escaped. You, of course, had been interviewed by several different authorities;  the Numbani Police Department, the Nigerian Armed Forces, and even Interpol. Each interview had ended in failure, however. There was no footage that showed the man at your compound of a home, nor was there any evidence, scenting or otherwise, that indicated that the man had even made contact with you in recent months. So after each individual interview, you ended up back at home, patiently waiting for the signal that you would soon be reunited with your mate.

Sighing softly, your eyes darted away from the news reel that scrolled lazily along the bottom of your vanity’s mirror and up to the picture from your mating/marriage ceremony and celebration. That had been one of the happiest days of both of your lives, the smiles stretched across both of your faces so genuine and gleeful. Akande and you were both dressed in rich, bright reds; your crimson gele and iro embroidered with hand-stitched golden flowers and hundreds of shimmering pearlescent beads. Your buba was a golden cream in color, the beading a softer pink in color with a neckline that showed off your collarbones and shoulders. Akande’s sokoto and buba were the same gold-cream color as your own, his agbada and fila a more masculine version of your gele and iro. You were tucked neatly against his side, his arm wrapped tight around your waist as the both of you stared into one another’s eyes as if you were the only two people that existed in the world. It had been a beautiful day, a mere few months after his accident and subsequent prosthesis installation. Your fingers trailed over the picture in the mirror, smiling melancholy before you remembered why you had initially sat down.

The shea and argan creme that you had been untwisting your hair with laid forgotten, half of your hair had been untwisted, the other half still stuck in those two strand twists that you had patiently plaited your hair into the night before. Dipping your fingers in the creme, you began the dance again; zoning out as you made your way through the rest of your hair. Carefully you pushed the twisted curls up using your fingertips, gelling down your edges and smiling contently as you wrapped a scarf around them.

“Wow...que bonito. But god that took forever”

Your eyes went round, grabbing the blaster pistol that was affixed to the underside of your vanity. There was no one in the mirror and no discernible scent in the air that your nose could catch onto. Jumping up, your vanity seat flew back, almost clattering to the ground as you turned, only to have the seat stop inches from the ground.

“What the--”

The chair slowly lifted up from its impossible hovering position before being stood upright once more.  Pointing your gun in the general direction of the chair, your eyes darted left then right and left again, still unable to see who, or what, was in the room with you.

“You should be careful with where you point that thing.”

You barely bit back a snarl as you twisted to see just where in the hell the voice was coming from, confusion wrinkling your brow. It felt like she was mocking you, playing

“Hey calm down, I’m a friend.”

The voice practically purred from right next to her, a scarf appearing from thin air and dropping onto your chair. The scent slammed into you like a wall, knees wobbling briefly as your grip on the pistol weakened before tightening. Sunflower and nutmeg and amber with the delicious tinge of citrus, the scent of an impending rut wrapping so tightly around your senses you thought you might choke. Tears stung traitorously in your eyes as you slowly lowered your pistol, knowing there was no way anyone would have gotten such a strongly scented item from Akande without his permission.

“There you go…”

A woman glimmered to life in front of you; long, dark hair dyed and side shaven, warm brown skin accented by varying shades of purple, blue and indigo. The mischievous smirk that creased her lips gave you pause before she extended her hand to you, long nails--no gloves, perhaps both--gently scratching the back of your hand as you shook her’s.

“Akande sent me to pick you up”, she said nonchalantly, letting your hand go with a flourish of her hand, turning her back on you. “He said he’d come himself buuut, you know. The whole being wanted thing. Nice place you have here…”

“Who are you”, you asked incredulously as she walked around your bedroom as if it was her own, picking up pictures and objects curiously before placing them down and glancing over her shoulder at you once more.

“You can call me Sombra. So...you going to go pack? We don’t have all day.”

You had stood frozen as she galavanted around the room, before shaking your head as she directly spoke to you once more. This was not the time to freeze, it was finally time for you to unite with your mate and to never be separated from him again. You had packed a bag the night of his initial visit, a small one with a few outfits, your necessary toiletries and an encrypted photo album that held images from the decades you had spent together. You slid a few pieces of sentimental jewelry on before grabbing the bag from the closet and quickly snatching up the scarf. A low purr started in your chest, giving the scarf a gentle nuzzle and a quick sniff. Shiver rolling down your spine, you resisted the urge to close your eyes and lose yourself within his aura before your eyes found Sombra’s again. She looked like the cat that had caught the canary as she sauntered over, patting you on the shoulder sympathetically, you thought, before moving past you.

“Aw don’t look so shy”, she teased, the lilt of a barely contained chuckle in her voice. “It has been a while. Maybe you can help the big guy unwind.”

You could feel the flush climb up your cheeks and down into your chest but you refused to cow to this joker of a girl.

“That was the plan”, you hummed softly, following behind the younger woman as she began to walk out of the door, willing the burn of your cheeks to dissipate. “How do you intend to get us out of here unseen? If you hadn’t noticed, his escape has painted a very persistent target on my back.”

“Oh don’t worry about that”,Sombra dismissed, sliding down the banister and jumping off with a flourish of her fingers. This time they glowed, purple lines running from the tips of her nails up her arms and all the way to the weird contraption on her back. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Brow furrowing, you weren’t exactly sure you followed, but if Akande had entrusted your trip to this woman...then you would trust him.

“Alright”, you answered confidently, quickly making your way down the stairs and stopping behind her. Sombra held up her hand briefly making you stop short before pulling up a purple-tinted holoscreen. Her fingers danced across the screen, your eyes briefly catching sight of what had to be surveillance of your home from several different feeds before everything froze.

“There we go...okay, keep your head low and let’s go.”

Parked outside of your home was a hover vehicle with one of the gaudiest, obnoxiously loud logo for a supposed ‘DF Pizza Service’. The cartoon lion on the front was holding a ‘thumbs up’ with one paw and in the other it held a very gooey and cheesy looking pizza. You couldn’t help but balk, eyes slowly trailing over to Sombra who was climbing in the back of the van. She actually snorted when she saw your disgusted expression before sweeping an arm out and motioning for you to hurry up.

“Oh god you guys have the same expressions”, she snorted, her nose wrinkling up as genuine laughter bubbled from her lips. “Pobrecito...I promise it’s a short ride and then you’ll get to be in your big, strong Alpha’s arms.”

Her tone dripped with sarcasm before she completely moved back into the vehicle. Huffing softly, you reluctantly climbed into the back of the vehicle, praying that this trip was just as quick as Sombra had implied.

Your stomach rolled as Sombra helped you off of the holo-ship, whether from anxiousness or the turbulence the two of you had dealt with the entire ride, you did not know. After the delivery truck, the two of you moved between two different holo-ships before you were finally delivered to what you could only guess was their current home base. There was an unassuming small building directly in front of you, with a large piece of land attached but much too small to hold more than one or two people snugly. There obviously must be more but first you’d get your solid ground footing back.

“Welcome to Talon HQ”, Sombra said as both your feet finally touched solid ground, you actually squeezing both of her hands in appreciation.

She had loosened up during the ride, sharing a few pictures that had been taken over the last few months. Most of them were candid and goofy, meals being eaten together, awkward exercise angles and even a few face masks. She was a peculiar person but you did not know if you would deem her as a bad person.

“Thank you so much”, you said, taking one unsteady step then another, holding on tight to your bag. Your eyes searched the horizon for some kind of sign of Akande before looking at Sombra confused. You knew he wouldn’t miss a chance to greet you, absolutely knew it.

Tipping her head forward, she silently indicated that you should walk towards the building in front of you. Biting back a soft whimper of disappointment, you took several steps forward before it felt like you had walked through a bubble. Stumbling forward you keened as a scent that smelled of home suddenly slammed into you, strong arms wrapping about you to keep you from falling. Tears sprang to your eyes, your heart jumping into your throat as you tilted your head up and locked eyes with Akande, the soft smile on his lips making your heart soar.

“De”, you whined out, dropping the bag in your hand and throwing your arms around his neck. He lifted you up effortlessly, your arms squeezing even tighter around him, a hiccup of an overjoyed sob leaving your mouth. “Oko mi...I have missed you.”

He delicately crushed you to his body, tempering his strength but holding you as closely as humanly allowed. His scent poured over you as he nuzzled into your neck, ears barely hearing the soft words he murmured as he kissed the top of your head and temples and cheeks. Wrapping your legs around his waist you leaned back slightly in his arms, your hands coming up to cup his face to study it and recommit everything to memory. Those gorgeous high cheekbones and rugged jaw, those brown eyes that shone with absolute adoration for you, the lips that kept interrupting your focus by kissing you once then twice then thrice. You pressed your forehead to his, breathing in deeply to quell your tears.

“Ife mi”, he breathed as he placed both hands snuggly under your ass, pushing you up ever so slightly higher. Your eyes looked into his almost shyly, your heart fluttering like it had the first time you had kissed, the first time you had mated, like every time he looked at you. “I have missed you.”

The tears returned, calmer but just as meaningful, pressing one small kiss against his lips then another and another before you absolutely melted into him. Warmth burst in your chest, melting down your body and to your toes, pooling lazily in your core. You had missed the softness of his lips, missed the way he kissed you so tenderly as if he worshiped you with each one. Your thumbs rubbed slow circles against his jawline as you tried to pull him even closer, a harsh shiver rolling down your spine at the quiet growl that began to rumble in his throat. Oh gods how you had missed your Alpha. The hand under your ass began to gently massage at the flesh through your shorts, a muted whine caught in your chest as your legs tightened around him. His scent was intoxicating you, his hands and lips and torso making your body feel like it was slowly being pushed towards the sun.

Your lungs began to burn as they demanded air from you, pulling you reluctantly from the kiss, your eyes peering open as you breathed against his lips.

“Gods I have missed you”, you breathed out, pressing a quick brief kiss to his lips before you heard exaggerated gagging from behind you.

“Dios mio”, Sombra ‘gagged’ from behind, your head twisting to more or less pout at the other woman. Her hand was over her middle, making another exaggerated ‘puking’ potion, purple x’d out skeletons ‘falling from her mouth’. “Get a room!”

Rolling your eyes you couldn’t help the small chuckle that spilled from your lips at the ridiculous show, the soft scoff from Akande not going unnoticed by you. Turning back to him, his lips had tugged down in a slight scowl, inching up as you kissed his cheek.

“The suggestion is not a bad one De”, you murmured near his ear, pulling back with a shrug of your shoulder and a suggestive smile on your lips.

The scent of his incoming rut was near overpowering and while you wanted to talk with the man and learn of what he had been up to when you were apart, the need to lay with your mate was even stronger. He smiled at you, the expression smaller but just as meaningful as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before gently letting you down. You purred softly as you reached down and picked up your bag, Akande quickly taking the bag out of your hand and giving a soft admonishing sniff.

“What a gentleman”, Sombra teased with a half snort before beginning to take the lead, walking towards the set of buildings that you had completely missed.

The small, decrepit building had turned into a fairly large, stylish pre-fab of sorts; it looked more like a small apartment building versus any kind of ‘villainous compound’. The outside was a simple white, material you did not know; it stood three stories high, was fairly wide and windowless although you couldn’t tell how far back it stretched. You vaguely wondered if it was Vishkar-made, the sharp corners, clean coloring and material screamed their design. Squeaking softly, you chuckled as Akande tucked you into his side, his left arm wrapping around your waist to pull you close.

“Let’s go.”

You nodded happily, nuzzling into the side of his chest, practically chirping with excitement as he maneuvered you forward. He teasingly swayed with you as you walked, the man’s thumb rubbing small circles into your side, a quiet chuckle leaving your lips at the normalcy of it all the. Sombra led the way, walking backwards for a brief moment before scoffing about the ‘lovebirds’ and turning back around. As soon as the three of you made it to the compound, she held up a hand.

“Hold it”, she said, Akande stopping you from pushing forwards, eyes looking at the both of them in confusion.

Sombra pressed her hand to the wall next to the door frame, hand briefly glowing purple before a holo-screen appearing against the surface before an electronic voice requested biometrics.

“Welcome, please look or press hand  onto the holo-pad.”

“There we go”, she said with a small smile before motioning at you, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Gotta add you into the system so the lasers don’t melt you.”

“Lasers”, you questioned as you took a half step foward, Akande’s hand still on your back, and pressing your left hand into the pad.

You flinched as you felt a small prick against your finger, brow furrowing as you looked back at Akande incredulously, receiving a headshake that said he would explain it to you later. Sombra gave a soft snort as the holo-pad gave a soft affirmative beep before the door slid opened, the small hacker walking through the door and not waiting to see if the two of you would follow behind. Akande’s arm tightened around your hips once more, pushing you through the door and leading you into the compound as the door closed with a soft hiss. For ‘international terrorists’, it looks like they lived very cozily.

The entryway had an open design, the sleek white of the outside giving way to black and white swirled marble flooring, two sets of black floating staircases leading to a second floor and a completely open kitchen. Overall it was very ‘modern’ but it wasn’t without its creature comforts. As Akande led you further in you were able to see the recessed living room area filled to the brim with various pillows and handheld gaming systems and a small table in the center had a basket filled with snacks from all over the world. The kitchen’s stainless steel fridge was covered in various magnets and notes with one ‘reminder-chore’ holo-board affixed to the top. You also noticed three different coffee machines, a tea kettle and a tea press along the counter as well as more instant coffees packets/pouches than you think you had ever seen. It appeared that those were Sombra, the petite hacker making her way to them and riffling through until she found one that fit her taste, smiling contently before she went to grab the tea kettle.

Curiosity tickled at your brain, but your need for privacy with your Alpha was stronger, Akande smiling as your fingers lasted with his as he began to climb the staircase to the right and you followed close behind him. The second floor looked extremely unassuming; a plush black rug running along the entirety of the floor, the only hint that there were rooms being the recessed rectangular biometric locks or handles that stood out against the bright white wall. Turning right, Akande went to the room at the very end of the hall, placing his hand against the door and ushering you in before locking the door behind him. You shivered, immediately blanketed in the scent home, the scent of your mate, your knees shaking as you took several steps further into the room.

The room was deceptively much larger inside than you would have guessed from the outside, rivaling the size of your master bedroom back at home. You smiled at the color scheme of the entire room, the rich golds and cremes and tans accented with pops of crimson and jade and deep mahogany. A bookshelf filled with physical books stood in one corner of the room, a large mahogany wardrobe standing on the opposite side, no doubt full of outfits tailored specifically for the well dressed man. Walking further in, you smiled at the limestone flooring under your feet, no doubt from the same stonemason in Ogun that had laid the floors in your home outside of Numbani.

He even had pictures sprinkled around the room; pictures of his parents and his family, pictures of just you, pictures of your mating-wedding day, pictures of his championship win. His gauntlet sat in a clear case, important but obviously not as much as all of the other imagery he had portrayed in the room. Spinning around, you grinned widely at your husband and mate, the man returning the look as he opened his arms wide. You carefully toed off your sandals before running across the room and launching yourself into his arms, Akande effortlessly lifting you up as you buried your face into his shoulder and breathed his scent in.

Your head spun as you were assaulted by his scent once more, sweet spices and citrus and that beautiful floral amber scent twisting around you, making you moan low in your throat. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your hands gently traced up his spine as your lips dotted kisses against his deep umber skin, relishing in the subtle taste that was him. You had missed this, desperately so. Omegas weren’t meant to be separated from their Alphas so long, or at least that is what the romantic tragedies would have you think. They wrote of a gnawing emptiness that would ruin you spiritually, leaving you a husk of what you once were before destroying you physically. That or it could drive an omega literally insane and make an Alpha go feral. Of course those were nothing but old wives tales, old superstitions from a bygone time used to discourage breakups or separations. But with the way you clung to Akande, you had to wonder if there was a sliver of truth in the lie.

Your lips continued their journey, skipping over the tank her wore and kissing from where his neck and shoulder met, licking hungrily over his mating mark and smiling lustfully at the full body shudder that rushed through Akande. His hands tightened on your hips, fingers digging into your ass as he began to massage you gently through your clothes, a low rumble of desire starting in his chest. You chuckled breathily as you pulled away from his neck, littering kisses up his neck to his jaw until you could press your forehead against his. His ochre eyes bore into your own, hunger, desire and unbridled need burning a hole into you and sending fire straight into your core.

Akande growled possessively as he pressed a searing kiss against you lips, a low moan catching in your throat before you responded, your hands cupping the back of his head and pushing him closer. Your back arched as he nibbled lightly at your bottom lip, lightning passing from where you lips touched through your nipples and straight into your slick drenched cunt. His tongue gently lapped at your bottom lip asking for entrance, your lips parting instantly to grant him passage. You whined as your tongues mingled, the taste of his morning coffee still lingering on his tongue, clinging to him as he began to walk you towards the bed. Clawing at the back of his neck your toes curled as he explored every inch of your mouth with his own, stopping only when he dropped you unceremoniously onto the bed. Squeaking softly, you bounced off of the bed, Akande still standing and locking you in place with a smoldering stare. You felt so vulnerable and needy at the same time, your hands teasingly tracing up your body and squeezing gently at your breasts to further tempt the man into taking you.

“Please Alpha…I need you…”

Akande sharply inhaled as he pulled the shirt he was wearing up and over his head quickly, tossing it to the side and climbing onto the bed. The bed dipped as Akande trapped you between his knees, the man straddling you as his hands dove under the high cut tunic top you wore, pushing the fabric up and over your head. He wanted, no, needed to see you. His hands returned to your waist, his eyes locked on the rising and falling of your chest behind the thin material of your cup-less bra, your eyes turning up to gaze up at him docilely. His breathing hitched for a brief second before you turned your head to the left and tilted your head upwards exposing your neck to him once more, a silent plea for your Alpha to take you as his once more.  Akande would not wait for another invitation.

His hands smoothed up your sides and over your breasts, crying out as he rolled both your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Your hips rolled, arching off of the bed and towards him, whimpering needily as your hands shakily tried to reach back to unhook your bra. The fighter chuckled huskily his hands dragging away from your breasts briefly and yanking the material apart like it was tissue paper. Akande’s hands removed the torn fabric, cupping both breasts tenderly and dipping his head down, his tongue circling around your nipple and suckling hungrily. Stars danced in your eyes, a whimpering cry escaping from your throat as you grabbed the back of his head and pressed him closer. He dragged himself away from your nipple and to the swell of your breast, pressing hard kisses and nips to your heated skin, nipping at your collarbone and kissing his way up to your mark. Your nails dug deep into his shoulders as his lips crashed against your mark, a broken sob tumbling from your lips as his teeth grazed the spot that tied you to one another.

“Please…”

You cried out as Akande pulled away, tears springing to your eyes as you looked to him in confusion, the ferocity his rut making his eyes practically glow, only tempered by the man’s need for control.

“Not yet beloved”, he sighed softly against your lips, shaking his head and pulling back once more.

Akande, even when your heats or his ruts came to pass, was never one to succumb completely to his baser instincts. Whether the man’s decades of training or his own dedication and patience you did not know but he would do thing his way while satisfying the need that ached inside of both of you. Pulling away from you, Akande sat back on his knees and began to completely disrobe you, easily lifting your body up to pull the bra off and sliding your shorts and underwear off in one smooth movement. Quickly he pulled his own loose shorts and and boxer briefs off, tossing them to the side as he loomed over you. Your mouth watered hungrily as you stared as his twitching cock, the head ruddy and dark, glistening with pre-cum that you just wanted to taste. There would be plenty of time for that later.

You whined as he pulled away from you, your heart thundering in your chest as you suddenly felt abandoned again without your Alpha’s touch. A desperate whine began in your throat, hushed quickly when his nails gently scratched at your outer thighs. Your toes curled slightly, back arching as you pressed into his touch and spread your legs slightly, hoping to lull him in with the pure scent of you. His husky chuckle sent waves of pleasure through your body, your heavy lidded eyes staring hungrily, biting your bottom lip hard as your husband, your Alpha moved closer. Yes, this is all you had wanted, had dream--

“O-Oh…”

The gasp that tumbled from your throat was barely audible as Akande didn’t move his body between your legs but instead laid his full body down, his face hovering directly over your dripping mound. Akande gave you a smirk that you knew only a jackal could match before diving in, your back arching off of the bed. Your mate was relentless, his arms wrapping tight around your thighs; both to keep you from moving and to stop you from snapping your legs closed. A sob was wrested from your throat as his tongue licked the soaked lips of your sex, honey-sweet slick quickly dripping to replace it. He drank from you like a man who had found an oasis in the desert, your body quivering as each lap of his tongue and suck from his lips would tear you apart. He was so warm, the silken heat of his tongue making your stomach twist up tighter and tighter, frenzied and needy whines leaving your throat as your hands came to rest on Akande’s head.

You could practically feel him grin against your sex, relinquishing your thighs, one arm wrapping around your hips to lock you in place while the other hand pressed right below your belly button to stop you from grinding against his face. He was merciful, his hand massaging your mons as he suckled at your clit, sending you over the edge as you pushed him even closer to you. He released your clit quickly before he began to drink hungrily from you, making a show of it as finally pulled back. His lips were covered in your essence as were his chin, Akande licking his lips slowly before wiping your juices from his chin and sucking it from his fingers. He was still not done with you however, sitting fully up and on his knees.

Akande’s hands were searing hot as they grabbed your hips and lifted them off of the bed until they were lined with his shaft, your hands balling into the sheets as anticipation churned in your belly. Bending over your body, he held you with his forearm, his hand dipping between both of your bodies so he could line himself up with your entrance, your toes curling and calves tensing as the head of his cock rubbed up and down before slipping in. Sharply sucking air in, gracious tears burning in your eyes and blurring your vision as he slipped inside of you bit by bit, bottoming out with low grunt. Euphoric nirvana made your vision bleary, legs wrapping needily around Akande’s waist to pull him close as he began to thrust into you, arms lifting to beg him to lean down. You were so full of him, his scent potent and desirous, your mind driven to frenzied longing by how he had set all of your senses aflame.  You needed him closer, needed to feel more of him, taste more of him, love more of him.

Akande obliged you, carefully leaning over so he didn’t slip out, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and moaning as he locked lips with you. Akande caught your cries against his lips as his hips pulled back and slammed back into you, his pace tempered but each thrust as ferocious as the last. Your nails dug into his back, lungs burning and stars dancing in your eyes as you finally broke the kiss, the slight taste of you mixed with him lingering on your tongue, turning your head away and gulping air into your lungs. Akande’s breath tickled the shell of your ear, the man’s head dropping next to your shoulder as his pace picked up, all of your nerves throbbing in tune with your quickening pulse.

“Ìfẹ́ mi…how I have missed you.”

His voice growled deep into your ears, a broken sob tumbling from your lips, your slick drenched walls tightening around him. He kissed your temple, the huskiness of his voice making your entire body tense and fall over the precipice of a small orgasm, twitching and crying out for him as your walls squeezed around him. A low rumble of desire started in his chest as he slowed for a brief second, pulling his hips back for a pregnant moment before slamming in, pulling a lustful scream of his name from your lips. You could feel him smile against your temple as his hips continued to pound into yours, kissing several times before his husky voice began to speak again.

“I have dreamed of hearing your voice everyday”,he purred low into your ears, your entire body shivering at the full body manipulation he was assaulting you with. “I’ve thought of nothing but your body beneath mine since we reunited. I have missed you my omega.”

“Akande”, you sobbed, your voice thick with emotion as tears rolled down your cheeks, a low and needy keen for the man humming in your chest.

The man nuzzled against your cheek until you turned your head and captured your lips again, his thrusts growing slower but grinding even deeper inside of you. Adoration and passion and re-attachment and bonding made your body tingle, the two of you breaking away briefly to pull in a breath before hungrily diving back in. Neither of you dared to close your eyes, immeasurable emotions being communicated through look alone, the pains of years long separations mending bit by bit. Despite popular belief and slander, Akande had always been a man that had been open and free with his emotions, tender-hearted, loving and caring.

His ochre eyes communicated a desperation and happiness that he could never put into words, fear and peace fighting in equal measure. Even without his words, you knew what he was feeling and how even in this most joyous occasion he was hurting because your heart ached identically. The two of you had been torn from one another unceremoniously; his attack on the museum had been planned but it going so awry  without backup was not, a betrayal that hadn’t been forgotten.

Even after his trial and his incarceration, they were not allowed the basic right to visitations that mated pairs were supposed to had, the man treated more harshly due to his acts against Overwatch agents. The world’s sweethearts’ had pulled the cruelest of cards, keeping two living mated partners apart, denying all conjugal visitation or face to face communications. The physiological and psychological needs of mates was something that had been studied time and time again and the mental havoc it wrought on those that  were denied one another ranged from mildly inconveniencing to completely debilitating. The both of you had prevailed fortunately and this is where the healing could get started.

Your hands dragged up from his back, cupping his face tenderly and rubbing at apples of his cheeks slowly, peppering dozens of smaller kisses against his lips. Akande’s eyes implored your own, gently bumping your forehead with his and pulling away to take a pant but never looking away.

“No one will take you from me again”, your breathed out, breath nary above a whisper before placing another peck against his lips. “Never again, Ọlọ́kàn mi. I swear it, Alpha. I will burn the world down to get to you…”

Akande’s eyes widened before they softened and calmed, the pure adoration making your body shiver harder as your heart raced. His hips picked up pace but he did not lift himself from you, him needing to feel you as much as you needed to feel him, his forearms bracing himself  right above your curls. His lips crashed into yours, the desperation replaced by loving gratitude, your hands returning to around his neck as his hips began to crash into yours. He quickly devoured every desirous sound that left your lips, his own low, breathy moans mixing with yours. Pointing your toes, you locked your legs around his waist even tighter, whining as you pulled him deeper inside of you. You were drowning in him, so close to plunging  into all that he had to give you, your body shuddering as you tightened around him. The man responded with a low grunt against your ear, your fingers splayed, feeling the muscles in his back begin to tense, his brow furrowing against your own as he drew in shaky breaths. Dragging your nails up his back you rested your fingers gently on the back of his neck as you turned your head and presented your mark to him your tongue darting out to barely reach his.

“Mo nifẹ ẹ”,you breathed out as your fingers curled gently on the back of his neck, inhaling sharply as you felt his lips graze your mark. His thrusts grew even more disjointed but stronger as he lost himself in you, you both absolutely intoxicated with the scent of the other, your love drunk words tumbling from your lips like a prayer. “Mo nifẹ ẹ, mo nifẹ ẹ, mo nifẹ ẹ. I love you Akande…ngh!”

The two of you fell apart in each others arms all at once, Akande biting into your mark as tenderly as he could when your walls contracted around him. Your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, grounding yourself in his touch as the molten heat of his seed coated your walls, the man’s shoulders and traps tight as he tried not to drop all his weight on you, his hips still grinding against your oversensitive mound. Your entangled scents had completely filled the room; sunflowers and irises like the garden back home, sweet allspice and coconut and citrus wrapped with heady scents of amber and myrrh. Your head was swimming as he finally relinquished your shoulder, tongue gently lapping at the lazily bleeding wound as his knot began to swell inside of you, the man’s full lips kissing the side of your neck and your cheek briefly.

“Hold on”, he breathed against cheek, your body shivering as you gave a brief nod, legs and arms wrapping tighter around him as Akande grunted and flipped over. His knot didn’t budge as you cuddled into his chest, one of Akande’s hands resting on your lower back while the other gently moved to your hair, lightly pulling at the curls that had been flattened during all of the fun. “I love you, awẹ́lẹ́wà mi.”

You nuzzled closer into his chest, your energy absolutely spent but your soul feeling whole for the first time in years. The gods had brought you back to the love of your life, to your one in a billion connection and for that you would be eternally grateful, your mind absolutely positive Akande felt the same. His hands massaged slow circles up and down your spine as he continued to gently and carefully detangle your hair, your face nuzzling closer as sincere peace and love blanketed the both of you. You knew you would never let him go again, knowing he was meant to be in your arms and he in yours.

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 1)

Daryl rams his fist in the roof of the car as hard as he possibly can and swears loudly at his own stupidity; he doesn't even try to tailor the words as he utters a whole bunch of profanity, without its equal. Fucking hell! Of course it was a trap! And here they are, locked inside a car, like a baffled fox stuck in a fox scissors. The difference is that he and Aaron are stuck inside a crappy car with a dead engine, surrounded by walkers. How many are they? Too many. Right now, he’d preferred the fox scissors. With pulsating, burning knuckles he looks at his male companion.

”What?”

The man in the passenger seat observes him calmly. Daryl hesitates at first, but on the other hand; they are sitting in a car that can be devoured, to say the least, by hordes of walkers any second. It would just require that one of those rotten morons manages to smash a window.

”I came out here too, ya know, not feel all close up back there.” Daryl scoffs. ”Even now, this still feels more like me than back in them houses. That's pretty messed up, huh?”

Aaron meets his gaze, nods slightly, with a faint smile. Is it pity?

”You were trying.”

Maybe all in vain, Daryl thinks. He’s been accustomed to surviving day by day; all of his life has been about surviving, often day by day, to the point where this new reality feels completely unnatural to him. Being out in the woods, hunt for food, sleep underneath the stars, wash off wherever he could find water. Nowadays, since the group settled in Alexandria, he feels like a caged, wild animal; shackled, restricted, totally superfluous. To admit that this new way of life doesn’t bring him any calm, any satisfaction, is shameful. But to come clean with it; if this is the end, it doesn’t matter, right?

”Listen-” Aaron says, while a walker presses its face towards the window, smears its saliva, mixed with blood, all over it. ”I saw you with your group out there. You led them to safety.”

Daryl grunts. Yep, he did. But that wasn't enough. Nothing is enough. He couldn't save Beth and it still haunts him in his dreams. No one, not even Maggie, blamed him for it, but it didn’t help him sleep any better at night. He thought the discovery of Alexandria would heal his wounds to some extent, make him feel that he was repaying some kind of debt to the group, a favor of some sort; In vain off course.

A dead bastard grins badly at him through the window. They can’t sit here. They have to get out. Aaron seems to think the same. Daryl takes a cigarette from his pocket, puts it between his lips and starts looking for something to light it with.

”I’ll go.” he says. ”I’ll lead them out. You make a break for the fence.”

Aaron immediately starts to oppose the plan. Crap, they don’t really have time to argue.  

”Just let me finish my smoke first.”

Daryl is about to take a throat flare when he’s interrupted. Somewhere on the outside, gunfire breaks out. Daryl drops the cigarette into his crotch out of pure surprise. He swears out loudly as the cigarette burns a small hole in his pants, while the walkers, whose attention has been directed towards the men inside the car, like kids in a candy store, shifts attention towards the sound. Aaron twists and turns in the passenger seats, tries to get a glimpse of what’s going on outside, but the walkers are in the way.

”What’s that?”

”I dunno.”

Whatever it may be, it can't be good. No one from their group knows they are here. Outside the car, walkers are mowed to the ground like dominoes. This is their chance.

”Come on.”

Daryl grabs the crossbow. With the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and with one last glance at Aaron, they swing the doors open and throw themselves out of the car. Without dropping the cigarette, Daryl swings the crossbow through the air and hits one of the walking corpses right in the kisser. Its jaw bone flies through the air and drops to the ground. At the same time Daryl sees two figures in the corner of his eyes he doesn’t recognize. A male, armed with what looks like the shaft of a broomstick, which he swings through the air like some goddamn- he’s torn from the staff and the man, as the second figure dives into his field of view. A woman, wearing a hat, armed with an automatic rifle that she aims at a walker right behind him; she shoots and the bullet hits straight in the head.

”Let’s go.” the unknown male waves at them to follow his lead.

They start running through the mass, towards the open gate in the fence, surrounding the area. Daryl shuts the gate in front of the remaining walkers just as they reaches it. Daryl and Aaron turns towards the newcomers. The situation has changed in the matter of seconds. From being crammed inside the car, surrounded by walkers and in the belief that their last moment had come, they have been freed by two complete strangers. The deserted street is littered with walkers. The four of them looks at each other, while the remaining dead sons of bitches tries their best to squeeze themselves trough the small squares of wired net.

”That was…” Aaron looks at them with his hands raised in front of him; some kind of peaceful gesture. ”That was… wow. Thanks. I’m Aaron. This is Daryl.”

Without the slightest facial reaction, the woman lifts the rifle at them; over the barrel Daryl meets her steady, yet jaded, gaze underneath the brim. Come on…

”No, no, no.” Aaron waves his hands even more frantically in front of himself and Daryl.

”What the f-”

”Mila-” the man’s dark eyes widen at her bold action.

”Safety precaution, Morgan.” the woman replies, in a thick accent no one of them definitely haven’t heard before. ”You got to save them. Now we’re even.”

”I said no harm-”

”Yeah, ’cuz that went well yesterday?” she scoffs.

Daryl’s tired. Tired of being surprised, tired of being overshadowed and damn tired of having weapons aimed at him; he raises his crossbow at her. That might make her boggle. It doesn’t.

”I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” she says. Without breaking their eye contact she nods the barrel towards the ground, for him to put down his crossbow.

”Ain’t that smart pointing guns at people, lady.”

”Ain’t smart getting trapped either.”

Don’t fucking test my patience, Daryl thinks, focuses on breathing trough his nose; it’s not the right time to fire up, though his temper works against him on that part. He sighs and reluctantly lowers the crossbow. Behind the rifle he’s met with a smirk, whereupon she lowers the rifle.

”Great.” Aaron lets out a deep sigh. ”Thanks, again. Erhm, why-” he turns and looks at the bloodthirsty cluster behind the fence.

Daryl looks at the male with the staff. Why didn’t he kill them? She was the only one who actually did.

”Because all life is precious, Daryl.”

At those words the woman rolls her eyes.

”Wha-”

”Don’t ask.” the young woman interrupts Aaron. ”We have to move. Whoever set the trap will return.”

Daryl looks at the unlucky couple. He’s in his late forties, tall and dressed in cargos; she can't be a day older than thirty, maybe even younger. Short, athletic similar to a long-distance runner; tenacious, lean muscles. Except for the hat, she’s dressed in jeans, denim shirt, a quilted rust colored jacket and a pair of boots. What catches his eye is how worn and pale she looks. The shadows under her eyes tattles that she hasn’t slept for a long time, may need to eat, or even have a cold. At that moment she puts her fingers in the corners of her mouths and whistles loudly. The sharp sound bounces over the desolated road, against the buildings. As on command the back door of an abandoned pickup opens further afield. At first he’s sure it’s an ambush. The next second, and he can hardly believe his eyes, a boy, no more than three or four years old, with long, blonde hair, climbs out of the back seat and runs towards them. He carries a walkman and a pair of headphones in his small hands. A small backpack bounces on his back as he scurries up to them, where he clings to the women's jeans, seemingly calm, curious even with the two newcomers. The extra weight the boy puts on her, while clinging to her right leg, seems to make her sway on the spot.

”He’s yours?”

What a stupid question; the only difference is the blonde hair, unlike hers. Otherwise, he’s a copy of his mother.  

”He is.”

She looks at the boy, then back at Daryl. The gaze is steady, alert; like a she-wolf watching its cub. The boy tugs at his mother’s jacket. She looks at him and shakes her head lightly, making the long hair sway.  

”Schh. I can’t carry you.” she whispers towards him and turns her head towards them. ”As I said, we better get out of here.” she repeats and squeezes the boy’s small hand, while giving Morgan a glance. ”It's dusk soon.”

”Oh, but we have good news!” Aaron exclaims; the former politician returns to his role, in the hunt for voters and supporters. Or in this case, survivors to join them. ”We have a community not far from here. Walls, electricity, it’s really safe. If you’d like to come with us…”

They expect them to look overwhelmed. Maybe surprised even. Instead, Morgan shakes his head and politely abrupts Aaron.

”No, thank you. We’re on our way somewhere.” Morgan nods towards Mila and the boy, whose big blue eyes are pasted on Daryl and the crossbow in his hand.

”Though we are a bit lost-” Morgan continues, starts to search through the pockets of his jacket. ”If you could tell me where we are.”

From the beige weather jacket he takes a folded map, which he hands over to Daryl. He takes it. It’s well-used, worn and stained. Over the big blue field that is the Atlantic, next to the east coast, someone has written a message in blue ink. His eyes are drawn to a certain part of the message. He looks at Morgan, back at the message. ’Sorry, I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world’s gonna need Rick Grimes’. Once again he looks up at Morgan. What does this mean? He knows Rick?  

”Ya’ know Rick? Rick Grimes?”

”Well, yes.” Morgan's eyes wander between him and Aaron. ”Do you?”

”He’s with us.” Daryl returns the map. ”Back at Alexandria.”

Morgan and Mila look at each other. The man seems not to believe his ears, whereupon he declares that he found the map at a church, with Rick's name on it.

”That's where I met Mila, and Juri. We decided to stick together, go to Washington.”

”Well, he aint there.”

That’s when the situation, once again, changes rapidly, in a matter of seconds. The pale woman’s pupils dilates, as if a curtain is drawn in front of her, and she collapses on the ground in front of them.

”Mila!”

Morgan throws himself down next to her, followed by Aaron who takes the boy by the arm and pulls him over. Daryl gets down on one knee next to her; while Morgan pats her on the cheek, calling her name, Daryl places the back of his hand against her forehead, while his eyes searches for the cause of this.

”Mila, Mila!”

”She’s burning up.” Daryl states. ”When did you last eat?”

”A couple of hours ago.” Morgan says, and for the first time since they met him, he looks afraid. ”She didn't eat much though. I don’t understand.”

”What’s wrong with her?” Aaron’s eyes are worried. ”Is she hurt?”

Like on command, Daryl once again searches her with his eyes, from top to bottom. She starts to move, or rather shivers with chills, while grunting, like in pain. She has a fever and is pale like a sheet.

”She’s wounded or something? Sick?”

”I don't think so. Don't know. She hasn't said anything.” Morgan meets his gaze. ”We were assaulted yesterday, the same group that trapped you I believe. But we disarmed them.”

That's when Daryl’s eyes are drawn to the tank top; it looks bulky at the stomach, as if it were too much fabric at that particular spot, and in addition, the entire middle part of the garment is somewhat stained, wet even. Without warning, Daryl lifts the top. What’s underneath causes Aaron to put his hands in front of the boy's eyes; it’s not a pretty sight.

”All life is precious, my ass-” Daryl takes a deep breath and sighs. This ain’t good. ”Son of a bitch.”

Her midsection is wrapped in three layers of gaffer tape with pieces of grey cloths, soaked in blood. The skin is swollen and shifts in a palette of red, purple and blue.

”I had no idea.” Morgan exclaims.

”Well, now ya’ do.” Daryl sputters and takes out his knife. ”Gotta remove this. Hold her.”

While Morgan tries to get a word from Mila, Daryl cuts the tape and carefully lifts the bloody pieces of grey melange fabric, seemingly what once was a t-shirt. It’s worse than he thought. A gash, from what looks like a sharp object, like a machete, runs from navel to rib cage, is stapled with a staples gun and leeks fluid. The fact that the wound is stapled and that Morgan had no idea she was hurt, makes it even more bizarre; did she staple herself?

”Gotta get her to Alexandria.” Daryl says. ”She needs a medic.”

Without waiting for an answer, as if there was time for it, Daryl lifts her off the ground. If he, or they, doesn’t act quickly, she’ll die. And considering the boy- she quips when Daryl adjusts her in his arms, most likely in pain; that she was able to walk around an entire day, and ward off walkers with that wound; impressive, but incredibly foolish. How much blood has she lost by now? What was she thinking? That staples and gaffer tape would do the trick? It’s like a goddamn scrapbooking project. She ain’t no surgeon, that’s for sure. Morgan collects their belongings; backpacks and weapons, Aaron takes the boy, who hasn’t said a word during the entire time, in his arms and they start scudding back toward Alexandria.

(I’ll be posting part 2 asap)

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Sixty Five

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

September 3rd, 1986

“Remy!” Toby yelled, dashing across the street and grabbing Remy’s arm. “Don’t do that!”

“Don’t do what? Cross the street?” Remy asked.

“Not before looking to make sure there aren’t any cars coming!” Toby exclaimed. “You could get run over if you’re not careful!”

“Nobody would run over a kid!” Remy said, complete conviction in his tone.

“Maybe not on purpose, but if they don’t see you, they might not stop until it’s too late! Don’t run across the street without looking both ways first, okay?”

Remy rolled his eyes. “Fine. Can we keep walking home, now?”

Toby sighed. “Fine. But be warned, if you’re not careful, you could get seriously hurt.”

Remy huffed. “Whatever.”

  June 12th, 2002

Remy chased Emile around the apartment until Emile was stuck in a corner and Remy tickled him relentlessly. Emile shrieked with laughter, trying to swat Remy’s hands away. “This is what you get for getting that song stuck in my head for the fiftieth time this week!” he exclaimed, a victorious grin splitting his face. “I can’t keep singing ‘I Want It That Way’ under my breath at work, August will kill me!”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorryyyy!” Emile squealed. “I can’t get it out of my head, either! Because you sing it then I sing it, and it’s one big feedback loop!”

Remy’s fingers retreated for half a moment, and Emile had Remy trapped in a bear hug, unable to move his arms whatsoever. “Emile! Lemme go!”

“Nope! Not until you promise to not tickle me over this anymore!” Emile declared.

“Never!” Remy exclaimed. “August nearly took my head yesterday for humming it under my breath, and I still have heart palpitations because of that! You deserve to be tickled for nearly killing me!”

Emile just held onto Remy tighter, and Remy squirmed and squirmed until he broke free of Emile’s grip, but Emile was running to the door before Remy could continue the tickling. “Hey, get back here!” Remy laughed, following Emile out the door.

But Emile was already heading down the stairs and out the building, and Remy sped after him, feet running as fast as his body would let him.

Emile glanced behind him and when he saw Remy, he ran faster, still giggling.

Remy was halfway through the parking lot when Emile was just barely at the sidewalk, glancing at the street and clearly assuming it was clear. But Remy could hear the sound of a car engine, getting closer, and his blood ran cold. “Emile!” he exclaimed. It was like everything happened in slow motion. He was pouring on the speed, feet propelling him faster than he thought possible through the parking lot. He could see a bright blue in his peripheral vision, growing bigger and bigger. He grabbed Emile by the collar of his shirt, yanking him backwards on the sidewalk...just as a pickup truck sped by.

Emile turned white as a sheet as Remy bent over, hands just above his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Oh,” Emile breathed.

“Did no one teach you to not run across the street, Emile?” Remy panted.

“I thought it was clear,” Emile breathed. “I didn’t see the truck.”

“Well, yeah, the guy was easily going fifty in a thirty five,” Remy wheezed. “I could hear him, but I doubt you could if you were laughing as hard as you were.”

“I almost died,” Emile said, still deathly pale. “I would be dead if you hadn’t grabbed me.”

“I’d really rather not think about that,” Remy sighed. He moved without feeling himself move, gripping Emile in a tight hug. “You ever do that again, and I’ll kill you myself.”

Emile lightly hugged Remy back, and were it not for Emile’s hyperventilating, Remy would wonder if he had realized what happened at all. Remy held Emile at arm’s length, looking him over. He knew that Emile hadn’t been clipped at all, Remy had yanked him back hard enough that Emile moved halfway across the sidewalk, but he still needed to see for himself that Emile was okay. “Let’s...let’s go back inside,” Remy said, at barely above a whisper.

All he got in return for that was a swallow and a nod. They made their way back inside, holding each others’ hands in a vice grip. Remy wasn’t sure if he would ever feel his fingers again after this, but at the moment he didn’t care all that much. Emile was alive and unhurt, and that was all that mattered.

They got back in their apartment, and went over to the couch, both of them collapsing onto it, Emile with a sigh and Remy with a shaky sob. Emile squeezed Remy’s hand, and Remy swallowed. “I thought I lost you,” he breathed, looking over at Emile. “I thought that you were gonna end up in the hospital, at the very least. Six feet under at worst. I thought...I thought...” He shook his head and choked back another sob.

Emile held Remy close as he cried, but he didn’t say anything. Remy could feel him shaking, though. Remy looked up at him. “Are you...that thing you talked about the other day? The nonverbal thing?”

“I-I-I-I do-do-don’t-don’t th-thi-thi-ink s-s-s-so...?” Emile said, each stuttered half-word punctuated with a gasp.

“That stutter’s pretty bad, though,” Remy said. “So you might be...kinda nonverbal? If that’s at all possible?”

“S-s-s-se-se-se-semi-mi-ver-bal,” Emile stammered out.

“Yeah, that,” Remy said. “Is it better if I don’t make you talk?”

Emile mutely nodded.

“Okay, I’ll try to stick to yes or no questions when I have to. Otherwise, I think just cuddling for a while will be okay.”

Emile nodded again and Remy buried himself in Emile’s side as his tears continued to fall. Without even realizing fully what he was doing, Remy started to talk. “Man, I had never really considered our own mortality before, you know? Like, I knew that one day you and I would...would no longer be here, but...I don’t know. It just...got shoved in my face today that one of us could die at any time. And I just...kinda assumed we’d be together until one or the other of us died. But I never considered the inevitable that comes after that. And...I mean...I had considered the thought of one of us calling this off. Us breaking up. Even after I realized that this is what I think of as soulmates. Especially after that. Because I wanted a plan in place in case you didn’t feel the same anymore. But I never thought about the far more likely option...we stay together until one of us dies. What happens then? Like, yeah, I could die first. That’s a possibility. But it’s one that I don’t have to plan for. And it’s a fifty-fifty chance, you know? I’d have to plan for what happens if you died first. And...I kinda ignored that fact for as long as I could, because I didn’t want to think about a world without you in it. Like, if we broke up at least you’d be alive still, and have the chance to be happy. If you died...Listen. I know that the world wouldn’t end. The apocalypse wouldn’t happen just because you died, it’s not like the city would burn to the ground. But...it would feel like my world ended. And...I just...I don’t know how I would cope with that.”

Emile squeezed Remy tight and Remy took a breath. “I know I shouldn’t fixate on this. It’s a morbid thing to think about. But...but really, what happens when all of this comes to an end? What happens if... when... one of us kicks the bucket?”

“We-we-we w-w-wou-would-would ha-ha-have p-pl-plan-ans i-i-in pl-place,” Emile stammered.

“But we don’t have those plans, Emile. That’s my point. And we have to face the fact that we’re not going to live forever. You know? We have to prepare one of these days,” Remy said.

“O-o-one o-of the-the-the-these da-days. N-n-not t-to-today, m-my lo-ove,” Emile pleaded in between gasps. “To-to-today le-let-let’s ju-just fo-cus on-on-on-on the...the fac-ct that we’re-re...alive.”

“You sound like a dying fish,” Remy said, only mildly hysterical. “Stop trying to talk. Clearly, you need to calm down some more before talking again. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Emile giggled, sounding hysterical himself, heaving gasps in between giggles. Remy wrapped his arms around Emile’s chest, hoping to calm him down, however little that calm was.

They stayed like that for another half an hour easily, Emile’s giggles slowly tapering off and Remy intermittently crying, holding onto Emile like a life raft. Eventually, Emile slowly extricated himself from Remy’s grasp. “Remy...Remy,” Emile said when Remy tried to continue hugging him. “Remy, I have to pee.”

Remy reluctantly put his hands back in his lap, and simply requested, “Hurry back.”

Emile nodded and went to the bathroom quickly. Remy scrubbed his face. He was happy that if this had to happen, it was on a day where neither of them had work. That would have been unfortunate, nearly dying and then being separated for hours on end, unable to talk about what happened. He would be a nervous wreck at work.

When Emile came back, he collapsed on the couch with a sigh. “Thank you,” he said.

Remy blinked. “For what?”

“For nearly choking me when you grabbed my shirt collar,” Emile laughed. “I never did thank you.”

“Oh. Don’t mention it,” Remy said softly.

“Remy...do you think we should get our affairs in order?” Emile asked. “Like, obviously we can’t do that in a single day when we’re just starting, but. For the future. In case anything unfortunate happens. We should have contingency plans.”

“Yeah,” Remy agreed. “And we should probably plan for what happens if one of us ends up in the hospital.”

“Update our emergency contacts. I think my parents are still my primary emergency contacts,” Emile mused.

“Oh, God, I think my mother is still my emergency contact. That needs to change ASAP,” Remy said. “I’d rather have you be in charge of my medical stuff when I can’t make the decision for myself. I don’t want my mother to get a call that I’m in the hospital and have her ban you from visiting and whisking me away, back there.”

Emile sniffed a tiny laugh, and Remy frowned. “What? What’s so funny about that?”

“Not funny, exactly, but happy, I guess,” Emile said. “You said ‘back there,’ not ‘back home.’ I just...you made that distinction.”

“Well, yeah. That house isn’t my home. My home isn’t even a what. It’s a who,” Remy said.

Emile was biting back a grin, and Remy rolled his eyes. “Yes, that’s you, you dork. Stop being so smiley about it.”

“Never,” Emile vowed, hugging Remy tight.

“Emile! Lemme go!” Remy laughed.

“Nope!” Emile exclaimed.

“Hey! Come on!” Remy exclaimed. “You’re gonna suffocate me!”

Emile giggled. “Remy, I would never do such a thing! You wound me!”

Remy poked Emile’s side and Emile yelped, releasing his hold on Remy just enough for Remy to roll out of the hold and onto the floor, laughing. He leapt to his feet and sprinted to the bedroom, grabbing his pillow so when Emile followed him, he was immediately met with a feathery end. Emile shoved Remy’s pillow out of his face with a laugh, grabbing his own pillow and whacking Remy with it.

The two chased each other around the apartment, hitting each other with pillows and laughing like nothing in the world would ever be as funny again. They kept running until Remy tripped over a chair leg and crashed to the floor. “Rem?! You okay?!” Emile asked, rushing over.

“Ow. Yeah, I’m fine,” Remy said, pushing himself into a sitting position. “That hurt, but it’s not the worst scrape I’ve ever gotten. I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” Emile said, worrying his lip.

“I do say so,” Remy said. “But maybe we should cut back on the pillow fights, at least for now. I think I used up all the energy I had left.”

“That’s fair,” Emile said, offering Remy a hand.

Remy took it and the two stood there a moment, uncertainty on both their faces. “...Do you want to help out at the shelter tonight?” Emile asked.

A beat. “...Yeah, okay. When should we head out?”

Emile checked the time and hummed. “I don’t know. Anywhere from now to half an hour and we should be fine.”

“May as well go now, then. Maybe we could talk to Bernie and see what he has to say about wills and stuff. I don’t know if he has any experience, but he might,” Remy pointed out.

“True,” Emile said.

They put their pillows back on the bed and headed out, this time double checking the street before they crossed it.

[guildedlily6]

You Plus Me Equals Soulmates Part 2 (Peter Parker x Reader Soulmates!AU)

Summary: 2nd part to You Plus Me Equals Soulmates.  Y/N doesn’t believe in soulmates, but she can’t help the feelings that are growing for Peter Parker.  Will she give in to her feelings or let her best friend, Liz, have Peter, regardless of the tattoos that might say otherwise?

Author’s Note: Hi also let me know if you like Part 2.  This one is a bit longer than the last one, so enjoy (to whoever might read this).  If you haven’t read Part 1, you might not understand Part 2 so make sure to click on the link down below to read Part 1.

Part 1

Word Count: 2,125

Warnings: swearing (that’ll probably just be common from now on).

POV: Point Of View.

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

“You know, I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Sure you did,” Liz says.  We’re walking down the concrete hallway, looking for the number of Parker’s apartment.  “You totally could have found another excuse and backed out.”

I had attempted to back out, but as I was forming my homework excuse, Ned had interrupted me.

“I tried to.”

Liz shrugs before knocking on the apartment door.  “Obviously not hard enough,” she states.

The door opens after a small pause.  Parker stands there with his hand on the door handle, a pencil tucked behind his ear.  I don’t think there are enough synonyms for “dork” that could help to describe this kid.

“Hey Peter,” Liz greets, breaking the awkward silence.  Again, why is he looking at me, not Liz?  I look away hastily, breaking the eye contact I hadn’t realized Parker and I were making.

“Yeah, uh, hi.  Come in,” Parker stammers.  He opens the door and Liz and I walk past him.  His apartment is cozy and there’s a fairly young woman in the kitchen.  Does he have a sister or something?

“Peter!  I didn’t know you were bringing girls over.  You never bring girls over-” “These are my friends Liz and Y/N.  We were just going to study,” Parker says, cutting into what the lady was going to say.  The chick gives Parker a look that's a calm equivalent to wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.  “Liz, Y/N, meet my aunt May.  Aunt May, meet Liz and Y/N.”

“Oh!  It’s so nice to meet you two.  I’ve heard a lot about you Y/N.”  Aunt May adds in the last part without hesitation, causing Parker to blush.

Heard a lot about me? But he’s going to homecoming with Liz?  What a creep.

“Yeah, uh...let’s go.  Ned’s in my room,” Peter says while leading us to his room.  The bedroom is small with light grey walls.  There’s a bunk bed but the top bunk is covered with clothes and a few boxes.  Other than that, the room looks nice, apart from being able to see the clothes and other random crap shoved under the bed.

“Oh, hey guys.  Sorry, I’ve already built half of the Death Star already.  But you two can help with the rest,” Ned says eagerly.  He sits on the floor in a pile of Lego pieces.

I plop down on the ground and take out one of my binders and a few pens.  “No thanks.  Like I said, I have homework to do,” I announce.  Liz shoots me a look that screams “don’t be a bitch”.

“Yeah me too, Ned,” Peter adds, glancing at me.  Ned looks at him, seeming a little confused.

“But you just said-”

“I said I have homework to do,” Peter says insistently.

I don’t know if they’re not normally this weird, or this is just something I should get used to.  Either way, I’d appreciate it if they could act like normal people. I look down and focus on my Algebra homework.  Although, it’s kind of difficult to focus while Parker is staring at me from his spot a few feet away.  I look up.

“What?  Do you need help or something?” I question.

“Um n-no.  I-I mean yes.  Could you, uh, help me on this one?” He points to a problem on his paper.  “I don’t really understand how to get to the answer…”

He’s on AB honor roll and takes a shit ton of AP classes and he’s asking me for help?

“Yeah sure,” I scoot closer towards him so that our shoulders brush against each other lightly.  I explain the problem and then show him what I did to get my answer.  I can’t help but get the feeling he knows exactly how to solve the problem, though.

I finish explaining the problem and look back up at him, only to find him staring at me, once again.  There’s a moment where we don’t say anything and I feel butterflies in my stomach.  His eyes aren’t chocolate brown.  They’re a dark oak color with streaks the color of honey carefully scattered around his iris.  My eyes dark from his eyes down to his right wrist.

After the loss of eye contact, he clears his throat and looks down at his paper. This whole time, Liz has actually been helping Ned with his lego Death Star.  But at this moment, she’s looking at Peter and I with a hint of jealousy and anger in her gaze.

I take my eyes off of Peter’s sleeve-covered wrist and continue to work on my Algebra assignment.

___________Peter’s POV___________ I clear my throat and look back down at my paper, trying to make myself seem more interested in this boring slim piece of dead wood rather than the girl sitting next to me.

That was full-on eye contact.  AND she didn’t immediately look away.  This is progress.  Maybe.

I’ve liked Y/N since the second semester of freshman year.  And she hasn’t noticed.  But now I’m stuck with Liz.  And now Y/N is at my apartment.  I sigh. But so is Liz.

Y/N, Liz, and Ned look up at the sound of my random sigh.  I blush lightly and pretend to have been sighing out of frustration at my homework.

Ned knows I like Y/N, not Liz.  Ned knows all of my secrets, basically.  He even knows I’m Spider-Man after that incident that included him destroying the first Lego Death Star we had made.

The whole situation when I ended up asking Liz to homecoming instead of Y/N was quite possibly number one on my list of dumb-things-I’ve-done-on-accident. 

I had been probably annoying Ned all day on my plans of how I was going to muster up the courage and ask Y/N to homecoming.  I mean, if I have the courage to literally jump off of buildings and fight actual Avengers, then surely I would’ve been able to ask a girl out, right?  Nope.

I had marched myself up to the both of them, Ned silently cheering me on.  Y/N had paid no attention to my appearance, but Liz’s face had lit up instantly.  At the time, I thought it was clear that I was asking Y/N out to the school dance, but when I think about it now, I was too busy looking at Liz and her happy energy for Y/N to notice that the question was directed at her. 

“The uh-the...ha, sorry...homecoming is coming up...you know...and so...would you go with me?  I mean you don’t have to you-”

“Yes!  Absolutely!  I thought you’d never ask, Peter,” Liz had answered enthusiastically.  It was at that moment I knew I had fucked up.  Usually, I’d never use words like that to describe anything, but I think it’s an accurate description for my thoughts and feelings during that moment.  Y/N had just sat and watched me ask out her friend in front of her.  And her friend had accepted it so cheerfully.  There was no way I could build up another mount of confidence to tell Liz that I was actually asking Y/N out.

All I did was let out an uncomfortable laugh as Liz happily embraced me in the middle of the hallway for everyone else to see.

So yeah, I messed up pretty badly.  The classic Peter Parker Bad Luck. Somehow, though, I’ll fix this.  Somehow I’ll show Y/N that I like her and not her best friend.  Maybe I’ll even get to see her soulmate tattoo; I’ve been waiting so long to find out if she’s the one.  When I look at Y/N, my chest physically aches with the desire to know if she feels the same way I do.  But in reality, I don’t think she even likes me as a friend.  The tattoo on my wrist means more to me than anyone could imagine.  To me, it means a guaranteed happiness with someone. Soulmate scientists have said that sometimes one half of the soulmate pair takes longer to fall in love, so maybe that’s the case.

Don’t say love.  What if she isn’t the one? 

I feel terrible.  Liz thinks I was asking her to the dance and then if I turn her down or disappear at the dance, most likely she’ll be heartbroken or worse, tell the whole school I’m an asshole playboy.  But if Liz isn’t my soulmate and I don’t feel anything for her, shouldn’t I reject her?

_________Y/N’s POV_________ An hour goes by as Liz and Ned finish making the Lego Death Star while Peter and I work on homework.

“Do you have any food?” I ask.  My stomach is grumbling and Peter hasn’t offered us snacks, even though it’s past 6pm.

“Oh yeah, sure.  What do you guys want?” he asks in return, standing up just as I stand up as well.

Ned asks for some chips and Liz requests water.  I look over at Peter, realizing that we both got up.

“Oh, sorry.  I thought I could get it for you guys,” Peter explains.  Oh god, it’s like their awkwardness is rubbing off on me.  What, did I think we were all going as one big party to the kitchen?

“Yeah, sorry,” I laugh it off, but as I’m about to sit down Peter speaks up.

“But maybe you could help me carry the snacks,” he offers it quickly, like he’s secretly been wishing for me to help him carry snacks or something weird like that.

“Uh okay, I guess.”  Liz looks between Peter and I.  She shifts uncomfortably and opens up her binder, abandoning the Lego Death Star for her English homework.

Peter and I walk out of his room and into the kitchen where Aunt May is doing dishes.  At the sight of both of us alone, she suddenly shoves a glass into a cabinet and utters something along the lines of “I have that thing to do”, and scurries out of the kitchen and around the corner.  Everyone remotely related to Peter, it would seem, is a little odd.

Peter gets a glass and starts getting Liz’s water from the fridge.  “You can look in the pantry for Ned’s chips.  Feel free to get what you want.”

I open the pantry and grab Ned’s chips and a bag of popcorn for me.  “Can I have some water, too?” I ask, as if he’ll tell me no.

“Yeah sure, help yourself.”

I open the cabinet I saw Peter get Liz’s glass from.  Immediately, however, I lose my grip on the cup.  But before the glass can hit the ground, Peter’s hand darts out of nowhere to catch it.

“Damn.  Some ninja-like reflexes you have,” I say, which is true.  Who the hell has a light-speed reaction time like that?  What kind of Edward-Cullen-meets-The-Flash shit was that?

“Uh y-yeah I guess I just acted on instinct,” he says hastily, pushing off some accusation that I didn’t even make.  He pours me a glass of water from the refrigerator and we head back into his room where Ned and Liz are sitting in silence.

The rest of the evening is spent in peace and quiet with the occasional glance between me and Parker.  I don’t know why I keep looking at him.

Did he always look cute while focusing on school work? Shut up, I tell myself.  Liz likes him and from what I can already tell, she doesn’t appreciate Peter and I constantly sneaking glances at each other like we’re in some kind of dumb cliché rom-com.

Eventually, Liz decides it’s time to go and we say our goodbyes to Peter and Ned.

As we walk back down the concrete hallway away from the apartment, she turns to me.

“Why’d you do that?” She says, her voice wavering a bit.

“Do what?”

“You kept sneaking cheeky glances at Peter, thinking I wasn’t looking.  And then you went to the kitchen by yourselves to go get snacks.  What are you trying to do here?”

“What?  Liz, I don’t understand.”  I actually did understand what she meant, but to admit it would make me look guilty when I’m not.

“Yes, you do.  I was so excited when Peter asked me to homecoming and now you’re being all flirty with him.  I want you to stop.  Call your mom or something to come pick you up.”  She starts walking away.

While she’s still in earshot, I reply to her claim, “I wasn’t flirting with him.  I didn’t even want to come, remember?  He’s still Peter-The-Dork to me and I wasn’t trying to do anything.”

Or was I?  How am I supposed to know what my subconscious was telling me to do?

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Thank you for reading!

Part 3

[stefciastark]

Stuck Under A Building ~ Webpril Day 4

A/N: Peter begins to dig his way out with the help of Tony, who hopes like hell F.R.I.D.A.Y hasn't miscalculated anything. Otherwise, both Peter and Ned's lives may be at stake.

~Read on AO3

~Read on FFN

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The dust had already settled by the time Peter returned to consciousness. Not yet ready to open his eyes, he instead took mental inventory of each of his limbs, and he had to swallow back his panic when he couldn’t move his right leg without white hot pain licking its way up to his knee. In that moment, he made the decision to force his eyes open, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t be greeted with some sort of compound fracture or something else disgusting. Peter considered himself anything but squeamish, but he’d seen more than his fair share of gruesome injuries that he could very much do without at that very moment.

He found the offending object quickly; a large boulder the size of a washing machine – yet at least twice as heavy – sandwiched from halfway up his shin to his ankle. Mentally counting to three, he braced himself for the pain as he gave his leg another tug. He groaned through clenched teeth, clenching his eyes shut at the feeling of bone grinding on bone. Yep, definitely broken.

There was also a secondary problem he had just identified – the surrounding rocks had shifted in response to the movement of the one pinning him down. Peter watched with bated breath as a few stones the shape and size of watermelons tumbled down from the top of the pile and narrowly missed Ned, who still lay unconscious and prone on the ground beside him. His backpack lay just behind Ned, situated near what remained of the steel support pillar. If Peter remembered correctly, that meant that they were stuck in the middle-left portion of the cave. If he could get to the suit, he could get to help.

This would be the most high-stakes game of Pick-Up Sticks he’d ever played.

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Tony had received a notification about Peter’s suit, and as much as he’d later hate to admit it, he had passed it off as unimportant as it initially came through his systems. Tony was in the process of finalising the last of the data transfers to his new lab in the Avengers headquarters that had been relocated to upstate New York. Terabytes didn’t even begin to cover the quantity of files he had left to integrate into the new systems, but he had to start somewhere. 

The hard drive had now begun to transfer the new blueprints for the latest Spiderman suit upgrades Tony had started prototyping. Peter was a keen kid; he was passionate and excitable, but frankly the sheer amount of voice messages he left was bordering on a violation of privacy. As Tony scrolled through the massive folder on Peter’s latest web-formulas he’d devised, the regular ‘Peter’ blip that appeared on his radar had suddenly faded into nothing, prompting advisory from F.R.I.D.A.Y. 

According to his A.I, Peter’s whereabouts had last been defined as being circa upstate New Jersey, close to - if not within - the Sterling Hill Mining Museum. F.R.I.D.A.Y further informed Tony that that particular area sat right near the Ramapo fault line, where seismic activity had recently been detected. 

Without hesitation, Tony set each foot in front of him deliberately, finally shrouding himself in his latest nanotech development: The Mark…whatever the hell. It was fast approaching the seventies and Tony had long since lost count. 

The built-in stabilisers in the suit prevented Tony from feeling the G-Force he would otherwise be subject to as he catapulted towards northern New Jersey. He’d asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to inform him if any changes occurred regarding Peter’s whereabouts, however his radar remained silent apart from where the calculations told him Peter’s last known location was. 

Completely removed now from the dense concrete jungle, Tony reached his final destination just outside of the Mining Museum. It may have been a long shot, but there was no way in hell Tony was leaving a single stone unturned.

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Peter had nearly managed to sling his pinkie finger around the inside of his mask that was sitting inconveniently just past the middle of his backpack. If Ned’s life hadn’t been at a perpetual state of risk from a catastrophic cave in, Peter would have simply yanked his leg free long ago and dealt with whatever consequence, but when it was a life other than his own, he found himself unable to act irresponsibly, instead finding himself performing ‘babysitter’ duties whilst pinned underneath a rock half the size of his apartment fridge. 

Simultaneously extending his left arm once more as he gently shifted his leg just a fraction from beneath the boulder, he silently cheered as he managed to get a concrete hold on his mask. If anything, if he were lucky, he would be able to contact Mr Stark and work on getting them both out of here. 

Pulling the mask over his face, he heard Karen’s calming voice as whatever systems were available initialised. He assumed he had a concussion at that point, as barely anything she said was properly registering for him, and simply went in one ear and out of the other.

“Communications are now online,” Karen hummed, and Peter sighed with relief. What he didn’t expect, however, was the almost instantaneous interception of Mr Stark’s voice through the comms. 

“I leave you alone for five minutes...what the hell happened, kid?” 

Peter grinned from within the mask. He knew he was safe. Tony Stark had come to get him, and everything would be alright. Ned would be left unscathed and before he knew it, it’d all be a distant memory. “We were on a field trip, and all the rocks were really cool, and then suddenly the ground started shaking, the cave collapsed, and now I’m stuck in here with Ned who’s unconscious, by the way, and - “ 

“Take a breather, kid. Just sit back for a minute, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s pulling up a map of the mine. We’ll get you out of there, try not to move too much, okay?” Tony’s eyes shifted over the heads-up display, taking in the various patterns of disarray with Peter and Ned laying in the epicentre. He narrowed his eyes as progressively more shapes on the close-proximity radar turned a bright shade of red. These boulders couldn’t be moved unless Peter wanted to put the lives of himself and Ned in immediate danger. It was time to change games and play Tetris, but this time lives were at stake. 

“I need you to listen to me, Peter. There’s a rock to your right. Do you see it? I need you to wedge that just under where that boulder on your leg is sitting.” 

Peter wasn’t about to question how Tony had gotten there in such a short amount of time, or how he knew about the offending boulder atop his ankle. Following Tony’s instructions, he shifted the stone next to him, and was able to use it like an ‘a la natural’ forklift to shift the stone from above him. He pulled his leg out as fast as he could in the fear that the rocks above him would crash down upon him - but this time more catastrophically. Ned still hadn’t come to, and Peter was becoming increasingly concerned for his friend’s wellbeing. “Okay Mr Stark, I’m out. But Ned, he’s still not waking up, I don’t know what - “ 

“One thing at a time. Now, I want you to -”

Peter didn’t register what was being said to him, instead taken over by the sheer sense of dread as he fully realised the proximity of the rocks sitting around him, trapping him on all sides. As if that weren’t a big enough concern, one millimetre of uncalculated movement could cause a cataclysmic cave in that - if Peter lived - he didn’t want on his conscience. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y displayed the increased pace of Peter’s heart rate, and the decreased oxygen saturation in his blood. Shit. “Peter, I need you to listen to me. You can panic when this is over, believe me, but right now you need to get out. There’s a small rock to your left that’s shaped like the Kmart version of Cap’s shield. Nudge that out of the way for me.” 

Crushing his fear down as far as he could, Peter rapidly identified the frisbee-shaped stone diagonally to his right. “B-but Mr Stark, that’s right underneath a massive pile of rocks…” 

“Think of this like…” Tony rummaged in his brain for a moment, warring with the part of him that craved a blunt and harsh approach to the situation. He knew that would only cause Peter to stress more than he already was, so he opted for the approach that was as calm and collected as he could muster despite the situation. “What’s that game you showed me last week, kid? The one with the wooden blocks?” 

“Jenga?”

“That’s the one. Sometimes stuff’s gotta fall down before you can stack it up again. Don’t worry, F.R.I.D.A.Y’s got your back.” Tony worried at his bottom lip, hoping like hell F.R.I.D.A.Y hadn’t made some critical mistake in her calculations. He was purely relying on her to get Peter out of there. From where he was standing in the sole connecting tunnel that would lead to freedom, all he could see was rocks, rocks, and more goddamn rocks. As much as he would love to tear them from where they were positioned to get to the kid - his kid - he knew that any rash mistake on his part would end with more than one life haunting him until the day he died. 

And so a game of Jenga they played, Peter pulling stones from one location and sliding them to become the new support structures for other smaller micro-towers. The space around him began to expand, and with it, Peter felt as if there were more breathable oxygen seeping in through the cracks between the stones, and he wasn’t sure if he was imagining a gust of wind blustering in from where he guessed the tunnel’s entrance was. He had no idea how long they’d been reshuffling the contents of the cave, but Peter could almost stand completely upright and walk about twenty feet to his right and left. 

“Alright, now this one’s gonna be a doozy. There’s a small pocket in front of that big boulder over there. Just give it a good kick.” From what Tony could see on his monitors, the moment that large rock moved, he would be free to blast the remaining stones and drag the kids out of there, no matter how many pieces they were in. 

Peter knew this would be painful. It meant one of two things: he’d have to do the kicking with the leg his busted ankle was attached to, or he’d have to put all his weight on that limb while he did the deed with his good leg. Either way, he was prepared for it to suck. Choosing the latter and supporting himself partially on one of the larger boulders to his right, he brought his left knee to a right angle before pushing out with as much force as he could muster.

Tony first heard and then saw the shifting of the obstructions before him, the remaining fragments tumbling from the top until they sat in almost neat little piles below their larger counterparts. 

Finally overwhelmed with exhaustion, pain, and the intensity of the last (at least) hour, Peter lowered himself onto the ground beneath him, only vaguely hearing metal scraping on stone, and the vibrations in the ground as Tony completed the last of the puzzle. 

As he felt himself losing grip on awareness, he only just felt himself being gently lifted. At long last, feeling safe in the arms of the man he considered to be his father, he let himself drift off into the realms of unconsciousness.

A/N: Finally he's out! Peter and Tony will definitely be having a conversation about it on Day 6, so make sure you stick around for the conclusion to this little short story. I hope you've all enjoyed it so far xx