#then: “the light shining through the opened door” *could* just be a generic line and not a kh1 reference but i mean. is it though. IS IT

[psychopomp-namine]

<- fake kh fan. I just found out that don't think twice is a separate song, lyrically, from chikai. I thought it was the english version... no? the lyrics are different?

utada hikaru oh my goodd I didn't know these were two songs responding to each other. head in hands HEAD IN HANDS

[postracehair]

chicane

max verstappen x reader | 1.6k

you tell max you love him for the first time. accidentally.

cw: r is drunk but happy, max is charming and tipsy, being silly and in love, love confessions

a/n: this came to me while i was taking a drunk shower.

--

You're drunk and tonight was perfect.

The late-night lights of the city rush by as you get closer and closer to your hotel, the cab driver content to turn the radio up a little more as you ramble in the back seat.

"It's just so nice that they all wanted to celebrate you," you say. "And for that one guy to buy us all drinks 'cause he's a fan! Oh, look, Max, that one is so pretty."

Max dutifully agrees and gently keeps you from pressing your nose to the glass with an arm around your shoulders. He's less drunk than you are, though he probably had just as many drinks. After his remarkable win today you're glad he let loose. He deserves it. You think he deserves everything, but a night out with the team and his friends and some free drinks is a good start.

And, god, he looks so good like this. Cheeks flushed, hair a little sweaty and tousled from his hands and yours, shirt open a button or two lower than his usual. You abandon the window and look at him instead, watching lights you were so focused on color his face and make his eyes shine.

You're so proud of him.

He laughs. "Thank you, liefje." Oh, did you say that out loud? The hand not twisted in the strap of your top squeezes your knee. He keeps his eyes on your face, mouth curled into a soft half-smile like he can't help but be fond of you.

The cab driver says you're just about there and Max pulls away from you to hand him some cash and a thought hits you full-force, louder in your head than the rush of his car across the finish line earlier today.

You love him.

Did you say that out loud, too? No, no. He gives no indication of having heard you so you don't think so. But the realization fills you with awe, with lightness, with joy. You laugh to yourself and Max shoots you an amused glance. You'll tell him, probably. At some point. But for now it's like the best kind of secret, new and exciting.

Max slides out of the cab first and holds a hand out for you. Beaming at him, you take it and don't let go as he tugs you up through the hotel doors and across the lobby to the elevators.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

It's like a song in your mind that syncs with the beat of your heart. You probably have for months, now. Maybe even as soon as you met him. How could you not? He's so good to you. Kind, patient, gentle. Funny, generous, intuitive. Quick to own up to his mistakes, willing to apologize when he's in the wrong. He's taught you so much about communication and healthy boundaries, about hard work and discipline.

Max says your name, pulling out of your lovesick musings. "Do I have something on my face?" he asks you, wearing his signature amused smirk and raised brow. You've been staring at him. The elevator arrives and you pull him into it, hitting your floor number and then the close button as quick as you can.

"No," you say, cheerily. "You're just handsome."

He rolls his eyes but welcomes you into his space, steadying you with a hand on your hips as you press your lips to his in the solitude of the elevator. It's a near miss -- you manage to catch the corner of his mouth, but Max redirects you easily for a proper kiss, slotting your lips together perhaps a little sloppily but it's exactly what you wanted.

A robotic voice announces your floor and Max pulls away first, pressing one more chaste kiss to your mouth before threading your fingers together and leading you down the hall to your room.

"Did you have fun tonight?" you ask him. He waves his room key in front of the pad and it lights up green.

"I did," he says, holding the door open for you to sneak under his arm. "Did you?"

You kick off your shoes and look around your shared room. Clothes draped on chairs, your suitcases lined up next to each other on the luggage racks. Max's laptop and meeting notes on the desk, the book you bought at the airport. It makes that feeling in your chest swell even more. You want to share space with him for the rest of your life.

"Yeah," you say. "I always have fun with you, Max."

He snorts at your enthusiasm but allows it, toeing off his sneakers and sitting heavily on the bed. You stand between his knees automatically and card both hands through his hair. He leans back on his palms and closes his eyes, chin tipped up. You could do this for hours, probably. It's always worth seeing him relax, let his walls down. Even when you're out with everyone on a night like tonight, blissfully loose and celebrating, you know he's not quite who he is when it's just the two of you. It's Max's nature to have these masks. They protect him.

But you protect him, too. You let him be himself.

"Are you hungry?" he finally asks, words slurring just the smallest bit. Probably from your fingers on his scalp more than the alcohol, really. "Want me to order some room service?"

It's the best idea you've ever heard and you tell him so. "Fries, maybe?" you suggest. "Oh, and a Diet Coke. For sure. And ice cream!"

"Okay, okay," he laughs, sitting up again and grabbing your wrists so he can kiss both of your palms. "Go shower and I'll call down."

"Shower!" you gasp, your drunkenness making your enthusiasm impossible to contain. "Such a good idea. You're so smart, Max."

He laughs, a bright, boyish sound. You would bottle it up if you could.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

This time it slips out.

"I love you," you say, beaming, without a second thought. "Wow, I can't wait to eat some fries."

You're so excited about this turn of events that you don't register his reaction, don't realize what you've confessed. You just head for the bathroom, grabbing your sleep clothes on the way and humming to yourself.

It's not until you're rinsing the fancy hotel body wash from your skin that you hear your own words in your ears.

You told Max you love him.

The water is warm but you shiver. "Oh god," you whisper to yourself.

Obviously you meant it. That's not the problem. It's just not really how you wanted to say it -- drunk after a night out celebrating his race win, thanking him for ordering you some 1am room service. Max deserves romance. You should have waited for a dinner date, or a night at his place this week, whispered it while you're both wrapped up in his sheets.

But now he knows. And does he feel the same?

You turn off the spray and wrap yourself in one of the huge, fluffy bath towels. He probably does, right? He certainly shows it. Even if he doesn't want to say it just yet you can feel it. In the way he looks at you, the way he looks after you. In his touches, the innocent ones and the not-so-innocent ones, in his gaze and the way he says your name like it's something precious.

He loves you. You're sure of it. You just feel a little silly about the whole thing.

You dry off and slip into your comfies. When you open the bathroom door you find Max tugging off his shirt, clearly planning to hop in the shower, too.

"Food should be here any minute," he says. "They had a few kinds of ice cream, so I got them all."

He turns to you and smiles so wide you feel your cheeks heat. He just looks so happy.

"I was going to tease you a bit," he says fondly, crossing the room to stand in front of you. "About what you said before you went into the shower. But right now you just look so --"

"What, Max?" you ask, pouting a little. He's teasing you plenty, in your opinion.

"Cute," he finishes. "Liefje, you look like a raccoon."

You must look confused because he scrunches his nose at you and cups your face, thumbs swiping at the skin under your eyes. He shows you them, black mascara flecks dotting the pads of them.

"Oh," you say. "Whoops."

"I love you," Max says. "I should have led with that."

Your hands rest on his bare chest of their own accord, feeling the solid warmth of him you know so well. His heart beats steadily under your palm. As sure as his feelings for you.

"Really?" you breathe. You can't help it. Even though you believe him, even though it's not really a surprise, a reflexive sense of doubt swells in your throat. Can life really be this good? Can you have someone who loves you, someone who takes care of you, someone as good and kind as Max?

His brows furrow for just a second before he clearly surmises that you're just drunk and starry-eyed.

"Really," he echoes. He kisses you just once, soft and sure. "I'm going to shower. Leave some fries for me?"

You nod dutifully. "Obviously," you say. "You get some of my fries because I love you."

There's that laugh again -- unguarded, transforming his whole face.

"I'm a lucky guy," he says.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtyThree

Prompt from @bookworm0690 and @after-the-end-times

“Stevie love!”

“Yeah?”

“It’s snowing!”

The phone starts to ring as Steve heads to the window, so Steve diverts to answer it. “Steve! It’s snowing!”

“Hey Robs, and yeah, Eddie just told me.”

“Do you think it’ll be bad? The forecast says it’ll come down heavy. Do you think we will get a snow day tomorrow?”

“I think Keith would expect us to open even if we had to find a sled and a team of dogs to get us there.”

“Poop.”

“Yeap. But I’ll see how the roads are in the morning, if it’s bad then fuck it, I’m not risking the beemer. Who’s going to want to rent a movie anyway?”

“Okay, call me in the morning? Chrissy already said she’s not bothering to open the shop if it’s bad, who goes out in the snow to buy flowers?”

“I don’t know, the same people who go out in the snow to rent movies, probably. But, yeah, she’s probably right.”

“Okay, bye dingus, love you.”

“Love you too Robs.”

Eddie practically has his face smushed against the window, “cold water,” he informs Steve.

“Yeah, yeah that’s right,” Steve watches the snow start to gather in patches on the lawn with dawning apprehension that he can’t place. There’s no reason for it, really. They’re safe and warm inside, and Steve knows without looking that they have a good weeks worth of groceries in the house. The main roads will probably be plowed before lunch time tomorrow at the latest, so none of that is what's worrying him.

It really starts coming down, thick heavy flakes that start to blanket everything, and as the snow banks, Steve thinks more about last year. Was it around now that Eddie was getting sick? Steve can’t quite place the time line, but he remembers how cold he’d been, sitting outside next to the pool, his missing toes throb with phantom pain, and Steve shivers. Eddie was getting sicker as the snow fell, and Steve remembers holding him, bundled in a blanket at the back door, so he could see the snow, “I’m going to make us hot chocolate,” Steve says to distract himself.

“Whizzy cream?” Eddie asks absently.

“Sure baby.”

The next day, the world is clean and white and quiet. The gray sky is bright where the sun shines through the clouds, reflecting off the snow; it makes the whole world hard to look at.

“Stevie can we go out?”

“Out in the snow?”

“I want to walk on it.”

“Leave footprints everywhere?” Eddie nods enthusiastically. “We could make snow angels. And snow men.”

Eddie turns to look at Steve, “snow men? Snow angels?”

“Oh man, you’re gonna’ love this.”

Eddie’s frizzy curls are sticking out from under his woolen hat, and his jeans are tucked into a pair of Steve’s boots. He had managed all of thirty seconds outside before he wanted his sunglasses, so he’s wearing those too. Steve gets it, it is bright out here, what with all the white, and Eddie’s eyes are, even now, very sensitive to the light.

Eddie’s licking a snowball. Under normal circumstances, Steve might stop him, but the snow out here in the yard is fresh and clean, so Steve lets it go.

Steve flops onto his back, Eddie letting out a surprised laugh at the sight, and then he comes closer, watching as Steve moves his arms and legs, getting up again to reveal the shape he’s left behind, “see, snow angels.”

“Huh,” Eddie says, not seeming that impressed by it.

“We could build a snow man?”

“Which man is it?”

Steve snorts a laugh, “uhm...no. It can be anyone I guess, but usually it’s like a generic snow...person. We can give him a carrot for a nose and, like, maybe a scarf?”

Eddie frowns, “what, in case he gets cold?” he looks bemused by the idea.

“Come on, I’ll show you...and I really think we need to get around to watching some Christmas movies.”

The moment Eddie grasps the idea of what Steve’s showing him, he’s away. He digs up twigs and rocks and things from under the lighter snow banked between the trees, happily giving his creations arms and eyes and mouths and...eyebrows.

“No no,” he directs Steve, “that one is Lucas, so the Max one should be smaller.” Eddie rams in twigs for their arms, angling them so that ‘Lucas’ and ‘Max’ are holding hands.

Steve stands back, frowning, “so who is that one again?”

“Argyle, and that’s Hopper," Eddie replies, like it's obvious.

“Right, right. So we just have...Joyce left?”

“Yeah, we have to make Joyce the best one.”

Steve smiles to himself; he’s not entirely sure how good Eddie’s memory is when it comes to those first few days after he came out of the pool, freshly bald and newly legged, but Eddie definitely remembers the Christmas food. He also seems to remember how, in those first few months, Joyce was Steve’s go to for advice on Eddie care.

Not to mention how kind Joyce has always been; how she’s always gone out of her way to treat Eddie with the same kindness and inclusion as everyone else.

“You know what, you’re right, you build Joyce, I’ll be right back.”

Steve knocks the snow off his shoes at the back door, before heading upstairs to raid his parents wardrobes. He comes back with a small armful of stuff, and Eddie gleefully distributes clothing amongst his family of creations. Joyce ends up stylishly dressed in a cashmere shawl that Steve has no doubt is probably worth at least a months wages. He doesn’t give a shit though, and clearly neither do his parents; they haven’t been back at all this year.

Eddie stands back after, surveying his creations, “a little family,” he grins at Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve can’t help but agree, “now lets go in and warm up.”

“Yup,” Eddie grabs Steve’s face, smushing a chilly wet kiss to Steve’s nose on the way past.

[afyrian]

☆ not so bad

oikawa tooru x gn!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 2.1k | prompts: only one bed + enemies to lovers + coworkers

    snow covers the street, your eyes trying to focus through the constantly moving windshield wipers. your finger taps incessantly against the steering wheel, the leather cover feeling comfortable beneath your clenched hands. your passenger (princess) and coworker winces as you take a quick turn, the ice making it hard to slow down with enough time. gaze darting towards him, eyes rolling exasperated.

  "i offered to let you drive, you're not gonna complain now," you look back towards the street, the streetlights barely fighting the incoming abundance of snow, only a large home down the street coming into view.

  he looks back over at you, something only your subconscious can feel. he scoffs lightly, the sound nearly swept away by the loud heaters in your car. "well i didn't think you'd nearly kill us on the drive. plus how are we even going to get there in this? we gotta find somewhere else to stay," he relays what you're already thinking in your head, like a broken record kept around for far too long.

  "well, how about- look is this an inn or something?" you slow the car down, no headlights on behind you or coming towards you.

  there's a quaint sign at the entrance of a large driveway and parking lot. a floral design etched into the wood, looking like something from an old romcom that you've seen a million times. pulling into the driveway, he starts to think out loud, running ideas through your head, "what if this is a murder hotel? like that one from america?"

  you roll your eyes again, the only thing you can seem to do in his presence. "oikawa, you're really getting on my nerves. i'm trying to stay professional but if you say one more word you're walking," you finally look over at him, noticing his eyes on you.

  there's something about the way his eyes still shine in the darkness. and for a second, you almost feel intrigued by his gaze, by his sarcastic smile. however, you're quickly pulled back to reality as you park in the mostly full parking lot. cars covered with snow make it almost impossible to find a spot, the rest of the snow building up to heights the rental car couldn't handle. 

  parking, you look towards the front door, "i'm gonna get us rooms before anyone else comes, grab the bags, will ya?"

  tossing him the keys, you open the door and grab your wallet. stepping through the thick snow, it picks up onto your ankles, chilling the space between your socks and pants. walking under the porch light, you happily let the warmth overtake you. and as you open the door, bright lights shine out the door, the indoor heat surpassing anything the small car could accomplish. 

  stepping in, you feel like you're in paradise. the old woodworkings of the house bring out the natural architecture that it has. family photos line the walls, generations of portraits up the staircase and down the halls. encompassed by the atmosphere of the inn, you don't even notice the front desk until a throat is cleared. looking over, you see a smile on the woman's face, her hands folded on the desk.

  "hi, my coworker and i got a little lost in the blizzard," you start, hand clutching your phone as you look up into the kind-looking woman's eyes, "and we were just wondering if you had any available rooms to stay in."

  she purses her lips, giving you a look that only a mother could procure. shaking her head slightly, she lets out a low sigh, "we only have one room dear, with one queen sized bed. i would recommend the both of you go to the next hotel or inn, but with the weather and how far they are..." 

  "right. well, does the room have a couch or anything?"

  "no, unfortunately the only room is quite small. it comes with an en-suite but it doesn't have enough room for other accommodations, i'm so sorry," the innkeeper stands before you, giving you an apologetic look through her lips and sunken eyebrows.

  just as you're about to say something, oikawa opens the door, walking up to you. snow covers his hair, sticking to the strands as some start to lose their shape beneath the heat. holding both bags, he sets them down beside you, looking between you and who you assume to be the owner. returning your gaze to the woman, you nod, deciding that it's the only option the two of you have.

  knowing oikawa is gonna give you flack for whatever you do, you realize it's your best bet, "okay, we'll take the room."

  "room-"

  looking to him, he soon realizes that if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under. closing his lips into a straight line, he watches as you use the company card to pay for the evening, grabbing the key from the lady. “it's beautifully crafted, like the rest of the home,” you nod, looking around. but oikawa can't stop looking at only you and seeing a kind side to you that he doesn't normally see. not when you both push each other's buttons more often than not.

  grabbing your bag from the ground, you thank the woman, giving her a soft nod. "let's go find our room," you sigh, looking back to oikawa, waiting for him to grab his bag and head up the stairs with you.

  following the line of portraits and photographs of the land, you see the closed doors, light shining out the bottom of only a couple of them. "so what did you mean by room?" oikawa whispers, leaning his head towards your's as he walks solemnly behind you.

  "exactly what i said... they have one room left. and we're not going back out into the storm. not when the other places are as far out as they are," you whisper back, making sure that none of the people working here could hear the two of you squabbling over the rooms.

  walking up to room four, you stick the key in, opening the door slowly. inside is a freshly made bed, a quilt comforter over white sheets with patterned pillowcases. it feels warm, not necessarily the temperature, which has settled to a comforting degree. but rather, it feels welcoming. the electric fireplace by the bathroom wall, the painting of rolling hills above the bed.

  oikawa looks inside from behind you, body nearly pressing up against your's. "so, left or right side?" he questions, peering down at you as you look back at him.

  shaking your head, you let out a short laugh. "well, i usually take the left side of my own bed..." you set your bag down by the wall, turning back to oikawa with a smile on your face, eyebrows raised.

  "there's some benefits to us being opposites then," he walks over to the right side of the bed, setting his bag down by the foot of the bed.

  you take in a deep breath, wondering how you're going to get through the next night or two with him. with how he jokes, how he looks at you with his glossy eyes. and especially, with how different the two of you are. narrowing your eyes, you nod, feeling like a deer in headlights.

  "well, i'm gonna get ready in the bathroom... i won't take too long or anything," you awkwardly step towards your bag, grabbing a change of clothes and your toiletries.

  walking towards the bathroom, you look back at him for a moment, cracking a smile. he's searching through his bag for something, eyebrows furrowed. oikawa always has such a determined look on his face, and only now did you notice the quirks that he carries. the way his tongue sticks out or his hand reaches to run through his hair. shaking your head to bring yourself back to reality.

  closing the door behind you, you start getting ready. you put on a matching pair of pajamas and start washing your face. it’s a soothing moment for you, time to yourself so you can truly relax before facing him again. 

  uncapping your toothbrush, you run it under the water first, letting the bristles loosen. leaving a trail of toothpaste on the brush, you bring it up to your mouth, brushing while you grab your phone. checking the screen, you notice it's getting late, and since you have to get up fairly early to get back on the road... your brain stops thinking of the future when you hear something fall.

  setting down your phone quickly, you unlock and pull open the door. there stands oikawa, shirtless, with his phone on the ground. immediately you look away, looking up towards the ceiling so you don't have to meet his gaze again. "sorry, dropped my phone."

  nodding, you turn back into the bathroom, spitting the toothpaste back into the sick. your mind relays the short moment, like it's something you see but nearly every part of you wants to ignore or forget. nearly every part of you. rinsing the toothbrush back down, you set it down beside the sink. "yeah, i was wondering if you tripped and fell. happy i don't have to call for help or anything," you shrug your shoulders, stepping back into the room and turning the bathroom light off.

  when you step out, he's throwing his shirt on. bringing it down over his head and down his torso. looking away once more, you find your cheeks warming up. "unlike you, i'm not a total klutz," oikawa walks over to the side of the bed, pulling back the comforter and top sheet, tossing one of the extra pillows onto a dresser. 

  "no, but you seem to not like comfort. one pillow is not nearly enough for a comfortable sleep," you join him on your side, pulling back the sheets but keeping your gaze on his, hands moving on their own.

  oikawa shakes his head, finally being the one to back down from your gaze. he looks over to your two, and then to his that he tossed off, "well if you like comfort so much, feel free to take mine. and it is comfortable, in fact it's actually nice to keep my neck from hurting."

  "i will gladly take your pillow and i'll stuff it between us," you walk over, grabbing the pillow off the dresser and onto the bed.

  the two of you simultaneously get onto the bed, kneeling face to face, inches apart. he stares at you for a second, swallowing, adam's apple bobbing. clenching your jaw, you lean back and sit on your leg, letting the other rest along the bed. you look at your phone, no notifications filling your screen, leaving the two of you with an awkward silence. 

  bringing your leg out with the other, you pull the comforter and sheet on. you quickly set your phone down on the bedside table and hope that the drowsiness of the night will help drown the tension. "you have a light switch near you, right?" oikawa asks, bringing the sheets up on his side as well, mirroring you.

  "yeah," you whisper, your voice quiet as you reach over and flick the spare light switch down, "okay, goodnight."

  the two of you sit in silence. and despite the shades drawn and the sun down, you can't seem to cut the intense feeling you both carry. oikawa clears his throat only a couple of minutes in of laying there. it breaks the tension for only a moment before the two of you are lying there on your backs, wondering what to do.

  "if we weren't on a business trip i'd say it'd be fun to go sledding or build a snowman," oikawa mentions and you hear his pillow shift, his head turning towards you.

  turning your head towards his, you nod against your pillow. "i don't know, i'm partial to snowball fights i think," your shoulders shrug, only able to see his eyes and his outline in the darkness.

  "of course you'd be," he scoffs, turning his head back, eyes staring forward.

  "god, you are so annoying," you shake your head, staring forward as well, "goodnight for good now." 

  turning away from him, you feel your lips turn up into a smile. something about him makes you so annoyed, so frustrated. but it also makes life so much more exciting, making it not so bad. oikawa started feeling the same way when he woke up early in the morning, arm wrapped around you. the pillow had been thrown to the ground, and your hair was in his face, but it all felt so good.

a/n: longest oneshot i’ve ever done and it’s an oikawa fic… gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki @nnnyxie @kameyyy

[luxaofhesperides]

Wings AU ; requested by @justwannabecat!

“Are you sure it looks good?” Duke asks for the sixth time in an hour.

Tim sighs and says, yet again, “It looks fine. Just give it to him! If he doesn’t love it, I’ll beat him up for you.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I could! But you’re right, I wouldn’t. I would just psychologically torment him until he broke.”

“Don’t do that, please. I’d like to actually have a chance with him, even if he hates this.”

“He won’t,” Tim says. He actually stops typing to give Duke a severe look. “Go and give it to him. If you don’t go now, he’s going to think you bailed.”

Duke glances at the time, then jumps. “Shit! Thanks for your help, man!” He’s out of the door before Tim can say another word. He doesn’t bother with the front door, or even going down the hallway. Instead, he opens the nearest window and flings himself out of it, unfurling his tawny wings to catch the wind beneath them and ride them into the city proper.

He briefly considers stopping for a moment to change into his Signal outfit so he can fly above civilian jurisdiction, then decides that it’s far easier to just bend the light around him so he’s invisible. He wouldn’t want to be late meeting Danny, after all. Especially not for this.

He hadn’t been expecting Danny to be into traditional courting methods. Most people tend to go the more modern way of dating, but Danny had mentioned once or twice that he thought it was romantic. He had blushed, mumbling the words, but Duke heard them and went into researching courting methods to see which ones Danny might like best.

Sure, he could just ask Danny out on a date like he normally would if he liked someone, but if Danny wants to be courted, then Duke is going to court him!

It’s why he’s been planning this out carefully, gathering his primaries after his wings molted a few months ago so he could string them together into a thin wing covering. 

Admittedly, this courting method isn’t super common, but the thought of giving Danny his feathers, making it look like their wings are one and the same, has kept Duke up some nights, wanting it so badly. 

Besides, he thinks Danny will like it. Considering the state of his wings after the Accident…

Duke holds his handmade wing covers closer to his chest, flier lower as he leaves Bristol and enters Diamond District. The streets are busy, full of people. Most tend to stay on the ground, wings tucked close to their bodies, but there are plenty still flying above cars and buses that Duke has to carefully fly around. 

It takes another twenty minutes to get to Robinson Park, where Duke drops down to the ground and takes a moment to make sure all his feathers are straight and neatly displayed. Then he walks into the park, heading towards their usual meeting place.

For once, it’s a nice, sunny day in Gotham. Everyone’s taking advantage of it. The park is full of couples and families, walking around slowly, and kids dart through the air, still unable to go very high with their wings not yet fully grown in. It’s nice to hear the laughter and general chatter of people wandering the park. 

Duke doesn’t spend too long walking the paved paths through the park. He steps off of it near the second water fountain on the path, then heads into the trees, passing two moms on a picnic with their three kids rolling around the grass nearby. 

Tucked away in this corner of the park is a small clearing surrounded by thin trees. The tile is dirty and cracked, no one maintaining it at all with it hidden away. 

He sees Danny’s wings first, with long feathers that trail onto the ground, a black that shines dark blue in the light. He follows the lines of his wings back to his body, where Danny sits on a bench, leaning his weight back against his hands as he lifts his head up into the sunlight, basking in the warmth.

He really is so pretty. He insists that he isn’t, but Duke regularly spends time with the Wayne family, all who have modeled before, so he’s got a better idea than most about what pretty  looks like, and Danny fits the bill. 

“Hey,” Duke calls out softly, watching as Danny slowly blinks his eyes open and turns to give him a warm smile.

“Hey! I’m free for the rest of the day, which means we have so much time to complain about things today.”

“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

“Nope,” Danny says. “I wouldn’t mind waiting, though. I like hanging out with you.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Duke walks forward. He doesn’t know if there’s something specific he has to say when presenting his gift, if there’s a courting tradition involved that he didn’t learn about. He’s terrified Danny’s going to reject it. He’s praying that Danny accepts it.

“Are you okay?” Danny asks, standing to get a better look at him. “You seem tense…” He trails off as he catches sight of what Duke holds in his hands, breath stuttering.

“I’m fine. I, um.” Duke steps into the clearing, entering the sunlight, and holds out his wing covers. “I made them for you. You mentioned before that you thought courting traditions were romantic… I don’t know if you like wing covers, but I thought you’d look good in my feathers… Only if you want it though!”

He’s trying so hard not to cringe away in embarrassment. He’s flirted with Danny before, half jokes and half serious, always playful. Duke was smooth then, delighting in how flustered it made Danny before he hit back with his own flirting. Now he’s a hesitant, stuttering fool, tripping over his words and struggling to find the perfect things to say. Maybe he should have thought up a speech, or something. Memorized a few lines to speak his intentions with this courting gift. Done literally any prep for giving the gift instead of focusing only on making it.

Danny doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move either. He just stares, wide-eyed at the wing covers in Duke’s hands.

That’s a bad sign, isn’t it.

His hands lower just a touch, and he quietly prompts, “Danny?”

Just as he’s about to pull back, step away and try to fix things, messily attempt to salvage their friendship because clearly Danny doesn’t want to be courted by Duke, Danny’s hands snap out whip-fast and latch onto his wrists.

“This is… for me?” he whispers, awed.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s for you.”

“And you’re courting me? Like, for real?”

“Yeah, definitely courting you for real. Do you accept?”

Danny throws himself into Duke’s arms, careful not to crush the wing covers between them. “In what world would I say no?” he laughs, bright with joy. He pulls back a second later, not giving Duke time to hug him back, and turns around, carefully stretching his wings out. “Put them on for me?”

“Of course.”

He starts by smoothing out some of Danny’s feathers. He doesn’t get to do this often; Danny hates having his wings on display for anyone, with how they spasm occasionally, and have empty patches where feathers will never grow in again. The Accident, all that electricity coursing through him, it permanently damaged his wings. There is no healing to be done. 

His wings are lacking too many flight feathers and primaries for him to fly. He’s stuck on the ground now, unable to use his wings for more than a minute. Old burns are still visible closer to his spine. 

Danny prefers hiding his wings away. He hates thinking about the Accident, hates how it’s taken his wings from him, how it’s changed him completely. 

But Duke loves his wings. He loves the softness of Danny’s lower feathers, how they shine in the light, how they always puff up when it gets windy. He’s only gotten to preen them twice before, and he treasures those memories more dearly than anything else.

This easily outshines both those moments.

He gently combs his fingers through Danny’s feathers, straightening them out, then lays the first wing cover over his right wing. His own brown feathers drape over the top of Danny’s wings, hiding the featherless patches from view. He does the same to the other wing, then adjust both until they lay perfectly on Danny’s wings.

As soon as he lifts his hands away from Danny’s wings, Danny is spinning around with a grin, flaring his wings out.

“How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Duke answers. He was right; Danny looks good in his feathers.

He watches, fond and amused, as Danny spins, keeping his wings flared, admiring his new look. “I’m never taking these off,” he says. “I love them so much. I can’t really make one for you, though…”

“You don’t need to.”

“I can’t just accept this and not give you something in return!”

“Well… There is one thing you could give me. Something I’ve been wanting for a long time.”

“What is it?” Danny asks, leaning towards Duke. He’s eager, ready to please, so delighted to be courted. 

Duke smiles. “A kiss.”

“Done.” 

He doesn’t have time to react before Danny is pouncing on him, hands fisting the collar of his shirt as he tilts his head up and kisses Duke. He pulls back before Duke can kiss back, blushing and unbearably cute.

And all Duke manages to say is, “Cool.”

He’s so good at this.

Danny rightfully laughs at him, then grabs his hand and pulls him down to the bench. “Come on, I promised to complain about my teachers today and I intend to deliver. And maybe later, I could take you out on a date? If you want.”

“Danny, of course I want to go on a date with you. I’m courting you! I thought I made my feelings clear!”

“I’m just making sure!” Danny shouts over him, and Duke can’t resist the urge to pull him closer and pepper kisses along his cheek. “Okay, okay, I got it. You’ve made your feelings clear. I’m going to date you so hard.”

“You better. It’s about time you put some work into our relationship.”

“Excuse you?!” Danny gasps in mock outrage, and they start bickering lightheartedly as they always do.

Even with their feelings come to light, even with a courtship started and a date promised, it doesn’t feel like anything between them has changed. 

It’s just them. Just as it always has been.

Duke couldn’t be happier.

[crystalbeetle888]

Promising Future

1.8k Words - SFW - Hybrid AU

- brief mentions of kidnapping, violence, torture, minor fluff -

The darkness surrounding you seems eternal, not knowing where your body ends or the walls of the cold hard shipping container begins. At least the freezing nights were better than the sweltering days, inside that metal box it felt like an oven. Your arms ache, the thick chain holding them loosely above your head clinks as you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. The rusted muzzle weighs heavy around your skull, its mouthpiece sharp against your tongue.

You had been in hiding for most of your life, living amongst a small rural community in Alaska. Before an unmarked militia group came through to clear the people out for an upcoming oil line. As they did they took you, a rare feral hybrid, Lupus-Versipellis, a wolf hybrid. Feral hybrids were rarer than domestic species like dogs or cats, and are often outcast and forced into hiding for being assumed dangerous. Which just makes them all the more allusive.

You couldn’t tell how long it had been since your capture, but your hair had since grown long down your back, matts littered throughout. You have had many different buyers all across the world try to break you into a pliant soldier. Various methods were inflicted upon you. From beatings to negotiations, from tying you to a post for days with no food or water, to attempted medical and chemical reconditioning. Key word, attempted. Little was actually known on hybrid physiology so it wasn’t uncommon for people to under-sedate you. They quickly learnt that wasn’t the safest method for reconditioning.

Your latest buyers seemed to be Mexican. They never spoke to you but based on the tattoos you saw when they came to feed you, the general climate, and the fact that you could hear them speaking Spanish outside of the shipping container, strongly hinted at the Cartel. You had only really heard about them through wild action movies and terrible bar jokes though, so other than that you were in the dark. Literally.

Your ears perk at the sound of distant gunfire, it echoes loudly through the previously still night. You rattle your chains in suspense. You can hear yelling and loud explosions. Then, nothing. You wait for what seems like forever before the shuffling of footsteps and the clanging of metal breaks the silence. A stream of silver light shines through the darkness as the door slowly scrapes open and two silhouettes come into view.

“Fooken hell, they av’ a hybrid” a Scottish man's voice echos.

You growl deeply at them, the noise vibrating through your chest. “A cranky one at that. Get the Colonel, he’s gonna wanna see this ""Yes sargent” the other man replies before disappearing from view.

You squint at the man, struggling to see him properly as he approaches. “Easy there lass, M’ not gonna hurt ya” he mutters, arms out wide in submission. You shake your chains violently, trying to scare him off. “Easy, Easy” he finally steps close enough for you to see him. He’s a stocky white male with a short brown mohawk and piercing blue eyes. “Easy there lass, I’m just trying to help ya”. Your heart pounds against your chest, panic overwhelms your mind as he reaches a cautious hand towards the back of your head “Hay I’m just trying to get it off” he reassures you. Your breathing is laboured, you eye his hand as it reaches behind you and lifts the heavy padlock. Your ears press flat against your skull as you watch him cautiously.

Suddenly three more silhouettes appear at the door “Dios Mio” a gravelly voice whispers. “Alejandro! We're gonna need some bolt cutters” the man next to you calls out. “Aye!” he responds before whispering to the other man in spanish. You swing the chains violently, trying to free yourself from their confines. A muffled wail ripping from your throat at your fruitless attempts. “Hay, hay, hay, take it easy!”, “Calm down niña”, “You need to quit that darling” the men unsuccessfully try to reason with you as you continue to thrash around. Pain shooting through your shoulders causes you to fall limp against the chains, the weight of your body on your arm causes you to cry out.

Suddenly, the weight on your arms is lifted as you’re hauled into the air, the Scottish man's thick arms wrapped tightly around your thighs, his head pressing into your stomach. You stop thrashing and stare at him, completely stunned. You’re finally able to rest your arms. You place them slowly on top of his head, groaning as the tension releases from your shoulder blades. “Better?” he squeezes your leg, you huff in response. “So you understand english” you huff again, staring down at him as he gazes back up at you. His stubble prickles your bare stomach as he talks, his skin radiating heat. “So she’s friendly then?” the southern white man asks. You growl in response causing the scot to chuckles “Careful Graves, she’s a feisty one” he pats your legs. “She’ll fit right in then camarada” Alejandro says.

Finally a young man walks into the shipping container holding some bolt cutters. “Let’s get you free then aye lass?” the scott smiles up at you. The young man approaches hesitantly before looking to his superior, “Go on” he says to the younger man. He turns back towards you, you can hear his heartbeat racing in his chest as he places the jaws of the bolt cutters around the padlock on your wrist. He struggles for a moment before…Snap! A cuff falls from you, the chain connected to the ceiling now hangs loosely. You grip onto the man's shoulder with your free hand, offering up the other. He readies the bolt cutters and…Snap! You’re so close to being free.

The scotsman squats down, placing you gently on the floor “Don’t try and stand up yet lass” he rubs your bare back in comfort before grabbing the padlock on your muzzle “Take it easy on this one amigo”. The young man nods, positioning the cutters and…Snap! The scott takes the padlock off, before unclasping the muzzle and pulling it off your face and out your mouth. You breathe out your mouth freely for the first time in years. The cold air graces your lips. You bring your now trembling hands up to your face, you feel so weightless. A sob escapes your throat as you sit there in your newly found freedom. “You’re alright, we’ve got ya bonnie” he places a warm hand on your back.

The hospital room was dimly lit and smelled strongly of chemicals you couldn't quite place. After cutting you down, the Scottish man named Johnny, escorted you back to the hospital at their base. Doctors and nurses fluttered around you, curious at your unique appearance. They placed you on a drip, bandaged your wrists and and sponge bathed the rest of you down. You were put in thin shorts and a shirt that tied up on the sides, the grippy socks they provided didn’t fit your feet as your claws had grown so long they tore straight through them.

You listened intently to the conversations down the hall, most of them were about you, but you weren't interested in all their gossip. They’re not who you’re waiting for. Heavy boots thumping through the hall towards you catch your attention. Your ears stand straight, focused in on the door as they approach. The handle rattles and the door swings open, revealing Johnny carrying a large tray of assorted meats “Wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I had ‘em put a bit of everythin’ on” he smiles, walking into the room casually, he places the tray on your lap.

The smell of raw meat makes your hair prickle and stand on end. You were starving. Snatching the food off the tray you rip into it, snapping and growling as you eat. “Easy there lass, don’t want you to choke” he chuckles, sitting down in the chair beside your bed. Ignoring him, you continue to chomp through your charcuterie of meat until someone else enters the room. You glance up at them wearily, it was Alejandro, the colonel running this base. “How is she holding up?” he asks Johnny. “Enjoying the food, still hasn’t said a word though” he responds. Alejandro nods before directing his attention to you. Your ears flatten against your head, a growl rumbling from your chest. He huffs in mild amusement “You can grumble all you want senora, but eventually you’ll have to talk to us” he chastises you, folding his arms over his broad chest. You look away from him, nibbling timidly on your food. You don’t like being forced to do things, or talk, or anything really. Your capture has made you increasingly stubborn.

He grunts at your behaviour, “I’ll come back tomorrow once you’re healed more, maybe some exercise will loosen you up hmm?” He nods at Johnny before turning back around and leaving the room.

“We’re not going to be able to help ya if you don’t talk to us Bonnie” he whispers as gently as his thick accented voice would allow him to. You side eye him, huffing out your nose in reluctance. “Would you at least tell me your name?” He pleads with you, leaning his elbows the side of the bed.

Anxiety shoots through your body like electricity. You had learned early on in your capture that the less they know about you, the better. This meant no talking to anyone about anything, no responding, and certainly no trusting them. When they had nothing on you it was easier to act like a complete animal, after all that’s all that you were to them. A feral beast.

Your lip quivers as you try to muster up the courage to say something, anything. You wanted to trust him that this was all over, but you couldn’t. He was just another soldier following orders.

You clenched your jaw tightly and shook your head, brows furrowed in frustration. He sighs before standing “That’s alright lass, I’ll try to check up on you tomorrow aye” he says, as he makes his way to the door.

You let out a gasp as he is about to leave, trying to will yourself to say something. A moment passes in silence.

“Thank you” you whisper meekly, barely audible.

He turns to look at you, a wide grin stretched across his face, his eyes twinkling with joy “I’ll see you tomorrow dove” he says before gently closing the door behind him. Your face feels hot and your tummy flutters ‘Why did he smile at me like that?’ You think to yourself. Shaking off the strange feeling, you place the now empty food tray to the side before snuggling under the cover. It isn’t long before exhaustion takes its toll, and you drift off into a deep sleep.

[lunarfleur]

My I Love You ~ Earth 42! Miles Morales

Tagging: @juneberrie @sluggmuffin @gloomyluvr @hiyaitssans

Warnings: None except for slight cursing!

A/N:I got this wonderful idea from @/gloomyluvr. I just love this sm

This is x gender neutral reader!

Miles was so warm.

That’s the only thing you could think about. He generated heat like the sun, his skin a firey blanket you knew he would only let you enjoy. It was soothing you, but you didn’t even know you needed soothing.

Miles was a different kind of gentle with you, a sweet kind of soft you hadn’t even known possible. You’d seen him be kind to his mom-who he loved so dearly-but even with her you would find his typical teenage pride held off his affection. He didn’t seem as ashamed with you.

You sat in his room quietly, his arm keeping you tucked closely against his body. Even through his clothes, his warmth spread over your skin like a disease. His cheek sat gently on the top of your head, his free hand sitting behind his own. His door was cracked open, leaving a single sliver of light sitting against his otherwise dark room, at the request of his mother.

Footloose played in front of you, his laptop sitting on his thighs, covered in his comfiest black sweatpants. His fingers played with the hem of your t-shirt sleeve. The fabric pushed and pulled against your skin.

Looking at him, you hummed. He was pretty. Very pretty. The light that came from the hallway made his rich skin shine. The specks of green in his eyes glowed. His nose sat so nicely against his face. His jaw, even when slacked or relaxed, was tight and firm.

Noticing your eyes, Miles glanced at you. A small smirk grew on his lips.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asked. You shook your head. His fingers danced across the skin of your arm softly.

But even when you forced your attention back to the movie in front of you, Miles’s eyes didn’t leave you. It was a solid 2 minutes before he realized he was even doing it.

He tapped you gently on the shoulder, sitting up straight. You expected him to pause the movie, to get up to use the restroom. But he instead slid his hands up from your neck to the sides of your face.

“Tell me to stop?” He whispered. But it wasn’t a demand, nor was it a threat. It was suggestion, an invitation.

You shook your head, and Miles leaned in slowly. His lips only ghosted yours until you moved into his touch. You felt him tense, his shoulders straightening, then his whole body relaxed altogether.

Once you pulled away, eyes opening, he sat in front of you. His eyes remained closed. His lips pressed tightly into a firm line. They opened slowly.

“Everything okay?” You asked. He nodded.

“Yeah, yeah I just,” Miles hesitated. “I just really…love you.”

Fuck. That was new.

You had said it a few times before, as a goodbye when hanging up the phone or parting for the night. He’d leave you with a kiss on the corner of your mouth, but always resorted to avoiding the phrase altogether. It was out of fear on his part.

A part of Miles told him that those three words were a jinx, that if you said them it automatically meant things weren’t going to last; that something would go wrong. Every relationship his uncle ever had ended quickly and his father had died. His mother was left heartbroken. That was proof enough, right?

‘Our family doesn’t run from things, mijo,’ his mother had always said.

So he sat before you, watching the way your eyebrows raised. He could have sworn your eyes were glowing.

You leaned forward, fingers intertwining with his. You leaned back against the pillows, pulling him back with you.

“I love you, too.”

He released the breath he didn’t even know he was holding and leaned back. His arm snaked back around your shoulder, this time your hand grabbed onto his. His weight pressed against you, heavier this time. His eyes stared at the side of your face.

Looking over at him, you were quick to give him a reassuring smile. You knew it was hard for him, but God did it make you feel good.

He smiled back at you, a sight you knew he’d only let you enjoy, before firmly pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

[corralinesage]

Learning you by heart (9/?)

It's almost Christmas :D!

Chapter 9: My woman

Natasha followed you like a puppy in tow as you made your way inside and dropped off your bags in your dressing room. She was beyond thrilled to learn more about you and all the things she had previously not had access to. The person she had once known had only sung in the shower and gotten incredibly flustered if Natasha ever caught her. You had always had a beautiful voice, and in this reality, you thankfully knew it yourself as well.

“This is where I like to practice”, you said as you stopped your walk down a long corridor of rooms, opening a door to an empty room with a grand piano on the left side of it. “I get to be alone and focus.” You led her inside, Natasha shutting the door behind her as you headed straight to the grand piano with your stack of sheet music you had pulled out of your purse.

“I like it”, she hummed as she stared at the lone, lit-up star that hung before the window, illuminating the room with its gentle beam until you turned on the lights, drowning its shine.

“You can grab a chair from over there if you want a seat.” You pointed toward the right-side wall where a few chairs were stacked and lined neatly, but Natasha didn’t seem to mind, following you to the grand piano to admire its shiny, black exterior. You gave her a small look as you lifted the top up to open the instrument, giving Natasha a look at the insides where the strings and pins formed a complex structure that would eventually make a heavenly sound. You moved to the chair and took a seat, your gaze moving to Natasha. “This is gonna get loud and silly, so buckle up.” You let out a soft chuckle.

“I can do loud and silly”, she mused, waiting for you to begin. “Bring it on, baby.” Your cheeks felt warm again, and your heart was beating faster again. You suddenly felt nervous to sing in front of her despite the fact that you sang daily in front of hundreds of people. Although it was worth mentioning that they heard you actually sing, Natasha would be witnessing the ridiculous little noises you had to make to open up your voice and prepare it for the stage. You weren’t used to showing that side to the people outside of your opera circles, let alone someone you wanted to like you. With a final glance at Natasha, you focused your attention on the keys of the grand piano, warming up your fingers a bit by playing some drills to get your fingers going, providing Natasha with a chance to admire the inside of the instrument as the pins hit the strings creating the most crisp and smooth sound she had ever witnessed so up close. She remained quiet, allowing you to do your thing, her gaze eventually moving from the inside structure to admire you instead. You could feel her eyes on you, but it felt rather comforting, yet also incredibly thrilling.

“Okay, here we go”, you chuckled as a small warning before starting to make noises on top of your playing. You started off with lip trills, going gradually up and down an octave to hit both low and high notes as you pushed out air from between your lips to make them vibrate in a similar manner to a noise that horses often made. You gave Natasha a look, biting your lip in between the octaves as you played the notes from the piano and then matched them with your voice. She seemed amused, but it didn’t feel judgmental. You repeated the lip trills until you felt ready enough to move on to humming. You repeated the same principle of going up and down the octaves to really open up the range of your voice through various methods. You played around with the positioning of your tongue and mouth in general, using a pufferfish technique to create some backpressure before doing another exercise with your tongue between your lips to release tension. You made sure to wake up every part of your mouth, throat, lungs, and core to ensure that your voice flowed beautifully and just like you intended it to.

Finally, you were able to move on to practicing your numbers, which seemed to make Natasha perk up slightly. You couldn’t even blame her, proper songs were always much more interesting to listen to than vocal warmups that sometimes sounded a bit ridiculous even to you despite how used to them you were. By the time your voice was oiled up like a machine and your responsibilities were out of the way, you were struck by an idea.

“You wanna try?” Natasha turned to look at you with her eyes wide, shaking her head.

“Oh, no. I’m not the singing type”, she chuckled, declining your offer politely, but you were used to people having to be persuaded when it came to singing. You stood up, a certain kind of look in your eyes as you walked over to her where she stood at the end of the grand piano. You looked up at her through your lashes, knowing full well how that came across, Natasha’s lower lip clamped between her teeth.

“I know you can sing.” You had heard her sing just the night before. You knew she could hold a note. “It’ll be fun”, you assured her, stepping close enough to her to invade her personal space. She looked down at you, at your eyes, the tension between you restoring with a single batting of your eyelashes. “I’ll show you how.” You gave her a small smile, bringing your dominant hand flat against her abdomen. Natasha could feel her blood start pumping from the innocent contact you made with her, her heart beating all too fast for her comfort. “Hum for me”, you said in a low tone, providing her with an easy three note melody that anyone could follow along with. She looked at you, unable to tear her eyes away from you as you waited for her to repeat the melody. Your eyes were so intense, so beautiful that Natasha felt like she could drown in them, their unyielding gaze persuading her to give it a try. She cleared her throat before copying the three-note melody, humming it from her throat. She felt oddly vulnerable.

“Now brace your core”, you instructed, thoroughly unprepared to feel the way her abdominal muscles flexed beneath the palm of your hand, giving you a wonderful opportunity to gather material for your daydreams. “And push out the sound from your whole body. Not just your throat.” You repeated the melody to her again, holding your hand in place to feel her core engagement as she hummed the notes.

“Here, let me show you.” Your cheeks were blazing hot as you grasped her bare hand with your own and brought it to your own abdomen, right below the ribs. You held your hand over hers as you let out short, little hums to really show that your core tightened every time you let out a sound. You gave her a small, encouraging smile, before moving her warm touch off you and bringing it to her own stomach. “Try now.” Natasha did as told, doing her best to contain herself after the burn that your touch had caused.

“Perfect. That’s exactly what we’re looking for.” The excitement was evident in your tone. “Singing is very physical and at first it can feel straining to always tense all your muscles, but it really does help with the quality of your voice”, you explained. You hummed another melody yourself, prompting her to follow your lead. She managed to get the hang of it rather quickly. “Choose a song.” You gave her a small smirk as her eyes widened. She could not think of a song in her messy brain that was screaming for her to kiss you instead of focusing on anything else. She felt almost dizzy. You were so close, and your touch had been so gentle and warm.

“Uh… um, Have yourself a merry little Christmas.” It was the best she could come up with. She had heard it at the winter village, and it had gotten stuck in her head.

“Perfect. Keep your attention on your core, but don’t strain it.” You hummed the melody quickly to yourself to recall how the song went before singing the first line. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas. Let your heart be light.” You nodded your head as a way to signal her to repeat the line. She did as told, feeling like she was completely under your spell. She couldn’t have resisted you and your beautiful voice. It would have felt downright disrespectful. Her voice wasn’t far off from her talking voice, simply lighter and airier. It was raw and delicate, but it wasn’t unpleasant by any means. You could have listened to it for the rest of your life. “Next year all our troubles will be out of sight.” You moved your hand off her own to feel her stomach as she sang, your gazes meeting again, the tension consuming her whole. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” You both sang the next line, the lyrics dying in Natasha’s throat. She couldn’t sing, not when you looked at her like that, not when you made her heart gallop like a wild horse fleeing captivity. You simply looked at each other in the silence that had found you, your lips curving up in a slight smile.

“Congratulations. You can now sing with correct technique”, you whispered, your faces mere inches apart, your hand still touching her abdomen through the thin fabric of her shirt. You allowed your thumb to caress the even surface of her upper abdominal muscles before letting go. Natasha couldn’t breathe. “You can stay for the show. Maybe after we can check out that apartment of yours.” You had talked about visiting Natasha’s place during your day at the marketplace. You were curious to see her living space and witness the kind of life she lived. She didn’t seem opposed.

“I’ll stay.” The longing was palpable. You yearned to kiss her and you could tell she felt the same because you had never quite rendered her so speechless, her eyes lingering on your lips, on your eyes, dipping lower to your cleavage in an attempt to escape the intensity of your gaze but when she caught a glimpse of the soft skin that peeked from behind your low neckline she realized to back away completely if she wanted you on the stage that night. You didn’t have time to fool around in a classroom. You had a show to perform. “I’ll wait for you.” She smiled at you, receiving the same gesture in return.

The tension was dispelled when you went to gather up your notes from the grand piano, heading for the dressing rooms again to get into costume. Natasha came with you just to spend that little bit of more time with you. You found it incredibly sweet, pleased that she wished to be so involved with you and your work. She lingered around while you got your hair and makeup done, chatting with you whenever she had the opportunity, but she was mindful to stay out of the way. She looked on quietly from the side with a tiny smile on her lips as you talked with Beatrice about the show, going over some technical aspects about the use of vibrato. She wanted your opinion on one of her solo moments on stage, the young singer wishing to improve herself. Natasha found it endearing. You were so kind and willing to teach Beatrice, offering constructive feedback and helpful tips. Natasha had always loved that about you. She had always loved how willing you were to give people your time and your knowledge. It was something that she would never take for granted. After a good while of Natasha simply observing the dynamics in the dressing room while constantly keeping an eye on you because you truly did look so gorgeous in your character’s get up, it eventually came a time for you and Natasha to part ways. She watched you saunter her way in your heels and extravagant dress, hair, and makeup, an apologetic smile on your face as you reached your hands for hers.

“I have to go now”, you hummed quietly, grasping Natasha’s hands to bring you closer to each other. She nodded her head, unprepared to say goodbye to you when a part of her acknowledged a parallel she wished to forget. You smiled that gorgeous smile of yours at her, bringing an involuntary smirk to her lips.

“I know, darling. It’s your time to shine.” You pursed your lips, looking away, wishing to kiss her. “Go be a star.” She gave your hands a squeeze, gaining your attention back, your eyes meeting. She glanced at your mouth, leaning closer, pleased to see you reciprocate. Her plump lips pressed down on your heavily glossed ones, leaving a layer of soft pink product behind on Natasha’s lips. The kiss was firm and chaste, but it made Natasha’s body throb, nonetheless. “Good luck, detka (baby).” You let out a little giggle, one that was very typical of you when you were undeniably affected by her. It made Natasha grin.

“Thank you.” You barely had the will to let go of her hands, but you managed eventually, backing away from her before turning around and heading for the stage, peeking over your shoulder a few times just to get another look at her, your smile lingering on your lips rather persistently, Natasha’s heart beating outside of her chest from pure joy.

Natasha stayed for a show or two before leaving the opera house to focus on her life outside of your presence. If you were going to come over to her place, she would have to ensure that her cover was watertight. She could not afford to risk the connection that was building between you. There could be not a single clue on display that could give out her white lies. She headed toward the Stark tower that had remained under the name of Stark Industries. Tony still developed war weapons and had never advanced any further than that. Natasha had been brought overseas to help with insider knowledge on weapon use. She didn’t live in the Stark tower like she had in her previous life, but she had an apartment nearby that was leased through the company. She was currently on a leave for Christmas, which she had thankfully been able to arrange for her alternate self, who, true to Natasha’s nature, had not taken a day off all year. Natasha found it rather ironic that none of the Avengers existed in her current reality, yet her miserable self was still in the weapon fare industry trying to fight a battle nobody else was interested in fighting.

Natasha scoffed at herself as she tossed aside a stack of work-related documents to the side to clear a desk in her bedroom, a small frustrated huff leaving her parted lips. Oh, what a mess she had created herself. She had set the trap up all by herself. You would most likely not care what she did for work or how accurate she had been about her job description, but finding out about any lies that she had told would automatically weaken her credibility and the positive impression she wanted you to have of her. Natasha cleaned up any of the mess that lingered around her variant’s apartment, making sure the space looked tidy and clean. She wasn’t all that familiar with her variant or her life, prompting her to do a little more research on herself, just in case. She had been spending most of her free time away from you on relearning the world around her. She had researched movies and pop culture, diseases, world events, politics, and social phenomena to get a better understanding of the reality you lived in. She hadn’t had time to get into her variant’s life because she didn’t intend to live that life. She was aiming to change it to make it more suitable for herself. She discovered an image of her variant and a man who was holding her so close that it made Natasha gag. She had hidden the frame inside a drawer the moment she had initially lain her eyes upon it. She took the frame and slid the picture out of it, tearing it up to get rid of any evidence about the tomfoolery her variant had been up to with a man in her life. She shook her head in disbelief. Here she had been thinking that she was gay enough to be a lesbian in every universe.

She discarded any other inappropriate pictures that she could find from the apartment, going over legal documents, and other official papers she had yet to sort through to do more research on herself. She looked through her variant’s closet, taking out pieces that she herself wouldn’t wear, ensuring that her closet reflected her own style. She cleaned away the cat equipment that lingered around in her closet from Liho who Natasha had not even gotten to meet. Her best guess was that the cat had actually passed, but she had no confirmation. She checked her bank credentials and balance, making sure she was aware of how much she could spend. She would still get a regular salary as long as she went back to work and learned to do her variant’s job. She would also have to eventually explain to you why she worked a different position that she had initially told you. Maybe she had gotten a raise, or alternatively she would simply apply for a transfer to her desired position. Or maybe she had two kinds of jobs she was in charge of. Natasha sighed, she should have been more careful in the beginning, but she had let her emotions get in her way. She had been all too affected by the jumble of pain and excitement to think rationally.

Finally, after having enough of berating herself, she made sure the apartment was tidy and clean before restocking her fridge by running to the closest bodega to grab any snacks she knew you’d like and a bottle of your favorite wine just in case it would get romantic again that night. Once she had finished her tasks and ensured that her cover, or what was now her life, was foolproof, she headed back to the opera house in the evening, leaving her apartment around the time you were on intermission, so she could catch your final number that was steadily becoming her favorite in the entire opera, maybe even all the operas. She stood quietly at the back, watching you saunter onto the stage. She would have closed her eyes to truly and properly listen to your voice, but she could not tear her eyes off you and your gorgeous gown. She felt her skin prickle with goosebumps every time you hit a higher note, your angelic voice somehow managing to fill up the entire theater. It was just as phenomenal every single time.

Natasha snuck backstage before the audience had the chance to get up from their seats and crowd all the aisles and hallways, patiently waiting for you near the dressing rooms, unwilling to invade the spaces that were meant for performers only. She soon heard some laughter echo down the hallway leading to the dressing rooms, her lips immediately stretching into a small smile despite the laugh not belonging to you, but it was nonetheless a sign of your arrival. She watched half of the performers enter the dressing rooms, the group of people chatting enthusiastically, sharing how their performances had gone on stage, expending any remaining nerves and energy since they were finally able to relax for the night. You arrived in tow with Beatrice, both of you rather quiet in comparison to the others. You managed a small smile when you saw Natasha, but in all honesty, you were completely wiped.

“Hi, malyshka (baby)”, Natasha hummed quietly, low enough for others to not hear. You gave her a tired look.

“Hi.” Beatrice walked by you, smirking at you briefly which told Natasha that she was aware of your situation and relations. You waited for the rest of the cast to head inside the dressing rooms, you and Natasha lingering behind by the door.

“Tired?” Natasha recognized the look on your face, she could so easily spot the weary look in your eyes, the slouch in your shoulders and the lax smile on your lips.

“You wouldn’t believe it. I thought I couldn’t do the final number”, you mumbled, leaning against the wall for support because leaning into Natasha’s arms was slightly too forward of you. She chuckled in sympathy, watching you rest the side of your head against the cool wall, bringing her hand up to the side of your face to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. You closed your eyes at the touch of her hand, letting out a small sigh. Oh, how you wanted to sink into her embrace and just bury your face into her neck. All the excitement from the precious day and the morning had completely drained you.

“We’ll do my place another time. I’ll get you a cab and get you straight home.” She felt a twinge of disappointment in her chest for having to part from you, but she would do what was best for you without a question.

“No”, you whined quietly. “I wanna see your place.” A part of you did want to go home and just sleep, but a bigger part of you wanted to actually see where she lived and spend time with her.

“You sure?” She cupped your cheek, your eyes fluttering open to see her face.

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay if you want to go home and rest. you should do exactly that”, Natasha tried again, knowing you were not always exactly keen on doing what was best for you when it came to resting.

“I don’t want to.” Your tone made her chuckle.

“Alright, darling. Grab your stuff and we’ll get going.” You nodded your head, pushing yourself off the wall to go get out of costume.

When you finally stepped into the crisp night air, you felt yourself fully relax, soothed by the gentle rush of air that caressed your skin. You didn’t talk much as you started blindly following Natasha to her home, grabbing her hand to hold, so you could keep up with her. Natasha, as chivalrous as ever, was carrying your purse and paper bag that contained your loot from the village after insisting to help you with the load. You appreciated it greatly despite feeling slightly bad for it.

“You up for some dinner?” Natasha asked you as you passed a restaurant that wafted a delicious scent of spices your way. “We could grab some takeaway.”

“Oh, I’d love it”, you sighed in relief, suddenly recalling your hunger that you had had to push aside during the show.

“What would you like?”

“Anything. I’ll eat anything at all. I’m ravenous.” She gave your hand a squeeze as you stopped at a road cross, waiting for the lights to turn green.

“There’s an Italian place down the block from my apartment. They do pizza and pasta, you know, the works.”

“That’s perfect.”

By the time you entered Natasha’s apartment with your food in hand, you were ready to sink into the floor just to find a horizontal position. You toed off your shoes after Natasha did the same, taking off your outerwear in a clumsy fashion with the food in your arms to hang your coat up in her closet. You looked around the apartment. It was on the seventh floor of a regular building complex, the interior simple but classy. She had two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen, the entrance of the apartment expanding into the conjoined kitchen and living rooms. The interior design was rather plain and consisted of shades of white, beige, and grey. It wasn’t bland but it was lacking slightly in personality. Natasha wouldn’t have chosen such light colors herself for an apartment, but it wasn’t too far off her style.

“Oh, this looks like a nice place you got”, you commented as you stepped further inside, eyeing the interior.

“I haven’t put much effort into decorating it, but maybe someday I’ll get to it”, she chuckled, setting down your bags to take the food from your arms. She placed the white plastic bag onto the dining table, switching on the kitchen lights so you could see better.

“I like it. It’s calming.” You noted some details from the interior, your eyes spotting the lush couch in the living room that was facing a TV stand and a flatscreen. The cushions looked rather inviting to you, but you resisted their siren-like call because you didn’t want to fall asleep on her so soon, although you were most definitely planning to stay the night because nothing in the world could have made you find the energy to go home or anywhere anymore for that matter. Natasha was stuck with you whether she liked it or not because it was nearing midnight, and you had no intention to step outside again.

“I’m glad you think so, she hummed as she started unpacking the food, pulling out two containers of pasta and some breadsticks with butter.

“Can I take a look around?” You were already heading further into the apartment albeit slowing down slightly before receiving her answer just to make sure you weren’t crossing any boundaries.

“Yes, of course.” Natasha smiled to herself as she pulled out porcelain dishes from the cupboards so you could eat with proper utensils instead of the wooden ones the restaurant had provided you with. She lit up a few candles to create a warmer atmosphere at the dinner table. “Do you want wine?”

“Yes!” Your voice echoed from somewhere around her bedroom, but you appeared back in the kitchen soon after, lured in by the food and drink that your body was begging for.

“I got that cherry wine that you- it’s this wine I thought you might like.” Natasha corrected herself immediately, handing the bottle to you so you could take a look at it before she opened it. You didn’t seem bothered by her slight verbal stumbling, her shoulders relaxing a little. She was getting too comfortable with you. She was mixing you up with the old you and getting herself confused with what she knew about you and what she didn’t. It was a dangerous game.

“Ah, I love cherry!” You eyed the bottle for a moment, pretending to look at it like you cared what kind of wine it was. You were sold after hearing the word cherry. “How did you know that?” Natasha chuckled at your enthusiasm.

“You just seem the type and you had that cherry danish when we first met for coffee.” She placed two wine glasses onto the table, receiving the bottle from you.

“Oh, yeah. Look at you, all observant”, you hummed, smiling like a fool because she remembered something so insignificant.

“What can I say? You’re someone very memorable.” She smiled softly to herself as she unscrewed the cap and poured you a sip to taste. “There you go.” She handed you the glass, pouring herself a serving. You tried not to blush at her comment, but you couldn’t even look at her as you smiled against the rim of the glass, taking a sip of the sweet, fruity wine.

“I love it”, you whispered, placing the glass back down onto the table so she could give you a proper amount of it to go with your dinner. You returned the smile she gave you, taking a seat at the table, ready to dig into your pasta.

“I can heat it up in the microwave if it cooled down too much outside”, Natasha offered kindly, taking her own box of garlic and mushroom pasta to put on her plate.

“Thank you, I might just need that to melt the cheese properly”, you said a bit sheepishly as you scooped a good-sized portion onto your plate before handing it to Natasha. You heated up your food and got settled at the table with your small-scale dinner that was rather modest but neither of you had any complaints because the company was what made it feel undeniably special. You sipped on your wine as you ate together, the exhaustion from the day mixing incredibly well with the wine and soon enough you were in a rather jolly mood.

“And then- then- This is so stupid. Then-” You fell into yet another giggling fit, hiding your face in your hands to try to control the reaction to your tipsiness but it was impossible with how tired you were. “This isn’t- isn’t even a good story.” Natasha chuckled at the look on your face. You were not far from having tears streaming down your cheeks from how hard you were laughing. It made her laugh in turn. She couldn’t resist your intoxicating giggles. She had always loved it when you got all giggly and ridiculously silly whenever you got tipsy. She had yet to meet anyone else who compared to the amount of giggles you were able to let out. “I can’t breathe”, you whined in between snickers, gasping for air, your laughter turning silent. “I don’t even remember…” Natasha had no clue why you were laughing. You had never gotten far enough in your story to truly let her in on the humor that had caused such a reaction, but she didn’t even mind it because nothing could be as funny as watching you squirm in laughter for no particular reason at all.

“Breathe, baby, breathe”, she chuckled a bit teasingly, but all you managed was a small wheeze.

“It’s not funny”, you moaned, but the harder you fought against your giggles the more hilarious Natasha found it, and suddenly you were both laughing hard enough that your cheeks and abdominal muscles ached despite there being no reason for your uncontrollable laughing fit. You looked at Natasha through your teary eyes, noting her wine-tinted cheeks and the mirth in her eyes, your heart beating erratically in your chest from the onslaught of emotions you felt. She looked so beautiful and so joyous and carefree. You loved her laugh. It was rich and low; smooth. It was a comforting kind of laugh. The kind that made you feel welcome and warm inside. It made you want to get closer to her, your foot already halfway to her chair to make some kind of contact with her. Your cheeks were blazing hot, the heat descending down into the rest of your body from how good she made you feel, a familiar kind of longing stirring up within you, one that was undeniably situated between your thighs.

“I wouldn’t know, darling, you never finished the story”, she reminded you in a small, amused huff as you let out a long sigh as if to shake off the giggles.

“He fell off the stage.” You burst into laughter. “It’s not funny!” But unfortunately, you recalled the comical sight of Daniel stumbling off stage all over again, unable to hold in your laughter as Natasha joined you.

“Your giggles beg to differ”, she reminded you in a playful manner, nudging your foot a little after feeling it touch her ankle.

“I know!” You whined. “I’m a horrible person, but you should have seen it.” You covered your face with your hands, hiding away again. “I’ve never seen anyone fall like a cartoon character.” The touch of her foot made your stomach lurch, effectively calming you down because suddenly you had a whole new agenda that was claiming top-priority in your brain. “Thankfully, it was during practice”, you added as you were calming down, your hand going for the wine glass again, Natasha’s small chuckles stretching your lips into a smile. You scooted your chair a bit closer to her, not even bothering to hide the fact that you wanted to get closer to her, but the table and the finished dinner were in the way. Natasha glanced at the couch that was behind you in the living room, clearly thinking along the same lines as you.

“Yeah, that sure would’ve been something in front of an audience”, Natasha agreed in a small, amused huff, standing up to gather the plates and cutlery off the table, taking them into the sink before discarding the food packaging. She returned to your side, her hand brushing over your hair as she looked down at you. “More wine?” She offered the bottle, but you shook your head, you were all too giggly to begin with.

You ended up on the couch with your wine glasses, sharing your treats from the winter village as dessert, sitting on the pillowy cushions facing each other as you shared your assorted chocolates, chewy cookies, candied popcorn and almonds, tasting whatever your hearts might have desired. You were no longer as giggly as at the dinner table, but you were another level of tipsy that Natasha knew all too well, your fingers drawing languid circles over the top of her knee. Your eyes met hers, the jovial smile on your lips lingering there, a certain kind of mirth twinkling in your eyes. Natasha could feel her heart beat in her chest as prominently as ever, an air of anticipation surrounding you as you both waited for the situation to develop further. You gave her a small look, your stomach filled with butterflies as you allowed your hand to slide just a little higher on her thigh.

“I had a lot of fun today”, you hummed, reaching for your wine glass on the coffee table to take a sip, returning to the couch in a way that left you just a little closer to Natasha. It seemed to be one of your favorite moves. Your eyes met, her features softening. You had that alluringly warm look in your eyes, that look that had made Natasha fall in love with you years ago.

“Me too”, she whispered. She wanted to kiss you. She wanted to kiss you so long and so hard that she stopped breathing, but instead she just smiled.

“These past few weeks have been…” You couldn’t seem to find the words, Natasha huffing out a small chuckle as she nodded in understanding. “It’s crazy how people can just… click.” Your fingers stroked over the material of her suit pants, glancing down at the way the fabric stretched over her thighs in her sitting position. You looked up at her, giving her a soft smile, your other hand moving casually to her auburn curls to play with a lock of her hair. You had always been a touchy drinker, that acknowledgement bringing a slight grin to Natasha’s lips. She couldn’t help but to close her eyes at the proximity of your hand, savoring every bit of intimacy you were willing to offer.

“Yeah.” A weak exhale was all that she could manage. The charge between you was overwhelmingly present, Natasha’s body reacting to the smallest of your touches, every hair in her body standing on end. When your hand sank even further into her curls, she felt certain enough about your advances to reciprocate. She wanted the initiative to come from you because her feelings had never been a question to anybody. She wouldn’t admit it to herself, but she was afraid that maybe she wasn’t worthy of your time and interest in this reality. Maybe she was simply persuading you, or even worse, what if she was forcing you because of her own obsession and interests? “Never a dull moment with you”, she hummed, bringing her hand up to stroke the wrist of the hand that was in her hair. She allowed her fingertips to skate over your forearm, feeling goosebumps erupt across the soft skin, a smile finding her lips.

“You’re someone special, I can tell.” You both spoke so incredibly softly, just between the two of you, in your little bubble of infatuation. Your words made her smile even wider.

“So are you. You have no idea.” She gave your arm a squeeze, watching the way you gnawed gently on your lower lip, something that always tended to draw her attention to your alluring lips.

There was nothing left to do but kiss her. You had no reason to prolong the moment any further because you truly could not think of anything else than connecting your lips with hers. You glanced down at her pink mouth before your gaze returned to meet her own. You leaned in, the hand in her hair guiding her closer to you, the warmth of her body feeling dizzying against your cool hand. Natasha’s free hand found your leg, tugging on it gently to signal you to come closer as your lips pressed together. There was no one around you, no distractions, no interruptions, your lips parting automatically to deepen the kiss. Your stomach lurched, a quiet moan slipping from Natasha at the contact, the sound muffled by your lips. You crawled closer to her, her hands pulling you into her embrace to feel your body properly against her own. You were lit on fire. You burned from her touch, your core throbbing unabashedly for more of her in any shape or form. Natasha dipped her tongue into your mouth, feeling you reciprocate the act by stroking it with your own. It made you dizzy, the quiet noises elicited by your kiss making your heart race at double speed.

Natasha could barely control the firmness of her hands, the greediness and desperation she experienced from having you right there in her arms, your thighs straddling her lap, back arched to push your abdomen and breasts against hers, your hands getting tangled in her hair. She moaned at how good it felt to have your nails scratch over her scalp, the heat of your body pressing over her hips in a way that made her want to lose all control. You both parted from the fervent kiss to catch your breaths, the gentle sweep of your breath tickling her face and wet lips. You let out a little chuckle at how rapidly you had found yourself in her embrace, Natasha responding to it with one of her own. You looked down at her, biting your lip to hide your smile as you blindly reached for her left hand, slowly bringing up to your chest. Your eyes were playful as you placed her hand over your heart, your eyes meeting when Natasha registered the heavy, rapid thudding of the organ beneath her hand. You felt butterflies flutter in your abdomen and between your legs, prompting you to press yourself closer down to her lap, her body shifting the slightest bit at the sensation, lips pressing shut to hold back her moan. It made you feel giddy. It made you want to play with her, see how much you could get away with before she would take control. You could tell she was the type. You could sense it in her demeanor; she liked a bit of tease.

Your hands caressed her jaw and neck as you admired the dusting of blush on her cheeks, tilting your head slightly to angle your mouth for a kiss. Your lips connected, your hips rolling down against her lap rougher than before, the action shooting a thrill up your spine. Natasha swallowed the moan that left your lips, kissing you deeper, harder. The pressure against your core felt far too good paired with the heated kiss, your lungs begging for air but all you could manage was small gasps between the wonderfully sloppy and passionate kisses. Her hands rubbed over your thighs, squeezing your hips and buttocks on their way to your waist, pulling you closer and closer to her. Your quiet moans and the gentle squelches of your mouths were the only things that could be heard in the living room, your bodies buzzing for more. Her arms tightened around your waist, hugging you in a way that made you want to melt fully into her, your hands moving back into her gorgeous hair so that you could press your chest fully against hers.

You felt your mouth and tongue grow slightly tense, prompting you to forcefully pull yourself away from the kiss, a yawn building up in your throat. Natasha watched you in mild confusion as you tucked your face against your shoulder and brought your hand to cover your mouth to hide the yawn. You heard a quiet chuckle from her right after, the touch of her hands growing gentler as she smoothed them over your middle back soothingly. She was not going to do anything with you tired out of your mind and tipsy, immediately laying off you but keeping you close. Your yawn was so long and intense that tears sprung to your eyes as you brought your hand down, giving Natasha an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry”, you chuckled a bit awkwardly, but Natasha had a loving smile on her face and didn’t seem bothered by your exhaustion in the slightest.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re tired”, she whispered, her hand coming up to brush back some of your hair, caressing your cheek in the process. You nodded your head, your eyes sliding shut at the endearment. She was calling you baby. You were her baby.

“I really wish I wasn’t”, you whispered, your hand sliding slightly lower from her shoulder, remaining on her upper chest. You glanced down, refraining from biting your lip at the thought of undressing her.

“It’s late. You’ve had a long day.” You nodded your head at her words, stifling another yawn behind your hand. Taking a bit of distance from Natasha really made you realize just how exhausted you were, your body feeling weak and sluggish, this time sinking into Natasha in a needier way, one that was driven by the need for comfort instead of lust. You wrapped your arms around her neck in a hug, Natasha’s hands stroking up to your shoulder blades, her lips pressing to your own in a chaste kiss before continuing up your cheek as her arms tightened around you. “I’ll go get you pajamas. Any wishes?”

“Something warm”, you hummed, your half-lidded eyes stinging enough to make you wanna rub them with your fists.

“I’ll get you something warm.” She moved you off her gently, leaning in to kiss the top of your head before fetching you a pair of flannel pajamas. You sat there on the couch feeling warm and fuzzy from her kiss, smiling at the gentle ache in your chest. Natasha changed into more comfortable wear in her bedroom before returning, donning a satin set that made your cheeks heat and eyes wander. You could tell she had no bra on which… shit, you could not let her catch you staring. “Here you go”, she hummed, handing you the folded-up flannel. “I’ll go clean up the kitchen while you change.”

“Thank you.” You took a quick peek at her backside as she walked away, your mind stuck on wondering how nice the fabric and her body would feel against your fingertips. You changed into your pajamas, failing to resist the urge to immediately lie down after to seek relief from your heavy eyelids. You didn’t even realize that you closed them and curled up on the couch facing away from the back rest until Natasha returned and lay down next to you. She turned her head to the side to see your face.

“I have a bed, you know”, she said in a quiet tease that brought a smile to your face.

“I know. It’s just too far away”, you mumbled, forcing your eyes open to see her beautiful face. She let out a barely audible chuckle, holding your gaze, both of your smiles widening just a little bit. There were no more than a few inches between your faces, her proximity always seeming to bring about an excitement that you couldn’t shake. You looked at each other for a moment longer before Natasha turned to her side to fully face you, taking in your sleepy eyes, admiring your relaxed features and weak smile.

“There’s a Christmas party.” You brought your hand between you where her own hand was resting against the cushions. You touched it, barely even grazed it, glancing down at it as it remained still next to her chest. Your fingers started tracing over the silky-smooth skin of her hand, eyes returning to hers. “Or two actually, and I get a plus one.” Your voice was nothing but a sleepy mumble.

“A plus one?” Natasha was clearly in a playful mood, teasing you and your adorably exhausted murmuring.

“Mhmm.” Your hand moved off hers slightly to play with the satin of her pajamas, feeling the fabric with your fingertips. Natasha had a very clear idea of where that was going, your next move coming off as no surprise. You had always kind of sucked at subtle advances, which Natasha loved because she was a person who did not need any more puzzles to solve in her life. Your hand came up to the buttons of her satin pajamas, fiddling with them as if absentmindedly, but Natasha knew that you were looking to get closer to her, looking for comfort, for cuddles. “The first one is at the opera house and the second is home. Wanda wanted to have a party, and I agreed ages ago because it was just another day.”

“Just another day, huh?” Natasha had a smirk on her face, one that you couldn’t see because your eyes were closed.

“If I celebrated Christmas, I’d celebrate it with you”, you elaborated.

“And this won’t be celebrating?” She tried her best not to laugh. You were so obvious.

“No. We’re just attending two parties. No celebrations.” Natasha bit her lip hard to contain her grin, completely enamored by your sleepy demeanor and lackluster logic.

“Alright, Grinch. We won’t celebrate.”

“Would you come as my plus one to both?”

“And what would I come as?” Natasha longed for confirmation about where you two were headed so that she could prepare herself for anything and everything. She could not take heartbreak when it came to you.

“My…” You paused for a moment, looking for a word that would not scare her away. You wanted her to be your girlfriend despite how early it was for any kinds of official titles. You hadn’t even been intimate with her. There was so much you didn’t know about her, but your heart was telling you that she was meant to be yours. You didn’t feel as intensely for just anyone. Your feelings of affection, excitement, and attraction were real, and they were there for a reason. “Woman.”

“Your woman”, she whispered with a giddy, little smile on her face. Your cheeks heated as you smiled, your eyes blinking open to see her reaction to your chosen title. “I’ll come as your woman”, she chuckled lovingly, bringing her hand up to your face to stroke your cheek with the backs of her fingers before sinking the digits into your hair. You nearly purred from how good it felt as she pulled you closer to place a kiss on your lips. You could no longer resist your urge to be in her embrace, taking advantage of the opportunity to crawl closer to her. You were nose to nose, your fingers still playing with the material of her pajamas, still hesitant to get into her arms when you felt so vulnerable. You had been there before, just a moment ago she had been feeling you up, but you were still nervous because it felt different. It felt more intimate. She kissed your lips again, pecking them lightly before kissing the tip of your nose.

“Come on, baby, you need to sleep”, she hummed, pulling away from you, her hand smoothing over your hair as she got up. You blinked your eyes open in disappointment. She was going to leave you to sleep on the couch. Your heart dropped rather painfully, but you didn’t get to wallow in that feeling before her arms had already slid beneath your body. You felt a giddy flash of excitement go through you when she lifted you up into her arms, a soft giggle escaping you. You tucked your head into her neck to hide from the feeling, getting a wonderful whiff of her perfume in the process.

“You’re so strong”, you whispered against her skin in awe, feeling her chest rumble beneath you as she chuckled. You were still just tipsy enough to voice out loud your thoughts. She carried you into her bedroom, laying you down on the soft mattress that made your body melt into it. She didn’t get far after that, your hands clinging to her, pulling her down to sit on the edge of the bed to ensure she didn’t slip away from you. “Stay.” Despite your exhaustion, your body was still swarming with butterflies and the gentle burn between your legs was ever-so present. It would not get any better if she slept away from you.

“I’ll stay, malyshka (baby).” She lay down on the bed beside you, pulling the covers over you to make sure you were warm and safe from the December cold. The second she was in your reach you found the courage to fully let go. You crawled to her side, resting your head on her shoulder, your arm reaching across her waist to keep her close, your top leg sliding over her thigh so that you could be fully pressed up against her. You let out a little hum as you got fully situated into her embrace, breathing in the scent of her perfume, the scent of her body, feeling her warmth through the satin that left the smallest of barriers between you. Your hand smoothed over her stomach, going up to her sternum where it stilled just slightly to the left from the bone. Natasha’s heartbeat was a rapid flutter, one that exposed the emotions beneath that cool and composed exterior of hers. All the muscles in your body relaxed, your mind reveling in the comfort and contentment that her presence and the intimate contact brought you.

Natasha ached in a way that couldn’t be put into words. She felt physically weak, a gentle rush in her ears entailing tears but she did her best to push them aside despite the fact that they were tears of joy, tears of utter elation and relief. You adjusted yourself against her, pushing your body into her as if to remind yourself just how good it felt to be in her embrace, Natasha’s eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. She brought her hand over yours to keep it in place, her head tilting in your direction to rest against your own. She could smell your hair, the gentle scent of your shampoo mixed with the overpowering scent of hairspray. The hand that was around you moved up into your messy locks that had been forcibly tugged down from the hairdo for your show and left unkempt. She allowed her fingertips to sink into it, her nails scraping over your scalp in a way that made you purr. She smiled at the sound, her heart squeezing in her chest as you once more attempted to get closer to her by wiggling your body.

She waited until you fell asleep, wanting nothing more than to just be. She wanted to simply exist beside you and soak up your presence even if you were unconscious. In a way it was even more comforting. She loved knowing that you felt safe and comfortable enough to fall asleep beside her. It was something that couldn’t ever be taken for granted because it was a special kind of trust. You trusted her to keep you safe for the night, and that was all that Natasha could ever ask for. She allowed her thoughts to run wild as she absentmindedly caressed your body in all the ways she had grown used to in her previous life. She must have lain in bed for hours listening to you breathe, needing nothing more. You let out small sounds every now and then, changing positions after her shoulder started to press too roughly against your ear. You rolled around on the bed, clinging to her arm that was wrapped around you, hugging it in a way that left Natasha unable to resist the urge to spoon you. Additionally, it felt way less painful for her arm to properly readjust herself, so she rolled to her side, pressing her body up against yours from behind. She seemed to fit perfectly against your curled up body, molding into shape, covering you like a shield as her arms hugged you to her chest. She fell asleep to the feel of your lungs filling and deflating in a meditational motion that reminded her just how alive you were.

[ryololart]

Tex Losing Her Legs

Tw: childhood trauma, gore, trauma in general, angst

My head is woozy, I can feel the blood draining from my forehead. It falls like rivers of red making paths down my cheeks to my chin where it drips off like a waterfall. Stars explode in front of my face. They cry and sing out for me, but their words are sharp and prick my ears. The sparks shine, coating my face in ash and dust making my eye itch and water. I try to stretch out my arms but they are limp to my sides. I am a phoenix rising from embers but forever cursed to wallow in her grave. It is sort of  beautiful to be stuck in such a state, unable to do a thing but watch as the world swallows me whole. 

“Up! Up! Texas let’s go,” the star's sorrowful plea is strained and exhausted. My mouth opens to say ‘I can’t’ but I have lost the ability to, instead a groan escapes. The sound does not appear as it has come from me, the pitch not familiar. The normal rasp is not equipped, instead it is wet and desperate. The dark around the stars becomes shaky. The once opaque landscape is translucent, colors shifting and changing behind a curtain. I can see time passing me by as I sit, unable to perceive the change. 

I heard a story once, about a man who lost connection to the International Space Station. He was on shift to repair something on the outside and his tether was not attached correctly. He floated out into space for three hours before someone was able to rescue him. He describes the incident as one of those life changing moments, where you realize everything is finite. One day you are at the top of your physics program, and worried about the upcoming test, the next you are with your family cheering that you got into the NASA Astronaut program, and then you are floating off into space, alone, in silence, where nothing matters. You look back at Earth now, from way above, no one knows that there is a man just floating above the atmosphere. Is that what God feels like? To just watch from above as patterns shift and change? This is what I imagine he felt like, time running away, no way to calculate how long it has been. No way to tell the people in your life how much you love them, no way to look back at all the things you have done in pride, no, you just drift away, empty, watching forever. God must be lonely.

I hoped that death would be like falling asleep after a long car ride and your parents carrying you to bed. You try to hide the smile that shows you did it on purpose to be carried, to feel the love that comes from that unspoken devotion a parent has to their child. The warm hands that could not be mistaken for another embrace your skin, unbuckling you from the seat. The being is so careful to climb up the stairs and to not let your creaky bed door ring out. Those same hands tuck you into bed as the body they belong to whispers a soft good night like a lullaby. 

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” the stars scream again, this time in the form of people. Their hands grip my shoulders as lights shine in my face. Not like the beautiful show from before, now like bombs going off overhead. The stars explode and shriek, bursts of color here and there. It overloads my senses and I feel myself sinking further into my grave. All the sudden you are not floating in space anymore, you are running with everything you have left to give.

Death is like a march to the finish line, not the gentleness of a parent’s love. Not the soft warmth of being carried home. No. It is the  pop of the gun that goes off before you are ready to run. The heart starts racing, the mind is on overdrive, the fight to survive flowing through your blood in the form of adrenaline. The lungs gasp for air, trying to climb out your throat to reach the oxygen, no amount that you gulp down makes a difference. There is a sitch in the side that is unwelcome telling you time is up, give in. Just give in. Yet the body keeps going, the perfect machine, determined to win against nature. 

“Evangeline,” the glaze that was once over my eyes evaporates into the air and I see the first familiar thing, a pair of dark gray iris’s pouring into mine. “Do not look down.” 

A pair of gloves that appear to be bleeding before me tilts my head up, completely disorienting me once again. I want to close my eyes and go back into the comfort of my dark escape, but my body is running the race, forcing myself to acknowledge the world. I try to let my lungs expand to open to the world but I choke on something thick and boiled. I try to spit, pushing my lips together but the muscles scream at me to stop moving. I give an involuntary cough at the uncomfort in my throat and my body lights up like a christmas tree. Every single nerve explodes into fireworks, expanding and contracting, trying to connect with the sky by reaching up into the atmosphere. Yet they stay trapped in my body, paralyzing me.

There is someone else there, I can feel his movements in the sensory receptors that is making up for my lack of awareness. He keeps my face tilted up towards his and I can hear sounds coming out his mouth but they do not mean anything. The gibberish is not familiar but his voice, so rough and brutal as I am used to,  is instead sorrowful and desperate. Something is wrong, I know this, but I crave the comfort of being unknowing. I choose that it is okay in this moment to accept that I will never see that starry night my brain made for me, I will only ever see the smoke clouding the ceiling like a mirror reminding me of my state. 

The pain fades for a second as I take my first breath and what must have been hours. I can feel the shakiness of my chest as it expands. My skin is hot and wet and I can’t grip onto anything. As my conscience awakens I frantically try to take in my surroundings. Gray cement floors. White walls now painted in abstract red. Black-covered bodies run in the room. As the relief floods the pain returns and I gasp loudly. The cough comes again, harder this time and blood follows out my mouth. It is sticky and warm, coating my chin and the hand holding up my face. 

“How much longer, Roach?” He exclaims, using his thumb to wipe the blood away.

“I need another minute, we gotta set what we can or we may lose half of her.” Roach yells back. That is when I realize I can’t feel below my waist, all the pain that is shooting through me is only from there up. I managed to look as far down as a can, only to be met with Roach’s body crouched over my legs. Or what seemingly remains of them. 

My hand flies up to grip Simon’s vest and he catches it reflexly. I look at him in shock trying to remember how to breathe, my legs, they are just masses of blood. My boot is twisted backwards on the right side, my left is bent at the femur. 

“No, Evan, stay with me. You are in shock, we are going to get out of here.” He holds my hand bringing it to his masked face. All my thoughts scream however, you are stuck, you are stuck, you are stuck. Suddenly I am no longer in the Karoknoze Mountains, I am in Sanderson, Texas.

 My childhood bedroom was characterized by lead paint and mold. The walls were a pale pink that was chosen by my mother. She was so excited to have a daughter, finally, after a boy who caused her so much trouble. Mason got in so much trouble, whether in school with other kids and teachers, or with our father. All my mother wanted was to raise a baby girl, a child that was one of her kind. One that would have her back and be on her side no matter what. The love between a mother and daughter is like no other, they are intertwined from birth. A daughter is the soul captured when it left her mother, the soul that is fighting over and over to remain innocent, however, all souls only exist to be corrupted.  It is the deer in headlights, trying to move, but stuck, in ever revolving hell. The car keeps coming and coming, yet you watch in awe, the lights are so beautiful. Let them come and take me, I’d rather bathe in this unforgiving light than live this light of fight. Women fight every single day to just exist peacefully, and every day it gets harder. Every single mother and daughter suffer the cycle, bending time in hopes that the original sin will be forgiven. However God is considered a Man. Men are not friends of women. The daughter carries her mother’s sins to try to become anew, to only suffer the same fate with the best of intentions. They are doomed. The door knob that has been broken off so many times twists and makes a horrible sound. 

“Mason, you are in the wrong room,” My 14 year old body sits up as I watch from the back of my mind. My thin, thread-bare, white tank top starts to fall off my shoulder as a small hand, worn and torn, pushes it back up. I can smell the drink on him, the alcohol writing over the damp smell that always sits in this room. I call him again as he opens  the door fully.“Mason.”

“Hola, Princessa,” He takes a swig from the bottle that swishes in his hand. His wife beater stained brown from the excess he indulges in. He tries to go for a Spanish accent but fails miserably, I’m not sure if it is the drink or the fundamental lack of ability. It is ultimately impressive that he cannot speak Spanish when he spends more time in Mexico and dealing with the Mexicans than in Texas.

“Mason, go back to your room.” My body sits up against the wall pulling the covers up with me. Fear is stricken in every joint as they creak and groan with the movements. I feel frozen physically, my bones molded together with metal. His heavy footsteps made the floorboards scream as he entered my room, the light from the window forcing a shadow behind him.

“I have missed you sister, you are always gone when I’m home,” His words slur as he approaches the bed. A hand gripping the covers, pulling against my own strength. My face quivers like a doe, his body just one big light. “You owe me little girl.” 

His bottle falls onto my bed as a knee breaches the soft blanket. I swing my legs over the side and my feet touch the floor as his hand lurches out, grabbing me by the face, my mouth covered in its wake. I scream but no one is here as he pulls me back. I am stuck. I am stuck. I am stuck. 

Then the door opens again but this time it is another beast with its own lights, however they are worn and dim. The lights speak to each other as I raise my hooves to his hand and let my teeth bite down as hard a possible. Blood sprays my face and he jumps back. I hit the floor and get to the window, pushing it up, and make my escape. Just as I get outside a bottle hits the window and the glass sprays everywhere. I gasp and hit the hard floor of the desert before limping out into the darkness, not bothering to check behind me.

Before  I can realize I am being pulled across the cement, the gentle hand that is holding my face has left me. Instead I can feel someone else’s reach under my back and pull me up. I try to rip myself away with the little strength I can muster but only a fool tries to run on broken legs. I am a horse to be shot for sure. I am no longer useful. 

Then I see the glint of the sunglasses in an already dark room, the shine of a gun being forced into my hand, a tap on the side of my face that only means one thing. Get home. When Roach realizes I am no longer fighting him he wretches me up and over his shoulder. I lay limply there, just my torso making contact with his strong body. My fingers squeeze my gun as I keep my eyes on the back of his heels. He pats the side of my thigh and he moves quickly and precisely. The hallways zigzagged like a maze. It’s all shaky, hard to perceive. Colors and lights dancing in front of my eyes as we make our escape. 

[hyuneskkami]

hi! your writing style is so cute!!! <3

could I request for a jason x sister!reader fluff? maybe a holiday theme oneshot at camp ft. leo's silly little dialogues of course 💞

masterlist

💌┊₊˚⊹꒷ LIKE WE JUST MET .ᐟ

⤷ platonic!multiple x daughter of zeus!reader ‧₊˚ ⋅

ᝰ. 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 . . . percy jackson and heroes of olympus

ᝰ. 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬 . . . jason grace’s sister!reader and tooth rotting fluff ft. jason (ofc), leo and his adorable dialogues, just fluff basically, christmas party, and a fun day out for the demigods. ft. y/n saying a few words here and there in french, princess passenger!leo again <3, sugar crashed!leo, matching lightning mcqueen pjs for y/n & jace. alsoalso jason’s weatherman nickname inspired by this post.

ᝰ. 𝐤𝐞𝐲 . . . y/n — your name | n/n — nickname | r/n — random name | ‘merde’: shit | ‘mon amour’: my love

ᝰ. 𝐰𝐜 . . . 1.5k

ᝰ. 𝐚/𝐧 . . . uhajshwkjs this request is everything! tysm anon, bc I miss winter sm 😭 this was the perfect way to get over my summer depression fr <3 hope you like it!

“rise and shine, my lovely buffalos!” clarisse’s voice rang loudly.

“stop, no,” jason groaned from the opposite side of the room, grabbing a pillow to cover his ears.

“I love you, but it’s christmas eve. let us sleep in, clarisse! even jace wants to!” I yelled.

I cracked an eye open, and sunlight filtered through the now-open door as clarisse walked in, her hand intertwined with a sleepy chris’.

“oh, the light, i’m going to go blind, merde-” I rambled and picked up a pillow, throwing it in the general area of the cabin’s door. a thwap sounded as clarisse caught the pillow before it maimed chris.

“man, wake up, where’s the christmas cheer, yeah?” chris said, extremely unenthusiastically.

“you’re half asleep, dude. let me sleep,” jason mumbled.

“yeah, we all know clarisse dragged you here-” suddenly, my blanket was yanked off my body as I muttered a string of curse words. “nooooooo, my lovely and warm blanket-”

a squeal sounded from jason’s side of the room and I sat up on my bed to see him blanket-less as well. satisfied that I wasn’t the only one who was being annoyed by the two lovebirds, I grinned.

“you know, this is the first time you didn’t wake up the second your clock hit 5 in the morning,” I chuckled at jason.

before he could reply, clarisse started ordering us around. “get out of your pyjamas and come around to the dining pavillion for breakfast at 8.”

she glanced at jason’s and mine matching lightning mcqueen pyjamas, and grinned. chris and her walked out, leaving the door open.

“at least close the door,” I mumbled.

we disappeared into our sides of the room to get ready, and met up outside the cabin in 20 minutes.

it was absolutely serene to wake up to an almost-empty camp as it was snowing, with the harpies asleep. a butterfly landed on jason’s nose and I smiled. in that moment, it felt like nothing could disrupt the harmony of the world-

“HEY, WEATHERMAN! oh hello, lovely n/n,” leo skidded to a stop in front of us and grinned.

“morning, princess,” I said. leo and I did our handshake, as jason was still preoccupied with the butterfly.

“dude, how did you not wake up at 5? did your alarm malfunction? I can fix it for ya,” leo commented, looking at jason.

“what, i’m not allowed to wake up late?” he rolled his eyes, and started walking towards breakfast. leo and I followed him, talking about our prank war against the stoll twins and the general ongoings of camp half-blood.

we all take our seats at the hermes cabin’s table since chiron decided we should just sit at the same table because we’re only 40-ish campers, as compared to the usual 150 or more.

jason talks with clarisse for a while as leo and I engage in conversation with connor and travis, as we wait for the food. when everything we could ever want for breakfast turns up in our plates, we collectively get up and make a line to offer some food to the gods. I drop in a portion of my french fries and some vegetables I didn’t want.

“good luck receiving burnt vegetables, my dudes on olympus,” leo said, looking at me dropping some broccoli into the pyre, making me roll my eyes.

as we ate, chiron walked trotted in and took his seat at the head of the table, as mr. d echoed his actions on the other side.

“merry christmas eve, kids,” chiron said. “we have an announcement to make.”

we stopped talking between ourselves and turned towards chiron.

“as you all know, most of our campers have left camp to visit their families for the winter,” chiron said, as we all nodded along.

“and in lieu of the small number of you left in camp, we wanted to let you know that we are giving you pesky kids permission to have a ‘party’ for christmas.” mr. d continued. “and as a bonus, for gods know what reason, chiron asked to send any four of you to the mortal world to buy some decorations, or whatever, and anything else you might need.”

chatter broke out at the news of camp’s first ever christmas party.

“no alcoholic drinks will be permitted, unfortunately,” mr. d remarked sadly, which no one bothered to hear.

by the end of breakfast, we were all talking about the things we’d need for the party, and I began making a list. after an hour of begging, chiron decided that jason, leo, travis, and I (or as mr. d called us: “lee, jackson, tyler, and r/n”) could go to buy decorations and food ingredients. he gave us a few american dollars, and told us to eat something with any remaining money. he also pulled jason and me aside, asking us to look after the other two.

we piled into the camp car with travis driving, and leo beside him. ever the passenger princess, he put on his sunglasses, turned up the radio, and started singing to some pop music.

in about half an hour, we reached a store called 7-eleven (“but why would you name a shopping centre in numbers?” leo had asked us the last time we’d been there) and walked into the store, the sound of the bell resonating behind us.

we split into each of the four aisles for food, use-and-throw cutlery, decorations, and board & card games.

I finished picking out the decorations first and met up with jason, who got lots of food, near the cashier.

“ooh, percy, hazel and nico would’ve loved the cocoa and marshmallows,” I said to jason, peeping into his basket.

“yeah. and frank, will and annie would’ve loved to help you put up all those streamers and everything,” he said.

I realised that it was the first time we were spending christmas without them.

“why do you guys look like someone ran over your favourite stuffed toy? it’s christmas eve, guys! cheer up!” travis said, slapping jason’s back.

leo joined us too, suddenly smacking my shoulder as well, earning himself a glare from jason.

jason and I scanned travis and leo’s baskets to make sure they didn’t get anything extra. satisfied, jason grabbed all four baskets and made small talk with the cashier about a football game till the billing finished.

“shotgun!” leo called, as soon as we got our receipt, and he ran away along with travis to get into the car. I chuckled and took two of the four bags from jason.

from the store, we drove to a cafe for some coffee and bagels before getting back to camp.

timeskip

by half past 10, the hecate, tyche, hebe, hypnos, hera, poseidon, and hephaestus cabins had all the decorations set up, while the athena, demeter, nike, iris, and hades cabins whipped up the foods. the remaining cabins (ares, apollo, artemis, zeus, hermes, nemesis, aphrodite, and dionysus) set up the various games and logs for the campfire. chiron and mr. d chopped and dragged a tree from the woods to decorate.

we began settling down in a circle around the campfire with the decorated and well-lit christmas tree to one side. the apollo kids began singing, and the hermes kids put on their own version of a musical they called ‘hamilton’.

games were played and christmas carols were sung until we felt sleepy, and the chirping of the crickets increased. I was on my fourth cup of hot chocolate (jason said it wasn’t healthy, but whatever) and fifth packet of mini marshmallows, while leo was… passed out beside me from way more than just five cups of hot chocolate and lots of candy. typical leo valdez sugar crash.

“ay, mon amour,” I laughed at him.

beside me, jason was smiling warmly at the fire. his face was glowing in the harsh light of the campfire, making him look every part thalia’s brother.

I was a few months younger than jason, but I was at camp before he stumbled in. thalia was almost like my blood sister, always taking care of me. at this moment, everything about jason reminded me of the girl I once loved like a sister.

campers’ clocks struck 12, echoing wishes of ‘merry christmas’ throughout the camp.

“merry christmas, n/n,” jason smiled down at me.

“merry christmas, weatherman.”

“N/N!!! mErrY cHriStMaaaaaaaS!-“

“merry christmas, your honour, bad boy supreme,” I laughed at leo.

getting up from our spots on the mattresses around the campfire, everyone made their way into the hermes cabin. they had the biggest beds, and we’d all gotten our cabin’s heaters into one for more warmth.

the stolls fell onto the bed first, followed by around 10-12 campers, jason, leo and me. everyone readjusted themselves to comfort, and we were all falling asleep.

in the morning, I wouldn’t have anyone to share a miraculous christmas kiss with, but I will have many hugs to give to the boys I loved like my own brothers, and that would be enough for me any day.

bonus!

“i’m not crying, you are,” chiron said, wiping a stray tear away, looking at the huge cuddle pile in the hermes cabin. “my babies!”

mr. d scoffed at him.

taglist — @sunnitheapollokid @puffoz @canonfeminine @taytayluvr @urmomabby @cinemaconrad @aezuria @thetunnelunderoceanboulevard @jgracie @cherigall @percabethluvr @pjoverseluvr @maybxlle

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[contentloadingandstuff]

Hi there, could you do more Eula fluff and/of smut contents pls? Of course sub!Eula.

A Quiet Evening - Eula x Male!Reader

A/N: Hello there, tokuroozora! Here you go. Hurt/comfort territory and a more serious theme, I hope you enjoy!

CW: Male!Reader, insults, suggestive, comfort for Eula.

This gif is quite big, but I really wanted sneezing Eula sooo

Soft, red light shines through the open window of your office. You bask in the warm breeze of the evening, and take in the soft sounds of Mondstadt. The soft rustle of the city falls pleasantly on your ears, and the wind pushes various smells into your nostrils. The somewhat pleasant hint of wine from The Angel's Share, the smell of flowers from Flora's shop, and the mouth watering hint of delicacies prepared in the Good Hunter. 

The air was humid - a nice refreshment from today's immense heat. You were lucky enough to work in the office, as being Jean's second-in-command involved doing almost exclusively paperwork. Your wife wasn't that lucky. She had to go out on patrols and sweep the floor with stray Hilichurls every now and then. But that wasn't what worried you the most. Despite her actions, proving the utmost care and good-will she had for the city, the common folk despised her. Not due to her wrong doings, but to her name. 

The simple fact that she was a Lawrence, a member of the nearly extinguished line of the city's former rulers, was enough for commoners to unload their worries on her. Insults flew her way, be they in public or in hushed tones when she passed by. Whore, bitch, slut, gold digger… all those names made your hands clench into fists, your arms instinctively reaching for your weapon. Though it was not befitting of a general, you did use… more direct arguments on a few occasions. But you were feeling more and more frustrated - you couldn't just attack everyone. So, you publicly humiliated one of her offenders, making clear that every snide remark aimed at her was also aimed at you.

After what you've done, nobody was brave enough to challenge you or Eula. More - they were scared of publicly talking about her. Most of the 'history philosophers', as you called them, suddenly went quiet. You reveled in their fear. Still, you couldn't be by her side at all times. You want to, yes, but your duties still have to be done. What would you give up to be with her every time…

Some voices, whether especially insolent or stupid you couldn’t work out, still reached her. Every time you would notice that, even if she didn’t tell you. The way her smile was barely held up, the way her shoulders were tense, the distant look in her eyes and, of course, her speech were all tell-tale signs of some idiot sharing with her the few contents of his brain. Every time your blood would boil, and your Vision would light up. She always calmed you down, arguing that you did so much for her already, and having no hate at all would be very improbable, if at all doable. Eula would wrap her hands around your waist and whisper in your ear soft words of assurance. She told you it was okay, that she could take it. She went with it for her entire life after all. 

For her entire life…

A soft knocking on your hardwood door takes you out of your considerations. You quickly look at the clock on your wrist. Half past seven, the exact time you agreed to meet. She was clearly down this week, and being the loving partner that you were, you decided to lift her mood with a date. 

You reach the door in quick strides, and open it. Your eyes land on her tall figure. She smiles tiredly, and you let her in without a word. Her outfit for the evening consists of a beautiful, flowing but still casual light blue dress, just like her hair. Her high heels click on the floor as she makes her way to your desk, and sits down on it, facing you. You close the door and approach her. 

“Good evening, Y/N. How has your day been?” 

She removes one of her long, silk gloves, and places her hand in yours. You lift it to meet your lips, and place a gentle kiss on her pale skin. It’s cold, but not in an unpleasant way. This was a habit of yours, one to which Eula was resistant to at first. She was ashamed of that, as it was associated with the aristocracy - an unpopular group in Mondstadt to say the least. You took your time explaining to her that you honored not her surname or noble origin, but her deeds, beauty and elegance. She simply deserved to be treated this way. 

Eula still blushes slightly at this little habit, even after all those years together. It makes her heart flutter just as if it was the first time. 

“Very boring, I assure you. The most interesting part of today was the rat found in the library. “You chuckle. “Immediately upon seeing it, Lisa fried it to death with her vision. Poor Noelle had to scoop it up and discard it.”

She smiles as well, covering her mouth with her hand. A habit of the noble, for sure. But there was no reason to be ashamed of it while in your company, not when you treated her this highly every day. 

“Anyway, how is the scouting going? Did you investigate the coordinates I gave you?”

“I did, yes. There was a large camp of Treasure Hoarders on location. “ She responds.

“Well? Did you take it down?”

“I did not, as there was no such order.” After a moment of silence, she adds: “I’m sorry.”

You turn to her, and cup her cheek. She looks up at you.

“You’re excused. It’s not your fault, I didn’t give the order. “ You place a small kiss on her lips. “I will tomorrow, however. We’ll both see it burned to the ground and its denizens served justice, yes?”

“Of course, my general.” She teases.

You let her go, and move towards the wine cabinet. You carefully open the old glass cover and survey the contents. 

“Oh please, Eula. We’re after hours. I stopped being the Befehlshaber about thirty minutes ago. “

A ‘hmpf’ can be heard from her. 

“You dare doubt my judgment of time? This insult will be avenged!”

Your gloved fingers glide over several bottles until they meet an especially old one. A heart is painted with ink on the cork. You move to pull it out, along with two simple red wine glasses.

“Oh no… Please spare my insignificant life, lady” - you emphasize that word, making her frown - “Eula!”

She turns her head in her characteristic fake tantrum.

“Anyway, how about a glass of a hundred years’ Dandelion Wine to start the evening, my love?”

She nods slightly, and you immediately go to open the bottle and pour a small amount of the red liquid into each cup. You hand one to Eula, and she accepts it elegantly. Well, as elegantly as she can, sitting on your desk like that. You look into her eyes, and easily get lost in the colors so alike the setting sun behind the window. She raises her glass in a silent toast. You join her, and you take a sip in unison. Your eyes meet again, but this time she averts her gaze. 

“Eula, is everything alright?”

She doesn’t reply for a moment, opting to instead look out the window. The sky is red, casting a crimson glow on her face. You know that look well, and you don’t like it at all. You place a hand on her shoulder.

“Please, talk to me. Are those people talking nonsense about you again?” You inquire, drawing her attention. She sighs a breath of exhaustion, and rubs her forehead. 

“I… please, don’t worry about me, Y/N. It was just a little tension, is all. I can take it.”

“Eula, please. Look at me. The fact that you can take it doesn’t mean you have to take it. Not when I’m around. Now, you don’t want to tell me their names, do you?”

Noticing the slight, subtle note of anger in your voice, she moves her hand to caress your face. 

“I just want to forget about them, alright?”

You can’t resist her eyes, so soft on yours. You sigh, deciding to let go. 

“Fine, Is there… Anything I could do to help you in that?”

She hums, and sets down her empty glass. She moves closer, your noses meeting as she shyly initiates. You catch on, and catch her lips with yours. You can still taste the wine on her thin lips. 

A moment passes, and you part to catch your breaths. You pant, foreheads resting against each other. She looks up at you.

“You can… take me to bed, if you would.” She leans into your ear, hands wrapping around your neck and legs locking on to your waist. “I need you. Please.”

“With pleasure.”

The curtains flow in the wind, just barely grazing the forgotten wine bottle. 

Thanks for reading!

[cywritesthings]

Weathering a Storm (John Hancock/Fem Sole Survivor)

You can also find this over on AO3! Pre-relationship, warning for mild language.

Prompt: a sudden storm kicks up. Nora had not given much thought to just how severe the changes to the weather could be after the war. She was, unfortunately, going to find out from first-hand experience, much to the chagrin of her faithful companions, John Hancock and Dogmeat.

When you had escaped your frozen prison back in late October, you hadn’t really given thought to how the nuclear apocalypse may have affected the weather during the seasons. Hell, you hadn’t given thought to how nuclear radiation could’ve changed anything at that point.

You probably should have. Preferably before the middle of December, as the idea of combating radioactive snow and the freezing temperatures was now not just a damned idea, you are very much living it. Even with your wool-lined boots and the thick jacket you picked up in Diamond City, the bitterly cold wind whipping against you has long since pierced your protective clothing.

And, based on the constant stream of curses coming not too far behind you, your ghoulish companion is suffering similarly. Even Dogmeat is struggling, his usually high and wagging tail only a mere inch from dragging the ground.

Maybe it’s time to find some shelter…

Just as the thought struck your mind, the wind begins to pick up, and a new contender joins the falling snow: sleet. The horrid mix of ice and rain comes in sudden sheets, quickly drenching you and no doubt your companions, too. Your fingers are already numb as you fumble with your Pip-Boy, desperate to find something close enough to run to…

There!

“This way!” You half-scream over the roaring wind and rain, darting blindly to the right. Your Pip-Boy showed what seemed to be a house (or previously a house) in that general direction, and at this point, you have nothing to lose.

Well. Except your life from hypothermia. Or a fatal tumble to a broken neck. Slipping and landing on something sharp in a not great location.

Those thoughts put a further pep in your step, and thankfully, you can see Dogmeat running beside you as well as Hancock in your peripheral vision. You blindly grope forward as you run, and while it takes what feels like an eternity to find something solid amidst the pouring rain and ushered darkness-

OOF!

The air is knocked from your lungs as you practically clothesline yourself across the railing to the stairs.

“Found it,” you wheeze out, stumbling up the stairs. The door doesn’t budge when you try it, and you let out an exasperated cry as you jerk at it again.

“Move, sister!” Hancock budges you to the side, and delivers a hard kick to the door. The rotting wooden frame gives way under the force, leaving the door to swing open. He pushes against your back to get you inside, Dogmeat eager to follow.

You barely manage to turn the light on your Pip-Boy with your frozen fingers, but once the bright blue light shines through the darkness, you make for a nearby cabinet to push against the door. The door that Hancock has his back pressed against, the only thing standing between the mostly dry inside and the icy storm raging outside. With a few shoves, you have the cabinet wedged well enough that he can make a move to help force it the rest of the way against the door, propping it up on the stairs.

Your teeth chatter so hard, you’re impressed you don’t bite off your tongue when you speak. “W-we sh-sh-should go upstairs-s-s. Warm air r-rises.”

Hancock, breathing hard, nods and pulls out his knife, then waves for you to head up first. “You got the flashlight, might be better for you to head up first, hm?”

“Y-Yeah.” You draw your pistol, though you doubt your aim would be well enough to use it at the moment with how hard you shiver, and head up the stairs first. They are made of concrete versus standard wood, much to your relief; less likely to step on a rotten stair and go tumbling backwards. Dogmeat pushes in front of you, loudly sniffing, followed quickly by even louder sneezes.

A few minutes of checking the two rooms upstairs, and the three of you settle in the room closest to the door and with the fewest windows. While you peel off your sodden outer clothes, Hancock pushes the armoire in front of the sole window, trying to block the draft and any potential shards of glass, should it not hold up against the storm. Your coat and the pants you had on over your vault suit hit the floor with a nasty shlunk and shlop noise, followed by your boots and soaked socks. Not too far behind, Hancock starts stripping his centuries-old duds off, with similar unpleasant noises.

Still shivering, you get your flip lighter out and light the oil lamps you’d found in one of the hallway closets, then proceed to set up candles around the room. Still, the heat from those were so little, and even your vault suit was uncomfortably damp...

You look at Hancock, who’s back is to you as he rummages in the armoire, looking through the clothes inside. You barely manage to catch the sweater and pants he tosses at you.

“I can still hear your teeth chatterin’ away over the rain, Nora. Get out of that damned suit before you catch your death.”

“What about you?”

He laughs hoarsely as he pulls out a dusty white shirt and slacks. “Covered.”

You stare at him for a moment longer… and you can feel heat start to warm your cheeks, down to your neck. “Do you… mind turning around?”

“’Course not. You just had to ask.” He gives you a wink before turning his back to you, his pure cotton undershirt showing off just how lithe his figure is under that big, red coat. “Gonna ask the same of you, though.”

It takes a second for his words to process, but you chuckle once they do, turning your back to him as well. “I think that’s fair enough.”

Your icy fingers struggle with the zipper for a moment, but you do eventually manage to get the suit unzipped to your waist. Now the fun part: trying to get out of this damned thing when it’s practically suctioned to your skin. You nearly pull your shoulder out of socket just getting it off of your arms and down to your waist, but curses start to stream from your lips as you fight to get it off of your hips and legs.

“You need some help over there?” Hancock teases, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“I am fine, mind your business, sir,” you huff angrily, nearly ripping the damned suit before almost going headfirst into the bed in front of you. “Son of a fucking bitch.”

“Whoa, whoa, that’s no way to talk about your good pal’s mother.”

With a cry of success, you manage to wrangle the last of the suit from around your ankles. “Oh, you are so funny. Is the Mayor of Goodneighbor also known for his astounding comedy routines?”

“Why, of course. Who do you think they get down in The Third Rail when Mags is sick?”

“I can’t stand you,” you huff, shaking out your damp hair. Your underthings and the thin tank top you wear under the vault suit aren’t too bad off, just damp, so you slide the sweater and pants on over them. “Are you ready for me to turn around, or do I need to continue to protect your… modesty?”

“And here I thought I was protecting yours… nah, I’m good if you are, sister.”

“Neato.” You sigh as you turn around and sink onto a patch of dry floor, trying to soak up as much warmth from the oil lamps as possible. You notice Dogmeat has taken residence a ways outside the room, likely because he keeps shaking off so much water. And, well, your other companion sits across the lamps from you, picking through his coat’s pockets, likely looking for a chem of choice to use. “I gotta say, you clean up rather well, John Hancock.”

He laughs as he pops a few mentats out of their blister packs, then dry swallows them. “Why, thank you, beautiful. Gotta say, the old world looks pretty good on you, too.”

You snort, tugging at the hem of the woven sweater. “Well, thank you, good sir. I do happen to be quite a fan of this type of sweater. I… actually think I have a few put away somewhere…”

“...why didn’t you wear one?”

“Well, I… didn’t think the winters would be so severe.”

“I mean, didn’t the term ‘nuclear winter’ get coined in your time, sister?” He teases lightly as he fishes a can of purified water out of his bag and takes a long drink.

You snatch it out of his hand when he offers it to you, huffing. “Yes, but I never thought to take it literally.”

“Hmm. Wonder who’s fault that is then.”

“Certainly not mine.”

“No, ‘course not.”

You sigh and set the can of water between the two of you before snagging a dusty pillow, turning it to the less dusty side, and stretching out on the floor. “How long do these storms tend to last?”

“Should let up in a few hours.” He mirrors your actions, but uses his arms as a pillow instead. “One good thing ‘bout it, though.”

“Nothing’s gonna brave the storm to fuck with us?”

“Yep.”

[deerabigailhobbs]

Ok hear me out:

Adamgail siblings x inbred by Ethel Cain. Thoughts?

Oh, how I love analysing song lyrics :D

So I had listened to Inbred before this ask, and I'd actually say it's one of my favourite Ethel Cain songs, but I had sorta taken it at face value. "Oh, this is a song about an inc*stous relationship between siblings" and honestly, that's not something I'm comfortable talking about, especially with characters I see a lot of myself in. But after looking the song up online, seeing others interpretations and analysing the song myself, I think I've found an angle I'm comfortable enough discussing.

So, let me reiterate, because I think it's important. This song analysis is not about that kind of brother-sister relationship. I do not fuck with that type of shit. This is merely my interpretation of the song through the lense of the characters. Any references to love here, while dark and twisted, is strictly platonic.

Anyway, apparently in an interview, Hayden (the person behind Ethel Cain, for those unfamiliar) said that- quoting a Reddit comment here- "when she's using the word inbred, she's reffering to generational trauma. Trauma being inbred throughout the family." And I'd never seen this take before! Really opened my eyes and made me listen to the song in a completely different light.

The song is about a younger sister being dependant on her older brother. He's the only one she can fully trust. The father isn't mentioned in the song, but the mother is said to be "comatosed." I won't go through every single line of the song, but I'll do my best for parts I think are relevant to their characters. :]

Longgggg intro out of the way, now time to break down these lyrics.

"Watching him through holes in his door"

Now, I said that the father isn't explicitly mentioned on the track, but I do think this could be applied to Garrett Jacobs. Here, Abigail is watching him butcher the girls, perhaps he wants Abigail to retain some innocence, to him she's still his little girl. So he takes the victim(s) at night to his Cabin and carves them up. But Abigail is there, witnessing it all. Sort of a punishment she inflicts upon herself. She led the girls to their deaths, now she much watch the aftermath.

"Sucking on the back of his leg to stay warm"

The "him" now is referring to Adam. She's always by his side, so close that she could be "sucking on his leg" like some sort of leech, tight and unable to let go. He's the rock in her life. The only person she can feel safe around. There's also her "staying warm" and I like to think it of her as staying alive. The girls she sacrifices are simply one layer of protection, her brother being another. Perhaps she thought (especially in her younger years) that if anything were to go bad, if her father finally pointed the blade her way, Adam would come and save her. Keep her blood from spilling out and going cold.

"Older brother made a name for himself with the cops

Scumbag fuck, but I swear that he's not"

Due to their father's attention being solely on Abigail, their mother's presence all but absent, Adam would resort to other methods of getting it. That being: lashing out. Getting in trouble with the police, with school, with his parents, because even when they yell and hit him (more specifically his father), they're acknowledging his existence.

I think Abigail wouldn't understand at first. Just see her brother as a troublemaker. But as the years go by, all she sees is a boy in desperate need of love. And she can try her best, to give him that, to be there for him, but a sister's love cannot replace a parent's.

"He's so good to me and to nobody else

So you should watch yourself"

Pretty self explanatory. Adam may be a nuisance to almost everyone in his life, but he has a tremendous amount of love for his little sister. Although she can't replace a parent's loving touch, he still appreciates her for the love she can provide.

And to Abigail, Adam is like her knight in shining armour. He's there to protect her. If she were ever in immediate danger, she's sure he would be there for her, ready to defend. However, I can see her believing this less and less as she grew up, knowing her brother is just as helpless as she is.

"Mama's comatose, she can't leave the bed"

Their mother isn't literally comatosed, but with how absent she is in their lives, it's like she is. A person, alive, but not fully there. Unaware of what the rest of the family knows. (PSA: I do think Louise was actually a wonderful mother in canon, this is merely for the analysis)

"Something smells rotten and it's starting to spread"

A literal approach to this would be the smell of blood and decay from the victims. Another, the spread of crazy. Like Abigail said, "can you catch crazy?" Will her and Adam turn out like their father? Is it already spreading to them? Like a parasite, slowly infecting and taking over their bodies, until one day all they can see is their father staring back at them in the mirror.

"I'm bad, he's worse, we're already dead

We're already dead"

Abigail is bad for luring the girls to her father. "He's worse" isn't Abigail's thoughts on Adam, if anything she'd think he's better than her in a lot of ways, but what others (their town, peers etc) perceive him as. Abigail is the sweet, quiet girl who is "close" to her father. Meanwhile, Adam is a troublemaker who's the black sheep of the family. Due to the other themes of the song, I can see them living in a very religious area that isn't tolerable of what they consider "abnormal." So their hatred of Adam could also be due to other things, such as homophobia or transphobia (as I know trans Adam is a popular headcanon).

"You can't win em all

Who knows how much longer

I'll lay on the floor

Touch me till I vomit"

I interpret this as Abigail finally meeting her father's blade, bleeding out on the kitchen floor. And all she wants is for Adam to be by her side. To hold her until she vomits up all her blood, slowly dying on the cold tiles.

"I'm not scared of God

I'm scared he was gone all along"

Another self explanatory lyric. Abigail's life has been nothing but misery, and she starts to question the validity of God herself. Or maybe wonders if he turns a blind eye to her pain and suffering.

"Who will take the fall

Who of us is stronger

You'll just want it more

If you could, you'd have fought it

But you know you're not

From the start, they knew you were wrong"

This part stumped for a bit (and still does, I'll be honest) but I thinkkkk I've got something. Who will be more like their father? Who will follow in his footsteps? Going back to what Hayden said about generational trauma, which of them has an inbred desire to kill? Who has bloodlust flowing through their veins? Both? And of so, who's strong enough to fight it off?

I think if we're going off of the lyrics, it's Adam. I mentioned this in a previous ask, but the thought of Abigail escaping her dad, going to her brother, only to find out he's helping murderers really sticks with me. He took the fall. He tried to escape, to fight off murder, and came right back to it. And now he knows he can't fight it. That he's just like their father, handy with a knife. Knowledgeable in opening people up and seeing their organs on display. The people back at home were right, he's wrong. He's worse.

Skipping the second verse because it already goes over some of what I've discussed and well... That part, but I do want to discuss one lyric.

"If he wakes up, he'll show you what I'm talking about."

I have an image in my head of Abigail, the events of Hannibal playing out after her father cut her throat, and all she can think about is her brother. He'll see her on the news, he'll be here any moment now. To protect, like he had in the past. Unbeknownst to her, Adam is currently rotting away in some bathroom, his skeleton finally starting to show underneath decaying skin.

[graysonnightwing]

pink-tinged days

@dailystobin -> stobin week day three: favorite au -> QPR marriage

(this is a continuation of my platonic marriage series! the only thing you really need to know is Birdie is their adopted daughter.)

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington, Additional Tags: Dungeons & Dragons, Marriage, Adoption, Found family, Fluff, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV Robin Buckley, Post-Season/Series 03, Stobin Week 2023 Summary: In 2000, Erica is home from law school for Christmas Break, and Scoops Troop reunites for a game of D&D.

It’s late when Sir Stephen of Hawkwing’s Realm finds the witch’s hut nestled deep in the darkwood. An owl hoots noisily overhead; the thick canopy hides the stars and the moon. Sir Stephen lifts his lamp higher.

Her hut is buried in overgrown brambles and creeping ivy. The thatch roof is nearly clouded in smoke pouring from the chimney; the shimmer of warding magic glimmers in his lamplight as he approaches. The shining eyes of an animal watching him catches the light, and he swings his lamp quickly in its direction to scare the beast away. Just a raccoon, more than likely, but there are far more dangerous things in these woods and he’s ill equipped at the moment for an encounter.

His sword and shield are tucked away against a nearby tree. The miserable crone back at the village’s instructions for getting past the wards were clear. “You must carry no weapon and no defense.” His shining steel plate armor, embossed with the symbol of the ancients to whom he pledged his life, is also leaning against the tree.

He approaches the hut in his loose silk tunic and tight linen pants, his boots treading softly against the grass. He reaches his lamp through the ward first, testing, before the rest of him follows. 

It’s warmer on this side of the ward, but Sir Stephen still approaches the door with caution. The firelight in the glazed windows flickers and burns as he raised his hand to rap on the door.

It swings open, and on the other side is a tall, willowy elf, with dirty blonde hair cropped just below her ears and piercing blue eyes. She’s leaning against a dark, gnarled wizard’s staff, well worn in the middle where her hand grips.

“Come,” she says, her voice high and accented.

The house is warm and cluttered. Spell components lay in nearly every direction he can see—a jar of pickling newt eyes, drying herbs from every corner of the globe hanging from the ceiling, dragon claws and hippogriff beaks lining shelves, wet black squid tentacles in a bucket in the corner. Glowing potions, sparking magic items and shimmering mage’s robes are thrown all over the place.

Still, the stew bubbling in the cauldron above the fire smells divine, and she’s made no move towards him. She goes back to the cauldron and points to the table, where a teenage human girl sits waiting. 

“Sit,” the witch says. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Sir Stephen sits. The teenager watches him closely, but doesn’t speak.

“I’m in a hurry,” Sir Stephen says. “If you could hear me out now—”

“You can’t rush good soup,” the witch replies.

Sir Stephen huffs and leans back in his chair.

The teenager next to him clears her throat. Her back is straight in her chair and she’s looking at him intently.

“Hi,” he says. “I’m Sir Stephen of—”

“Daddy,” Birdie interrupts, laughing. Birdie’s laugh is Robin’s favorite sound. “You can’t play with your own name. It’s supposed to be pretend.”

She’s eight and learning how to have an attitude from both her Uncle Dustin and her Auntie Erica, who she’s currently sitting in between. They’re at Steve and Robin’s, huddled around the kitchen table, finally introducing D&D to Birdie while Erica is home from law school on Christmas vacation. She’s DMing and starting them off with Steve’s paladin. It’s supposed to be a short arc, just a few hours here and there during Erica’s break.

“Your dad always plays as Stephen,” Erica says with an eye roll. “He’s uncreative—don’t let it rub off on you.” Birdie nods solemnly, her eyes wide. She takes everything Erica says so seriously.

“He’s played a paladin or a knight every. single. time. we’ve ever played,” Dustin adds.

“At least your mom is branching out,” Erica adds. “She’s always a bard.”

“I happen to like bards,” Robin says haughtily. “Everyone else is just jealous because they can’t play any actual instruments when they play a bard.” Robin remembers ten years ago, playing with Erica and Dustin and busting out her trumpet whenever she needed to cast a spell.

“Whatever,” Erica says. “If you bring out that trumpet again I’m throwing it away.” 

Robin laughs.

“No more talking,” Birdie complains. “Let’s play.”

“Alright, alright,” Erica says. “Where were we?”

“I’m Sir Stephen of Hawkwing’s Realm,” he says. “I’m here to ask the witch for a potion.”

“I’m Princess Lily-Daisy and I’m from Roseland,” the teenage at the table says. “I’m here to—wait, why am I here?” Birdie asks Erica.

“You need the witch’s help undoing a curse on your kingdom,” Erica explains, and Birdie repeats it in the British accent she’s been practicing with her uncle Dustin all week. It’s so exaggerated that Robin thinks it might actually be bordering on offensive to the English, and she hides a smile behind her hand. Birdie was nervous enough about it, which is why Robin’s doing her silliest voice, high and accented with Robin’s worst French accent, the same one Steve uses when he impersonates his mom.

“Princess,” Sir Stephen says and flourishes his hand into a bow. “What curse has befallen your land?”

“It’s always nighttime,” Princess Lily-Daisy says. “It’s cold and dark and my people are all asleep.” Birdie peaks over at Erica to make sure that’s okay, and Erica gives her a thumbs up.

“A sleeping kingdom?” The witch says. “I believe we will need to travel to your land to lift that curse.”

“My potion first, witch” Sir Stephen says with a snarl.

“You may address me by my name, sir paladin,” the witch says. “It’s Sparrow.” 

Steve next to her the table laughs, so loud and sudden that Dustin nearly jumps. 

“Hey,” Birdie says smiling. “That was almost my name.”

“Sure was,” Steve says and winks at her, which always makes Birdie giggle.

“And thank God they changed their minds,” Erica says, leveling a look at the two of them. It’s funny now to think how their Birdie was almost their Sparrow.

“You’re Birdie,” Dustin agrees. “Definitely not Sparrow.” 

Birdie’s nose wrinkles, and she shakes her head. “Definitely not Sparrow,” she agrees.

“Anyway,” Erica says and continues her narration.

Sir Stephen waits for Sparrow to finish her stew before she sets bowls in front of the princess and the paladin.

“Now,” Sparrow says. “You will get your potion Sir Stephen, but only after you’ve helped me lift this curse on the Princess’s realm. I think we’ll need the ancients’ help for this one.”

Sir Stephen agrees, and the three wait until morning before leaving the witch’s home. The sunrise filters in through the darkwood’s canopy overhead as Stephen puts his plate armor back on and secures his sword and shield. Princess Lily-Daisy retrieves a bow and quiver, slinging them both across her back as they make their way towards Roseland.

Half a day’s walk into their travels, they crash into a fleeing man, who says, “Run!” They all race down the path after they hear a monstrous roar behind them as a horde of Kobolds emerge from their cave and give the heroes chase through the forest.

Finally, the paladin and witch stop and face the horde, the witch casting shielding spells as the paladin cuts through the Kobolds. The princess deals the final blow to the horde with an arrow through the eye of the leader.

The witch traps the man in an unbreakable hold as the princess turns to interrogate him.

“Why were they chasing you?” She says.

“No reason,” the man says, voice tinged with the same Roseland accent the princess has.

“I’m your princess—tell the truth or I’ll throw you in prison.”

“Woah,” Steve says next to Robin, looking at Birdie with an amused expression. “No trial or anything? Just straight to prison?”

Birdie smiles and looks up at Dustin. “If he doesn’t tell the truth! I’m the princess and I can put whoever I want into jail.”

Erica laughs next to her. “As a law student I have to say that’s not fair,” she says, “but as your auntie I say that makes perfect sense.” Birdie snuggles into Erica’s side and sticks her tongue out at Steve.

Princess Lily-Daisy interrogates the man until he finally confesses to stealing gold from the Kobolds. 

“For your crime, I sentence you to helping us,” the princess says as the witch releases her bonds on the man, a rogue they learned is named Radcliffe. 

“Very well, my princess,” Radcliffe agrees. Dustin next to Birdie stands and gives her a deep, dramatic bow. Birdie smiles, and everything turns pink, like the room is glowing with the love Robin has for these people beside her. Robin lays her head on Steve's shoulder, watches as Birdie laughs at her Uncle Dustin, still cuddled up into Erica's side.

“The party sets out,” Erica says, “as the noon sun beats down on you and the realm of Roseland waits for rescue.”

[kpop-stories-21]

Better Than Before | Part 1

Group: TXT

Pairing: Soobin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres, Trope & AUs: Non-Idol AU, Non-Idol AU, Dark Fae AU, Fantasy AU, Angst

Content & Trigger Warnings: Princess!Reader, Kitsune!Soobin, past verbal abuse, past abusive family, staged kidnapping

Summary: You and your cellmates plan an escape. Things go very awry and you end up in the last place you would want to be.

General tags: @kpop---scenarios @jeonrose @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @biaswreckingfics @stardragongalaxy @anyamaris @liliesofdreamsskz @pyeonghongrie-main @naturalogre @bxffietheblxxdy @sanjoongie TXT tags: @spicyseonghwas

If you want to be added to my taglist, click here

Network pings: @cultofdionysusnet | @kdiarynet | @sandsofire

MDNI banner, divider, and support banner courtesy of @cafekitsune

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The stone wall was cold through the thin material of your dress, slowly sucking the heat out of your body. You looked up bleakly, glancing around at the others you shared this cell with to see if any of them were willing to share some body heat. One of the girls you hadn't yet befriended noticed you and motioned for you to come join her. As you got closer you saw she was wrapped in a large, fur-lined cloak; which she opened as you got closer. Huddled together, the two of you began to talk quietly.

“It’s winter where I came from. I always complained to Ma about this cloak bein’ too big, but I’m glad now that she never got around to gettin’ me a smaller one.”

You smiled faintly. “So am I.”

The girl slid a hand out from under the cloak. “I’ll not tell you my real name in case some of them Fae are listenin’, but you can call me Lorra.”

You hesitated a moment, not really sure what to say since your family weren’t really the type to give nicknames of the kindly variety. As you pondered this a memory surfaced your mind unbidden, taking control of your body as it washed over you.

“Mother, Y/N is being a baby again!” Your oldest sister Beca yelled, long nails stabbing into the skin of your arm as she pulled a ten-year-old you away from the bottom of the stairs she had just pushed you down, ready to act innocent so that you would take the blame yet again.

Your mother, the regal Queen Aerona, burst into the room. Her heavy makeup almost gave her the look of a circus clown, but you forced yourself not to laugh at the thought in order to avoid making her any angrier than she already was.

“I swear to all the gods, Y/N, if you don’t grow up and stop acting so childish, your father and I will have to take more drastic measures.”

She pulled you away from Beca’s grasp and took hold of your shoulders, shaking you viciously. “You need to learn to take what life gives you without whining or we’ll still be calling you little Mabis when you’re all grown up!”

You were brought back to the present moment by Lorra shaking you gently.

“Are you alright? I apologise if I was prying, you don’t have to tell me if it brings up unpleasant memories.”

You shook your head ruefully. “No, no, it’s fine. You can call me Mabis.”

“Oh, what a lovely name!” Lorra exclaimed.

You bit back a bitter retort, keeping your opinions to yourself for now. “Mabis” was one of several ways to say “baby” in Welsh, and you heard it far too often while growing up. It was the least negative of the many things they called you, and the first thing you could think of when put on the spot.

The two of you lapsed into silence for a while, and you ended up falling asleep on Lorra’s shoulder. Pale rays of light from the midday sun filtered through the small cell window to shine directly into your eyes, rousing you from the neck-breaking position you’d fallen into.

Lorra was still beside you, wide eyes glued to the door of the cell. You followed her gaze and found a tall male Fae standing at the door, a large tray with several small bowls on it resting in his hands. You assumed it to be food, but if all the stories you’d heard were anything to go by, the Fae were not to be trusted in any way.

“Are they feeding us, or knocking us out in order to take us somewhere else?” Lorra whispered, fear creeping into her voice.

“I don’t know.” You replied, eyeing the creature warily. “But it’s best to keep your guard up anyway. All this bustle has to be on our account, and it’s got to be building up to something.”

Lorra nodded in agreement and the two of you watched as a burly man near the door took the tray and the Fae retreated, locking the cell door behind him. Everyone crowded around the burly man to see what had been brought. To your surprise the bowls contained what looked to be a hearty stew, complete with large chunks of meat and what you assumed to be the Fae’s equivalent of vegetables.

The burly man, who you learned was going by the name Shownu, offered to try the stew first in case something had been put in it. You didn’t know about the others, but you were definitely grateful for the offer. You watched with bated breath as he cautiously consumed the contents of a bowl, and when several minutes went by without anything happening, he began passing out the rest of the bowls.

You ate the stew with relish, enjoying the rich flavours. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had such good food, back at home you’d always been given leftover bits that were several days old. It was pleasantly warm, and fought back some of the chill that had set in.

When you finished eating, you noticed that the others had all grouped together and were whispering amongst themselves. Curious, you sat down beside Lorra and quietly asked what was going on.

“They’re discussing possible ways of escape.” She told you. “One of the women, Jisoo, says she thinks she’s figured out what type of Fae our guards are and has some ideas of how to overpower them. She also says if we escape as a group we have a better chance of actually making it back to the human realm.”

You nodded in agreement, a seed of hope forming within you at her words. If you could get back to the human realm, maybe change your name and appearance, you could start over and live the life you wanted to live, not the one your parents wanted you to live. This was the chance you’d been looking for since you came of age, and by the gods you were going to take it.

“What’s their plan?” You asked Lorra.

“I didn’t catch all the details, but they’re hoping to try it tonight. They want most of us to feign sleep just as a precaution if something goes wrong and we get caught. That way we wouldn’t be lying if we said we didn’t know what happened.”

You nodded understandingly. “That makes sense.”

You suddenly noticed everyone looking at you and shrank back a little, but Lorra smiled reassuringly. “I was catching her up on the plan. She’s agreeable to what’s been discussed.”

Shownu and some of the others acknowledged Lorra with nods, then Jisoo glanced at the window. “It’s getting dark.” She murmured. “We need to stick to our usual routines to avoid suspicion, so let go about as if we’re getting ready to sleep.”

Whispers rippled through the room and then everyone stood, laying out on the floor whatever cloaks, capes and blankets they’d had upon entering the Fae realm. Once everyone had settled down a weighted silence filled the air, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath to see if the plan succeeded.

The time felt like it was passing up far slower than usual, but you knew that was just your anxiety peeking through. As you lay there, wrapped in blankets and pretending sleep, you felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Letting your mind wander, you recalled the first time you found yourself in a similar kind of position.

Your mother had been acting quite strange the past week, being something very close to nice even when there weren’t any guests or visitors around. You knew almost immediately that something was going to happen and accepted every gesture with hesitant gratitude, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Halfway through that fateful week, the strange men arrived. They were dressed all in black, with masks covering the lower part of their faces and many strange-looking weapons strapped to various places all over their bodies. You asked your mother who they were and why they were there, but she would always put you off with vague answers and quickly change the subject.

You didn’t learn of their purpose in the palace until the last day of the week when you were summoned to the parlour in your best dress. As soon as you stepped in you noted that the atmosphere of the room was thick and prickly, as if charged with electricity. There was also a sour undertone that stuck in the back of your throat and set your teeth on edge. Every nerve and instinct in your body was screaming that these men were extremely dangerous and that you should not be in this room with them, but you knew by the look in your mother’s eye that leaving was not an option. Moving with smooth, practised steps, a too-familiar numbness washed over you as you made your way to the settee next to your mother and sat down. You folded your hands in your lap to hide their shaking and waited for an explanation.

“Y/N, sweetie, these men are bounty hunters. However, they do occasionally perform other tasks and I have hired them to take you somewhere quite special.”

You looked at her in confusion, daring a quiet query since she was always nice to you in front of others. “May I ask where exactly they’re taking me?”

Her smile stretched ever-so-slightly, a subtle indicator of her rapidly fading patience. “I’d like to keep that a surprise, dear. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll love it.”

That meant you would most likely hate it, seeing as your likes were so far removed from what she wished for them to be. But since you had no say in the matter, you just had to trust that wherever she was sending you would be somewhere you could eventually escape from.

“When will we be leaving?” You asked, resigning yourself to your fate for the time being.

“Sometime tonight.” She replied, her grin turning wicked. “They’ll come get you from your room when they’re ready to leave.”

“Should I dress for travelling?” You asked, feeling even more unsettled than before.

Your mother shook her head. “What you have on will be just fine. Now, please go to your room to wait for them.”

“Yes mother.” You stood, curtseying to the men before turning and leaving the parlour.

Once back in your room you sat on your bed and began bouncing your leg anxiously, trying to figure out where in the world your mother was shipping you off to. As you sat there, you heard a couple of the men walk past the door to your room. Curious and hoping to pick up a clue or two you tiptoed to the door, pulled it open the tiniest bit, and pressed your ear to the crack.

“You think she’s figured out where the Queen’s sending her?” The first man asked.

The second man shook his head. “Not at all. She may look pretty, but these princess types are usually quite dumb. She won’t have a clue until we step into the circle and bring her to the Fae realm.”

Eyes wide, you silently shut the door and stood frozen for a moment, mind reeling from what you’d just heard. She’d finally done what she’d threatened from the moment you turned 18: sold you to one of the Fae courts. You could only hope she hadn’t sold you to Oidhche, you’d heard some awful things about the Fae there.

Every minute that passed felt like an hour as you waited, nerves growing more frayed the longer you sat there. Finally, just when you thought you might explode, there was a knock at the door. You opened it and found two of the men standing there. One of them held a sack in one hand and a coil of rope in the other.

Before you could utter a word, they pushed their way into your room. The sack was thrown over your head and you immediately froze, heart palpitating with fear as your hands and feet were tied tightly. One of the men threw you over his shoulder like a sack of vegetables and they began to walk out.

Once outside the palace, you were unceremoniously tossed in the back of a large wooden cart. You could already feel a few bruises forming as you lay still, not daring to move as several rough woollen blankets were thrown on top of you. You heard the sound of a tarp being pulled over top of the cart and tied down, then the cart began to move.

You were pulled from the memory by Lorra whispering in your ear.

“The guards are coming, be ready to run.”

You whispered an acknowledgement and gripped the blanket beneath you, ready to push to your feet at a moment’s notice.

A soft, metallic clang! reached your ears, followed by the sounds of a short struggle. Then, silence. You held your breath, praying no other Fae heard anything. When several minutes passed without incident, Shownu whispered for everyone to get up and follow Jisoo out.

The group shuffled along quietly for a while, everyone working hard not to make any noise. It wasn’t until Jisoo found a door to the outside that you were all instructed to begin running. It was rough going for a while, but then the sun finally came up and things got somewhat easier.

Suddenly, a shrill scream echoed from behind you. You stopped running immediately and turned to see what had happened. What greeted your eyes sent icy terror spiking through your veins. It seemed the Fae had finally noticed the group’s absence, and a horde of them were pouring over the horizon. Some rode mounts while others raced on foot at inhuman speeds, and still others soared through the air on multicoloured wings. Several of them had already caught up to those at the back of the group and were expertly separating everyone to make for easier catching.

Frantic, your eyes combed the area to see where that scream had originated from. To your dismay you found Lorra cornered by a large male Fae who hauled her up by one arm, throwing her over the saddle of his mount and turning back with a smug grin. Off to your left you saw two female Fae circling Shownu while Jisoo was carried off into the sky by another female. The group was crumbling before your very eyes, and soon you would be the only one left. Already, you could see several Fae moving toward you, and it was that sight which spurred you into action once more.

Fear mixed with adrenaline to grant speed to your feet as you fled the approaching Fae. For a while you ran blindly, ignoring your surroundings as you focused only on staying ahead of your pursuers. Then the woods grew thicker and you were forced to slow your pace a bit to keep from tripping over a root or bashing your head against a low-hanging branch. You could feel the adrenaline starting to dwindle and weariness beginning to settle in your bones, so you kept an eye out for somewhere you might be able to hide for a little while and recover your strength.

Just as you were starting to despair of ever getting away, you saw a little house appear in the midst of a small grove of sturdy oak trees. Relief washed over as you picked up a little more speed, praying to all the gods that it was as abandoned as it looked. The trees pressed close against the sides of the house, making it look like the house was just part of the trees.

Glancing behind you, you saw that you were far enough ahead that you were not in the direct sight line of those pursuing you. Thinking quickly you ran ahead into a clump of bushes, then backtracked to the house by stepping in the footprints you’d already made. Once back at the house, you stepped carefully as you made your way to the door. Testing the knob, you found it unlocked, and hurried inside. Closing the door all but a crack, you watched to see if your ruse worked.

To your immense relief the Fae went right on past the house, following the trail you left. One they had passed, you closed the door fully and leaned against it, eyes closed as you began to calm down.

Suddenly a voice off to your left asked, “What are you doing in my house, little human?”

[demonrubberduck]

Saw you were looking for dracula fic prompts? I <3 all of your suitor squad jack/arthur/quincey fics so much, so something with them? Anything but angst-no-comfort.

The final one! Finally! Sorry it took so long, anon.

Boys Will Be

(Summary: Back in their college years, Arthur recruits his two best friends to help him steal a rival team's mascot. Jack cares nothing about sports, but still finds himself along for the ride.)

Jack knelt in the darkened doorway of the back entrance of a clubhouse, picking the lock by the light of Arthur’s torch, which the other man held over Jack’s shoulder. From around the corner, they could hear Quincey’s voice rise and fall, punctuated by the laughter and gasps of disbelief of the underclassmen the Alpha club had left guarding the place.

This was all Arthur’s fault, of course. Such adventures of theirs were always Arthur’s fault. He had romantic notions, a bottomless pocketbook, and soulful blue eyes that could whittle a young man’s resistance down until he agreed to go along with his latest scheme.

So here Jack found himself, trespassing on a rival college’s campus far after curfew, illegally breaking into a building to steal the rowing team’s grotesque mascot due to some bizarre sporting tradition. 

Whoever held the otter would supposedly win the… race, or meet, or whatever it was they called their blasted rowing competitions. So far in Jack’s time in school, no one had managed to lift the thing from Alpha club, and the Alphas had taken the trophy year after year. 

But this year, Arthur was determined. He was captain of the team, and more importantly, when his father had been captain, he’d managed to steal the taxidermied monstrosity. So Arthur had to as well. He adored his father, practically idolized the man. If his father had done it, he had to as well. It was legacy, he insisted. 

Jack thought it was a load of bollocks, but Arthur had asked him to help, with those shining blue eyes trained on Jack, and suddenly Jack had found his nonexistent school spirit aroused. 

His tool caught on the final pin in the tumbler, and when he gave it a twist, it opened. A warm hand came down on his shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze.

“Well done, old chap! I knew you were the right man for the job,” Arthur whispered. He offered Jack a hand up, which Jack took. He tried to look suitably stoic– he really cared nothing about sports, and he didn’t want Arthur getting ideas that they should pull this sort of stunt before every match he had for his inexhaustible list of clubs and sports teams– but a little of his excitement must have shone through, because Arthur just grinned at him and opened the door with a bow.

—------------------

Arthur had cut off the torch once they got inside. There was only faint light from the windows, but Arthur’s reconnaissance had given them a general idea of where the mascot was being displayed. 

Along the way, Jack counted the windows, and when they reached the one they’d settled on in advance, he unlocked and opened it. They waited, and after a tense moment, there was a rustling of bushes and the soft thump of shoes hitting the tiled floor, and then there Quincey was, caught up to them.

“They bought it?” Jack asked. Quincey nodded. 

“‘Course they did. I told you, the foreign exchange student sent on a wild goose chase to prove his affection for the local beauty is a classic. They bought it, hook, line, and sinker. Even offered to buy me a pint in commiseration.”

Arthur chuckled. “Well done, mate. You were the perfect distraction.”

In the shadowy darkness, Quincey made an over exaggerated gesture of tipping his hat. Then he shut and locked the window. None of them wanted the janitorial staff to be blamed for the theft. If everything went to plan, the Alphas would awaken tomorrow and have no indication of how their precious stuffed animal had been spirited away.

Arthur had planned every detail meticulously. Every other attempt, this year and for the past 3 years at least, had failed, but none of them had been led by Arthur Holmwood. 

They’d chosen tonight, the night before the race, because Arthur had known all the upperclassmen would be resting, leaving the more naive and easily distracted freshmen to serve as night watchmen. He’d bribed one of the janitors for a sketched map of the clubhouse layout, and a detailed description of the display case in which the otter was held. 

Arthur had kept his crew small. Other boys’ attempts had failed because they'd brought too many people along and had been detected. Quincey and Jack were not on the team, but they were the friends Arthur trusted the most with this all-important mission.

Jack had been recruited first, and he’d walked on clouds the whole day, knowing that Arthur Holmwood was relying on him. He was the Lockbreaker, and Quincey the Face, and Arthur the Mastermind. They were clever, efficient, and they trusted one another, and this, Arthur had insisted, would see them to victory where so many others had failed.

Arthur led the way down the hall, through a doorway and up a set of stairs. Another turn found them in the Alpha’s trophy room. Case after case of trophies, medals, and photographs of posh, smiling boys littered the walls, a shrine to their illustrious history. And of course, high up on the back wall was the case that held their prized mascot.

It was a horrific looking thing. Perhaps it has once been a display of taxidermied skill, but time, repeated thefts, and the ritual of the team members rubbing the fur for luck had left the animal looking ragged and worn. Jack sighed. They were risking bodily harm or even expulsion for this?

And then he hazarded a look back at Arthur and Quincey, who were grinning up at the creature with twin expressions of delight, and he revised his thoughts. Jack was risking it for them, and that, he could accept. 

Arthur drew the curtains on the window and hazarded the torch once more. Jack drew his tools out of his pocket, and Quincey knelt down and wrapped his arms around Jack’s knees.

“Keep straight, and try not to drop your picks on my head,” he warned as he hoisted Jack up so he could reach the keyhole on the display case.

��That was one time,” Jack groused. 

This lock was simpler than the one on the door, and Jack made quick work of it. These were the types of simple locks he’d practiced on as a boy, when first his mind had fixated on gears and locks. His father, relieved at having something that distracted his son from his endless questions or rambling recitations of the latest book he’d devoured, had encouraged the hobby and even bought him a set of locksmith’s tools in exchange for some quiet evenings in which Jack was entirely absorbed in figuring his way into a lockbox or through a padlock.

Jack and Quincey had been delighted to discover Jack’s little hobby, and had exploited it on several adventures already. So long as they didn’t do any lasting damage or steal anything they didn’t intend to return, Jack figured it was probably fine.

The case opened with a slight creak, and Jack wrinkled his nose as he reached in and took hold of the stand that the otter was affixed to. He hadn’t considered that this part of the plan involved him touching the thing. 

It wasn’t that Jack was squeamish; he touched cadavers and all manner of bodily fluids in his medical classes. It was just so…raggedy a creature. Someone really ought to take it outside and burn the thing to put it out of its misery. 

Quincey lowered him back down, and Arthur took the otter with a reverence that bordered on worship. Quincey produced a folded up sack from one pocket, and the two of them carefully placed the creature inside to conceal it from view. Thank God.

The three looked at each other then. Everything had gone perfectly thus far, but it would all be for naught if they got caught on the way out. They needed to make a clean escape, return to campus, and present the otter to Arthur’s team before the race began.

Arthur took a look at his pocket watch, nodded, and once again switched off the light. As they waited for their eyes to adjust to the darkness, he confirmed.

“Right on time, boys. The campus security should be by in three minutes, which will clear the Alphas out. In eight minutes, they’ll be called away to the other side of campus, and we’ll be able to make our way out at our leisure.”

Doubtless, his preparations had involved at least a small bribe to the guards to be where he needed them and to whatever inside man he had redirecting them shortly after. The way Arthur and Quincey spent money made Jack feel a bit depressed about his own modest finances, so he preferred not to think about it too long or too hard. As far as he was concerned, the important part was that Arthur could generally rely on people being where he’d asked them to be at the times which he specified. 

That gave them eight minutes to get back to the door they’d entered through so they could be ready to run the moment the guards cleared out.

Quincey slung an arm over Arthur and Jack’s shoulders, drawing them into a sort of half-hug. Neither Arthur nor Jack knew how to be particularly demonstrative with their affections, other than the occasional pat on the shoulder or a hand shake, but that never deterred Quincey. He simply swept them up when he took the mood, and they followed his lead.

“We did it, fellows. Art, you’re gonna be a legend. Your pa coudn’t’ve done it any better.”

Arthur smiled, and he reached over to grip Jack’s elbow with his free hand.

“It’s thanks to the two of you. I’d never have managed it on my own.”

The darkness covered Jack’s blush, thank goodness. He gave the others a quick squeeze, then slipped out from under Quincey’s arm. One of them had to be practical.

“Save that for when we’re back in our dorms, both of you. You can be as sappy as you’d like once we’re home.”

Quincey snorted and caught Jack once more in his arms. He gave his hair a quick ruffle. “It’ll only take us a minute to get back down to the door, so by Art’s calculations, we got seven minutes to be sappy right now.” And with that proclamation delivered, he leaned in and gave Jack’s cheek a kiss with an exaggerated smack.

“And Jack,” Art purred, stepping in as well to crowd Jack’s personal space. “We will be holding you to what you just said. ‘As sappy as we like once we get home.’ ” He kissed Jack’s other cheek, with less dramatic flourish but still radiating mischief. “The Holmwoods pride themselves on generously rewarding exemplary service.”

Jack considered lifting one of the medals from the trophy cases to award himself as, after a couple more minutes of only-half-teasing cuddling, he extracted himself from the other boys’ grasps and herded them all to the back door of the clubhouse before they missed their window for escape. 

‘All of this for some damned rowing-team tradition’, he grumbled to himself, because if it let himself think of the real reason he was doing this, for two handsome young men who inexplicably cared for him, they wouldn’t make it back to campus with the damned otter before sunrise.

(AN: There's a non-zero chance I'll write a follow-up with porn. IDK, that's how I tend to roll with this ship.)