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goodlucktai · 4 years ago

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it’s a better place since you came along

the adventure zone taako & angus mcdonald 7k words

read on ao3

“So, you must be here about the job,” the old man goes on. “To tell you the truth, I’d just about given up on finding a decent nanny. When can you start?”

Taako stares at him. There’s an alarm klaxon blaring in the back of his brain, along with a shrill inner voice advising him to “abort, motherfucker, abort!”

***

In which Taako answers a general “help wanted” ad that actually changes his entire stupid life.

There’s a baby crying somewhere.

Taako, left waiting in the foyer by a harried maid, has nothing else to do but tap a foot, twist one of the rings on one of his fingers, and count the long seconds that the plaintive wail continues to echo through the cavernous house.

Listen, he may not be a very good dude, just in general, and for a healthy plethora of reasons—but there’s a prickling sense of unease growing in the pit of his stomach, as one minute passes into two, and the sounds of distress go unheeded.

What in the fresh fuck, he thinks, when another member of the house staff drifts through the room without any sense of urgency. If he knew shit about magic beyond a few travel-handy tricks and the occasional intuitive transmutation, he’d assume this was some sort of elaborate illusion. Maybe a sort of test played on unsuspecting hopefuls who came to answer the help-wanted ad.

Unfortunately for Taako, he remembers all-too well what it feels like to be an unwanted child, outcast and always alone. As it turns out, he has a very particular Achilles’ heel and he’s not overly thrilled to discover it.

“Well, I didn’t need the job that bad,” he tells himself, as he gets up to single-mindedly fail this stupid test. And nevermind that he kind of really did.

‘Confidence is key’ and ‘fake it till you make it’ are two mantras that Taako could live and die by, so it’s with long, unchecked strides that he crosses the grand foyer and chases the miserable cries up some stairs, down a long corridor, and finally into an out-of-the-way bedchamber at what must have been the back of the house.

The cries stutter when the door clicks open, and Taako gets a glimpse of a tiny round face peering at him through the bars of an ancient-looking crib. The sudden appearance of this strange elf in his nursery seems to have surprised the little human, but not for long. After about two seconds, he screws his face up and screams with renewed vindication.

Taako winces, his sensitive ears twitching back at the onslaught. This is way above his paygrade, but he used to babysit younger kids in the caravans while their parents were busy or drunk, in exchange for a hot meal or a few coins. He’s not totally out of his depth here.

“Hey, little man,” he says by way of hello. “Trying to bring the roof down, huh? No, I dig that. I wasn’t gonna say anything, but this house of yours is ugly as hell.”

Taako doesn’t raise his voice, because what the hell would be the point? There’s no way he’s winning that contest of wills, and nobody wants some lunatic shouting at them when they’re this fucking distraught, anyway. He just crosses his arms on the side of the crib and leans down to get a good look at the kid.

The baby’s face is tacky and snotty, dusky skin flushed darker with exertion, curly hair a tangled mop. But he’s a cute little guy despite himself, probably a year old or thereabouts, not that Taako is in any way a decent judge of that sort of thing. As Taako talks to him in a conversational tone, his awful, heaving sobs peter out.

The tearful gulps are better. The way he lifts pudgy arms up to be held, not so much.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Taako says, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder. “I’m not even supposed to be in here. You have no idea how culturally insensitive people are when it comes to elves and babies. Your mama walks in and sees me holding you, and then she’s calling the guard, and I’m getting hauled off for attempting to spirit her little heir away, and we both perpetuate an archaic myth that all elves are equally capable of and greedy for voluntary childcare. Let me just say��from personal experience—that is not the fuckin' case.”

But he reaches a hand into the crib and lets the little human clutch at it. Tiny, clumsy fingers wrap around Taako’s much bigger ones and hold tight. The baby’s eyes are wide and curious now, soaking up Taako’s every word without a damn clue what any of them mean.

Taako almost forgot he knew how to do this. It’s been months since Glamour Springs, since Sazed ditched him on the road. Taako’s been living a half-life, made up of odd jobs and never staying for too long in any one place, and for all that it’s absurdly one-sided, this is the longest conversation he’s had since then, too.

“One of us is pretty fucking pathetic,” he confides. “And it’s not the screamy baby.”

“Ah, this is where you’ve gone,” a voice from the doorway says.

Taako jumps in alarm, and looks around in time to watch a man step into the nursery. He bears a striking resemblance to the baby in the crib, though he’s graying at the temples and his face is lined with too much age for him to be an immediate parent. Grandparent, probably. Distinguished, dressed in a suit that probably cost more than the entire cumulative worth of everything Taako currently owns, leaning heavily on a walking cane.

He doesn’t look as though he’s about to ring the alarm, but Taako is still a little keyed up. Given the way he’s been living, the feeling of getting caught, even for a moment, activates his fight or flight response.

“Sorry,” Taako says lamely. “I heard him crying.”

“I don’t doubt it. His parents, my daughter and her husband, died recently. An accident on the road,” the man says. There’s some sorrow there, but it’s pushed back and away. Compartmentalized. “He came to live with me, but the transition hasn’t been an easy one. It seems as though all he’s done is cry.”

Taako doesn’t melt even slightly for the poor kid, because he’s made of sterner stuff than that. But he does let him hold onto his hand for a little while longer. It’s not hurting anything.

“So, you must be here about the job,” the old man goes on. “To tell you the truth, I’d just about given up on finding a decent nanny. When can you start?”

Taako stares at him. There’s an alarm klaxon blaring in the back of his brain, along with a shrill inner voice advising him to “abort, motherfucker, abort!”

It wasn’t a nanny ad. It was just a ‘general help wanted in exchange for room and board’ type of deal. He wouldn’t have shown up to take the job in the first place if it had specified providing 1) cooking, 2) companionship, or 3) childcare, and that’s for damn sure. He believes in playing to his strengths, and while vapid charm is certainly one of them, being personable and likable for any extended period of time is not.

And Taako absolutely doesn’t know what to think of this old rich guy who seems to be operating under the illusion that thirty seconds is plenty of time to get enough of a read on some rando to then trust your child to them. For real, and from the bottom of Taako's heart, what the fuck?

He’s only been acquainted with this particular child for about five minutes, but his ears go back and his hackles go up at the idea of someone just walking in off the street to take charge of him.

Maybe there’s some crucial insanity element to parenthood that Taako just isn’t fucking picking up. Maybe total and complete willingness to just ditch your kid at a moment’s notice is part of the package. Sure would explain a few things about Taako’s childhood.

But… this old manor house is clearly in the middle of nowhere. Two hours from the nearest settlement, where the job posting was hiding beneath other flyers on the board in the square. Taako wandered the woods all afternoon and almost gave up finding the place before the chimney smoke tipped him off.

It’s remote. Safe. And, at a glance, more comfortable than any of the inns and caravans Taako has lived out of since his auntie died.

He’s not qualified for this position, but since when has that ever stopped him? It’s not like he went to culinary school, either, and for awhile he was one of the most famous chefs on the continent. A baby can't be that much work.

Fake it till you make it, he thinks, and then faces the old man with a smile.

“Hell, I’m already here. Might as well start now.”

Aside from Taako, there are three other members of staff on the books, and none of them are full-time. The maids come in every other day to do the cleaning and the laundry and bring in groceries, that sort of thing. The groundskeeper only works the weekends.

They like Mr McDonald well enough, the girls confide in Taako over tea on his first night there, and the pay isn’t bad, but he’s forgetful. Doesn’t think to eat until he feels hunger pains, that sort of thing. Don’t be surprised if you get paid twice some weeks, or not at all others.

“He’s just not interested in running a household, I think,” the older of the two imparts, ancient at seventeen for all the weariness in her eyes. “I’m glad he finally found someone to take care of the baby. I felt bad about him crying all the time.”

Baby Angus had seemed to surprise both teens by being agreeable and downright adorable, perfectly content to be tucked into the crook of Taako’s arm and soothed to sleep by the rumble of his voice.

Did any of you try, like, holding him? Taako wants to ask acidly. Seems a little fucked up that Taako, of all people, is more on top of this than anyone else. But the maids are little more than kids themselves, and it seems as though grandpa isn’t completely with it.

About a month after Taako first wandered in, grandpa proves it.

“It was before Angus was born,” Mr McDonald says, digging through the many drawers in his study, looking for some expensive rich person thing he’d acquired at auction four years ago. There’s an empty crystal tumbler sitting on the liquor cabinet, next to a half-empty decanter of whiskey. “We went to Goldcliff for a charity fundraiser. Marquis proposed to my daughter that night. You remember, Taako?”

Taako, halfheartedly poking through stuff on the desk while Angus chews on the end of his braid, replies, “Sure do, homie. Hell of a party.”

He finds a photo in a stack of letters and pauses. Two humans are pictured with their arms around each other, handsome smiles on their faces for the camera, a baby cradled tenderly between them.

At the bottom, in looping handwriting, someone wrote ‘Marquis, Angela, and Angus.’ There’s a little heart drawn under the names with such care that it, in itself, is something of a revelation.

Angus’ parents wouldn’t have let him cry himself sick in a faraway room. They wouldn’t have let some stranger be holding him now. They abandoned him, but not on purpose. Not the same way Taako’s family did.

This kid was loved. He’s due love. And all he has is an absent grandpa and a shitty elf looking after him.

“Check it out, Ango,” Taako says quietly, holding the photo up so the baby can see, carefully out of reach of those sticky fingers. “Your genes are killer. You’re gonna outshine the whole damn world.”

He pockets the photo with a sleight of hand he perfected at ten years old, and then guts some ugly painting in the service hallway in the name of repurposing the frame, and then he and Angus stage a tactical retreat.

The nursery was too depressing, just in general, so one of Taako’s first acts as nanny was to move all the baby stuff in with his. He had his pick of any of the second floor bedchambers, and he chose one overlooking the overgrown gardens, with a pretty bay window that it only took like two hours and a handful of stubborn Prestidigitations to scrub clean.

He enlarges the photo, slides it into the frame, transmutes it to look like a more professional job, and then sets it in place of pride on one of the empty shelves.

“Gang’s all here,” he says. He bounces Angus a few times, eliciting a toothy smile from the kid.

Lordy, Taako thinks, she’d be laughing her ass off if she could see me right now.

The thought comes out of absolutely nowhere and disappears just as quickly, sliding right out of his mind like water through a sieve. Then Angus makes a sudden dive to grab one of the charms hanging off the brim of Taako’s hat, and he has more immediate things to worry about.

Living in a house is weird. Having the run of the place is even weirder.

Taako is certainly not the type to sign up for extra responsibility, and he’d be the first to say as much to literally anyone who asked. Keeping himself alive has always been trouble enough, and now he has a whole ass extra person he’s in charge of, too.

But as time drags on, he realizes he’s been pretty solidly assimilated.

When McDonald forgets to give Catherine the grocery allowance before he fucks off on one of his bi-monthly business trips to Neverwinter, Taako forks over his own gold without feeling the sting of it too badly. He practically writes his own checks around here, anyway. He can make up the difference whenever.

When crotchety old Boniface came in from the gardens looking for an answer about the freshly broken fountain, he bypasses McDonald’s closed office door entirely to demand guidance out of Taako instead. Taako is in the library, laying on his stomach to supervise Angus’ painstaking and artistic destruction of a probably priceless but unfortunately racist oral history Taako found on one of the shelves, and gives Boniface the go-ahead to gut the old eyesore.

“If it dies, it dies,” Taako says plainly, passing Angus a new red crayon. Boniface, pleased that he’s allowed to demolish something, makes it a point to ask Taako about these things first from then on.

When Ezra shows up in Taako’s suite one morning with tearful eyes and an ugly burn from the temperamental furnace in the basement, neither of them stop to question why she ran all the way up here. They’re both reasonably intelligent people, after all, and Taako is quick to cast a nonverbal Helping Hand. He doesn’t need to overthink it. The burned skin on Ezra’s arm is shiny and red, but repaired.

The girl surges forward to hug him, visibly rethinks it, and then changes course and scoops Angus up for a hug and a noisy kiss on the cheek instead. Angus shrieks in bald delight, and Taako finds himself smiling.

So, yeah. It’s weird, the whole thing is weird, but he wouldn’t say it’s bad.

McDonald is a kind but largely absent presence in their lives. When he’s home, he’s shut up in his study. Angus hardly seems to recognize the man anymore, only watching him with solemn brown eyes from the comforting circle of Taako’s arms. It doesn’t really sit well with Taako—he didn’t take this job to upstage any relatives or be a replacement parent—but he’s already nanny to a precocious two-year-old, he can’t also be nanny to a seventy-something-year-old retired scholar. If McDonald wants to be a part of Angus’ life, that’s on him. It can’t possibly fall on Taako’s shoulders.

“And even if it did, I have a bad back,” Taako informs Angus. “You’ll have to do the heavy-lifting for me, sweetpea. How’s that sound?”

“Okay, Taako,” Angus says gravely. If there’s a tiny part of Taako that’s fucking delighted every time this tiny miracle says his name, he squashes it down good and hard and no one is the wiser.

It feels a little bit like nothing exists outside this spacious manor house. The extensive grounds might as well be a magic barrier between Taako and the rest of the world. It won’t last—nothing good ever does—but for now he allows himself to pretend that it will.

Taako and his little shadow swing into the kitchen around noon one day to find Catherine in tears.

This is so far from the norm that Taako actually draws up short in the doorway. Angus toddles right into the back of his leg, loses his balance, and plops down hard on his padded bottom.

“What’s this all about, darling?” Taako asks warily.

Catherine is sharp in all the places Ezra is soft, and while it makes her much easier to understand—a girl after Taako’s own black, shriveled heart—it also makes her approximately one million times more difficult to comfort, as likely to bite at a helping hand as accept one.

At the first sign of her vicious temper, he’s gonna grab his kid and bail. There’s fruit and bread in the larder that’ll see them through to dinner, and if not, he's not above bribing Ezra to run interference.

But Catherine just lifts her head out of her hands and says, “I burnt the stupid soup!”

Taako blinks. He stands still so Angus can use one of his legs as leverage to pull himself back upright, and cups the back of the boy's head in silent praise when he manages it on his own.

“Okay,” Taako says slowly. He can piece this shit together. “The soup is burnt. And you’re cheesed about it because…you feel really strongly about soup.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she snaps, but it’s without any real heat. “I just. I can’t get anything right today.”

Ah. Okay. So it’s one of those.

He hesitates for a moment, and then leans down to scoop Angus up and balances him on a hip. Angus knows not to toddle into the kitchen unsupervised, and rarely gets to toddle in at all when there’s cookery going on.

Taako himself rarely goes in. It feels too much like tempting fate. But his feet carry him forward, and he leans over the pot of thick and creamy chicken and dumplings, and right away he can smell the problem. It caught on the bottom of the pot and scorched.

He’s never worked in this kitchen—and he never will—but he remembers the steps. It’s mise en place. He reaches into the spice cabinet and withdraws a small tin shaker.

“Cinnamon,” he says at length, offering the tin to Catherine.

She stares at him, losing some of her steel for a moment. “Really?”

“Really,” Taako says, and firmly steps back. The six-second exchange has left him feeling tense and sick, his appetite fully and completely fucking out of the picture.

Angus is a perceptive little monster, and settles more heavily into Taako’s arms. He heaves a very pointed sigh, something he started doing to communicate that he’s feeling particularly safe and content. It makes Taako’s chest hurt in a much different way than impending panic attacks tend to, and he presses a kiss to the kid’s curly head.

“Thanks, angel,” he says.

“You’re welcome.”

“Holy shit, Taako,” Catherine says, looking up from the soup with awe in her eyes. As he watches, she tries another spoonful, and then she actually laughs out loud. “It worked!”

He finds himself searching her face for—sickness. Shortness of breath. Something.

It’s stupid. The people he killed in Glamour Springs didn’t show signs of death for days.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” Catherine goes on. “Could you teach me?”

“I don’t,” Taako blurts. It comes out sharper than he meant for it to, sudden and a little bit too loud. Catherine’s smile tapers. Angus lifts his head off Taako’s shoulder. Breathe, idiot, Taako tells himself. Be a fucking person for two seconds. “Cook, I mean. I don’t cook. Or, uh, teach. I’m kind of useless. Pretty, though.”

He flips his hair. It makes Angus giggle, but Catherine isn’t an easily-amused toddler, and she’s not buying it.

Her eyes are sharp, and seem to peel through layers of Taako’s bullshit like a knife. And then she scoffs, and mimics his hair flip with her wrist even though her hair is only about two inches long, and the tension drains out of the room like someone pulled a plug in the floor.

“You’ve been teaching Mango to read,” she says dryly. “And Elvish. And magic. But okay, Mr I Don’t Teach.”

“He’s my fucking protege. That shit’s different!”

“Shit!” Angus agrees cheerfully.

“Whatever. Now that I know you’re secretly a fountain of knowledge, I’m dragging you in here the next time I fuck up a recipe.” She studies him for a moment, and adds, “You don’t have to cook, Teach. If it bothers you. I just…I need help sometimes.

Taako feels himself relenting. This house is turning him into a fucking pushover.

“I know, Cat,” he sighs. “Try to find one person who doesn’t.”

“Alright, little man,” Taako says, tugging Angus’ collar straight. “What are the rules?”

“Hold your hand, don’t talk to strangers, aim for the eyes if I can reach them, knees if I can’t,” his boy recites gravely.

Next to him, Ezra stifles a snort of laughter. Boniface, waiting by the loaded carriage, looks reluctantly amused. Catherine says, “Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to give you a kid?”

“Uh, your boss,” Taako says without looking at her. He stands up from his crouch as the front door closes, and they all turn as McDonald comes down the steps to join them in the crumbly courtyard.

“Are we ready, boys?” he asks with a smile. “Neverwinter is waiting.”

Honestly, Taako has been sick with dread over this trip for the past two weeks, but he wouldn’t know how to go about explaining that. And he sure as hell isn’t sending Angus off alone with his absent-minded grandfather. The kid probably wouldn’t make it home.

It’s not as though Taako has been sequestered in the manor house for the last five years. He’s ambled into the settlement with the girls now and then, has gone farther up the road to buy from caravans for Candlenights gifts, has let himself be bullied, cajoled, blackmailed and bribed into helping Boniface lug imported plants home from the train station.

But this is fucking Neverwinter. The Jewel of the North.

“Taako? You okay?” Angus says from somewhere near his elbow.

“Just dreading three hours on the road playing I, Spy with you, boychik,” he lies smoothly. “Go pet the horses so we can get that out of the way.”

Angus looks mulish for a moment, but he does insist on petting the carthorses before they take the carriage literally anywhere, so he lifts his head and crosses the courtyard with great dignity. Taako watches sharply until Boniface rolls his eyes so hard Taako can practically hear it and hefts Agnus up in one huge arm to better reach the giant creatures without running the risk of getting fucking trampled.

“I’m making the salmon at home tonight,” Catherine says abruptly, a non-sequitur that takes Taako by surprise. “If I don’t fuck it up, I’m gonna cook it here, too. So don’t be late, Teach.”

“I’ll a hundred percent eat your share if you’re late,” Ezra adds. Her smile looks a little strained.

Taako has not been subtle. He’s been freaking out right out loud where anybody could see it. Get it together, asshole, he coaches himself helpfully.

“Cat,” he says earnestly, “your salmon is literally the only thing I have to live for.”

She groans and pushes him away from her. Angus has finished with the horses and returns to Taako at a run, even though they’re all going to be walking back across the courtyard to the carriage in like one minute anyway.

McDonald is handing out a few last minute instructions. They’re mostly things that have already been taken care of, errands that have already been run, the ushe. The girls nod along politely, but there’s a level of uncertainty lingering above them like a cloud. They look as nervous about Taako leaving as Taako feels.

Now, Taako is many things—an elf, a failed chef, a murderer, a dime-store wizard, and one lucky nanny—but he is not some mercurial fairy tale creature. He’s not going to vanish from their lives the second they lose sight of him. He could if he wanted to, and he will if he has to, but he doesn’t want to. For now, he doesn’t have to.

So he lifts a hand and says, “Back soon.”

But for some reason, it fucking hurts.

The trip is about everything he expected it would be: long and boring. Angus gets bored with I, Spy within about ten minutes, the interior of the carriage is a little too tight to practice his cantrips, and Boniface seems to be aiming for the roughest parts of the road on purpose. Taako tries reading aloud from one of the Caleb Cleveland books, but McDonald keeps interrupting every time they get to the good, mysterious parts, so Angus and Taako trade a loaded glance and wordlessly agree to save it for later.

Still, it’s not awful. Angus at six years old is bright-eyed and relentlessly clever. He wants to be a detective like Caleb, and has taken to solving little mysteries around the manor house, like who left the jam out on the counter (Taako, and what are you going to do about it, pumpkin?) and who tracked the mud inside the undercroft (Boniface, obviously, that’s where all the booze is, and he literally works in mud all day. You didn’t have to put on your detective cap for that one).

Needless to say, Taako would burn the whole world down for this kid.

With no choice but to spend time in his grandson’s company, Taako can see Angus’ innate charm going to work on McDonald. There’s something wistful in the old man’s eyes, affectionate and more than a little bittersweet. He stops interrupting as Angus starts to describe his latest case in great detail—the mystery of the missing tarts!

The tarts are wrapped up and waiting in Taako’s bag for when they inevitably get snacky during the trip, but he's not going to tell. He kinda wants to see how far the kid takes this one.

By the time they board the train, Angus is tuckered out. The excitement of a trip so far from home is wearing off after hours in a carriage, and Taako ends up carrying him into their sleeper car and putting him to bed in one of the bunks.

McDonald takes a seat at the small table and watches without commentary as Taako extracts the boy’s hat and glasses and wand without waking him, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. And then, out of habit more than anything else, he murmurs the only Elven blessing he remembers, quite literally ‘sweet dreams.’ He remembers Auntie saying it to him, and…someone else, maybe? He remembers that it always made him feel loved to hear it.

“Hiring you was the best thing I could have done for him,” McDonald says suddenly.

Taako turns with a trademark smile on his face, only as charming as it needs to be. “Hiring me was the best thing you ever did, period.”

His boss smiles back, but there’s an edge to it that Taako can’t translate. This is the most present and aware he’s looked in the last five years. Taako isn’t sure he’s ever had this much of McDonald’s attention.

“There’s another reason I wanted to take the two of you with me this week,” he says.

It’s ominous as fuck, and as the train lurches into motion, pulling away from the station, Taako realizes that he’s effectively trapped here, in a way he never was at the manor house. Some of his thoughts must show on his face, because McDonald’s smile warms a bit, and he gestures at the other chair.

“It’s a good thing, son. No need to be nervous.”

Taako sits in an irreverent collapsing of limbs to prove that he isn’t nervous, actually. McDonald pulls a bunch of papers out of his briefcase and sets them on the table. They look official as fuck. McDonald’s signature at the bottom draws Taako’s eye—huh, so that’s his first name. After this long, it would have felt a little awkward to ask. Beneath that is the signature and seal of a notary.

“What am I looking at here, Charlie?”

McDonald’s lips twitch. He probably cottoned onto the name thing.

“Well, this isn’t an easy conversation to have, and I probably could have picked a better time for it, but.” He glances over Taako’s shoulder at where Angus is sleeping. “It’s probably better if the boy doesn’t overhear until it’s sorted.”

“I hear ya. That little bugbear is all up in everyone’s business all the time,” Taako says proudly. “Just the worst.”

“He’s amazing,” McDonald says. That sorrow swims into his eyes now, an ancient, ruinous thing. “He reminds me of my daughter every time I look at him.” Oh. “It’s been…hard to look at him sometimes.” Oh.

Taako carefully reevaluates his opinion of Angus’ absent grandfather. Not too much, because the dude still should have been around, but, you know. Some.

Taako tries to imagine losing somebody, how much it must hurt. He tries to imagine looking like somebody, a family resemblance, a belonging at face-value. He’s never experienced either, but there’s still a bitter pit in his throat, a feeling like if he swallows too hard he’ll start to cry. So he sits very still instead.

“But still, he’s my only grandson, and I want him to be taken care of when I’m gone,” the man goes on. “I’m getting on in years, and I probably don’t have much longer left—oh, Taako. It’s alright.”

Taako is certain he didn’t move. He’s still doing the sitting-very-still thing. Then he realizes his ears betrayed him, pressed back flat against his head. Goddamn things.

“No, it’s uh. Taako’s good, don’t. Just.”

It’s the human age thing. He doesn’t want to think about it. He waves McDonald on, a tight rolling gesture. They really need to power through the rest of this conversation while Taako still has enough self-control left to not do something really embarrassing in front of his boss, like have a whole emotion.

McDonald takes pity. Thank fuck.

“It’s normal to want to get your ducks in a row,” he says. “I’m not planning on kicking the bucket any time soon.”

“Alright, let’s organize these ducks,” Taako says with unwarranted enthusiasm. He’s trying to trick himself into it. “Fucking ducks, am I right?”

“Angus is my heir. When he’s of age, he’ll get the estate and everything that goes with it, as well as his parents’ properties,” McDonald says, once again reminding Taako that he’s a rich old fuck. Istus. “But that’s still more than a decade away. If something should happen to me, I don’t want him to end up a ward of the state.”

Taako blinks. In the back of his mind, he realizes that he has become one of those elves that would one-thousand-percent kidnap a human baby if it came down to it. Leave Agnes in an orphanage? His Agnes? It would literally have never occurred to him.

“Custody cases can be so long-winded. The easiest way to circumvent the whole mess would be to adopt you into the family,” McDonald says, super nonchalant about flipping the world upside down. “That way Angus has an immediate next of kin that no one would question.”

He looks up when Taako doesn’t say anything and frowns at whatever Taako’s face must look like.

“You don’t have to use the surname if you don’t want to. It’s mostly just for the sake of paperwork.”

“I can’t,” Taako blurts.

“Of course. I wouldn’t insist that you change your family name if it’s important to you—”

“Not—not that, who gives a fuck about my family name,” Taako says too loudly. Angus shifts around for a second, like he might wake up, and Taako snaps his mouth closed so hard it hurts his teeth. In a whisper, because it’s all he can manage without giving into the urge to scream, Taako forces out, “I—I’m—I can’t.”

In the nightmare scenarios that still sometimes plague him in the middle of the night, when everyone else is asleep and he’s alone with the voice in his brain that fucking hates him, the choices always boiled down to either leaving Angus behind or taking him on the run. Both choices were fucking awful for a myriad of different reasons, and left Taako pacing his room tirelessly trying to think his way out of an unsolvable problem.

The idea that he could become a legal part of Angus’ family as simply as signing a piece of paper is so far-fetched and ridiculous that he can’t wrap his mind around it.

But bringing all his shit into Angus’ life? Signing up for this only to get snatched away the second the paperwork goes through and the militia finally finds him? Leaving his dirty laundry all over the front yard like the worst fucking house guest imaginable, and then peacing out to spend the rest of his long-ass fucking elf life in jail, while Angus was left to just…deal with that?

He couldn’t. He can’t. Every single option is bad. He shouldn’t have stayed. He should have known he would fall in love with that baby on day one. It’s really fucking stupid that he stayed.

“—aako. Taako.”

Taako jerks his head up. His ears are twitching and his hands are shaking and McDonald has probably been saying his name for awhile.

The man’s eyes are bright and steely. They look exactly like Angus’ do sometimes, when he wakes Taako up from a miserable meditation, when it’s just the two of them in a huge house surrounded by a crumbling garden.

“Tell me,” the man says sternly.

At a fucking complete loss, Taako just…does.

When he’s finished, McDonald looks at him really hard for what feels like a long time. Then he pulls a pair of reading glasses out of an inner pocket of his coat, poises the business end of a fountain pen against a fresh sheet of paper, and starts asking questions.

It’s a business-like, no-nonsense exchange. Taako is wiped out, emotionally he is the equivalent of a damp rag wrung out to dry, and he has no wherewithal left to lie or deny or deflect.

When they’re done, McDonald has filled three notebook pages of blocky handwriting, and Taako is swaying in his seat. He watches somewhat vacantly as McDonald nods to himself and rummages in his briefcase for a stone of farspeech.

“We won’t reach Neverwinter until morning. Get some sleep,” he says, and his voice is kindly again, the way it was before. Taako stares at him. “And don’t tell me elves don’t need it, please. I wasn’t born yesterday, and you nap twice as much as my grandson ever did.”

Well, it would be nice to get one last unnecessary snooze in as a free man, Taako supposes, and he doesn’t hesitate to climb into Angus’ bunk. It’s a familiar ritual. The kid squirms to accommodate him without fully waking. Taako tucks an arm around him and buries his nose in that riot of curly hair.

He hears McDonald say, “You’re not much more than a kid yourself, are you?” but that might have just been part of a dream.

He hears someone else say, “That can’t be broken or lost or taken away, it’s always going to be so important,” but Taako thinks that, whoever that was, they were very clearly wrong.

Taako wakes up to a six-year-old’s warm brown eyes. They’re crinkled at the corners in an urchin sort of way, and it’s the only tell Taako needs. His kid has been up to some mischief.

“Grandpa said you were tired and I should let you sleep,” Angus reports cheerfully. “He also said that there was a nice lady selling flowers a few cars down, and I ought to go buy a few!”

Ah. Taako glances down at the ruin of his hair. It looks like about a hundred snowberry blossoms were worked into the thick flaxen braid. It’s going to be an absolute pain to brush out later. He’ll probably find bits of plant in his hair for days. He loves it.

He risks a glance in McDonald’s direction.

The man looks amused by their whole general existence, which is fair. He also doesn't look like he's about to summon the guard to have Taako hauled into the brig, which is a fucking relief and a half.

“The world changed while you were asleep,” he says significantly. “Would you like to sign the papers now or with your pardon?”

Angus says, all in one breath, “You should sign the papers first! Grandpa says then you’ll be my family! I mean, you already are, so I’m not sure what the point is, but it must be important. Look at how official they are!”

Taako feels about four cups of coffee behind this conversation. He scoots off the bed, spilling into one of the chairs at the table, and folds his hands.

“Charlie. Buddy.”

“I stepped out for two minutes,” McDonald says defensively, “and I thought he was asleep!”

“That’s the oldest trick in the book,” Taako mutters. His heart is doing something really complicated and largely unnecessary, fucking backflipping in his chest, at Angus’ thoughtless ‘you already are.’ Like it was a given. What the fuck. “Can you go back to, uh—the world changing? A pardon? What’s up with that?”

“An old friend of mine is a cleric,” he says pushing a steaming cup in Taako’s direction. “Level nine, or thereabouts. She owed me a favor from when we were in school together, when I—well, that’s not important. What is important is that she was happy to cast Discern Location to find your old stage manager.”

Taako fumbles the cup, almost drops it. He sets it down hard.

“What the fuck? No, hold that thought. Angus, I love you. Get lost.”

He’s really banking on the kid being more stir-crazy than curious, and sure enough, Angus hops right off the bunk and sprints for the door.

“Okay, I’ll be in the dining car! You’re not s’posed to take food back with you, but I’m gonna see how many pastries I can fit in my pockets so you won’t be hungry when you sign the papers that make you my family! Love you, bye!”

“A three-hour carriage ride followed by six hours on a train was the worst fucking idea,” Taako says severely. “He’s gonna be on eleven when we roll up to Neverwinter. They might not let us in.”

“He’s just excited,” the old man says, with the tranquility of someone who isn’t going to have to child-wrangle all day long. “I told him I had good news for you.”

Taako is fidgeting, turning the cup of coffee around and around in his hands. It’s leaving a ring of condensation on the table.

“You found Sazed?” he asks, and hates how small his voice sounds.

“We did.”

“He probably hates me,” Taako mutters. “I ruined his life.”

McDonald takes the cup from him and sets it down on the other side of the table with a firm clunk.

“Pardon my language, but you didn’t ruin crud.” Taako mouths ‘crud’ in bewilderment, but McDonald isn’t finished. “I was suspicious of your story when you described the way those people died. Those aren’t the typical symptoms of deadly nightshade, and I’d never heard of a transmutation spell failing in that way before. So I looked into it. Or, I should say, I had a few friends look into it.”

“Are you in a cult?” Taako asks. He can’t help it. He’s one part genuinely curious and two parts hardwired to deflect any time someone tricks him into having a serious conversation. “We frown on cults in this family. Mysterious shadow organizations are never a good thing, no matter what greater-good shit they’re peddling.”

“I’m very rich and belong to very elite social circles,” McDonald says dryly. He’s unmoved by Taako’s general everything. “This whole thing took about three calls. I wish you would have told me about this five years ago, but I do understand why you didn’t.”

Taako doesn’t have a cup to fuck around with anymore. He stopped wearing jewelry when Angus was a baby and literally everything smaller than an apple was a choking hazard, and he never really got into the habit of it again, so he doesn’t have rings to twist around his fingers, either. He wrings his hands instead.

“If it wasn’t the elderberries,” he chokes out, and doesn’t make it any farther.

“It was arsenic,” McDonald says. His voice is kind again, but not so much so that it’s painful to hear. “Sazed was questioned within a Zone of Truth. He admitted to—okay,” he cuts himself off, putting a hand on Taako’s shoulder. “We’re done talking about it for now. Just take it easy.”

Taako doesn’t uncurl from his chair until the door rattles open and Angus’ voice fills the room. He’s found a dozen things to talk about in the ten minutes he’s been gone, and is very proud of himself for all the contraband pastries he managed to make off with. There’s a cheese danish wrapped very carefully in a napkin, only slightly squished, that he presents to Taako with a showy flourish that he really only could have picked up from too much time around one particular idiot.

Taako accepts the danish, and then hauls Angus up onto his lap, and then says, “Charlie, baby. Pass me that fancy pen.”

For the first time in almost eight years, Taako is cooking for an audience again. His hands are shaking, but as long as everyone else is politely pretending like they don’t notice, he can do himself the same favor.

I fed those people their death, but it wasn’t on me, he recites inwardly for the seven millionth time, a nervous mantra. My magic was good. My cooking was good. I was good. It wasn’t on me.

He looks up from the counter where all his tools are laid out and his ingredients are arranged. Ezra is bouncing in her seat, Boniface is lingering in the doorway like he doesn’t care but he also isn’t leaving, and Catherine’s eyes are wide and moonlike and younger than Taako has ever seen them. Angus has place of pride, a seat on the counter by the sink with the best view in the house.

“Okay,” he says. “What are the rules, pumpkin?”

“No swiping ingredients, no magic in the kitchen, and no taste-testing until you say it’s okay,” Angus rattles off promptly. “Autographs at the end of the show are three gold apiece, photos are ten, and the overall experience is absolutely priceless.”

Over the sweet sound of the rest of his audience groaning at him, Taako goes on blithely, “And what are we cooking today?”

“Macarons!”

“And who’s your dude?” Taako asks, pointing a whisk at him. Angus giggles, and Taako’s hands aren’t shaking anymore.

In a month, Angus is going off to a summer camp out past Rockport. It’s Caleb Cleveland-themed, and the whole thing sounds extremely nerdy and book-cluby, and Angus is desperately excited. He’s also desperately nervous about being away from his family for three whole weeks but he’s trying to keep that on the down-low. He’s very grown up at nearly ten years old.

Taako can respect that. He also bought the kid a stone of farspeech, because actually fuck that.

And while Angus is off having his first away-from-home adventure—since the girls think that Taako’s just going to be useless and mopey the whole time, and Boniface already threatened to bury him in a flowerbed the first time he whines about literally anything—Taako is going to go do something cool, too. There’s always some interesting jobs posted on Craig's List up in Neverwinter. He’ll be able to find something to occupy his time.

But for now, he’s gonna make some goddamn desserts.

“Come on, Ango,” Taako wheedles, “who’s your dude?”

“You, papa.”

I’m good, Taako reminds himself. He looks at his kid, who only deserves the best this piece of shit world has to offer, and thinks, I can be good.

#the adventure zone #taz balance #taako taaco #angus mcdonald #taz fic #my writing #better place #ladies i dunno but i gotta work in like 3 hours and i wrote this instead of sleeping

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moonfox281 · 5 years ago

Note

idk what u think about prompts but imagine having dick beat up jason in front of all his men lmaooo, just like they're sparring and the newbies think that jasons obvi gonna win but jeff and trevor are like, 'just wait' idk

It was Friday night, not to mention the last Friday of the month, meaning paperwork. Jason had been scrunching up in his office for the past eight hours checking over files to files, rubbing face, cracking neck.

He was tired. He was homesick. He had definitely missed dinner tonight, and also patrol. It was three o’clock when Jason checked his watch again. Three, Dick was probably sleeping at home by now. And if Jason managed to magically finish everything tonight, he’d probably be sleeping in the guest room with Beast taking over his side of the bed.

Or so he thought. He was just about to pick the pen back up when the door slammed open so hard it shook the room. Nightwing stormed in and strode toward in front of his desk, full-on mask, uniform.

“Honey, you scared me.”

“Spar. Now.”

“Come again?”

Dick groaned and pulled Jason off his seat by the front of his shirt, dragging him all the way to the common room. Yeah, the gang common room, where most of his men found their fight club spirit. Along their ways, his workers dropped their jaws staring at them. In Jason’s defense, that little grip of Dick was very powerful.

Dick threw him down the only leather couch in the room that everybody knew was only for Jason to sit. His men gagged on air. Okay, to Jason’s defense, again, he who was passively dragged all the way here, was no less surprised than any of them.

If his reputation wasn’t already spontaneously damned under Dick’s hands, he would probably be really embarrassed.

“Your men think I can’t beat you.“

Ah, his men were idiots.

“They also think you always pretend I’m better to save my ego.“

Ah, his men weren’t idiots. They wanted Jason dead.

“Do you believe them?“

Dick snorted and swiped his hair back with his chin tilted up. Ah, the killer move. He knew Jason would be down on four limbs for that sexy trick. “No. I want to show them.“

Just like that. Just like that, Jason lost his jacket, popped the top buttons of his dress shirt and rolled his sleeves up, gearing his ass for the beating. Dick stood a few steps away, grinning like Cheshire cat. Oh yeah, Dick just loved him playing around with three-piece suits.

“Ready?“

His men cheered, stood tight against each other around the ring. Great, if his floor wiping ass was going to be a public one, better give them a show.

“Okay.”

They walked in circle first, grinning at each other. Sparring wasn’t something new, it was just as much of a routine to them as eating breakfast or taking the dog out.

In the end, Dick launched first, which okay, Jason hated that. Dick was fast, absurdly fast, his body was built to be fast. He dashed from left to right, front to back like a hummingbird in the air just to fuck with Jason’s eyes.

“You’ve got this Boss!”

His men applauded. Jason felt a little jolt of energy because as stupid as it was, it was a little encouraging.

He saw a trace ahead and threw his fist. Dick dodged, as expected, bent his back backward in a 90 degree and slid down the floor on his knees. Jason, with luck, thank God, managed to grab on Dick’s collar just when his back twisted a little painful and threw him over his shoulder. The crowd went wild.

Usually, that would be it, but oh, Dick wouldn’t have been Nightwing and Nightwing wouldn’t have been Dick if that was it. He spread his legs wide midair and curled them around Jason’s neck before his body got down the ground, pulling Jason off his feet. The crowd went silent.

Jason choked up when he slammed down the floor. Dick grunt over his head. When he mentioned he wanted Dick’s legs over his shoulders for the rest of his life, this wasn’t what he was implying.

Dick tightened his lock around his neck. Blood rushed to his head, Jason’s ears were ringing. Okay, enough game.

He growled, pushed all his force and stamped hands down both sides of Dick’s hips, teeth grinding.

“Come on!“ Dick shouted.

Jason carried both of their deadweights from a really fucked up angle and slowly lifted them up from the ground. Everyone was so quiet, a whispery gasp “holyshit” from someone came out as loud as a bang.

“Stupid-Pit-juice-urgh!“ Dick hissed and tired out. His legs slid down, releasing air back into Jason’s system. Dick fell and landed on his hands in a three-point landing.

Jason wrung a few buttons off and cracked his neck. His men were roaring, stomping their feet down the floor. For fuck sake, they were sparring, not opening a metal concert.

“Get him Boss!“

“You’re double his size. He’ll snap in a sec.”

“Show him what real man is, Boss!“

Dick clearly wasn’t happy with the chanting, and neither was Jason. That was the thing about the common room, it wasn’t just for people served exclusively to them, it was for the whole gang. Men didn’t know what Nightwing was, what he was capable of, what Jason was capable of for him.

All they saw, for now, was what met their eyes, a pair of long legs for a big man on a big chair. Gotham Kingpin and his shiny toy.

In a short second of catching his breath, Jason saw the guys in the team circled around a table, shielding themselves away from the crowd, drinking, half watching, half talking.

Those were the men that knew the true Red Hood and Nightwing, those were the key chains in the system. And those were the ones who knew exactly how this night was gonna end up like.

Jason cracked his knuckles and huffed. “You know I still have paperwork, right?“

Dick tilted his head. “You know I’m still your husband, right?”

Okay, point taken.

“I’ll tell you this. If I lose, I’ll help you with paperwork.”

Jason’s shoulder dropped. “Really?” Because Dick had never wanted Jason’s work to meddle with him around a 10 feet range.

“Really really.” Dick laughed.

Jason struke forward with a false kick. Dick bit the bait and duck down on instinct, oh but he was damn quick. He caught the knee Jason threw over just in time not to eat the full force of it. But that made him double down, and double down meant showing his neck even for just a slight second. Jason only needed a slight second.

Jason grabbed on his nape, which he knew was one of Dick’s sensitive spots, and hit his chin with his palm. No, there was no way in hell he would punch Dick in the face. That wasn’t what they did in sparring. And John would definitely chase him with a baseball bat if Dick ever got back with a black eye.

But who said that hit didn’t count. Dick stumbled back on his steps, managed to wring himself out of Jason’s grip like a fish. He came by the edge of the ring, touched his chin with the tips of his fingers, grinned.

Okay, now Jason was royally dead.

“You know, tonight was a bit boring.”

“So you needed a punching bag? Really?”

Because Jason totally did not enjoy playing punching dummy just so Dick could do moral lessons to toxic masculinity. Use Jefferson next time.”

Dick jumped forward and Jason was steady for the worse, until Dick vanished in thin air. Jason was an idiot, he should have known, he was fucking used to this. Dick did a full flip and spin in the air and landed right behind Jason’s back. He barely turned back in time to block the foot that flew right at his face. But that was a total mistake.

Dick used Jason’s grip on his ankle and sprung himself in a full-body spin and caught Jason in a double leg grapple. Nightwing’s signature double leg grapple was what put even Deathstroke down on the ground. So there was nothing to be ashamed of when Jason ended up the same and slammed down the floor.

Dick grabbed one of his arms before Jason could try lifting them up by sheer strength again, straining it up in a painful angle. This time, it was a full-body lock. And that was it. Jason might be strong, but he wasn’t Superman.

He tapped the floor with his only free hand before he went out of air. Dick released him with a sigh and did a kip-up to get back on his feet.

“That was fun.“

Jason laid spread on the floor, breathed. Thank god that flashy 360 spin of a double leg grapple shut even a fly up in the room. And thank god he was Dick’s husband and they were only sparring, or else Jason would have lost his neck.

But hey, guess none of the shit head in this room dared to light take him now.

“Trevor,“ He called. “What’s the time?”

Trevor came by his side and squatted down, check his clock. “16 minutes.”

“Your water.“

“Thank you, Jefferson.“ Dick took the cool towel and water bottle from Jeff and grinned down at Jason. “Don’t you have paperwork?“

Jason rolled his eyes. And because he had already got enough of a night, he purposefully missed the way both Jefferson and Trevor turned away to hide their suppressed laugh. People still circled around the ring, right where he laid, starting, gagging on air.

“Take a good look.” Jason heaved, slowly got up, dusted his shirt, checked over the ripped off buttons. There went his Bottega Veneta shirt. “Don’t ever provoke him again, clear?”

The gang shouted back “Roger.” and quickly spread out.

Dick came by his side, gave him a hand. “Come on, I’ll help you with the files.”

Ah, Jason just loved him so damn much.

#jaydick #mob wife au #writing prompt #My writing #Jason Todd #dick grayson

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kanene-yaaay · 4 years ago

Text

Could and Should

Kanene’s note: *Looking at this monster*

LOOK-

I DUNNO. I DON’T HAVE ANY IDEA OF HOW OR WHY THIS IS LIKE IT IS.

I just- dfghjkkjhgfdfghiopoiuytr xDDDD. Oh gosh. This is for an experiment. I’m dfgyhjukikjhgffv xDD. Someone save my soul.

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Lee!Roman and Ler!Logan/Ler!Janus (Kind of. Because there is no tickles here, just teasing) Romantic Pairing. Human AU.

* Mentions of intense tickling

* Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* This have 4.200 of Roman just being A BRAT. ‘w’)b.

* Also, if you’re not comfortable reading about Janus, he only shows himself (but being mentioned before) after the “(...)”, so feel free to stop reading there if you wanna! <3

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! I didn’t proofread that one very well, so I will probably be correcting a few things later. Any advice is always very, very welcome!

* They’re very gay and this fanfic is inspired in this post. (I’m trying to find it. It’s a post about brat lees and shy lers, give me a sec-).

* A versão em português brasileiro irá ser escrita, ainda. Eu espero! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Do something crazy today, take a good rest, talk with the one that you love and drink water! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

He wore his favorite boots. Hamilton’s playlist blasting in his room and giving him a more than good reason to sporadically throw the outfit he choose for that specific day together with his makeup onto the bed and swirl across the place singing and performing ‘My shot’ with all his being, increasing even further his excitement and adrenaline which were already running, probably breaking all the speed limits in his veins and soul.

Especially when he thought about what he was about to do.

There were many differences in the world: right and wrong, day and night, divergent opinions, divergent ways to see the world and even differences in the meanings of words depending on where exactly you are localized in the planet. Roman grew attentive to this after he started to be Logan and Janus’ boyfriend, both of them always using every and any opportunity to begin a whole discussion about moral, philosophers, really weird humans habits - Particularly slangs. These two nerds seemed to simply don’t understand an infinitesimal piece of their existence. It was precious admire their confused and frustrated faces every time he and Virgil decided to shout or recreate vines together. - Or animals habits (Roman isn’t able to even look at a dolphins after that one) more often than the one with dyed hair was willing to try to count.

“Oh, yeah.” He spun before his body mirror, doing some poses as an extremely confident and shiny smile took over his features. This was one of those days when he felt just like a perfect dose of absolutely amazing. “I’m digging my own grave, aren’t I?”

Yes. Roman didn’t doubt a fraction of second about this. However, he thought in the same moment a smirk bloomed itself in his face, leading his expression to gather a particularly malefic look, he couldn’t stop imagining how much he would love every second of all of this.

Roman adjusted his clothes, his fingers tracing the golden words in it.

Every. Second.

So… Of course. Perhaps Roman wasn’t a nerd about concepts or meaning or even differences as his two incredibly smart boyfriends, but he knew very well that there was a clear distinction between what he “could do” and he what “should do”. He understood that not everything that is possible to be done had to be done and not everything that should be done in every single occasion was something possible to be done. This was only normal and simple common sense, right?

Roman finally arrived The Place, the wooden door shutting with a soft ‘click’ behind him, which was immediately muffled by his steps, those almost as echoing as the dangerous gleam in his eyes when they focused on (poor) Logan, who had just closed the cash register and now adjusted his glasses in order to be presentable to attend the new client. When the latter fixed his glare on him, the welcome sentence he should say died in his tongue in the exact moment he acknowledged who just arrived.

Then it was a good thing that Roman didn’t had a single drop of common sense, right? The one with dyed hair decided proudly amused as he observed the blush consuming entirely his boyfriend’s face.

In the last week Logan and Janus ganged up on him with ruthless teases before, during and after their tickle fight - ‘tickle fight’ obviously being an euphemism for the way they both suddenly squished the smaller between them and started to tickle him with those stupid, beautiful smirks and teases whispered on his ears that happen or not to be extremely sensitive, which should be UTTERLY, DEFINITELY AND ABSURDLY illegal. - And the aforementioned knew, deep inside he really recognized that - technically - he didn’t had any obligation to get revenge on them.

But he wanted.

Also, he could, therefore he should.

And that was exactly what he was doing in this very same heartbeat.

“Logaan!” He opened his arms, aware of how this showed even more his skin, while got confidently closer in his red, adorned with some special golden details, crop top.

Logan couldn’t deviated his glare, no matter how conscious he was that his whole face betrayed his neutral expression as it painted itself in dark and darker shades of red. His eyes running nonstop in the words on the other’s vestments, as if they mocked of him and his necessity of keeping a professional and serious facade during his work.

Tickle me, Elmo~

Logan’s gaze inevitably went to the - immensely ticklish, his mind unhelpfully remembered him - totally unprotected belly from the other’s. His fingers twitched, clawing the air for a moment before he realized what he was doing, deciding to deviate his gaze to the cash register before him, the adjustment of his tie taking more time than it would usually do.

“Ouch.” He could almost hear the pout in his dramatic boyfriend’s voice – if he really stopped to consider, which he already did previously, Roman and Janus were almost tied when the subject was about their dramas. - as he positioned himself right in front of him, almost laying his torso entirely in the balcony in order to find his glare again and, as always, Logan couldn't help but let himself be captured for his beautiful eyes. “I came here in a good, impressive, romantic act to accompany my dear beloved during his break and that is how you pay me, not even looking me in my fabulous face? I feel wounded.”

Logan scoffed, already signaling for one of his coworkers to take his place as he removed his hat, folding it carefully and putting in his pocket while he moved to the small space between the employee’s place and the costumer’s room, Roman cleverly taking some quick steps to put a bigger distance between both.

“I highly doubt that this is the reason of why you’re here today.” His gaze got back to the words printed on his crop top, a malefic gloom getting stronger in his eyes, his feet leading him closer, and closer and closer. “Actually, I’m certain of the real meaning behind this ‘visit’ as you say.” And closer and closer and-

“Nah ah ah!” Roman shook his index finger almost in his face, taking the opportunity to move some meters away. “Now, now, Logan, I would expect better of you! No love business during the shift, remember?” Teasing smile. “Keep these silly hands to yourself, would ya?”

Logan.exe had clearly stopped working. It was easy to say for the way his furrowed brow and very confused look stared at him with such honestly that Roman couldn’t help but let a laugh out, quickly holding Logan’s hand and dragging him to the farther table on the establishment.

“I wasn’t thinking on this and you know it very well, Roman.” The one called only smiled, letting go of his hand in order to taking a seat.

“Is that so?” He purred, his chin resting on his hand as Logan tried to sit next to him. “It’s not what it looks to me.”

Logan deadpanned at him rolling his eyes and internally considering his words – because the poor guy couldn’t bear the thought of breaking a rule. - before going, instead, to the chair in front of his boyfriend with a quick “Very well, then.”

“So, how is your day doing?” Roman dropped his teasing for a bit. “Is that okay?” He whispered, the honest questions making a soft expression took over the features of the one who wears glasses. He signed, his lips going slightly up as he gave an almost unnoticeable nod.

“My professor is crazy and absurdly unaware of how much time a normal day possess, I’m certain. Our final presentation was quite… adequate, but-” The listener let himself be carried into his venting, having no idea of what he was talking about, however trusting him to elucidate his mind in maybe some minutes. It didn’t lasted long before Logan started to divagate about the last subject learned and Roman felt in a secure ground to begin tapping in the suffice of the table.

Persistently. Rhythmically.

“And saying this means that, when compared to every other person on humanity-” Roman tapped a bit louder and Logan’s left eyebrow trembled for some seconds. Nice. He was getting his attention. “-We have only, genetically saying, 0,02% of difference- Could you stop this?”

Roman blinked innocently, almost seeing the gears of one in front of him moving at full speed in his mind as he repeat the sentence, the tip of his finger colliding in the wooden surface purposely. A dash, two dots, dash dot dash dot, dash dot dash, dot dash two dots and one dot, a quick space, two dashes and a final dot.

Logan’s eyes concentrated in his fingers, he repeated the pattern, his smile increasing.

Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me.

He could see the exact moment when Logan understood it. It was in the same heartbeat that light blush found room on his cheeks and he deviated his gaze, cracking his fingers.

“Stop what? I’m doing nothing.” Roman wriggled his fingers of his free hand, the sentence still echoing between them.

Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me.

“You are literally asking for it.” The one who wears tie, and now a quite determined look, supported the weight of his body on his elbows as these rested on the table, leading to his whispers being audible only for them. “Be careful to don’t do something you will regret later, my very sensitive subject.”

Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me. Tickle me.

“I’m not afraid of your ticklish” Roman absorbed the challenging tune as well, letting it slip slowly together with the words through his tongue. He refused to move or squirm under the other’s sparkling promises, his chin lifting some inches in the air. “Tickly” He knew how this word managed to fluster Logan and was quite of pleased for the way his boyfriend’s tip of ears gained a soft shade of red, refusing to acknowledge how hot his own face felt and was. “Tickles, mister.”

“Oh, aren’t you?” Roman felt a wobbly, more uncontrollable, smile grow in his features despise his efforts as Logan backed again, his gaze resolute and analytical, his fingers crossing themselves in front of him, a parody of Sherlock Holmes that made tingles spread on each his tickle spots. “Well, that is a pleasing information that I will sure keep and use in another moment, be sure. We can’t touch, you said? Very well. In that case we will have so much fun for the next hours when I will explain to you, slowly and thoroughly all details of course, how I will tickle and destroy you and each and every one of your immensely ticklish, vulnerable and many, many spots which you so kindly choose to remind me.”

Roman considered himself a really lucky person, but when - in that very glory moment - Logan’s phone rang, his alarm going off and breaking the concentration of the duo, he literally giggled in relief, knowing his personality well enough to be completely sure that Logan wouldn’t need much more than another two or three phrases like that to transforms him in a blushed, high-pinched giggly mess and he still had Janus to go, tease and try get some revenge and hopefully not die during the process.

“It seems that you’ve been ‘saved by the bell’ as said.” Roman was sure he never heard this slang in his whole life, albeit he didn’t want to press further his luck, instead choosing to press his back on the wall in the seek to put the most inches of physically distance between him and Logan’s elaborated teases. “I shall go back to my work now. You’re so creative and imaginative, right? Try to not think in the thousands ways, figuratively talking or not, I will wreck you when I get home.”

He then turned away.

And Roman knew, believe me, he really, really, really knew very well he shouldn’t press his luck any further.

But he was always up to a challenge, anyway.

Before he could even debate with his own conscience and common sense about how this was an absolutely horrible idea, Roman got up in a blink of eye and squeezed that exact point where Logan’s side connected with his hips, making the most serious one jump a few centimeters in the air, an almost yelp running from his lips. Logan stopped right on his tracks, not bothering himself to turn in the other's direction to stare with the corner of his eyes right in Roman's lee soul.

“Te arrepentirás de hacer esto.” (You’re going to regret doing this.)

Roman felt his eyes widening as cold, panicked shivers ran across his spine, opening again that traitor wobbly smile on his face. Logan very rarely used Spanish, Roman’s first language, holding it for the special cases when he was on a full Ler mood, since it spiked the smaller sensitiveness to the atmosphere.

However, the latter couldn't help the answer which already escaped from his mouth and flied in the room.

"Oh, will I?"

"Sí." (Yes.) Logan smirked. Logan. Smirked. "Y yo voy me assegurar de esto." (And I will make sure of this.)

‘Oh. Mierda.' (Shit)

(...)

‘Well, he was already dead, wasn’t he?’ Roman thought as he at arrived Janus’ work ‘What more he had to lose?’

(He didn’t know who would be proudest for this optimism, Patton or Virgil.)

The one with dyed hair forced himself to concentrate, cleaning his head of the previous teases just as using all his will power to ignore the uncountable butterflies profusely flying in his stomach. Janus was a very serious person in his work as well, but he wasn’t nearly fond to rules as the other and definitely more tricky and less going right on the spot than Logan.

He was mostly like drag an only one finger around your worst spot, encircling it and watching as you dissolve in desperate giggles while asked ‘What is the matter, dear, something is bothering you?’ and stay there, sometimes lightly attacking another spots so you can’t get used to the feeling but never staying for too long, until he is absolutely sure your sentiviness is at one hundred percent and so he can finally attack that helpless spot without a single drop of mercy.

Which was a technique very divergent of Logan’s, who would prefer to take, as everything in life, the moment as an experiment. First documenting out loud and on a specific archive in his cell phone all the things he would do with you, starting with spots he would “study”, techniques that should be “experimented” and sometimes tools which would “help him to get more accurate data”. He would document every single result, not bothering if Roman’s laughter got in the middle of it.

“Ok. Ok. Okokokokokok!!” Roman almost squealed when a cold wind softly hit his skin, quickly rubbing his belly to get the ghost feeling of tickles away. Maybe, just MAYBE, enter into that rain of memories wasn’t a very good and clever way to calm and prepare himself for the danger he was about to face. He looked at the time on his phone, noticing Janus was already on his break and he would need to be quick if he wanted to do that.

“Okay, Roman.” He murmured to himself, cleaning his crop top from any dust and walking confidently to the door. “You can do this. You are strong, you are brave, you know what you want and therefore you will get what you want! You will get into there, be amazing and get back your mean sneak boyfriend for every little single tease he dared to give to you! Because you are royalty and no one can win royalty!”

‘French Revolution.’ Some un-welcomed part of his brain remembered.

‘Shut up.’

‘Actually, is there any Royal Family in the power nowdays?’ It continued.

‘England.’

‘You are not in England.’ Shut!! up!!!

Roman got inside and he managed to win the game, taking all the blows, walking proudly and - most important - not giggling when Janus fixed his hawk eyes on him and simply smiled back, gladly following him to the table they always went on the breaks without any attempt to get close or tickle him.

As any other usual day, they sat there in silence, appreciating each other’s company and making small, quick talks between the sandwiches Roman bought them (He would do the same to Logan if he didn’t get dizzy eating during his work), and as any other day with no revenge planned, Roman finished his snack first and just stared at his beloved one.

“This will not work with me. You know that I’m not Logan.” Janus didn’t even looked up his food, pointing in a casual voice. “But enough of me. Did you went to his work like this?”

“Yes.” Roman couldn’t help the smirk opening in his face. Janus didn’t had an slightly idea of what was about to come. “Poor nerd. You should had seen how much red his face was! I thought for a moment I broke him.”

“And you didn’t took a picture for me? Shame to you and your family.”

“And your cow.” Janus scoffed for the reference he totally didn’t intend to make. “Also don’t try to play innocent, I know he probably already gave you an entire report of what happened and what you both will plan to do. I know you, you know?”

If Janus was surprised, he only demonstrated this by a toothless smile painting itself on the corner of his mouth, his eyes still focused in his plate, the comfortable silence again falling against them.

Roman started to humming. He wasn’t lying, he knew very well the same teasing wouldn’t work for both of them. Words were far better with Logan than Janus. But that didn’t mean that he haven’t planned what he would need to do.

He was in the middle of “Itsy Bitsy Spider” when Janus started to grew slightly restless, his fingertips tapping on the table (not in a pattern, just annoyed) and his gaze running time from time to Roman and the words in his vestments. An evil idea crossed Roman’s mind and he started to humming the “Round, Round The Garden” patiently waiting for the moment Janus’ eyes finally dislodged themselves from his phone, turning his attention back to the first in the exact part of ‘And tickle over here!’ the heartbeat chosen by Roman to poke his own belly button, letting out a soft ‘Boop’ noise fly from his lips.

It was as if he was pressed an actual button instead of the one in his belly, because suddenly Janus’ whole face was dyed with a bright shade of red, quickly deviating his face to his device one more time, the resolute look in his expression only increasing more and more as Roman decided to repeat the movement a few more times.

“Anyway.” Roman just smiled bright, blinking naively in Janus’ direction when the latter got up. “I’m done, wanna go to the parking lot?”

That sounded like a trap, or probably was just the sound of his own phone buzzing in his pocket. He nodded and followed his boyfriend’s lead, the talking and sound of plates and cups clinking gradually fading behind them as they arrived to their destination, the one with dyed hair watching Janus’ acts carefully, but noticing no indications that he was about to do something.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Is that okay?”

Janus stopped for a little, fondly sighing and finally allowing himself to lock Roman’s eyes.

“Yes. Just not around so many people next time, okay?”

“Oh, gosh. Right, right! I, er… I apologize, dear. We can stop immediately! I can go to our home and get another shirt-” The rest of his sentence was interrupted as Janus captured his lips in a quick kiss, a smirk founding way to his fond expression.

“I wouldn’t take you here if I wanted that to stop, don’t you think, my ticklish prince?”

A blush spreaded across Roman’s cheeks, who was totally unprepared for the unexpected display of affection and specially the use of this specific nickname, a squeal escaping as some scribbles were left behind his ear, making him immediately jump and walk some centimeters away, a hand in front of his mouth in order to let any other sound escape.

“Hey, snake! Don’t you know that masterpieces are better left untouched?”

Janus snorted and rolled his eyes, resting his back in the wall and looking back at his phone, which remembered Roman he had some messages as well.

Janus sent 40 pictures

‘Pictures’ was a euphemism. Janus sent a fucking evil mix of images of brushes, feathers, electric toothbrushes buzzing and dragging across his skin, tingling and tickling and leading to snorts and giggles to come out from his lips, feeling that only increased as he went down the conversation, finding the tickle gifs of fingers scratching at his neck, scribbling in his unfairly ticklish armpits, poking his ribs, prodding his wiggly sides, kneading his thighs and spidering behind his knees. They flowed nonstop and felt almost real.

“Oh my my, you always were weak for the teases, but you looove them, don’t you?” And it was true. Roman was already squirming and even starting to giggle uncontrollaby just for seeing Janus’ messages, his mind running and involving him in a sea of memories and shivers that ran across at every single centimeter of him, making his nerves to buzz and tingle and leading him to almost feel the ghost tickles again.

However, when Roman found Janus’s glare, noticing that shine he knew so well and the smirk that made a smile split his face in half, he obligated himself to not deviate his glare or hide his giggles, to look him dead in his eyes and let the words fly freely from his mouth.

“Yehehes. I do.”

Janus face lighted up, not expecting such an honest answer. “So you admit it? Awww. You’re so adorable and precious.”

“Yehes, I lohohove every single onhehe of them and how happyhi and excited they ahahall make me feel, juhuhus as I lohove when you and Logahan’s tickle mehe sohoho much. My heart melt wihihit how you are all so evil and yet so caring, mindful and cute. Ihihi swear I can almohohost explode of excitement when you chase me and yohohou hold me and tickle me more for running ahaway from the tickles. I love when you sing those horrible, atrocious, mean rhymes and when you ahahand Logan pretend to have a normal discussion as if you both weren’t wrehecking me. I love how silly and yet malefic, amazing tickle monsters you both can be and how vuhulnerable, happy, special and loved you make me feel. I lohove your whispered teases and your not-so-subtle ones. I love with all my sohoul all of this, but-” Roman took some steps in his direction, leaning closer to Janus’ ear.

“I love even more that you are so baffled with me saying all these truths out loud that you didn’t even remembered to record it.”

He tweaked Janus’ hips, watching he jump a few inches while he took the opportunity to move away, bright smile.

“And I’m never saying this again.”

Janus stepped closer, his eyes in a mix of pure adoration and danger that flamed and quickly consumed them. Roman lifted his finger, shaking it just as he made with Logan.

“Nah ah ha. No touching, remember?”

“Oh, really?” Janus moved to his direction. “I don’t think so. Not when such masterpiece so willing decided to come in here with so teasy, sweet words and cocky attitude. Give me a good reason to not pin you down right here and use all those good information you so cutely shared with me, my wiggle giggle lee.”

“I will run.” Roman blurted out, his mind running, seeking for any excuse to keep his game going on.

“I will catch you. I always do.”

“If you attack me now you will not gang up with Logan later.”

This made Janus stop, looking at his with a raise of eyebrow.

Silence. Roman couldn’t even lessen the excited smile that took over his features, his muscles tensed and prepared to run for his life.

“Very well.” And just like that Janus made his attention come back to the device in his hands leaving an atonished Roman to himself. He couldn’t believe his bluff had actually worked!

Well, maybe he made it worse to himself? M a y b e. He didn’t know, he was just happy with himself at this point.

“Well.” Janus looked at his clock. “My break was over, anyway. I see you later, lee.”

Janus kissed Roman’s cheek and got into the store, rolling his eyes, exasperated when he looked behind him just to see his boyfriend no so subtly stretching all he could as he waved him a goodbye, blowing him a kiss.

“He is so screwed when we get home.”

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akimmito · 4 years ago

Text

Heroes are made by the path they choose

Previous | AO3 | Next

___________________________

Chapter 5

Paris News @ParisNewsTWT

Two more victims are confirmed as a result of the bomb, on the way to the hospital an eight-year-old boy and a fifteen-year-old teenager die. We regret the loss and our condolences to the families.

______________

Byakko is the first vigilant to appear on the scene, watching from the rooftops the development of the situation. She was the first to be able to warn the others if they should also arrive, the officers argue while the bomb team checks the perimeter to determine if there are more devices or if there was only one, the forensic team is waiting to move the two bodies. Byakko grimaces, the scene is terrible to watch.

"Byakko, give your report." Max's voice sounds on the other end of the line, only getting the images from the security cameras surviving the explosion, which gives him very little coverage of the scene. He only sees police and paramedics.

"The bomb squad checks the perimeter. You should send someone to see the wounded and find out their condition. I will stay here and speak to the police to offer support. "

"Be careful. "

"Always."She smiles and jumps off the roof to fall behind the coroners, she approaches them to discuss the events and gather information, they will be in charge of investigating further in parallel with the police, as they usually do when they decide to get involved in any case.

While Byakko plunges into the crime scene, Pyxis enters the hospital to await the victims who are still alive. He draws everyone's attention, his black costume with violet and silver is striking enough surrounded by so much white... that and that he's one of the vigilantes, the mask definitely gives the attention call, at least it is not a kind of helmet like that of Byakko. He adjusts his black hair as he stands uncomfortably in an emergency corner, it would be easier if there was someone else with him, but everyone is waiting. He's sure that Felix must be returning from Romania and that Marinette must be preparing to return to the MT without her employees suspecting.

"Pyxis, can you take a picture with my son?" A woman approaches him, looks concerned." They'll take him to emergency surgery and he's scared. "

"Uh, sure…" He grows shy as he walks behind the light brown-haired woman, she also looks scared. The good news is that the hospital has safeguards or it would be an easy target for Akuma, he's relieved that Hawkmoth didn't think to use them until a year before the end of his reign of terror. The Akuma created by emotions born from traumatic problems are much more dangerous than the common ones, they are dangerous and the situation that just happened can become a trigger.

As they advance to the space where the child waits on a stretcher, sends a message to Max so that he can get the information from the families and they can be located, it is better to avoid more victims in the tragedy. When he has done so, he approaches the little boy with a friendly smile.

"Hi, what's your name?" He slides into the chair next to him.

"Francis. "

"Nice to meet you, Francis. I'm Pyxis, do you know me?" The boy nods, his eyes sparkling with excitement and fear. "I know you are afraid, I also have fear all the time. "

"Really? But you fight the bad guys and don't panic. "

"Yes, we are scared, but we can't let him beat us or the bad people will win too." At that moment the doctors enter, the boy's mother took a picture of the interaction of the two, much more natural than just posing. "I will keep an eye on you, we will see you when you return. "

Francis is encouraged and says goodbye when nurses and doctors take him to surgery. Pyxis sits for a moment and then gets up, just in time to see the commotion. One of the wounded is transferred to the area where he's located and seeing a pregnant woman with a completely unmade leg is distressing. They don't leave her for long in the area, different doctors come and talk to each other and to the paramedics. It's a distressing little chaos.

"Hi." He leans over to the young woman and places his gloved hand on the bloody reddish hair, reminds her of Nathaniel's and the mental image doesn't help him smile to calm her down. "I know it hurts, I know you're afraid, but the doctors will find a way to help you. "

She barely nods, shedding tears, her gray eyes look almost glass, the blood runs where the tears flow.

"Pyxis, will you allow us?" One of the doctors talks and he nods, walking away. He leaves the care area and watches the small chaos, some family members congregate and two bodies are taken to the hospital morgue.

Since becoming Pyxis there had been no terrorist attack, after Hawkmoth, Paris seemed a little bleak and gray. Tourism had not diminished, but it certainly was not as lively as it had been years before and just when everything seems to be recovering, Akuma and terrorist attack, an incredible combo. It gives he a bad feeling.

__________

Agatha @WhiskyMyLife

Pyxis is in the hospital cheering for the victims and their families. He's quite an angel, absurdly adorable for an adult man with an alpha male voice.

#OwnParisAngel #MTPyxis

Héros parisiens @MTHeroes

Byakko at the Louvre and Pyxis at the hospital. Will Black Metal appear? They are the closest to civilians.

#MTPyxis #MTByakko

_________

While at the MT headquarters, the other members gather around the round table in the main room where the mother computer is located. Max keeps his eyes on every security camera trying to find something, he even rescued the last few hours before the explosion of the corrupted files, maybe it's time to replace the cameras technology and make them connected to the MT database, just someone with the Oracle level of Batman partners could access that data and that would help them more. Max nods to himself by opening a file to start the project, but leave it that way until the current problem is addressed.

"I think the heroes should go too, now that they're back to business. The negative feelings surrounding the situation should be enough to justify their patrolling, as well as generating much more hope than the MT can offer. "Felix speaks after a few minutes.

"Yeah, that will help lower negative emotions. Red Fox, Rakkīgāru and Abeilla, you three will go to patrol the surrounding areas, be on the lookout for any butterflies. We will provide support if any situation arises. "Marinette gives the order and the three mentioned nod, soon, Kagami, Nathaniel and Chloe transform and Kaalki opens a portal for them in front of Notre Dame.

"We'll be watching the communications." Marinette smiles and nods to Kagami, she was just beginning to relax and a terrorist attack happens. The bad part of this is that there is no cure that can save you all, you just have to accept the natural course of life, even if it was caused by someone else.

When they are gone, there are only five left in the room.

Max programs one of the screens to present the international news about what happened, they can't get news about anything related to prodigies outside of France, but since this has nothing to do with it, its broadcast is not prohibited. Among the images they can see Byakko with the officers and as it's live, in the distance they can see the Red Fox figure passing by. So used to running on the rooftops, they know fast routes to move and thanks to the improved skills of the wonders, they come quickly wherever.

Damian frowns, annoyed at having to do nothing, but he can't just complain when faced with such a situation. They have sent all those who can be useful, he would not be for the simple reason that he despises people and doesn't have a good relationship with them. He is aware of the comments, even though just being on two patrols was enough to earn him a reputation as an infamous demon boy. Stupid woman and her sensitive brat.

"If an Akuma appears, we will go except for Sabik and Equuleus, they will stay here and handle the situation from a distance. As long as our new villain doesn't know that the snake is active, the easier it will be for us. Damian, you will join as Thuban for the protection of civilians, Akuma born from such situations are dangerous and we can't trust the miracle cure. "Dealing with civilians, perfect.

"Yes, mother." He sits with his arms crossed, he doesn't like it, but at least they won't leave him relegated to staying with Max and Luka, it would be frustrating, although he understands that their positions are important. He prefers to be in the field and face his enemies head-on. His mother has not even taken him to any of his case investigations, he only goes with Felix and occasionally with Kagami; He can also be useful and even better than them.

"Byakko and Pyxis will maintain positions and, if necessary, help protect civilians. "

Everyone makes some kind of confirmation.

Luka slides into the chair next to Max, slips on the headphones to be part of the connections, and helps check out video from some of the surrounding cameras. The tension is palpable in the room, everyone is silent and there is only an occasional small conversation.

Marinette pulls out her phone and makes a publication, in addition to sending a message to Hugo to take out a certain amount of money and buy medical supplies to be sent to the hospital, in addition to making a donation to families and the city to repair the damage caused by the bomb. Max is also doing his part and a statement of commitment is given for KanTech to replace all cameras in the city with much more advanced ones that help detect artifacts (he has certainly been working on something like that associated with two other companies, including Wayne Tech). Felix says nothing, he's in Romania for everyone and it's not even his city, but he can be supportive considering that his friends and associates are from there. Maybe tomorrow.

_____________

Marie L. @MarieLenoir

It is outrageous that an attack like this happens as we try to recover from the impact of the butterfly's return. I hope the MT catches the one responsible.

Max K. @MaxKan_Tech

I promise to replace every security camera on the streets of Paris for the greater security of my fellow citizens. I will not allow them to catch us off guard again, I will work with the MT and the police for a more adequate follow-up.

Polaris Vermilion @Elgato_Solaris

In a few years, Paris will belong to Lenoir. @MarieLenoir will become a @BruceWayneOfficial for Paris. Remember my words, she already has an animal shelter and seven of the fourteen Akuma shelters are funded by her, recently rumors have been heard that Lady Black will also be a wine brand.

Héctor de Troya @EpicAdveturerHector

@Elgato_Solaris She's affiliated with the Graham de Vanily, is a business partner of @KanTech and Sabine & Tom Boulangerie.

Héctor de Troya @EpicAdveturerHector

@Elgato_Solaris She finances two arts schools, one in Paris and the other in Bremen, she's also co-owner of a Spanish publisher (anyone explain this to me?) and has recently started to finance a project for the protection of endangered birds in America.

Polaris Vermilion @Elgato_Solaris

@EpicAdventurerHector Our own billionaire philanthropist.

Lalaland @ LaLa-235Vick

@Elgato_Solaris @EpicAdventurerHector Actually, it's estimated that within three years she could enter the 100 richest people in the world, if the rumors of various businesses under the signature of Lady Black are true.

Theo @ ArtisgratiaArts_009

@Elgato_Solaris @EpicAdventurerHector @ LaLa-235Vick Is it really important? They are making it a trend and it's more urgent that victims know our support.

_________

ALERT MONARCH

AKUMA! AKUMA AKUMA! AKUMA!

Location: District VI.

Escape routes: ****

Nearby shelters: ****

Emergency number: ****************

______________________

Marinette wants to hit her head against a wall, she really hoped there wouldn't be an Akuma in the distressing situation, but her hope was in vain. Max quickly locates it through the cameras, at least after the first attack they learned that the Akuma are a white point when infrared vision is activated, luckily, that option was incluided along with the night mode.

"The Akuma is moving toward the Luxembourg Palace, is the senate still in session?"

"Why would the Akuma go to the senate?" Damian questions without understanding, that he knows the Akuma don't lose reasoning, they only focus on the trigger of their negative emotion.

"Maybe he's not going after them, maybe he's just taking it as his route..." Marinette mutters, biting her left thumb, they're following the Akuma's route through satellite cameras. "Well, we will find out. Team, we have an Akuma to face. "

"I'm going to get dressed..." Damian mutters in a bad mood, they are going to transform and leave immediately, he still has to get dressed and will be relegated to taking care of the civilians. Annoying.

Max is watching to see if he begins to use his powers, but he is only moving. It looks like out of a Neon Genesis Evangelion chapter, if someone asks he, as long as it doesn't come up with a biblical name, enough for him. He decides to transform to make transportation easier, especially since Thuban will also have to pass later.

Ladynoir is the first to go through the portal, followed by Jade Shield. The portal closes immediately, only to reopen when Damian appears dressed as Thuban. This time, it opens next to the Church of Saint-Sulpice, since a building was built next to it that serves as a refuge, he runs to the populated sectors to help them, especially if the Akuma decides to attack.

From his location he has a direct view of the Akuma, its size is not very subtle and he wonders what kind of ability it will have. A large golden rhombus flying over Paris is something that easily attracts attention.

Suddenly a chirp is heard that stuns everyone, the children near him start crying from the pain. The screeching is followed by a thick layer of smoke that quickly covers them.

Damian begins to feel airless and in front of him, his biological mother appears.

____________

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

I was calmly watching the news when one appeared about Paris, an terrorist attack after almost ten years without having one. That's not important, were there two vigilantes on screen? Since when does Paris have vigilantes?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD For seven years? I went on vacation to Paris, I was caught in a bank robbery and they appeared, the MT. A group of very cool vigilantes, they are 10 in the team and they only needed two to solve the problem.

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ErasmusLS_564 Seriously? It wasn't like bank robberies here, was it?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD It was not the same lvl of insanity, but according to the news these robbers had already robbed large banks in London & Spain without success in their capture. It was incredible to see Suzaku and Corvus destroy the group without wreaking havoc or damage to the plce

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@IAmYisus_XD @ ErasmusLS_564 Can you give us their names? I would like to know more.

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Sure. Women: Suzaku, Seiryuu, Byakko, and Genbu. Men: Black Metal, Caelum, Pyxis and Corvus. Child: Thuban, is the most recent and is a little demon boy according to twitter. He stays close to Suzaku or Corvus, theories say that heis his son

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ ErasmusLS_564 @RoyHarperQ Wasn't they 10?

Little Little Sun @ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Yup. Augur doesn't come out, but we know it's there. He's a kind of sentinel, we know why they communicate with him.

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@IAmYisus_XD @ ErasmusLS_564 Who is the orange fox-like one? He also appeared in the news footage.

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Oh he. I'm not sure of his name, but Paris is quite unique. It's as if Batman and Superman protecting the same city, the vigilantes are in charge of the crimes and the heroes... of the big problem. I can't say more.

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ ErasmusLS_564 @RoyHarperQ Heroes and Watchers? What is there? Gotham 2.0?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ No... The city just has its own fun stuff.

__________

If the other identity has not been mentioned, I will not say it. Marie: Ladynoir/Suzaku Felix: Jade Shield/Corvus Chloe: Lady Abeilla/Genbu Alix: Byakko Kagami: Rakkīgāru/Seiryū Nathaniel: Red Fox/Caelum Luka: Sabik/Black Metal Max: Equuleus/Augur Marc: Pyxis Damian: Tunin/Thuban

#maribat #dickinette #dick x marinette #ml x dc

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nxrthmizu · 5 years ago

Text

Daminette December Day 11: ‘Snow’

@daminette-december2019

---

Winter had arrived, with the turn of the seasons having made their whole circle. The coldest time of the year had arrived, and if he was truly honest, Damian loved winter. It was cold and dark often, which... Somehow he related to his personality. His personality was cold and dark. Seemed like a fitting season for him. He’d always though that Grayson was the cool, cheery spring, Todd was summer, bothersome and awfully temperamental, Drake was autumn, windy and flighty- And he’d been winter. For obvious reasons.

However, because of his... Roommate, winter had become a little more difficult.

Somehow, his little angel had forgotten to mention that ladybugs were... Sensitive to cold.

Actually, the word sensitive was a little light.

Marinette had huddled in blankets, sweaters, and jumpers ever since the first hint of snow appeared. She’d practically have hibernated if it wasn't for him returning everyday with food and warm chocolate to heat her up. Honestly, he didn’t know how she would’ve survived without him. Both the dark-haired angel and her kwami had been completely housed in for the past three days.

Damian let out a breathy, warm sigh as he approached their apartment, a bag of cookies and pastries in one hand and another bag filled with vegetables and groceries in another. He’d also picked up a few balls of yarn for his precious angel to pass the time with while she was housed in.

“Angel? I’m home.” He called out, jiggling his keys in the doorknob to let her know he was back in case she didn’t hear his call.

“Damian!” Her bright cheery smile and voice instantly conjured a warm feeling in his heart. He quickly dropped the bags by the side of the door, opening his arms to catch a flaying bundle of sweaters, jackets and blankets.

“Hey, angel.” He whispered softly, nuzzling her soft blue hair gently. “How’re you holding up, hmm?”

She whined a little, her large bluebell eyes staring into his emerald ones. “It’s cold.” She complained, not letting go of her grip around his neck. Damian sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to get off him, and he picked up the groceries with one hand, setting them down on the kitchen counter.

“That’s what winter is like, love.” He pointed out with a little chuckle, trying to loosen her arms around his neck. “Angel, do you think you could let go long enough for me to take off my coat, hmm?”

Marinate pouted, but obliged and let him set her down on the couch as he unravelled the grey scarf she made him, along with the black-fur-lined-coat she had handmade the day before. She smiled pleasantly at her handmade clothes on him, beaming even more when he revealed the Slytherin sweater she made underneath the other layers of clothing. He noticed her bright approval at his clothing, and he laughed softly, sinking onto the couch next to his angel, wrapping his arms around her as he kicked a fluffy blanket up to cover the both of them.

They sat in silence for a little while, and then-

“Can we make a snowman?”

Damian was appalled. “Mari, love, you literally get so pale you’re practically white the moment I open the door. Are you sure you can walk out of the house?”

She pouted. “But I want to build a snowman, and it never snows so much in Paris. Please?”

Damian hesitated, looking down. Do not look at her puppy eyes, do not look at her puppy eyes, do not-

“Dami- Please?” She gripped his arm, staring right into his eyes.

Shit abort abort abort-!

Well, Damian would like to think that he was stubborn and refused for the wellbeing of his precious angel, but...

“It’s so white!” She gasped, looking all around the two of them. Her skin had begun to turn a pale blue, and he gave her a worried grunt, wrapping his arms around her waist to provide body heat.

“Angel, are you sure-” He murmured softly, only to be cut off by an excited ladybug.

“I’ll be fine, kitten.” Marinette chastised, giggling when a snowflake melted slowly on her palm. “It’s so beautiful.”

He smiled fondly at the dark-haired girl in pure white snow. Her dark-blue hair flowed around her shoulders, tucked in by a long grey scarf that was protectively wrapped around her. A giant black-fur-lined coat was snuggled up against her skin, hopefully providing more warmth.

But the serene moment was quickly interrupted.

Marinette gasped softly, her pink lips turning even paler than possible. Before he could scream a warning or even catch her, she plummeted into the snow, her skin paling even more drastically.

“Angel!”

---

He would never forgive himself.

“Damian, love, it’s not your fault.” She tried to say as she looked guiltily at him under a mass of twenty blankets.

“I shouldn’t have given in.” He scowled at himself. “Tsurugi is on her way. She’ll be way better being stubborn with you.”

“Doubt so.” Luka remarked as he entered the apartment quietly. “No one, not even Kagami, can say no to Mari’s puppy eyes.”

“Which is why the more of us there are, the more effective we can be.” Damian pointed out a little harshly, still mad at himself. “She’s not going out there again.”

Luka glanced between Damian’s furious glare at himself in the mirror, and then at Mari, huddled under twenty blankets, watching everything guiltily. “Umm... Is it a bad time for me to here?”

“No.” “Yes.”

“DAMIAN FUCKING WAYNE YOU BETTER HAVE AN EXPLANATION FOR WHY YOU LET OUR ANGEL INTO THE SNOW OR I SWEAR TO EVERY GOD IN THIS- UTTERLY RIDICULOUS! LET ME GO, KAGAMI! LET ME MURDER HIM! UTTERLY- UTTERLY RIDICULOUS!”

“Wayne, give me an explanation before I decide to let her go and chase you myself.” Kagami gave Damian a fierce look, to which Damian growled.

“I was an idiot, okay? Kill me if you must. In fact, kill me.” Damian growled angrily. “I let her out. Yes, I was stupid. Kill me.”

Luka stayed silent as the blonde and her girlfriend continued to screech and throw threats at the dark-haired twenty-two year old man, who angrily accepted every thing they threw at him.

“Um, guys, shouldn’t we be worried about protecting Mari instead of, um.” Luka attempted to break up the shouting match (Chloe versus herself two seconds ago), but sadly, failed.

“Chloe, please.” Marinette tried, looking half-amused and half-weary at the ongoing shouting match.

“Um, I have an idea.” Luka voiced meekly over the still-flaming blonde. “Why not we bring in a little snow in and build a snowman here?”

The room went absurdly silent at the idiotic suggestion.

“It’s- It’s literally so stupid that it’s possible.” Kagami reacted first, a little grin lighting up on her face.

“Utterly ridiculous, but.” Chloe tapped a finger on her lip. “We could try.”

“No!” Damian protested. “No one’s going near any snow!”

“Please? Dami?” Marinette pouted. “Just once.”

---

Damian couldn't believe it.

There was a pile of snow in his apartment. And by a pile of snow, he meant twenty tons of melting ice sitting on his tiled floor.

“My name is Olaf, and I love hugs!” Marinette mimicked, wiggling the twig-arms of their tiny snowman.

Chloe and Kagami let out a little giggle at Marinette’s remark, Luka letting out a little chuckle by the side. Even a scowling Damian managed a little smile at his angel smiling.

Winter was a cold and dark season, sure, but within that coldness and darkness... There were friends and families who were there to provide warmth and light.

#daminette #damian wayne mlbdc #marinette dupaincheng mlbdc #chloe bourgeois mlbdc #kagami tsurugi mlbdc #luka couffaine mlbdc #mlb x dc #miraculous ladybug x dc #mlbdc #daminette december day 11 #i missed day 8 btw #am i forgetting any tags #idk

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neko-pupper · 4 years ago

Text

HEAVY DISCLAIMER READ BEFORE SCROLLING

My sincerest apologies to anyone who reads this intense, horrifying drabble. Trigger warnings are put in place for the darkest parts, so please if you are sensitive or are a victim of r--e and/or sexual abuse please please please skip over the parts with trigger warnings. This drabble hangs heavily on ongoing trauma and the effects of r--e. This long ass drabble also includes quite a bit of information on why Pip is the way that she is, how she copes with her trauma, and what she experiences because of it. This was a hard piece to write due to how close it hits home for me, as a victim myself. I left out the particularly scarring parts for a reason, and I will not elaborate on what all occurred for my own sanity and yours. But this was very important for me to write out and I'm relieved to finally get it all written down (and saved for future reference due to how long it took to write and the effort I put into it). Writing out things like this helps me to cope with my own trauma.

This is Pip's personal Hell. You all may interact with this drabble if you wish. Please be aware that Pip is going to be very...uncomfortable and possibly aggressive.

You have been warned and informed. Do with this information what you will.

Sleep. Pip had finally gotten some much needed rest after cleaning up from dinner. Yet for some reason, at the unpleasant hour of 3am, she found herself wide awake and staring up at the canopy that hung over her bed shielding her from the rest of her room. No nightmare nor dream had woke her, no sound could be heard from within our outside her room aside from the quiet ticking of her clock. What in Hell's name had woken her from her slumber?

She slowly sat up in her bed, comforter pooling in her lap as she crossed her legs and brought her hands up to rub her face only to find it damp with sweat and hot to the touch.

She froze, blinking as she pulled her hands away before pressing the backside of her hand to her forehead. There was no doubt about it. It was here early, something she found so revolting about herself since her second year in hell. The monthly cycle female hellhounds went through in lieu of a visit from Aunt Flow. That time of the month where her scent became near irresistible to others of her species, among a few other species of demon. Oh how she hated it. This godforsaken bullshit...this...

Heat.

She could feel it now. That unbearable feeling prickling across her skin, making her squirm in discomfort, fire seeming to flow through her very veins. Sweat dripped down her cheek and she groaned under her breath as she swung her legs off the bed and shoved aside the canopy curtain only to stumble her way to the connected bathroom to her room, grabbing a fresh towel from the cabinet as an afterthought. Her stomach churned as she slipped out of her nightgown which was near soaked and sticking to her already illfeeling skin and discarded it to the floor in the same motion as she turned the shower on full blast and adjusted it to a lukewarm almost cold temperature.

All she could do was crawl into the tub and sit her ass down, stretching out in the bottom as the cooling water doused her, easing the discomfort for a while. And so she just laid there.

After nearly an hour and a half of laying under the cold spray of water she finally sat up, her body no longer burning but still just generally uncomfortable. At least it was tolerable.

She reached over and shut the water off after a minute or two and carefully stood so she could step out of the bath onto the mat, reluctant to dry off in fear of her body warming back up but she couldn't just walk around soaking wet or lay in her bed in such a state so she buckled to the need. Once dry she wrapped her hair in the towel and snapped her fingers to dress herself in a pair of yoga shorts and a thin tank top in hopes that would keep her cooled off longer. She thought to herself a moment before letting out a low sigh, heading back to the bedroom then to the door and out into the hall. She needed to gather supplies to stash away in her room before she started denning so downstairs she went, as quiet as possible so not to wake anyone at such an early hour. She padded down the stairs, wincing at the odd steps that creaked underfoot until she reached the lobby and took a moment to relax herself now that she was hopefully out of earshot of the rooms.

She shuffled toward the supply closet where they stored the extra blankets for alcohol and game nights hosted in the lobby, scooping up several to place on the couch to grab in a few minutes. Then she disappeared into the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry for her snack groceries she'd bought the other night and stuffed them all into a grocery bag for ease of transfer and returned to the lobby.

As she reached the couch and went to pick up the blankets again so she could return to her room Pip found herself doubling over with a hand pressed to her lower stomach. She quickly dropped the bag of snacks on the couch and shuffled to the nearest empty cushion to sit down, both hands now on her stomach as she folded forward to ease the unsettling sensation. Her towel unraveled from her head and fell to the floor at her feet and her damp hair spilled down to hide her face and legs.

It seemed it was going to be one of THOSE heats. How unfortunate.

The odd, painless but unexpected cramping left her sitting on the couch for another good twenty minutes which at some point she realized she'd laid down on her side with her legs curled up and her arms down between her legs. It was the most comfortable, if a tad awkward, position. Once it appeared to subside she tried to get up but it returned with a fury and she let out a startled huff. Her body must be furious with her for ignoring this for so long. A mutiny! Damn it all!

She decided to just camp there on the couch for the rest of the early hours in hopes it would subside and ease up by sunrise, managing to snag her bag of goodies to place on the floor within reach.

---

Hours passed by with no sign in relief from her own personal hell. The wolf had already munched through a sleeve of shitty powdered doughnuts, two sleeves of toaster tarts, and a two liter of cream soda. She did her best to resist the awful cravings that had arose but it was becoming nauseating as she stared longingly toward the kitchen doorway.

"I should have prepared last week... This is horrendous." she muttered quietly to herself, the silence absolutely killing her. Her mind started to wander after that.

/I wish someone was here to keep me company./

/Or at least some music./

/Isn't there a radio down here?/

/I'd assume so given our resident radio host./

/Ah... He'd make nice company. Pleasant to talk to, perfect to pass the time./

/He even seems to have a lull to him. Like a faint static that eases the deafening silen-/

Her thoughts halted sharply and the drowsy little curl of her lips suddenly pursed into a thin line.

"What the hell am I thinking?" she hissed at herself, abruptly sitting up only to double over and lay back down as nausea rolled through her stomach.

/Stars... Screw this. At least if he was here, if SOMEONE was here, I could distract myself. Maybe even request some food that isn't absurdly sugary.../

She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the gentle tick-tock of the grandfather clock. It was so awfully boring though and time seemed to move even slower with her eyes closed so she opened them again even if only to stare at the dimmed lights above the bar. She studied the designs for a while, tracing the suit of cards pattern that decorated it with her mind. But even that lost her interest after a while and she was delving into her inner thoughts again. She tried to focus but a haze of red kept creeping at the edges of her mind she repeatedly had to shoo away with a shake of her head until finally she growled at herself in frustration.

"No. Stop thinking about him. You stupid, hormonal [unintelligible]. He isn't going to entertain you. I won't allow it."

She shuddered at the sudden unwanted memory that flooded her head like a rogue wave, the gentle red haze in her mind being shoved away by jagged neon lights and a sickening scheme of pink. Images flashed through her mind that had her bristling with sudden and vicious anxiety. Dread coiled in the pit of her stomach. She knew what these memories were. How could she forget? No one would be able to forget such disgusting and brutal violations of oneself. No matter how hard she wanted to forget it all, burn it away into ash.

In the silence and loneliness she let herself have a moment of vulnerability as her eyes glassed over and tears spilled across her cheeks. Every month she had to relive that horrible night.

!!! Trigger Warning !!!

Hands danced across her as she sat on a stool at the bar, neon pink and blue lights brightening the otherwise dim area away from the central stage. She was still new to hell, she didn't know who would be dancing on that stage nor did she care. She only cared about the deliciously fruity cocktails which she was indulging in. Possibly finding some other girls to hang out with, maybe snort a line or two or pop a tab. She planned to enjoy her night.

Pip wasn't too bothered when she felt a hand brush across her back, she thought someone had mistaken her for someone else, until long fingers wrapped over her shoulder and a low, purr of a voice muttered close to her ear.

"What's a delicious little thing like you doing in a place like this?"

The warm breath tickling her ear tufts set her on edge.

"Trying to enjoy my night out." she replied curtly, entirely uninterested in the obvious approach. Nor did she care for that voice or how close he was. It set her on edge. She was already on the verge of violence due to her heat leaving her generally uncomfortable but the alcohol did ease it dramatically.

"Mmm~ I'm sure I could make your night much more enjoyable~" the voice purred again. Still dangerously close.

"I'm. Not. Interested." she growled before her face was grabbed by a strong grip and turned to face the one and only Moth Pimp; Valentino. At the time she didn't know who he was.

"I like 'em feisty~ Keep playin' hard to get~"

She suddenly yanked away from his hands with a snarl, throwing her drink in his face as she stumbled off the bar stool and backed away from him. People were staring now and she straightened her stance before rushing toward the back door while Val was wiping his face of strawberry something. Second bad idea. He sneered and glared before grumbling something at a burly guy in a security shirt. They both vanished into the crowd of people forming around the stage in anticipation.

Pip found herself in the alley behind Club 666, huffing furiously at the AUDACITY. She paced the alley as she tried to calm down only to look up at some point and find the end of the alley blocked by a sizeable horse demon and another burly lizard one.

She tensed, noticing the security detail on their shirts before making a run for it the opposite direction only to hear the door open and feel hands grabbing her. Hair was pulled and her legs knocked out from under her, barely able to react before her face connected with the pavement. She cried out and snarled, trying so hard to get back to her feet to run but she felt a heavy foot press to her back as her arms were yanked behind her back and tied together with something that cut painfully into her wrists.

She was panicking. Were they going to kill her? Again? Was that even possible?

Oh, no...

She heard one of them sniff and felt the foot on her back bounce as the unknown assailant chuckled something. Her head was swimming from the fall she took and all she could make out was the words "heat" and "slut".

Cold, hard dread settled into the pit of her stomach as she realized something.

She heard another say something along the lines of "teaching some manners".

That all consuming fear dug its claws in her lungs and she struggled hard, opening her mouth to scream, but nothing could escape as a hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed. The next thing she knew she was very cold, exposed to the night air.

!!! Trigger Warning !!!

Pip snapped awake and let out a wail that carried through the hotel, thrashing hard enough that she fell off the couch with a thud. She scrambled to get up and took a defensive position but nothing came. Not the pain she remembered, no feeling of hands groping and claws cutting her skin up. Just ghosts of a memory leaving her feeling dirty and downright terrified.

She slowly lowered her arms and her eyes cleared to reveal the hotel lobby. She slowly lowered her guarding stance and slumped back onto the couch, heart thumping wildly in her chest as she stared up at the ceiling.

When had she fallen asleep? She didn't remember falling asleep. But now she was awake. It was just a little past sunrise she noticed as she peeked toward the window, silent tears rolling down her face as she tried to shake the nightmare. No more sleeping. Coffee. She needed coffee.

She stood up again, clutching her shirt as her anxiety refused to simmer down but the cramping having calmed though finally, and shuffled her way to the kitchen. Coffee was made with shaking hands and drank straight black. The bitterness distracted her as did the burn of how hot it was against her tongue and slowly her hands stopped shaking so much and she could finally think clearly again. She spent the rest of the hours in the kitchen, baking scones and cookies at the buttcrack of dawn just waiting, hoping for someone to wake up and keep her company.

#hazbin hotel #drabble #rp drabble #tw: r*pe #oc backstory #Sidian Storm - Pip

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conjuringcoeurls · 4 years ago

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Irenic

Another NSFW piece, this time featuring @blackcoeurlkitten‘s Tomoe! Thank you for letting her keep Tsagaan in check. The man needs it.

featuring ftm/f oral sex and Tsagaan’s possessive behavior

“I don’t see how there would be any other solution here,” Tsagaan argued, still miffed about being relegated to merely an accomplice in this adventure. Wasn’t he the one who had discovered the big creature worming its way through the grounds of the steppe? Wasn’t he the one who thought it would be grand to fight the monster? Wasn’t he the one who brought Tomoe with him, so she could see his heroic deeds in vanquishing yet another foe?

Yet there she was, pleased as punch, skipping along his side with that unmistakable grin of success. She had, in less than an hour, taken it upon herself to relocate the fiend, making it hurl towards a camp of rival Buduga who, in their own stupidity, decided to flee instead of fight and thus entirely broke their camp apart. Tsagaan was so sure he could have taken it instead. Just showed the might of his enemies.

But that left him in the position where he had become so worked up about the fight and was now without an outlet. It smarted, that she had been gifted with such a foresight where they hadn’t even had to confront the Buduga, instead semi-peacefully avoiding all conflict. Not in a bad way, just in a way that irked him, that made him want to hide her away and keep her for himself because would another clan (or person! He didn’t want to think about either though) get their hands on her, she would maybe realize that she could rule over them all in no time. He did want others to look at her but be jealous of him, for he had been her chosen! He didn't want others to think they could be worthy. That would not do.

“Something the matter?” She chirped, poking his side, still beaming with that pride that made him want to drag her into a searing kiss. She deserved it of course. He just… wanted to show off a bit. It seemed like every time he tried, she still came out on top and he had to prove his worth to her all over again. Her slight frown made him smile though, grabbing the hand which had touched him right at that point on his side, below the true ribs. She knew his weak points by now as he did hers, at least some of them. Dragging her closer, a glare back at the place of his defeat, he decided to play as well, dragging her chin up so she would face him.

“You did great back then,” he admitted, for it was true and for her he would always concede defeat. The way she lit up, the smile that took her face was reward enough. He could only sigh and lean down to kiss her. She let out a delighted gasp and kissed back with the ferocity that told him she was equally proud of herself as he was of her, but she was way more open about showing it in front of him than he was. Only fair that he deepened the kiss, wrapping his other arm around her back to keep her close, shielding her smaller frame with his own. She drew back slightly, laughing and raised a challenging eyebrow that told him he had to follow up and shut her mouth before she could say something that would certainly wound his pride more than it had already been hit. She just giggled in return which told him he’d been right in his assessment.

“I did, huh,” she finally managed to speak between kisses, that smirk still firmly placed on her face. It made him smile in return, nodding for he would not indulge her with more words this time. She knew the truth and the consoling smooch to his cheek got him to forgive her faster than an arrow could hit its target. It also made him want to spoil her in more ways than just kisses, but the tent he’d set up earlier was still a few minutes away. Sighing, he picked her up, tired of waiting and keeping still. Carrying her in his arms, she wrapped hers around his neck to hold herself steady as he started running. Her admonishment was just fuel to his energy, and as soon as they reached the tent, his intent was obvious.

“I didn’t know you were that deprived,” Her fond tone was balm to his ears and he just grinned back, remembering the time they spent together after the tent had been built, where she had teased him for quite the time. She must have known then already what she intended to do and it made the sweet torture she put upon him even better. But now, he intended to pay back the injustice rendered upon himself and she had better take it or he-

Well he didn’t know what to do if she didn’t, but he’d figure something out.

“You robbed me of a fight, it is only fair I take my victory elsewhere, no?” He whispered, laying her down after fighting with the obnoxious flaps of the tent’s entrance. “And besides, you know fully well I cannot get enough of you.” It was the truth and she heard it too, the blue rising to her cheeks. Adorable. She had settled down while he used his remaining patience to close the tent back up, so the wind would keep out and freeze naked skin. Well, skin he intended to be bare soon anyways.

Tomoe had already been a step ahead and started removing her outer clothes, the adorable diligence in folding them before setting them aside always something Tsagaan was intrigued by. But today, he had less patience for her quirks, crawling closer towards her and snagging a leg with one hand and dragging her towards him with a predatory grin. She only laughed, patting him on his head. Very well then, if that is how she would play…

Struggling with her shoes took less time, practice making his technique perfect as she continued to work on her upper garments with a patience that made him want to scream. Once the damnable boots were off however, she could no longer prolong his suffering as he started to tug at the pants she had chosen for today, dragging them off her body as she indulgently raised her hips to allow him to take them off fully. With no time spared, he scooted up and set his mouth to work, starting a row of kisses on her inner thigh as she sighed and leaned back, letting him work it out while she settled her hands on his head, softly stroking it.

It felt like she was still in control and he wanted to change that so he changed his direction to instantly target what he seeked, happily noting her pussy already being wet. She hadn’t been so unaffected then, which made him absurdly happy, her own sighs of bliss as he started to taste the outer folds only fueling it. Why he always felt happiest when she was in pleasure, he didn’t know. What he did know, was where she was the most sensitive, which was knowledge he used to her full delight, sucking on the small nub as soon as he heard her first moan. The fingers in his hair tightened, not painfully so, yet.

“Yes,” he heard her sigh, the word drawn out to a hiss as he brought a hand towards her entrance, stroking it as his mouth was busy sucking on her clit, feeling the small pulses of blood on the vein at the place where her thighs met her body. Slowly, her legs drew up to hold his head in place as well, though he had no intention of leaving for how as his fingers found her entrance hot, wet and willing and thus it was not even a question of inserting them, two at first, only briefly abandoning her clit to lap up some of her juices.

Returning his mouth to its place, he started moving his fingers, thrusting them in an attempt to search for the right angle. It was easy to make her moan and moan she did, The fingers in his hair starting to smart but in a way that felt delightful. Her thighs held him where he was supposed to be and he happily stayed, adding another finger when she opened up further to a delightful gasp. It made him leak himself, but she could take care of that soon enough. First, he’d have her shivering in his arms as it was supposed to be, her pleasure his only goal.

Soon enough she did reach her peak, his sucking and fucking working out just as well as he had known it would, keeping her hips down with his remaining hand easily as she tried to buckle him off when she ould take no more. But, this was supposed to be a win of his, so he held fast until she could only gasp wordlessly.

Victory achieved.

#Tsagaan Dotharl #tomoe naeuri #FFxivWrite2020 #FFxivWrite

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chrysalispen · 5 years ago

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Prompt #23 - Parched [NSFW]

Nero tol Scaeva/Warrior of Light. Only the last bit of it is actually explicit, but uh. Yeah. XD Check under the cut if you want to read.

"What I want to know," he said, peering at the label on the bottle, "is how you managed to get your hands on a 1532 Léa Monde Valens. Could set yourself up as a wine... seller... and retire from adventuring."

"Vintner. They're called vintners, not wine sellers."

He made a careless motion with one hand. "Same shit, different pile."

Aurelia swatted at him and missed.

"You're drunk."

"As a lord," he agreed, without any rancor. "Which is to say, only somewhat."

"So... do we have any left?"

"Fortunately for you, my sweet." He paused, lifted the bottle, and perched it atop his ribcage. "See? Not a drop wasted."

"What- there's naught left, you silly bastard. Look, it's empty."

"Is it?" He blinked somewhat owlishly at her, then tilted his head forward just enough to squint at the bottle. "Oh. So it is."

“We should probably quit while we're ahead anyroad, before we're actually drunk," she said, but let out the most regretful sigh he thought he'd ever heard from her.

At least in the last five minutes.

Nero propped his weight up on one elbow, braced his fist against his temple, and grinned down at her. "That's alright," he said. "I may have another gift for you."

"What's that?"

"Can't say yet."

"Mm, a secret." Aurelia stretched her arms over her head and pointed her feet to tiptoes with a soft yawn. "I have one of those myself."

"And what might that be?"

"I might tell you if the price is right."

"You're charging me for information? That's your first mistake." He leaned forward and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose; the scent of wine hung on his breath, though not overpoweringly so. "While you could probably sell the remains of that bottle for as much as your house cost, I'm afraid that's all the payment I have on me at the minute."

She tugged him towards her by the collar and leaned in until his ear was a hairsbreadth from her lips, and whispered:

"I've got plenty more where that came from. Half dozen bottles down in my cellar."

He laughed, the sound soft and deep and sweetly vague, and proceeded to body-check her. She returned his gesture with enough force that she lost her balance. Since she was still clutching a handful of his collar - and Nero had hardly been expecting a sudden lapful of Warrior of Light - she pulled him along with her, both cackling all the while.

The pair hit the grass beneath them with a graceless thump that surprised them enough to cut the laughter into abrupt silence, turned their heads at the same moment to stare at each other, then began to snicker again.

Aurelia rolled onto her back to stare up at the night sky, her bare toes curled in the cool, dew-kissed grass.

Mayhap it was just the wine, but she was feeling especially light and happy tonight. Most of her past namedays had passed with little comment or fanfare, especially after her father's death, and there hadn't been much cause for celebration in the years since the Calamity. This was the first time since she was a child that she'd genuinely enjoyed herself.

She hadn't actually expected Nero to agree to split a bottle of wine and watch fireworks with her rather than spend another late night sifting through his notes on Omega. He had shown up on her doorstep with flowers and a little nameday cake that she was very surprised to discover he'd made himself. Which was terribly sweet of him really, given she hadn't made any plans other than "watch fireworks and maybe get a little drunk on supposedly rare Dalmascan wine."

He rolled over and braced his elbow in the grass alongside her ribcage, peering down at her. "Something on your mind?"

"Oh- I was just thinking how much I've enjoyed myself. I know that as nameday celebrations go this isn't terribly interesting, but thank you for playing along."

His mouth slanted across hers in a kiss that was much more slow and lingering, and much less playful than the one before it. What surprised her was the way his brow came to rest against hers, third eye pressing against hers and his chin tilted to the side a hairsbreadth, just enough to rest his lips against the corner of her mouth so he could kiss her there too.

"...What was that for?"

"Nameday kisses," Nero said, as if it were obvious. "You get thirty total, one for each year. That's three down, twenty-seven to go."

"I thought it was spankings you were supposed to get on your nameday," she said. She didn't recognize her rather blatant innuendo until it had already left her mouth and his brows had lifted so high they practically took flight, and heat bloomed across her cheeks. "...I mean. Ah."

"That can be arranged," he drawled. "Perhaps after we’ve cracked another bottle. I currently find myself feeling a bit parched."

"All that wine and you’re still not done?"

She sucked in a sharp breath at the scrape of his teeth along the column of her neck, the damp downwards trail of wet kisses he left on his way to her collarbone, then across that expanse to place a kiss on each of her shoulders. Just as suddenly he moved to sit up, all the close warmth of him gone, and Aurelia let out a small and disappointed whine. Her skin felt as though he'd set it afire, warm and prickling gooseflesh, and her nipples had pebbled beneath the soft cotton of her dress.

"That's seventeen and eighteen," he said.

She startled at the roughened warmth of his open palm on her knee. The smile Nero currently wore was that lopsided, mischievous grin that he always gave Cid when he was about to prove himself Hydaelyn’s most insufferable git, but his eyes had taken on an intense and hungry shine, and something inside her clenched at the sight of it.

She'd been expecting him to do something, just from that smouldering stare. But the pressure of his lips and the light scrape of his stubble along the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh was still enough of a shock that she let out a tiny yelp, squirming in place where he'd all but pinned her to the ground.

"Nineteen."

"Scaeva, for the Twelve's sake-"

"Hush. I'm thinking," he said, almost absently, and kissed her again in the same spot. He'd braced himself between her legs with one rough cheek pressed against her thigh, blunt fingernails scraping very gently along her outer flanks from her knees to her hips. "Twenty."

About what, exactly, she wanted to ask, but she kept getting caught on the slow tingling sensation of those nails dragging across her skin. Her heart sounded thunderous in her ears, and all the dizzy humor of the evening had been set aside for the nonce.

Those deft hands paused on her hips, long fingers sliding beneath the sides of her smallclothes -- not to inflame but to explore. Mostly. The slow and maddening stroke of his thumbs tracing the ridges of her hip bones made her painfully aware of his relative proximity to other things.

His eyes met hers.

"May I?" he asked, the question almost absurdly polite given their current positions.

Aurelia swallowed, the sound seeming to drown out even her heartbeat, and nodded.

She heard the rustle, felt the slight friction of them as he slid the fabric with an obvious and deliberate slowness down her legs, and continued on his path. This time the kisses moved slowly upwards, with him murmuring his current count between each one until he had her anticipation nearly at fever pitch-

-and then it never happened. Instead she felt his mouth on her hipbone, the sweetly pleasant sting of a little nip.

"Thirty," Nero announced.

It was the most absurdly cheerful tone she'd heard from him since he'd got one over on Cid, joining the Ironworks.

Aurelia scowled at him with all the ferocity she could muster. He was wearing the same stupid, insolent shite-eating grin now as he nuzzled her lower belly with his cheek, just above her mons.

"You godsdamned tease," she accused him, annoyed at how breathless and vulnerable she sounded in that moment, "you did not just-"

As it happened, Nero had simply been waiting for her to get good and annoyed - and distracted - before he made his move, right in the middle of her tirade.

She felt the soft heat of his breath almost in the same instance as she felt the slick, hot, and shockingly intimate slide she wanted right where she needed it, and the sound she made was like nothing she'd ever heard come out of herself before.

Her back snapped into an arch, fingers knotted deeply in a handful of thick blond hair, hips twitching against him with each of the slow and even strokes that laid her open. She was so desperate to ground herself that she did pull his hair, once, and the reward she earned for it was a soft and very satisfied rumble right up against her core.

"Fuck," was all she was able to manage, in a hoarse and shaking voice, and that made him redouble his efforts until all she could do was writhe on the grass. Never mind the Ascians or the Empire; she was going to die right in the middle of the Shroud, murdered by Nero Scaeva and his godsdamned mouth.

It was not terribly long before Aurelia felt the telltale pressure and a blossoming heat, knew she was close, and then he took her clit into his mouth, suckling once, twice, and it was her undoing.

She let out a trembling cry, every muscle taut and trembling, fingers digging furrows into the grass as she rode out her climax.

There was a soft, pleased sigh between her legs as he lapped carefully at her through the series of small shocks that followed, releasing her only when she whined from incipient overstimulation.

Once she'd managed to catch her breath, moving sluggishly on limbs that felt through the afterglow as though they weighed about ten tonzes apiece, she pushed herself up on trembling arms into a half-sitting position to glare down at a man who looked utterly satisfied with himself.

And utterly unrepentant.

"What?" Nero was all wide-eyed innocence, except for his smile, which had turned positively feral. "You can't forget the one to grow on."

"You scoundrel. You absolute gremlin." She was laughing weakly. She couldn't help it. Gods, he really was the worst man she'd ever met. "Have you had your fill, Master Scaeva, or are you still parched?"

"Not sure,” he said. “I think that question might warrant a bit of investigation.”

Yes, she decided as she dragged him towards her for a kiss, this was definitely the best nameday she'd had in years.

#FFxivWrite2019 #nero/wol

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imakemyownworld · 6 years ago

Text

Sugar daddy Grayson

somebody somewhere requested this and i took the liberty to write about it. (:

warnings: smut. a lot of dirty things so if youre not into it scroll

“Babe, what do you think about this on that leather skirt for our dinner tomorrow?” I was showing Grayson Gucci sweater while he was sitting on a sofa in the middle of a store drinking Pellegrino water.

“Pretty” he took a sip.

“Gray!” I sighed “Youre not taking this seriously”

“Babe.” Grayson got up and stood in front of me “Babe. I seriously doubt my mom will care if you’re wearing 1000$ Gucci sweater or a 10$ H&M one. You look pretty in your Pjs.”

I rolled my eyes and regretted it immediately.

“Bell.” he cupped my chin and directed it to his face. “You know I hate when you do that.”

“I know. But you’re not getting the point.” I shrugged his hand off of me. “Im meeting your mom and sister for the first time. I want to leave a good impression and feel nice okay?”

Grayson was mommas boy and I knew what that meant. Nobody is ever good enough for him. So, naturally, I felt nervous to meet them.

“Okay. You’re right, Im sorry. How about you go pick some red wine for mom and we meet outside in a few?” he took the sweater out of my hand.

“No, Ill pay for this, you pick the wine.” I tried to take it away from him but he didn’t let me.

“You know that’s not in question. Go.” he said in his serious voice and I knew better but to argue. I went to a liqueur store and spent too much time deciding which wine to get so I bought three hoping at least one would be alright.

“Im waiting in the car. x” Grayson texted me and I hurried back to the car.

I knew he was waiting for me for a while because he was scrolling through his instagram with music blasting when I came back. He just smiled at me when I sat down and turned in the engine.

“Sorry. Didn’t know what to pick.”

“Thats okay. Im sure you picked something nice, you’re the wine expert at last.”

“Thats true,” I giggled “I am the wine expert.”

I was already in the house when Grayson came back from the car with three Gucci bags in his hands and casually left them in the middle of the room.

“Did you buy something for yourself too?” I asked pulling out a box.

“I did actually.” he came back to the living room and sat on a couch. “I also got you some stuff too.”

I opened the box and there was pink Gucci sweatshirt that I was eyeing for a while.

“Gray! What the fuck?” I looked at him and he was smirking at me leaned back to the sofa. I would notice how majestic he is at the most random moments.

“Go on.” he sad almost demandingly.

I open the other box and delicately remove the paper. I look at the white lace material and immediately know what it is.

“No. Gray, no. This dress is literally 6000$ why did you do this?” I don’t even want to pull it out of the box. He know how much I wanted this dress.

“Because I love you and I love seeing you happy and I also love when you wear these absurdly silly dresses that literally no one else would wear” he smiles.

“Stop it. Its a beautiful dress. But you know I hate when you do this. I could’ve bought the dress but it’s unreasonably expensive and I just couldn’t justify it.” I was sitting on a floor still next to unopened dress.

“I justify it by making you happy”

I look at him in silence for a moment and get up to kiss him.

“You’re stupid but thank you.” I kiss him on the lips.

In that moment we hear keys in a lock and realize Ethan is probably returning home.

“HI ETHAN” we both yell across the room.

“HI GUYS” he yells back at us entering in a living room. “Woah, you guys did some shopping?” he looks at the bags on the floor. “Anything for me?”

“Yeah I actually bought you that belt you’ve been wanting” Grayson says

“For real?” Ethan makes an exciting step towards the bags

“No you weirdo” Gray laughs

“I don’t know why I fell for that.” Ethan takes a bottle of water from the fridge and goes into his room.

I go and sit next to Grayson on a sofa.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.” I give him a kiss.

“Please get used to it. I want to give you everything and don’t ever want you to thank me. Im happy to do it” he cups my chin again and looks me in the eyes before kissing me again. I smile and put my hand on his jawline, slowly following its bones with my fingers. His jawline turns me on and he knows it which is why it turns him on too. He moves his hand from my cheek to my throat and gently squeezes it. We kiss faster and more passionately. He know how much I love that. If I let him go further this will lead to something more.

“Gray” I somehow separate our lips but quickly come back to them. Resting my lips on his, breathing heavily with him. He kisses me slowly once again and then we go back to faster pace from few seconds ago. His hands are on my ribs and waist, squeezing me and my hands are on his back. We are making out heavily for at least five minutes and I know hes already turned on.

“We should stop” I whisper when he starts kissing my neck

“Why?” his deep voice vibrates on my neck and it makes me shiver.

“Ethan. And the rest of these boxes?” I try and make an excuse

“Its your sweater and another sweatshirt but I got myself a matching one. There. We dont need to open them now” he continues to kiss my neck and then stops “but we should change rooms.” he gets up and caughts me off guard when he picks me up.

“Gray!” I yell but whisper at the same time

“Shut up” he cuts me off. We are almost halfway in his room. He shuts the door with his leg and puts me on his bed, takes off my shirt leaving me in my bralette and sweatpants. He stop for a second and smiles at me.

“I love you like this. In sweatpants and lace.”

He puts himself beneath me, supporting himself with his muscular hands. I trace those muscles with my fingertips and pull him closer to kiss him. His lips are warm and soft. My hand is in his hair, my legs around him. Hes slowly grinding on me while we kiss eagerlessly. I pull my hand down his shirt feeling his torso and slowly graze his boxer lining. Gray stops kissing me and sights, his eyes closed. I love seeing him loose control so I continue to put my hand in his pants feeling him and slowly stroking. Grayson lowers himself and starts breathing to my neck which drives me insane so I let out a low moan, now putting my hand in his boxers and feeling the warmth and hardness in my palm.

His breathing becomes heavy as I stroke him. He starts letting out moans.

“Shh” I shush him and he immediately bites my throat and starts sucking.

I dont give up and start playing with his tip which I know makes him crazy. He sucks even harder.

“Gray, stop” I starts hurting and he stops

“Sorry, you’re torturing me”

I smile and he finally opens his eyes looking at me. He takes my hand out of his pants and puts it on my boob and then does the same with my other hand. Hes going down on me while having his hands on my hands, playing with my boobs.

I feel his breath down there and I am already out of it. He slowly starts rotating his tongue on my clit, sucking it and playing with it. I am now moaning and breathing very heavy. I put the sheets in my mouth.

“Say when to stop, I dont want you to come” he demands.

I nod slightly and let him continue but do t last much longer

“Stop” I whimper and he stops. He meets my eyes again and I suck his lips, tasting myself.

“You dirty girl” he looks at me devilishly and I smile removing his pants. He snaps my bralette open and suck on my nipple.

“I need you” I say

“What did you say?” he looks up at me

“I need you” I repeat

Grayson takes his p and teases my clit with it.

“You are so wet.”

Since its already so sensitive I lose control, bend my back and whimper loudly.

“Repeat it again please?” Grayson whispers in my ear still with his penis sliding down my entrance. I bite his ear.

“I. Fucking. Need. You.” I say through my teeth, my body lovering itself onto him. He loves it. He loves teasing me.

“You need to be good” he squeezes my neck and slides himself in me slowly, torturing me as much as he can. I put my head in his shoulders trying not to cry out. He is so big, I never get used to it. He lets go of my neck and gently removes hair from my face. My eyes are closed but I can feel him looking at me so I smile. He thirst himself deeper and covers my mouth. We both let out a small moan.

“Fuck” he says

I realize his hands must be tired my now so I pull him down and I put my legs around him, straddling him, again, slowly lowering myself onto him. He puts his hands on my boobs and we are looking at each other as I ride him slowly. We are starting ti sweat as we smile to each other. I close my eyes and let it take over me. He is playing with my nipples and its driving me crazy. Im going faster and he joins me thrusting into me as I lower my self. Its almost painful, but too good to stop it. Our breathing is so quick and loud and I think Grayson thinks the same because he puts the sheet over us. Its now ten times hotter than it was.

“Fuck I wish I could scream” he says grabbing me and turning me to the side. I wimp as he suddenly pulls himself out of me. My body literally longing for him.

He lays behind be and hugs me tightly, pushing himself in. I spread my legs so I could take him.

“Fuck how are you so tight right now” he growls into my shoulder. I force myself down in him and whimper.

“Are you okay?” he asks

“Yes” I answer shortly and we start moving our bodies. I literally cant last any longer when he starts massaging my clit with his finger.

“Gray, gray” I whimper

“Shh” he shuts me up but it doesnt help so I pit the sheet in my mouth again. “Dont come yet”

I cant believe what hes saying because I am on the edge. I try to last as long as I can but my body is betraying me and I start shaking and moaning into the sheet. Gray does the same one second after, burying his face in my back. We stay still for a while, just taking breaths hastily. Gray covers us up with another blanket and we cuddle up even closer.

“Fuck” he whispers in my ear but I am still unable to respond so I just run my fingers through his hair and turn around to face him. Eyes closed. I kiss him barely.

#iwritethings #grayson #smut #dolan twins #ethan #grayson dolan smut #ethan dolan smut

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huxgrandmarshal · 7 years ago

Text

Void

Ren stared at the dark ceiling of his quarters, listening to the far away chatter of some negligent stormtroopers on night-shift while Hux drooled on his naked chest. At night, the blackness of his room seemed to swallow the walls until he wondered if they weren’t all fated to aimlessly drift away into the nothingness of space. He often felt like that, dreading approaching sleep an animal that would tear chunks out of his chest, watchful of him ever since he had been a small child. At first, he had thought his parents never took him seriously when he staggered into their room at night, feet bare and cheeks wet, crying about an absence of light he was too young to understand. Ironically, it turned out he shouldn’t have feared the possibility of them downplaying his night terrors, he should have been terrified about what would happen if they didn’t.

Hux twitched in his sleep, almost awake for a second, before he pressed his cheeks more firmly into Ren’s collarbone. Ren turned his head to bury his nose into Hux’s hair. It never smelled of anything in particular, to be honest. Just clean in a way that shouldn’t have been so absurdly comforting since he was sure, Hux only ever used the First Order’s standard soap –unscented of course. Ren was not sure how he found himself in such a compromising position, only ever able to fall asleep after he had put his dick into his General, but here he was. When it started, they had been needlessly violent, enjoying how much sicker they could get from drinking each other’s pain. It had never been their plan to cling and share a bed like some bizarre parody of a couple in love. It was then, that Ren could feel Hux’s pale eyelashes flutter open, tickling against the sensitive skin on Ren’s chest like the most ridiculously fragile thing. Of course, Hux would wake up when he indulged in stupid thoughts. Sometimes Ren wondered if he secretly wasn’t the only one able to sense a shift in the force, Hux’s horrible timing impossible to explain otherwise.

“Ren…” Even though barely awake, his voice was already edging its way towards harsh again. “Why aren’t you asleep, yet?”

Ren did not answer immediately. He took pleasure in letting Hux simmer for a while, just to remind him that the supreme leader could do whatever he wanted. Also, the question was rich coming from a person who usually needed to stim himself into a half-coma to find some semblance of sleep –at least if Ren’s dick was not available.

Hux was predictably unamused. Ren did not even need to consult the force to feel Hux’s irritation nip at him like an angry loth-cat. “May I remind you of the fact that we have an important meeting tomorrow? You need an appropriate amount of sleep to fully function. The Theselans do not appreciate inattention.” His own annoyance took Ren off guard. “Well, what a shame. Maybe I will have the meeting cancelled all together.”

“What?” Hux began to untangle his limbs from Ren’s immediately, shoving his arm away before he sat up to rub at his temples. “The Theselans control a substantial part of Agor-5’s mines. We are in dire need of resources after our failure on Crait—”

“No.” Ren’s voice slices into Hux’s word like a blade. He can feel Hux’s body go tense, feels his own jaw setting. Ever since the incident, they have avoided talking about it. The thought of his mother, standing back while his uncle mocked him by dying, leaving Ren alone on a mountain of mistakes that he helped to commit, high and mighty even as he faded. And Rey. Rey looking down on him as she locked him out of his own sanity. “I forbid you from saying it.” Hux’s eyebrows shot up, scoffing humourlessly: “You’re being carried away by your imagination. I am just stating facts, supreme leader.” Hux was apparently back to using his title like an insult, every syllable spoken with needless care.

Ren stayed quiet, his teeth pressed together until he felt his skull ringing. That’s right. He had allowed all of this to happen by indulging his own childish needs for comfort, preferring a warm embrace to a much-needed victory. Somewhere along the way, he had started to believe Hux gasped his name against his lips because he needed him, not because he was close to coming. And now he had to endure the man stabbing at his wounds like a cruel child dissecting an insect to find out how it worked. Ren knew that this was what Hux had intended to do all along: Open him up nicely and ask for control. He should have torn apart Hux’s mind himself, but his heart always fluttered in sobbing denial when he tried.

“I see.” Hux swung his legs over the edge of the bed and began to reach for his pants “You’re in a mood again. I will come back when you’re ready to see reason.”

“No.” Ren sounded flat, even to himself. Something had awoken in his chest and it had Rey’s eyes and Han’s hands and it felt like the remnants of his mother’s good night’s kiss. Why did everyone try to kill him in his sleep?

“Pardon?” Hux tried to put on a façade as he pulled a black undershirt over his scrawny chest. Despite his demeanor, Ren could feel the worry radiating off of him, like a distressing holonet broadcast.

“You heard me. Stay.”

“What is wrong with you? You are behaving strangely. Even more so than usual.”

“Why are you doing this, Hux?”

“What? Leave?” There was a confused hint of amusement in Hux’s words, but it was unconvincing. Ren knew he was close to finding out the truth. “I should be the one asking what has gotten—” His voice cut off abruptly when Ren ripped the uniform-jacket out of his hands with the force.

“You know exactly what I mean. This.” Ren gestured dramatically around the room. Normally it would have pulled a sarcastic remark out of Hux, but not this time. He was watching Ren, growing pale, eyes wide with something akin of fear. “Why aren’t you leaving after I fucked you, huh? Is it because the general likes to be held after sucking cock? Yes? You know I could crack your mind open like an egg and just see all the bullshit, Hux!”

Hux was just standing there, arms hanging limply at his sides. Even though he was obscured by darkness, Ren could practically see the red splotches appearing on his white face.

“You impertinent child…” Hux’s voice was quivering, but he kept himself composed. “I am leaving.”

“I thought I could trust you. You never loved me, you loved what I could give you. Power, mainly. Because this is all you care about, isn’t it?”

Hux’s exhaled shakily in the silence of the room, hand outstretched to open the door, yet inexplicably hesitating to leave.

Ren stared at his narrow frame, suddenly missing how Hux’s fringe would tickle his face. After he had first remarked about it, Hux had made sure to always comb out the gel when he climbed into his bed after a shift. Ren felt as if someone has kicked him in the sternum.

Neither of them talked for a while.

“That’s not it…” Ren muttered, slowly treading at the edge of Hux’s mind. Although always putting an affront of sturdiness, it feels frayed and paper-thin, like the set of a stage-play. An ever-present feeling of loneliness, almost mellow, a shrill of anxiety that sounded like his father’s bellowing voice and beneath that, deeper, something else. Warm. A delicate little emotion that didn’t want to be touched. Ren gasped, brows knitted together too tightly. “You love me.”

Hux moans and jolts to leave, but turns around instead. He has a look of disgust on his face, desperately clutching at his snarl, even when his eyes gloss over. “Are you having fun? Is this what you’re doing now? How about you choke me some more, while you’re at it, Ren? Maybe you’d want to grab me by the hair and drag me to the bridge, so my officers can see me smashed against the walls some more?”

Ren shook his head standing. He was slow, approaching Hux like a frightened animal. “You told yourself it was more practical to combine our evenings with discussions about matters of the order. You looked for excuses. You have always—”

“Stop!” Silenced by the genuine pain in Hux’s voice, Ren just stood there, waiting. “Don’t do this. Get out of my head! Stop it with this nonsense…Stop playing with me—”

When Hux’s mind screams to be touched, Ren lunges forward and grabs him in his arms, trapping him against the cold durasteel wall and the head of his body. Hux protested weakly, a wet sound dying at the back of his throat, before his head falls forward.

“I am sorry.” Ren muttered, lips moving against Hux’s damp forehead. “I am sorry…”

“No…” Was all Hux whispered, yet he did not push Ren away and even complied when he was holstered into Ren’s arms to be carried back into bed.

Ren didn’t know how long they laid there, silently floating away into space through the non-existent ceiling, hands tangled in each other’s hair, mouths moving around meaningless words.

But it was not frightening anymore.

#Kylux #Armitage Hux #Kylo Ren #Kylux ff #Kylux fanfiction #sw ff #kylux angst #my writing #long post #posting again because I am sad haha

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aspidities · 7 years ago

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Blood Royal Chapter 16

(Rated E, Korrasami A/B/O Equalist AU)

Read the first chapter: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12188124/chapters/27670983

Every muscle in Korra’s well-appointed body sagged with contentment. The morning was dawning slow, grey breaking in streaks to allow the dusky pink to shine through, but her limbs were still and heavy below the blankets. Instead of moving, she caressed the warmth of her omega, curled into her chest, stroking the sleek raven’s wing of black hair that spilled across her throat. Asami was still deeply asleep, and she felt absurdly calm beneath the slight weight of her, as if the world was at peace as long as her mate lay on her chest and breathed so sweetly.

Her mate.

The words fell into her brain like snowfall and she welcomed their impact, smiling blissfully down at the woman in her arms. The mark was there, reddened and obvious at Asami’s neck, and when she brushed the hair away from it, she could see the ring of her teeth, the beginnings of the scar. Her own neck throbbed in sympathy, but it was a pleasant ache, a sweet reminder. They had made love as a pair for the first time last night, and the memory of it was almost too perfect to bear. She leaned her neck down to nuzzle the mark with her lips, lovingly rubbing against the new scar with supreme happiness. Asami moaned in her sleep and sniffed, her lips curling into a drowsy smile as Korra’s alpha scent welcomed her. Green eyes open in slow, soft blinks and Korra couldn’t help how she melted in response.

“Morning,” she offered, her voice croaking in the still light, but Asami seemed to warm to her tone, as crackling as it was.

“Morning,” the omega agreed, sleepily, and tugged at Korra’s arms until they wrapped once more around her slim frame. The alpha’s heart sang with love, even as her green-eyed mate lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes. “When did we fall asleep?”

“I’m not sure,” Korra rumbled in response. “Not too long ago.” She stretched, feeling her muscles twinge with a pleasant ache, and found herself drawn into the omega’s eyes once more. “You look so beautiful right now.”

Asami laughed, and it was a joyous, tinkling sound, even as she playfully struck Korra in the chest with a hand that weighed no more than a feather. “Stop flattering me, I need breakfast before I’m beautiful.”

Korra strongly disagreed with the second part of that statement, but she recognized the truth of the first as her stomach gurgled. She sighed, letting the omega slip from her arms, but let out a low whistle as she appreciated the sight of Asami’s naked body making for her robe by the door. “Nope, still beautiful. I’ll let you know if that changes.”

A robe sailed past Korra’s ear and draped across her face. From under the silk, she heard Asami admonish her fondly: “Get dressed, you idiot.”

The breakfast they shared was a simple one, and a hasty concoction, as they had to quickly and quietly use the kitchen before anyone else in the temple was awake. Giggling and tripping over their robes, they rushed back to the room to feed each other, shushing each other wildly like schoolchildren as they passed through the hallway. Once inside, Asami let her honeyed fingers drip into Korra’s mouth, feeding her bits of porridge from a bowl that they soon abandoned, making love again as the fullness of the morning made the birdsong echo with Asami’s wanton cries.

Korra didn’t want to let her go for a single second. She buried her face in Asami’s neck, panting, as her body jerked the last of her release into her omega’s welcoming folds, but there was a frantic driving need to be closer, to get deeper, to be as together as it was possible to be. She couldn’t shake the feeling she’d had the night before; about her dreams and what Hiroshi might do to Asami in revenge for her actions at the arena. Fear tore tiny ragged edges around her heart, and she fidgeted, drawing her breath again and again against the mark, taking some brief solace in how her mate trembled and whimpered against her when she did so. Asami didn’t seem to mind her staying inside, but she did stroke Korra’s hair and whisper soft words of love against her ear, trying to help her calm down, to little effect.

Something in Korra was worried and deeply so.

She’d never had the threat of anyone taking anything she loved this much before. All of a sudden the idea of Amon and the fear of what he could do to her Avatar abilities seemed small, inconsequential. Asami’s life, her precious body and her fantastic mind, was worth so much more than Korra’s bending. She needed to face him, to face Hiroshi, and get them taken care of before they could hurt her mate again. The alpha inside of her was roaring, and had been ever since she sank her teeth into Asami’s neck, to protect her mate at all costs, to rise when the time was right and rain fury upon those who would do her harm. Well. That time was drawing closer, and she felt it, jaggedly reminding her with each thump of her worried heart.

Her mate sensed her distress, stretching beneath her as Korra’s cock slipped from her puffy, swollen lower lips in a tide of their shared wetness. She stroked and nuzzled at the mark on the Avatar’s tense neck, and, when Korra still trembled above her, sick with worry, the omega began purring, trying to soothe her alpha by instinct. When the sweet noise made its winding way through Korra’s bones, she felt instantly at ease, and joined Asami with her own rumbling, unpracticed purr. The noise was awkward, but it none the less comforted her omega, which comforted her in return. They lay still for a while, echoing back and forth, until the rocking became more insistent. Hungry need began to awaken in Asami’s body again, and she moaned and arched below Korra, enticing her shaft to extend once more.

The alpha set her teeth against the mark, eliciting a slow roll from Asami’s hips, and held her omega still so she could enter her again, this time drawing a gasp from them both at the sensitivity. They’d been making love nonstop for the better part of eighteen hours now, after all, and even the Avatar’s legendary stamina was beginning to flag. Still, she slid back inside, hissing at how right it felt, and groaned against the sweetly thudding pulse in Asami’s neck as her omega’s walls rippled and fluttered around her length, adjusting once more.

She’d intended to be gentle, sensing that Asami must be worn out from the night they’d had, but her mate seemed to have no such reservations. She dug her nails into Korra’s shoulder and her heels into the bunching muscles of her ass, driving her on, and whispered lascivious encouragement into the alpha’s ear, thudding with the heat of her pulse.

“That’s it, yes Korra, yes. Fill me up, my love. Make me yours...ah-!”

Korra was groaning and grunting with the words, and her hips responded accordingly, picking up the pace as the wet rock and glide of their bodies filled the room with the sounds of sex. Her base was slapping against the omega’s swollen, reddened clit, and the slight pressure was enough. Asami’s words terminated in a low cry, and she arched below Korra, trembling and offering her neck once more. The Avatar couldn’t resist, and her teeth sunk back into the mark she’d made the night before, moaning incoherently into Asami’s pale throat as she rocked and shuddered against her.

The orgasm flooded both of their senses with brilliant white light, and her omega slumped below her, clearly exhausted beyond reason. That was okay. Korra nuzzled Asami’s pulse and crooned, softly, as her mate’s eyelids fluttered and she finally, blissfully closed them in sleep. Her cock throbbed, releasing the last few pulses of her seed, and her body felt drained, emptied utterly. As thorough as her orgasm was, Korra badly needed sleep too, but instead, she slipped from her mate, already softening without a knot to hold her in place, and rained kisses upon Asami’s sleeping face. The omega moaned and turned over, spilling Korra’s come from between her thighs, but she didn’t wake, and for that the Avatar was grateful.

She needed to do something, and Asami couldn’t be awake for it.

The omega would not thank her for what she was about to do, but that couldn’t be helped, and nor could the pang in her heart at leaving her sleeping mate behind, with their bond so new. Every muscle, fiber and sinew screamed at her to not leave her mate alone, but there was something stronger driving her. She had a duty to Asami, as her alpha as well as her Avatar, and she had to see it through.

Keeping Asami safe was the only way.

Korra darted through the morning fog in the temple until she found what she was looking for; Lin Beifong doing her exercises in the courtyard of the main house, metal striking rock with a mechanical ringing sound.

“Chief!” She hailed, not wanting to disturb the metalbender and receive a whip to the face for her trouble. “I wanted to come thank you for saving me.”

The taciturn metalbender stopped to wipe a sheen of sweat from her brow with a bandaged wrist. “It’s about time.” She cast a knowing raised brow at the Avatar. “Thought you’d be too lost in mate-brain to come pay your respects.”

Korra coughed, guiltily. “I’m sorry, but that’s actually the real reason I’m here.” She took a breath. “Asami and I are mates, as I’m sure everyone knows by now-“

“Kid, the entire city knows by now.” Lin snorted. “You weren’t exactly quiet.”

“-and because she’s my mate, I’m more concerned about what her father will do to her than I am for what he’ll do to me.” Korra soldiered on, blistering under the older alpha’s embarrassing frankness. The seriousness of words seemed to quiet Beifong though, and she only nodded brusquely for Korra to continue, which she did.

“Hiroshi knows Asami is with me now, and that will make him more angry than ever. I’m hoping anger will make him stupid. If Mako and I can draw Amon’s forces, maybe we can capture him or that bastard Lieutenant while they’re focused on getting to Asami, thinking that she’s with me.”

The Avatar stepped closer to the metalbender, and her voice was urgent. For the first time in her life, as she broadcasted her alpha pheromones to help Lin understand her plight, there was an undercurrent of fear. “I can’t have Asami with me, though. I can’t put her in danger, Chief. I need you to stay here, and guard her, and keep her on the island, so that I can take care of this. Will you do that for me?”

Beifong’s expression was unreadable, but her eyes were knowing. “I understand, Avatar. Yes. I’ll guard your mate with my life.”

“Good.” Korra cleared her throat, feeling helpless. She didn’t know what to say, and the seriousness of what she’d asked of Lin was discomfiting her to no end. She turned to go, but the metalbender’s hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder.

“Your omega is one of the more capable non-benders I’ve ever met, Avatar. Won’t she resent you putting her in guard so you can put yourself in danger to protect her?”

Beifong had a point, and Korra knew it, and it pained her even more than the driving desperation to be back in bed with her sleeping mate. Asami would hate what she was doing; might even not forgive her for it. But it had to be done.

Korra squared her shoulders. All her life she’d been told she was The Alpha, the Avatar, the protector. She’d never truly understood or been interested enough to take up that mantle…until now. Asami made her want to be an alpha, a true alpha, and….Well, this was what being an alpha meant. At least, she thought so.

“She will, but that doesn’t matter.” She told Beifong, in as strong a voice as she could manage. “She’s my mate, and I have to protect her from her father. She shouldn’t have to fight him anymore. She’s done enough.” And while that was certainly true, she didn’t feel as much conviction as she’d hoped. She squared her shoulders again, and drew herself up to her full height, which, admittedly wasn’t much. “I have to do this without her, Chief.”

Thankfully, the metalbender made no further comment. She only nodded, severely, and gave Korra a salute. The gesture touched and surprised the Avatar, who returned it with a faltering hand. She couldn’t remember ever seeing the Chief salute anyone, and the honor of it was almost staggering to the young alpha. She shook herself, and headed off in the direction of the men’s dormitories to rustle up Bolin and Mako.

***

Bolin and Mako, however were not so easy to rustle up. “I still think this is a stupid idea.” Bolin reiterated for the fifth time, as he clung glumly to Naga’s saddle.

“For once, bro, I think you may be right.” Mako conceded, and turned to Korra with a grimace, his teeth chattering as the freezing water hit his legs. They were headed into the bay, toward the city, and Korra had neglected to deploy a water-bending shield. She threw up one now, tossing Mako a guilty smile, and he rolled his eyes as a measure of gratitude, before returning to his usual serious expression.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go get Asami?” He asked, worriedly. “She’s not going to like this, Korra.”

The young alpha clenched her jaw firmly. “No. We do this quick and quiet and hopefully she never knows…or gets to yell at me all afternoon. Either way, she’s my mate, and this is my call.”

The brothers exchanged glances behind the Avatar’s back, but she ignored them, leaning over Naga’s bouncing shoulders. Their reaction to the mark on Korra’s neck had been mostly welcome, coupled with appreciative hooting, and of course, some mild ribbing about the scent and sound from the mating, but to hear Korra speak of Asami as her mate with such seriousness must be bringing reality to the fore, because Mako leaned over her shoulder again.

“Mates make decisions together, Korra.” He prodded her, gently. “And we both know Asami doesn’t like having decisions made for her.”

That brought a painful lurch through her gullet as she thought of Hiroshi, the man she now hated, and how Asami might find their actions comparable, similar even. She banished that unwilling thought with a resolved swallow and shook her head once more.

“Mako, enough.” She said firmly, and then softened her tone as she tossed a look over Naga’s bunching forequarters. “Asami can hate me for this all she wants, and Tenzin can wring his hands…but the fact is, it’s my job as the Avatar to bring Amon down. I haven’t been doing my job.”

She narrowed her eyes at the city lights, drawing ever closer as the polar bear dog came galloping up the beach. “Today we go right to his den and challenge him ourselves.”

Bolin gave a low cheer, but quickly quieted as Naga thundered into the warm glow of the city streetlamps. The streets were eerily quiet, with not a single person, bender or otherwise, bustling about. That was a bad sign. She and Mako exchanged worried looks, and Korra bent over Naga’s neck, urging her forward.

“We should go to city hall first. Tarrlok will have the task force and it’d be nice to have some back up right now.” Korra suggested over her shoulder. She didn’t mention that she’d all but abandoned Tarrlok’s sham of a task force as soon as Asami’s heat had consumed her, but hopefully the slimy waterbender could understand. He was a fellow alpha, after all, no matter how he galled her, and Tenzin often complained that he was making liberal use of his rut leave. She shuddered at the image, but still…alphas understood one another on these matters.

The grand visage of the city hall building wasn’t hard to find, and Naga soon had them rumbling up the courtyard steps. Korra cast a quick look around, expecting to be chastened by a courier or a secretary, but instead there was no one, and the building was warm, well-lit and eerily silent. “No one’s here.” She commented to Mako. “Something doesn’t smell right.”

He nodded grimly. “Be on your guard. This has ‘trap’ written all over it.”

Spirits, I hope not, Korra prayed silently as they made their way up the grand staircase, dismounting from Naga at the landing. Don’t let me get trapped like an idiot while I’m trying to ease Asami’s mind and keep her safe. All of her thoughts left her in a sucking rush, however, as they turned a corner to the Water Tribe council member’s office, and saw Tarrlok bound and clearly beaten, his head lolling against a pillar.

“Tarrlok?” She asked in disbelief, as the bending brothers fanned out protectively behind her, hands raised in ready stance.

“Avatar.” The waterbender regarded her with a swollen eye, and then hawked and spat blood. “My brother knew you’d come.”

“Brother?” Korra crinkled her nose in confusion. She turned to Mako. “Do you know anything about-“

“He doesn’t. Only I do.” The waterbender flexed under his bonds. “I’ll tell you the whole story if you promise to let me out.”

Korra met eyes with Bolin and Mako. They nodded, sharply, as one. This was their only option. Korra sighed. “Okay. Begin.”

*** Tarrlok’s voice droned on and on, explaining his past, his father Yakone, and the history he had in Republic City, as well as his brother, Noatuk, the pride of the family’s bloodbending legacy. His eyes were measured, but his voice never dropped the pain from its register. Mako brought him water, and to their surprise, he tried no tricks but merely accepted the water jug to his lips, meek as lamb, before continuing.

The whole time, Korra paced. She paced back and forth in front of Tarrlok as he spoke, and gnashed her teeth, thinking dark, vengeful thoughts toward long-gone Yakone and so-called ‘Noatuk’. Although she was appreciative of the intel, her mind also raced back to Asami at any given moment, feeling her anxiety soar as the minutes passed. Why was she feeling so worried? She was here, on the trail of Amon, about to crack the case. So why was heart heart racing with the fevered impulse to run as fas as she possibly could back to the island, to her mate?

“I don’t understand, Tarrlok.” She offered when the council member finished, his battered sides wheezing with effort, and she tried to keep the impatience out of her voice without much success. “You’re his brother. Distance or no distance. So why did Noatuk beat you and leave you here to die?”

At that however, the waterbender‘s thin lips curled into an oily smile, and her heart dropped out of her chest. Before he even spoke, she knew what he was going to say. “Oh he didn’t. This was just a ruse to get you to spend as much time as possible listening to me ramble on and on, and stay off the island so Hiroshi can take his daughter back while you play the hero.”

Korra’s frantic heartbeat flatlined.

Bolin and Mako began shouting, surging forward, but she couldn’t hear them. Her face was white as ghost and words were echoing in her mind, words from all sources.

….he’s ten steps ahead of you, all the time….that’s how he thinks, Korra…Mates make decisions together, Korra…Korra…Korra-

“Korra!” Bolin yelled, and she dodged, dumbstruck, as a sheer plane of ice sliced past one of her braids, severing it and leaving her with a nasty slice across one cheek. Tarrlok was drawing the water out of the drinking jug that Mako had offered him just moments before, arming himself for another blow as he got slowly to his feet, and Korra could see now as he wiped his face clean: the blood and bruising was just makeup, just trickery. She roared in fury, and armed herself in flame.

“That’s right Avatar,” Tarrlok taunted, slamming an ice barricade between her and her two friends, catching Mako’s fists right as he was about to ignite the flame. Tarrlok snarled in triumph and tightened the barricade, drawing the brothers together in an uncomfortable embrace. Korra charged forward, intending to free them, but the water bender challenged her, his finger rising to the floor-ceiling windows, through which the island could be seen.

“Look!” Tarrlok crowed, a vicious note of victory in his smug voice. “There goes your precious blood royal now.”

Korra turned, with a sickening lump her throat, and saw the airships, a dozen of them, bearing down on the island, all stamped with the insignia of the Equalists.

#korrasami #korrasami fanfic #korrasami smut #korrasami au #korrasami abo #legend of korra fanfic #blood royal #blood royal update

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freedom-shamrock · 8 years ago

Text

Good Kitty

Also on AO3 Chronologically follows “Nightmare Fuel,” but can stand on its own.

Marinette twirled around, feeling the fabric swing around her legs as it swirled around her.

"Slow it down just a little," Chat suggested. "Purrfect."

His praise made her heart beat a little faster. Their photoshoot in the evening sunlight of the middle of summer wasn't the only reason she was warm

"Keep the smile and when I tell you to freeze, I want you to just stop spinning," he said. "Got it?"

"Better hurry up before I tip over," she replied.

"Aaaand… Freeze!"

The skirt of the dress obeyed the laws of physics and continued wrapping around her before eventually swaying back like a pendulum. The world still seemed to spin around her, and she was relieved to feel his steadying arm around her her a moment later. "Oooooh. Sooooo dizzy." She laughed.

"I'd like to do a couple more of those to be sure I really captured the swing of the fabric," he said, brushing his lips against her forehead. "But you won't have to twirl so long for those."

"You're really good at this stuff," she said, slipping her arms around his waist, and blinking up at him as Paris continued to rock and sway in her distorted vision.

"Uhhh… I am?" he seemed genuinely surprised.

She nodded. "You know, we need to have a photo viewing session. I keep forgetting that you haven't gotten to see how your efforts have paid off." She should have done that ages ago. "I mean, you model the stuff amazingly well. Between that, and the fact that you understand me when I go all design mode, I have a strong suspicion that you're in the industry." She pressed two fingers to his lips to keep him from confirming or denying. "But I'm not a model. I barely know the first thing about presentation and photo composition. You've been coaching me into positions that show off my designs really well. And your pictures only need to be cropped a little. We haven't had to reshoot anything… other than the stuff from the day of dead batteries." She moved her hand up into his hair. "You're amazing."

His cheeks were pink, and he looked ridiculously happy.

After several moments of him just beaming at her, she broke the silence. "What are you thinking?"

"I like it when you think I'm good at something," he said simply. "It makes me absurdly happy when you compliment me." He glanced away. "It's probably compensation for my stupid home life. And I hadn't really paid attention before, but I react when anyone tells me I did something well. It's just a lot stronger when it's you."

"Is this like a bedroom thing?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

His bright eyes went wide. "Uhm. No?"

"Hmmm." She walked his fingers up his arm to tap on his bell. "You don't sound so sure about that, Kitty."

"Because I have no idea," he admitted. "You're my first girlfriend, and the first person I've even kissed because I wanted to."

So far they were much more tease than touch, though cuddles and sweet kisses were always on the agenda. He couldn't get out of the suit until he was ready to reveal himself, and it seemed they were both reluctant to push too far toward something they couldn't finish up yet.

"You are the sweetest, kindest person I've ever met," she said, pitching her voice a little lower than usual. She ran her thumb over his jaw and watched intently for any sign that it was doing something for him. "You're so smart and talented, not just at your superhero work." Yup. His pupils had definitely gotten bigger. "The pictures you've taken are so much better than anything I could have done on my own. Between your instructions and your camera work, I look like an actual model in some of the pictures. I expect my parents will want to frame one. Or five. They are sooooo good." She brought up her other hand so she could frame his face between them. "Have I told you lately how devastatingly hot you are in that black leather getup?"

There was the purr. She sighed, closing her eyes and leaning against him, feeling the vibration through his suit.. "Oh, that's nice," she whispered, knowing his sensitive cat ears would pick it up. "I love when you do that."

"You're doing this on purpose," he accused, nuzzling the side of her face.

She smiled, her breath catching a little when she felt his lips on her neck, just below her ear. "Is it wrong to tell you how good you are at being my boyfriend?"

His tiny whimper was the only warning she got. Suddenly his arms were tight around her, the camera apparently forgotten and dangling from his wrist bumping her in the right butt cheek. His mouth opened on her neck, his hot tongue stroking across her skin. Until now their kisses had been relatively chaste. They'd only recently tried French kissing, which they both agreed, while grinning stupidly, they needed more practice on.

She clung to him as his devilish lips moved down to a spot right above her collarbone. Her knees went a bit wobbly, and she was, once again, glad he was so strong and steady. She didn't have to think about the pithy basics of balance or standing while he did whatever that was to her neck. He sucked lightly on her skin and she was barely even aware of the gasp she let out. It seemed to encourage him, and his teeth came out to play next, gently nipping.

That… oh god, that was too much. Catching his chin in both hands, she gently forced his lips up to hers for a much more fierce kiss than she'd ever given him. Her tongue delved greedily into his mouth, and she felt his moan more than she heard it. When she finally drew back, she caught his lower lip gently in her teeth.

They were both breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I think I have a thing for neck kisses," she whispered, once she could talk again.

He chuckled. "Is this like a bedroom thing?" he asked.

"Definitely," she replied. She'd liked it far too much to make it something he had to tease out of her. "And you are appallingly good at neck kisses. Oh. My. God."

He hummed. "I don't know. I think there's some room for improvement." He straightened up to look into her eyes.

There was something devious in his expression. "This is payback, isn't it." It wasn't even a question.

"What would I need to pay you back for, love?" His crooked grin was full of mischief. "What if I just like making you feel nice? It did feel nice, right?"

"Holy fuck, yes."

He laughed outright at that. "Can I do it again, then?" he asked. "I want to see if the other side of your neck is equally responsive." He ran one claw lightly over her skin, as if pointing out the path he wanted to take.

She tilted her head slightly, displaying her neck for him. "Yes. Please ."

By the time he'd concluded that she might actually be more sensitive on that side, they'd lost their window of money light on this particular rooftop. But she was totally okay with that.

Next in series > Not Teasing

Marichat May, Day 22, Rooftop Kisses This is also a continuation of my Miraculous Acts of Kindness series proposed by @squirrellygirlart on Tumblr. @australet789 is an amazing artist, and their work does an excellent job spanning all options from sweet and fluffy to dark and angsty. Oddly, while I can't do angst fiction or film right now, a little art is okay. They also have a fic in progress called "Fractal," which I haven't read because I can't really do body horror at the moment. You can find that on AO3.

#miraculous ladybug #marichat may #fanfic #my writing #australet789 #squirrellygirlart #marichat #Miraculous Acts of Kindness

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luc4ri0 · 6 years ago

Text

So,in a stroke of good mood i decided to sit down and type some sort of year review/objectives for next year,just to have it documented here.

this year was definitely a wild ride,a year of some definite solid improvement in my mental health.

starting with a short but important “relationship” with a younger girl who set the train in motion.

for the first time someone was madly in love with me,i couldnt possibly compreend, after several failed attempts my whole life to win the heart of people i met throughout my life,i finally did it,i met someone amazing who felt so much affection for me that i actually didnt know how to respond,even though i had the intention to have a relationship in the first place.

that was an incredible experience,it felt like after so much suffering,the “rainbow after the storm” finally happened, i was in absolute bliss, she liked anime,she liked games,she was adorable,she was caring,she was lewd just like me,there was nothing to complain...

with that newfound strenght i set out to show my age by becoming a good example for her to follow,i did the best i could to make her understand how incredible she was,and how confused i was about her actually liking me.

i was roped by my mom to enter highschool again,after 3 years without going to school,in a newfound happiness that felt like the perfect oportunity,i was a 21 year old boy being looked at like i was amazing,so i started highschool again.

and it was incredible,i felt like i was regaining my lost teen years,i felt incredibly powerful,like the world was mine to do as i please...but as time went by,i felt scared,i regret giving up on that girl,but she was 16,and i panicked because i thought i could never live up to the expectations of her parents,specially after her father saw her giving me a goodbye kiss..

but in a way,she was incredibly infatuated,it was like each of us were fueling a really lonesome part of our personalities,we were both incredibly needy,and the more i fueled her neediness,the more she fueled mine.

but it didnt cancel it out,on the contrary,it just made things even harder,because now her dad had an incredibly wrong image of me,because he was very overprotective (also used to be a trucker,so that scared me)

dialing back a bit,i was surprised by how i actually managed to join a social group in my class on day one,and there was this really cute gay guy who i kept flirting back and forth for about a couple of months of school time.

it even led to a successful trip to his house for my first ever netflix and chill session,it was incredible,me,the shy guy who couldnt even say lewd words next to girls,suddenly managed to flirt my way into a netflix and chill session!

we watched lucifer,it was really good (although later on it started getting predictable),and he actually said he liked my body hair!? it was a really weird situation where the thing i hated the most about my body was called sexy by another person,we cuddled a lot,and he gave me a few kisses,but no tongue (later on he mentioned he wanted to kiss me more intensely)

with a few months passing by in school,there was a class president election,and suddenly i thought “i never once tried to do anything that actively tries to help a class i was in...maybe this could be fun for a change?”

so me and this cute guy who i had a nice time with (which didnt lead to anything more than just kisses that one time i might add) volunteered to it,he ended up winning and i got vice-president (because we were literally the only ones who volunteered)

i was a bit bummed out at first because i REALLY wanted to be class president,but at least i would be vice together with this cute boy i was getting super attached to.

but thats where things started to go downhill.

or at least thats where people SAY things went downhill.

around the time the election happened,i finally mustered up the courage to go back to therapy,after 3 or 4 years of wallowing in my own thoughts i did what i promised my best friend i would do,and started treatment,and god damn,was it a relief,i noticed instantly how much i missed having a therapist (as i had one for 3 years straight when i was growing up)

but as sessions went by,and i started touching more sensitive topics,my mood started to waver a lot according to the session

i started overthinking everything,as it usually is with analizing yourself in therapy

but that started getting the best of me,and thats when i finally started the oficial treatment with actual medication. and as youre probably aware of,starting to take anxiety/depression meds can do a lot of weird things on how you act

specially now that i was taking it for an indefinite time,as opposed to only taking it for a week once when i was very young

and,although i acted out of my best intentions,telling everybody in our class group in whatsapp about all the tests and posting pictures of each day’s material for people who couldnt come,somewhere along the way,people started getting annoyed with me,allegedly being “too pushy with the good responsible student act”

later on a weird occurance happened where a new classmate who’d just transfered accidentally posted a selfie to our whatsapp group (we had one for informative class stuff exclusively and another one for social chatting and doing basically whatever the fuck)

at the time,my phone was having a lot of charging problems,leaving my only option to charge its battery directly,meaning i had to charge my battery all afternoon with my phone turned off,and turning on my phone before leaving for school

so i turn on my phone as im one step away from leaving my house (and i didnt have a data plan,so i only had internet while i was at home),and see a simple selfie in the wrong group,with no comment added by anyone or an “oops wrong chat” message,just a message from two hours earlier with a selfie,so,as vice-president what do i do? i ask “why is there a selfie in this group?” because the only rule of the group was informative class stuff only,no memes or chatting.

thats literally it,word by word,what i said,so,after an honest question with simple curiosity,i leave home,not too worried,expecting that “she probably will say sorry and delete it,no big deal”,i arrive at the school and theres an uproar

the class president says hes having to deal with the mess ive made,and im completely confused,it was such a simple message that it didnt even cross my mind that it could be the reason,so there i am absolutely lost on what i couldve done (and if you struggle with anxiety you can guess i was in absolute panic)

so he shows me the chat log,and theres a huge wall of messages in the informative group talking shit about me,calling me names and complaining about how rude i was,and how i attacked the poor new classmate who just didnt know about the rules of the chat group

and there i am,more lost than i was before knowing the reason for the uproar,obviously feeling like shit because i had absolutely zero intention to hurt anyone,and honestly couldnt understand how i offended someone with literally one message

and mind you,the girl in question wasnt even offended,in one of the voice messages in the group she was laughing her ass off at the whole situation (so in a way there was a lot of white knighting from the class),but as i should,i go to the girl anyway and ask her if she was offended,and apologize for any misunderstandings

but like i said before,this was the start of the downfall,from that point on there were several classmates who set out their goal to hate my guts,one in particular looked at me with incredible hatred every time she passed by me,like,the type of person who you feel intimidated just by their stare alone

she would always be rude for no reason with me,talking shit about me at any given time she saw me in the vicinity (mind you,behind my back,but in clear sight,like i couldnt obviously hear)

and after some trouble trying to understand the whole situation and process why i was being hated by a bunch of people for not only something that wasnt offensive,but very strongly so

but i move on,more or less,time passes by and people end up not mentioning it anymore,but later on,as i had already burried the subject in the back of my mind,a class council happens and the teacher asks us to bring up anything troubling us that she could mention to each teacher,you know,normal school stuff

the teacher then asks if the whole selfie situation was handled and finished,because apparently some people went to the principal complain about me and the whole situation and it was archived as a problem

and some of the classmates that hated me bring up the whole argument again about how ignorant and rude i was,and god,i tried so hard to block out the situation in my memory,but my anxiety came waving back with full force

after that point the whole situation kept nagging me at the back of my mind,trying to compreend where i went wrong,and how what i said couldve possibly have been all that people were claiming it to be

and as months passed by,it started eating me up,and around the middle of the year (at winter break,which is the equivalent to the 2 weeks of summer break people get in the us,but our seasons switched) im looking at the chat group and something comes from deep bellow in my mind and comes out completely unfiltered

i post a photo of my school grades with the message,word by word: “post a photo of your grades so i can boost my ego”,as my grades were excellent and i was fed up with all the passive agressiveness half of the class was giving me.

granted,that was an incredibly dick move on my part,but i have this really bad habit where once im at my limit with someone talking shit about me for an absurdly stupid reason that makes no sense,i just sorta play into it,to “see if they like it if i really become the evil they so claim to see in me”

i could hide behind the fact that it is a coping mechanism to feel empowered for a short period of time,since i spent my entire life being abused mentally and physically by my mom,but honestly,it was just me having a breakdown

obviously the message caused a huge uproar and people were rightfuly mad this time around,but i just laughed it off,because they reacted exactly how i expected them to react,claiming having definite proof of how much of an arrogant asshole i am

but i was still having a breakdown nonetheless,so it didnt take long for me to feel incredible regret for fueling the exact opposite image of myself

and,right after we come back to school from that short 2 week break,im leaving school like normal and i overhear a conversation between the people who dont like me,saying “now hes gonna feel it,im want a certain someone to quit being the vice president” (obviously talking about me),and the other girl says “quit being vice class president? i want him to quit living”,literally right as im walking by them

and at that single moment when i heard those last words so many emotions passed through my mind in a flash,i wanted to explode,i wanted to yell,i wanted to cry,but i just passed by silently,and as soon as i got home,those words kept echoing in my head,ive never heard anyone say anything so mean to me before,ive always been everybody’s friend in every class ive been to,at the most ive had some annoying pricks trying to flex on me for not having a girlfriend or being a shut-in

and that fucking destroys me,it was on a friday too,so i had a whole 3 nights with that shaking around inside my head,so i set out for first thing on monday to complain about bullying,prepared to tell the whole story behind it and how unfair it was but then,something beats me to the punch...

im called to the supervisors office,she wants to talk to me,i can already guess the reason,the girls probably schemed to complain about me,but it was worse than i imagined,they actually shared around the class on that friday a petition to remove my position as the vice class president

and im absolutely distraught as i look at the list of names,there were so fucking many,granted my class doesnt even have that many students that attend to class regularly,so about 8 or more of the 15 or so students of my class that frequently go to school sign it

and there i am,i received an “impeachment”,de-throned,the person who did their very best to help everyone in the class with absolutely everything,claimed to be arrogant.

but moving on,the situation is solved,people set out to hate me,i go through the year like normal,talking mainly to my two friends in class.

and here i am,in my summer break,passing with flying colors and excellent grades

in fact,at no point i had to re-take a test,the only ones i did were because one teacher in particular forces everyone to re-take them

when finals came around,no matter what happened in them i would still be fine,i didnt even NEED the finals,thats how good my grades were

overall,this year had its ups and downs,but as my therapist described it,this year was really hard for me because this was the year i rose from the ashes like a phoenix,in the social sense,and im very proud,but that aint ending there!

next year i have at least 3 things i plan to do (aside from obviously getting my official highschool certificate): im going to do a profficiency test in english to make it official that i am fluent in english as my second language (which can be used for tons of things,specially making your curriculum fancier),im going to work all year arround to gather a ton of money with the intention to be ready to move out on my own by the end of next year (or the beginning of the next next year) and last but not least:

i will turn on fuck it mode,i will help 0 people in my class,i will do all essays and group projects alone,and my notebooks wont leave my posession a single time.

this year i did my fucking best to help absolutely everyone,even the people who hated me,to give everyone a chance to succeed this school year,and all i got back was being shafted by almost the entire class for no reason,so yea,if they really hate me so much,they will fucking miss how helpful i am next year

i want 2k19 to be MY year,i finally feel like im myself after so long,so i want to do stuff I WANT,this year i already got my first tattoo,next year im getting another,and i will use the money i earn to buy stuff exclusively for me,im not gonna help with bills of whatever,its my money and my mom cannot make me give it to her,and if she complains i will literally use my own money to buy a router that only i can use.

so yea,bring on 2019,im fucking ready to rumble!

#myposts #that re-telling went on longer than i expected #pma motherfuckers

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fionatlux · 7 years ago

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The parody recaps continue! I meant to watch Episode 4 last night but got distracted by reading Kingfisher by Patricia McKillip. Arthuriana! Motorcycles! Quests! Lady knights! Evil molecular gastronomy!

Anyway.

Episode 1

Episode 2

STILL STAR-CROSSED, EPISODE 3

[The one where things are finally funny on purpose!]

A Tasteful Ladybrunch, The Palace

ISABELLA: I am so happy that it is socially acceptable to brunch with my BFF again!

ROSALINE: I am so happy to be marrying Benvolio!

ISABELLA: Boy, are you a rotten liar.

ROSALINE: He is witty! handsome! not a blackmailing jerkface!

ESCALUS: Good, because I just popped in to say I moved up the wedding.

ROSALINE: SO HAPPY.

[Escalus and Isabella have somehow contrived to match their outfits to their respective backdrop wall colors. Both their outfits are beautiful, actually, well done costume designer. I have no idea what period they’re meant to be from—I have accepted that the show takes a Reign approach to historical accuracy—but they’re stunning.]

ROSALINE: I hope these mimosas are bottomless because I am definitely going to need more than one drink.

The Throne Room, The Palace

CAPULET: Forty thousand ducats in exchange for my niece or we walk!

MONTAGUE: Forty thousand? You can take your forty thousand and shove it up your—

ISABELLA: Amazing. If you ordered them to jump off the Ponte Pietra, they’d argue about who got to go first.

ESCALUS: Don’t tempt me.

ESCALUS: Pay up, Montague, I don’t want to look poor in front of the other city-states!

[Capulet: 1, Montague: 0]

CAPULET: Oh yeah, also my architect fell off a scaffold so we can’t have the wedding and betrothal there. It is very tragic, no one regrets more than I, etc., etc.

[Montague actually looks impressed at Capulet’s performance.]

MONTAGUE: Uh-huh, sure. Also your cathedral is an eyesore.

ISABELLA: No problem! Let’s hold the betrothal in Execution Square! I’m sure this will totally work!

[Isabella is a superb frustrated tyrant but a terrible wedding planner.]

Sister Time, The Room Formerly Known as Juliet’s Room, Casa Capulet

[For once, we do not CGI-zoom but enjoy several shots of the magnificent exterior location!]

LIVIA: I still say it’s better than going to a nunnery. You’re not even religious!

ROSALINE: I just want to live my own life!

[Mail call!]

LIVIA: It’s a three-page invitation to a picnic! And also Sonnet 18! “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more… temperate…”

THE NURSE: Not very good, is it?

[Rosaline is likewise unimpressed. Even Livia is underwhelmed. I suspect she thinks “temperate” in this context refers to Rosaline’s drinking habits. Hilariously, nobody in Verona thinks this is a good poem, except possibly Montague. Speaking of whom…]

Maison Montague

[Montague punctuates his statements by using his nephew for moving crossbow target practice. He has surprisingly good comedic timing.]

BENVOLIO: You sent her a sonnet?!?!

MONTAGUE: You bet I did! And I paid the town crier to shout it from the rooftops! [Montague: 1, Benvolio: 0]

BENVOLIO: This is a stupid plan.

MONTAGUE: And you’re going on a picnic! [Montague: 2, Benvolio: 0.]

BENVOLIO: You know, you could have had this alliance without the bride-price or stupid poetry if only Romeo and Juliet had not died.

[Montague: 2, Benvolio: 1. This is clearly a hit, a palpable hit. Low blow, B.]

Casa Capulet

[Giles Capulet is haunted by the murder of the architect, visions of his dead daughter, and also by the moneylender, who keeps sending him reminder notes. His evident pain is a nice parallel to Montague’s in the previous scene.]

Some Tavern

[The show has suddenly remembered that Mercutio, Romeo, and Benvolio were inseparable BFFs, and they should probably show Benvolio being broody about this.]

SOME DRUNKARD: *reads Sonnet 18*

SOME OTHER DRUNKARD: *makes a crude joke about Romeo, tongues, and Capulets*

BENVOLIO: *flips table*

Casa Capulet

[In the wake of his ghost sighting, Capulet is disturbed by the shrine The Nurse and Lady Capulet have set up.]

THE NURSE: There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy!

CAPULET: Can you just… not?

Maison Montague

BENVOLIO: Everybody thinks I wrote that clichéd, stupid poem! This is intolerable!

MONTAGUE: Too bad. Ready to pick out wedding invitations?

[Montague: 3, Benvolio: 1. Get it together, B.!]

Picnic Time, Some Ridiculously Beautiful Pavilion Right On the Water

[Seriously, this location is absurdly beautiful. Probably gets mosquitoes, though.]

ROSALINE: I hate picnics and lying.

BENVOLIO: You wanted to be a nun, right?

ROSALINE: You… were actually listening?

BENVOLIO: I am sensitive. Don’t worry, I have a plan! See, I know this abbess...

[I have SO MANY QUESTIONS, starting with: How does Benvolio know this abbess? And, given his reputation, how does Benvolio know this abbess, if you know what I mean?]

ESCALUS: I am here to check on you two lovebirds and your giant croquembouche!

ESCALUS: I also brought all the ambassadors. To show off your love. Which symbolizes civic harmony and imperviousness to invasion.

ISABELLA: Well, shall we go talk about important international news?

ESCALUS: Let the men talk first, Izzy, your ladygossip can wait!

[Escalus, you are a terrible politician and not much of a brother. Somebody give Isabella a city to rule.]

The Palace

[Dramatic zoom on the back of Isabella’s well-coiffed head!]

MONTAGUE: I have noticed that you are a lady of intelligence and ambition. I have also noticed that Capulet’s cathedral would look great with my name on it. Finally, I have noticed that you like the arts.

ISABELLA: Put up a big fresco of a lady saint being badass, and we’re in business.

MONTAGUE: Done!

ISABELLA: AW YISS.

[Capulet: 1, Montague: 4, Isabella: POWERSTRUT that looks suspiciously like a nascent MURDERWALK.]

The Slytherin Dormitories Lady Capulet’s Room, Casa Capulet

CAPULET: Do you think our daughter is truly gone?

LADY CAPULET: I think I’m going to ominously clutch my rosary and vow revenge on Montague!

The Garden of Moonlit Walks and Exposition, Casa Capulet

PARIS: What a lovely spot for some midnight romance!

LIVIA: Unfortunately I must decline. I am a servant but also a lady.

PARIS: But my eyes are super blue in this light! You hardly notice that my hair is too short for the ‘90s floppy look!

LIVIA: Compelling point, but no. To my great regret.

The Brothel

BENVOLIO: Let’s run away to Milan! I will be a blacksmith and you can open your own brothel!

STELLA THE KINDLY PROSTITUTE: Baby, this is a stupid plan, but I will let you down easy because I am a nice person.

The Palace

ESCALUS: I sound like I’m questioning the whole idea of rulership by divine right, but actually I just feel bad about making Rosaline marry a Montague.

ISABELLA: I’m questioning the whole idea of male primogeniture, myself.

Casa Capulet

[Rosaline is all ready to sneak out to the convent, as per Benvolio’s plan, but then she gets a better idea.]

ROSALINE: Restore my sister to her rightful status and I will somehow become good at lying! I will pretend the shit out of this betrothal!

CAPULET: Deal!

Livia’s Room, Casa Capulet

ROSALINE: So I stayed and made a deal so that you can be a lady and get married!

LIVIA: You… really didn’t have to do that?

ROSALINE: Besides, I would miss you if I ran away to a nunnery!

LIVIA: I’m thinking you should have reversed the order of those two points. But I would miss you also.

Betrothal Day, Some Oddly Smallish Public Square (Which May or May Not Be Execution Square, It’s Not Clear)

[Rosaline and Benvolio are all smiles and fancy clothes. Congratulations on looking gorgeous, you two!]

ESCALUS: Do you take delight in torturing me?

ROSALINE: Well, you did break my heart and force me to marry into the family that murdered my father, so… you really don’t have any room to talk, here.

ISABELLA: I am a PR genius!

[Stella the Kindly Prostitute shows up to view the betrothal, and because I have read the book, I have a very bad feeling about the probability of her continued good health. But no, actually she is just here to exchange sad looks with Benvolio.]

[Benvolio and Rosaline get mostly betrothed, but suddenly a cart trundles into the square bearing them in effigy! Some masked dude shoots a fire arrow! All is chaos! Then, explosions!]

ESCALUS: To the river! We don’t have an organized fire service! Get the Princess to safety!

ISABELLA: No, I must stay with the people! And the badly injured Venetian ambassador!

ROSALINE: Quick, he went that way, across the rooftops!

BENVOLIO: I like a woman with your crime-fighting instincts! Let’s go!

[Benvolio severs the betrothal ribbon tying their hands together, so they can run better. It is highly symbolic! It is also ironic, because this is the beginning of a beautiful partnership.]

Some Precarious Rooftop

[They catch the dude. They duel! The dude is unmasked! It is he who assaulted Rosaline in Episode 1, which Benvolio helpfully reminds us of, who was also Some Other Drunken Dude from the tavern earlier, who is also vaguely affiliated with House Montague. They struggle! The dude falls to his death!]

ROSALINE: Well, crap.

The Secret Sickroom, Casa Capulet

LIVIA: I am, not unreasonably, traumatized by what just happened!

PARIS: Say what you will about my hair, I am amazing at hugs.

Some Alleyway, Verona

ROSALINE: The explosion was directed at everybody, not just one house…

BENVOLIO: And this dude was an illiterate peasant, not a mastermind, so if we can figure out who is behind it…

ROSALINE: …that will stop the fighting and we won’t have to get married!

BOTH: WE ARE GENIUSES. Gorgeous, athletic geniuses. Things are finally looking up for Team Not Getting Married!

The Badly Injured Venetian Ambassador’s Deathbed, The Palace

ISABELLA: This is a PR disaster!

Juliet’s Tomb, Casa Capulet

CAPULET: My poor, dead baby girl!

JULIET’S GHOST? SPECTER? HALLUCINATION?: Beware!

[DUN DUN DUN!]

Next Episode

#still star crossed #ssc recaps

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