#still wild to come home after talking to my cousins all day only to find out that the bad boys are Cousins in Mourning

[maigetheplatypus57]

bro imagine coming home from your grandfather's funeral and you remember that it's Limited Life Friday so you start watching grian's new episode and the bad boys get fucking changed into mourning clothes for the bread bridge can you imagine just how fucking wild my day has been for me emotionally???

[moonlight-prose]

FOR THE LOVE OF DANGER

╰┈➤ #01: ONE LAST TIME

a/n: so i finally FINALLY saw the movie and even though it's really late since it came out, i'm happy to write for him at last. this is partial brain rot and a partially thought out plot that has been in the works for months. i'd heard of spidey 2099 before, but never thought i'd fall in love with him to this extent. this fic was also supposed to come out last month, but i'm always behind on everything. so i hope y'all enjoy this wild ride.

note: a massive huge fucking THANK YOU to @soulores for being the best beta reader a girl could have. seriously i couldn't have finished this without you.

dedicated to: @sunflowersteves for listening to me rant about how pretty he is and for being the first person to ever hear about this plot. thank you for being one of the best person here babes.

summary: when things go awry in your life you find yourself back at el nido - a comfort spot in the darker parts of the city - in need of peace. only to run into him.

word count: 8.5k+ (somehow???)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, alcohol consumption, one night stands, p in v sex, rough sex, cumeating if you squint, cumplay if you really really squint, my awful attempts at dirty talk, soft miguel, the start of chaos.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

NUEVA YORK 2099; EARTH-298

Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara… and I’m scared.

You couldn’t breathe, the speed of your heart rate nearly caused you to believe you were going into cardiac arrest. Some small part of your brain wanted to actually check. It wasn’t hard to simply waltz right into the nearest hospital. Although dealing with the disbelief on doctors and nurses faces as you asked them to check if you were dying pushed you away from the idea altogether.

Another day at a job that didn’t allow you to have anything, left you seeking out the only thing you knew would help. An old dive bar still resided in the lower part of the city—The Nest, or as the owner called it El Nido—as local folk often referred to it. Although you were more than happy to call it a safe haven.

Everything was so pristine where you worked, so perfect. But The Nest was simply a small hole in the wall that helped people find a spot to feel safe for an hour or two. You tended to avoid going there on weekdays, but seeing as how you were about to be fired from your job…you felt it was necessary.

Sighing, you hitched your bag up higher on your shoulder, the weariness from the day finally settling its weight over you. What you wouldn’t give to be asleep right now, curled up in bed. Except you couldn’t go home. Not when all that remained was the dreaded time spent waiting for tomorrow. The day they would more than likely—officially—ask you to leave.

“Sorry,” you muttered, accidentally slamming into a woman walking hand in hand with her partner. The man glared at you, the gaze enough for you to quicken your step towards your destination.

The smell of the bar was exactly the same. Ricky always loved incense, and while you claimed it would drive customers away, he somehow made it work. Letting out a calming breath, you headed right towards your stool at the bar. The worn in leather a comfort after sitting in a stiff backed office chair all day. It was partially ripped and practically ruined, but you could already feel the stress melt off your body.

“Mi florita!” Ricky shouted, handing off a drink to an older man with white hair.

“Hey Ricky—oof—” He leaned across the bar, dragged you closer, and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His breath was tinged with cinnamon and a hint of mint—letting you know he’d been drinking his favorite tea all day.

Nonetheless you smiled at his kind gesture. Ricky was like the cousin you had never had, but always wanted. Standing at around six feet with tattoos going up and down his tanned arms and his hair chopped into a mess of wild curls, he was your favorite person. The one you always sought out in times of trouble, if anything just to laugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t say the same for you. He loved his boyfriend too much to put you higher up on the scale—or so he claimed.

“How’s the job?” He poured you a martini, extra dry, extra dirty. “Are you playing nice with all the fancy folk?”

You chuckled, taking a sip and letting the alcohol burn its way down. “The fancy folk are slowly driving me insane.”

“Uh oh.”

Another sip caused yet another part of your stress to fade. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for them to give me the same leniency they offer to other employees.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I mean it won’t matter anyways tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ricky slid a drink to the person sitting a stool away from you, taking the small amount of cash he offered.

“The day I’m probably gonna get fired.”

“What?” he exclaimed, nearly causing the glass of whiskey in front of him to spill over.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I can just…find a new place to work at. I mean there has to be other labs in need of a biochemist. Right?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the bottle in his hands. “Florita…” Your stomach dropped, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you—turning your once rose hued glasses clear.

They were going to ask you to leave and because it was Alchemax, there was no other option but for you to beg for forgiveness. An act you had sworn to yourself that you’d never do. You were a good scientist. Hell you were the best in that fucking lab, yet they couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to go your own way. To carve your own path in a company that was adamant on placing you in a box. Keeping you perfectly pristine for those on the outside—those that might wish to give you freedom.

Holding up your hand, you stopped him from saying anything else. If shit was meant to go sideways tomorrow, then so be it. You’d go out like a champion, worthy of whatever came next. Downing the remainder of your drink you slid the empty glass towards Ricky, nodding at him to fill it up. At least with that he didn’t hesitate, knowing you needed something to take the edge off—your night already taking a turn for the worst.

“Just gotta keep going,” you muttered, staring at the liquid in the hopes that it would magically fix everything.

“You got this chica.” Words that seemed empty at a time like this somehow brought a small smile to your lips.

Taking another sip you thanked him softly and watched him wander off to the other side of the bar, his eyes set on a group of men that were most likely there to buy out the bar. It happened every once in a while, but you couldn’t exactly fault them. They were here to have fun, to make an otherwise regular night memorable. They certainly weren’t here to wallow in their drinks, swallowing down their misery in the hopes of finding something good to take away.

“Shit,” you muttered when you came to the bottom of the glass again, your finger tracing the rim.

“Firing a biochemist is the stupidest thing a lab could do.”

You jumped when someone’s voice came from beside you—the man a stool away now focusing the entirety of his attention on you. Perhaps it was the vodka or the low neon lights of the bar, but you could have sworn his eyes were red. The color so striking it sent a chill down your spine—as if he was analyzing you with one simple glance. For a second you forgot he even said anything—too busy taking in his soft brown hair and strong jaw—until his lips quirked up into a grin.

One that made your heart flip in your chest, heat rising beneath your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping?” you inquired, gathering enough courage to confront him about his blatant behavior.

His lips pulled up on one side, something glimmering in his eyes that had you hooked the longer he looked at you. “Lo siento,” he said softly—his voice slightly mumbled. “Didn’t mean to. I just heard you talking about something that interests me.”

“Ah.” You glanced away to escape his penetrating stare, if for a chance to catch the breath in your lungs. “So you’re a scientist.”

Pride bloomed in your chest when he was caught off guard. His glass halfway to his mouth when the statement left your mouth. Once again that mysterious light flickered to life again, a soft chuckle leaving his lips and causing your heart to erratically beat in your chest. Taking a sip, he gently set the now empty glass back on the bar. The tension was so thick you swore you could slice it in half, heat spilling into your body.

“You’re observant.”

Shrugging, you took your own sip—the alcohol no longer burning your throat. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. What else from that conversation would interest you?”

“You.”

The words were out of his mouth before you could even finish the question, your breath catching at the sound of them. Your day had been shit. Enough to rival doomsday itself, but there you were sitting at a bar with him. A man who’s name you didn’t know. The smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, your eyes roving down his figure in an attempt to make him feel half of what he stirred in you.

“Let me buy you a drink?” you asked, pointing to his empty glass.

“I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Your smile widened. “Then ask me.”

For the second time that night he was caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly. The song behind you shifted, a low tune you could feel reverberating through you as he changed seats, taking the stool directly beside you. He moved silently, his thighs pressed tightly against yours as he got comfortable in the spot—his arm brushing yours.

The first thing you noticed was how warm he was—as if his body was a personal heater. But that was pushed out of your mind, replaced by the second thing. He looked at you clearly, hair falling onto his forehead slightly until you finally saw it. The actual color of his eyes. Crimson irises caught you in their hold, keeping you until he was satisfied—drinking you in, he trailed his gaze over the entirety of your body.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face, body unconsciously leaning in.

You inhaled sharply, watching as his eyes lit up at your reaction to his proximity, his hand sliding closer until his fingers brushed against your wrist. Suddenly your shitty day was but a mere memory in the back of your mind. Entirely forgotten in favor of him. He was so large you swore he blocked everything else, filling your eyesight with nothing else but his frame. The breadth of his shoulders, the length of his torso and how he had to hunch over slightly to get close to you.

“What’s your name?” you inquired finally, your words breathy and dazed.

He grinned, hand curving around your wrist and pulling your hand towards him. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

Leaning in so close until you felt his chest brush your shoulder, his lips met your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Miguel,” he breathed, smiling at the way you practically melted into him.

For a brief moment you forgot you were sitting in the middle of a bar, people surrounding the two of you. When in fact it felt like nothing remained except you and him and the song playing behind you. Your exhale was shaky, representing the way you felt on the inside. As if he’d pulled you apart with a single word, his body heat affecting your brain—turning it to mush.

“Miguel…” Your hand curved around the front of his jacket, eyes meeting his as he moved, brushing his lips across your cheek.

“Hm?”

Something heady built in your chest, solidifying the truth you knew the second you started talking to him. You wouldn’t be leaving this bar alone. You simply hoped he was on the same page as you, but the way he hooked his arm around your waist, thighs bracketing your frame told you everything you needed to know. He was not only on the same page; he was flipping forward, reading a future that had yet to occur.

You almost wanted to ask him if he liked what he saw. If—by some odd chance—there was something more than this fiery electricity between the two of you.

“You still want that drink bebita?”

Words evaded you the longer he sat there, filling the space with nothing but him. How he smelled, how he sounded, fuck even the way his lips felt dragging against your skin as he spoke. You wanted to ask where he came from. How you’d never seen him in this bar before—your life now altered because of something so small. Simply a conversation. Yet now you couldn’t see yourself ending the night without him.

“No,” you sighed, shifting until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. “You?”

He shook his head.

“I…” Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “I don’t usually do this.”

Grinning, he raised your chin slightly with his knuckle, eyes catching you once more in their web, snaring you in a trap so saccharine you could taste it on your tongue. “Your pace.”

And with two simple words you were his. Captured happily in something you never wanted to be rid of. You smiled, your other hand sliding up into his hair, and finally the weight of your day lifted entirely off your shoulders. The question of whether or not he wanted to kiss you was on the tip of your tongue, but like before…he was miles ahead of you. With a small grin, he tipped your face towards his, catching your lips in a kiss you felt down to your fingertips.

He didn’t kiss you gently, languidly taking his time as if you were both here until the sun went up. No, that was nothing like what you expected. He devoured you. Stole every gasp, sound, and sigh you could have let out; his hand holding you exactly where he wanted you. Miguel kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen. And you let him. You bent to his will with ease, giving into every touch.

Whining softly, you tugged sharply on his hair when his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The taste of his drink now seeping into your mouth. You didn’t even question letting him in, desperate to know what he tasted like—what his tongue felt like licking deeply into you. Shivers ran down your spine when his hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you closer until you sat on the very edge of the stool.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, pulling away and sliding his lips along your jaw.

“Oh…” Your breath was a sharp gasp when his fingers trailed down your throat, cupping it so quickly you could have sworn you imagined it. But the heat that spilled into your stomach told you otherwise.

His lips were heaven on your skin, nipping and licking until you were sure that certain spots would be tender tomorrow morning. You didn’t care. He could have sunk his teeth directly into your neck and you’d still ask for more. Somewhere in between talking and the tension, you lost any sense of worry. Those feelings went out the window the second he moved closer.

“I um—” Pushing at his chest, you reluctantly parted with the realization that you were still in public, and fucking against the bar would certainly make Ricky ban you for life. So he fell back, his lips swollen and spit slicked—pupils blown wide until the black began to bleed into the red. A swirl of brilliant color.

He smirked, taking in your disheveled appearance, all thanks to him. You had half a mind to drag him back to the bathroom, but the burning glare of Ricky was currently being seared into the side of your head. Without a doubt you knew it said: “You fuck in my bar you’re not coming back.” So you gathered whatever control you had over yourself and downed the remainder of your now tepid drink.

“My apartment is two blocks from here,” you began, exhaling a shaky breath as you finally took the leap for what you wanted. “We can be there in five minutes.”

Miguel nodded, yanking out his wallet and tossing down enough cash to cover not only his drinks, but yours as well. Which was your sign to grab your things. No words had to be said, because the intent was clear to the both of you. He was here to find the same relief you were—something to take his mind off of life for a little while.

Waving a quick goodbye towards Ricky, you followed Miguel out of the bar into the cool night air of the city. You were beneath the depths of the main part, where people didn’t necessarily travel to. But you’d grown up there. It remained a place where you still felt like you belonged. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Not when the intentions for the night were clear to both of you. But that didn’t stop him from reaching down and slipping your hand into his, clasping your fingers together as you walked down the street.

Such a small act of tenderness—barely noticeable to anyone walking past—but meant so much more.

“What brought you to El Nido?” you asked, leading him down the street where your apartment building resided. It wasn’t a drastic question, but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You were a scientist after all.

He shrugged, thumb running along your knuckles. “Needed a night out.”

“Let me guess…” You turned—walking backwards the best you could—regarding him with a suspicious expression. The small smile on his lips caused your heart to thump a little faster. “You’re getting fired tomorrow too?”

For the first time that night you heard him laugh. The sound, soft and low and by all means something you wanted to hear over and over again.

“No.” He took in a breath, his crimson eyes searching the dark streets for nothing in particular—the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. “I’m…trying to figure out something.”

“A problem?”

He sighed. “You could say that.”

“Well I think—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, his arm jerking you forward until you fell into his chest, wrapped tightly to him as a horn echoed loudly behind you. A car sped past, turning rapidly onto the street and disappearing around the corner—leaving the both of you in silence. Your breath came in quickly, eyes wide as fear ran streaked your body, turning you cold. And Miguel watched after the car, his eyes narrowed and body tensed—as if he was ready to take off after them.

That is until he felt your hands press against his chest softly, drawing his attention back to you.

“T-Thank you,” you gasped, trying to calm the adrenaline that rushed through you.

There was no mistaking what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled you close; if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in so quickly. You wanted to ask him how he did it. How he knew the car was coming, but the words were trapped in the back of your throat. The shock had started to flood your system. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along your jaw in a soothing motion that seemed to slow the panic filtering through your body. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it—the touch yet another reflex to slow the racing of your heart.

To bring you back down to Earth.

“Okay?” he murmured, his eyes tracing the curve of your face, watching your eyelids flutter for a moment as you met his gaze once more.

You nodded, lightly gripping his wrist simply for the sake of comfort. “I’m okay.”

The night was no doubt effectively altered. Not necessarily ruined, but you couldn’t go on the way you were before. No teasing words, no light conversation. Instead you walked in silence. His hand clasped in yours and guard up in case of something else happening until you reached your place.

You were surprised to find that you enjoyed the silence while you walked. As if Miguel offered you a sense of safety and comfort you never had before; your body responding differently than you expected. Sure, you were attracted to him, but you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him when it came to this. To needing safety in the midst of possible danger.

“This is me,” you said, pulling out your key from your pocket—the hallway light dim and nearly extinguished. You had to remember to speak to the building manager about it tomorrow.

He grinned slightly, waiting patiently for the door to swing open with a soft creak as you entered. While you wouldn't call your small and rather overpriced apartment perfect, it felt more like a home than even he expected it to be. A small kitchen gave way into a bigger living room. Your record player was placed on top of an aged wooden table—piles of books stacked haphazardly through the place.

Miguel eyed the various plants you’d managed to keep alive—each of them pointed towards the one large window on the opposite wall. A place where sunlight no doubt streamed in on early mornings.

He originally believed it would look modern; more like the outside city and world as a whole. Yet your home resembled something old. A place that stood still against the ravages of time—as if it were merely a museum and he was there to admire its antiques.

“I know it’s not much.” You shifted a small pile of clean clothes off the chair, moving it towards an empty laundry basket in the hallway.

“It’s nice,” he said, and he actually meant it. “Es acogedor.”

You could see the truth in his eyes, the flicker of something familiar coming through the crimson. As if he’d known a life like this once. You wanted to ask him. See if he’d tell you more than just his name—perhaps why his eyes were that color—but you knew tonight wasn’t about making this more than it was. In reality you both needed this. No strings, no commitment. Merely two people looking to release themselves from the heaviness of the day.

He turned, catching you staring blatantly at him. “You want me to make you a drink?”

The question threw you off and your expression must have given you away—his lips curling into a grin. “I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Heat curled low in your stomach, spreading with every step he took until the tips of his shoes met yours. He bent down, hand curling around the nape of your neck, fingers digging in slightly. Chills spread down your spine, goosebumps rising along your arms, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this. To remain oblivious to everything happening around you.

Everything except him.

He brought his lips closer, his breath washing across your cheek. “So ask me,” he breathed.

“Do you want me to—”

Cutting you off he dragged you closer, practically hauling you up to his chest as his lips covered yours. It sent your mind reeling, your hands digging into his hair as if on instinct. As if you knew exactly what he wanted. As if…you’d done this before. Something intoxicating built up in your body, turning your brain foggy when his hands slid down, cupping your ass and dragging a moan from your throat.

He met your sound with one of his own—a ragged grunt that came from low in his chest. The echo of it reverberating through your body. You knew what this was. What it wouldn’t become. Yet you couldn’t stop the longing in your heart—the yearning that refused to be locked away in your mind. You wondered what it would be like if this was more. Would it always feel this…electric?

Something pulled you together and you couldn’t determine what it was. Except at that moment you couldn’t even determine your own name.

His tongue swept in your mouth, shoving all your thoughts aside and bringing forth something new. A feeling so strong you found yourself grasping for him tighter, pulling him closer as he licked deeply into you—tasting the alcohol on your tongue.

“Bedroom,” you gasped, yanking on the strands of his hair and earning another delicious grunt.

“Donde—”

“Down the hall.”

Stumbling back you felt his hand hitch your leg over his hip, nearly dragging you with him. Yet you could hardly complain. You were pretty sure that if he let you go you’d go falling to the ground from his touch alone. He moved your head where he wanted, lips slotting over yours and spit nearly trailing down your chin. A rush of slick poured into your panties, your nails scratching along his scalp as he nearly hit the wall, pressing you against it and hitching your other leg up.

“Fuck.”

You tried to tell him that you needed more, that you wanted him inside of you, but all that came out was a breathy moan. His hips grinded into yours, a soft moan being pressed to the shell of your ear, and that alone nudged you towards something earth-shattering.

His lips slid back along yours, hands grasping for any skin he could reach as you practically shoved your hips against his. The desperation practically seeped into the air—permeating your tongue with its cloying flavor. Words were exchanged for moans, tender moments now shifting into something quicker and faster. You wanted to feel him against you as fast as humanly possible, but Miguel was eager to remain here. Holding you up against the wall and kissing you until you ran out of oxygen.

“So I take it that’s a no on the drink?” you breathed, smiling at the small frustrated sound echoed in the back of his throat.

“Cállate,” he grunted, hiking you up and grinning at the yelp that was muffled into his mouth.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt him begin to move—heading towards your bedroom. The door remained open from earlier and you thanked yourself for making sure to keep the place tidy before leaving for work today. Before you could detach yourself from him and lead him to your bed, he turned and sat down. Taking you with him until you were sprawled on his lap.

“Tú eres hermoso,” you mumbled against his lips, watching in delight as his expression shifted. Surprise spreading across his chiseled features.

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” he replied, a small grin playing on his lips.

You shrugged, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Guess we’re doing tonight backwards.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands beneath your shirt until it was clear that he wanted it off. You complied with ease. Allowing him to drop the fabric to the floor as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the pretty lace of your bra. The crimson you’d come to admire darkened to something you’d call a burgundy—lust clouding his gaze. He wanted to take you apart. To see the inner workings of your body—your mind. Anything he could get his hands on. And you’d let him.

There was no doubt that Miguel had gotten beneath your skin in such a short amount of time. He filled your home with a feeling you hadn’t had before. Something tangible and real. Something you wanted to keep.

“Guapísima,” he murmured, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over the spot where your nipples poked through the fabric. A soft jolt rolled down your spine at the feeling.

Warmth clung to your chest, filling you to the brim with a sensation you’d only had once before in your life. Only this was different. This didn’t feel new or like you were just discovering it. No, this felt familiar. As if it had been hiding away in your heart, biding its time until you crossed his path—until you found one another. You wanted to wrap yourself in it, sink into its comfort, and you wondered if he felt it too.

The strange way all of this felt right.

Like coming home after being away for so long.

“Miguel,” you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your chest. The heat of his lips sticking to your already burning skin—his tongue trailing along the tops of your breasts.

He pulled down the fabric, taking your nipple into his mouth—practically lighting up on the inside when you cried out softly. Your hand dug into his hair, tugging on the strands as he scraped his teeth against you. Drawing out every sound he could find hidden in the depths of your chest. Your hips ground against him, clit pulsing with a need that would only be satiated by his touch.

For a moment you worried that he wouldn’t continue his path. That he’d ignore the way you were practically panting for him—the pleas falling from your lips with ease. But then his hand dipped beneath your waistband, fingers trailing along the edge of your panties. Your eyes nearly rolled back, hips canting up as you tried to get him to go further—to release you of this agony. But he held still. Entirely focused on driving you to the very brink of insanity; continuing the path with his teeth and tongue along your chest until the skin was tender.

“Impatient are we?” he mused, nose brushing against your jaw—the grin prominent in his voice.

You huffed, gripping tightly onto his hair and dragging his head up. “A tease are we?”

A moan ripped from his throat, his hips jolting up into yours at the slight sting of pain that bloomed in his head. His eyes were heavy, mouth parted as he took in a deep breath, and you could have sworn that you’d never see a prettier sight again. He looked at you as one would a statue in a museum. Tracing the curves and dips of your body with eyes that resembled the color of blood. Eyes that would never leave your mind again.

His tongue swept across his bottom lip, teeth protruding outwards slightly and you had half a mind to ask him about it. To question how exactly he had fangs, but your desire won out on the logical part of your mind. Leaning forward you licked your tongue along them, feeling how he shivered beneath your touch—how his body sang a tune you could match.

“Careful,” he rumbled, his hand pressing against your back and bringing you even closer. “I might bite.”

You smiled, sliding your palms beneath the collar of his shirt, the hot skin beneath warming your cold fingers instantly. “Sounds like a promise to me.”

“I’m not good with promises.” He let you pull his shirt up, raising his arms and helping where you couldn’t reach.

Even you couldn’t deny there was something so domestic about this. How he carefully shifted you so that you were now pressed into the mattress. His large frame looming over you—hair falling into his eyes as he looked down. It felt natural; the fluid movements were almost instinctive. Like your bodies knew what to do before you could even comprehend anything happening. You wanted to blame the alcohol—or hell perhaps it was the lust that was making you slightly lose it—but you saw it beneath the surface of his slightly guarded expression.

He felt it too.

Perhaps even more.

“Come here,” you breathed, cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips back where they belonged—where they felt the most right.

You felt his hands fall to the waistband of your pants, popping open the button and you were quick to raise your hips, helping him push them down. There was a swiftness to his movements. Like he knew what you wanted before you did—something telling him that you were ready to keep going. But that would be scientifically impossible. No one could predict things that way. Yet you couldn’t help but go back to the color of his eyes—the fangs that now scraped along your throat and down your shoulder.

He seemed to be a scientific marvel. Something unknown.

“Your tur—oh—” Your head fell back, lips falling open when his hand dipped even lower, fingers sliding into your soaked panties.

A groan echoed in the room, his lips finding yours again as he gathered the slick that pooled at your entrance and dragged it back to your clit. Setting a slow and maddening pace that had you grasping for his shoulders. Your nails pricked the skin so hard you knew there would be marks later. He pressed down, sparks scorching your body, and grinned at your reaction. How your eyes squeezed shut, leg kicking out and hips pushing into his hand.

“So wet for me.” He sunk one finger into you, tearing a whine from your throat.

“Mig—” The breath caught in your lungs. “I want—fuck—please…”

He shushed you gently, lips sliding against yours messily as he worked you open, slipping another finger into you with ease. “I know amorcito. I’ve gotta open you up for me.”

Something pulled at your stomach, tightening slowly as he continued to pump his fingers into you—the wet squelch of your slick echoing in the room. You knew you were dripping down his hand, that he was able to slip in a third finger as he went. But that didn’t mean he would stop. No Miguel had become hooked on the sounds coming from your lips—the moans that you didn’t try to stifle. He curled his fingers and struck against the spongy part of your walls that made you practically curl up into him.

A surprised cry fell from your lips, eyes flying open to see his lips curl into a small grin, before he doubled down. Shifting the angle, he made sure to press the pads of his fingers in the same spot each time, his thumb swiping along your clit. And you felt that building pressure shift. It clawed its way up your throat, settling in your chest as he murmured soft words of praise.

“Dámelo,” he breathed against your lips. “Give it to me bebita.”

As if your body was following his request, you shattered. A choked cry of his name was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue licking deeply into your mouth—fingers rapidly moving to prolong your pleasure. It was too much, yet not enough. The hunger—the desire—screamed in your chest, begging for him to keep going, for this to be more than just one night. Yet you couldn’t speak.

You gulped in air, legs shaking when the pleasure slowly began to fade into a slight pain. But Miguel wasn’t done. He was far from it. Your heart pounded in your chest when he slipped his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your release—the shiny stickiness on his palm letting you know how wet you really were.

“Sabes deliciosa,” he murmured, pressing his tongue back into your mouth and sharing the taste of you.

Your hand fell to his pants, pulling at the buckle of his belt as he shifted—making room between your legs to lay over you. His hand pressing into the mattress above your head. The all encompassing feeling of him surrounded you; pressed you into the small haven he created with his body. Keeping you from the rest of the world as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Your belt is being difficult,” you huffed, head falling back against the pillow.

He laughed, opening it with ease and effectively earning a glare from you.

Miguel had to admit there was an ease to being around you. The weight he usually felt hanging atop his shoulders had been lifted—his mind suddenly clearer and mood better. He wanted to figure out why that was, but you were looking at him with a gaze that caused his heart to stutter. The urge to remain close to you seemed to overtake every other thought that ran through his mind. He rid himself of his pants, helping you pull down the lacy fabric—his lips sliding along your inner calf as he did so.

The light touch of your palm grasping on his hand brought his gaze back up—your small smirk rendering him speechless. Miguel had only been this way a few times in his life. All instances he could count on one hand, but this—you—were bringing out an emotion he would have rather kept locked away. Nervousness.

Leaning up on your elbows, you met him halfway, your arm going around his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. It was by all means…sweet. The passion remained, lingering beneath the surface and searing through your veins, but something else took over. A feeling he wanted to keep.

“Since we’re doing this backwards,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his and cupping his cheek.

Locking your leg around his hip, you used the leverage of his surprise to send him into the mattress, your hands falling to his chest as you perched yourself in his lap. Your lips formed around a smile when he grunted. The feeling of your bare pussy now spread along his cock—your slick dripping down and coating his length—was divine.

“Mierda.” His hands grasped your hips, grinding you forward a bit until the head of cock brushed your clit, ripping a gasp from your chest.

“F-fuck—” Your head fell forward, teeth digging into your lip.

“You’re gonna fuck me amorcito?” he asked, a flash of something dangerous echoing in his eyes. “Gonna ride me?”

You nodded, mouth falling open when he pressed against your entrance. Whatever comment you had died in the back of your throat when he began to sink into you—a slight sting of pain streaking up your spine as you took him slowly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to open you up, but still it was a stretch. A soft whisper of praise echoed in your ear, his thumb circling your clit to counteract the pain. Even still you dug your nails into his chest, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later on.

“You can take it,” he murmured, thumb curling around your chin. “You can take it like a good girl.”

A whine caught in your throat, your hips canting down with each small thrust until you were seated in his lap again. His cock filling you completely—the stuffed sensation nearly too much for you. Miguel leaned up, catching your lips in a soft kiss; giving you time to adjust. Yet you felt the sharp need of desire work its way through your body, begging for you to keep going, to take everything he would give you.

“How do you feel?” He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb, his other hand cupping your ass.

“F-Full,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, allowing you to lift yourself off his cock slowly—slick coating him down to the coarse hair at his base.

The pace was lazy, barely even there, and he watched. His eyes tracked each movement you made, each time your hips shifted forward to change the angle. He burned the image of you fucking yourself on his cock into his brain—watching as you did exactly what you said you were going do. Ride him.

Scraping your nails down his stomach, you heard him groan, his hips thrusting up slightly and forcing a cry from your throat. You wanted more. Wanted to feel him fuck you into the mattress, but the familiar pressure was already forming again. Building in your stomach with each stunted thrust—the head of his cock brushing against the spot he’d found earlier.

“I’m—” Your head fell back, hips shifting forward to catch it perfectly—eyes squeezing shut. “‘M gonna—o-oh…”

“That’s it,” he rasped, guiding your hips and slamming you down onto him with a strength that made you sob, your hands grasping for any part of him you could reach. “Cum on my cock amorcito. Wanna see you—ah fuck—”

Your hips stuttered, eyes rolling back as the wave crashed over you, nearly pulling you under. A cry echoed in the room, your walls clamping down, and for a moment you felt nothing but bliss. You went blind with it, your body tipping forward into him as he continued to move you in short thrusts, dragging it on even more. Miguel grunted against your throat, sitting up fully and holding you close as you rode out your release, your body practically falling limp against him.

Eventually you felt yourself come back, your hands dragging through his hair as he placed kisses up and down your neck, arms tightening around you. Your legs barely worked, head still fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm. But the desire still remained, stroking the fire slowly until it once again began to seep through your system. Warming your body.

He was still hard, throbbing against your fluttering walls. That alone caused you to moan softly, your hips shifting down and lips pressing against his jaw. 

“You didn’t finish,” you murmured, nails scraping against the back of his neck. The small goosebumps that appeared had a lazy smile curling on your lips.

He ached for that sweet release, wanted to flip you over and chase it, but he didn’t want to leave. At least not yet. There was something about taking his time with you that called to the part of him that had always wanted more. A part he’d crushed over and over again. Claiming it wasn’t necessary. There was no room in his life for that irritating emotion people referred to as love—no space in his heart.

Until a space began to slowly open up. He could barely find it, barely even see the small gash you’d made in the armor around his heart. But he’d discover it eventually.

“I want to see you cum,” you said softly, eyes glimmering with need.

“Bebita—”

Licking along his bottom lip you felt his cock twitch, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass a little harder. “Want to feel it, Miguel. Need it.”

“Shit.” He felt the breath get punched from his lungs, your words sending a streak of heat down his spine. “Yeah? You want it that bad?”

You nodded, lifting yourself on shaky legs only to drop back down, impaling yourself on his cock. He spit out another broken curse, his head falling back briefly before you were tossed back—your body slamming against the mattress. You yelped, eyes going wide when he shifted over you, body covering yours in a way that had a haze settling in your mind. He grinned, fangs digging into his bottom lip as he spread your thighs—hooking them over his forearms and nearly bending you in half.

“All you had to do was ask,” he purred, guiding himself back into your dripping pussy and sinking in with ease.

Gasping, you clawed at his shoulders when he hit so much deeper, the angle changing everything. You wanted to shout his name, to tell him how good it felt, but he’d already started to pull back, shoving himself into you with a strength that sent you up the bed. A ragged sound was pulled from your chest, eyes rolling back when he brushed against that spot so much easier—grinding against it in a way that had your body going numb with pleasure.

“Look at you taking me so well,” he muttered, curling over your body and sending your knees up near your head.

“O-Oh…god!”

“Cosita linda.” His body was tense, teeth baring as he continued to pound into you at a pace that built your release so quick it burned through you. “Pretty fucking thing. Letting me fuck you like this. Perfecta—”

You cried out, nails breaking the skin of his back—leaving deep marks. Tears streamed down your temples, spit falling down your chin when he leaned in to kiss you. He was everywhere. His scent permeated your senses, taste now permanently etched on your tongue, and yet that still wasn’t enough. There was something about him that made you want to crack open your heart and give it to him. Offer yourself up entirely in the hopes he’d accept. He surrounded you, filled your entire being with nothing but him, and you loved it.

Your body went taut, eyes flying open to see him staring down where you were connected, how his cock disappeared into your leaking pussy.

He smiled, hands digging into your hips so tight it sparked a delicious pain when you sobbed incoherently. “I can feel you.” His breath stuttered when your walls clamped down—brows pulling tight and mouth falling open in a silent shout. “That’s it. C’mon—” He gasped, fingers falling to your aching clit and circling it quickly. “Cum on my fucking cock. Soak me.”

This time the release wasn’t built steadily to give you time to prepare. You could barely breathe, your lungs screaming for some small amount of air. Yet your body seemed to be solely focused on one thing. A broken shout of his name left your lips, echoing in the room, combining sinfully with the sound of skin against skin and your slick. His thumb found your clit, pinching it between his fingers and something in you broke.

It slammed into you unexpectedly, dragging out a loud keening wail—white flashing behind your tightly closed eyes as it rushed through you. Flooded every sense you had until all you could comprehend was him chasing his own release. He fucked into you with short stunted thrusts until he fell forward, his lips colliding with yours—a ragged cry being pressed into your mouth.

He spurted into your already dripping pussy, filling you deliciously and sending another flicker of warmth down to the tips of your fingers. His chest heaved, lips swollen and eyes dazed, and you wanted to solidify the sight in your mind. Except the reality of what this was would eventually come crashing back down. Reminding you that he was not yours to have. That you were simply two passing stars in a tangled web of this universe, meant to part ways.

He let your legs fall back to the bed, slipping out of you with a hiss before he flopped onto his back, dragging you with him. His cum dripped down your inner thigh, smearing against the skin. But for now you let it happen. Content to remain right there, feeling his chest rise and fall as he attempted to catch his breath. His fingers traced lightly along your spine, line after line until you realized what it was that he was drawing.

A web.

Or at least…that’s what it felt like.

“I don’t think I can move,” you mumbled, smiling into his skin when he laughed—the sound low and rough.

“That’s a good thing I hope,” he replied, glancing down at you—eyes tracing the curve of your hip and breast that pressed into his side.

You placed a kiss on his shoulder, hand splaying across his stomach. “Definitely.”

Silence enveloped the both of you like a comfortable blanket, filling the space with a soft feeling. It lulled you into a state of peace. Sleep nearly overtaking you. Yet you fought against it. Too busy taking in what he looked like—attempting to commit him to memory lest you never see him again. You wanted him burned into your brain, each memory tattooed into place permanently. But that’s not how life went.

This wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t yours.

So you settled against his body, soaking in the warmth he emanated and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. His breath came in slower, arm curling around you as he fell asleep gradually—his heart a steady thrum in his chest. An echo that allowed sleep to drag you beneath the surface, giving way to something peaceful.

The loud angry beep of your alarm clock jolted you awake, your eyes flying open and body aching as you sat up quickly. There was a mess of blankets on your floor, obviously kicked off in the middle of the night. It seemed that with the heat of the outside world and his body, you were content to sleep with a thin sheet wrapped around you. Yet where you expected to find clothes left haphazardly around the room, you found nothing.

Your clothes that had been stripped off now lay in a pile on your chair, shoes placed by the end of your bed. Last night was clear to you now. The all consuming bliss, the way he had felt buried inside of you—how he had touched you. And while you understood it was merely a one night stand. You couldn’t stop the disappointment from seeping into your chest.

The sight of him completely erased from your apartment put a damper on an otherwise good morning.

Sighing, you swung yourself into a sitting position at the end of your bed. A throbbing headache began to spread along your skull. No doubt the cause of waking up too fast. Either that or the alcohol had actually decided to give you a bitch of a hangover. You’d have to figure that out later. The reminder of what the day held for you flickered bright and blaring in your mind—killing whatever joy you had left in your chest.

“Fuck,” you spit, dropping your head in your hands as you finally settled on one conclusion. You were about to be fired.

You had about an hour before you had to rush out the door. Giving you enough time to find out how to stop the delicious ache in between your thighs from going away. The echo of the outside world drifted up through your somehow open window and you raised your eyes, gazing at the spot where he had been only a few hours ago.

Only to catch sight of a glass of water placed on your nightstand—a ripped piece of paper beneath it. You practically lunged for it, hands carefully sliding the paper out and eyes tracing the messy scribble of what you assumed to be his writing. The message was short. Direct. It could barely even be considered sweet, but you saw the tenderness through the short sentence—the care in his action of leaving you with something to remember him by.

I had a lot of fun.

So we can do things the right way next time.

— Miguel

Beneath the message a phone number was scrawled, as if he’d been hesitant to even put it there in the first place. But it seemed that you weren’t the only one to feel that strange connection. That lingering sensation of familiarity whenever you thought about him. There was something to uncover between you. Perhaps the something more that you were aching for last night.

You had no clue.

Yet that didn’t stop you from grabbing your phone and inputting the numbers carefully. Glancing back at each one to make sure that the message wouldn’t disappear before your very eyes. You typed his name at the top, smiling at the contact before sticking a web right beside it. The memory of what he’d traced along your skin coming back to you.

A thrill of joy went through your body, lips pulling up into a wide smile as you pressed the button to send a text. While it may have been too soon—perhaps a bit fast if you were looking at it properly—the warmth in your chest won the battle in the end. 

How could something that felt this right be messed up with speed?

How could it go wrong?

[worldofheroes]

Playing Games

bbc!sherlock x fem!reader summary: you and sherlock are stuck in the flat, bored out of your minds. what comes next is surprising to both of you (mostly you). warnings: 18+, smut, p in v sex, language wc: 1.2k a/n: based on a request by @fierytteokbokki! I took a creative liberty or two - not necessarily angry sex, but I hope you still like it :)

It’s been a long four hours.

You’re sitting on the couch of 221B Baker Street, trying to get some work done, but Sherlock is in front of you, pacing and muttering to himself.

“Can you stop that?” you ask him, getting slightly irritated. “I’m trying to work here.”

“I don’t know why John insists you stay here, to watch me like I’m some sort of child!” Sherlock exclaims, turning around to face you.

He’s not wrong. Your cousin, John, took you under his wing until you settled back in after living away, but now he uses you to leave Sherlock and get some alone time. You don’t blame him.

“I don’t know either, but to make this more tolerable for both of us, please, sit down or just do anything else but pace like a wild animal.”

“I just need a case! Something, anything will do!"

“I can’t control that, so don’t take it out on me. I don’t want to be here either.”

“No?”

“You really think a 30-something wants to stay in on a Friday night?”

“I don’t know!”

“Just… quit pacing, and maybe John will be back home so we both can do what we want.”

You focus your eyes back on your screen, but you sense Sherlock is staring at you.

“What do you want?” you slam your laptop closed.

“What?”

“You’re staring?”

“No, I’m not."

“Sherlock, please stop acting like a child! What do you want with me?”

“I am not acting like a child!”

You roll your eyes and sigh, going back to your work, hoping you can ignore Sherlock that way, hoping John comes back soon.

Sherlock pushes your laptop closed.

“Dammit Sherlock!” You look up at him, and he seems pleased with himself. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I’m not being that annoying, am I?”

“Oh god,” you say, rubbing your face. “I am not in the mood to do this, Sherlock. Just, leave me alone, okay?”

“Leave you alone? You’re free to leave at any time, y/n.”

“I’m pretty sure John would kill me. He says you need to be supervised, especially when you don’t have a case.”

Sherlock frowns.

“Seriously, what do you want?”

“Bored.”

“Not my problem, Sherlock.”

“You’re the only one here, won’t you please entertain me?”

“You’re an adult, entertain yourself.” You set your laptop aside, standing up in front of Sherlock.

“What do you do all day on your laptop? I’ve never seen you without it.”

“I work remotely.”

“That’s all?”

“You don’t need to know."

“Hmm,” he hums, stepping closer to you.

“I really don’t like you,” you say, moving to walk past Sherlock. As you do, Sherlock grabs your arm. “What?”

“I’m sick of this too.”

“Great, now let me go,” you say, trying to wiggle out of Sherlock’s grip.

“This is fascinating,” Sherlock whispers.

“What now?”

“You’re trying to hide your true feelings.”

“What are you talking about?”

Sherlock smirks, which makes you roll your eyes.

“Admit it.”

“I’ve had enough of you, Sherlock,” you tell him, staring him down.

“We don’t have to play games, y/n. We’re adults.”

“Seriously, just let me go and I’ll leave. I know that’s what you want.”

“That’s not what I want,” Sherlock mutters.

Sherlock is inches from your face, eyes locked with each other. He leans in and kisses you.

You’re taken aback, but the hesitation goes away as he places a hand on either side of your face. You've pushed down these feelings for Sherlock, as he works with your cousin - it didn't seem right.

Sherlock’s kisses get messier, hungrier, and you find yourself touching him in any way you can.

You eventually find the buttons on his shirt, and start to fiddle with them.

“Tell me what you want,” Sherlock mutters into your ear.

“I just want you,” you tell him, colliding your lips with his again.

He pushes his body against yours, and you can feel his hardness under his clothes.

You undo his buttoned up shirt and slide it off. Your hands move up and down his chest, learning his body.

He tugs at your shirt, and you happily comply. It gets tossed somewhere on the floor, but you’re not paying attention.

Sherlock’s hands move down your sides and to your jeans. “May I?” he whispers, his hands on the zipper.

You nod, unable to speak.

Once your jeans and panties are off, he gently pushes you onto the couch, stradling you. He again presses his crotch against you, making both of you moan.

“Just fuck me already, Sherlock,” you whisper, running your hands through his dark curls.

“With pleasure,” he growls, taking his own pants off, tossing them aside. When he removes his boxers, you’re surprised by the size of his cock.

“Sherlock,” you squeak.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says as his tip comes into contact with your center.

You buck at the sensation.

“Good,” he whispers, gathering spit on his hand to lube the both of you up.

His tip gently enters you, and you can’t help the moan that escapes from your lips.

“Oh, I’m not even in yet,” Sherlock says, leaning down to kiss your neck and pushing deeper into you.

“Fuck, Sherlock,” you moan, unable to say anything else.

Sherlock gently rocks his hips, helping open you up.

“You feel so good,” he growls.

You moan in reply, your brain short-circuiting.

His pace quickens, and soon the flat is filled with moans and the ungodly noise of bodies coming into contact repeatedly.

Neither one of you hears the door open.

“Jesus Christ!” you hear John shout.

“John!” you exclaim, trying to cover up but there’s nothing in your reach to help you. In your startle, Sherlock’s dick pulls out from you.

“With Sherlock?” John shouts, covering his face.

“John, I can explain,” you say.

“No, you don’t need to explain,” John says, turning around and walking towards the door. “I will never be able to get this out of my head,” he exclaims as he exits the flat, closing the door behind him.

Sherlock grins at you.

“What?” you ask him, slightly annoyed by his grin.

“I love how we were caught by your cousin,” he tells you as he leans in for a kiss.

You turn your face away from him. “Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood any more.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Sherlock cocks an eyebrow.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m going to finish fucking you, and that’s not a request,” Sherlock says, pushing back into you.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

“That’s what I thought,” Sherlock sends you a sly smile.

“Do your worst,” you say with a mischievous smile.

“With pleasure,” he retorts, starting up his thrusting again.

Only moans come out of you as you have some of the best sex you’ve ever had, and soon you feel your orgasm coming.

“Sherlock,” you mumble between breaths. “I’m close.”

“Keep it in for me, baby,” he tells you.

“I don’t know if I can,” you gasp.

“One more second.”

“Sherlock, I can’t!”

“Go ahead, baby girl,” he mutters against your neck.

You release and almost scream at how good it feels. A few more thrusts more and Sherlock comes in you, gasping.

He collapses on top of you.

“Fuck, Sherlock,” you say, running your hands through his hair.

“You seemed to enjoy that,” he smiles against your chest.

“Fuck,” you say again.

“Do you want to admit those feelings now?” Sherlock teases.

“I’ll think about it,” you smile.

Sherlock smiles and kisses you as you wrap your arms around him and hold him close.

[leonawriter]

Fantasy/Royalty au where Toichi's mother went on the run with him after court intrigue, Toichi himself grew up effectively (but not legally) in exile after the incident, and although he kept planning to tell Kaito the whole story after he was born, he just... never got around to it. What with having become a thief in order to find a gem before the people who were the reason his mother went on the run did.

And then he dies, and Kaito grows up, and then Kaito finds out his dad was actually assassinated which is wild because he always thought his dad was just the most amazing and best performer in the kingdom and several others besides, and now there's all this other stuff he just... doesn't know.

So Kaito starts out closer to home, which is the easiest and objectively best thing since dad had ended up staying here and he must have for a reason, but on the other hand his childhood friend Aoko's father is the captain of the guard, and the prince is way too observant.

It's a good thing Kaito's got a knack for Hiding things as one of his personal special abilities. If someone's really paying attention then they'll be able to see through it. Aoko's dad doesn't, really. Most people don't. And they expect everything he does to be Real Magic, too, meaning they put counter-measures in place that he just slips past with his sleight of hand and Hiding tricks.

Saguru, though. The Hakuba family being the rulers of the Ekoda kingdom, and Saguru's father being all indulgent and encouraging to help the guard catch that thief (he'd have been around for Toichi, in this story, recognise the style and methodology if not who it is), and Saguru is fascinated.

I'm just thinking of a bunch of crazy adventures and hijinks in which Kaito's kind of courting Aoko as Kaito but also kind-of sort-of flirting with Saguru as Kaitou Kid.

Secrets come out (first with Aoko, because she knows him better, and he fully expects her to turn him in to her father but instead she cusses him out while healing an arrow injury while he whines and tries not to move) and then with Saguru (which starts with Kaito panicking because oh gods the prince has him figured out, he's gonna be executed and ends with "Aoko wants to meet you, is that okay? Be warned, she may try and give you a shovel talk because she's been like, my only friend since I was a kid, but she's been wanting to meet you ever since she realised I look the same when thinking about you as when I'm looking at her."

For a while things get a little dicey because it's a bit of a political scandal that the prince is getting involved with someone who doesn't even have a title-

And then the king throws a tournament and people from the surrounding kingdoms all turn up to join in the fun, and this one guy from one of the Western Kingdoms with a strong accent comes up to Kaito and starts talking with him like they're close friends, and when he's corrected he drags Kaito over to where his actual friend, who'd sent a messenger because he'd been waiting, is.

And then Yusaku, one of the neighbouring kings, takes one look at Kaito and recognises Toichi in him.

A not even a few days later, and Kaito is still coming to terms with having a cousin who's royalty, an uncle who's a king, and oh, huh, looks like the scandal's called off, because he's royalty and no one in the kingdom's gonna care about how he's basically married to Aoko too so long as they can see he loves their future king as much as he does and they don't screw up the new treaty negotiations the king's making with Kaito's uncle.

(Kaito's rather less impressed with his cousin, who sees through his tricks and is the worst sort of critic - one who even prefers Real Magic over sleight of hand, because in Shinichi's words "at least Magic still works along a set of rules, while tricks like those rely on pulling the wool over the audience's eyes and lying to them."

They're known for getting along when they really need to, though.)

[theglidingbat]

Ok but Krypton!lives au but clark isn't some jerk alien prince, he is a brat no doubt but he's also just so oblivious to everything. Have some of my headcanons for this:

•I imagine it starting with kal el dropping down on Kansas farm [grown up and shit] being found by the Kents as they patch him up and take him down on the guest room, he wakes up freaks out a bit speaking in kryptonian and just floating around the house being overly careful of everything, ma and pa kent are confused and so is Kal, he tries to communicate with them and they finally find a common ground and after a month clark finally learns the human language.

•zod has managed to exile kal from his home planet, suffice to say kal el is currently heartbroken and looking for help

•Kal just saw some random pair of glasses and thought they were so cool so now he just wears them whenever he's in casual clothes but is in no way trying to hide his identity, people are just that dumb.

•Does not get social cues at all and will unwillingly say the wrong thing at the wrong time, he's just a happy little guy who wants to explore this strange planet and then go home

•he particularly likes rock music despite his personality, he finds hardcore metal music soothing

•he once tried to eat Batman's ears, in his defence they looked edible to him,

•Diana loves to fill in kal with false information about the human race, kal is not stupid enough to belive them but follows them anyways just because he thinks it would be funny

•Bruce has a very subtle crush on him and kal notices this immediately, he's confused as to why Bruce pretends to hate him

•The whole league [escpically bruce] is overprotective of him, lex Luthor doesn't stand a fucking chance

•Kal el has no filter and will call you out with a bright innocent smile and float away moving on with his day

•Kal lives in the watchtower only visiting earth for league business, he rarely works alone

•he floats near the Zeta tubes almost everyday hoping to see bruce and when he's not there he's disappointed

• he refuses to walk, he thinks he's done enough walking for a life time and bruce has to tug on kal's cape to make sure he isn't floating above his seat

•he is way more capable of communicating his emotions in kryptonian then in English, he will switch to kryptonian when he's ranting or angry

•Diana and Barry are the ones who suggest he make a civilian identity, and thus is born reporter clark kent.

•He still visits the Kents here and then bringing them souvenirs from space

•Does not understand when someone is flirting with him but will bring bruce random animals he finds in the wild as gifts because "I heard from Jason you like adopting tiny lonely beings"

•he's still pretty good at hiding his identity somehow and at this point as learned all social cues and slang thanks to lois

•yet he still decides to fuck with the league, he gives batman forehead kisses, he once called green lantern a thot ["does that not mean thoughtful?"] And will very knowingly insult anyone who even looks at his loved ones the wrong way

•while bruce is more open of his protectiveness [and possessiveness] of clark, Clark himself is more subtle and quiet about it, but not forgetting he's still technically a spoiled prince of Krypton cannot share. He snatches bruce and gets pouty whenever bruce is talking or flirting with anybody else

•it takes them five years to get together but it finally happenes and they start dating

•the kryptonians finally find clark and force him to go with them but clark now refuses even if his exile is over.

•unfortunately he really can't leave his planet behind and has to leave [he and bruce have a long sad conversation and clark breaks down]

•A month later bruce is handling another team meeting when Clark finally comes back

•he offically leaves Krypton to his older cousin Kara and moves in with bruce

•his favourite movies are the James bond movies

•The batfam all adore him

•Basically I want a Au of sweet innocent clark that's oblivious to innuendos and shit while bruce suffers in silence and the evolves into clark being a little shit who pretends he doesn't know what he's doing when pulls bruce close and whispers in his ear about smth knowing damm well he's doing things to Bruce.

Also-

Diana: Batman if your done fighting with your boyfriend, we need to leave

Batman: wha- kal is NOT my boyfriend!

Kal: (has only be in earth for a year) I'm not?

Batman: I-

Kal: Am I not your friend?

Batman: no kal I never said-

Kal: am I not a boy?

*jla snickering in the back*

[ejunkiet]

new instincts

a little more of the dadvid fic hehehehe we’re getting FLUFFY.

redacted audio: davey/angel, rated teen, pregnancy mention.

Of course it would be Asher who clued in first.

READ ON AO3! | part one on tumblr

tag requests: @terrazaurio​ @interdimensional-chaos​

--

part two: new instincts

Of course it would be Asher who clued in first.

It’s only been a few days since their trip to the doctor’s office, confirming the pregnancy. Just over four weeks. Birth control failures were rare but not unheard of, their doctor had assured them, and the rest of the pregnancy should proceed as normal. Congratulations.

They’d been booked in for their next appointment in a month’s time, and that was that.

The rest of the week had almost felt like a dream. He’d taken a few days off from the office, leaving Asher in charge of running the daily ops while he focused on making plans and settling Angel back at home, even as they teased him about it.

(“It’s still early days, Davey. I’m perfectly able to make my own lunch, thank you very much.”)

It’s late on Friday after work, when Asher comes over to drop off some paperwork, that the secret comes out.

He’d called ahead to say that he’d be coming by - that he had some paperwork that needed David’s signature, that couldn’t wait until next week. He’d been late, but that also hadn’t been unexpected - he always was, unless it was a work event.

But then he'd taken one look at them, his head tilted to the side and nostrils flaring as he inhaled, before his eyes had widened and he’d nearly dropped the messenger bag he was carrying.

“Holy shit.”

A low growl rises from David’s throat before he can bite it back, his mate’s fingers twitching against their side as their eyes widen in turn. He can hear the skip of their heartbeat, their weight shifting from foot-to-foot before they release a snort.

“It’s that obvious?”

They lean into David and he shifts until they can fit more snugly against his side, his arm finding their waist as he resists the urge to flash his teeth at his beta. There’s an aggression in him that he’s not used to, his protective instincts rearing to the surface with Asher’s proximity to his mate.

It didn’t make any sense. This was his pack, his family. But the knowledge doesn’t satisfy his wolf, and it lingers just below the surface of his skin, the same way it had the rest of the week.

“David.” He blinks, glancing down to find his mate looking up at him expectantly, an amused smile playing on their lips, as if it’s not the first time they’ve called his name. “Why don’t we let him in? We can talk about this more inside.”

Right. Releasing a breath, he steps back, catching his beta’s eye. “You heard them. In.”

–

“So. What gave it away?”

Ash offers them a grin from where he’s perched on the far end of the sofa, all long limbs and sharp elbows, a hand running through the wild tangles of his hair.

“David. He smells all…” He trails off, his expression turning contemplative, before he shrugs, as if he can’t find a word for it. “It’s instinct. I can sense it. Probably could even if he wasn’t projecting like a grumpy papa wolf.”

David does flash his teeth this time and Asher snorts, raising both hands. “Look, it’s natural. I saw the same thing with my cousins. My dad’s brother, he got all kinds of territorial before he got his instincts back under control.”

Territorial. The pieces click into place, and shit.

David doesn’t lose control. Not like this. He can’t afford to, not in his role as alpha, and especially not at the expense of his pack. His mate feels him tense up - they’re too close not to - and they squeeze his hand, the contact grounding against the rising tide of guilt.

Asher notices the shift too, his brow creasing with confusion, before it clicks. “David- it’s natural. Something that everyone goes through.”

He takes a breath and holds it, feeling the weight of their eyes on him as he regains control of himself. “I’ll handle it.”

Asher’s still watching him, a twist to the soft curve of his mouth, before he nods. “Whatever you say, big guy.” His attention shifts to his mate then, and he offers them a grin. “How long have you known?”

They match his grin with one of their own, and the tension in the room eases. “Not long. We got it confirmed earlier this week.”

“It has been a long time since there’s been a new cub in the pack…” Asher’s eyes narrow in thought, focused on the floor where his socks clash terribly with the carpet beneath the coffee table, but he doesn’t miss the way Angel reacts to the moniker, flashing them a grin. “Cute, right?”

“Does this mean we’ll need to deck out the whole family in baseball gear?”

Asher snorts once, twice, before he doubles over with laughter, shaking so hard that he almost falls off the end of the couch. David drops his head into his hands, silently asking what he’d done to deserve this as he resists the urge to groan.

Angel sits through it all with a smug smile on their face, looking pleased with themself, and with a low growl, he tugs them closer, wrapping his arm snug around them until they’re pressed against his side.

When Ash can breathe again, he shakes his head. “Never change, little boss.”

Glancing at the clock, he pushes to his feet, offering them a crooked grin. “Looks like I’m out of time. I just wanted to drop off the paperwork and check in.”

“Ash.” David’s voice is a low warning as he makes to leave, but he waves him off.

“I won’t be telling anyone, big guy. Well. Except for my mate, that is.” David releases a low snort, some of the tension in him easing. Ash knew how to keep a secret, when it mattered. “But David… when it comes to the next pack meeting, you know that the rest of them will be able to tell, right?”

His tone is still light, but there’s a seriousness in his expression that he doesn’t show often as he glances at David, a wry smile on his lips.

David releases a slow breath, not missing the way his mate’s hand slips to his side, settling against his hip and squeezing. “I know.”

“Good.” He nods, before grinning again, bright enough to flash his teeth, the tension of the moment dissipating as quickly as it had come. “Keep us updated? Let us know if you need to push anything, we’d be cool with that.”

“We’ll do that,” Angel agrees, matching his grin easily. “Thanks, Ash.”

“Anytime.” He waves two of his fingers in a cheerful salute, his grin as wide as anything, before he heads towards the front door. “Take it easy, both of you.”

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving them both in a comfortable silence. It’s always like this after Asher leaves, a moment of calm, steady quiet after the hurricane of his presence.

Angel lets out a soft breath, squeezing his side briefly again before shifting back to catch his gaze. There’s a gleam in their eye that he recognises, one that promises trouble.

“So. Wolves prefer baseball to basketball, then?”

[pullingheavendown]

TWs up and down this one for CSA. I'm just putting pieces together in that only semi-coherent way of mine.

My grandma lives in a different world than I do. I think that's what sends me slowly dissolving into the acid vats of my own brain whenever we try to talk: I can't keep up with her version of the world.

Most of the kids I grew up with are dead.

I did not grow up in a good neighbourhood. On the surface, maybe: a lot of well-kept front yards, which is all my grandma cared about. What would the neighbours think was a common refrain. What would they think if they could hear us all screaming, banging heads into drywall, slamming closets open and closed trying to find the kids hiding behind the coats or the furnace.

I remember my mom turning that line on me one day and going outside, standing on the front lawn, and finally screaming and ranting so that all the neighbours would see and hear and know. No one cared, was the point I was trying to make, because all of them were just as dysfunctional inside as we were. And no one did care.

But every home on that crescent was festering. My grandma speaks so highly of the families she remembers as friends. R and B's dad, for instance, she'll say was such a nice and kind man. Always letting us neighbourhood kids use his hot tub. Change in his home. Encouraging us to come over if we were upset. Had the best toys in his basement for us to play with. Whole video camera array.

You can see where I'm going with this.

B killed himself. R disappeared.

Or J1 and J2's dad. Kind man, she'll say. Police officer. Just such a shame how his kids turned out -- J1 overdosed, died. J2 doesn't talk to her family anymore (but we're friends on Facebook). She did say after her brother overdosed that she blamed her dad for sexually abusing both his kids, and that's what drove her brother to use drugs in the first place.

J1 ran around with a group of friends who would invite me over sometimes. Mostly older boys. You can, again, see where I am going with this.

Whole fucking crescent and neighbourhood of child abuse, or child-on-child abuse as it trickled down, spread out among us.

My grandma will talk about what good parents everyone was on that street, and how horrible all the kids were. How we all acted like wild dogs, or acted out, or were so terribly ungrateful for everything we had. Every time she starts, I can feel some door in the back of my head start to open and some part of me slips through it. Inevitably she will turn the topic back to our family specifically. How my cousins are just fucked up, lazy addicts; how my biodad was a good person at his core. He always bought me the nicest gifts. How could I not have been happy. And my stepdad? Who even assaulted her once, for the record, a factoid she'll trot out when she wants to save face sometimes, an oh why can't you just get over it, I did. Or, sometimes: it meant I was still pretty! Be flattered.

And that door swings open in my head and what pours out of it is understanding and compliance. The same way I felt when I was living it, that oh, sure, this is not so bad, the adults around me don't think this is bad, so this must be fine, these feelings are fine, this is how I am supposed to feel.

But it can't take over anymore. I won't let it. The things I've heard my therapist say often ricochet around when she visits: that is, objectively, torturing a child.

What they did to you, what they taught you to believe, was strategic and intentional.

If you ever told me that you'd taken a hit out on your dad, I would not tell anyone.

I wish I had personally been the one to shove my stepdad off a building. That is what I keep coming back to when my grandma gets like this: they were such good people in her world, and I want to hurt them for their role in mine. Problem child, me.

I'm trying to noodle around in this mess of memory and emotion in the hopes of excavating some kind of clarity, but I don't even really know what I feel. I'm not sad about it. I'm always angry about it, but I'm not really angry, either. It feels like I'm examining a piece in a museum, trying to work out what this thing I just looked at evoked, and there's just a hollow kind of nothing instead of anything.

Some part of it's pity. Like: they were not good people, and I'm sorry she cannot accept that or see it for what it is. Her denial enabled a lot of horrible things that happened to the people around her. I don't wish she felt guilty, I just wish she was capable of that insight in the first place.

It's fine, really. She's fine. She means well. I don't wish harm on her. Just everyone she defends.

I think, because if she were capable of that level of insight, we might actually be able to co-exist on the same plane for once. Wouldn't that be nice. Wouldn't being capable of that level of connection with someone, anyone, be fucking nice, where I could say I am just this fucked up, and I do wish frank, abject harm on people who have done much worse to others, and to be unapologetic and open about where I have come from. What I have done.

And instead I just have to slip outside my own head a little bit and smile and say "sure." Sift through the stream in my head and pan for... what, gold? Nuggets of insight? Glimmers of emotional truth?

Something that isn't smoke and mirrors and bullshit for once so I can just fucking talk about it, I guess.

I don't really know how else to manage the guilt of surviving that place or outliving my friends, except to tell the truth about what happened to them.

[call-me-jennn]

latelys.

I came home one weekend after a productive morning errands date. I sat at the table eating my breakfast and looked around the apartment. What a shit hole. I started getting irritated, but it’s the least of my worries. I have so much going on right now.

My externship will be starting up again soon, hopefully. I’m just waiting for the school to complete the paperwork and set up the registration so I can start. The longer it takes for them to process everything, the less time I’ll have to complete my hours. The manager is requesting we work weekend night shifts, which is okay with me. I don’t usually plan on wild weekends while I’m in school. But I’ll lose a day of the week recovering from the night shift.

Under the externship we’re only allowed to work 120 hours. After we’ve completed our hours we’re not allowed to work in the hospital through the school. But the unit still needs help with small tasks like restocking and sterilization, so the manager has asked us to onboard as volunteers so that we can work under the hospital. This way when we’re finished with 120 hours of free labor as externs, we can work for free some more as volunteers. I know that sounds bitter, but I’m grateful. I love it there. And it’s just one more thing to add to my resume. And this unit notoriously hires their externs, so I’m saying yes to anything they ask, because it’s a great hospital. The onboarding is a super long process with its endless paperwork, orientation modules and Tb test to schedule. It’s all on my to do list.

The 2nd year of my program has just begun and we’re all worried. The workload seems to be lighter, we only have two courses this semester in addition to our clinical versus the three we had the last two semesters. Our lab class also only has one lab day, not two. Unfortunately, one of our classes is taught by our least favorite professor, who I feel is just incompetent. We, as a cohort, attempted to go to our program director about her. She’s not just a poor instructor, she straight up teaches us misinformation. And when we try to argue with her, she only doubles down. One time, in lab, when I was arguing with her, she told me not to try and use logic to explain things. I almost lost my shit. AND I WAS RIGHT. I find the best way to go about her class is to completely ignore her and just read the book. That’s how I aced her class last semester that a lot of people almost didn’t pass.

In our course that has a lab, there are three sections. One is directly after lecture, meaning the students in that lab only have to be on campus two days. The other sections are in the morning or afternoon on Fridays. I tend to have a later registration so I wasn’t originally able to get into the good section and I was going to have to be on campus three days. I actually had to decline coming to my cousin’s wedding because it was on a Friday and I couldn’t miss the first day of lab because it’s a crucial day to pick your lab group for the whole semester. But the best laid plans go awry, because I unexpectedly ended up getting into the good lab section, but wasn’t able to pick a good group.

On the night before our first day of class, one of my girlfriends in my friend group sent us this long text telling us she was dropping out of the program without explanation. She sits next to me so it was especially a gut punch sitting alone without her. On the first day of class the professor called her name for attendance and asked the class if anyone knew where she was. We just avoided eye contact. The next time we had class, one of my classmates asked me where she was, and that their clinical instructor was asking about her when she missed their rotation. I went to talk to our professor for our lab to make sure she doesn’t call out her name for attendance today to avoid calling more attention to the fact that she was missing. It’s not like people weren’t already aware that she’d been missing and they were already asking questions. But I just wanted to protect her a little bit. When I told the professor that she had dropped out of the program the professor said, I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you this, but she hasn’t officially dropped, she’s still registered for classes. I said okay and started to walk back to my seat. But after a few steps, I realized that she was registered for the good lab section, meaning once she drops there will be a seat available. I turned around and asked my professor if I could have her seat. Part of me feels a little slimy, like I’m benefitting from my friend dropping out. The professor said she would work on getting me an add code, but that meant I wouldn’t be attending the first day, I’d still have to attend my original section. This also meant I wouldn’t be there to pick my group. My classmates later told me that she ominously wrote “Student X” on the board under one of the groups and said choose your groups. No one knew who Student X was, and no one wanted to choose them for their group. So in the end, I ended up in a group with the three left over students who couldn’t get in a group. I totally got screwed. Man, this freaking sucks, and everyone knows it. People came up to me later and apologized, saying if they knew I was Student X, they would’ve chosen me for their group. It’s not like the people in my group are stupid. I truly think that everyone who made it to second year is smart. They’re just not as fast at understanding stuff and they’re not great at explaining or articulating their points. So if I think the answer is A, I’ll be able to explain clearly why I think my answer is right. But if they think the answer is B, they can’t explain why. That’s not helpful to me if my answer is wrong. They’re going to slow me down, and I am already a very lazy student. I don’t come to lab prepared to explain everything, most of the time I don’t come prepared at all and I can just figure it out as I go. I sulked for a few days over this.

So as I’m sitting at my dining table thinking about all that I have to do, I suddenly have this burst of inspiration. Maybe this lab group thing could be an opportunity for me. I really don’t approach my schooling with much of a sense of urgency. Do I study? Sure, when I feel like it. Do I come to class prepared? Depends on your definition of prepared. In the end everything always gets done. I always read all the chapters before I’m tested on it. I learn all the material and I learn it well enough to ace my exams. And that works for me, but when my classmates ask me questions I don’t always know the answer. I can figure it out and answer it well enough. But I’m not always on top of the material. Maybe this is an opportunity for me. I know my group is going to look at me to be a leader. I know they’re going to look to me to clarify any confusion they have. Maybe that I should be that leader. Maybe I should come to lab prepared and ready to explain things to them.

Hm… okay. This isn’t a crazy ambitious plan. Like I said, I eventually study all the material either way. This way I’m just studying all the material before class/lab. Maybe I should implement a system to help keep me accountable. Well my preferred system is sticky notes. A task on each sticky note pinned to a corkboard, and with completion of each task, the stick note gets pulled. A visual system and pulling off the sticky notes can be satisfying. The corkboard gets pulled out and I go to look for my sticky notes.

Where the fuck are the sticky notes. I’m looking all over in my room, searching in different bins, rooting through a bunch of crap that I have. Why do I have so much crap? When was the last time I even touched half this stuff? A bunch of craft stuff from one project I did 6 years ago? I’m so irritated. All this freaking clutter for no reason. Why do I live like this?! By the time I find the sticky notes, there’s a fire that has been ignited in me.

I’m not freaking living like this anymore! All this crap needs to go! I’m changing my life! I need to get serious about my life! In addition to my new study schedule, I’m going to purge one area of my room each week. And so I study for the week and clean one section of my room as planned.

Monday morning rolls around and I have a doctor’s appointment. My psychiatrist says, so Jennifer, how have your moods been? Stable? No sudden optimism or goal setting? Um. Well this is awkward. I try to defend myself. This isn’t an intense hyperfixation! I’m not trying to change my life overnight. I just set small, achievable weekly goals for myself that I think overtime will lead to an overall change. She says okay, it seems alright. Just monitor yourself.

Lecture/lab day rolls around. I ace my quiz, because I read the chapters beforehand. It feels nice. Most of the time I ace the quizzes based on good test taking skills, but this time I know the answers confidently. In the lab, I’m very prepared since I looked over the lab assignment and answered most of the questions in advance. I took the lead on going through the assignment and tried to give each of my group members opportunities to answer the questions, adding in clarifications where they seemed confused and explaining the answers. I tried my best to encourage them when they seemed hesitant to answer or nervous. I felt like it went well and we were able to get through the assignment fairly quickly. I felt good, like my plans were going well. I also felt a little nervous, I hope my group members don’t think I’m too bossy or anything like that. We were able to leave lab early. I stopped by the bathroom, then started walking out to my car in the parking lot. As I’m walking out, I hear my group member call out my name. I turned around and she gestured for me to walk back to her. When I reached her she said, I want to give you a hug! She hugged me and whispered in my ear, “I’m so glad you’re in my group, you’re so smart.”

So yeah, you could say things are going well.

[binniesthighs]

cherry knot | reader x ryujin

a/n: you may be thinking to yourself, ro! a gg fic?? how unlike you!! well, boy do i have news for you 😂 truthfully, i’ve always been toying with the idea of writing a lil somethin’ (esp for ryujin god i love her) so i thought why not! if this isn’t your cup of tea, that’s totally okay <3 those who do read, thank you so much for reading and i hope that ya like it hehe and let me know what you think of it! :D (thank you @dom--minnie​ for enabling me too ;) 

cherry knot | reader x ryujin 

🍒 Pairing: self insert, female reader x shin ryujin 

🍒 Genre: fluff n’ a lil bit suggestive 

🍒 Tags: friends to lovers, high school au (everyone depicted is 18+), all girls school au, high school crush!ryujin, shy!reader, confession of feelings, that good, good makin’ out, ryujin being flirty and smug as hell bc i love her, yeah this is just me gushing about shin ryujin, ro trying new things on the blog :) 

🍒 Word count: 2.9k 

🍒 CWs: mentions of food and eating reader included

The grass felt sticky and uncomfortable under your crossed legs, and when you swiped your hand against the skin, you could feel the indentation from the blades. Your knee-high socks felt itchy too; everything felt itchy. Even the cotton of your shirt felt like it was suffocating, and the bow tied around your neck which hung loosely should have hung even looser. 

To distract yourself, you plucked up the blades of green and tied them into knots absentmindedly. It was easier to pay attention to your idle hands compared to paying attention to her. 

Could she even tell that you were looking? Could she see out of the corner of her eye when she threw her cotton-candy pink hair behind her ear? Could she tell that you watched as she gulped down the lemonade and caught a glance at the peachy fuzz of her neck exposed by her collar? 

Stop looking. Stop looking. 

Your other friends tied up their hair in clips and with lazy hair ties to free their sweating necks from the sun. No matter the sweltering heat, it was always tradition for your picnic just before the summer vacation. One of them had brought a cake and each of the girls attacked it viciously with small forks and smeared bits of frosting on each other’s noses. 

“Come here!! You’re next!!” They beamed while launching themselves in your direction to dot your nose with the white cream. 

A flurry of high pitched giggles peeled out from each of you once another frosting victim had been dubbed. Your cheeks felt furiously hot knowing that she was looking; and that she was laughing along with the rest of them. 

“Awwww cute.” She adored with a smile that turned her dimples into whiskers on her cheeks. 

You quickly wiped it off with a handkerchief that settled into your damp hand.  

She’s looking, she’s looking…

The other girls pranced around the checkered picnic blanket in their white socks--undoubtedly painting them with green that their mothers would scold them for later. Their careless steps made a mess of the food wrappers and canvas backpacks that held down the corners of the thin fabric. The joyous cheers of the girls seemed to harmonize with the song of the cicadas in the trees; both sounds reminded you of the coming of the summer and the humid weather that makes the air dense. 

One of the girls brought out her phone and played loudly from it one of her favorite songs which she knew every word too, regardless of the fact that her tone was far from the singer’s. 

You and your friends never cared much for how others would view you. Even at school when you would march through the hallways arm-and-arm, others would stare at the way that none of you batted an eye at those who would glare. 

They were just jealous was all. 

“Be careful!!” You found yourself scolding, “What if you fall running around like that?” 

In response, your friends promptly stuck out their tongues in your general direction. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryujin coolly popped another cherry into her mouth from the bowl by her crossed legs. “If they fall, let them! It's funnier that way.” 

She threw a wink right at you, which you almost didn’t catch because you had quickly averted your eyes to become much more interested in the tiny tea-cakes. 

“You’re always worrying Y/n! Its summer!”

“I-I do not.” 

Ryujin chuckled in that way that always made you feel like your heart was just about ready to leap out of your chest. 

“Lighten up! Come on!” 

Before you could process it all, your friend patted down the wrinkles in her skirt and threw off her shoes. She rose, and neared your corner of the blanket with hands outstretched. 

“Stop worrying about things or if people are watching!” She scolded you with a cute and tiny pout, “Get up!” Ryujin wriggled her hands with emphasis to show you that you could take hold of them. 

“W-what…?” 

The other girls giggled on, hardly even noticing the two of you over their singing. 

You grabbed onto her hands, already loathing how damp your own felt against hers out of your own nervousness. She still held onto you tightly, saying nothing of them and helped you to your feet. Immediately she brightened once you played along and started to swing your arms in tune with the song. Your friend lip synced to the rap part and you felt just about ready to swoon from how cool she looked saying the words with ease. 

“Dance with me!! Don’t pay attention to people walking by or anything like that!” 

Ryunjin led you by the hand to the patch of grass with little white and pink flowers laced into it. You really did try to pay attention to dancing, but everything else seemed to be distracting even when you tried hard enough. She brought your hand up higher to spin her, and when she twisted, everything seemed to happen in slow motion: the billow of her plaid shirt, her rosy-pink hair which swiped just at her shoulders, even the way that the sunset melted behind her into swirls of sunburst yellow and vibrant orange. It was like she was all a part of it. 

“Your turn!” She said, twisting you too. 

You didn’t realize that you would have been as dizzied by it as you were, but when you lost your footing, she was just as quick to help you with her hands carefully grasped onto your shoulders. 

“You okay?” Ryujin asked, out of breath, but still genuine. 

“I’m fine!” 

Your knees wobbled with barely any strength to them, but you mustered every bit of confidence that you had to keep being this close to her. You surprised yourself when you reached back for her hands to continue swinging them between you. 

The other girls collapsed back onto the blanket in a pile of shallow exhales and airy laughs that they exchanged between them. 

“No more dancing, I-I can’t do any more…” One of them announced while leaning against the shoulder of another one of your friends. 

“I forgot! I brought this!!” One of your friends with pigtail braids dove deeply into her backpack and pulled out nearly all of the contents before finding the small cube-case which was decorated with an obscene amount of keychains. “My camera! We have to take some pictures so that we can remember this!” 

The other girls squealed in agreement and ganged up on her to fit into the frame of the white Polaroid camera that she had also splattered with stickers. 

“Here, I wanna show you something.” Ryujin drew your attention back to the blanket where she settled back down with her own bag draped over her legs. 

“What is it?” 

“Ryujinnie! I wanna take your picture too! Your pink hair is so pretty…” One of your friends cooed with a sad downturn to her lips, “I hope that you never change it.” 

“Hmm, I don’t know. We’ll see. My cousin has been saying that she wants to see what I would look like blonde these days.” 

The small talk didn’t concern you too much, you were more concerned with what it was that your friend had to show you. 

“I’m going on a trip with my cousins soon so we’ll see what happens.” 

Your friend sighed, and skipped over the mess of the blanket to pull Ryujin by the wrist to the walkway a little farther off. “You’d look so cute over here!” 

She pardoned her, and stumbled after the eager girl to let her take a Polaroid of her. Even from far away, you could still hear the two of them admire the picture with happy little expressions of “ah! I told you that it would look good!” 

The two girls returned, and you began to worry if your friend even remembered what she had said in the first place. 

What is it? What does she want to show me? 

“Shoot!!” Another one of your friends huffed out while looking at her phone, “I forgot that I have to tutor the middle schoolers today!! I’m late!!” 

The girls went to action in a mere matter of seconds sweeping up the picnic assortment and shoving the leftovers into their backpacks. 

You helped them and tried to look over to your other friend who didn’t return your glances. Perhaps she really had forgotten. 

You let your imagination run wild for just a few moments, although the more that you did, the more it all just seemed preposterous. Maybe it was a confession letter, maybe she had written for you one of those poems like she had liked to do, maybe she had rather wanted to talk to you about something...say something that you wanted to say back…

“I’m going to stick around.” Ryunjin said suddenly with her hands on her hips. “Y/n, you’re welcome to stay too if you want. We don’t exactly have to go home yet since the sun’s still up.” 

Your friends looked to you for your answer, to which you stammered out an, “O-okay…” The best that you could. 

“See you later!!” They called after with their shoes only half-slid onto their feet. 

You waved them off, but the farther that they walked away, the more the realization started to hit you that you were alone with her. The sound of your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and you calmed it trying to think about anything else but the fact that now her attention was truly undivided upon you. 

“You said that you wanted to show me something?” 

Your friend nodded, and patted the grass beside her for you to join her. She gathered up the small bundle of cherries left behind and positioned them into her lap. 

“I learned this trick a little bit ago and I wanted to show you!” 

“A trick?” 

She nodded, and plucked from one of the crimson berries a stem which she put directly into her mouth. 

“What are you doing?!” On the surface, it didn’t seem like the most sanitary thing to do. 

Ryunjin stifled a laugh and lightly hit you on the arm to chastise you. “Just wait a minute!” 

You watched in your confusion as her face contorted a little, and her eyebrows twisted like she was thinking. Her cheeks puffed a little too, and you could tell that she was doing something with it in her mouth--it was only then when you realized that you had been intensely observing her mouth. 

In your embarrassment you threw your eyes in the other direction, but it was no use one you heard her start to giggle at how flustered you had become. 

“It’s okay, you’re supposed to look.” She assured you. 

“What-what is it?” 

“Annnnd done!” Your friend proclaimed proudly and you struggled to meet her again without feeling like your whole face and the tips of your ears were burning up. 

Right on the pink of her tongue she had tied the stem into a tiny knot which she displayed proudly. 

“You...did that with your tongue?” 

“Mm-hm!” 

Your hands reduced back to their clammy state, and they found the grass between your own folded legs to find something to do. 

“That's...that’s pretty cool…” 

“I know right?!” 

Back came your friend's little dimples, and this time your chest started to feel like it was swelling with heat. 

Stop looking, stop looking…

“I can teach you how to do it some day if you’d like.” Ryujin’s tone dropped lower, and more serious in the way that some had thought to be intimidating. To you, there was nothing more that could make you feel the beat of your own heart more obviously. 

“Teach me? How??” 

The question felt like a butterfly in your lips, fluttering and ticklish, light and uncertain. You met her eyes the best you could; even though you knew that there was nothing about her that you didn’t already know, or that was threatening. 

Your friend tilted her head, inspecting you and the way that you could barely keep your glance away from her lips--stained just a little red from the cherries--then smiled. 

“W-what? What is it? Why are you smiling?” 

She sighed, and craned forward on one of her hands in the grass, bridging the distance between the two of you to caress down the side of your face, all the way to your jaw with the back of her fingers. 

“You’re just too cute.” 

“Hm?” Your chest threw itself up and down, and you could thinly feel the breath that tried to fill your lungs when she was this close. 

“I just can’t handle it any more.” 

“Me?” 

Ryunjin nodded, softening her eyes until they were nearly closed, and rid the two of you of all space, leaning over just so you could feel the weight of her chest nearly pressing into yours. At first, she placed the lightest of kisses into you, so light that it barely brushed against your lips, but merely imprinted upon them. She leaned back, leaving you with the ghost of a feeling of her upon you. It felt a bit unfair how fleeting it was, and how she looked at you like that: smug as ever, but as blissful as she always was. 

Your breaths tried to make sense of it all, if it had just happened, and what to think of it. As quick as it was, all you could want was to feel it again. 

“Ryu--” 

She cradled both sides of your face in hers, leaning in with more fervor and parting your lips with hers, leaving you to squeak from the sudden movement. You couldn’t figure out how to kiss back at first, or if you should hold her too. Your head felt like it was spinning in circles from your disbelief when you could taste the tiny tang of the sweet and sour cherries which lingered on her lips. She rubbed her thumbs into your cheeks, and angled you better to let her growing smile paint your own mouth from corner to corner. 

At last, you were able to find a rhythm which suited you, and you kissed her right back. She giggled at your stroke of confidence and the vibrations made your whole body tingle. Your feet had surely fallen asleep where you had folded them beside you, but the numb feeling of them dissolved once her hands fell to your shoulder where she held to you tightly. The pressure from the tips of her fingers made you shiver, and you too smoothed down the pink shine of her hair. 

The warm and ticklish feeling of her tongue grazed your lower lip where she changed her approach and deepened her kiss. The heat of tongues finally met in the middle testing and learning more of the other the closer that you became, and tiny airy gasps got stuck between both of your curiosity. In your lap, her hands found yours and they laced together and held tight; each digit wrapping the other and becoming one with the eagerness of her thumb rubbing little circles into the squishy parts of your hand. 

After the heat of your passion started to melt, you found yourself hiding your giddy laughter the best you could once she started to peck at your lips over and over until you felt like she had kissed you so close to the brim that you would overflow. 

“I said that you’re cute and I mean it!” She snuck the phrase in between a couple more kisses, eliciting you to fold up in your giddy embarrassment from the compliment. 

Ryunjin pulled away, and popped another cherry into her mouth from the bundle, then threw her arms around your shoulders. You simply let your hands rest in her lap covered by the plaid of her skirt; shaking from the release of the endorphins and the adrenaline. 

“Ryujin...I wanted to tell you that I’ve had a crush on you for a...really long time…” You shied, but she brought your chin back to look at her directly. 

“Good. Me too.” 

You couldn’t even process the combination of her words for them to make sense. White noise filled your ears, even though it should have been obvious from the way that she had kissed you like that. 

“Oh! Here. I wanted to give this to you too. Something to remember me by.” 

She reached for her bag, and pulled out a white-out pen from the front pocket. The Polaroid had faded into its full color, and she focused with her tongue peeking from her mouth as she wrote the message: 

see you soon <3 

- ryujinnie 

Over her head in the picture, she doodled a few hearts, then she blew on the ink to dry it. 

“For you!” 

You took the picture with your hands still thoroughly shaking, and all you could utter was a “thanks” while you took in your friend looking as gorgeous as she always was. You knew then that you would treasure the image forever, and the day which it was taken. 

“Who knows,” Ryujin started, and let her head fall to your shoulder where she nuzzled in, “This might be the last that you’ll see of my pink hair too.” 

You turned the picture over, already sensing how it made your heart feel like it was aching sticky and sweet, just like the cherries. 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses! 

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @lunarskzzz  @yourdaddychan @bubblelixie @spnobsessedmemes @cherrychngkyn @iwanttobangchan @dom--minnie @waterthemoon @pastelracha @mistakensilence @hotgorloikawa @bowlofblueberries @lmhmins @eunaeiekim 

[manonblaqkbeak]

Dating and Goodreads

Back for Day 8-Blind date (how the hell do u guys come up with good title fics i struggle so bad lol). I wasn’t really going anywhere with this one, but when i read all of the others and saw how fun the fics were, i decided to finish this one.

also for Summertime and Fresh Strawberries, I deliberately left it blank but I can’t hold onto the secret bc two people were curious as to what happened, so i’ll let the rest of you know that aelin and rowan decided to keep summer and be a cute little family, bc im a sucker for happy endings lol (unless its angst, it’s safe to assume that all my rowaelin fics have happy endings bc they’ve all ready been thru so much and even in alt fics i need them to be happy lmao)

anyway, on to the next one. hope you enjoy!

1.8k words

cw: none

Aelin was a confident woman, something that she was proud of. But that didn't mean that there weren't times she didn't feel self-conscious or awkward and full of doubt.

Because right now, all those negative feelings were swimming inside of her.

And those feelings were just magnified today, especially since she had gotten fired only a few hours beforehand. It was utterly unexpected, she had never received any prior warnings, and while she was a fighter, Aelin didn't feel like stepping into the ring for this one. Not when her boss was a demon from hell that made life unbearable and she had to physically push herself into entering the work building.

Aelin told herself that it was for the best. She was miserable there and hated working in an office typing up the worlds most boring reports and working in a space that was entirely too drab.

But she wasn't looking forward to job hunting. Aelin was aware that she could ask her friends for favours, but if Aelin did something wrong, she didn't want it reflected back onto whoever helped her.

And she was still a little peeved over the damned argument she had online again with that haughty prick on Goodreads. Aelin wasn't sure why those arguments kept going, but each time she would post a review, White Tailed Hawk would respond, telling her that she read the book wrong and this and that and blah blah blah.

Aelin repaid the favour each time, telling him how he was wrong and he had no reading comprehension skills. And on and on it went until Aelin or whoever the fuck that guy was went back to their own lives.

Depressingly, it was the most fun she had some days.

Shaking her head, Aelin forced herself to think of the now and not of her shitty day. Still she sighed, not quite believing that she had agreed to this blind date. Couldn't believe that she had let Aedion convince her it was a good idea.

Aelin had said no at first, after Aedion had voiced his offer, and her cousin left it at that. But days went past, and he would bring up the topic of Rowan, about the things he had said that day, how his dry sense of humour took some time to get used to but once you figured it out, he was actually pretty funny, how he had finished a project perfectly and this and that.

But it got to her, annoyingly. So the other day when he was helping her out with some housework that was a two person job, Aelin told him to set up this date. Aedion cheered as if it was the best thing he had ever heard, telling her how she and Rowan were the perfect match for each other.

Aelin rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything of the assessment.

She had only agreed because it was getting frustrating being asked at every family event if she was dating someone, when she was going to give her parents grandchildren (that question pissed her off the most, as if Aelin was nothing but a birthing machine and that was all Aelin could contribute to society), and who was going to look after her when she was old if she didn't have children (because apparently carers didn't exist).

Aelin was also lonely—she could entertain herself just fine, but she did like the idea of coming home and talking to someone that could respond. She loved Fleetfoot and her enthusiasm when Aelin came home, but human companionship would be nice.

But Aelin didn't have high-hopes for this date because the universe liked to kick Aelin's ass from time to time, she suspected that they were going to hate each other.

Taking a deep breath, Aelin got out of her car, smoothed down her romper and went inside the restaurant, head held high.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't believe that he was about to go on a blind date. That Aedion had convinced him to go out with his younger cousin. He hadn't dated anyone since Lyria and he knew that his dating skills were going to be rusty as hell. He had been with Lyria since they were nineteen, married at 23 and divorced at 31; he had been single for the last two years.

It had been...fine, a little strange, after being with someone for so long to find himself a bachelor. Rowan never thought that he would apart from Lyria, but their relationship had just faded. Long before the divorce, it had been more like a housemate relationship than a marriage. He wasn't surprised when his ex-wife had come home after work with divorce papers. He had only stared at the paperwork for an hour before he signed the forms. Truthfully, Rowan was just glad that he was still on good terms with Lyria, that they could still talk to one another from time to time.

Rowan had almost called her earlier today, to ask how the hell dates went, but felt that it would have been crossing some invisible line, so he didn't call and instead had Googled the questions instead.

They didn't really help.

Rowan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, telling himself that if things went wrong, then it wasn't the end of the world. That if he had to be a bachelor for the rest of his life, then that was fine. He had plenty of ways of keeping himself busy—he had a good career, a nice house, plenty of books to read and to argue online about them with.

He had one earlier today, actually, with Queen of Wildfire about a new release that Rowan had eagerly read within days of its release. And once again, he ended up with an argument with the woman about the messages and themes within the book.

It was stupid, he knew, to be at his age and to be fighting online with a stranger, but something about this woman just had his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Some days he looked forward to it, as embarrassing as that was to admit. He didn't really want to look into himself to figure out what it all meant.

Eyes drifting to the dashboard, Rowan realised that his date was about to start. Popping a mint into his mouth and smoothing out his clothes, Rowan took a deep breath and left the car and went to his first date in twelve years.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be too bad.

X X X X X X

The date had started out a little awkward, but that wasn't a surprise to Aelin, because what blind date started smoothly?

It picked up after Rowan admitted that he was divorced and that he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do. Aelin appreciated that stark honesty and admitted that she too had no idea what to do.

Since then, the conversation went well, the food was good and Aelin had even swiped a few bites of his dinner because it just looked so much better than hers. Rowan had playfully grumbled underneath his breath, but smiled as he said it.

It was going really well. Maybe the universe had decided to give her a break for the rest of this evening. There was a part of her that maybe wondered if they would have sex, because the man did look fucking fantastic, but at the same time, she didn't want to rush anything in case this actually turned into something more.

“What's the dumbest thing that you've done recently or in the past?” Aelin asked. There was no such thing as small talk between them—Aelin had all ready asked if he believed in aliens and was glad when he said yes, because “it's ridiculous to think that we're alone in this wide universe of ours. It makes sense that there'd be other lifeforms out there.” Which was pretty damned close to Aelin's reasoning as well, so asking him about stupid moments felt like nothing in comparison.

Rowan smirked at the question and took a moment to think before answering. “I engage in online arguments.”

“Really? About what, exactly?”

“It's stupid. But my all my arguments occur on Goodreads of all places. Not Facebook, or YouTube, or Twitter, but Goodreads. It's never anything insulting but just arguments about how wrong some people's in depth reviews are.”

“Fair enough,” Aelin said, “I've been known to do the same thing as you. There's this one user on there, White Tailed Hawk—a stupid name if you ask me—and he just never...” Aelin stopped when she noticed that he stopped eating and was just looking at her weirdly. “Rowan? Are you okay?”

“Do you, by any chance, go under the name of Queen of Wildfire?”

Aelin blinked, and then blinked again, and once the pieces fell into place, she knew right then and there that the universe really hated her. She let out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing throughout the space. Aelin wasn't really sure what to say, because it was true what he said; it had never been insulting, but ending up on a date with the man she had regularly arguments with was just...she had no words, other then, “It really is a stupid name.” She took a sip of her wine, needing to do something other than wanting to bang her head against the table.

“I couldn't think of anything else to write.” And it wasn't also his favourite animal, he had told her that earlier.

They lapsed back into the awkward silence of earlier, both picking at their food.

But Aelin didn't want this night to go to waste. “It'd be stupid to let something as small as this get in the way of whatever this could be,” Aelin said, deciding to be blunt.

Rowan nodded. “It would be. Although I have to be honest, you really have no idea what you're talking about when it comes to Call of the Wild Winds.”

Aelin just about stormed off when she noticed his playful smile, his eyes sparkling bright. Laughing, Aelin threw a bread-roll at his handsome face, and once he caught it and split it in half for them to share, they went back to their earlier conversation.

And when Rowan walked her to her apartment door and kissed her on the cheek goodnight with a promise to text her later, Aelin couldn't help herself by telling him that all his opinions sucked and that he had no idea what he was talking about—all with a big smile on her face as Rowan sputtered as she closed the door on his face.

They spent the rest of the night texting, and all of Aelin's earlier woes faded away. And she looked forward to tomorrow, despite the horror of job hunting. Maybe the universe will finally let things turn around for the better for her.

Aelin went to sleep with a smile on her face, all because of White Tailed Hawk.

And on the other side of the city, Rowan also fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[minor-solemnity]

Hi, you’re writing is so beautiful, thank you for sharing it :)

Can I request a Tom x Reader where they take a mini vacation somewhere really secluded and they’re so happy to be finally spending time with eachother and they’re both just being super domestic and sweet.

Thank you! 🤍

Thank you my love! This prompt is giving me life istg, sweet and domestic Tom is my jam <3 I hope you like it (also am I basically writing what my dream holiday is? it's definitely possible)

Tag List : @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute @jinxqsu​  @naps-and-lemons​  @riddles-wifey​ (send me a message if you'd want to be added to the tag list!)

We are Mosaics

Tom turns to look at you and you recognise the determined glint in his eye and the set line of his lips which lets you know that a plan is forming and he won’t be dissuaded easily. “The Malfoy’s have a cottage in the Dolomites. I’ll talk to Abraxas.” He says it with such finality that you’re almost surprised before you remember that this is Tom. Tom who’s had his Slytherin cohort eating out of the palm of his hand for years, Tom who had marriage offers from a few of the lesser-known pureblood families, Tom who puts the fear of God into the hearts of most men. Of course, Abraxas would give him his family cottage.

You’re sitting on your sofa in the small flat you’ve rented above Flourish and Blotts glaring at the letter that sits innocently on the coffee table in front of you when Tom apparates through your wards. Your mood, which has been growing increasingly dark with the setting sun lifts somewhat when you see him. His jacket folded neatly over his arm and his white shirt slightly rumpled from the day, his hair, which he styles with care every morning is falling in soft waves across his forehead. In short, he looks like every one of your daydreams and you’re filled with a contented sort of triumph that it’s you who he comes home to most evenings. Your flat is small and certainly not big enough for you both to live comfortably, but he spends more time here than he does at his own, equally poky, abode.

His gaze flickers over the letter on the coffee table and you can see him putting the pieces together. “Bad news, I take it?” He asks in a slightly cautious tone that tells you he’s waiting for your imminent breakdown. You nod and sigh as you push yourself up from where you’ve been sulking for most of the afternoon. You gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame, the same way you always do, the same way you always have, and nestle yourself against him, allowing yourself to feel comforted and protected by the feeling of his arms around you.

“I just don’t understand why no one will give me a chance. I had the best marks in Arithmancy in the year,” You grumble into his chest. “Did you hear that Pearson got that Potions Mastery? He got an A in his NEWTS, Tom. Why does he get to do a Mastery and all I get is rejection letters?” You sigh because you know the answer. It’s the same reason that Tom wasn’t offered any of the prodigious jobs at the Ministry despite being the most talented wizard you’ve ever met with a resume that proves it. Wizarding society might be more progressive than the muggle world in some ways, but in the ways that matter to you and Tom, it was still stuck in the Middle Ages.

Eventually, you disentangle yourself from him and you spend the rest of the evening curled up on the sofa with him, reading and chatting idly about the stranger aspects of your respective magical theory texts. “Did you know about the coven in the Dolomites from the 1450s?” He asks, eyes trained on the page in front of him.

“Mmm, they’re the first known herders of thestrals, weren’t they?” He nods and you smile softly, “I’ve always wanted to visit there, you know? Ever since we learnt about thestrals in fourth year.”

You don’t think anything of it but Tom turns to look at you and you recognise the determined glint in his eye and the set line of his lips which lets you know that a plan is forming and he won’t be dissuaded easily. “The Malfoy’s have a cottage in the Dolomites. I’ll talk to Abraxas.” He says it with such finality that you’re almost surprised before you remember that this is Tom. Tom who’s had his Slytherin cohort eating out of the palm of his hand for years, Tom who had marriage offers from a few of the lesser-known pureblood families, Tom who puts the fear of God into the hearts of most men. Of course, Abraxas would give him his family cottage.

“The perks of having rich friends, I suppose,” You say with a small laugh and the smile he gives you in return is indulgent.

***

When Tom had first told you about Abraxas’ family cottage, you had imagined that your definition of a cottage and the Malfoy’s would be vastly different. You’d gone with Tom to one of the Malfoy Christmas parties once and had almost cried at the luxury and decadence. You’re pleasantly surprised though to find that the cottage is exactly as you’d hoped it would be: sturdy white stone, lattice windows, and a multitude of wild mountain flowers that make the place look like a fae dwelling. “This is gorgeous,” You murmur as you wander through the garden, letting the warm summer mountain air fill your lungs. “I never would have thought that the Malfoy’s would own somewhere quite so homely.” Behind you, Tom laughs softly.

“I think there’s a distant cousin who fancied herself a Marie Antoinette figure,” He says, stepping closer to you and resting his chin on the top of your head. “Are you happy?” He asks and you hum in response, bringing your arms up behind you to card through his hair. You twist around pull him closer and his hands drop to your waist as he kisses you.

You spend most of the rest of the day exploring the paths and trails close to the cottage whilst Tom sets up the wards. The worries and stresses of London seem so far away and you relish in the slight breeze against your bare arms and the feeling of long grass and wildflowers against your legs.

You think back to your childhood, to the holidays spent in English seaside resorts with your parents; when the war broke out, the holidays stopped. Your father disappeared into a trench somewhere and your mother had taken you back to her parents home and left the muggle world for good but she was never quite the same after. Hogwarts and the wizarding world, in general, offered you an escape. A home away from the sorrow of watching your family drift and sink into unspoken grief and sadness. You’d found Tom somewhere along the way, both of you finding some kind of solace and familiarity in each other. A tentative friendship had formed that had turned to a tentative romance.

You wonder sometimes, why he sticks around. Unlike the boys he surrounded himself at school with, you can’t offer him money or power or glory. You’ve had to fight for every opportunity given to you, just the same as him, and it’s still not enough. In your more anxious moments, you think about his future and your uncertainty over where you fit into it. Now, under the clear Italian skies, you think that maybe the answer is obvious: you fit together like pieces of a mosaic. Each of your broken and jagged edges finding a home next to his.

***

“You’re aware that you’re a witch, aren’t you?” Tom’s voice floats through the open doorway and you chuckle from where you’re standing on one of the kitchen workbenches. You glance over your shoulder and find him watching you with a mix of exasperation, confusion, and mild amusement. He walks over to you and stares at the pile of dough you’re kneading, his eyebrows knitting together. “I’ll get Abraxas to send one of his house-elves.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head fondly. Tom’s disdain for all things muggle has diminished since you’ve known him, or at least, he’s less likely to voice his opinions to you. “That’s not the point, making bread is meditative. Come on, here,” You gesture for him to take over and watch with poorly hidden amusement as he frowns and takes a step back. “You once made Peeves cry out of fear, Tom, you can’t honestly be intimidated by some flour and water.” You raise an eyebrow and try to smother your grin with an unimpressed expression. You’ve found that the easiest way of getting Tom to do anything is to suggest that he can’t.

As expected, he glowers and rolls his sleeves up. “I’m not intimidated, darling, I just don’t see the point in slaving away over something that could easily be accomplished with magic,” He says smoothly even as he approaches the dough and gingerly pokes it. This time, you don’t manage to hide your laughter and you cover his hands with yours and begin to guide him through the motions. A companionable silence falls upon the two of you and you relish the feeling of his chest against your back, his soft breathing in your ear, his hands moving under yours. Sunshine filters through the open window and you listen to the distant birdsong in quiet contentment.

Once the bread has baked, the two of you wander along the mountain trail that leads to a secluded lake. The water is crystal clear and the kind of icy blue that you’ve only seen in paintings. Tom leads you to a small jetty and conjures a pile of blankets and pillows that you quickly set about making a nest out of. You sit cross-legged, Tom’s head resting in your lap as he reads passages from the book he’s brought with him out loud to you. “According to legend, the Monti Pallidi used to be formed of dark looming rock face and the lakes were murky and black, but there was a princess from the moon who took refuge in the Dolomites and to ease her homesickness, the mountains remade themselves with pale stone and clear waters.”

“She must have been lonely, being so far away from home,” You murmur, carding a hand through his hair as you tilt your head to stare at the pale mountains that surround you. “You know, I sometimes think of you a bit like that, like you’re a moon and I’m a satellite in your orbit.” He hums softly, and you’re not sure if it's in agreement or contemplation. You shift slightly and reach for the food that you’ve packed: fresh fruit, cured meats, hard Italian cheese, a bottle of wine that you’d found in the cellars (no doubt worth more than Tom makes in a year), and of course, the bread you’d made earlier.

You tear off a couple of chunks of bread and pass one to Tom, who takes it and sniffs it delicately before he takes a small bit. You breathe a huff of laughter at his behaviour and he lazily reaches up to cuff the side of your head. “See, it’s good, isn’t it? This kind of thing is always better when you make it yourself,” He rolls his eyes but tears off another chunk, which you take to mean he is, in fact, enjoying it.

The afternoon fades into evening, and twilight descends upon the mountains. You rearrange yourselves so that your sat side by side, gazing up at the moon that is just becoming visible. “You know, I would do more than remake a mountain range if you asked.” Warmth settles deep in your bones despite the chill in the night air. Tom turns to watch you and you don’t bother hiding your smile. “I would remake the entire world for you.” You don’t doubt him either, Tom is a force of nature, always has been. He’s a visionary and you’re not always sure if that’s a good thing, but, years ago, he saw something in you and now he looks at you as though you are everything that he wants in the world.

You reach over and hold his hand, letting his touch ground you, “For now, this is enough.” You mean this moment, sitting here with him. You also mean the life you are slowly patching together, one mosaic tile at a time.

[quietmyfearswith]

obssessed ; preferences

warnings — stalking, nonconsensual location/location tracking, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, knife, mentions of killing someone (no actual murder)

characters — dark!andy barber, dark!steve rogers, dark!ransom drysdale, dark!bucky barnes, dark!clark kent, dark!syverson, dark!august walker

a/n — THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH DARK THEMES,, dni if youre not 18+,, just a thought that played around in my mind so yeah. lmk what you think!

their love language | with their little | when you’re insecure | slipping into little space | fussy | happy hoelidays | cartoons

masterlist

To celebrate the case they won they held a little party at the office; though Andy wasn’t in a celebratory mood. With his hand clasped together against his lips, his eyes were watching closely his phone screen as he was awaiting a text from his beloved girlfriend who promised to be here. “Hey Andy, we’re popping the champagne already; are you joining us?” Tearing his attention away from the device, he smiled a bit as he told them, “I will once Y/N comes over.”  Tess, the assistant who invited him, chuckled a bit before leaving him alone in his office, “Staring at the phone won’t make her come over any quicker you know?” It was something they never really confronted Andy about — almost everyone at the office noticed how he had a firm grip around the girl, but no one dared to question or comment about it because they know how the skilled lawyer would come after them once they do — but silently they understood that if you spoke, let alone looked at her, badly it wouldn’t end well for everyone.

As the door shut once Tess walked away, his intense gaze returned once again to the mobile phone as he awaits a response from his girl. “Baby! I’m here now,” Snapping his head to the source of the sound, he immediately stood up and hugged Y/N as he let out a relieved sigh. “Where were you? And most importantly why didn’t you answer my text or return my calls hm?” Rolling her eyes with how her boyfriend was grilling her as if she was one of the witnesses he had on his case she apologized, “I’m sorry, baby. I got held up at the salon because my mani took longer than expected,” Her manicured nails then raised her phone to show how even as she pressed the button it wouldn’t turn on, “And my phone ran out of battery.” Wrapping an arm around her, he removed her bag and left it by the coat hanger and guided them to where the party was. “I’m gonna buy you a portable charger, baby; that way you won’t ever run out.” Innocently, she smiled and thanked him with a kiss on the lips before saying hello to his colleagues whom she got along well. That way the tracker I put on your phone will always be turned on, he deviously thought to himself as he sipped some of his champagne.

“Another long day huh?” August asked as he peeked his head around Y/N’s cubicle. It was quite odd to say the least — a field agent of his caliber not having his own office instead opting for a cubicle beside one of CIA’s lanky desk jockey? It was one of the questions she asked the infamous Hammer as he settled on the office cubicle beside hers, “Why settle for a tiny office station?” She asked to which he chuckled at as he explained, “Half the year I’m somewhere around the world; so what’s the point of having a big office if I don’t enjoy it all year round?” It was a good, solid point — one she so easily believed without a second thought — but unfortunately it was all a lie. Ever since Walker saw her once at a meeting Sloane held, he was hooked. Initially it was just her beauty and energy, but as he got to know her more he fell for who and what she was. “Yeah, I might need to stay a bit longer than usual,” She replied as she lifted the files she held, pinning the blame on the current target that needed to be researched on. “How ‘bout some coffee then?” Ears ringing with joy at his offer, she looked at him with an appreciative look as she nodded. Chuckling at her reaction, he stood up and trodden over the pantry. Installing surveillance devices on her work computer and cameras around her desk paid off since it allowed him to know everything there is to discover about her — her favorite artists, pet peeves, how she liked her coffee, home address, mobile phone number, even her social security number!

“How’d you know how I like my coffee?” She asked after taking a sip of the hot beverage; with a smile he shrugs as he pretends to get back to the work on his computer, “Well it was just a wild guess.” In her mind however, she did find her tastes to be quite basic and didn’t doubt August which was a relief to the field agent. “I think I’ll be going home now,” She announced as she shut off her computer and began to clean up her desk. “Need a ride home?” He knew she did, since he overheard her talking to a mechanic earlier that day about a defect her car suddenly had, “Yeah I do actually, but I wouldn't want to hassle you.” Quickly putting on his brown coat, he was standing up as he fished his keys out, “Nonsense! I don’t mind helping a colleague out.” Conceding, she took up his generous offer with a smile. As they were making an easy-going conversation, Y/N gave her address; but what she didn’t know is that not only did August know by heart where she lived, but he had also paid her house a visit multiple times in the past.

With an arm draped around her shoulder, Bucky and Y/N walked around the farmer’s market; the latter whined endlessly to her boyfriend how she wanted to buy some products. And though the thought of going out in the crowds wasn’t at all appealing to him, the need to make her smile made him go anyway. Leading him up to the different stalls, the former Winter Soldier couldn’t help but chuckle at how she would coo and be all excited for the different groceries, clothes, and figurines. “Slow down, doll. The market’s not going anywhere,” Bucky told her as he tailed behind her as he carried over 10 different bags filled with her purchases. It wouldn’t normally be a problem for him to look after her, but as the path became filled with people and him being preoccupied with the bags he held made him unable to keep a grip on her. With worried, drifting eyes, he was searching for his girlfriend who seemed to have blended right up with the bustling crowds, “Y/N? Doll? Where are you?” 

Setting the bags down on a vacant table, he then spotted her standing by a stall that sold her favorite food. His relieved smile was soon being replaced with a scowl as she was talking and laughing with another man. Whipping out the knife he kept on the pocket of his jeans, he was ready to torture the man. But as Y/N turned to him with a wide smile, it had him hiding the knife out of her sight, “Bucky! Look it’s Sam, my cousin!” Upon her introducing who the man was, the knife that was hidden was being kept back into its original hiding spot before he shook hands with the man, “Oh! Nice meeting you same, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend.” As they shook hands Sam had given them both a look as he sassed, “I know who you are! This one,” He referred to Y/N by pinching her side as she smacked his hand and giggled, “Won’t stop gushing about you every time we talk.” Seeing how she was clinging to his metal arm as she nuzzled her cheek to his side was all the confirmation Bucky needed; Sam then excused himself, “Well you got to swing by one of our family gatherings, yeah Bucky?” Nodding, they all exchanged farewells before the couple headed to the table where their bags still were — thankfully not stolen. “You shouldn’t have run off like that, doll. Got me real worried for a second,” He gently scolded her with a stern look. Pouting, she defended herself, “I’m sorry, Bucky! I just saw these cute little mason jars, but they were too expensive so I walked away. Then I smelt something delicious so I followed it and it turned out it was my favorite food; but Sam was there so I chatted with him instead.” Ending her enthusiastic breakdown of events with a sweet peck on the lips, he told her, “Doll you know that I would have bought you anything your sweet heart wanted. Just don’t go anywhere without me okay?”

The soft ping on his phone made Jensen pause his movements as he was selecting  a movie that you both would watch; eyebrow raising when he noticed that a certain “Steve” was texting you. Opening the text through the software he installed on both your phones allowed him to see every activity you do on your phone — but it wasn’t the only feature it had for it also allowed him to change the texts, emails, and other settings on her phone. A frown graced his handsome features as he read the text, “ Hey Y/N I can squeeze you in on Thursday, at 3pm. Are you free by then?” Displeased, he then sent a text to the guy saying how his assistance wouldn’t be needed any more. And he edited the text Steve sent her to make it seem that it was Steve that texted how he could no longer accommodate her. “Got some chips and chocolates!”

Her excited voice brought his attention from his phone screen to her excited face as she plopped herself beside him. “Thanks, babe,” Kissing her forehead, he sneakily looked over to where she was unlocking her phone and reading the text; noticing how she pouted he inquired, “What's wrong, babe?” Snuggling up to his side after sending a reply, she explained, “Steve said he can’t meet up with me anymore.” As he was rubbing her back, he faked the symphony, “Aw that’s too bad; why did you even need to meet up with Steve anyway?” She did not pick up on the faint hints of darkness on his tone, “He was my dentist! He was going to determine whether I need to have surgery for my tooth, remember?” At the revelation of who Steve really was, the  communications and technology expert felt slightly guilty but he was quick to reassure her, “Don’t worry baby I know a dentist who can help you.” Feeling her hum appreciatively against him, she planted a kiss on his cheek as they both focused on the movie; and as her eyes were trained on the screen, he whispered lowly, “You're only gonna be around people I trust, babe.”

There was a reason Sy had chosen a house that was nearly thirty minutes away from downtown — it was so their friends and families would feel lazy or discouraged to visit them due to the distance and time it took to get there. “Where on earth do you need to be today, petal?” Sy’s morning voice huskily rasped out in her ear; they both had just woken up and as Y/N was moving to stand up from the bed, she was being trapped in his muscular arms for a hug. Giggling at how he was being, she rolled around so they would be facing each other, “‘M going out with my friends today — Sophia and Rose have been bugging me about how we don’t hang out as often anymore.” At the mention of her going out and leaving him, Sy’s mood deflated and his eyes went wide; this wasn’t how he pictured this day going. “But petal, you’re gonna leave me all alone in this big house? ‘M gonna miss you so much,” The former army captain whined as she got out of his grasp and heading to wash up in their ensuite bathroom — not before bopping his nose as she reminded him, “Well you chose this house, bear. Plus, it’s only just for a while.”

Sitting up on their bed the man could only cross his arms and grumble, which was interrupted with her phone ringing. After seeing that it was her friend, Sophia, who was calling he then answered it for her, “Hey Y/N! Can’t wait to see you; we’ll pick you up in 20 minutes okay?” Taking the opportunity, Sy then decided to fabricate a lie, “Oh hey Sophia, it’s Sy,” He paused before saying the next parts in a hushed tone, “Y/N won’t be able to make it since she hurt her foot two days ago when going down the stairs. I know she was so looking forward to seeing you. Will do, bye.” With a smirk, the man set her phone back down on the nightstand, just in time since Y/N exited the bathroom, “Who was that, bear?” Making his way over to her, he hugged her as he kissed her forehead, “Sophia, calling to say she’s gonna have to cancel because she’s sick. And Rose was called in to work.” It was clear on her face that she was disappointed because she was looking forward to catching up with her friends, but her boyfriend tried to mirror her expression when in reality he was overjoyed with getting her all to himself. “Guess that leaves just the two of us, petal. Don’t worry, we’re gonna have fun today.” 

“Fucking hell,” Ransom cursed as he was speeding to go to where your tracker said you were. He had gifted you a necklace six months into the relationship, and it was costly not just because of the intricate design it has but also because he had put a tracker on it to keep tabs of your whereabouts — not that you knew about it. You both had a fight the night before, and it didn’t end well since it led to the two of you sleeping in separate rooms and Ransom drinking away his misery. So imagine his surprise when he woke up and found how you weren’t in the house and he noticed as well how a duffel bag that was in your shared walk-in closet was gone; the writer thought of the worst possibilities. And his anger went through the roof when he saw how you were at his grandfather’s house; it was one thing that you guys fought, but to involve his family in this? That was bound to be a fucking mess. As he parked the car by the driveway, he stepped out in rushed steps that were slowed down by the two dogs barking and crowding him, “Shoo, get away, mutts!” He scared them away and entered the house, “Alright where is she?” His yell echoed through the walls as Marta who was walking from the kitchen and into the foyer was startled, “Hugh, what brings you here?” 

“Where’s Y/N?” Knowing Y/N’s secret, the nurse swallowed nervously as she reluctantly told the truth, “She’s with Harlan at the gathering area.” On his way there he noticed how there were some party decorations — some colorful streamers and balloons — on the walls before he saw his girlfriend who was looking through something on her iPad, “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice caused her to gasp out loud as she looked like a deer caught off guard by headlights; standing up she walked towards him, her hands gripping onto his forearms, “We fight and you end up here to my grandfather to what? Complain and seek refuge?” Though his words stung she chose not to feed onto his anger, “Can you promise to listen out to me first?” Seeing how she was calm and not as mad as the night before, he gulped down and nodded. “When you accused me of cheating on you, it hurt because I knew that that wasn’t the truth,” She paused briefly to monitor his reactions, and she knew that he would then ask what was up with her behavior so she addressed it before being prompted to, “And the reason why I seem to be distant or busy these past few days is because I was planning on throwing a surprise party for you — for the success of your book.” At her explanation he could feel his entire body relax at the relief of him not having to kill anyone; also it made sense to him why his grandfather’s house had some ornaments hanging. Pulling her close to him, he hugged her tight as he kissed the top of her head, “Princess, I was so close to killing someone, you have no idea.” Swatting his back, she laughed at him, “I think you owe me an apology, mister. Not only did you ruin the surprise but you also accused me of cheating on you.” Smirking at her he replied, “I’ll make it up to you for the rest of our lives, princess, don’t you worry about it.” And he meant every single word of that promise; for he knew he wanted no one else but her.

The mission went well since the new agents did their jobs well — even exceeding Steve’s expectations of how they would handle the pressure and what decisions they would make in order for the mission to be a success. As the quinjet landed and they were given the clearance to exit the aircraft, the super soldier frowned when he took note how his girlfriend wasn’t anywhere near the landing pad. She always welcomes me back, he thought. The weight of his duffle bag on his arm didn’t matter to him as the feeling of worry and anxiety about his girl was way heavier. Immediately, he headed to their shared living quarters where he hoped she would be, “Kitten? I’m home,” His voice bounced off the walls as he dropped his bag on the floor and looked through every nook of the room. Now his anger and confusion was through the roof and he then decided to consult, “Friday, where’s Y/N?”

“She’s at the common area with Sam and Pietro, Captain,” As soon as AI mentioned where she was he found himself striding briskly towards her location. If she was with Bucky, it wouldn’t have alarmed him as much. But the Captain had a hunch that Sam secretly liked his girl and had plans of stealing him away from him; while Pietro was a natural flirt and joker. Even just by standing at the doorway he heard his beloved’s giggles as Sam recalled an exaggerated story. “There you are, kitten,” He let out, relieved upon seeing his girl alive in one piece. Turning her head, she smiled widely upon seeing her boyfriend and abandoned her conversation with the two Avengers to run to Steve with open arms. “Steve! I missed you so much,” She squealed as the super soldier caught her effortlessly and wrapped his thick arms tightly around her figure. “What are you doing with these troublemakers, kitten?” He wondered out loud, completely ignoring two offended looks from the said men. “I was bored of waiting for you in our room so I went here,” She was cut off from her explanations when Sam added, “That, and we missed hanging out with Y/N!” Even though Y/N giggled, Steve was trying his best to control his rage; but Pietro wanted to push him further to his limits by saying, “You hog her all the damn time we forget how great her company is!” the only girl in the room squealed as she was being carried off by Steve, “Well I don’t want you around her that’s why I hog my girl around.” Everyone around the super soldier still thought that he was joking and decided to laugh it off; Sam’s voice called out to them once more to tell a joke before they both had fully exited the room, “Yeah? Well why don’t you just lock her up in a secluded house then?” That’s exactly my plan, Sam, Steve smirked to himself quietly.

Clark needed an escape that night; for someone who has inhumane powers the stress of his job at the Daily Planet can definitely take a toll on one person — so he decided to go flying around at night, just to take his mind off things. As he was flying, he sensed trouble and decided to check out what was happening. It was a woman who was being bothered by her ex who was clearly under the influence, “Goddamn it, Alex! I told you I don’t want to talk to you!” Y/N was trying her best to push him away, but even in his drunken state he had a�� tight grip on her forearms. “Just wanna talk to you, baby,” He sing-songed as he tried to push his body closer to hers. “I think she made it clear that she doesn’t want to,” A booming voice spoke up, causing Y/N to gasp out loud when she saw Superman himself; Alex however grunted at the searing pain on his shoulder caused by the mysterious man, the pain weakening his hold on the girl to the point where he tore his hands away from Y/N to push away the weight on his shoulder. In his drunken state, he failed to piece together how it was the infamous hero in front of him — instead all he saw was a tall, muscular man and decided he didn’t want to have his face beaten up so he just walked away with his arms up in surrender. “Are you alright, miss?” Clark gently asked the woman who felt relieved she was no longer being bothered by her ass of an ex. “I am, thank you.” She nodded and before she could ask how’d she find him he offered, “Would you need help getting home? Just to make sure he won’t follow you again.” He was quick to clarify, in hopes she won’t find him creepy. “I know you have good intentions, but it’s fine. I don’t think he has the balls, let alone the energy, to bother me. At least for tonight.” With that she waved at the hero goodnight before getting into her car and driving into her apartment — but she didn’t know how up in the sky above, a certain pair of blue eyes followed her journey home.

“Hi! You must be the one who moved next door?” Y/N politely greeted the man as she was leaned by her front door. Clark smiled as he adjusted his glasses — suddenly feeling nervous upon seeing her beautiful face once more, “That is me! Though the one who moved next door is quite a mouthful; you can just call me Clark.” As she laughed at his lame joke she told her name, “And feel free to knock if you need anything, okay?” Taking his nod of agreement as a cue that their conversation ended, she entered her apartment. The son of Jor-El II went inside his own apartment that was directly next to hers  — he did so because days and nights of following her didn’t satiate his hunger for her, so he decided that perhaps this would be a clean way of easing her into a relationship — and busied himself with organizing his belongings in his apartment. Hearing Y/N’s increased heart rate and her voice raised, he opened his door to check out what was going on; and the sight of her ex bothering her once again. “Come on, Y/N! You need to take me back!” Displeased with how the imbecile failed to grasp that Alex should not reach out to his girl anymore. Letting his rage get the best of him, he walked over and pushed Alex off hard enough he landed on his bum, “When a woman says she doesn’t want to see or talk to you, then you better comply with her request.” Gulping down, he recognized the strength as the same one who grabbed onto his shoulder — and now as he was sober Alex decided to respect her wishes and hastily stood up to leave the apartment building. “Are you alright?” Seeing how Clark stood up for her, it made her reminisce about how she was reduced two weeks ago by Superman, “I’m fine, Clark,” She nodded as she grounded herself back to reality and stared into his concerned, blue eyes, “Thank you, by the way.” As he smiled at her she offered him for some snacks in her flat, which he gracefully accepted. “You know, you’re the second person who helped me get rid of Alex,” She mentioned as she handed him a snack; feigning innocence he tilted his head up as he inquired, “Oh? Who’s the other one?” Taking a small bite of the snack, she wiped her mouth free from the crumbs before  replying, “You probably won’t believe it, but it was Superman,” She laughed along with her new neighbor who didn’t find it unbelievable and instead played along as he spoke, “Who’s to say I’m not your personal superhero, beautiful?”

[fanmoose12]

Are you still taking prompt? If you do, I have a request. Hange lives beside Mikasa's house. Levi saw her when he was forced to babysit Mikasa, his cousin, for a day. After that, Levi is really attracted to Hange, he even offered to babysit Mikasa (which he never did before) to see Hange. Levi is that tsundere guy who tends to do stupid things to get his crush attention. He even told Mikasa to accidentally get lost to Hange house so that he has an alibi to talk to her. The rest is up to you 😂

"Mikasa, please."

"No."

"Mikasa, I'm-" he was well above begging, but- "I'm asking you."

Mikasa's dark eyes peered into his. Levi didn't like the look inside them. The annoying brat lifted the corners of her lips, and Levi bit down a curse. If he ever dared to curse in front of his cousin, she'd rat him out in no time. She would tell her mother, or worse, his mother. He still hadn’t forgotten the previous lecture about proper behavior in the presence of children.

"If I help you..." Mikasa twirled a lock of her hair, looking far too innocent for Levi's taste. With Mikasa, innocuous face always meant trouble. "What will I get out of it?"

Kenny's influence in action, Levi thought grimly. Maybe, he should talk with Mikasa's parents about him. Obviously, the fucker wasn't good for their daughter.

Looking at Mikasa, Levi sighed. "I'll buy you an ice-cream."

"Mm," Mikasa raised her gaze to the celling, pressing a finger to her mouth. For a moment, she appeared to be deep in thought. Levi was already starting to celebrate his victory. But then-

"No," she declared. "Ice cream is not enough."

Levi swallowed down a "greedy brat" and offered, "I'll take you to the cinema."

Mikasa grimaced. "I don't want to go to the cinema with you."

Levi closed his eyes, counting to ten. He was going to refrain from calling his cousin a fucking nuisance. Otherwise, his mother would have his head.

"Fine," he grunted, glaring at her. Mikasa met his eyes with an equally dark expression. "What do you want?"

Mikasa smiled, as though she was waiting for this question since the very beginning of their negotiation. 

"You're going to let me stay at your place. And you're going to let me invite Eren and Armin for a sleepover. And you're going to buy us as many snacks as we want."

"Oi-" Levi started only to be interrupted by Mikasa.

"Do you want me to bring Hange-san here or not?"

"...Yes."

Mikasa outstretched her little hand to him. "Do we have a deal then?"

Levi accepted his defeat with a long sigh. "We do," he answered, shaking her hand.

His plan was simple - stupid, Mikasa had called it, but what could that brat know - and Levi was confident in its success.

"That's all I have to do?" Mikasa asked. "Just go to Hange-san's house?"

"And tell her that you're lost." Levi reminded.

"You know that Hange-san is smart, right? She would never believe in this."

"Convince her then."

"But-"

"I'll let you pick any movie you want. And you can stay up all night."

Mikasa narrowed her eyes. "This is manipulation."

Levi shrugged. He was not above exploiting his cousin. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

"Just do your job,” he instructed.

"Fine!" Mikasa stomped her feet, giving him a look so dark Levi was actually impressed. "I'll do it. But you have to promise that you won't bother us during the sleepover."

Levi rolled his eyes, for the thousandth times cursing his cousin. Why in the world she was so goddamn difficult, girls her age should be polite and timid, not so disrespectful and greedy. "Cross my heart and hope to die," he gritted through teeth. "Now go."

***

Glued to the window, Levi intently watched the street, waiting to see Mikasa's gloomy face and - hopefully - the pretty face of her neighbour, Hange Zoe.

Levi had met her a month ago, during the weekend that he was once again forced to spend babysitting his annoying cousin. He was trying to teach Mikasa how to ride a bike, when he saw her for the first time - Hange Zoe was tending to the small garden on her front lawn. Wearing denim overalls and a straw hat, with a soft smile on her pretty, round face, she was a sight Levi couldn't tear his gaze off.

He spent an embarrassingly long moment, staring at her, until Hange finally took notice of him and Mikasa. She greeted his cousin with a wave of a hand, beckoning her to come closer. Reluctantly - Levi wasn't sure if the invitation included him too - he followed after Mikasa.

And that's when he learnt her name. And found out that Hange wasn't tending to a garden, but was actually picking insects for her pet tarantulas. That's when all hope was lost for him.

Hange Zoe was weird. She was messy. She was wild.

And Levi didn't believe in love at first glance, but- ever since that day he couldn't stop thinking about her.

He came to babysit Mikasa next week, and then a week after that. And soon what wasn't love at first sight quickly turned into an insufferable crush that left Levi feeling like he was turning into pathetic, lovesick fool. 

He was thinking about Hange at work and at home. He was thinking about her during breakfast, lunch and dinner. He couldn’t get away from her even in his dreams. Hange took residence in his mind, stubbornly refusing to leave.

Every time they talked - Levi felt like the biggest idiot in the world. When Hange looked at him, his face burned. When she smiled, his heart was racing and his thoughts were turning into a mash. 

Once Hange touched his hand, and Levi thought he was going to faint.

Being close with her was awful, being apart - felt even worse. That's why he had to request the help of his cousin. As annoying as she was, Mikasa was Levi's only link to his crush.

Staring at the empty lawn, Levi tapped his foot impatiently. What was taking Mikasa so long? Hange lived just across the street.

Levi swept his eyes across the road again and- hurriedly backed away from the window, closing the curtain.

Mikasa was almost next to the door. And with her was Hange.

Levi desperately tried to calm his wildly beating heart. It refused to listen to his order. He took a shuddering breath and the doorbell rang. He rushed to answer it.

"Hello!" Hange chirped, as he opened the door.

Their eyes met, and Levi felt his knees turn to jelly. 

"Hi," he echoed quietly.

"This is kinda awkward," Hange chuckled, the sound like a music to Levi's ears. "But I found your cousin sitting on my doorstep? Mikasa said she was lost?" she laughed again, rubbing her neck. "We've been neighbours for years, don't know how that's possible..."

"He made me do it," Mikasa pointed at Levi, a wicked glint in her eyes. "He wanted to talk to you, Hange-san, but couldn't find a reason."

Mikasa was gone as soon as she finished. She ran past Levi and rushed upstairs. He watched her disappear, a thousand curses at the tip of his tongue. Cousin or not, he was going to murder the brat.

"Um, Levi?" Hange's voice distracted him from thinking where he could hide the body. "Did Mikasa-"

"She's an idiot." Levi glowered.

"So that was..."

This was it, Levi decided. Hange gave him a perfect opening. He was either going to confess his feelings or he was going to live out his days as a lonely, pathetic coward. The time has come, now he had to gather all of his courage and-

"Mikasa is very bad at pranks."

...And he was going to die as a coward.

"Oh, alright," Hange nodded, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "I'll go then... If Mikasa was lying and you don't wish to hang out together..."

Oh what a sympathetic, kind person. She was giving him a second chance. Would he be able to use it?

Levi pictured Mikasa's wicked smile and all of the mocking he would have to go through if she finds out that he wasted a perfect opportunity to confess. It gave Levi the strength and resolve he so badly needed.

He took a deep breath, looked Hange in the eyes and-

"Mikasa wasn't actually lying," he whispered.

Instantly, maintaining eye contact became too arduous of a task, and Levi shamefully lowered his gaze.

He thought of closing the door in her face and then changing his name to move to another country, but then- Hange gingerly touched his arm. Her hand was warm and her skin was soft. Levi was dangerously close to swooning.

“Wanna go to my place?” she offered, and Levi thought that if Hange asked, he’d follow her to the ends of Earth. “I can introduce you to Sawney and Bean?” 

“Sawney and Bean?”

“My pet tarantulas!” Hange proudly answered. 

Levi hated spiders. Just the thought of their small hairy legs made him shudder and squirm. But- it was Hange who was asking, and he was sick of being a coward. 

Besides, what was a spider compared to speaking about his feelings? A walk in a park...

“Just let me grab my jacket,” he told Hange. 

The smile she gave him as an answer was bright enough to blind him. 

Maybe, he’ll put off Mikasa’s murder for a while. 

[attllhak]

Adoption AU: Midna

AKA: The one where Twilight got shot.

@tortilla-of-courage @ghostdragonace @sekiumiarashi @anadorablekiwi

Also, mind the tags for this one, since it is the fic where Twi gets shot I did look up the warnings list I gave my best friend when I shared it with them. It shouldn’t be too bad, but better safe than sorry.

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

Twilight wasn’t terribly happy about this arrangement. He understood what Keapora was trying to do, he did, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it.

It was a group project for their history class, about the French revolution. Everyone was assigned a historical figure to research, and at the end of two weeks they would need to present an argument on why their figure shouldn’t be executed. The class would vote, and if you lost then a carrot that Keapora’s daughter, Zelda, or Sun as his family called her since they knew so many Zeldas, dressed up to look like the figures would be executed. Twilight’s brother often helped her, and people didn’t usually survive since everyone loved watching Keapora execute carrot nobles with the tiny, functioning guillotine he had.

Twilight was one of the people that was really valuable in group projects because he actually did the work. He was especially sought after because he never made a big deal of it, unless the others did absolutely nothing, and even then he cornered the teacher after class instead of calling anyone out. Dusk, another Zelda, was another of these very valuable group project members. She was a little more vocal about being used, but only because she approached the teacher while class was still in and did so regardless of how little effort was put in. Twilight didn’t know Dusk personally, they didn’t run in the same circles very often, but they got along well enough.

Midna, however, was another story.

Midna was a foreign student, whose parents had immigrated not long after she was born. Her mother’s brother and his family moved with them. Twilight was more familiar with her, but only because they had ended up in the office for fighting once.

Not each other, they had never hit each other. In fact, they had been on the same side. The person they were fighting was Midna’s cousin Zant.

Zant was a grade above them, and a real piece of work. He thought because his family were immigrants that he could claim discrimination any time anyone wasn’t willing to do what he wanted. Plus, if you asked Twilight, he was just a bit loony, and every time he saw the guy he got a worse and worse feeling about him.

They’d met the year before, when Midna and Zant had switched schools. Zant had tried picking on one of Twilight’s little brothers, and Twilight was not having that. Midna had the same thought, apparently, since she was pretty quick to get involved too. Then Zant punched Twilight. Midna punched Zant. One of Zant’s cronies jumped in to defend him. Twilight’s brother Legend saw this going down and decided to lend his fists to the cause when he noticed Twi and Midna were outnumbered. Things devolved from there.

In the end, Zant’s cronies, and Legend, booked it before the teachers got there to break it up. All three of them got dragged into the office and had parents called. Twilight had been miserable until Midna leaned over to compliment him on his form and show him funny videos on her phone. They didn’t talk much, but there was a mutual respect there.

Midna was not like Twilight or Dusk. She was very useful to a group project, but also had a tendency to publicly call out everyone who didn’t help. During the presentation. Twilight had howled the first time she got to the ‘credits’ slide and it was all just her name, and then the other group members listed as ‘standing around looking pretty’. He wasn’t alone.

So he understood what Keapora was doing. By putting all the kids who were invaluable to group projects together it ensured that they wouldn’t get taken advantage of and that they’d all be able to only do their part.

He didn’t have to like it.

It was because he was on the soccer team, he figured. He knew the other sports kids used that as an excuse to get out of projects. And Dusk was on student council and in debate.

That was the only reason he could find that Midna didn’t trust them to do their part. Or maybe she was just jaded. He understood that feeling.

Either way, after the first ‘huddle’ to begin dividing the work where Midna had complained about doing all the work, Dusk pulled Twilight aside and they worked out a plan to get Midna to trust them.

A large part of this plan leveraged the fact Midna already seemed mostly cool with Twilight, so he’d be mostly on the charisma front (which had confused him, since he was far better with animals than he was people), and Dusk would focus more heavily on gathering and sorting research. This, worked less well than Dusk had hoped.

Fortunately, Midna came around the day they got kicked out of the library for getting into a screaming match about a few contradictory facts they dredged up. They left the room still steaming, but Midna was laughing pretty loudly. After that, the three of them got along pretty well.

The project went pretty smoothly after that as well, and they agreed if any more screaming was to happen they’d relocate outside. This worked really well, and soon enough they fell into a system. Dusk even offered them her house to get together after school to work on it. This worked well for Twilight, who had four and a half brothers and counting, and thus didn’t exactly live in a house conducive to group projects. Or any projects.

The three ended up spending a lot of time together working on it, and even managed to get to the point where they were well ahead of the rest of the class. Twilight was even hopeful their carrot might survive (though not so hopeful he thought it would, he knew better than that).

Of course, the universe didn’t seem to think he should be able to take a break. Ignoring that Wild had just gotten another cast off and he’d had to rescue Legend from a few more fist fights, he didn’t think anything big would end up happening. It was just the usual shit where his biggest break was going over to Dusk’s house to work or disappearing on his Epona for a few hours.

But, he wasn’t oblivious. He noticed the warning signs, he just dismissed them.

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have done this.

Zant had always made Twilight uncomfortable. It didn’t help that he seemed to really hate Twilight after the fight they’d gotten into, and made worse by the fact Twilight got along well with Midna. Midna mentioned he was always a little jealous of her for various reasons, and that they’d never been close. So he didn’t think much of it when Zant started acting weirder than usual. He asked when he noticed Midna was getting more fidgety and nervous, but accepted it when she brushed him off. He paid no mind to the fact Zant started skipping school.

He never brushed things off like this again. His therapist said it was paranoia based on trauma, but Dusk agreed with him that it was a reasonable caution. After all, he was the one who got hurt.

They had finished the project early, after spending the entire weekend at Dusk’s place to work on it at Midna’s request. In hindsight, it should have been worrying that Midna was avoiding her home, but no one said anything about it since she just brushed them off.

The three were sitting in the library, sorting through the last few bits of information and the presentation to make sure they had everything. Twilight was sitting closest to the door, which is probably why he was the one who did the stupid thing.

They had been there for maybe ten minutes when an announcement for a lockdown came over the intercom. Lockdown drills had been happening since Twilight’s dad had been in school, after he’d done something really stupid and brave in the face of danger, so no one thought much of it. Mostly, they just moved all the papers and the laptop they were using under the table so they could keep working.

That is, until Twilight noticed how worried the librarians looked.

Suspicious now, Twilight rapped twice on the top of the table and hissed to the girls his concerns. Midna agreed, but looked suddenly really, really pale, and a little scared.

“Midna, are you alright?” Dusk hovered a hand over Midna’s shoulder, and Twilight crouched down next to them to watch as well.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Midna waved them off, but both of them could tell she was lying.

“Midna, do you know what’s going on?” Twilight asked her, glancing back at the librarians every so often.

“No, well, maybe,” she was now wringing her hands in her cloak, chewing on her lip.

“Midna, what’s going on? Is this for real?” Dusk set her hand down and Midna jumped, Dusk retracting her hand as she did.

“Well,” she hesitated, but Twilight offered her a smile and Dusk nodded. “There have been a few, issues, with my cousin. You know, Zant? He uh, he’s not been doing well recently,”

“Not been doing well?” Twilight led, hoping for something more.

“He’s been getting more violent,” Midna admitted quietly. “And, and he’s starting to scare me a little bit,”

Twilight and Dusk shared a look, both coming to the same conclusion.

Before anything more could be said, however, the library door was thrown open, and the librarians screamed and ducked behind the counters. Twilight jerked up to standing, having not slid under the table with the girls.

Sure enough, Zant was standing across the library, panting hard and looking more than a little crazed.

“Call the cops,” Twilight muttered to the girls, frozen where he stood and just waiting for Zant to spot him. “One of you call the police,”

“Link,” Midna hissed at him, probably well aware of what he was planning. “Don’t you even think about it!”

“Just make sure the police are on the way,” Twilight hissed back, ignoring the use of his real name.

“Link!”

“Twilight,”

He ignored both girls when Zant finally spotted him. He knew what people looked like when they were going to shoot. Legend and Wild both learned to shoot for fun a while back and would practice on old milk jugs in the yard. He had more than enough warning before Zant even brought the pistol up to aim.

Twilight took off at him at a dead run, knowing full well he was dead if there was enough distance, ignoring the cursing from the girls.

He shoulder checked Zant hard in the stomach and managed to duck beneath the first shot. Unfortunately, he was very close to the gun and it didn’t have a silencer. He stumbled back and rubbed his ears, trying to dispel the ringing in them. This gave Zant enough time to get back to his feet and regain his breath. Twilight noticed and pushed the ringing to the side and lunged for the gun.

The two tug-of-warred over the weapon for a few beats, Twilight trying to get it away from Zant and Zant trying to get it at an angle so he could shoot Twilight. Twilight kept trying to push the gun pointed down and Zant was desperately pulling on it and trying to shove and hit Twilight.

This went on for several long moments, though Twilight didn’t remember exactly how long. He was way more focussed on the fight than how long it was.

He most certainly remembered his hand slipping and the gun coming up, and the second gunshot was burned in his memory, never to be erased.

The pain didn’t register for a few heartbeats, and shock set in almost immediately. He lost his grip on the gun and stumbled back, eyes wide in shock and horror, mouth open in a silent scream.

Zant stumbled back as well, and both boys seemed frozen. Zant grinned, however, and lifted up the gun again to finish the job.

Twilight had never felt so scared before or after.

And then a loud crack sounded, and standing behind and over Zant’s now crumpled form was Midna, chair held by the legs over her head.

Midna caught sight of Twilight, and dropped the chair, swearing really loudly.

It was at this point Twilight lowered his hands to his stomach, and the hole that now existed there. He didn’t dare look down, instead keeping his eyes on Midna and the look of horror on her face.

“Is, is it bad?” He tried for a joke, but it probably fell flat. It was then that Twilight, a little dizzy, tipped over onto the floor.

He didn’t remember much after that. He remembered Midna screaming his name, his real name, and Dusk dropping into view, phone held up to her ear. He remembered vaguely being moved somewhere else, and then being rolled onto his side and pressure on his back and stomach. He thinks he cried out at that, but his head was already starting to swim a little, and the shock wasn’t helping. His next really clear memory was in the ambulance.

He blinked and groaned, and Dusk popped into view over him.

“Easy, Link,” she reached up and moved some of his hair out of his face, smiling but not able to hide how shaken up she still was. “It’ll be okay, you’re gonna be fine,” she sounded like she was convincing herself.

“Midna?” He asked, then blinked at the muffled sound of his voice.

Dusk held his hand down, chuckling at him. “A mask,” she explained, “to help your breathing. You were gasping. Midna needed to talk to the police, since it was her cousin. She’s going to meet us,”

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Dusk smiled and rubbed his shoulder. “We’re both okay. You’re the one we’re both worried about,”

Twilight just nodded, and sort of drifted out of focus again. There was a bit of activity when they arrived, but then Twilight was put under and rushed into surgery so he didn’t remember anything that happened afterwards.

He came to a few hours later in a hospital room with stitches in his stomach and back. Dusk had collapsed over his right arm, and Midna leaned on the edge of the bed, careful to avoid the IV in his arm. He couldn’t see any family, so he figured they hadn’t gotten there yet.

Midna looked up after a few beats, and Twilight smiled at her. That had her bolting up.

“Twilight!”

Dusk lifted her head on his other side, her own face breaking into a grin when she saw him too.

“You’re up!”

“Yup, I lived,” he paused. “Actually is my phone here? Can someone take a picture of me to send to my brothers? Wild always does it when he breaks a bone, and I wanna see why he finds it so funny,”

“You’re high on pain meds, aren’t you?” Midna deadpanned at him.

He laughed, until he realized that made his stomach hurt. “Ow,”

“Okay, maybe not,” Midna admitted, then handed him his phone. “What’s your passcode?”

“Midna!” Dusk cried.

“What? He asked!”

Twilight happily opened up his phone, ignoring Dusk.

“Say cheese!” Midna grinned at him, holding up the phone.

Twilight lifted both hands in a peace sign and grinned. Midna took the photo and sent it off into the group chat without another word, even as Dusk made disapproving noises next to them.

Immediately a string of excited and relieved texts started pouring in, and Twilight had to remind himself laughing hurt.

The injury wasn’t bad, he found out. He wasn’t sure how getting shot could be ‘not bad’, but apparently since the bullet went through the damage wasn’t severe. He was expected to be back at full in less than a year, but had to be pulled off the soccer team for the rest of the year, and discouraged from rejoining the next year. That was disappointing, but livable.

About half an hour before his parents arrived, Midna offered to paint his face for him.

This had confused Twilight quite a bit. What did getting paint on his face have to do with what had happened?

Midna explained that for the Twili, her people, facial markings were important parts of identity, and you can earn them for doing certain things or surviving awful events. Twilight argued that he wasn’t Twili, and Midna pointed out she was, and that Zant was as well, and since both of them were involved she got to make the call. At this point Twilight was mostly confused as to how he would have even earned facial markings.

Midna just sputtered. “You got shot! AND you defended me and Dusk from Zant. You fought my cousin for the gun so he wouldn’t shoot anyone else! That, as far as I’m concerned, makes you a hero! And heroes obviously get facial markings. Not to mention I’m pretty damn sure getting shot counts as a ‘pretty damn awful experience’. So yes, you qualify for markings.”

Twilight blinked at that. Well, he couldn’t really argue with that.

So he let Midna paint his face.

When his family, and Midna and Dusk’s parents, arrived Midna was sitting on the bed next to him, a paintbrush in hand and Dusk holding a small pot full of a specific kind of paint Midna had ducked out to get. Twilight had half a diamond shape on his head at this point. The three teenagers all froze to turn to look at the newcomers.

“Hi,” Twilight waved at them.

“What’s going on here?” Time asked, eye roving over the group.

“I’m painting his face,” Midna explained.

“Why?” Time asked, and Midna’s father, who also had an elaborate series of markings on his face, leaned around him.

“Yes, why are you doing that?”

“Because,” Midna explained, “he got shot. And he fought Zant to protect us from him, and as per tradition, that qualifies him for facial markings. So I’m doing them for him,”

“Zant?” Midna’s father asked.

“Yeah, he showed up and tried to shoot up the school,” Midna explained as she went back to applying paint to Twilight’s face. “He busted into the library where we were and Twilight tried to fight him to protect the rest of us. He got shot and I whacked Zant in the head with a chair. Then we huddled off somewhere else to hide until the cops showed up.”

“No, Zant was the shooter?” Her father repeated.

Midna froze and turned around. “Yes. Did you not know?”

Her father shook his head. “They didn’t catch the shooter,”

Midna’s shoulders dropped, and both hylians behind her looked equally horrified.

“What?” Midna asked.

Her father shook his head again. “They didn’t catch him,”

Midna took a deep breath, then shook her head and turned back to Twilight. Her hand was shaking now, so she didn’t go back to painting. Twilight lifted his hand to pat her knee.

“I’m sure they’ll catch him soon,” Malon offered, slipping into the room to take up on the couch against the wall. “He’s pretty easily identified, after all,”

“Right,” Midna nodded, then shook herself once. “Right, it’ll be fine.”

She dipped the brush back into the paint and went about continuing to paint on Twilight’s face.

“What are you doing?” Eyes turned back up to find Zant’s parents in the doorway now, after everyone else wandered into the room to settle down.

“Why is everyone asking me that?” Midna turned to face the ceiling. “I’m painting his face! I can do that! He’s earned the markings, and as the present Twili I can choose to provide them to him, even though he isn’t Twili. Believe me, I’ve considered whether or not this was something I could do, and I can. And besides, I’m already half done,”

“No,” Zant’s mother corrected. “I mean why are you painting his face for assaulting my son?”

“What?!” Midna whipped around, fury on her face.

Zant’s mother nodded. “He attacked Zant, and you rewarding him for it is a betrayal to this family,”

“Zant brought a gun to our school!” Midna burst, apparently pissed off and finally snapping after the stress of the day. “He tried to shoot me, he DID shoot Twilight! Twilight saved our lives by attacking him, and he got injured for it! He more than deserves these markings, and Zant should be in jail!”

Zant’s mother stuttered, then drew herself up. “That boy is a danger to everyone around him,”

“Yes,” Midna agreed and pointedly added a line under Twilight’s eyes. “Zant is unstable and dangerous,”

The woman huffed, and went to start yelling when Malon stood up again and blocked her from the door. “Let’s talk, hm?”

The door shut and Twilight had to put in a lot of effort not to laugh as his mother tore into the woman outside the door. After a few minutes, Midna’s mother joined her, and Dusk’s father followed with a camera in hand.

No one else questioned the paints again.

In the end, Zant’s mother filed for a restraining order against Twilight and Malon, which Malon said she would abide by exclusively because it was one less expense on them. Midna’s parents refused to separate Midna from one of her friends, especially one who put his life at risk to help her, and didn’t sign onto the order the way Zant’s mother wanted them too.

Twilight ended up with a very nice looking set of markings over his forehead that Midna told him symbolized courage and boldness and sacrifice. He was quite proud of them.

He got back to school the same day as the presentation, which he thought was pretty amusingly coincidental. His mother, ever worrying, did insist he use a wheelchair (one they had for Time from a few years before Twilight was born) so he didn’t put undue strain on his injury.

The presentation went well, and things worked out fine. They even managed to keep their carrot alive. Midna’s ‘credits’ of course popped up, but it was much more even than in the past. Of course, there was still the ‘sitting around looking pretty’ category.

Midna was listed. They had taken a vote. Everyone found this hilarious.

There was more laughter when Twilight was listed as having ‘bled for this’. Keapora didn’t find it as amusing as their classmates did.

Midna moved away not long after that, her parents worried about Zant. She explained she wouldn’t be able to talk to them anymore until things calmed down or Zant was caught since her parents were scared.

That was the last time either of them spoke to her.

(---)

The markings Midna painted on stuck around for a very long time. Dusk theorized that the paint was probably some kind of tattoo paint, meant to stain the skin for a long time. Even four and a half years later, the paint was still visible. It was beginning to fade now, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get it redone. The only Twili in the area was Zant’s family, and no one was asking them. It was quite the conversation starter though.

He hadn’t heard from Midna at all since she moved away, and he really missed her. Turns out when you fight someone’s loony cousin together you bond. Who knew?

The scar on his stomach didn’t bother him much, unless it rained really hard or really suddenly. Overall, despite his continuing visits to a therapist and the occasional nightmare, he had recovered from the entire event mostly unscathed.

Most of the time he didn’t get to think about it, helping out on the ranch and prepping to take over some day, alongside his now seven brothers, meant he didn’t have time too.

His therapist was worried his drag racing was a sign of self-destructive behavior, and a symptom of trauma. He ignored her, even though she may have been right.

And that was life. That was just the way it was.

Eventually Time got a call from the police captain, whom he knew quite well by now, letting him know they apprehended Zant, and charges were pending. Time promised they’d testify.

Twilight finally put in an application to a college, one of the really rural ones that offered classes in the sort of stuff that’d be useful when he took over the ranch from his parents one day. He got accepted.

About two weeks after Zant was convicted and carted off, and Twilight was looking at packing up for his first semester, he got a call from an unknown number.

Curious, but not stupid, he turned on the call recording app he’d gotten after the first few times he’d received a threatening call after the whole Zant thing, and hit answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey wolf boy,”

He nearly dropped his phone.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mind the Gap: Two

Shang- Chi woke up alone in your narrow bed and lay there for a long moment looking at the ceiling. There are plastic stars and dozens upon dozens painstakingly handwritten lines of poetry and little quotes. He wondered how you’d gotten them up there. And he wondered if you kept them because they comforted you. Or inspired you.

It was… weird seeing the parts of yourself you’d tried to hide for so long. The instruments, the books, the crystals. The way the room was flooded with colored light as the sun hit the stained glass. He thoughts of your drab little apartment. The orderliness of it. How minimalist it was. This felt better. Somehow all the missing pieces that gave him any doubts at all made more sense.

He looked at the photos. Little, frozen, out of context moments. People he didn’t recognize. Until he got to the end. Kai in Uniform and holding you, smiling while your chubby dimpled hands cover your mouth. You couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6. All puppy fat and big smiles. That made him feel warm. It was nice knowing that you hadn’t just sprung up somewhere fully formed. And that Kai, for all his unbothered attitude really did love you.

Behind him, he heard footsteps and whirled around to face the door. He wasn’t sure if it was you or not. But. He didn’t want to be caught snooping. So when Katy stuck her head around the door, he exhaled slowly. “There’s breakfast downstairs,” she said quietly, “You okay?”

“Better,” he said after a long second. “I just-”

“I know,” she said. “Her Godmother said she almost died and then-”

“And then she woke up,” he finished.

“And heard someone talking in her head, which- what?”

Shang-Chi made a soft noise that even he didn’t know the meaning of. Last night, he still hadn’t pressed on you for answers. You’d been so disoriented and tired that it didn’t seem quite fair to probe something that obviously caused that much pain. Even as he held you, you’d cried in your sleep, your hands fisted around handfuls of his shirt. And now he didn’t wonder why he frequently found you either awake and working or asleep somewhere else. You talked. Alternating between defiance and begging. It hurt. It tore at him like sharp pointed teeth. It still hurt even in the bright light of day. And he wondered if you couldn’t remember or if- if the Archive wouldn’t let you remember.

“Let’s go eat,” Katy prompted, linking her arm through his. “Lea said Y/N may not be back for hours… Something about everything being a little “off” after she loses a day or two of time.”

He nodded and reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged away from the pictures. His stomach making most of the decision for him. He wasn’t sure what food was down there but it smelled amazing. And he realized that he’d not eaten anything since breakfast the previous day.

In the kitchen, he pauses for a second to take in all the details he hadn’t noticed before. Too worried about you being alone in the bedroom in the attic. Bundles of herbs are hanging to dry. Everything is copper and scrubbed oak work surfaces. The windows are open and the smells from the garden and wet earth from the rain the day before mingle pleasantly with all the pastry smells and warm coffee. It’s comfortable in a way that isn’t manufactured for the house guests. It’s a working room. One that operates the same way year round. And Shang-Chi wondered what happened to keep you away.

Even as your Godmother, Grandmother and assorted cousins quickly ply them all with breakfast and hospitality, he can’t help but feel a little… Overwhelmed. Everyone is just so friendly and warm. No one questions them. No one is apprehensive. And as the talk flies around the table, it’s quickly apparent that you come by your humor and broody tendencies honestly. Your grandmother likes to fuss and she likes guests. She especially likes having ALL of her grandkids at home which he’s given to understand is rare.

Outside there’s the sound of horses and incoherent masculine whooping sounds after a while and She smiles, “I wondered if they’d be back before lunch.”

Shang-Chi watched out the window over her shoulder and she chuckled, “I don’t know how neither of them has never broken their necks jumping that back fence… It used to take years off my life watching them do it when they were small.”

“Daredevils, huh?”

She half shrugged, “It was almost impossible to keep either of them in the house… Wild things.” But there was more fondness than heat in her voice even as she shook her head. “Though their father being what he is, it’s no small wonder.”

He’s only half listening now as he watched you dismount from the horse you’d been riding. Your hair is messy and windblown and there’s color in your face and the careless half smile. There’s a warmth that spreads through his chest, even as his heart skips a beat.

You pause in the kitchen, looking surprised to find people there and glance at the clock frowning before checking your watch. Almost like you aren’t sure which one to believe. “Sit, Eat,” Lea scolds, pressing a mug into your hands and gesturing at an empty chair.

“I don’t think I can,” you say hesitantly.

The taller woman cradles your face in her hands for a second and turns your head to the side to inspect the still fading bruises, “Is it better or worse than it was?”

“It depends on how long I’m out for,” you say after a moment. “It still takes at least a day. But sometimes a week or more.”

“And everything else?”

“The only thing that feels right is being outside.”

Shang-Chi watches Lea and Kai trade worried looks while you studiously look at the mug in your hands after Lea lets you go and deposits you in a chair. “Try any way,” she said softly, setting a plate down in front of you gently. There’s not much on it. A little fruit, some fresh bread and some ham. But even from where he’s standing Shang-Chi can see some of the color leave your face.

“I should call the Aunts and tell them we’re going to cancel the party…” your grandmother said after watching you try to pick at the fruit before giving up and trying a bit of bread.

“I’ll be fine,” you sigh, “It’s just some nausea from getting smacked in the head hell knows how many times and the usual disorientation from not being in the same timezone as everyone else.”

“Smacked in the head?” Katy asked over her mug.

“I made my phone call. The last thing I remember is getting pistol whipped before I was yanked out of the driver’s seat… You would think, given that the Archive lives in my head it would do more to prevent head trauma but… Nah. Who needs grey matter?”

“Driver’s seat?” she asked, wincing.

“It the easiest way I’ve ever found to explain it. This is a meat mech and I don’t always get to drive… The Archive has two main objectives. Protecting the vessel that houses it AND protecting the balance of the universe by preserving knowledge… Anything that interferes with those goals is typically dealt with with extreme prejudice.”

“Typically?” This time it was Wenwu who asked and you half turn that direction and shrug, honestly grateful to not have to pretend to eat.

“Archives have never had their own physical body. By their own account and every corroborating account I’ve ever found they’re… spirits for lack of a better word. A manifestation of desperation. Probably resulting from things like the destruction of the Library of Alexandria and so forth… So they don’t really have any moral quandaries. Not the way a physical entity might.” You sigh and tilt your head, popping your neck to try and relieve some of the discomfort.

“So how-”

“I was the most powerful person in the room when a previous vessel died,” you say exhaling slowly.

“You were a kid,” Shang-Chi said taking the vacant seat on your right.

“It’s- Atypical- according to the Archive for them to inhabit children… Their ability to complete their task can be hindered somewhat by the physical ability of a vessel. But. I had the potential, I guess. So here we are.”

“That was a very coherent explanation,” Kai said mildly.

“Getting out for a while helped make some space to think,” you say shrugging again, “And i did promise an explanation.”

“Space?” Katy asked, frowning.

“Imagine putting all my books into Shang-Chi’s apartment then trying to find something,” you snort. “It takes effort. And a little time. And some shuffling around.”

“Hey!” he protested, throwing one arm over the back of your chair to tug you closer.

“It’s not my fault you live in a literal shoebox.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a nerd,” he chuckles, kissing the side of your head gently.

_________________

You stand on the dock watching the sunlight on the water and sink gratefully onto the warm wood. For a person as introverted as you are, being bombarded on all sides all the time is… Overwhelming. You can hear the people in the distance. The talking and laughing and general ruckus. It’s familiar. But right now you’d kill for silence.

And you aren’t sure but, you think that the Archive might have similar feelings. That in itself is a blessing. You’re tired. Your body is sore. And all you want is to crawl back into your bed.

“You okay?”

You half turn to look up at Shang- Chi and smile a little. “Just tired,” you assure him.

“Are you always… this way?” He doesn’t really know how to put it. Or if you really want company. But, he settles behind you and pulls you against his chest.

“Tired? Yeah. The Archive doesn’t sleep. It interferes with the mission. Which means I’m more often than not awake the entire time… Unless it affects the performance of the vessel. Then I can sleep.”

He doesn’t really know what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything. Gratified when you don’t pull away he pulls you a little closer and kisses the side of your head.

And not for the first time, you thank whatever gods might be listening for people who understand silence.

Shang-chi isn’t sure when you fall asleep. But when he hears the quiet little snores from your head being in a slightly weird angle, he smiles a little and adjusts you carefully to be laying more securely against his chest. It gives him some time to think.

For the years that he spent dancing around you as you started as a friend of Katy’s, he’d felt a pain. A sense that something was too raw to touch. It had made you feel familiar. It made you feel like a kindred spirit. A twin flame. Even as you both tried to hold back, to love people without letting them see the ugly things you kept hidden. Even as you’d tried to build a relationship on secrets. But now? This moment sitting in the sunshine on the dock with you snoring on his shoulder, it feels more intimate than any time he’d ever managed to get you naked. For you to be this comfortable with him… Not to belittle the sanctity of a drunk make out after a duet at karaoke but… It felt like progress. Real progress. He could see the person you were under all the secrets and little white lies. And somehow, it wasn’t very far from what he already knew.

Footsteps on the dock behind him make him half turn, careful not to jostle you awake. He’s not surprised to see Kai standing there. “Is she asleep?”

He nodded, reluctant to talk in case you weren’t as deeply asleep as you seemed.

“Good,” Kai said relaxing a little. “Listen, Grandma is going to turn this into a party… It’s Charity season and Y/N hasn’t been home for anything in… a while. So the aunts and subsequently all the kids are on their way. If you can I’d carry her into the house and put her back to bed. Once the kids learn she’s here there’s not going to be any more sleeping.”

When Kai noticed him frowning the other man smiled a little. “She means well. After… Everything happened Grandma just didn’t want her to be treated like a leper.” You stir sleepily and both men wince reflexively, “Can you-”

“I got her,” Shang-Chi answered, reluctant to let you go. Not even to Kai.

And to his credit, Shang-Chi thought, Kai let him go past without much more than a nod.

[visd3stele]

magic and kids

summary:

A/N: I really hope you like it. Thank you for your requests. Loved writing it.

art credit: @phantomrin

TW: none

@britishbookworm2 requested (if you want to leave a request as well, click)

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It's been four years since Taryn decided the mortal world would be a more suitable place to raise her child than Elfhame. Even if her sister was now High Queen, the fairies would still make life hard for her and her baby. Maybe not on purpose, she admits it. But magic runs wild, free and unstoppable. Used to it, the Fae Folk barely notices the dangers. And frankly, they don't care. Not allowed to use it on humans as cruelly as before, some meaner courts claim innocent ignorance. How can an entire society of enchanted beings change overnight? How could they be expected to adjust to human fragility all of a sudden?

So Taryn took her baby, promised her sister to visit and fled to Heather and Vivi's. It wasn't as hard as she'd thought. Getting used to the mortal world, that's it. And if her baby had longer canine than normal, or his ears sharpened to pointy edges to the top, it passed unnoticed. Her son certainly didn't stood out the way Vivi did, even with light brown eyes that looked orange in the sun and rusty red hair. He didn't need much glamouring either, not like Oak, Oriana or Madoc. By the time she sent him to preschool his hair was long enough to cover the ears and no one seemed to notice the teeth even without magic.

For all the talk Taryn did on how she wanted her son to be free of his father in all ways, snapping at Oak when the boy tried to teach him magic before he knew how to properly walk and forbidding her family to bring Fairyland up, she named him Renard.

Fitting, though not what she should have done. Maybe part of her can't let Locke go, not entirely. She knew he didn't particularly wanted the baby, that everything he promised her were pretty lies. But for a few months, it has been real. Their marriage, their love, their lives. She saw her dreams come true, one after another: the mistress of an important household, throwing parties for courtiers, motherhood.

Now that everything she wanted snaped broken in tiny little pieces carried away by harsh winter wind, Taryn Duarte couldn't phantom having her child become like his father.

"It has nothing to do with magic, for fuck's sake!" Vivi exploded once, after Taryn better than not threw Oak and Oriana - who came to visit - out of the apartment for trying to reach Renard's magic. "He won't become a sly, selfish fox if he can change appearance or grow horses out of leaves. It's all about his up-bringing!"

"I want him to be normal, Vivi! That's why I took him here!"

Renard has been barely one year old when the argument happened. But it was enough to take his mother's words to heart.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Four years old Renard and twelve years old Oak played outside, jumping in crusty piles of autumn leaves. The princeling hadn't given up his plans to teach his cousin magic. He refused to let go of such opportunity: a friend he didn't have to hide of, one he could play with like he used to in Elfhame.

"Hey, Ren-Ren," Oak said, "check this out!" The older boy held up his hand, brows furrowed in concentration, lip grazed between his teeth. Nothing happened for an alarming amount of time. And then... the leaves twirl around the two cousins, splashing then with guts of wind and scarce dew as it swept them up in a friendly tornado.

Renard chuckled in delight, stretching to catch some of the closer leaves. But as soon as he touched one, the whole thing fell apart. "No!" Do it again, Oak. Do it again."

"I'm sorry, Ren-Ren," Oak faked a yawned and laid on the ground. "Magic is very serious business. Very consuming. I'm too tired to even move." He let his eyes close dramatically, watching Renard between his lashes. Truth be told, every time he did magic Oak felt good. Vibrant. As if the earth itself reached out and gave him life. But Renard didn't need to know that yet. He can definitely learn it by himself if Oak's plan works out.

The younger boy pouted and dropped on the ground. "Not fair," he muttered to himself.

"You know, Ren-Ren, you're half fae. That means there's a pretty good chance you're magic too."

"No, I'm not."

"You can't know that. Come on, give it a try!"

"No, Oak! I'm not magic. I'm not like Father, I'm like Mom. Like Mom, just like that."

Oak straightened himself, but didn't rose from the ground. "Ok, Ren-Ren. Listen up. Magic is not bad. It's fun. Don't you think it's fun?"

"Yes!" Renard nodded enthusiastically. "It's super fun. When you do it, Oak." At that the named boy own enthusiasm faded away in an instant.

"Thank you, Ren-Ren," he deadpanned. "But do you know what's more fun than watching me practice magic?" Not giving the kid a chance to answer, to even take in the question, really, Oak said "To do it yourself."

"Do you really think I should try, Oak?" Clearly, the little boy was attracted to magic. And clearly something was stopping him. But his older cousin slowly made whatever that was seem less big and scary, dragging him along in his qualms.

"Totally!"

Renard pushed his lips forward with his tongue, sticking it out through the gap in his teeth. Caramel eyes shone with desire, his red hair flown around by a cold, pleasant wind. "Ok," he gave in, as expected. "How do I do it?"

The smirk that lightened up Oak's face can only be describes as evil. Though no ill intention hid behind it. Only the knowledge his plan worked out, just like his sister, Jude's.

"Listen to me very carefully, alright? There is not just one way to make magic, Ren-Ren. You have to find your own. But for now, try the basics. Think really hard on what you want to happen. Something easy. Got anything in mind?" Renard frowned, then his eyes landed on a tree which still had some green leaves on its branches and nodded.

"Perfect! Now, imagine whatever you want to happen. Imagine it happening. Are you imagining?"

"Yes."

"No!" Oak groaned. "If you're paying attention to me, then it means you're not focusing on magic."

"But how will I know what to do if I don't listen to you?"

"I told you! Magic is your own, Ren-Ren. It comes naturally. So, dig it up. Use your imagination."

Renard tried to shut out the world around him, picturing the sole tree in his mind. A warm pull tugged at him and he followed. His magic, he tried not to dwell on the joy, but instead focusing on his practice. His magic reaching out. Because he reached out first.

The boy allowed the warmth to take control, guiding him through it. The tree now carved in his mind by detail wasn't enough. He needed action. But just imagining the leaves to fall wouldn't do. Renard couldn't say how exactly he knew it. He just did. Something more tender was needed. The half fae kid had to imply what he wants and trust his magic to follow his lead.

So Renard made himself cold. Chilly. Feeling a breeze of wind creeping inside his clothes, whipping his skin gently. Enough to rip a leaf off a tree, though. Which it did. The wind he summoned couldn't be felt, not really. Only by himself and the green leaves that departed one by one from their branch as if plucked by an invisible hand.

Oak gasped. Then grinned. And then he laughed. Renard broke free of his concentration, pleased to see his magic didn't falter. Not until every and each green leaf from his chosen tree didn't fall. The sight made him still in awe for a couple of seconds. But soon enough he joined his cousin with a bubble laugh, jumping up and down and running to tackle Oak in a tight hug.

"I did it, Oak! I did it!"

"Yes, you did, Rem-Ren. Indeed, you did. Congrats!"

"Can we show auntie Vivi? And auntie Oriana?"

When Madoc and Oriana first came in the mortal world, Taryn wanted nothing to do with them. But years of being cared for by the blue skinned, white haired, pink eyes woman showed their tale. She agreed to see her, but only her. She could be part of her child life, if she wanted.

"Sure. But don't you want to show your mom first?"

"Mom and auntie Heather work a lot. We can show them later." Renard said, but he felt his magic shrinking at the thought of his mother. His Mom didn't like his father. And his magic comes from his father. Is that why his magic doesn't want to reveal itself near Taryn? He hoped it was just him overthinking it, because he loves his Mom and wants to share this with her.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Oak stayed with auntie Oriana, who was his mother, so Renard couldn't bring himself to be upset over it. He would want to be with his mother as much as he can as well. So he did a little trick for auntie Vivi, who told him to stay where he was, brought a camera and ordered him to glamour the tea cups again. Renard made them look like pumpkins, since the Halloween being over the corner made him impossibly anxious - in a good way.

Turns out even mortal technology can be fooled by fae's magic. Vivi showed the clip to Heather, who coed over him until Taryn came home.

"Hello, treasure. How was your day? Wanna give mommy a kiss?"

Renard jumped into his mother's arms, pressing a strong kiss on her cheek before starting to tell her about all the fun he had with cousin Oak. "And then he said I should try magic too."

Tamryn stilled. "And?"

"Look, Mom!"

Renard broke a vase, then, with a twitch of his fingers put it back together. "Auntie Vivi says I'm a natural."

"Does she? That's amazing, sweetheart."

But his mother didn't sound thrilled. In fact, her smile wasn't even a smile at all, but a thin line. "I'm sorry, mommy. I knew I shouldn't've done it, but I didn't know why. Now I know: you don't want me using my magic. It'll make me bad, like father."

Renard pushed his lips up front, scrunched his nose up, wiggled his toes, all in an atempt to stop the tears hurting his eyes from falling. When he realized it was in vain, he took off running to his room.

When Taryn entered minutes later she found her son curled on his left side in the middle of the bed, hugging a black goat plushie his uncle Cardan gave him on his birthday tight to his chest. She hated herself for causing the pain struck look on her son's face.

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hi, Mom." Renard wiped his nose with his jumper's sleeve.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. Mommy was just scared, but that's not your fault. You could never be bad. Magic is not bad. Of course you can practice all you want, but we'll settle some ground, basic rules first. Ok?"

"Really?"

"Rules you can never, ever break. Really."

"Thank you, Mommy! You're the best! Just wait until Oak hears about it."

A/N: Renard means fox in french. Also: oops, guess I finished it earlier than expected and didn't really felt like waiting days to post it 😅