#somewhere along the way he must have learned that

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

one of the funniest things about s-class heroine is the way in-universe, tesilid is seen as the most trustworthy and honourable gentleman even though he's probably the biggest liar that walked that earth.

like. aged 10 the vatican is DYING to find out more about the saintess and he's the only one in the boss room who was awake when the dungeon opened. they must have grilled him so bad. they don't give a shit if he's ten and recovering from trauma, the sacred sheep are just tools and this one better spill all it knows. and yet they don't learn a thing about ailette.

note that this is way before he has all those years of regression, where he is forced to practise lying bc he needs to explain why he knows things he has no business knowing.

and then post-regression he and ailette just casually conspire to have him be the one to insist on their cover stories, because his reputation is so pristine that people would surely believe him just based on his word alone. bonkers!! this is the esteemed wielder of the holy sword!

AND, whenever ailette asks him about him about something that doesn't add up, he gives the most bullshit reason ever. and she doesn't really question it. the only person in the world who knows about his obligations and knows how much he pretends to be nicer than he actually wants to be, and she's like "nah tesilid wouldn't lie to me". like yeah she has every reason to believe that, and she's right in that tesilid wouldn't lie to her for no good reason, but the way he gets away with so much lying is so hilarious to me. i know she doesn't 100% buy it and is mostly just trusting tesilid's judgement on what she should or should not know, but. he gets away with SO MUCH lying. it's so funny.

i love the way the story gives him agency by making him just lie all the damn time. and then he just blinks and has a neutral face and everyone trusts him. this is the well-known doormat of the vatican, look at his face would he lie to you.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, elf-reader, orc captors, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, enslavement, piss drinking, mindbreak, mentioned toe-sucking and rimming, navigating cultural differences

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: THE PILLORY

The orc bandits sold your fellow elves off like slaves, but the commander ended up saving you for himself.

You’d been out of it throughout the ordeal. Already with the feeling of being numb, dumb, and tingly from the top of your crown down to the tips of your toes, you’d soon been overcome with fever as if taken by sickness—or withdrawal. Kept warm in the lap of your captor, you could barely keep your eyes open and must have passed out again—all to the sound of your troop's despair as they were bid on individually and dragged off by different buyers, all adorned collars and chains.

When you woke up again, whatever had you so enthralled and pliant was gone, leaving you feeling much like those times you’d woken from drinking more than your limit—along with a sore ache spanning your entire body, leaving you bedridden.  

Lying there, on a massive fur pelt in a fire-heated tent with a pair of shackles upon your ankles, you decide against your former poor judgment of making demands—this time, staying still and deadly silent, causing no fuss and voicing no complaint in petrified fear of the heavyweight resting at your back, breathing soundly like a beast in hibernation.

You still don’t understand what happened—still don’t understand what got into you—why did you act that way? It was as if you’d completely lost your mind—hijacked by something unholy and depraved—something vile. You’d been possessed—you must have been! To be bred by those monsters, swallow their semen—drink their piss. Thinking about it, the shock of it all cancels out the disgust. How could you have done all that? Sure, you were forced, but you could swear… somewhere halfway through, you started to enjoy it.

“Why so quiet, elf-pet?”

He must have felt the shift in your breathing. Beasts of war sleep with one eye open, after all. Still, you don’t answer—you don’t move a muscle. Stiff and lifeless, you remain, even as his hand—the one dwarfing your hip—slides south.

"Afraid to wake me?"

You just swallow thickly with a whimper as his thick orc finger, weathered by labor and battle, pets your naked sex, rubbing your clit before splitting the lips and playing with the poorly treated hole beneath it.

“Where’d all that fight go, hm?” he rumbles at your stillness, amused by it as he prods your entrance and pulls your bottom against his bulge. “Don’t tell me I fucked it all gone…” 

All you do is quake and tremor, even as his digit breaks through and starts prepping you—slipping in and out slowly, drawing slick as if your cunt was already trained to do so.

His pleased hum rumbles at your back, wreaking your bones—making you feel fickle like a sprout.

“Elves make such good pets once you tame them,” he states, chuckling. “You love cock and cum so much it makes you dumb—a single taste of it and even the priggish of elves like you turn into filthy little whores hungry for more.” 

You feel him fatten behind you—clenching your thighs as it swells up against your rear. 

His arm, the one beneath your head you’d been resting on like a pillow, coils around your neck and pulls you back snugly against him. 

“Don’t worry, elf-pet—” he grins, teeth by your ear in heated words, “I’ll keep feeding you good and full.”

And that's how it goes. Anytime you sober up, he fucks you silly—well and truly silly—silly in the way it makes you indiscriminately slurp his cum off the ground and suck his toes and lick his ass and squeal with joy as he swarms your womb with piss, “Ah feels so nice and warm inside—I love being master’s piss-bucket! Thank you!”

It’s been that way for months now.

He’s taken to calling you Putty because of how dumb and malleable you’ve become, eager to do anything he says, just to please. It disgusted you in the beginning, but you’ve since learned to accept the weakness of your nature—if only for the sake of survival and your own sanity. 

There’s no point in beating yourself up about it—not in this godforsaken part of the world where everyone seems out to do it for you.

You’d known orcs were soulless creatures, but truly, nothing could have prepared you for their level of depravity. If you could, you’d stay hidden inside the tent and never expose yourself to the horrors outside—already sated with those you have to endure within its thin drapes. But unfortunately, your master enjoys bringing you with him wherever he goes. 

Many orcs do, you’ve come to understand. They like parading their slaves, mostly fae-folk like you, around—all dressed skimpily, all with collars—nymphs and fairies often with their wings clipped and elves with their heads shaved in shame. 

Today, you’re out walking the market—you, with your leash on, and him, with his fist tugging it close behind him. 

He’s looking at weapons and armor for the most part and the odd toy or article for you. He likes keeping you pretty, in jewelry and sheer silks that let everyone admire what he has warming his bed. 

Since becoming his slave, he’s taken you to get plenty of piercings and markings. You can’t read their scripture, but he’s told you what he’s marked on your pretty skin several times. His name, of which you’re not allowed to speak, paired with his title as your direct master, as well as his guild’s seal, stating their ownership of you—all in three intricate patterns down your right arm. So, even if you ever do get home, you’ll never be able to wash him off. Another train of patterns on your left arm shows your status as a slave and your worth if anyone but your master were to damage or kill you accidentally.

For all their cruelty—you’re surprised by their level of organization. Though you don’t agree with it, you can at least admit that what they have is some variation of civilization—as supremacist as it is. But then again, elves are much the same—always thinking themselves better than everything, even other groups of fae.

It’s funny, but in a way, you’re almost convinced this is divine justice—the gods punishing you for your false sense of superiority by forcing you to live your life in suffering as an orc’s slave. 

It’s a trial—your last chance at redemption before death. Fulfill it, and heaven will be waiting for you with open arms. Yes, that must be it. 

The crowd becomes thicker near the end of the market street. It seems there’s an ongoing roadside show that many are keen on watching. You hear the jeers and hollers, the oos and ahs, and coming out empty-handed from the market trip, it seems the commotion is enough to pique your master’s interest enough to make him battle his way through to the front with you in toe just behind him—paying no mind to how members of the crowd paw at you. 

One is even so brazen to spit on your chest. But it comes as no shock—nor does your master’s indifference. In orc culture, all orcs are masters and can do what they want to any and all slaves with respect to their direct master. In fact, it’s not uncommon to see masters chain their slaves up like mutts in the street—free for all to have a go.

Actually, you can bet that’s what gathered this flock.

And sure enough, you’re spot on. 

Three fellow fae are on display up on the stage, naked and drenched in cum and sweat and other fluids—all made fully dumb by it.

You’ve theorized why over the months of being subjected to it and could only come up with one sound theory to explain it. Orc fluids must contain strong aphrodisiac properties, maybe even other substances that make their victims so agreeable—a type of natural incentive, possibly to make breeding more plausible and easy for a race so ugly. 

Yes, that must be it. It’s the only thing that could make any sense of the heart-eyes and love-cries you witness on all your otherwise dignified fellow fae.

One of them is folded between two orcs, desperately sucking on one of their tongues with her eyes closed in bliss, taking both their cocks in both her holes. It’s hard feeling sorry for her when she looks so happy, but you know the situation yourself—it’s like your mind’s been replaced by a fluffy cloud, and all you can think to wish for is to be taken higher.

Another girl is on her knees, ass up and head down—with a heavy foot placed on top of her cheek, squishing her pretty face against the wooden stage—tongue out and eyes crossed as he fucks her sloppy cunt with his whole entire fist. The poor girl is so mindbroken she just giggles with a smile, thighs shivering in delight as she squirts out a puddle beneath her.

The last girl is placed on her back on a beam—ankles suspended in the air, tied tightly to two poles—arms tied together under the bench. She’s also got two of them having their fun with her—one in each end in a spitroast. 

You’ve been in her position once—shared like a piece of meat—stuffed overfull with no freedom to spare. You wonder if she’d spoken out of place, too.

The orc by her head tugs his cock in his fist, standing over her head, letting her lick the sweat off his balls before dropping his length on her chest, bunching her tits and fucking through them with a groan, letting his balls swing and drag over her pretty face. But it’s not long before he steps back and puts his shaft to her lips, holding her throat in a light grip as she sweetly teases his dickhole with the tip of her tongue. When he gives her a firmer squeeze, she obediently widens her mouth, gaping to receive the head.

The girl holds it in her mouth like you do for your master, trying your best to suck but only ever managing to drool around it like a roasted pig with an apple between its teeth. Oh, but then something impossible happens.

You swear it’s like watching a circus act—you look on in horror and awe—unable to grasp it as more of the orc’s meaty member disappears down the girl’s swallow—one girthy inch at a time. You watch her throat swell, eyes wide in disbelief as her pipe blows out to accommodate the size, letting it sink inside all the way through down to the hilt.

The audience whistle and shout at her performance—all impressed as the two orcs fuck her on time with each other—out, then all the way in. And honestly, you’re one of them. Blinking at the display, you can barely trust your eyes—the two cocks must be kissing each other's tips inside her.

“What good whores,” your master mumbles at your side, swinging you against his chest with a grip on your jaw, making you face the scene. 

“You see that, Putty,” he gruffs and points at the one you’d already been watching, wide-eyed and drop-jawed. “One day soon, you’re gonna be just like that.”

You dont know why, but watching the filthy scene makes your gut gurgle. How can you be hungry at a time like this?

“A perfect throat-sleeve for me. So deep, I can finally touch your guts from both ends and fill your belly just how you like.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[rebelliousstories]

Different Time

Relationship: Remy LeBeau/Gambit x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Blood and Violence, Strong Language, Happy Endings

Word Count: 2,358

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: Being dragged into the Void by your good buddy Wade was not how you imagined to be spending your days after your lover had died.

A single card was fixed between her fingers as she walked behind the other two people on their journey. There was silence all around the trio as they walked through the field. She did not pay attention to what was being said, nor did she care very much. If it was of any importance to her, they would let her know.

Before she knew what was going on, a dog was running straight for them. But the man with long, flowing locks that was running behind made her finger tingle with energy. After Deadpool and the Wolverine ahead of her did not move to attack the man, she let that energy fizzle out. Not that it would have done much damage anyways. It was getting harder and harder to remember what it was like. And yet, she could see it so clearly in her mind; the first time he had shown her what he could do.

“So what can you do exactly? You just throw cards at people?”

“Nah, cher,” his hands came up to hold a card between his fingers, “is much more den dat. I charge da playin’ cards wit energy. And den dey go boom.” His chuckle followed shortly afterwards.

“Is that so huh?” She chuckled as well. But the man just smiled, and wrapped his arms around her anyways.

“See is like dis, cher. Watch and learn.”

With his arms around her, he held an ace of hearts. Flicking it in the air caused a pink glow to encompass it. She giggled as he swiped the card from the sky, and touched it to her skin. The resulting kinetic energy made her entire body jolt, but the man kept her grounded as it flowed through each and every muscle.

“Feel dat, cher?” His breath fanned across her cheek as she rested against his chest. Once she had recovered, she held her hand and felt the card laid in her palm. Flipping it over through her fingers, she managed to produce a glow and a light crackling energy field around the object.

“Atta girl, cher.” A kiss was laid upon her cheek, and she felt the day old scruff rub against the crook of her neck.

“You comin’, bub?” A gruff voice pulled her out of her thoughts. Snapping into reality, the three men in front of her were looking like they were off to go somewhere.

“Apologies,” came her reply.

“Did we just miss some exposition about you? I feel like we just missed a vital flashback into your tragic backstory. Besides, I would like to find out what you do exactly. We’ve never gotten a clear answer. You just sort of do everything, like Taylor Swift.” Wade was having none of her dismissal.

“What are you talking about?” She was utterly confused, but Logan waved the red menace of off.

“Don’t pay him any mind. Come on, let’s go.” They all made the trek out to the dense corn that housed an old Honda Odyssey, which made the merc in red pitch a hissy fit.

“Get in the fucking car.” Logan snapped at Wade, utterly feed up with his antics. Before being prompted, she threw open the side door and climbed n the back. She watched as Deadpool tried to run off with the sweet little pup that had found them, but Wolverine put a very fast stop to that. Defeated, Wade climbed in the passenger seat, while Logan went in the driver’s, and they were off.

Somewhere along the way, she must have dozed off. That was the only explanation for the memory she was experiencing right now. Except, she was not exactly experiencing it as t had happened. No, she was watching it from an outsider’s perspective.

The first thing she saw, was a dingy old motel room floor. And the next, was laughing. Looking up, she saw them. It was her, and her beau play fighting on the bed of the motel room.

“Now, you know bettah den to play dirty, cher. Ain’t no coyon, ya know?” Her lover had trapped her arms to her body, and was smiling as big as ever. Plush lips stretched across his face. Hazel eyes twinkled brightly.

“Didn’t hear you complaining about me playing dirty last night,” she teased. Turning in his arms, she looked up at her lover with nothing but adoration.

“Well, Gambit seems to remember you not complainin’ neither.” His lips came down onto hers.

Watching from her spot near the dresser, the future her could still feel the wonderful pressure of their kiss. Tracing her fingers over her own, melancholy filled her heart. He looked so alive in this moment. A moment that she cherished with her whole being.

“Ahh!”

Something far less pleasant awoke her this time from her thoughts. One of Wade’s knives had lodged itself in her shin. Blood steadily poured itself from the wound. And the world fell still for a moment. Raising her eyes, she felt herself shaking in anger and pain as Deadpool met her gaze.

“Oh no. Oh, I am so sorry.” He wheezed. But it was too late.

Her other leg raised and kicked him hard in the head. While he was disoriented, her mind contorted the blade that was in his hands; even the hand that was holding the knife began to bend and break. Holding her knee, she made herself fall through the car and onto the ground below.

“Where’d she go? Magic woman.” She heard Deadpool exclaim loudly. It was followed by a growl and a squeak. And the car started to rock with the force that they were going at each other.

Rolling to her right, she got out from underneath the vehicle before someone sent a blade through to her again. Releasing her leg, she crawled on her belly over to a tree that was still facing the car. Her forearms were covered in dirt and leaves now, as were the entire lower half of her body. While keeping an eye on the Odyssey, she worked to remove her boots and rolled up the pants from her injured leg. She could see the wound eventually and worked to clear her mind.

Regenerating always took a lot from her. It took a lot physically and mentally from her, but she could get it done. Groans slipped from her lips as she could feel her skin, muscles, and even veins being to stitch themselves together. A scar was all that was left in the place of the stab wound. The woman rested against the large piece of wood behind her and watched through blackening vision as both men were thrown through the car, and jumped back in with fervor.

That was the image that she passed out to. That was the last thing in the real world that she saw. She was not sure how much time had passed between her passing out, and when she woke up. But she immediately recognized that she was not where she was before. There were stone walls all around her, and she was lying down on a bed. Before sitting up, she looked and could see Logan with a bottle of liquor to her right.

Voices were muffled all around her. She could not pin point a specific one, but something felt off. Like someone or something was there, and how that was supposed to make her feel, she did not know. Groaning, she sat up and caught the attention of everyone else that was talking. One person much more than anyone else. A familiar drawl called out her name, and her body filled with dread. Footsteps came closer, and the muffs came off from her ear.

“Cher, that you?” Her heart sped up and it felt like it was beating out of her chest. A hand came to her shoulder, but she was not having whatever weird illusion this was. Grabbing whoever’s wrist this was, she used her body weight and center of gravity to pivot the person onto their back on the floor beside the bed she was on.

Staring down, her heart stopped. This was her beau. Remy was staring up at her with wide eyes. Letting out a shaking breath, her hands let go of the man as if he had burned her and stood upon shaking legs. The man on the ground was not doing much better than her. He stood just as quickly, and looked at the woman just the same.

“Oh, thank you Lord. It is you.” He whispered, taking a step closer. But her hand shot up to stop him from getting closer.

“Don’t. Who the hell are you? And what are you doing with that suit on?” She demanded, and watched the confusion sink in.

“Cher, it’s me. It’s your Gambit. I’m jus’ wonderin’ how in da hell you here now.” Remy breathed.

“Oh my god!” Everyone’s attention was brought to Deadpool who was wide eyed in his mask. “This is your tragic backstory. You and him…”

“I need some air.” She turned on her heels, and phased through her wall till she was outside in the forest. Outside, she tried to draw in a deep breath, but found her body starting to seize. Everything got too much. Shaky limbs and sweaty palms found themselves crashing onto the forest floor. She tried to breathe in again but only managed half a breath. Her heart was beating out of her chest. The world began to spin.

“Ay, ay, you alright, cher. Come ‘ere. Let’s settle on down now, ya.” Thick arms encompassed her. They grounded her back to reality. As Remy kept whispering soothing words, she felt her world come back into focus. Her heart slowed down and was now moving at a steady rhythm. She was following Remy’s lead on her breaths; in through the nose for four, hold for four, out for four. Her arms and legs were soothing themselves out and she was able to wipe off her palms onto the legs of her suit.

“Dat’s a good girl, now. Ain’t no reason to be like dat. Just a little frightenin’ is all. Didn’ mean to.” He was apologizing for scaring her? After she had thrown him to the ground and walked out on everyone? Those arms felt so familiar and comforting; she did not want to move rom them. But she had to face this man. She had to know. Turning, her eyes finally came up close and personal with the man that had introduced himself as Gambit, Remy LeBeau.

“You good now, cher? Feelin’ a little bettah?” Even after all of this, he was still so caring.

“Yeah. How are you alive?” She whispered, tracing her eyes over every inch of his face like this was the last time she was going to see it. Because it just might.

“I been wonderin’ da same thing. Don’t know how long I been in dis here Void, but you was gone long before I got here.” One of his hands came up and pet her head so very softly.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?” Her attempt at a joke made the Cajun chuckle as well. Sure, both of their laughs were tinged with sadness, but they were laughing together again.

“Well, I uh-” he stammered, trying to find the right words, “was out playin’ cards. Got a feelin’ dat somethin’ was wrong. Went back to the apartment we was stayin’ in. And you… you were gone when I got there. Tracked down who had killed ya, and it turned out to be my ol’ thievin’ ring. Didn’ like da fact dat we was ‘bout to get outta da game apparently. Da hardest thing Remy ever done was buryin’ you. Easiest was killin’ da sons o’ bitches dat took you from me.”

Silence enveloped them as the weight of his words sunk in.

“Something very similar happened in my timeline.” She replied, watching as he seemed to going through the same emotions she was.

“We were on our way back from a mission for Xavier. You and I were with Jean, Scott, and Storm. God, she was making so many jokes about how she was the fifth wheel on that mission and we were making it worse for her. Anyways, we got ambushed by the Brotherhood. We were actually taking out a good chunk of them, but Sabertooth got the drop on you. You bled out in my arms on the way back to the mansion. You had me promise not to do anything rash in the aftermath, but it was difficult.”

Tears welled in both of their eyes. Both of them mourning a love and life lost in tragic fashion. Remy pulled her in close, and she breathed in deeply. That familiar leather and musk scent blended with the fresh air outside. She just wanted that scent bottled up and kept with her at all times.

“So it seems to ol’ Gambit dat we both lost our other half. Maybe you was supposed to be the one that completed my deck, cher.” Her head raised and her eyebrow as she turned to look at the man in confusion.

“You’ve got an incomplete deck,” came her question. She began feeling around for a pocket in her jacket that was directly over her heart.

“Jus’ missin’ one card. Whatchu lookin’ for?” He questioned, letting her move around freely.

“Get your deck out,” his eyebrows raised. “Your card deck, Gambit. Humor me.”

“Whatevea you say, cher.”

The duo shifted until their respective items were grabbed. Remy produced a deck of cards and quickly rearranged them to be in card order. Her card was in between her first two fingers. As Gambit sifted through his deck, he stopped right where a card was missing. And as she revealed what was in her hands, the two suddenly looked at each other with love and tears. Her ace of hearts was missing from his deck, but he had finally found it again. It was a different time, different place, even a different person, but it was the same love that spanned the multiverse.

[keferon]

Eh okay so. My brain is absolutely cooked so you will probably just have to ignore the linguistic fuckups

Jazz and Prowl learning to communicate because language barrier is a thing >:D

Previous part

Jazz sometimes thinks that somewhere along his career path he lost the bar separating normal from...well...everything else.

After all he's seen, heard about, and done, he's not sure exactly how to measure what's weird and what's normal. He has..the general idea.

His own. And it's so convoluted and fucked up that he'd rather jump into a volcano than try to explain it to anyone else. Jazz thinks the little colorful aliens around him are weird as hell. He thinks they sound weird, he thinks they look weird, and he thinks he must be going crazy.

And then this big black and white robot catches his eye and Jazz's first thought is not "what the fuck??"

His first thought is

"Thank God! Someone's normal!"

Whoever this guy is, he sounds like he knows what he's doing. And most importantly, he looks just like Jazz. Well, not exactly. But close enough. After all, Jazz knows that his organization wasn't the only mech maker on the entire planet. Other countries were making Mechs too, and Jazz hadn't seen even half of them.

But he can recognize a giant robot when he sees one, okay?

The thought that another mech could be an alien doesn't even enter his mind.

So used to the constant presence of huge piloted robots around him, he looks at this one and clings to its appearance as something familiar and easily explainable. His brain says, we know how this works. There's a robot and inside the robot there's another person. It's the way it's always been. The sky is blue, the grass is green and the robots are human-piloted. It's that simple.

The guy takes him to the far corner of the room and says something. Jazz…doesn't understand..

The mech's face contorts in a surprisingly believable display of concentration. How...who built this robot? How could they make it frown?

He hears something else being said to him but again can't understand a word. Why won't this pilot get out of the mech to talk to him? Jazz doesn't have his communication frequency but surely they could at least shake hands. There must be some reason. Maybe something wrong with the air? Is it dangerous to be outside? This guy should know better, he's been here longer than Jazz, it seems.

(Damn it, whose idea was it to make a mech with a face, it's so distracting)

He rushes to activate the external speakers, because he and this guy obviously speak different languages, but it never hurts to try, right?

"So uh, I don't think you can understand English?"

Mech frowns again, trying to pick up on something familiar in a language that's apparently new to him. But finds nothing. Jazz lowers his horns sadly.

Oh well. Fuck. As if being stuck in an unknown place with unknown creatures wasn't enough, he can't even talk to anyone! How is he supposed to get out of here? Which way should he even go?

The mech waves his hand to get his attention and then pulls out a tablet and a stylus from..where ?

Jazz somehow manages to overlook the fact that the tablet is made to fit the mech's size. His head is still feels a bit…off..after that portal thingie.

"Charades it is then."

____________________

An hour and a half later, Jazz finds himself staring intensely at the screen in front of him with a surprisingly neatly drawn chart on it.

"So uh. Motion."

The other guy nods and starts drawing a walking mech. Then something that looks like a very unusual car. Then a submarine. Jazz gets a little lost looking at how skillful he is with the stylus.

Honestly, he's a good artist!

The guy points to the sketch of a walking mech and says

" Motion."

Then points to the drawing of a car driving and the columns of the chart.

"Motion-rotation" he points to the car again.

That must mean "driving" huh? Jazz nods understandingly.

Mech moves his finger to the submarine.

"Motion-Water."

Ah, it must mean swimming. Jazz nods once more, feeling like a wind-up dummy repeating the same motion a dozen times.

The mech makes a quiet humming noise and then points to the chart

"Motion. Sky."

And then gives Jazz the stylus?

Uh, what is he... Oh, he wants Jazz to figure out what it means.

"Motion" and "sky," right?

Jazz takes the stylus? Pencil? Thingie.. and very carefully draws out a crooked scribble of something only remotely resembling an airplane. The mech arches an eyebrow and looks like he wants to laugh.

Jazz shrugs awkwardly and tries to add windows to the airplane, but ends up making it look more like a severely fucked up caterpillar.

Mech snorts.

Jazz kicks him in the leg.

The airplane begs for a merciful death.

Jazz didn't really expect to get into a language class but he has to admit that whatever language he's learning now is a surprisingly easy one. It only took the other dude half an hour to show him the basic concept and from there it became a game of associations.

There were simple definitions. Like size, quantity, speed, emotion and so on.

There were signs that automatically turned the whole sentence into a question or a statement.

There were modifiers that Jazz defined in his head as positive and negative.

Positive speed - fast.

Positive size - large.

Positive direction - forward.

Positive time - future.

There were also basic words for senses, emotions and whatnot, also with modifiers.

Mouth-positive - to speak

Brain-positive - to think, but negative-brain-do-positive - to learn.

Huh.

And it's so neatly organized that Jazz wondered if this language was designed specifically to be easy to learn.

Let's see....

Mouth - positive, effort - negative.

"Easy to speak."

The guy nods contentedly and starts talking back, while pointing to the appropriate columns of the chart to make it easier for Jazz to understand.

"Creation-positive. Purpose. Person-negative-knowledge. memory-positive-effort-negative."

Jazz frowns, concentrating on his finger.

Oh. Created. For those who don't know it. Easy to learn.

He was right. The whole thing is waaaay too awkward to write poetry but learning it is a delight.

Jazz leans over the chart.

All right, well, let's see.

“Name. You. Question?”

The other guy smiles and pokes at the chart

"Me.Motion-sound-negative.Negative-eyes-positive-someone."

Walk quietly. searching?… Sneaking?

Oh, it's not "to sneak" it's "to prowl"

"Prowl" nods affirmatively. Jazz smiles at him and looks at the chart again. Okay. How to say “music”?..

“word-knowledge-negative.”

He stops to make a gesture with his hands, as if playing an invisible piano while humming a tune.

Prowl nods

“Sound-positive-positive-hearing.”

Jazz chuckles

“A whole two positives eh? Okay then. Uh. You don't look like you listen to jazz....so..”

“Me. Name. Sound-positive-positive-listening.”

Prowl raises his eyebrows. (Jazz is jealous, he wishes he had eyebrows too.)

“You're a musician?"

Jazz quickly shakes his head while simultaneously muting the outside speakers to a barely audible level and turning on one of the songs on his playlist.

Prowl twitches in surprise when he hears the melody.

Jazz waits for the intro to finish playing and then points to himself

“Creation-negative..uh..Sound-positive-positive-hearing. Jazz. This...”

He pats himself lightly on the chest.

"..is me. Jazz."

Prowl straightens up slightly

“Oh, you're not a musician, you're the music.”

Jazz nods cheerfully

“Yes yes!”

“Jaaz?”

“No no. Jazz.”

“Ah. Jazz?”

“That's right.”

Prowl draws a portal on the screen.

“You teleported here. What happened?”

Jazz hangs back, trying to construct an answer in his head. Good thing Prowl seems to have infinite patience

“So, I uh. What was 'fight'? Movement-pain-positive? I fought these things...”

He takes the tablet from Prowl and draws a crooked blot with a bunch of tentacles on it. Then thinks for a bit and adds big teeth and a lot of eyes. He's not really sure how to draw those eyes properly, so he just scatters them randomly around the monster area.

Prowl doesn't seem to be that amused by Jazz's drawings anymore, in fact, he suddenly becomes very somber.

“Quintessons.”

He pokes at the monster

“Name-Quintessons. Number-question.”

How many?

Jazz scratches the back of his head

“So uh...a lot?....number-positive-positive-positive-positive-positi...you get the idea.”

To be convincing, he dramatically spreads his arms out to the sides depicting something very large.

Prowl looks alarmed.

And unconvinced.

“How did you survive?”

Jazz laughs pretentiously

“Ask them how they survived.”

Prowl makes the “you can't be serious” face. Jazz isn't quite sure what exactly is confusing him. Mechs are designed to kill Quintessons, aren't they? Judging by his movements, this pilot must be damn good at controlling his mech, and that kind of guys usually fight on the front lines.

He decides to put that thought aside for later. There are more important things right now, like...oh shit, where is he even going??

Jazz leans over the chart again

“Uh. Right. Question-we-move-up-place” Man, how to specify... “Knowledge-negative?”

Prowl, linguistic gods bless him, understands him and starts gesturing over the chart in response

Okay. Ah. I-move-up. Planet-creation-positive.

'I'm heading home' or 'my home planet'.”

Jazz instantly perks up.

“Oh that's great, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to go there too.”

Prowl is speaking in a language he's unfamiliar with, so he's definitely from another country, but hey, who cares as long as it's on Earth, right? He just needs to get there and he'll find his own way from there.

He watches the space debris flicker by outside the window. Even the stars are unfamiliar, Jazz can't find any constellations he knows.

One of the little purple creatures says something and Prowl steps aside to chat with them. Jazz leans back and settles into a more or less stable position. Then does the same thing, but with his real, human body. Hell, his head still feels really fucking weird after that teleportation.

He opens the comm channel and just listens to the static for a couple minutes in the faint hope that the engineering department will find a way to contact him.

Nothing.

He sighs.

“1061 on the com. In case there's any way you can hear me...ah shit. You guys won't believe what happened...”

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC prompt. Fae!Danny x Jason. Dead on main. Death of a Fairy Tale. or

"Oh no! This tricky hooman stole my heart! What should I do?" *becomes a leader of his court and, just in case, overthrows the tyrant Pariah Dark in order to allow marriages with representatives of other races and live happily ever after with Jay*.

~~~~~

 “You're not allowed to be here. This is not your territory.”

Jason barely had time to catch his breath after escaping from the hot dog vendor when someone noticed him hiding in the bushes.

There were no rides for children or food vans in this park, so Todd didn't understand why anyone would cling to this territory but the guy looked at him with obvious concern. And well, after the morning's adventures, Jay didn't have any energy for another conflict at all. This kid looked pale and thin, so it didn't look like fighting with him would get him anything.

“Calm down, I'm just passing by. What's your problem, dude?”

“I live somewhere ne...here.”

Jason rolled his eyes. It's clear that the guy lived nearby, but it's unlikely that he had a house. The lack of a T-shirt and shoes hinted that in front of him was also a street rat who most likely had not yet learned how to defend his belongings. Poor guy. But this is definitely not Jason's business.

However, did he really spend the night outside in the open air? Sleeping on the bench was a last choice even for Jason. This might be acceptable options in some quiet provincial town, not in Gotham.

“I mean, what are you doing outside?”

Young Phantom checks his glamour, but finds no flaws in it. This man in front of him must be very knowledgeable and experienced, despite his young age, since he immediately recognized him as not a human being. For Danny, who lived with other fairies in Fairyland all his childhood and came to this dimension for the first time, the outside always meant the world of human. Fae shocked and upset that he was discovered so quickly. Haven't people almost forgotten about their existence? The elders would swear a lot if they found out that he had failed. The boy carefully orders the vine and clover to cover the circle of mushrooms, hiding the front door from the human. He was the only one of the entire brood entrusted by Undergrowth to start a practice in a city where there are almost no plants and sunlight, and faeling did not want to let down the mentor who took him under his wing at all.

The old Fairies claim that people are mean and narrow-minded, but Danny himself is intrigued by these creatures and therefore hopes that he will be able to come to an agreement with the boy and to continue his research without obstacles. Danny intends to take the exam for the right to be called an adult fae this decade, which means he has no right to make mistakes. But still, forcing a guy to dance until he drops dead from exhaustion or make him wander along the paths of this small green area without being able to find a way out, as he was taught to get rid of pests at home, seemed too cruel. This boy, just like him, is still a cub and he is here by accident, not to encroach on their possessions. They need not quarrel.

“Don't banish me. I'm just trying to learn.”

“To do what?”

“To steal.” Danny blushes, realizing that such honesty was unnecessary. Stupid, stupid...People know that faeries can take their names, thereby gaining power over them. Now this cub will definitely decide that he has come to cause harm and he will not be able to learn anything useful and interesting. Phantom quickly makes excuses. “Nothing important! I only borrowed trinkets and fruits.”

“You're new to this, aren't you?”

“Is it that noticeable?”

“Pretty noticeable, yes.”

The boy looked at him almost pityingly. And the Phantom didn't like it.

That's how the spirits and other fairies used to look at him when they found out he was only halfa. Because of this fact, his abilities were belittled and not taken seriously too often. What's wrong with that? He's dead just like everyone else, even if not completely.

And now he's screwed up, not even because of his nature, but because of his sluggishness. It was especially unpleasant, as it was deserved. He should have spent his time more productively, but the flowers bred with the help of humans were so interesting and talked about their longing for the sun with such sadness that fae did not dare to interrupt them.

Jason finished both of the stolen hot dogs and leaved the park. The guy still follow him and stares intently, almost without blinking.

“Stop it. What do you want?”

“I study. You seem experienced. “

“People don't really like being stared at like this, in case you didn't know. Back off.”

“Really?”

Jason was ready to be outraged that the kid thought he was an idiot but the tramp from the park looked really puzzled. It seems that if he ever had parents, they didn't care about the boy, since they didn't explain to him that atypical behavior could add him problems. The boy is lucky that Jay is an asshole only when absolutely necessary.

“You're weird. Try to keep your mouth shut near others.”

“Okay.”

Jason took a few minutes to think and sighed. Todd could not leave this strange child alone, because damn conscience would not allow it. He can't survive alone. He will either wander after some other person and become a victim of trafficking or he will be at the beck and call of some assholes in the late afternoon. Jason cursed his bleeding heart once more and promised himself that he would keep the boy by his side no longer than necessary. Jay couldn't afford to be responsible for another mouth to feed. Summer has already come to an end and it was worth starting to save a little money and store things in case of early cold weather.

“If I teach you some of my skills will you promise to stay away from the places where I…work?”

“Maybe. Is this a deal?”

“Yes, if you'll agree, idiot. “

Danny nods and his new acquaintance continues.

“First of all, we'll get you shoes and some clothes. I don't need you to pick up tetanus and some viral crap.”

Danny smiles a little, trying not to make it too noticeable. Great trick.

He nodded to indicate understanding rather than agreeing, and the boy did not ask for verbal confirmation. It seems that he is not completely hopeless at deceiving people. Phantom couldn't wait to tell Clockwork or Frostbite about his success.

They wound through streets and rooftops for a long time until they reached other man's temporary shelter, and Danny had to admit that the man's decision to borrow more clothes was very clever. Strange sharp things and narrow bags of biological fluid were found between the houses disgustingly often. The elders are right about something? Danny must admit. Some people are nasty. They didn't even clean the settlement they live in properly.

A foul-smelling device for carrying things flew into the face of fae while he thoughtfully followed the boy telling him something about removing so-called tires from the iron inanimate horses.

“Dude, stop fighting with a trash bag. You'll stand guard while I give the customer the goods, okay?”

“Fine.” To be honest, the intern was ready to cry from the injustice of life and rush home, and he was only stopped by the desire to visit the observatory, which his new acquaintance mentioned when fae complained that because of the smoke and smog the stars would probably not be visible at night.

Danny realized that he did not regret his decision when, a couple of minutes later, he heard his human quarreling with adult specimen. Judging by the conversation, the man refused to pay the price for the things brought to him and even threatened to hit Phantom's guide. Danny was annoyed by this and decided to intervene a little. To his good fortune, on the balcony of this vile man there was a pot with withering petunias and they did not mind helping lil fae teach their owner manners. A slight whiff of magic and the pot falls on the deceiver's head and human begins to choke on the roots that climb right into his mouth. Danny giggles, congratulating his green comrades on their successful revenge. Other boy doesn't waste any time and grabs the bucks that fell out of the customer's hands and orders new boy to run.

Danny spent several days with human cub and really learned a lot about these creatures. Despite the fact that such a pastime was exciting, he needed to at least create the illusion of practice the fae skills.

It is dangerous to ask a person who knows who he is about this but teachers will be upset if he does not make an attempt. And despite the fact that the people around him seem scary, Nocturn will be much scarier in anger if he finds out that Phantom is such a loser.

“Ma- Can I have your name?” Danny muttered uncertainly and immediately panicked at his own impudence. “Sorry!”

“Jason.”

Todd was in a good mood, as luck had been with him for the last few days, and the new companion was not at all as useless as it seemed to him from the beginning. He was able to hide so well that no one could detect them, and managed to bring fresh fruits, vegetables and mushrooms to their safe house. However, there were problems with the last one, since this strange dude sometimes brought toadstools and satan's boletes to their apartment, which he managed to get from unknown places. Jason thought he was going to have a heart attack the first time he caught child happily eating raw fly agaric. Indeed, if Jay hadn't found him this boy would probably have died of poisoning in that park by now. Todd had to persuade him to bring only chanterelles, which he could confidently identify as edible and not fear for their lives every time the boy tries to help find food. And his padawan really managed to find them. In Gotham. Holy shit. Maybe this park, so fiercely guarded by the boy, was another secret area for Poison Ivy's experiments? However, poisonous specimens will not be wasted either, since you never know when you will need to defend yourself without entering into a fight, but acting more subtly.

“Real name! Real one!” The boy's eyes were as big as saucers and he became very worried and waved his hands as if trying to shake off invisible sticky threads from his fingertips. “You shouldn't say your actual name! Why did you do that? You shouldn't have given it to me.”

“There are a lot of Jason's around. Why do you care about that?”

“You're not just some Jason, you're my Jason, you're important to me. It's dangerous if someone has your name. Then that someone can make you do bad things.”

Tears began pouring down boy's face and Jason was surprised by such a violent reaction. Todd doesn't think there's anything to worry about, since he didn't tell the stranger his last name. He often introduces himself in different ways. Just, for some reason, something made him be honest this time. But how would this guy know that?

“Well…You're not just anyone. We're friends. I don't think you're going to rat on me to the cops or anything. So it's okay. “ Jay tries to calm the newcomer down.

“Friends?”

“Yes. Friends forever?” Jason teasingly holds out his little finger, offering a childish oath that he recently taught his padawan.

“Forever.” The boy supports the oath, and then, after thinking for a second, leans closer to Todd and whispers. "I'm Danny, just so you know."

“Good. I'll remember.”

The young fae is overcome with euphoria. He took the name! He did it! But that was all the other boy had, apart from a rusty tire iron, so it probably wasn't right or friendly to keep it. The human cub helped him. Danny couldn't keep such a gift. He didn't even really try to get his name. “Jason is your name.”

“That's right, buddy.”

“I won't call you that name.” Where I come from, even spouses rarely know each other's names. Danny wanted to assure his friend that he should not be afraid that he would abuse his power. “ I like you so I will take full responsibility for the possession of such a gift, don't worry.”

“Hah, in order to take responsibility, you already need to at least marry me as a moral compensation, given the number of brain cells killed by your antics. “

“Well, if I have to, then I will. When we're older.”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. It's probably not love, since they're just kids, but still, Jason thinks that if all autumn evenings were like this, he wouldn't mind spending his life with Danny, snuggling closer to the boy while they both bask under the same blanket. No matter how many times a day they managed to roll in the mud and fall into the trash can, the boy always gave off a light scent reminiscent of spring greens, which reminded Todd of something warm and cozy. Maybe a home? Although when his father was not in prison yet, his house smelled more like the stench of cigarette smoke and mold.  So Danny was more like a hope for a good home that they write about in books.

On their free evenings Jason usually entertained them by reading. Danny has always been an attentive listener, reacting vividly. After stroking the battered cover of a new book he found, Jason puts it aside. He's too tired today, and  just wants to listen.

Noticing this, Danny begins to chirp about his homeland. His stories are like fairy tales, too bright and colorful for the stone Jungle. Jay realized a long time ago that his friend had something like a defense mechanism. Todd himself snapped and fought when the world was too cruel, this guy escaped to his fictional world, where he was safer and happier. His friend could have been a great writer someday. The descriptions of Princess Dorathea and her cruel brother, pharaoh with an unusual passion for technology and ultra-recyclo vegetarian queen of plants were so detailed and vivid that they seemed true. Danny's imagination contained the whole world.

When the first snowflakes fall to the ground, Danny says that this means that his friend Frostbite will soon come to pick him up. Jason is honestly not ready for such a turn of events. He promised himself that he would not be around another boy for longer than necessary, but he managed to get attached. He hopes that this statement is just another one of his companion's fantasies and forgets about it for a while.

A snowstorm is raging in the city when Danny does not return home. The snowfall does not stop for several days, and Todd realizes that his friend left him, although all his belongings are left in their apartment. He hopes that someone really came for the boy, and not that in the spring his body will be found in one of the melting snowdrifts.  After a few months, when the canned homemade vegetables carefully cooked by Danny are coming to an end, and the mold, sitting alone  in a corner of the ceiling all winter, felt the first the warm rays of the sun, Todd decides not to waste energy on useless worries and hopes.

Soon, as Danny would put it, Batman steals Jason. Todd doesn't really trust the old man at first, but he teaches him to be Robin, and, well, Robin is cool. He's magic. Robin is an urban legend, a spirit worthy of being the hero of Danny's favorite stories. Robin is Jason's connection not only to the city itself, but also to his past. Robin does not need to think about whether he should grieve not only for his mother but also for his friend. Robin is more. There is not only strength and hope in this uniform, but also memories, nostalgia and  humanness. Therefore, Todd is not ready to give up the suit, even if he understands Grayson's displeasure. Because when he goes out on a patrol, the longing becomes less, and he feels that he is getting better and closer to something important. It helps.

No.

It helped.

And then he died.

And things are getting worse by the day, hah.

~~~A few hits with a crowbar later~~~

Jason learns about a new attempt of eco-terrorism relatively late, when he is officially called to help. Even so he stays at the place of the fight before the rest of the family. Firstly, because this time Ivy decided to start destruction from the closest to Crime Alley park, and secondly because Ivy's creations always pay little attention to him. Even the famous pollen has almost no effect on Hood.

Making his way through the furiously writhing vines, Red Hood notices the enemy and realizes that it is not Ivy, but decides that he will analyze the situation during the battle and rushes forward.

“Hey! Don't touch B, you.. “Almost flying into a guy with such a familiar face, the Hood slows down sharply “... pointy-eared.”

A guy with sparkling green energy in his hand and a vigilante with a pistols in each hand freeze looking at each other.

“Man, is it you?”

Snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, transparent dragonfly-like wings and razor-sharp claws are completely unfamiliar to Todd, but facial features, expressions and a bracelet with star pendants that Jay gave Danny for his birthday, adorning one of the impressive polished horns, allow to recognize him.

“Jay! It's been a long time, my friend.” Hearing Todd's voice, despite the sound changed by the helmet, the creature calms down. “You've grown up a lot.”

“And you're still so short. Wow. And, by the way, I can't believe you're still keep it.” Red puts the safety of the guns and then points one of them at the jewellery. “It's from a dollar store, nothing special.”

John says goodbye to the hope of a day off after the mission, cursing the manners of the bat and his offspring. Is a couple of days without the risk of interdimensional conflict really that too much to ask for?

“You gave it to me. That's why it's special.”

The creature smiles and Todd feels his face blushing. It's a good thing he's still wearing his helmet. Danny looks too…magical…in every sense.

“Do you know him, Hood?” Of course, Bat cannot stay out of the conversation when nothing is holds him back.

“No.”

“Yes.”  Danny denies the statement of Hood, proudly puffs out his chest and declares. “He was my first. He calls himself Hood these days? How strange.”

Bat gasps and exhales indignantly.

Jason quickly connects the fact that his friend is definitely not human with the possibility that Danny's stories were true.

“Name!” Trying to fix the chaos that his friend is trying to involve them in, Red Hood hurries to explain. “He's talking about damn name. I'm the first one who gave...”

“Oh, come on, spoilsport. He almost believed me.” The fairy winks playfully and Jason has to do his best to focus on the mission and not on the guy. “You're my betrothed anyway. And, hey, I collected the library as a wedding gift.”

“Hm.” Hood rolls his eyes. This joke about their childhood promise would have been hilarious if he hadn't felt the old man's rising pressure behind his back. So, returning to the problem, he still needs to get these two away from each other as soon as possible. Neither Danny nor Bruce has a calm personality, and Jason didn't want to start Danny's acquaintance with Alfred by giving first aid to these dummies. “So what's all the fuss about? Are you like um.. Ivy's pet-pixie or what?”

Now John Constantine, who carefully watched the meeting from the sidelines, almost feels his blood pressure rising too. Compare faeries with garden pests. What was Batman's son thinking about, showing such disrespect? He wanted them to have more problems or what?

“Hm? Who is Ivy? I've never heard of her. To be honest, I'm only here because our gate was disturbed.” The fairy chirped angrily and, with a nervous flutter of his wings, flew up to the bushes. His finger pointed accusingly at the crushed mushrooms that John and Batsy had landed on when they unsuccessfully attacked Dr. Isley. “But even though your companions' behavior is inexcusable, I don't blame you, of course. I am glad that we met again because of this incident, Tagetes.”

The Faerie circle...John hadn't seen this in years. Damn Gotham. He difenetly doesn't want the problems of this crazy city to fall under his and Shazam's responsibility. Now it is clear why Rogue disappeared so quickly. She probably knew about it and wanted to make them someone else's problem. Damn it twice, John should have sent a message instead of coming to Gotham to discuss business with Wayne. Being uninvited guests of such mischievous and malicious hosts does not bode well.

“You are lucky that the Fright Knight is not on duty today. But someone will have to answer for it. Is it really so hard to look at your feet? Or is this a deliberate provocation? I demand an apology.”

“No, enough games for you. They're a little busy chasing someone, in case you didn't notice.” Jason starts pulling on his friend's hand, intending to take him out of the park. Next to these paranoids, it's better not to ask an old friend about anything. “Only good little fairies are invited to my safe house to taste my signature lasagna today, so stop trying to give my old man a heart attack, okay?”

“Wait. Is this Willis?” The fairy's eyes narrow and he looks at the cloaked dark figure with disapproval.

"No, another jerk. B has a problem with adoptions and that's the reason I'm now part of his brood." Jason reluctantly explains. "He literally dragged me off the streets without consent after I tried to take the tires off his car."

“Oh my Ancients, he did what?! But you're mine! He had no right to steal you.” Danny indignantly rustled the leaves of the closest trees.

“I prefer to be considered as my own man, thank you very much.”

“Riiight…but still, speaking absolutely one hundred percent theoretically, who would you rather stay with, darling? If only you were mine~”

“Ja-..Don't let yourself be fooled, Red Hood. You can't trust him. Ten or even fifty years spent on a prank don't mean anything to this creature.” Bruce doesn't look happy with how at ease Todd is with the threat, but frankly, he rarely looks happy at all, so the crime lord doesn't attach too much importance to it.

"Wow. Rude. This is partially true, but it still hurts. Jason is a friend. I won't do anything to him and I don't demand anything from him. I can't say that about the rest of you. I was preparing for a long-awaited vacation, and because of your fuss I have a new bunch of paperwork to do. What can you say in your defense?"

The boy with the snow-white hair didn't look really upset, but just because there was still a smile on his face, it couldn't be said that he wasn't furious. Next to fairies, all human senses became enemies, not allies.

Despite the deceptive good-naturedness of merrily fluttering his wings guy, John was on high alert. Short-tempered, playful and obnoxious temperament were both a blessing and a curse when working with these creatures. Fairies skillfully searched for loopholes in contracts and in general were the best deceivers among those who could only tell the truth. Faeries prefer to bend victims to their will with words, but they are skilled users of the magic of nature and chaos. They also, despite the business acumen as strong as the alligator's mouth closing strength, were willing to play cat-and-mouse with those who dared to turn to him for help or just walk near their possessions. And this specimen was also clearly not one of the fairies that Morningstar had taken over control, since his energy reeked of Infinite Realms. Unknown territory. John urgently needs to come up with some ingenious plan to get everyone out of this fighting safe and relatively unscathed and…

“Fuck off, B. I told you he already has my name. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it at any time. You should show more respect for your future son-in-law, you know.”

“Jason, honey, since when do street rats hang out with bats?” Danny obviously didn't have much sympathy for the Gotham vigilante before, but because of his story, their chances of getting along tended to zero.

“Oh, come on, don't even start this conversation. What is more important…Who would I rather stay with? Hm…Let's say, um, theoretically, of course…If your fiance was killed by one very very bad cruel clown, what would you do, Stardust?

"I would tear clown molecule by molecule."

“Yes, yes! Right!” Jason pats Danny on the shoulder and turns to Batman. “See, that's how you should have reacted.”

Constantine: …What an Addams family. I'm leaving. I've already seen enough. If you get kidnapped, don't call me. Damn freaks.

Come with me now to see my world

Where there's beauty beyond your dreams

Strangers Like Me - Phil Collins

[rachalixie]

can’t get you off my mind

all good love stories start with a drunk stranger, don’t they?

warnings: mentions of alcohol, fem!reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 4k

it starts at a bar. 

or really, it starts with a man at a bar. one that you’ve seen before in passing, a familiar face in a sea of more familiar faces. someone who you’ll later learn is one third of your best friend changbin’s production team, someone who you should have met years ago probably, someone who you would find is the perfect puzzle piece that fits into your jagged edges.

but right now, he is just a man at a bar with a beer in hand and a ridiculously dopey smile on his face. 

“marry me, please,” he says, absolutely serious but it’s a bit diluted from the way his words were slurred around the edges. “or i’ll have to kidnap you.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow at him, his image swimming a bit as you turn your head to fully take him in. you’re not drunk, but youre a couple glasses of wine deep and you’re not known for being fully articulate whilst sober anyways. 

“i swear i’m going to marry you,” he says, eyes wide as he looks at you. “you might be the most perfect person i’ve ever seen.”

you’re not overly fond of men you haven’t met hitting on you, but this one seems a bit harmless. if you ignored the part where he said he would kidnap you. at least he wasn’t grabbing onto you or trying to touch you - that would have sent your fist flying towards his face and probably a swift exit from the bar. it was a little weird that you didn’t find him weird, but in retrospect you must have known, even then. 

“okay, listen,” you put your hands on your hips, giving him an unimpressed look. “if you find me when you’re sober, ask me again and maybe i’ll reconsider.”

“okay,” he nods, hair moving along with his movement like a puppy’s ears. “i can do that. i’ll find you, i promise. i’m gonna marry you, did you know?”

“so i’ve heard,” you roll your eyes, already feeling a bit fond about him. you didn’t think you’d meet him again, but you were sure that you’d look at this night with a fond smile later. 

he sends you the brightest smile you think you’ve ever seen on a person and scampers off, and you stand rooted to that one sticky spot in the bar for longer than you want to admit.

–

he’s in the back of your mind when you wake up the next morning, in a better mood than most - you never liked waking up early, it always took you a good hour and some coffee to be able to stand without grimacing. this morning though, you float around your apartment as you get dressed with a small smile on your face. 

a cute stranger who kept his boundaries and called you perfect? that wasn’t something that happened often, at least not to you. 

the floatiness followed you all the way through your morning routine until you found your feet stopping outside the coffee shop that you and changbin all but owned. you had no stock in it, but you’re sure that you supply them at least half of their revenue, you probably sit on their rickety chairs more often than your actual couch at home. this place has nursed you through every college class and job interview preparations and beyond, and if it ever closed you might lose time off of your life span. 

your movements from the door to the counter to your usual seat were robotic, muscle memory taking over while your head did somersaults through the clouds. it’s only when you take the first sip of coffee, the bitterness and heat hitting your tongue in a delightful dance, that you notice it. 

another man is sitting next to changbin. a man that looks awfully familiar, and it takes you a moment to realize why. it’s the man from the bar. 

“changbin?” you keep your eyes on the other man as you direct your question at changbin, trying hard to keep your face neutral. “explain?”

“i’m chan,” the man interjects before changbin can answer, reaching his hand across the table for you to shake. it’s warm, his grip somewhere perfectly in the middle of too hard and too soft, and he lets go after an appropriate amount of seconds. despite the neutral passivity of the gesture, you feel something ignite within you, and it threatens to sputter out when you catch no spark of recognition in his eyes. was he that drunk last night that he doesn’t remember you? do his sober eyes not find you as perfect?

“he crashed at my place last night,” changbin’s voice filters through your turmoil, and you finally break away from chan’s gaze to level him with a look. “and he needed coffee, so i brought him along. chan, this is y/n, my best friend.”

the conversation that followed flowed more freely than the coffee dripping from the machines behind the counter, and you almost hate how much you like it. chan is a little goofy, the man from the previous night shining through moments of seriousness and rapt attention. 

by the time you had to leave to go to work you felt like you knew him. you learned where he lived (close to you!), that he worked with changbin (he’s a producer!), and that he loved all animals but he adored dogs (he has one named berry!). just an hour of casual conversation had led to you needing more of him in every aspect of your life, but still in the back of your head lived the thought of him not remembering you from the night before.

changbin leaves first, citing some meeting he had to run to in the middle of a yawn, and when you were left with chan the embarrassment began to set in. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he blurts out, startling you so much you almost jump out of your seat. 

“what?” you ask, a mixture of surprise and disbelief combining into a confusing vortex within your head - was he going to go through this again? you didn’t know if your heart could take it. 

“i mean, i remember you,” he says before you could awkwardly excuse yourself and commit to getting to work early for the first time in a year just to escape being in a room alone with him for much longer. “i’m sorry, i was just embarrassed. i didn’t want to make a fool out of myself in front of changbin.”

“oh,” your breath leaves you all at once and you slump into your chair, understanding hitting you like a train. “that makes sense? i think?”

“i’m going to marry you,” he repeats, a mischievous glint in his eyes, the boy from last night shining through. “one day. i’m going to do it.”

“take me on a date first,” you tease back, a genuine smile stretching across your lips when he laughs, a full bodied thing that drew in eyes from the patrons across the room. for once, you didn’t seem to care that others’ eyes were on you. he made you feel comfortable. 

“what are you doing tomorrow?” his mouth turns upwards into a beautiful smile that you can’t help but return. 

“eager, are we?” you open your phone, sliding it across the table with the new contact page open on it. “i’m free.”

“you’re the most perfect person i’ve ever laid eyes on,” he says, as serious and genuine as the way he had proposed to you last night as he taps his number into your phone. “sorry if i’m a bit desperate.”

“don’t apologize,” you take your phone back, making a mental note to text him later. “i like it, for some unearthly reason. you’re cute, chan.”

the sound of his delighted laugh follows your footsteps all the way to work. 

— 

he picks you up for your first date at noon, right on the dot. he wasn’t a minute late, a polite knock sounding through your apartment just as the hour turned, as if he had been waiting and watching the time outside the door. 

god, is everything about this man endearing? 

he’s wearing shorts and a light sweater, looking like something out of a posh magazine. his hair is curly and swept off his forehead and he’s wearing a smile with the most adorable dimples shining through. 

he leads you to his car and you have to hold back an impressed whistle. you knew changbin and his team did well for themselves, the name 3racha all over the credits of songs on the radio, but this car was nice. you were going to have a talk with changbin about why he still drove the same beat up sedan he’s had since college but that was a thought for later. right now all you wanted to think about was the man who held the door open for you to slide into the passenger seat and was now holding your hand over the middle console. 

“do i get to know where we’re going?” you ask, peering at the map open on his phone but it tells you nothing more than that your destination was 15 minutes away and that he had to make a right turn in one mile. 

“it’s a surprise,” he says, voice a little nervous but it was masked with excitement. wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be there if he was this happy the whole time. 

four songs on the radio later, one of which you teased him for when he revealed that he wrote it, he was pulling into a parking lot illuminated by flashing colorful lights. he had brought you to the fair. 

“i’ve never been to the fair!” you bounced a little in your seat, wriggling in excitement. “i’ve always wanted to go, how did you know?”

“lucky guess?” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he cuts the engine and unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“changbin told you, didn’t he,” you smile at the thought of chan asking his friend about what you’d like. it was cute, a word that you were probably exhausting when thinking about him even after a day of knowing him. 

“yes, but,” he flushes, the tips of his ears burning red. “i asked him after i had decided to come here, just to make sure it was a good idea. i didn’t steal it from him.”

“hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours that he had yet to let go of in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. you didn’t know what brought him calmness yet, but you wanted to learn. you wanted to learn everything about him. “now, take me to the fair, bang chan. i was promised a date.”

he finally meets your eyes again and he’s grinning so happily that you feel like you had just won a prize. who needed a fair when you had your very own carnival game right here? 

it turns out, you did. by the time the sun was beginning to set, your arms were full of various plushies that chan had won for you, each one earning him a hug and a kiss to his cheek. you treasured every single one, the fluttering in your chest when he stepped up to the booths to throw and shoot various things never ceasing. 

“let’s go to the ferris wheel,” you tug at him with your free hand, thanking the skies when you see no queue there. “i bet the sunset looks beautiful from the top.”

he’s quiet when he follows you there and into the carriage, his thigh pressing against yours as he slides in next to you, but you don’t notice in your excitement. it isn’t until the wheel ticks to the top and stops that he grabs your hand again, trembling a little. 

“chan? are you okay?” you ask, concern warping your voice as you turn towards him. your movement rocks the carriage a bit and he turns pale, ducking his head into your neck to hide. 

“yeah, ‘m okay,” he murmurs, his eyelashes ticking your skin when he blinks his eyes shut. “just don’t like heights very much.”

“oh my god, why didn’t you tell me?” you cry out, jumping a bit and regretting it when you rock the carriage again. “nevermind that, what can i do? it’ll go down soon, you’ll be alright.”

“just keep holding my hand?” he squeezes your fingers lightly and your heart melts. you may have made a joke that he was just trying to trick you into holding his hand any other time, but the fear in his shaking body was real and you’d never tease him for that. 

“of course,” you press a kiss to his hair, moving your other hand slowly to wrap around your intertwined fingers. the wheel begins to turn again, swaying the carriage as it descends. you keep your grip on his hand tight the entire time, all the way until you’re on your feet again on steady ground. 

“i’m so sorry,” you begin to say, the horror of subjecting him to his fear creeping up now that the crisis has passed. 

“i’m going to marry you,” he says, cutting off your apology and lifting your hands to his mouth so he could press a kiss to the back of yours. “no one’s ever been able to keep me that calm. thank you.”

you were left speechless after that and all you could do was smile at him, the ghost of it not leaving your face for the rest of the night. 

–

your thirty first date with chan ends with you crying into changbin’s arms, utterly confused and the feeling of despair creeping up your veins. you had met him your cafe as you had done several times since the fair, but when you arrived he wasn’t there. he came late, dark storms in his eyes and a hard set to his jaw and you didn’t understand what had made him like that. the usual smile and twinkle in his eyes were missing, and when you and asked him about what was wrong he had snapped at you in a way you hadn’t been talked to in years. 

you had left after that, brushing him off when his eyes had widened and he reached for you while calling out your name. you know that you should have given him a chance to explain, but at the time you were too hurt to consider it. 

you made your way to changbin’s apartment without thinking, your feet taking you to safety before your head could catch up. changbin had taken one look at your face before wrapping you up in his arm, walking you to his couch so he could cuddle you properly while words spilled out of you like a leaky faucet. you felt like you were back in college, crying and blubbering over a boy who had rejected you at a party, and you hated it. 

you didn’t notice changbin sending an angry text to chan, but the sound of changbin’s door opening with a bang startled you out of your tears. chan bursts in like a whirlwind, his hair sticking up at weird angles and a look of panic on his face as he takes you in. he reaches the couch in a few strides and falls to his knees in front of you, holding a crumpled bag from the cafe in his hand and taking your cheek gently into his other. his thumb wipes at the tear tracks there and you could practically taste the guilt emanating off of him. 

“love, i am so sorry,” he starts, ignoring changbin when he scoffs at the apology. “i shouldn’t have snapped at you, i had no right to do that. i got some bad news this morning and i wasn’t feeling my best, and i should have been honest with you. i’ll never do anything like that again, please forgive me? i’ll do anything.”

it was more his voice than his words that did it - he sounded so desperate, like he was trying to hold

onto a ledge that was crumbling, threatening to hurl his body into eternal nothingness. you knew him, you knew he was sorry, and against your first instinct you trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. 

“is that an almond croissant?” you eye the bag in his hand. 

“it’s two almond croissants,” he nods fervently, his hair swishing back and forth with the movement. you sit up, sliding out of changbin’s arms and onto the floor in front of chan. chan’s arms replace changbin’s easily when you lean into him, and it feels like coming home. 

“it’s not like i have a nice couch you could be sitting on,” changbin mutters as he leaves, shaking his head fondly at the two of you before making himself scarce. 

chan kisses you, cradling your head gently into his hands, and they’re so warm. he slides his lips against yours, slowly like he’s taking his time memorizing the planes of your mouth to commit to memory. even after kissing him dozens of times you still find new things to learn about each other. 

“i swear,” he says, pulling away to meet your eyes. “i’m going to marry you, someday.”

“keep getting me croissants as apologies and we’ll see,” you say, sniffling into his neck. 

—

your eighty seventh date was spent in your bed, your head spinning like both hands on a clock simultaneously and your body exuding more sweat than you ever have. 

chan is wringing out a cool cloth to place on your forehead and it feels so nice that you moan. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and chan has lost count of the amount of times you’ve said it at this point. “we had a date and i ruined it.”

“we were going to see a movie,” he says, running a hand up and down your spine. “and we will. we don’t need a movie theater when we have a screen right here, hmm?” 

“but the popcorn,” you complain, closing your eyes in bliss when he runs a hand through your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. an apology for being so sweaty was at the tip of your tongue but you hold it back in favor of enjoying the feeling of his touch. 

“i’ll make you all the popcorn you want when you’re feeling better,” he promises, dropping a kiss to the side of your head. “for now, how does soup sound?” 

“popcorn soup?“ you ask, a wave of dizziness taking over your body; if you weren’t lying down already, you’re sure that too would be falling over. 

“yeah, baby,” and even in your delirium the fondness in his voice was prominent. he couldn’t hide it even if he tried. “i’ll make you some popcorn soup. get some rest okay?”

you’re asleep before he leaves the room, and you only wake up when he shakes your shoulder a bit and helps you into an upright position. he feeds you bites of what is definitely not popcorn soup after putting a movie on your laptop, the screen sitting at the foot of your bed. the both of you fall asleep before the movie finishes, but you don’t mind. 

he stays with you for days, making you soup and tea and toast and feeding you medicine and being an all-around angel as he nurses you back to health. by the time you’re better you think you’ve fallen back in love with him several times. 

as you had expected and warned him about, he catches your sickness the next week, and now it’s your turn to be his nurse. you try and do the same job he did, but his delirium seems worse. the silver lining is that his fever isn’t as bad, so you’re babysitting a babbling boyfriend more than a sick one. 

the night before his fever breaks is the worst, since he doesn’t even recognize you. you shake your head at his silliness when he asks who you are and calls you pretty. you smile when he takes your hand in his and asks you to come closer. 

you tear up when he tells you that he has a girlfriend that he loves very much and so even though you’re pretty he can’t do anything else because his girlfriend is the prettiest one in the whole world. you let a tear slip when he tells you that he can’t wait to propose to his girlfriend and that he’s going to marry her someday. 

you tell him that you have a boyfriend that you're going to marry someday, trusting that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 

—

your hundredth and fifth date was not unlike your fifth, or your tenth, or your ninetieth. two and a half years later, you were just as endeared by him and he was just as obsessed with you - even more so, if it were possible. 

he takes the time to tell you how gorgeous you look when he picks you up just like he does on every date, and you hide your disgustingly fond smile for him behind his back like you do every time you see him. 

he parks and runs around the car to let you out like he does every time you habit this restaurant, a little fancier than your usual best but it was a favorite of the both of yours - across the street from the bar the two of you had met at. 

you start walking before he does, letting him jog to meet you and complain about how you left him, just like you do every time. before him. you might have thought the monotony would have gotten tiring, but he had a fantastical ability to make every moment feel like the first despite their practiced nature. 

he calls your name from behind you right on schedule and you hum in acknowledgement, turning towards him absentmindedly. the second you lay eyes on him you’re completely alert, though; he isn’t jogging after you, but rather he’s kneeling on the sidewalk, a small box in his hands as he smiles up at you. 

“i’ve told you that i’m going to marry you more times than i can count,” he starts, eyes shining like the stars twinkling in the night sky above you. “but this time i’m asking you.”

“chan,” you choke out, hands coming up to cover your mouth as it quivers. tears spring to your eyes and you silently curse yourself - you always thought you’d be level headed when you got proposed to, but nothing could have prepared you for this, not even the thousands of declarations he had made to you prior. 

“i love you. you’re the only one in the entire universe that i need more than blood or breath, you’re the song that runs through my heart and the fire that leads my path when i’m lost,” his voice is thick, like he’s trying to hold back his emotions long enough to get his words out. “i never thought that i would feel so strongly for someone, i never thought that i deserved a love like this until i met you.”

he pauses as you walk closer to him, letting you approach him before he continues. 

“my love, my eternal light,” he’s tearing up now, blinking fast to keep the salty water at bay. “will you marry me?”

“chan,” you start, kneeling down next to him and taking his wrists in your hands. “i never told you this, but ever since that first day i knew. i knew that the drunk idiot that was hitting on me would be my husband.”

he chuckles, smiling delightedly as the tears finally spring from both of your eyes in unison.

“so?” he trails off, searching your face with his eyes, waiting. 

“oh!” you tighten your grip on him in an apology. “of course i’ll marry you, gosh i love you so much.”

[thebadboyfanclub]

Together As One (Daemon x Reader)

So this is more a twisted love type of hype, I hope you guys like the way I portrayed this request cause I wanted to give it more of a dark edge since Daemon is definitely a gray character. Hope you enjoy!

Mothers love their children, everyone could agree upon the unconditional love mothers held for their kind with no doubt in their hearts, songs, poems, plays, and any type of art one can think of have attempted to portray such devotion. None, however, could predict that some mothers have a certain type of fear for their child, like some whisper in the back of their heads warning them about the little glimpse in their eyes that was not like the stars but more of a scorching fire threading to burn everything.

That was the exact feeling Rhaenys had for her beloved daughter, the twin sister of Laenor, it would often baffle her how her husband could not see what was clearly there, (y/n) was always in competition with everyone about everything, the finest clothes belonged to her, she had to ride a dragon first, learn Valyrian faster.

Whilst Rhaenys prayed for her daughter's thirst to settle, the others praised her for her bravery, her determination, and her intellect, something that made (y/n) yearn for more.

“I would like to raise a toast to my dear brother, a married man to our future queen, may your wedlock be blessed with numerous children and a road paved with nothing but joy and success, Prince Daemon, hopefully you are next”

(Y/n) stood with a smile of triumph dancing on her lips before she raised her cup to gently take a sip, as she sat down Daemon's eyes followed her, he was well aware of her game, though he seemed unfazed and almost amused by her comment the truth laid somewhere deeper than the surface, not a single soul in this room would have been able to guess that the delighted twin of now future king consort was playing a game of cat and mouse with none other than prince daemon behind closed doors.

(Y/n) had been relentless in her ways to seduce Daemon, sneaking out at all hours of the night, sending people after him so she could know his whereabouts just so she could magically appear, the combination of sweet wine and her alluring voice was enough for Daemon to stumble and fall right on top of her, taking her for a ride to the addictive roads of lust.

She was stunning, flawless, a true Targaryen that screamed opulence and elegance with a face sculpted by the gods, the common folk would gush over the “oceans Angel” a nickname given by the realm for her angelic features, how would they know how dark her mind could get in order to make everyone yield before her?

-

“Mother”

“Dearest, how are you on this fine morrow?”

“I am well, the little one finally decided to let me get some rest”

“When I was pregnant with you I remember thinking you would kick your way out of my belly, the Apple does not fall far from the tree”

(Y/n)s daughter, Leora, leaned as much as she could to kiss her mother's cheek before she sat down next to her to break her fast, queen Alicent had already taken her seat along with her daughter Heleana and (y/n)s other son Elion, Alicent and (y/n) enjoyed each others presence, a mutual bond based on respect had been build over the years that was sealed by marrying Leora with Aegon and Elion with Heleana.

“The maester said you should drink more orange juice, it will help with the fatigue”

“As well as eat more meat, pregnancy is no easy task, you must be as strong as ever”

Alicent chimed, the birth of her second grandchild was one of the most important events, Alicent adored her first grandchild, beautiful Hael, a strong boy who was just now starting to learn how to walk, still, he had everyone wrapped around his finger.

“I appreciate your concerns but I am fine, healthy as a horse”

“It wouldn’t hurt, let us not risk it dearest”

“I thought once I get older I wouldn’t have to listen to my mother”

“Well I am sorry but that will never happen, drink”

(Y/n) had stepped up and appeared as the perfect mother, loving, kind, and caring, she did love her children, however, what she loved most was the things they could do for her, her firstborn daughter was now the wife of the king first born son, and her son was a strong, skill full knight that served the realm and came back in triumph, how could she not adore her perfect creations?

“How is the king?”

“I am afraid his health is decreasing, the maesters advise him to remain abed for the day”

“Rhaenyra will be questioned, he won’t sit this one out I am afraid”

“Ugh the precious Rhaenyra, I wish I could stay in my chambers until those god-forsaken days pass”

(Y/n)s smile was wiped from her face and in an instant it was replaced with an angry scowl, in a split second her hand had grasped her daughter, Leoras' eyes went wide with fear when they met the angry hues of her mothers.

“You mustn’t speak in such a way, I’ve taught you better”

Leora only nodded frantically, (y/n) had her own opinions over Rhaenyra, she however, knew better than to voice them, not even in such a secluded area of the palace, (y/n)s hold turned from forceful to a caress before she directed her eyes back to her friend and queen Alicent.

“Besides, the king will do as he wishes and if the gods bless him with the strength to stand he should be there, isn’t it right Alicent?”

“I couldn’t have phrased it better, my dear”

-

(Y/n) and Alicent were each other's shadows, one compelled the other and in the end one way or the other the result was one of their favor, (y/n) was disciplined and had mastered the act of a gracious and lovely princess, Alicent was strict and slipped under everyone’s nose as she cloaked herself with the act of a pious queen, the two of them had years up on the horse of being able to maneuver their way around the kingdom so the men would not suspect a damn thing.

Viserys had seemed to get worst which made him unable to attend even when Daemon and (y/n) went to his room to assist him, the king could not even sit up let alone walk, Daemon was disheartened, thankfully for him his dutiful and beautiful wife let him rest on her shoulder and like a soothing salve her encouraging words went over his wound of his beloved older brother nearing his end.

“My Love”

“(Y/n)? What- what has happened?”

“I apologize for waking you up my dear, it is your brother”

“Viserys? What about- no”

“My dear husband, you must be strong, I am so sorry”

(Y/n) grasped Daemon's hands tightly before she brought them up to her lips to kiss his knuckles, of course, she was one of the first to know, Alicent had rushed to her chamber and delivered the news herself, she had waited patiently as the king took his last breath, Alicent told no one, not even the maester, (y/n) had to know before anyone.

“Viserys”

Daemon had been taken over by his thoughts, they’ve always had their differences but at the end of the day, they shared the same mother and father, a bond that could never be broken, no matter how many times Daemon has run off he always ended up by Viserys side.

“My love, I understand that this is too much for you, however, we must prepare our daughter”

“What does Elora have to do with this?”

“She is to be queen, she needs her father”

“Queen? Have you gone mad?”

(Y/n) bit her bottom lip in combination with her head tilting to the side, as if nothing but a mere candle lit her face Daemon could still identify the features that he so adored but now he could not wrap his head around what was his wife suggesting.

“My lord husband, King Viserys has left us, it is only natural for his son to succeed him”

“It is expected for his firstborn, Rhaenyra, to do so, not Aegon”

“Where is the princess? But in a place where she could have visited if she wished, when has she even attempted to come and visit her beloved father who was in agony all these years? She only came when her privilege was at risk and then blamed Alicent who has served by the king's side for his illness”

“This is not a matter to discuss”

“But it is, the gods know I loved Viserys and he had been good to me, but let us not forget he killed his first wife in his desperate attempt for a male heir, he remarried and Alicent gave him an heir and a spare and still it was not good enough, he passed by you and his sons to bury his guilt by calling Rhaenyra the heir, it wasn’t because he trusted her or because he saw something in her, he passed the title on to her because he did not trust you and then because he wanted to wash the blood of queen Aemmas from his hands”

Silence fell upon them, (y/n) pulled away from her husband and headed towards the door, as his hand rested upon the handle she turned her head back to lord husband who was visibly shaken, (y/n) might appear disheartened but she could detect that her monologue had started to creep on to Daemons heart.

“I love you with all my heart, that is why I shall leave you to grieve, if you wish to run to her I will…. Understand, it is not like I ever doubted the unconditional love you have for the realm delight, now might be your chance to pursue it”

Her tone was drowning in sorrow leaving Daemon with an unwavering sense of guilt in a dark room as his wife had disappeared to place her hand over a war of fire and blood, (y/n) was correct, Daemon did love Rhaenyra, still, he did not place his flame for her over what he had built with his wife over the years.

(Y/n) walked away with a smile of triumph, she had done her part flawlessly and now she was certain that Daemon would be by her side before the crown was placed on Aegons head, however, she did not have time to waste, Alicent and (y/n) were the ones to wake the new king and queen, preparing them for what they had destined to be.

“You may enter”

“Prince Daemon is asking to see his daughter and wife, alone”

(Y/n) stopped brushing her daughter's head, carefully placing the golden brush down before she looked down at her daughter who nodded in approval.

“Let him in, do not allow anyone to disturb us”

“Right away”

The girl curtsied as quickly as possible before she disappeared only to be replaced by none other than Daemon. (Y/n) took a sharp inhale through her nose once he entered the room, preparing herself for a mental battle, surprisingly when her eyes scanned for his she was met with a certain lightness, an ease to him that caught her by a pleasant surprise.

Instinctively a small smile played on her lips, her Daemon was dressed in his black attire, leather suited him, and his hair was pulled away from his face the way she always told him to do it.

(Y/n) was not made of stone, she might play like she is though her heart skipped a beat every time she was near her lord husband, Daemon was one of the very few people that (y/n) would throw herself in the fire, even though their love felt like the flames licked her back, that sweet pain of admiration and devotion that the poets would sing and the common folk would go mad.

“My dearest loves”

Daemon declared, that their daughter rose from her chair and ran to her father, she was always the one known to succumb to emotions and this time (y/n) could not scold her over it, Leora was her father's daughter, (y/n) might not have spoken over the matter only to allow the young girl the solidarity of her feelings, inside Leora was always waiting for her father to walk through this door.

“You look beautiful, a perfect gown for the queen”

“Father I-“

“Before I handed you over to Aegon I made you a promise, do you remember it?”

“I will do anything to see you happy”

“I will put myself through war if you tell me that this is what you want, all you have to do is say it”

Daemon was no fool, he was certain that the second that crown graced his daughter's head a war would nip their heels, Rhaenyra would not go down without a fight and that meant that Daemon would have to face her in battle, a battle he was willing to put for his lovely Leora.

“I want to be queen, I want Aegon to be our king”

“Very well, I wish you a fruitful reign, may the Gods smile down upon you”

‘May the Gods have mercy on us’ he thought, with a smile he brushed away those dark thoughts only to place a kiss on his daughter's forehead, a small part of him screamed that this was the right thing, his brother never thought he was good enough, now his brother was on the ground and his daughter was crowned queen and would carry on the legacy of the Targaryen name.

“Go on now, I want to have a word with your mother”

“I will be waiting for you”

Leora informed them before she gave them the privacy Daemon desired. (Y/n) stood as still as a statue, her heart pounding on her chest as her throat grew dry and scratchy, she was the master of composure up until now, faced with the only person who could make her waver.

“My beautiful, sweet lady wife, you spoke harshly last night”

“I spoke nothing but the truth”

She threw back in a cold tone. Daemon only smirked as he started to approach her, she did not dare to move, (y/n) was comforted by his light-hearted manner though there was an underlying mischief, Daemon was playing something, and (y/n) was left trying to catch up before it is too late.

Daemon stood before her, his arm finding her forearms and giving them a gentle squeeze, his eyes gazing back at hers with a glimmer that (y/n) had grown to yearn for, she despised the fact that she had to manipulate him like this, she was left with no other choice but to do this, a side of hers cursed the day Rhaenyras and Daemons fates met, this would have been so much easier had (y/n) been the only women Daemon loved.

“You are so bright, I am almost disappointed that you didn’t foresee this”

“The war?”

“No, me, you think I have not caught wind of all the scheming against Rhaenyra? The upbringing of my daughter to become the wife of my brother's firstborn son, putting our son on the sea the minute he was born to have better knowledge of anything driftmark related to gain the favor of your father, every step you so amazingly calculated with Alicent so you can get our family here”

“You have gone mad”

“I saw behind the facade and that makes you nervous, I was there with you every step of the way you mustn’t be frightened, I let you do all this for only one reason”

“Alright, let us entertain this absurd claim of yours, what is the reason?”

“Because I love you”

(Y/n) mouth slightly parted in shock, Daemon had professed his love for her on multiple occasions but the weight on this one was different, he had pulled what she thought was the perfect cover, leaving her bare in front of him, uncovering her thirst that she had kept away from everyone.

“I love you so much that I will let my daughter become the target on Rhaenyras mind, I will go against the woman that you think threatens your position in my heart, I will put myself in the sword before I let her even get one strand of your hair because you and our daughter want this”

“And you don’t? You always held a grudge over the fact that Viserys never declared you as his heir”

“My brother is dead now and because of you our child wishes to be a queen, I picked you as my second wife because I saw your strength, your determination, you need to come on top, that is the Targaryen fire through and through”

“You truly mean all this?”

“You are my lady wife, you gave me a home, now it is time to show the realm that we are the rightful heirs of the throne, together as one”

(Y/n) reached daemons lips for a passionate kiss, his hands slid down to her waist and pulled her as close as humanly possible, sharing this moment meant everything to (y/n), she had him devotedly by her side, he saw her true nature and walked straight into her fire, surrendering in her and even shielding her and her family.

“Let us find out daughter, I want us to be the ones to place the crown on her head”

“I wouldn’t dare let anyone else have that honor”

Requests are open!

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + ten

authors note: i think ya'll will be pleased with majority of this chapter. as far as the ending scene, let me know what ya'll think roman should do. i have it already planned, but i'm always so curious reading other perspectives. btw, they've been married almost four months, for context.

also, to those who want to know about the subplot of solana's bitch ass daddy plotting to kill roman....it's still a subplot. stay tuned.

passages from 'the courage to heal' do not belong to me.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: violence against women, references to csa, character briefly discussing csa, fluff, angst, language, and suggestive themes

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k (no comment)

Learning to be intimate is rewarding, but it is not always comfortable. As one woman said, “I kept myself safe, but I also kept myself alone.” Becoming intimate means peeling back the layers of protection to let someone in. It means going to the place where you’re comfortable and then taking one step more. One step, not twenty.

Solana must read the passage at least half a dozen times, sitting with the words, meditating with them and doing her best to cope with the discomfort she’s experienced at various points while working her way through the book that’s brought an equal amount of questions as it has answers.

She knew right away going into this section, Healthy Intimacy, that it would most likely be the hardest chapter for her. But not even for the reasons that she initially thought, reasons that would have been the case before a certain Roman Reigns entered her life.

Every day that passes with him seems to bring about a new level of comfort, a new slice of happiness, a new type of contentment. 

She enjoys talking with him and being around him. She looks forward to his meeting her at the end of work and struggles with endless worry when he doesn’t make it back home until the wee hours of the night.

His touch, whether that’s his hand on her back or both hands on her waist as he holds her against him, no longer triggers an automatic tense, uncomfortable feeling. Somewhere along the way, the need to identify his touch as ‘safe’ waned and was replaced with an automatic knowing. Like she knows that it’s okay for him to touch her, because she’s safe. Because she’s safe with him. 

That, along with her continued and also growing attraction, has caused her to think more and more what it could be like to be with someone in that way. The thoughts have been fleeting, far and few over the years, typically followed up with abject horror. But lately….lately she’s been less and less scared and more and more hopeful.

Optimistic that maybe….just maybe, she could one day know what that’s like. To have that experience in a healthy and non-traumatic way with a safe person. With someone who truly desires her in said healthy way.

Someone….someone like Roman.

It’s scary and terrifying and exciting and nerve racking and moving and every other emotion to exist, but on top of all that, for the first time in her life, it’s a possibility for Solana. 

And she wants to take that chance, even if doesn’t work out, even if it’s not what she thought it would be. To be able to say she at least tried, to say that she overcame her fears…it would be monumental.

It would feel like the breaking of mental and emotional chains. 

And it starts today.

Closing up the book, Solana untangles her legs and marks her spot in her book. She gives Dulce a light pat on the head and walks into the bathroom. Opening up the drawer, her eyes land on the pair of scissors. Nothing fancy. Just a pair of regular scissors.

Solana takes a deep breath and grabs them. 

Using one hand to let down her hair from the messy, half-effort bun, she gives her head a good shake. Once, twice, and then a third time. For a brief second, she hesitates, her father’s constant belittling returning to the surface.

“You don’t need short hair. You’ll look even fatter with it.”

Solana shuts her eyes as she thinks of all the times Roman has called her beautiful, has made her feel beautiful. The endless support from Bayley and Naomi. The borderline inappropriate comments form the twins almost every time she sees them.

It all brings an emotional smile to her face as she takes another deep breath.

One step, not twenty.

And she cuts.

________

Samantha can count on one hand in all of the years that she’s known Roman Reigns the times that he’s surprised her with a visit. 

Zero.

He’s always always given her a heads up for his arrival or plans to visit, solely for the mere fact that Roman is a man who doesn’t like to wait. When he wants pussy, he wants it then and now. And she’s never been one to deny the Head of the Table anything he’s ever asked for. 

So when she finds him sitting at her desk, feet propped up with an unreadable expression, it takes her off guard. 

Only for a minute. 

“I knew it was only a matter of time.” Samantha is quick to kick the door shut behind her, locking it right as she tosses her purse on the nearby chair. “You can’t go too long without me.” This fact alone is enough to make her cum right then and there. The fact that even with his roster of women he rotates through, she remains number one. 

Roman knows where it’s at. 

And him coming to her, at her job of all places, just proves it.

Eye dropping to his crotch, she licks her lips at the thought of that thick, beautiful dick in her mouth. Fuck, she’s salivating at just the thought. “You want me on my knees, daddy?”

Samantha starts to kick her shoes off when he finally breaks the silence.

“I want to know what you said to my wife.”

Samantha’s smile drops in under a millisecond. Instantly, she’s scowling. “What?”

Roman doesn’t hesitate to repeat himself, every word perfectly enunciated with his heavy, baritone voice. “What did you say to my wife, Samantha?” 

This….this isn’t how she was expecting this to play out, and it shows in the sudden stuttering, “I—I don’t—”

“She came back from that bathroom upset, and I don’t like seeing her upset, so I’m only gonna ask you one more time—” Samantha nearly jumps back into the door when he suddenly bangs his fist on her wooden desk and growls, “what did you say to her!”

Stammering, she answers with a combination of fear and desperation, “I just—I told her the truth.”

It seems to be the wrong answer, as Roman looks 5x angrier. “And what the fuck is that?”

Samantha gathers herself a little better, voice more even as she answers with misplaced confidence. “That she could never please you. Not how I can.” And with foolish bravery, Samantha steps toward him. “That you’ll always come back to me.”

“You fucking bitch.”

That makes her still with her movements. He’s called her all kinds of names when they’ve fucked, and she’s loved it, loves being fucked hard and rough, his preference. But there’s something about this that she doesn’t love. 

It’s because he sounds legitimately upset with her.

And that, in turn, upsets her, because he cannot seriously be upset that she said some shit to that little girl.

“Why does it matter? It’s not like she means anything to you.” Samantha has to actually laugh. In no universe can she see someone as strong and powerful as Roman caring about a girl like that. But, it’s when he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t voice some type of agreement that her confidence dwindles a bit. “R–right?” Still, nothing. And it’s with that nothing she realizes with all of the anger and shock in the world why he’s so upset.

“Oh my god. Are you serious right now? Her? You really have feelings for her?” Even saying it aloud sounds ludicrous. “What the fuck, Roman? What the hell is so great about her?”

There is absolutely nothing that girl brings to the table for her to have someone like Roman Reigns interested in her. It doesn’t make any goddamn sense. What the hell is attractive about a scarred, sliced up, fat bitch?

He finally speaks, warning her in an almost menacing tone. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“That girl is weak, Roman. You can’t be the head of the Bloodline and have someone like her at your side. She doesn’t deserve it.” By now, Samantha has moved over to him, her hands planted on his chest, his eyes closed. “You need….someone strong at your side. Look at what you’ve done just by yourself. Imagine…imagine having a queen to rule with you.” She licks her lips, going in for the kill. “I can be that for you. I can give you an heir. Look at how long it’s been and still nothing, no baby. She’s broken, Roman. That bitch—”

Samantha is silenced by him jumping up from his chair as he shoves her against the wall, hand on her neck. It’s not the first time they’ve been in a similar position. She loves to be choked during sex, and he’s adept at doing just enough to get her off without her passing out. 

But this time, there’s no pressure, no sexual aspect, no foreplay.

This….this is different.

Because this is the first time she’s ever actually been afraid of him.

“If you ever in your fucking life speak on her again, I’ll kill you.” Samantha’s eyes are wide, hand grasping at his. He’s still not actually applying any sort of pressure, probably more so placement  to evoke a level of fear. A reminder that he could end her life in a matter of seconds if that’s what he wanted. “If you ever speak to her again, I’ll kill you. Fucking look at her, and you’re a dead bitch.”

Samantha barely has time to process his threats when he says something in Samoan and steps back, releasing her as she dubs over and gasps loudly from the shock of it all. 

Seconds later, she’s on the floor, laying on her side after fucking Nia has landed her big ass foot in Samantha’s head. 

Nia is looking down with a wicked smile that promises a level of pain. “You talk too fucking much.” She can’t tell if it’s directed to herself or Roman, regardless, he looks unbothered, outside of staring down at her with disgust.

Samantha has no idea where the hell that bitch came from, but her unexpected blow nearly has her seeing stars. She’s writhing on the floor, on her side, cradling her head when Nia yanks her up by her extensions.

“Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” Nia kicks her a second time, in her side, and Samantha is almost certain she heard the subsequent cracking of her rib from the impact. Tears fill her eyes. “I’ve wanted to kick your ass since we were kids.”

Helpless and feeling so confused as to how he could do this to her, Samantha sets her teary gaze onto him. She does her best to generate as many tears as she can. “Roman, please—”

“You’re fucking delusional if you really thought I would ever make you anything more than what you were to me.” Samantha sniffles, vision blurred and stomach aching from both the physical and emotional impact of his words. “Nothing.”

A sudden anger fills her, meshing with the growing physical pain. She did this. That fucking bitch has taken Roman from her, her Roman.

“You wanna know what she is to me?” He crouches down and reaches for a lock of her hair, answering just as icily as the disgusted look in his light brown eyes. “Everything you’re not.”

Samantha snarls almost, not even angry at his words as much as her mind is trying to navigate any and all ways to make that little troll pay for this. Pay for stealing her man.

But it’s as Roman is walking out, that he barks his last order to Nia. Not necessarily a necessity given the fact that he’s certain she’s dreamed exactly of how this very moment could and should go down. Granted, this is the one symbolic thing he needs to ensure takes place. 

“Break her fucking jaw.”

________

Handling the Samantha situation is just one of many things to be checked off of Roman’s to-do list for today. He’s got meetings, contracts to review, spreadsheets to update, shipments to see sent off, and a million and one other things. Most of which he’s far from thrilled about but also know needs to be done, regardless if he’d rather say fuck it all just for today. For just a couple hours, even.

Delegate, perhaps. But these are things that can’t be delegated. He, as the Head of the Table, needs to put his signature on to make it official.  

And he’s got his Wise Man fresh on his heel to remind him of such responsibilities.

“And if my Tribal Chief can find it in him, we should also review Nick Aldis' proposal.” Roman’s instantly scowling. He fucking hates Aldis. The bastard is smug and thinks himself more important than he is. That Roman won’t end his fucking life with one snap of his finger. 

Roman is halfway listening to Paul when he walks past Alicia who stands up from her desk. “Sir—”

His dismissal is swift and brusque. “Leave me alone.”

“But—”

One murderous look, and Alicia is back in her seat. Roman briefly overhears Paul chastising his secretary for her insubordination when he opens his door and immediately realizes why Alicia was most likely trying to speak to him.

Roman sees Solo standing almost awkwardly in the corner out of his peripheral vision, but his attention is solely on the other unexpected guest.

Focused on the way her almost flesh toned dress hugs every curve that drives him fucking insane sometimes, the way she bites down on her bottom lip in that way he’s learned she does when she’s unsure of something. And he’s especially focused on her hair that’s chopped down to where it lightly grazes her shoulder.

“I tell you, good help is so hard to find—” Paul is silenced as he finally walks in and sees Solana. “Oh, it’s you.” Roman shoots him a look that would absolutely kill if it had any sort of physical impact. “I mean, Solana, what a surprise—”

Roman easily moves back to focusing on his wife who looks absolutely fucking stunning. He directs his command though to Solo and Paul. “You two, out.”

Solo doesn’t need to be told twice, but Paul seems to meander, even as Roman walks over to Solana. And it’s when Roman has his hands on Solana’s hips and the room is still not cleared, he repeats in a calm voice that’s solely because of Solana’s presence.

If not for her, he’d be screaming at his Wise Man.

“I said get out.”

Roman can practically hear the nervous gulp. “But, sir, we have work—”

Solana frowning pisses Roman off in a way he has to keep from showing. But it’s when she finally speaks and it’s an offer to leave that he really has to reel in his rage. “I can go—”

“No.” That’s the fucking last thing he wants. “Paul is leaving.”

It’s not a suggestion, not a request, not a preferred action.

It’s a fucking demand.

And his Wise Man must realize this, because he’s quickly following in line with Solo and finally leaving Roman alone with Solana who seems still unsure about her presence.

“You have work to do—”

“You really expect me to get anything done when you come in my office looking like this?” He motions to her outfit and sees the way her cheeks tinge reddish as she bites back a smile. “Not happening, sweetheart.”

“I thought it looked nice.” The bashful way she says as such, as if she’s unsure it was an accurate assessment blows his mind. She looks down at the dress as if it’s not the woman wearing said dress that has him pushing back unholy thoughts.

“It doesn’t look nice. You look nice, Solana.” Another one over of her curvy body, and he mutters, “more than nice.” He brings his hand to her hair, brushing his fingers against the ends. “You cut your hair.”

She nods, an almost look of determination in her soft expression. “It was time,” is all she says, and Roman doesn’t need to ask for clarification. This meant something to her. Cutting her hair has a deeper meaning than just wanting something new, and whatever the reason, he’s proud she found it in her to follow through. 

He hates when she asks him, still unsure, “does it…does it look bad?”

He’s not sure he could ever use Solana and ‘bad’ in the same sentence. Ever. “You could never look bad.” 

She smiles, clearly pleased by his compliment. Good. He likes seeing her smile.

“Come here.” Roman takes her hand and leads her over to his desk where he sits down in his chair and doesn’t think twice about guiding her onto his lap. Roman feels her tense for only a couple seconds before she relaxes against him.

“As pleasant a surprise it is to find your fine ass in my office, I know you came for a reason.”

Roman is extremely perceptive. Always has been. He’s noticed the increased comfort Solana has developed and continued to develop with him. The way her discomfort at being looked at too long or even touched in any sort of capacity has shifted into bashful smiles and an almost light in her eyes at being complimented. At someone finding her to be anything but every lie she’s ever been fed.

Her confidence is growing, slowly but surely. And he likes that shit.

So he’ll do whatever he needs to do to keep it growing. 

“It’s nothing serious.” It doesn’t have to be. She could come to his office every day if that’s what she wanted. He’d have zero complaints. “I just…I was baking Sopaipillas, and I know you like them and I felt bad because I’m bringing Jimmy and Jey some—”

It’s not until that moment he sees the Tupperware container on his desk. Her thoughtfulness is so unfamiliar but very much appreciated. He chuckles as his fingers carefully tap against her hip. “Thank you, but you know if you keep feeding they asses, they gon’ keep coming over.”

She’s smiling almost, defending them to a certain extent. “They’re really not that bad.” And she’s not entirely wrong. His cousins can be entertaining at times, but beyond that, he likes seeing her comfort level with them increasing as well. 

For her to be as comfortable around them as she’s become, especially with them being men, is extremely significant given her trauma.

He’s proud of her for that just as well.

Still,Roman shrugs and calmly points out. “I spend most of my day with them.” Her other hand lays on his chest as he admits, “I don’t want to come home and see them. I just want to see you.”

Solana gives an expected almost shocked expression followed up with a slight confession of her own. Her voice is soft, like she’s unsure about what she’s about to say but is going with it regardless. “That’s why I wait up for you to get home…because I want to see you too.”

He believes this to be true, but he also knows there’s something else to it. “You worry about me.”

She nods, nervously licking her lips. “I’m trying to work on it though.” She’s been working on a lot of things, a lot of difficult, most likely mentally taxing things. And as proud of her as he is, Roman also recognizes the importance of pacing oneself.

He gently grazes the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Just focus on you, alright?”

The corner of her lips lift into an almost playful grin as she asks innocently, “what if I can do both?” Roman studies her, sees and hears the playfulness. It’s unlike her, but he fucking loves it. She squeals and almost giggles against him as he brings her closer to his chest, her hand squeezing his shoulder as he remains mindful of the placement of his hand on her hip.

Growing comfort or not, he still wants to be respectful of her boundaries.

Still wants to maintain her trust.

“I got me. Always.” Her gaze is on him, softening by the second as he adds on almost quietly. “Just need you to be okay too.”

Okay is such a big word, so layered. She’s not sure she’ll ever be fully okay. Too much trauma. Never enough healing. But there may be some level of okayness she can achieve, and it does feel like that’s something that’s in progress. “I’m getting there.”

And a large part of her healing journey is largely due to the man underneath her, staring at her with almost a sense of fascination, like he’s so enraptured by her. Like he’s smitten with her. The person she once believed no one could ever want has a handsome, powerful man like Roman Reigns holding her, looking at her, wanting her.

A line from the book resurfaces to the front of her mind.

One step, not twenty.

With that as a motivating and supportive mantra, she slowly moves her hand from his shoulder to his face, his beard prickling against her skin.

“Solana…..” She’s not sure she’s ever heard him sound so pained. “Baby, you can’t touch me like this and expect me to not want to kiss you.”

The butterflies in her stomach grow exponentially. Baby. She’s not entirely certain, but she feels like he’s called her this before, that he’s referred to her as such on a different occasion. So, it’s not a mistake, not a one time thing. It’s yet another sign that there wasn’t a dishonest bone in his body when he said he wanted her.

That he wants her.

Her heart is beating a mile a minute as she pools together all of the courage in her body and again chips away another tiny section of her wall of protection. “So kiss me.”

It’s not until this moment that Solana sees Roman actually appear genuinely surprised at something. He asks, maybe as if he needs to make sure he heard correctly, but Solana would bet it’s less that and more him ensuring consent. “Are you sure?”

He’s been so good at that. Consent. And it’s meant the world to her. His patience with all of her baggage.

Nodding, she quickly remembers his preference for verbal acknowledgements. “Yes.”

Solana doesn’t really remember her kiss with Roman at their wedding. She doesn’t really remember much from the actual wedding at all, to be honest. It was���.it was more traumatic than anything, which is why she does her best to keep it stored away with the other too difficult to sit on memories.

But this….this she is certain she will never forget.

There’s an almost hesitancy when his lips touch hers, a space he’s leaving open in the event that she changes her mind. She’s grateful for that, but it’s not necessary. Her ‘yes’ was as genuine as his apparent interest in her. 

And when he picks this up, picks up the fact that she truly wants this, he deepens the kiss, his hand moving up to her lower back as he pulls her closer to him. Roman’s full lips are soft and warm, and the way he moves his mouth against hers is both reserved and hungry, a strange but well balanced thing only he can manage. Like only he can achieve. He kisses her with a passion  that she feels is only a fraction of everything he feels toward and for her. 

Solana’s hand slides to the back of his neck, her fingers brushing up and across the skin, teasing the strings of hair that refused to mold down. She’s not sure if this was the right move because he makes a sound against her mouth, an almost mixture of a moan and groan, and pulls away. The separation and her subsequent light panting makes her suddenly aware that they’d been kissing longer than she realized. That she’d gotten so plunged in the experience that time seemed a nonfactor.

Her eyes flutter close when Roman brings his lips back onto her, this time peppering kisses along her jawline. Her head tilts back, an unconscious thing that grants him full access to the nape of her neck, which he easily makes his way down to. It’s a different, pleasant sensation that has her nails scraping against him.

“Roman….”

“So fuckin’ beautiful….” He says something else, something she can’t understand because it’s said in Samoan, but it unintentionally triggers something for her. A new level of bravery, an ability to ask something that makes her insides light afire and heart rate exceed what’s probably safe and healthy. But, it’s a hill she wants to eventually be able to get up and over.

And he’s made her feel safe enough to be the one to do it with.

“Roman.” Her voice must give away her need to say something because he pulls away from her and is focused directly on her. She licks her slightly swollen lips. “I want….I want to try—”

“Whatchu mean he busy? Man, you trippin. Uce always got time for family.” Jimmy’s loud unexpected voice is enough of a disruption and mood killer that Solana quickly jumps off Roman’s lap and moves away just enough to adjust her hair and dress. “Soso!”

Solana brings herself to look at her husband’s cousin as he finally walks in the office after dismissing Alicia’s warning. The first thing she notices is the tupperware bowl in his hand and white substance on his fingers. “I hope you don’t mind. When I saw your driver, I figured you had these little sugar things in the back so I just grabbed em’ all.”

If not for the fact that Solana is still trying to settle herself, she’d point out how the other bowl was supposed to be for Jey. But that seems irrelevant at the moment. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Jimmy seems completely unbothered by Roman’s threat as he plops down on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the glass coffee table and asks with all the obliviousness in the world. “So what ya’ll doing?”

When Roman shoots up from his desk and starts toward his cousin, Solana places herself in front of him, hands on his chest. His attention is immediately down, focused once again on her.

“It’s okay. I—I’ve got training with Bay and Naomi anyway.” Swallowing her nerves and pushing back thoughts of how….how nice it felt kissing him, she quietly offers a hopefully acceptable alternative. “We can talk tonight.”

This doesn’t seem like Roman’s preference but something he can live with. “Fine.”

She knows he’s obviously annoyed at being interrupted, and she is too, to a certain extent. But, Jimmy meant no harm, and she hopes Roman can at least recognize as much. Solana says bye to Jimmy and is near the door where she sees Solo waiting for her when an idea, more an urge, becomes too prominent to push away.

She turns back around and leans up, pulling Roman down by his shoulders and kisses his cheek. He gives her a look that tells her he’d be pulling her back for more if not for her cousin, and it makes her stomach somersault all over again.

But, she doesn’t give him the opportunity, just a small smile as she walks out for good this time. 

And it’s after she’s gone, the Wise Man back in the room to help minimize the chances of his Tribal Chief killing one of his cousins that Jimmy uses the distraction to pull out his phone and send a text in the group chat. 

Group Chat: Operation RoSo

Jimmy: Ya’ll! Code red! Code fucking red!

Jey:?????????

Bayley: Is Solana okay?!

Naomi: ^^^^^^

Jimmy: Man, I just got to Uce office, and good thing I walked in when I did. They acting all weird and shit. Soso just ran out of here but not after telling him they’ll ‘talk’ tonight!!!!

Jey: I’m too high for this shit right now.

Naomi: Babe, how exactly is that a code red???

Jimmy: They was obviously arguing before I got here! And ‘talking’ tonight??? That ain’t nothing but part two!

Bayley: Jimmy, that seems like a bit of a stretch.

Jey: A big ass stretch. Man, leave them two alone.

Jimmy: Naw. We gotta expedite this plan. I can see the writing on the wall. If we don’t move fast, they never gon fall in love. They might even be starting to hate each other now!

Bayley: Now you’re just being dramatic.

Jey: Agreed. How I get out this chat?

Jimmy: I don’t wanna hear it! I’m the master strategist so let me do my thing! 

Jimmy: Babe. You and Bayley have SoSo all done up and nice this evening. Make her think ya’ll are going out or something.

Naomi: Why?

Jimmy: Damnit woman, because I said so!

Naomi: 🫤

Naomi: I’m trying to figure out who the fuck you think you talking to. Don’t get your ass beat.

Jey: I’m muting this shit. Ya’ll not gon get me killed. Roman don’t like people in his business.

Jimmy: Just have her ready, and I’ll text you the location and the time she needs to be there.

Jimmy: We gotta save RoSo from themselves!

________

Solana misses the blow from Naomi by only a fraction of a second, but before she has time to think about it, another one is coming, forcing Solana to quickly jump to the side.

“Nice,” Naomi compliments. “Try more offensive positions though. Try to hit me.”

Solana knew that was coming, knew that Naomi would be pushing her today, as she has the last couple times. It only makes sense. Solana recognizes that she’s improving, that she has improved a lot since she started. It seems only natural that Naomi would continue to push her to further the progression of her skills.

“Don’t be afraid, Solana! Naomi can take it,” Bayley encourages from the sidelines, drinking some of her Gatorade.

Solana does her best to not get too distracted, knowing that can be quite literally fatal if this was a real situation. 

Naomi lunges at her again, and Solana manages to block it with her forearm but also lifts her foot, managing to kick Naomi away.

“Nice!” It’s such a weird thing to be applauded for. “But remember to retract your foot faster next time. I could have twisted it and grounded you.”

Solana commits that to memory just as Naomi steps back and Bayley walks back over. She then compliments, “I know I said it already, but the haircut looks amazing on you.” She quickly adds in a manner that’s more telling than asking. “Just have to even some areas off.”

Solana half smiles. She expected Bayley to need to go in with actual shears to shape up some areas given the fact that Solana’s impromptu haircut was literally just her taking some regular scissors and chopping at least five inches off. 

But before Solana can say anything else, she sees why Bayley ended her break to get back into the training. 

It’s evident by the knife in her outstretched hand.

“This is a Benchmade Bailout. It’s a folding knife. A little bigger than what we’d like you to carry on you, but a good place to start.”

Carrying….Solana hadn’t even allowed herself to think about that part. Of course they’d want her to start keeping a knife on her once teaching her how to use one.

Naomi then advises, “we’re not gonna do any fight training with it today, but we do want you to get used to the feel and weight of it.”

Solana can feel her heartbeat increasing. She can’t remember the last time, if ever, she’s held a knife of this nature. Her left hand is against her shorts, tapping against the spandex, a continued nervous habit.

Bayley sees this and offers assurance. “It’s okay. We just want to go over the basics.”

Solana does her best to focus not on the past, but the present. The here and now. Another recommendation from her book. She also strangely remembers the countless times Roman has asserted he won’t let anything happen to her. 

“I’ve got you.”

The safe feeling she has when he’s around. He’s not physically present, but the recollection of his words anchor her.

Taking a deep breath, Solana takes the knife from Bayley, its coolness taking her by surprise. She never takes her eyes off the blade. 

Meanwhile, Naomi goes into basic tips and information. “Right off the bat, if you ever need to use it to defend yourself, go for the major arteries.” She then begins pointing to the various body parts as she lists them off. “The neck, stomach, chest area namely. It’s your best bet at getting someone almost entirely immobilized.”

“And this might be graphic, but don’t be afraid to go for it twice. Sometimes people can still be standing with just one hit.” Solana is grateful for the fact that Bayley is trying to be careful with her words, vague to a certain extent but clear enough so she can understand.

“If you just wanna get them away and not potentially kill them, maybe go for the hand or foot, depending on how they’ve got you pinned.”

“But by the time we finish your training, no one will get the chance to pin you.” Naomi gives a comforting smile and squeeze of her shoulder. “Not to mention Roman would never let you be in that position in the first place.”

Solana doesn’t doubt that one bit.

Bayley suddenly clears her throat, almost awkwardly. 

Solana frowns, looking lost by the otherwise random in interjection. “What?”

“We’re not supposed to tell you, but Roman is taking you out to dinner tonight.” Naomi’s answer is appreciated, but it doesn’t make sense. 

“He what?” Solana is confused because she literally just saw Roman this morning and came straight from his office to the Warehouse to train without him mentioning a word of this. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Bayley adds, but there’s something almost unsure about her answer. “So, I’ll take you to my salon afterwards to touch up your hair now, and then we can also figure out glam while you’re there.”

“Yes.” Naomi claps and carefully removes the knife from Solana. The knife she completely forgot she was holding. Naomi comments on that. “See? You forgot about it for a minute, didn’t you?” Solana nods. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you there.” 

The encouragement means the world to Solana as she offers a quiet but meaningful, “thank you.” They’ll never know how much their support means to her. 

Ever.

Bayley comes and stands beside Solana, sliding her arm around her with that infamous sly smile.”You never have to thank us for being your friends, Solana.” Words have never hit so deeply, Solana having to hold back tears. Friends.  “Now let’s figure out what the slay is gonna be for tonight.”

________

The minute Solana walks into the restaurant, she realizes that something is off. 

And not even in a dangerous sort of way, more so, there’s something she’s not being told sort of way.

It’s a beautiful upscale restaurant that has decor that probably costs more than some people’s mortgage payment. 

But it’s barren. Not a customer in sight. 

Walking up the three steps that lead to a higher level, she looks around, confused as to the fact that a restaurant that probably requires reservations six months in advance is vacant. 

Digging in her small purse, she pulls out her phone to text Roman. Bayley and Naomi encouraged her to continue to play dumb, but this isn’t right. 

She needs to talk to him.

“Solana?”

Her head snaps up to see Roman who also just walked up the same steps she did minutes prior.

“Roman?”

He seems surprised to see her, an unexpected expression for someone who allegedly planned this dinner. “I—I don’t know what’s going on.” He walks over to her as she explains. “I was told—”

“Probably the same thing I was told,” he finishes for her and takes in her appearance, Solana’s hands smoothing over her dress. Looking just as captivated as he’d looked at her this morning in his office, Roman ghosts the back of his hand against her cheek. “Sei uno splendore….”

She hasn’t a clue what he’s said, but something tells her it’s a compliment of some sort. Still, Solana asks with that same bashful smile that seems to always fall on her face when she’s around him, “are you gonna tell me what you just said?”

Roman winks and answers, plain and simple, “naw.”

Smiling even harder, before she can say anything else, another voice enters the conversation.

“Soso, girl, what you doing here?”

Both Solana and Roman turn to a smiling Jimmy who's wearing a poorly feigned look of surprise. 

“Jimmy?” Solana is genuinely confused while Roman looks like he’s genuinely considering murdering his cousin for the second time today. “What—what are you doing here?”

Roman is completely uninterested in the why and more so on the how he’s going to end the other man. “I’m going to fucking kill him, Solana. I don’t care anymore.”

Jimmy completely ignores Roman and answers her question with an answer that makes no sense. “Ahh, you know, I was in the neighborhood.”

He gives Solana a side hug as she answers his question as well, hoping to avoid witnessing a familial crime. “Bayley and Naomi told me—”

“You know what, it don’t even matter. You here. Big Dog here.” He gestures around them. “Looks like this nice ass restaurant has been rented out by some coincidence. Might as well enjoy a nice dinner.”

Roman closes his eyes, seemingly trying to count off. “I’m literally going to snap your fucking neck if you don’t get lost. Now.”

Solana moves over to Roman just enough for him to reach and gently tug her into him. He doesn’t need to be getting this upset. She naturally lays her head against his chest, fingers grasping the sides of his shirt.

Jimmy lifts his hands in a surrender manner. “Hey. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” Solana smiles at the look she can imagine on Roman’s face at that. “Ya’ll be safe now. Soso, I’ll be at the crib in the morning for breakfast.”

“Why the fuc—” 

Solana reaches up and redirects his focus onto her. “It’s okay.” Solana looks over at the table that’s beautifully decorated with a stunning centerpiece. “It’s….it’s sweet.” Her diversion also, thankfully, a long enough distraction for Jimmy to depart, leaving the two of them alone.

Her preference.

Roman’s as well, clearly.

Solana then takes in the situation, a little relieved to finally know what’s going on. It’s obvious she was set up. Roman too. But regardless of the deception, it’s deeply appreciated. Her friends going to such lengths to set up something nice like this. 

Roman, calming down a bit, doesn’t necessarily disagree with her, but instead asserts, “they’re interfering, and I don’t like that shit.” 

Her smile dims a bit as she offers, “we can leave—”

“No.” He shoots it down immediately, hands on her hips. “Just hate that I finally get time alone with you, and it’s because of fucking Jimmy.” Her eyes shut when he kisses her forehead and murmurs, “been thinking’ bout you all day…”

And the smile is back as she takes his hand and leads him toward the table, Roman pulling her chair out for her. 

Having the restaurant entirely rented out is a luxury she’s not used to but appreciates, especially with how catered the service is as well as the fact that they don’t have to wait long for the food. Conversation flows easy between them, more Roman asking questions about how she’s doing, if she needs anything.

He’s always so attentive, and she’s so grateful for that. 

Grateful for him.

It’s the same type of attentiveness that causes her to comment after the waiter comes and takes their plates, clearing the table. “You seem stressed.”

And not just because of the date setup.

He shrugs, partially dismissing but not outright denying. “Just a long day.”

It seems to be a recurring theme with him. Solana has noticed for a while now how his early days always bleed into late evenings that sometimes spill over to the next day. It doesn’t seem sustainable to her. “You have a lot of those.”

“I’m the Tribal Chief.” He says it with pride, as he should, but there’s something else there. Something she can’t outright identify. “Comes with the territory.”

And Solana recognizes as such, but as large of a man Roman is—in many different ways—he’s still just a man. “Is it ever too much?” She crosses her arms across the table, leaning forward almost. There may be no other attendees present, but there are still workers, so she’s mindful of her volume. “I mean….”

“Do I ever get exhausted?” She nods. “Sure.” That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. Roman does such an excellent job always wearing that mask of calm, cool, and collected. Outside of his obvious temper, he’s always so well put together. It’s something she envies, to a certain extent. “But someone’s gotta do it, and as it’s my birthright, the responsibility falls on me.”

She sits on his words, understanding where he’s coming from but also wondering just how he manages such a weight. She knows he’d headed the Bloodline for some time now, since he was 18 years old. That’s a large burden to carry at such a young age and for him to do it so long and as well as he has, it’s impressive.

He certainly lives up to his reputation.

Solana nods and does her best to ease into what she’d really like to tell him, to have him know even if he never in life takes her up on it. “You always say that I can talk to you…”

Roman doesn’t hesitate to reaffirm it too. “You can.”

She knows this. He’s….he’s made it abundantly clear that he wants to speak with her, to know what’s on her mind. “That goes both ways.” Something speedily flashes in his eyes, briefly affecting his otherwise neutral expression. “You can talk to me too.”

For a second, she regrets saying anything, regrets second guessing his abilities to handle things. The last thing she wants is to insinuate he’s somehow incapable of taking care of business. But, if he’s insulted by her offer, he doesn’t show it, just says a simple, “thank you.” She offers a small nod when he seemingly changes the subject. “How’s training?”

There’s a bit of a sting at what feels like a slight form of rejection, but she understands better than anyone that opening up can be hard, so she respects his wishes.

“Good. I….I think I like it.” It’s the truth. While initially terrified of being put into such a foreign situation, Solana has found herself growing increasingly content with this new part of her weekly routine. Training has assisted, to a great extent, in her growing confidence and surety with herself. There’s something comforting about learning how to defend herself, how to keep herself safe. “Today was a little hard though. They’re teaching me how to fight with knives. It’s…..uncomfortable, but that’s how I know I need to do it.”

If there’s anything she’s learned in the past couple months, it’s that nothing about working to overcome trauma is easy. That doesn’t, however, make it any less important.

Or beneficial. 

“Not if you absolutely don’t want to.” To be fair, Roman wasn’t even informed that this was something the girls were starting with Solana. He makes a mental note to remind them that while they handle her training, the specifics of what she’s taught needs to be run by him at all times. He probably would have shot down the knife training.

Solana was literally present and witnessed her mother be stabbed to death. Solana herself was also stabbed. 

That seems almost cruel to make her learn how to wield the very weapon that took so much from her.

“Wes used to use knives to hurt me.” It comes out more quiet than she intended, a natural effect of sharing something so painful. She points to a small scar on her neck, the exact date and nature of how it happened, something she’ll never forget but has little desire to elaborate on.

“And I know….I know you won’t let him hurt me anymore, but….I don’t want him to have that power over me anymore either. He knows I’m scared of them, and he’s always taken advantage of that fact. I don’t….I don’t want him to have that anymore.”

“Then he won’t,” Roman agrees. He can understand her logic, and he respects the hell out of her wanting to take back that power. He supports the hell out of it too. “Not if you don’t let him.”

She gives a sad smile, shaking her head. “As strange as it is, I think….Wes and I are both victims.” Before Roman can press her for clarification, she explains, “my father always kept his contact limited with my mom. He said she would make him weak like she made me.” Just saying it takes Solana back to countless times and occasions where her father would talk down on her mother, talk down on Solana. It’s a weighty memory. “Having my mom…having her love for the time that I did made a big difference for me. Wes never got that, so I always wonder how things could have been different if he did.”

Solana has a big heart. Pure. A mind-boggling phenomena to Roman considering everything she’s been through. “It still doesn’t make what he’s done to you right.” Kind heart or not, it’s imperative she knows there’s never a good enough reason or excuse for anyone to do what he’s done to her.

She nods, “I know.” It’s still a work in progress, Solana learning to unlearn the victim blaming she’s placed on herself for so many years. But, that much, she’s come to accept.

She never deserved any of Wes or her father's abuse.

Roman can see the way memories might be coming back to the front of her mind and moves to redirect again. “You wanted to talk to me about something earlier.”

Oh.

For a second, she wants to lie. To make up something. To come up with a story that’s hopefully believable enough for him to not poke holes through. And then another line from her book resurfaces.

Calculated risks are different—you weigh your chances and step out onto the ice only when you’re relatively sure it’s solid.

Solana is certain she’s never met a more solid person than Roman.

Scooting back in her chair, she feels his watchful gaze around her as she moves around the table and is only inches away from him when he realizes what she's doing and beats her to it, gently pulling her onto his lap. He’s always so careful around her.

Solana moves her arms around his neck as he rests one hand on her hip.

She takes a deep breath. “I was...I was working out of my book this morning, and it was the chapter on…on intimacy and—” She has to pace herself, knowing that if she doesn’t, she won’t get through the conversation. And she has to do this. She almost feels like she needs to do this. “I think I always thought I couldn’t have that because of what happened to me, but…..but I think I can.” 

And this has been such a powerful and moving revelation to walk into. For so long, Solana has lived in fear and trauma, haunted by the horrific memories of her sexual assault. It’s inaccurately painted her views of what should and could be something beautiful and special with the right person. She never thought that could be possible for her though, believed that her chance had been destroyed by two sick individuals.

But if the past few months have taught her anything, it’s that there are decent people in the world. Decent men in the world. Jimmy. Jey. Solo.

Roman

She’s still very much nervous, and even talking about it has her pushing back a level of anxiety, but the desire to overcome that trauma, to be able to experience that as a woman, to not be held down by the shackles of her past, is stronger than it’s ever been before.

“And I want to try.” She licks her lips, nervously adding on and explaining as best she can, “but, I can’t do it right away. I need….I need to build up to it, and I know—that has to be frustrating for you—”

“Solana.” His interruption is quiet but firm. “We’ll go as slow as you want.” His finger is moving in slow circles on her hip, an action that provides her a strange sense of comfort. “Whatever you need is what we’ll do.”

Solana releases a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in. Him agreeing isn’t something she necessarily didn’t see coming, she just didn’t realize it’d come so easy. 

She almost feels it’s too good to be true.

Suddenly unsure, Solana double checks. “You’re….you’re okay with that?”

He doesn’t miss a beat with his answer. “Only if you’re sure this is what you want.”

It’s a profound statement. There’s a lot of things she’s not sure of that she’s been making herself do, regardless. 

But this……

This is something she wants.

Something she maybe even needs.

Solana is careful with her answer. “I’m gonna be 29 this year, and the only sexual experience I’ve had is being raped as a child.” There’s an equal combination of emotion and conviction as she affirms, “I don’t want that to be my story anymore.”

And it won’t.

Because she won’t let it.

Not anymore. 

“Then we’ll do this.” She nods, still nervous but also comforted by his support. “You know I won’t make you do anything you’re not ready for, but I also need you to be good about communicating with me.” His eyes move up and down over her, resting slightly longer on her chest, which is understandable given the revealing nature of her dress. “And you also know how attracted I am to you, to all of you, so I need you to stay clear with me on what you are and aren’t comfortable with, okay?”

It’s fair and completely understandable. Roman is still a man. A man with needs, and he strikes her as being an otherwise handsy man, so him wanting and needing to know where her red zones are is important.

“I understand.” And she’ll make an active, concerted effort to be on top of that. To practice saying no and cutting things off when she needs to. “What—what about you?” He gives her a look. “Is there….is there anything you’re not comfortable with?”

Again, he takes her in, head to toe. His tongue leaves his mouth to slowly gloss over his bottom lip. “Baby, you can do whatever you want with me.”

Her smile is bashful as she looks away. Him being so….outspoken about his attraction and desire for her is still a new thing she’s trying to navigate, but it’s not unwanted. Nor does it feel bad to have a man like him want her so badly.

Not at all. 

Deciding to continue to stay on the ledge she’s already started to trail, Solana brings her hand to his chest. “So….so if I asked you to kiss me again….”

He chuckles, Solana’s eyes shutting as he brings his mouth to her jawline, “whenever,” her nails claw against his chest as he moves his lips to her nose, “however,” finally he’s teasing the corner of her mouth. “Wherever you want.” 

And it’s at the exact moment their lips connect again that a phone ringing once again steals away another groundbreaking moment. 

Solana can feel the irritation in his muscular body and smiles against his lips. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” She doesn’t necessarily doubt it as he kisses her cheek before pulling his phone out and answering as she lays her head in his neck. He barks out an unkind, “what?”

It doesn’t deter her as he keeps his grip on her hip, Solana enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. She’s starting to realize being this close to him makes her feel safe. His presence alone gives her that feeling, but this is something different, something almost…deeper.

She doesn’t try to listen in on his phone call, but it’s made virtually impossible not to, given the fact that she’s literally on his lap. However, that’s ended when he switches to speaking in Samoan. Still, it’s not hard to pick up on the fact that he’s growing more annoyed with every second that passes. 

He then gives a heavy sigh, switching to English, “I’ll be there in a bit.”

Her stomach drops, a frown appearing that she does her best to quickly push away. She had a feeling the call would end that way. 

Before he can explain to her the obvious, she lifts her head and assures, “it’s okay. I should probably get back to Dulce anyway.”

“Damn dog is so needy.” Solana smiles at the scowl on his handsome face. For someone who doesn’t care for dogs, she’s noticed he seems to interact with her puppy more and more as the days pass. He brings his hand to her chin, ensuring she keeps her gaze on him. “Don’t wait up, alright?”

It’s an expected request, one he should already know she’ll do her best to, but most likely won’t, abide by. 

“I make no promises...” 

________

Having such a small dog means that he or she can be in the most random of places and blend in seamlessly because of said smallness. It’s why in looking for Dulce after getting out the shower, Solana damn near searches every corner and crevice of the first and second floors of the mansion. Outside of a room that’s been locked and closed off the past two weeks, Roman not really giving her a reason why nor has she pushed.

She’d never been in it anyway.

It is, however, out of the norm though for Dulce to not be nearby. She typically likes to stay close to Solana.

Or even Roman.

So for a moment, Solana starts to get concerned. But after searching her room, the kitchen, the dining room, and even the backyard a second time, Solana is finally able to locate Dulce in the least expected place.

Roman’s room. 

She didn’t even realize Dulce’s bed was still in there, still in the original spot on the side of his bed.

The side she had slept on that one night.

“Dulce, you can’t stay in here.” Solana knows Roman isn’t a huge dog person, and Dulce being in his room is probably the last thing he’ll want to see when he gets back. But it’s in reaching over to pick up her puppy that something unexpected happens. 

Dulce nips at her.

Solana gasps, momentarily taken off guard. That’s the first time Dulce has done that. “Dulce, no.” Again, Solana goes for the grab only for the puppy to plant her bottom and back legs into the bed. Now Solana is just straight up confused. “What is wrong with you?”

Thinking maybe she can lure the puppy with a toy, Solana turns to leave, almost to the door when Dulce’s whimpering and the patter of her little feet stops her. Solana turns around and moves to grab her when Dulce scampers right back over to her bed, plopping her little body down.

It’s when she does that, Solana starts to catch on.

“You want to stay in here?” Dulce’s reply is a bark followed by the wag of her tail. Solana frowns. “We can’t…..this is Roman’s room.”

And yet even as the words leave her mouth, she thinks about that. Thinks about the fact that a part of working up to being intimate with Roman includes being close to him, touching him, in his bed perhaps. And though she still doesn’t remember everything from the night she got drunk, she remembers waking up in his bed and falling asleep again in the same bed with zero issues.

She felt….she felt comfortable. 

She felt safe.

“We can stay for a little while.” Deep down, Solana knows Roman won’t be upset with her. If anything, he’ll be more annoyed that she didn’t listen and decided to wait up, but her laying in his bed for a few minutes won’t generate anger.

Solana puts her phone on the nightstand, making sure the ringer is still on. The likelihood of him texting or even calling her is slim to none, but still….she doesn’t want to miss it if he does.

Laying on his bed is the initial plan, but there’s a chill in his room that has her moving under the covers just to provide her that slight warmth. It’s not intended to increase her comfort and definitely not intended to lead to her falling asleep.

But that’s exactly what happens. 

It’s also the last thing Roman expects to find when he makes it back home a couple hours later. 

Solana asleep in his bed. 

He knew she would try to stay up, knew she would end up falling asleep in trying to stay up, but he didn’t know she would end up doing all of that in his room, in his bed.

It’s unexpected but far from unwanted, a strange sense of satisfaction at seeing her sleeping so comfortably, so peacefully in his space of all places. 

He’s careful in his movements around the room, gathering clothes to change into post shower. Roman doesn’t want to disturb her, to wake her up, especially since he has a good guess that she didn’t intend to end up in his bed and would be unnecessarily apologetic. 

Apologetic for something he’s halfway considering asking her to make a permanent thing.

Roman manages to finish his shower without Solana so much as moving an inch. If only her damn dog was the same, because he’s barely able to open the bathroom door when Dulce is at his feet, whimpering.

Small ass dog with an even smaller ass bladder. 

Before she can progress to barking, he’s got her up in his arms, guiding her out the room, down the stairs and into the backyard where she thankfully wastes zero time in doing her business. Roman is grateful, not wanting a second to pass where Solana could wake up, freak the fuck out, and leave.

He wants her to stay right where she is.

And it’s in sliding into the bed with her, moving his arm over her body and gently pulling her into him, he realizes another reason why he doesn’t want her to leave. There’s an unfamiliar almost instant peace he has at the feel of her next to him, like this is how it should be, like she should be with him.

Like she’s supposed to be with him.

But he clearly wasn’t thinking straight when he moved her, because she’s suddenly stirring in her sleep, eyes slowly blinking open.

Fuck. He didn’t mean to wake her up. 

Roman’s half expecting her to freak out, to panic at being this close to him, at being in bed this close to him. But she again surprises him with a quiet murmur that’s more an acknowledgment than anything. “You’re back….” He watches as she frowns almost, an indication of worry, asking in a voice full of sleep. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He brings his hand to her cheek, recognizing that even though she’s talking, she’s very much still half-sleep. “Go back to sleep.”

Solana gives a little nod and the moment he pulls his hand away, she inches closer to him. He shifts their positions, so he’s on his back, and she’s tucked safely into his side. In what feels like seconds, she’s fast asleep. 

Yeah….

A discussion about her moving into his room is definitely on the table, preferably sooner rather than later. It makes sense to him for a lot of reasons, namely the fact that she’s clearly comfortable sleeping with him in this way but also the fact that she’s expressed a desire to work up to being intimate.

Roman’s had sex in a lot of different places, but there’s no way in fucking hell he could ever have his first time with Solana be anywhere but a bed. 

His bed.

He plays around with a few different ideas on how to broach the subject before sleep prevails over him too.

It’s the fastest he’s fallen asleep in years.

And he’s certain it has nothing to do with the long ass day he had but everything to do with the woman besides him.

But his sleep is short lived by the vibrating of his phone on the nightstand. Irritated at the interruption of his sleep, he’s not surprised. Roman’s always been a light sleeper.

He peers down to make sure Solana remains undisturbed in her slumber, and seeing that she’s still sleeping as peacefully as before with her body somehow more over his than he remembered, he grabs his phone.

Paul: Sorry to disturb you so late, sir, but I got the files you requested for Miller. Emailed. As we already know, he’s almost a million in the hole. Has been in debt over the past twenty years. Never in the green. The bulk of it was accumulated in 2005. 500K. Summer 2005. Strangely, in that same month, it was cut in half to 250K. Then mysteriously zeroed out in late 07.

Roman sits on the brief summary provided by his Wise Man. It doesn’t add up. He already knew Miller was in the hole. The man is a fucking idiot when it comes to finances, so him being that deeply in debt isn’t surprising, but him somehow getting rid of a quarter million debt is. The fucker isn’t smart enough to pull that off.

Roman: Who was the creditor?

Paul: Still looking into that. 

Roman: Anything significant about 07’?

Paul: Not that I can see. Still digging though.

Roman doesn’t like mysteries. Can’t stand unanswered questions. They’ve always driven him fucking insane. It’s why he finds himself unable to fall back asleep, an inconvenient thing given the fact that he’ll need to be up and out of bed in a little under three hours. Still, he can’t get the dates and information out of his head. 

How the fuck did a dumbass like Miller clear his ledger to that extent? It’s not unheard of. Roman could have done it. Easily. But, he’s also significantly smarter than his wife’s dumbass father. 

Even more, what the hell did Miller need or have done for fucking half a million dollars? 

Was he moving product? Weapons, maybe? Human trafficking? Just the thought of that last one makes Roman want to place his fist through the nearest wall. 

But it’s Solana stirring on top of him that serves as the unintended trigger that helps him fill in the rest of the gaps.

He’s quick with the text to the Wise Man.

Roman: When was Solana’s mother killed?

Paul: Sir?

Roman: Answer the fucking question.

There’s a brief delay followed by those three dots and an answer.

Paul: 2005. August. 

Wheels start turning as Roman begins putting the harrowing pieces together. Miller went into half a million dollar debt in August of 2005 that somehow got slashed in half at the end of the same month. The same month that Solana and her mother were attacked, and only one of them made it out alive.

Half…..

2007….

Roman does some mental math. Solana was born in 95. She’ll be 29 this year. That puts her at age 12 back in 07’.

12.

The same age she was when she was raped.

The same year the largest chunk of her father’s debt suddenly zeroed out and disappeared like it never happened in the first place.

And just like the night he found out Solana was a survivor of childhood sexual assault, the unbridled horror and disgust that filled him in knowing the truth, Roman is starting to wish he wasn’t so good at connecting the dots. That he wasn’t able to put two and two together.

Because the picture is more fucking horrifying than anything he’s encountered in some time. If ever.

Because he’s now faced with the dilemma of just how in the hell he’s supposed to tell Solana that her father is responsible for her mother’s murder but also her being raped.

Because now he’s faced with the dilemma of if he should tell her at all.

Roman closes his eyes.

Shit just got infinitely more complicated.

[shepherdsheart]

Forgotten Child

DpxDc

Bruce would admit that he wasn’t near a perfect man. In all truth he was far from it really.

He had made hundreds of mistakes through his life and he had hoped he had learned something from them all but there was one mistake that stood out more than anything else.

The box in his hands had been proof of such, everything in it entailed just how badly he had failed. Failed as a man, failed as a person but most of all how he failed as a father.

It all started a year before he welcomed Dick into his life. It was one of his biggest regrets but also one of his biggest blessings as he stared at the new born baby boy in his arms. Soft blue wrapped around the little boy like tight arms as he held the sleeping baby close.

He had drilled that moment into his memories as he held the soft little bundle. It would be his first and his last memory of the boy in his arms. He knew the moment the pregnancy was announced that he wouldn’t be able to keep the babe. His life as Batman was to dangerous for a baby and as such he had made the decision to hand his baby to someone else.

Nobody but a trusted few would ever know of the young babe, no one would know Batman or Bruce Wayne had a son.

It had taken time and research but he had picked the perfect family. They would take care of his little star, he would be their son and not his. He would grow up safe and protect as Daniel Thomas Marshal.

Or at least he thought so.

Bruce didn’t give up contact with Daniel, each year he would send the boy anonymous gifts for his birthday and the holidays just as the elusive Uncle B. And as the boy grew they often exchanged letters.

His boy was smart, the top of his class and he was ohh so brilliant. He often drew pictures for Bruce where then man would store each with the letters in a box for sage keeping. Things had gone that way for years and Danny and he talked about many things. Bruce talked about life and Danny liked to talk about stars and the things he learned at school.

It had all been going so well till it all fell apart.

Jason had died and Bruce fell apart, losing himself in his grief for his lost child. Somewhere along the line after Jason’s death Bruce had stopped responding to the letters young Danny sent. He couldn’t bear to read them while he grieved Jason and at one point he must have told Alfred to just store them in Daniels letter box in instead of bringing them to him.

Somehow he had forgotten, he had forgotten the letters of messy cursive and doodles of stars and galaxy’s. Stories of school or life in the farm where he was being raised out in Wisconsin.

It was only because of his children that he remembered. A normal day of roughhousing and being shooed away by Alfred to take their antics elsewhere while he cleaned.

The kids had decided to take their games to the halls between there room and Damian and Jason to pick a locked door of a spare room that was never used and always locked. The others would never think to check the room as it was never opened. 

The boys weren’t expecting to find a old but well cared for nursery. The walls a soft blue, the The ceilings dark blue with plastic stars in the patters of constellations. A crib in one corner with space themed decor and a small bed in the middle of the room obviously for when the crib was outgrown.

On the far wall was multiple shelves with a few old toys along with books and many other small items. Then there were the picture frames scattered about the shelves and other furniture in the room. All had one thing in common, a boy with soft black hair and ice blue eyes but each photo the boy was more grown.

At first they thought it was Bruce but the photos were to new and Bruce didn’t have ice blue eyes. The boy was in a picture with his parents, a blond woman with blue eyes and a Black haired man with green eyes. Those weren’t Bruce’s parents so who were they and who was the child that was in each photo.

Before they could snoop any further the door had been opened and a Stern Alfred shooed them away.

It didn’t take long for the boys to question Bruce about the room he had long ago forgotten about. Bruce didn’t say a word as he had rushed over to the room that he had long sense abandoned before he closed himself inside.

There Bruce had cried, he had forgotten one of his children and he cried as he looked at the photos.

He had spent hours in that room before a wooden box to the side on a Dresser caught his attention. He knew exactly what that box contained and he dreaded opening it.

When he found the courage to lift the lid he was greeted by hundreds of letters. A portion opened but most were untouched, never opened to be read.

He’d spend the next few weeks slowly going through the letters. Danny wasn’t sure why he hadn’t responded but the boy wrote that even though he didn’t get a response he hoped the letters were reaching him.

He learned soon after Jason’s death when Danny was 10 that the Marshals had died leaving Danny to the State only to be adopted by a family called the Fentons a year later.

After that Danny’s letters became less detailed and more vague about his life but instead asking questions Bruce would never answer. The boy avoided talking about his home life and manly talked about school and his 2 new friends or he’d ask about Bruce, how he was doing? If he was ok? And so on. Somehow Danny never gave up writing to Bruce.

That was until the last letter, sent over a year ago in handwriting Bruce didn’t recognize. Jasmine, Danny’s adopted sister had written that dated letter over a year ago.

Over a year ago Danny had been killed, killed in an accident in the Fentons Lab. No body left to be buried only the address of an empty grave.



Notes

(Danny is 11 years younger than Dick, 4 years younger than Jason, 2 years younger than Tim, 4 years older than Damian)

Damian - 11

Danny - 15

Tim - 17

Jason - 19

Dick - 26

(Danny is Phantom but when he died he decided he didn’t want to deal with an abusive Jack and Maddie anymore so he continued on as phantom only being Danny with his friends and in the realms when he was safe with Allies)

[la2yn0va]

lf you have the time to make part 4 of friends after the events of part 2 stellaron hunter m/n take a break so he go to xianzhou to see the event ( moze,jiaoqiu,any chance feixiao saw then and go to he friendly enough to talk them) image feixiao saw m/n watching her.fighting hoolay and joined her and fight along side any characters of your choice

BTW you will have finished it I don't know what happened next BC I will have a break to HSR so yeah I WANT FLUFF AND ANGST (oh boy this one will be different)

Friends…?

Note: 2.5 is out, I can finally do this! This can be taken as romantic or Platonic.

———

Kafka: M/n~

M/n: Kafka.

The two greeted each other. M/n cracked his neck and walked over to her.

M/n: So what’s happening? Was firefly talking shit again?

Kafka: Hah. Since when did firefly ever do such things? Are you still held up about our little ‘bounty’ competition?

M/n: Your god damn right I am! She came in outta NOWHERE and took my place as the second most dangerous stellaron hunter! Fuck that! She used a whole as fucking mech suit to do that!

Kafka watched, with an amused smile. It’s always a joy to see m/n rant on about this like an irritated child. She let him talk for a bit more, before patting his face.

Kafka: Now now. As much as I’m enjoying this, I’m afraid you have a mission~

M/n: Hah? I do?

Kafka nodded

M/n: FUCK!

He flicked his body around, walking around before stopping and taking a breath.

M/n: Come on! I had to take care of that little trailblazer in belabog and the xianzhou abit before it was reveled I was a stellaron..— WHATEVER—! Sigh, what’s the mission?

Kafka: Similar to fireflies mission in penacony. You’re going back to the xianzhou. Elio has seen that you must find something there. That and, you must lend a helping hand when the problem comes.

M/n: Back to the xianzhou? and I have to find something…is it something internal like firefly��when do I leave?

Kafka: You have 5 minutes before wolfie teleports you somewhere safe at the luofu. Put on your best outfit, handsome.

She waved before walking out of his room. M/n stood there for a minute before sighing.

M/n: Firefly found something at penacony, and now me… is Elio trying to heal us or something? No… we have nothing to lose anyway… why would destiny bother with that?

-Timeskip-

M/n had been at the xianzhou for not even 2 hours and shit had already hit the fan. Guess that’s the xianzhou specialty nowadays. M/n had been walking around, rooftop to rooftop, trying to find anything.

He did see the nameless and played around with them for a bit, before leaving. And now, hoolay had escaped and his friend jiaoqiu had been captured as hostage.

M/n cursed at the whole situation. A part of him still was a cloud knight, seeing everything go to shit had stung him, but it wasn’t what bothered him. Honesty, the whole luofu could get destroyed and he wouldn’t care. But the borisin have his friend!

As he was searching for him, many unpleasant memories came rushing back to him. How he left the yaoqing, how he joined the stellaron hunters to revert himself back to how he was before he was forced to face an identity and internal crisis after meeting his ‘o so great mother’ how he regretted the way he left, but ultimately he accepted all this.

He eventually came across moze, trailblazer, and feixiao. He stopped, seeing how injured Moze was and listened in to their conversation, learning that hoolay was headed to the ship where the war dance was being held.

He immediately headed there, managing to jump his way up there. He quickly searched the entire ship, finding some borisin and killing then off after asking for jiaoqiu’s location. Apparently only hoolay knew. Much to his annoyance and slight excitement. He felt the ship shake and immediately sped up to the arena, seeing feixiao face off with hoolay.

He watched silently. Should he help? Why should he…?! It was HER fault why Jiaoqiu got kidnapped in the first place…. No.. no he’s just being childish. He jumped up and landed a diving kick onto the warheads jaw, having enough strength and rage to break his jaw.

Feixiao, March, Yanqing, and yunli watched in pure shock. Stellaron hunter m/n was here! But he was helping them!? M/n didn’t face them yet, he landed on the ground before turning around and slamming a fist onto hoolay’s chest, pushing him away from them.

March & Feixiao: M-M/n!?

Yunli & Yanqing: Stellaron hunter!?

M/n: I see I’m famous

He joked turning to face them, well mostly feixiao. Walking towards her, she clicked her tongue before getting ready to fight.

M/n: Your pointing that at the wrong person.

Feixiao: What’re you doing here!

M/n: Tsk. You see me after our little meeting in the interrogation room and this is how you react? Typical. I’m here to help fix YOUR fuck up.

Feixiao: M-my.. what’re you—

M/n: Jiaoqiu is captured. So point your damn blade at that mutt over there!

He stood besides her, talking out his own dual blades. Feixiao could only stare in surprise. She knew that m/n’s meant to make her feel guilty for Jiaoqiu, which worked, but… she can’t help but feel happy that he’s here, fighting along side her once more.

Feixiao: Fine.

March, Yunli, Yanqing: WHAT!!?

M/n: You three are still here?

Feixiao: Relax. Right now we have a common enemy. And that’s hoolay. We’ll deal with the m/n situation later!

M/n: Glad you care about me THAT much!

He bit back as feixiao smiled. Hoolay roared and ran towards the duo as they dashed in. The two began to bombard hoolay, their old teamwork slowly reviving and putting on a show for anyone who watched.

Feixiao couldn’t help but have a smile carved in her face. What was meant to be an emotional turmoil for her was quelled with m/n’s presence here. Just like back then. How it should’ve been, how it SHOULD be.

Hoolay was quickly defeated, but then ripped his heart out and threw it in the sky, infecting foxian’s with moon rage. Feixiao however, used her power to swallow the crimson moon, becoming the enemy. The trio swordsmaters wanted to help. But m/n refused, out right kicking them down to the luofu, leaving the arena with only HIM and feixiao.

-Inside Feixiao’s Mind-

Hoolay: Ahh.. that man. M/n? Possibly your biggest regret.

Hoolay teased as an imagine if a confused and crying m/n appeared in front of him and feixiao. Feixiao’s eyes widened as she stared at this afterimage.

M/n: I hate this… why do I even care!? Why should I care!!? I DONT GET IT!! WHAT THE HELL AM I MEANT TO FELL HERE!! AM I EVEN HUMAN!!? HELP!! WOULD SOMEONE JUST… HELP!!

It yelled, making feixiao wince at the sight and hoolay laugh.

Hoolay: The “lacking” general. Lacking in worries, regrets, and rivals! Hahahaha!! What a pathetic front! This one man destroys that foolish title of yours!

Another afterimagine appeared, showing m/n standing ontop of corpses of abominations and borisin, His eyes looked dead, his body limp.

Hoolay: Instead of helping your ‘friend’ you sent him off to fight in a war! And that’s when he realized how you truly felt about him! You only ever saw him as a soilder!

Feixiao’s eyes stung as she walked up to the afterimagine. Which changed to make its head stare ahead, right where Feixiao stood.

Hoolay: A capable warrior indeed! A powerful solider that was meant to be used by their superior! A remarkable weapon! That’s all you ever saw him as. And he knows it!

M/n: I’m…not even human. When have I ever been… even to the cloud knights. I’m just a pawn, a dog meant to die when they order me to… even SHE sees me as a dog…

Feixiao reached out, putting her and on his face as her saddened eyes stared into his dead ones as hoolay continued to torment her.

Hoolay: You only ever comforted him once, and you made it clear that you just wanted him at his best so he could battle!!

Feixiao: You were never a dog nor solider in my eyes.. your were ALWAYS my friend. You will forever be my closest friend… it’s me… I’m the one who saw myself as a weapon! You were always the only one that made me feel human!

She yelled, before slapping the afterimage away, once again ridding herself of the guilt she carried within herself for all these years. Hoolay didn’t seem pleased as a battle quickly escalated between her and a shadow of herself, the darkest parts of her.

As she held up her waraxe, two people appeared beside her. Two m/n’s from her own mindscape.

Evil!Feixiao: What?!

Feixiao: M/n…

Past M/n: You look troubled general~ don’t tell me that your scared I’ll take your general title~

Present m/n: Get your head together. You always pull me into your shit feixiao.

She looked at the two before smiling as the three got ready to battle hoolay.

-Timeskip, after the battle-

M/n groaned as he flopped against a wall of an alleyway. He finished his battle with feixiao and hoolay, and now he was tired, very tired. But, he didn’t let himself rest, he still needed to find jiaoqiu.

He had to escape from cloud knights and now was pushing himself to continue his search. He decided to head to the alchemy commission, to steal some ornaments. Once he arrived, he saw jiaoqiu! And he was walking!

He sighed in relief, knowing he can leave in peace. He took out his phone and messgaed silverwolf, ready to get teleported away. Only for her to replay “Elio said you still have some people to confront”

M/n: …fuck me…

He sighed before watching jiaoqiu walk towards the waves. He waited as feixiao walked to jiaoqiu and moze reveled himself, but he froze. Should he actually go out and talk to them? Does he have that right anymore?

Moze: Will you revel yourself.

Moze said as they all faced the direction where m/n was. M/n sighed, knowing he should’ve expected them to know he was here. He walked out, holding his side for a few seconds before facing them.

Moze: M/n..!

Jiaoqiu: What..!?

Moze said, shocked that it was him that was spying on them. Feixiao offered him a warm smile, and m/n looked back with slight irritation. Looking at jiaoqiu and his much duller eyes, showing m/n his blindness.

M/n:…I blame you.

He said looking at feixiao. Whose face twitched with guilt. Moze looked towards Feixiao, wondering if he should attack, but she shook her head.

Jiaoqiu: M/n..? Is that actually you…!

M/n:…yes.. it’s me—

M/n’s eyes shot open, seeing Jiaoqiu running towards his voice with a clenched fist. He raised his hand but stopped, deciding to not block it. He allowed jiaoqiu to hit him, actually feeling some blood drop from his nose.

Jiaoqiu: You have any idea how much I’ve wanted to do that…?

M/n slowly looked back, swiping the blood from his nose away with his thumb.

M/n: Yeah. Some level of idea.

He said moving his hand to ruffle his hair like he always did back then. Jiaoqiu allowed it to continue for a few seconds before slapping his hand away, not forgiving m/n.

M/n looked saddened by this but understood. He looked towards moze who looked indifferent of the whole situation, but m/n could see through moze. He was happy, and abit irritated m/n was here.

M/n: it is nice to see you again, Moze. Taking care of lil’ jiao for me?

Moze nodded and jiaoqiu looked away after hearing his old nickname. M/n looked towards feixiao. Looking abit more stoic.

M/n: general.

Her ears twitched at the title, shaking her head.

Feixiao: No please. Call me feixiao.

M/n:….feixiao.

He re-greeted, which earned a soft smile from her. M/n sighed, not knowing where to go from here.

M/n:…you all have something to say to me. So say it. I already checked the area. It’s just us here… let me have it.

Jiaoqiu: Your a selfish prick.

Moze: Your an Irrational fucking mongrel!

Feixiao: Your a reckless dumbass that doesn’t think of others first!

M/n, stayed still. Accepting the verbal insults. He crossed his arms and looked away, his mind still in abit of a frenzy. After about 10 minutes of verbal abuse, the three calmed down.

M/n: well…guess all that was warranted.

Jiaoqiu: You think?

Jiaoqiu bit back. M/n just sighed and responded with a ‘yes’

M/n:…well. I believe we’re done here.

He turned around but his hand was instantly caught by feixiao.

Feixiao: Wait!

M/n did as he was told. Standing still, he looked back to see feixiao and her pleading eyes, looking as if she’d die right there if he left.

M/n: what do you want general.

Feixiao:…I know.. you don’t like me. Back then. You came to me for help because you weren’t truly at all good with emotions. So when you met your—

M/n: skip the fucking recap.

Feixiao: Mm—…. I’m sorry. I’m sorry my actions that day, which left you even more in turmoil than you already were in. I’m sorry I was being a general and not a friend. I’m sorry I made you think you meant nothing to me… in truth you meant everything to me. You WERE everything. Not just to me, but to us.

She said, holding out an arm towards moze and jiaoqiu.

Feixiao: Please… tell me how I can fix this. There has to be a way. A solution! Please, tell me anything. I’ll do anything to prove how sorry I am.

M/n: oh? And what if I want your life.

Feixiao: Take it.

Jiaoqiu and moze released a slightly surprised sound, as m/n held his blade against her neck.

Feixiao: If that’s what it’ll take for you to forgive me. Then I’ll gladly die by your hands.

M/n:….tsk. No need to be serious…. I forgive you…

He said, putting his blade away. Feixiao looked surprised but smiled, allowing the most joyful smile ever to grace their eyes. M/n, released a breath, turning to leave.

M/n: I guess we’re don—

Feixiao: Can you stay longer!

M/n: huh..?

Feixiao: Can..can you come back! Stay with us. Become a cloud knight with us again!

She said desperately. Wanting to spread more time with him, as did moze and jiaoqiu. M/n looked away and scratched his hair.

M/n: i don’t think I—

He was cutoff by a notification from his phone, taking it out and seeing a message from… blade?

Blade: Kafka has informed me to message you. She said your mission was complete, I read your script. If you want another opinion, I’d suggest you either take your generals head, or work on fixing your relationship with them.

M/n: no fucking way he wasn’t manipulated into sending this message!!

He said in his mind, but sighing. Putting his phone away. He looked towards the three and walked back to them.

M/n: Lucky for you, I have time off… let’s..get a party going I guess.

He said, abit awkwardly. Feixiao smiled and jumped onto him, hugging him tightly, much to his surprise. Jiaoqiu also joined in while Moze simply patted m/n’s head.

Moze: Let’s get a move on. I haven’t cleaned your house today.

M/n: You’ve been cleaning my house this whole time!?

-The End-

[luveline]

hi jade!! can i request something with the marauders (platonic or romantic) maybe reader has been real stressed with work or school and the marauders try to get her to relax once they realize how stressed she actually is?? ty! u don’t have to do this, it’s just a thought :))

thank you for your request my love, nearly romantic poly!marauders x fem!reader

James notices first, surprisingly. While Sirius is fluent in what goes unsaid, and Remus is more than familiar with stress, it's James who has learned to read his sometimes sulky friends, and so it's James who knows that your tight shoulders and your half-hearted smile are from more than being tired. 

He doesn't want to announce your potential upset upset the world, so he waits for Remus to get a drink while Sirius is in the loo and slides down the sofa toward you until you're sitting thigh to thigh. He doesn't ever want much space from you. He's fortunate that you feel the same. 

"What, James?" you ask, leaning on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, solemn, so you know he's serious. 

"Why wouldn't I be okay?" 

"You just seem unhappy tonight, is all. You know you can tell me. Or if you don't want to tell me, you can tell one of the boys." 

Because you and your friends are in an incredibly weird (not weird, really, unexpected, but so full of love and sweetness that weird doesn't apply) situation in which you aren't dating anyone but it feels like you are. James imagines it as a sort of precipice, where you might choose one of them, or, in what seems the more unique but better fit, you might not choose at all. 

James only knows you feel the same way about them as they do about you because you'd confessed to Remus how guilty you feel for stringing them along. He reported back, and is quoted by himself to have said, Well, we must be stringing you along too. While I string James along, and Sirius strings me. 

So everybody fancies everybody and nobody knows what to do about it. (Well, apart from that one kiss between James and Remus, which went exceptionally well. James had known what to do about that). For tonight, nothing has to be done. All James needs to do is figure out how to make you feel better. 

Remus is offended at having had his seat stolen when he returns, but then he sees your sad face slack on James' big shoulder and forgets to be annoyed. Crouching down in front of you, Remus tilts his head to the side to align his face to yours, a frown mirrored on his lips as he asks, "What's wrong, dove?" 

The way he says it makes James pleased, and it also makes him like Remus impossibly more. James is earnest and ardent in wanting to comfort you, but Remus is very, very good at it. He has this seriousness, no-nonsense tone wrapped in a soft affection that could draw out James' very worst secrets. It's no surprise when you crack clean in two and confess.

"I'm really stressed out." Your voice takes a horrible dive, like you might cry. "Um, work is just hard, and I'm worried about money, too." 

James doesn't suppose you're in the depth of a relationship where it's appropriate to offer to bankroll you, and it's not what you want anyhow. He bites back any affluent admission in favour of a subtler approach. 

"You're worried about money?" he asks, gently as he can. "You aren't going without, are you? I really hope you'd tell us if it were bad." 

You shake your head. "I'm not going without. Don't worry, it's not that bad." But it could be, goes unsaid. 

Remus hums, his hand on your knee. "You know we care about you. Please, don't not tell us if you need something, okay?" His hand climbs the stretch of your thigh. "What's worrying you, dove? With work, are they giving you a hard time again?" 

Sirius returns somewhere in the midst of your talking, and he's absolutely horrified when a single tear bounds down your cheek. He squeezes between you and the armrest of the sofa to wipe your face as it comes, his weight almost entirely on top of you, so close that his hair tickles your cheek and neck. "Don't cry. I promise not to leave you alone with these two ever again," he jokes, though the tenderness with which he holds your face is nothing but sincere. 

James, sick of being the only one not comforting you physically, finds one of your hands to hold. It's smaller, and warm, and he pulls it to his chest as though that might hide you away from all the things that are freaking you out. 

To no one's shock, the boys are good listeners. Not always to each other, but what one lacks another can make up, and they manage to pull out from you your pack of troubles one by one. When that's done, they assuage each accompanying fear. 

If the very worst happens, you'll always have them to lean on. 

That makes you cry more than the stress. Grateful —though the last thing they're comforting you for is gratitude— you needle your arms around Sirius' waist and hide your face in his chest. He frowns down at you as he wraps you up tightly. James doesn't even feel jealous. Well, mostly, until Sirius kisses your forehead and James can actually see your happy shudder. Lucky for him, you aren't done. You squeeze Sirius before pulling away and turning to James. He realises then what made Sirius so bold, your whispered thank you like a vibration through his chest. He pats your back. 

"That's alright," he murmurs. 

You nod and squeeze and move on to Remus, who's been sitting at your feet for the last twenty minutes while you cry, concerned but not complaining. He's eager even if he won't say that, climbing to his feet so he can reach down for you and receive his own hug. James is a ridiculous romantic, and he just aches with affection for both of you as he watches Remus nose your cheek. When Remus finally pulls away, Sirius is looking at them with the same expression. 

"Do you feel better?" he asks you. 

You sniffle and wipe your nose with your sleeve sheepishly. "Yes. Thank you, boys. I really don't know what I'd do without you." 

James forgets restraint and swings his arm around your shoulder. "It's a good thing you'll never be without us, then," he says, and kisses your cheek.

[bluemantics]

Fic recs ask! Do you have anything vanon divergent/post canon in those bookmarks? thank youuu

ANON I AM LITERALLY THE POST-CANON FAN OF ALL TIME. i got u covered! thank you for this ask <3

1. Scars by crazyrandomhappenklance

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Lance never forgot the bonding moment he had with Keith; how could he? He also carries the memory of it permanently on his back. He’s kept those scars and memories hidden for years, but one day he was bound to slip up. What is he still so scared of?

2. Longing by Isas_Identitty

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3. hey mom, i met a boy by disasteralex

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The war was hard. Its end is even harder. But when Lance breaks, Keith and the others are there to help him heal.

Somewhere along the way, Keith finds his place in the universe, Shiro gets his happy ending, and Lance learns to fall in love again.

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5. the simplicity of forever by Silverine

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But Keith had to pick this birthday to act all mysterious and unpredictable, right?

6. 'Tis the Season for Conspiracies by Reader115

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7. collide the spaces that divide us by skyestiel

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“Team leaders.” Keith repeats the phrase, haltingly, and looks to Lance.

“Well, the leader and his right-hand man.”

A smile softens Keith’s features. “I’ve always liked the sound of that. ‘The leader and his right-hand man.’”

8. Say Yes To The Mess by AstroLatte

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ANYWAYS I hope y'all enjoy this list! I tried to rec some that were decently known alongside a bunch that weren't, and avoided all my fics that have, like, 20K or more hits. JFC klancers are crazy. I LOVE post-canon and will definitely end up reccing more fics that include this au in the future <3

[dollypopup]

I can't stop thinking about Colin on his travels. Colin, alone, on a journey to 17 different cities, across several countries. Colin on his own.

Colin who writes letter after letter, to his family, to his friends, and barely gets a response back. How long before he understands that they didn't get lost in the mail? How long until he realizes that, just like when he was a boy, no one has the time for him? The space for him? How many letters unanswered before he lets it finally take root and fester in his mind?

He could have died on that tour.

Would they even notice? Would they see when the letters slow until they cease? Would they wonder why? His mum, surely (maybe, possibly, but she has enough on her hands, besides, and he's never been a concern, in need of her assistance, before), but anyone else? Anthony on his honeymoon, Eloise a stormcloud personified, Benedict taking on the familial responsibilities, Fran preparing for the marriage mart and in Bath, regardless. Daphne, his closest sister, a mum running her own estate.

Greg and Hyacinth who enjoy his stories, but are children.

Pen who ignores him. No explanation, no goodbye.

Colin who has no one in his corner. Colin who travels city to city, putting on personas. Will they like me? What about now? Colin who has hardly anything to read from the people he loves. Who do not think of him.

And yet he thinks of them. Brings them back gifts, writes his recollections for them until it hits him that, oh, they don't care. They don't care what he's doing, how he's doing. They didn't want to hear it before, when he was there with them, and they do not want to hear it now, either. Did they even open those envelopes? Did they see them come through the post, just as proof he's alive, and shrug off the contents? Did they look? Once, Colin sends an empty page. No one notices. Easier, then, to send just the outsides. People only ever care about the outsides. Pretty and prim in neat packages, uncaring of what lies beneath. Sea sick on the rocking boats, staring up at stars on the continent, Colin grows aware, but not bitter. Sad, but resigned.

He loves his family, he loves Pen, loves them to grace, loves them to it's okay. It was him, he determines. Too chatty, his letters too long, uninteresting, his passions dull or droll, or else, worse, he's displeased them in some way. Colin who takes refuge in stranger's arms and homes, who dreams and tries to sate his curiosity. Colin who pretends, because anyone, anyone but him would be received better, he's sure of it. Colin who must talk too much, surely, and with no one to listen. Colin who learns to hush.

Yes. Remarkable- as in, I have many remarks about it.

How many times did he go to excitedly write of what he did that week, and stopped himself, knowing it was a waste? How many times did he write and throw into the fire a letter asking Why don't you see me? Why don't you care?

If he didn't make it, how long would it take for anyone to notice? A month? Two? A year? Would they wave it off as his frivolity, denounce him as a flake and fume about the funds? Would they wonder where it was he had lost himself off at?

He cannot fall into that, so, he writes in his journal, instead. Of the ache of it, of how he longs for connection, for understanding, for someone to take him seriously. He keeps it with him, this log of his discontent, of his folly and felicity, of his pitfalls and pains.

If he didn't make it, would they realize all that's left of him is what he sent them, not even a body to bury? Did he look over the side of a bow of a boat and look at the churn of the ocean and think of how many bones it held? Did he tip his face to the sun? How many new scars did he earn? Who did he befriend?

Who did he become?

Somewhere along the line, Colin learned. He learned the real him wasn't wanted.

Somewhere along the line, somewhere between Patmos and Paris, Colin left Colin behind.

And, somewhere along the line, Colin laid face to face with loneliness in his bed, and it wrapped its arms around him.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Possession

Gale x F! Sorcerer Tav

18+ enemies to lovers (sort of), antagonistic relationships, crossed signals, misunderstanding, physical roughness, rivalry/jealousy, mean domGale, rough sex, manhandling, semi-public sex, consensual voyeurism, light humiliation, masturbation (m!), fingering (f!), oral (f!), face sitting, p-in-v, pulling out

With natural challenge and charge between them and a misstep at connection, an unexpected competitor appears in camp. Things come to a burning head between sorcerer and wizard...

Masterlist

-

Magic ran through her body. It was deep inside her bones, a force she could not reason with even if she tried. As vital as breath.

So as Gale explained Weave to her, she rested her chin on a curled hand. Giving him a highly bemused smile that he was entirely unaware of.

"The simplicity that Magic of the Weave - An Introduction supplies is quite misleading. Though those unfamiliar must start somewhere, I suppose." He held the small tome up in demonstration, letting it fall flat in his palm to a page he had affixed a colored tab to.

"Like here!"

He began reading aloud a passage, Tav smiling wider at the unconscious raise of his pointed finger.

"While that is accurate," He snapped the book shut, turning to look at her. "To distill the Weave so crudely down to a new student is akin to stealing their capacity for wonder. So much of the power of the Weave is in its limitless beauty, to rend it so small is a disservice."

"Not all spellcasters experience magic in such a profound way as you do." She offered, that bite of jest falling back into her words.

"Ah, I've forgotten." He sighed, leveling her with a withering stare. "I'm speaking to a sorcerer."

She felt her smile widen even further.

"And I'm speaking to a wizard. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you kiss those books to sleep at night."

His ears filled with blush, pulling the tome off of his lap and setting it with an annoyed thump on an ever growing pile.

"As I've said, no sense of wonder." He sniped.

This was a dance they did. He would talk her through a concept she was already familiar with and, inevitably, get frustrated with her teasing. But he kept coming back, a new topic, a new book, to dissect to her. A dog with a bird in its teeth.

"I really do think it's sweet. Your love for your craft. Maybe you'll be a teacher one day, you clearly have a knack for it." She sighed out her last words in a mock weariness.

"Though I could argue I experience magic just as deeply as you do, wizard. Maybe I should be the one giving you lectures."

His eyes seemed to light at the thought, turning to her expectantly.

"No," she raised her hands. "I'm not going to be the one to break that hopeful glint in your eyes. My relationship with my magic is not nearly as fulfilling."

He stared at her, stubborn. Turning fully towards her, eyes held in unwavering interest.

"You're very irritating." She stated.

He scoffed.

"I'm well aware. But go on, enlighten me."

She gave an exaggerated eye roll, then fell quiet. Bowing her head in concentration, allowing the slow closing of her eyes.

The sound of rustling fabric next to her as he leaned forward.

As she focused in on her power, the sensation, the fluid of it, she felt it rise along her body. Lifting the ends of her hair, air crackling with chill. She leaned her head back, feeling the delicious cold move up her spine.

Speaking in a hushed, vulnerable voice.

"It's ice water in summer. It's the chill of early morning. It's the plunge of a hand into a cool river."

Her eyes slid open, her gaze falling back on her hands. Now alight with glacial magic.

"It's the hunger of winter. It's the icy maw that swallows the unprepared. It's the frigid grip on skin, stealing breath away. Lulling so sweetly into sleep, burning alive."

She stared at the curl of her palm, frost lines traveling in slow pulses down the valleys of her veins.

"What you call Weave I know as blood. Inescapable and as giving as a blizzard. It's not about learning, it's about controlling."

Her eyes finally rose to his and found him scribbling in the front leaf page of Magic of the Weave. Looking up at her expectantly, his hand pausing as she fell quiet.

"Are you... writing this down?" She stared at him in disbelief.

He looked down at his pen, then back up at her, innocent confusion tilting his head. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"By Drizz't's Blades, can you not be an academic for one second?" She huffed, rising to feet.

"Just like a wizard, you bear your wounds and their taking notes. Gods."

He looked at his work again, his own frustration creasing his brows. Opening his mouth to surely argue.

"Save it." She held her hand up flat. "You've got your research. Frigid drow is a compelling footnote in your paper. Goodnight, Gale."

Her feet took her away on frosted grass. Hands clenching at her sides, ice cresting over knuckles. Feeling his eyes following her back.

Turning the corner on the largest crimson tent.

"Karlach! I need thawing!"

-

"You know he didn't mean it like that."

Karlach's blistering hand rubbed in circles along the ice holding her bare back. Melting it down only to have new sheets bloom behind her hand.

"I dont know that." Tav hissed, the tight hurt in her chest speaking.

"Oh, come on. He's far too sweet on you to be studying you like an experiment."

"He's not."

"He is. Hells, Tav, it's obvious."

Tav rose her legs to her chest, leaning on her knees. Pushing her chin into the curve of her folded forearms. Angry tears spiking her eyes, quickly turning to frozen rain pooling.

"That's just how wizards are, mate. They digest the world through books. If anything, it was a massive compliment that he was taking notes."

She picked at the seam along her knee. Turning her head into the fold of her arms with a shaky sigh. Focusing on Karlach's heat to bring her body back down from the threatening squall.

"I just want to be..."

She tried to gather her words, but an angry lump sat frozen in her throat.

"I know, baby. You want to be understood. But that shit hurts."

Tav nodded, reaching back to squeeze Karlach's knee.

"Thank you." She sighed, ice water slipping down her temple and the curve of her nose.

"Of course, Frost. Elemental bitches gotta stick together."

Tav let out a wet laugh, chill air leaving her in a burst.

Leaving her tent, she gave Karlach's shoulder one more grateful squeeze. Misty eyed again, seeing how happily she pulled a frozen Clive to her chest. Her spell set to last through the night.

Though her ice was often a burden, it was setting up to be a sweltering night. Passing by each tent, she tapped on canvas. Setting the temperature down with an incantation, hearing grateful sighs and soft thank you's from within as she made a loop. Slipping a bottle of cooled blood into crimson canvas, chilled fingers taking it eagerly.

She eyed the deep turquoise tent, soft light still dancing inside. Sighing, she stepped forward on quiet feet. Stopping to kneel down and straighten the piles of books that he had haphazardly left.

Crouched on haunches, she rose her hand. Pressing a cold palm into canvas. Giving him a little extra in silent apology.

Hearing no acknowledgment outside of a pausing of movement, she rose back on feet.

"Goodnight, Gale." She hushed.

Turning back to the lone point of her black tent, at the lowest slope of their small world. Faded with scrubbed away symbols of Lolth. Smiling at Minthara's tent opposite hers.

Her fellow drow laid inside, leaned back on her hammock. Sharpening a dagger with the precision of a practiced war matron.

Giving her an affirming nod as she cooled her tent.

"I'm retiring for the night." Tav spoke in Undercommon, the words sliding out so much more natural. Minthara respoding in kind.

"I'll take watch." Rising from her lounge, she sat her dagger back with a snap. Heading up the slope.

"Rest well, sister."

Finally alone, she entered her tent. Content to wallow in her sharp hurt.

As she settled, lighting a candle, pulling a spidersilk robe around her waist, a new shape revealed beneath her pillow.

She cut her eyes, picking up a tome.

Impractical Magic, Volume 1.

Another sat beneath it.

Book of Poetry.

She flipped through them. A beginner's book, written by a wizard, about the nature of elemental sorcery and a small book of poems. Recognizing her own speech patterns from her attempt at explanation earlier in the prose.

She shot to feet, angry chill rising through her neck. The books gripped in her fist.

Ripping aside turquoise canvas. Casting Private Sanctum on his tent as she stormed inside. Tossing the books at his feet.

"Are you mocking me?"

He glanced at the books, eyes rising to hers. Turning his head in that maddening tilt.

"You have wildly misunderstood my intentions."

Her hands twitched into fists again, breathing hard through the frost.

"Okay, then dumb it down for me since you're so superior. My meager education couldn't possibly rise to the occasion."

He rose to feet, his breathing picking up with hers.

"Why do you keep inferring that I find you lacking? How have I made that impression?"

She nearly screamed, biting her icy tongue. Turning from him to face the tent wall as furious tears rose again.

"Hey, don't turn away. I'm trying to understand!"

His hand pulled on her bicep, and it snapped a fracture in her frozen lake.

Wrenching his wrist, she forced his arm behind his back. Flipping him to the ground, knee pressed into his spine. Taking his hair in a tight bunch, forcing his head into a turn on his pillow.

He gasped, his back arching into her hold. Body so unbearably warm beneath hers.

"Don't touch me." She commanded. Pressing her knee harder.

He tried to nod, but her fist held harder into his hair. A soft moan left him, hips rising into a curl.

"Don't go into my tent again. Or I will do far worse than this."

"Is that a promise?" He gasped.

She raised her lip in a snarl. Lowering her head down to his ear, hissing into the well.

"You're too soft and warm to talk back, wael faern. Or do I need to show you that?"

"I'd love a demonstration, if you don't mind."

She smiled dangerously, pinning his arm under her knee. Hand snapping down on the side of his throat.

He breathed hard under her constricting fingers, eyes fluttering up into lids as her cold tongue drug up the curve of his ear.

She pressed the full freeze of her body into his back, chuckling darkly as he shivered.

"Too cold? I thought so."

Rising off of him with a shove, she twisted her fingers into her magic. Glaring down as he turned to stare flushed at her.

"Enjoy the heat."

With a pull, she removed her chill on the tent. The air filling sweltering again as she ducked out into the night.

-

"No Gale today?" Astarion clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. Shouldering his pack to accompany her.

"No. I'd rather not see him." She responded in a clipped voice.

"Cold." He lilted. "But I do so enjoy that about you."

Karlach and Minthara met them at the crest of the trail. Blue light still bathing the sleeping world.

"Any reason we're heading out so early, soldier?"

"She's avoiding her kicked puppy."

"Do you want to stay back, Astarion? I'm sure you could use the beauty rest."

"Would you like me to educate the spawn on manners, sister?"

"Gods, I'm going to hate you two together."

Her eyes darted back to the distant point of camp. Seeing a soft light ignite inside his tent.

"Enough talk. Head out."

-

"Shadowheart! To me!" Tav called.

Rolan moaned out what sounded like 'Where are we?' His eyes rolling loose in sockets as he coughed.

"My camp, we're not close enough to Last Light. Now focus on breathing." She hitched his arm higher over her shoulder.

Minthara took up his other side, face stoic.

"Shadowheart! We have wounded!" Tav called again, eyes tracking around the camp.

She rushed down the hill, hands lit in magic. Potions gathered under her arm.

"Injuries?" She urged, Tav and Minthara laying him on a soft patch of grass. Halsin came up behind Tav, his hand coming to Rolan's forehead. The other braced on her back as he kneeled down.

"Shadow wraiths. The curse almost got him." Karlach gasped, running up to the gathered help.

"He's very near death." Halsin urged, hand lighting along his forehead. "Something's wrong, he's burning up."

Tav leaned back and whipped off her robe, kneeled in her underclothes.

"Lift him." She instructed. Halsin appraising her with an impressed glint.

The druid lifted him easily into a slump.

"What's going on?" Gale's voice rose over their heads.

Tav arched her thigh around Rolan's lap, taking up his weight into her shoulder. Her chest pressed to his, she snaked her hand inside of his robe and untied it at the waist. Letting it fall back as she spread her hands on his bowed back and pressed into him.

Halsin and Shadowheart took up at his sides in front of her. Speaking healing magic into his body.

"Breath, faern." She hushed, pulling him to her.

Rolan's breath filled and emptied shallowly against her neck. Burning into her skin.

"I'm going to get colder now, take a deep breath." She warned in a soft voice.

She focused her temperature down, feeling him try to pull away weakly.

"Good, that's good." Halsin encouraged, spreading a hand between hers. "He's stabilizing."

Rolan whimpered into her shoulder, arms coming up to grip into her back. Body shaking with cold and frustration. Tears hidden in the fall of her hair.

"I know, I know." She hummed, hands running through his long hair. "You're alive. Feel your anger."

Rolan wouldn't leave her side, even after his body had cooled. Leaning his head in exhausted shame.

"We'll head out for Last Light, first thing in the morning." Tav instructed, her gathered companions nodding. The fire burning low between them.

"Return Rolan to his family and secure the whereabouts of Oliver. We should search where we last saw him."

Rolan's head rose, staring down at her.

"Family?"

"Yes, we found your siblings in the prison at Moonrise. They were on their way back to you when we found you."

His eyes filled with tears again.

"You saved them?"

She nodded, then was taken into him.

He pressed a kiss into her lips, hands cupping her face in desperate joy. Pulling away with spilling tears.

"Thank you." He breathed.

She smiled up at him.

"No trouble."

Rolan smiled back, then turned his head. His eyes widened in confusion, then settled into a cold stare.

Tav followed his gaze.

Gale sat across from Rolan, glaring dark under his brow at him. Fingers digging on his thighs.

"Something you'd like to share?" Rolan chided, tilting his head in a slow challenge.

"Oh, not presently. After all, your health is far too important." Gale's voice came out in a low warning.

The air crackled with malice. A silent combat taking place between eyes.

"Gods, you wizards are like fish too close in a pond. Get over yourselves." Shadowheart scoffed, rising to feet.

"I'll set you up in my tent tonight." Tav turned to back to Rolan. "I'll occupy myself elsewhere."

"I'm sure there's enough room for the two of us." Rolan purred, eyes lighting in petty accomplishment as the shadow darkened next to them.

"And I'm sure you'll freeze to death."

"Mmm, I'm still a mite warm, actually."

Gale rose to feet, shoulders hard with effort.

"Tav, a word?"

"My tent is there." She pointed down the slope, rising to feet. "Get some rest. We have a long walk come morning."

Gale came to her side, rushing forward. Caging her body forward with his own. Fast steps forcing her body to a brisk walk.

His hand came up to pull on her wrist, finding her pace not removing them quickly enough.

"I will end you." She promised, his hand falling away with a huff.

"Okay, we're beyond the treeline. I think we're far enough from the wizard I just helped."

She crossed her arms, leveling an unamused stare at him.

"What do you want to say?"

"Why did he just kiss you?" Gale hissed. Ducking his head down low to her.

"Ask him. I haven't detected his thoughts."

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't a joke."

He huffed breath hard, chest heaving. Eyes burning.

"You're impossible." He growled.

"I'm a drow. Bitch comes free." She tilted her head up at him. A mean glint in her eyes.

"Why? Are you jealous, wizard?"

His back bristled, eyes widening in contained rage.

"Do you need healing, too? Do you have wounds for me?" She stepped forward in a challenge. "Show me where it hurts, and I'll lick it better."

He held his ground, and she stepped forward again. Egging him on.

"Come on. You're clearly angry with me." She smiled. "Spit your venom."

"I'm not angry with you."

"No?" She stepped into him.

"Then why are you so warm?"

His eyelids lowered into a grimace, panting as she pressed into him.

They breathed into each other's space, his hands arching in hard clenches at his sides.

"Then what are you feeling towards me, Gale?" She hissed, staring into his dark eyes.

He finally snapped, crashing his mouth into hers.

His mouth pushed, desperate and mean. Wide hand gripping into the back of her hair. Breathing hard through nose. Tangling into her in angry pulls. Demanding fingers pulling at her clothes.

She pulled out of her robe, ripping into his ties. Disrobing him with the same aggression. Pressing her body hard into his in rolling waves. His heat battling her rising cold.

"Down." He growled into her swollen lips. Pulling her by the hips roughly to the forest floor.

"I don't take orders from you." She breathed, falling under his body.

"Shut up." He hissed, pulling her bralette down to her ribs in a hard yank.

Mouth diving on a hard peak.

Her back curled up in pleasure, gripping into his hair.

He lapped at the buds, playing mean fast strokes that he pulled up into his lips. Sucking in hard popping pulses.

Her head arched back, panting into the grass. Cunt flooding with slick, hips arching up into the tone of his belly.

He forced his hand between them, cupping her cunt and pushing her hips hard into the earth.

"I'm going to make you regret kissing him." He promised in a dangerous rumble. Eyes glaring up at her in dark slits.

"Do it, then." She breathed, her eyes burning ice.

"I dare you."

He ripped her panties off, eyes smoldering anger. Wrenching under her thighs and lifting her hips high into the air. Forcing her thighs onto his shoulders, holding her up by her ass.

She cried out into her palm when his mouth latched onto her clit. Pulling vicious wet suckles, his arm locking behind her hips as they tried to squirm away. The pleasure near unbearable, his anger leaving her merciless.

Her shoulders writhed on the grass, hips trying to give out. He cracked his hand down on her ass twice, rising her hips back up with a growl.

Her eyes rolled marble in her head as he took her apart, gasping shallow breaths. Already a shameful mess. Delirious with wrenching pleasure.

Frost spread across her belly, orgasm circling dangerously tight. Muffling pleading moans in her throat, coming out as choking whimpers.

He laughed into her cunt, dragging his nails hard down her thigh to get her to gasp her mouth open. Leaving pink scratches in his wake.

Her mouth fell open, the pain pushing her pleasure into an unrelenting high. Gasping out in Undercommon.

"What was that?" He murmured, pulling back to stare down her belly at her.

She glared at him, tightening her thighs around his head in warning.

"No, no, use-" He sucked hard on her clit in hollow pulls of his tongue, her thighs falling back open in a shudder. "-your words."

"Fuck you." She hissed.

"Not what you said." He retorted, pushing two fingers inside her without warning.

She twisted, cunt clenching hard on his fingers. Hooking into punishing slow strikes.

He slapped her ass again. Demanding an answer.

"I said-"

She clamped around his head, twisting him down to the ground. Straddling over his face.

"Rip me apart, wizard."

His eyes lowered into dangerous slits. Grasping her by both hips, forcing her cunt into his mouth again.

She shuddered as he latched back on in near biting pulses. Completely engulfing her clit. Reaching up to pull on her throat, forcing her into an arch forward to push his fingers back inside. Slamming into her beneath, sending jolts up through her pelvis.

She gripped into his hair, face crumpling in desperate pleasure. Hand cupped over her mouth to not shriek.

His eyes cut to the edge of the trees. Pulling her hand down by the forearm and forcing it behind her back.

Her eyes followed, rocking with the force of his fucking.

Rolan stood wide-eyed on the edge a tree, hard cock in his hand.

Gale's hand spread up over her hips and belly in clear petty possession. Cupping her breast, pinching her nipple between his long fingers. Rubbing his nose in it.

Tav couldn't take it anymore, being displayed like this pushing her over the edge. Body buckling as she came hard into his mouth.

He grasped onto her hips, quickly forcing her onto her belly. Cock pushing inside her in a viciously savoring thrust.

She cried out into the dirt, her orgasm still in its throes. Clenching hard onto him, his breath hissing out with his thrusts. Rocking her forward in hard snaps.

"Look at him." He whispered, lifting her head by a pull of her hair. Winding it into his fist.

Her glazed eyes locked with Rolan's. Both of them aghast with shameful pleasure.

"See how much he wants this?" He hissed low into her ear. "Poor thing, he can't touch you. Not like I can."

As if to demonstrate, he circled his fingers hard into her clit.

She curled her head in, hands clawing at the dirt. Choppy begging cries smothered as a second orgasm threatened.

"Gale, I'm-" She pleaded, hips rising higher as it climbed. His hips slamming faster into her backside in response.

It ripped through her, sending her whole torso into shuddering spasms. Back arching down into the dirt as her cum pushed out to drip down his thighs.

Her wrenching contractions forced him to his end. Hand bracing on her shoulder. Pulling out to spill on her lower back, gasping shallow as his pleasure dripped down her spine.

She heard Rolan's muffled release and looked over, seeing his eyes flutter back into his head.

Gale was a preening exhausted shadow behind her. Rolling her ass in his palms in pure accomplished revelry.

She heard Rolan scurry away towards camp. Gale huffing out a righteous laugh.

"Oh, he's going with the others in the morning."

Tav nodded, too fucked out to regain her role as leader. Pliant and loose under his command.

"And you're going to stay with me tonight." He smiled dangerously, clearly enjoying having tamed her.

"Yes, saer." She sighed.

"Oh, do keep talking like that. You're going to be wonderfully obedient, aren't you?"

~

[mraprilfools]

Summary: As Vox's personal Physician it's always been a challenge to get him to take care of himself. Your motives originally may have been professional, but the line started to blend somewhere along the way. Now you're determined to get him to listen.

Pairing: GN!Reader x Vox

Contents: Mostly self-indulgent fluff. Bashful Vox, Doctor Reader, Assertive Reader, Reader has Glasses, Kissing, Lots of Flirting and Banter, Vox is a dork, Vox has freckles he hides

Word Count: 8k

A/N: Dedicated to @6esiree for her Follower contest! Please accept my humble Vox fluff. As for my followers, keep an eye out for tomorrow's Imagine for a very special message from The Heart of a Machine's Vox!

“You need to cut down on your caffeine consumption. Not only are you hopelessly addicted, but your quality of sleep is suffering as a result.” The tests had been taken again, and again, and again at your boss’ request. As a professional, you had standards. You weren’t going to let something as stubborn masculine machismo bother you. But the results on your medical chart had been almost completely static. The metallic nub of your pen rapped against the clipboard over the offending results that kept staring you back in the face.

Vox was hunched over on the examination table, refusing to face you. Already slipping on the buttons of his dress shirt.

“I didn’t say that the examination was over sir.” You reminded him, pressing up the glasses hanging on the bridge of your nose.

The artificial glow of that screen finally turned to greet you. The artificial smile he had was so kind to constantly parade in your presence, as obnoxious as always. “I am well aware, but I am saying it’s over. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

A challenge to your ability. A bold one too. There were few doctors knowledgeable enough in both machinery and biology. Fewer fanatical enough to learn the harmonious weaving inside your employer so you found the accusation funny. All but a single, “Ha” came out in a scoff.

Sparks of electricity crackled from Vox’s antennae, and the large crimson pools narrowed into squints. “And what’s so funny Doc?”

“You are Darling. If you wanted to get rid of me, we both know you would have long ago.” You curled your lips in a smirk, a clear defiance of your boss. With only half of his buttons slipped through, he gave up on the rest and rose to his feet. Long legs made quick strides over to you to make a direct challenge. Even when he stood nearly a foot over you, you didn’t feel intimidated in the least. You dropped the clipboard over to the counter, meeting his gaze defiantly, but cooly.

A foot stepped between your legs, and his body came close. You took a step back only for the sake of your balance, then another until he had your back against a wall. His hands pinned you in place while the eerie glow of his screen only grew more intense. There was a false cheer in Vox’s voice even as his smile never dropped.

“You’re cute, Doc. You’ve made yourself valuable, so you’re right. I give you a lot more slack than I would tolerate from anyone else in this worthless shit heap. However…” He pried one hand free to clap around your jaw. Holding you in place when the bladed end of his thumb pressed against your cheek, drawing a bead of blood from the pinpoint. A directed threat, no doubt to remind you that he could kill you at any time.

But he hasn’t.

“More people are falling to hell every day, you won’t be so unique forever.”

“So you admit that I’m one of the few who do know what they’re doing. So, can I count on you cutting down your coffee consumption down to three cups a day?”

His chest rose and fell as the energy left him. Vox pulled his hand away and returned to fixing up the buttons on his shirt. Turning his back to you to fetch the sweater vest thrown over the table, slipping it on next. A zipper on the side turned out to be the secret around putting on clothes when your head was a large television. Having a tailor right in the tower must be quite useful. “I can do the coffee. However, I don’t have time to sleep the full six hours you are recommending.”

“Daily.” You remind him.

He spun back around, uttering a scoff as his hands slipped through each sleeve of his blazer. The pointed cyan claws slid across the lapels. “Daily?! Now you’re just being ridiculous Doc.”

“Have I been known to tell you jokes, Vox?” You lifted a brow.

“Yes, actually. You make jokes about how stupid half of my employees are all the time. The other half you have creative insults about how brutish, boring, or pathetic they are. I’m starting to think you don’t like anyone in the tower...” Vox raised both his brows, sporting that smarmy little grin.

“Because I don’t, save a few exceptions.” You answered. “I’m not paid to like people. I’m paid to keep you healthy.” You pushed off the wall, seating yourself in the single office chair that had been afforded for the office. The leather squeaked with the new weight, wheels shifting from the sudden weight that had you barreling toward your coffee cup. You draped one leg over the other, pressing your back against the chair while you gave your boss your undivided attention.

The cyan eyes rolled within the crimson pools. At last, his bow tie was tied around his neck perfecting the image of the business CEO. Almost a shame how quick he always was to put his clothes back on. The technological and biological nature of his body was a near obsession of yours; even if you never admitted it.

“Is the friendship-making package extra?”

You raised your shoulders in answer. You hooked your fingers around the mug on the desk with your cup of coffee. The irony of it after telling him to cut his consumption didn’t bother you. “Do you want me to make friends Vox? I don’t see how that would benefit you at all.”

“It won’t.” He admitted as he walked by. The chair was sent backward as his claws laid hands on it, forcing you to make eye contact when he lingered from behind. “Only wondering how much I pay you goes into pretending to like me.”

You couldn’t help but break out into more laughter. The sight of which earned a sultry frown and a retraction of the hand that had come so close to him. You caught your glasses, preventing them from careening off your face. “You don’t pay me anything for that sir, you’re one of the few people in hell I do like.”

“You have a weird way of showing it… telling me to take care of myself.” He chuffed, shooting a nasty glare at the coffee in your hands. Unaffected, you took a sip. He could cope.

“I know, I’m a trailblazer. Do you need me to prescribe you sleeping pills or do you think you can handle it?”

Vox laughed, “Doctor, please! I can do something as simple as fall asleep! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” Even if you couldn’t see it, you could almost feel that eye roll looking at the back of his head. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with that curt goodbye.

Vox, however, never listened to his doctor. Even IF you were always right. It was a hunch as you were finishing up writing up samples for the night. But the thought came to mind to check on your boss to see if he was heeding your well-intentioned advice. Your employee keycard gave you generous access, only beneath the Vee’s who could go everywhere. So it wasn’t any trouble stopping by that ridiculous office of his.

He was seated before a mural of monitors depicting snapshots of the lives all across Pentagram City. Wires were currently plugged into the back of Vox’s head, absorbed in his… information-gathering activities. Vox was completely unaware of your presence. You breathed a heavy sigh, resigning to the fact that you once again had to get this man to take care of himself. You passed through the bridge without fear, where the circling shark tanks beneath spoke of a deadly fall several floors down. Such a waste of space for an aesthetic. Your polished shoes smacked into the back of the chair, startling the Overlord within.

Arcs of electricity shot out from all angles. Coating the chair and his body as the wires all unplugged from their ports one by one and the frantic man spun around with an intense swirl in his right eye. The claws extended, drawing gouges in the rests beside him. All the fight in him sputtered out the instant he caught sight of you, painted over with annoyance.

“Doc! I did not call for you. What are you doing here?”

With your arms folded across your chest, you answered. “Coming to catch you red-handed. You should be sleeping.”

“Shouldn’t you?” He fired back, hunching low.

Touche, but you wouldn’t admit it. You pushed up the frame of your glasses before you answered.

“It’s not my fault the help I have in the lab is so incompetent. I can’t trust them to do something as simple as label specimens. It would be a terrible safety risk if I left it to them. If anything, I am a hero of Voxtek.”

Vox laughed, leaning back into his chair. It was genuine laughter, unlike that dorky evil cackle he thought nobody ever heard when he was alone. A palm smacked his thigh, with a crooked grin sliding heavy to the right of his screen. “Sounds like we’re both guilty, Doctor. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Tell who exactly?” You asked, striding up to the man. You sat on one of his thighs spread so wide it was practically an invitation. The overlord stiffened, digging his claws back into the plastic armrest, staring a hole at you. “What darling? There aren’t any other chairs and you wouldn’t have me stand the whole time would you?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to try and seduce me.” He answered.

“Ah? And why do you think I am trying to seduce you?” You sent the question back to him, easing until your back pressed against the rest. You threw one leg over the other, balancing yourself by clutching the armrest. Your fingers only brushed against the cyan claws and he instantly yanked them out of reach.

“Oh, do you sit in any man’s lap then? And here I thought I was special.”

“I don’t like most people, Vox. You are special.”

Unexpectedly, the words brought a strange light blue glow to Vox’s face. He was just as shocked as you were, throwing an arm to cover the strange color in his face. There was an attempt to hide it as his face turned away, but he didn’t throw you off so you took that as a victory.

“What do you want?”

“For you to go to bed darling, that should be obvious.”

When he lowered the arm, you could see a deep frown on his display. The technicolor eyes bore into yours, locking you in eye contact trying to force the truth from you. A common tactic as most couldn’t lie while maintaining eye contact. But you were telling the truth so you made yourself comfortable admiring the view until the silence made him give up. With a sigh, he put his hand on your back and forced you back to your feet.

“Alright, I’ll go to bed, Doctor.” Vox shoved you off, forcing you back to your feet. He refused to even touch you, only lurching forward until you were forced to either catch yourself or fall. With a low grumble, you fixed your coat, keeping well away from the ledge.

Vox took two steps toward the bridge when he stopped and turned to look at you. “Do you flirt with all your patients?”

“Well darling, considering that you are my only patient? Yes.”

Vox chuffed, hooking a thumb forcefully into his pocket. The back of the TV greeted you, shoulders rolling as he weighed your answer. “And before I hired you, how many of your patients did you hit on?”

A single digit tapped your chin, which meant thinking back to something that hardly mattered. How often you satisfy your urges shouldn’t matter to your boss. But for the sake of this flirting to keep going you obliged. “Only the hot ones darling. I jump the bones of the ones I want nothing to do with besides their dick. But I take my time with the ones I really like.”

More electricity danced from his antennae. To busy his hands, Vox tugged and pulled at his bowtie. There was a joyful lilt in his tone as he answered, “Interesting. Good night Doctor.”

“Good night, Vox.” You followed right behind him, smiling with satisfaction. You felt happy that you finally got him to see reason, even if it meant flirting a little.

Or so you thought.

The next day, you decided to make another visit to his office to check if he went to bed on time. He was still plugged into the system, in the early hours of the morning. A little more flirting and back and forth was just as effective.

And the next day. There he was far more cold, not passing the buck back to you. But when you tried to excuse yourself, he’d find some excuse to make you stay for a minute or two longer.

And the next day too! Each time conning you into spending a little extra time with him. At first, it was only fifteen minutes. Then half an hour, and then you ended up lingering for a WHOLE hour. That was when you realized that if this got any worse, YOUR work would suffer.

Now that? That was unforgivable.

At this point, you suspected he was doing this on purpose. When you came charging down the bridge that evening, he was already spinning in place to greet you. You were expected. The bastard. The plugs in the back of his head popped free. Vox spun around in time to greet you with a wide smirk on his screen that faltered when his chair ended up swerving a little too far to the right. A heel smacked against the floor, giving him friction to push him back.

“You saw nothing,” Vox said.

“Pretty sure I did, you are up late. Again.”

“I slept yesterday. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Vox bent forward in his chair, looking smug. He was intentionally trying to rile you up now. You didn’t even attempt to hide your sigh. You glanced over to the monitors, still the same old surveillance for the most part. But there was one screen that stood out. The man was on Veddit. You adjusted your glasses to get a better look. Upon closer look, it was some subveddit asking advice about how to tell when somebody has a crush on you.

He was so pathetic it was endearing sometimes. His eyes followed yours, doing a double take when he noticed what you were looking at and smacked the console turning all the monitors off. Vox’s voice came out filtered as he attempted to sound assertive. “That’s classified company information. Nothing you are meant to be privy to Doctor. I’ll have to fire you if you keep looking.”

“I didn’t know relationship advice was sensitive company data. Are you having trouble with men, Vox?”

A faint blue light covered Vox’s screen beneath his eyes, his cyan pupils unable to meet you. Teeth clenched, his fingers rapped loudly against the armrests of his chair. You kept silent, watching him stew under the uncomfortable silence. His knee began to bounce, his fingertips clacking against the hard plastic until at last he groaned and rolled his eyes. “No! I could have anyone I wanted in Pentagram City in my bed by the end of tomorrow night if I wanted.”

Laughter spilled before you could help it. The sound inspired a swirl from his right eye, and another tense clutch of his claws gouging his chair. “What’s so funny?”

“You darling. You’re adorable.”

The color on his face grew more intense, as did his frown. He made some incoherent mumbling you couldn’t quite understand, but you were pretty sure at least one of those was an insult.

“How about a bet then, Darling? Whoever can bring a new partner into their bed first wins? If I win, you promise to go to bed no later than 1 AM. And if you win…” You sucked through your teeth, watching as his screen grew even more pale. A cyan claw nervously wove around the bow tie on his neck.

“If I win, you’re all mine for an evening,” Vox interjected.

Now there was a surprise, so he could take the lead. The man was already pushing himself up to his feet, stretching his back as he rose to his full height. “It’s about time I remind you who you work for.” Now he was compensating, with that blustering smile and the way he pulled on his lapels.

“Then it is settled! You can have an entire evening to see if you can make me as obedient as the rest of your employees.” You agreed. Unknown to Vox, you already had a plan that secured your victory. But you let him stew in the joy of his deal a little longer. The way his smile took up half his screen was endearing.

A pointed end met your chin as he forced you to look at him, the harsh artificial light shining a little too close for comfort. “I’ll make you sing for me, Doc. Though you are right… I’d almost miss your backbone. Almost.”

The screen was coming in close, dangerously so. With nowhere to go with that claw currently suck in your chin, you brushed away the mood with a question. “Would my magnanimous boss be willing to walk me home? Things have been rather dangerous in my neighborhood lately.”

Suspicion immediately colored his expression, with arcs of lightning dancing along his frame. Vox whipped his hand away, standing ramrod straight. “Didn’t you want me to go to bed? Trying to get a head start on me Doc?”

You coyly tilted your head. “No? If you’re that worried about that I can get somebody else to walk me. I’m pretty sure I could easily get Papermint to--”

A metallic claw smacked your shoulder, pointed ends digging into your flesh as a strained smile greeted you. Vox’s laughter came out deeply filtered. “That won’t be necessary! That man couldn’t defend you from a paper bag. I’ll be winning our little wager before the night ends, as I said. So I’ll gladly see you home and asleep while I take my victory.”

The pinprick stung, but it was a kind of pain that sent a shiver down your spine. Your hand laid over his, feeling the cool skin beneath for only a second before he yanked it away.

That was now the second time he yanked his hand from yours. Curious.

“Not if you are sleep-deprived, Vox. Come on then, it’s a bit of a walk through a bad neighborhood so I hope you aren’t too fond of your shoes.” You spun around first, taking the lead down the bridge. The larger overlord quickly strode over to catch up to you, refusing to let you guide him. Hands behind his back, he continued to stare at you from the corner of his screen, and he was terribly obvious.

“What is it darling?” You asked.

“...Can you stop calling me that?”

“What, darling?”

There was an uneasy shifting as he pushed out his pockets. The electronic door hissed open when the two of you approached by the proximity of the Overlord alone. The two of you took a turn down the hallways, empty and feeling almost haunted at these early hours.

“Yes.”

By how short the answer was, you suspected he wasn’t going to give you a reason why. As confident and blustering the man could be, there were always these little nuggets of insecurity that oozed. He was overcompensating. For most people, they wouldn’t bother to look any deeper. People were far more inclined to see what they wanted to see or to ignore anything that would be far too bothersome to address. A fact Vox relied on far too much.

Because you took an undeniable interest in this man. You knew his body better than anyone as his doctor. Knew how his heart was nothing but to ease his body dysmorphia. How he regulated his heat, how viruses affected his body, and how a simple cold could still lay him low. Initially, you wanted nothing more than to tear him open and learn everything but lately… you wanted to solve the riddle behind the little things. Such as why he wouldn’t let you touch his hand. Or why his screen always got a little brighter when you entered the room.

But if you pushed somebody too hard who didn’t want to be known, you risked pushing them away. This would require a delicate touch.

“Very well, I will have to call you something special then.”

There was another flash of static as Vox pushed the call elevator button. The repeated shifting of his cyan irises was so obvious you had to hide your smile underneath your palm pretending to hide a cough.

“Like what? Voxxy?”

“Voxxy is cute...” You admitted with a shrug, “But that’s not special. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of exes call you that.”

Fragmentation flashed over this screen at that moment, the crimson pools almost comically large in his screen. The ding of the elevator was his saving grace, striding in quickly to save face. “I’ll let you know if you pick something unique then.”

Unique. Most people would likely pick something with his name or his head. Picture Box, Plasma, Sparky. In the silence of the elevator, you leaned against the wall and considered it. A nickname for you alone to call him. Vox joined you. Leaning against the wall almost close enough to touch but you knew better than to reach out and chance him pulling his hand away a third time.

“Dove.”You suggested.

“That’s… uh--” Vox let out a breathy chuckle. “Quite an old-fashioned nickname don’t you think? I think people stopped using that decades ago.”

“Do you dislike it…?”

Claws settled on the rail behind him, clicking against the bare metal. Each metallic noise sent shivers up your spine, seeing them so close but out of reach.

“I don’t dislike it, no. I’m not quite so nostalgic as half of Hell seems to be, but I can appreciate the effort.” The rare gentle smile on his screen was a sort you’d never seen before. Not the fabricated nonsense to disarm viewers or the manic joy when he was doing something comically evil.

Ping

The elevator came to a sudden halt as it hit the first floor. You stepped out first, with your boss lagging shortly behind. Thanks to how early in the morning it was, the two of you weren’t especially bothered by employees or gawking pedestrians. Hell in the early evenings was often when you could find the worst of it. Drunkards, people stabbed in the middle of the streets, demons locked in heat fucking in any half-discreet location they could find. It was a place of sin and debauchery and everyone happily indulged. Vox was a wary individual you learned from watching him.

Despite being one of the most powerful men in the Pride Ring he constantly watched the streets looking for threats. Occasionally he would catch you looking at him, blush, and look away. After the third or fourth time, he scoffed and tugged on his collar.

“Why do you keep staring at me like that? Actually- WHY are you flirting with me so blatantly? Are you trying to get a promotion?”

“Can I be promoted from your personal physician?”

“No.”

“Then the only reason is because I like you.”

There was a question of why, obvious by the way he looked at you full of confusion. “I… wasn’t expecting such an honest answer.”

You laughed. “This is hell Dove, there’s nothing to be gained by being shy. Somebody else might try to sink their claws into you first and I don’t like to lose.”

“Your wager seems counter-intuitive to your goal.” Vox rolled his eyes. Yet at the same time, he was reaching out to you. His claws bumped against your fingertips for only a fraction of a second. They were cold and sharp to the touch, but having conquered the wall put a pep in your step.

“On the contrary, I believe it’s proven quite effective. You are taking me home so another man doesn’t.”

“I-Wait, were you manipulating me?!”

You laughed again, hiding your great smile behind your hand. “I was! But you manipulate all of hell daily so I think you’ve lost all right to hold that against me.”

Vox stopped, narrowing his great big eyes. “I could leave right now, or did you account for that in your plan too?”

“Mmn, no I had planned to drag you into my bed tonight.”

A bright blue blush flashed over the man’s screen, his arm rising to try and hide it. Sparks and electricity danced between each prong. “I--! That’s not what we bet on!”

“No? The bed was to drag a new partner into our beds tonight. I’ve never been with you, so you count Dove.”

Still masking his face, Vox was now wavering, looking behind him as he tried to determine whether to foil your plot now or fall prey to it. Even this game of indecision was fun to watch. He sucked through his teeth, tapping his foot against the concrete.

“Doesn’t telling me your plan ruin your chances?”

“No, to my experience telling a man point blank you want them is far more effective than being shy about it. Am I wrong?” You flashed a smile full of teeth. “Of course, it also has a chance to backfire and make them so nervous they run. But I don’t believe you aren’t quite that timid.”

“Tch, hardly. Fine.” His claw clamped around your wrist. Cold, awkward, and grating against your bone it wasn’t quite what you imagined. You had a strong suspicion it was that exact reason that made him so hesitant to touch you before. He dragged you forward, but after you reached the end of the street he realized that he had no idea where he was taking you. When he looked at you for help, you laughed. As predicted, he sulked.

��Sorry, sorry! You are just so cute! We’re almost there. It’s that apartment over there.” You pointed straight ahead to a sleek modern apartment. It was one of the nicer buildings in the Entertainment district, one of Voxtek’s provided housing. The familiar V on the building clued Vox in.

The walk became closer to a power walk as he took you into your apartment. Having to at least concede to let you lead to take him to your apartment on the third floor, fourth door down the hall. He was deathly silent watching you unlock the door, following behind you as quietly as a mouse inside. That same nervous jitters returned to the usually powerful and confident CEO as he found himself in a strange apartment that wasn’t his own. Perhaps he expected you to jump his bones immediately but you instead took off your shoes, and lab coat, and made your way inside.

“Would you like tea, Dove? Sleepy-time tea ought to help you fall asleep.”

“Fall… asleep?” Vox asked. All the wind in his sails had fluttered out, baffled by the turn of events.

“Yes darling, what did you think I was taking you to my bed for? You are up past your bedtime.” You didn’t even attempt to hide the smug smile on your face, so instead you focused on filling a kettle and setting it on the stove.

“I--- You tricked me!”

“Indeed I did. Are you upset?”

To your surprise, he wasn't. He was deathly silent, standing in the hallway lost, unsure of what was going on. A claw hooked around his bow tie, untying it to make himself comfortable. Next came off the blazer, and then the top hat left on the coat rack by the door. Normally meant only to contain your coat, it added a touch of domesticity to see your coat have a partner. The blue and white looked nice. Could only hope the two of you would meld just as harmoniously. Vox sat down at your dining room table, taking a look around your abode.

“I’ve never been dragged into somebody's place to only sleep with them before. You’re… an odd one Doc.”

“I’ve been told.” You answered in a sing-song tone, preparing the tea cups. A packet of sleepy-time tea tucked into each porcelain cup with saucers meant to carry a touch of your personality. “I like you too much to bed you this early.”

“I-- don’t get that. If you like me, doesn’t that mean I’d already be inside you, fucking you on your kitchen counter?” Vox scoffed, rapping his nails against the table. The kettle hissed with steam when the water was ready. After laying down the teacups and saucers you popped the kettle off the stove and poured into each cup. Joining your boss from the chair directly across from him.

“Come now, isn’t that how courtship used to work? A man would get to know a woman, and show her that he really liked her for her and not just her body. It’s like that Dove. Now, I would love to unwrap you but I’m more curious to know the man you are. Like-- why don’t you like it when I touch your hand?”

Vox twitched, pulling his hand immediately off the table, suddenly self-conscious. “Who said I don’t like you touching my hand sweetheart?” He forced that fake smile of his, taking a friendly artificial tone.

“Because you keep pulling it away whenever I touch it.”

The smile fell, and his eyes fell toward the amber liquid in the cup. He lifted the cup, testing to see if it had enough time to steep. It had not even been a minute, so all he tasted was hot water. He set the cup down, feeling bitter. “What if I don’t want to talk about it?”

“Then you don’t have to. But I want to know.”

The chair skid back, with your boss leaning forward. “Let’s… forget this getting-to-know-me bullshit Sweetheart. It’s stupid, this is hell. I can fuck you until your eyes roll into the back of your head and forget this whimsy of yours Doc. You're my employee. Nothing more.”

You set your chin on the nest of your overlaid hands, matching his eyes. You pushed a little too hard. “No, you’re getting your sleep whether you like it or not. If we have to sit here in silence, I’m making sure you get the sleep you need, Vox.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Vox’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh. Waiting three minutes for tea to steep felt like an eternity to him. “A secret for a secret Doc. I’ll tell you why, but in return, you need to tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.” An accusatory finger jut your way.

“Do you want to get to know me too, Dove?” Unafraid, you coyly tilted your head. Vox opened his mouth to respond, shut it, and turned his screen.

“...Yes. I’ve never had somebody care this much for my health or try to get to know me. You’re weird, but not in a… bad way I guess. I’m not saying-- you’ll ever be more to me than an employee-- don’t get the wrong idea.” He quickly interjected his point. But the shuffling in his chair and the way he weighed his words so heavily you were liking your chances. “But I like talking to you Doc.”

“Well...” You began, skidding your foot against the floor. “I was once madly and deeply in love with a man before. I was utterly, completely besotted in a way I bet you never would have expected. I wrote and sang him poetry. Spent many evenings dancing with him by candlelight, and had disgustingly kinky sex in public spaces. But my favorites were always the nights when he’d be gentle with me like I was the most precious thing in all worlds.”

Vox’s mouth hung open and then shut. A fresh shade of color danced across his screen at the bold confession “You’re… right. I have a hard time believing that. You’re the last person I imagined being a romantic.”

You sputtered a laugh. “Right? I was surprised too. Have you ever been in love like that before?”

“I’m not answering that question.” He immediately shut you down. “I don’t like you touching my hands because… most people are scared of them. They hurt, they’re cold, they aren’t nice to hold at all. They’re great, don’t get me wrong! When I need to get people in line they’re a fantastic tool for intimidation. But well, we’re demons. I’m not… built for intimacy. Inside or out.” Voxmotioned over his body with the aforementioned hands.

“They’re beautiful hands though, Vox. When you grabbed my wrist it hurt a little but it wasn’t a bad pain. They’re more than worth it for you.”

The familiar blush returned, coming with such a vengeance you swore you saw some white pixels mixed in within the blush. Like a nebula reflected on his screen, little imperfections that made him look endlessly beautiful. “Noted. So, what happened to that guy? You wouldn’t be bothering with me if he was still in your life.”

“We were… incompatible. There’s a piece of me that’s broken beyond repair inside that made me fundamentally wrong for him. It wasn’t his fault or mine. Closer to mine I suppose, since I cannot quiet the demon inside me that threatens to tear my guts out raw from envy.” The memory came bitterly, mostly because it came with a realization that even for the man you loved most you couldn’t be fixed.

A cyan claw hooked through the handle, with Vox sipping his tea. He had grown deathly silent, draining the cup until it was down to its dregs all in one. It hit the saucer with a clatter. “You should drink your tea doctor.”

Silently you obliged, taking more reserved sips. Truthfully you didn’t need it as much as he did. Habit and a circadian rhythm did wonders in getting your body trained for sleep. But for the sake of calming your nerves, taking this man to your bed where you would not take his clothes off felt oddly more intimate than taking them off. The heel of his shoes clicked multiple times against the floor, Vox was completely incapable of sitting still. At one point he even got up, walking around your apartment.

“Doc? Where’s your bathroom?”

“Back near the entrance Dove. To your right.”

“Thank you.” He disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You could hear the faucet running shortly after. While he took care of his business you finished your tea and washed the dishes. He was already out by the time you put the kettle in the sink.

“So, do you have anything for me to sleep in?”

“Mmm, I have a shirt of my exes if that works that should fit you. But I don’t have any bottoms. You’ll be fine in your underwear won’t you?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I’m fine to sleep naked. As long as that shirt doesn’t have you know whose face on it.”

“Of course not Dove, I would not tolerate merchandise of anyone who believes technology should have stopped in the thirties. That goes against everything I believe in.” You flippantly waved your hand as if you could hardly entertain the idea. To your surprise, Vox’s screen illuminated with light, with a big genuine toothy smile on his face.

“I changed my mind, I might be able to make an exception for you.”

“Of course Vox, it was only a matter of time before you saw my charm! Now… come on.”

Even if you were a Doctor who didn’t need a man or woman, you loved having a large bed to lounge in taking up nearly your entire room. You had your knick-knacks and other decorative items. A bookshelf of medical textbooks lined against the back of the bed for those late nights reading. Laundry piled up a little higher than you would have liked when you were bringing a boy over. A disturbing little skeleton you named Mr. Bones sitting on your computer desk. Diagrams and telltale signs of countless nights hunched over a desk. Signs of the passion of whatever gripped your mind and forced quill to meet paper.

Vox was obvious in the way he took in the various objects in your bedroom. His interest in getting to know you seemed genuine. You fished out the old shirt from your ex, which was a harmless plain white buccaneer shirt. You could see the confusion on his face when he was handed it, but you said nothing.

You grabbed your pajamas and disappeared into the master bathroom to change. Leaving Vox the whole bedroom to change. When you saw yourself in the bathroom mirror, you could spy a faint color present on your cheeks. Sure, maybe you could act cool and confident. But the truth was, you did like this man. Otherwise, why else would you go to all this trouble for him?

All your feigned confidence but you took care that your hair looked nice when you brushed it. You picked out your favorite pair of pajamas. You brushed your teeth and put on only a little spritz of perfume, as your heart beat with anticipation and hope.

Vox was already laid out on top of the bed, waiting for you. His monitor raised to look at you when you opened the door, propping his body halfway up with his elbows. “Huh, you did simply change into your pajamas. Was half expecting you to change your mind and pick out something sexy.”

“We can save that for after you’ve taken me to dinner, Dove.” A laughter followed after your statement, a friendly one. You stepped over to your nightstand to hit the switch next to a strange black and white orb. Vox did arch a brow, but his gentle smile remained.

“I’ll think about it.” The overlord fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. That was perfect timing!

After you hit the light switch, the room was submerged in darkness. The purpose of the strange device on your nightstand became obvious when Vox spied the star system being projected over the ceiling. Creating a fabrication of the starry night sky that had been robbed from the two of you when death came. Vox’s right claw stretched out, reaching his hand out as if he could grasp the slowly rotating stars. The illumination of his screen slowly died until it became a dim pale blue light.

You crawled into bed opposite of him. Laying on your side with your arm tucked under the pillow to act as extra leverage while you watch the man beside you enjoy the sight above.

“You REALLY are a romantic. I’m expecting roses when you take me to dinner.” Vox joked.

“I’ll consider it. So, what makes you say that?”

“I may have had my hints when you told me you wanted to wait for sex. And oh I don’t know, The night light and nickname? You are aware of what Dove means right?”

Vox rolled onto his side, using the pillow as a gentle cushion for his screen. Normally looking right into a bright blue light wasn’t the best idea when you were trying to sleep. But the sight of that gentle smile on his face felt like it was going to lead you to some nice dreams. “Of course I do. And you were intentionally staying up late so I’d come and see you. I think you’re secretly a romantic too, Vox.”

The familiar blue flush dazzled his screen, something even pulling the blanket over to try and hide it couldn’t help with. The way his face glowed made the proof even more apparent when he only tried to mask it in darkness. “Nonsense. I’m just a machine.”

The statement came out in a half-whisper. By the way, his eyes widened at that moment, you suspected he had not meant to be that honest. A scowl took the place of his smile, and he fell back onto his back to hide his face from you. You didn’t let him run. You pushed yourself up and sat beside him, staring down at the screen that tried its best to watch the wavering astral movements above.

“You’re not a machine, Dove. And I would know that more than anyone, save yourself. Machines aren’t lonely for one.”

“I’m not lonely...” Vox bitterly retorted.

You stretched your hands out for his screen. He leaned back into the pillow, setting his cyan irises on you immediately. With your fingertips only inches apart, you met those eyes without moving an inch more.

“Do you not want me to touch you?”

“What good is touching me there? I can’t even feel it, you know.”

“Because it always makes me happy when somebody simply touches me without expectation of sex. Makes me feel beautiful.”

A complicated expression flashed over the screen. Alternating between vulnerability, a scowl, the widened sclera, and at last acceptance. His hand laid over yours and guided it to brush and trace over the hard plastic that housed his screen. The cool hand lingered on top of your palm, guiding your hand up toward where his prongs stuck out on top of his head. Following his lead your fingertips brushed along the metal prongs, then circled the receivers on the top.

“Maybe… I’m a little lonely.” He begrudgingly confessed.

Something cold suddenly brushed against your cheek, intense thanks to the heat that made a home there. The back of Vox’s claws brushed over your face, and you leaned into it. His palm filled the swell of your cheek, the harsh points nestled into the hair to cushion their prick. The thumb stretched out to tap your bottom lip, tracing the shape.

Slowly the two dark silhouettes you both cast on the wall came together melting into one. Vox guided you forward as his own body bent forward to meet you halfway. Shortly after you closed your eyes, the gentle sensation of his lips finally met yours. The edged fingers slid along the nape of your neck, sending chills down your spine while he held you. Entangling his fingers within your hair to hold you in place. Chaste and sweet, it was only a light brushing as he whispered to you.

“Your right doc… this is nice. I want to touch you more, may I?” Each little new syllable brought that ticklish feeling back, tingling with the natural static on his face. You sealed your lips against him, drinking deep from what he’d been teasing you with all this time.

“As long as the clothes stay on Dove.”

“Of course. This is nice… I don’t want it to end.” The confession came with the feel of his palm now brushing over your shoulder. Tracing down your arm until his fingers circled the wrist that had kept you supported all this time. He tugged you forward until your body fell on top of his. It was harder than the average man’s body and less cushy. The heat of your body was sapped even through the two layers of clothing, but it only gave him an excuse to wrap that blanket around the two of you.

You righted yourself until you laid flat across his body, with his arms coming around to circle your back. You buried your head into his chest, taking in his scent, wrapping your arms around his torso as you surrendered to his touch. The pointed end of one claw ran up and down your back, sending shivers down your body each time it came to meet the nape of your neck. It wasn’t a sexually thrilling sensation, but it was pleasant enough to eke out a moan. Instead of excitement, the man underneath you chuckled. Vox ran his claws through your hair instead, scratching your scalp.

“Why don’t you like to be called Darling?” You dared the question, feeling closer than ever now that the two of you were touching. The sound of his artificial heart beating against his chest and into your ear felt nothing like the machine he purported himself as. Nor was the careful way he touched you. You could feel its absence far more when his hands froze. You dared to look up, and you could see the heartbreak reflected in his eyes alone.

“It reminds me of somebody else, a man I’d rather not think of when I’m with you Doc.”

“I’d never want you to look like that when you think of me… so I will endeavor to be nothing like him, Dove.”

Vox smiled, curling a claw around a lock of your hair to brush out of your face. “And even if you are broken, I will make you feel whole one day Doc.”

Now that was unfair. How dare the vulnerability you share with him be used against you! You fought back the emotions that welled up, the brush of his hands bringing you back down against his chest made you feel like it’d be alright.

“We should get some sleep. But I want to keep holding you if that’s O.K.”

You leaned forward, kissing him goodnight. Vox kept you there for a moment longer, squeezing your shoulder. The other hand pressed against the arch of your back to press your body against his. Each little brush of those lips against yours felt addicting. Making you want to keep diving in back for more. Sometimes it was crooked, other times he’d steal your breath and keep you there. It was only the need for air that forced you two to part. A flushed face stared back at you with the beautiful nebula of freckles returned in full force.

You didn’t want to part, much as the sirens call for sleep called for you. You pressed your fingertips against his screen right beneath his eyes. Tracing each little freckle to make constellations with them. Vox closed his eyes, accepting your touch this time. The gentle wavering of his cyan irises watching you stole your breath. If only you could stay up all night and kiss each little star on his face.

But all good things had to come to an end. Vox pressed against your shoulders to force you to lie down. His own body came hovering over yours for a brief few beautiful moments, the starry sky above him framing behind him.

“You’re blushing so hard right now, Doc.”

A squeak escaped you, pressing a hand against your now hot cheeks. Gentle laughter broke out from the man above.

“You’re so cute… I can’t wait to see how red you get when I bed you for real.” The whisper of that promise came with a claw tracing along your jawline.

“When…? You sound so certain.” The blood rushing to your head made it hard to come up with a snappier comeback than that.

“Because I have already decided. I intend to win you over with everything I have. Goodnight, Doc.”

He fell back back onto the bed, lying on his side. Immediately wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer until your back was held flush against his front. Vox locked you tight so you couldn’t escape, the warm screen pressed into the back of your head.

“Goodnight Vox...”

Cursed with those beautiful thoughts Vox put in your head, your cheeks burned. The bittersweet pain in your heart gave you such contentment you were quickly pulled down past the point of no return. The gentle whir of Vox’s white noise banished the chaos of hell, pulling you into a world where only the two of you existed.

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 4]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3

words: 4k

As you walk to the park that is a few blocks away from the diner with Matt and Minnie, you allow yourself time to think. 

Minnie is tucked into her stroller, Scooby Doo and Pig clutched firmly in her arms. She is excitedly updating Scooby about the drama that is the ducks at the pier. Matt walks beside you, his cane in one hand, held up away from the sidewalk, while his other lightly grips at your elbow. Neither of you talk - he's probably concentrating on walking and listening to Minnie babble. You wonder how often he's walked with someone while they push something - it seems awkward. 

Which has got you thinking about the best way to get around when you are all out as a family. The stroller is great storage, but you can transfer that into a backpack pretty easily. The problem is you are not sure if you can carry Minnie for that long.  She's small for her age but you're not that strong. She's been walking more and more, but you don't expect her to make a big jump so soon. 

Maybe you can invest in a wagon. You are sure there must be one somewhere you can buy that fits your needs. It's not like Matt is the first Blind parent ever. 

You add it to your mental research and buy list. You also need a Braille labeler - you know for a fact Minnie is going to want to learn it to be like her father and you'll need to label everything anyways. It will help you both learn. 

Your mind won't stop whirling and adding to your list - it's jumping from fun to practical to everything in between. You wish you could get out your phone as you walk to type everything up, so you won't forget later. When you get to the park, you'll do just that. You have a feeling Matt will be too preoccupied to care if you're on your phone for a bit.

You can sneak in some pictures, too.

The pier isn't as crowded as you expect it to be for a Saturday. People are milling about but most of the benches along the walking path are open.  There are a few couples having picnics on the grass and some at the tables along the river having lunch. 

You have a preferred spot in the corner of the park - there's a bench that faces the grass and the river, so you can sit while also watching Minnie. It also has a good view of the fountain, so it is perfect for duck watching. As usual, no one is there so you lead your little group there. 

As you come to a stop, you describe where you are to Matt. You try to be accurate without sounding condescending. Then you jump into the plan, "I have a blanket in the stroller. We can lay it out and we can play here, and we can also sit on the bench while Mouse does her thing."

Matt hums his approval, "that sounds perfect. Do you need help setting up?"

You turn the question to Minnie, "Do you need help setting up, Mouse?"

She looks up at you as she works on unbuckling herself. She scrunches up her face as she considers the question then shakes her head, "No, I'm a Big Girl. I can do it by myself. Thank you…" She trails off as she tries to remember the rest of the phrase. This isn't something you've taught her - she's picked it up from you apparently. She remembers after a beat and smiles up at Matt best she can from the angle she's at, "Thank you for asking."

Matt looks so surprised by her adorable politeness. You chuckle as a grin spreads across his face before he answers her. 

"You're very welcome." 

You hold the stroller steady, even after putting on the break, as Minnie climbs out. Instantly she turns back around and sets her toys where she was sitting.

"You have to wait here," she says as she buckles Pig and Scooby back into the stroller. 

You look over to Matt as Minnie starts to pull things out of the storage space. He's got his head tilted towards where she is piling things in the ground, this soft little smile on his face. He looks so relaxed and happy. You wonder what is going through his head - if this is anything like he thought it would be. 

None of this is how you thought it would be. You never considered this could be a possibility - being here with him and Minnie, enjoying time together as a family. It makes you kind of giddy thinking this could become a thing. You could come to the park on Saturdays and watch the ducks together. 

That's something you never had as a kid. You never had family outings. You went to school and went home - that was your childhood. No family vacations. No weekend getaways. No special trips. You were lucky if you were allowed to accompany your parents to dinners out. 

You never felt wanted as a child.

Minnie is never going to experience that. You love her to the moon and back and you let her know at every turn.  You show her in every way you can think of that she is your world. 

You don't expect Matt to feel the same way you do, even if you are pretty sure he's already head over heels for his daughter. You know he must be extremely busy running his own firm, but you hope you'll be open to your idea of spending this time together. Lunch on Saturdays, then coming to the park. It's a perfect little outing. 

You make a mental note to ask him.

Minnie is efficient in her setting up. She spreads out the blanket, making sure it's laid out flat. Then she brings her backpack over and pulls out her notepad and crayons and the cutest thing is she is narrating all by herself.

"And I brought bubbles, too! And my sunglasses!" She shows Matt her stylish Barbie sunglasses before unfolding them and putting them on. "We match!"

"We match?" He confirms, his voice getting a touch soft. 

"You match," you say with a smile. "Her glasses are a little more pink than yours. And cat eyed."

"Mommy, put on yours too!" Minnie requests, and who are you to deny her? You pull your sunglasses out from your purse and perch them on your nose.

"Now we all match," you tell Matt with a bit of a shy smile. Your little one loves to feel included and dressing like you is one of her favorite ways to do that. You have a feeling it will be no different once she gets closer to Matt and she will start to mimic him more. The glasses are just the first step. 

Of course, Minnie doesn't register that her sweetness is having an emotional effect and continues on by pulling one of her many paper maps out. You're lucky that such things are out of style - it makes them extremely cheap. You bought a bunch of random map booklets online for about twenty dollars and giving them to her was a bigger event than Christmas. 

You watch her unfold it and lay it out on the blanket and can't help but smile. You lean towards Matt to update him once you realize Mouse has distracted herself and has stopped talking. 

"She brought one of her maps with her and now she's trying to figure out which way to turn it. I think it's safe for us to go over now." 

You unlock the stroller and offer your arm out to Matt, letting him know you have done so. He gently takes your elbow, and you lead him the few feet into the grass. He uses his cane to find a free space to sit and lowers himself to the ground, somehow managing to sit legs crossed despite his tight slacks. You angle the stroller, so Scooby and Pig are watching over you before joining everyone else on the ground.

Attention turns back to Matt as you settle. Minnie looks over to him, her smile lighting up. She moves to be between the two of you, crawling on her knees to do so. 

"There's duckies by the water," she tells Matt as she plops back down.

"Would you mind telling me about them?" He asks, voice taking on just a bit of emotion. You know it's something Mouse can't pick up on, but it makes your heart sing a little bit. Seeing Matt react to your daughter and how much he wants to interact with her makes you emotional in all of the best ways. 

You turn a little so you can get a better look at the fountain - there are some ducks milling about and you are extremely curious how Minnie is going to describe them to Matt.

"They are over there!" She points to the fountain, then to your great surprise, uses her non-pointing hand to take Matt's hand and over her own. He seems stunned as well, as it takes him a few beats before he starts to feel over her little fist and discovers which way, she is directing his attention. 

"That way?" He confirms, motioning in the same direction. 

"Uh-huh, and there's…there's one. Two. Three. Four! There's four ducks," she counts, moving her hand to try and show him where each duck is. Only they are grouped pretty close, so you don't know how helpful that is. It's the thought that counts.

"You're really good at counting," Matt praises and your little one lights up.

She puffs up her chest and proudly declares, "I can count to six."

"You can count to six?" He repeats, sounding in awe. You really don't know if it's genuine or played up, but either way you find yourself grinning. 

She answers in the affirmative before starting to describe the ducks. They are more brown, but she tells Matt they are yellow. You don't correct her - you want Minnie to describe things to Matt in her own words and get comfortable with it. You can ask him later if those little details are something he wants depicted as accurate. For now, you let Mouse and Matt bond. 

She drops his hand once she's done showing him exactly which duck is which, then jumps into actions. "They are sitting and brushing their flappies with their nose. Mommy says that is their bath."

"That's right," you affirm, "they don't have a bathtub, so they use their beaks to clean their feathers." You always try to relate new concepts back to things Minnie will understand. She gets she has to brush her hair to keep it clean and not tangled and you told her feathers are like the ducks' hair, but their brush is their beak.

"Ducks are stinky and need lots of baths," she tells Matt with lots of confidence. She's never told you the ducks smell bad before, so you are amused by this new information. "Dogs are stinky, too. But not Scooby, he's not stinky."

"I think dogs are stinky, too," Matt says in agreement, this little smile starting to grow on his face like he and Minnie share a secret. The knowledge they have something else in common spurs your daughter on.

"There's a doggie over there," once again, she picks up Matt's hands and directs him towards a nearby couple with their dog. "He looks like a snowball. And that doggie," she points them another way and you have a feeling Mouse's new goal is to make sure Matt knows all the animals in the park. 

You take this opportunity to get your phone out so you can write out your notes. But, first, of course, you snap a few candid photos of Minnie sitting beside her father, hand and hand, talking about dogs. You catch a one you will definitely want to print and hang - Minnie beaming up at Matt mid-sentence while he looks like he is enthralled by every word. You can't help yourself and also record her telling him about an old fat dog someone is walking. 

You are sure you'll want to look back on this moment in a few years’ time.

Or maybe tonight.

You have to pull yourself away from the camera app and force yourself to switch to your notes. You already have something going for things you need to buy and start adding to it, half listening to the pair beside you. There is so much you want to write; you feel like you type non-stop for five minutes straight before you open up the web browser on your phone to see the price of the items you want. 

Things aren't as disgustingly expensive as you expected them to be, but you will still need to rearrange your budget a bit. You shouldn't need to dip into your savings if you put one or two things on your credit card, if your mental math is adding up. Of course, things might get more costly depending on quality - you are never one to skimp on that. 

You are going to have to do a lot more research. There is probably a forum somewhere that will give accurate reviews of products and you'll probably find things to buy you hadn't even thought of yet. 

You debate starting that search on your phone. At least until you notice Minnie is starting to tilt her head so she can rub her ear against her shoulder. You have told her she can't put her fingers in her ears after she managed to cut the inside of one with her nails and it got infected. This behavior is new, so you put your phone down and address it.

"Does your ear itch, Mouse?" You ask, thinking maybe her hair is tickling her or a bug got on her. 

"The boom-boom is too loud," she says with a pout, and you have no idea what she is talking about. The park is relatively quiet - no one is playing music and the river is clear of boats. But if your baby is saying something is too loud and it is hurting her ears, you are going to listen to her. She knows what she is experiencing, and you don't. You never want her to dismiss something that is hurting her.

Matt cocks his head to the side, his smile turning down into a frown, "The boom-boom? Which way is that coming from, sweetheart?"

Minnie, still holding onto Matt's hand, points towards the seating area by the river. There are a few people sitting there - but they are not making any sort of ruckus. 

It doesn't matter to you - you fish the pair of noise canceling headphones you always have on you out of your purse. You unfold them and gently put them over Minnie's ears. She squirms before finally letting go of Matt to fuss with their positioning. 

"Is that better, honey?" You ask, gently rubbing her back, hoping to give some comfort. She pushes at her eyes with the back of her hand before nodding. She takes a few moments to adjust then your little one turns and crawls her way into your lap, burying her face against your neck and hugging onto you. You wrap your arms around her, starting to rock in hopes it will make any lingering aches go away.

Matt is facing towards the direction Minnie said the loud noise was coming from, his brow wrinkled and openly scowling now. For someone with such a joyful smile, his unhappy face is a little terrifying. 

"I put her noise canceling headphones on," you tell Matt. He jerks to face you, his expression relaxing into something more concerned than angry. 

"Is she okay?" 

"She will be. She's crawled into my lap, and it takes her a few minutes to get used to the headphones. She might get a little fussy if whatever was bothering her is still going, but she'll be okay." You kiss your daughter's hair before looking back to Matt. "I don't know what triggers it or what she can hear that I can't, but the headphones help." 

"Does this happen often? Needing the headphones?" He asks and there is something in his voice that makes you feel like this is an important issue to him. His worry is almost tangible. You remember your phone call and his apprehension when you mentioned Minnie's sensitivities. It feels like you something you should review together when Minnie is preoccupied, and you can have more privacy. 

"Enough that I bring them with me when we go out. There's always sirens going off and if they are close, they hurt my ears, so I imagine they hurt hers." You rub your hand in a soothing motion over Minnie's back. She's leaning heavy into you, and you wonder if all her excitement has drained out of her after this upset. 

"Have you mentioned it to her doctor?" Matt asks, cautiousness in his voice like he's worried he's overstepping. You want to tell him he's allowed to ask these questions, but now is not the time.

"We did a hearing test, but they were only concerned if she couldn't hear, not if she was hearing too much. She hasn't gotten any ear deformities or any other medical problems with her ears, so they just sent us on our way, saying she'll grow out of it. She says the headphones help, but you can hear me just fine, can't you, Mouse?"

She nods against your neck, mumbling into your skin, "I don't like the doctor."

"I know, baby. I'm sorry." You give Matt a sad smile, "I think they are just too big for her. But she can play in them and hear me still, so I try to think of it as a plus?" 

"A plus?" He asks, brow scrunching up slightly. Again, he doesn't sound judgmental, only curious. 

You shrug, "I don't know, thinking of everything so negatively all the time is draining, so I just try to even out the pro-con list. Like, sometimes she'll wear them when we are here and I can go sit on the bench, but if I call out to her, she hears me. I can let her be a little independent, but she's still safe. I can be three feet away instead of right on top of her. When I wear my earphones, I can't hear anything at all. So, they help but don't block everything out? When she gets bigger, we can find ones that fit better. And she gets a cute little accessory and we get to make the little sleeves together. There are so many cute headphones, too..." 

You trail off, unsure where you are going with your little explanation. You aren't even sure it makes sense. Matt's still got a strange little frown on his face and you don't know if it's from how Minnie is acting or from how you are handling everything. You have to bite your lip to keep you from continuing on, rambling about how your daughter's sensitivities will never be a burden. 

Matt wets his lips with his tongue, and he starts to pick at the hem of his pants. It's a small insight to how he is feeling, and you don't know what to do, so you just keep rocking Minnie.

"After I lost my sight, I only had a few months with my dad," his voice is so soft, you can just barely hear him, but you are so focused on it. "It was hard on him, harder on him than it was me. He didn't know how to help me; he didn't know how to get the resources - not that a lot was available to us. But he tried, you know? He really did…and when I lost him, it felt like I lost that, too. I mean, the social workers and nuns were there, I wasn't neglected, but…it wasn't the same." He angles his head towards you, motioning to his ears. "And I know this isn't the same situation, a sense being sensitive versus losing one completely, but you being so in tune with her needs, it reminds me of my dad." 

You can't imagine how high of a praise that is and you feel yourself turning pink. Matt ducks his head, this shy little smile on his face like he knows how touched you are. 

"It is what she deserves," you mumble. You want to push past your own awkwardness, so you clear your throat and default to questions you already have in your mind. "Do…you want to do this again? Next Saturday?"

His head jerks up in surprise and a smile blooms across his face. "I would love that."

"Love that," is grumbled against your neck and right away you know Mouse is going to need her nap soon. Once she starts mimicking like this, it is only a matter of time before she is conked out and you rocking her is only luring her closer. 

Matt looks completely over the moon by the comment, and you dare to push just a little bit. "I was thinking…maybe we could make this a thing? Saturday lunches?"

Matt licks his lips then nods, his grin just getting bigger and bigger, "Yes, yeah. That would be…yeah." He seems a little overwhelmed by the thought, but in a good way. Like he didn't think it was a possibility. 

He rubs his hand over his mouth, then tilts his head so it appears he's looking down at the little girl half asleep in your lap, "I want that. I want…this. I want it to be official." He drops his hand, "You said we need to do a doctor's appointment. What would be after that?"

"They have over the counter ones now, but I think that would be best. Then…altering documentation and stuff, at least, officially and legally." You don't want to get into the discussion of rights and such at the moment and Matt seems to be on the same page. He's a lawyer, so it must be occurring to him. "I'll, um, contact the doctor and ask when we could come in."

Fingers brush against your thigh and you look down to see Matt offering out his hand. Hesitantly, not knowing what he wants, you take it. Gently, he squeezes your fingers, then starts running his thumb over your knuckles. 

"Thank you. For finding me. For this. For her. I thought God had showed me what my path should be, but I think I was foolish for thinking He was done with me just yet," Matt says, voice so soft and fond. "He was just preparing me for this."

The religious talk makes you flush - you don't remember if you've ever actually been in a church before - but it seems important to Matt, so you gently squeeze his fingers back, and as usual, say the first thought that crosses your mind. "I thank God for her every day. Somedays, I really do think she is Heaven sent." 

"Our gift from God."

You fall into a comfortable silence, you holding Mouse as she gets limper and limper against you, and Matt beside you, a little breeze blowing his hair a bit and somehow making him look ethereal. You have to tear your eyes away from him - even if he is blind and you are wearing sunglasses, it is rude to stare. Instead, you focus on the ducks.

They are still cleaning their feathers, but now one has started to quack occasionally. The ambient park noises are almost relaxing, and you find yourself thinking maybe, just maybe, all of this is going to be okay. Maybe, the world won't spiral out of control now that Matt is in your life. Maybe, you'll just keep having nice Saturdays at the park until Minnie decides it's too uncool to spend the day with her mom and dad and wants to hang out with her friends instead. 

But that won't come for a very long time. Right now, you'll sit holding hands with the man who changed your life forever and the little angel you have both been blessed with. 

a/n:

yes matt, god dropped a building on you to make you a better dad

tags:

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