#maybe I need to draw his short hair more or tweak it slightly but it's perfect as is and AAAA-

[goldieclaws]

I am truly in hell bc as I draw Long Hair Daniel more and more, I start to enjoy drawing it more than Short Hair Daniel, which is a problem bc the former is reserved for allowing me to draw Daniel in my free time and not have to worry about connections to his canon self but now the two sides (Long Hair vs Short Hair) are starting to merge and I feel like this now

[lemonsrosesandlavender]

Short Shorts (And Cold Beer)

2500 words of Rolan x OFC smut, inspired by @orangekittyenergy's WONDERFUL 80s camp counsellor Rolan drawing. Go and look at it RIGHT NOW, because you need to have those short shorts in mind when you read this fic ;)

tags: half-orc OFC, camp counsellor AU, spanking, oral, sub Rolan. E rated below the cut!

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Lennie had been paired with Rolan all day, and she was about ready to flip. She’d spotted him on day one, all endless leg in his tiny camp shorts, and wondered if maybe this would be the summer she’d finally have a fling. Who even knew if she’d be back next year, after she finished at Waterdeep U? She’d probably have a real job by then, and have to say goodbye to this place that she’d gotten such fond memories of. 

Even the first time he opened his mouth hadn’t put her off either. Sure, he sounded like every cocky Blackstaff student, drunk on the status of their historic institution - but she thought there was a charm to his slightly stilted Baldurian accent, and an interested, if brief, glance at her tusks. 

But after two weeks, she was at her limit. This boy did not stir except to do the absolute bare minimum required - except when the topic was magic. And then, instead of teaching the kids any, he’d spent the whole time showing off his own. Jerk.

She’d been tasked with getting the camp hall ready for when the kayaking crew came back, and since they were paired, that meant Rolan as well. He had definitely been told to do it too.

Mysterious, then, that she had been left rearranging all the tables and chairs ready for crafting, and Rolan hadn’t lifted a finger. Hadn’t, in fact, shown up at all.

She squeaked her muddied sneakers irritably off the floor, and headed for the staff room, where she was absolutely sure he would be. In any case, she needed the keys to the supply cupboard, and they were usually hanging around in there.

His tail tweaked a little when she walked in, fingers tensing on his book - and that’s how she fucking knew he felt guilty. And yet. He still didn’t look at her. 

Lennie’s jaw clenched, looking at him sprawled out like that. One long, barely-dressed leg on the floor, one on the back of the couch, resting on the cushion exactly where his long white sock ended, as if he wished to lounge like a portrait of scholarly decadence on purpose. And his hair was fucking perfect, as it always was, because every time a slightly too strenuous activity ruffled it, he stopped to tie it perfectly back up. Even if that meant ignoring a screaming kid’s bloody nose.

Enough. She marched forwards, tusks digging into her twinging skin, and yanked the book from Rolan’s hands.

‘What the Hells?’ he hissed, jerking upright. ‘What gives you the right to -‘

‘We’re meant to be setting out the craft tables!’

 Rolan grabbed for his book, but she was already expecting that. The air whipped beneath her quick fingers as she snatched it away.

‘I’ve had enough,’ she snapped.

‘Of what?’ Rolan fired back sarcastically. ‘Doing your job?’

‘It’s your job too, asshole.’

‘And? I’m here, aren’t I?’

‘You’re not doing anything!’

‘What do you mean? I broke up a fight this morning.’

‘By threatening to horsewhip them! That’s not appropriate and you know it!’

He shrugged, leaning back into the seat, though his eyes kept darting venomously to the book in her hand. ‘It worked, didn’t it?’

‘No, Rolan. He cried, and I had to talk his mom down on the phone for half an hour while she threatened to sue!’

‘Oh.’ To his minor credit, Rolan looked a teensy bit uncomfortable, his arms crossing defensively. ‘Well.’

Lennie waited, seeing him on the brink of an apology. Any moment now, she thought. She realized she was looming a little threateningly over him, and decided she didn’t care. It was having a slightly chastening effect, after all; plus, as he shrank into the cushions, his crop top was hitching up, showing even more of his pretty stomach. Not that she was staring. Although… when she looked back at him, she noticed he was staring too. Directly at her thighs. 

‘Oh, piss off!’ he snapped, coming back to life. ‘I’m only doing this job because - it doesn’t matter. You’re here for fun.’

And with that, he tried again for his book.

Still too fast for him. This was a stupid game, and she couldn’t believe she was playing it with another grown adult. A fucking Blackstaff student, of all things. 

He scowled at her. ‘Give that back. It belongs to my university library.’

Lennie scowled right back. She noticed the keys to the store room on the windowsill. 

‘Give me those, and come with me. We’re setting up this fucking crafting station.’

Rolan’s lip curled back in a grimace. ‘Or what?’

Their eyes met, and Lennie felt the spark of a challenge in his determined stare.

‘You know what?’ she muttered, throwing his precious Blackstaff book aside. ‘Someone ought to horsewhip you. Maybe that would fix your attitude problem.’

The hem of Rolan’s crop top rose and fell with a distinctly heavier breath than before. 

‘Are you’ - he paused, apparently for once in his life struggling for words - ‘…offering?’

He swallowed, and then squirmed slightly as she cast her eye over him. This was rather unexpected. But…

‘Well, I don’t have any whips on me. You’d have to make do with a spanking.’

Somehow, her words were laced with confidence, summoned from a reservoir deep inside. Or maybe it was just two weeks of simmering irritation, yearning to be expressed. Either way, Lennie bit her lip on the feeling that she was way out of her depth; but she got the feeling Rolan was too. A riot of puce red blush covered him from cheek to ear tip. 

‘I - yes - please -’

The staff cabin was a terrible place to do this. They could both be fired, if someone walked in - but he was pulling his legs up on the couch, and she was sitting down, and suddenly he was wriggling into her lap and she was yanking him further over, hands fastened on his bony hips. 

Fuck. His pert, shorts-clad ass tensed in her lap, cock throbbing rock-hard against her thigh. A nerdy Blackstaff wizard had no business having an ass this good.

She brushed her hand over it, and he whimpered.

‘Just to be clear,’ she ventured, ‘we’re both getting off on this?’

Rolan whimpered again, rubbing his face into the couch seat, one foot eagerly waving in the air.

‘Yes.’

‘Can I move your tail?’ She hesitated, unsure if it would be overstepping or not. 

Impatience whip-lashed through his voice. ‘Yes, gods-dammit!’

IHer hands were positively itching to spank him, but first, she took his tail in her firm grasp and hoisted it over her shoulder. The tip wrapped around her neck, down beneath her sweatshirt, and rubbed in nervous anticipation against her skin.

‘You know I’m on my school’s weightlifting squad?’ she murmured. ‘I can pack quite the punch.’

‘I. Don’t. Care,’ he groaned. ‘Spank me!’

She took a deep, irritated breath, and smacked him.  

Rolan shouted so loud with just the first kiss of her hand, she feared he might have come already; but as the whimpers subsided, he writhed in her lap, bucking his ass up suggestively toward her.

‘You’re strong,’ he muttered. ‘I still don’t know why you need my help. This camp runs itself just fine without - ahhhhh!’

One more slap shut him right up. Lennie felt her bargaining chip, twitching pathetically against her thigh, and ran her fingers along his skin; just up beneath the hem of his shorts. 

‘If you want any more spankings, you’re going to fucking work when you’re on duty with me. Understood?’

Rolan’s tail shuddered, his cock twitching again. 

‘Fine.’

Slap. His ass bounced beneath her hand, the sound muffled by the fabric.

‘You mean yes. And sorry.’

A low growl emerged, but no sorry. She waited a moment, hand raised, sure that if she just withheld it long enough -

‘Fine!’ he hissed. ‘Yes!’

Slap. The whimpers escalated to a moan, his hips grinding into her lap. 

‘Please!’

Lennie’s lips pursed around her tusks. Was he just incapable of apologising? 

Abruptly, she reached out for his perfect, stupid bun, with all its neat little twists, and pulled it. 

‘Fuck!’ 

Rolan jerked in her lap, writhing like a caught fish from the camp lake, but she was not letting go. Not when she was this close to a prize catch. Her fingers tightened in his hair.

‘Say sorry. Now.’

‘Sorry!’ he gasped, and then again as she smacked him, the tension in her muscles working itself thrillingly loose. ‘Sorry - sorry - I’m sorry -’

She smacked him faster, watching his legs kick and his back writhe, his sinuous ridged spine flex as he ground into her, begging for more, gasping and pleading for her to hit him harder, harder, please harder - 

It just wasn’t quite enough - even as she rolled her hips and felt her core flood with filthy heat, hungry to hear his once-cocky mouth moan again.

‘Rolan?’ 

Her voice came out much breathier than she expected it to, and she felt his tail tighten round her in response.

‘Yes?’ 

‘Can I pull your shorts down?’

‘Oh,’ he groaned. ‘Thank the Gods - I thought you’d never ask -’

As she jerked them down, slipping her hand beneath to carefully free his cock from the layers of fabric, she felt a rush of nerves. If someone came in, found her stroking and spanking his beautiful bare ass like this…

But his cock throbbed so hot, and the tip so wet, against the skin of her thigh, that she couldn’t help it. There was no point quitting now. She pulled his shorts down to just below his ass, reveling in how slutty he looked. They bunched at the top of his thighs, underlining the swell of his full cheeks.

‘Fuck,’ she muttered, pressing her hips into him again, gripping his ass tight. His skin was soft and hot, a satisfying handful in her broad grasp. The crack of his ass beckoned her, and she thought for a moment of asking if she could touch him there too. Somehow, she thought he’d love a finger or two up there, teasing him - but she really did not want to be caught with her fingers up his ass. Like this would be bad enough.

Rolan squirmed impatiently, and whined. If he made a single more noise - she thought she might soak all the way through her clothes -

She brought her hand down as hard as she possibly could. Rolan’s skin rippled, the slap resounding throughout the room, and she didn’t even wait for him to beg for more before she did it again, and again, and again, determined to make his ass as red-hot as his face; but as she spanked him he writhed and shouted and rubbed on her until abruptly, with only the fifth, rough blow to his bare ass she heard him scream.

His ass clenched, thrusting into her lap, and suddenly the inside of her thighs were hot and wet - hotter and wetter than before, even - and his cock twitched out the last of its thick erection against her. 

‘Oh. Gods.’

‘Oh - Gods -’ Rolan repeated after her, sounding much more panic-stricken. ‘I’m sorry - I did not mean to -’

He unhooked his claws from the couch and Lennie thought she was about to see stars with lust. The claw marks - he’d ripped all down the couch’s worn cover, exposing the cushion beneath. And as he raised his head and quickly wriggled off her lap, pulling his shorts back up, she saw a second wet patch, where his mouth had been pressed down into the seat - though he tried to hide it with his hand.

‘Shit,’ she murmured. ‘I should clean this up -’

‘Let me,’ he gasped, and she nodded. He probably had some spell -

‘Oh, fuck.’

He didn’t mean with a spell. 

Rolan slipped down, onto his knees in front of her, licking his come off her thighs. Lightning skittered up her skin; her muscles clenched, and she had to consciously relax to enjoy the soft velvet of his tongue.

She spread her legs, as he kissed a little further up - further up again - and then as he pressed a kiss to the seam of her shorts, right over her clit, she groaned and tangled her fingers in his hair. 

‘I’m going to take them off…?’ 

‘Yes,’ he murmured, nose rubbing into her. ‘Yes!’

She wiggled out of them, trying not to kick him - hard, when he seemed to determined not to move from the floor in front of her. But finally they were off, and she felt a flicker of embarrassment, one that made her eyes twitch shut. Humans could be weird enough about the amount of body hair half-orcs had, but tieflings had none at all. What if Rolan hated it? 

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes again, and an ache spread through her at the sight of him.

Rolan was looking at her bush with open lips, drool pooling in the corner; he broke his gaze only long enough for his glassy eyes to flick up to hers, wider than she’d ever seen them before. She felt suddenly like she’d misjudged him - not that it mattered now, she could figure him out later -

One moment more, and he was nose-deep in her folds, fingers spreading her, licking her and stroking her and drinking her in, as if she were a deliciously cold beer on a hot summer’s day. Gods, Lennie thought, leaning back - imagine if she was drinking a beer right now - fuck - no, she decided, it wouldn’t matter anyway, because could anything be better than this? Being eaten out by the most beautiful boy she’s ever seen, whose ass must still be glowing from her hand? In the staff room at camp?

She realized, though a haze of blissful heat, that her foot was digging into his back. All the mud on her shoes was definitely going to leave a mark, and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Instead, she grabbed his hair and dug her heel in harder, rewarded with the prettiest sound yet. Gasps and whimpers rippled through her folds, and as Rolan’s hands gripped her thighs and his tongue pressed into her clit she felt herself approach the edge, skin pulsing with the rhythm of his strokes.

Wet and hot and tender and urgent and -

Oh Gods -

‘Oh GODS! Rolan! - ahhhhhhhhh!’

Her body snapped in on itself like a spring, then arched back, her thoughts all blown away by pleasure. It took several moments before she felt conscious again, her fingers gently unwinding from Rolan’s very disheveled hair. 

His thigh brushed up against hers, as they sat there awkwardly on the couch next to each other. 

‘Can I - ’ he started awkwardly, and stopped. She could feel the heavy, nervous breaths in his ribs, pressing against the side of hers. ‘Kiss you?’ he finished.

Pulling him close, she thrust her mouth against his, skipping an answer entirely in favor of their lips clashing and tongues fumbling between tusks and fangs. As imperfect as their kiss was, it was wonderful. Lennie cradled his chin, and Rolan’s thumb stroked her cheek, and it was only with great reluctance that she pulled away. 

‘We have work to do. You promised, remember?’

His golden eyes fixed on her, still looking a little dazed.

‘I might need… regular spankings. To remind me of it.’

‘Well,’ she murmured, licking her tusk teasingly. ‘We have all summer.’

[soulwillower]

cleaning the room • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut)

requested:  heyyy i love your work!! can i maybe request a Richie smut where their like in the middle of doing “it” but then someone calls the reader (maybe bev or eddie or sumn) and instead of stopping richie keeps going and so she has to continue the call and pretend like shes not in the middle of such unholy acts haha sorry if its too specific,, thank you!!!

warnings: swearing, smut, spitting, v light cum play, light light slapping (reader smacks richie bc theyre frustrated he was teasing them), unprotected sex, risky sex, talking on the phone w someone, use of the words whore/slut, degradation, this has literally no plot its all smut LOL

heyyy finally bback w a fic, i have awful writers block so this was all i could do. hope u guys like it

[ 18+ ]

1.8k words

♡

"richie," you purr, sighing with lust as your boyfriend's hands pull your hips harder towards his own, arching your back as his hand rises to gently push you down against the mattress. he hums, leaning down to kiss your lips hard, thrusting into you as your back rubs the sheets under you. 

richie leans back and his mouth opens to murmur something to you, but a ringing noise makes you jolt. both of you turn to look at your phone, which has lit up with the call from someone. richie sighs and you groan, arm reaching out to grope around for the phone as your other hand threads into richie's hair, tugging him as he slowly eases on his thrusts. 

"oh, god," you say, half moaning as richie's strokes slow, changing angles as he looks down at you with mischevious eyes. "it's eddie." you add, tossing your phone to the edge of the bed.

 richie hums, pulling out of you and grabbing the phone. you whine, looking at him, "no, please keep going, i can call him back later." you beg, desperate to feel richie again. richie raises his brows, "you know he'll just keep calling." 

you lean back, sighing because you know richie's right. "fuck you richie. fine." and then you snatch the phone, pressing the answer button. "hey, wh-what's up?" you ask, breathing slightly heavily. 

"hey, i was wondering what your plans are later. we need to get some supplies for the party." eddie says cheerfully, and you swallow. god, couldn't he have called any other time? at least this will be quick. 

you jolt but keep quiet as you feel richie's fingers gently run through your slick folds, thumb teasing your clit. you let out a short whine and gulp, "oh, uh, yeah i can-can hang out later, just not now-" you swallow. your face feels on fire, excited by the idea of possibly being caught. 

"you okay, y/n?" eddie asks genuinely, sounding concerned. you bite your lip so hard you think it may draw blood as you gasp, "yeah, just...not feeling good." you say, sharply inhaling as richie quietly chuckles. you send him a glare. 

"richie and i are c-cleaning his room and there's... it's hard work." you mutter breathlessly as you go up on one elbow, eyeing richie as he smirks, his hand trailing down to stroke his cock. you barely resist a moan as you watch him, biting your lip as you wish you could have him in your mouth. 

"okay..." eddie says absently, immediately dismissing your excuse as he launches into a conversation with you asking about what you're bringing to mike's surprise party on saturday. you're biting your lip as you fall back onto the mattress, heart racing as you think back to twenty seconds ago when richie's cock was inside you. "-and, you know, i think richie's bringing weed and some handles, but maybe if you still have your fake you could try and get us some-" 

but you accidentally cut eddie's sentence off with a sharp gasp tailed with a moan, because as you were listening to eddie, richie lined himself back up to your entrance and pushed straight into you.

your eyes are wide as you stare at richie, watching as he winks at you, finger going to his lips in a shush motion. you hate how immediate your shivers of lust flow through you, as richie starts to slowly thrust into you again. you roll your eyes but your face heats up as eddie's voice breaks the silence over the phone, "y/n, wh... -are you sure you're doing fine?" 

you pull your hand off your mouth, "yes! yes, i just-" you cough to cover up a moan as richie spits down onto your dripping cunt and starts to thrust harder, "i stubbed my fucking toe." richie's smirking darkly at your words, looking down at you as his large hand creeps up your body, splaying across your breasts and then to your neck, ghosting a squeeze before slipping a finger into your open, panting mouth. 

his other hand finds purchase on the skin of your thighs and he winks at you, moving his hips and hitting the perfect spot inside you. the pleasure you feel has your eyes falling back, toes curling. 

"oh. well make sure if it's bad that you ice it, because one time my ma stubbed her toe and she had to stay in bed for a week," and then eddie launches into a quick story and you hum along to make it seem like you're listening even though all you can think about is richie and how his hand is tweaking your nipples, splaying across your sternum, as you suck on his fingers. 

then he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing in a pattern that has you seeing stars. 

"-wait, you said you're with richie?" eddie asks and you cough, throat caught after having richie's hand on it, "yes, he's- he’s right here." you say breathlessly. 

"can you let me ask him something?" 

your eyes widen and you gasp a bit, making eye contact with richie. "s-sure, here he is."  richie's giddy face as he grabs the phone from you makes you nervous, but you bite your lip as he mutters, "hey, eds." 

it's quiet for a bit as eddie's voice drawls along on the other line and suddenly richie's pushing your legs up towards your shoulders and speeding up his thrusts, the deep angle almost making you scream in pleasure. his hand falls over your mouth, keeping you quiet as he leans over you, pumping into you and making tears of pleasure form in the corner of your eyes. 

richie mutters, “mhm? yeah, yeah.” to eddie, but the sultry way he’s staring at you and the way your nails are raking down his back make you wonder if the words are also for you. 

"yeah, she's helping me out, she's always so good like that." richie says, voice shockingly even for the way that he's fucking you into your mattress. and yeah, that definitely is for you. 

 the desperation and pleasure creep up on you alarmingly quick and you can't help the whimpers that quietly escape you - you thank god for the loud fan in your room to cover your noises. 

richie hums to eddie a few more times, then he slaps your thigh gently as you try to close your legs from the pleasure, knowing when you cum you won't be able to keep quiet. it makes you feel even closer, though. "yeah, eds, i can do that. now listen, i got something important to finish off here so i'm going to give you back to my girl." 

you bite your lip, feeling warm as you squirm under richie's touch, hands shakily taking the phone back from him and then richie’s kneeling above you, fucking you down into the mattress and filling you up fully. "eddie," you gasp, "i also have to go, i'll - i'll call you later?" you say, trying your hardest to hold off your orgasm as richie spits on your chest, licking and biting and leaving a love bite in the same spot as he thrusts hard into you. 

"sure, bye y/n!" eddie chirps.

and then the second your finger presses the off button you're a begging mess, eyes screwing shut as you reach up to grip richie's neck. his hands push your knees up towards your head, hitting a spot that has you clenching around him, legs shaking as your chest stutters.

 "please, richie, god, i'm going to kill you for that." you hiss, causing him to grin, "i fucking hate you, i hate you." you mutter, smacking his cheek lightly. the grin after you leave the smack makes you even closer to the edge, and his hands grip your tits as he leans towards your ear. 

his strokes are hitting you deep and hotly as he chuckles, "you liked it. i saw it in your face. pathetic desperation. i can feel it." he whispers against your clammy skin, his fingers brushing against your slick heat as he mutters. your cheeks are hot in embarrassment, and you whimper in need. 

you bite your lip hard, resisting a moan as a sharp cry falls from your lips, shaking as you beg, "richie, just - please, let me cum. please." 

"you're so pretty when you beg, look at you. perfect little whore, talkin' on the phone to my best friend while i fuck you." he mutters, hand caressing your burning cheek as you whimper. "all mine, so eager and willing to do whatever i want."  

you nod, "yes, i'm yours, just - please, please." you whimper. "please say i can cum."

he smiles as he kisses your nose, "would you do whatever i want?” 

you stutter an exhale, “yes! fuck, richie, yes, yes i would. i’m yours.” 

he smiles, “cum, then." you do after the next three thrusts, shaking and gasping and calling richie's name. the euphoria rushes through your body and makes your eyes roll back, chest rising and falling as richie rides you through your high. 

only a minute later, richie pulls out of you, hand moving to pump himself. "my perfect slut." he mutters as you sit up slightly on shaky elbows, tongue out and mouth open as you pant, richie's hand moving in quick movements as he chases his own high. then he's grabbing your neck and pulling you toward him, moans leaving his lips as he cums in spurts onto your open tongue and down your chin, a bit dripping onto your chest. his thumb caresses you, opening your mouth wider and smearing his cum on your lips, wiping it from your tits and slapping them lightly, pinching your nipples and making you grin up at him. 

and his chest is heaving as he smiles down at you, shaking his head as you swallow his cum, "christ, you're perfect doll." you tug his arms so that he falls down onto you and you're both chuckling as you become a tangled mess of limbs and beating hearts and blushy cheeks, sticky bodies cuddling close. 

"he's going to find out." you say after a few seconds. richie hums, "what makes you say that, sugar? it's not like you were all 'richie, fuck me harder, please, yes!' while you were on the phone. that was only after." he teases, and you smack his chest lightly, "shut the fuck up, richie. i hate you." you say through a laugh. he's laughing too as he pulls you even closer, kissing your hairline, "i love you so much, y/n." he says, smiling giddily. 

you pull his chin to you, kissing him sweetly. "i love you too, richie. but eddie's going to your place later, he's going to see that we didn't clean the room." 

richie laughs, shrugging as he runs a hand through his messy curls, "let 'em guess. it's funnier that way." and then he's kissing you, rolling on top of you and tickling your sides as you scream and squeal. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings  @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly  @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

[sirthisisa-wendys]

One, Two, Three: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: You and Geto have to get away for a week because clerical work isn’t fun, and he’s dying for a break from Satoru. But a private balcony on a private residence on the beach doesn’t exactly equate to playing in the sand, does it? 

words: 2092

tw: nsfw (smut, light pain play, exhibitionism?)

Lips dance around the crook of your neck and down your shoulder blade, making you gasp into the crisp spring air. 

“A private balcony… a private residence…” You begin to put the pieces together as your wrap dress easily comes undone in Suguru’s hands. He chuckles behind you, smoothing his fingers over the swell of your breasts and down to your slightly rounded stomach. 

“I’m nothing if not purposeful,” he breathes into your ear, making you shudder. “This week is just for us. Like I said, no missions, no curses, and definitely no Satoru.” The promise of no Gojo elated you to the point that you were pushing Suguru out of the door the day of the trip, hoping to avoid the terribly nosy companion on the way out. 

Ever since you and Suguru had quietly announced your pregnancy four months ago, Satoru had launched into a full campaign to be the “best uncle” to your unborn child. It was mildly annoying at first, with him showing up unannounced to your private dates to make sure “you were eating the right things”. Then it progressed to shadowing you during your training as a desk worker, making sure no one “stressed you out too much”. If you so much as sighed at the computer, he’d grab the keyboard and type faster than you could comprehend, thus doing your job for you. 

But this week, you’d be relaxing with Suguru on the beach, listening to nothing but the sound of the waves crashing onto the shore and the occasional sound of wildlife. No clicking of keys, no shuffling of papers, nothing. 

Suguru brings you back to the present moment by taking your neck in one hand and sliding his other hand down the front of your underwear, pressing your pussy lips apart. “I’ve got you to myself all week.” You moan low in your throat as he begins his slow ministrations around your clit, his fingers tenderly rubbing the nub. His lips come to the sensitive point behind your earlobe, and you exhale deeply as you feel the tension building in your core. The raven-haired sorcerer behind you takes in all of your exhales, all of your pants and moans, and delivers them back to you in an endless stream of pleasure. Another shudder passes through you and goes straight to your clit. The sensitivity builds as his fingers dance over it, smearing your slick around and almost playing with it to torment you. 

“Su…” At this, he dips a finger into you, and your head sinks back onto his broad shoulder. You see his eyes widen just a fraction, a gentle breath passing between his lips as he fingers you shamelessly on the balcony of the rented home. His middle finger rocks against the inside of your cunt, hitting the soft spot with ease. You can’t help but rock your hips against the palm of his hand, painting his unoccupied fingers with your wetness. “Suguru, please!”

“Say my name as loud as you want,” he sings, making his movements just a little faster before adding another finger easily into your dripping cunt. You grip the wooden railing of the balcony just a fraction tighter and hope that soon, his fingers will be replaced by the thick cock rubbing against your ass. Bucking against his hand, you feel the pressure of release building even more and engulfing your thoughts. 

His fingers are doing a delicate kick against your soft spot, and you’re losing your control as Suguru reaches a hand down to palm your breast, tugging at the nipple. You cry out, feeling the tender flesh give way to pain as he rolls it between his fingers again. “Should’ve given it to you much sooner, huh?” His fingers slide out of you, and with one hand, he forces his boxers down around his ankles. With his wet fingers, he pumps his now freed cock eagerly, the angry red tip a sure sign of his desire to be buried inside of you. 

Without apologies, he pulls off your underwear, snapping the flimsy thing in half and letting it fall to the ground before angling your hips upward. “Lean forward,” he mumbles, and you rest your elbows on the railing. The head of his cock slides around your entrance for a little while, becoming wet from your own arousal. 

When he pushes in, your mouth forms a neat “o” and you inhale deeply while Suguru groans. The filling sensation takes you a minute to adjust to, but when your walls unclench from around his cock, he knows he can move without restriction. He rocks his hips back and forth, hissing at the contact of his balls against your cunt once he sinks into you fully. It takes you both a minute to decide to incrementally speed up, and you thrust your hips back to meet his with ease. 

“Shit, y/n…” His hands rest on your hips while he sinks into you time and time again. You look over your shoulder at the man and find his hair is slipping from the neat bun he always wears, his bangs flopping over his grimacing face. You reach a hand between your legs and play with yourself while he maintains his speed.

“Fuck, Suguru,” you growl, and he takes your expression as a need for more, which he answers with a hand on your swollen breast as he tweaks your nipple again, moving his hips much faster. “Su-gu-ru!” A whine begins low in your throat, but is torn from you while your walls contract around his cock and fingers rub the last sensations from your clit. The orgasm lasted a fraction of the time it normally did, and Suguru notices right away.  

“That’s it…” His thrusts stutter a little, but he isn’t coming. Not even close. He resumes his normal pace, and your hands quickly find the railing again. “Count your orgasms for me.” 

“One,” you pant, and he smiles sweetly, pushing your curls away from your face. 

“Three should do the trick, hmm?” His question is punctuated by a deep thrust, and you gasp, losing your balance. “Or maybe four will do…” He pulls out and turns you so you’re facing him before picking you up. With his impressive strength and coordination, he presses you between the stone wall and his bulky frame, capturing your lips in a kiss before sliding back into you. 

“Unhh…” The feeling of his hard length inside of you empties your mind, and it isn’t long before Suguru starts to move. His face hovers above yours, eyes focused on your facial expressions as he takes his time drawing soft cries and moans from your lips. “That feels so damn good…” A smile tugs at his lips while he moves your arms around his neck, then trails a few kisses down your face. The sorcerer’s hips rut forward eagerly, but his thrusts aren’t ravenous enough to repeatedly smack your back against the stone wall. But they are enough to fan the flames of desire tenfold. Somehow, every single time you were at his mercy, he found a way to make you unravel until you held no thoughts or memories in your head. The only thing that would be left were the ripples of pleasure he’d give you. 

“Su… I need you t--” When one of his fingers hits your clit, you gasp and angle your head back. Your eyes close as he moves his fingers in circles; somehow knowing exactly what you need before you can even articulate it. He presses his lips to yours again, muffling your cries of pleasure only a fraction. “Oh, god,” you moan into his mouth, giving him a chance to slip his tongue between your teeth and kiss you even deeper. You tangle your fingers into his messy hair, tugging gently on the strands as he continues rutting into you.

When Suguru breaks the kiss, he hoists you off the wall and into the bedroom, laying you gently on the impossibly soft sheets. You expect him to re-enter you, but the expectation was only met with a tongue lapping against your core. “Oh, fuck!” You almost shoot right off the bed, but Suguru steadies you with hands against your legs, pressing them back open easily. You lift your head a little higher to watch him eagerly devour you, his eyes meeting yours. 

Watch me, he seemed to say without speaking. Watch me turn you into a mess. 

The thought was too much. You lay back on the bed as his teeth graze your overly sensitive clit, groaning from the equal dose of pain and pleasure. His tongue swirled around you without care, hitting all of the right spots as if it were a pinball machine. Suguru moans into your cunt when you grab his hair again, and his hairtie falls out completely, letting his inky locks cascade around his face. Combined with his hand pushing back the hair that obscured his view of you, his gaze transfixed you completely. 

It was all just too much, and you gasp before your mind hits that point where the only thing you can think of is nothingness and the only word that flies out of your mouth is Suguru’s name. You rock against his face greedily, hoping that you can ride out just one more orgasm on the heels of your second one, but Suguru knows your tricks by now. Lifting off of you, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grasps his cock, and sinks into your heat once more. 

“Count,” he whispers darkly against your ear, reminding you of your duty.

“Two!” The word comes out choked, as if he had his hand around your neck, but the only thing he’s doing is making you see stars after your second orgasm. 

“You can’t tap out now,” Suguru laughs, seeing your cross-eyed stare. “I need you to hold on for me; only one more.” You only whine in response, feeling the tip of his cock touch your cervix. His arms were caging you in, holding you underneath him with precision. 

“I don’t know if I --” 

“Oh, yes you can.” His response is clipped short by a loud moan, and you feel his pace quicken. “I know you can.” Suguru’s lips latch onto your other nipple, tugging and pulling and driving you insane. You write beneath him, lifting your knees to add to the depth of his strokes and perhaps even allow him to hit that one spot…

The sensation of needing to pee crashes over you quickly, and you grasp Suguru’s arm, struggling to hold on. He hisses at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin, but it only adds to his own feelings of euphoria. “Oh, my god, y/n.” 

You whimper, trying to find purchase with anything anywhere, even going so far as to dragging your nails across his back hard enough to draw blood. But in your ecstasy, you don’t hear Suguru exclaim in shock. All you can feel is his cock sending you straight to heaven with no stops along the way. When the dam finally breaks, your legs shake vigorously, wetness running down to the sheets like a river. And Suguru finds his release in yours, pumping his cock into you as he cums, adding to the mess. You both lay there for a moment, sweat dripping down Suguru’s body and onto yours as you both catch your breath. 

While he goes soft inside of you, you kiss his face before finding his lips and pressing tender pecks there. Suguru slides out of you completely after a moment, then falls onto the bed beside you. Rolling onto your side, you nestle close to his body heat, feeling cum leaking out of you but not minding the sensation at all. “Three.” 

Suguru chuckles, wrapping an arm around you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

And that’s when you feel it. 

A little flutter on your right side. 

You lift your head to meet Suguru’s eyes and find him, as always, looking back at you. This time, it’s not with laser focus, but with confusion. “Did he just--” Suguru insisted it was a boy - because he” just knows these things” - even going so far as to call your unborn child “my first-born son” whenever he spoke about it with Shoko and Satoru.

“I think so…” you laugh, and when you look down at your belly, you see a little raised bump slowly receding for the first time.

[systematicfailure]

Counting Days

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: You never had a reason to count days when you thought you still had all the time in the world.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, grief

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Wager a listen to Choke by OneRepublic while reading. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy.

You learn to start counting days once she’s gone.

The first few come and go in shock, the piece of you that refuses to believe the truth of it all, makes a second plate of breakfast in the morning and the several that follow. She was going to come back, you were sure of it. You just have to be patient.

Day thirteen is different from the ones before.

Time is precious and grief is suffocating, you finally realize - you feel foolish for never noticing. A more forgiving part of you rationalizes that there was no way of knowing how little of it you had but then the grief sets in, all encompassing - it latches onto your limbs, pulling you further away from the light she so easily brought you. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. The heroes won but if that was the case, then why did it feel like you just lost everything?

Your life turns into a series of maybes and what ifs. You recognize that you’re bargaining, trying so desperately to replay that day to find something to change or tweak, another path that leads her back to you. It hurts more than you care to admit but the record keeps spinning, and in between one alteration and another, you fall asleep in a bed that is now only yours.

You dream of her.

There’s a glimmer in her eyes and you hate that even in your dreams, you compare it to the dull, unseeing emeralds in the haunting dying embers of night. The image is fleeting as she turns slightly, rays of sunlight peeking through half open blinds, illuminating her features. A familiar smirk lays across her face, hands moving up to dust the bangs from her forehead.

“Staring is rather rude, you know?” She teases, a light chuckle touching the tip of her tongue.

“I just don’t want to forget.” Natasha quirks an eyebrow at your response. Shaking her head, she follows the movement of your frantic irises, a question rising in the way her mouth crinkles at the corners. You ignore it, standing up from the bed before closing the short distance to her. Nose tucking into her neck, you breathe in the underlying scent of cherry blossoms and tangerines. You know it's just a dream, know deep in your bones it’s not real but as your head cranes back, her eyes of worry tracing each inch of you, you let yourself believe, even for a moment, that when you wake up she’ll still be there.

She isn’t.

When you wake it’s unbearably dark. Your motions are sluggish as you stumble out of the confining sheets and down the elevator to the front entrance of the compound. A scream gains traction in your vocal chords, fighting its way past your lips as you throw your scorching body against the wet pavement outside. How many times were you going to do this? How many times were you going to lose her? How many more days? When was enough, enough? The second the thought surfaces, you feel selfish. The answer would always be the same.

As many times as it took. You freely put the shackles on because there ceases to be a day that exists where she’s not worth every last bit of this agony that swallows you whole.

You carefully right your position, drawing your aching chest into your knees and you remember her.

Dawn is on the horizon when you finally shuffle your weight off the ground. Shivering, you keep your eyes to the floor as you enter the kitchen. What remains of the Avengers linger at your reappearance but do not pose a question when you make two cups of coffee instead of one. They know it’s a habit you’re not quite ready to break yet. Vaguely, your head tilts their way as you exit. You don’t have enough left in you to do anything more.

When you reach your bedroom door, you falter. It’s still partially open from your earlier haste to get away and everything comes crashing down once again. Both ceramic mugs tumble to the concrete when you catch sight of the worn, brown leather jacket. It’s all too much and wholly not enough, rolled into one. You can’t take it anymore. Ghosts are chasing and nipping at your heels; the smell of her lingers in hallways and rooms, random items of clothing hanging in closets and lying atop of chairs, memories bombarding at every turn.

You need to leave, at least for a little while -- not forever but long enough.

A snarky fragment of your consciousness mocks you when you bring a box of her things, lamenting the irony of taking memories you’re trying to leave behind. You huff out loud in response, continuing to put it with the rest of your stuff anyways before shutting the trunk. The rest of the team waits patiently to bid their goodbyes. After over an hour, there’s only Clint left. You eye each other patiently, sizing the other up before identical, miserable grins stretch into place.

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” You say because you really, truthfully mean it. You don’t blame him, not anymore at least but you know a significant portion of himself always will. He gives you a barely perceptible nod, pain licking his eyes in a faint mist. Without hesitation, your arms wrap his shoulders, pulling him close. He seizes at the motion before returning the gesture ten-fold, the strength of it crushing the breath in your diaphragm.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers brokenly into your hair, fingers gripping your sides. Your body tightens around him in a squeeze as a response before you ease away from him. Tears gather and collect in his eyelashes, falling briefly but he’s quick to swipe them dry. A sigh escapes you then, long and drawn out as the backs of your cornea’s burn at the weight of all you both had lost. “As am I, Clint.”

When the compound fades from your rearview mirror, you finally loosen the captive hold you have on your sobs. They come out silent at first but it’s not long before you’re choking on each exhale, chest rattling with the force it takes to regain a semblance of oxygen in your caving lungs.

You think you might never be okay again and it terrifies you.

At first, roaming the world does help ease the ever persistent ache you feel. The days blur and melt together. You never stay in one place more than a week, the constant need to run as far as your legs can take you keeps the thoughts at bay. You avoid Ohio, taking a ship to Ireland instead. Eventually, you find yourself in Italy, in a small rural town with more hills than people but there’s a familiar voice in the back of your mind, prodding you to realize that you’re doing something wrong and you hate yourself for not figuring it out sooner.

You don’t remember when it happened but somewhere between leaving and now, you stopped counting. It’s a betrayal you had no idea you were capable of, it feels like forgetting and the last thing you want to do is forget her.

You force yourself to stop running and the ache you welcome back resembles coming home.

Finally, you visit Ohio. It's gut wrenching and painful but worth it in the end when you find them, her family. They tell you stories you won’t dare forget. You come to the conclusion that people are liars, grief does not lessen or fade, it just becomes more manageable to bear. Your soul is still hollow, ghosts don’t stop nipping at your heels but when you see her in your dreams, you tell her you’ll find her again, in another life, and you’ll get the happy ending you both deserve.

You don’t go back to New York.

You plant saplings in the fields of Ohio, by a house made for two, that you nurture with aging hands and you watch them flourish into breathtaking creatures of nature. Their limbs and branches stretched towards one another, forever intertwined.

You learn to love counting days, especially when it leads you back to her.

[sstarcry]

Talbot grimes x afab reader

Talbot wants to make it up to his lover for neglecting their emotional needs

“Darling, wake up. I have a surprise for you,” he said as I rolled over, giving just a slight hum to let him know I was awake. “There you are my love, come here.” I heard him say as he pulled me into his chest.

“G’mornin’,” I said, cuddling into the blanket. I felt his arms wrap around my small frame and pull me closer to the edge of the bed. “Noooooo, I wanna … wanna sleep. Tallllbooot.”

“I have a surprise for your darling, and I’m not going to let you lift a finger today. It's all about you,” he said fully hoisting me up earning a squeak from me.

“Talbot! I’m up I’m up!!” I yelped, gripping onto his neck. “Also good morning to you too handsome,” I said giving him a peck on the cheek. “I think I smell… waffles? Pancakes?”

“I made them just for you my love, I promised to make it up to you,” he said, setting my feet on the floor as we reached the table. This smells splendid. He kissed me, a short one full of love.

After breakfast, we made our way to the living room. He sat us down on the couch, him facing me. “I love you so much, you mean everything to me.” he paused, grabbing my hand. “I'm so sorry that I had been neglecting you and your needs. That stops today, I can and will drop anything at a moment’s notice to see you. Anything I can do to make you smile, to hear you laugh, and to just… just be in the moment with you. I love you my sweet, my darling, my love. I would walk the earth a thousand times to see you smile, I want to spend every waking moment with you, even if it is in silence, or just a few meters apart, if the sun were to burn out, your eyes would be my light.” he spoke, tears welled up in my eyes and a smile spread across my face.

“I- I love you too Talbot. I- I don’t know what to say..”

“Come here my love, let me show you how much you mean to me,” he said, pulling me into his lap for a passionate kiss. I felt his hands run up and down my back before resting themselves on my waist.

I shifted slightly in his lap to get comfortable, eliciting a low groan from him. “Darling, do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, slipping a cool hand under my shirt causing me to shudder slightly.

“Hmmm… maybe, but why don't you show me.” Isaid, placing my hands on his shoulders, grinding down slightly, letting out a small moan.

“Quit teasing me sweetheart. Come, we should move this to a more comfortable area.” he purred into my ear, hoisting me up on his waist while walking to our shared bedroom. He gently placed me down on the mattress. A hand came up to caress my cheek as a small smile spread across his face. “You are gorgeous my love, but as much as I like you in this shirt I'd rather see it on the floor now.”

His hands grabbed the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head. His hands quickly moved to my chest, freeing it from its confinement. I reached up and began to unbutton his shirt quickly taking it off him, I moved my hands to his pants fumbling with the button as he did the same to mine. He quickly pulled them down my legs along with my underwear, hands caressing my sides as he moved himself to kiss my neck. I heard the rustling of fabric and before I could comprehend what it was his pants were on the floor.

“My love, you look magnificent.” He said kissing down my neck and leaving a trail of small bites along my collarbone. He latched on to my neck, quickly finding my sweet spot and leaving a mark. A small moan escaped my mouth as one of his hands moved up to tweak my nipple, while the other stayed planted on the bed near my head. Suddenly his mouth latched on to my other nipple drawing a sharp gasp and a louder moan. His mouth felt like heaven as he began to suck and nip at the sensitive skin.

He soon switched to my neglected nipple and began to give it the same treatment as his hand ventured further south to where I needed him most. As soon as his hand reached my thighs he removed his mouth and kissed down my stomach, stopping to tease my inner thighs.

“Darling, you look good enough to eat. I think I might have to have a taste.” He said, a smirk ever present on his face. I felt my face flush even more, if that was even possible at this point. He kissed up my inner thighs and let out a low chuckle. “My my darling, you are absolutely soaking. Now don't look away, the fun is about to begin.” He said, giving me a teasing lick. A loud moan was pulled from my throat as his tongue worked magic on me.

“Talbot, oh— baby, t-thank y-yo— OH fuuuckk” I moaned out as my hands flew down to his now shaggy hair. I felt him prod my entrance with a finger before slowly sliding it in, then another until I felt three. Moans bubbled in my throat as his hand sped up, pulling me ever closer to the edge. I glanced down to him and made eye contact with him as he sucked hard onto my clit.

My hands scrambled to find one of his as I felt myself reach the edge. He had found mine as I felt everything break into a bright white light of pleasure. His hands slowly removed themselves from me as my eyes glazed over.

“Thank you— so— much Talbot.” I said with a weak smile. I reached out towards him and did a grabby hand motion. “Come cuddle… I wanna be close to you.”

“Alright my love, come now and rest. I love you with every ounce of my being. My sweet.” He said as I laid my head on his chest. As sleep slowly consumed me I felt him pull me closer, and a pleasant slumber washed over me soon after.

[hopelikethemoon]

In the Dark (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [smut]

Title: I the Dark Rating: Explicit Length: 1200 Warnings: Smut (pretty much touchy feeling tantric foreplay and spooning sex) Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set early Summer 1998. A truly tiny chapter, I am sorry. Summary: Reader and Javier can’t sleep.

@grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @snivellusim @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl​ @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato​ @coredrive @pascalesque​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​ @queenquazar​ @sabinemorans​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @seeking-a-great–perhaps

“Are you asleep?” You whispered into the darkness beside you. If he was asleep, you doubted you’d spoken loud enough to wake him. 

Javier was quiet beside you, but then he stirred and rolled towards you, “Can’t sleep?” He questioned, only the faint outline of his face visible in the darkness of your bedroom. 

“Afternoon coffee was a mistake.” You laughed, reaching out to brush your fingers against his bare arm. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” He answered on an exhale, shifting closer to you beneath the covers. “I don’t have an excuse for my insomnia.” Javier nudged at your leg with his foot, “That feels nice.”

“Yeah?” You ran your fingers down the length of his arm and back up again. It was a featherlight touch, just barely ghosting over the soft hairs that covered his skin. 

Javier reached out and rested his hand on your leg just above your knee as you bent it, sliding his hand up your leg, giving your thigh a squeeze before his fingers slid under the leg of your sleep shorts. 

You shifted closer to him, trailing your fingertips down the column of his throat as you tilted your head and met his lips. There was something arousing about gentle touches in the dark. With one sense muted, touch felt like that much more. 

He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, as he played his fingers over your hair. You turned your head as his lips brushed the shell of your ear, a shiver running down your spine as his breath danced over your skin. 

“Javi,” You whispered, your hand sliding down to rest against his chest, directly over his heart. You could feel it beating against your palm — a reassuring reminder, as steady as your own heartbeat. 

His lips found yours again, his tongue playing over your bottom lip before they parted. Javier inhaled slowly, exhaling against your lips. You mirrored him, drawing in a breath as he exhaled, only to settle into an identical pattern. You inhaled as he did, your lips lingering against his as you both exhaled. 

Javier ran his hand along your side, his fingers curling around the supple flesh of your hip as he drew you towards him. It was still such a soft touch, leaving your skin burning beneath his touch. 

Javier peeled at the waistband of your sleep pants and underwear, helping your work them down your hips until you were bare for him. 

You let him draw your leg up and over his hip, and you angled yourself towards him so you were pressed against him everywhere you possibly could be. God, you loved it. The tingle that came from the contact as your skin brushed against his. 

His forehead pressed against yours as you cupped his jaw, letting your nose brush against his, savoring the nearness without quite kissing. Javier’s hand slid upwards, fingertips playing over the curve of your breast. 

“Lay back,” You whispered, pressing against his chest — following him back as he moved for you. Your thighs rested on either side of his stomach as Javier’s hands rested at your hips, drawing little shapes over your skin.

You traced your fingertips over his lower stomach, trailing a hand upwards as you leaned forward. “I love you.” You breathed out, circling your thumb over his nipple.

His breath caught in the back of his throat, one hand running up your side to grasp your breast. “I love you too.” Javier promised, curling a hand at the back of your neck as he drew you down and met your lips.

You sighed against his lips, sliding downwards until your bare cunt was pressed against his cloth-covered cock. 

There was no haste to your movements, you sought friction — but there was no desperation. You enjoyed the leisurely pace you both used as you rocked against each other. You were leaving a slick spot against his boxers, your arousal leaking from you. 

Javier tugged your hair loose, winding his fingers through your hair as he slanted his mouth over your lips. You dipped your tongue out, sliding it over his bottom lip before you delved in to find his. 

He groaned, hips rocking upwards as his grip tightened at your hip. You raked your fingers through his hair, breaking from the kiss with a ragged breath, “I also love your hair. Never cut it.”

“I won’t. Just for you, baby.” He chuckled as he grabbed at your ass. 

You tugged lightly at his hair as you stole another kiss, “Thank you.” You whispered, brushing your fingers down his cheek before you rolled off of him. 

Javier followed your lead, ridding himself of his boxers. He curled close to you from behind, his hand skimming along your leg as he drew you back firmly against him. 

You shifted slightly so you were partially on your back, your hips twisted to the side. You slid your hand along the inside of his arm, trailing it downwards to where his hand was still grasping at your thigh. “Please.” You whispered as you kissed his jaw, landing kisses wherever you could reach. 

He released your leg, reaching down to curl his fingers around his cock and lead himself to your slick center. He pressed just the tip of himself into you, teasing you for a moment before he sank the full length of his cock into you. 

The angle was perfect. 

Javier ran his hand over your side, skimming it around to grasp at your breast, his thumb and forefinger tweaking your nipple gently. You moaned, unable to hold back the sound as he slowly rolled his hips. He barely withdrew before sinking into you again. 

His breath danced over your shoulder, still perfectly in sync with your own breathing. “You feel so fucking perfect, baby.” He told you, his hand skimming over your stomach before slipping downwards to tease at your clit.

“Fuck.” You murmured as he applied pressure directly onto that little bundle of nerves that flooded you with an anxious need. You reached behind you, fisting at his hair as you dragged him in for a kiss. 

Javier kept his finger right on your clit, slowing the roll of his hips as he teased you and coaxed you towards your release. You crested gently, like a great ebb and flow as you came around his cock. 

You were still so in sync, you could feel his chest rise and fall against your spine in time with your own breathing. 

And then he came, mere seconds after your own release, his cock buried to the hilt and pulsing within you. You could feel it — the way his release spilled over, the way tension slipped from his body as he relaxed behind you. 

A breathless laugh escaped you, “I think I can sleep now.”

Javier snorted as he nuzzled your shoulder, “Comfortable?” 

“Very.” You lazily dragged your fingers through his hair. “I’m taking the day off tomorrow.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s Friday and I want a lazy day with you.” You whispered, kissing his chin. “And the girls.”

He ran his hand over your ribs, “I’d like that.”

“Life’s happening too fast. I want to slow down and savor it all with my family.” You told him, kissing him again as you played with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: this body yet survives, ch. 5

Relationship: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī, Lán Huàn | Lán Xīchén, Lán Qǐrén, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Jiāng Chéng | Jiāng Wǎnyín, Jiāng Yànlí

Additional Tags: No War AU, Recovery, Trauma, Dissociation, Courtship, Courting Rituals

Summary: Wangji approaches the Jiang siblings with betrothal gifts, hoping for their approval. More of Wei Wuxian's self-esteem issues rear their ugly heads.

Notes: See end

Parts 1 & 2

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

AO3 link

-----------

Wei Ying offered to help carry the baskets, or even the two cages containing a fat white-feathered wuguji rooster apiece, but Wangji refused to let him—it seemed improper to have him carry any part of the betrothal gifts. 

Fortunately, xiongzhang and the outer disciple were both able to help. Wangji could not recall the young man’s name, only that he was an average cultivator with merely adequate guqin skills. Wangji himself carried the cages.

On the way to the guest house Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli were staying in, Wei Ying stayed close, one hand grasping the edge of Wangji’s sleeve, the other holding the box with his forehead ribbon with a sort of reverence. He kept looking at it, his expression tinged with wonder and disbelief. 

Wangji knew it would take time for Wei Ying to process the events of today; he wondered if perhaps everything was moving too quickly—telling Wei Ying he wished to court him, the clarification of his acceptance to GusuLan as a disciple, and now formally delivering betrothal gifts to his siblings. Wei Ying was still recovering, after all, but it was too late to change course now.

If he stopped now, Wei Ying might interpret it as changing his mind, and that would be so much worse. Wangji did not want to give him any cause to doubt, not after all he had been through. If he could shield Wei Ying from everything that might hurt him, he would—but he also knew that way of thinking could turn him into his father. 

He would not cage Wei Ying, even to protect him. 

Jiang Yanli was writing outside in the early afternoon sunshine when they arrived, and Wangji could see her immediate understanding and joy at seeing the decorated baskets before she schooled her expression and called for Jiang Wanyin. 

He froze coming from the guest house, a stunned look on his face.

Wei Ying noticed and stopped short, his expression shifting to uncertainty. He didn’t know how his brother would react, Wangji realized. Wangji hovered next to him, not sure how to help. 

Fortunately, Jiang Yanli seemed to know what to do. She came to Wei Ying and tucked her arm into his, pulling him forward, then called Jiang Wanyin’s name with a hint of exasperation in her voice.

Quickly, the three siblings were seated at the table, Wei Ying in the middle. He still looked uncertain, almost overwhelmed, and Wangji longed to go to him and draw him into his arms. 

He was relieved when Xichen stepped forward, that xiongzhang would handle this part. Technically neither himself nor Wei Ying should be present for this, but on a similar note the Jiang siblings were the family of Wei Ying’s heart, not blood, so nothing about this was strictly traditional. They were both orphans, and thus no parents were involved in this betrothal process. 

Xichen directed the disciple to place the baskets he was carrying and set his own down as well. At his pointed look, Wangji placed the cages with the roosters on the table as well. 

“Wei Wuxian received his ribbon today,” Xichen began calmly. “As only family and cultivation partners may touch it, Wangji thought perhaps he could show Maiden Jiang how he ties his into his hair.”

Jiang Yanli looked delighted, and Wei Ying opened the box to show her the ribbon. 

“Oh, it has little embroidered clouds,” she exclaimed.

“An inner disciple’s ribbon,” the outer disciple said, sounding surprised.

“Wei-gongzi has contributed much to Gusu Lan already,” Xichen clarified. “Shufu and I made the decision.”

Jiang Yanli eyed his hair, clearly thinking ahead to the lesson, and she smiled. 

“Oh, is that a new guan?”

To Wangji’s delight, Wei Ying blushed.

“Mine broke this morning. This one belonged to Lan Zhan’s mother.”

“A love token?” Jiang Yanli asked, her smile widening. “It is lovely.”

“You have a whole bag of guan,” Jiang Wanyin muttered. 

Wei Ying froze, his eyes going distant. The Jiang siblings looked startled by his reaction.  

“The guan in his bag all had lotus on them,” Wangji stated. 

He offered nothing more, but they realized anyway if the grief on their faces told him anything. As Wei Ying has predicted, they were sad, but there was a determination there as well. 

“I’ll go through your bags for you,” Jiang Wanyin told him softly. “Get rid of anything with lotuses.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t realize, A-Xian.”

Wei Ying attempted a smile, but it was weak. 

Both of his siblings looked as though they felt guilty for not having realized, but Wangji had only noticed this morning, had connected his fugue with the fallen lotus guan scattered across the floor. 

“I didn’t tell you,” Wei Ying murmured. “How would you know?”

“Tell us what’s bothering you, you idiot. We can’t help otherwise.”

The smile turned more true, and sheepish.

“I’ll try.”

Xichen cleared his throat delicately and gestured to the baskets on the table, and he and Wangji bowed and took their seats across the table as the outer disciple started to unwrap the cloth covering them. 

“Regarding the love token…”

Inside the baskets was white tea from Gusu Lan’s stores, aged decades to develop its delicate flavor. Sweet osmanthus cakes stamped with dragon designs—no phoenix, as both he and Wei Ying were men. A pair of dragon candles. One of the baskets contained cuts of pork, obviously purchased in Caiyi; this gift implied Jiang Yanli was a maternal figure. Another basket contained an assortment of seafood to symbolize a long and happy marriage. Oranges and apples, dates, dried tangerine and melon slices, lotus seeds, candies symbolizing prosperity, good fortune, luck, peace, and offspring—perhaps the hope he and Wei Ying would adopt? Sprigs of pine for longevity. Carved jade in different hues—green dragons and turtles, red and purple birds, white clouds, a black bat, orange fish, blue butterflies, flowers in all colors, and other auspicious symbols—all to show Wei Ying’s worth. 

Gold had a value; jade was invaluable. 

“We have brought a betrothal gift for you, Wei-gongzi’s siblings, to seek your approval for him to be wed to Wangji.”

“I asked him if he would consent to be courted, and he agreed,” Wangji offered.

Instead of responding, Jiang Wanyin looked at Wei Ying with what seemed like anger at first glance but was actually disappointment and grief. 

“You’re not coming back to Lotus Cove,” he said. 

It wasn’t a question, and he clearly already knew the answer. Jiang Wanyin’s voice was resigned and rough, as though he had held out hope all this time while knowing it was unlikely. 

Wei Ying flinched, his face pinched with his own emotions. His throat worked soundlessly for a moment. 

“I can’t,” he finally said, his voice shaky. “I’m sorry, Jiang Cheng.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jiang Wanyin told him. “It’s not your fault. After what happened…”

“I promised I’d be your right hand man,” Wei Ying murmured. 

His hand was fisted in his sleeve, Wangji noticed, his knuckles as white as the robe, as he fought his emotions.

“But I can’t go back. Not now. Maybe not ever. I’m sorry.”

Jiang Wanyin took him by the shoulders and shook him slightly.

“It isn’t your fault!” he hissed as Wei Ying stared at him wide-eyed. “You have nothing to be sorry for, A-Xian!”

Instead of releasing him, he pulled his brother into an almost violent hug. Then they were both crying, as was Jiang Yanli, who put a hand on Wei Ying’s back. 

“It’s enough that you’re here,” she said. “That you’re alive.”

Wangji knew from her expression she was seeing Wei Ying wan and bloody in the mud.

“You will always be his siblings,” he said impulsively, trying to stave off those same memories. “That cannot be taken from you.”

“Yes,” Jiang Yanli whispered. “A-Xian is the brother of our hearts.”

Jiang Wanyin released Wei Ying and fixed Wangji with a calculating look, measuring him as though trying to decide if he was worthy of his brother. Wangji did not begrudge him that—he should do so. 

“You’ll protect him?”

Wangji nodded. 

“He lies. He’ll pretend he doesn’t need help or protecting when he really does. You’ll protect him from himself?”

Wangji nodded again, reflecting on the way Wei Ying has, how he often put himself last in sneaky ways. He would need to compensate with that in mind. 

Jiang Wanyin nodded back, looking very much like he was struggling to find words. 

“He’s afraid of dogs. Terrified of them. Even the tiniest puppies. You have to protect him from them. And he forgets to eat. Even before, he forgot when he was working. He gets too focused and forgets to eat and sometimes even sleep.”

Wangji realized abruptly that these instructions were Jiang Wanyin’s way of expressing his approval. It would be his responsibility to care for Wei Ying. 

Jiang Yanli expressed the importance of spice, of nutritious and delicious foods, of hugs and affection.

“Xianxian is three,” she said softly, tweaking Wei Ying’s nose between two knuckles and then dabbing at his tears with her sleeve. “He doesn’t say when he’s hurting. He keeps it inside, like with the lotuses. He fears becoming a burden.”

Wei Ying sat still between his siblings, his face flushed, clearly overwhelmed by their discussion of him and his needs.

“Wei Ying is never a burden,” Wangji said. “Wei Ying is a joy.”

His face flushed deeper, and he hid behind his sleeves.

“You can’t just say things like that, Lan Zhan.”

“Mm, can.”

“Lan Zhan!”

“Xianxian deserves to be spoiled,” Jiang Yanli said with a smile, nudging him playfully. 

Wei Ying peeked out to shoot her a tremulous smile, but otherwise kept his face hidden. Jiang Wanyin shoved him lightly. 

“I won’t be able to get away with staying here forever,” he said regretfully. “I’m the heir. Eventually I’ll be expected home.”

He fixed Wangji with a scowl. 

“But if I can be sure Wei Wuxian is protected before I have to leave, I’ll feel better.”

“He is a Gusu Lan disciple,” Xichen pointed out softly. “He will be protected even without the courtship and marriage.”

“Unlike in Yunmeng,” Jiang Wanyin muttered bitterly.

Though Wangji knew xiongzhang hadn’t meant it in that way from the way he winced, he didn’t disagree with the Jiang heir’s interpretation. As a disciple—as head disciple—Wei Ying should have been protected, even from the fury of Madam Yu. She should have faced consequences for attacking a disciple alone, not protected by Meishan Yu with Wei Ying dismissed as a mere servant, as though he was property to be done with as she pleased. 

These things still angered Wangji a year later, and probably always will. 

“A-Cheng,” Wei Ying said. “It wasn’t—”

“You should’ve been protected,” Jiang Wanyin interrupted. “A-die should’ve protected you. We failed you.”

“You didn’t,” he whispered. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Jiang Yanli reached out and took Wei Ying’s hand.

“A-Xian, we want to be sure it never happens again. A-Cheng and I couldn’t protect you well enough, and Father should have protected you from a-niang, and he failed to.”

“Shijie…”

Wei Ying ducked his head, and Wangji knew he was trying to avoid thinking poorly of the man who he’d been raised to consider an uncle. But there were other issues as well—in truth, Jiang Yanli was no longer his martial sister, but he had called her that since he was young and perhaps hadn’t fully realized. Or, more realistically, he didn’t know what to call her otherwise. 

“He could have officially adopted you, A-Xian,” she said gently. “He could have made you our brother officially. She wouldn’t have dared touch you then.”

“It isn’t too late,” Xichen interjected. “The three of you could become sworn siblings.”

The Jiang siblings froze, blinking at each other in surprise. They had not considered the option, but Wangji had not either. The act would send a clear message to the cultivation world at large, would serve as further protection for Wei Ying. 

“It would mean you still have a connection to Yunmeng Jiang,” Jiang Wanyin said after a moment.

Wei Ying looked flummoxed, surprised beyond words by the suggestion, and perhaps a bit torn. With his reaction to lotuses, his trauma, a connection might not be a good thing. 

“You could call me jiejie,” Jiang Yanli whispered, squeezing Wei Ying’s hands. “I’m not really your shijie anymore, but I’d really like to be your jiejie.”

That was apparently the final straw for Wei Ying, who let out a sob and buried himself in her arms. Jiang Wanyin managed a smile, putting a hand on his shoulder, but looked close to tears himself. Becoming sworn siblings would just make official the relationship they had had most of their lives, would solidify their connection to one another. 

“We can set up the ceremony for tomorrow,” Xichen said, smiling gently. “As Jin-furen and Jin-gongzi are visiting, they could serve as witnesses.”

Jiang Yanli glanced at Wei Ying in concern.

“Jin-furen?”

“We met her in Caiyi,” Wangji stated. “She has dissolved the sworn sisterhood and wished to commission Wei Ying.”

The news clearly comes as a surprise to the Jiang siblings—apparently in previous visits Jin Zixuan hadn’t mentioned it. 

“They are having tea with shufu presently, but likely intend to visit you,” Xichen added. 

The Jiang siblings were watching their brother with concern, and he managed a smile, straightening.

“I’m fine. Lan Zhan was with me. We rescued a turtle at the fish market and released it in the pond at the jingshi. And we got a book about turtles and poetry and oil for my hair and tanghulu.”

None of his rambling mentioned the Jin, and Wangji could hear exhaustion in his voice, despite how he tried to keep his tone light. From his siblings’ expressions, they could tell as well. 

“It was a long day for Wei Ying,” he said softly. 

A broken guan and slight breakdown, consenting to be courted, rescuing the turtle, shopping, encountering Jin-furen unexpectedly, receiving his ribbon and clarification that Cloud Recesses was now his home, and now this. Too much for him while he was still recovering, almost certainly. He wanted to take him somewhere quiet so he could rest, or to the meadow to bury him in soft rabbits. 

“You’re already protecting him,” Jiang Yanli commented approvingly. 

“We’ll need to establish chaperones,” Jiang Wanyin said, frowning.

They were agreeing to the betrothal, Wangji realized, and warmth spread from his chest in a way he usually only felt around Wei Ying. Joy. He was feeling joy. The siblings of Wei Ying’s heart had accepted their courtship. They would wed. 

Xiongzhang smiled and nudged him gently, clearly happy for him. 

“Wei Wuxian deserves no less,” Xichen agreed. “We want to make his worth very clear. Chaperones through the courtship period will be appropriate.”

Wei Ying looked embarrassed by this, as though he felt the fuss was too much for him. 

“A-Xian has faced enough questions over his worth. He is precious to us and will be treated as such.”

Jiang Yanli was watching Wei Ying, too, he noticed, and was speaking in part to him.

“A-Cheng and I will be happy to chaperone,” she finished.

“For times when you are indisposed, or if myself or shufu are unavailable, I’m sure we can have some of the outer disciples act in that capacity,” Xichen added. “They are often responsible for escorting guests.”

“Wei Ying may need rest before dinner, while you are visiting with Jin-furen and Jin-gongzi,” Wangji stated, watching him. “I would like to escort him to his quarters once Jiang-guniang has tied his ribbon.”

In truth, their lunch in Caiyi had been more of a second breakfast, too early to truly be lunch. There were still several hours left before dinner. 

“I’ll just take it off to rest, won’t I?” Wei Ying protested.

“And I will help you put it back on before dinner,” Jiang Yanli said. “I’m happy to.”

“Disciple Su can chaperone your return to Wei-gongzi’s quarters before he returns to his other duties,” Xichen said.

The disciple bowed. He had a somewhat petulant look on his face, but as Wangji recalled that seemed to just be his natural expression. 

“Yes, Lan-zongzhu.”

Jiang Yanli reached into the basket of osmanthus cakes and presented the disciple with one, bowing.

“Thank you for your help.”

He took the cake, blinking at her in a startled way, then quickly returned her bow and retreated. 

She moved around the table to study Lan Wangji’s hair, and he removed his ribbon and demonstrated how he wove it through his hair for her twice before she was satisfied she understood. 

Within minutes, Wei Ying was wearing his ribbon, the pale fabric making the skin of his face look less pallid, demonstrating how much healthier he looked in comparison to only weeks ago. He looked beautiful as a Gusu Lan disciple, with a proper ribbon—but he was always beautiful to Wangji, so perhaps he was biased. 

“It suits you,” Jiang Yanli told him softly. “The clouds almost look like wings from a distance. Perhaps the wings of a crane.”

Wei Ying blushed, and Wangji felt his ears heat. A pair of cranes alluded to a wish for a long married life. He had never considered the resemblance of the embroidery to wings, but he could see it now. 

“Or lucky roosters, like these,” Jiang Wanyin muttered, pointing at the cages. “I don’t know what we’ll do with them.”

Jiang Yanli brushed her thumb against the embroidery on the ribbon, smoothing what must have been a minute wrinkle. The gesture was almost motherly. 

“They’re for Xianxian’s wedding, to lead him to his husband. We’ll keep them until then, of course. They’re lovely.”

She sat beside him, and Wei Ying leaned his head against her shoulder, a beautiful smile gracing his lips. He looked radiant, if tired, filled with a joy Wangji felt as well. 

“Shufu and I will consult to select an auspicious date,” Xichen said. “I would be honored if you two would assist in the planning of the wedding.”

Jiang Yanli looked overjoyed, and Jiang Wanyin nodded, his expression of a man about to embark on an important mission.

“A-jie and I had ideas,” he said.

Wei Ying stared at him, open-mouthed in shock. 

“What, you thought we didn’t do that for you like you and I did for A-jie? Like I’m sure you two did for me?” Jiang Wanyin demanded. 

“Of course we made plans for you, A-Xian.”

“I didn’t expect to get married,” Wei Ying whispered. “I was going to help Yunmeng Jiang.”

Wangji was surprised by that, but perhaps he shouldn’t have been—Wei Ying was exactly the type to deny himself to do what he saw as duty. His siblings were looking at him in horror, as though just realizing that terrible truth.

“You were allowed to marry, you idiot,” Jiang Wanyin exploded, then took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Even if it meant marry out. You didn’t have to stay.”

“I did. I promised.”

Jiang Wanyin looked to his sister, clearly trying not to lose his temper. 

“Xianxian,” she whispered, looking like she felt helpless. “We would never want you to give up your future for Yunmeng Jiang. You always talked so much about Lan-er-gongzi, I always assumed…”

Wei Ying blushed and glanced Wangji’s way, then down at his lap. He was struck again by how exhausted he looked. 

“He did not know my regard for him,” Wangji realized aloud. 

Worse, Wei Ying had thought he’d been rejected, that he was despised. And, knowing him, he had probably justified to himself that he deserved it. 

He could see Xichen’s surprise, but his brother had always known how he felt, before he could even understand himself.

“He thought I disliked him,” he clarified for xiongzhang. 

A look of guilt passed over Jiang Wanyin’s face, and Wangji realized perhaps he had thought similarly, had said something to Wei Ying about it. But ultimately the fault lies with Wangji, for not expressing himself more clearly, not until it was almost too late. 

Xichen also looked somewhat guilty, as though he felt he should have done something himself, but Wangji wouldn’t let him blame himself.

“I will strive to be clearer. Wei Ying should know he is loved.”

Wei Ying made an almost strangled sound.

“Lan Zhan, my heart can’t take it,” he groaned, hiding his face dramatically again. “You’re too much!”

“As much as Wei Ying deserves. Wei Ying will acclimate.”

Jiang Yanli patted her brother’s shoulder, looking softly fond, but also concerned. Wangji wondered if she too realized that Wei Ying might disbelieve he was loved. Jiang Wanyin stayed quiet, but watchful, his jaw still clenched, his expression still stormy. 

“Xianxian will need to get used to it, I think. Lan-er-gongzi will need to use the courtship period to help him adjust.”

Wei Ying gave her a mock betrayed look, and she laughed gently and tweaked his nose. He blinked at her cross-eyed, looking like a sleepy kitten. 

“But I think perhaps you could use a nap.”

The lack of protest was enough of an indication, but Wei Ying swayed when he stood, steadied by his siblings. Jiang Yanli pulled out a handkerchief, then put some of the dates, dried tangerines and melon, candies, and an osmanthus cake on it before tying it into a pouch and pressing it into Wei Ying’s hands.

“A snack would do you good,” she said, leading him around the table to Wangji. “I’ll send A-Cheng for you when dinner is ready. Lan-zongzhu and Lan-er-gongzi are welcome as well.”

Wangji took Wei Ying’s arm in his own to help steady him and received a tired smile. Disciple Su frowned at him, as though scolding him for touching his betrothed, but he ignored him. Xichen smiled.

“I will discuss courtship etiquette and terms with Wei-gongzi later, Wangji. You are aware of them. I trust you to respect them.”

He nodded to his brother and led Wei Ying toward his quarters. 

Respecting courtship etiquette was the same as respecting Wei Ying, particularly to the rest of the cultivation world. Wangji was disappointed, in some ways, that he had been right; the trip to Caiyi was to be their last time spent together alone for some time to come, and part of it had not been.

But as Wei Ying leaned closer, starting to wilt, Wangji focused on him alone, ignoring the disciple accompanying them. He would ensure Wei Ying ate at least some of what Jiang Yanli had packed before leaving him to rest, and the disciple could simply wait as he did so. 

Wei Ying’s health came above all else.

---------

Lots of symbolism in this chapter. Different colors of jade have different meanings. Green, which is the most prized, is for friendship, harmony, and renewal. Red for energy, life, and love. Yellow for optimism, success, and generosity. Orange for ambition, vitality, and libido (lol, like WangXian need help in that department). Blue for loyalty, freedom, and faith. Purple for insight, peace, and devotion. Black for elegance, security, and pride.

There are a lot of meanings involved in carved jade specifically as well. The bat, for instance, would represent happiness and longevity. Butterflies are a symbol of love. Dragons, power, strength, and goodness, as well as masculinity. Fish represent wealth and abundance, and when paired, harmony and connubial bliss. Different birds have different meanings as well, though Lan Wangji doesn’t specify which ones there are, or which flowers are carved.

I am not as familiar with betrothal customs as I would like to be, but it seemed killing and cooking the roosters would be crass at best, at least before the wedding. Apparently some customs include putting the betrothal chickens under the marital bed for the wedding night. In essence, this betrothal is different in a lot of ways because they’re both grooms and both orphans. Because of Wei Wuxian’s lack of blood family, the decision to go to the Jiang siblings is more a courtesy and recognition of their relationship than anything.

“Gold has a price/value; jade is priceless/invaluable” is a Chinese saying that seemed apt for a betrothal gift. 

Wuguji are black-boned chickens, specifically silkies. They’re a smaller breed, but prized in cooking.

Also, I keep meaning and forgetting to thank my amazing beta, @missyriver, for all her help!

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part Twelve: It’s Time

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven

Word count: 2524

Trigger warning for needles and toxin-induced self harm. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jonathan asked from the kitchen for the third time in two days. Elianna rolled her eyes; she was getting sick of this conversation. "I think you're the only person who would do it voluntarily."

"You did it," she pointed out nonchalantly, around a mouthful of ice cream. She hoped he was making dinner; the dessert wouldn't hold her over forever. The day before, the two had visited her apartment ("why do you have so many plants?" "I don't know, but I'm glad I do, the air quality here is garbage.") to retrieve some perishables from the kitchen so that they didn't have to go grocery shopping.

"I did it for research. I didn't have a choice at the time. You do."

"Okay, look," El stood from the couch and joined him in the kitchen. "The chance of learning how to break down fear is just too promising to pass up," she said earnestly. "If there is even the slightest possibility of a positive outcome, I have to do it. Since I was attacked, I've just been getting more and more paranoid, and I thought it would go away once we started using it on Zsasz, but it hasn't. And paranoia is just going to turn into anxiety, which is going to turn into fear, and I just can't handle that." Jonathan opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Elianna.

"I know that there are better ways to prevent that, but if I'm going to be joining you on this project anyway, then I should get an idea of what I'm in for in case of any accidents! I mean, I appreciate that you're worried, but I just don't understand why you don't think I can do this."

Jonathan sighed and rubbed his forehead, leaning against the counter; he knew that she was right, but...

"Because I don't know what it will do to your psyche. When I built up my immunity, it wasn't on purpose, and we have no way of knowing if it will do the same for you." El mulled it over, carefully considering what he had to say.

"I understand. But like I said, would you rather me be exposed here, in a controlled, safe environment, or on accident at a time when it really matters? It's almost guaranteed to happen anyway, so I still think that I should at least know what to expect." She reiterated resolutely. "We're doing this."

Jonathan saw the firm determination in her eyes and knew that at this point, there was no way to talk her out of it. If he didn't expose her to it, she would do it herself, and the results could be infinitely worse than if he just went along with it.

But that didn't mean that he had to be happy about it.

"Fine." He lifted himself from the counter and turned to continue what he had been doing before—making dinner, I knew it! El put her ice cream away before sitting on the counter, swinging her legs a little. "I know you're bored, but do you have to...hover?"

"I don't have anything else to do! If you have any ideas, I'd be happy to hear them."

"You could go out or something; I don't know. Look at you, go to any bar you don't even need to take any money. Someone would cover your tab." He sounded almost bitter. What's that about?

"Yeah, that's a great idea. When I get murdered, then you wouldn't have to give me the toxin." She shot back.

"I thought you had a guardian angel."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that guy. I wonder what he's up to."

"I don't care." God, what is he so upset about?

"You probably will in a few months. Maybe we should follow the news more closely." Nothing. El let out a short breath. Fine. "I know you don't want to talk about it anymore," she started quietly, "and I'm sorry that I'm making you do it." He didn't turn to look at her or even stop what he was doing when he spoke.

"You don't have to apologize. I understand why you want to do it, and I do want to help. I just wish you had taken the time to think about it before your decision."

"Fine, but I've thought it through now."

"I know. Since you're so sure, we can start tomorrow after work."

"Here?" He nodded.

"You'll want to be comfortable when it wears off, trust me." El smiled and slid off the counter. Satisfied with the way the conversation turned out, she went to take a shower.

"No going back now," She called over her shoulder.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

.xXx.

It was a slow day. A really, really, really slow day.

"Seriously, universe? Today?" El groaned, spinning back and forth in her chair idly. Of all days, why was she only assigned one session today? She had forgotten to check her schedule before leaving the previous day, so she hadn't even known that she could go in late. I hate looking forward to things.

For the time being, she resorted herself to see how fast she could spin her chair without knocking it over and found very quickly that the answer was 'too fast.' Way too fast. Already bored of that, she laid her head on the desk, trying to think of anything she could do. Finally, she decided to go on a walk, see if she could find Harley or Jonathan.

It took a while of wandering before El finally caught sight of blonde hair crossing the upstairs foyer from the west wing to the east wing. "Harley!" She called after her friend, jogging slightly to catch up. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Real good!" The blonde seemed more excited than usual. "I just got assigned to one of the maximum-security cases!"

"Oh, that's great!" El forced a smile, suddenly very worried about her friend. She had been assigned a max security case with Zsasz based on her work record, and it hadn't exactly ended up well.

"I know! I've been waitin' ages to get a career-making case finally, and I finally got one! I got my first session with her tomorrow." Her?

"Who is it?"

"She goes by Poison Ivy; she's an eco-terrorist. She's got this connection with plants. Apparently, she can control them, and she goes after organizations that harm the environment."

"Well, she sounds like a badass; you'll have to let me know how it goes."

"Of course, I will. They're gonna write books about me." Harley looked at El with bright eyes, and the redhead couldn't help but smile at the thought of her friend's face plastered on a biography all over Gotham.

"Just make sure to be careful okay, those guys are in maximum security for a reason." El found herself subconsciously moving the hair that fell over her forehead, where she would surely have a scar.

"Don't you worry about me, honey. What are you doin' today?"

"Apparently nothing for another few hours." Elianna sighed.

"Aw. Anything interesting?" She shook her head in response.

"I think Jonathan asked them to keep the dangerous ones away from me until I have more experience here. I mean, Zsasz didn't kill me. It's not like I'm helpless, right? I was savvy enough to get away twice." Harley bobbed her head in agreement with a sympathetic look.

"Well, maybe he's right; you're new in Gotham. It might not be a bad idea to let you settle in a while longer."

"Yeah, but now I'm only treating patients with borderline anxiety disorders. Borderline, Harls!"

"Aw," the blonde tsked and patted her friend's arm. "I'm sorry, honey, it'll get better. Oh, shoot!" She checked her watch. "I gotta go, I'm gonna be late. Maybe we should get lunch this weekend, whaddya think?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice. Go on. I'll talk to you later." El sighed as Harley rushed off to her appointment. That didn't last nearly long enough. She was now stuck where she had been before and made her way back to her office.

Who would have thought there would be so little to do in the most notorious asylum in America?

.xXx.

Finally, the end of the day came, but Jonathan's awful speed limit driving made Elianna antsy. She was so close. Besides all of the reasons she had given Jonathan over the last few days, she couldn't help but be curious about what it was like to be under the influence of the fear toxin. Seeing Zsasz's reaction had sparked an interest in the experience, although she couldn't fathom why.

"It's weird, isn't it?" She asked half an hour later as she helped Jonathan put leftover takeout in the fridge.

"What is?"

"Coincidence. Probability. Chaos theory."

"You need to stop watching Jurassic Park. It's turning you into a monster."

"Over my dead body, and you know what I mean." Jonathan closed the fridge as they finished and looked at her expectantly. "Well, my mom and I just happened to move to Arlen, out of all the places we were looking at. Then we happened to move down the road from you, and we had some classes in common. And even after all that, I still could have been really shitty and tormented you, or ignored you, or you could have been successful in keeping me away. Then we still managed to stay in touch after high school from opposite sides of the country, which is super rare, even in friends, and on top of all that we happen to have the same interests, and now here we are working in the same place after all of that, which led to tonight. To the decision I made."

Jonathan considered her words, leaning back against the counter, eventually nodding in agreement.

"It's not too late." He said quietly. "You can still change your mind."

"I'm not having seconds thoughts." El insisted gently, standing next to him and leaning her head against his arm. "Actually, I was thinking about how lucky I am to have this opportunity. Do you know how many people would jump at the chance to confront their fears? To try and fix themselves?

"Yes, I do, and it's not a good thing." El looked up at him, surprised by the empathy. "If no one were affected by fear, then none of this would be possible, and I wouldn't be able to continue my research." El stared at him in incredulous silence before laughing.

"Because that's what it all comes down to. You're really fucked up, honey."

"Look who's talking." He said with a little smile. He couldn't put it off any longer. Scarecrow was ecstatic that Elianna had volunteered for this, and it was giving him a headache. "Come on, let's get started. I'm going to give you a small dose, so hopefully, you'll be able to sleep afterward." El nodded as they straightened up, making their way to the bedroom.

She could hear Jonathan adjusting the bedsheets while she was in the closet, putting on more comfortable clothes. When she came out, he had folded them all to the end of the bed so that she wouldn't get tangled.

"I'm going to say this in advance: shut up." El gave him a confused look as he opened the false bottom of his briefcase and produced a set of four restraint cuffs that were usually attached to the medical beds, at which point she raised an eyebrow. "We needed a way to holds your limbs down so that you don't hurt either of us, just...don't." He said exasperatedly as he began to affix them to the head and footboards. El snorted, with a little smile; there was nothing she could say to make fun of him that Scarecrow probably wasn't saying already.

"Do people...hurt themselves often?" Jonathan nodded.

"Once or twice, they try to gouge out their own eyes, things like that." El swallowed herd, suddenly very glad to have such a thorough friend. "Which reminds me, I didn't think about it earlier, but I do have neighbors. We'll need to find something for you to bite down on; I've also had people bite through their own tongues." At that, El shivered and returned to her duffle bag, where she knew she had packed an old belt.

"How often would you say that happens?"

"Not too much, but it does make a mess, and we sleep here." Despite her sudden nervousness, El laughed softly at the ever-tactful Jonathan Crane. Normally she might be upset with him after that comment, but here she was volunteering for that risk.

She set the belt on the edge of the bed and positioned herself in the middle of the mattress, trying to prepare herself for something from which she didn't have a clear idea of what to expect. Gently, Jonathan lifted her head and slid a pillow underneath; the small act of care made her smile to herself as he continued to secure her wrists and ankles, careful not to tighten the restraints too much.

He took a few extra minutes to prepare the serum, during which she agreed to let him take notes. If they were moving ahead with this anyway, he might as well conduct his research on a new subject.

Jonathan was just about to put the belt in her mouth when El had a sudden thought, turning her face away. "Scarecrow, he's under control? He isn't going to try anything, is he?"

"No. He's excited, but he promised to be good. And he's impressed that you're doing this willingly." Satisfied with the answer, El nodded and let the belt between her teeth, biting down securely.

At that point, Jonathan prepared the syringe with a translucent fluid, flicking the chamber and getting rid of any air bubbles. "This is an old batch, so the effects might be a little less intense than they would normally be." Unable to speak, El nodded. He swabbed clean a patch of skin on her arm and gave her a look, giving her one last chance to change her mind. With no fault in her resolution, he finally pricked her vein and injected the serum into her bloodstream.

The concoction was thick, and El could feel it burning through her veins for only a moment

and then everything took a turn for the worse.

[dawnrider]

Let's get the feels going: #38 "all I wanted was for you to be happy"

So, unsurprisingly, I had something unposted that this line was essentially already in.  Just needed some tweaking and proofreading.  It is lengthy for a prompt, so fair warning. I’m sure you’re all heartbroken.  Thanks for making me drag this one out of the vault, @superpixie42 . @lemonlushff will be so pleased.

The mirror held the visage of a woman she didn't recognize.  Older. Refined. Done up. Kagome sighed as she looked over her reflection again.  She should look happier...  She tried to practice “happy” smiles, but they all rang false. A sound behind her made her whirl around, her loose hair flying out behind her head.  Gasping, she hurried toward the only other entry into her room aside from her bedroom door.  “Yash, you can't be here,” she hissed at the dark figure perching on her window sill.  Her voice lacked the conviction she had been hoping for.  If he hadn't been appearing at her window in exactly the same way for the last ten years of her life, with her happily letting him in, Kagome would have been more inclined to send him away.  As it was, it wasn't because she wanted him gone that he had to go.  “They're downstairs right now.  You shouldn't be here,” she tried in a more pleading tone.  His lithe figure practically poured in through the window, a frown drawing his dark brows together.  Despite his surly attitude, she couldn't help the way her heart leaped at the sight of him.  He was dressed more formally than she had ever seen him, a dark suit over a dark red shirt, unbuttoned at the throat.

He sniffed faintly.  Knowing she was telling the truth, not that she would lie to him, he went to the door and listened.  “They're talking.  No one's going to come up here for a while.”  He turned to the other occupant of the room, leveling her with the full intensity of his golden stare.  “You aren't agreeing to this, Kagome.”  He watched her eyes close sharply at his statement.  He took in the formal kimono her grandfather had talked her into wearing, the white socks that peeked out from under the hem, red cranes fluttering across the fabric.  She looked gorgeous, her long dark hair loose and wavy around her shoulders.  “You can't marry that... that stranger!”  Hurrying over to him to shush him brought her close enough for him to take hold of her hand.  So tiny, so fragile...  She needed someone strong to look after her, protect her.  Someone like him.  Someone who knew her better than anyone. Someone who wouldn't crush her spirit under unrealistic expectations. Inuyasha growled softly.  “Your mother knows you don't love him,” he whispered.  “You barely know him!  Why would she even consider their offer?”

Kagome gulped.  She knew her long time friend didn't agree with the decision her family was considering.  She didn't either.  But the shrine was in need - of money as well as spiritual blood - and the Tanaka family could provide both.  Their eldest son, Daisuke, was a few years older than Kagome, intelligent, kind and an extremely powerful spiritual being.  His power rivaled Kagome's... or it would if Kagome's power could be unlocked.  Something kept it restrained inside her, only allowing for basic protective and the occasional offensive measures.  “The shrine...”

“The shrine be damned!” he spat.  “What about you, Kagome?  What about your happiness?”  He watched her lip quiver.  She wanted to agree wholeheartedly with him, but her sense of duty to her family was so strong.  “Your brother has latent power, same as you.  There's no reason he can't carry on the line for your family.  Hell, you'll be shipped off to the Tanaka compound until you produce at least two suitable brats.  That's over a year just spent being whelped Ka...”

“Stop.  Please stop.”  Her hands were over her ears, her eyes clenched shut.  “You know I don't want to go.  I don't want to marry Tanaka-san.”

“Then fucking tell them,” he hissed, pointing toward the living room.  “Tell them you can't consent to this.  You're twenty-five for fuck's sake. You're more than old enough to tell them it's your life.”  Desperate to tell her the real reason why she couldn't do this, Inuyasha bit back a growl.  He had loved her for as long as they had been friends.  The decade he had spent looking after her, protecting her, being her friend, while she made herself his best friend in the world and made him trust her when he hadn't trusted anyone in years.  It couldn't end with her trapped in a marriage with a man she hardly knew.  She cared for him, he knew that.  But was it the way he cared for her?

Kagome stared up at her friend of so many years.  She had been in love with him almost since the moment she saw him.  Well, maybe after she got used to his mouth.  Inuyasha had a notorious mouth on him.  Sailors blushing didn't begin to cover it.  He knew when to keep it in check, in front of her mother for example, but it slipped when he was particularly upset.  Like now.  Kagome had known for some time now that he was heartily against the offer the Tanaka family had made.  He had been fighting with her over it for months now.  “I know what you think, but my family needs this.  They need me...”

Shaking his head furiously, he pulled her close by her elbows.  “What is it really about?  Is it the money?”  She bit her lip, her dark brown eyes staring up at him out of a face he knew better than the back of his hand.  Her lip became rosy from her teeth and it took more than he expected to keep himself from following her example, taking her perfect mouth with his own.  “Or is it really about the bloodline being continued?”  Her chin wavered nervously.  “Kagome, you can be honest with me.”

“I know,” she whispered.  She sighed, her gaze flitting away from his for a heartbeat.  “It's both.  Mama has started talking about taking on another job.  I'm already working at the bakery and the corner store.  Souta's been refereeing the little kids games...”

“I know, I know.  I've told you before you don't have to...”

“My family can't survive any other way!” she hissed.  Tears were filling her eyes.  “I can't take your charity, Inuyasha.  And you should keep that money to set yourself up someplace nice,” she whispered, her tone changing completely.  “How are you going to make a home for some nice girl if you're trying to help me, huh?”  She smiled weakly up at him, attempting to tease him.  The attempt was not only weak, but unwelcome.  His intense look made the already watery smile melt off her face.  His face dipped lower even as his hands pulled her closer, her arms automatically going around his waist.  Kagome's heart took another leap without her permission.

On more than one occasion in their long friendship, Inuyasha had held her.  Only for comfort of course.  When she had been sure she failed her middle school exit exams.  When her grandfather had suffered a heart attack and the doctors hadn't been sure if he would survive.  The day she graduated from university and had been terrified by the openness of the world ahead of her.  He'd been there for her and had literally and figuratively held her hand through all of it.  He had always been her rock, and in this instance she wanted to lean on him more than ever.

The brush of a warm nose against hers brought Kagome out of her daze.  She could feel his breath mingling with hers, his lips bare millimeters from her own.  “Kagome, you can't marry the Tanaka kid.  You can't,” Inuyasha murmured.  He turned his head slightly, just enough to brush his cheek against hers, before returning to his position hovering over her lips.  He let go of one arm to dig in his pocket.  So entranced by his proximity, Kagome barely noticed when a round piece of cool metal was pressed into her palm.  “Put it on.”  She startled, almost moving away from him to look.  He kept her close, brushing his mouth against hers, barely more than a butterfly's kiss.  Kagome's eyes closed, her chin lifting in hopes for more contact.  “Please,” he whispered.  Without asking the questions she was desperate to know the answers to, she slid the ring onto the only finger it fit on.  Her ring finger.  While the meaning was not lost on her, the reasoning behind it was.  For barely a moment Inuyasha took her lips with his, pressing them hard against her mouth, inciting a quick and fiery response from her.  “Follow my lead.  Don't fight me, just this once,” he breathed when they separated.  Kagome, completely undone by the short kiss, had no will to argue with him as he pulled from her arms, tugging her along behind him toward her bedroom door by her left hand.

Slowly her senses returned and she heard the footsteps on the stairs that made it clear someone had been on their way to retrieve her.  Souta, more than likely, given the heavy fall of the feet.  Inuyasha pulled the door open before her brother could reach it, bringing her along with him as he stepped purposefully toward the stairs.  “Inu-oniisan,” Souta gasped, for a moment the young boy he'd been when he had first met his idol.  “What are you doing here?” he asked in a stage whisper, glancing furtively down toward the living room.  “The Tanakas...”

“Have competition,” Inuyasha growled, leading Kagome dumbly down the stairs and into the living room where the rest of her family and the Tanakas sat talking quietly.  Until they walked in, that is.  Kagome's mother's eyes widened at the flushed look of her daughter and the young man who led her in by the hand.  Mr. Tanaka, a stern looking man in his fifties, and his wife, a willowy woman whose dark eyes took on much the same look as that of the woman across from her, sat stiffly on the couch.  Daisuke stood between the two families, looking at them in confusion.  He was tall, almost as tall as Inuyasha, with an open face and honest eyes.  His dark hair was cut a little longer than most men his age wore it, swept to the side in the front.

Only Kagome's grandfather seemed to have the words to express his confusion.  “What are you doing here, boy?”  Why did everyone keep asking him that?  Inuyasha bit back a snarl.  He knew quite well that the old man didn't like him much.  An idea had struck him a while ago, one that he was quite sure of at this point.  Kagome's grandfather had met with the Tanaka family in hopes that they would offer for his granddaughter and keep her away from him, the hanyou who had grown so attached to her.  “This is a private family affair.  You have no business...”

“I have made my offer to Kagome.  Unless she wishes to retract it, she has accepted.”  Everyone in the room froze, Kagome in particular.  He glanced back at her, begging her to do as he had asked.  He'd asked her to trust him.  Her spine straightened a little more and he smirked before returning his attention to the shocked people he now intended to negotiate with.

“But... but you're youkai!” the old man spluttered.  Inuyasha held up a finger.  Luckily for him it was the appropriate one this time.

“Only half.  And my mother came from a very long line of holy blood.”

It was Tanaka's turn to splutter.  “What family?  Who is your mother?”  Prepared for this, Inuyasha slipped a very old scroll from his jacket, handing it over to the blustering patriarch.  He unrolled it carefully, recognizing its age, and scanned it closely.  When he reached the lines that indicated the length of his human family tree, and the power within it, his eyes nearly popped out of his head and he blatantly glanced at the dog ears that twitched on the top of Inuyasha's head.  “Very impressive,” he said reluctantly.  Daisuke was behind his father's shoulder in an instant, looking over the scroll for himself.  Even the young man couldn't deny the long line of well-known and powerful holy people.  Mr. Tanaka returned the fragile piece to Inuyasha, studying him carefully.  “His bloodline is striking.  But surely the security our family can provide you is worth it.  The Sunset Shrine will stay in the hands of the Higurashi family, their second born child to inherit.”

“What if there is no second child?”  It was the first time Kagome had spoken up since leaving her room.  The elder adults all seemed startled by her question.  Had none of them thought of the possibility that there might only be one?  Or none? Or that there might be more than two?  But no.  Of course not.  She and Daisuke weren't supposed to have that kind of marriage.

“Would there be a problem?” Daisuke returned, clearly confused.  Kagome blushed, but stepped from behind Inuyasha to stand at his side.

“Women still die in childbirth from time to time.  I was merely stating a possibility.”  Inuyasha's hand gripped hers in what felt like a reassuring gesture.  Kagome wasn't entirely sure it wasn't out of fear at what she suggested.

Daisuke straightened himself, facing her more directly.  “My main aptitude is in healing.  Nothing like that would happen.”  He was confident, but that wasn't what Kagome wanted to hear.  His confidence and pride was in his ability, no room for the compassion she had hoped for.

“It doesn't matter.  Kagome doesn't have to have any kids if she doesn't want to.”  Inuyasha reasserted himself in the conversation.  “The security,” he paused to level a look at the Tanakas, “the Tanaka family is offering to provide is admirable, but I think that I can do better.”  This time he fished the contract his brother's lawyer had given him to give to the Higurashi family out of his coat pocket.  The old man made a grab for it but Kagome's mother was quicker and quieter about it.  She scanned it, her eyes taking on a sheen that he hadn't seen in them before.  “I assure you it is real.  Signed and notarized,” he explained when she looked up at him and back down to the paper in her hands.  It, to put it simply, made their worries disappear and ensured that their family would never lose the shrine unless they chose to sell it.

“Why would you make a bid now?  Why not years ago?”  This came from an unexpected quarter, Daisuke's dark brows furrowed over his eyes.  So he knew about his friendship with Kagome.  Inuyasha flicked his amber eyes to Kagome's grandfather, even more certain that he must have instigated the offer to cut him out of the picture.

“I was finishing school,” Kagome breathed, as if realizing it for the first time.  “Then I was looking for a job.  You wanted me to succeed on my own first.”  The fond look she gave him made his heart soar.  She approved.  “So I wouldn't feel trapped into a marriage proposal.”  He nodded slightly.  The Tanaka's bid had only hastened his plans.  The Tanakas' faces were tight, watching the Higurashi family closely.  Kagome looked to her mother, unsure.

Mrs. Higurashi gave her daughter a small smile.  “The decision has always been yours, Kagome dear.”  Her answer made the tension slip out of where she gripped Inuyasha's hand in her own.  Looking to the Tanaka family, the young man she was supposed to marry in particular, Kagome contemplated her options.  She knew her mother would support her either way.  The older woman had always had a soft spot for her friend with the little puppy ears.  She knew her younger brother adored the hanyou, and had been hoping for years that they would get together so he could continue to call him brother... and have it truly mean they were all family.  Her grandfather was the only one who would truly object.

“Surely the other side of his bloodline contradicts the purity of his human half.”  Kagome turned the full extent of her most ferocious glare on the heir to the Tanaka family “security” and so-called “purity.”  He tried to put up the act that she didn't affect him for a moment, then shrunk under the pressure of her fury.

Stepping in front of Inuyasha as though to protect him, Kagome stood to her full height (which wasn't as impressive as she probably hoped) and squared her shoulders.  “Inuyasha's father was a daiyoukai, if you must know, and therefore he has some of the strongest youkai blood in the world.”  She paused, taking a deep breath and looking toward where her grandfather was slowly turning red with anger.  “He is my choice.”  She felt him stiffen in surprise behind her.  Turning to gaze at him, she smiled slightly.  “He's always been my choice.”  Inuyasha clearly fought the smile that crept at his mouth, but the way his eyes took her in...  There was no doubt how pleased he was by her decision.

Kagome heard the elder Tanakas stand and she turned her attention back toward them.  Mr. Tanaka was giving her grandfather a fierce look while Mrs. Tanaka had the tiniest of smiles hanging around her mouth and tears lurking in her eyes.  Perhaps she too had been put in this position, forced to choose between what would protect her family and the man she cared for.  Perhaps he hadn't the means to make an enticing bid to her parents.  Kagome flashed her a tiny smile, feeling an ally in her.  Bowing to them both, she thanked them for their time and their offer to her family.  Mr. Tanaka gave her a grim look, but seemed to have resigned himself to the turn in events.

Daisuke looked like he'd been hit by a truck.  Kagome knew he hadn't been truly attached to her.  They'd met a handful of times, had very little in common and never had much to say to one another.  Aside from being young, healthy and relatively good looking people, there hadn't been much to encourage a relationship.  Obviously he hadn't anticipated being rejected however...  “I hope that you never regret your choice,” he said carefully.  Kagome fought a frown and gave him a small bow as well.

“I don't believe I ever will.  Good luck to you Tanaka-san.  I am sure you will find a suitable bride.”  He looked like he wanted to say something more, but bit his tongue and followed his parents into the foyer.  Kagome's mother followed them out, making pleasant farewells and trying not to sound too pleased to see them go.  Kagome sighed in relief when the front door had closed behind them.  Inuyasha pulled her around and into his arms where she curled into his embrace.  “Pushy, arrogant...”

Chuckling at her halfhearted reprimands, the hanyou gave her a squeeze.  He relaxed his hold when he felt the burning of her grandfather's gaze.  Standing up straighter, Inuyasha leveled him with an equally intense look.  “I know, sir, that you are not pleased with the outcome of this evening.”  The old man's lips pursed in clear acknowledgment of his statement.  “However, once you have had a chance to review the contract and my mother's bloodline, I do not believe you will be disappointed.”

“I am sure that your offer is more than fair, or my daughter-in-law would not have considered it.”  He sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly and his eyes turning sad and taking in Kagome.  “What will protect her from the length of your life, boy?  For that matter, what will protect you from the length of hers?”  He seemed truly troubled by the possibility, a motivation Inuyasha had not considered when he had determined the old man didn't want his granddaughter connected to him.

Kagome's gaze shot up to his face.  Clearly it was not something she had considered seriously either, or had not realized would be a problem.  As well she shouldn't.  He had talked with her before, never in reference to himself of course, about the soul-bond rite that most mated pairs went through.  It linked their lives together so they could not be separated unless they wanted to be.  Only the desire to be separated or the existence of a child would keep one of a pair from death if the other were killed.  This very stipulation had been what kept Inuyasha's mother alive so much longer after her mate had passed.  Even then, she had died during a flu epidemic when Inuyasha was young.

“If Kagome so chooses, we will be soul-bonded.  She will live as long as I will.  But only if it is what she wants.”  Her grandfather appeared skeptical while Kagome seemed relieved.  “Such a bond will not be initiated until after several years of marriage, to ensure it is truly what she wants.”

Jii-chan's eyes narrowed at Inuyasha, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening in his focus.  “You speak of it as though there is no doubt in your mind that it is what you want.  What happens to Kagome if you change your mind?  What happens to this family, the shrine?”  Kagome sucked in a breath and held it.  Once confirming there was an option so she would be by his side forever, Kagome had stopped considering any other possibility.  Her grandfather had every right to worry about what might happen to all of them if Inuyasha reneged on his promises later down the road.  By then she would no longer be eligible to accept offers from any holy families and it was unlikely any other man would take her after that.  She felt sure that Inuyasha would never go back on his word. Could she be too hopeful?

Inuyasha took a deep breath, trying to ignore the scent of Kagome's uncertainty in the air.  “I have always intended to mate for life, sir, regardless of the soul-bond.  Should Kagome decide not to go through the rite, then I will care for her until she breathes her last and continue to look after any children we might have until I breathe mine.”  He tried not to look at her either, afraid he would lose the rigidity in his spine if he caught her brown eyes.  “The contract is in place to protect your family.  No matter what happens, your shrine will be cared for.  Even if something happens to me, the shrine will continue to receive the funding it needs and the protection it requires.”  Staring into the old man's eyes to convey not only his sincerity, but his determination, Inuyasha remained as still and focused as possible.  He wasn't expecting his approval, but he hoped at least to gain his respect.

Knowing that her input wouldn't make her grandfather change his mind about Inuyasha, a fact that made her more than a little irritated, Kagome kept quiet.  Standing solidly by Inuyasha's side was the best way to show Jii-chan that she wasn't going to back down either and that she knew she'd made the right choice.  “As long as you keep your vows to her.”  Not the enthusiastic reply one would hope for.  Kagome sighed and watched her grandfather leave the room in slow thoughtful steps.

“I'm sorry about him.  He's stubborn.”

Inuyasha finally turned to look at her, taking in her glowing face and finding himself unable to keep from grinning.  “I know where you get it from.”  Kagome's mouth twisted in a scowl for a brief moment before smiling again.  “You trusted me.”

Kagome quirked an eyebrow at him.  “You say that like I've never trusted you before.”

“Not like that, not with your heart,” he murmured, gently pulling her into an embrace.  Flushing at his words and the softness in his demeanor, Kagome flashed him a shy smile.  “I promise, Kagome, I plan to make sure you never regret it.”

“You say that like you think I will,” she breathed, feeling his breath against her cheek as he moved closer to her mouth.

“I can prove to you now that you won't,” he groaned, one clawed hand burying itself in the thick hair at the back of her head.  His lips found hers waiting and very willing.  Another groan, mixed with a growl, rolled in his chest before he could swallow it.  Kagome whimpered softly in response, her fingers tightening into a fist in the lapel of his jacket.  Her returned passion was somehow unexpected, despite being exactly what he'd hoped for.  Inuyasha desperately hoped this was not simply in reaction to him “saving” her from her fate or infatuation that would fade in time.  He knew without question that he would love and care for Kagome to the end of his days.  Could she love him until the end of hers?

~~~~~~

True to his word, the funds necessary to fix and maintain the shrine were provided even before the wedding took place.  Kagome couldn't help the continuously happy grin that tugged at her mouth all the time.  She was marrying Inuyasha.  The fact that it had been a contract agreement to save her family and the shrine in which they lived did little to dampen her contentment.  She knew that wasn't the real reason for Inuyasha's proposal.  He had offered money to help so many times before that she'd lost count.  He'd never asked for anything in return and had been frustrated each time she told him she couldn't accept his charity without some sort of reciprocation.  This arrangement, no matter that it looked like a contractual engagement to the outside world, was the best thing that had ever happened to her.  “You haven't stopped smiling for days, dear,” her mother said with a small smile of her own.  “I'm so glad to see you are pleased with the way things turned out.”

Kagome looked up from the vegetables she was chopping beside her mother in the kitchen.  Mama looked fondly upon her daughter, clearly pleased herself.  “I can't help it.  After feeling so hopeless about marrying Tanaka-san, the idea of marrying Inuyasha is such a relief.”  She looked down at the ring on her finger.  “Of course, there's more to it than just that.”  Her mother tossed her a knowing grin, returning her attention to her pots on the stove.

“I always knew your friendship with him was more than that.  I'm so glad he was willing to take this step to show how much he cares for you.  I don't think either one of you...  You would both have been miserable and that was the last thing I would have wanted for you.  Either of you.” Mama let out an emotional sigh. “All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.”  Kagome gave her mother a grateful smile, finished what she was doing and kissed her mother on the cheek.

“I'm going to go change so I can come back down and take over.  You still need to get ready.”  Kagome's mother smiled, shooing her daughter out of the kitchen.  Trying not to sprint up the stairs, Kagome took them two at a time at a slightly slower pace.  Wouldn't do her any good to break her neck.  She flung open her door and stripped off her slightly sweaty shirt.  Whatever anyone liked to say about cooking, it was hard work sometimes.  Especially when preparing a meal for your fiancé and his family.  Kagome froze when a deep groan came from behind her.  Whipping around, she nearly shrieked when she saw that she was not alone in her room but managed to stifle it when she recognized said fiancé.  “Inuyasha, what the hell are you doing in here?” she hissed, grabbing her shirt and holding it up to her chest.

He was again dressed more formally than she was accustomed to, a nice suit with a fine white pinstripe pattern.  He was wearing a dark green tie this time, clearly against his will, over a pale lavender shirt.  She wouldn't have pegged him the type, but he pulled off the generally feminine color well.  “I got itchy waiting at home.  Sesshoumaru will be here on time... as always.”  Inuyasha's gaze was glued to her, and the sight he'd obviously gotten before she'd covered up seemed to be playing in front of his eyes.  He took several steps toward her while she took a few back, unknowingly backing herself into the closet.  “You smell amazing 'Gome,” he purred.  The nickname rolled off his tongue easily, turning it into a completely different thing than when he'd started calling her that years ago.  It wasn't just a friendly pet name anymore...

His fingers delicately touched her elbows, drawing her closer.  For some reason, in that moment, she couldn't remember why she was supposed to be resisting.  The shirt disappeared from between them and it took Kagome several moments to realize she'd dropped it.  Inuyasha pulled her close enough to finally kiss her, suit-clad arms coming around her waist.  His right hand pressed flat against her back between her shoulder blades, thumb brushing the strap of her bra.  His lips worked hers gently but confidently, not letting her doubt for one moment why he had been itching to get to her house.  “I'm supposed to be getting dressed before you get here, not undressed since you're here,” she murmured when his lips left hers to nibble her neck.  She felt his grin and lightly smacked his shoulder.  

Given they both knew his brother would smell him all over her, Kagome convinced Inuyasha to pull away from her and let her shower and change.  “He's going to smell you on me anyway.”

“I think it's slightly harder to believe I threw myself at you than the other way around,” she tossed over her shoulder with a cheeky grin as she brushed her hair.  He sat on the edge of her bed, watching her hungrily.  “I'm glad you want to be near me,” she mumbled, lowering her eyes to the dresser in front of her.  There were a series of combs she was trying to pick from and wasn't having much luck.  She'd chosen not to wear the traditional kimono this time, as Sesshoumaru had told Inuyasha to wear a suit instead of his own more traditional clothing.  A black sheath dress with a small belt at her waist made her feel both sophisticated and comfortably dressy.  She smiled at herself in the mirror.  She looked like a Japanese Audrey Hepburn.

“I always wanted to be near you.  I just have permission now,” Inuyasha replied with equal cheek.  Kagome turned and grinned at him for a moment before returning her attention to the hair decorations in front of her.  Pulling her hair up into a high bun, she chose a silver comb with delicate scrolled clouds.  Sticking it into the crease between the bun and her head added just the right amount of adornment without looking overdone.  “You're too pretty for your own good, you know that?”  Kagome looked at the hanyou in the mirror.  His face was carefully even, but she could see the simmering light in his golden eyes.  “You don't have time for another shower.  He'll be here soon.”  He turned toward the window, pulling it open and preparing to step back through it.

Kagome scurried over to him, her bare feet padding across the floor.  “Wait,” she breathed as he paused.  Without actually touching him anywhere else, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his mouth.  He stared at her with a slightly goofy quirk to his lips.  “Be careful.  Don't rip your suit.  I'll see you downstairs.”  He nodded, grinning cockily and hopped out her window, down the branches of the tree and to the ground.  She'd seen him do it a hundred times, but her breath still caught with fear that he'd trip and hurt himself.  He disappeared around the corner of the house and she knew he was going to wait under the Goshinboku.  It was the oldest tree in the city, a sacred tree that sometimes seemed to have a knowing look about it.  It had watched centuries pass under its branches and would soon see another wedding take place.  Kagome fought her own goofy grin, digging through the jewelry box on her dresser for the bangle bracelets Inuyasha had brought for her from India.  They were simple, but she liked the way they sounded when she moved and they were yet another reminder of the quiet care they had held for one another for years.

Back in the kitchen, she found her brother staring balefully at the simmering pots, clearly having no idea what to do with them and not wanting to.  “Mama go up to change?” He nodded.  “Souta, go on, I got this.”  He finally looked at her, slouching against the counter.  “What's wrong?” she asked while turning off the stove and grabbing the serving dishes out of the cabinets.

“You're going to move in with Inu-oniisan, aren't you?”  He wouldn't look her in the eye, seemingly staring somewhere near her kneecaps.

“I suppose that's likely.  We are getting married.  Why does that bother you, otouto?” she murmured, setting aside the dishes and coming to stand in front of him.  His eyes slowly lifted to lock with hers and she could see his upset in direct contradiction to his nonchalant shrug.  “You'll have the house all to yourself with Mama and Jii-chan.”  He scowled.

“It's gonna be different,” he pouted.  She nodded, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently squeezing them reassuringly.  

“Inuyasha is here all the time now, what makes you think we'll stop visiting, huh?  It's not like he doesn't like you guys.  And you're my family.  He knows how important you all are to me.  That's why he did all this, to help our family.”  He nodded slowly, but still seemed unsure about the changes the future would bring.  He was a teenager, not a man yet, but she was still slightly surprised that he'd shared his worry with her.  “Don't worry Souta, I'm sure we'll be here more than you can stand.  Soon you'll be begging us to leave,” she said with a grin just for him, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek.  “You could talk to Yash about it now, if it would make you feel better,” she told him.  Souta blinked at her and she laughed.  “You know him, he couldn't wait.  He's out by Goshinboku.”  Waving her brother out of the kitchen, she went back to dealing with the food just in time for her mother to come sweeping back in.

Dressed in a cocktail length dark pink dress, her mother looked younger and happier than Kagome had seen her in a long time.  “Oh good, you got out the platters.”  She bustled about, pulling her apron from a hook inside the pantry before attempting to plate anything.  Accidents happen.  Kagome stood back to watch her for a moment before grinning and stepping in where she was needed.  She shuttled food to the table, setting the covers on them to keep them hot.  She double checked the place settings while she was there, making sure everything was perfect.

She'd only met Inuyasha's older brother a handful of times, always in passing and never when she was looking her best.  Inuyasha seemed to have a knack for running them into his brother when she was in the middle of a big project in school and hadn't had time to brush her hair, or when they'd gotten caught in a rainstorm and had been drenched to the bone.  Needless to say, she was surprised he seemed to be supporting the contract without question.  He was stoic, to put it mildly, always precisely dressed and never with a hair out of place.  He was hundreds of years old, so she figured he'd had time to perfect the look of deadly businessman.  She smiled at the image that pulled up, not quite accurately, in her head.  She repositioned the flower arrangement four times before she told herself enough was enough.  Calling into the kitchen, she asked her mother if there was anything else she should be doing.

“No, dear.  Just make sure your grandfather is ready.  They should be here any minute.”  Kagome went in search of her grumpy elder, finding him in his room adjusting a sleeve just as she heard Souta open the front door, asking their guests to come in.

Trying not to panic, nor rush him, Kagome gently asked him if he was ready.  He gave her a long hard look.  “This is truly what you want, child?” he questioned gravely.  Kagome stood a little straighter, lifting her chin.  She gave him a curt nod.  “Good.  I'd hate to sign this contract and make you miserable for the rest of your possibly very long life.”  The young woman gave her grandfather a wry smile, reaching out a hand to him.  He was giving her his apology in his own grumbling way and she had to hold onto it while she had the opportunity.  “Alright.  Is this collar straight?” he asked her, twitching it again and setting the under kosode off from it's proper alignment.

“Here,” Kagome murmured, adjusting both collars.  Once the more traditional formal attire was in place, she placed a quick kiss on his forehead.  “I love you, Jii-chan, you know that, right?”  He gave her a quiet smile.  “Come on.  They're here already.”

The pair made their way into the living room where her mother was engaged in conversation with Sesshoumaru's ward, Rin.  He'd taken her under his wing sometime in the last decade, saving her from finishing high school as a foster child.  Inuyasha was very vague about their relationship, but Kagome felt there was something intense about the older youkai's interest in the younger human woman.  Rin was in university now, studying some sort of advanced biology for her second degree.  Inuyasha was often boastful of the girl, since she'd come from such a rough background, losing her parents at an extremely young age, and had managed to get into two of the best universities in the country for both of her degrees.  She was likely to discover or invent something spectacular.

“Ah, there you are.”  Warm breath on her ear made her grin.

“Remember your brother can hear, see and smell everything you do,” she whispered to her fiancé while dipping a bow of greeting to her future brother-in-law.  The inuyoukai stood near the doorway to the living room, silently observing everything.  Inuyasha growled low, but took a step back from her.  Taking a few steps in his direction, with Inuyasha close on her heels, Kagome went to greet the guest of honor.  Despite the dinner being a celebration of their engagement, no one was confused about who had to be impressed and who could still cut off the contract before it was signed.  Kagome wondered briefly if Inuyasha had proposed to her without the financial obligations involved, if Sesshoumaru would even care that they were getting married.  “Sesshoumaru-sama.  Thank you for coming.”  He gave a short nod in return.

“I am pleased to see Inuyasha tying himself to such a respectable family.”  It took several heartbeats for her to understand and process what he had said.

“Th-thank you, Sesshoumaru-sama,” she whispered.  “The honor is truly mine to find myself tied to a family of such prestige as your own.  I only hope that I do not disappoint.”

The inuyoukai seemed to contemplate his answer for a moment.  “That seems unlikely.”  Completely caught off guard by his easy confidence in her, Kagome could only blush and bow again.  Inuyasha made a soft sound of impatience, pulling her attention back to him.  Sesshoumaru dismissed them with a soft snort before approaching the eldest Higurashi and offering him the tiniest inclination of his head.  They began a soft-spoken conversation, one that Kagome couldn’t hear from their distance.

“Sure we can’t sneak out of here?”

“Inuyasha, knock it off.  You’re going to get us grounded,” she responded with a laugh breaking up her serious look.

“We’re grown ass adults,” he replied.

“With very watchful guardians.”  He rolled his eyes at that, but smiled.  “We’re pretty lucky, you know.”  They looked over their family all in the same place, coexisting despite their reservations, their differences.

“I know I am,” he murmured, brushing a kiss against the back of her neck.  Kagome could only blush, her heart full.

@lemonlushff, @fantastiqueparfait, @heavenin–hell, @clearwillow, @bearpluscat, @thunderpo, @keichanz, @meggz0rz, @disgruntledbeast, @sarah-writes-stories, @zelink-inukag, @rikareena, @cammysansstuff, @mcornilliac, @redflamesofpassion, @superpixie42, @underwater0phelia, @cstorm86, @noviceotakus-blog, @lavendertwilight89, @hinezumi, @wenchster, @lost-castles, @lady-dark-69, @itzatakahashi

[71tenseventeen]

Into That Bad Night-Timestamp 2

Warnings for dark Geno, implied violence, fear of violence, sex, flashbacks and trauma. (Geno is not violent towards Sidney, theirs is not an abusive relationship.) If you’re looking for a law-abiding Geno and a non-problematic, fluffy relationship, this is not the fic for you.

This work is not fully beta’d yet. I’ll clean it up before I post on ao3. 

Thanks to @cakemakethme​ for the amazing banner and to @queen-alia​, @ljummen​ for the read-throughs! 

Evgeni and Sidney’s very first meeting below the cut.

Sid stares at the heavy wooden door, opening and closing as patrons go in and out. None of them leave alone. He sucks in a deep breath. He’s counting on the reliability of it, the fact that he always finds someone here. He doesn’t want to but work has been short and he wants to be hungry or homeless even less so he squares his shoulders. If Nate had taught him anything it’s that one rich jerk who pays well is far better than dealing with two or three sketchy low-end clients. 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Cros. You’re worth a lot more than what you can get in that dump. Come with me to Black Steel.” 

“There’s no way they’ll even let me in the door.” 

Nate had turned Sid to face the mirror then. “Don’t be stupid. Look at you. Those lips? Trust me, you’ll make money tonight. We gotta live, Sid. If you’re going to do it anyway you might as well make it worth your time.” 

Sid sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try.” 

Sid’s thinking about it when he crosses the street and steps into the bar. Nate was right—he’d made $600 that night and when he paid his rent the next day, he didn’t care much anymore about what he’d done to earn it. 

Since then Sid comes here when the budget gets too tight—more and more often, despite his best efforts. He misses having a friend come here with him but Nate’s been gone for months. Sid wants to be happy for him—at least he got out, even if it had only been because the hospital had called his relatives when he overdosed. He’s in Toronto with family now but they haven’t spoken since that night in the dim hospital room. Sid hopes he’s doing well. 

He slides into a spot at the polished wooden bar and orders a drink, trying to focus on the task at hand—it’s easier when he puts everything else out of his mind—and lets himself sink into the role he needs to play. 

–

Evgeni spots him almost immediately. He’s beautiful. 

He leans forward slightly, watching as the man makes his way from the door to the bar. He’s clearly trying to look cool and confident but not quite succeeding, though he doubts anyone else looks close enough to notice any signs of nervousness. Evgeni has always been good at reading people. 

He cocks his head when the man orders a drink and then darts his eyes around, not quite making eye contact with anyone. But he’s here for a reason, that’s obvious in the way he tries to make himself look available and well, Evgeni’s always been good at making snap decisions, too.  

–

Sidney feels him before he hears him, a big body sliding in very close to his side. But when he turns to try to put some space between them, the words die in his throat. Sidney’s heard his name but he never imagined they’d come face to face. His heart gives a little thump when the man smiles at him, slow and sure, voice warm when he leans in a little to say. “You here alone this evening?” 

He gets it together enough to nod then curses internally. He should have said no, should have made an excuse because this man is powerful and dangerous. He’s also gorgeous, could clearly have any man or woman he wants and Sidney can’t understand what he’s done to capture his attention. 

The man’s smile softens a little and he lets himself sit on the edge of the barstool next to Sid, extending his hand. “I am Evgeni.” 

Sid shakes his hand and wonders if Evgeni can feel him trembling. “Sidney,” he replies quietly. 

“Sidney,” Evgeni repeats it and it sounds different on his tongue than Sid has ever heard before. “I like. What bring you here tonight, Sidney?” 

“I—” Sid can feel his cheeks getting hot, not sure what to say. It doesn’t seem likely that Evgeni would be interested in what he’s offering so that means he’s probably somewhere he shouldn’t be. He feels a little sick. This is not a man he should piss off. 

But Evgeni just smiles reassuringly, leaning a little closer to ask quietly, “You looking for client, yes?” 

Sid swallows hard, unable to look away as he nods again. He jumps, just a little, when he feels a big, warm hand slide over his. “Would you consider allow me to be your client tonight Sidney?” 

Fuck. Fuck. He shouldn’t do this but no doesn’t feel like a great option and he—he needs the money. Before he can think too much about it he finds his voice. “Yes.” 

“Of course, I want to compensate well for your company. You have suggestion?” 

“Two hundred an hour,” Sidney’s voice is trembling. Is he really going to do this? 

Evgeni nods. “And how many hours you available?” 

Sid sits back a little, confused by the question. “You want more than one?” 

“Would like to have overnight, if you accept.” 

Holy. Shit. 

But. 

“I don’t—I only take one client at a time.” If he wants Sid for a whole night there has to be more to it. 

But Evgeni shakes his head. “Understand. Only me, Sidney.”

“You can’t—there are rules. You can’t hurt me.” 

Evgeni draws back, looking almost offended. “Would never. Will only do what make you feel good, have no desire to hurt or scare you. Is very simple. I’m just look for company tonight and want it to be you.” 

Sidney is stunned. “Why?” 

Evgeni doesn’t answer at first, instead reaches out and runs gentle fingers down Sid’s jawline and across his bottom lip. “Because you beautiful.” 

–

Sid sits quietly next to Evgeni in the car, wondering if he should be doing something already but Evgeni seems focused on telling the driver where to go and then he’s on the phone, making a last minute reservation. 

–

Things move faster after Sid’s clothes are off. He’s not used to being very interested when he does this but it’s clear from the very first touch that things are going to be very different with Evgeni. He touches Sid like he’s trying to learn every inch of him, hands strong and confident and everywhere. 

Then he’s cupping Sid’s face, kissing him deep and slow and it’s overwhelmingly good,  Evgeni kisses like he wants to possess him and Sid doesn’t usually kiss clients but he’d rather do just about anything than stop right now. 

“Undress me,” he says between kisses so Sid does and jesus, he’s big everywhere. Sid hopes he can handle this. Before he can think about it more Evgeni is kissing him again, fingers running over his skin, tweaking one nipple before moving to the other. 

“What do you want?” Sid’s already a little breathless. 

“What you offer?" 

Sid thinks about that for a moment. "I’ll suck your cock. And you can fuck me. If you want to." 

Evgeni’s eyes seem impossibly darker when he says, "I want." 

–

Sid is good with his mouth and he knows it. He usually uses it to his advantage when he wants to speed things along with clients. It’s very effective. 

But Evgeni wants him for a whole night. 

He drags his tongue along the underside of Evgeni’s dick, listening to the sounds escaping him, and lets himself slow down, get a little bit lost in it. He pushes himself, bobbing a little further each time before he stops and flutters his eyes open to meet Evgeni’s heavy, focused gaze. 

At first glance he seems as composed as ever but Sidney can see it in his eyes, pupils blown wide with want. He can hear it in the little hitches of Evgeni’s breath and feel it in the way his fingers tighten carefully in Sid’s hair. Every touch, every sound is like a spark of electricity. Maybe it’s the thrill of making someone so powerful and foreboding groan and pant or maybe it’s just the prospect of getting paid a lot of money for what he suspects is going to be really good sex which so rarely happens. Either way, he doesn’t want to stop. 

He wants more. 

He works Evgeni over with his mouth as well as he knows how, losing himself in it until he feels the careful but urgent tug of fingers in his hair. He’s panting when he pops off, leaning back to meet Evgeni’s eyes. 

“Fuck,” is what comes out when he finally speaks. “You keep like that I’m not last much longer.” 

“You have me all night.” 

Evgeni’s eyes darken and his lips curve into a slow, almost predatory smile. He runs his fingers through Sid’s hair slowly, never breaking their gaze as he says quietly, “You let me come in your pretty mouth?” 

Sid hesitates, breath hitching a little. He should say no. He’s never—not with a client but this isn’t a normal client. “Are you—” His voice falters as he tries to find the words. 

Evgeni’s reply comes quickly, calm and serious. “Clean, yes.”

Sid’s not sure why but he believes him. “I’ve never—not with a client.” 

Evgeni nods slowly. “Is your choice. If you say no, I make sure give you enough warning. If you say yes, maybe I’m pay you little extra for make very special exception for me.” 

He knows he shouldn’t. “Yes.” 

Evgeni relaxes back on his free hand, tugging Sid closer with his other, guiding him right where he wants him to be. He tips his head back with a groan the second Sid’s mouth is on him again and fuck Sid really shouldn’t be so into this but he is. 

It doesn’t take long, despite Sid’s efforts to drag out every moment of pleasure for Evgeni. His dick gets impossibly harder against Sid’s tongue, fingers tightening in his hair and then he’s coming and Sid tries to keep up. He swallows as much as he can but he can feel it trickling out of his mouth and down his chin. He opens his mouth wider, letting Evgeni guide him now as he keeps moving until he finally slows to a stop. 

He pulls his dick away and immediately replaces it with his thumb, swiping it through the mess on Sid’s bottom lip and then pushing in. “Look at you,” he grumbles, voice raw, even deeper than normal. “You so good, know how to use don’t you?” 

Sid doesn’t reply, instead swiping his tongue around Evgeni’s thumb and sucking a little harder. 

Evgeni smiles again and Sid’s not sure what to expect but it certainly isn’t being drawn up and then pressed down onto the mattress while Evgeni kisses the underside of his jaw. He pauses only to murmur, “Now I’m take good care of you,” before he wraps deft fingers around Sid’s cock. 

He isn’t used to clients caring about his pleasure. He almost never gets off when he does this and none of them ever seems to give that a second thought.  But Evgeni is unlike any client he’s ever had and takes his time, drawing it out until he finally brings Sid over with a smug look. 

He disappears for a few moments and returns with a warm, wet washcloth, first wiping carefully at Sid’s face and then works his way down, gently pushing Sid’s hand away when he tries to take over. He doesn’t know what to make of this—a client taking care of his needs but it seems to be what Evgeni wants so he doesn’t argue. 

–

Evgeni fucks him twice that night and Sid thinks it’s the best sex he’s ever had in his life. After, when he’s fighting the urge to fall asleep Evgeni chuckles. “Sleep Sidney. I have you all night not mean you have to stay awake whole time.” 

His eyes are already fluttering shut but he can feel Evgeni sitting next to him on the bed. “What about you?” He murmurs, nearly asleep already. 

“Not worry about me. Just rest.” 

That’s the last thing Sid remembers until hours later when he wakes up sluggishly disoriented, trying to blink his eyes open. He gets a glimpse of the room and scrambles up in a panic. He doesn’t know this room, doesn’t know this bed and— 

There’s a rapid, fluid motion next to him and then—

Sid freezes, breath caught in his throat. He’s staring down the barrel of a gun that Evgeni is holding, looking a little sleepy but gaze sharp as ever. 

Sid winces hard and squeezes his eyes shut as his whole body starts to shake. All he can do is wonder why, he remembers everything about the night before now and he thought he did everything right, he thought—

Evgeni curses softly and there’s a shuffling sound and the soft click of something being laid on the table. Then strong hands are wrapping gently around his wrists and tugging carefully. “Look at me,” he says, tone sober and serious.  

Sid’s breath hitches as he slowly blinks his eyes open to find Evgeni looking right back at him. The gun is back on the bedside table. He still doesn’t move. 

"I apologize. You startle me, I react. Never intend to hurt you. Am very sorry to have scare you like this.” 

Sid lets out a breath, trying hard to bite back tears as Evgeni rubs gentle hands up and down his arms. “Know you’re not have reason to believe but I’m promise will not hurt you.” 

Sid nods but he’s still shaking all over, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. Evgeni grips his face gently, making sure to keep eye contact. “Want you to breathe with me, Sidney.” He takes a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. “You try. Can you do for me?” 

Sid blinks hard but he tries. 

“Good, you do so good. Do again.” 

He doesn’t take his eyes off of Evgeni’s as they breathe together until Sid can manage on his own, some of the tension draining from his body. 

Evgeni nods approvingly. “Keep breathe. I’m be right back.” 

He crosses the room quickly and returns with a bottle of water. “Take sip.” 

Sid does it. Then he takes another drink and another until half the bottle is gone. Evgeni watches him intently the whole time. “Is a little better now?” 

Sid nods again. “Y-yeah.” He still feels shaky but at least he’s not on the verge of panicking anymore. 

“Good. Feel terrible, Sidney. Hope you can forgive.” 

Sid doesn’t know what to say but Evgeni doesn’t seem to need a reply. He’s already picking up his phone and dialing. He speaks briefly to whoever is on the other end and then ends the call abruptly. “Breakfast is come.”

Sid swallows hard. “Do—do you want…?” He has no idea what to do. This stopped being a normal situation the moment Evgeni sat down next to him at the bar. He’s not sure if he can manage sex right now though. 

Evgeni raises an eyebrow but shakes his head. “Don’t think now a good time.” He reaches over to squeeze Sid’s shoulder. “Besides, you wear me out.” There’s a twinkle in his eye as he says it and Sid finds himself strangely comforted, at least a little bit, by the conversation. 

“Hungry. Need to eat and go to work.” 

“Oh. Right.” Sid starts to slide out of the bed. “I should go.” 

“No.” 

Sid freezes and looks up. “No?”

“No. You eat first, least I can do.”

–

Evgeni is on the phone when the food arrives. He pauses long enough to direct the server to lay out the spread on the table before going back to his call while Sid perches awkwardly in an armchair, fighting the urge to help. When the attendant is finished, Evgeni drops his phone long enough to tip and dismiss him before glancing at Sid. “Eat.” 

He still feels awkward but the food smells decent and he knows he needs to eat so he settles at the table and puts a few things on his plate. He cautiously puts a small pool of syrup next to his french toast but scrunches his nose when he tries it. He’s not surprised—he almost never finds real maple syrup. 

Evgeni’s been chattering in rapid Russian on his phone and Sid really didn’t think he was paying any attention but suddenly he’s pulling the phone from his ear and asking, “Not taste good?”

Sid freezes. “I—it’s fine.” 

“You wrinkle nose. Something taste bad?” 

“Oh. No! No it’s good.” 

Evgeni stares at him, clearly still waiting for an explanation. Sid feels his cheeks heat and he drops his eyes before he mutters. “I, uh, I’m from Canada. I’m just used to different, um, syrup.” 

He wonders if that will piss Evgeni off. This meal can’t be cheap and Sid really isn’t in a position to be complaining about something as petty as syrup. But then he hears a loud, booming laugh and looks up in time to catch Evgeni’s wide grin. “Cute.” 

He’s still too shaken up to manage much but he eats as much as he can. Evgeni walks him to the door afterwards, sliding a simple white envelope into his hands. “This should cover everything.” 

As intimidating as Evgeni is, Sid knows he has to check, he has to be paid for his services. It only takes a quick peek to know that there’s more than he expected in the envelope. “Thanks. I—Thank you.” 

Evgeni chuckles. “Should be thanking you, no?” He leans in then, brushing a kiss under his ear before murmuring, “May I request your services again, Sidney?” 

Sid’s cheeks burn but he nods. “Yeah, yes. Of course.” 

“Good. I’ll be in touch.” 

–

A private car drives him home and Sid doesn’t dare take out the envelope. He’s shaking again, the adrenaline of the night draining away, leaving behind the dregs of all the anxiety he held back all night long. 

Evgeni wants to see him again. Fuck.  

By the time he gets into his apartment and locks the door behind him he feels like he’s on the verge of a panic attack. Picking someone up is always risky but going to bed, spending the night with a man who is by all accounts a very seasoned criminal, a murderer even, was reckless beyond reason. That was proven when he came nose to nose with the barrel of a gun and now he’s agreed to see Evgeni again. 

He slides down, sinking to the floor as he tries to pace his breathing. Letting his head fall back and eyes close, he breathes deeply through his nose, out slowly through his mouth. His mind immediately goes back to doing this exact thing with Evgeni. Despite everything he’d seemed genuinely concerned and apologetic. 

Sid keeps breathing. 

Evgeni had treated him gently, he’d been kind and made sure Sid agreed to anything they did. He’d been concerned the entire time about Sid’s pleasure and comfort. He never hurt Sid, didn’t even try to push past his verbal boundaries, not even once. 

When his breathing evens out again he opens his eyes. They immediately land on the envelope that he’d dropped to his side and he picks it up, finally dumping the money out to count. 

He’d known that Evgeni overpaid him, just from the quick glance and the weight of the envelope. He’d expected to have a good payout for spending an entire night, for the things he did. Eight hours plus a little bonus should have meant close to two thousand dollars. But when he pulls the money out and starts counting his breath threatens to hitch again. 

And then he knows for sure, knows that despite everything, if Evgeni contacts him, he’ll say yes. He’ll do it again because now he’s holding five thousand dollars in his hands and he didn’t have to do anything that hurt to earn it. 

[quickspinner]

Second Chance - Ch 1 The One That Got Away

Hello friends! Continuing posting my backlog of work that was posted to AO3 but not Tumblr. You can filter the backlog tag if you don’t want to see these fyi.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Summary: 

It's been years since he last saw Marinette. He's a successful rock star and she's been traveling the world chasing her dreams. Luka thought he had grown up and moved on, but when Marinette lands back in Paris and seeks him out, it takes about ten seconds for him to figure out he can't resist a second chance.

Aged-up, total self-indulgent Lukanette fluff. There will be some implied sexual content later on but nothing explicit. 

The beginning of this first chapter comes from the last chapter of I Will Give You the Stars, and while you don’t have to have read that one first, the two stories do go well together.

Luka tossed his sweaty hair back from his face and looked out at the blinding lights. “Okay guys,” he said into the microphone, picking idly at his guitar. “I think we’re gonna take it down a bit for this next song. But first, can we bring the house lights up please?”

Used to his quirks, the lighting crew responded quickly, dimming the lights in his eyes and turning up the lights on the crowd in the packed stadium.

“That’s better,” Luka said, skimming the crowd of fans waving and screaming wildly. “I know this might be kinda weird if this is your first show with me, but I just like to see you. Put some faces to my audience. This is a two way street, you and me, and I don’t wanna forget that.”

A small crowd of girls off to his right screamed in rehearsed unison, “WE LOVE YOU LUKA!” 

He grinned toward them and winked. “Love you too, sweethearts.” As they shrieked excitedly he looked at the banner they were holding up, decorated with birthday cakes and glittery letters. “Seventeen huh? Nice. Happy birthday, babe.” The girl in the middle of the group wearing a sparkly tiara put her hands over her mouth, eyes huge, while her friends practically mobbed her. Luka chuckled and returned to his perusal of the crowd, meeting as many eyes as he could. Somewhere a group of fans screamed for Juleka and out of the corner of his eye he could see her raise a lace-gloved hand to blow them a kiss. 

Suddenly he locked eyes with a familiar sapphire gaze and the rest of the stadium disappeared. 

“Well hey there, beautiful,” he said softly, ignoring the several ladies in the line of his gaze who swooned or screamed. She knew who he was talking to, a slow smile spreading over her face. “I didn’t know you were back in Paris.” His grin widened as he took in the faces around her. “Wow, check it out Jules, looks like a bunch of old friends came to see us tonight. Awesome.” 

He tore his gaze away with effort, and looked up to the balcony. He couldn’t see faces up there as well, but he let his gaze rake across slowly before nodding. “All right. Now that we know each other, let’s get back to the music, shall we?”

The lighting crew recognized their cue, and the blinding lights were back as the stadium went dark. Luka stepped back from the mic for a moment to take a deep, centering breath, focusing on the vibrations of the stage that he could feel even through his heavy boots, the feel of his guitar in his hands, and the song he could still hear ringing in his mind even though he couldn’t see her anymore.

Then his fingers began to move, and he stepped back up to the mic.

***

They didn’t get to meet their friends that night, which was just as well as far as Luka was concerned. He wasn’t ever at his best right after a show, sweaty and sore and exhausted and he definitely didn’t want to see her looking like he’d just been run over by his tour bus. But Rose—bless beautiful, sweet, romantic Rose—Rose had his back. When Juleka wasn’t looking, Rose slipped a piece of paper in his hand that had a phone number, a time, and the name of his favorite café. “I knew you’d be free in the morning,” she whispered. “I figured you wouldn’t mind missing out on the sleep.”

“You’re the best,” he whispered back, slipping the paper in his pocket as Rose glanced anxiously at Juleka.

Marinette was already waiting outside the next morning as he walked up, looking like she’d walked straight out of his dreams. She caught sight of him and smiled, turning to face him as his heart skipped a few beats.

He was a grown-ass man and a legitimate rock star, and that smile still did things to him. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Luka grinned, opening his arms. “It’s been a long time.”

“Hi Luka,” Marinette smiled, coming into his arms to hug him and then rising on her toes to exchange cheek kisses. “The show last night was great.”

“It was great to have you guys there,” Luka said, letting her go and opening the café door for her. “I have to admit, I’m getting kinda sick of big shows. I miss connecting with people the way I did when I was playing smaller venues.”

“The price of being a famous rock star,” she said as he pulled out a chair for her at his usual table.

“Not that famous,” he protested, sitting down across from her.

“Pretty famous,” she grinned, leaning her elbows on the table to look up at him. 

He shrugged and grinned at the ground. “Yeah, okay, maybe.”

Marinette smiled. “I’m glad it hasn’t changed you, Luka.”

“So when did you get back in town?” Luka asked, ready to be done talking about himself. 

“Two nights ago.”

“And the first thing you did was come see my show? I’m flattered.”

“Really, I was lucky,” Marinette admitted. “The others got tickets ages ago, before I knew I would be here, but Mylene’s at that stage of pregnancy where she’s falling asleep all the time, so she gave me her ticket. I think Ivan was relieved, actually.”  

Luka picked up her hand. “Marinette, any time you want to come to a performance you know you just have to ask.”

“Says the man who’s changed his number four times in the last year,” she teased. 

Luka winced. “Yeah this whole fame thing really puts a crimp in my social life sometimes. I have a whole new appreciation for what Adrien went through in school. At least not that many people recognize me like this.” He gestured to his casual outfit, black jeans and a plain grey tshirt that were a far cry from his elaborate stage costumes and makeup. “Sometimes people recognize the hair and the ink but mostly I get left alone as long as I keep a low profile.” 

Marinette rested her chin on her hand and smiled up at him. “I like the hair. Must be cooler on stage this way, and it photographs better. Your eyes are too nice to be hidden all the time.”

“So my agent told me,” Luka sighed, running his hand over the short hair beneath the blue tinted locks falling from the top. “And you’re right, it is cooler. I like yours too,” he added, reaching out his free hand to tweak a loose strand on her shoulder. “You look good with it long. Anyway, I’m sorry about the phone thing. I’ll give you my assistant’s number before we leave, she can always put you through if I have to change it again. I don’t want to lose touch with you over something so stupid.”  He realized suddenly that she was blushing, watching his thumb move over her fingers. Fortunately the waiter approached just at that moment, giving him an excuse to let go of her hand casually. 

Luka was a regular here and he chatted easily with the staff as they came and went with water and menus, but he had a hard time keeping his eyes off Marinette. Damn, after all this time she still affected him the same way, drawing him in like a magnet. Like him, she was dressed casually, in jeans and a fitted shirt with a wide neck that left a distracting amount of her freckled shoulders and collarbone bare. She was everything he remembered, just matured, mellowed, more. He’d known in his gut that he was on a high-speed train to heartbreak the minute he’d locked eyes with her in the show.

“Tell me what you’ve been doing since you left,” Luka said as soon as the staff had left with their orders. 

“So many things,” Marinette breathed. “Luka, it was amazing, I learned so much and I got to see and do so much.”

“Tell me,” he murmured, leaning on the table, already entranced by her passion. God, he needed his guitar, he could write whole albums on the look in her eyes right now.

She brightened, pulling out a battered sketchbook. Luka moved his chair around the table to be next to her and propped his chin in his hand, letting her voice wash over him as she took him on a tour of her dreams.

“I’m not boring you, am I?” she asked suddenly, looking up at him with slightly wide eyes that reminded him of the nervous girl who’d walked into his room all those years ago.

“Not in the least,” he told her and he knew he must be giving her some kind of look because her blush spread down to her neckline. 

He was saved from doing something reckless by the arrival of their food. Clearing his throat, he moved back to his end of the table and asked about her parents. 

They talked about their families as they ate, the crazy things Anarka got up to that Luka had to bail her out of (sometimes with the police, once literally when there was a mishap on the boat), how Marinette’s parents had coped with her two-year absence, what their mutual friends had been up to. 

And she told him about the things that hadn’t been so great about her trip, the jet lag and the long hours, picking up from one city and moving on just when she’d finally gotten comfortable, the frustrations of frequently having conversations in English when it was neither conversant’s first language. 

“Every time I’d get depressed I’d feel ungrateful,” she told him, idly picking apart what was left of her food. “Like, so many people entered that competition and out of everyone they chose me to have this fantastic experience in all these different design houses, and there I was acting homesick and lonely.  And...meeting so many new people made me realize how rare and precious my true friends are...and how maybe there were some I didn’t appreciate enough.” She glanced up at him through her lashes, biting her lip, and he swallowed hard and tried to think of something to say. 

Before he could, she pushed her plate away and abruptly changed the subject. “So, when are you going to put out another calendar?” She ginned.

Luka groaned and put his face down on the table. “Please tell me you didn’t see one of those.”

“Oh I very much did,” she laughed. “If I can find it once I’m unpacked maybe you’ll sign it for me. October was my favorite, though July was probably the most...hmm...inspiring.” She laughed as he put his arms over his head, partly to cover the brilliant red that he was sure covered his neck and ears. “Luka Couffaine, are you actually embarrassed?”

“Thoroughly,” he said from beneath his arms. Sighing, he forced himself to sit up, scrubbing at his face with his hands. “I try really hard to pretend that whole thing never happened, honestly. I felt like such a—“ He shook his head.

“Was it really awful?” She asked, her amusement turning to sympathy.

“I hated every minute of it,” he said bluntly. “I didn’t want to do it but a bunch of things happened at once right then and my family really needed the money. And I figured, better me than Juleka, who knows what they’d have wanted her to do and her fans are way scarier than mine.” He made a face. “Don’t tell her I said that, she’ll get all pissed at me for getting all big brothery on her.”

“I’m sorry, Luka, I didn’t know.” Marinette reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I won’t tease you about it anymore.”

“Thanks.” His mouth quirked up at the corner. “October, huh? That was the black and white one, right? That one wasn’t so bad. At least it was artistic. And I got to wear actual pants.”

Marinette giggled. “And you made them look good. It was a good picture. Sexy, but soulful. And with the guitar and the ripped jeans, it felt like I was seeing you, and not a stranger who kinda looked like you, you know.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Honestly it wasn’t the pictures I minded so much, my agent kept the really embarrassing ones out of it and we made sure they were destroyed, just I could have lived without being treated like a doll without any feelings or dignity.” 

“Mmm, I see that a lot. A lot of designers and stylists stop seeing models as people. I guess knowing Adrien for so many years made it hard for me to think that way. The designers I was shadowing got really frustrated with me because of it.”

“Maybe I’m hopelessly optimistic but I think your way will pay off in the end.” He winked at her. “I can guarantee that if I ever have to do anything like that again, I’ll be calling you to be my stylist. If this tour weren't already under contract I’d hire you on the spot.” 

Marinette kicked him under the table. “You’re biased, Luka.”

“Always have been when it comes to you. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“Luka,” she began and then hesitated. He waited patiently, though curiosity was eating him alive as she licked her lips and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Listen I know you’re really busy and your schedule’s kind of crazy and it was already super nice of you to make time to have lunch with me—“ Luka had to cover the smile tugging at his lips with his hand at this very Marinette ramble. “But I was wondering, if you might want to have dinner with me, um...as a date.” She swallowed and looked up at him and he could not believe that she thought for one second he might actually say no.

“Hell yeah,” he grinned, reaching out to take her hand. “I mean I do have to check my schedule, but I’ll make time. I’ll call you? Probably not tonight, but no later than tomorrow evening, I promise.”

His phone alarm went off in his pocket before he’d even finished speaking, and he sighed, pulling it out.

“You have to go?” Marinette smiled crookedly.

“Yeah, I do,” he said, silencing the alarm and putting his phone away. He reached across the table and took her both hands in his. “It’s been great seeing you again Marinette. I’m so glad we’ve been able to catch up.” He kissed her hands as he stood up. “I’ll call you soon, okay?” 

“Was everything to your satisfaction, Mr. Couffaine?” 

Luka turned, grasping the hand offered by the suited man behind him. “Fantastic as always, Gerard, and how many times do I have to tell you to call me Luka?” Gerard smiled under his mustache but didn’t reply. “Please let the lady have whatever she’d like for dessert on my tab, okay?” 

“Of course, Mr. Couffaine.”

Luka rolled his eyes and smiled back at a Marinette one more time with a quick wave, her own smile warming him as he turned to go.

The minute the studio's car service picked him up, his phone was in his hand.  “Lucille,” he said when his assistant picked up, hoping she couldn’t hear the idiotic grin on his face. “Yeah, I’m on my way, but have you got a few minutes? Can you run me through what my schedule looks like? I need you to free up an evening for me in the next week.”

It took more than a few minutes, and he had to cancel three meetings and move back a rehearsal, but he could not bring himself to care. 

Because when the one that got away suddenly walks back into your life and asks you out, who gives a crap about meetings?

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 39

Yoongi comforts you, and you sit down for the interview.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Genre: fluff, angst

|mlist|

<–– Prev   Next ––>

“I have to go,” you mumble, shivering. From thousands of miles away, you hear the clattering of your phone to the floor. You feel cold, so, so, so cold. Sure, you haven’t heard from her today, but on Friday, yesterday– she picked you up from work. How could so much have gone wrong in such a short time? You have to go… but where?

“Y/n.”

And Lisa, the one friend who’s been with you through it all, who forgave you so easily for every single lie and secret; the best friend since forever, who got you all your acting jobs, protected you, helped you during that icy near-death night–

“Y/n, open your eyes.” She seems to know you better than you know yourself, always able to read your mind, that Lisa, your Lisa, your best friend…

“Y/n.” You feel a strong hand grasp your chin and you gasp, eyes flying open. You don’t remember closing them, and now you find yourself face-to-face with Yoongi and his eternally deep brown eyes. You’re so used to seeing Yoongi’s expression clouded by amusement that the worry now evident in his gaze seems out of place. Ever so slightly, he tilts your head up just a little, until all you see is him. “It’ll be okay.”

Tears fill your eyes and quickly spill over. Yoongi’s your friend too– what if he goes missing as well? “She’s gone. Fuck, she’s gone. She’s gone, and– what if it’s my fault?” You move away from him, burying your face in your hands, allowing the fear to overwhelm you. You’re crying, scared, cold, alone. And Lisa… “She’s gone!”

“Shh…” Yoongi leans forward and wraps his arms around you. He’s warm, and it takes you a moment to realize you’ve stopped shivering. “It’s no one’s fault. Did you hear me, y/n? Lisa’s an adult. We don’t know what happened yet. The police are taking care of it, you heard that detective. Just take a deep breath for me, okay?”

You try to draw in a shaky breath, but it proves too much for you: short, shallow gasps are all you can manage as you feel the tears continue to roll freely down your cheeks. “I can’t– I can’t. Yoongi, if she’s hurt, if she’s worse–”

Yoongi flinches, as though you’ve struck a nerve. “Believe me, I know how you feel… not knowing if someone is okay. Blaming yourself. Scared that you’ve lost her, scared that you can’t help.” As he continues to speak, your hear his voice changing into something softer, more raw. “Scared you’ll never see her again.”

You sniffle, wiping your eyes. The last time you saw Yoongi so sorrowful was… well, that night.

Yoongi shakes himself out of his stupor. “I mean… she’ll be fine. Just tell the police what you know, stay in the loop. There’s nothing else you can do.”

“Y-yeah. You’re right.” You rub your eyes furiously, willing the tears to stop. Breaking down now won’t help Lisa. You’ll take the morning off from filming Moon Over the Sea tomorrow for your interview with Detective Kang– she can’t really be missing, you saw her yesterday. What on earth could have happened?

She’s gone. Could it have been your fault? No, no, listen to Yoongi. It’s no one’s fault. But… did she run away? Was she kidnapped? How will you sleep knowing she could be in danger?

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I…” even to your own ears, your voice sounds small. You don’t know the last time you felt such dread– and you don’t want to be alone. “Can I stay here tonight?”

Yoongi rubs your shoulder comfortingly. “Of course. You want me to set up the extra bed in Jungkook’s room?”

“No, I’ll sleep on the couch.” Yoongi’s unwavering voice is so reassuring, and while you’re still stressed about Lisa, it’s nice to know you have another ally at your side. 

“Whatever you want. The guys should be back soon anyways– we’ll all be together, just like old times.”

Just like old times… the first time you slept over here was the night after Xiumin cheated on you. You went so hard on the vodka that you barely remember the evening at all, which is probably a good thing. Your memories flicker to the dream you had that night– it was so vivid that even after all this time, you remember that perfectly. “Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for everything.” You yawn, your eyes stinging with the memory of your tears. Lisa… 

“You don’t need to thank me, dork,” Yoongi ruffles your hair, pressing his lips together in a half-smile. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Mm.” You yawn again. “I once had a dream that I kissed you.”

Yoongi freezes. “Uh, what?”

“What?” Wait, did you– did you really just– fuck. “L-Like in Moon Over The Sea!” You squeak, fumbling for your phone. Why did you say that? “I had this weird dream about our characters, and uh… the other members and Lisa were in it.” You feel a pang at the thought of your friend. All that should matter now is Lisa. So why’d you have to embarrass Yoongi?

Dammit, y/n, you can’t fuck up this friendship too. “It was crazy, um, I could fly, and you turned green, and–”

“Y/n.”

You gulp, too nervous to meet your friend’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“You made up the rest of that, didn’t you? it’s okay. It was just a dream.” Yoongi chuckles a little. “Plus, it makes sense– you used to be a fan. You don’t have to worry, and–” he tweaks your nose. “Even though I know your damned instinct is to lie, I’m glad you told me.”

“Why?”

Yoongi shrugs. “More material to tease you with.”

“Hey!” You punch him playfully, feeling some tension ease from your shoulders. Maybe you’ll be able to sleep tonight after all. 

Yoongi seems to sense the same, standing up and stretching. “Get some rest. I’ll text the guys that you’re staying over. Want me to come with you to the police station tomorrow?”

“No, you still need to be onset for filming, and I–” your breath catches in your throat. “I have to do this alone.”

Yoongi snickers. “Drama queen.”

You laugh weakly, grateful for his efforts to distract you. “Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Sleep well, y/n. I’d say dream of me, but…” Yoongi winks. “I guess you’ve got that one down.”

~~~

You spend the night tossing about restlessly, catching only hours of sleep at a time, your mind a foggy mix between reality and dreams– and at some points you can’t tell which is which.

~

Taehyung and Jimin walk in. “Is she sleeping?”

“I think so.”

~

Yoongi is pressing you up against a wall, his mouth an inch from yours, one hand on your waist and the other on the wall. “What do you want, y/n?”

~

Lisa pokes you in the cheek. “When are you going to come find me? This is all your fault, you know.”

~

You’re falling, falling eternally, the darkness beneath you echoing the sounds of notifications, the sounds of hatred. “Worthless…” 

“Talentless…”

“Social-climbing slut…”

“Kill yourself…”

~

“Hey, do you think this would explode if I microwaved it?”

“Dude, no! She’s still asleep!”

~

All seven members sit at a long desk, and you stand in front of them nervously. 

One by one, each extends a hand and shows a thumbs-down. Last to go is Yoongi, who sighs. “That’s the way the cookie crumbles.” And he, too, flashes you a thumbs down.

~

“Do you think she’d like some eggs?”

“I dunno, man, I think she’s crying.”

“So… yes to the eggs?”

~

“Come find me…”

~

“Gah!” You shoot into an upright position, your heart beating dangerously fast.

“Y/n!” Seokjin says brightly from the kitchen. “You’re awake! Want some eggs?”

“I, um…” you sniff, wiping your eyes. Have you been crying? “I’ll get something on the way. I have to go.”

“Do you need to borrow some clothes? I think either Yoongi or Jimin-ssi’s shirts will fit you– I’ll go grab you one, okay?”

You nod gratefully at the eldest member as he pads down the hall. You’re going to be interviewed by Detective Kang today– and you don’t know what to expect. But surely if you tell him you saw Lisa just two days ago, he’ll understand that this must be some sort of misunderstanding, right?

You’re quick to arrive at the police station– hair brushed, eyes dry, shirt smelling faintly of Yoongi. You forgot to eat anything, but how can you be hungry when Lisa needs your help

“I’m here to meet with Detective Kang?” You ask the man at the front desk, who points you towards an office door labeled MISSING PERSONS UNIT.

You knock cautiously, and the door swings open to reveal a burly man who would seem intimidating, if not for his warm smile. “L/n y/n? Come on in.” You enter, settling into the chair across the desk.

“Let’s get right down to it,” Detective Kang says. “This conversation is confidential to the public– you may not disclose details of this case. If I feel your testimony may be relevant to the inquiry, I’ll record it. Finally, you may have a lawyer present if you wish, and you are not legally required to be here– you may leave at any time.”

You nod. “I understand.”

“Alright. Two weeks ago, Ms. Manoban’s mother reported her missing. The Seoul Arts administration also attempted to report her disappearance by calling her emergency contact– but, Ms. L/n, Lalisa Manoban’s emergency contact was listed as you.”

Your brows knit together. “What?”

“And we found this information had been changed recently, within the last two months. Do you have any idea why this might be?”

“N-no.” You shake your head. “Her parents should have been her contacts. They have a good relationship– she didn’t even tell me she made me her emergency contact.”

“Have you been contacted by the Seoul Arts administration?”

You look down guiltily. You muted calls from admin a while ago, since they were usually automated calls about some event or fundraiser or another. “I... haven’t checked.”

“I see.” Detective Kang makes a note before continuing: “Three weeks ago, Ms. Manoban’s credit card was used to book a flight to New York.”

“What?”

“But she never boarded the flight. She is, by all accounts, still here in Korea.”

“Wait, can’t you, like, track her phone? Trace her credit card?” How could she have been reported missing a fortnight ago when you saw her on Friday?

“Well, the thing is, the last charge on her credit card is that plane ticket. Two weeks ago, a card was found on a side street and confirmed to belong to Ms. Manoban. And her phone has been turned off since the report, although we got some activity on it two days ago. The problem is before yesterday, the last location we could trace it to was a pawn shop outside of Seoul, known for dealing in stolen items. So… well, it’s very likely that the activity wasn’t hers.”

“It was,” you interrupt. “Two days ago, Lisa called me. And I saw her in person.”

“What?” The detective’s jaw drops, and you see him work to regain his composure. “Hm- are you sure?”

“She’s my best friend,” you reply defensively. “I’m sure.”

“That… that changes things.” Detective Kang rubs his chin thoughtfully. “May I know the circumstances of your last interaction?”

“Well, on Friday she picked me up from work to take me to another job. I’m an actress,” you add hurriedly, “And Lisa’s been working like my manager, basically.”

“I see. Go on.”

“She called me after work– must have been six or seven in the evening– that she had a project that she needed to work on and couldn’t pick me up.” You hold out your phone and show him your call history. “Then on Saturday, yesterday, I didn’t hear from her. That’s when you called–” you shrug. The rest is history.

“So she’s still got her phone, then…” Detective Kang is quick to type something into his computer. “Miss L/n, I’m going to show you photographs of the locations in which Miss Manoban’s credit card was found, and her last phone activity. Can you tell me if you recognize these places?”

“Uh, sure,” you reply, watching as he slides his laptop over to you. You don’t have any clue how it’ll help, though. Detective Kang pulls up several images. 

“This is where her credit card was found, and here’s the location we traced her phone activity to on Friday. Do you recognize either area?”

Your eyes widen. Oh, shit.

[luxexhomines]

Hi! Can I have images for maki, shuichi, and rantaro who are dating an S/O who is struggling with their weight due to medical/allergy reasons (for reference, it's called exercise induced anaphylaxis) and is feeling self concious? If you dont want to write an overweight S/O then you can just do the self concious bit

Hi, anon! Thanks for the request. Sorry that it took me forever to fulfill (I thought I wasn’t going to ever get to the requests at the bottom of my inbox, but I looked back and thought I’d like to do some). Icon credit to mckindonalds!

It wasn’t an easy request for me to fulfill since I wasn’t sure what was appropriate for the reader to say or exactly how they felt about it, but this is kind of just a piece of comfort in each one. I hope you find something that you like in these imagines, although I’m unsure if this is what you were hoping for exactly. Hopefully, Maki isn’t too OOC because I didn’t make her very tsundere at all. Under the cut, since altogether it makes the post rather long.

Maki, Shuichi, & Rantaro x S/O with Exercise-Induced Anaphylaxis

Maki Harukawa

Maki rapped on the door politely. She had manners, unlike a certain someone she might name. After a short while, you came to the door. 

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t-”

“You didn’t want to move too fast in case you got sick,” she finishes for you. “I understand,” she says. Contrary to her cold demeanor, her dark red eyes softened around the edges as she looked at you, her beloved, and she came inside the house with the slightest of smiles playing at her lips. 

You lead her to your room, and the two of you sit on the floor and chat. At first, it was only idle chatter: what each of you’d been up to recently, and how the summer weather was treating you. But somehow, you end up saying the words, the feelings you had never wanted to reveal to her. 

“I hate this. I wish I could be normal,” you say spitefully before gasping and covering your mouth. You desperately tried to bite back the tears and stared at the floor heatedly. All the tears you’d been swallowing day after day, night after night, year after year. You could do it again. 

You felt a hand grab yours, and you looked to see Maki’s small but strong grasp on yours. You felt weaker than ever. 

“Hey. Look at me,” she says, and you do. Her eyes are filled with concern and a tinge of sadness. You chew on your lip softly. 

“Maki?” 

She grabs your other hand in hers, too, and somehow it only triggered more feelings you thought you’d left behind long ago. Feelings you buried never really went away; they marinated in the new feelings and warped, but they were still here. Feelings of shame, rage, and self-hatred. 

“Is it so bad to show your weakness to me?” Maki says quietly. “You know I was an assassin, and I’ve talked to you about all the ugly, terrible things I’ve done and seen. They’re not the same at all, but that’s my weakness, and I’ve shared it with you.” 

You tighten your hold on Maki’s hand slightly. Somehow, your hands fit together so perfectly. 

“I thought my weakness was obvious,” you said self-deprecatingly, throwing a wayside glance at yourself. Your body. 

She shakes her head firmly. Without letting go of your hands, she gets on her knees and shifts over closer to you, so that your bodies are almost touching. 

“I know you struggle with losing weight because of your condition,” she says. “But I hadn’t realized that you’d been suffering so much.” 

Maki sounded sorrowful. It was maybe the most emotion you’d ever felt from her, aside from when she had been talking about her time as an assassin or was pissed off by certain people. 

“...Are you disappointed?” you say. You didn’t want to hear the answer if it was yes, but you still asked anyway. 

“No. Never,” she replies, and she looks you right in the eye. “You’re just as strong as you’ve always been. But there’s no harm in sharing your worries and pains with me. I’m your partner. I’m supposed to be here for you, and I want to be here for you.” 

You attempt a weak smile. 

“Is it a part of the contract?” 

She sighs. 

“I’m serious, s/o.” 

“So am I,” you joke, and you feel the heaviness in your heart slowly dissolving. 

Maki presses her forehead to yours. 

The funny thing about being in a relationship with Maki was that she was so much more daring and affectionate than she would’ve been once her feelings were returned. She wasn’t as cold, per se, as she was before you two were together. 

“I love you, s/o.”

Your breath was whisked away by those words, and you froze. 

Maki squeezed your hands gently. “...s/o? Hey, are you not breathing or something?” 

Right. She was close enough to tell. 

You breathed in slowly. 

“Are you sure?” you say. But you know the answer. She wouldn’t say what she doesn’t mean. 

“I’m sure,” she laughs, and she kisses you sweetly. “You’re beautiful.” 

More words that would take away your breath. But you breathe normally this time. She was sweeter than any air you could ever take in, though. 

“I love you too, Maki. And for the record, I’m the ugly one in this relationship.” 

She pouts and draws away slightly, releasing your hands and putting her hands on your shoulders instead so she can look you in the face from the right distance. 

“That would be me,” she says. “You’re always smiling, and you have the most beautiful smile ever. Tell me if anyone says anything to oppose that, and I’ll punch them for you.” 

You chuckle. 

“Your services are always appreciated, but that’s alright. I can punch them myself,” you respond. “But fine. Neither of us is the ugly one. We can both be beautiful.” 

Maki nods in satisfaction. 

“We are both beautiful.” 

You can’t help giggling at her statement. It would sound so funny out of context. She leans in and tweaks your nose slightly. “And what are you laughing at, huh?” 

You bat at her hand. 

“Hey!” 

You fall into a fit of laughter with her, and the two of you lie on the ground, cheeks hurting from smiles and joy. Somehow, it was so easy to feel at ease around her. Even your most heavily guarded worries and pains seemed to sprout wings and fly away in her presence. 

“Thanks, Maki.” 

“What for?” she says and turns to look at you. Her serious expression makes your heart skip a beat, and you wet your lips nervously. Sometimes you still felt like you just had a crush on her instead of being in a real relationship with her. 

“Never mind that,” you reply, and you roll over and press a kiss to her lips. “I need to recharge.” 

She arches an eyebrow. 

“Oh? Well, now that you mention it, so do I.” 

You find yourself in her warm embrace and rather preoccupied for the rest of the day. 

Shuichi

“Shuichi?” 

The two of you were sitting on the couch and, up until that time, had been reading quietly in companionship with each other. He set his book down, probably sensing something in your tone. 

“Yes?” 

You weren’t looking at him, although he had now turned to look at you. Instead, you were poking at your round tummy. 

“Why am I like this?” 

He reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you from poking yourself. You glanced at him, and his dirty gold eyes were serious. 

“Like what?” 

You sighed. 

“You know.” 

He shook his head stubbornly, looking irritated for once. 

“No, I don’t.” 

You struggled to take back your hand, but instead, he somehow made it so the two of you were holding hands snugly. 

“Ugh. Why do I look like this?” you complained and avoided eye contact with him. He was surprisingly persistent when it came to you saying things like this. 

He pulled you closer to him so that you were leaning on him, and let go of your hand only to wrap his arm around you. 

“You look like you. You look lovely.” 

You groaned. 

“But I don’t want to look like this. It’s because I can’t exercise that I’m like this.” 

“Do you think your true self lies elsewhere?” he asks. “Do you think this body isn’t you?” 

You pondered. 

“I don’t really know because I’ve pretty much always been like this. Of course, my body has changed since childhood, but...I’ve never lived without this.” 

There was contemplative silence for a while. Shuichi seemed to always compel you to think more about everything in his presence. 

“...I still love you either way. I know it’s hard, but I’m here for you,” he says solemnly. “I won’t let you just agonize over this alone. You’re my s/o, after all.” 

You turn your head to look at him, and you’re suddenly aware of how close in proximity the two of you are. 

“Is that a promise?” you say, one side of your lips quirking upwards. 

He leans in and boops your nose with his own.

“Always.” 

Rantaro

You were lying on the bed side-by-side with Rantaro, cuddling. He was gently petting your head, as he sometimes did, and you leaned into his touch. It was comfortable and soothing. It would be easy to fall asleep under these circumstances. You sighed. 

“Is something wrong?” he said, sounding slightly concerned. “I think that’s the fifth time you’ve sighed today.” 

“I...no, it’s nothing. I was just thinking.” 

He peered into your eyes curiously. 

“About what?” 

You sighed again. 

“About my condition. And how I wouldn’t look like this if I didn’t have it.” 

He didn’t say much for a moment, just continued to pet your head. Then, he responded. 

“Do you not like your appearance?” 

You bit your lip softly. 

“I wish I was thinner.” 

“And why is that?” 

You reached out and played with a lock of his wavy green hair. 

“Because...I would be more good-looking.” 

Rantaro was quiet for another few seconds, looking contemplative.

“Do you honestly think you would be more good-looking if you were thinner, or is that what society’s conditioned you into thinking? That thinner is more beautiful or handsome?” 

You were frustrated and looked away from those probing eyes. 

“Well, it’s not like it’s just that I wish I was thinner because I think I’m ugly. My condition isn’t exactly healthy.”

He stopped moving for a moment and then continued to pet your head. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Since we’d just been talking about your appearance at first… Well, it’s not an excuse. Aside from your condition causing health issues, I still think you’re as good-looking as good-looking gets, though.” He smiles in that casual, carefree way of his, and you can’t help but forgive him. 

“Alright, alright. Your opinion is the only one that matters, huh?” You arch an eyebrow and smirk at him. “Pretty boy.” 

He raised his hands in defense. 

“Hey, I was born this way.” 

You rolled your eyes and lightly punched him on the shoulder. 

“You were born this way, but you dress this way on purpose.” 

“Ouch,” he grins. “But true. And yes, for the record, my opinion is the only one that matters. At least, when it comes to you. ‘Cause I love you, and I’m blessed to have you in my life.” 

You freeze for a moment and then grinned back at him. 

“I love you too, Rantaro. And I’m lucky to be loved by you.” 

He pulls you into his embrace and affectionately smooches you on your forehead. 

“Ditto.”

[faulty-writes]

Where You Left It.

Warning: Just quirkless Izuku. 

Fandom: My Hero Academia 

Characters: Izuku Midoriya and Mei Hatsume. 

(This is an AU where our dear Izuku has remained quirkless, luckily he still managed to get into the Support Course of U.A. High, but will the upcoming hero in training, Mei Hatsume aka Stalgic make or break his day?) 

“Okay! Um yes! I’ll have that new piece of equipment ready for you soon! I just need it approved, uh yeah. Thank you!” Izuku nervously waved goodbye to one of the students from the Hero Course. Man, it must be so amazing to be a Hero. He had always loved them and it was no surprise he was the biggest fanboy of All Might. He had once dreamed of becoming a Hero as well but the sad reality was that he was quirkless, he still remembered how he felt the day he realized he couldn’t achieve his dreams. 

But that didn’t stop him from trying, even if he couldn’t be a Hero. He could still help them and he was fairly intelligent, so he made the choice to put his skills to work that way. He shifted his focus to support and studied various weaponry and costume designs so by the time he enrolled in U.A. he would be a shoo-in for the support course. Though he was the only quirkless student in U.A., he would make his years at the school count. But every day seemed the same to him until she stepped into the workshop. 

Izuku was working on his latest gadget, one that would help the certain student in better channeling their electricity quirk. He was dressed in his usual workshop attire, which consisted of a dark tank top, thick sweatpants, boots, gloves with the index finger cut out and finally his protective goggles. Sometimes working on such advanced pieces of equipment required a little more help. His goggles while mainly used for protection also served another function, they were designed to magnify. Which helped him tweak the littlest of details on his inventions. 

It had been a boring day in the workshop, he had only gotten one request for a super-suit change and the rest of his day was spent waiting for the approval on the current gadget he was working on. He was thankful the approval had come in during the afternoon. Izuku sighed, the noise echoing in the semi-empty room. Apart from his pile of inventions and the tools, there wasn’t a soul. That was until he heard the heavy doors begin to open, “Hm?” Izuku paused and leaned up, pulling his goggles so they were now resting on top of his head. Who could be coming into the shop this late? He was about to slide off his work stool when a loud voice pierced the air. “HELLO!” He watched in horror as a leg came up and kicked the doors the rest of the way open. 

His jaw dropped at the bizarre behavior until he noticed the person’s familiar features. The pink-colored dreadlocks, those set of bug-eye sunglasses that rested on top of their head, and those unusual arm gloves accompanied with the strange shoe accessories they wore. “MEI HATSUME is here!” She announced and Izuku nearly stumbled onto the floor as he scrambled off his stool. He knew who she was, Mei Hatsume from Class 1-A. She had already come up with her hero alias, Staglic and she was known for both her unique style and combat skills. In addition to her seemingly endless amount of energy and her quirk ability. 

She was definitely someone Izuku wanted to study, he had taken plenty of notes on the other students of class 1-A which helped him keep track of their quirks and ideas on what possible gadgets could help them. But Mei was by far the strangest hero in training and yet at the same time, it fascinated Izuku. “M-Mei Hatsume, you’re uh ...you ...Staglic! Your hero alias is Staglic right!?” He questioned with a large smile on his face. “W-Wait, uh let me get my notebook!” He said, before scurrying off to another table where a small notebook laid. The front of it was torn and peeled off, but the inside was just fine. 

Mei, however, stood there in the middle of the shop. Hands confidently on her hips as she curiously glanced around. Taking note of the various tools that hung on the wall, locked away behind thick glass. There were also large piles of what looked to be gadgets, maybe a few weapons tossed in there as well. Though she didn’t know the support course student’s by name, she had seen the green-haired boy walking around school. She was almost certain everyone in U.A. had heard of her. She did make herself quite well known in her short time, mostly due to her destructive combat habits. 

Still, she smiled and watched the boy return, standing before her. Holding that notebook and a pen in his hand, ready to write down as much information as he could get out of Mei. “Yup!” She finally seemed to reply and placed her hand on her chest before bowing. “That’s me! MEI HATSUME, you better REMEMBER that name because ONE DAY I will be the NUMBER ONE HERO.” She spoke confidently and Izuku cracked a smile, it was nice to see someone so confident in their abilities. “Uh, do you mind if ...I ask you some questions?” His voice was soft and his slightly shy personality was showing through. 

Mei, however, didn’t seem phased. In fact, her eyes brightened. In a flash, she moved. Dangerously close to Izuku’s face, their noses almost brushing together. “SURE!” She grinned and tilted her head to the side. “BUT ...first I NEED a LITTLE help with a NEW idea for a COSTUME improvement. Think you can HELP ME with that?” She questioned before flashing a playful wink at Izuku who at the moment looked terrified and his cheeks were tinted red. He wasn’t too used to close contact with others, in fact, most people just explained what they wanted calmly and left. Not barged in, kicked doors and had no idea of what personal space was. 

 “Uh ...s-sure um ...” Izuku stuttered out before taking a step back. Lowering his notebook, he took a deep breath and looked at Mei. “So um, let me just get my other ...notebook.” He said, dipping his head slightly as he walked back to his work table and grabbed another small notebook. “I usually, write down what my client wants so I can reference it later and make any tweaks to it. So uh, what were you thinking?” It actually made him kind of excited, at least he’d have something else to do work on. “HMM well ...” Mei began, reaching up to tap her chin which almost made Izuku scared for what she had to say. After an entrance like that, he could only imagine what wild things she could want. 

“Ah!” He cried out when Mei was suddenly in his face once again. “I was thinking of something to improve my balance! Support these babies!” She didn’t hesitate to kick one of her legs up, holding it midair. She was known for her excellent sense of combat but she didn’t have the best footwork, thus the glorious idea of coming to the Development Studio. Izuku blinked, his eyes shifting from Mei to his notebook. “Uh, improve your sense of balance um ...okay.” His hand worked quick across the page of the notebook.”You want ...some type of leg support balance system then? I could ...create something similar to leg braces, it’d be more flexible though.” He explained quietly, hoping that would satisfy the hero in training. 

“SUPPORT BALANCE!?” Mei practically screamed before leaning back and giving Izuku the thumbs up. “Now that sounds COOL!” She laughed and Izuku wasn’t entirely sure if he should be happy or fearful. He let out another cry when Mei slapped his back, causing him to jolt forward. The notebook slipping from his hands and hitting the floor in the process. “THAT’S exactly the KIND of THING I expect from a member of THE SUPPORT COURSE.” Grinning, she bent down and swiped that notebook. “Here you GO, guy!” Chuckling once more, she practically shoved the notebook back into Izuku’s hands causing him to grunt. “Uh ...thank you?” Mei’s personality was certainly explosive, it was almost scary. 

Izuku readjusted his goggles, they had slipped off to the side when Mei slapped his back. “Um, I’ll just draw up the blueprint and ...I have to get it approved first but I’ll let you know uh, when I have the green light ...okay?” The nervous boy shifted on his feet, his fingers digging into his notebook. “Um, if that’s all, could I ...finally ask those questions or?” He was hoping he could get some information but Mei didn’t seem to be on the same page. “Mm, SORRY GUY!” She said, in her usual loud voice. “But I have SOME HERO training to get to. MAYBE next TIME!” Izuku felt his jaw drop and he held up his hand as Mei began to walk away. “But w-wait a minute!” He said, hoping his attempt would make the young hero stop in her tracks. 

However, the pinked haired girl just turned on her feet. Looking at Izuku before shaking her head. “Yes?” She questioned, placing her hand on her hip. “Um well ...could I at least ask one question before you leave?” Izuku said sheepishly, looking at the girl with an almost pleading expression. “Hm GET me those LEG balance THINGS and we’ll TALK.” She promised before heading to the door again, Izuku almost expected her to kick them again but to his surprise, she only waved goodbye and left. His shoulders slumped, clearly disappointed he didn’t get the chance to ask the questions he wanted. “I guess ...a hero is always busy ...” He sighed before returning to his worktable and pulling out a fresh piece of paper. Maybe the faster he got Mei’s request finished, the faster he could get the answers to his questions. 

[supremeuppityone]

Written for Klaroline Valentine's Day Bingo 2020 @kcvalentinesbingo

Prompt: Casablanca

Author’s note: This was inspired by Ricky Gervais’ 2020 Golden Globes monologue, in which he thoroughly pissed me off.

Warning: Potential triggers; implied assault survivor

Please review here.

           Red. Everything was red. The rage sank into Caroline’s bones until nothing was left. From the uncomfortable murmurs of the rest of the audience, it was clear that she wasn’t the only one furious with Alaric Saltzman’s patronizing speech to open the Oscars ceremony.

           “If you do win an award tonight, don’t use it as a political platform to make a political speech. You're in no position to lecture the public about anything, you know nothing about the real world. So, if you win, come up, accept your little award, thank your agent and your God and fuck off.”

           There were so many things wrong with the washed-up comedian’s vile statement, that Caroline let out an audible gasp, not bothering to let her features settle back into a polite mask. Her agent was going to be pissed if the cameras happened to catch her now. But it was nothing compared to how pissed Katherine would be in a little while. As a nominated filmmaker, Caroline understood she was in a unique position to make a call for social change. And as one of the few female filmmaker nominees, it was her responsibility. She covertly took out her phone, typing a quick message to her staff, and then leaned back into her seat with a self-satisfied grin. Game on.  

           Her documentary focused on Congolese women who were taking back their communities torn apart by sexual violence. It was her honor to give voice to the warrior women who had created safe spaces for women — teaching them self-defense, providing legal representation, and fostering marketable skills.

           She toyed with the orange and red bracelet, hiding a bittersweet smile as she recalled the way some of the women at the community center had attempted to teach her how to make the rolled-up paper beads. It was the day she shared her story with them. Her pain had been her own for so long. She’d nearly punched Katherine for telling her the bracelet clashed with her designer gown and that she should instead go with the loan from Bulgari.

           The back of Caroline’s neck prickled as though she could feel the weight of someone’s stare. Casually glancing around the packed theater, her blue eyes widened when she realized Klaus Mikaelson was staring at her. Wildly famous, the dimpled British actor’s mantle must be overflowing with prestigious Oscars, BAFTAs and Golden Globes. Why was he staring at her? Again. Despite years in the industry, this was the first awards season her work had garnered enough attention to warrant nominations. And unwanted attention from A-listers.

            A few months ago, she’d attended the Directors Guild Awards, slightly starstruck and still in disbelief that her work was finally getting recognition. She nervously was sipping champagne when someone insistently tapped her shoulder. Familiar with many of the more heinous Hollywood Gropers, she whirled around, ready to shred some wrinkled, self-entitled balls. She stopped short when she realized it was a skinny teenager who somehow managed to look even more nervous than she.

           “Um. Hi! So, um I think you’re Caroline Forbes. Right?”

           Caroline softened, assuming his painfully earnest demeanor meant he was an intern or one of the stage assistants. Her smile was gentle as she said, “Yes, I’m Caroline. What’s your name?”

           Brown eyes went round with excitement as he took both of her hands in his, wildly shaking them up and down as he gushed, “I’m Henrik and I go to USC and we just studied you in my Defining the Feminine Narrative class!”

           Flustered, she could feel an enormous smile spread across her face. It was rare that she encountered someone who knew who she was. Now what? Offering to sign something or pose for a photo sounded unbelievably pretentious. “Oh, wow. Thank you,” she finally said, “I had no idea.”

           “I’m actually um, doing a research paper right now on your documentary about dowry-related violence in India,” he shyly confessed, hiding behind his long brown hair.

           “Seriously?! I just started cataloguing some additional footage; trying to decide if there’s another story to tell. If you want to give me your email, I’d be happy to share my research with you. Maybe it will inspire you to create something amazing.”

           Before Henrik could respond, an unexpected voice interrupted, “Impressive chat-up lines, little brother.”

           Klaus stood there with his sexy dimpled grin that always spelled box office gold. And he’d been poured into that tuxedo. Damn. “Klaus Mikaelson,” he said, as though she hadn’t watched every movie he ever made, “and I had no idea Henrik was such a fan.” He put a companionable arm around the timid boy, telling her, “Henrik’s the true talent in the family. Thank you, love, for noticing.”

           He eyed her with interest, and she immediately reddened, cursing her painfully white skin for making every emotion so obvious. “These ceremonies are so frightfully dull. Would you like to join us at our table, and then perhaps later, you and I could go for a drink?”

           Damn it. He was one of those guys. Now flushed with irritation rather than embarrassment, Caroline replied, “You should ask Tatia. It’s only polite — since she’s your date.” Lately, the gossip sites had exploded with headlines gushing about the whirlwind romance between Klaus and the stunning supermodel, Tatia Petrova. Even if there was the chance it was a clever ruse to garner media attention, there was no way Caroline wanted any part of that nonsense.

           Klaus flashed that dimpled smirk again, his accented voice amused as he said, “Tatia is more of an...inconvenience than a permanent fixture in my life. There’s only so much frivolous chatter I can tolerate. But I suspect that you would provide endlessly fascinating conversation, sweetheart. You’re starting to make a name for yourself with all those exotic travels and penchant for saving the world. There’s a light that shines in you; it sets you apart from the rest.”

           He was seriously giving her the ‘you’re not like other girls’ speech. Dick. “Pass,” she said flatly, already starting to walk away. “But thanks for adding bad pickup lines to my ever-growing list of atrocities I need to save the world from.”

            Thunderous applause interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. Where Klaus was still staring at her rather than paying attention to the clip they were showing from his nominated performance. His performance in the Casablanca remake had earned him the Best Actor nomination, with critics and media outlets proclaiming his work in the big budget production to be a crowning achievement in his stellar career. Despite her indifference to the original 1940s movie, she still eagerly went to see Klaus’ remake, and his performance as the expat Rick had left her breathless. His American accent had been impeccable, and she actually got a bit teary-eyed when he arranged for his onscreen love interest, Lisa, to board the plane to safety while he stayed behind.

           Caroline could feel the heat rising in her cheeks the longer Klaus stared at her, irritated at herself for paying far too much attention to the gossip sites that announced Klaus’ amicable split almost immediately following their disastrous first encounter. She did not have time for Hollywood fuckboys. Even the ones with dimples. She had a world to save. Lost in her thoughts of burying her stupid crush on Klaus, she completely missed that he’d apparently won and was being herded offstage.

           She leaned forward eagerly as her documentary category was called. Regardless of the winner, her documentary had garnered enough attention that a few months ago, she’d learned an anonymous donation singlehandedly funded the Congolese women’s charity for the next decade. It was rare that people surprised her. Maybe one day she’d learn the identity of the generous donor. While the vignettes played for each nominee, her heart giving a funny little tweak as she held her breath in anticipation.

           “And the winner for best documentary feature is...Conflicted Hearts: Congolese Women Fight Back, by Caroline Forbes!”

           The thunderous applause was deafening, and Caroline sat there in shock for several moments, unable to get her legs to move. When she finally managed to walk to the stage on shaky legs, she fervently hoped she hadn’t sweated through her Arcadius original. She cringed as Alaric grabbed her hand, pulling her toward him for a congratulatory kiss that she managed to avoid by jerking her head away. He should know better. Hazel eyes flashed as he angrily hissed, “Just smile for the camera and keep the whole ‘boohoo women bitching about a little flirting’ bullshit out of it. No one cares about your whiny politics.”

           She burned him with her gaze, the oranges and reds of her gown a perfect backdrop for her fiery rage. Not bothering to respond to his unspoken threat, she stepped to the podium, pleased to be bathed in the stage lights, drawing energy from their warmth. “I’ve now been told twice tonight not to get political. It’s stupid to think I’m going to start following orders now. We’re some of the most fortunate people in the world. We have an extraordinary platform that allows us to reach millions. And it’s our responsibility to use it. We live in this world too and we should be working just as hard as anyone to make it better.”

           The loud clapping sounded like vindication, and she hoped that the cameras were zooming in on Alaric’s face as it immediately purpled in anger. “My film is dedicated to the Congolese women who let me into their world, whose unparalleled strength gave me the courage to put into words my own trauma. They are warriors, and I hope that the anonymous donor who helped fund their women’s charity for the next decade understands the hope they’ve given to so many.”

           Her smile was a vicious blade as she announced, “Thriving in front of my bullies is sometimes the whole reason why I get out of bed. I just started a charity tonight because I know I can’t be the only woman who’s been told to keep ‘boohoo women bitching about a little flirting bullshit out of it’. My organization will help women speak out about sexual harassment and assault in the workplace, providing much-needed legal assistance and support to help them overcome the personal and professional consequences that make it difficult to speak out. It’s called ‘CARE’.”

           The standing ovation was immensely satisfying, but then she added, “And it stands for Condescending Asshats Refuse to Evolve’,” which had the theater shouting her name excitedly. Not a bad night.

           As Caroline was ushered backstage, she basked as so many warm smiles and enthusiastic handshakes congratulated her, pausing only once to catch Alaric’s furious expression. She held his gaze just as fiercely, pouring out every viscous word she wasn’t ready to speak. But one day she would be.

           Backstage, she nearly ran over Klaus. Flushed from his own win, he beamed at her while offering her a steadying hand. “Congratulations, love. Your win was well-deserved, and I don’t recall a more compelling speech. You’ve set a precedent tonight that undoubtedly will bring about much-needed change.”

           She blushed to the roots of her hair, wishing she hadn’t worn the intricately plaited hairstyle so she could give her hands something to do. “Uh, thanks, and you too. Your work in Casablanca was amazing.”

           “You saw my movie?”

           Caroline was taken aback by his hopeful, pleased tone. “I’ve seen all of your movies. Everyone has.”

           “I’ve seen yours too,” he confessed, ducking his head shyly. “Henrik is quite the fan and has all of your documentaries — even the one you created fresh out of film school where you exposed the hypocrisy of a ‘morality clause’ for beauty pageant contestants in your hometown.”  

           “Seriously?!” She gaped at him, unsure of what to say. She hadn’t thought about that in years. That documentary had gotten the attention of several groups, which eventually led to funding for bigger projects and more exposure to the causes that she was the most passionate about. “I had no idea that you’d...I mean, I’m flattered you took the time to watch my films.”  

           The tips of his ears reddened as Klaus replied, “Meeting you was a bit of a revelation for me. Your drive, your fearlessness at giving people a platform so their voices and stories can be told — it’s inspiring. It made me want to make some changes in my life, which I started doing several months ago.”

           “I had no idea. I’m, uh, glad to have helped. Can I ask about the changes?”

           “Maybe someday I’ll tell you,” he answered enigmatically. “In the meantime, I’d be honored if you would accept my donation to your CARE charity. I’m doing my best to be a reformed condescending asshat.”