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robinofgothamcity · 3 years

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♡ prompt: your relationship with Damian isn’t what is seems like.

♡ pairing: damian wayne (robin), bart allen (impulse) x fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “it’s just a little too late, you say you dream about me but you don’t like me, you just like the chase so be real, it doesn’t matter anyway.”

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes

you were blasting music into your headphones as you were trying to finish everything you needed to get done for the week. graduation was coming in just a few weeks and you had been neck deep in homework with essays and exams coming in from left and right.

you had even been putting off even hanging out or going on dates with Damian because your lack of time. he kept telling you that it was okay but in the back of your head, you felt wrong for denying him every time he asked you out.

Jon and Billy had been in the lair’s living room, lazying around until Nightwing or even Batman came in to give all of you times and coordinates for your patrolling tonight. you hadn’t even been hearing their conversation since your music was drowning out their conversations.

when you realized that your coffee had ran out and everything that you needed in order to make a new cup was in the kitchen, you took off your headphones and grabbed your cup, walking slowly to living room.

“where’s Damian?” Billy asked, kicking his shoes off, “oh, he’s training. ever since graduation for Gotham Academy came closer, ( your name ) has been putting him off to study so he’s been training to kill time.”

your eyebrows fluttered in confusion, not knowing if what Jon was saying was rude or not. “I have to give Damian props though,” Jon continued, “he’s been with her for two months now! we even had a small bet going to see how long he would be able to date her and he’s clearly won since he’s been with her longer than the month we bet on. even a few of the titans had placed bets that it wouldn’t last as long as it did. Raven put in a measly two weeks,” Jon laughed.

your eyes stared down at the ground, completely watery and stinging, “hey, that just shows Damian can commit to things that aren’t training although it’s like you said, it’s surprising they’re even together if she keeps putting him off,” Billy added on.

not realizing that your cup had slipped your grasp, the metal collided with the ground, making Jon and Billy turn around. they could see the hurt in your eyes as you remained frozen in place.

“hey ( your name ),” Jon murmured, “did you hear what we were talking about?” Billy asked, afraid at the answer.

your eyes turned into rage as you picked up your cup off the floor, “tell Damian that since our month is over, we’re done,” Jon immediately sprang up, “hey! please, don’t say that! you’re completely not understanding what we’re saying!” Jon said frantically.

Damian walked out of the solo training room, seeing Jon and Billy’s expressions as the tears ran down your face, “what’s going on?” Damian asked. you laughed, not wanting to even look at him, “great! you’re here! since our relationship was based on a bet that you had money on that would only last a month, you can count it as we’re over now!” you exclaimed.

you slammed your laptop and grabbed your backpack as Damian ran towards you. in a fit of complete rage, you turned around and punched him square in the stomach, making him fall onto Jon.

“go fuck yourself! as a matter of fact, you can find another member for the Titans! I quit!” you screamed, slamming your mask down onto the table and leaving the lair, “wait! please, this isn’t how you think it went down, please!” Damian begged.

you gave him the finger, “I hope you, right along with Jon and Billy, enjoy sitting on the shame that is playing with people’s emotions,” you said as Nightwing walked into the hallway, clearly lost on what was happening, “the next time you, Jon, Billy, hell! even the Titan’s decide to play with people’s emotion for the sake of getting money, make sure it’s someone who’s not on the same team as you,” you whispered.

“don’t leave, please don’t leave. Nightwing, stop her!” Damian said in panic as you got onto your bike, “Nightwing, since the Titan’s are now down a member, you can tell whoever was fighting a place that my spot is now vacant,” you managed to say before revving your bike and riding onto the street.

“what is going on?” Nightwing asked the three. he had never saw Damian so hurt, meanwhile Billy and Jon were left speechless, “my girlfriend just broke up with me!” Damian murmured, a feeling in his heart that he had never felt before, “she overheard a conversation Billy and I were having but I think she only heard a piece of it,” Jon tried to rationalize.

Damian looked at the two, pure rage coming over his body, “it’s both your fault?” he screamed, charging them with his sword. Nightwing quickly grabbed his brother, taking the sword away from his grasp, “she only heard some of the conversation! we never meant for her to actually get upset.”

Nightwing stood in between the three, “listen, whatever happened, all of you need to apologize. now, I can’t promise that she’ll rejoin the team,” he warned Damian, “if she decides to come back, that’ll be her decision....AND HER DECISION only,” Nightwing said, “but if she decides not too, I can’t force her to overturn her decision,” he added on, “no matter who you’re related too.”

Damian knew he was hinting at Bruce when he added in the last part. there was no way any of them could actually convince you to come back if you didn’t want too. they could try and persuade you but it was ultimately your decision if you wanted to rejoin the team.

once you got back home, you felt as though your heart hadn’t completely accepted what happened. a part of you felt like it was some sort of sick joke and you needed to wake up from it.

alas, it wasn’t and you knew that what Damian and you had was something that wasn’t going to happen again. it stung knowing that Jon, the one who seemed so innocent all the time, was actually in on the joke and was sitting there and laughing at you.

you hadn’t known Billy for that long. the two of you became acquainted not long after you got with Damian and while you thought of him as a friend, it still hurt that he too was in on the joke.

your mom was working late as she was helping Gotham Academy with situating for graduation planning. your mom didn’t know about you and Damian thankfully so even though you were completely heartbroken, it’s not like she knew about what you were going through.

you flopped onto your bed, trying to control your breathing when the doorbell rang. tiptoeing to the front door, hoping it wasn’t any of the three idiots, you were stricken with relief when you saw that it was Bart of all people.

“hey Allen, what are you up too? wait a minute, what you doing here in Gotham?” you asked, welcoming him inside. Bart chuckled softly, “I’m here for some stuff on the behalf of my family. don’t worry about it,” he murmured, “I went to the lair looking for you and you were gone.”

you hummed, not knowing if you were willing to tell him the actual story of why you weren’t there, “you okay? you look like you were crying!” he exclaimed, seeing the puffyness under your eye and the redness around it. you sighed shakily, “truthfully? I’m not but it’s nothing to worry about,” you tried to say calmly.

Bart gave you a look, not fully convinced, “seriously? I can’t talk to you about the real reason on why I’m here if you’re upset. tell me!” he restated, looking at you dead in the eye. you dragged him inside, not wanting anyone to heart, especially if Damian was on his bullshit and spying on you.

you got Bart up to your room, locking the door and leaning up against the door. your back against it as you tried to contain your tears and running your hands through your hair, “I broke up with my boyfriend recently and I’ve been having a lot of issues with it since I found out,” you finally confessed.

Bart’s eyes twitched in annoyance, “you were dating someone?” he asked, a bit hurt that the girl he had been crushing on not only had a boyfriend but you were now heartbroken over it. you nodded, “not that my identity was ever a secret but I was dating Robin,” your eye twitched this time, annoyed at mentioning Damian.

Bart stood in disbelief, not believing that Robin, the one everyone thought was perfect, had broken up with you. a part of him wanted to strangle the boy but he knew that Robin was a lot more stronger than he was.

“if you don’t mind me asking, can I ask what happened?” Bart played with his fingers nervously. you stared at the ground, scared if you looked at Bart, you would bawl your eyes out, “he started dating me as a joke. he had made a bet with a few other sidekicks about being able to date me for a month and the longer he dated me, the more money he made,” your tears fell almost immediately at the confession.

Bart’s anger immediately rose as he tried to not say anything irrational, “are you kidding?” he asked. you shook your head no, not knowing what to say, “can I kick his ass?” he asked again, making you laugh for the first time in a while.

“sorry Allen but you know I won’t let you...especially because you and I both know how that would end,” you giggled, making Bart agree. you sat down on the bed next to him, “now why are you here? although I think I might know why,” you murmured.

The Flash family, especially Bart and Barry had taken an interest in you when you first joined the Titans. your powers had given you the ability to be as fast as the Flashes were. you weren’t exactly as speedy as Flash but your powers did let you have competition with Bart’s speed.

“you know Central city has been calling your name,” Bart whispered, looking at you. “you know you’d have a position with us and you wouldn’t be around Robin if you weren’t comfortable being around him,” Bart added in the last part.

you bit your lip, “come on, you know better than anyone that Gotham has nothing for you,” he tried to rationalize, “yeah, you have potential with the Bats but you know that joining us would make you an even bigger hero than you are here,” he said.

“Bart, is this really the reason why you want me to join all of you?” you asked. Bart nodded, hoping that you were actually considering it, “of course! you can join us out for patrol tonight and if you like it, you can join us over in Central City when you graduate,” he exclaimed.

“tonight? with who?” you asked. Bart pointed to himself with confidence, “with the one and only, Bart Allen!” he boasted. you laughed, “just tonight and if I don’t like it, I get to stay here!” you said, pointing your finger at his chest.

“SERIOUSLY?” he asked surprised. you nodded as you saw the time, “sure but remember what I said!” you yelled as he ran around your room in excitement.

the time you had ever went to Central City was when you went with Damian and Bruce on the behalf of Bat business so the feeling that you were now no longer going there with them felt a bit out of place. you looked at the time as Bart had told you that it wouldn’t take to long to get there with both your speeds.

you grabbed you uniform out of your closet and looked at the time, sensing that both you and Bart should get to Central City before both of your patrol times started. you could see the excitement coming from Bart as he was basically talking your ear off the entire way back to Central City.

through the following few days, you had actively ignored Jon, Damian, and Billy. it was harder for you to ignore Jon and Damian as they had known your home address but every time Raven had informed you on one of the boys coming and paying you a visit, Bart always seemed to come over and get you out of the house before they could.

this time was no different but today, you couldn’t ignore Damian even if you wanted too. today was Gotham’s graduation and with both you and Damian graduating at the top of the class, you both had to sat on the stage, right next to each other.

you had worn a plain neutral yellow dress with black shoes as you tried to follow Gotham’s school colors. the actual cap and gowns were not as cute as they had the tacky yellow cap and gown with black lining that made all of you look like bee’s.

up until this moment, you still hadn’t decided on what your plans were for after graduation. you had a bunch of unanswered acceptance letters from different University’s around the U.S. and one of them was from Central City State University.

they had personally reached out to you in order to attend their school. you had been thinking about actually accepting their letter for a while now and with Bart now offering to be your partner, you didn’t want to pass up the opportunity. you hadn’t told anyone besides your mother about the move to Central City and while she was upset to see you leave, she knew it was best to let you finally be on your own.

you had gotten to Gotham Academy, a bit early and tired as you had stayed up late with being on Face Time with Bart. the two of you had gotten closer over the course of the last few weeks and while you were still extremely heartbroken over Damian’s actions, a part of your heart was starting to fix itself with Bart now mending that piece.

you, on a very sporadic thought, had invited Bart and Barry to your graduation as you didn’t want to run into the chance of actually having to be alone with Damian. you wanted to make sure that you were either around your mom or Bart when everything was finished.

the stage had been set by the time you got to the Auditorium as you had saw your mom along with Bart and Barry in the front. since you were moving to Central City, partially for college and partially to continue doing hero work there, your mom had to introduce and get familiar with the family that was soon taking you in.

everyone knew that everyone who were connected to the Flash family had this flamboyant personality to them so when Barry and Bart introduced themselves to your mom, she was quite taken back. nevertheless, she did end up getting along well with them and felt safe with you moving there.

Damian had saw you sitting in the chair, on your phone as everyone sat in their seats. what he hadn’t realized was that Bart and Barry were right next to your mom. he had heard about your endeavors with going over to Central City to ‘intern’ with the Flash family and while he didn’t want to believe it, a part of him felt as though that might’ve been actually true now.

Damian looked at you with guilt crossing his face. you hadn’t been face to face with him since that fateful night and although it took every ounce of power to not scream at him, for the sake of his identity and the fact that all of you had to be professional, you gave him the side eye and turned to your headmaster who was approaching the stand.

Gotham Academy’s graduation had felt like centuries before it finally came to your turn to speak on the behalf of your class. you smiled at the crowd, waving at your family and the Allen’s before looking down at your paper. you gulped in nervousness as you began your speech.

“and although I have been keeping my college acceptance a secret, within the last few weeks, I’ve had the privilege of being scouted by a few schools and finally came down to the decision last week on which university I would attend. it is my honor and with grace to finally announce that I will be attending Central City State University in the fall! go Falcons!” you told the crowd as you opened up your gown to show off the school sweater.

you saw Bart’s face light up with excitement as he realized that you had accepted the Flash’s invitation to work with them. Damian had also realized that the rumors surrounding you actually leaving the Titan’s to work with the Flash was actually true and he felt his heart break realizing that you were no longer a part of his life.

you sat back down in your seat with a smirk playing on your face as you could basically feel Damian’s stare coming down on you. it wasn’t until after graduation when all of you got the chance to join your families again when you saw Bart and everyone else.

“are you really joining us in Central City?” he asked excitedly. you nodded, giving Bart a hug. the hug didn’t feel friendly. not in the slightest. it felt almost romantic as the two of you remained in an embrace longer than you had realized, “than I’m so glad our plan actually worked out!” Barry said in relief.

your eyebrows fluttered in confusion but he told you it was a surprise that you wouldn’t see until you got to Central City tonight. you nodded as all you had decided to take pictures before heading to eat. you had noticed Damian approaching you, a determined stare on his face but Bart quickly realized it and grabbed you by the wrist, making you join Barry and your mom again.

the night finally entered as you had made your way to Central City in order to get settled into your new apartment by signing the final papers over to the apartment. Barry and Bart had offered to show you around your new home, as if you hadn’t already recognized Central City already but nevertheless, you complied and let them show you.

you got into the core of the city, the lights twinkling and the noises of cars making you feel as though you were in a movie. Bart had covered your eyes with his hands as he told you your secret was coming up. a nervous feeling crept up to your stomach as you had no idea what was going on.

finally, all of you stopped and that was when Bart took his hands off your eyes. you stared at the large billboard that was high up in the sky as you felt tears spring your eyes.

“welcoming Central City’s newest superhero.”

the billboard read as it had a picture of you right next to the lettering. you looked to Barry and Bart before engulfing them into a hug as you thanked them profusely. Barry shrugged you off, “we should be thanking you. you’re going to help us so much! it’s the least we could do,” he said as Bart agreed.

Barry had mentioned that all of you were going to catch dinner at a restaurant and your reservation should be coming up soon. he had gotten the head start, whispering to Bart that he’d leave the two of you alone for a moment.

“seriously, thank you so much Bart,” you whispered, giving him another hug. he chuckled nervously, trying to wave you off, “you have no idea how much this means to me,” you added on.

you looked to Bart and got on your toes, hoping that your next action wasn’t a mistake. you gave him a quick peck on the cheek, making Bart go red in the face. it hadn’t fully set in that you kissed him until he realized that he hadn’t said anything back yet.

Bart grabbed your hand, giving it a soft kiss before doing the same to your cheek. you smiled at him shyly, grabbing his hand before telling him that you were going to be late for the reservation with Barry.

months had passed since you had started your new life in Central City. you hadn’t spared anyone in Gotham a second thought unless you were visiting your mom so you hadn’t contacted Damian or any of the Titan’s since then.

however, you had to go with Bart to the Titan’s tower today. you had to meet up with Nightwing there to get information Barry needed for a case. you were hoping that you didn’t run into any of the idiots while you were there with Bart but luck was not on your side that day and upon reaching the Titan’s tower, you were met with not only Damian but with Jon and Billy.

“where’s Nightwing?” you asked them. Jon gave you a sheepish smile, “he’ll be here soon,” he responded. you nodded, grabbing Bart’s hand and heading to the couch to say hello to Raven and Beast Boy.

the four of you got into conversation until Damian walked in, basically dragging you into the kitchen as Bart immediately stood up, running to where you were.

“what the fuck is your issue?” you yelled, snatching your hand back. Bart knew you could hold your own but he still wanted to make sure you were okay, “we need to talk,” he stated, looking to Bart. you laughed, “yeah, whatever you have to say you can say right now. I refuse to talk to you alone,” you said back.

Damian growled as Jon and Billy stood up, “that night when everything went down, we want to say that it was all a mistake. you had only heard a portion of what we were saying. we never intentionally made a bet on the two of you. we had made a bet that was basically us telling Da-Robin that he couldn’t do anything besides train and fight. Robin had actual feelings for you and the bet was never intentionally set on you. we swear,” Jon explained.

you looked to Damian and Billy as they both agreed. you rolled your eyes annoyed, “you think I’d actually believe that?” you looked to Bart and laughed before taking his hand, “the next time you actually want to make up lies, make sure they’re actually fucking believable!” you exclaimed laughing.

Bart laughed along with you, “you think we’re lying?” Damian yelled, “yeah because why should I ever believe what any of you three have to say. all of you are a bunch of pricks that are so far up your own asses that no one with an actual working brain would believe that lie.”

Bart’s mouth, along with everyone else, hung in disbelief and surprise. “seriously, the next time we see each other, make up a better lie and for the record, working with and in Central City has been actually been so refreshing! no offense,” you said looking over to the rest of the Titan’s, “especially since he’s been making it a lot easier,” you gave Bart a wink as he blushed slightly.

“so unless we actually have to speak to each other on professional terms, don’t bank on me ever contacting any of you again.”

you grabbed Bart’s hand as Nightwing had walked into the tower and the three of you walked into a solo conference room to actually do what Barry had sent you two for.

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amjustagirl · 4 years

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Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm

Masterlist here

AO3 link here

Author’s Note: And we’re at the penultimate chapter! Am rly excited to hear what you guys think - so please, drop me an ask, a note, a comment, anything!!! Thank you for following this fic with me <3

He stays away from her over the next two weeks. He still picks Shino up from childcare - he’s never leaving his little girl again - but takes Osamu’s advice to duck into the kitchen the minute he hears the bell chime to mark her entrance into the shop.

‘Is everything alright with Atsumu?’ he hears her ask Osamu after a week of radio silence from him.

He imagines Osamu just shrugs, because his twin later gives him a look of askance that he ignores.

‘Meet me on Sunday afternoon? Was hoping to have a quick chat and pass something over to you since my arm is out of its sling.Osamu agreed to take Shino for a couple of hours, so don’t worry about her’, he texts her.

‘Fine’, she texts back. ‘Works for me’.

‘Hey’, he greets her as she opens the door, fighting the impulse to scruff his shoes into the ground like a nervous schoolboy on his first date.

‘Hey yourself’, she responds without heat, slipping on her shoes. ‘Shall we?’

He nods, turning on his heel and she follows suit, their footfalls matching in pace, though they angle their bodies to avoid each other’s gaze in the lift. They do not exchange a single word until they reach the car park, and he leads her past all the cars to a dim corner, lit by a single flickering electric bulb.

‘Atsumu - what’s this?’ she says, staring uncomprehendingly at the motorbike parked in front of her, the exact replica of the bike she sold when she got pregnant with Shino, albeit updated with a shining coat of new paint and the latest modifications, top of the line.

‘Surprise?’ he tells her, unable to hide a grin when she runs a hand reverently over the seat of the bike.

‘I can’t accept this, ‘Tsumu. It’s too much’, she demurs but he knows she’s fallen in love when she’s unable to tear her eyes away from the bike.

‘Sure ya can! I registered it under yer name, and paid for the parking fees for the year, and look! It even comes with a helmet!’, he assures her, crossing his fingers behind his back. ‘Ya can ride it whenever ya have time to yerself - I’ll make sure I or ‘Samu will take Shino-chan for a couple hours every weekend so ya can go break some speed limits on the bike!’

‘This isn’t a bribe, right? Or some attempt to trick me into agreeing into something I don’t want to do?’ she asks him suspiciously.

‘No - no tricks, I swear on my life. Look - I’ve signed the divorce papers, they’re in my bag. I just wanted to give ya the bike as a partin' gift’, he says, keeping his voice deliberately light.

She stares at him, searching his face for any sign of duplicity, but he holds her gaze until she turns away, satisfied.

‘You never do anything by halves, do you ‘Tsumu? But thank you anyway’, she laughs breathily and his heart lurches to a start when he sees her slowly start to glow whilst fussing over the bike, exclaiming to herself as she admires the paint job and the extra compartments he’d gotten the mechanic to install.

Watching her brings back memories of their adventures together before Shino came along. She’d pick him up for a ride to the outskirts of Osaka on their rare days off, in search for a spot to lay their picnic mat down and shoot the breeze. They’d never found that perfect picnic spot, but that just meant that there were more places to explore, more roads to traverse, more adventures for them to go on. That’d all stopped once Shino came along, and he wonders if they wouldn’t be in such a state if he’d put in more effort to carve out more time for them.

And even before that - there was the time she’d surprised him by turning up in Kobe for one of his matches, sweeping him away from his confused teammates right after the match to celebrate over egg mayo sandwiches at 7-11. He suspects that was the day he’d fallen in love with her, half realising that she was probably the only person crazy enough to burn hours on the road on the back her rusty old bike right after an exam, just to stay up all night sitting cross-legged in a dim combini with mayo in her hair, listening to him ramble about his volleyball match.

Wow. 'Samu's right. Even the reason he fell in love with her was fucking selfish.

‘Hey ‘Tsumu’, he hears her say after a while and he looks up. ‘Wanna go for a ride?’ she asks brightly, twirling the keys around her finger.

‘Huh?’ he responds, genuinely perplexed.

‘A ride, you idiot. Don’t you want to find out how the bike feels on the road, especially since you’re the one who paid for it?’

‘Sure’, he says, a little lost - but then again she’s always found ways to keep him on his toes. ‘But there’s only one helmet’.

‘I still have my old one upstairs. Give me a second so I can get it!’ she rushes off, a spring in her step he’s sorely missed seeing and despite the ache in his heart, he smiles.

His smile vanishes the moment she kicks the bike full throttle and hurtles through weekend Osaka traffic at breakneck speed, making such sharp turns he almost falls off the bike if he weren’t already clutching her waist for dear life. ‘Oi! Look out!’ he yelps, as she weaves her way through narrow gaps between cars, seemingly deaf to the horns of outraged drivers behind her - and fuck he wants to puke but can’t because there’s no way that doesn’t end badly for him.

‘Slow down, you fuckin' maniac’, he manages to shout when his stomach gives itself up for dead, but the wind swallows his words and she only whoops in response. The neon city lights blur into a mess of colours and he runs through his repertoire of curse words. He swears she’s evil - it’s not enough that she’s killed him once by divorcing him, her insane riding is going to make sure he’s doubly dead.

They burst onto the highway in a squeal of tires, the city skyline fading into a sea of lights, and they’re both so focused on the road ahead of them, well – she is, at least, he’s trying his level best to stay on his seat - that neither of them notice the dark clouds gathering above until the first splatter of raindrops on the road.

The sky is threatening enough to make her swerve off the highway into a quiet neighbourhood, screeching to a halt at the nearest park with an empty shelter large enough to fit both of them. They jump off the bike, helmets dangling over their arm, and she catches hold of his hand as they splash their way through muddy puddles in a bid to escape the incoming storm.

‘That was amazing!’ she laughs when they reach shelter, twirling on the tips of her feet, cheeks flushed pink with excitement, looking so happy and bright and alive - like a bird spreading its wings to fly high in the sky, the way she used to be before their marriage broke her wings and shackled her to the ground.

If only he hadn’t been blinded by the false allure of his dreams to appreciate what was right in front of him - a woman bold enough to whisk him away from the clutches of deranged fans on the back of a motorbike, fierce enough for Osamu to assign her to deal with his bullshit - and most of all, crazy enough to marry and have a child with him. And he knows she isn’t his, not anymore, but he's a greedy, selfish man, and he wants her one last time, so he throws his jacket over her shoulders as a pretext for drawing her close to him, slanting his mouth gently over hers.

She stills for a second, and he’s about to pull away when she melts into him, tilting her chin up to grant him greater access to her lips. An unexpected heat coils in his stomach when she tangles her fingers in his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp, a thrill running down his spine as he loses himself in her familiar softness and warmth and groans.

She gasps, jerking away from him, tracing her bruised lips with her fingers, looking up at him with wide eyes.

‘Tsumu’, she begins to say, but he cuts her off, frantic with worry that he’s scared her off before he’s had the chance to say his piece.

‘I’m sorry - I know I shouldn’t have but I just...can I just say what I meant to say to ya before this?’ he asks, banking on the fact that she hasn’t slapped him yet, and to his relief, she nods.

‘I’ve thought about what ya said, and yer right - I’ve taken so much from ya I don’t deserve to ask ya for anything else, not when I should be the one making it up to ya for the rest of my life,’ he says, his heart cracking beneath his ribs (so it’s true, a heart can actually break) – because he knows now she’s lost to him, has been the second he'd forsaken his vows and stormed out of her life, but he gulps a breath to calm his pulse, forcing himself to continue on.

‘All I want is for ya to be happy and free - and if signing these papers is the price I have to pay, I’ll do it for ya’. Then he draws the brown envelope from his bag, holding it out to her with shaking hands.

She makes no move to take it from him.

‘Do you even love me, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks, her voice feather light, a wisp in the wind. ‘Be honest with me, you don’t have to lie’.

There’s a searing pain in his chest and he closes his eyes, losing himself to the undercurrent of regret pulsing in his mind.

‘I do’, he manages to choke out, peeling aside the rotting layers of vanity and greed and selfishness and pride to flay his chest open to present his heart to her, in all its bleeding, broken glory.

‘Yer everythin’ I could’ve ever asked for, and it’s killin’ me to watch you walk away - but I deserve it cos I’m a fuckin’ idiot for not realisin’ that sooner, and ya have no idea how fuckin’ sorry I am for hurting ya so badly and making you think that I don’t love ya - because I do, gods, I do, I love ya so goddamned much.’

‘Does our marriage mean that much to you?’ she stares at him, her eyes clouded with an emotion he can’t make out.

‘Yes’, he says simply, his response both a confession and a prayer. He makes no move to touch her, fearful that any misstep might tip them both over the edge, the storm of emotions swirling within him already threatening to swallow him whole.

‘Then ask me again, ‘Tsumu’ she whispers, her fists clenched, trembling by her side.

He blinks at her, but his confusion morphs into elated disbelief when she takes the brown envelope from him and rips it cleanly in half.

Oh.

‘Ask me again, ‘Tsumu’, she repeats, the clouds in her eyes clearing into pools of light. He wonders if it mirrors the rush of warmth and love and most of all - hope, overflowing in his heart.

‘Wanna try jumping off a cliff again?’ he asks, voice shaking, echoing the request he made of her years ago.

She steps forward into his waiting arms, her smile like golden sunlight spilling through grey rain.

‘Only if you promise to jump with me’, she says softly against his chest.

He catches her forgiveness desperately in his hands, and seals his promise with his lips.

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #haikyuucreations #miya atsumu #miya osamu #inarizaki

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fromiftowhen · 4 years

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The Rookie 3x06 Revelations Thoughts

THIS. EPISODE. I yelled a lot about it on Twitter already, but it was getting a bit much, so this is easier. I need to watch again for more coherent thoughts, but here we go. I'm going to try to go through the plot lines in the order that I cared about them, ranging from literally not at all (Nolan) to literally every fiber of my soul being on fire (Harper and Lucy and June.)

This got VERY long, so it’s behind a cut to save your dash.

(TLDR? I LOVED this episode. My Chenford heart is happy, but my LUCY CHEN IS A BADASS, NYLA HARPER IS A BADASS, WOMEN RUN THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD HEART IS SOARING. SOARING. Read on for more.)

First, to get the boring stuff out of the way. NOLAN. I AM SORRY. I get that this show wants me to care about its main character. And in the ways that he relates to Lucy and Jackson and Harper, I do. But I'm just entirely past the point of needing Nolan in separate plot lines. This episode, in particular, I could have done without his arc. Any time he interacts with Harper or Tim, I'm good. But that's because of Harper and Tim. This week he took time away from storylines I was MUCH more interested in, and I honestly didn't care. I know they use him to check in on current actual world events, but this show did that SO well with Jackson's story last week/etc. that this stuff with Nolan wasn't necessary this week.

JACKSON AND HIS NEW LOVE INTEREST. As soon as they panned up to OFFICER ISAAC "A cop on a horse, yeah" YOUNG, I was like OH HELL, this is ON. I forgot about Sterling and then was like, "wait, he has a boyf.... wait, I DO NOT CARE" -- "You must've been looking in the wrong direction"/"Yeah, well, I am not now." And the scene at the end with the bikes! YES. Here for this. They IMMEDIATELY had more chemistry than Jackson and Sterling ever did, sorry. I hope he sticks around. Jackson finally getting a love interest who will (hopefully, presumably!) understand him as a cop and a person of color? NEED. IT.

TIM BRADFORD AND BILLY RIGGINS MACK DANIELS. "YOU GET PRETTIER WITH AGE." (I am here for ALL references to this show understanding how beautiful Eric Winter is. ALL. OF. THEM.) Derek Phillips is a longstanding love of mine, and he just plays every minor role he's in so well. This storyline was heartbreaking and gave me SO many Tim (and Isabel!) feels. For some reason, even though I thought about this episode a million times over the last week, it NEVER occurred to me to think about Tim's reaction to the UC stuff as an extension of the Isabel storyline, which just... what in the world, self. That is clearly, if you've read my fic, one of my favorite of MANY aspects of Tim's character, and it just never occurred to me that it would play into this episode. So when he said Isabel's name, I had to compose myself. And how it played out, the multi-layered way it gave us a glimpse into Tim now and tied into his clear feelings about Lucy going UC, THIS is what this show does best.

When he administered the Narcan to Mack and did CPR, god, I HURT for him (and for Mack and his family) -- but TIM. He's been there. He's watched it tear his entire world apart, and the guilt he clearly still carries from that is just. Heart-wrenching. The scene at the end with Mack's wife and the scene with Sgt. Grey... so painfully good. The guilt. The honesty. Eric Winter is just knocking it 1000% out of the park every week this season. Honestly, I've loved many television characters with my whole heart, but maybe none more than I do Tim Bradford.

(Please know the restraint I’m showing by not writing one million words about Tim’s solo storyline and the Chenford of it all here. Trust me when I say I could have. But this episode ended up being SO MUCH MORE to me than what I thought it would be. I went in for WORRIED TIM and I got that! But in different ways than I thought, and SO MUCH BETTER.)

TIM "GET CHANGED" BRADFORD PUT LUCY "YES, SIR" CHEN IN HANDCUFFS. WHILE ASKING IF SHE WAS OKAY. AND THEN HE TOLD HER SHE DID GOOD. "I kind of hoped that he would be proud of me... wow, that sounds stupid when I say it out loud." "I know she can. I trained her." Her little smile as he closed the shop door and the way he sort of hesitated before saying anything. It wasn't as much as I wanted it to be (but then again, will anything with these two EVER BE genuinely enough for me? Signs point to no), but it was still EVERYTHING.

BE SCARED. BE WILD. BE UNPREDICTABLE. There are no words for how much the girl power part of this episode worked for me. From Tamara or asking Lucy for the interview to Lucy sneaking a peek in on Harper's presentation, the clear history that Harper and June have (which I want to know EVERYTHING about), to the end scene, which is one of my favorite things this show has EVER done.

It ALL worked. I can't adequately express how much this Lucy storyline means to me. I could ramble for a thousand words about it, but to keep it somewhat coherent, I'm going to bullet point all of the moments that gave me every feeling.

Harper’s look when she realized Lucy was listening. She wasn’t shocked at all. That was pride.

June’s little glance at Harper as she told Lucy that if she wasn’t nervous, she wasn’t human. There are so many sides to Nyla Harper, and I think the soft, caring side is one she hasn’t let everyone see. She shows it to Lucy (and Nolan) when needed, but I don’t know if June had seen it before that moment. And it was a lovely moment of all of them acknowledging in a safe way that what they do, what they were about to do, is dangerous, and nerves are natural, even if you’re badass and can push through them.

“Nope. I just have a flair for the dramatic.” MY GIRL.

Harper’s WINK. I yell a LOT about how much I love Tim Bradford, but I could just as easily yell about Nyla Harper too.

“Actually, my body does have magical powers, but.” YASSS, Harper. Queen.

“I think fitting in is a trap.” This one sentence explains SO MUCH of who Lucy Chen is as a person, not just as a cop. “... as though empathy is somehow a liability.”

“And there sure as hell isn’t anyone tougher.” Basically, every word of that last scene was pitch-perfect, Melissa’s delivery was flawless, and it gave me every feeling possible.

This show does a LOT of things right. This episode was so, so strong. I missed Lopez and Wesley because I love them, but I didn’t MISS them in terms of the storylines we got. A storyline for them would have been one too many for this week, and in a season that’s already felt overpacked, random storyline wise, it wasn’t needed. I would have loved to see Angela on the couch with everyone at the end, but it was perfect as it was.

I sincerely hope this show has started to realize what its strengths are -- bold, badass women (honestly, they’re ALL fantastic - Luna Grey, Isabel, Rosalind, Julie, Tamara -- and obviously all of the regulars) who CARE and who know that isn’t a weakness, Tim Bradford and his mile-long guilt complex and his relationship with all the other officers (especially Lucy and Harper, and now Jackson), Jackson’s ability to fit into whatever role they put him in (Titus is SO good), and multi-layered episodes like this. We don’t need wild, dramatic bombs or random meth lab explosions that don’t fit into an episode’s overall theme. We don’t need hours devoted to telling us that Nolan is the Good Guy. We just do not. This show has come so much further than that, and I know it can continue to be JUST as good if it focuses on everything it already does so, so well.

#the rookie #the rookie spoilers #the rookie season 3 #tim bradford #chenford #lucy chen #nyla harper #jackson west #john nolan

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softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 3 years

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Heat Seekers II Genre: Dark Cyberpunk AU Pairing: Chanyeol x f.reader Words: 8k Fic Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. I’m serious people. If any of the chapter warnings are uncomfortable or triggering for you, please do not read this. Do so at your own discretion. Lots of angst and hurt, eventual smut. Chapter Warnings are below the cut. Author’s Note: There are some specific things in this fic that I’ve personally experienced, and some that I have not. Please understand my intention with this fic is a way of healing not just for myself but hopefully for others who unfortunately have experience with these types of situations. I did a lot of debating about whether or not I should even post this fic, and have spoken to a few individuals about it. Ultimately, with the intent of healing and moving past such trauma, it’s been decided OK to post. Please take my warnings seriously.

Chapter Warnings: panic, anxiety & triggers. Mentions of sex trafficking. Political injustice.

You push your way through the heavy doors into Blue House, ticking your chin forward in greeting to the entertainers standing in the comforts of the lobby, familiar faces you once considered colleagues. The one you’re looking for is at the bar along the back wall, sleek black beneath your fingers, unable to help the way they fan and smooth across its surface as you address him. “Thanks for the tip,” you grin, pausing momentarily to chastise the man before you, “Can I have the info now? I know you were looking out for me by taking it to save, but don’t you think you should have a little more faith in me?” Chan, who is your sole confidant- grins right back. “We don’t believe in faith, remember?” he retorts, flourishing two fingers in front of him to awaken his Atlas, fuzzing to synthetic life between you. You laugh mirthlessly at his reminder because he is right. He flicks his fingers and turns his wrist in a smooth motion, then waits while you blink your own to life and accept the request for sync that takes up the main holo in front of you. He waits for you to collect the job from his inbox and read the description; watching you with a blank expression you don’t see. “In search of a female escort, early to mid-twenties for one night job. The escort must possess advanced skills with Atlas Tech, and hacking. Body measurements are required prior to the job. Deliver in-person to coordinates 94.0114” N 94.0412” E. Details to follow. Payment is dependent on job success. 1200c.” Admittedly, the job description is short but to the point. If anyone were desperate enough, which everyone is, anyone could have collected this job. Now you see why Chan called you for this. Even without the price tag, the requirements complement your skillset spot on. You notice the job expires in two days. Good thing you didn’t have any other plans tonight, you muse to yourself. “Thanks, Chan,” you say with a smile, disconnecting the sync between your Atlas drives. He gives you a warm, dimpled smile in return, “Don’t mention it, babygirl. Just don’t be a stranger, yeah? You know Blue House will always be here for you.” His affectionate pet name for you makes your stomach flutter, just the same as it always did, but you sigh and turn away with a nod, plugging coordinates into your H.I. Pulling up your GPS menu, your smart tech automatically asks you if you want to register the coordinates it recognizes from any recent files you opened. You tap the green ‘register’ button on your interface the moment you slide onto the smooth leather seat of your hyperbike. You pull the visor of your helmet down, giving your H.I a moment to complete the reaction and pop up in your helmet visor. When it does, you scan the map, telling your Atlas you wish to start your bike. The artificial chime of understanding is a comforting sound, as is the low humming purr of the engine starting within the metal between your knees. Intimate, like a heartbeat between a ribcage. The route isn’t terribly long, about thirty-six minutes through the city… if you go the speed limit. A ridiculous notion to still follow, if only out of principle for the older generations. Nobody uses the rule of it anymore, and most people who use the road these days consider it an insult to the growth of safe traveling anymore to have ‘limits’ on speed, and by extension, how well a vehicle moves. Why make such advancements if the restrictions placed on them refuse to evolve? You tick your head to the side with a slight scowl. The trip takes you two-tenths of a second longer than you initially gauged. To a tech hacker such as yourself, inaccuracy is a flaw you’re desperate to rid yourself of. It makes you green with envy of Artificial Intelligence. The coordinates take you to a jewelry store on the north side of the city, closer to the outskirts and the wilderness of the Old City beyond it. Despite the location, the street is lined with tons of high-end shops that glow in the night, open for business. Odd, considering the best shopping districts in the city are further toward the center, and none of them look as classy as this street. You enter the store, raising a brow at the large panel that reads ‘Cloak & Dagger’ in clean, bold lines in the window. A strange name for a jewelry boutique. It feels out of place for you to be here, but you march forward carefully regardless of the uncomfortable way the white polished floor shines back up into your eyes. “Hello?” you call, approaching the largest glass case- it appears to be the counter, with a small tablet resting on a stand in the center. A woman stands up from behind another case to your left, sliding the glass panel closed with her hand before she approaches you. “How can I help you?” Her accent is older, perhaps European, and she looks as if she could be in her sixties. Even at her apparent age, she is exemplary. Your eyes drift down to the items in the case, drawing out a hum because the contents of the case are not what you expected. Now the name makes perfect sense. The jewelry doesn’t just mean your typical rings and pendants. The case is full of self-defense jewelry. Defender rings, ring knives, and other small weapons that are worn. Without answering her, you round the case to the one she stood from, and notice an assortment of larger wearable weapons. From strings of magnetic senbon to actual daggers and piercing finger cuffs. “Find something you like?” she asks, trying to prompt you again. Part of you immediately dislikes the way she’s standing. She seems too proud of your reaction, and with her back straight and hands folded perfectly on top of the counter, she has an air of superiority. With narrowed eyes, you stand back to your full height, “I’m here about a job that’s due in two days.” Her face is unreadable, and she nods minutely, “Can you show me what you’re referring to, dear?” She makes a finger gun and points it directly toward you, tilting her fingers up with the motion of it going off. It sets your adrenaline running with panic until she smiles and her Atlas opens between you. Her motion for opening it is horrifying, and you’re bewildered as to how she came about making that her initiation sequence. You don’t want to close your eyes tightly for the full second it takes to open your own, but you hold you breath and do it anyway. She hums in approval and understanding when you twist your H.I toward her and show her the job posting on your personal assignment bulletin. “I see,” she says, letting her eyes rove you up and down. Nothing you’re not used to, having worked in a brothel for years. “Very well then.” She types something into her own H.I and motions for you to come back to the center of the shop floor. When you do, she presses a button on her interface that expands it around the room. Suddenly, you’re standing in the center of some program she’s running, and the security cameras in the shop come to life. A bright blue light beams from each, pointing at your feet as they scan up your form. Momentarily, you’re impressed with the way she’s made her tech work. Multiple programs running from the same cameras, she’s clever, and you like her a little more for it. Perhaps a bit unorthodox and fitting to her shop’s name, cloaked in mystery, but you’re interested in how she came to be in this moment. She stands in front of you, one hand on her hip while the other goes between touching her lips to touching her main holographic interface, or H.I for short. She’s mumbling to herself as she works, letting your now holographic form float into the space above you. Reaching out, she pulls you out of the center and away from your holoclone. “Fry, darling, give me measurements without her clothes, will you?” “Yes of course, dear,” a disembodied voice echos back. Albeit quite synthesized, it is distinctly male, with an American accent. “Pardon me for the intrusion, miss. Varian Fry, at your service.” the voice says to your holoclone. No clothing is actually removed from either you or your clone, but the AI brings up a separate holo screen for each piece of your clothing. It’s fascinating, to see how quickly he can tell everything about the items, from their thickness and fibers to how many millimeters they equate for in your initial measurements. “At your request, dear,” he says, and an upbeat chime rings on her main interface with your naked measurements. The woman looks at you over her reading glasses, smiling, “He’s impressive, isn’t he?” You realize she asked because you’re smiling at his handiwork. Simply, you nod at her. “Fry, take these into manufacturing. Rush order, number…” she trails off, pausing as she tilts her head at you, “seventy-two, please. In black and violet.” You have no idea what she means and part of you feels like this is some strange super-suit she’s making for you. “Right away, dear.” Fry says, and her H.I blinks into nonexistence. She sighs, glancing at you wistfully, “I think he’ll be most pleased.” You know you shouldn’t because it’s cliche and quite honestly, she shouldn’t tell you, but you ask anyway, “Who?” She laughs, “Your partner for the evening, of course. Don’t worry too much, he’s one of the good guys.” That’s all she tells you before she’s ushering you back toward the door. “Come by again tomorrow midday, it’ll be ready,” she assures you just as she lets the door shut between you. The encounter leaves you feeling a myriad of emotions, though most prominently was the anxiousness of such a mysterious job. You’ve only had a small share of jobs from outside sources, and none that appeared to have so much riding on them. Without anything else to do, you ride back toward Blue House, craving pizza. Smiling, you decide to stop for a quick payday and a free dinner at The Cave. It takes less time than usual to make your rounds of the arcade cabinets, easily earning enough credits to pay for a large pie to take back with you. Plain cheese, well done. Same as always. When you walk through the doors of the brothel with a smile and a pizza box, Chan knows, “Oh no, how many people’s day did you ruin?” “Just a few, I promise. I really just wanted the pizza.” you comment, admitting that a few extra coins in your pocket from beating out cheating gamers never hurt anyone. His eyes zero in on the box settled on your palm with a swallow, “Did you just bring that here to make my mouth water?” There’s a hopeful spark in his eyes, but you decide to enjoy the chance to tease anyway, “We both know this isn’t the kind of thing that makes your mouth water.” Your eyes float around the lobby with a grin. His smile slides off his face briefly, until you shake your head, “Come on. Got some time to spare?” Immediately, the guardian of Blue House morphs his stance- away from the imposing spread of his arms across the sleek counter to the boyish delight of the one person you’ve grown to trust in this world like a starry-eyed puppy. His childlike wonder brings a smile to your lips at the stark contrast of his nickname in the business, as the Wolf of Blue House. He doesn’t mind it, and most of his clientele pay top dollar to have the attention and affection of that persona. You know the way, and Chan follows you through the door on the right, ascending the stairs tucked narrowly between the lounges. The rose-colored light gives the cramped space an intimate feel, and part of you takes artificial comfort from this familiarity, and the memories of it you can feel permeate your consciousness. Of the way you grew up here, together with Chan. Of how thankful you are to him for teaching you and helping you survive. The embarrassment of teenage years made you closer, and you try not to smile, remembering once when you were drunk and nineteen, after your first official orgasm ever, at his hands, and the victory of such a thing made you so emotional you confessed that you loved him. Gently as ever, he brought you back down and reminded you that pleasure isn’t love. In the darkness of your personal room in this very building, your tears fell from the sudden fear of weightlessness that overtook you with such release, and he was there for every step of the way. Chan was there, keeping you grounded and guiding you on a path that would make you strong enough, smart enough, to stand on your own feet and never need anyone else. You could want to your heart’s content, but you would never need. That seems like a distant past, now. Somewhere after eating the whole pie with Chan on the rooftop, you fell asleep. You’re positive he carried you back down the stairs to his den and let you sleep in his bed. The only difference was your jacket had been removed, neatly folded over the open door of his armoire. You’ve woken up here before, sometimes alone, sometimes not when you needed to feel safe so you could sleep without screaming. Weeks or months between. Never more than 3 nights in a row. Today, only the familiar scent of Chan lingers in the room. When you rise, you notice he’s left you some of your old clothes, if you feel so inclined, and a fresh towel. The mirror of his bathroom has wispy remnants of condensation still, and the balmy humidity in the room feels relaxing. The warm water kickstarts your tired bones while you shower, giving you time to think against the white noise it provides. You wonder what time it is, but don’t bother with rushing the moment. As usual, you find Chan working in the office with his natural curls still damp atop his head. They’re unstyled, the dry strands a bit frizzy- mused from his fingers running through them no doubt. Even though you know he’s very busy, he looks comfortable. “I’m out.” you coo quietly from your position, leaning against the door frame with your jacket tucked over your folded arms. It’s a little awkward saying goodbye, knowing you’ll be back in a few weeks after you’ve rotated through your other caches. You can never stay in one place for too long. His head snaps up with the sound of your voice, and he gives you a dimpled grin, “Okay. Stay safe out there, babygirl.” It’s obvious your decision to even say goodbye makes him happy, although he has never judged you for disappearing without small talk. Neither of you owe each other anything. You remain as you both are, separately autonomous. The time you share together is a boon of respectful interest and allied friendship. It’s half past noon as you sling your backpack over your shoulder and head outside, inhaling a deep breath as your palm habitually runs across the leather seat of your bike. Mounting, you bring up the routes of your recent destinations and take in the swell of momentary bliss you get when the bike beneath you roars to life. The midday sun feels good, the heat of it through your clothes and on your hands warming you the moment you ride onto the city streets from the cool shade of the undercity. When you arrive at Cloak & Dagger, you’re whisked inside by the same older woman from yesterday, and she makes a lot of fuss over you. “We’ve got to get your nails and your hair done before you can wear that dress,” she’s muttering, pulling at your hair and your hands to see your fingernails. “Excuse me?” you ask. The job didn’t entail all of that fuss. Why is going to that extent necessary? She gives you a dazzling, perhaps a little overeager smile. “You’ve got to look the part, doll. You’re not bad,” she comments, standing back to assess you from head to toe with a twist to her lips, “but we’ve still got to even out your ends and do you up for the event.” You’re uncomfortable with this, but when she confirms it will cost you nothing, you remind yourself it’s all for the money. Plus, you haven’t had a haircut in a while. “Close the shop, dear, we’ve got important work to do!” she coos in excitement loudly to her AI. Fry’s voice answers her with amusement, “We never opened today, dear.” She laughs, “All’s well that ends well, then!” as she takes your hand and walks you back behind the counter and into a large space that appears to be a dressing room. Immediately, she guides you to a comfortable-looking chair stationed in front of an old-style makeup mirror and begins talking to her AI. “Mm, yes, I think this one will do.” she says as she flips through a couple of hairstyles from a menu you don’t recognize in her H.I. Two arms fold down from the center of the ceiling here, sleek and soundless as they move. Fry’s voice is directed at you, “This is happening to you, my dear. Which of these would you like? I can do either with the length your hair will be once I even it out.” A display appears on the mirror in front of you and four hairstyles are displayed. You’re still trying to wrap your head around this ordeal and all the fuss over you, but you blurt out “number two” anyway. “Excellent choice, my dear.” he says, gentlemanly as always in his American accent. The arms behind you start working immediately, folding out to comb your hair and part it, taking clips from a tray that’s been set up just behind the chair. It takes longer than you anticipated for the AI Varian Fry to cut your hair and style it into the selected choice, all while he comments how wonderful it looks on you. You’ve lost count of how many pins he’s put in by now. The quirky woman jabs often at you with small talk that you needn’t reply to, or she comments on the work Fry is doing while she tends to your nails. “I can do that, darling. No need to fret.” the AI says to her while she fusses over evening out your nails, but she waves him off. “No no, I want to. It makes me feel useful. We never get to have this kind of fun anymore.” Her words are cryptic and the way she says them tells you there’s a mountain of information behind the comment, but she says nothing else about it. Your nails aren’t something you get a choice with, as she layers gel onto them, building it up and evening the edges before she finishes. You watch, moving your fingers in all kinds of ways to get used to having longer nails, almond-shaped no less. Admittedly, you like the matte hue she chose as the color. Once she’s finished, she stands and walks to the left side of the room. There’s a long, rolling pole with clothes hangers adorning it, and a single garment is neatly folded in a black bag. She removes it and unzips it just as Varian Fry places the final bobby pin in your hair, covering your eyes with a metal visor briefly while hairspray plumes into a cloud over your head. “I can’t wait to see this on you,” the woman coos excitedly, “You might just be our best work yet.” When Varian finishes your hair, the arms spin your chair in the direction of the woman, and she’s holding up a black and violet dress, the heavy yet gentle shine of velvet catching light. Typically, you’re not the dress type, but again, money is money. At least it isn’t hideous, and the colors and style are gorgeous. There’s isn’t much you find that would annoy you with it, other than perhaps the inability to run if necessary. “We’ve only got your makeup left to do!” she chimes while she hangs the dress on a hook high off the floor, just beside the mirror. Another cart is wheeled over by one of Varian’s arms, full of high-end makeup brands you recognize from huge ads in the shopping districts of the city. She takes your hand with a laugh, “Up up up, come on now, let’s get you into this.” Ushering you into another room, you’re granted a moment of privacy to use the restroom and collect yourself before she’s knocking at the door and shamelessly stripping you of your outer clothes. Being naked in front of others stopped making you feel insecure a long time ago, and the benefit of it is the efficient speed of doing the task you needed to do instead of milling about in a flustered state of undress for longer than necessary. It doesn’t mean you enjoy being in the nude, but when duty calls you do what must be done. The older woman of Cloak & Dagger doesn’t seem to bat an eye either, assuming years of her dressing up others in her creations has kept the professional efficiency all the same. If she notices any of your battle scars, she doesn’t pause or comment on them. When you look at yourself in the mirror, you don’t recognize the woman staring back at you, except for her eyes and the color of her hair. The dress hugs your form like a thick and warm blanket, accentuating the lines of your body and appealing to the curve of your hips you hadn’t realized were so generous. You turn several directions, analyzing yourself. Perhaps it had been too long since you looked in the mirror at your body. You could appreciate the shape of your own ass, and the swell of your breasts, the gentle caress of line that was your own spine, clearly visible in the cutout back of this dress. Even the muscle of your own legs, visible from the mid-thigh down to the shiny black heels on your feet. For once, even with every sad story of the scars you know riddle your body, you couldn’t stop staring at yourself, liking the way you looked. Finished with fussing over yourself, the woman cracks a grin at you, cooing with excitement at the spectacle before her. “You look ravaging, darling.” She opens the door and takes your hand. Leading you back into the center of the prep room, she waits. Walking in heels is going to be the death of you- you’ve never worn any quite this high and pointy. In your mind, the only upside is the way you could stab someone with one if warranted. When Varian doesn’t respond and no movement is noticed from any of the things he can control, she asks, “Varian dear are you awake?” To which the hand-like ends of the limbs from the ceiling give her a single finger of silence, he whispers, “No, no please I need a moment to enjoy this absolute dream.” The woman barks a loud laugh, giggling to herself with pride. The joke does not go over your head, realizing with a smile that Varian was giving you a compliment. The entire ordeal has taken far longer than you think is appropriate, but if you try to think about your feelings, you can admit you enjoyed the pampering, and you feel good. You’ve never done anything like this, and there are small parts of you that had always wondered about why women fuss over their appearances so much. Now, you know. “The car has just arrived, dear.” Fry’s voice cuts in just as the woman finishes applying one more layer of lipstick to your face. She claps her hands together and smiles, “Right then! One last piece.” With a sway in her step, she leads you back out to the front of the shop and muses over the selection of handbags to her right briefly, deciding on a black leather clutch with a silver crossbody chain that she drapes over your body. You spy through the front window curiously, eyeing a man standing beside a car door wearing a black suit and tie with dark sunglasses. He’s not moving. “One more thing.” says the old woman, her finger raised in the air as she rounds the counter. She pulls a small 10mm pistol from somewhere below the register, checking it with a speed you find almost as alarming as the immediate panic that sets into your bones. You’re frozen as she checks the six spaces are all filled with bullets, snaps it shut and puts the safety lock on. Then, she’s standing in front of you, holding it out for you to take. Slowly, as if the gears of your body have been rusted still far too long, you shake your head. “What’s the matter dear, don’t know how to shoot? I don’t think you’ll need it, but just in case.” “No,” your voice quivers. She makes a sound of disbelief, misunderstanding you as she reaches for your bag, attempting to put the gun in it. “Get that thing away from me.” you command, wrenching the bag out of her fingers. She gives you a look, open-mouthed and taken aback a bit. When the pause between you grows too heavy, the man at the car breaks the silence by knocking on the door. The old woman blinks, “Oh, goodness okay okay, have it your way. Just be safe. I don’t want any idiots ruining this stunning creation.” she says to you with a wistful smile and a pat to your shoulder. Once she ushered you outside, you’re not sure why, but your head seemed to turn of its own volition, back to the front window of Cloak & Dagger, where you spied Varian’s metal arm whipping a handkerchief from an unknown place and offering it to his wife. The SUV in front of you is dark. Black paint, black trim and rims, and every window except the windshield looks deeply tinted. The man in front of you, painfully obvious with his secret and important aura, sticks out like a sore thumb. His only motion is opening the rear door for you. You’re desperate not to wobble or fall as you climb inside, already scowling at the heels on your feet. The inside of the SUV is more spacious than you gave credit for, with the seats rearranged in a way that opens the space like a lounge of sorts, complete with ice bucket and the glow of colored lights overhead. You perch yourself on the edge of an open section of the long seat across from the only other person in the back of the car, save for the sound of the man closing the door behind you and climbing into the driver’s seat of the SUV from the other side of a thick panel of black glass. The eyes of the person across from you are dancing along your skin, you can feel them, but it’s not in a way that raises the hair on the back of your neck. When you look ahead, you find a pair of dark eyes, crinkled at the outer corners and smiling at you, one hand extended in your direction. “Good evening, thank you for coming.” His voice is smooth. Neutral, with a hint of amusement. You say nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. He is handsome, you’ll admit, but in an almost too-pretty way. Hair swept up and to the side, in a full three piece suit that looked as if it cost an absurd amount of money to buy. His posture, with one knee over the other and his torso draped at an angle, with one arm over the back of the seat across from you. He raises his thick brows once when you say nothing, still analyzing him. “Right.” he chimes, placing the glass from his hand in the holder beside him. “I’m Suho, the one who posted the job.” he states matter of factually, in a calm and even tone. The first indicator that his request is legitimate, you think. His posture is too relaxed and he speaks too clearly to be afraid of being overheard by nothing more than an anxious or guilty conscience. He is not out to get you. “What is it exactly that you need my help with?” you ask, matching his tone. A small part of you relaxes into the seat at your back, adjusting to sit a little more comfortably. He smiles wistfully, “I’m glad you asked,” a pause, before he sits up and places his elbows on his knees, hands folded together in front of him so he can address you directly. “We’re headed to a Gala as we speak. The Medical Advancement Technologies Gala, to be precise. There’s a certain politician attending that must be dealt with, but there is information I need from him in order to deal with him appropriately.” Suho explains, skirting the details. Whether at your expense or not, it pisses you off. “You don’t need to sugarcoat it with me, just so you know. So what did he do and why do you care?” He blinks at you, then quickly collects himself with a smile, “Apologies.” There’s a brief moment where his brows knit together before he continues, “He is… someone who uses his political power to do unforgivable things. I care, because one of those things is sex trafficking.” You don’t flinch, you don’t move, you don’t blink. You want to ask why that’s what Suho cares about, but you remind yourself that’s not the most important line of questioning right now. It’s not about Suho, it’s about the politician. Nodding when you notice he’s waiting for your response, “How is it that you came to find out about it, and how do you know it is him? Does he use an alias?” Suho hums with agreement, “He does. I’ve been tracking his association with trafficking for months, and have done what I can to gather information, but it is that last missing piece he keeps locked up that I need help with.” He makes a distinct motion with his right hand, elegant and graceful, almost as if dancing, so subtle and strange you almost miss it. It takes you a moment to realize that was his initiation to awaken his own Atlas. He begins flicking his way through a series of locked programs and folders in his own archives. Bold of him to do so directly in front of you. He doesn’t know what you’re capable of, and although it isn’t easy to read some of his things both backwards and at a speed to see anything useful, it isn’t impossible to pick out the keywords ‘Olympus’ and ‘Tartarus’ from some of his files. “So you need someone to hack into his Atlas to retrieve the final key.” you assume of him, understanding now exactly why the job was so specific. The man in front of you motions for you to open your own, intending to share some files with you. Blinking it to life, you accept his immediate offer to link up after a brief moment of hesitation. You have plenty of safeguards on your own tech, and there should be virtually no way for anyone to hack and see anything of value since you are the sole creator and user of Ghost tech, but something else tells you this won’t be the last of Suho you’ll be seeing. Suho nods when you accept, “Yes. You’ll be with me all evening, and I’ll introduce you to him. I promise there will be no sexual favors or activities involved, whatsoever.” You tilt your head, puckering your lips for a moment. Your eyes trail him up and down through the glowing blue lines between you, gauging his reasoning for a woman rather than a man. “Why a woman then?” He blanches momentarily, before shrugging, “Just my personal preference I suppose.” He meets your stare but doesn’t express any other emotion, as far as you can tell. “Yet you wish for no acts of sexual service?” Suho nods, “That’s right. Just be my date. I won’t even kiss you.” Nothing here screams danger to you, no fight or flight instincts kick in, but you find yourself asking a question and playing a game regardless. A game your inner self loathes, and your survival self thrives on. The addiction of power that comes with winning in any form. You make a show of eyeing him from the dark hair atop his head, all the way down to the perfectly polished tips of his shoes. “That’s a pity.” Suho, who you barely know, blinks at you and surprise settles on his face, trying to hide the smile in the apples of his cheeks while he pretends to look out the window. You wait, openly watching him for any subtle signs of odd behavior. For any slip ups. This is where checkmate is called in the game. The part where your victory is certain but the game drags on. And yet, no such euphoric victory sweeps through your bloodstream. Instead, he murmur’s a simple phrase to flip the tables and lance you with the first striking blow of information. Information that is dangerous. “This is why it had to be you.” Quickly your dress seems to morph its shape into the most constricting piece of clothing you’ve ever worn. You can do nothing, sitting perfectly still. Suho takes a moment to realize your reaction was intense, a deep furrow in his brow when he understands. “You’ve got nothing to fear from me, though.” he attempts to pacify your anxiety, holding up his empty palms. “Explain. Now.” is all you can force from your throat. With a sadness to his expression, he tucks the corner of his mouth into his cheek and gives you a hard stare. Then, he sighs. He sags a little more along the bench seat across from you, letting his heavy head hang a little lower, shoulders a little looser. Relaxing his posture to appeal and seem less dangerous. “We need your help, Ms. Maneater.” he breathes at last, as if the face were plain as day. Your silence is heard everywhere like the command of a god in the small space of the SUV. “I’m one of the rare someone’s who gives more fucks to humanity than to money. I came from money, and lots of it. Until my humanity was handed over to a human trafficking trade by my own parent’s filthy hands.” For the first time in a full minute you take one small breath. Nothing in his posture or words or expression rings false. There is no tension in his throat, wrought tight with lies. “You could say I had my eyes opened. Today, I manage a team of others like me, with their own trauma and stories of how they’ve survived to rise from the ashes. Our scars are what keep us motivated to put bad people away in the deepest pits of hell forever.” He talks lowly now, just low enough to be more than a whisper. Your lips form a word, barely audible, “Tartarus.” This time, it is Suho’s turn to be taken aback with shock. “Where did you find that name?” His reaction gives you the strength to relax a fraction, fighting through the tension in your jaw to speak, “You’ve got nothing to fear from me.” He scoffs as you throw his own words back at him. “I just read it on your Atlas.” It takes him a moment to weigh your words, understanding how careful he should be. “I didn’t think that was possible, I moved through them so quickly.” You nod, folding your hands together, “Well, you did say it had to be me. I can only allude to that meaning of my technical abilities if you know my moniker.” His smile reappears, not too much, but just enough to curve his lips, “We need your help.” “How exactly am I supposed to trust you? You didn’t tell me how you knew it was me.” Suho pouts his lips, considering your question, “You’re not as stealthy as you think you are,” he begins. “Although we mostly went off of clues and a hunch, Mrs. Fry and her AI did their due diligence to confirm your identity through your Atlas.” You narrow your eyes at him, ready with a threat. “Varian is amazing, yes? There is so much he can do to go undetected if he only looks, but doesn’t touch.” Your rage is simmering, in part that you are impressed, “Why not have him do the hacking for you then?” Suho clicks his tongue, “AI are not allowed at the MAT Gala, and even if he were it would be incredibly suspicious to bring an AI for a companion to such an event.” “And you prefer women anyway.” you chide sarcastically. You sigh, “How did you know I would come?” At this question, he fixes you with a hard stare as if deciding what to say, “I didn’t, but I had hope that the price tag would catch the Wolf’s eye for you when I had Varian post it on the brothel’s board.” “Excuse me?” you growl, ready to whip off your heel and stab him if necessary. You push the shame down that you let your guard down with Chan. What if he is in danger because of you? Although no danger seems to come from Suho, it doesn’t mean there aren’t other targets on your back. You can only hope that Chan isn’t as stupid as you are. “Relax,” Suho says, “I’m not interested in that information, and I hope I’ve already established that I’m not in it for the money.” A tap on the black glass between you and the driver pulls Suho’s attention away briefly, “We’ve got about 20 minutes to talk about the job.” It takes you a moment to nod at him, “Fine. Tell me what I need to do.” He smiles at you, “Thank you.” It takes ten minutes for Suho to share the information he’s gathered with you so far, from pictures to audio recordings and statements of witnesses given to others and collateral information taken from various sources. All with the initials of CIG under something called ‘Project Zero’.

Suho gently tries to escape the horrific details that ‘Project Zero’ uses funds from taxpayers in order to feed, shelter and educate homeless persons and families in an effort to reduce the number to zero, and the fact that it more than likely means the funds are being used to eradicate or enslave them in the trafficking market.

In the last ten minutes, you think of how you’ll collect the piece of information Suho needs. An offshore account where his embezzled funds are kept and used, under the alias of one CIG. Suho shows you backdated statements of funds going to and coming from the account from another account, a tertiary, privately owned finance management company connected to ‘Project Zero’.

Suho has the login information for the accounts, and is certain the politician is the CEO of the finance company managing the whole thing. All you have to do is hack in and find the items necessary to link all three together.

The Gala is… impressive. Deciding to trust Suho for the evening, at least, you walk beside him, arm in arm down the velvety carpet rolled out between the street and the venue.

“How are you connected to all this?” you whisper to him as you pause, waiting your turn for the media and news outlets to take your photos. It makes you uncomfortable.

Suho hums beside you, smiling and patting your hand affectionately, “Do you know Guardian Hospitals?”

The name is not uncommon to anyone as a well-known chain of general hospitals across Korea and China.

He pulls you forward gently, walking to the center space between two glittering, fluorescent obelisks that frame the ‘MAT GALA’ backdrop for photos. Several cameras flash in succession, making you squint against the headache you receive by waving a hand and smiling, playing your part beside Suho.

“I own the Korean branch.” he says when you’ve passed the threshold into the venue, grinning from ear to ear at your expression.

You suppose that’s not too far-fetched an explanation. You know three things about Suho now, and although you don’t have time to consider the surely intricate way to link it, you idly wonder if his connection to the hospital chain is how he knew to find you. Once or twice you’ve had to go, for illness or injury and at Chan’s insistence.

He doesn’t freely give up any other personal details about himself or ask you any questions. Nor do you, and the fact that he is patient and doesn’t pry is something you accept with good grace.

There’s an excruciating amount of idle small talk fluttering around you and Suho where you’re seated. Other people of importance come to the assigned table and take their seats. Some leave and come back. The same conversation floats around the table over and over again, asking the same uncaring greeting questions.

Some, like yourself, are deep into their Atlas’s, reading articles or working to answer emails or draft important papers or speeches- even in the middle of an event like this, too preoccupied to leave their work alone.

You can’t say you blame them, considering you’re here doing the same thing, regardless of it being the sole purpose you’re wearing this ridiculous outfit in the middle of an uncomfortable situation.

Suho’s fingers gently caress the point of your elbow, subtle in the way he directs your shoulders to turn acutely to the right. His face leans close enough that only you will hear the words whispered at your ear, not that anyone else cares to listen.

“There, coming this way. Red suit.”

Only one person fits the description, and you reach for your drink on the table, taking a small sip as you watch to fit in with the movement of people around you. An older man, average build with a suit that looks just as expensive as the rest of the people here, a dark and bloody red.

You watch, leaning back slowly into Suho’s grasp as he slings one arm over the back of your chair and curls himself toward your shoulder to talk. A tactic you know to create a more intimate space and make watchful eyes turn away with discomfort.

Suho’s talking in your ear again as the man approaches. A slight moment of unexpected anxiety raises your heartbeat a fraction, wondering if you’ll have to speak to him. The tension dissipates as he stops at the table directly behind yours and pulls out a chair, talking immediately with someone he knows at the table. The breath you didn’t know you’d been holding escapes from your throat in a long, quiet exhale.

Suho notices your anxiousness, taking your hand and patting it gently as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to touch you with such care. Somehow, the action quells you nerves.

You’ve hacked people before, but never someone who looked as powerful or important, and never in the presence of the public eye.

Your counterpart leans closer to your ear again with a smile, “Relax,” he says. “Nobody is paying you any attention.”

His words aren’t enough to hold back the wildness in your expression, and he chuckles softly, “Not that you trust me very much, but I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. For once, you have someone literally looking out for you.”

This time, his assurance cuts deeper, but not in a painful way. There’s a sincerity in his tone you can’t dispel, and it helps ground you.

You blink, slow and purposefully, and the soft and familiar blue glow of your Atlas casts a wave of color on your skin that washes over you like a comforting touch. It steadies you to dive deep into your world.

Part of you is weary about Suho watching, afraid he may somehow know about your Ghost tech. You briefly consider this a test to see how true to its name your self-made program is, and the part of your conscience that wins is curious to see if you pass.

Refusing to let it weigh you down, you get to work.

________________________________________

Fourteen hours later, you’re sitting at a window seat table sipping strawberry milk and fidgeting with the in-ear piece you just finished outfitting with the latest hologlass tech.

The rays of sunlight warm your arm where its closest to the window, and the chattering of the bustling cafe helps fight your drowsiness. There isn’t a crowd here, and the noise is just the slow side of steady that its easy to pick up the conversation of anyone around.

So, you listen. To an older couple talking about the vacation they are on, although you’re not sure why anyone would vacation in this city. You listen to the table of young people in the corner booth talking about homework and research papers as they simultaneously watch a single tablet with a lecture playing at the head of the table.

You listen, when the middle aged man closest to your table laughs. “What a deplorable monster.”

The sentence piques your interest. Stealing a glance, you notice he’s commenting on the news.

News that shows a headline of ‘Breaking News’, and a video clip of a politician being walked down the wide and pristine granite steps of the city judicial building. He’s handcuffed, and there are tons of reporters and cameras in his face that the police are shoving out of their way as they descend.

Your blood runs cold the moment you realize it’s the politician from last night. You freeze, with a mouthful of strawberry milk you refuse to swallow, and wait for the rest of the information.

“Choi In Gyong will go on trial for the undeniable and anonymously leaked evidence of embezzling funds from Project Zero- a campaign he sired to help the homeless- and participating in the purchase, acquisition and selling of people in an American sex trafficking cartel.” explains the newscaster. Her expression of disgust is plain for all to see.

Her AI counterpart, wearing a suit and tie, gives further details, “Jumbotrons all over the city, as well as the police headquarters were somehow hacked, but only to blast the evidence of his connection to such atrocities. Details on who or how the information was obtained and who hacked into these secure networks are still unknown. Many have speculated it was the work of Maneater, but one detail snufs out that option.”

The woman anchor smiles, turning to her co-host, “Oh? And what’s that, Yeoguk?”

Anchor Yeoguk cocks his head to one side, a quirk all his own, “The only indicator from whom the evidence was sent was the letter ‘O’.”

You jump as your phone rings, facedown on the table beside your forgotten milk. When you turn it over, you recognize the first two digits of it as a payphone number.

“Hello?”

A hum from the other end of the line, followed by a familiar voice, “Have you seen the news recently?”

You’re still a little shocked, but snort at the obvious excitement in his tone nonetheless while you stand and make your way out of the cafe.

“I just happened to catch the headlines.”

“And have you checked into your collections yet?”

You smile, “Not yet. Why, is there 1200c sitting prettily in there for me?”

Suho laughs from the other end of the line, “Yes, and more if you’re willing.”

The meaning of his statement catches you off guard, “What are you getting at?”

He hums again, but this time there’s no excitable tone to his voice, “I’d like to make you an offer, Ms. Maneater.”

You pause, pulling your phone away from your ear briefly to look at it questioningly.

“Last night’s job was… a test of sorts. We’ve had our eye on you for some time and last night proved you are just what we needed.”

“Am I supposed to be offended or impressed?” you ask through clenched teeth. You feel uneasy about this, you’ve never worked directly with anyone before on your hacking, and certainly not with such high risk and reward.

Suho laughs again at your reply, “Consider this the official, cordial invite to join Olympus.”

You scoff, of course he would call it that. However, you can’t deny that it is worth considering. After getting past the shock of your work having such a huge, direct effect, you feel… content.

Content that what you did was important to a lot of people like you. Content to know that there is a little bit of hope out there. Content to know that Suho wasn’t all bark and that perhaps, you can learn to trust him and his crew.

“I’ll give you some time to consider. It’ll be in your inbox.” Suho says. “Thanks for everything.”

“Wait!” you try, hoping to get some more information, “What will be in my inbox? How did you get my number? Hello? Hello…?” To your frustration, the dial tone is the only response you receive.

#heat seekers #chanyeol x reader #exo fanfiction #exo angst #exo smut #exo hurt #exo dystopian au #exo fanfic #chanyeol fanfiction #exo dark cyberpunk au

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

Text

Living with Tim Drake

Notes: I got request for Damian and SO moving in together (which I will get to some day). But then I kept thinking about Tim and how I haven’t shown him much love lately. So I wanted to do a little character study of him. Words: 1,818

You didn’t expect a message so quickly. After all, you just posted the ad for a roommate an hour ago. You texted back saying you’re free to talk and your phone buzzes in your hand. You quickly answer, bracing yourself for what kind of freak is in need of a place to stay so urgently.

“Hello. This is Tim. I’m a college graduate and currently doing an internship at Wayne. Your place is really close by so it’s perfect for my commute.”

Wayne is a little more than 5 kilometers away from your place. Definitely a length you wouldn’t like to walk on a daily basis. Especially since your neighborhood isn’t the best. But hey, it still beats Crime Alley and Arkham, right?

“Hi, Tim. This is Y/N. But you obviously already know that. So I’m going to do a quick background check before I send you my address. I mean, you understand, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” he answers right away but you could almost hear his nerves. He goes quiet for a bit and then you hear a notification that someone just sent you a message. “I don’t really have any social media accounts or anything--” You’re suspicious already. “But I am in the Gotham Gazette a lot.”

“What?” you instinctively say. Not thinking. Ignoring the image of the screenshot he sent you. “What did you say your last name was?” You’re already flipping open your laptop and opening the Gazette website.

“Drake. Wayne. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne.”

When he shows up at your door with a single duffle bag that wouldn’t even fit all of your pants, you greet him with a raised brow. “You know, I really thought this was going to be some sort of practical joke but you are him.”

He laughs nervously, “Yeah… Living with that nightmare every day.”

You stare him from inside your apartment before you laugh and let him in. You lounge over the kitchen counter and offer him some coffee. His eyes instantly brighten up at the caffeine rush.

“This is really good.”

“Yeah? I work at a cafe nearby and it turns out I like making coffee.”

He looks at your set up behind him, a small commercial espresso machine with an extract bar with two spouts and a steam nozzle to warm up the milk, and a coffee grinder filled to the brim with whole coffee beans.

He looks back at you quickly. “Please let me live here,” he blurts out with full conviction. It stuns you and then you laugh. “I’ll pay double your asking price.”

You stop laughing then. “Deal.”

Tim settles in quickly in your apartment since he doesn’t have too many things. A week’s worth of clothes, his laptop, two pairs of shoes, and some toiletries.

You had a roommate before him but she just disappeared half a year ago. You called her family and it turns out that she ran off with a lover. You thought she would be back in a month’s time but 6 months have gone by and her advance payments are about to run out.

Needless to say, Timothy Drake-Wayne is now sleeping in a pastel purple bedroom littered with motivation posters and 30-Day challenge workouts.

“You can take them down, you know.”

Tim shrugs, “I kind of like them. They help me get up in the morning.”

You roll your eyes.“Yeah sure.” Tim is not a morning person. He only thinks he is. He’ll wake up past noon. Then when you get home, he’ll greet you good morning even when it’s dark outside.

“Is that a cut?”

Without thinking about it, your hand reaches out to brush back his bangs and look at what is actually a gash on his forehead. “Tim, it’s still bleeding. Wash it!!”

Before he could reply, you go to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. You start fussing over the antiseptic, cotton, and gauze while he’s just staring at you. “Tim, wash it under the sink,” you repeat.

A little dazed, Tim finally gets up and goes to the sink. You wait for him to finish, with a towel ready to dry his face. As soon as he’s done, you start dabbing the antiseptic on his forehead.

“Hey. That doesn’t hurt.”

You make a grim face, a look of disgust really. “Is that why you didn’t treat it? Because you’re afraid it’ll hurt.”

He laughs, “No no. It’s just-- Usually when Alfred does this, it stings.”

There are so many things you want to say to that. Who’s Alfred? Why don’t you tend to your own wounds? What happened? But instead, you say, “Do you often get into fights at Wayne or something? I always thought the people there are either frail-bodied nerds or millionaires too afraid to mess up their cuticles.”

Tim laughs a little louder, “Why does it have to be at Wayne? I could have gotten this while saving children from a human trafficking ring down by the docks.” He raises an eyebrow at you.

You narrow your eyes, unamused, “What a coincidence. After work, I just put the Joker back in Arkham Asylum.”

He shakes his laughter, making it harder for you to put the gauze on. So you grab his chin to keep him steady and then expertly placed it on his gash with one hand. His eyes follow your hands, making him appear cross-eyed and you almost laugh. Then his eyes widen.

“Wait a minute. Did you just get off work? It’s almost 6? PM?”

You roll your eyes but you don’t really meddle with his sleeping schedule. He usually leaves the apartment when the sun is coming down and you never hear him come in. But you just assume his internship at Wayne is at night.

You wonder if he gets paid for it because he comes in 7 days a week, every night and sometimes even in the afternoon (or god forbid in the morning). But he doesn’t really need the money so maybe it’s a family obligation thing?

Sometimes though, like once or twice a month, he gets a day off. He’ll sit with you on the couch while you drink the mochas you made and binge-watch NCIS.

“You know…” you say one day, hugging your mug to yourself. “You never did tell me why you chose to live here.”

“I did, didn’t I? It’s close to Wayne--”

“Bullshit,” you call out. “I get that you bike to work so it’s an easy commute but you own part of Wayne. I know you can get a driver to get you there or work from home or not work at all if you wanted to.”

Tim looks at you for a moment before he goes quiet. He’s staring into his mug and lightly shaking it to watch the liquid move around inside.

You suddenly want to slap yourself, “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to know--”

“No, it’s okay,” he says, smiling. He places the mug on the coffee table. He grabs the remote to lower the volume down and then hunches with his elbows resting on his knees as he stares at the screen.

“It was just good timing when I saw your post. It was getting a little crowded at the manor.”

You keep looking at him and wonder if you should stop him. This almost looks painful for him but Tim keeps going.

“When I first got there, I was the only one there. Dick has his own place. Jason was--” he shrugs, “It was just me, Bruce, and Alfred.” Alfred, you now know, was actually their butler, but Tim talks about him more like a parent, to both him and Bruce Wayne.

“It was great. Mostly quiet. Peaceful. And then like a hurricane, all of them just came, one by one. Dick, Jason, and then Damian. It was a nightmare. We were at each other’s throat. Literally!” he’s staring wide-eyed at you, half-hoping you’ll know he’s telling you the truth. “And I couldn’t get a single good night’s sleep. I just-- I needed my own place. Away from them.”

Tim releases this long sigh, one that feels like he’s been keeping for a while. “When it was just me, Bruce, and Alfred, I never noticed it because I was too self-absorbed-- about the adoption and the--” he looks at you like a deer caught in the headlights then coughs and continues, “I didn’t notice that they weren’t as happy as I was. That they were in silent mourning.”

“So when my brothers were at the manor, Bruce and Alfred-- They were shocked but I’ve never seen them look happier. It was so small, almost barely a hint of a smile. And I just--” He sighs again, this time leaning back to rest his head against the couch. “So I feel a little guilty about leaving.”

You wait in case Tim had more things to get off his chest. This is the first you’ve heard him talk in broken sentences. He’s usually a lot more composed that his sentences are always grammatically correct, full-structured, and well-phrased. Like listening to an essay.

When he doesn’t say anything more, you ask, “Do you regret leaving?”

Tim Drake stares at the ceiling. He visits the manor every now and then but not much has changed. They’re still fighting a lot, with less intent to kill, but still enough to seriously maim. But really he misses seeing Alfred every day, helping him in the garden and eating his home cooking.

And Bruce. He wonders if Bruce is doing fine. If he’s happy Jason is back or proud to finally have his own son fighting side by side with him. He hopes Bruce’s is a little upset he left. He wishes he’d mourn for him a little like he did with Dick and Jason.

But is he happy? Tim was feeling overwhelmed by the past that his brothers brought back with them. So much pain, regrets, and hatred. He never knew families could be so complicated. One minute they wanted to murder each other and the next they’re risking their own lives to save you. ‘Do I regret it?’ he wonders. ‘Do I regret doing what Dick and Jason have done, leaving the nest-- the cave and the Titans-- to find my own way of life? My own path?’

‘Not one bit.‘

Then he turns to you with every intention of saying just that. He looks at you while you hold your white Superman mug in your hand, your lips hovering over the rim and the steam rises up to your face. He watches the light smoke dance as your breath goes in and out.

Your eyes are staring at him with your hair hanging down, framing your face. He watches your cheeks slowly go red and your eyes widen. You look away, missing the same shade of red covering Tim’s cheeks.

“Crap.”

✧ Watchtower Masterlist ✧

#DC fanfiction #DC imagines #DC reader insert #Tim Drake #Tim Drake fanfiction #Tim Drake imagine #Tim Drake x reader #Timothy Drake #Timothy Drake fanfiction #Timothy Drake imagine #Timothy Drake x reader #watchtower-feed #acropen #lexyartem

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evesbeve · 4 years

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it's tough to get away (tua s2 fix-it)

MAJOR SEASON 2 SPOILERS!

Summary: Ben has finally crossed the light, but has unfinished business back on earth. He does the only thing he can think of; he begs God to send him back.

Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & God, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves

(Read on AO3)

___

“I have to go back.”

In the end, Ben didn’t get to cross the light.

The first time he laid his eyes on it, he was only sixteen with a foot in the grave, quite literally. It felt as if he’d been staring at it for hours, debating whether he should take the next step or not, because truth was, he wasn’t ready. For every second Ben was still on earth, he lost another one of his senses, he felt more and more numb, more and more dead. At least he couldn’t feel the monster in his stomach anymore.

There was nothing left for him in the world, and yet he wasn’t ready to leave it behind. Ben had been stripped of everything. His senses, his feelings, his honor. He didn’t even want to think about what kind of sorry excuse of a funeral his father put together for him.

Looking ahead into the light should have felt reassuring, but it only made Ben more anxious. All his life, Ben had never been sure of what would happen next, but nothing had ever scared him more about the future than this.

So when he heard the voice of his brother calling him back to earth, Ben didn’t hesitate.

Klaus had told him, that first day he conjured him, that he could go back to light anytime he wanted. He had assured him. Ben wasn’t an idiot though; he knew his brother, and he knew the way he lied. Klaus had no clue whether what he was claiming was possible.

But it was okay, because that meant Klaus wanted him there. So Ben stayed.

He spent the next years alongside Klaus, watching him self-destruct. It was fine, for the most part, but Ben could feel himself growing bitter. There was a voice in the back of his head that whispered ‘I told you so,’ as if it was a price for staying, but Ben never figured out who it belonged to.

He did visit the light again. Occasionally.

But he never crossed it. Not even when he stopped feeling altogether. Not even when he was certain Klaus didn’t want him around anymore. Because despite everything, Ben was still scared.

In the end, the light pulled him in.

It was funny, really. Ben had thought he could avoid it forever, but of course he’d been wrong. It came to him in shiny flickers of blue, resting on his clothes, on his skin. It was there to take him away, but also to make him feel again; the more light came, the more he could feel his sister’s arms around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged. It was almost seventeen years ago.

Vanya never pulled away from the hug, and Ben didn’t stop feeling it for a long time.

Heaven was… nice.

Really, there was no other word to describe it. It was nice. Ben felt content in a way he’d never felt before, and everything was calm and peaceful. He earned a blank slate. He could be whoever he wanted.

And yet.

“You know you can’t do that,” the little girl with the hat told him as she continued picking her flowers and placing them on her bike’s basket. “Once you cross the light, that’s it.”

“But I didn’t,” Ben insisted, wishing she’d look him in the eye. “I didn’t cross it.”

“Is that right?” the girl said with a smile—a devilish smile—and went right back to work.

Once upon a time, Ben would have dropped it and continued walking down the path alongside the flowers. But he couldn’t do that anymore, not when the place he was supposed to spend his afterlife in couldn’t offer him the things he longed for the most in the world.

“You don’t understand,” Ben said, and the girl huffed. “I have to go back. My family, they—”

“Your family didn’t even know you were there,” the girl said. Ben shivered and bit his lip, but let her finish anyway. “But of course you already know that.” She ran her fingers through the flowers’ petals, before finally settling on one and pulling it from its stem. “You aren’t the first to beg for a way out, and you certainly won’t be the last. I do understand. I have to, to run this place smoothly. I can’t just pick and choose.”

“But that’s exactly what you’re doing,” Ben said, his eyes still pinned on the flower in her hand. “You pick and choose. You play favorites.”

“Not all souls are corrupted, Number Six.” Ben sighed at the use of his number, but it didn’t stop him from feeling helpless. “But I can’t let them mix with those who are.”

Ben’s mind traveled back to the girl and her flowers; picking and choosing, sorting through them, moving them… Not all flowers needed light to grow.

“Want to know which one you are?” the girl said, a teasing tone in her voice.

Ben hated that he couldn’t say no to her.

The girl moved to her bike with a bounce, letting her flowers drop in the basket, and gestured for him to follow her.

They walked through the gardens for a while. As much as Ben wanted to leave this place, he’d always enjoyed looking at the flowers. They didn’t need words to express themselves—just shapes and colors, in a black and white world. And yet, Ben always knew what color they were.

They stopped in front of some bushes, tiny things, and the girl leaned down to pick up a blossom. Her moves were always so calculated, but now she was letting the flower and its white petals rest on her palm almost lazily.

The smell hit Ben like a hurricane.

The small flower smelled of lousy evenings and teasing, of quiet nights looking at the stars. It smelled like stroking a string of memories that hadn’t been touched in years, of something distant yet so familiar. Of laughter, of coziness, of bittersweetness. It smelled of home.

“A gardenia?” Ben asked.

The girl nodded. “That’s the bush I picked you from,” she said, stroking the blossom’s petals. “Of course, you’re here now, so your flower doesn’t exist anymore.” Without missing a heartbeat, she crumpled the flower with a swift movement, and let it fall to the ground.

Ben felt a knot tighten in his chest.

“Why would you do that?”

He’d never understand how God, or whoever she was, could be such a prick.

“You care,” she said, crossing her arms behind her back.

Ben stared in awe at the crumpled flower, then back at her. He wanted to prove her wrong so badly, to stand still, or to walk away, and yet he couldn’t help but lean down and pick up the gardenia. Its petals felt soft, too soft, against his touch, at least those of them who were still holding onto the flower.

“It’s too late for it now,” she said. “It’s just a blossom, ripped from its home. It doesn’t have a stem to plant.”

Ben kept stroking the flower’s leaves, trying to ignore her words. She was wrong. The flower was right there, it was still alive, emitting its bittersweet smell, calling for its home.

“That doesn’t make it useless,” she continued. “It can be used as a fertilizer, to help the other flowers grow. But it will die out, eventually. After all, it’s been corrupted now—”

“Klaus isn’t corrupted,” Ben interrupted. The words came out of his mouth without him processing them. It was only when he heard his own raised voice that he realised what he had said. He hadn’t meant to say it, but it was too late now. “My family isn’t corrupted.”

A smile tugged at the girl’s lips. “Now, I never mentioned him, did I?”

Ben wanted to look away, but everything else around him consisted of flowers, and flowers reminded him of the blossom in his hand, and the way the girl had ended its life as if it was nothing, and if that wasn’t enough, he could still smell it and—

“I keep wondering why you want to go back. What was it he called you?” she asked, looking up, pretending to be in deep thought. “His ‘ghost bitch?’” Ben closed his eyes. “I never liked him, you know. But he must have told you that, I don’t think he likes me very much either. I suppose that’s fair. I wouldn’t like someone who kept choosing other people over me either—”

“He’s not—it’s not like that,” Ben said, but it was. It was like that, because Klaus had acted like a massive asshole by ignoring Ben’s existence and pretending he wasn’t there, by keeping him from his family who he had missed so much, and Ben didn’t deserve that, he knew it, but it didn’t matter, because Klaus needed him. Ben needed him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, locking them with the girl’s. “I never crossed your damn light.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “You’re here now, and you need it.”

“Gardenias can grow in the shade,” Ben said.

“But those who never see the sun grow weak,” she said.

“I’ve never forgotten what the sun is like.” And he hadn’t. Ben was dead, detached from the world, but Klaus offered him a way out. He gave him oxygen, he let him breathe, he let him live.

The girl huffed. “You could thrive!” she said. “Inside these gardens, you don’t need to suffer anymore. You don’t need to hold onto a world that hurt you, that killed you. You could have everything you wanted here!”

“No.” Ben shook his head. “I couldn’t.”

The girl looked at him for a few lingering moments before turning around and leaning over the bushes again. Ben felt his body tense up in defense, his hand clenching around the dead flower in his hand. He wasn’t going to let her harm them. Not anymore.

“Hand it over,” she said, and Ben took a step back. She sighed. “I just want to put it to rest.”

Ben glanced on the ground in front of her, where she had dug some soil out of the way; a perfect fit for the blossom in his hand. Part of him wanted to tell her no, but the way she said it sounded… genuine.

Ben nodded and dropped on his knees. He glanced at the girl one more time as she gave him a nod back and he placed the gardenia on the hole. He run his fingers through its petals one more time, before gently covering the hole with the dirt on the side. For a split second, he was back on earth, lying on the ground, taking in the texture of it for the first time in almost two decades. He was snapped out of his thoughts when the girl gave the soil a gentle pat.

“They put gardenias around my grave.”

Ben had no idea why he said that.

“I know,” she said. Any hint of hostility had long disappeared from her voice. “I know everything.” She crossed her legs and made herself more comfortable, wiping her hands on her white dress and staining it, before taking off her hat and letting it rest on her lap. “And yet, I was wrong.”

Ben raised an eyebrow at that. He supposed he could sit down for a little bit longer, so he rested on his thigh, not caring about the dirt. He hadn’t minded dirt getting on his clothes in a long long time. “Wrong?”

“Yes,” she said, pressing her lips into a seemingly forced smile. “You are way more stubborn than your brother.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I know.”

Ben shifted so he was sitting down normally, his legs folded and forming the tiniest triangle between them and the ground. He leaned back, his weight supported by his hands placed behind his body, and looked up at the sky, so he could see the light.

Deep down, he knew it hadn’t been possible. Not everyone got the happy ending of their dreams, and Ben certainly didn’t deserve it. After all, his story—his life on earth, his family, Klaus—had ended seventeen years ago. You can’t turn back the pages on a book that doesn’t have any. You can’t leave a garden with no exit. And you certainly can’t bloom as a flower where there isn’t any light. This was meant to happen. All Ben had left to do was accept it.

He felt a bump on his shoulder, causing him to snap his eyes open. He hadn’t even realised he’d close them, until the figure of the little girl staring down at him came into view. She extended her arm for him, and Ben took it without any more questions.

Once on his feet, she spoke again. “Come on.”

“Why, is it curfew already?” Ben joked.

The girl rolled her eyes but didn’t let go of Ben’s hand. Instead, she started pulling him through the gardens again. “I said, come on.”

“Hold on,” Ben said, but she didn’t seem to be listening. “Hey, I said hold on, can you just—” He freed his hand from her grip, and it was only then that she stopped walking. “Where are we going?”

She sighed, a hint of annoyance manifesting in her voice again, but it wasn’t rude like before. “Home, Ben,” she said. “We’re getting you home.”

Ben stared at her in disbelief.

“H-Home?” he said and she nodded. No. There was no way. “Home as in, home home?” She nodded again. “With my family?”

“Yes, Ben!” she said, and no matter how angry she sounded, Ben couldn’t shake the grin off his face. “With your dumb family!”

He covered his face with his hands, another chuckle escaping him. For a guy that was literally about to cry in front of God, he was feeling quite well. Spectacular, actually. He took a step closer to her, taking her hand between his. “Thank you, thank you so much, you have no idea—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… You’re welcome, and all of that, now come on,” she said. When Ben let go of her hand, she adjusted her hat and continued walking down the path with bouncy steps. She stopped, suddenly, turning around to look at Ben again. “I said come on, before I change my mind.”

“Right! Right.” Ben nodded to himself. He was going to see his family, he was going to see Klaus, he was going home where he belonged. Ben took one final breath and stopped fighting the grin threatening to take over his face. “I’m ready.”

The girl smiled. “I know.”

The first time Ben crossed the light, it was to get out of it.

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pessimisticlatte · 4 years

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Glass Roses ~ Chapter 18

Adrienette ~ Tom x Sabine ~ Mama Nathalie <3

The last two days had felt like the longest days of Adrien’s life. He’d been in Alsace with no one but Nathalie and the Gorilla for company while his father did god knows what. At least there hadn’t been any akuma attacks for the last couple of weeks as things led up to Adrien’s 18th birthday, the party he hadn’t wanted but that he’d gotten regardless because his father hadn’t planned it for Adrien, he’d planned it for himself. Adrien wasn’t going to complain about Nathalie’s company, he didn’t really have a reason to, but each time they ventured into the grounds surrounding the Agreste family estate (an actual fucking castle) he found himself missing Marinette more and more. She would be awed by the sheer beauty of the estate and the amount of people it took to keep the grounds looking as perfect as they always did, despite the fact that Adrien and Gabriel hadn’t been to the estate in years those gardeners still worked tirelessly to make sure the place looked perfect even if it’s masters might never return.

“Look over there,” Nathalie pulled Adrien out of his reverie as she pointed to a small patch of white, bell-shaped flowers. “I’d forgotten about the convallaria majalis that your mother had tried to grow here years ago now. It never seemed to take to the soil for some reason but now here it is! Growing!”

“Convallaria majalis?” Following Nathalie over toward the flowers, Adrien furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Lily-of-the valley. The flowers are incredibly poisonous but also beautiful and one of your mother’s favourite plants to paint,” Adrien could feel Nathalie’s sorrow as she spoke of Emilie, the emotion so tangible and real that it made him ache for a woman he barely knew. “I could have watched her paint for hours.”

Unsure of what to do or how to act, Adrien reached for his old tutor’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, reassuring Nathalie that a part of the woman she’d loved so much was there with her.

“She used to hate it when I used the latin names for things,” A small, sad smile began to tug at Nathalie’s lips as she remembered all the times she’d begun talking of botany and plant species only to have Emilie joke about being bored half to death. It hadn’t been until after Emilie had fallen ill and become comatose that Nathalie had realised that she was joking about hating how Nathalie could categorise almost every single plant they walked past with a mere glance. There weren’t many times in Nathalie Sancouer’s life that she felt like an idiot but being completely oblivious to Emilie’s rapture when she spoke of things that she loved was one that she would never live down. “Your mother used to joke that I should change my name to ‘Thesaurus Sancouer’ because I knew too many words for my own good.”

“The Painter and the Dictionary, seems like a good title for if I ever write a story of how you and Maman met,” Squeezing the older woman’s hand again, Adrien’s voice was joking. “Not that I ever would write a story about that, there are too many things I want to write about already.”

“I think that Emilie would be very proud of the man you’ve become, Adrien,” Turning to face him, Nathalie pushed her fingers up under her glasses to wipe away a single tear that was threatening to slip down her cheek.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere near the person I am if you hadn’t been the one raising me, Mum,” The word felt so natural on his tongue as he spoke to Nathalie. She’d legally been his mother for the last two weeks and, though neither of them would admit it, knowing that they were legally bound as family for the rest of their lives made them both giddy. All Adrien had ever wanted was someone to love him unconditionally, in the past he’d wanted it to be his father so he’d crossed his own boundaries to be the son he thought Gabriel wanted, and now he had Nathalie, he’d always had Nathalie, who loved him for who he was and didn’t want her son to be anyone other than himself.

“I’m still very overwhelmed at being your mother. I know I’m the one who raised you but it’s a strange sensation to know that you are my son and to hear you call me ‘mum’,”

“Hey, I’m still blown away by the fact that you’d want to adopt me seeing as I’m almost a legal adult and all,” Releasing Nathalie’s hand, Adrien rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

“Well, there wasn’t an option to adopt a talking mouse named Stuart so I guess you’ll have to do,” Ruffling the blonde boy’s hair, the two collapsed into a fit of laughter.

There was so much laughter that night that by the time Adrien climbed into bed, his sides hurt from how much of the laughter had come from him. The Gorilla had joined in too, occasionally, cracking jokes with Nathalie and Adrien that had the both of them in stitches not just because of the jokes but also because neither of them had thought him capable of making one. If this was what a normal family was supposed to be like, then Adrien hoped that, when he woke up, he could live this day all over again until Marinette arrived and his life would finally be worth living.

~~~~~~~~

Woken by a warm body crashing on top of him, Adrien blinked the bright light streaming through the windows out of his sleep gunked eyes and arched his back up off the bed, sending the girl sprawled across his back into a fit of giggles that rung like a symphony in his ears.

“Good morning,” Yawning, Adrien rolled over and rested his hands on Marinette’s shoulder blades. “When did you get here?”

“Twenty minutes ago,” Snuggling into her sleep warmed boyfriend, Mari rubbed the crown of her head against his chin in a cat-like gesture that would’ve made Plagg proud. “Nathalie said I could come wake you up while Maman and Papa got set up in the kitchen. Which is huge, by the way, have you seen how massive the kitchen is here?”

“Yeah, it’s gigantic, isn’t it?” A smile played on Adrien’s lips as he pressed a gentle but firm kiss to Mari’s head and squeezed her against him. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering in this moment as Marinette prattled on about the kitchens and the grounds and all the things she’d seen in the short space of time she’d been at the estate; there were flashes of lazy mornings with Marinette snuggled into his side, of her in the kitchen keeping an eye on him as he cooked, of the wind ruffling her hair as they looked out over Paris as Ladybug and Chat Noir, of a small girl with Mari’s heart shaped face framed by riotous golden curls riding the pinkest bike he’d ever seen in his life as Marinette’s laugh filtered in from somewhere beyond his vision. The smile appeared, fully fledged, on Adrien’s mouth as his heart raced at the thought of them having a future together and of that little girl. Their little girl.

“You should get out of bed now,” Hands on either side of Adrien’s head, Mari supported herself on stretched out arms and looked down at her still sleepy boyfriend with sparkling blue eyes. He had such an overwhelming urge to kiss her in that moment. “As much as I’d love to stay up here all day, Maman and Papa want you to help us get started on the food for your party tomorrow.”

“Your Mum and Dad actually want me to help with the cooking?” Adrien was perplexed. “Don’t they remember what happened last time?”

A light giggle left Marinette’s lips as she leant down and pressed a kiss to Adrien’s forehead. “Papa says that you’re not going to get better if you don’t practice and I’m going to be in the kitchen with them today so it’s a good excuse for you and I to hang out today,” Sitting up, Adrien nuzzled is nose into Mari’s shoulder as the two of them remembered the disastrous brownies Adrien had produced last time he’d attempted to cook with the Dupain-Cheng’s. Marinette had tried to eat them to make him feel better but they’d ended up making her sick for three days and it’d done the exact opposite of making him feel better, it’d made him feel worse because she’d gotten sick from them. “We won’t be doing anything too hard, or you won’t be anyway, maybe just a bit of decorating,” Voice lowering to a whisper, Mari looked up into Adrien’s eyes with an angelic smile. “Maman and Papa know that you’re not a big fan of huge parties so they wanted to throw you a little surprise party in the kitchen with just us, but you need to act surprised when we get down there because I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“Mari, your parents are absolute angels, I hope they know that,” Grinning broadly, Adrien pushed a lock of Mari’s hair behind her ear before she climbed off him so he could get out of bed. “I’m going to have a shower, I’ll be five minutes max.”

Nodding, Marinette smiled at him before he crossed the room and disappeared into the ensuite.

Once he was in the shower, hot water streaming down his body, Adrien rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes with a giddy grin. She was finally here, it’d been two whole days without her and it had somehow felt like an eternity but now she was here and Adrien felt that his little family unit was almost fully complete. Almost complete because Mari had said something to him before he’d left for Alsace about him and Nino being like brothers, and it had gotten stuck in his head in a way he hadn’t been able to shake free. If Nino was his brother then Chloe was his sister and that made their girlfriends family too, which meant that his family wouldn’t be whole until everyone was here, even if it was for a big party that he didn’t even want to have in the first place. Towelling off his golden hair, Adrien slipped into a pair of dark jeans he’d laid out in the bathroom the night before and a plain, heather grey t-shirt that somehow made his green eyes look even brighter than they already did.

Emerging from the bathroom and depositing his pyjamas in the hamper on the other side of the door, Adrien saw Mari sitting on his bed with a small, brightly coloured box in her hands as she played with the silky ribbon wrapped around it. Crossing over to the bed so he could sit down beside her, Adrien saw a shy blush creep up Marinette’s pale cheeks.

“What’s this?” Looking at the box, then up into Mari’s eyes, Adrien cocked his head slightly and allowed a cheeky half smile to curve onto his lips. Holding the box out to him with a slightly shaking hand, Marinette’s lips formed words that he couldn’t hear. “I can’t hear you.”

“I wanted to be the first person to give you your present, I know your birthday isn’t until tomorrow but I couldn’t wait,” Taking the box from her hands, Adrien leant forward and kissed Marinette’s cheek, then her nose, then her lips. “Open it.”

Tugging the ribbon free from it’s bow, Adrien carefully opened the box and moved aside the blue tissue paper to find a small pendant nestled within.

“I know that it’s not a big thing for guys to wear necklaces but that’s dumb and I think you’d look so good wearing this one. It’s a metatite stone, they’re meant to be for luck, and I made the pendant myself,” Lifting the pendant free, a glittering chain unraveled from beneath the layers of paper. A coil of golden wire passed through a tiny hole drilled into the stone and wrapped around the curved top in a delicate nest that held the loop that the chain was passed through. “It’ll bring you luck and I really like giving handmade gifts but I didn’t want to give you another scarf-.”

“Another scarf?” Adrien was confused. Marinette hadn’t given him a scarf before, she’d made him presents in the past for his birthday and for Christmas too but he couldn’t recall her ever having given him a scarf.

The colour on her cheeks deepening as she tried to hide her face, Marinette toyed with the edge of her skirt.

“Mari,” Hooking his finger under her chin, Adrien lifted Mari’s face so he could look into her eyes. “Come on, tell me.”

“T-the scarf your father gave you a couple of years ago...was actually from me...but I saw how happy you were at the thought of it being from your dad and I didn’t want to ruin it for you by saying that it was actually from me,”

“Oh, Marinette, you’re too sweet for your own good,” Pulling his girlfriend into his arms, Adrien smothered her in kisses and squeezed her against him until she was laughing so hard tears sprang to her eyes from how his fingers were tickling her sides. “I love it.”

“I’m glad, now come on, let’s head down to the kitchen for your party,” Grabbing her boyfriend’s hand, Mari tugged him off the bed and toward the door. “Now you’re gonna have to lead me there because I’ve already forgotten where I’m going.”

~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~ @lady-charinette @hnbutt @beauty-and-her-books @camelliaflwr @a-star-with-a-human-name @mochegato @nifflerstorm @aussie-lesbian @imgaydontshoot @maniic-pixie-dream-girl @katieykat513

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fandom #ladybug #chat noir #adrienette #adrinette #marichat #lukagami #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #gabriel agreste sucks #nathalie sancoeur #nathalie adopts adrien #mama nathalie

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ficklefics · 4 years

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Friends Like These - Chapter Twenty-Nine: I Will Not Feel

The house should be safe. But there’s more dangers than death.

Jerome Valeska x Harleen Quinzel

SERIES MASTERLIST ~ MASTERLIST ~ CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Taglist: @hexqueensupreme

Chapter Warnings: None

We walk in silence until the lights of the manor appear in the near-distance. At the sight of them, we both hurry faster, desperate for the security and warmth they promise.

I don’t knock, instead just pushing the front door open and walking in. We follow the sound of voices until we end up in a room with a long table, lit only by a flickering fire which the others sit around.

“Hi.” They jump into defence mode at the sound of my voice. Penguin is the first to speak.

“We thought you were dead.” “You look it,” Barbara chimes in. “We feel it too,” Jerome saunters forward, still with a slight limp in his step. I follow him, only now letting myself take in my injuries. Bruises and scrapes, a general ache of pain that radiates throughout my body, and blood stains my clothes. Jerome isn’t much better. In fact, he’s probably worse. “What happened?” Nygma asks. “They caught up to us at my parents,” I explain. “Chased us out of the city. We crashed.” He nods. “Is that explanation satisfactory?” I snap at him. “Pretty much, yes.” He turns back to the rest of the group. “Back to our discussion.” I sit on the table, ready to let someone else take the lead. Jerome stands next to me. “We need to regroup. Reach out to all our contacts – this is bigger than feuds and gang wars. Anyone you can think of, we need to get them here as soon as possible.”

I don’t speak. I’m barely listening. There’s nothing for me to say. I don’t know what I’m doing in this world – that much is clear. I’m just a lost little girl who can’t get away from trouble. Just an idiot who was arrogant enough to think she could survive anything.

Jerome is speaking. I focus just enough to hear him say “–whatever we do, we need to make them regret messing with us.”

I don’t have a place here. I stand up silently and leave the room unnoticed, the planning continuing without a pause. The rest of the house is dark, quiet, perfect for wandering. The peace is eery. After the intensity of the last few days, it’s almost uncomfortable to be safe. To be alone. Halfway up a flight of stairs is a window seat, perfect to curl up on. There are even curtains I can draw to hide away. I don’t want to be found right now.

I’m not sure how late it is – after midnight, definitely. The moon is bright and high in the sky. No clouds. The house is surrounded by trees, completely cut off from the rest of the world, from the city lights of Gotham. But I’m sure we’ll be going back soon. Or at least they will. All I want to do is sleep. I know I said this was my job to fix… But why? Why is it my job? What did I do that meant this is my responsibility?

I could have run. I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I need to keep fighting.

Ill-fitting jeans. A cheap sweater. Clothes and hands stained with grass and dirt and blood. Where did I go? Where did the put together, professional, on her way to success Harleen go? Maybe this is the real me. Maybe the clothes and the money and education and the status were all just a ruse, a disguise, suppressing the chaos inside.

I guess I knew that. I let myself live that, in the night and the shadows when no one else could see.

And with Jerome. He tore it out of me, laid me bare and exposed, and I let him. I wanted him to. I was finally free.

I tried to run. Tried to hide. Tried to fill my role, play my part. And still reality caught up to me. I guess nature is inescapable.

Sitting still has made me realise just how much pain I’m in. My already fragile wrist feels like it could fall off at any moment – I hope I’m overreacting. A solid pulse aches behind my eyes and my forehead is sticky with dried blood. I should really get cleaned up. I can’t hear anyone moving about so I step out from behind the curtains and go hunting for a bathroom. After three wrong doors and a dead-end, I find one, all white tile and harsh bright light, a stark contrast to the rest of the house. I splash my face with cold water, then scrub at my forehead until it’s clear of blood. The scrape isn’t as bad as it seemed. Doesn’t even hurt. I wash my hands, and the worst of the stains from my clothes, and try to pull the tangles out of my hair. My reflection is still a mess, but at least I don’t look like a corpse someone’s just dug up.

Next stop is the kitchen.

Except someone is already there.

Barbara is standing at the counter, pouring vodka into a glass, her back turned. I freeze, planning on backing out of the door before she even notices me.

“You want one?” How did she? I shake my head, stepping fully into the room and lean on the island. “No, I’m-” “The answer to that question is yes.” She’s pulled out another glass already. “We all need it after today.” “Okay then.” The glass, holding an inch of vodka, is out in front of me. I eye it, knowing I shouldn’t, that we’re not out of the woods yet. Fuck it. Picking it up I take a sip, wincing slightly at the fairly unfamiliar taste. “Rich girl too used to champagne?” Barbara teases. “Something like that.” I sigh. She pouts in response; I can’t tell if she’s being serious. “Don’t get offended. It’s a joke.” “I’m not offended. Just tired.” “Hmm, I wonder why?” She hums as she tops up my glass. “I guess your boyfriend can be quite exhausting to be around.” “He’s not my boyfriend!” My head snaps up to glare at her, but she just laughs as though I’m a tiny puppy who’s trying to be fierce. “Maybe you should try telling him that. Or telling yourself.” She gives me a pointed look. “Jerome… I don’t… We’re not-” “Ooh, “we”!” She’s trying to get on my nerves. And succeeding. “Just shut it, okay! There is no “we”. I just… can’t seem to get rid of him. He’s like a persistent spot on the face of my life.” “A beautiful metaphor, Harleen. But maybe you should think about why you can’t kill him.” She saunters past me to the door, turning for her final statement. “It’s not like you haven’t had the opportunity. So what’s holding you back?” And with that, she leaves. I down the rest of my glass, ignoring the burning, and drop it in the sink. It breaks.

She’s wrong. Whatever she thinks, she’s wrong. I haven’t killed him because I’m not a murderer. Because I’d just be proving him right. It’s not that I don’t want to, or can’t. I’m deciding not to. That’s it. It’s a choice.

I groan, pressing fists into my eyes, trying to get rid of the conflict and lies and confusion that won’t leave me alone. When I take them away and blink, I see a reflection in the window standing behind me. Silently watching. Panicking, I grab a shard of glass and spin around, pointing it at whoever is there. It’s Jerome. I lower my hand but don’t drop the glass.

He smirks at the fear. “Someone’s on edge.” “Who wouldn’t be? We’re being hunted.” I snap at him. I don’t want him anywhere near me. I can’t trust myself. After sneaking through Gotham together, being chased out of the city, the moment against the tree… I’m too complacent. Too self-indulgent. “Come on, no reason to get grumpy at me. This isn’t my fault.” He comes closer, standing beside me, one elbow resting on the counter. I refuse to look him in the eye. “Kind of is. If I hadn’t been in the hospital with you, I wouldn’t be involved in any of this.” “You don’t know that.” “Yes, I do!” I walk away from him, just a few steps but its enough. “They told me: I wasn’t supposed to be there. A happy accident.” “Stop complaining. You’re alive, your family is alive. I call this a win.” Spinning around I stare at him in disbelief. “My family is on the run, flying to another continent. I am a fugitive, stuck with a bunch of criminals. In what way is this a win?” “Seriously, Harls. You need to stop pretending you’re any different to the rest of us.” “I’m no criminal.” He raises an eyebrow. “Try telling that to the man you stabbed, or the one who’s wallet you stole, or whoever the person was who’s bike you stole.” And so many more. So many “little” things over the years. So many “victimless” crimes. I shake my head. “You might not be fully-fledged yet, but you’re well on your way. No stopping ya’ now.”

“Shut up!” I yell. “Why?” His response is almost a growl. “Are you so scared of the truth? So scared of what you really are?” “You’re wrong. I’m a good person. I… I want to be good.” I’m on the verge of tears but I can’t let him see me cry. “Goodness doesn’t have anything to do with it. This is in your blood. In your bones.” He’s coming closer. Always closer. “Stop fighting it. Stop fighting me.” “You don’t have anything to do with it.” I stop backing away and step forward to meet him. “You think you’re so important. That you’re, what, the catalyst to who I really am?” Shaking my head, I laugh. “You’re wrong. You mean nothing to me. You’re a problem, an inconvenience. You’re delusional. And when this is all over you will never see me again.”

Suddenly I’m trapped with my back to the counter and Jerome’s arms caging me in. His chest against mine and all I can think of is the look on his face when we were moments from death. He leans forward and dips his head to whisper in my ear. “So this is nothing to you? You feel nothing?” My eyes flutter closed involuntarily as he brushes against me. “If you can tell me that this doesn’t make your heart race, that you don’t want this, then I’ll leave you alone. You will never have to see me again.” It’s a lie. But that doesn’t matter, because I know he can feel how fast my heart is beating against my ribs, he can feel the slight tremor running through my body. Do I really want him out of my life? To never see him again? The battle in my brain is dulled when his lips make contact with my neck. They’re impossibly gentle – it barely feels like him. I let out a shaky breath to cover the moan that almost escaped. Give in… Just give in… His hand is on my waist. He smells like blood and dirt and smoke. His skin is warm.

But I can’t. I shove him away, struggling to hide the reaction he already knows he got. He’s smirking.

“Leave me alone. Just… just leave me alone!” I run out of the door, run away from the heat and the tension of the house and of Jerome and of my own weakness.

He doesn’t follow me. Alone again. Shivering in the cold night air. I’m in the garden. It sprawls out of sight, paths winding through hedges and flowers and trees. It sounds like there’s a stream nearby. I wander, trying not to let my thoughts consume me. I fail.

What do I really want?

I know the answer to that. But it scares me. I don’t want to want it. I don’t want to want him. I need to get him out of my system. Or I’ll never get away. And I’ll never want to.

Sighing, I drop down heavily onto a bench.

Everything is too much. All my thoughts and emotions are like a whirlwind.

At least my family are safe.

At least I hope they are.

It’s too quiet. The air is still. Even the stream is almost inaudible. A branch behind me snaps.

I jump up too late.

Strong arms are wrapped around me, a needle pricking my neck. I scream behind the hand trapping my mouth shut. I flail and kick and bite at whatever I can find but lead quickly fills my limbs. I only manage one decent hit before my body completely shuts down and my mind begins to fade into sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTY

#jerome valeska #jerome valeska/harleen quinzel #jerome valeska x harleen quinzel #harleen quinzel #gotham #harley quinn

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lets-talk-appella · 5 years

Text

It’s Legal in Munich

Ch 3/4

Summary: Lonely in Munich, Germany, Chloe hires an escort to pass the night. AU. Addition from Bechloe Week 2019: 20 Questions. Not representative of individual experiences in the sex industry.

Word Count: 2k

Rating: T

AO3 and FFN

For the most part, repeat clients are Beca’s favorite.

They’re usually polite, comfortable around her, and they pay the best. She knows what to expect from them, and they from her. She can even have genuine conversations with some of her repeat clients. It works well.

So when she’d seen that familiar name once again asking for her, she’d been able to imagine exactly how their evening together would go. And she’d been right; Kommissar is nothing if not predictable.

And after, just like clockwork, once Beca has put her dress back on and Kommissar has shrugged on a robe, Kommissar walks Beca to the door. “Thank you for a lovely night,” she says in heavily accented English, as she always does. “Was good stress relief,” she adds as an afterthought, making Beca hesitate.

This is a slight deviation from their typical script and Beca isn’t usually a huge fan of small talk (something about Kommissar has made her spew word vomit in the past), but she quickly recovers and manages, “Busy schedule?”

Kommissar’s shoulders lift into a shrug and she tilts her head gently. “Busier than normal. The World Championships are this year and we need to train. For a cappella,” she adds, picking up on Beca’s confusion.

“Oh,” Beca says, hearing the surprise in her own voice. She had no idea there was a World Championship for making music with just one’s mouth. It seems there’s a lot more to a cappella than she’d ever known. “Are you guys—you’re good? Since you’re going to the World Championships?”

A corner of Kommissar’s mouth curls up into a smirk that tugs at something inside Beca, and she has to block whatever weird compliment threatens to break free. “We are the best,” Kommissar states simply, her voice somehow simultaneously sensual and factual.

“Then I’m sure you’ll win. I’m rooting for you.” Beca tries for a sporty arm wave or something, but instead ends up waving her fist around aimlessly. “You probably don’t even need to train.”

Kommissar’s smirk widens as her eyes momentarily flick to Beca’s lips. “We will win, but… doesn’t hurt to reach perfection.”

“Of—of course,” Beca replies, wondering absently if Chloe knows about this competition. Maybe her group from Barden had even competed in it. “I mean, you’re already physically flawless, so, like, I’m sure your group is just absolutely, like, really also very flawless, and, um, it’s probably…”

Beca hears her own voice trailing off, distracted by Kommissar’s widening smile. “I should give you a nickname. Tiny mouse? You are small and cute like mouse.”

Beca is pretty sure she doesn’t look all that attractive with her mouth hanging open in surprise, but she can’t seem to close it. Thankfully, it only takes her a handful of seconds to recover; she makes her exit after a few more minutes of conversation, leaving Kommissar with a wave and a “You know where to find me!”

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

“You bought me a postcard with tons of boobs on it?”

Beca blinks. “Um, yeah? It’s the culture here.”

Chloe stares back at her, eyes narrowed and lips pursed in thought. She holds the postcard in question pinched between two fingers securely so it doesn’t flutter away in the breeze. The various images of cleavage adorned in tight-fitting, colorful traditional German clothing stand out proudly on the postcard.

“Oh,” Chloe says, studying the images. “And I assume the beer also pictured is…”

“Traditional.”

“Awes. I love it. Very Munich,” Chloe decides happily, sliding the postcard into her bag. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Beca grins, reaching for Chloe’s hand automatically as they walk away from the souvenir shop. Around them, the late-afternoon streets bustle with vendors, shoppers, and wanderers like themselves. “Least I could do after you organized today.”

“Yeah? You had fun, right?” Chloe asks with wide eyes. “It wasn’t weird or anything?”

Beca shrugs. “I think all the looks we got from old people made any weirdness worth it. It was definitely fun, Chlo.”

Chloe’s beaming smile does something funny to Beca’s stomach, making it twist and flip pleasantly. Beca hadn’t been expecting to have as much fun as she did on the e-scooter tour Chloe had organized—in fact, she’d been pretty sure she was going to crash and die or get hit by a car and die or maybe just spontaneously die somehow—but it had been one of her favorite days in Munich in all the time she’s spent there.

They’d ridden around the city on electric scooters, accompanied by a tour guide who knew seemingly everything about the history of Munich, including its good times and dark days. Both she and Chloe learned a lot, took tons of photos, and ate more than they probably should have. They’d visited a biergarten in the English Garden, watched people surf in the middle of the city, saw the college, and generally zipped along the streets, wind flowing thought their hair. People stared at them, many waving in excitement, but some older people shot them glares that made Beca laugh. She didn’t know what their problem was; she was having too much fun to care.

She had fallen once, but only because she’d been trying to impress Chloe by jumping a curb. The curb had bested her, and her scooter went one flying off in one direction while she went in another, hitting the pavement hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. She’d been fine, with more harm done to her ego than to her body; she’d been embarrassed, face burning, until Chloe had helped her up and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Yeah. It had been a good day.

“I’m happy you liked it,” Chloe chirps, apparently satisfied with herself. “I’ve always wanted to do it.”

Beca nods. “Maybe I’ll have to get an e-scooter of my own, just because.”

“I think you should. They’re fun. And good for the environment.”

“Mmm,” Beca hums, distracted as her eyes land on a nearby gelato stand. Her mouth waters in anticipation; she’s never been able to turn down the sweet, cool dessert. “You want some?” she asks, tilting her head toward the stand. “I can grab it.”

“Oooh, sure,” Chloe agrees, her eyes moving toward the stand. “I’ll take…um, strawberry on a cone,” she decides after a second.

“Okay, one sec,” says Beca, dropping Chloe’s hand and stepping toward the gelato stand. She orders Chloe’s choice and a scoop of chocolate on a cone for herself, and hands the woman behind the stand the money.

The woman scoops the gelato, handing Beca the strawberry first. “Your girlfriend is very pretty,” she says as she prepares Beca’s order. “You two look good together. Happy.”

“Oh, uh—” Beca hesitates, then forces a smile, hoping she doesn’t look too awkward. “Thank you, that’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s true,” the woman shrugs, handing Beca the chocolate gelato. “Have a good evening together.”

“Thanks,” Beca says again, then turns and walks back to Chloe. Her face is on fire and she really hopes Chloe, by some miracle, hadn’t heard or seen any of that exchange. “Here’s this,” she mutters, handing Chloe her cone of strawberry gelato.

“Looks tasty,” Chloe says in appreciation, taking a lick as they resume walking down the busy sidewalk. “It is tasty.”

“Good, yeah,” Beca replies quickly. “Um, yeah, I like getting the gelato around here. It’s always good.”

“Hmm.”

“Yeah, it’s really—all the flavors are—”

“Girlfriend, huh?”

Beca’s heart stutters. “Um… yeah. I guess she assumed.”

“Is she wrong?” Chloe’s asks bluntly, her voice free of assumption or pressure; with a glance over at her, Beca realizes that Chloe is asking her to make the decision without cornering her. She understands that no matter her answer, Chloe will still be there for her and that nothing has to change unless she wants it to.

“I…”

“It’s okay,” Chloe says with a shrug. “We don’t have to label—”

“No, it’s not—” Beca cuts herself off with a huff. “Um, it’s just—I mean, Chlo, this isn’t really… like, you’re leaving Germany soon, and it’s not like I’m planning on being here forever, but I don’t know where I’ll end up. So, I don’t… you know?”

Chloe nods, taking another lick of her gelato; Beca notices that her own has started to melt, chocolatey drips rolling down the dessert and descending precariously close to the cone and her hand. She quickly catches them with her tongue as Chloe says, “Yeah, I know, and that’s—that’s fine. I was only wondering.”

“For sure,” Beca breathes, relieved and, once again, more than a little surprised by Chloe.

Around them, the late afternoon Munich streets bustle with tourists and locals, bikes passing every few seconds with a jingle of their bells. A group of kids across the street crowd around a street performer with a violin, laughing whenever the performer winks playfully at them.

As they walk, taking in the sights, Beca’s mind races. Though Chloe hadn’t said anything for a few minutes, and the silence blanketing them is a comfortable one, she feels uneasy. Their conversation had been too similar to one she’d had before, but with a completely different outcome.

“Do you want to go watch the surfing again?” Chloe asks. “I know it’s all the way in the park, but I thought it was aca-awesome.”

“Hmm?”

“The surfing? Do you want to…” Chloe trails off, her eyes flicking between both of Beca’s. Somewhere along the way, she must have finished her gelato; the dessert is gone, its only remnant a smudge of strawberry at one corner of Chloe’s mouth. “Bec? What’s up?”

“Um, you’ve got a bit of…” Beca points to the same spot by her own mouth, and Chloe gets the hint and swipes at the spot impatiently with a napkin.

“Are you good?” Chloe asks once her face is clean of gelato. Concern fills her expression, a line appearing between her eyebrows.

Beca scrunches up her face. “I—yeah, it’s just—um. A couple weeks after I started working here, I went on a few dates with a guy I met.” The words spew out of her, and she risks a glance at Chloe, who only nods in slow encouragement.

“Right,” Beca huffs. “And things were good or whatever, but then he started to get… weird. About my job,” she answers Chloe’s look of confusion.

“Oh,” Chloe says softly, her eyes softening.

“Yeah. He got jealous and wanted me to quit, and when I wouldn’t, he called me these… just horrible things. It—it scared me.”

“I’m so sorry, Bec,” Chloe whispers.

Their walk slows to a crawl, until they finally stop off to the side of the walkway, next to a corner of a random building.

Beca forces a shrug. “Thanks. I ended it with him, and I haven’t seen him since, but… I don’t like talking about my job so much anymore, and then when you started… I don’t know, I was always nervous that you’d—” She stops to take a breath. “You wouldn’t. I know that. But still…”

“But it was still hard?” Chloe guesses carefully.

Beca nods, laughing a little at herself. “Yeah, kinda dumb maybe, but…”

“Not dumb,” Chloe says immediately. “After that—after what you had to deal with, I get it.”

The look on Chloe’s face, nearing guilt, jolts Beca’s stomach. “And I know you’re not like that,” she says quickly. “I knew that the second you asked me to play Twenty Questions. It’s still just kind of… hard… sometimes, and the thing about labels just...”

“I hear you,” Chloe replies quietly when it becomes apparent Beca isn’t going to finish her sentence. “Thanks for telling me.”

Beca manages a small, sincere smile, feeling… not lighter, exactly, but maybe just that much more relaxed around Chloe.

“So... what do you know about the a cappella World Championships?” she asks, and Chloe’s entire face lights up.

“Bec! It’s so cool!” Chloe exclaims, and immediately launches into an explanation of the history of a cappella, the cumulation of which results in the Worlds competition.

Even if it’s impractical and unrealistic for what she and Chloe have to be labeled as anything other than “short-term” or maybe even “doomed-to-fail,” it’s not going to stop Beca from enjoying the moment.

As she has this thought, reuniting her fingers (left slightly sticky from her gelato) with Chloe’s, her phone lights up. It’s in her pocket, tucked away and left on silent to be checked later, so she won’t immediately see the email that, despite all odds, will change everything.

#bechloe #bechloe fic #my writing #beca mitchell #chloe beale

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yodawgiherd · 5 years

Text

Bit Tied Up at the Moment

Rating: E

>>>Read on AO3<<<

A/N: First of all, I'd like to thank everyone for the recent feedback I've gotten, all the kudos/comments/asks, stuff like that. I know that I sound a bit like a broken record at this point, but I really do appreciate every single one, and probably wouldn't be here without them by now. So thank you! This chapter was created in the span of about two weeks, and since I kept adding tidbits here and there, it in the end stretched over 10k words. Life is fun sometimes. If a (way too) long smut with (unnecessary) buildup, is your thing, then enjoy!

In other news, I'm leaving for about two weeks today, so I won't be much around social media while getting the much-needed fresh air. Keep being awesome while I'm gone! And see you guys after.

..........................................

Sometimes, it’s important to take a step back and look at the bigger picture, realize what choices and paths were taken in order to get where you are today. Retrospective helps, after all. Having nothing better to do, in the situation she found herself in, incapacitated as she was, Mikasa took a moment to reminisce and do just that. So how does one get naked, well almost, tied to the bed, so tightly that she couldn’t move a muscle, blindfolded, and with her boyfriend doing god knows what devilry just a few feet away, only heightening the tension that was already thick in the air. She tried adjusting her position a bit, but was unable to, as the cuffs held her really, really fast, her own fault, since she was the one urging Eren to tighten her bindings because she’s a strong independent woman, isn’t she?

“C’ mon, I can handle it.”, she said back then, full of confidence, frowning at him.

Eren, who with his hair hanging around his face did look so hot that Mikasa would most likely just jump him if she wasn’t restrained, was unsure, however, reaching over to smooth a strand of raven hair from her face, a feat she was unable to do by herself anymore, as her hands were tied.

“Really?”

She snorted.

“Totally. This isn’t our first time doing it, not by far, so go ahead and pull those bad boys as tight as you can.”

Shaking his head, he fulfilled her wish, albeit his fingers still swept over her wrists and ankles both, making sure that he isn’t cutting into her blood circulation. A feat that was virtually impossible with the type of binding they were using, but Mikasa appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless.

“Right then.”, moving over to stand next to where her head was, Eren pulled out the blindfold from the back pocket of his jeans, smiling down at his helpless, and very excited, victim. “I need to finish some things up, and don’t want you peeking. Ready to go blind?”

As ever.

“Bring it on.”

It wasn’t long since the world went dark, just about five minutes, but every second felt like an hour. Mikasa was definitely looking forward whatever Eren was cooking up, and patience regarding her sexual satisfaction was never her strong suit in the first place, a fact that her lover just loved abusing. Well, nothing she could do now. At least the bindings didn’t bite into her skin since the leather was nicely soft, and she was wearing both gloves and stockings to protect her to a degree anyway, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t secure. Rolling her eyes up to look at the ceiling, or rather somewhere where she assumed the ceiling was, as the blindfold worked perfectly and the only thing she could see was absolute darkness.

So, where did this all begin?

In the morning, of course. Mikasa woke up all nice and rested, rolling over to be met with the radiant green gaze she adored. Eren gave her a smile, head propped on an elbow, giving her all sorts of sinful thoughts first thing in the morning. Bad influence, really. On his part, Eren wasn’t faring much better, having trouble getting his brain to work at all. Eren always thought of himself as a rather clever person, but Mikasa could just make him lose his head on a moment’s notice, such magical was the hold she had on him and his cognitive abilities. She was looking as beautiful as always, but in addition to that, she was sporting the cutest bedhead ever, making him feel like looking at her equaled staring right into the sun. That bedhead was honestly part of the reason why he loved watching her wake up every morning he could, that thing should be illegal. The way her hair stood all around her face, giving her a little halo of her own, did resemble the sun. His own perfect star, one he was so lucky to have.

“Slept well?”, he asked, doing his best to snap out of the admiration trance.

“It was okay. Much better than a few days back, when I woke up in the middle of the night once, feeling like someone was choking me.”

His grin got wider.

“Choking you, huh?”

“Ass.”, reaching over, she poked him in the chest, “Not the good kind you do, the one that’s done by someone actually trying to hurt you.”

Seeing him still snickering, her frown deepened.

“Was probably just you snoring that woke me anyway.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Sure you don’t.”

Sticking out the tip of her tongue at him, Mikasa felt rightfully avenged and sat up to stretch her sleep-sore muscles, still feeling Eren’s eyes on her body. Not much of a surprise, as they ogled each other rather often, but it took some time getting used to. At the early stages of their relationship, when either of them caught the other during it they usually blushed like crazy and looked right away. Now, however, when she met Eren’s gaze, he just winked at her knowingly.

“Planning something today?”

She shook her head.

“Not anything special, no. Wanted to go for a run, but in this heat, I think I'll just take the bike down to Levi’s gym, use the treadmill there. Don’t wanna cook myself.”, she narrowed her eyes at him, “Why are you asking?”

“I wanted to go shopping today, so I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”, Eren shrugged, “But it’s fine if you don’t feel like it.”

“Please, why wouldn’t I want to spend time with you? I’ll gladly go.”, getting up from the bed, she turned back towards him, “When are we leaving?”

“Someone’s full of energy.”, following her example, he got up himself, as he had to anyway, “I got a meeting scheduled, one I don’t wanna miss, so how about I’ll go attend it, you can go for your treadmill run, and we meet up later?”

A good plan, one Mikasa could get behind. Breakfast later, some delicious sandwiches that they made together, she was speeding her bike down the road to the gym, the sun climbing to its peak over her head. Levi’s grumpiness was just about fifty percent of the usual levels, for some reason, so it was also a delight to interact with her lovely brother. Meanwhile, Eren had his own problems on the other side of the town.

“I did look over the plans, but I still need a bit more time to figure things out.”, Zackly said, giving him an apologetic smile. “Got the other stuff you wanted though, even with the adjustments.”

Reaching under the counter, he pulled out a large box, sliding it over to Eren, who immediately opened it, inspecting the contents. Picking up one weird looking toy, he arched an eyebrow at it.

“How does this thing even work?”

The shop owner shrugged.

“Not sure, but there’s a manual included with everything. You can pick up on some light reading.”

“Will do.”

Chuckling, Eren closed the box, satisfied. He nodded at Zackly.

“Let me know when you get the time to finish the drafts, okay?”

“If the wife lets me. She’s always like, Darius, why don’t you spend more time with your family? Darius, you know that we had the reservation! Stuff like that.”, he sighed, “The worst thing is, I know that she’s right.”

“Women tend to do that, most of the time.”, reaching over the counter, Eren put a supportive hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Hang in there buddy.”

“I’ll do my best. See you Eren, have fun with the new toys.”

“Oh don’t you worry about that, we most certainly will.”

With the last wave, he was out of the door, just in time for Zackly’s phone to begin ringing. Checking the screen, he was not surprised in the least to see his wife’s name there. Ah shit, here we go again. Picking up, he steeled himself for another barrage that was sure to follow.

Finding Eren in the mall was easy enough. Sneaking up on him was a bit harder, but Mikasa managed nonetheless, jumping on her prey and covering his eyes with her hands, grinning victoriously.

“Guess who?”

Eren staggered but didn’t fall, much to his credit.

“Oof, such a strong grip, there’s only one person in the whole world that has it.”, he faked a surprised gasp, “Jean, I told you that we must keep our love secret! If Mikasa finds out she’s going to kill us both!”

Gasping herself, she took a step back, putting her hands on her hips and watching her fiancé turn around with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Really? Jean? You’d really compare me to someone you dislike so much?”

“I do not dislike him. Jean Kirstein is my very good friend, as I was ordered to stop fighting with him by my beautiful, not intimidating or scary in the least, girlfriend. Therefore, in order to keep my body intact, we are best buds.”

“Of course, until one of you gets the five-year-old fit again, and you are back to being mortal enemies for a week.”

Eren just shrugged.

“It’s nice having a rival.”

“Rival in what exactly?”, Mikasa shook her head, not understanding the relationship those two dorks had at all, “Really, you make your life sound like some Japanese anime.”

“Must be your influence, you are the only representative of the hentai master race in my life.”

“You know what? I’m not even going to answer that. Now let’s do some actual shopping before I bite your head off.”

As it is important to keep your head, Eren had no complaints about her order. Neither of them was really much of a shopaholic, but it was fun to just spend the time together, and Mikasa did pick up a few things that caught her eye.

“Swimming trunks?”, she arched an eyebrow at Eren, who was going through the collection and trying to find a pattern he liked. “Don’t you have some already?”

“I used to.”, he explained, “But you tore them during our last holiday. Don’t remember?”

“Oh, those…”, she did remember, the memory bringing a bit of color into her cheeks. Damn, but that was a good time. They went to some tropical island in the Pacific and It was the first time she got to see the ocean, with her own eyes, in all its glory, the endless waves and salty water scaring her at the start, but it slowly crept under her skin, and before she realized it Mikasa was already missing that big blue thing. Eren also used to make fun of her for the sound she made when the water first touched her feet, the “Eeek!” being apparently so adorable that it etched into his brain. They should go again, sometime soon.

As she had a brand new bikini herself, Mikasa set off to find something she was missing, or rather desired, leaving Eren to ponder his choice of new swimwear. A dress, some sandals, and even a new pair of fingerless padded gloves for her workouts. It was in the shop where she found these, a sport-oriented one, that the interesting thing happened. Coming back after paying for the gloves, Mikasa found Eren staring at the wall, a thing that he usually didn’t do, as far as she knew. Not sure what this was about, she tapped him on the shoulder, getting his attention with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

“Me? Just staring at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”, he answered, swinging his vision back towards the wall, “How can she be so cute, just look at her.”

Mentally preparing for whatever joke this was supposed to be, she followed his eyes with her own, only to find herself staring at nothing else but herself. Well, a rather large version that is. Plastered all over the wall, there was a photo of her, the upper half of her body to be exact, dressed in her workout attire and staring forward with a determined expression, photographed in the middle of tightening one of her gloves. That wasn’t all. Just a few meters to the left, she was shown stretching her arm, a faint smile on her lips. Apparently, Mikasa Ackerman was the shop’s flavor of the month.

“So pretty…”, Eren sighed next to her, the smile on his face suggesting just how much he was enjoying the situation.

Mikasa had no idea what to say. She knew that the photos of her taken at the studio are obviously going somewhere, and she saw a number of magazines with herself already, but this was the first time that she witnessed anyone putting her on the wall as a decoration. It was surely flattering, but also kinda weird, looking at yourself, and Mikasa found herself rather flustered, especially with Eren snickering right next to her. Well then, let’s see how he likes having the game turned around.

“Would you look at that.”, she said, “How many people do you think sees this daily?”

“Ehm, I dunno… A few hundred?”, Eren looked around, “It’s a big shop.”

“Hundreds of people, staring at my body, day by day…”, Mikasa clicked her tongue, “That’s a lot, isn’t it?”

Eren’s eyes narrowed as he watched her.

“What are you implying, exactly?”

“Nothing.”, Mikasa’s smile was the essence of innocence, “But look, you can see the line of my back on the picture, the one that you say you love so much. And here, there’s the beginning of my abs. You know, I wonder, do other people also look at me and think how it would feel to run their hands over those things? To kiss them maybe?”

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do, you’re trying to make me jealous.”, Eren whispered, voice dropping an octave lower, “But you can’t, it’s just a picture,”, reaching out, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling Mikasa much closer than before, “I have the real thing.”

“Of course, just a picture, nothing else.”, she agreed readily, “But there’s so many of them, all the magazines and stuff, you think anyone ever did the good old one-two to them?”

The grip on her waist tightened.

“Did you just make me imagine someone masturbating to your photos babe?”, Eren growled right into her ear, the vibrations seeming to travel right through her spine.

“What if I did?”, she whispered right back, defiant.

“Then I suggest we should pack it up and go home. I have some….hmm.. training to do.”

Bingo.

“Then we better go, wouldn’t want you to miss that.”

Done with talking, Eren grabbed a hold of her hand, definitely a bit more firm than usual, and set a brisk pace back towards the car, jaw clenched. Matching his tempo, Mikasa couldn’t help but feel the anticipation inside her rising, because as worked up as he was, whatever he was about to do to her, it should be pretty damn worth it. Bless whoever decided that her face is the best option for that sportswear shop’s wall, really.

Even the drive home was a tease, since Eren kept one hand on Mikasa’s knee, all possessive suddenly, playing with the hem of her skirt but never actually dipping his finger underneath it. It wasn’t until they parked in the garage that she noticed the rather large box he pulled out of the trunk, giving her a pause.

“What’s that?”, she wanted to know, not sure if he perhaps bought something for himself when she wasn’t looking, because she couldn’t remember seeing this box before.

“A surprise.”, was all Eren offered, not bothering to explain it any further before once again taking hold of her hand and pulling the raven inside.

Whatever the magic box was, Eren just took it upstairs, acting like nothing happened, save for the all-knowing smirk that was driving Mikasa nuts. Only after everything they bought was properly put away, he did take her to the bedroom, where the thing was sitting on the dresser, all innocent-like.

“You’re probably wondering what I got for you in the small box of wonders.”, Eren pointed at the mystery-shrouded object, “Don’t you?”

Honestly, she was totally on the edge of her imaginative seat, but he didn’t need to know that now, did he. Doing her best to appear indifferent, she just shrugged.

“A little bit.”, Mikasa admitted, playing it cool. “And the box isn’t really small, it’s pretty big.”

But judging from Eren’s expression, he saw right through her.

“Good point. Anyway, I’ll need you to close your eyes for me love, no peeking. It would spoil the surprise.”

Rolling her eyes about the in her opinion completely unnecessary dramatic flair, she did as he asked, hiding her grey orbs behind their respective lids.

“There. Happy?”

A kiss appeared on her cheek, right on her scar.

“Very much so, thank you babe.”

Eyes closed, Mikasa was left to tap her foot impatiently while Eren rummaged in the admittedly big box of wonders, looking for something. Apparently finding it, he came closer, the desire in her to cheat and crack an eye open increasing with every step he took. But she held herself back and was rewarded with her lover reaching up to wrap something around her neck, the gentle hug of leather very familiar on her skin.

“All right, you can look.”

But opening her eyes, Mikasa couldn’t really see any change, apart from his grin growing wider, because whatever he gave her was firmly holding on her throat, out of the view. It was easy to guess that it was a collar, as she had vast experience with having one, but what was so special about it? It took Eren about ten seconds before he realized that she actually can't see whatever the improvement was, and as soon as he did he stepped aside, letting her approach the full-length mirror they had in the bedroom, finally letting her inspect the new piece she received.

It did look similar to those that they already had, but there were some obvious differences. The most obvious ones were the letters, made in silvery metal, at the front of the thing, spelling nothing else but her own name. They were big, the kind that was attached one by one, taking up most of the space there, save for the ring to attach the leash to, in between the K and A in Mikasa. Another thing she noticed, there was no adjusting this collar, it had only one buckle, and sat perfectly on her neck, which meant that it was made specifically for her, as the name would have suggested anyway.

“What do you think?”

“What do I think?”, she repeated Eren’s question, fingers running over the cool metal of the letters, which felt really pleasurable to the touch, “What else would I think, other than I love it! It’s amazing!”

“Really?”, Eren could feel a bit of weight falling from his shoulder, as he was rather unsure if she would actually appreciate this. He didn’t know if having a personalized collar was Mikasa’s thing, and couldn’t really ask without spoiling the surprise, but was glad that she liked it. He did have another one ready, if she didn’t, one that spelled Kitten instead of her name, a bit more neutral in Eren’s opinion and not that different, as both words had six letters, but if she liked this one, the other could very well wait. After all, he was the one who gave her the choking dreams, caused by him doing his best to measure her neck, as gently as he could without waking her up because as Darius said, the numbers needed to be exact if he wanted the collar to fit perfectly. But seeing her as happy as she was with the gift, it was totally worth it, and also the time to strike the iron while it was hot.

“I got some other pieces that go well with the collar.”, Eren offered, “Not that I’m any kind of fashion specialist, unlike you, but…

“Just show me.”, she interrupted him, impatient for once. But Eren was having none of it.

“Not yet, first we have to take care of a certain pressing matter. Your rude teasing at the mall.”

“Ow, come now, you’re not going to be upset about such a little thing, are you?”

“Upset? No, not at all…”, the predatory smile that he had, Mikasa knew that one very well, “But I do believe that you were a bad, bad girl, so I need to discipline you. Punishment is in order.”

Punishment? For what? A few words? Hardly fair, yet she was not in the mood to argue about it, especially now that she got a shiny new collar, just setting the mood for a little bit of bottoming on her part.

“If you think that It will help….”, she let the end of the sentence hang in the air, letting Eren take the lead, just as he wanted. Crossing the distance to the bed, he sat down, motioning for her to come over.

“I think that I’ll go with some classic, no need to be creative right off the bat.”, seeing her nod, as Mikasa was on board with anything really, Eren continued, “A spanking should do you good.”

Mikasa was not spanked as a child, as Levi never touched her, so the whole concept still seemed a bit alien to her, but she wouldn’t complain. Eren, on the other hand, received his healthy dose during childhood, the unruly child that he was before his father’s demise, often leaving Carla no other option. Now was not the time to think about that, however, as this spank was not much about the punishment, but more about the fact that they both enjoyed it. Taking Mikasa’s hand in hers and guiding her to lay across his lap, so he would have easy access to the area of intended disciplinary action, Eren pulled up her skirt, exposing that perfectly toned ass that he simply adored.

“How many slaps do you think are an adequate punishment?”

“None?” , Mikasa tried, looking at him over her shoulder.

“For such a brat like you? Nah, that won’t do.”

“One then?”

“I think I’ll make it ten. With you counting, of course.”

Removing her underwear, as it would dampen the impact, not because he just enjoyed having her naked, totally, Eren raised his hand, looking down at his victim.

“Ready?”

She nodded.

“Bring it on.”

The slap was way harder than she anticipated, making Mikasa cry out. Eren was not holding back, that was for sure. Yet as always, beneath the pain there was the pleasure she craved, seeping into her lower belly, making the situation actually enjoyable, despite the sting.

“One.”, she counted as ordered.

The ten hits were slow, hard, and smartly placed, as Eren had quite an experience with disciplining her. Exactly the way Mikasa enjoyed. By the time they got to the last one, she had tears in her eyes, not bothering to hold her cries in. There really was no need to do that. With the punishment done, her ass stung like hell, red from the beating, but Eren did let her stand up, not breaking his word. Back on her feet, Mikasa wiped the tears away, waiting for whatever was about to follow, pleasurably sore in the right places. And the night was only starting.

With that out of the way, it was time to move on. Pulling out the harness he got, Eren handed it over to Mikasa, who stared at it with a question in her teary eyes.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s for you.”, Eren pointed out, “To wear.”

Inspecting the individual parts, connected to each other, it finally seemed to click for her, yet she remained unconvinced.

“Wear? But it’s just leather belts, it doesn’t cover anything.”

Eren couldn’t help but smile.

“Isn’t that kind of the point?”

Agreeing that he was right, Mikasa shed her normal clothes, everything save for the new collar, and with Eren’s help managed to put the thing on. It was a bit confusing at the what goes where part, but they made it, so she was left to inspect herself in the mirror, frowning. It was weird. While the black leather looked good in contrast with her porcelain skin, the fact that the harness was literally just belts did look a bit goofy. It framed her breasts, went down around her stomach and ended up at the top of Mikasa’s thighs, not hiding anything from view. Really, not a thing, which meant that Eren did notice that little change on her body she did recently.

“You shaved?”, noticing the lack of the usually trimmed stripe of hair she kept above her most private region, one he was quite acquainted with.

“Yes. You mind?”

Eren snorted.

“Not really no. As far as I’m concerned, you can shave what you want baby, and life is change.”

Taking a step back Eren looked her up and down, nodding to himself.

“Looks good.”

Well sure, the harness did fit with the collar, but they were both black leather, so it wasn’t that much of a miraculous surprise. Other than that, she just still felt… naked, albeit it was no problem as only Eren was in the room, but still. He must have noticed her scrunched nose because he was quick to continue.

“However, we can make it even better.”

“With what?”

“Wardrobe like yours, I’ll find something.”, not discouraged, Eren did a quick sweep of her stuff, and soon returned with two more articles of clothing. The stockings and elbow-long gloves, both made from latex, black, of course, stuff she usually wore for her nurse roleplay.

“Let me help.”, Eren offered, knowing that the stockings especially were a bit of pain to put on, tight as hell, although the way Mikasa looked while wearing them made it totally worth it, “Sit down on your beautiful ass and give me your right leg if you please.”

More than happy with his assistance, she did as told, carefully as her butt still stung, extending her right leg, which Eren took a gentle hold of.

“Black toenails.”, he observed, pressing a playful kiss to the instep, “Classic.”

“This makes me feel like in that one fairytale.”, Mikasa said, watching as he began rolling the dark flexible material over her toes and up.

“Indeed, you are my fetish Cinderella.”, snapping the top of the stocking against her upper thigh Eren nodded to himself again, satisfied with both his work and the sound that action made.

“Which would make you a Prince Charming then.”, she sighed, extending her other leg as Eren was done with the first one, “Not sure that I’m happy with that.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Legs done, he helped her with the gloves too, and now most of Mikasa’s body was covered in black, much to her satisfaction. It is the best color, after all, one that most of the stuff she likes has, like night, darkness, or dark chocolate. And it’s shiny too. Picking up two pairs of cuffs after, Eren attached one to each of her wrists and ankles, an action she didn’t question as she was fully expecting to be tied up at some later point of the evening.

“Feedback?”

Mikasa rolled her shoulders, stretched her legs, feeling the tight confines of the latex, searching for any discomfort that she could report to her clothing assistant.

“The harness feels a bit loose.”, she admitted, “Especially in contrast to the other things.”

“No worries, I’ll fix it.”

Reaching behind her, Eren played with the buckles a bit, and Mikasa could feel the way the belts tightened, most noticeable on the ones on her chest, which were now squeezing her breasts from the sides. It felt pretty good; all things considered.

“Better?”

“A lot.”

Okay, now she was squeezed on all sides, and the outfit wasn’t bad, far from it, but still, she didn’t feel completely sold at it. Definitely not as much as Eren, who was having his expression of “I could die now, and I’d go as a happy man”. Turning and twisting, she did try to see herself from his point of view but came up short. The whole thing just felt like a discount catsuit, without the heels and the material in the middle, although she might be a bit biased on that matter as she totally loved the catsuit, to date a favorite part of her wardrobe. It was just like being tied up in the shibari way, an activity that Eren got rather skilled in as he had plenty of practice, only instead of ropes it was leather belts, that was about it.

“You still don’t get it, do you.”, Eren spoke up, sensing her doubts once more. He was kinda good at that, after all their time together. Coming to stand behind Mikasa, he gently directed her body until she was full on facing the mirror, with him in the background, not much more than a shadow.

“I’ll make you see.”, he whispered, “I’ll show you just how beautiful you are like this, how perfect, no one else in the world looks so great like you do right now.”

“Please I…”

“Shush, just listen.”, Eren interrupted her, “Look into the mirror, and I want you to really see yourself, your body, take in every detail, every curve, every inch.”, his hands dropped to her waist and below, caressing the upper part of her thighs left uncovered by the stockings, “Your legs, so amazingly long and shaped, made even better by how tightly encased they are, making those facts stand out for anyone who would care to look.”, fingers moving up, Eren began making small circles on Mikasa’s hipbones, while in the same time the tone of his voice moved down, becoming the raspy whisper she heard him using only during times like these, “And above them, what do we have? Your hips, the curve of them just breathtaking, only topped by the one of your ass, but I got that thing naked and pressed right against me right now, so you’ll understand that I’m not giving that feeling up to show you. “, moving up again, this time his fingers were tracing the shapes of her stomach muscles, “Now do I even have to tell you just how otherworldly those are? I feel like I’m repeating myself, but the facts stand. No one in the world has a sexier stomach than you baby. No one.”

Normally, Mikasa would most likely protest against such cheesiness, tell him to shut up or something, but what was the point of doing that right now? All Eren wanted to do was make her feel beautiful, appreciated, and he was fulfilling that goal rather efficiently. The warm and fuzzy feeling was spreading from underneath her belly to the whole body, as she relaxed into his arms, letting her head fall back on Eren’s shoulder, watching herself as instructed through half-lidded eyes. You know what, maybe this outfit wasn’t that bad after all. Meanwhile, Eren’s fingers moved again, this time to her chest, playing with the supple flesh.

“And those puppies, literally the cutest breasts possible.”, circling her understandably aroused nipples, he sighed in delight as she moaned, his trained touch rather pleasurable, “Just the right size to fit in my hands, perky, firm, and so perfectly sensitive, I adore them.”

Eren used to get lost in just doing this, touching this fascinating area of Mikasa’s body, and for some reason, he never seemed to grow bored of the activity. Must be the male genes and their eternal love for boobs. But right now, he had a plan, so reluctantly abandoning her chest, his hands moved upwards once more.

“You have a really nice neck, graceful, but I’ll admit that I do like it collared much more.”, Eren’s long fingers wrapped around her throat, not squeezing, just taking more of a dominant hold on her body, “Gives it a nice touch. And now that you have a personal one, you don’t even have to take it off, do you?”

It was obviously a question meant for her, yet it took Mikasa a few seconds to understand that, her mind in quite a different place right now. Swallowing to get some moisture to her throat, she could feel the leather a bit firmer now, reminder that it was there.

“No sir.”, she finally managed to whisper back, an answer that seemed to please him.

“That’s my kitten. My beautiful, perfect kitten. You have no idea how much I love you baby.”

Now all this talk about love was great and all, but what about some physical love? Eren was groping her for some time now, and it had certain effects on her, mostly manifested by a thin sheen of sweat on her skin and increased wetness between her legs. Honestly, she was just an inch away from touching herself, hands twitching where they were at her sides, a fact that didn’t escape Eren’s eyes, as he could be really observant if he wanted to.

“Sir, I..”, she tried pleading, only to be cut off again.

“Not yet Miki, let me finish first. Then I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

With a sigh, she nodded, forcing her hands to remain idle, while his repositioned again, touching her face.

“You know, I think that I just lied to you. I said that your breasts are the cutest things in the world, but now that I think about it, your face might be even cuter. Just seeing it makes me so happy I could burst.”, he began touching her individual features, one by one, “Your almond shaped eyes, tiny nose, pouty lips, those shiny strands of midnight hair, everything together and set in the canvas of the snow white skin…. How could someone see it and not fall for you on the spot?”

A good question, one that neither of them had the time or will to ponder right now.

“One last thing I want to show you.”, Eren continued, “But first I need to make sure that you won’t misbehave.”

Demonstrating one of many uses of the harness she was wearing right now, Eren took hold of her hands and simply used the cuff’s metal clips to click them closed around the small circles that connected the harness together, in the place where Mikasa’s legs met her body. Just like that, so simply, her hands were tied to her upper thighs, just below her waist. And he was left to work in peace. Moving his own hands again, one went back up to Mikasa’s throat, keeping her head straight, while the other dipped its fingers into her mouth.

“Suck.”, he ordered, and she obeyed, treating those digits as if they were a certain other part of Eren’s body, one that was getting harder and harder to ignore for him, straining in the confines of his pants against the so beautifully reddened flesh of Mikasa’s bare ass, “You remember how many times I told you that the face you make while coming is totally adorable? Well, it’s time you see it for yourself.”

With that, he pulled them out, moving down over all the previously caressed areas of her body, until he reached his destination between her legs, tracing the wet slit with the tips of his equally moisturized fingers.

“I want you to see everything, so don’t close your eyes.”, he whispered into her ear, and dipped in, easily pushing past the entrance and inside her, enjoying the moan she let out.

“It’s embarrassing to think that while I so nicely described everything I love about you,”, Eren continued in the low growl, his voice almost feverish, “that I would forget about your pussy.”, spreading her open, the pink lips glistening, he went on, “So pretty, just like the rest of you, but real beauty comes when I’m inside you. Nothing else in the world would feel like you do. The heat, the tightness, the strength you have down there.”, Eren’s fingers were increasing in tempo, while his palm began rubbing Mikasa’s swollen clit, the way of pleasuring her she enjoyed the most and the one he perfected over countless tries. It was hard to keep her eyes open through it all, but she fought back against the instincts that were telling her to close them and enjoy the show, knowing that Eren was watching her every move. The hands that were tied to her sides clenched, the cuffs rattling a bit as she began shaking, all her muscles wounding tighter in preparation of what was about to come. In the same time, the hand around her throat did finally apply its gentle chokehold, the one that restricted her already labored breathing into nothing more than a trickle, while at the same time Eren kept one fingertip on Mikasa’s pulse, to know exactly when to ease the pressure and allow the air back in.

“When you orgasm while I’m inside you, the way you squeeze and massage my whole length, there is not a better feeling in this whole fucking universe.”, faster still, the wet sounds of his fingers filled her ears while her vision began going white from the pleasure and black from the lack of oxygen at the same time, and she was fucking close, so close…

And still, Eren wouldn’t stop monologuing.

“And you know what the best thing is? That whole package, the amazing, cute, breathtaking, beautiful badass woman is mine, no one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to do this to you.”, he chuckled darkly into her hair, the expert movements of his hand keeping her on the brink, “You’re mine, Miki, just mine, am I right?”

“Yes… Yours…”, she gasped when his fingers shoved deep, making her see stars, but still, her mind wouldn’t allow her to come.

“Eren please!”, she cried out.

“Come for me baby.”, was the last push she needed, letting go upon hearing the order. Gasping, her body trembling, she almost disobeyed and closed her eyes, but Eren’s hand on her throat forced her to keep watching her own face, as her mouth fell open, cheeks boiling red, struggling to keep breathing from the force of it all. Eren was basically the only thing holding her upright now, as her bones felt like jelly and it didn’t help that she had a latex at the bottom of her feet now, the material not offering much traction.

“You okay?”, Eren asked after giving her some time to recover, getting a nod in reply. After he freed her hands, Mikasa straightened, forcing her legs to bear her weight once more, an impressive feat for her right now.

“I hope you realize that we are far from done baby, I didn’t dress you up like this just to finger you, no matter how enjoyable that is.”

Exactly what Mikasa was hoping to hear. As she was right now, however, her body would appreciate a small break, to recover and stuff, and there was a certain activity in her mind that would give her such pause while not halting the tempo of the night. It was only fair that she takes care of him now, anyway.

“Eren?”

“Yes kitten?”

“Want a blowjob?”

He blinked in surprise upon hearing that, as this was not exactly the way he imagined the evening would go.

“Ehm, you do realize that you are supposed to be the bottom here, right?”

“Yea, so what? Since when can’t subs suck dick? In my experience, they do it quite often.”

Fuck it, not like it would be the first time since Mikasa topped him from the bottom. Plus, he was not about to decline a freely offered blowjob, that would be just straight up stupid.

“All right but remember who’s in charge here, okay?”

“You, of course. Who else?”, with a smirk, Mikasa took hold of Eren’s hand, guiding him to sit down on the bed and kneeling in between his legs. Pulling his zipper down and letting Eren’s length spring free, Mikasa took a hold of the thing, intent on giving him some nice treatment for all the praise he showered her in. Luckily, her hands were free for once, and this activity was under her direction, Eren wasn’t just fucking her throat, a thing he seemed to enjoy doing lately. Despite the earlier proclamation, she was in charge now and intended to make good use of it.

Planting a string of playful kisses from the root to the tip, she began moving her hand, getting him nicely excited, but then denied him by moving her mouth down to the balls, attending that area. Eren groaned but didn’t comment on it, knowing that she was the expert here. Finally giving him what he craved, Mikasa enveloped the head inside her mouth, tracing the outline with the tip of her tongue, loving the sounds he made. As Eren needed to remind everyone present, himself mostly, that he’s actually the top here, he placed a hand in the thick of her hair, interlacing his fingers with the strands. Not trying to control her, she knew better, just showing his presence. It was cute, really.

Deciding that its high time to up her game, Mikasa began sinking lower and lower, relaxing her throat as always in anticipation to his considerable length being there. Unable to make it in one go anyway, she pulled back to breathe, replacing her mouth with a gloved hand for a moment, the latex sliding nicely along the spit-slick skin, moving up and down around his thick girth. Eren didn’t seem to mind. Diving back down, she tried again, and this time went as far as she could take him. Deepthroating him like this, to the limits, always resulted in having a sore throat the day after, but it was worth it for her, and Mikasa didn’t mind. Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked, hard, enough for Eren’s body to begin clenching, a sign she knew very well. The orgasm was telegraphed, as usual, giving her time to prepare for it, pulling back just a bit to make the swallowing easier, and was soon rewarded for her efforts with the usual load inside her mouth. Not in the mood to stop, she continued with her vacuum seal special, selfishly sucking out everything he could give her, only releasing his suddenly soft member after he had nothing more. Her job here was done.

“Fuck… I’m really…”, Eren’s chest was heaving, as he was slowly getting his breathing back under control, struggling to speak, “You’re going to kill me with that mouth one day.”

Mikasa looked up, working the ache from her jaw.

“Would you mind dying like that?”

Leaning forward, Eren hooked a finger through the metal circle in her collar, pulling her face up to be close to his own.

“Not really, no.”

But when he tried kissing her, he was forced to edge back when she snarled and clacked her teeth at him, eyes full of playfulness. Her body recovered, and Mikasa was ready to go on with the fun.

“Aggressive huh? That’s all right, I have just the thing in mind for you.”

With a strong yank, he dragged her by the collar to the bed, rolling Mikasa on her back as he covered her body with his own, pressing down to keep her in check. This time, he managed to wrestle the kiss from her, tongues clashing as she was not willing to give up without a bit more fight from Eren’s side. But when she tried getting her hand into his hair, as it was always nice to pull during their makeout sessions, Mikasa was surprised to discover that he somehow managed to get her arm on the side, and connect the cuff she had on the wrist to the waiting restraints they had going under the mattress, a system installed about a year back and having so far an amazing performance. Normally they were kept hidden, but when you needed them, all you had to do was pull them out from under the bed, attach a cuff, and just like that you had a perfect way to tie someone up. Just like Mikasa was getting right now.

“Hey!”, she protested, the words falling on completely deaf ears, however, as Eren quickly took care of her other hand before turning to her legs, and no matter how hard she tried making it for him, he succeeded in restraining them too. Now she was tied to the bed, spread-eagle style, with Eren triumphantly stealing another kiss from her before standing up, leaving her like that. Sneaky bastard. Not that she minded, that is. The bindings were a bit too loose for her taste, however, so she looked up at him, requesting that he tighten them for her, as it was his role as a dom.

“C’ mon, I can handle it.”, she said, full of confidence, frowning at him.

“Really?”

She snorted.

“Totally. This isn’t our first time doing it, not by far, so go ahead and pull those bad boys as tight as you can.”

As ever.

“Bring it on.”

To answer the question at the start in detail then, this was how she got into this position.

Just as Mikasa finished recalling the events of the day, Eren finally completed the aforementioned devilry, bringing his attention back to her. She could feel his touch on her cheek, the gentle caress very much in contrast with her current situation.

“Hanging there kitten?”

She couldn’t help but smile, happy that he’s finally attending to her.

“More or less. Not sure how much more of this waiting I can take though.”

“No worries, I’m here to hook you up.”

The touch disappearing, Eren repositioned himself somewhere, but without her eyes, she couldn’t really track him.

“I think that I have to get all that aggression out of you, and there’s nothing better for that than a few vibrations to help you relax.”, as he was talking, his fingers found themselves between her spread open legs again, this time lubed up as Mikasa could judge from the coldness of them. After he prepared her, a thing entered her, shape she didn’t recognize, pushing itself right against her sweet spot. “As you probably noticed, I got some new toys for you. This one is supposed to stimulate both your clit and your g-spot at the same time, if you believe the advertisement, so it should be most enjoyable. You gotta tell me after.”

Just as she was about to ask if he was perhaps wanting to try it out himself, the fingers were back, this time invading her other entrance. Eren stretched her out, slowly and in no rush, and any words she wanted to say were lost in the moans he forced out of her. The anal plug he used was also a new one, but slid in readily, much to Eren’s joy. He had a good eye.

“Now that I have you so nicely plugged up, its time to take care of the puppies.”

Not even bothering to ask what he meant by that, as she had a pretty good idea, Mikasa was proved to be right as her nipples got clamped right after, making her grit her teeth. Those were tight. That done, Eren ordered her to open wide, pushing the rubber ball between her teeth, gagging her effectively, as he said that her sounds would distract him. From what, that was a mystery to Mikasa, but she was not in the position to negotiate. Just as she thought that everything is ready, Eren surprised her once again, plugging her ears with buds.

“There. And now, to turn everything on.”, came his muffled voice, from somewhere to the right.

“Action!”

First one to come alive was the vibrator, and it was a powerful one, forcing a whine from her throat, but Eren caught it even with her gagged, lowering the setting to a more relaxed one. Then the anal plug, vibrating in sync with the thing in her front, making Mikasa question just how long she can survive such an assault. And then the clamps joined in because apparently everything can vibrate nowadays. Her own moans, seeping through the gag, disappeared from her ears right after, as Eren turned the music in the buds on, a classical piece, and Mikasa was completely robbed of all her senses.

Sight? Gone, taken by the blindfold. Hearing? Gone, taken by the music. Taste? Gone, as the ball gag was effective for both speech and this. Smell? The only thing she could smell was her own sweat, right along with her building arousal, because the vibrators were damn good, Eren was not lying. And touch? She was tied, so tightly that she couldn’t move to touch anything in the first place, and even if she could, then the barrier of latex between her skin and the surface wouldn’t allow her to feel anything. In short, Mikasa was totally and utterly helpless. Subjected to complete sensory deprivation and she loved it, so fucking much.

At first, Eren didn’t have that much of a control over the situation, as the new toys were also a novelty for him, but he was a quick learner. Mikasa managed to come once, from all the stimulation given to her, moaning into the gag, while her body struggled uselessly against the restraints. But then, she was cut off. Getting the information he needed, her lover began his little controlling game, and as he was in possession of all the remotes for the toys, it wasn’t much of a fair play. Anytime she came close, he would lower the settings, denying her finish, but as soon as Mikasa began calming he would fire them up again, edging her. He was letting her cook in her own sweat, slowly, most likely very much enjoying the situation. Eren didn’t even have to touch her to get Mikasa to be this desperate. The technology is really astounding these days.

If the seconds felt like hours before, now they were millennia, stretching endlessly. Lost in her universe of darkness, Mikasa couldn’t do anything to make it stop, couldn’t even beg, gagged as she was, couldn’t throw a pleading look Eren’s way, the blindfold robbing her of such possibility. Writhing around on the bed as much as she could, which wasn’t a lot given the bindings, she tried everything to help herself, but it was for nothing. Her legs were forced open, and the machines were indifferent to her struggle, vibrating against her weak spots exactly as Eren wanted them to. It wasn’t just the ruthless machinery, but also the things she wore, the unnatural tightness she felt on hands, legs, and distributed by the belts all over her body because of the harness only making the overall experience more intense. It restrained her movement, just as the bindings did, not to mention the way her breasts were squeezed anytime her body jolted, muscles reacting to the vibrating torture.

Weeks must have passed in the outside world, while she was trapped here, lost in the sensations. With no way to measure time, all she could do endure it, and while she knew, deep down, that Eren would never keep her tied for so long, the knowledge didn’t mean much when it felt like years. Finally, after centuries, one of the buds disappeared from her ear, Eren’s voice coming in instead.

“How do you feel? Ready to be a good girl?”

Mikasa couldn’t have nodded faster. Getting edged was fun and all, but it was the release at the end that really sold it, and she was yet to receive that.

“All right then, time for your reward.”

With that, Eren tuned the machines to a higher setting and sat back to enjoy the show, letting nature run its intended course. It was quite a spectacle, seeing as her body began tightening from the front seat he had. The buildup Mikasa knew, but unlike before, Eren didn’t lower the vibrations, allowing them to push her over the edge, coming with a long drawn out moan that was damn adorable. He should set it as a ringtone. Happy, finished, Mikasa let out a laugh, muffled by the gag, feeling like she just ran a marathon and won it. And there still seemed to be another lap in front of her.

“See, I could let you out now.”, came Eren’s voice, “But you look like such a snack right now, I gotta have a taste.”

Still blindfolded, Mikasa could only guess that he just climbed on the bed between her legs, judging from the way the mattress dipped, and her guess was soon proven true. With great care, Eren removed the toys from her bottom half, but kept the nipple clamps on her, because why take it all away when you don’t need to. Mikasa wasn’t left to dread the loss of her fun for long, however.

It wouldn’t be Eren if he didn’t take this opportunity to tease her a little bit more, not just going straight at it as she wanted, but instead moved slow, kissing his way over her bound body. He spent some quality time attending Mikasa’s chained nipples, turning the clamps on and off, playing with the settings and honestly just having a blast, because it felt really funny while they were vibrating as he held them inside his mouth and sucked on them. Luckily, all she could do was squirm underneath him and make some noises of protest from behind the rubber ball inside her mouth. If she wasn’t gagged, he was sure that she would have some very choice words for him, so for the moment, it was better to keep her silent. Just as Mikasa was losing hope, her lover's mouth finally appeared where the vibrator used to be, tongue tracing patterns on her lower lips.

“You taste like desperation,”, he commented, “It’s delicious.”

The straps holding Mikasa’s legs loosened a little bit, still holding firm but allowing him to get into a better position, propping her bottom half up and moving his hungry mouth back towards the glistening prize. Eren’s nose bumped into her lower belly as he finally went to town, eating her dripping wetness out diligently and with great enthusiasm. Her clit, so nicely engorged, was easy to find and very inviting to suck on, an invitation which Eren gladly took. In the same time, his fingers found their place inside the tight heat of Mikasa’s ass, penetrating the loosened ring of muscles, as it would be basically a federal crime to leave it unattended. Switching it up after a time, Eren repositioned his fingers from the back to the front, and his mouth in the opposite direction, licking around the hole before dipping in. Let no one say that Eren Yeager doesn’t eat ass, especially so beautifully shaped one, and it also made Mikasa’s moans once again reach that desperate pitch and intensity, the top-shelf quality one, informing him that she was again close. No reason or intention to deny her, he allowed her to cum as she wanted, drinking in her juices, pulling back only after hearing the known sounds of oversensitivity and slight discomfort. Exactly as he expected, the snack was just perfect.

Mikasa was having trouble with getting her body back under control, after the two consecutive orgasms, chest heaving. She was tired, sure, but when Eren pulled the gag from her mouth and removed the blindfold from her eyes, just seeing him seemed to spark the coals inside her. He was just so damn hot, it was unreal. She wanted him, wanted him inside her, wanted him to fuck her, long and hard, wanted to feel him twitching inside her as he found his own finish, to hear the broken syllables of her name leaving his breathless lips. While Eren was just about ready to call it quits and move on to aftercare, the feelings inside her disagreed vehemently.

“Babe..”, she drawled out, making him look at her, “I want…” she giggled, “Sex.”

“Now?”

“Yep… But I want to be untied.”

“Not sure I can do that, I’m supposed to be the big bad dom, aren’t I?”

Good point, so Mikasa thought about it, in the speed of a snail, as her brain was quite done right now.

“All right, tie me up differently then.”

That being a compromise Eren was willing to take, he did untie her, flipping the giggling mess that Mikasa was on her stomach, pulling her arms behind her back and clicking the clips on her wrist cuffs together, effectively tying her hands. After that, Eren continued by bending her legs and tying her ankles to the belts on Mikasa’s upper thighs, so she was forced to balance just on her knees, nothing else. It was hard, made even harder by the latex stockings, and in the state she was in Mikasa would most likely fall, but he kept her up, which for some reason made her laugh even harder. Hormone overdose is no joke. Getting tied up and mounted raw from behind was not exactly on her agenda when she woke up, but it was among the best ways to spend your evening, so Mikasa was not complaining. The opposite, really.

When he finally entered her, for the first time that night, they both moaned in unison, because there was no feeling quite like this. Following her unspoken wish, as there was surely no need to get her ready, Eren began moving, picking up the pace until he was slamming his hips into hers, forcing out the sounds he loved so much. Mikasa’s pleasurable spots were so thoroughly vibrated and sucked through that she came almost immediately, taking another dive into her pools of orgasm, while Eren went on, riding her rhythmically, chasing his own release. Arm wrapped around her waist, the other firmly latched on her shoulder, Eren pulled her ass up while pressing her face into the soft mattress, getting a better angle, reaching deeper, and It was finally enough for him. With a groan, he emptied himself into her, coming to a stop, their bodies slowly calming together. However, before Eren could totally lose it, the sight of her ass, still red from the beating, did give him the taste for another round, so he squeezed Mikasa’s shoulder to get her attention. Would be a shame to leave such a perfectly cute ass unattended.

“You up for one last go?”

“Dunno.”, she murmured at him, face half squished into the bed, blinking lazily at him, tied hands opening and closing at the small of her back as she worked some life back into her fingers. Mikasa was at this point completely satisfied, libido depleted, but if he wanted to fuck her ass, she wasn't the kind of girl to stop him.

“Is your cock up for it?

Eren looked down, seeing that his tool was already half-hard again, prepared for a round two.

“I think he’ll manage.”

“If that’s the case, then let’s do it.”

Pushing past the muscle ring of Mikasa’s ass was always a unique experience, and while they were relaxed a bit by Eren’s previous efforts, it still took a generous amount of lube to make it work. Once inside, he moved much slower, not wanting to explode just a few strokes in, which was a hard goal considering what kind of beauty he had tied in front of him, sweaty and moaning in reaction to his actions. Yet everything must come to an end, and so did Eren’s reserves, finishing and slumping over Mikasa’s body, spent himself, done, finished. Anytime they were together, it was so unbelievably intense, it made Eren wonder if other lovers also felt that way. For their sake, he hoped that they did.

“How long did you edge me for?”, she wanted to know, after they regained the energy to strip her from all the leather and latex, finally get the damned clamps from her poor abused nipples, and get to the bathroom, where their favorite part of aftercare began, just lying in the tub with Mikasa on top of Eren, relaxing the tired bodies and half falling asleep. It was no surprise, as they did the same thing almost every time, but there was no need to change it. Mikasa liked the warmth, liked the skin-on-skin contact, liked being held and caressed after everything was done. So this was just perfect.

“Like five minutes.”

She pinched him.

“Liar.”

“All right, all right, geez you’re aggressive.”, Eren complained, massaging the stinging area, “It was a bit over half an hour, forty-five minutes or so, an hours tops. I was having a lot of fun with the toys.”

“Really? Felt like years to me…”

“That good huh? Seems like those were some great investments then.”

“Mhmm…”, Mikasa yawned, feeling her own body give out on her, the darkness closing in from all sides. She was just so damn tired.

“You know, those photos of you at the mall, it got me thinking.”, Eren did his best to keep the snickering in, “Maybe I should start my own brand of those. Just imagine, you, naked, tied to the bed with all the toys in place and turned on…”, he clicked his tongue, “Those would sell like hotcakes.”

“If you ever even try something like that,” she murmured back, voice dripping with poisoned honey, “I’ll strangle you in your sleep.”

“Hey, easy there killer, it’s just a joke!”

“For your own sake, It better be.”

Seeing Mikasa finally lose the fight with fatigue, Eren remained motionless, just stroking her hair and watching her sleeping face. She looked so peaceful, it was sometimes unreal to realize that while awake, this was one of the most dangerous fighters on this side of the ocean. Shaking his head, Eren chuckled, already looking forward to the morning.

Because this fighter, the one asleep on top of him, had the cutest bedhead of them all, one he was more than ready to experience all over again.

#snk #fanfic #smut #eremika #eren x mikasa #some good ol' fuckery #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #aot

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knifey-shivdarks · 5 years

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i’m having them biracial blues and this is 100% a rant about my life written in some weird ass...i dont know man, i got up in my feelings and it’s hardly coherent but

gif credit, cuz i couldn't get it in the actual gif adder thing

i dont think ill ever forget schoolyard taunts about my thick, black body hair. or that my eyes were demonic because if the light didn’t shine just right, they could almost be black. or that my eyebrows were too big and oh they can see a little bit of hair connecting between them. i never forgot when the girls who were supposed to be my friends started calling me broccoli nose because it’s wider than theirs, you see. or when the boy i had a crush on and a boy who’d always been my friend decided that instead of friend, i should be their yard workers or maids or harvesting their food but its funny ha ha cuz that’s what mexicans do! i wont forget that my hair was boring and why is there so much of it? why is it frizzy? “because i dont have that problem!” said the girl with strawberry hair. and the color! black, but just shy of the inkiness that is beautiful.

i won’t forget that my skin was brown or that the little girl i ran into at toys-r-us, excited and chatty because she’s a friend i thought, walked away with her mother berating “you didn’t tell me she was mexican!” as i stand next to my red-haired, light skinned cousin. i wont forget that no one could say my name proper and it was never worth the effort to try and it didn’t matter if they’d known me for years because it was too foreign on their tongue and it didn’t matter. but heaven forbid i didnt properly pronounce theirs because “its not that hard!!!!” it’s only hard when its attached to someone like me, right? even when it comes from europeans just the same, forced onto my people like the blood of theirs in my veins as a result of their violence.

i’ll never forget thinking my abuser of seven years was so beautiful, right to the very end. i wont forget being eight years old and fighting against fear every time i saw her but going all the same because she was all golden hair and ocean eyes and certainly that means shes good. even as she tells me to shave my hands, my stomach, get rid of the nasty hair that makes me look like an ape. even as she tells me my mouth is too big, my lips look like they’ve been stung. i suppose we are taught, then, from youth to see beauty in our aggressors. for how lucky we are, just to be in their presence. i felt that, in some obscure way. desperately and with all of my being i felt that and hoped and prayed and wished that i could be her.

that i could look like her. it was all i wanted, to look like her because maybe then the world would look at me and see something pretty. something worthy of love. beautiful, and good in all the ways i was told - even without words - that i couldnt be. something worthwhile.

i wanted to look like the mom who raised me. the one i wanted to be perfect for even when she never asked me to be, never even implied it. because to her, i already was. she always told me i was beautiful. braided my hair and kissed my cheek and told me all the things i got from my family that lived across the country, some still in mexico, and why it was such a beautiful thing. do you know what it’s like, that the person who sees you as a treasure is the one no one would ever connect you to? to go out with your mom and your two friends, and people are shocked to hear that youre her child and not the blue eyed blondes? even with her brown hair and hazel eyes and no features to share besides, it was more believable that they were her daughters rather than you.

their only similarity being the color of their skin and yet the message is clear even if you can’t articulate it: you couldn’t possibly be from her, someone who belongs to the group that sets the standard for beauty and worthiness.

that wasn’t me, brown skinned and dark haired and with every feature that runs strong in my papa’s family. my tia said it herself, when i was born. “oh julie, im so sorry. she has the family nose” because she knew, too. my beautiful tia who has no need for shame and she knew that my moms whiteness couldn’t protect me because their features showed full force in me, left no place for my mom’s family to show itself.

i wont forget that the world told me from day one that i was less than. i would always be less than. it’s awful funny, that i lost my love of the outdoors when i first heard that it darkened you. no more summer days spent in the pool, fingers pruning but refusing to get out. no more bike rides, gone in the morning and returned by dinner. no more outdoors karaoke or baton twirling in the driveway. the tree i once loved is abandoned and the branches i’d climbed till i couldn’t any longer grow weak and lonely with time, missing the child who’d settle in and fall asleep in its branches. the warmth of the sun was something i deprived myself of for years with only the wishes of lightening my skin, getting rid of just one of the many things that separated me from everything i thought i should be.

but i found that it didn’t matter how pale i became. because, you see, it’s not a lightness that indicates whiteness. its an “i havent seen sunlight in a year” kind, one that doesn’t fool many and never for long. and how could it? my name would betray my heritage even if my features didn’t.

at twenty-eight, i still havent recovered. i havent learned how to live under the sun again. i havent learned to rediscover that kid that would wait for the weekend and the adventures it’d bring, step outside my door and into the sunlight and stay there in the world, under the heat of the sun until it started retreat into the night.

i wont forget that all expectations of me were based around what i looked like, what they saw in my name. how surprising it was, that i might know things. how unexpected it was, that i understood anything. after all, how could i deign to perform better than some of the other girls, the ones that were expected to go places when it was quite clear where most people expected me to end up.

it didn’t take long, for anger to show itself because it was easier to show that than shame, sadness. it’s strange, that at twelve, a black girl calling me a “white bitch” was offensive for the first part rather than the last. white...white....the thing i wanted to be and yet i was angry when she called me that. angry even if i didnt understand why, at the time. but i do now. i understand the fury in my bones at that moment when she pushed me and i swung back, a kid noted for being quiet and well behaved because i couldnt believe that she saw that.

that because i was not darker then my struggle did not matter. that because i did not look like her, then my disadvantage didn’t exist. the one thing id yearned to be a part of felt like a fist to the gut to be sided with because...i wasn’t. it was the first time i realized that maybe there wasn’t a place for me. that i’d be doomed to be too white for all the people who could empathize with my struggles and too brown for all the people who’d been a source of them.

and it only got worse when people would thing, for appearance, that it was better. but its not a compliment to be fifteen and having a guy hit on you because he “likes them spicy” wink-wink, nudge-nudge. it’s not a compliment when someone wants you to be his spicy hot tamale. even when the things that were detriments about me aged into something desirable, it was twisted and tainted and never felt like anything close to acceptance.

and then....and then to get out of all of it, all those moments that tore me down and made me ashamed to be who i am and realize the beauty in my features, in my wide nose and big lips and dark hair all over my body. to learn to love these features that mark me as part of a people with a history so rich and roots so deep into the soil of this continent...to learn these things and fight against all those ideas and people who ever made me feel otherwise and then be told that it is not my place. that it isn’t true, what i said. that i am pale and so that means i am white and i don’t know racism because my mom is white.

it’s a unique thing, to be biracial, and i dont think people talk about that enough. one foot in one history, the other in another. both but not enough for either to accept you. and i know that truth, too. i remember family gatherings with my moms family. i remember feeling always like my brother and i were julie’s little mistakes. oh sure the words were not spoken but in a sea of white people who married white people and had white children...the contrast makes you aware.

aware that you are not a fit. aware that they will love you only if you never bring up your papa, never bring up the aggression against you simply for existing as a product of love and understanding between people from such different worlds. little whispers about your papa that you wont understand for years as your mom shakes her head no, no, he’s a good man because her love has never gone. changed, perhaps, from what it was. but steadfast and true. they criticize him for his drug problem but she tells of a man who always took responsibility for his failings, always admitted his wrongs, never harmed a hair on our heads.

a good man who is sick but a good man nonetheless.

both, but never fully one or the other. and they let you know that, too. even the ones you’d thought all your life were the few that accepted you fully. but then you argue, you fight to defend your people against the new husband of a cousin you loved so much. the anger...the anger feels like a heart about to explode because it isn’t all anger. its fear and sadness and hurt and the anger is what you grasp onto, inflate as you stand shaking to take a breath, get distance before a panic attack has set in. you do that a lot in life.

and you hate crying but you sit on the front porch doing it anyways. your mom knows better than to follow but your aunts dont. so they come and they talk and they try to ask whats upsetting because well we were talking politics, people don’t always agree.and you scream, voice breaking “he’s talking about my people!” because how could you have ever identified with whiteness? but you don’t find understanding or comfort. only your favorite aunt, the one you loved for so many years, the one you thought accepted you no matter what, says with just as much passion: “we’re your people!”

and you realize, in your mid-twenties after a lifetime of being mistaken, that the acceptance is only if you throw away a part of yourself. that only if you will forget your mexican half do you matter. that they would prefer to forget you’re not white because how can they possibly love you if you arent?

it’s a lonely thing, too. because your papa is sick and he did not do right by you in the all right ways. and you spend your childhood missing him, wanting to live with him because living with mom is too painful if that’s what it will be like. but it bitters, too. childish ignorance cant last forever and for years you are angry, furious, refusing to see his sickness as that and instead as a choice he made.

he chose to leave you. to stay with a woman who looks like him, to create a child who belongs. one who learns his native language and gets all that you dont. the good and the bad. it....hurts, that the first words your little brother says to you are in a language you cant understand because your father...he lived far away for so long and where else could you learn when your mom can’t speak it, either? he’s three and spanish will be his first language and age will bring anger that this is so when your attempts through your life just never seem to work.

you just cant seem to make the words right. they feel wrong on your tongue and youre sure it’d make anyone who knows the language laugh.

people often dont get why i am offended by being called white. because well, im not, for one. sure, my skin is pale but my features are not those of a white person. to reduce it to that is so offensive when my experience has been lived as a person of color. it’s rare that people assume i’m white. and yea, it makes me mad when they do.

because i haven’t benefited from whiteness. i have never been treated as it. ive noticed people treat me poorly by my name alone, before they’ve even seen me. my MOTHER has noticed this. she kept my fathers name and she’s told me before appointments made at new places, she is often regarded more rudely but when she shows up and they see her whiteness, it changes.

for me, though, the biggest indicator is that other mexicans seem to....know. its a blessing and a curse. its adorable when little mexican kids come up to me, start trying to say something in spanish. it makes me feel this...wanting. to be a part of that culture, to learn more that i havent been able to because im across the world from everyone who was meant to connect me to it. but it hurts, too, because its another realization of my defect.

that i am a part of them, but only partly. and not everyone is so kind. some will see my distance from my heritage as sign enough that im not a part of it at all.

this...really got away from me and honestly, i dont even feel like ive really scratched the surface. this wasn’t meant to be a “poor me” but to be honest.....just because people have it worse than i do, and i KNOW they do, doesn’t make my suffering less significant.

so much in my life i have been told my people of color that i cant say anything and i have no right to it and this and that and whatever because my skin is pale. some try to make me say im white passing if i must engage but you know what...fuck that

if i was white passing, this post wouldn’t exist.

#personal #man this got away fromme aklfhjlakdjfkajh #LEGIT LIKE A RUNAWAY TRAIN #it was borne of a post i was gonna make about something i noticed about my writing and then it segued into me having emotions #look i dont talk about like....this a whole lot #basically cuz ive been shamed into not talking about it lmao #i dont expect this to be read cuz its yanno mostly for me but #its...nice if you do?#idk how to explain this but if you read this post i just wanna say like...thanks for caring enough about what i have to say to read it #that means a lot #i feel like the contents of this would be obvious but lmao #racism cw #abuse cw #uhhh idk what else #i dont think im missing anything

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coyoteweird · 7 years

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Hopper’s New Kid

okay so @lgbtchee and I were talking and got an idea for a Mike Wheeler focused series

Part 1/? of “How Hopper Adopted Mike Wheeler” Series

Summary: Hopper was spending a night in the cabin alone, when a hysterical Mike Wheeler shows up at his door. After some pushing, Hopper hears the story of how Mike Wheeler came out to his family.

warnings: homophobia, violence, mentions of depression

word count: 2857

It was just a normal night, Hopper was watching whatever was on the tv, drinking coffee (even if it was unreasonably late). El was with Max for a “girl’s night”, so it was quiet in the house, with just him. He expected a quiet night of drinking coffee and going over case files before passing out in his bed.

That is until, he heard a knock on the door, but not just any knock. The special knock Mike Wheeler created. Three knocks then five knocks then three again. Hopper got up to answer the door.

“Kid, what the hell are you doing here so late? El isn’t he-“ He cut himself off when he actually saw Mike.

Mike had been crying, had a darkening bruise on his left cheek, his lip was split, and he had a half filled duffle bag clutched in his hands so tightly, his knuckles were white.

“What the hell happened to you? Get in here, kid.” Hopper fully opened the door and pulled Mike in from the chilly porch by the collar of his sweater.

“Don’t you realize what time of year it is? It’s twenty degrees out there, not including wind chill. You’re mom would probably have a fit if you got sick coming to visit my kid.” Hopper locks the door behind Mike and immediately heads into the kitchen.

Mike doesn’t respond, simply sets down the half filled duffle bag in his hands next to the couch and hovers near the dining room table. Clearly unsure what he should do.

“Sit down, kid. I’m making some of this tea to warm you up.”

Mike’s brows furrow in clear confusion. Hopper, the man who would inject caffeine directly into his bloodstream if he could, was making him tea?

“I know. But El swears by this stuff. Joyce gave her some when she had a particularly bad day and now she lives off the stuff. It’ll warm you up.” Hopper says and they go back to silence.

Well, as much silence as they could have with Mike’s wet half sniffles interupting as he tries to hide the fact that he was and probably still is crying.

Hopper didn’t really know what to do. With El, most of the issues they’ve dealt with are hiding from secret government agencies and moving past traumatic flashbacks. But Mike Wheeler was not a telekinetic fifteen year old girl who escaped a government facility at twelve years old, trying to enter regular society. Mike Wheeler is a fifteen year old boy with loud opinions and loud emotions. A boy that Hopper didn’t know very well past the surface.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Why you’re here this late?” Hopper asked, talking slowly, not wanting to spook Mike and make him more upset than he already was.

At that point Mike broke down again, Letting everything he’d been holding in, spill out.

“I just-I came out to my parents.” He said, leaving hopper confused.

“Came out?” Hopper keeps his voice even and low, trying to hide his confusion.

“I, uh, I told them I was bi. That I like boys and girls.” Mike’s voice is thick with tears and quiet, like he almost didn’t want Hopper to hear him.

Hopper is shocked. Of all the things the Wheeler kid could be crying about, it was this? Interdimensional monsters and government conspiracies he could understand, expect even. But problems with the kid’s sexuality is way out of his realm of knowledge. He couldn’t shoot ignorance with a shotgun.

“They didn't take it well. My mom, she just cried the whole time. Dad freaked out! He was so angry and kicked me out. Saying I'm going to ‘infect’ Holly.” Hopper’s fist tightened.

“I just, I really can’t handle this shit anymore. No one really seems to pay attention unless I’m doing something wrong.”

Hopper immediately feels guilty. He was the go to person for the kids whenever they had a problem after Will first disappeared. But after El closed the gate and all their science fiction bullsit problems were over, he slacked off. They all had their own parents and friends to take care of them. Or at least he thought so. Looking at the broken down boy in front of him, he knows he was wrong.

“Tell me everything, the whole story.” Hopper urges Mike on, and after a moments hesitation, he spiils.

Mike was at the dining room table. His mom was cutting Holly’s chicken while occasionally sipping from her glass of chardonnay. Holly was chatting on about how she made friends with the new girl, from Chicago, in their kindergarten class. Ted was oblivious, eating his chicken while sipping from a tumbler of whiskey.

Mike was silently pushing his food around his plate. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the food, it was actually one of his favorites and his mom was the best cook he’s ever met. The knot in his stomach was to big for him to eat. His throat was too tight to even try to get food down. He didn’t even know if he’d be able to keep it down. He knew that his parents wouldn’t notice. It seemed like they decided that ignoring the problem was the best way to deal with anything to do with Mike. He’d have to be the one to break the distance between himself and his parents.

“Her name is Ashley and she has a bunch of my little ponies and she says that me and Jessie can come ov-” Holly explains, her voice rushed with child-like eagerness.

Mike cuts her off.

“Uh, Mom, Dad, Can we-” Mike starts, his voice quivering, but his mom cuts him off without even looking away from Holly.

“Mike, don’t cut people off, it’s rude. Your sister was speaking.”

Mike scowls at his mother; this was already not going how he wanted it to.

“Mom, this is important.” Mike doesn’t want to whine but his anxiety gets ahead of him.

“Let Holly finish her-”

“Mom!” Mike slams his fist against the table.

The heads of his mom, dad, and baby sister all snap towards him. He has their attention.

“Mike, what is it?” His mother asks, concern flooding her features.

Mike takes a deep breath. This is it, no more waiting and second guessing himself at the last minute. No more of keeping it buried deep down inside him until even he can’t see it. No more.

“I have something to tell you. Something I’ve been trying to say for a while… I just didn’t know how to say it.” Mike can already feel tears welling in his eyes.

“Mike…” His mom’s voice is tight but that doesn’t stop him.

“I think I’ve always known, but it took me a while to realize that I knew. Does that make sense?” Mike is starting to ramble, to rush. He wants to slow down and make his words perfect but he just can’t.

“Mike, ple-” He cuts his mom off.

“I’ve tried to keep it away, to bury it and ignore it. But I can’t ignore it anymore. It’s been eating away at me and I can’t hold it in anymore.” Fat tears start to roll down Mike’s cheeks but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop because if he does he might not be able to ever say it.

“Michael, that is enough. You don’t know-” His mother’s voice is reaching frantic, but he ignores her to keep going.

“You have to know. I can’t be the only one to know anymore. I can’t carry it all on my own anymore!” Mike is yelling, frantically searching the crying face of his mother and the red face of his father for something, anything.

“Son!” His father booms.

“Michael, don’t!” His mom yells, but it’s too late.

“I like boys! I like boys just as much as girls! I can’t stop it, it’s just who I am. I’m bisexual. I’m bisexual. I’m bisexual!” Mike is screaming, his voice is raw from a mix of the yelling and the crying.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, his mom lets out a cry that’s a sick mix between a gasp and a sob. His father jumps from his chair, his face blood red. Holly starts to cry, confusion written all over her face.

“You take that back! Take that back, Michael!” His father roars.

For the first time in his life, Mike actually has caused a reaction in his father. His entire life, he wished he could get something more than a grunt out of him. He takes it back now.

“No! No, I can’t take it back! It’s true. I like boys! I like-” Mike is completely frantic, screaming so loud, he wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors hear the fight.

Then his father does something so unexpected, even in the worst nightmare of how Mike thought this would go, he didn’t think it would escalate to this.

His father slaps Mike with all the power he has. Mike’s head snaps from left to right with so much force, Mike thinks he might have whiplash. He is thrown from his chair. His lip catches on the braces he started wearing a year before, carving a large gash into his bottom lip and spilling blood down his chin.

“Ted! Stop it!” His mother yells between sobs.

“No son of mine will be a goddamn faggot! What will everyone think! That I raised some sick sissy boy! He’s gonna infect Holly with his disgusting sinful disease! He’s not my son if he wants to be some fairy!” Ted screams at his wife.

Mike can’t hold back the sobs that wrack his body. His own dad is saying this. This wasn’t some televangelist on the tv or politician in Washington. This was the man who taught him how to ride a bike. Who took him driving the day he got his permit. Who gave him his first sip of beer at their fourth of july barbecue when he was eight. This was his own father. It hurt a million times more than any stranger.

“Dad, please!” Mike pleads, not lifting himself off the ground.

“Get out!” His dad booms.

“Ted, we don’t have to do that! We can fix this!” His mom yells and Mike feels what’s left of his heart break.

“Mom.” Mike practically moans, not knowing what else to say.

“No. Leave, now!” His dad booms, taking another step towards Mike.

This triggers Mike into action. He springs up and out of the kitchen, running up the stairs. He pulls the duffle bag he used the summer he visited his cousin in Maine out from under his bed. He grabs as much clothes as he can grab from his drawers, stuffing them into the bag. He can still hears his parents fighting downstairs, screaming back and forth on how to deal with his “sickness”.

He stuffs anything that he can think to remember into the bag. He didn’t plan for this. He didn’t plan for any of this. He never imagined that his life would ever come to this. This isn’t some interdimensional monster or government agency. This was his own family.

He ran down the stairs, as quickly as he could. He needed to leave as quickly as possible. He couldn’t keep listening to all the fighting, to any of it. He tries to sneak past his parents and leave before they could see him again.

He’s just at the front door when he heres sniffling behind him.

“Mikey?” Holly asks wetly behind him.

Mike whips around to see a tear stained Holly behind him. She looked so scared and lost and sad; it didn’t suit her five year old cherub features. Mike felt so guilty for being the cause of her pain. Of this.

“Hey, Holls, it’s okay.” Mike says, dropping his bag and wrapping Holly in a hug.

“Why are mommy and daddy fighting? Why did daddy hit you?” Holly asks, and Mike wishes he had an answer he could give her.

“It’s complicated, Holls. You won’t get it for a while. I’m so sorry.” Mike says, more tears dripping down his face.

“Are you leaving?” She asks, confused.

“I have to go for a bit, Holls.”

The sob that rips through her is what does Mike in.

“It’s alright, Holls. I’ll be back. It’s okay.” Mike squeezes her tighter.

“Don’t touch her! Get out!” His dad yells from behind him.

Suddenly, without thinking, Mike grips onto Holly tighter, not wanting to let go of her so soon. Not wanting to leave her at all. Holly grips on just as tight.

“Off!” Ted yells, pulling roughly at Mike.

Mike grips onto her tighter, not wanting to her to be taken away so soon. She’s only five years old, he can’t leave her yet. Karen grabs Holly from behind and starts to pull her away as well.

“Mikey! Mikey don’t leave! Please Mikey!”

“Please, don’t make me! Please! Mom! I don’t want to go! Dad! Mom! I’m not ready! I’m not ready!” Mike screams and thrashes in his father’s arms, but Holly is ripped out of his grip.

“Mikey! Mikey!” Holly screams, pulling against her mother. But she isn’t strong enough to break free.

“Get out! Stay away from this family. We won’t have some sick faggot in this house or in this family. Get out!” Ted yelled, throwing Mike against the front door.

With tears streaming down his face, bruises throbbing all over, and his heart aching in his chest, Mike scrambled out the front door. He could still hear Holly yelling after him, now pounding on the front window to try and stop him.

Mike ran down the street and into the woods that surrounded Hawkin. He ran to the only people who made him feel completely safe. He ran to the Hopper’s.

By the time he finished, Mike was crying again, his head buried in his arms on the table. Hopper didn’t know what to do, didnt know how to comfort the boy. He wanted to help him, but he didn’t know exactly how. There would be another teenager in the house. God knows what they would do, but he couldn’t just leave Mike on the streets.

“Hey, kid, calm down” he said awkwardly, patting his back.

“There is nothing wrong with you, you hear? They’re wrong, not you. You didn’t do anything wrong, Mike.” Hopper said, that only seemed to make Mike cry harder, but with relief this time.

“You can stay here as long as you need.” Hopper added.

Mike lifted his head and turned to Hopper. He looked like he has the past three years. He had dark bags under his eyes. He looked tired and just, done with everything. Hopper had the sickening feeling that his depressed mood was more than just a mood.

“Y-You’ll really let me stay here?” Mike said quietly, his voice strained from crying the past few hours.

Hopper nodded.

“Yeah, kid, we’ll figure it out. Is that all that’s been happening? Because frankly, you’ve been acting this way for awhile.” Hopper tried to push Mike without pushing him too hard.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.” Mike said, shrugging, his eyes shifting with unease.

“Oh bullshit, Wheeler, what’s been happening?”

“I may not ask all the time, but something’s been going on with you.” Hopper finishes.

“It’s just… anytime anything was wrong or something, they just, ignored it! They don’t bother to care when I get sick after I eat. They don’t bother to care about anything when it comes to me! Nothing matters to them when it come to me, so i just, I guess I stopped caring too. Destroy yourself so no one else can...” Mike mumbled at the end, drinking on the tea the Hopper gave him.

“Jesus, Mike...” hopper mumbled.

He could tell Mike was holding something back, but he wasn't going to push him. The way he was nervously tugging on his sleeves, keeping them down past his hands; he figured he shouldn’t question it. It was explanation enough.

“Does Nancy know?” Hopper asked.

Mike nodded.

“She doesn’t know what just happened, but she knows that I’m bisexual, and about other things...”

“You should call her, talk to her. She’ll be pissed if she has to find out from someone else. If there’s one thing I learned, you don’t want to deal with an angry Wheeler.” Hopper says, a small smile on his face when Mike lets out a wet laugh.

“Yeah, I think I should.” Mike says, and gets up out if his seat and uses the emergency phone that sat next to the Ham radio in the living room.

Hopper sits and watches Mike from his seat. He knows that this isn’t the end of both this conversation or Mike’s problems. He knows that suddenly raising another teenager, this time a boy, will be incredibly difficult. He knows that this is just the beginning. But he’ll be damned if he won’t do anything to try and help and protect this kid.

Hopper didn’t realize that by adopting one telekinetic teenage daughter means adopting her friends too. Hopper thinks he doesn’t really mind.

This is the first part of a series focusing on my son, Mike Wheeler, that I’m writing with @lgbtchee and we’re really excited to share it with you. They’ll be posted on both accounts interchangably. If you want to be tagged in it, just message one of us!

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it!

#how hopper adopted mike wheeler series #stranger things #mike wheeler #ted wheeler #karen wheeler #jim hopper #fic

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basicallynah · 7 years

Text

Difference

Sweet Pea x Reader

Walking into the Whyte Wyrm for FP’s retirement party, she knew once he had seen her she wouldn’t hear the end of it. Northsiders aren’t his favourite people but Jughead is one of her best friends and FP was like a second father to her.

“Glad you could make it” Jughead grinned, wrapping her in a hug. Sharing a few more words before he walked the bar once again.

Taking in who was already here, there was obviously more serpents than anything but it filled her heart with warmth seeing them all come out to see the king retire, hang up his jacket and finally get onto the path Jug, had always wanted for him.

“Just a coke please, Toni” She smiled at the girl behind the bar. “On the house” Toni, smiled handing her a glass of coke.

When she met some of the serpents Jughead was cautious of his northside friends meeting them, since the southside isn’t known for befriending the northsiders. But to his surprise they were more than welcoming of her than he had thought they would be, except for one.

Watching as Archie and Veronica took to the stage to sing together, she had the biggest smile on her face. She loved hearing them sing together and was happy it was happening once again. Sweeping the bar as more people arrived, she was more than shocked to see Mrs Cooper, enjoying herself, like she belonged here.

Everyone booing brought her attention back to the stage watching as Archie chased after Veronica. She wanted to go after them, help her friends somehow but she also knew that there wasn’t really anything she could do to help them overcome whatever was happening in their relationship. Betty’s voice could be heard through the microphone, capturing her attention once again but what shocked her the most was seeing Betty starting to undress.

It was like her body was in slow motion as she got of her stool at the bar, watching her friend undress. Looking around once again, she could see all the men were more than happy with what was going on. Her eyes spotted him near the other end of the bar, his piercing brown eyes watching Betty, undress a smirk slowly etched on his perfect lips. She felt angry. Angry that he was staring at her friend like that, like she was a piece of meat but she was also angry because he’s quick to hate on us northsiders but as soon as one of them is dancing around a pole he’s all for it. She knew it was jealousy. She found him very attractive but how he’s treated her and spoken to her, his looks was all that kept her interested so to speak.

Turning back as Betty was doing a dance that she could only assume was something serpent related. She felt uncomfortable but she almost felt proud of her standing there, supporting her boyfriend in something she doesn’t have too but also scared for whatever could happen to her.

Looking towards Jughead, she couldn’t tell from just seeing his back what his reaction was but her attention was brought back to FP as he clapped, everyone joining in, giving his jacket to Betty as he took to the stage. Kneeling on the bar stool watching at Betty walked towards her mom she managed to grab her attention, pulling a somewhat confused face at her, only to have Betty turn away from her gaze.

“What the hell was that?” Turning towards Toni, as FP started speaking.

“The serpent dance” She sighed, continuing to clean the bar down.

“Why the hell would she do that?” Knowing she probably already knew the answer.

“Your boy, Jones” Toni, shrugged turning her attention to filling up people’s drinks.

It was selfish of her to be thinking what she was but all of her friends seemed to be in a dilemma that she couldn’t help with, more than anything she felt like a child, feeling like she wasn’t apart of that friendship group anymore.

“Are all of you northsiders trying to become serpents” His deep voice, whispered into her ear.

Closing her eyes, sighing at his presence. “I’m not in the mood” She muttered, jumping off her seat, turning to face the 6ft 5’ beautiful human in front of her.

“What?” He smirked. “You don’t want to do the serpent dance?” He mused, stepping towards her, as she stepped back.

She wasn’t afraid of him but whenever he was directly in front of her, almost chest to chest, she felt her lungs expand with every breath she took, her heart rate accelerate with every mistaken touch.

“I don’t plan on becoming a serpent” She snarled. The smirk dropping as soon as her words left her mouth. She had nothing against serpents but Sweet Pea, got her riled up too easily.

“So you’ll accept Jones being a serpent and that Cooper girl and you’ll hang out with us but as soon as you’re asked something like that, you’re offended?” His voice raising slightly, backing her towards the pool table, arms enclosing her in as she leant as far away from him as possible.

“Sweets, leave her be” She heard Toni, somewhere behind him but she couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes away from his.

“I’m not offended” She almost whispered, his features softening a little letting her know he heard her. “I just don’t fit into any of this” finally tearing her eyes away from his intense stare.

Her words confused him, but he didn’t ask any questions just retreated backwards, grabbing drinks from Toni, taking them over to FP and Tall Boy. The weight on her chest finally lifting as his presence was now known on the other side of the pool table.

Running her hands over her face, and through her hair. She didn’t know what was happening anymore but she hoped it would all pass, eventually.

“Toni, I’m gonna head. See you around” She called to the girl, giving a quick wave. Gliding inbetween serpents as she tried to make it to the door.

“Y/N” a loud voice boomed, a voice she knew she couldn’t just ignore.

“FP” She grinned, running towards his open, waiting arms for a hug. Watching the surprise on Sweet Peas face, making her smirk.

“It’s good to have you back” She muttered in his ear, squeezing him like it would be the last time she’ll ever see him.

“Thanks for looking out for my boy” The mention of Jughead, her eyes went straight to him, a small smile already on his face as he watched the interaction between his dad and best friend that was almost like a sister to him.

“Anytime” She grinned, finally releasing him, going to stand by Jughead, who threw an arm around her shoulder.

Looking up at her best friend, she could see the hurt in his eyes but knew best than to try and pry it out of him.

“Pops?” She asked, catching his attention.

“Not tonight” Shaking his head, the arm around her shoulder giving it a squeeze, kissing her forehead as he shared some sort of look with FP, no words spoken, before leaving the Whyte Wyrm.

“Sweet Pea will take you” FP, spoke referring to Pops.

“Oh no” She quickly tried to protest. “I can walk or get a ride with Archie” The mention of his name, made Sweet Pea roll his eyes.

“He’s taking you. End of” Giving her a pointed look, ending the conversation.

“Thanks” smiling as she hugged him one last time, following after Sweet Pea, who was stomping his way towards the door.

The cool breeze hit her, as soon as they stepped outside making her teeth chatter slightly. “Look, Sweet Pea” hearing his name, turning around to face the girl, who looked like she could break within minutes. “You don’t have to take me, we can come up with some story for FP” She told him, about to walk around him, his arm reaching out in front of her, stopping her movements, his hand lightly resting on her hip, side eyeing him, as she waited for him to speak.

“The boss wants this done, it gets done” His hand leaving her hip, taking her wrist ever so lightly in his large hand making their way towards his bike.

Part 2

#sweet pea #riverdale imagines #mention of #jughead jones #southside serpents #retirement party #reader #part 2?#friends #mixed feelings

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pansexual-potatoes · 4 years

Text

Who is your hero?: I don’t have one.

If you could live anywhere, where would it be?: I’d become a woods witch, of sorts. I picture it as a cabin so deep in the woods you only find it if you’re lost. Me, my dog and Frank (if we’re theoretically still married) in a very cute cabin with a little mailbox that’s never used and a short walkway to nowhere in particular. I’d have foxglove and lupine up front, hosta and ferns in the shaded areas and a wooden fence around my garden. No driveway but I’d have a shed with a snowmobile, snowblower, and shovel for the winter and a four wheeler, and a tiny car for the summer. I’d have a fire pit for campfires, a hot tub and a pool. Attached to the back of the house would be a greenhouse with a dining area for warm weather. Despite my rural living, I’d get great cell service and excellent internet.

What is your biggest fear?: Losing the people I care about.

What is your favorite family vacation?: My family growing up didn’t do vacations but my husband and I do. I also do fun stuff with my best friend.

What would you change about yourself if you could?: My looks

What really makes you angry?: Disrespect

What motivates you to work hard?: I have bills to pay, and we need to eat.

What is your favorite thing about your career?: I enjoy the plants. I work in a commercial greenhouse and for most of the year the plants are really nice.

What is your biggest complaint about your job?: the pay and lack of needed benefits are big problems.

What is your proudest accomplishment? I’m still here.

What is your child's proudest accomplishment?: Bailey learned to lay down. So far he’s learned Sit, Shake and lay down. I think next we’ll teach him to stay.

What is your favorite book to read?: cookbooks, lol. I actually love reading but my eyes can’t do it much anymore.

What makes you laugh the most?: memes

What was the last movie you went to? What did you think? I don’t like movie theaters. I think the last movie I saw in one was the newest grinch movie and I thought it was a cute movie. I liked how they humanized him and brought his situation into scale.

What did you want to be when you were small? An oceanographer, then a marine biologist

What does your child want to be when he/she grows up? Bailey, I’m assuming, wants to be a smart, happy and curious doggo.

If you could choose to do anything for a day, what would it be? Mentally healthy

What is your favorite game or sport to watch and play? I don’t watch sports.

Would you rather ride a bike, ride a horse, or drive a car? Depends on what I’m doing. If I’m in hell being punished, then you’ll see me on a bike. Horses are nice for leisure. Car if I have errands to run or am busy.

What would you sing at Karaoke night?:

I’m not singing

What two radio stations do you listen to in the car the most?

I don’t listen to the radio. I have Amazon music

Which would you rather do: wash dishes, mow the lawn, clean the bathroom, or vacuum the house?

Any of those except the dishes.

If you could hire someone to help you, would it be with cleaning, cooking, or yard work?

Yard work. I don’t trust people that much except a very few people so cleaning is out of the question. I love cooking so wouldn’t need help there usually either. Yard work is impersonal enough where I’d feel more comfortable with someone doing that.

If you could only eat one meal for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Salad. Anything can be a salad if you try hard and believe in yourself

Who is your favorite author?

Anne Rice

Have you ever had a nickname? What is it?:

Not any that weren’t degrading

Do you like or dislike surprises? Why or why not?

Generally not a fan. I have anxiety and I don’t like being the center of attention.

In the evening, would you rather play a game, visit a relative, watch a movie, or read?

Any except visiting relatives.

Would you rather vacation in Hawaii or Alaska, and why?

Hawaii. The warmth and hiking would be incredible, the beaches pretty and the cold makes my body hurt.

Would you rather win the lottery or work at the perfect job? And why?

Hm. Win the lottery. It would allow me to help not just myself but others too.

Who would you want to be stranded with on a deserted island?

No one. If I’m stranded, I’m not going to make it. I don’t want someone else to go through that. I’ll just suffer alone, thanks.

If money was no object, what would you do all day?

Help people who are struggling.

If you could go back in time, what year would you travel to?

2014.

How would your friends describe you?

According to them, I’m nice but straightforward.

What are your hobbies?

I like cooking, hiking, makeup, and relaxing

What is the best gift you have been given?

Companionship in all it’s forms.

What is the worst gift you have received?

Domino’s and a pack of socks to share with my brother (we had to share both). This was from my moms second husbands mom and we had to sit and watch our then step sister open a pile of gifts. We were kids, and my mom and her second husband had been married for a few years at that point so there was zero reason for us to be treated like that.

Aside from necessities, what one thing could you not go a day without?

Hope

List two pet peeves.

-Disrespect

-Laziness

Where do you see yourself in five years?

Hopefully further along with my mental health

How many pairs of shoes do you own?

3- 1 for home, 2 for work

If you were a super-hero, what powers would you have?

I’d want to be able to financially help people

What would you do if you won the lottery?

First, before I tell ANYONE, my house is getting paid off. Ditto for all our bills. Once all that’s done, then I’ll let Frank know. From there on we decide what we want to do together

What form of public transportation do you prefer? (air, boat, train, bus, car, etc.)

Train isn’t bad, neither is bus.

What's your favorite zoo animal?

Hippos.🥰

If you could go back in time to change one thing, what would it be?

If Frank and I could go back with the knowledge we have now we wouldn’t get licensed for foster care.

If you could share a meal with any 4 individuals, living or dead, who would they be?

My husband, my best friend, Nina, and Gerard Way

How many pillows do you sleep with?

2 when I’m awake, 1 once I fall asleep

What's the longest you've gone without sleep (and why)? Like 3 days. I was having a mental breakdown and ended up in the hospital.

What's the tallest building you've been to the top in?

No idea.

Would you rather trade intelligence for looks or looks for intelligence?

Depends on the ratio between what you lose versus what you gain.

How often do you buy clothes?

As needed.

Have you ever had a secret admirer?

Of course not

What's your favorite holiday?

Definitely Christmas

What's the most daring thing you've ever done?

I fought continuously for ownership of myself in a house where I was viewed as less important than furniture because I was female. I dressed as a boy, quit bathing and became as repulsive as I could so I wouldn’t be attractive to the men or women in my moms lifestyle.

What was the last thing you recorded on TV?

I don’t

What was the last book you read?

Working on a new one.

What's your favorite type of foreign food?

Love Asian foods I’ve tried

Are you a clean or messy person?

Messy, I guess.

Who would you want to play you in a movie of your life?

No one. I wouldn’t want people to see what I went through.

How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?

About a half hour

What kitchen appliance do you use every day?

The Keurig

What's your favorite fast food chain?

I don’t like most of them, tbh. Maybe Subway?

What's your favorite family recipe?

My moms bread recipe

Do you love or hate rollercoasters?

As long as they’re not super tall I don’t mind them

What's your favorite family tradition?

The Christmas Poinsettia

What is your favorite childhood memory?

Probably meeting my best friend.

What's your favorite movie?

The nightmare before Christmas

How old were you when you learned Santa wasn't real? How did you find out?

I don’t remember.

Is your glass half full or half empty?

I’m just glad it has something to drink

What's the craziest thing you’ve done in the name of love?

I got married.

What three items would you take with you on a deserted island?

Food, water, and a boat to get me home.

What was your favorite subject in school?

Band.

What's the most unusual thing you've ever eaten?

Pets

Do you collect anything?

Dishes.

Is there anything you wished would come back into fashion?

Comfortable clothes. I’m going to wear them regardless but it would be nice to have a bigger selection to choose from

Are you an introvert or an extrovert?

Absolutely an introvert.

Which of the five senses would you say is your strongest?

Touch

Have you ever had a surprise party? (that was an actual surprise)

No and I’m fine with that.

Are you related or distantly related to anyone famous?

Not that I’m aware of.

What do you do to keep fit?

Lol.

Does your family have a “motto” – spoken or unspoken?

Nope.

If you were ruler of your own country what would be the first law you would introduce?

Baseline living guarantees

Who was your favorite teacher in school and why?

I didn’t really have a teacher I was close to.

What three things do you think of the most each day?

My family, my job, and my obligations

If you had a warning label, what would yours say?

Warning: Avoid asking questions you don’t want an honest answer for. All attempts at niceness will be tried but there is no guarantee of satisfaction.

What song would you say best sums you up?

I have no idea. There are many who describe parts of me but not one I can think of that describes me as a whole.

What celebrity would you like to meet at Starbucks for a cup of coffee?

Weird Al. He seems like a pretty chill guy who wouldn’t mind chatting with an average person.

What's the most interesting thing you can see out of your office or kitchen window?

My lilacs.

On a scale of 1-10 how funny would you say you are?

Like a 2

Where do you see yourself in 10 years?

Hopefully much further along with my mental health

What was your first job?

Picking pine cones out of this ladies yard.

If you could join any past or current music group which would you want to join?

None.

How many languages do you speak?

English and a lot of American Sign Language

Who is the most intelligent person you know?

My husband

If you had to describe yourself as an animal, which one would it be?

Probably a bear. I’m not super social, enjoy sleeping through the winter as much as possible, am selective in my social obligations,enjoy fish and berries, avoid people if possible

What is one thing you will never do again?

Drive a semi.

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shsummertimefest-blog · 7 years

Text

I Need to Tell You Something

Enjoy, @magswoods!

You said you liked Malec, fluf, angst, happy endings and fake relationships, all things that I like too, so here you go! This was a lot of fun to write and I hope you have as much fun reading it! ♥

Title: I Need to Tell You Something Rating: T Word Count: 2724 Tags: No Supernatural, Celebrity AU, Actor Magnus, Actor Alec, Fluff, Angst, Pining, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Background Clary/Izzy, POV Alec Summary: Alec needs to get his name out there, preferably without resorting to drama and scandal. He agrees to a PR relationship with Magnus, who needs this too but for different reasons. But now that the time of their "break up" is getting close, Alec's not so sure he wants things to end.

[Read here]

Inviting Jace and Izzy over for a movie night seemed like a good way to distract himself. The only other thing that somewhat managed to take his mind off his problem the past week, was exercise; but after putting himself through some gruelling workouts, his body needed today to rest.

It works, at first. They argue about what movies to watch and what food to order. Then Alec has to defend his ice cream from Izzy, though he still loses half of it in the battle. They settle around midnight, with him and Izzy on one couch, her toes tucked under his thighs, and Jace half-asleep on the other couch. Slowly but surely, Alec’s thoughts drift back to what occupied them before his siblings arrived. He hopes they don’t notice, because that will only to questions he doesn’t want to answer. These hopes are soon smashed to pieces. Now that they’re no longer occupied by the movie or food, Jace and Izzy’s focus has shifted to him. Their not so subtle, curious glances–that he refuses to acknowledge–prick his skin.

He feels Izzy shift as she reaches for the remote and pauses the movie. For a moment, nothing can be heard but the sounds of New York that manage to make their way up to his apartment.

‘Can you please tell us what's wrong?’ she asks, her voice a sisterly combination of annoyance and worry.

‘Nothing's wrong,’ Alec huffs.

Jace sits up and raises his eyebrows. ‘You invited us for a movie night.’

‘So?’

‘You only do that when something's bothering you,’ Jace explains.

Alec slouches, his cheeks heating up. There are times he wishes he wasn't so close to his siblings and they didn’t know all his tells. ‘I don't do that,’ he protests.

‘You did when you came out to us and were worried about mom and dad’s reaction,’ Izzy says.

‘And when you wanted to switch your major from Business to Acting,’ Jace adds.

‘When you decided to be an out actor, and not go back in the closet until your career took off.’

Alec holds up his hand. Fuck, they’re right. He takes a deep breath, not sure where to start.

‘So you know how Magnus and I are supposed to break up tomorrow?’ By the looks on Jace and Izzy’s faces, they already know what he's going to say next: Izzy’s beaming and Jace is smirking. ‘I don't want to,’ Alec finishes.

‘I knew it!’ Izzy crows, throwing her arms around him to give him a tight hug.

Jace gets up and sits down on Alec’s other side, forcing Alec and Izzy to scoot over so they can all fit. ‘Have you told Magnus yet?’

‘Would there be a movie night if I had?’

Alec leans forward hiding his face in his hands. How does one tell their fake boyfriend you don't want it to be fake anymore? He groans. How did he get to the point where that’s a question he has to ask himself?

Being an actor is something he’s always wanted. He doesn’t care if people know his name or recognize him on the street, as long as he gets to play the parts that he wants. He’s one of the lucky few who got noticed early in their career, and quickly got access to bigger and, mostly but not always, better parts. Lately though, the fact that people don’t really know his name, but more as that guy from that movie or as the brother of Jace, lead singer and keys for The Nephilim, and Izzy, personal trainer and activist, has become a bit of a problem. Parts he sets his sights on are being snatched up by people whose name is bigger, even if their resumé, or their talent, isn’t.

‘You need to be more accessible, relatable,’ his agent said when he talked about it with her.

‘I have two annoying siblings and I like animals,’ he said. ‘That’s pretty relatable for most people.’

She smiled indulgently. ‘Yes, we all love your Instagram. You have a beautiful face, you love your family, you have a nice house, cute pets, and you’re smart. You’re pristine, almost angelical. People don’t know what to do with that.’

‘You’re saying I should have a scandal?’ Alec asked, raising his eyebrows, because that just sounded stupid. He never understood how people got involved in all that drama.

‘I think a boyfriend will be enough for now,’ she said. ‘And I know the perfect person.’

‘No.’ One thing Alec always said was that he would never have a PR boyfriend. The concept’s ridiculous, reminding him of the marriages of European nobility when having a title was still the only thing that mattered. They put a number on your influence, wealth, and looks, then find someone compatible. Ridiculous.

‘He needs this, too,’ his agent said. ‘He had a very public breakup with a vindictive ex, and the press keep hounding him about his love life. When people see him with you, they’ll back off. At least a little. You’re private, dependable. You’d be helping him more than he’d be helping you.’

Playing on his charitable side, a low blow. Alec could see his agent knew it, but she also clearly didn’t care.

‘Who is it?’ he sighed. If this guy really needed help, hanging out with him for a couple months, holding hands so the vultures could snap a couple pics of the “happy couple”, maybe wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.

‘Magnus Bane.’

Alec’s eyebrows shot up. Magnus was pretty much the opposite of him: bright, enigmatic, constantly in the spotlight for his movies, clubs, and dating life, always mixing business with pleasure. And yes, he was gorgeous, there was no denying that.

Izzy had told him about the break up when it happened, her girlfriend Clary was a friend of Magnus’. They’d stayed with Magnus for a couple days to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid, like call his ex.

‘And he’s okay with this?’ Alec asked.

‘It was his idea. Even mentioned you as a possible “boyfriend”,’ his agent grinned, knowing she had him right where she wanted.

Their story is simple: they met at a party and hit it off. It’s not far from the truth. They have met at parties before and gotten along great, only the part where Magnus called Alec the next day to see if he wanted to get a drink is a lie.

Fake dating Magnus isn’t a hardship. Despite seeming like polar opposites, they have a lot in common, and Alec thinks there is real chemistry between them–people probably wouldn’t have bought their “relationship” so easily if there wasn’t. It was a little awkward at first, but the more they hung out, the more Alec got to know Magnus, the more he liked him. Until he realized that he liked Magnus. Magnus isn’t just beautiful and charming, he’s also sweet, and smart, and funny. Every time Alec does something nice for him, his face lights up, whether it’s bringing Magnus’ favourite food when he comes over, or tells Magnus he likes how his hair looks that day. The realization wasn’t much of a shock, but it made the knowledge that everything between them was fake and that he couldn’t have it very painful. He tried to put some distance between them, but knowing that Magnus was out there was a like siren call. Alec couldn’t stop himself from seeking him out.

He should be happy, the ruse worked. He got a call from a producer, offering him a job initially given to someone else, and the press backed off of Magnus, giving him room to breathe. But he’s not happy. The fact that they got what they wanted means it’s time for it to end. They’ll stay friends, an amicable “break up” is important for both of them, but it won’t be the same. No handholding, or kissing, no tucking Magnus into his side as they walk to their favourite restaurant. Then they’ll start hanging out less often, fewer calls, until eventually all contact will fade away. They’ll go back to chitchat at parties they both happened to be invited to.

Alec leans back into the cushions, rubbing his face. The thought of Magnus becoming a stranger again hurts.

‘You need to tell him,’ Izzy says gently. She wraps an arm around his shoulder, and he slides down far enough to lay his head on her shoulder.

‘What if I’m just imagining it?’ he asks. ‘What if I didn’t just fool the public and the press, but myself, too?’

‘There really is only one way to find out,’ Jace says.

‘By possibly making a fool of myself,’ Alec sighs. ‘I swore I would never get pulled into a mess like this, and then I do it to help a guy out, and I fall in love with him.’

Jace and Izzy go very still beside him. Alec looks up to find them staring at him with wide eyes.

‘What?’

‘You need to tell him,’ Izzy says. She untangles herself, races from the room to come back and throw Alec’s jacket and boots at him.

Alec fumbles to catch them, and is about to ask what the hell is happening, when Jace pushes a set of keys into his hands.

‘Take my bike, it’ll get you there faster.’

‘What is happening?’ Alec asks.

Izzy takes his hands and smiles. ‘You just said you’re in love with Magnus.’

‘I–’ Alec hesitates. Is he in love with Magnus?

‘Close your eyes,’ Jace orders.

Alec frowns, but complies when Jace nods impatiently.

‘When you think of your life in ten years, is Magnus there?’

Alec can see it clearly: a lazy Sunday afternoon, the sun shining, their pets having taken the best spots in the shadow, Alec reading a script by the pool, Magnus ruffling his hair as he makes his way inside to get them a refill for their cold drinks.

He opens his eyes. Jace and Izzy are looking at him like they know exactly what he saw.

‘You need to tell him,’ Jace repeats Izzy’s words.

‘It’s 1am,’ Alec protests.

‘It’s Magnus, I’m sure he’s still up,’ Izzy says. Things aren’t moving fast enough for her and she starts putting his jacket on him for him.

‘He has a meeting tomorrow. He went to bed early.’ Alec’s thoughts are tumbling all over each other. The fact that he’s in love with Magnus is too big, so he focuses on simpler things, like tightening the laces on his boots.

‘I’m sure he’ll forgive you once you confess your love,’ Jace grins. ‘Go!’

‘I– Yeah. Okay.’

Alec straightens his jacket, and clutching Jace’s keys, runs out the door. He’s in love with Magnus.

Holy shit.

He’s in love.

With Magnus.

He races through traffic to get to Magnus’ as fast as he can. When he comes to a screeching halt in front of the garage doors of Magnus’ building in record time, it’s a minor miracle he didn’t get pulled over. He’s sure there’ll be some tickets, but he’ll pay Jace back. He punches in the code, and impatiently taps the handlebars as he waits for the gate to open. He parks in the first open spot he sees, bangs through the doors, and starts running up the stairs. It’s not until Magnus opens the door and looks him over with a confused smile, that Alec realizes he must look like a sweaty mess. He should’ve take the elevator.

‘Alexander, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?’ Magnus asks.

Alec’s breath catches in his throat, and he nervously switches Jace’s helmet between his hands. He should’ve thought of what to say. He figured he’d know once he got here, but with Magnus looking sleepy in his robe, no makeup, messed up hair, and downright adorable, his mind is drawing a blank.

‘Why don’t you come in?’ Magnus suggests. He gently takes Alec’s hand and leads him inside.

Alec meekly follows Magnus to the living room. They come to a stop by the windows overlooking the water. He can see the little lights of the boats and the city reflected in the water, and the lights of the city on the far shore. He turns to face Magnus and blurts out, ‘I don’t want to break up.’

Magnus’ fingers tighten around his, which to Alec, somehow, registers as Magnus feeling the same way, and he dives in, pressing his lips against Magnus’. It takes him a split-second to realize that Magnus didn’t actually say anything, that the little squeeze of his fingers might just as easily have been from surprise. He begins to pull back, an apology already forming on his lips, but Magnus places his hand against his cheek to keep him in place. There is no way for Alec to misinterpret that. He fists his hands in the lapels of Magnus’ robe to pull him closer, and relaxes into the kiss. It gentles, sweetens, becomes the best kiss Alec has ever had. They’ve kissed before, little pecks on the lips and cheeks for the cameras, but this one is just for them.

As much as Alec wants to keep kissing Magnus forever, the adrenaline from the ride and the race up the stairs soon has him out of breath. He pulls back and rests their foreheads together. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, the only other thing he can hear are his shaky breaths. He lets go of Magnus’ robe, his fingers grazing the bare skin of Magnus’ chest on their way down. It’s smooth and warm, tempting Alec to touch it everywhere, but they’ve only just had their first kiss. He continues down until he can rest his hands on Magnus’ hips.

‘Finally,’ Magnus breathes. His hand has moved from Alec’s cheek to his neck and he’s playing with the short hairs in the back. His other hand is gripping Alec’s shoulder.

Alec pulls back so he can look at Magnus, and raises his eyebrows. ‘Finally?’

‘Darling, I’ve been flirting with you every chance I got from the first time we met. You really didn’t know?’

Alec’s cheeks heat up with a blush. He smiles and shakes his head. ‘I honestly didn’t really expect you to flirt with me.’

Magnus’ smile is so radiant and fond that Alec has to kiss him again. Magnus’ mouth is more level with his than before, and Alec realizes he must be standing on his toes. To help, he slides his hands from Magnus’ hips to his thighs and hoists him up so Magnus can wrap his legs around Alec’s waist.

‘As much as I approve of this development, I do have to get up early tomorrow,’ Magnus murmurs against Alec’s lips.

‘Sorry.’ Alec completely forgot about Magnus’ meeting. He tries to put him back on the floor, but Magnus tightens his legs and digs his fingers into Alec’s shoulders, like a koala bear unwilling to let go.

‘You can stay. If you want,’ Magnus suggests. He looks nervous, like he’s scared he’s giving too much, too fast.

‘Okay,’ Alec smiles.

He’s never stayed over before, but he knows where Magnus’ bedroom is, and without putting his, now very real, boyfriend down, he walks them there. After quickly brushing his teeth and stripping down to his boxers, he slides in next to Magnus. They turn on their sides, arms pillowing their heads, searching for each other’s eyes in the dim light.

‘I’m glad you came tonight,’ Magnus says.

‘Even though it interrupted your beauty sleep?’ Alec teases.

Magnus chuckles. He scoots closer until they’re almost touching. Alec drops onto his back, and wraps an arm around Magnus to pull him on top of him. Contentment washes over him. He wishes he could bottle this moment up and keep it forever.

‘I love you.’

Magnus stills, except for his fingers that twitch against Alec’s arm. Alec is about to say that it’s okay if Magnus doesn’t say it back now. Technically, they only started dating fifteen minutes ago.

‘I love you, too,’ Magnus says.

Alec traces Magnus’ smile, small, happy, and full of wonder, with the tip of his finger. He’s going to have to change his stance on the whole PR boyfriend thing, because as it turns out, it’s pretty great.

#magswoods #shgiftfest17 #fic #malec

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