#was thinking about doing a trick version as well but turns out I’m pretty busy this last week rip

[shookethdev]

Hey @tinyfairart!! I was your Secret Skeleton for the DCAH2023 event! I had a lot of fun drawing these guys, and I love the concept of your AU Everlasting Orbit!!

Below the cut is just the uncolored and flats/unedited version

[whump-and-other-misfortunes]

No Place Feels Like Home

a version of this from whumpee's perspective, with ocs cuz i'm planning on turning this into a series <3

cw age gap, intimate whumper, power dynamic

The freezing air outside was a stark contrast to the inside of the house. The heat of so many bodies pressed together in the basement had left Thomas sweaty and flushed in his wool sweater, but now, standing on the porch, he wished he’d worn more layers. Winters in Jersey were unforgiving. He took another drag from his cigarette in hopes of keeping warm—it didn’t quite do the trick, but the burning in his chest was a distraction, at least. 

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

Thomas looked up in surprise at the guy walking toward him, leather jacket over a Refused shirt. Dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and he was wearing the kind of smirk that Thomas knew would get him into trouble if he wasn’t careful. He'd always been a sucker for bad boys. 

He held the other man’s gaze, raising the cigarette to his lips again. Thomas blew out a cloud of smoke before replying, “What makes you think I have a bedtime?” Surely, he didn’t look that young. 

The guy leaned one shoulder against the wall next to him, leaving just enough distance to be casual. “I don’t mind,” he said, not answering the question. “I mean, we do all ages shows for a reason. I think it’s great for kids to see live music.”

What a jerk—this guy had to be fucking with him. Thomas gave him as scathing a glare as he could manage. “I’m eighteen, actually. But thanks for your concern.” 

“Sorry, you just look young is all.” He was still smiling teasingly. “Didn’t mean to offend you—maybe we could start over? I’m Mateo Ruiz. But everyone calls me Matty.” 

“I know, I came to see your band,” Thomas said, taking another drag on his cigarette. 

He shivered when Mateo looked him up and down. “Yeah? Didn’t realize you were a fan.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Mateo hummed, eyes shining with amusement. “Just don’t look like you’re in the scene. Where’s your sweater from, pretty boy—The Gap?” 

It was, actually, which made Thomas fume even more. “My friend Liz put me onto you guys. She’s really into hardcore stuff, she played me your CD.”

“You’re gonna love it, I promise,” she’d insisted, grinning as they sat cross-legged on her bed. “These guys are gonna be big someday.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “That’s what you said about The Unholy Pizza Parlor Apocalypse. And they’ve already broken up.” 

Liz smacked him on the arm. “Okay, but I mean it this time. The melodic hardcore stuff is totally taking off. Aaaaannd the guys are wicked cute.” 

“You’re sick,” Thomas said when she wiggled her eyebrows at him. 

“Oh shit, Liz?” Mateo’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Like, Liz that does the Soundboard zine?” 

Thomas nodded, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall behind him before flicking it over the porch railing. “Yeah, she's here somewhere. Probably chatting up your bandmate—she has a thing for bassists.” 

Mateo nodded, pushing off the wall and closing the distance between them. “And how ‘bout you?” he teased, looking down at Thomas with big, dark eyes he could get lost in. “You look like the type who’d be into singers.” 

“I don’t know...singers are too cocky,” he shot back. “And they’re not as good with their fingers.”

Mateo laughed at that, flashing him a devilish smirk. “You’re funny, kid... Never told me your name, by the way.” 

“Thomas.” The chill that ran down his spine had more to do with the hungry way Mateo was looking at him than the February air. His heart pounded in his ears. 

“Thomas,” Mateo repeated, the name dripping from his tongue like honey. “Suits you.” 

His hands fidgeted with the bottom of his sweater, and he wondered if he should light another cigarette to keep them busy. 

Mateo reached out and brushed Thomas’s hair behind his ear, not paying any mind to the people milling around outside. “Well, I’ll tell you a secret, Tommy,” he said, lowering his voice. “I kind of have a thing for preppy boys who shop at The Gap.” 

“It’s just Thomas,” he whispered, throat dry. 

“Listen.” Fingers trailed down his jaw, and then Mateo’s hand was cupping his cheek. “I haven’t seen you at any shows before, but you seem cool. There’s an afterparty at my place if you wanna come.” 

Thomas hesitated. “I don’t know...I have class in the morning.” 

“Your call. But I'd really like it if you were there.” 

Mateo’s eyes drifted down to his lips for a moment, making the unspoken implication in his statement clear. Despite Thomas’s nervousness, he made no move to back away. “Yeah?” he breathed. 

“Yeah—come party with the rockstars.” He leaned in, breath hot against Thomas’s ear when he spoke. “I promise you’ll have a good time, honey.” 

“Okay. I’ll come,” Thomas agreed. He felt a sick thrill run through him as he wondered if Mateo was as passionate in...other ways...as he was when he performed. 

The singer grinned, fingers ghosting down Thomas’s neck. “Awesome. Let me pack up my equipment and then we’ll get going.”

taglist: @morning-star-whump  

[erinhime83]

Okay…so…before anyone jumps on me, I need to make this clear that this isn’t anything serious.  I couple of months ago, I got my muse semi on Mirror Image, as it tends to go from time to time (maybe I heard a song that I associate with it?), and I was just musing around with it.  I mean, the concept behind it is pretty good, and I was entertaining the idea of how they got to Melohida in the first place.  The idea of them popping into different bodies came up, and I was laughing at the idea of Sethos being a nearly fifty year old person because @anijeltaventryery is…um, you know, is a similar situation.

And then I was like wait…OMG, that is brilliant!

And then went on a couple of rampage about it, and then abandoned the project until yesterday, when it crossed my mind again.

Now the whole reason I’m posting this is just because I’m sure the others involved in the story would be curious about the idea, and because, well, I really like the ideas that went with it (the ones that I remember).  But the thing to note is that these are not the original characters that were created, but rather literally my own versions.  (I was told I couldn’t use the original names, which I understand completely, but it’s annoying, because after nearly twenty years, I, of course, associate the names with the characters.)

Okay, so left to right, we have Shizuka, Sekani, Aurelia, Friga, Geoffrey, and Astrid.

With Sekani, Aurelia, and Friga, I attempted to come up with similar names as the original versions, but probably failed at that, lol.

In any case, the general idea is that these characters are all in their thirties, with the exception of Shizuka, who’s twenty-nine.  They all happen to have reasons to be around an archeological dig – Shizuka is an actual archeologist, Sekani is her husband who surprised her with a visit, Aurelia I’m not sure around but I’m thinking she is some sort of manager there, Friga was there photographing the finds, and Geoffrey was there researching a novel he was writing.

They were all in one specific spot one day when they were isekaied off to Melohdia with absolutely no recollection of their past and how they got there.  They wind up in their Electus Uni’s bodies, all of them teens, because they all went through with a suicide pact at the same time. 

They do eventually figure out who they were, but it’s a slow process.  The thing of it is, though, that none of them have family to go back to – Shizuka’s pretty much disowned her for marrying Sekani, Sekani left home at eighteen and hasn’t looked back, Aurelia was raised by her grandmother who passed away about ten years ago, Friga recently lost her father, who raised her alone, and Geoffrey is an orphan who was passed around from foster home to foster home growing up. Sure, they have some friends and colleagues, but nothing really connecting them to Earth.

Shizuka and Sekani do figure out who each other are, which kickstarts the process of remembering everything, but until then, they are attracted to each other, but never act on it.  They remember they’re married (they were going through a bit of a rough patch prior to being isekaied, mostly because Shizuka’s been busy with work and Sekani bounces between jobs – they still love each other and were making it work, but they were drifting a slight bit) and that they love their spouse, but nothing beyond that.  It supposed to be one of those things were you’re sort of rooting for Shizuka and Sekani to get together, but also not, since Shizuka’s married and trying to get back to her husband, and then whom!, turns out Sekani was her husband the whole time!  And that, OMG, the others were people Shizuka already knew as well!

But where dose Astrid fit into all of this?  Well, Astrid was isekaied about two years before the others, and Astrid is just an alias.  In reality, she’s Leilani from the island kingdom, and she was tricked into posing as the Baldurnan (for the lack of a kingdom name) Uni.  She grew up with toxic parents, and thus, is very eager to make people like her, which is why she gets sucked into the scheme.  Of course, there already is a Baldurnan Uni, so this created a wee bit of a problem.  But Lelani is a fully actualized Uni, and the people of Melohida have no idea how any of this works, so they assume that Friga is a fake.

Which then causes all sorts of problems with the other Uni, since now people are beginning to doubt them, which leads to their suicide pact.  The dumb thing is Astrid looks nothing like a Baldernan, which is a Scandinavian based kingdom, and yet no one picked up on that.  But that’s mostly because the island she comes from is largely undiscovered at this point.

The plot is basically the same – they’re forced to fight Atalo until it comes to light that the real villain is his father and all that nonsense.  They also find that they can use magical powers – Shizuka has a weird fighting ability that she’s able to use any weapon she touches, Sekani is the healer, Aurelia ha holy powers, Friga is stupidly strong and also an axe welder, and Geoffrey is a magee.  I’m not sure what Astrid’s deal is, but I guess I can make her deadly accurate with projectiles?  That works.

As for the designs themselves, I basically tried to distance them from the designs of the original characters with the exceptions of my characters.  So Sekani has wavy hair, Aurelia’s bun is on the top of her head and not the nape of her neck, and Friga as straight hair, lol.  Woo, such differences.  Friga originally had a skirt as well, but then I had the idea of what is she was the sort of girl who prefers pants?  Because they all do end up modifying their outfits slightly. (Capris and undershirt for Shizuka, pants and shirt for Seknai, undershirt for Aurelia, and undershirt for Geoffrey.)  It’s just that Friga modifies her’s the most.   

And the reason why they have colored hair is because of the fact that they’re in different bodies, and that’s the standard for the people.  Like, I sort of wanted to also do the Guide designs, but figured I’d toss this out just because I had it.  But Ariadne, when she brought them over, did shift their eye colors to their original colors for whatever reason.  (She also sends them with important jewelry/tattoo, with the expectation of the wedding bands, which appear after they figure out who each other are.)

Honestly, I’m pleased with how they all turned out.  I mean, I’ll most likely never do anything with this, because it feels wrong to use other characters, but at least the designs turned out pretty!               

[lightcreators]

Slight  awareness  concerning  her  wrapped  him  as  she  answered  him.  Oh,  nothing  was  to  be  blamed  towards  her:  she  was  doing  her  best  for  reassuring  a  stranger  in  middle  of  a  conversation  …  when  he  barely  let  people  in  for  started,  had  the  horrible  flaw  to  be  an  heartless  asshole  who  easily  getting  himself  wrapped  inside  his  MIB  role  he  usually  used  it  as  an  social  barrier  every  time  he  was  hanging  somewhere  …  and  he  wasn’t  accustomed  to  listening  to  kind  words.  He  wasn’t  the  kind  of  guy  who  needed  them  ---  well,  put  inside  another  manner,  Featherine  had  never  stopped  to  offering  him  that  kind  of  kindness  even  during  a  time  when  he  merited  any  (when  he  had  put  that  on  her  obsession  over  his  name,  or  how  she  needed  him  to  be  an  pawn  accepting  all  manipulations  coming  from  that  witch),  and  still  desired  praying  to  perceiving  Battler  Ushiromiya  personality  though  him  (in  which  only  the  Golden  Witch  and  accidentally  his  sister  were  welcomed  to  receive,  though  sometimes  he  allowed  some  exceptions).  Nevertheless,  at  the  current  moment,  if  he  acted  as  he  was  usually  do,  without  a  once  of  particular  emotion  or  interest,  it  will  be  counter-productive.  It  didn’t  mean  all  that  insisting  goodness  would  actually  work  out  on  him.  Pretty  much  all  his  alternative  selves  beyond  his  future  self  would  have  thanked  her  for  the  consideration.  It  wouldn’t  have  taken  long.  It  wouldn’t  be  like  the  journey  she  was  going  to  experience.  ❝  My  case  is  an  bit  different  of  whatever  human  being  you  might  crossing  path.  Travelling  escapes  me  of  boredom,  and  even  when  it’s  focused  on  business,  I  don’t  want  to  lose  my  time.  ❞  Approach  had  to  be  transformed  for  turning  it  easier  for  each  other,  and  giving  her  security  of  a  listening  ear.  Every  slight  time  Featherine  was  searching  to  opening  that  hidden  gentleness  within  his  soul,  interest  was  lost  as  he  reacted  with  exasperation.  He  didn’t  give  a  shit  about  all  these  nice  emotions  offered  straight  up  to  his  face  ---  does  it  would  avoid  him  not  be  a  horrible  asshole?  Does  it  would  stop  him  if  he  wanted  to  have  fun  in  his  manners?  Does  it  think  it  would  spare  Featherine  of  whatever  remarks  he  had  to  told ?   He  had  never  stopped though.

Still,  since  he  wasn’t  tied  of  an  MIB  role  for  the  current  being,  and  could  always  tricking  that  role  differently  during  their  conversation,  indifference  lowered  down  for  exposing  playfulness.  Though,  a  mocking  smile  wrapped  his  expression  concerning  these  what  ifs.  ❝  All  these  what  ifs  aren’t  obscure  concept  from  my  perspective,  and  it’s  better  when  there  was  someone  inclined  to  be  blamed~  ❞  He  was  the  worst  version  of  all  his  alternatives  selves,  there  was  no  one  more  villainous  than  him  in  all  versions  of  the  person  he  could  have  becoming.  At  least,  every  one  of  his  alternative  selves  knew  since  he  was  existing  there  was  a  degree  of  evilness  they  could  reach,  but  they  remained  in  a  certain  degree  of  goodness  for  be  spared.  ❝  Besides,  if  I  don’t  like  something  that  might  happening  to  me,  I  will  simply  remove  it  on  the  picture~  ❞  He  mused  with  further  playfulness.  Minus  Battler  Ushiromiya  of  course,  that  boy  can  living  the  hell  he  had  been  experiencing  in  all  corners,  it  would  be  a  wonderful  show!  Another  playful  laugh  followed.  Really,  she  wasn’t  to  be  blamed  over  all  her  wonderful  efforts.  ❝  Concerning  the  risks,  I  do  think  I’m  on  the  right  track  for  that,  oh,  with  the  reward  too.  I  really  appreciate  your  efforts  to  cheer  me  up,  really.  Are  you  saying  this  because  personally  living  life  to  the  fullest  is  what  you  are  desiring  the  most  ?  Are  you  scared  of  facing  further  turmoil   ?  You  might  use  travelling  as  an  escape  too,  am  I  right  ?  My  experiences  might  be  something  immensely  amusing   but  I’m  sure  yours  also  give  you  another  view ~  ❞

⸻ "well, it's good you focus on the exciting parts." she didn't quite know him well enough to really understand who he was or where he came from. mostly giving him her own experiences and feelings in hopes that something would hopefully be heard. her own discoveries of her goddesshood, and trying to embrace that part of herself was hard. not really comprehending the damage she could do if she let herself run free like most. "it's also good to take those chances and make sure you squash the 'what if's. they aren't good to hold onto. living life to the fullest, even dealing with the risks, sometimes they come with rewards." ⸻

[jeonbunnie]

better off

pairing: reader x jeongguk

@moonchild1​ requested: “I was just listening to better off by ariana (one of my favourites) so I thought I’d recommend it for a angst and smut fic with jungkook the lyrics says it all…”

summary: things get messy after a one night stand with your labelmate

genre: angst; smut; celebrity!au;18+;

soundtrack: better off—ariana grande (highly recommend listening to this version )

content/warnings: fake dating; friends with benefits; fuckboy!jeongguk; swearing; mentions of sex

a/n: this took me entirely too long to write 😭 I made so many drafts and I still cut in in half smh. also not beta’d bc I just need it to get this story out of my head!! 

word count: 3.3k

♪ I’m better off without him. I’m better off being a wild one♪

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You jumped and let out a little curse when the champagne sloshed out of the pretty flute in your hands. You’re taken back by the sweet, familiar voice cutting through the afternoon quiet.

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to startle you..”

You’d know that voice anywhere. Of all the places you worried about running into your ex—in the studio, at the label, on the red carpet—you never imagined running into Jeongguk on the rooftop of a stranger’s party.

Your ex. If you could even call him that. Your relationship had been little more than a PR stunt. But you couldn’t avoid him forever, not in this business. You set the flute on the balcony and turned around. One way or another, you were always going to have this conversation; you just thought you’d have more time to put away your feelings before facing him again.

Jeongguk looked good. Breathtaking in an all-white fit that made him stick out amongst the glittering metallic hues of the partygoers downstairs. With his hair swept back from his face, he was handsome as ever and pretty like a heartbreak.

“It’s okay,” you said. “You just caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come up here. . .” You thought no one would miss you from the party downstairs, that you’d finally get some time to yourself. But you should have known better.

The second you set foot in the city, Jeongguk was all you could think about. He was always on your mind, and it wasn’t just because his face was on every billboard. Of course, Jeongguk was at this party. You might as well have conjured him up.

Seeing him here felt like your mind was playing tricks on you, but it was only a matter of time. You were constantly spinning in each other’s orbits, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

That strange magnetic pull led Jeongguk right here, right back to you. After the distance the oceans put between you on tour, you convinced yourself that you were over him. But instead, you felt weak just looking at him.

“It’s good to see you again,” you started, defaulting to small talk.

Jeongguk quirked an eyebrow. “Do you really mean that? I know you’ve been avoiding me.”

“Don’t be silly,” you said, voice calm and even, a technique you picked up on through all those press tours and interviews where you had to conceal the truth. “I’m not avoiding you.”

Of course, that was a lie—you’d been avoiding Jeongguk ever since you slept together.

You couldn’t deny it. Your actions made it obvious; you declined all press events since you’ve parted ways, hoping to avoid any headaches it might cause to be in the same room with Hollywood’s Golden Boy.

Jeongguk knew you were lying because he knew all your tells (how you fidgeted with your hands and bit your lip, how you couldn’t look him in the eyes). He also knew he was in love with you and had been for some time now, so it broke his heart to know you were purposely keeping your distance.

But he wouldn’t call you out on it. Jeongguk couldn’t believe you were here. Really here. Not dream or his imagination, but standing just a few feet away. Any sudden moves, and just like last time, you’d bolt away; he wasn’t gonna make the same mistake twice. Now that you were finally here, he wouldn’t screw up his one chance to talk to you. So instead of calling your bluff, he said: “Why didn’t you tell me you were back in LA?”

“I’ve just been really busy,” you said, a convenient truth. You’d been hiding behind promotions of your new album for months now, blaming your absence on your tour, bouncing from city to city. But Jeongguk knew the truth.

“Too busy for me?” He asked, sounding more vulnerable than he intended.

You shrugged, still not making eye contact. “Wasn’t that the plan all along? I hear you’re pretty busy, too. Congrats on your Grammy nomination, by the way.”

Jeongguk knew what you were implying. The relationship had never been genuine. It was all a show arranged by your label to benefit your careers. You made each other look good; it cleaned up Jeongguk’s image to be seen with America’s sweetheart and made you the object of all desire and attention, posing on the arm of everyone’s favorite bad boy. A win-win situation. And it worked; the plot succeeded. There was no reason to be together now—and you clearly didn’t feel a need to keep in touch. So why was it so hard for Jeongguk to walk away?

“I should go,” you said, breaking the awkward silence. “My manager will kill me if I don’t at least try to mingle at this party.” You were just about to walk past him, to leave him alone again, but Jeongguk grabbed your wrist.

“(Y/n), wait,” he said, voice soft. The touch wasn’t forceful; you could break away if you wanted to. But feeling the heat of his skin on yours was enough to stop both of you in your tracks.

“If I don’t say this, I’ll never forgive myself.” He paused to take a breath and the right words because he couldn’t mess this up. “Ever since that night—I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

You couldn’t get it out of your head either; Jeongguk’s touch still lingered. The memory of it all was imprinted on your mind. Every time you closed your eyes at night, you were there, in that room with him. You kept replaying the kiss that led you into his bed. How it started out curious and sweet before dissolving into passion. The way it felt when his tongue slid into your mouth, and the sound he made after, moaning quietly against your lips. You wish it all happened in a blur, but you remember everything clearly. The shift from the couch to the bed. The slow caress of his hands exploring your body, laying you bare before him. His voice, raw with desire, asked you if you wanted it, if you were sure. And when you said yes, the feel of him was hot and heavy as he pressed into you, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine as he took you for the first time.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it—the way his touch lingered on your body, hot palms sliding up your waist, the caress of his breath on your neck, the pump of his cock inside you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge—it was all too much. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined being with him before. But fantasizing about it and actually experiencing it were two very different things.

At the moment, all you felt was lust and longing and another L word you weren’t quite ready to admit to yourself yet. Jeongguk left you aching in more ways than one. You didn’t think about the consequences of your actions that night, consequences that you were still facing to this day because you let things get too far.

You shook your head, clearing away your heady thoughts as you pulled your hand from his. “That night was a mistake.”

Jeongguk agreed with you on this; it was a mistake, but not for the reasons you might think. It was his fault for moving too fast, closing the gap between you to steal a kiss that turned into so much more. He should have waited, taken things slow. Jeongguk knew he was falling quicker than you, that you weren’t ready to meet him halfway, to let him catch you when you fell, but he gave into the heat of the mommet.

He didn’t regret it. The sex was mind-blowing, the best he’d ever had, but he’d throw the whole night away if it meant he could keep you by his side.

Jeongguk took a step toward you. “Maybe,” he said. “But I can’t act like it didn’t happen.”

You frowned at his admission. Your relationship never should’ve gotten this complicated. You had rules to avoid this kind of thing:

No meetings outside of work. Keep things strictly business.

No PDA outside of the public eye.

No contact after the end of your contract. Cut off all communication once the publicity stunt was over.

You remember Jungkook teased you when you came up with the rules. “Don’t fall in love with me,” he laughed, a smug grin on his face. At the time, you waved him off with a scoff. Jeongguk’s reputation was his own warning label, the long list of broken hearts that trailed behind him like a big, sad, red flag. As if you’d ever fall for such a man? He was everything you didn’t want in a partner: egotistical, selfish, immature.

Except, as you got to know him, Jeongguk ended up being none of those things. And you ended up breaking every rule except for the last one. You became friends, or so you had thought until you landed in bed with him. Worst of all—you developed feelings for him. And you knew no matter what happened that night, Jeongguk wasn’t capable of feeling the same way.

You’ve always placed too much importance on love, a romantic to a fault. You hoped it would find you at the right time, with the right person—whatever this was with Jeongguk didn’t fall into either category. It was all wrong, not on your terms, not how you thought it should be. You weren’t about to risk your heart with LA’s most notorious fuckboy when you’d finally reached the height of your career.

So now you were desperately clinging to the last rule. It was silly to want to adhere to the rules after the fact. You knew that. But right now, that rule was the only thing keeping you from falling off into the deep end.

You held out your hand, keeping him at arm’s length. “I think we should stop while we’re ahead. Before anyone gets hurt.”

Before I get hurt.

You didn’t miss the pained look on his face at your words. “Is that really what you think of me? After everything we’ve been through, you still think I’d hurt you?

“You will,” you said, shrugging. “Not on purpose, but you will. When you lose interest, when this novice interest wears off, you’ll go back to being who you are.”

“If you ran from me because you think I’d change my mind and regret it, I don’t.”

His words hit you with a wave of relief, but you shoved those feelings down deep. Your mind flashed back to the night things fell apart. When you slipped out of Jeongguk’s arms and rummaged for your clothes on his bedroom floor before sneaking out the door. Not your finest moment. But you couldn’t stay and fall in love with someone who could only pretend to love you back.

“I don’t wanna hear this,” you said, rounding on your heel quick to make your way back downstairs.

Jeongguk didn’t miss a beat. He followed you, long legs effortlessly keeping up with your strides.

“I’m not the same man I was when you met me. Or at least, I don’t wanna be. Just give me a chance to prove that I can be better.”

“Funny, I don’t remember that being part of the contract,” you said, voice clipped.

“Will you give it up already? The contracts over,” said Jeongguk, frustration leaking into his voice. “I’m not pretending. Haven’t been for a long time.”

Jeongguk stopped faking it months ago. It was long before the night you slept together when he realized he wasn’t holding your hand because someone was taking a photograph—but because he wanted to. For so long, having you around and keeping you close was all feeding into a perception. The false romance the media spun about you. But now, that perception was more like reality than anything else. Because something about your hand in his felt right.

He wouldn’t let you walk away, not again.

“I don’t care that the contract’s over; I don’t want you out of my life,” he said.

You stopped in your tracks, frozen by his words. Jeongguk knew this was the only chance he’d get, so he ran with it. He crossed over in front of you, words tumbling from his mouth before you could get away.  

“After all that time we spent together, it was strange not having you by my side. It felt wrong. Even playing music didn’t feel right without you singing by my side in harmony. You’re my best friend, and I can’t stand having you ignore me. But I don’t wanna go back to the way things were before. That. . .that night changed everything.” He licked his lips, preparing himself to say the words in his heart that he’d been keeping in for so long now. “Y/n, I—”

“Stop,” you said, voice breaking at the end. “Stop saying things like that, stop—”

Making me fall for you, you thought. . .You were so afraid of Jeongguk’s next words, what hearing them might do to you.  

Jeongguk could see it. “What are you so afraid of?”

A million things. I’m afraid that if we do this, I’ll be the one who loves most. Like all the others before, I’m afraid you’ll grow tired of me and move on to the next pretty bright star. I’m afraid that we’ll ruin the relationship, that everything good between us will end, and that you’ll never speak to me again when it does.

But how could you say that? How could you even begin? You’d never been good at stating your feelings and putting your emotions out there—and that was without love in the equation.

So instead, you said: “I just wanna be friends.”

Jeongguk sighed. “Well, I don’t want that. I don’t wanna be your friend; I want something deeper. And I think you want that, too.”

Something about that statement and the yearning look in his eyes made your heart stutter.

“You don’t mean that,” you said, ignoring his comment about your wants, your desires.

“I do,” he said. “I want more. I want us.”

You faltered, taking a step back as Jeongguk moved towards you. He said all the right things, everything you wanted to hear, everything you hoped for, but you couldn’t believe it because of everything he said before.

You could still hear his voice. The warning. The laugh.

Don’t fall in love with me.

You shook your head. “You’re not exactly the relationship type. You said it yourself, don’t even believe in love.”

“That was before you,” he said.

You sucked in a sharp breath. How could Jeongguk have changed his mind so quickly? What game was he playing? The idea that he could switch on and off his emotions upset you.

“No,” you said, denial switching into anger. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make up your own rules—”

“Fuck the damn rules,” Jeongguk closed the gap between you, grabbed you by the waist, and kissed you. All your protests went out of your mind the minute his mouth was on yours. Jeongguks lips were soft as they worked against yours. This kiss was better than the one that started this mess. Better and maybe worse, because then at least you’d been able to tell yourself it was a one-off. But this? This kiss wasn’t an accident.

Jeongguk was intentional with his caress, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, kissing you deeper, kissing you senseless. Slow and sensual, but also like he’d fuck you on this roof if he could. Hell, it felt so good you might just let him. For a second, you gave in, leaning into his touch and the delicious feel of his solid body against yours. You moaned at the sensation, and the sound of your own voice, high and needy, broke the spell.

“I can’t do this,” you panted, chest still heaving as you came up for air.

Jeongguk rested his forehead against yours, grip still tight on your waist. “Don’t run from me again. Please.”

You felt yourself splitting in two, torn between wanting to be with him and protect your heart.

There must be something wrong with you—why were you so frightened? How broken were you that you’d turn away from love the first chance you got? Here it was, right in front of you, and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to reach out and grab it.

You didn’t want these feelings. You hated getting this emotional that Jeongguk could have this much power over you.

But if you were really honest with yourself, you’d never be ready for a love like his. A love so all-consuming. You wished your feelings didn’t run so deep. But you couldn’t fight it; it’s like you were cursed. All you could do was run from it.

“I have to go,” you said, shifting in his embrace.

“Will you just listen to me—”

“I have!” You said, voice cracking. “I have been listening! I’ve been sitting beside you for all the interviews, press, and parties, and I know you tell people what they want to hear. You know how to say the right thing at the right time, but rarely is it ever the truth.”

“That’s different, and you know it. What I feel for you is real.”

“All of this started on a lie, so how could it be real?”

Jeongguk took your hand and pressed it against his heart. You could feel its rapid beat underneath your palm. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel this.”

“I feel nothing,” you said. But you gave yourself away. You bit your lip. And Jeongguk knew your tell.

“You’re lying,” He growled. Jeongguk could feel you slipping away, but he didn’t know how to keep you with him. “What do I have to say to get you to see that I’m in this? That I want it?”

It didn’t matter what he said. You couldn’t give in to the ache. You couldn’t trust him with your heart.

“I have to go,” you repeated. You pushed at Jeongguk’s shoulders, breaking from his grasp.

“There’s something here, something real between us, and you’re too scared to see it through.”

Maybe he was right, but you wouldn’t change your mind. You wouldn’t wait for Jeongguk to grow tired of you and kick you to the curb. No, you wouldn’t even give him a chance. You’d do it first.

You looked away from him, unable to stand the pleading in his eyes. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.” A single tear rolled down your cheek. “Just let me go,” you said, swiping at your face as you stepped back.

“(Y/n), please,” he whispered, voice quiet but fierce. “Don’t do this. Stay.”  

There was an ache, deep down in your bones, everything in you begging you to let him in, to see what could be. But you wouldn’t walk back towards him.

“I’m sorry,” you said, tears blurring your vision as you escaped, nearly tripping in your heels as you ran down the stairs to the ongoing party below.

As you made your way through the bedazzled crowd, you tried to convince yourself you were doing the right thing.

I’m better off, you thought. You weren’t in a place right now to be in a relationship, and neither was Jeongguk. It was better to end things before they got out of hand, before there was irreparable damage, wasn’t it?

And you had work to do, didn’t you? Ending things this way might hurt now, but you could distract yourself from the pain. There was still your busy schedule on tour. You’d be on the road, bouncing from city to city. With the time apart, your feelings would fade into nothing, and you’d be able to be in the same room with him without feeling like your heart would leap out of your throat.

You were certain that you’d have your emotions under control the next time you saw his face.

By the time you reached the door, you had almost convinced yourself that you were better off without him.

[gingersnaaps]

too much of a good thing

he's so sweet, so kind, so dumb - is bokuto really capable of anything besides the best intentions?

wc: ~2.7k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, dubcon sex to noncon creampie, manipulation, lovebombing and then neglect, overstimulation, cunnilingus, fingering, penetration, a lil angst, timeskip!bokuto, fem!reader with inner genitals

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

Being subtle was never really Bokuto’s thing, not even in the beginning.

In some ways, you suppose that you’re lucky - that you’re better off than your friends who you would always hear complaining, muttering about boys who didn't like to commit, didn’t like labels, who didn’t like texting first or buying gifts or putting in any effort at all.

Barely a week into your relationship, you come home from work with your head dizzy and feet aching from exhaustion, and discover a dozen bouquets of roses on your doorstep. Crimson petals are littered everywhere, strewn against the grey concrete of the steps, and although you feel your neck and face heating up with embarrassment at the grand gesture, you can’t suppress the smile that tugs at the corner of your lips.

He really was so sweet. Who cares if he wasn’t exactly shy about expressing it?

None of the other guys you’ve dated before had sent you good morning texts quite like his, filled with exclamation points and emojis, and none of them had tried nearly as hard as Bokuto does with his breathy, eager i love you’s, his frequent hugs whenever he gets the chance to see you, or even his phone calls that come twice, three times, even four times in the middle of the day.

But the more days that pass by, the more intense it gets.

He picks you up after work all the time, cupping your face in his hands, eyes gleaming almost unnaturally bright. “I love you,” he’ll whisper. “You’re so wonderful, baby. You’re perfect. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.”

You can’t help but think that these are the sort of words that come months into a relationship, if not years, but… there’s nothing really wrong with what he’s doing, is there? There’s no reason you should be uneasy, no indication of even the slightest hint of trouble on his part.

You’re probably just paranoid.

Bokuto doesn’t stop at words, though - he earns a good sum of money from his job playing professional volleyball, and he’s never hesitant to use it on you. A week after he leaves you the roses, he asks you out on a date to a restaurant you know is ridiculously expensive, and the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach grows as you scroll through pictures of the establishment on Google Images.

“I don’t think I can afford it, Bo,” you tell him, voice hesitant and crackly over the phone. “If we go, I won’t be able to pay my share.”

“So?”

It’s just a word, but the implication isn’t lost on you. And if he’s fine with paying for you, if he’s okay with the hundreds of dollars you’ll be owing him, well - there’s no good reason to turn him down, right?

During the date, you talk with him as you spoon bites of delicate food into your mouth. The restaurant is too lavish, the plush velvet carpeting and crystal chandeliers almost a parody of luxury. You’re pretty sure the utensils are half the price of your rent.

He leans over in the middle of the meal, expression suddenly serious. “You’re enjoying this, right?” he asks.

“I am. I’m kinda lucky, aren’t I? Being spoiled like this.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his grin so bright it could rival the sun. “You really are.”

And suddenly - just for a moment - you catch a glimpse of something slightly off about his whole expression, as if it was a mask waiting to be ripped off to reveal something much, much different underneath, but the fleeting moment is gone so quickly you convince yourself that it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you.

Bokuto has been nothing if not perfect, after all. If you’re uneasy, it’s probably just because you aren’t used to being treated like this, aren’t used to someone that lavishes you with constant gifts and praise and displays of affection like he does. On the way back in the taxi, he whispers everything he loves about you softly in your ear, his arm snaking around your waist as his thumb rubs tender circles into your skin. His body is pressed so close to yours, his breath gently tickling your ear, warmth radiating out from his firm, muscled body.

He’s so good to you.

-

It doesn’t last forever.

Bokuto’s affection dries up slowly, but his presence has been such a constant in your life that it’s impossible for you not to notice.

Some mornings, you find yourself waking up to a hollow feeling in your chest as you check your message notifications and find nothing - no late night rants, no funny pictures, no enthusiastic, joyful good morning texts. During the day, the silence now stretches on for hours too long, uncomfortably empty and devoid of the persistent calls that you used to get every single hour.

When he does see you, he’s remarkably reserved - eyes always downcast, fingers fidgeting incessantly, clearly disinterested in what you’re doing, what you’re saying - in fact, disinterested in all of you.

Maybe he’s just busy with volleyball, you rationalize, but your stomach churns with anxiety and deep down, you know that something’s changed.

You try and ignore the dull ache inside of you that seems to follow you around wherever you go, a little voice inside your head constantly reminding you of what Bokuto used to do. Two months ago, he would’ve picked you up. He would’ve sent you flowers today. He would’ve taken you out to eat.

It builds up slowly and steadily, a crescendo of pain that grows in volume the longer he’s gone, like a tidal wave of confusion and hurt that swirls around inside you - until one day, you’re sitting by yourself in the car, sobbing quietly in the cramped darkness.

At least he doesn’t turn you away when you show up on his doorstep.

Your eyes are rimmed with red, streaks of eye makeup running down your face as a frown twists at his features. “Please, Bo,” you whisper. “Let me make it up to you.”

And you’re not exactly sure what you did, but you want to fix it, want him back in your life, want to wake up to his smiles and his laughter and his incessant, boundless energy, and you know you’re willing to do anything to get that back.

“Really?” he asks, eyes glimmering faintly with hope.

You nod almost imperceptibly, about to reply yes, yes, want you back so bad, when he grabs your waist with his hands and pulls you in for a kiss so passionate it borders on harsh. It’s a whirlwind of teeth and tongue, a mix of sucking and licking and biting that leaves you gasping for breath, your red lips swollen and slick with spit.

He pulls you inside, his hands roaming all over your body, groping and squeezing at your supple flesh, goosebumps running down your spine as he brings a hand up to brush against your nipple. For the first time in weeks, you see excitement on his face, and his voice trembles as he leans close in. “Let me take care of you,” he says. “Wanna make you feel good.”

And even though there’s apprehension crawling under your skin at his sudden mood swing, you’re so, so glad this version of Bokuto is back that you brush off that hesitation, the mixture of happiness and anticipation overwhelming every single thought in your mind.

As his fingertips graze the soft skin of your torso, his hands - so much larger than yours - maneuver your body around with such ease and grace that you barely notice when you end up on his couch, legs spread wide open as he looks up from between your thighs hungrily. “I - fuck, I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he says, out of breath, eyes running over the swollen outline of your cunt.

You whimper softly as his nose brushes up against your clit, his piercing, golden eyes still gazing intently up at you.

He doesn’t waste any of his time teasing you, his flat of his tongue sliding up along your slit with the perfect amount of pressure to leave you squirming. It’s almost as if he knows exactly where to lick and suck, eagerly pressing his tongue up against your clit in insistent circles, lapping at your dripping pussy until your juices are running down his chin. He’s so eager in between your legs, and everytime he finds a spot that makes your legs tremble needily, he gives it so much attention that you already start to feel that wave of pleasure building in your core.

“Don’t stop,” you pant, your hands sliding into his hair as your hips thrust upwards. “Please.”

Bokuto doesn’t need you to tell him that. Shouldn’t have wasted your breath, he thinks idly, diving in and eating you out with renewed vigor.

When his tongue glides around your spasming cunt and dips in briefly, you can’t stop the moan that tumbles from your lips. His tongue is so stupidly long and flexible, sliding inside and licking at your sensitive walls, curling up and brushing against your g-spot until you start to shudder and tremble under him.

You cum embarrassingly quick, your hips jerking and stuttering wildly as he finishes you off. He fucks you through your orgasm, sucking gently at your clit until the border between pain and pleasure starts to blur and you’re moaning so loudly he thinks the neighbors will have complaints for him the next morning.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, voice sending vibrations through your pussy.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“How about another?”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

“I think you can handle it, right?” a huge grin splits his face as he spreads your pussy apart with two fingers, looking at your swollen, spent cunt. He barely gives your chance to respond before he trails his fingers against your lips, fingers teasing in and out of your slick entrance.

This time, Bokuto uses his hands to stretch you out, inserting his digits one by one until three of his thick, long fingers are nestled inside of your pussy. He thrusts them languidly in and out, his fingertips caressing your nerves until you’re tense and wound up for him again.

“Come on,” he encourages. “You can take it.”

Your brain is hazy from the stimulation, barely registering anything but pleasure as his fingers search and probe like they have some sort of job to do. You feel damp with heat and moisture, the pulsing, burning need in between your legs insistent and demanding.

“Almost there,” he breathes, voice raspy with arousal. A fourth finger brushes up against your lips, and the thought of more stretch, more stimulation, more pleasure, has you clenching desperately against the ones that your cunt is already spread out on.

You sob, your body strung out and wrecked, suspended on the tipping point of another orgasm.

As you cum again, the feeling of relief - white-hot and blinding - rips along your core. You’re not sure you’ve experienced anything quite so intense before, and as you look down at him, hands still manipulating your cunt so expertly, you don’t know if he has the intention of stopping anytime soon.

He stands up and your eyes drift to his cock, flushed purple and almost painfully hard, dripping with precum. His hand strokes along his shaft, soft curses muttered under his breath, but he opens them wide again and looks down at you sadly. “I’m so sorry,” he says, voice pleading. “I don’t have any condoms.”

Bokuto sounds so genuine, his tone kind and filled with regret, and guilt begins to sting at your conscience. He’s made you feel so fucking good, given you the best orgasms of your life - is it really fair if you leave him wanting and unsatisfied?

You’re fucked halfway out of your mind when you answer, eyes still fixated on his cock, head swimming with thoughts of how much you want to please him.

“It’s fine,” you say, your words slurred and hesitant. “You can.. you can use me. Use my pussy to get you off. Jus’ pull out at the end.”

Ecstasy flashes across his face, and he looks down eagerly. “Fuck, babe. You’re so perfect. I love you.”

You hadn’t heard those words for weeks.

His strong arms pick you up easily, maneuvering you around until he’s the one sitting on the couch and your cunt is positioned right over his dick. His hands grip tightly at your waist, fingertips pressing so insistently that you’re sure you’ll wake up the next morning with bruises dotting your skin. He lowers you down slowly, carefully, groaning as he fills you up and the warmth of your cunt envelopes him whole.

He already looked big, just from the cursory glance you’d taken earlier, but as you feel the tip of his cock shove against your cervix, your breath almost catches at how you feel your walls expanding to accommodate all of him.

The drag of his curved cock up against your sensitive walls leaves your legs trembling and squirming, but he holds you firmly down as he thrusts up inside over and over. “Stay still,” he coos. “Let me take care of you.”

Bokuto starts off gently, fucking you with shallow little thrusts that have you panting with desperation. He can tell by the way your cunt is fluttering that you're craving more, that the two orgasms he gave you earlier just wasn’t enough for a greedy girl like you, and he relishes the way your small hands grip desperately at his shirt.

He raises you up off his cock, running the tip up and down your slit until your pussy throbs, and slams you back down again. The rhythm he maintains is steady and even, bouncing you up and down on his cock like a ragdoll, whispering stuttered curses and phrases of endearment against your ear, making you shiver from the overload of stimuli.

“Feels so amazing,” he moans. “Gonna.. Gonna cum soon.”

The heat in your core grows intense at the thought of his orgasm, involuntarily whining, and you start to rock your hips back and forth in an attempt to search out more friction.

Bokuto knows he promised to pull out. He knows that it wouldn’t be right if he stayed buried inside your cunt. But how is he supposed to stop himself when you feel this good, wrapped so obediently around him like a perfect little fuck doll? And the heat of your cunt is gripping incredibly tight all around his length, your little squirms and shivers so adorable as he uses you to get himself off.

He can’t help himself.

With one last, desperate thrust, he lets go, thick spurts of cum filling you up until he’s sure your insides are dripping white, and he caresses your stomach where your womb would be in satisfaction. It feels so good to cum inside of a tight cunt, much better than it would’ve if he’d forced himself to pull out, he thinks. And you look so pretty all full and leaking with his seed.

It takes you a moment to fully register the warm, wet feeling pooling inside you, your brain too fucked out, too stupid from the constant stimulation to truly understand what exactly dripping from your slit is.

When you do realize - oh god, he came inside me - panic starts to grip at the edges of your frayed nerves, your vision tunneling as the magnitude of what had just happened hits you. Tears start to blur the world around you, the dim lighting of his living room merging the furniture and warping the walls, and you faintly register the feeling of arms wrapped tight around you, a hand reaching up to caress soothingly at your cheek.

“You know,” Bokuto whispers, face lit up in wonder. “I think we’re soulmates.”

[the-atlas-sister]

The First Date (Damian Wayne X Reader)

So in this, you are the daughter of Green Arrow, Oliver Queen (NOT THE ARROW VERSION!! THE ANIMATED AND COMIC VERSION), and Black Canary, Dinah Lance. Also in this Dinah is dead and you have taken on the role of Black Canary

"Done!" Abby (moi!!!) exclaimed, tying the hair tie in my hair. "Aw, you look so good!" She backed up, admiring her work.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, smiling slightly. "I mean, I usually look beautiful but now I look even more beautiful," I joked.

"I know," Abby said, making me chuckle.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Six on the dot," Abby said, looking impressed. "Wow."

"It is Damian," I shrugged before my eyes widened. "I'm going on a date with Damian Wayne."

"Chill," y/b/f said, noticing my panic. "You asked him out, remember?"

"But-"

"Hey Damian," y/b/f said from the living room.

I looked at Abby, a panicked expression on my face. "You're okay," she whispered before leading me out of the bathroom.

Damian looked at me before mumbling something in Arabic. I was rusty when it came to other languages but I thought I caught "Beautiful..." which was enough to make my entire face turn red.

"Hey," I said, putting on a confident face. "You look good." My eyes scanned him. He wore a pair of nice black jeans and a matching skin-tight turtle-neck.

"You look..." His eyes scanned me.

"Gorgeous? Beautiful? Sexy?" I guessed, smirking at Damian blushed.

"Yes," Damian said, making me blush.

"Okay... well," Abby said, pushing me forward. "You two have fun," she said as I slipped on my shoes. "But not too much fun." She eyeballed Damian in a very best friend way. "And have her back by 10."

"And be safe!" Myloh added.

"Bye guys," I said, quickly ushering Damian out the door before closing it. "Sorry."

"I had a similar conversation with my brothers before I left," Damian said before cringing slightly. "Although it was a bit more-"

"I don't want to know," I said, shaking my head. "So, what do you have planned, Mr. Wayne?" I asked, walking down the apartment hallway.

"That's a surprise," Damian said with a stoic face.

"Not a huge fan of surprises," I said as we reached the elevator.

"You'll like this one," Damian stated matter-of-factly, pressing the button to the last level.

"Is that a fact?" I challenged as the elevator lowered.

"Yes," Damian stated, making me tilt my head. "I did some research and I'm sure you'll enjoy this."

"I don't know if that was meant to be sweet but it came off as creepy," I chuckled, leaning on the elevator wall.

"I just meant- I asked Abby what you're interested in," Damian explained, slowly going pink.

"What'd she say?" I asked, both worried and curious.

"She explained your love of movies, books, the stars, and food," Damian stated as the doors slid open.

"So, which did you choose?" I questioned, walking backward out of the elevator.

"Still a surprise," Damian smirked, following me.

"Mhm, game on Mr. Wayne," I said, turning around and walking out the apartment building's front doors. My eyes widened a bit as I saw Damian's motorcycle parked in front of the building. "Seriously?" I asked, looking at him as he stood next to me.

"Complaining?" he asked, looking at me sideways.

"Not as long as I get to drive," I chuckled, approaching the motorcycle.

"No," Damian said, standing next to me. He grabbed one of the helmets before handing me the second one.

"I know how," I frowned.

"No," Damian repeated before blinking. "Strange, that felt familiar." He then shook his head before getting on the bike. "Come on," he said looking at me. I rolled my eyes but climbed on the bike behind him. "Hold on," he said before putting on his helmet.

"You sure you don't want to drive as a way to get me to hold on to you?" I teased, resting my head on Damian's shoulder. Damian tensed up, making me chuckle. "I was kidding," I reassured him, putting on the helmet and grabbing his shoulders.

Damian cleared his throat. "I-I respect you, but for your own safety, I suggest you put your arms around my waist."

I blushed, wrapping my arms around his waist. Damian started the bike and drove out of his parking spot. My grip tightened as Damian sped up and we reached the highway. I grinned under the helmet as the adrenaline rushed through me due to the speed.

***

"You have to take me on your motorcycle more often," I said, letting out a breathy laugh and taking off my helmet.

"It's not really mine," Damian corrected, taking off his helmet and getting off the bike.

"But with Promythous-" I furrowed my brows, placing the helmet on the bike's seat.

"That was Robin's bike," Damian explained, leading me to the secret destination. He had parked a block away from the surprise place, just to keep the secrecy. "Damian Wayne does not have a motorcycle."

"Who's-" I continued, getting into pace next to Damian.

"My brother's," he shrugged with a small smug smile.

"You stole your brother's motorcycle?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"He told me, women love men with motorcycles," Damian said. "So I took that as an invitation for me to 'borrow' his." He smirked to himself at the thought. "Also, my other brother said I should. I'm not one to listen to him but, I did enjoy the idea of stealing Jason's bike." I smiled at his mini-rant. He seemed to notice. "I'm sorry for oversharing," he said, his face returning to it's neutral state.

"No, it's fine," I reassured him as we turned a corner. "It's nice hearing you talk more."

Damian blinked, obviously surprised by my answer. "What... would you like to talk about?" he asked slowly.

"You," I said. "I don't know much about you."

"O-oh," Damian stuttered, which was a rare sound. "I grew up with the League of Assassins."

"The group your father trained with?" I asked, interested to learn more. "Lead by Ra AlGugl?"

"My grandfather," Damian confirmed. "When my father was training, he met my mother. She- she tricked him into having... intercourse with her. That's how I was created. My father left before I was born and I was raised by my grandfather and mother. I was trained from birth to be the master assassin. I was supposed to be the best. There was no room for error."

"That doesn't sound like a fun childhood," I said.

"I suppose not," Damian hummed. "I loved my grandfather very much, or more admired him. He told me we would destroy the world and rebuild it in our own image." He scanned our surroundings, almost as if he was imagining how he could make each detail superior.

"That's still partly your mindset isn't it?" I asked, making Damian's gaze turn to me. "You see the world and people and just imagine how you can make them better." Damian blinked. "You even yourself believe you're better than everyone. You think you'll be a better Batman, a better hero."

"I don't-"

"I'm not critiquing, just observing," I stated. I blushed under Damian's intense stare. "I-I interrupted, I'm sorry. What about your mother?"

"She's dead," Damian said.

"Oh," I said.

"She wasn't a mother anyway," Damian continued. "Last I saw her she tried to create an adult 'perfect' clone of me and killed him."

"And I thought my dad was hardcore," I mumbled. "How did she...?"

"Helicopter crashed after trying to kill me, my father, and Grayson," Damian said almost casually.

My eyes widened. "You didn't deserve it," I said as we turned yet another corner. Damian turned to me. "You deserved a loving childhood. Not one with a group of assassins and Batman."

Damian's eyes softened. "I did get, what you call, a loving childhood with my father," he said. "He would set up movie nights. And my brothers are... overly loving, at least Grayson."

"He's Nightwing, right?" I asked, grinning a bit. Damian nodded. "I've met him. He has a bit of an older brother feel. And I'm sure he understands how hard it is to grow up with someone like Bruce."

"He has made it very clear he does," Damian scoffed. "As had Todd." I gave him a questioning look. "Red Hood."

"Oh, never met him," I mumbled.

We walked in comfortable silence for a minute.

"Here," Damian said, stopping in front of a small and quaint ice cream shop.

"Ice cream?" I asked, giving him a lopsided grin. "On Friday."

"You said you and your mother used to always had ice cream on Fridays," Damian said shyly.

I let out a small laugh. "You- this is really sweet," I said, a bit surprised. I remembered when I told him that detail about my childhood.

***Flashback***

"Tell me more about your mother," Damian said after a while of silence. "I assume she's where you got your power?"

"Yeah," I said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "She was- awesome. She was the first Black Canary. Trained in thousands of martial art styles."

"You're telling me things I already know," Damian stated, making me look at him.

"She was a pretty cool mom," I chuckled, crossing my legs on the bed. "She couldn't cook though. That was something she wasn't taught. She'd always make time for us to have an ice cream night. Every Friday." I smiled at the memory. "Sometimes she'd come back from patrol at midnight then wake me up, just so we could still eat ice cream."

"Do you still do it?" Damian questioned, turning to face me fully. "With your father?"

"Not usually," I stated, trying not to sound bitter. "He's usually busy with the Justice League and his company."

"How did she die?" Damian asked softly, making me go stiff.

"I was thirteen," I recited. "She and my dad went to face Prometheus. It was just in the early stages of my training-at least for the Canary cry, so I wasn't allowed to go. I- I remember my dad calling the house. He told me he'd be home soon, but something happened to Mom. Apparently, Prometheus slit her throat. She didn't want anyone to find out her identity so she insisted that only Martian Manhunter or Batman operated on her."

"But it was too late," Damian assumed. I nodded.

"Dad and I hardly even spoke after that," I sighed. "It hit us both- hard, but after a year, we got through it. He's still protective though."

"What about your powers?"

"I don't use them," I stated. "My mom died before we got far in training."

"Why don't you continue?" Damian asked. "I assume the league would be open to help or your friends."

"I can't," I sighed. "My vocal cords are too old."

"That sounds like an excuse," Damian stated. "I was unaware you were a quitter, Queen."

***End of flashback***

"I just figured you'd enjoy it," Damian shrugged, turning his head to the side to hide his smile.

"I do," I chuckled. "Although this is very cliche."

"I have seen as such in many of the movies Grayson forced me to watch," Damian admitted.

"Thank you, Damian," I smiled before rushing towards the outside counter, Damian following. "Hello!" I said to the person at the counter.

"Hello," the person said. She was a pretty girl, seemingly teen age with flawless makeup. She looked like she belonged at Dutch Brothers.

"I would like two scoops of y/f/i.c (your favirote ice cream) in a cup, please," I said before turning to Damian.

"Awesome," the girl said. "And you?"

Damian glanced at me. "None for me," he answered.

"You're not going to get anything?" I asked.

"I've never had ice cream," Damian admitted.

"Never?" I asked in shock.

"No," Damian said, his face showing me he didn't understand the problem. I scanned his face before turning to the girl.

"He'll have one scoop of almond in a cup," I stated.

"Alright," the girl smiled. "Be right with you."

"I said I didn't want any," Damian said, looking at me.

"You've never had it and you can't just sit there watching me eat," I protested. "Plus, I think you'll like it."

"Why is that?" Damian challenged.

"I'm an observer of people and you seem like an almond guy," I summarized.

"Explain your thinking Miss Queen," Damian said.

"Well, almond is more of a traditional Arabic ice cream flavor (please correct me if I'm wrong, I got this off the internet), and knowing you, you prefer salty and savory over sweet," I explained before leaning back and spreading my hands like I was presenting an amazing discovery.

"We shall see," Damian just said.

"Here," the girl chimed in, interrupting our discussion. She handed us our ice cream.

"Thank you," I said. I placed my ice cream on the counter before pulling out my wallet, but Damian had already paid. "I was going to pay," I said as he handed me my ice cream.

"It's proper etiquette for the man to pay," Damian said, leading me away from the ice cream shop.

"But it's not required," I chuckled. "Besides, we're both the children of billionaires." Damian didn't answer as he led me to a small park beside the shop. "I'll just pay next time."

"Next time?" Damian asked, stopping in front of a blanket with a projector on it.

"Yeah," I smirked. "If I haven't scared you away."

"Not at all," Damian said, sitting on the blanket. He motioned for me to sit down and I obliged.

"Try the ice cream," I said excitedly. Damian glanced at the tan-colored ice cream before taking a scoop and eating it. I stared at him, waiting for some type of reaction. His eyes widened before he took another scoop. "I told you!" I smirked.

"Coincidence," Damian scoffed but took more bites.

"Mhm," I hummed, leaning back on my free hand. I looked around, noticing a screen across from the projector. "You set this up?"

"Pennyworth did," Damian corrected. "Although I choose the film."

"Oh really?" I asked. "What'd you choose?"

"y/f/a/m (your favirote animated movie)," Damian stated. My face lit up. "Abby told me it was your favorite. Although I don't understand how or why a film made for children would be your favorite."

"You've never seen it have you?" I asked. Damian shook his head. "Then you'll figure out that it's not really a children's film. And you'll discover the superior soundtrack."

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part One

Prologue | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: Oh hey there! Welcome to Dany Has Been Googling Art Stuff For Like Two Months The Series. Warnings: Cursing (meant to mention that before WHOOPSADOODLE sorry) Summary: You’d never seen Agent Pike look anything less than collected, even in the thick of a case. 

“The Raft of the Medusa, huh?”

You didn‘t bother to look away from your laptop where you were stationed at your lectern.

“Géricault did good work,” You answered as you finished answering the email that you were working on. You knew that this couldn’t be a terribly timely or pressing matter, because the FBI agent that had shown up had bothered to sit through the second half of your lecture that morning. 

“How long have you guys been up to romanticism?” He asked.

“Oh, just this week. Géricault’s got a good range...Landscapes, horses, portraits… horses... current events… horses…”

“Lots of horses.”

“Yeah, he was kind of a horse girl.” 

You finally sent the email off and turned to look at Agent Marcus Pike. The man was, mercifully, still looking at the recreation of the Géricault painting. 

“This one of your old ones?” He asked. You laughed a little, leaning against the lectern. 

“No. I’ve got a friend in Atlanta that specializes in recreations of Delacroix and Géricault.” 

“He’s talented. I’ve seen the original, this is… Incredible.” 

“Mm, I know. The corpses almost look happy in this version.”

Pike’s brow rose and he gave you a look out of the corner of his eye.

“So?” You asked, “How can I aid the bureau today, Agent Pike?” 

He gave a small smile, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he turned to face you more fully.

“I’m actually not here on bureau business,” he told you, peering at you nervously. Your brows rose. You’d never seen Agent Pike look anything less than collected, even in the thick of a case. 

“You’ve got my attention,” You reassured him. 

--

You were trying so hard not to laugh, if not for the earnest look on Pike’s face. You watched him as you ran your finger along the handle of your coffee mug. The two of you had taken up residence at your favorite coffee shop and bakery, There Ain’t Muffin To It. It was a little out of the way of the college’s campus, but you preferred that - you hardly ever ran into your students that way.

Pike had insisted on paying for your coffee, and then he’d explained his… Situation. 

His fucking hilarious situation that you were really, really trying not to laugh at. 

“So…Just-- To make sure I’m on the level here,” You said, “Your sister Marnie is getting married in two weeks, and she was probably going to set you up with some cute hometown girl, and instead…” You had to pause, biting your lip to tamp down a laugh before going on, “Instead, you told her that you’re bringing… Me.” 

“That is the long and short of it.”

“And can I ask what possessed you to blurt out the name of an ex-fencer-turned-art-professor?” 

“I panicked and I was looking at the Coleman file.”

“Ah,” You nodded. You’d assisted Pike’s team on that case. A man named Augustus Coleman had recently come forward, claiming to have found Oudry’s White Duck. The work had, in fact, been a fake (though it was a very, very convincing one). You’d spent time with Agent Pike, looking over the painting itself and helping his team track down Coleman’s forger. It had been a lot of long nights, a lot of hard work, but Pike had given you implicit trust, and you’d gotten the job done. 

And now, apparently, he was trusting you with this, too. 

“I don’t… Lie well,” Marcus added, and you couldn’t help but laugh then. 

“I can see that.”

Marcus smiled, “I know this is an inconvenience. I wouldn’t ask you to fly down for the week I’m gonna be there--”

“But you’d want to?” 

Marcus winced, “My sister’s already passed your name on to my mom and I’m getting questions. You could just come in for the weekend. I’d pay for your airfare,” He tacked on. 

“Wow, you are desperate.” 

“What you said, about my sister setting me up with some-- hometown girl? It’s accurate, I’m pretty sure I know exactly who she would’ve tried to set me up with.”

“Bad?”

“No, she’s nice, but we don’t suit and Marnie hasn’t quite gotten that message.” 

Your brow furrowed, considered something. 

“Tell me something,” You leaned forward on your forearms, watching Marcus.

“Sure.”

“You could've found someone else to bring along, asked them to use my name and fake it to your family for two days. You’re actually asking me instead. Why?” 

Marcus’ eyes searched your face.

“Couple of reasons. Remember a minute ago when I said I was bad about lying?” 

You chuckled, “Uh-huh. The other reason?” 

“I need to go down there with someone that I trust. Someone that I know will have my back.”

“And someone that can lie?” 

“Exactly. See what you just said, about asking someone else to use your name? Didn’t even occur to me.”

You were quiet for a moment, considering Pike. The week that he’d named for the wedding was spring break-- you didn’t have any plans set in stone, just papers to grade. 

“...Can I think about it?” You asked. Marcus’ smile brightened at that. 

“Of course,” He nodded, “I appreciate it.” 

You believed that-- the man couldn’t lie for shit. 

-- 

That evening found you in your apartment, grading quizzes for your Intro to Greek and Roman Art course. Most of the students had a good handle on the subject, so the grading and corrections didn’t take you long. Once you’d finished, you poured yourself a glass of wine and settled down on your couch to find something to watch for the evening. 

Once you’d chosen a show, though, you really couldn’t focus on it. You had, after all, told Marcus that you’d consider his proposal. You were...Fond of Agent Pike. The agents that you’d worked with prior to his transfer to the D.C. office had all treated you with varying degrees of contempt when asking for your help on a given case; they’d kept your interactions to the barest of bare minimums, held you at arm’s length in regards to the cases that you were being asked to assist on, and hardly ever updated you on case outcomes - not that they were required to do so, but you had often wondered. Marcus Pike was so different from his predecessors. When he’d come to the D.C. office and had first needed your help on a case, he’d gone out of his way to introduce himself, the particulars of the case, and to say that, “any assistance that you could provide would be greatly appreciated.” And it hadn’t felt glib, either. You’d felt like the man actually wanted your help, wasn’t that he was just reaching out to you to cover his bases. You’d assumed that after that first case, the niceties would fall away, but Marcus had never been anything less than kind to you - even when he was stressed. He treated you with respect, understood that your time was your own, that you’d put your criminal past behind you. You were now using what you’d learned in that world to help the Bureau, and to teach.

The time you’d spent with him on the Coleman case had been the biggest eye-opener. He’d come to understand more about how you used to operate - the way you’d sold forgeries to money-grubbing, self-involved wealthy elites that cared more about owning a one-of-a-kind artwork, uncaring of where it had come from or why you had it; they hadn’t cared about the questionable and fake provenance, had only looked so close when examining the work itself. Your grandmother had been a painter, and a masterful forger - she had been the one to paint most of the forgeries that you’d helped to fence. She had taught you her tricks, connected you with the network that she operated within - she had gotten you arrested, and had been furious when you hadn’t taken the fall for her. You and Marcus had spent a lot of time together during the Coleman case - mostly working, but you’d had some downtime. There were times when he insisted that you sat down and ate, else the food would get cold. Others, when he had a question, he’d come to your office at the college, but he’d bring coffee with him, or some kind of snack - a little way of showing thanks before he even asked his question, even if you didn’t have an answer for him. Marcus was a good man. It was no wonder he needed help lying, especially to his family. Something he’d said to you that afternoon had stuck with you, though, something that was floating above the rest: “I need to go down there with someone that I trust. Someone that I know will have my back.” Marcus Pike trusted you. He was comfortable with you having his back - he was comfortable with you being around his family for a week. 

You picked up your phone, scrolling through your contacts to find Marcus’. You hit the ‘call’ button before raising it to your ear. He picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” He asked, and you smiled at the anticipatory tone. “Think they’ve still got any seats left on your flight?” You asked. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​ ; @elen-aranel​​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​​ ; @artsymaddie​​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​​ ; @lunaserenade​​ ; @winniedaboo ; @empress-palpat1ne​​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb​

[herstarburststories]

Calamitous Love

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean shows up at your house, but this is a calamitous love. Sooner or later, it's going to destroy.

A/N: I was based and inspired by so many things to get this ready, I can't even start pointing them here. This started as something and escalated to something else, and I'm immensely in love with how it is now. I'm posting a version of this through Dean's POV soon. The prompt is bolded and its for @tvdspngirl314's bday challenge! Hope you like it, honey! And happy bday.

Warnings: language, mentions of sex, fluff, angst, dean is a perv in a cute way, s1 dean Ily

Dean Winchester could easily remember how mad you were that night, after he purposely came to your party uninvited and stood on the porch talking to all your stupid friends. How the one you called the best out of them had wide eyes when she caught him there, and all the reaction she could get was him winking at her.

The man - who was more like a boy, really - with green eyes that matched your garden knew she would run and rush and breathlessly tell you that he was there.

Of course she did. Inez was never one for keeping secrets. He used to wonder if it was a matter of time for the blonde to spread yours.

Her loose lips were useful that night, though. He couldn't even finish his chatter about Chevrolet versus Toyota cars with that James guy before you bursted out of the door ferociously. Dean turned around and waited for many things; well-deserved slapping, indignated tears, a sharp scream strident enough to suppress the loud song which vibrated through everyone's skin like veins.

You surprised him once again.

You closed your eyelashes and took a deep breath, as if to control the burning fire behind your thoughts. The Winchester had seen her in arguments before, the whole ‘my mouth is a loaded gun without a trigger’ thing held an entirely new meaning. He knew you wanted to come at him, and Dean wouldn’t put any guilty on you for that. As you walked towards him, his brittle heart raced like one of those chick flick moments he always mocked about - yet, he couldn't help but stare. Your legs looked so good in that light, pretty ass that Dean loved to grab wrapped in a tight red skirt. You had a white tank with cleavage on and your hair was, as usual, free on its widest way. The hunter adored how your brown sea could never seem not to be a mess, and how you made chaos marvelous like a natural. He surely needed that in his life.

Isn’t it all you had been since the very beginning, honestly? Isn’t it what love utterly is when the lights are dim and the weather changes? Cutting right to the bone like a surgeon, you were that one thing, that one hand that would touch Dean’s weary head and make it rest, those unique lips who could whisper tales of hope in the backseat of his car and he could actually believe it. The one, you know, that one person who didn’t make the eldest Winchester feel like he cared more than he was cared for. He often experienced that math problem, dad never seemed to be satisfied enough to be proud of him, and Sam was always talking about how he wanted to leave someday.

‘’Dean.’’ You said and your tone was harsh, a single eyebrow arched with a quiet defying question. The green eyed man wouldn't be shocked if you had called him out before when he was too busy paying attention to you to notice. ‘’Let's go to the garden.’’

And then you grabbed his wrist, sneaking in through the rusting garden gates in the back of your house. Such mere touch put his skin on flames. So many others, mostly monsters or people who were really monsters at heart, already chained his hands and he always broke the cuffs. This time, in your hands, Dean almost wished he could stay put, grounded to something else other than bloody walls and oily guns. He missed you so much. The way your fingers felt on his cheeks, how you'd allow him to kiss every inch of your body, and how you seemed to understand.

Anyway, it wasn't time for him to turn sentimental just yet. Leave it to Sam. 

Dean’s boots were cruel against the grass, walking side by side with your high heels ones. Above all the partying noise, they both were quiet for once, as if they were going into a clandestine meeting.

He hated it.

‘’What the fuck are you doing here?’’ you turned around in a swift move before crossing your arms. It took a lot of self control not to glare at your breast, which is why Dean didn’t. He pictured it wasn’t that bed since he was only glancing for a few seconds and the malicious smirk on his face faded into him licking his bottom lip through the memories of fucking, grabbing and playing with them. You rolled your eyes, impressed by my immature behavior. ‘’Winchester, I asked what you are doing here.’’

Always so dominant in every situation but in bed. He sighed to himself, man, I can’t lose her.

‘’Listen, Y/N/N, I’m sorry.’’

‘’You are sorry? You can take your apologies and put them in your sorry ass till’ they come out of your mouth, Dean.’’ And, of course, stubborn. Dean Winchester wouldn't be so attracted to you in any other way. Frisky women always had the best him.

He groaned, ‘’Y/N, come on, it wasn't like that--’’

You interrupted his reasoning with a laugh empty of joy: ‘’You left me. You just walked away. No calls, no texts, just left. You promised you wouldn't. You said I could trust you.’’

‘’And you can!’’

He wasn’t able to blame you for that. Still, it broke him to hear every casual syllable in raw honesty. Dean would kill for you, and you didn’t even trust him because he ran away without any note, or previous warning, or anything. If only he could do the trick of just opening his mouth and allowing his emotions to come arrive, like Sam did all the time. All he tried to be, his little brother was simply born that way. He could never be like Sammy and you deserved a guy like him. Yet, the bruised man - more like a scared boy, really - remained in front of you. Because, for once, Dean wanted to act selfish and get it what he craved for. Just this once.

‘’To leave? Sure.’’ Nonetheless, you never learned how to read his mind, so you just aim a wry smile at him. ‘’Sorry, pal. I already have my mom to do that.’’

In that moment, every word you said was a stone designed to shatter him, and it was working fatefully. Sometimes, the green eyed hunter wished he was the one being left instead of leaving people behind. But how could you know that? It's the job side effect.

Taking a deep breath, your name is leaving his lips calmly. The most calm he had ever been since my three childhood years. ‘’Y/N…’’

‘’No, Dean.’’ You spoke. Because his forest eyes matched a lot with the grass in your garden under that dim light, almost like he was made to be there and you didn’t think you could do it again; lose him. It was too much.

‘’Dang, woman. I'm trying to explain!’’

‘’No, you are trying to come up with a stupid lie to cover up whatever you were doing for two weeks! I'm not stupid and I know you.’’ You accused, exasperatedly slapping your own tights. You were right, he had showed up to your party with a dumb excuse on his tongue, ready to tell you anything but the truth. Fuck, how the short haired hunter wanted you to have the imaginary money to buy one of his cheap lies. ‘’Tell me the truth. Don't come up with my dad needed help with a car and all that. What happened to you, Dean?’’

‘’I can't tell you.’’ He shrugged in frustration. 

I want to tell you everything, even the details in the corner, the monster in the forest.

You smile sarcastically, ‘’I don't see a fold on your lips.’’

But I can’t.

Dean huffed, pursing his lips. ‘’You would hate me.’’

You would think I’m a crazy liar.

‘’I already do.’’

You can be so violent when hurt. You both have bullets in different body parts, and there you are trying to shoot him. Modern Romeo and Juliet, a hunter romance; they try to kill each other instead of the evil thing.

‘’Y/N, you are gonna think I'm crazy.’’ He wiped his face, exasperated for you to change the subject.

Your lips were shut, the light reflected on you. Dean was glaring at you in a quiet desire for you to stay, to make him stay. But you stand still, looking away with delicate woe contorting your features.

It was clear after a hunt when the hunter should leave the town. And it was clear now that he killed any hope for them that Dean shall do what he usually does after a case. Nodding with a sigh, started to walk away.

But you stopped him.

‘’What are you doing?’’ You, in fact, sounded confused. Dean’s eyebrows knitted together, unsure if you two were having the conversation he thought you were not even one minute ago.

The answer resonated more like a question than anything: ‘’Leaving?’’

Your next words were the equivalent to the three ones he had never dared to say. ‘’I don't want you to leave.’’

Yes, the Winchester’s heart was pouring as fast as it was when he went on his first hunt. Yes, he could hear an old rock song playing when you have that look on your face. Yes, he knew he was acting like Sammy and all his cheesy discourses right now.

Who cares?

Apart from all that, Dean offered you a cocky smile. ‘’What do you want, sweetheart?’’

‘’Kiss me.’’

And he did. You trusted him in the garden and he got you back. Dean kissed you in the porch in front of all your stupid friends, too. And then he kissed you again in my car under the streetlight and in so many other uncountable places.

He was the person who got left a few years after that. As if his sorrow had become the prey for some cosmic joke. Sammy left for Stanford and it made his dad, well, more dad than usual. The weird thing was, inside of the grief of being left, Dean understood what he did to you. He had a lot of blood in his hands, enough to turn an ocean red if he ever tried to clean them, but I knew that leaving you was the worst thing that I had ever done.

Well, at least that was what two bottles of Whiskey helped him to get to.

Dean guessed he got what you felt on your porch that night as well. When he walked in, you knew you'd forgive him but you needed to sting back. As Sam left, his older brother already knew he'd forgive him, too. Dean fought about it, and I felt betrayed- wounded animals still attack. But he had forgave him the moment he missed him.

You forgave Dean too, and nowadays he resented for that with an insufferable regret. Because then he told you the truth about the world and showed you his scars. He kissed you, and your lips found every ugly in him. Still, they kept asking him for more. Your lips were the bed for my monster to sleep under.

Real monsters found them.

A few years later, the trio was in a town. You had a vacation from college - you dated a hunter with 5 bucks to his name, and you were studying journalism in a conceited university. It made no sense to Dean sometimes. All you asked for was to spend your free time with him and a call each night to make sure he was alive, which he gave you happily. Besides finding a way to go near your city at least once a month, more for himself than anything else. How did he get so lucky?

You liked certain aspects of the hunter life, surprisingly. The driving away, the creatures, even the restaurants. ‘’Come on, you guys hunt monsters. How cool is that? Also just driving, eating in a new place everyday. Did I mention monsters are real? You guys are like heroes!’’

He shook his head at your optimism, stroking your naked form gently that night.‘’We aren't here, Y/N. This life, it ends early and bloody. There is no place for white fancies and normal.’’

‘’Who said that I want that?’’ You mocked right before pressing your lips to the hickey on his neck, gaining a content groan from Dean. ‘’You monsters. As far as I'm concerned, you are a hero. My hero.’’ You add a subtle joke. ‘’Like a fairytale.’’

He scoffed and pulled you closer. ‘’More like a horror movie.’’ 

‘’Haven’t you read fairytales?’’ 

‘’No, but I did see the porn version.’’ Done with talking, he got on top of you, wearing that lopsided grin that started it all over again.

Years back, he asked you what you wanted. And you said, kiss me.

You kept saying that for a decade. Growing that calamitous love, feeding it with stolen glances and touches. If you knew what’s next, would you do it again?

Now you are laying on the ground as he got on my knees and pulled you closer. You are almost dead, a half lifeless body, but you hold on so tight to life, gasping for it. His stubborn girl who he loved so.

Your voice, usually so determined, is barely a whimper. ‘’Everyone wants a fairytale love.’’

‘’What? Don’t get sentimental on me, Y/N. You aren’t gonna die.’’ Dean says exasperated. It isn’t blind faith, unrealistic optimism or anything like this. It’s denial, one of the stages of grief he’s familiar with. It lives with him, as loyal as a dog, as present as a long lost mother’s love; he ignores the acceptance and hope, jumping right into anger, guilt, denial, and bargains with the devil. As if death is a champagne problem he can just drink and be done with because hey, if you can’t lose something, then you won’t right? Right? And if you do lose it, then you’ll just die too. Someone loses oxygen, they die. Someone loses too much blood, they die.

He will die if he loses you, he will. Dean is devastatingly sure of that. He can feel it in his bones. If you die, he dies. His body, his cicatrized soul was made out of in woe. That man - scared little boy like he was when Mary died, really -, He knows sadness like an old lover who always visits, and death is an old friend who always shakes his hands and appears without an invite. Dean Winchester knows pain, alright? Ask any person, he’s the Rome for men, built in ruins despise the beauty of good.

But this? No. He can’t survive. It isn’t possible that someone can hold so much suffering and agony. Skin and bone can only take so many hematomas. 

‘’Dean, shut up.’’ You place your hand on his cheek and Dean can’t help but lean in. His green eyes are glistening, the memory of the garden reminiscing in the back of your mind. ‘’I’ve wanted a fairytale love since I was a kid and my dad used to read the books my mom left on the shelf for me. So, in my defense, I never actually read them.’’

‘’Is this what a fairytale looks to you?’’ The eldest Winchester asks, not missing how your touch is colder against him. Where’s Sam with the car? Where’s a miracle? Where’s the justice and fair things and anything good? Dying in his arms, sinking her fingernails into his skin.

‘’The original ones, yes. They are just like that.’’ You chortle, but what’s meant to sound like happiness develops into a cough. All the energy and strength you have are used to push the words. You need Dean to know. ‘’I don't regret anything. You loved me, and I loved you. This is good. I don’t want your silly little mind to think any other way. You aren’t the villain in my story, Dean. You are the…’’ You’re interrupted by your own body giving up on you at an alarming rate, more bloodstained coughing.

‘’Don’t speak, honey. You’ll be alright, okay? No goodbye, we don’t do goodbye. You’ll be alright. Just keep yourself awake, ok?’’ Dean doesn’t know what to do other than hold you. What does one do with all the throbbing aches? He can’t say he will see you in heaven if you die. Staying with you for ten years was heaven already and this is the price he pays. That’s like when the ocean drains in a flash right in front of your eyes and someone tells you to swim in the sky instead. He can’t jump high enough to get it, he isn’t tall enough to get it. But God, Dean can’t just give up, he can’t just let you go. You are bleeding out and he’s dying with you. ‘’Please.’’ The Winchester pleas. ‘’Don’t leave me. Please.’’

If this is how you die and you can only pick up some words to say, you need to spell love. You need Dean Winchester to know he was loved with your last breath, there’s no better use to life other than love. Therefore, it’s easy to know what to voice when you look into his eyes one last time. ‘’I love you.’’

Through the agony, Dean gives you the sort of smile... You know, the sort of smile that can only be described by I put my home on fire, so I could eat all the flames and all the bright blaze is in my teeth now. Because something is burning and you are becoming ashes, but you love this. You love that boy and he loves you. You’d do it all again. He rests his forehead against yours and you can feel his tears on your face, his hands holding you for dear life.

‘’I love you too.’’

It’s a good thing to hear as you close your eyes.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

[derekmorganscrocs]

Her Lipstick: Ace x Reader

Pairing: Ace (Nancy Drew CW) x Reader, Valentine’s Special.

Word Count: 1,725 (short but sweet.)

Summary: With everyone else having their nights planned out with romance and dates, Y/n and Ace get stuck manning the night shift at The Claw.

Notes: Ideally takes place after the aglacea is gone, and we’re finally having a quiet moment. But like SPOILER ALERT!!!! if Owen lived. ALSO A QUESTIONABLE ENDING BUT I LIKED IT NGL.

Ace’s Dad’s name is Tom by the way, this is key info for later.

“No one’s even gonna come in, George. It’s Valentines, and last I checked, crappy fried clams aren’t most people’s version of romance.” You glance her way from the kitchen, pausing with an alarmingly large knife in hand. The parsley in front of you isn’t going to chop itself, but your hands are starting to cramp.

“Yeah, well it’s business hours. Just humour me this once? I’ll owe you one.”

“George, you already owe me like nine.” You roll your eyes and look her way, attitude softening slightly at her expression. Knowing how she felt when the whole crew was a day away from death, about missing out on her and Nick... it puts a little graciousness in your heart. For their first Valentines together, why not just help her out? “I’ll do this one for free. Wait! Not for free! I’m still getting paid right?”

“Yes,” she laughs. “Thank you.” Nodding your way once more, she turns and heads out, closing the door behind her. You sigh, turning back to your cutting-board. Finishing with the stack of parsley and dumping it in a plastic container, you throw the knife in the sink. Surveying the restaurant quickly, as well as the parking lot, you ensure the coast is clear before heading to the freezer.

These days it seems like everyone’s got someone except you. Nancy and Owen, Nick and George, Bess and Lisbeth, hell, even the weirdo chef no one likes who only works fridays has a girlfriend. Not you though. You and Ace got stuck on the Valentine’s shifts no one else wanted because you were the only two available. Admittedly, Valentine’s wasn’t a big deal to you, you just thought the tacky decorations were kind of entertaining to have around. However, it kinda sucks when you’re single. And crushing. Speaking of crushes, you snap yourself out of your thoughts at the idea of a certain floppy haired boy.

“Ace?” You look around for your shift partner and best friend... and yes, crush, who for some reason isn’t in his usual happy place. Or anywhere to be seen. He doesn’t respond, so you look in the pantry, the dark corner by the lockers, and even the supply closet. He’s nowhere to be found. “Ace?”

“You looking for me?” Ace puts a hand on your shoulder, coming from behind you. Not gonna lie, it scares the crap out of you. And you whip around and punch him in the face. Then you realize it’s him and let out a small gasp.

“Ace! Oh my god, I’m so sorry-“ you lean down, taking his hand and helping him up, as he massages his jaw with his other hand. That’s embarrassing. Really embarrassing.

“My fault,” he mumbles. “Forgot you scare...” he pauses for a second, trying to find the word, “...punchily. Good hit though, really starting to get that impact value.”

“Thanks, I think. I’ll go get you some ice, can you just watch the dining room?”

Ace nods and you head to the freezer. Of course there’s no ice. Why would there ever be ice when you need it? You root through the options of ice packs for Ace’s eye, as you think to yourself.

Lately, you’ve been making yourself a fool in front of Ace. See, it wasn’t this bad a few weeks ago, when you liked him but didn’t know you liked him. You throw a box of clams (ew.) to the side. Now that you’ve realized, you’re a hot mess. Next you find a singular frozen fish (also ew.). He’s been acting a little off too, and you’re worried it’s because he knows. Now you’ve found a lobster that you’re pretty sure has been there since the place opened (ew x3). Oh look, some frozen bread (that won’t really work).

What you don’t know is that Ace has also just recently realized his feelings for you, and his dad, Tom, has just tricked him into bringing you over to their place later. You finally find a box of heart shaped popsicles, and take a couple of them back to the kitchen, where Ace stands, leaning against the counter.

“This is all we have. Valentine’s special, have some heart shaped chemicals for your black eye.” You hand him two of the three popsicles you’re holding. “I also brought you one to eat. If you’re crazy enough to.” You hop up on the counter beside him and sit cross legged, tearing open the third wrapper.

“If you are, I am.” He rips open one of the frozen treats and places the other below his eye. Looking down at the wrapper from the one he opened, he makes a face. “I can’t even read half of these things.”

“Hey, I could’ve brought you the lobster.”

He knows exactly what you’re talking about and backtracks his critiques of the popsicle. The two of you sit in silence for a few seconds, disturbed by the bell ringing. A woman walks in, which grabs both your and Ace’s attention, but she just pins a flyer to the bulletin board and leaves. Exciting crowd.

Soon enough, the snack popsicles are gone, and the ice pack popsicle is slush. Ace throws the melted package into the sink, the slush inside making a questionable ‘plop’ sound as it hits the metal. The two of you stand around a little longer, before packing up the perishables and putting them back in the freezer/pantry. Business is slow, and it’s boring. The two of you are back to waiting around, and Ace ends up laying across one side of a booth, you on the other. The two of you pass a rolled up napkin back and forth, tossing it over the table to the other person. It doesn’t keep you entertained for long, though.

“You bored?” You turn your head and look at him under the table.

“Yeah,” he chuckles.

“Same.” You sit up, getting a slight head rush as you do. Ace mirrors your actions, minus the head rush. The two of you stand, but before you can start wandering around aimlessly-

“You, uh, you have something on your face,” he chuckles softly, his goofy grin turning into a smaller smile, a certain softness appearing in his eyes. You reach for your cheek, trying to swipe whatever it is off your face. Seems like you miss, because Ace chuckles, before asking- “Can I?”

You nod, and he wipes your cheekbone with his thumb, his lips parting just a little bit as he lets out a small, nervous, chuckle. Suddenly your heart is beating about a thousand miles a minute, and as Ace’s eyes settle on your lips for a second, you look at his face, taking in every detail that you can.

The bell rings and the door opens, making you and Ace launch away from each other. A strong gust of wind blows in, and no one walks in, making you sigh. The wind literally blew open the door. Horseshoe Bay is dead quiet tonight. No customers. You close the door, and realize it’s nine pm, so you flip the sign to closed and lock the door.

“Hey, Y/n, you wanna come to my place? My dad told me he’s making food for three tonight.” Ace watches as you make your way to where he stands by the kitchen.

“That his way of inviting me over?”

“Guess so,” Ace quips with a smirk, throwing an arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk to the locker room. After double checking that the freezer is sealed, you lock up The Claw and head to Ace’s place, hitching a ride in Florence, of course.

When you get to Ace’s place, the smell of cherry pie wafts straight into your face as soon as you open the door. Ace’s dad stands by the coffee table in the living room, and his face lights up when you walk in. You sign a quick hello, Ace doing the same behind you. Ace also throws in a cautionary ‘don’t embarrass me’ but that goes unnoticed by you, you’re too busy checking out the coffee table. There’s all sorts of food that you love, especially compliments of Chef Tom.

You flop onto the couch, snatching a fresh baked dinner roll off the table. Ace flips on the tv, sitting down beside you, and Tom heads back to the kitchen to clean up. Looking around, you notice some of the sweet little Valentine’s decorations around the house. There’s a few plastic hearts hanging around the rooms, and some red streamer thingys. They bring a smile to your face, despite being a little corny.

“Dad knows you like the tacky decorations. No matter how much you say you hate them.”

“Your dad is so sweet. I always feel like part of the family when I’m here,” you say softly, pure joy radiating off your face.

“Okay, I gotta be honest for a second,” Ace blurts out sharply, seemingly out of nowhere. Your heartbeat speeds up a little as anxiety bubbles in your chest, and you nod quickly. “It’s because he wants you to be part of the family.”

“What?” Your eyes widen as you look at Ace. “Sorry, that makes no sense.”

“You really are blind. Nancy told me you couldn’t take hints but I didn’t think she-“

“Ace!” You put a hand on his thigh, cutting him off. He pauses, getting back on topic.

“Well... you see. You’ve always gotten along great with everyone. Especially Dad, sometimes I’m convinced he’s your best friend. And I made the mistake of telling him that I have feelings for you, so now he’s like extra nice. Because he wants me to be happy.”

“Oh wow,” you laugh, suddenly a lot more relaxed.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid, and-“

You cut him off by grabbing his shirt and pulling him towards you. You kiss him, and he obviously kisses back, his hands settling against your face as he pushes himself closer to you.

“I like you too. Thought it was obvious,” you breathe against his lips. He lets out small chuckle.

“Not really,” he whispers, and then kisses you again.

Now your arms are over his shoulders, and you’re basically on his lap as the kiss heats up a little. Tom is forgotten until the sound of footsteps behind you causes the two of you break away again. You turn to see Ace’s dad come over and put a plate on the table.

You sign a ‘thank you, Tom.’ his way, and he smiles widely back at you. He glances over at his son beside you, and his eyes widen slightly. Glancing back and forth a few times, he lets out a delighted chuckle when he makes the connection.

“You two? Finally,” He signs quickly.

“What?” Ace tries to play it off, but fails miserably. He’s not the best actor. About thirty seconds of your and Tom’s laughter and Ace’s denial go by before Ace folds. “What gave it away?”

“You’re wearing her lipstick.”

TAGS:

@ananad1

@remmysrecs

@bookish-bucky

@sahi-raa

@peakyrogers

[sugar-petals]

:: Two Girls Dominating SuperM

↳ NOTE: Since sharin’ is carin’ 😋 Happy holidays! Get the list Santa cuz here go seven kinds of naughty. PS: I use different POVs here, whatever fits best.

words. 3.3k

warnings ⚠️ bondage, pegging, flexibility kink, sex toys, some switch!kai, rough sex, harnesses, oral (m giving), possessiveness, taemin’s evil lady kink, ice cream

⎡Taeyong⎦⇁ I think it’s time to reveal an unspoken truth about the pop industry. You ready? When Rihanna did S&M, a vision of Taeyong from the future whispered the lyrics in her ear. I swear to god. That’s exactly how it happened. Just the way we’d expect, dear Taeyong is gonna float in paradise. Not one domme ready to shake him up, but two? He can retire. Boy doesn’t need anything else. Except maybe a bit of cash to buy harnesses he can model but they’ll treat him to that anyway. That being said. Knowing that two fly madams in latex are ravaging his body at every chance they can get is gonna make him know he can die happy one day. Like, he truly lived. He won’t really hold back with restructuring a lot of parts of his life to let this dynamic unfold all the way. We’ve heard of his DIY skills. This sounds funny but Taeyong will design, paint, decorate, and maintain a special area for their play. Not necessarily just one room, he varies that. We know how gifted he is with interiors and domestic ideas, so. Prepare to get blown away by his sheer efforts. And man, the amount of spare time he can stretch to get a quickie out of that time window. Incredible. Even more interesting is gonna be the range. Taeyong can handle girls that dress up super differently every time, he goes along with any roleplay or character they come up with. He’s gonna be their little prince, their hotel boy, their waiter, their flight attendant, their Jack Dawson incarnate. And their dream boy altogether, cuz that’s what Taeyong is.

His frustrations are bound to work up over weeks if he is busy at SM, so finally seeing them again will have him so excited. And nervous. And so involved with preparing things for them, the perfectionist comes out. Can you imagine Taeyong donning his apron and preparing a four course menu for an entire afternoon? You bet he’ll pull that off. Butler Taeyong will be at full throttle. He’s gonna end up getting viciously fucked in the kitchen anyways. Like to the point where all his hair is a mess in his face and everyone ran out of breath. And seriously, he’s the type to completely surrender and place all trust in the girls. Which they know, and they’ll reward him so well. With things Taeyong loves best aka getting whipped and plowed. One of you could be binding him to a fucking machine and controlling the remote, the other marking his legs and upper back. The little bun gets terribly turned on if you push him on all fours for that and hold the nape of his neck in place so he can’t go anywhere. Consider your carpet ruined with semen. While Taeyong is busy recharging for the next round lying on the floor exhausted, you take polaroids.

⎡Baekhyun⎦⇁ Okay listen, I’ll tell you the secret. You can pull a complete duality on him. Baekhyun, getting nuzzled and snuggled and squeezed from all sides because he’s so sweet? Absolutely his jam. He got two hands to hold, after all. And two mochi cheeks to kiss, my friend, two of them. But also, getting a full dose of freaky stuff inflicted on him with some good music playing? This loud little fucker is going to levitate. These two raging girls can take complete control of his body and fool around to their liking. Grabbing his butt, feeding him cake, dressing him up or stripping him down, riding his face to oblivion. Like not just circling your hips. Actual sharp thrusting and making him forget the light of day. And using some cute pink ropes to string his pretty wrists from the ceiling as a treat. Only a matter of time until he’s an arching mess. As you already suspected: A giant dose of ass destruction is only one step away. Any toy suffices. At best, when he’s trying to beat a new high score and has to concentrate on the game. Nice challenge for his focus, he likes that. He wants to feel how he’s getting stretched out from all directions until it hurts so good. Screaming „Ah!“ is his favorite word. Maybe not too straps in one hole, that’s Taeyong territory, and Baekhyun’s ass is really tight generally, but spitroasting? His favorite pastime. Stuffed up and getting a load of extra hard thrusts. He can suck and gyrate all the way, all at the same time like he never did anything else. It’s gotta be hard and fast. I’m telling you, he’ll make it sloppy anyway.

Did he ever think he could get fucked up like this by a sexy tag team? Nope, he squarely thought he was undeserving. Now that he’s getting regularly suffocated and earns the praise for being so cute, Baekhyun is actually starting to believe he can ask for and enjoy that glorious wreckage. Because if there’s one thing he wishes for, it’s drowning in his own spit. These two are gonna be so territorial and wild, his dick and tongue are gonna threaten to fall off every night. How many condoms Baekhyun’s gonna fill, those will be record numbers, it’s like the album charts. Baekhyun’s a straight-up cum bank dairy cow extraordinaire when it comes to milking him dry. Like what did you think if two mommies feed him with all sorts of delicacies, all that juice is going to stock up and get ready to blow. And the amounts and types of collars Baekhyun’s neck is gonna be in: Whole lot, even with leashes attached. Oh god, they’ll strap him stupid with some dog ears on as a reward. Baekhyun’s prostate is gonna be a constantly spongy ruined mess, poor mochi gonna end up waddling around the kitchen to chug a liter of water at 3 AM.

⎡Taemin⎦⇁ You know who’s gonna be in his element. You just know it. Taemin is ride or die when it comes to wanting someone to be the boss of him. He’s not just dabbling in all that jazz to experiment, he’s livin’ and breathing it. Taemin’s imagination is the 3D version of AO3’s finest fanfics. Hell, he even imagines the sounds over and over, it’s gotta be 4D! He’s already crafted the most intricate fantasies for some seriously action movie-like roleplay. But let's start from the beginning. What’s on Taemin’s ever-wicked mind when he goes to sleep at night? Two intimidating ladies ganging up on him. Arriving on their black motorcycle at his house, flirting the living hell out of him, raiding his fridge, grinding on his lap in their biker gear, licking his face, taking his luxurious clothes off, calling him names, making him dance for him (that one’s a staple), biting down on his torso wherever they please, and having their way with him until it’s all one big orgy. Hell, probably on that motorcycle in the garage. Taemin pretty much getting one dry orgasm after the other because it’s the time of his life. Like, they’re really spoiling him. And he’s giving himself to them. That kind of scenario going down? To Taemin, that sounds like his wettest of dreams come true. He’s like yes, yes, yes and yes. A dynamic duo of sadistic girlfriends, that’s gonna leave him so shook and utterly addicted. Like he wants to get backed into a corner, bring on all the kabedon, Taemin goes all the way the way we know him. Nobody loves that fantasy more than him.

Now… the trick is. They’re actually really fun and sweet and pet his hair incessantly. You know, casually, doing daily life things. Cooing at him and getting all the sweetest princely kisses from their angel. My god, they’ll be so gently in love with him. But in the bedroom, it’s raw business. Taemin is gonna take is so hard, he’ll be seeing stars. That he’s getting slapped around — the thighs included, he loves that — while getting a handjob has to be the most orgasmic experience ever. Taemin is gonna bust fifty-thousand nuts over having his hair pulled by one girl and being choked by the other. Boy is he gonna be hard even if the pants stay on. What if he’s not the one grinding around this time. Two scary girls riding his lap, cuffing and belittling him — wow. Taemin never wants that feast to end. Getting roughed up at any occasion makes his day. He is needy, but the girls have all the cruel shit could ever ask for, and he has the stamina to handle all of it. And the class, he never loses his mystery. A fucking marathon with some pretty brutal bondage and impact play involved, no problem, he’ll last it. You can torture the soul out of him, he’s gonna be winding and gasping for more. Except maybe that his voice is gonna be pretty hoarse if they don’t gag his mouth for the most part. Man, Taemin is so vocal. This will have the ladies all runny beyond imagination. Nobody who meets him casually is gonna suspect it, but Taemin has the wettest dick in all of Seoul (unless Lucas is doing an allnighter) and no pliable brain left because he’s got is fucked out hard daily and he gave it daily. Now you know.

⎡Jongin⎦⇁ Kai is gonna act smug about this right from the start. He’s gonna be the guy who’s proud to show you off, walking around arms over your either shoulders, him right in the middle. Like hello, I’m experienced. The entirety of SM Entertainment is gonna have rumors circulating but nobody’s gonna be surprised. Little does he know you’re down to make his naughty lyrics come true. Kai is gonna get pegged and punished holding onto his dear oversized teddy bear. Literally, these two will have him burying his entire face there. Whimpering and high-pitched moaning like it’s time for EXO adlibs. His couch is large enough for three people, so. Somebody is gonna end up horny and crying. With his album on repeat because there’s no better music to fuck to, don’t kid yourself, you likely don’t, anyway. It’s Kai we’re talking about. He has sluttiness for days. Getting your hands on all that tall dark and handsome goodness is just all that you need as a domme duo. Have you seen how this guy moves just breathing and walking and cocking his head on the occasion… I don’t wanna know how far he can go in the horizontal realm to put it carefully.

But you gotta be ready for Kai’s aggressive side that wants to make things happen. If you like a struggle for dominance, this is the address. You two are just too tempting and delicious not to move around on his bed to assume new positions. And if Jongin doesn’t feel like snapping his dangerous hips into either of you, he’s lying. Kai is ready to fucking dick you down like it’s your birthday. He has to be taught to request and wait like a good boy, on his best behavior and his knees preferably. Yep, I think that Kai is a case for some extended training because he’s so impatient, with good reason, but he still needs to be put in his place. Which Kai likes because it means you go harder on him without restraint. Was it his goal all along? I can see one of the girls taking the role of speaking to him with his head in her lap. Giving commands occasionally, checking in. And the other, getting freaky on him with her instruments. Kai’s body is so sensitive and reactive, it’s gonna be fun to see him twitch and beg. Even something as simple as clamping his nipples will already do the trick. That’s when you have Kai begging.

⎡Ten⎦⇁ Believe it or not. Out of all people, he’s gonna be the one with the most doubts and insecurities — at first. It feels a little overwhelming to Ten because he doesn’t know what’s coming. You know that kind of facial expression he does when he is uncertain. Mind you: Having a whole bunch of people around him isn’t new to him. Bitch, he’s in NCT! A threesome is peanuts against that neo energy. It’s more like, the coordination, he doesn’t know how to act. He’ll be shy and big-eyed and doesn’t know what to say. The king of comebacks and clapbacks: Speechless. Let that sink in. The girls are dealing with the kind of guy who needs a lot of clarity and talk beforehand because he doesn’t have experience with it. It takes him to really know what the program is and damn he’s right about that. Ten really getting into what he’s signing up for is big-brained of him. He asks a lot of questions with an open-mind, but also care. But then again, we know how Ten’s confidence can skyrocket, and that he’s so secretly curious about those things he’s bursting with anticipation. And he knows what to ask for to really get someone going. Touch me, tease me, feel me up, am I right or am I right? He adapts so well to almost any circumstance in his life, it’s admirable. Totally up to the challenge once it goes down, he really grows into that. And I promise that particularly the physical part is absolutely his forte, that’s where he blooms. Ten can be easily taught through the genius of his body and he’s gonna love that.

Once things get hands-on and he finds himself with two girls mounting him, and on go the cat ears, he’s like oh my god this is great. The surprise factor is the biggest in the group here. Ten is gonna almost facepalm because he’s been worrying himself where there was nothing to be anxious about. Because he’s in his groove! Smiling and laughing and having a good time. No stress, just feeling so damn good. Probably with several super-size vibrating toys employed on him because that’s how Ten rolls, always taking the challenge. What a twitchy mess he’s gonna be, I can’t. The two ladies are gonna have a blast themselves bending him around and getting the best of the best erections out of him. Ten is totally gonna snack something while they’re fooling around as three. Or they’re stuffing him with delicacies, he’s gonna be so eager. But that’s not even a glimpse of what they’re gonna do! Ten is ready for almost everything, my friends. Tag teamed while dressed up as Alice? Likelier than you think. With the wig, that’s right. Ten is gonna be their good girl for one long night and truly love it. He obeys so well, spreads his legs like its nothing. It’s all gonna be a hell of a mess on his outfit though. If there’s one person ready to have cum all over him, that’s the right address. He’s throwing peace signs and pose for their phone cameras. Oh Ten, the legend you are.

⎡Lucas⎦⇁ Wong Yukhei… the entire concept that is him literally screams for it. Two people handling all that fucking hunk. So much space to work with, that body is a drug. Xuxi is one staggering big boy, his forehead is making love to any door frame. Lot of waist to grab (…like why is it shaped like that. Offensive!) lot of wrist to tie. And those long fucking model legs, for god’s sake, you just gotta do something with those for once. Get those thigh harnesses! Plus he’s a literal baby who’s all down to date girls his senior. Yukhei is a sucker for mad girls acting possessive over him. And he’s a handful, one fucking tease, one chaotic man. Two times the payback is just so much more appropriate. He can just get fucked and fucked and fucked some more. As is two times as much stimulation. You can imagine. Yes, all over his body. Grabbing his necktie and guiding him around this that (good shit) and caressing his face, and his back, and his chest, and his stomach, it’s so sexy to touch him there.

But let’s not lie. A certain somebody has cock and balls for two people. Lucas is one hell of a stallion. Lot of girth to make hard and to edge. That needs a duo of two unhinged girls, forces of nature, someone shy won’t do. It’s their job to make him shy and docile, not the other way around. Because Lucas enjoys being teased and flattered right back, and is more than fine with being toyed with, even playfully beaten up. You know he loves to be on the receiving end of bickering. Doesn’t mean he suddenly forgets to be an active party or just leans back. He has giant hands and knows how to use them, he’s chartered some major clit territory as well, remember that. That’s gonna be three people losing their fucking minds. Imagine all those luscious, raspy groans. Lucas never holds back, no filter, he knows what the ladies like. Drenched in sweat is all you’ll gonna be. And probably a whole bunch of lube because that’s the other thing the entire concept of Lucas is screaming for. The more ye know.

⎡Mark⎦⇁ Alright my friends. Cute Mark vibes different but that’s no secret. Boy’s gonna admit he’s really intimidated and shy, but so happy he’s gonna get sandwiched once he agrees to try it. It’s all a matter of courage. The girls will be the ones approaching him because they bought him ice cream, and the conversation starts from there, but it’s up to Mark to really set the mood. Oh boy, he’s not gonna stop blushing. This nerd with a girl on each side, that sure as hell looks great on him, I assure you. And if Mark Lee is your trophy rapper poly boyfriend, you truly made it, so. This is gonna be a dynamic right here. And the most fun, imagine the mayhem. He’ll talk his mouth off like his life depends on it. Mark doing sexy talk with two girls at the same time would be so entertaining. They will own his ass. Like wow… they’re making out with him, alternate with french kisses and putting their hands all over him, and ruin his face with ice cream. Mark would be so sexy to pull close by his collar.

And you bet it’s gonna slowly escalate from there, he’s tapping into some sides of him he never knew were there. Ice cubes down his chest, tongues down his mouth, hands in his hair kind of afternoon. As a brief and hilarious interruption, a shivering, horny as hell Mark takes a phone call from Johnny. Who, as you learn, is completely unsuspecting. „Hey, I’m at IKEA, uh. The living room section, actually. Should I buy the blue pillow or the yellow one? I can’t decide. They both have the same print on them, so.“ Mark is gonna blurt out that blue is probably gonna be a good idea and ends the phone call before anybody can moan into the speaker. Johnny is left confused at the other end of the line. The girls will end up teasing Mark that he said blue because that’s what his balls are for sure. Freudian slips, always glorious. Mark is not gonna deny that and ultimately ends up with his face between two cleavages — talk about melons, are we gonna kid ourselves — and two hands down his jeans. This is gonna need a lot of towels. Mark has never gotten this fucked up in his whole life and he is grateful. Watch out people, he’ll write a whole mixtape about this.

[princesssarisa]

How "Cinderella Monogatari" Could Have Been Better

I've just finished watching the 1996 anime series Cinderella Monogatari ("The Story of Cinderella"). I'll share my overall thoughts on it later, after I've overviewed a few other versions of the fairy tale. But for now, I'll say that I liked it very much. That said, it does have its flaws. Below are the handful of changes I would make to improve it.

1. Have Cinderella's father be presumed dead through most of the series.

It's awkward to have Cinderella's father still be alive, and not a weak henpecked husband, but merely away on business. Why would Duchess Dalbin so extensively abuse and degrade her stepdaughter knowing that the girl's devoted father will eventually come back? I would have preferred for the Duke to leave on his business trip, and then, a few weeks later, have the family receive the news that his ship was wrecked in a storm and that he's missing and presumably drowned. Only at this point would the Duchess start to abuse Cinderella. This could also add a layer of depth to the Duchess's character. She could be portrayed as genuinely in love with her husband and distraught by his "death," and afterwards she would exclude Cinderella from the family because Cinderella reminds her too much of him, similar to what the 1997 version of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical implies. But in the final episode, the Duke would come back and reveal that he survived after all: he's just taken this long to recover from his injuries and find a ship home. So we'd still have the blissful family reunion the actual series gives us, but with even more emotional weight.

2. Give Duke Zaral consistent motivation.

I like the series' addition of a "Greater Scope Villain" (to quote TVTropes) in Duke Zaral. But at least in the English dub, his motive seems to change completely at random from "Marry his daughter Isabel to Prince Charles and become the real power behind the throne" to "Murder Charles and force his parents to surrender the kingdom." This could be easily solved, though. Simply place the episode "The Disturbing Painter" (his first real attempt to kill Charles, when he tries to have his portrait painted by an artist who traps his subjects' souls in the painting) after the episode "Traveling Toward Happiness" (where his daughter Isabel runs away with her true love) instead of before. Since the series makes it clear that Zaral really does love his daughter, it would make much more sense for his murderous turn to be caused by losing her, especially if he found out that Charles had helped her elope. To quote TVTropes again, it would be his Villainous Breakdown, and it would give him a real character arc.

3. Cut the episode "Prince Charles's Secret," where Cinderella and her stepsisters are forced to work as maids in the castle.

While of course it's funny to see the stepsisters forced to do the same chores they usually heap on Cinderella, the context is ridiculous. If a wealthy duke like Zaral wants maidservants to spy on Prince Charles, why doesn't he just pay real working-class girls to do it? Why on earth would he insult a family of his own social class by tricking a duchess's daughters into visiting the castle only to have them forced into servitude? And afterwards, why does no one ever mention it again? Realistically, wouldn't a trick like that cause a scandal? The whole scenario is contrived and would be better off cut.

4. Make Cinderella less of a damsel in distress.

Now there's no shame in a heroine not being a fighter or needing to be rescued. But it's still a tiny bit tedious to see Cinderella repeatedly being captured or endangered and Charles repeatedly being the strong one who rescues her. Even after he teaches her how to swordfight in "Lets Get Rid of Those Bandits," she never uses the skills she learned in that episode again, particularly not in the finale when she's captured by Zaral. I say remove Charles from some of the episodes where she's endangered and have her rescue herself instead. Have her use the fencing skills Charles taught her throughout the rest of the series, particularly when she's kidnapped in the finale. Not that she needs to use a sword, but at least she could defend herself with a stick or some other improvised weapon. In the climactic battle with Zaral on the clock tower, I'd have Cinderella and Charles fighting him together rather than just Charles. Again, I'm not saying there's any shame in being a damsel in destress, but it would be more interesting to see Cinderella defend herself at least a little bit more.

5. Have the stepfamily rip Cinderella's dress before the ball, as in the Disney version.

The scene where they rip up her invitation to the ball is already a blatant knockoff of the Disney dress-ripping scene, but without the same power. So why not take the imitation all the way and have them rip her dress as well as the invitation? This would also enhance the next scene where Fairy Godmother Paulette works her magic. In the actual series, the fact that Cinderella is already wearing a fancy gown and Paulette's magic just brings its style more up-to-date is slightly underwhelming. We lose the sheer magic of the dress transformation that other versions of Cinderella have. If her dress were in tatters, this would be rectified.

6. Don't have Charles fall in love with the "mystery girl."

Cinderella retellings that give Cinderella and the Prince most of their romance arc before the ball always have a dilemma: what to do with the plot point of the Prince not knowing his beloved's name or where to find her after the ball? Some versions have found good solutions; this one is mediocre. After his series-long slow-burn romance arc with Cinderella, it's awkward to see Charles become enamored in one night with the girl at the ball, whom he doesn't know is Cinderella. Even if it is just because she "reminds him" of Cinderella, whom he thinks will never speak to him again because he lied about his identity, it still seems ever-so-slightly fickle. I'd prefer to have him only regard her as a friend with whom he can confide about Cinderella. Then, after the ball, instead of being depressed about her disappearance, he'd be depressed because Cinderella "never showed up" even though he invited her. But Alex and Hans would mistakenly think he was moping over the mystery girl and set out to use the glass slipper to find her.

7. Give the stepfamily a gradual redemption arc.

Maybe this is what the series was trying to go for, because there are assorted episodes where Cinderella does especially valuable things for her stepfamily (saving Jeanne's life when they're lost in the woods, learning to swordfight and guarding the house against the bandits, risking her life to find healing herbs for her dangerously ill stepmother, etc.) and momentarily earns their respect. But in every new episode, they're back to abusing her. So in the last episode, it feels very abrupt when they start being nice to her after she's betrothed to Prince Charles. If it were played for laughs like in the 1957 version of the Rodgers and Hammertein musical, and they were clearly only sucking up to her because she was the princess-to-be, it would feel less awkward, but it's not played for laughs. It feels as if we're supposed to see it as a genuine, heartfelt family reconciliation, which is completely unearned. And then when Cinderella's father the Duke comes home, they all reunite as one big happy family and the Duke never even learns that his wife and stepdaughters abused his daughter while he was away!

My solution? Put much more emphasis on Cinderella's gradually earning her stepfamily's respect over the course of the series. Don't have them forget the great things she does for them; have call-backs to the fact that she saved their lives, risked her own safety for them etc. Show them increasingly torn between their jealousy of her and their growing respect and gratitude toward her. While they would still have a final "Kick the Dog" moment by tearing up her mother's dress and her invitation to the ball, I'd show them feeling very guilty as they ride away in their carriage afterward. Maybe Jeanne could ask Catherine if what they did was right, and Catherine would reply that they had no choice, Cinderella looked too pretty, the Prince would have ignored them if he had seen her, etc.; but clearly she wouldn't be so sure. Then, after Cinderella reunites with Prince Charles, there could be a scene similar to the opera La Cenerentola, where Charles would publicly berate the Duchess and her daughters for their treatment of Cinderella and threaten to punish them somehow, only for Cinderella to declare that she forgives them and beg her fiancé to pardon them. This would move them to tears and they would finally, profusely apologize to her for all they had done. And when the Duke comes home, Cinderella's choice not to tell him about their abuse could be emphasized as her way of showing faith in their repentance and giving them a second chance.

I realize that all this would probably take up more than just a few minutes of the final episode. So because we've already cut the earlier episode where the stepsisters work as maids at the palace, I suggest we add a new Episode 23, in-between the actual series' second-to-last and final episodes. This entire episode would take place between the slipper-fitting and the royal wedding, and it would open with her reunion with Charles and end with her reunion with her father. Everything in between would be devoted to her reconciliation with the stepfamily. This would be a much more believable, satisfactory conclusion for them than what the actual series gives us.

It's a good series, but with these changes, in my personal opinion, it would be even stronger.

[texanredrose]

Showing Off

Inspired by prompts submitted to @unsteadyshade on tumblr (here), that I reblogged earlier, or AO3 (here). Also, yes, I'm very much American but I decided to use the non-American lingo in regards to soccer here. Don't look at me expecting logic, my friends, I just do what the winds of whimsy tell me.

---

Blake pulled the hotel door shut behind her, following after her teammate and best friend who was further down the hall and carrying their tote bags. While she didn’t hold the same superstitious beliefs, Yang swore up and down they’d lose unless they brought along their ‘lucky’ practice ball; after going back to retrieve it, the woman seemed satisfied and started walking towards the elevator while Blake caught up. “This is ridiculous, you know that right?”

“Hey, don’t sass me; we’ve never lost a road game when we’ve had the ball,” Yang said, already wearing her keeper jersey, the material stretched a bit thin over her muscled frame. It had seen better days but, much like the ball, the woman refused to replace it, especially during their run up to the championship. “A little extra luck can’t hurt anyone. Except the other team, I guess.”

“It can make us late, though,” she said, one of her ears flicking back as one of the doors they passed opened and closed- had to be other patrons of the hotel, seeing as the rest of their team was already downstairs by the bus. “Which would mean we forfeit.”

“We’re not running that late,” Yang replied, throwing a grin her way. Then, lilac eyes were drawn behind them and lingered a moment before her lips pulled into a very specific smirk. Blake knew that smirk- it was the ‘oh, I’ve got an idea, you might not like it but you’re gonna do it’ expression, because aside from being one of the best keepers in the region, Yang Xiao Long was also ridiculously persuasive. Dangerously so, in fact. “Hey. Toss me the ball.”

“Your hands are full.”

“Wasn’t going to use my hands.”

Blake narrowed her eyes, vividly remembering the last time someone tried doing agility drills down a hotel hallway, and picked up on the subtle look behind them. After a few more steps, she turned to say something about the game to Yang as an excuse to glance behind them. And then, it all made sense.

A bit further down the hallway were two women, both of whom were dressed in sharp business attire, and the moment Blake returned her attention to Yang, she pointed at herself and mouthed the word ‘tall’ with a wink.

“C’mon, toss me the ball,” Yang said, coming to a stop.

Blake glanced at her watch and, although a touch reluctant, decided they had enough time for a little demonstration. Tossing the ball towards Yang, she stepped back to lean against the wall while the woman started juggling while still carrying both totes. With her best friend as a distraction, Blake could take a longer look at the women Yang was trying to impress, and realized a few things, chiefly: they weren’t just any business women following behind them.

They were the Schnee sisters.

Atlesian elites, borderline nobility, some of the richest and most powerful people in the world; the Schnee sisters were in the news for one reason or another practically every day. Blake was more familiar with the attitude and mentality of the younger sister, Weiss Schnee, because it was her actions that Blake, as a faunus, found most… interesting. All the way up until she assumed control of her family’s company, the woman didn’t seem much at odds with the stuffy, bigoted, narrow minded people found in her social circle. After, though, she not only did an unapologetic one-eighty in the other direction, she became so aggressively progressive that it created a wide schism in the highest echelons of Atlesian society. More than once, she’d deployed the surprisingly well equipped private SDC security forces to protect protestors from Atlesian police and military personnel, and paid an exorbitant amount of money to keep those protestors out of jail, either by paying off bonds or hiring attorneys. In a relatively short amount of time, she’d become a juggernaut for social changes, and the careful monopoly her scheming father had built became the ultimate tool for exacting those changes.

Blake could admire the woman’s sense of justice as well as her commitment to it.

The elder, though, she only knew by name. Winter Schnee stood on her sister’s side when it came to social issues and did something tangentially related to the SDC but, beyond that, the details were a blur. She’d never heard Yang mention either sister in anything more than a passing comment while they pursued the news together waiting for flights, certainly nothing she could recall that would explain why the woman wanted Winter’s attention specifically. However, it also wasn’t out of the ordinary for Yang to show off a bit for pretty ladies when presented the opportunity.

By the time Blake had made a decision herself, Yang had run through every trick she knew and had popped the ball up to balance on her chest. She motioned for the woman to pass the ball, which earned her a raised brow at first before lilac eyes twinkled and she popped her shoulders back to set the ball in motion.

Blake caught it before it hit the ground with her foot, stalling the ball’s momentum entirely for a moment before she began juggling herself. For her, it was less a skill she’d developed for showing off as one of honing control of her body and the ball, but she knew a few tricks, moving slightly away from the wall so she could juggle the ball in a circle around her while still facing Yang. It meant juggling with her heel behind her back briefly but she managed it without losing control and that prompted a low murmur from their audience. Impressively, she couldn’t make out the words, which made her think the speaker specifically didn’t want her to hear.

After transitioning between using her feet and knees, the faunus popped the ball up high enough for her head to get under it, her feline ears laying flat against her skull to prove she wasn’t using them to help her balance the ball in place, which earned a brief chuckle from Yang. Then, she began bouncing it atop her head while moving her head just so to get the ball rotating before allowing it to roll off her head so she could catch it with her foot.

With a glance to confirm Yang was prepared, Blake passed her the ball, and the two of them traded it for a while, trying to catch the other off guard to make the eventual save and pass even more impressive. It was a show of control and dexterity and, had they planned it, would’ve had a better end to the display. Unfortunately, a short pass from Yang resulted in both of them trying to save it, which sent the ball bouncing harmlessly down the hall until it came to a stop at Winter’s feet.

Then again, given the glint in Yang’s eye, perhaps that was her intention. “Oh, sorry about that. We’re just… warming up.”

With a jerk of her head, the faunus realized her friend was requesting some back-up. “Yes, we, uh… are on our way to a game. The semi-finals, actually.”

“We can probably get ya seats, if you want.” A nonchalant shrug. “You should come watch us play.”

The sisters exchanged a look then. The elder, questioning, and the younger… Blake couldn’t put a word to that look. It was equal parts goading and secretive, and perhaps something else dancing in blue eyes. She would need a lot more time to decipher that look.

And she found herself wanting it.

Then, without a word, Winter put her foot on top of the ball and rolled it back, popped it up, and… began juggling with just as much precision as they’d displayed. Except, unlike them- bedecked in jerseys, loose shorts, and tennis shoes- she was doing it in a form fitting pants suit and dress shoes, hampering her mobility somewhat though it hardly impacted her performance, executing all the tricks Yang had done. Then, she passed it to her sister, who, in high heels and a skirt, proceeded to do the same, keeping many of the tricks low so her skirt wouldn’t ride up. Which, of course, meant she had less room to manipulate the ball, had to move faster to get into position to execute each trick, and when she did a version of Blake’s around the world one, the faunus felt her mouth pop open in astonishment.

Once satisfied, Weiss passed the ball back to her sister, who caught it one handed.

“We appreciate the invitation. However...” Winter tossed the ball, hard enough that it hit Yang’s chest before the keeper thought to catch it. “We unfortunately have a prior engagement that requires our attention.”

The sisters began walking past the gobsmacked footballers and Blake didn’t miss the look Weiss directed her way as she spoke. “After you’ve won your game, perhaps you’ll join us in the hotel’s hot tub?”

Blake didn’t notice how close they were to their floor’s elevator until Winter reached over and pushed the button to call a car. “Unless, of course, you have your own post victory traditions that take precedence.”

Yang just shook her head while Blake managed to find her voice. “No. We don’t. Have traditions, I mean.”

“Excellent,” Weiss said, stepping into the car the moment the doors twanged open and hitting a button inside, smiling in a way that… well… Blake would call it seductive in another setting and found herself hard pressed not to call it that now. “We’ll see you there. Don’t be late.”

When the doors closed, both Blake and Yang were left standing in the hallway, both just… recovering from how mentally unprepared they were for their tricks to be used against them to great effect. After another moment, Yang turned to look at her, holding up the ball.

“Lucky. Ball.”

Blake resolved to not argue that point and instead focus on winning the game, ushering her teammate towards the stairs rather than waiting for the next car.

---

Weiss leaned back against the wall of the elevator. While they’d chosen to book this particular hotel for their business trip specifically because their favorite football team would be staying there, and they’d opted to not use the penthouse suite because they wanted a chance to catch glimpses of the team while going to and from meetings, neither expected to meet their personal favorite players in the hallway like that. Weiss had followed Blake’s career since college and, while responsibilities had prevented her from attending as many games as she would’ve liked, she always recorded them and watched them later. Up until the encounter in the hallway, that was how she and Winter had planned to spend their evening.

Now, though…

“Would it be inappropriate for me to bring her jersey to the hot tub in the hopes she’ll sign it?”

Winter made a considering noise. “Bring the jersey, leave a suitable pen in the room.”

“How would that accomplish her signing it?”

“Invite her back to the room.” Her elder sister smiled, and a twinkle in her eyes spoke to the crude humor of a former soldier. “I’ll be… elsewhere tonight.”

“Spare me the details,” she replied as they reached the ground floor. “... but thank you for the idea.”

As a general rule, Weiss was never overly fond of business meetings, but she found herself looking forward to the end of this one more than usual, if only to see where the night led.

---

Blake pushed out a nervous breath as she and Yang made their way towards the hotel’s pool area. The game itself ended in a shootout and while Blake had made the final goal that secured them a berth to the finals, she couldn’t relax quite yet. Post game celebrations usually involved Blake joining the rest of the team for a glass of champagne or a toast of some sort before the others prepared for a night on the town to celebrate the win. Most of the time, Yang went with them, leaving the faunus plenty of time to wind down with a book of her choice and a peacefully quiet hotel room. Even on the odd occurrence when Yang didn’t join the others, the blonde still found other ways of occupying herself that preserved Blake’s quiet.

So, rushing back to the hotel room to change into their swimwear before the hotel shut down their pool was a major break from their normal routine, and knowing they’d be going to meet two very beautiful and apparently incredibly talented women… well, she was just a touch nervous.

Unfortunately, her best friend didn’t share that anxiety.

“One piece or bikini?”

“What?”

“Which do you think they’re wearing?” The blonde shrugged, the tips of her hair brushing the back of her neck. Normally, Yang wore her hair down or in a thick braid for games, but seeing as she didn’t have the energy to deal with drying her hair again after the quick post game shower they’d rushed through. “I’m hoping Winter’s wearing a bikini or a two piece. She’s gotta have some abs, right?”

“You have an eight pack; what does it matter to you if she has abs?”

“It’s about the commitment.” With a smirk, she gestured towards her own abs, prominently on display thanks to her yellow bikini top. Along with a darkening bruise around her left eye, there were bruises along her ribs from a few sliding tackles that had almost sidelined the keeper entirely, but Yang was a bit tougher than their opponents expected. “It takes work to get these and keep ‘em.”

“And what’s the point of wearing a bikini top if you’re just going to wear swim trunks for bottoms?” She arched a brow, more comfortable poking holes in her best friend’s thought process than confronting reality as they neared their destination. While she, too, opted for bikini style swimwear, Blake had chosen a black top with matching bottoms and a light purple sarong around her hips. She might claim to be somewhat modest in comparison, but she was showing a bit more skin- which, rationally, she could justify because they were getting in a hot tub, not attending a gala, showing a bit of skin should be expected-

Blake shook her head, trying to calm her anxiety again.

“Gotta make her work for the goods,” Yang replied, either oblivious to or pointedly ignoring her nerves. Then again, perhaps she had a few of her own that she was hiding, considering the way she reached up to fiddle with her hair. “Besides, my bottoms always ride up. Trunks are more comfortable. Not all of us have an ass that won’t quit.”

“Not judging, I just think it’s… silly. To focus on what they’ll be wearing.”

“What else is there to think about?”

“How hard we’re going to flirt.” She pointed out, tilting her head thoughtfully. “What to say, how to say it… what result we’re hoping for.”

“Don’t overthink it, Blakey.” A laugh. “Let’s just have some fun.”

They came to a set of glass double doors that granted entry to the pool area of the hotel… at which point they realized the pool officially closed half an hour ago. Yang cursed under her breath as Blake’s shoulders slumped. They’d missed their chance, it seemed.

“Oh, Miss Belladonna? Miss Xiao Long?”

“That’s us,” Yang replied as a hotel employee approached them, already grabbing a key card attached to his lanyard and holding it up to a sensor beside the doors.

“Here. Both Miss Schnees are waiting for you.”

The footballers exchanged a look, surprised by the special treatment. True, they were quasi celebrities themselves, but this hotel handled all teams from the league, which meant they weren’t any more famous than the average patron. Then again, the Schnee sisters had quite a bit more clout than they did and could probably swing something like being given unfettered access to the pool area.

With a shrug and a smirk, Yang opened one door and they entered, spotting the sisters sitting in chairs beside the hot tub. Both were reading magazines, with fresh drinks on a table between them, and were… well… Blake found she couldn’t immediately discern their taste in swimwear because both sisters were wearing football jerseys. And not just any jerseys.

“I see you took us up on our offer,” Weiss said, getting to her feet and motioning towards the hot tub before reaching for the hem of the jersey to pull it off. At a glance, Blake could tell it was the special limited edition run from a few years ago, and her number no less. And while she would be sorely tempted to assume the woman had found one last minute, the careful way Weiss placed the jersey on the chair- not dropped or thrown carelessly- made her think otherwise. Only then did she notice the woman had opted for a light blue one piece with a single strap, leaving her upper back mostly exposed. “Splendid.”

“Congratulations on your win.” Winter also set aside her magazine and stood up, revealing she was wearing Yang’s limited edition jersey, and she took the same amount of care in removing it and setting it aside. Much to her friend’s delight, the elder of the sisters did wear a bikini of a darker blue and also sported some abs, though they lacked the definition of Yang’s. “A hard fought victory like that certainly deserves a celebration.”

As the sisters entered the hot tub, Blake looked over to Yang, who seemed equal parts excited and… intimidated- and that second one was hard. But what intimidated her ultimately evolved into a challenge and Yang never backed down from a challenge. For her part, the faunus just found herself wondering if, perhaps, they had a different idea of who needed to impress who than the sisters did.

Removing her sarong, Blake tossed it onto the chair Weiss had used and went to the hot tub, noting how the sisters had chosen to sit across from each other. She hesitated in entering, if only because she didn’t want to be too forward. Yang, of course, took the seating as a goading taunt of sorts, and settled herself in the tub hardly an arm’s length away from Winter. Probably closer than would be considered polite but neither seemed uncomfortable or surprised by the decision, so Blake opted to test the waters herself, sitting approximately the same distance away from Weiss but also across from Yang.

Almost instantly, she let out a sigh of relief; while focusing on getting to the hot tub, she’d done her best to ignore the lingering aches and pains from the game. Now, though, she could feel herself relaxing as the warmth began sinking into her muscles. Usually, she just focused on stretches before bed and had a tub of balm if that failed.

“Should probably do this more often,” Yang said, obviously relaxing herself. “Forgot how good hot tubs feel after a rough game.”

“Speaking of that, did you get checked out?” Winter gestured towards her eye. “You took a few nasty hits. I’m surprised seventeen didn’t get thrown out of the game.”

“The Vipers always play hard.” The blonde tried to shrug off the concern. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“You took a few shots, too.” Weiss pointed out. “How’s your knee?”

“I’ve taken worse falls.” She gave a wry smile. “But I’m beginning to suspect you know that.”

“I’ll admit I’ve been a fan of yours since your college days.” The woman shrugged one shoulder, feigning nonchalance- and Blake only suspected it was a show because blue eyes didn’t meet hers as she spoke. “I hardly think that is remarkable. You’re one of the best strikers the league has ever seen.”

“Did you ever consider playing?” At the curious look she received, Blake inclined her head. “It took me years to develop those tricks, and you did them better. That speaks to a remarkable amount of skill.”

“Well, I’ll admit I entertained the idea a time or two. Ultimately, I chose my path, and it didn’t leave enough room to become a superstar footballer.” She shook her head. “I don’t regret it but, I suppose, part of the reason I practice those little tricks to keep the dream alive.”

Her ears perked up, catching something between the lines. “Part of the reason? What’s the other part?”

“Why, to catch your eye, of course.”

“My eye?” She couldn’t help the surprised chuckle that bubbled up from her chest. “You’re Weiss Schnee; you don’t really need to try to catch anyone’s attention.”

The woman’s expression faltered then. “Yes, well… unfortunately, the sort of attention I garner on my own is markedly less… impressive, by some standards.”

“I’d think those people have poor standards, then,” she said, opting to tip her hand as well. “You’ve managed to galvanize social changes that have taken some kingdoms entire decades in a matter of years. Comparatively, bouncing a ball’s hardly anything. Don’t you think?”

At that Weiss laughed, a bright, high, unrestrained sound that Blake rather liked hearing. “If I thought that, I wouldn’t be trying so hard to impress you, now would I? And you shouldn’t discount your own efforts outside the pitch.”

The faunus felt her lips quirk up in amusement. They’d been watching each other from afar all this time; the only thing she didn’t account for was the magnetic attraction that being in the woman’s presence seemed to engender. And, as she made an excuse of stretching to cover her moving slightly closer to Weiss, it seemed she wasn’t the only one feeling it. The woman, mysteriously, decided to move and dip her shoulders beneath the water’s surface long enough to bring out a lovely light pink blush to her skin, and when she sat back against the tub’s wall, she was a bit closer to Blake.

Surreptitiously, she snuck a glance towards Yang, if only to gauge how much teasing she would be in for on the flight back home the following day. She quickly realized her best friend wouldn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to teasing; somehow, Winter had coaxed Yang into her lap and was apparently giving the footballer a message. For her part, Yang seemed to be in a luxurious sort of heaven, eyes half lidded and with a silly sort of smile on her lips.

“Forgive my sister,” Weiss said, a sardonic smile on her lips. “I’m impressed she’s shown this much restraint.”

“I can hear you,” the woman replied, blue eyes flashing towards her younger sister. “But that can be remedied. Yang?”

“Hmmm?”

“I think this would work better if you were lying down.”

Lilac eyes widened as the woman tilted her head, glancing over towards Blake. With a small nod, the faunus made the silent agreement to avoid their hotel room for a few hours. Frankly, Yang had slept in a few lobbies over the years, when she’d returned too drunk to be quiet and not wanting to risk waking the faunus. She could spend a night elsewhere to return the favor.

“Yeah… I think you’re right.”

As the two got out of the hot tub and retrieved towels, Blake returned her attention to the woman beside her. “You don’t have to try, you know.”

“Pardon?”

“Impressing me. You don’t have to try.” Blake tilted her head, leaning back to brace her arms against the rim of the hot tub. “I think that’s the part I don’t like about being with the league. The mandatory press conferences and the rules- sometimes, I just want to get straight on the bus after a game and go back to reading my book, not sit and play twenty questions for an hour. It’s like… wearing an ill fitting mask.”

“You handle them remarkably well.” Weiss smirked. “But I suppose I say that because I speak my mind a bit too bluntly during press conferences. I admire your restraint.”

“I admire your candor,” she replied, very carefully laying one arm along the tub’s rim behind the woman. “I really liked the interview you did with the Atlas Economist. It looked like you were going to give that guy an aneurysm.”

“That would’ve been impossible.” A light chuckle as she moved closer, lowering her voice ever so slightly to coax Blake into leaning closer. “He would need a brain first.”

They both laughed, using their amusement to hide their shifting movements until Weiss was pressed into her side ever so slightly. They continued talking and laughing quietly until sitting in the hot tub started becoming uncomfortable. However, the faunus did her best to ignore it simply because she didn’t want to part ways quite yet. Weiss was… a lot of things- emphatic, sharp tongued, witty- but above all good company that Blake wasn’t keen on losing quite yet. However, she couldn’t ignore that the heat of the tub was taking a toll on them both.

“Your skin’s turning red,” she said, running a thumb over the ball of Weiss’ shoulder. “We should probably get out.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

They both stood and exited the hot tub, grabbing towels to start drying themselves off. While doing that, she wracked her brain for some excuse to continue their conversation but found herself coming up woefully empty. Every suggestion she could come up with either sounded ridiculous or… risque. It wasn’t like she could simply invite the woman back to her hotel room for some tea.

“Thank you for the invite, by the way,” she said, trying to buy herself some time. “A good soak after a tough game feels… fantastic. I don’t often indulge.”

Blue eyes lit up as the woman wrapped a towel around her hips. “I’m more than glad you accepted. However, if you wish to… pay me back… I’ve been meaning to ask for your autograph.”

Blake raised a brow. The request seemed… deceptively innocent, especially with the way Weiss was looking at her. “I can do that. You want me to sign your jersey?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble.” The barest moment of silence, and then she tilted her head. “Unfortunately, the only pen I have is in my room.”

Blake took a step closer, pleased to see she actually stood a few inches taller than the woman when she wasn’t wearing heels, and lowered her voice. “Well… I suppose we’ll have to go to your room, then.” A pause. “And, maybe, we’ll think of something else I can sign along the way.”

Weiss smiled and donned the jersey, setting her hand in the crook of the faunus’ elbow. “Perhaps. Do you have any ideas?”

“I do.” As they started walking, she chuckled. “But I wouldn’t want to use a pen to sign something so… delicate.”

The woman hummed, pointedly looking at her mouth. “I believe I know of something else you can use.”

While outwardly Blake merely smiled a bit wider, internally she asked herself a question: just how far was she willing to go?

Before they reached the elevator, she’d decided that if she wasn’t officially dating Weiss Schnee by the time she boarded the plane tomorrow, she’d be disappointed in herself.

---

Weiss stretched luxuriously in her bed as the morning rays streamed in through the window. She was sore in places she’d forgotten existed- but the pleasant type of sore, the kind that eventually turned into an itch for more, and it took conscious effort not to reach for her scroll just then. It would probably do her well to show some restraint.

That mentality lasted all of thirty seconds before her scroll was in hand and she was admiring her new background picture, taken just before Blake put on her swimwear from the night before and left to return to her room. Nothing terribly suggestive or revealing, of course, just the faunus resting her chin on Weiss shoulder. An ordinary selfie. With her new girlfriend.

She couldn’t help the smile curling her lips.

The door opened and she looked over her shoulder, watching her sister strut into the room wearing her bikini with her usual air of complete and total confidence. Her jersey was held in one hand. Probably because she wanted to… show off. “You walked down the hallway like that?”

“Of course,” Winter replied, not even batting an eye at the words ‘Property of Yang Xiao Long’ written in marker across her chest and abdomen. “I’m pleased with the outcome.”

Then, a smirk.

“Please, don’t elaborate.”

“I won’t but I do hope you were as successful as I was.”

She glanced at her scroll as a message came through from Blake, a smile coming to her lips. “Indeed I was.”

Who knew giving in to her impulse to show off would have such wonderful results.

[ezrisdax-archive]

krantt

for #trilogyappreciationweek, with thanks to @wlwkiranerys and @rannochs for being my sound board.

The one where Wrex doesn’t adopt Tali (except he kinda does) also here on ao3

~~

Everyone on the Normandy was young to Wrex. The thing about being a Krogan was that it gave you a different perspective on age. Excluding the Asari, all species burnt out bright and quick to him. But even Liara was just a kid to him, not even 200 yet. 

From what he knew about Quarians however Tali was young to them too. He'd met a few Quarians on pilgrimages before; their version of the Rite of Passage from what he gathered. Except with less Thrasher maws.

Well there was one on the planet they'd gotten a distress beacon from. That probably counted. 

But unlike the Rite of Passage you did it alone; not a krantt to rely on like Krogans had. Seemed lonely.

So Wrex may have decided somewhere after that mission to keep an eye on the young Quarian. She wasn't so bad. Understood all his grumbling about the Council and the bullshit they put his species through.

 Though at least his species hadn't released an intelligent robot race onto the galaxy that now worshipped some old machine.

Still Tali was okay. 

She just had to remain alive to be okay.

Wrex sighed as he watched her clean her shotgun. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, scratching lightly with his gloves. 

"Where'd you learn how to fire that anyway?" He asked.

Tali jumped at his voice, the light in her helmet that indicated she was talking lit up when she yelped. 

"Wrex! Don't sneak up on me!" Tali scolded but then her shoulders fell like she expected a scolding of her own. 

Wrex merely stared.

"I..." Tali began, her nervousness coming through her tone even without facial expressions to go off on. "My father taught me. He's an Admiral." There was a touch of reverence and regret in her voice. "As his daughter I was expected to learn. Our ship could have been boarded by Geth at any moment."

Wrex hummed, loudly enough it echoed in the quiet cargo bay. Thankfully it was late enough most of the crew was asleep. 

"Makes sense." He inclined his head a little in acknowledgement. "Guess the Quarians would have reason to know all that." 

"We may not be the Krogan but we've seen our fair share of battles. You've seen me fight, I can handle myself." Tali practically bristled from where she sat, angry and petulant. Wrex wondered idly how many times she'd been forced to prove herself to others that it was this touchy a subject.

"Didn't say you couldn't. Could use a few tricks though."

Tali paused, caught off guard. "Oh? Like what?" If she was trying to aim for casual she failed. The curiosity shone through and her leg bounced like she could hardly contain herself.

Wrex huffed in amusement and then pulled out his own shotgun.

 "Lemme show you." He said and aimed at Garrus' locker. The shot fired and he reloaded with ease, firing off another shot a second later.

Tali was up in an instant, "How did you reload so fast?" She asked in one breath, the words blending together.

Wrex chuckled, "Old trick I learned. Here, watch the wrist, keep an eye on my right finger." 

"I'm not sure Garrus would like us using his locker for practice." Tali said even as she inched closer to do what he'd asked.

"Oh no an upset Turian. I'm real broken up about that." Wrex's voice was as dry as ever and Tali snorted in amusement. "Now come on, I don't got all night."

 Tali stepped closer still and watched carefully as Wrex did the trick over again.

~~

 "Does anyone know what happened to my locker?" Garrus asked the next morning and Tali choked on her drink. 

She'd procured straws from somewhere though Wrex wasn't sure where.

"No idea." Tali said a moment after, clearing her throat.

"Maybe someone got tired of elevator conversations." Wrex suggested, leaning back in his chair with a toothy grin.

"Point taken." Garrus grumbled, "You could have just said so. Now I'll have to spend the morning replacing my locker door."

"I'll help." Tali offered and she sounded guilty. She was fidgeting again in her seat, a telling trait. 

Garrus stared at Wrex who just stared back, the grin still on his face. 

“Fine. Thanks Tali. I suppose that’s about all I can ask for.” Garrus was still looking at Wrex.

He rolled his eyes. “Look Garrus, you want a favour come right out and ask it.”

Garrus made an indignant noise. “I don’t think it’s a favour if I’m asking for help to fix something you wrecked.”

“Allegedly.” Wrex said and shifted in his seat just a little so his shotgun was in view.

Garrus took the warning and fled, muttering about Krogan as he did.

“Is that how Krogan always end a conversation? Showing off a shotgun?” Tali asked. 

“Nah, usually there’s more bloodshed.”

“And it’s not even noon.”

 “Give it time.”

 ~~

Tali was back in the cargo bay that night and while she’d set up one of the targets that was officially there for practicing she wasn’t firing at it but struggling with the reloading trick Wrex had been showing her.

“Any luck?”

Tali jumped at the sound of his voice again and turned to face him. “You know for someone so large you’re very light on your feet.”

“Large?” Wrex shot back, “Something you want to say to me, Quarian?”

“No.” Tali said quickly. “Um, just, you know. You are a Krogan and I haven’t met many but they are all large and-”

“Relax, kid.” Wrex cut off her rambling before it went on too long. “I knew what you meant.”

“Oh.” Tali sighed with relief and then her shoulders shot back up. “I’m not a kid you know.”

“Everyone’s a kid to me on here.” Wrex waved off her concern. “When you live as long as I have it happens.”

“Ah.” Tali said. “I suppose that would happen. I can’t imagine living for hundreds of years, you must be old to the Krogan though.”

“First I’m large, now I’m old?” Wrex snorted. “You sure know how to flatter someone.”

He couldn’t see it but he was willing to bet under his mask Tali was cringing.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep anyway?” Wrex asked. 

Tali shifted on her feet, “I can’t. It’s too quiet. Quarian ships are rather full, here it’s…” She trailed off but the fact that nothing could be heard around them, not even the hum of the engines, told Wrex everything.

Suddenly the ship felt empty and, he was sure from Tali’s perspective, lonely.

Wrex sighed, the weight of responsibility falling on him.

 “You know I’m not the oldest Krogan by a long shot.” Wrex finally said, sitting down on one of the crates next to them. “There’s this ancient guy, Drack. Comes from Clan Nakmor, they’re not as big as Clan Urdnot of course but there’s a lot of them. Somehow this guy survived the Krogan Rebellions.”

“Really?” Tali asked, taking the seat next to him and crossing her legs and setting her shotgun down next to her. “I didn’t think any Krogan had survived since then.”

“There’s a few still around, some of us are just hard to kill.”

“Like you?”

“Anything that can kill me deserves it. If it can get to me first.”

 “But there’s so much of you to shoot.” Tali said and her voice was teasing.

“Is this how Quarian’s live as long as they do? By being so small nothing can hit them?” Wrex asked drily.

“Hey!”

“Course one lucky shot and you’re gone. Lacking redundant systems must suck. That guy, Drack, had most of his replaced. Pretty sure he’s only still alive because Kesh would kill him otherwise.” Wrex had met Kesh a few times, once thought of her as the runt of a litter like most had. Then she’d punched him in the face and stolen his equipment from his camp. That was the thing about underestimating people, they could always surprise you. 

Wrex glanced over at Tali who was swaying a little where she sat, clearly tired.

“That and he had his krantt back in the Krogan rebellions.”

 “What’s a krantt?” Tali asked and then yawned loud enough Wrex could hear her jaw crack even through the helmet.

“Hard to explain it to outsiders.” Wrex admitted, grumbling a little that he felt the need to even explain it. “They’re your allies, ones you can rely on even more than family. They’ll be there to watch your back, like in the Rite of Passage.”

His krantt had died when his father betrayed him and had them all murdered before him. Wrex got his revenge but the wound was still there.

“So like Shepard.” Tali said sleepily, her helmet knocked against Wrex’s shoulders. “And you and the squad.”

“Not the same.” Wrex replied, shifting a little and if that was more comfortable to Tali to rest against him that was no one’s business but his own. “Though maybe Shepard might count.”

Wrex was coming around to her.

“Guess the rest of you aren’t so bad for aliens.” He admitted begrudgingly after the silence dwelled on them for too long.

Tali was out however, a soft hiss from her filter filled the air every time she breathed out.

“Some of you could get better aim though.” Wrex continued on in the dark of the cargo bay, letting his voice take up the empty space. “Don’t know how you lived this long. Not that us Krogan can talk with the genophage running around. Nothing left on Tuchanka even worth saving…”

 ~~

 “Your ancestors wore that?” Tali asked in disbelief, staring at the armor Shepard had recovered for Wrex. He couldn’t see it but was willing to bet her face was scrunched up in disgust.

“I don’t think a Quarian is allowed to give me advice on a suit.” Wrex deadpanned, moving the armor to sit at his feet.

They’d had another session of training, Tali was really coming along with the reloading trick.

Then she’d asked him about the mission he went on that day with Shepard and Liara and he’d reluctantly pulled the armor out of the box he’d set it in.

“I think a Quarian is probably the best option for that.” Tali shot back. “We do spend our lives in them after all. It doesn’t hurt to make them look good.”

“Then what happened to yours?” Wrex asked and tried not to laugh as Tali turned her head at him in what was certainly a glare.

“I have a shotgun.” Tali warned him.

“Try that excuse on the Turian, not on me.” Wrex said and let out another booming laugh.

“You’re right,” Tali said, her voice too chipper to be real, “I’d never make it past all your layers with one shot.”

Wrex broke out in a loud laugh. “You’ve got quads, Quarian.”

“I have a name.” Tali said, all hints of laughter chased from her tone.

“Yeah yeah, not bad.” He paused and inclined his head. “Tali.”

The pleased smug smile she was wearing was obvious even if it couldn’t be seen.

“Too bad you still need to practice your shots.” He couldn’t help but add.

Tali huffed and grabbed her gun and without hesitation fired it at the training dummy. She flicked her wrist and reloaded with the shell she had in her hand already and fired again in only seconds.

Wrex watched with something that might have even been pride.

~~

“What was that?” Tali asked, her voice a little high pitched as the noises continued around them like nothing they’d ever heard before.

Noveria was not a place Wrex had ever cared to visit and he doubted he’d have any better memories of it now.

“Probably debris.” He said, his eyes darting everywhere trying to find the cause of it. “Don’t have a panic attack, I’ll protect you.”

The swarmers came out from nowhere under their feet and Shepard cursed.

Wrex fired his shotgun though it might have been easier to just squish the bugs under his feet rather than fire at them.

“Keelah,” Tali swore as they encroached further towards her. She scrambled back and nearly fell but Wrex shot out an arm to grab and steady her.

“It’s not over yet.” Wrex yelled and fired off another shot as the swarmers came closer.

“I’m going to have nightmares from this.” Tali muttered, Wrex only just close enough to hear it.

“At least you’ll live through it to have them.” Wrex said and kicked a swarmer that came close. It went flying and splattered against the walls.

Next to him he heard Tali reload and fire her shotgun over and over again.

~~

Tali was fiddling with something on her omnitool when Wrex arrived that week, this time when he called her name she didn’t jump but looked up and nodded her head at him.

“Wrex.” She said, “Sorry but I’m a little busy tonight.”

Wrex shrugged. “No skin off my back, this have something to do with the data Shepard got?” He nodded at the omnitool in Tali’s hand.

Ever since she and Kaidan had come back from a mission on geth intel she’d been invested in it. Hadn’t even come up to eat with the group.

“I’m planning on taking this back to the fleet to complete my pilgrimage – when this is all over of course.” Tali said, so fast Wrex could barely make it out. Her leg was bouncing in her excitement again. “This data could help us plan against the geth! I’m trying to get a headstart into deciphering it.”

“Not bad for an Admiral’s daughter, bet he’d be proud.” Unlike his father.

Wrex never was the conventional enough Krogan for him.

Because they’d spent so many months fighting side by side Wrex had gotten good at telling Tali’s body language even if he couldn’t see her face. So he could tell it’d fallen a little at that remark.

“I hope he is.” Tali said wistfully. “I was worried about going back to the fleet with nothing much to show.”

“And now you’ll show you helped stopped an invasion and picked up some random data along the way.” Wrex sat down next to her and groaned like it was an annoyance to him. He stretched out, his foot nudging Tali’s. “Bet other Quarians can’t say the same.”

“No.” Tali brightened, her back straightening. “They can’t.”

Wrex grunted and fell back. “Wake me up when you decide it’s time to do something practical like shoot at something though.”

“This is practical!” Tali said hotly, “You saw how far the Geth have advanced, with this data we could see if there’s a pattern to where they’re coming out of the Veil and-”

Wrex let Tali’s words wash over him and shut his eyes.

~~

They lost Kaidan on Virmire and everyone was a little more withdrawn, a little angrier, and more than a little ready to end it.

“I’ve lost friends before,” Tali admitted that night. “But not like this.”

Wrex didn’t say anything. Keeping quiet even as Tali curled up at his side with the hiss of her filter staticky in her held back sobs filling the air.

Krantt weren’t supposed to die like that.

Good thing his fellow squad members weren’t krantt.

It helped him sleep that night for what little he did get.

~~

He was never one for emotional goodbyes or just goodbyes period.

Which is why when Wrex left the Normandy he did it by only telling Shepard and leaving one thing behind.

Shotguns were nice and all but if he was about to try to sit in a room and make peace with a bunch of clan idiots then it wouldn’t do him any good.

Tali would put it to better use.

~~

It took two years before he saw someone from the Normandy’s crew again but Shepard was standing right there on Tuchanka.

He clasped her arm and squeezed, trying to convey his relief at seeing Shepard again.

To Shepard’s right he heard a cough and looked over to see Tali.

“Good to see you too, Wrex.” Tali said and Wrex squinted at her. She looked roughly the same, maybe a little taller and bigger. Her suit had changed a little, looked fancier from what he could tell.

The shotgun at her hip was more than little familiar to him.

“Shepard got you caught up in her mess again, hunh?”

“Had to pick Tali up from a planet, she needed a little help.” Shepard said and grinned at the both of them.

“Always getting into trouble.” Wrex intoned.

“At least I’m getting out.” Tali said, crossing her arms. “You seemed to have gotten even bigger just sitting on your throne.”

The throne in question stung a little for Wrex. He hadn’t really wanted it, symbolically or literally. His brother put together the stones to shape that way more as a mockery and bitter anger he hadn’t gotten the title or respect Wrex had.

He grunted and Tali must have noticed she struck a nerve because she uncrossed her arms and fidgeted in the same way she used to back on the Normandy when she was feeling guilty.

Before she could say anything he slapped her on the back, making her yelp and almost stumble over her own feet. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her and Tali whipped her head to glare at him from under her helmet.

He laughed, unable to help himself. “Don’t be jealous just because I have somewhere to sit on my homeworld.”

Apparently two years weren’t long enough to stop him from remembering the old Normandy crew’s quirks because Wrex could tell she was rolling her eyes at him.

It seemed Tali had gotten tougher skin in the intervening years.

At least she was still standing.

“So,” Wrex said and dropped his arm away from Tali’s shoulder to take a seat back on his throne. “What brings you here?”

Shepard stepped forward and gestured at Grunt and Wrex leaned in to see what was wrong.

~~

Word traveled fast and before Shepard had even made it off the battlegrounds Wrex had heard about the fallen Thresher maw.

Granting Grunt a title in Clan Urdnot was easier after that. Though Wrex would have been lying if he’d said he wouldn’t have given Shepard and Tali a title too if they asked.

Shepard wandered off, chasing after Grunt who had decided to challenge some Krogans standing near a pit, leaving Tali alone with him.

“So that was your Pilgrimage?” Tali asked, “I’m amazed any of you make it into adulthood.”

“Right,” Wrex said drily, “Nothing like sending our young out into the galaxy without a credit to their name and just hoping they make it back.”

Tali tilted her head, a silent acknowledgment.

“You taking care of that thing?” He nodded at the shotgun at her hip.

“Yes.” She paused. “Thank you, by the way. It would have been nicer to thank you in person however.”

Wrex shrugged. “I was getting rid of it anyway.”

“Uh hunh.” Tali said, her tone one of disbelief.

“Surprised you joined the whelp there in his Rite of Passage.” Wrex glanced over at Grunt and then back at Tali. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of deal.”

“Well.” Tali shifted on her feet, looking away. “I remembered something an old Krogan told me about krantts and the importance of them in the Rite.”

Wrex blinked in surprise.

“Hm.” He leaned back in the throne. “Not bad for a Quarian.”

“Tali, come on!” Shepard called out to her and Tali straightened up at her name.

“See you later, Wrex. Take care of yourself. Though I suppose that’s easier to do if you’re doing nothing but sitting.” Her tone was cheerful as she said it.

“Don’t forget who taught you those tricks of yours.” Wrex said, there was no real hint of warning in his voice- if anything it was jovial.

Tali nodded at him and walked off.

Wrex sunk into his chair, taking the next datapad he needed to look at about Clan Weyloc with him. It seemed like Tali wasn’t so young anymore.

Two years could make a lot of differences to species who didn’t live that long.

Wrex wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

~~

“You heard from Tali?” Wrex asked Liara one day when they were sitting in the lounge. He’d pulled her away from those screens of hers, the tightness in her eyes worried him a little.

Everyone else was back on board except for Tali and Ashley but Ashley he at least had heard about. She’d recovered from her injuries and even had a Spectre status to her name. Tali though no one seemed to know anything about.

“Our last interaction was months ago.” Liara said. She dragged a hand over her face and Wrex pretended not to see the wetness on her fingers as she pulled it away. “I’ve heard very little from Quarian space. It seems they’ve just gone silent.”

His grasp around his cup tightened, the glass crinkling underneath his grip.

“I’m certain she’s fine however. I saw her when Shepard came to help me with the Shadow Broker. She was…broken up about her father still but didn’t let that interfere with the mission.”

“Her father?” Wrex asked, frowning.

“He died. Shepard says he woke up some of the Geth units that Tali had sent him. The Admiralty put her on trial for it.”

“Those idiots did what?” Wrex growled, slamming the glass on to the table. “Have they even met Tali? She’s the last person who would take chances with the geth.”

“That’s what Shepard said.” Liara replied, and when she looked up at him she was smiling. “I wouldn’t worry Wrex, Tali can take care of herself.”

“Who said anything about worry?” Wrex blustered but he knew Liara wasn’t buying it. “I just think there’s a whole lot of stupid in this world that needs to be taken care of.”

Liara hummed and let it slide, “From last I heard she’s working along with the Admiralty board.”

Wrex scoffed.

He understood it certainly, those were Tali’s people. She cared about them the same way he cared about the Krogan, probably more since she didn’t seem to hate half of them. Maybe the genophage hadn’t ravaged her people but the war with the Geth had. He was willing to bet she’d taken on more responsibility than was reasonable.

And no one was even with her to watch her back.

“So,” Liara tactfully changed the subject, “What will you do when the genophage is cured.”

Wrex grinned widely. “Finish kicking the Reaper’s ass for the rest of the galaxy.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Liara said, shaking her head but the smile she wore was genuine at least and the shadows in her eyes had receded however little it was.

“The Asari can thank us later.” Wrex took his drink back up and chugged it the rest of the way. There might have been some broken glass in there but it made little difference to him.

He put Tali out of mind for the time, he was sure they both had bigger issues to worry about.

~~

Only Shepard could get a clone that would try to take over her life.

In all honesty, Wrex had missed the chaos.

And being with the crew.

Kaidan was still a notable absence, especially whenever Ashley was standing next to Shepard and would just lean over like she was about to say something to someone and then realized they were no longer there. Old habits died hard even years later it seemed.

No one mentioned it.

Shepard opted to take Ashley and Brooks to the casino with her, leaving the rest of them to the apartment. EDI and Liara took to monitoring the channel in case Shepard needed anything, Vega had taken over the tv, Garrus and Joker were shooting jokes back and forth at each other about Turians and humans, and Javik was just standing creepily in the corner.

Wrex still didn’t know what to make of the Prothean. Shepard found the weirdest people to call squadmates.

“So I heard there’s a cure for your people.” Tali said as she took a seat next to him. Her glass was filled with something alcoholic with a straw stuck in it so she could drink it.

“And I heard you made nice with the Geth.” Wrex said, taking a gulp of his own drink.

“Who’d have thought we’d be here now.” Tali raised her glass in a toast and then took a sip.

“Probably Shepard.” Wrex grumbled though it wasn’t really critical. “She always did keep talking about making a difference.” And apparently Wrex had listened. He wasn’t sure what was worse.

At least taking a risk with her had panned out.

“You should visit Rannoch,” Tali said, “The Geth didn’t do upkeep much on the buildings they weren’t inhabiting, it might even feel like Tuchanka to you. Except greener.” Tali sounded proud and Wrex caught the twitch in her leg. This time like she was stopping herself from bouncing as she talked excitedly about her homeworld. “It’s all so new. Can I even call it new? It is technically old to us. Old like you are- wait you must have seen what it looked like before…” She shifted, looking up at him.

“I didn’t go much in Quarian space.” Wrex admitted. “Never had a reason to. Didn’t think I’d be around Quarians much.”

 He could hear the smirk in her voice. “And yet here you are.”

“Mistakes may have been made.” Wrex drawled and snorted when Tali tried to glare at him from under her helmet. “I’ll see if I can make my way out there. When all this is done. Who knows maybe the council will award us Rannoch. Then you’d have to fight us for it.” He grinned at Tali. “Good luck getting it back then.”

She was rolling her eyes, he knew it.

“We’d manage.” Tali said, sniffing indignantly. “We’re tougher than you think.”

“Yeah.” Wrex agreed, glancing over at her. “So it seems.”

“I mean. We took down a Reaper. Without using a Thresher maw even.”

Wrex threw his head back and laughed. “Only because I bet Quarian’s guard dogs would catch a cold if they went outside.”

“Speaking of dogs I heard Jack got herself a pet varren, I wonder how one of those would do on Rannoch…”

“Bad idea, kid.” Wrex said but leaned back to listen to Tali go on about it anyway.

~~

It’d been years since he’d seen Tali in a firefight. The ride down the elevator to the cargo bay had him glance over at her.

“You been practicing with that shotgun? Still remember the fast-reloading trick I showed you?” He asked.

Tali’s back straightened. “You know, I've taken care of myself for the past few years.”

Of that he had no doubt. She would have had to with everything going on the galaxy right then and even before it from what Wrex had heard of what happened to her father.

“I know. I'm old and I worry, even though my favourite Quarian's all grown up and killing Reapers.” He sighed. It wouldn’t hurt to admit that.

“You're like the crazy head butting uncle I never had.” Tali told him, a mixture of disbelief and amusement in her voice.

Whatever response he was going to have was lost when the doors opened and Shepard raced after her clone.

In the end he pulled both Tali and Shepard back up into the cargo bay before they fell to the Citadel streets below.

“Thanks, Wrex.” Shepard said, slightly out of breath. She stood up and pinged Joker on the comms.

Tali sat on the ground next to him, shaking a little.

He nudged her. 

“You okay?”

To his surprise Tali started laughing, falling onto the floor on her back and giggling.

“You ever think about how weird our lives are?” Tali asked between her laughter.

“All the time.” Wrex sighed. “I had it much easier before all of you.”

“Aw but Wrex.” Tali sat up and he was certain she was grinning. “Then you wouldn’t have met your favourite Quarian.”

Wrex rolled his eyes.

“Does that make Garrus your favourite Turian? And Liara your favourite Asari? I bet Shepard’s the favourite human, right? Can I tell them?” Tali asked, snickering.

He almost wished he could have said that she reminded him of the Tali he’d known years ago who was lighter and freer of responsibilities but even back then she bore a weight on her back. 

“No one would believe it.” He turned his head a little so Tali would miss his grin.

“I bet they would.” Tali said, leaning back on her hands. “You’re a little soft around us Wrex, I don’t think you’ve noticed it.”

“You take that back.” Wrex grumbled, looking back to frown at her.

“If it makes you feel better you’re my favourite Krogan.” Tali told him, matter of fact.

It did make him feel a little better, not that he was going to say it.

“Yeah yeah, head-butting uncle, I heard.”

“At least your hearing isn’t going in your old age then.”

~~

Wrex certainly proved the head-butting part later that week when Grunt challenged him at the party.

Laughter rang out all around them, the apartment alive as everyone who had once been a part of the Normandy crew shared stories.

Though some of them he’d never met they all shared the common bond of getting dragged into the craziest shit with Shepard.

Glancing around he noticed a certain Quarian was missing and heaved himself away from the balcony with a sigh. It didn’t take long to find Tali nearly passed out in the bathroom.

“I knew you were a lightweight.” Wrex said, looking down at Tali and huffing with a laugh.

“Wrex!” Tali yelled, too loud even over the blasting music.

“Think you can stand or you too out of it?” He asked, amused as Tali hiccuped.

“I am not too out of it.” Tali denied but still lay on the floor. “I am still looking for answers is all.”

“Answers?”

Tali nodded but then held a hand to her helmet like she regretted the movement a second later. “Shepard said the answers to my father are the bottom of the glass. I am still looking.”

Wrex rolled his eyes, “Shepard also thinks she could survive a head butting contest with a krogan. Come on,” He said and leaned down to drag Tali up right. 

“Do you think I made him proud? I am not certain he made me proud.” Tali rambled as Wrex started to drag her towards one of the many bedrooms. It wasn’t hard to guess she was still talking about her father. “I thought he had all the answers once; but they were just lies he told me.” Her voice was bitter and Wrex paused.

“Kid no one has all the answers and as for your dad, well. Parents are complicated. At least he didn’t try to kill you.”

“Oh.” Tali said, trailing out the word too long. “I suppose you have me there, Wrex.”

“Always nice to beat a Quarian at something.” Wrex kept moving then.

“Pfft, you don’t want to beat me, I am your favourite.”

“Really going to milk that one, hunh?”

Tali was beaming under her helmet, this close up he could just make out a grin. “It means a lot to me.”

Wrex made a few mock grumbling noises. “Don’t you people have the ability to flush out toxins or something.”

“I will!” Tali said brightly and then hung her head. “In a minute.”

Wrex got to the bed and dumped her on it. “There. Now you can also sleep it off.” Tali flopped around on the bed, making Wrex drag a hand over his face. “This is humiliating for the both of us, kid.”

“I’m not a kid!” Tali complained, her tone the near exact it had been three years ago in the cargo bay. “You even said I was all grown up! And and-” She swayed when she tried to sit up. “Killing Reapers!” She finished victoriously. 

Wrex chuckled and pushed her back down, “Yeah you are. I’m proud of you for it. You’re no Kalros but you can pack a punch with that bot of yours.”

“Chitika goes for the optics!” Tali said but it was slightly muffled by her turning her face into the bedsheets.

Wrex snorted when she began to do the wheezy breath with her filter that meant she was out again. 

“Your dad’s an idiot.” He told the sleeping Tali and then trudged back to the party.

~~

Tali wasn’t wrong. Rannoch was greener than Tuchanka but a lot of the land had been turned into Geth hubs that were now being dismantled to turn into homes.

Having them so near still creeped Wrex out with their flashlight heads, he wished for a moment Ashley was there to share in his commisery of it but she was still on Earth. After the last battle most of them had headed for their homeworlds while mourning the loss of Shepard. 

He’d spent a few months on Tuchanka overseeing building plans for expansion and watching the first of his children grow a little and then gotten the invitation from Tali to “see what a real planet looks like”. 

“If this is what qualifies as a real planet I’m not impressed.” Wrex intoned as Tali greeted him at the shuttle pad.

She stepped up to fling her arms around him and pulled him into a hug that he returned with a sigh.

“I’m surprised you made it off that scrap of rock you call one so quickly. I didn’t think you’d accept my invite for another year at least.” Tali stepped back and was fidgeting.

Her mask was off and Wrex squinted a little to view her face. He grunted lightly, “Thought you might be in trouble. Or in need of some good old fashioned Krogan strength to move things.”

Tali rolled her eyes, “This is just a friendly visit.” She said but was still shifting on her feet and wringing her hands. “I wanted to show you how far we’d come.”

Wrex tilted his head, trying to figure out what it was Tali was hiding. Without her mask it was easier to see her avert her eyes. “Well, I also thought I should see my krantt.” He finally said just to see her reaction.

Tali’s face shot up, her gaze meeting his and her mouth dropped in surprise. “I thought you didn’t have a krantt anymore.”

That’s what he’d thought too until three years ago. But he wasn’t about to lie to himself anymore. The Normandy crew would always be important to him.

Wrex just shrugged in response to her though.

Tali bounced on her feet and grinned up at him. “I see the end of the war really has made you soft.” She said, her voice sly. “How are raising babies?”

Wrex grunted. “Almost as annoying as watching over a baby Quarian.”

“Hey!” Tali reached out to whack his shoulder but just hurt her hand instead. She pulled it back with a pout. 

“But I’d be glad if they grew up as well as she did.” Wrex admitted a second after even as he laughed.

Her shoulders straightened at that and Tali stood a little taller. “Thanks. I’d hope my father would be able to say the same thing.” Her eyes darted away again at the comment and it clicked to Wrex.

He truly was getting old and soft because instead of dropping it he stepped closer to nudge Tali. “Guess I can be proud in his place then.”

Tali hesitated only a second before she smiled at him again. It was a little sad this time but the sincerity was there. “Come on old man, I’ll show you why we Quarians were once considered the best builders.”

“So long as it looks better than your suits.”

Tali whacked his arm again, a lesson not learnt the first time.

“You’re lucky I don’t have a shotgun right now.” She warned him.

“You couldn’t match me even with one.” Wrex said back but it had no bite. He dropped a hand to her shoulder and squeezed lightly.

She probably actually could though he’d never admit it.

After all, he’d taught her the best tricks in the books.

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Welcome to the Back - Interlude

Adrien centric. Basically an apology for all that chameleon induced salt I had on him during wttb.

Masterpost

Adrien sneaked a look outside. There was a gap between the panels that made up the background of the show, just large enough to peek out without being seen. It was quiet here, away from the bustling make-up artists and designers, hurrying to put finishing touches on their assigned models. His father wasn’t among them of course. He was Gabriel Agreste and didn’t need to improve anything, his designs long since perfected during late nights in his atelier. And he had full faith in his son!

(“I trust that you know how important this is,” he had said this morning, with face like marble, “how crucial it is to not lose face when working with the competition. I have no doubt you will behave accordingly.”)

Still. His happiness that his father had taken the time to build him up did not keep him from scanning the crowd for him. Was he there already? Or would he arrive in a way his mother called “fashionably late”?

Sighing, he turned away from the panels. He wasn’tsad that his father didn’t visit him before the show. Really, he had already talked to him only hours ago and was doubtlessly busy; Adrien shouldn’t be selfish.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was on his own.

“Are you nervous?”, he asked the other model when he returned to their private changing room. “There are so many people out there!”

Felix Leanne rolled his eyes, but his finger was tapping on the table relentlessly.

“Of course there are many people. Otherwise this whole ordeal wouldn’t be worth the hassle.”

“You’re dodging the question,” Adrien noted with a tiny hint of smugness. He liked Felix, even though he was a little cold sometimes. They had worked together often enough to be on friendly terms, both being the only models of each other’s age in their shoots. Both fairly isolated, both so busy.

Felix sighed.

“I’m not. Nervous, I mean. Just impatient.”

His eyes flitted towards the door.

“Mum… Mum said I can start accompanying her to work if I do well tonight. I’d get to see how everything actually works! I wrote down so many questions I want to ask. I just want to be able to askthem already.”

Adrien frowned.

“Aren’t you a little too young to be so interested in… company math?”

“We’re the same age, Adrien.”

“Exactly! The same youngage.” He couldn’t hold in a deep sigh. “If mymom offered to let me do anything I want, I would ask to go to a real school. No more homeschooling, just… doing something normal for once. I’d get to meet so many people, to make so many friends!”

Felix pretended to shudder.

“Ugh, people. Horrific.” He ignored Adrien’s giggling. “Seriously, they’re everywhere.”

“I bet you could go to school with me!” he, in turn, ignored Felix’ nagging. “Then we’d already know someone there. Plus Chloé, of course.”

Felix grimaced at the name but refrained from commenting. He’d learned that Adrien didn’t handle it well if you openly disliked his only friend. He wouldn’t have had the time, anyway, because just then a blur of oranges and yellows stormed into the room, carrying dozens of safety pins and wearing several dozens more clipped to her dress.

“Felix!”, Evelynn Leanne squealed, “you look wonderful, darling, navy blue just makes your eyes pop! Let me see the jacket, will you? Oh, this looks a little tight! It doesn’t chafe, does it? Does it?”

“Mum, stop it! Personal space, please.”

Felix pulled a face when his mother gave his jacket one last tug before stepping back.

“Of course, of course. It’s just… Ugh, you look adorable! Doesn’t he, Ms. Cess?”

The Leanne’s assistant, a round black woman that looked absolutely unshakable, gave Felix a small smile.

“He looks like a professional.”

Felix didn’t beam. Adrien was sure his face was physically incapable to. But the hint of a smile that graced his usually tight lips might be his version of that.

“Thank you,” he said genuinely, before sobering up again. “Now, if you’d leave me to prepare? Also, I’m pretty sure you have more than one design to check up on.”

Evelyn sighed, just the way her son was prone to do.

“Let me have my moment, will you? But fine! I still haven’t heard any news from the missing accessory line, and that Sancœur lady was very adamant that it be complete. Good luck, Felix! You too, Adrien! Love your tie, by the way.”

He perked up immediately.

“Thank you, Madame Leanne!”, he tried to answer, but Felix was already hurrying her and Mademoiselle Cess out of the door. When they were gone, his coworker was leaning against the door in relief and Adrien’s throat felt weirdly tight.

“Sorry about that,” Felix said nonchalantly, “she’s been a little clingy since… you know.”

Of course. The divorce, he’d read about it in the newspaper. He couldn’t imagine how horrible it would be to lose his father like that, how terrible Felix must feel.

“Are you okay?” the (slightly) older boy asked after a moment. “You were so quiet.”

Adrien shook his head, shushing those thoughts.

“Of course! Your mother is great, I just… Mine can’t be here today. She’s still not feeling well.”

An understatement, he feared. His father wouldn’t let him into her room to say goodbye before he went to the show. He was just worried, of course! And he’d explained it to him.

(“Don’t bother your mother now, Adrien. She needs her rest.”

“I just wanted to see her before the show. To say goodbye- “

His father flinched at that; his tone sharp.

“There’s no need to- She’ll still be here after the show! Don’t- Don’t let your nerves get the better of you.”

Then, a little softer: “You can talk to her tomorrow.”)

Felix looked at him through somber blue eyes.

“I’m… sorry to hear that. But your father will be here, yes?”

Hurrying to smile, Adrien nodded.

“Yes, we’ll drive home together.”

At that, Felix’ eyes narrowed.

“Uh… great? But before that he’ll want to see you, won’t he?”

To be honest, he was never quite sure what his father wanted. But that wasn’t what this was about, anyway!

“He is very busy,” Adrien explained. “Managing the Show, and all that. But that’s alright! It’s very important to him, and I’m happy to be part of it. It makes me feel… I don’t know, closer to him.”

Felix’ did not relent.

“But don’t you want him to say Good Luck or something? Surely, he can’t be thatbusy.”

“Well…” he admitted. “I… I did hope he’d come by. Like your mom always does. But I don’t want to be greedy! He’s needed elsewhere, probably.”

He straightened.

“Besides, I don’t want to complain to you. With all that… divorce business you’ve already got on your shoulders.”

It was a cheap trick to change the topic, but it worked. Felix scoffed and turned away.

“Oh please, I’m happymy Dad isn’t here. Not that he would care, anyway. I barely saw him even before Mum kicked him out, and what I saw of him was distant, dismissive and derogatory at best. Really, I could never see him again and not lose any sleep about it.”

Adrien couldn’t believe anyone could truly feel that way about their father. Sure, he was disappointed in his father from time to time, sometimes even angry. But he was still, well, his father.

“I’m sure he does love you.”, he tried to comfort his friend. “Maybe if you gave him another chance, he would- “

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Felix snapped, still not looking at him. “He had thirteen years’ worth of chances. I won’t let him… I won’t stand for that kind of inconsequence.”

With that, he straightened his shoulders and turned around.

“Besides, you’re hardly unbiased. It’s rather obvious you’re projecting.”

His voice was harsher than intended and it showed. No sooner than he said it, his eyes widened and he looked away.

“I… I meant…”

“I’m not projecting.”, Adrien said. His voice was oddly quiet to his own ears, and his chest felt cold. “I’m not- I love my père. He’s not- I love him. You don’t know him. He’s just- I’m sure you love your father too, deep down.”

He didn’t know what his own face looked like, but Felix looked stricken.

“Yes,” he said softly, caving, “I guess so. I didn’t mean to imply…”

“It’s okay,” Adrien quickly assured him. No need to be so upset. He was just getting emotional again, and that so close to the beginning of the show. “I know you didn’t mean it that way. I’ll just…” – he pointed towards the door – “…leave you to, y’know, prepare.”

He was out of the room before Felix could protest, towards the back entrance. He needed air, just for a moment. To ground himself.

The heavy door swung open and the security personnel outside gave him a curious glance, but let him pass without question. Cool evening air hit him, soothing and clear. It helped. It always helped.

He could always think more clearly when he was outside. Felix hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant it, because it wasn’t true. Adrien’s father wasn’t dismissive. He wasn’t distant. He cared, and he loved him. Adrien knew it. So what if-

The crash of a shutting door around the corner caught his attention.

“…know who I am?!”, an angry voice shouted. “I have a right to be here!”

Curious, Adrien came closer until he could see the speaker. A light-haired man with impressive sideburns and an expensive looking suit was raging against a closed door, or rather the person who had shut it.

“You can’t keep me out! Tell her that! Tell her she’s a- “

The man fell silent when he spotted Adrien.

“What are you looking at, boy?!” he snarled and Adrien took a step back. Oh god, had he been staring?

“S-sorry,” he muttered, “I didn’t mean to- “

That’s when he noticed his eyes. Blue-grey, like cold stone. Like Felix’ eyes.

“Monsieur- Monsieur Leanne?”, he asked tentatively. The man in front of him flinched, then towered over him with something in his eyes Adrien couldn’t place. It frightened him.

“It’s Bordeaux.”, he spit, emphasizing every syllable, “René Bordeaux. And who are you?!”

Oh god, he was doing everything wrong today. Leanne was Felix’ mother’slast name.

“Adrien- Adrien Agreste,” he pressed out, not knowing whether to apologize or to run. His fear was misplaced, however. Within mere seconds Monsieur Bordeaux relaxed, all hints of aggression evaporating like boiling spaghetti water.

“Agreste!”, he said cheerfully, a dizzying contrast to his previous demeanor, “Gabriel’s boy, I take it?”

“Y… yes!”, Adrien confirmed quickly, relieved that the situation was apparently saved. Had he imagined Monsieur Bordeaux’s anger? There was no trace of it now! Perhaps he had read the situation wrong… it wouldn’t be the first time. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Well, I’m a big fan!”, the reporter beamed. “Of you andyour dad. Excited for the show? You must be so nervous, being the main star!”

Flattered, Adrien shrugged.

“Oh, it’s not… not a big deal. But thank you, Monsieur Bordeaux.”

“But it is!”, Bordeaux insisted. “Call me René, young man, no need for formalities.”

He put a hand on his shoulder, lowering his voice.

“To be honest, I’m very impressed how well you are handling all this pressure. I have a son your age, and I know he would be at a total loss for what to do.”

“Oh. Oh!”, Adrien realized, “You mean Felix! I’m actually working with him tonight!”

“Oh? You don’t say!”

“It’s true! He’s doing great, though. A real professional!”

Monsieur- René sighed.

“I’d love to believe that. The Felix I know tends to be… stubborn. I fear he’ll refuse help from everyone, even those who have his best interest at heart.”

Adrien frowned. That was true, Felix was stubborn. But Adrien hadn’t noticed anything the other boy might need help with, so he couldn’t judge. It just didn’t sit right with him that his dad didn’t believe Felix could do it.

“Really, you can be proud of him!”, he tried again. “He’s gonna be flawless, you’ll see at the- oh.”

Another mistake. René wouldn’t see his son, because he was not allowed at the show.

“Well, yes.”, Felix’ father agreed, patting him on the back as if to say ‘no worries’. “There’s the problem, you see?”

“I’m sorry for that.”

“Ah, don’t be! It’s not your fault. Really, that’s between me and Evelyn. She just… doesn’t want me to be a part of Felix’ life anymore. All because of some small mistakes I made. And now, now Felix will never…”

“Give you a chance.”, Adrien concluded. René smiled wistfully.

“Exactly. I just want… another, uh, chance.”

He was looking into the distance, before promptly jumping up and turning to him.

“Wait a minute! You are the star of the evening! What if youbrought me in with you? Then I could see Felix before the show!”

Adrien blinked. He… he could do that! But…

“I… I don’t think that would be a good idea. Felix said he doesn’t want to see you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he did. But sometimes, what people say they want, and what they need are two entirely different things!”

…that sounded familiar, but not quite right.

“I don’t understand.”

“See,” René began, crouching down to his height, “take your dad! He’s probably very busy, isn’t he?”

He didn’tflinch.

“That’s fine! I am supporting him!”, Adrien said, voice sharper than intended.

“Of course you do! And you probably tell him that. You don’t wanna nag him, am I right?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“But surely, deep down, you would like him to see you more, wouldn’t you?”

“I… I guess. And you think Felix is the same? Even though he is mad at you?”

“Let me put it that way. I did some tinythings wrong, and now Felix wants to punish me for it. But you make mistakes too, don’t you? And you don’t want to be abandoned for them either.”

“No!”, he gasped, horrified, “No, of course not!”

“See? And you’re right! Know why?”

René gestured into the distance.

“There’s good people, and there are evil people, who do evil things, like bombing churches, or kicking puppies. But people like you and I – Good People, the rightkind of people – wecan change.

“...or explain why we didn’t do anything wrong in the first place. There’s always two sides, and all that. Nothing is made better if everyone just turns away from us! Punishing us for mistakes doesn’t make them disappear. Only if we are given another chance we can make things right.”

Something still didn’t sit right with Adrien, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“But… but what if the mistake is really bad?”

René’s face darkened, before lighting up again.

“Clever kid, you! Even then, punishing bad things never made them good, am I right? You can only” – he snapped his finger – “suck it up and support others to do better. And you are exactly the kind of person who would know better, clever as you are. Really, Felix could take a page from your book!”

He stood up, looking down on him.

“So, what do you say, young man? Do you wanna be my hero and help a worried father care for his son?”

Adrien looked back at the private entrance. The security people who would do as he said. The building his own father was probably in.

“I…”

Felix would thank him, eventually, right?

“I’ll do it.”

-

“So, here we are!”, Adrien announced to his companion. “Welcome to the back... stage. This is the hallway that leads to the stage, there you’ll arrive at the stairs to the audience, and here’s the way to our private changing room! Do you want me to tell Felix you are coming, or do you want to talk alone?”

René wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were darting over the many settings on his camera, then towards the changing room.

“Know what, kid? Maybe don’t tell Felix I’m here just yet.”

Adrien’s smile faltered.

“But… but the show is going to start soon! Don’t you want to wish him good luck?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.”, René dismissed with a wave of his hand, “Luck is the last thing he needs. Tell you what, I have something… special planned. You don’t want to ruin the surprise, do you?”

That made sense. He shook his head, and the reporter grinned.

“That’s what I thought. No off you go, get ready for your modeling gig!”

Adrien’s chest felt tight. He didn’t like the expression in René’s eyes. But he had been wrong so often. Felix would thank him eventually, he reminded himself. René just needed another chance.

Felix would thank him.

-

Felix did not thank him.

An hour later, there was press everywhere, and at least one police car. Adrien was lost and stumbling around between running people. Camera’s clicked, someone was yelling, he could see Felix’ mom talking to an officer. Her make-up was running. Was she crying?

“Adrien!”, a hoarse voice yelled, and suddenly Felix was there, pulling at his arm, “What did you do?!”

His eyes weren’t like stone anymore. They looked like thawing ice. Cold and watering andbreaking.

“I-”

“What did you do?!”

“I only wanted- I was just- “

“What?! Whatwere you?! Trying to ruin everythingfor me!?”

“No! I didn’t think- “

“There you are!”, a familiar voice called and Adrien almost sagged in relief. Nathalie pulled him away from Felix with no effort at all, instructing the security personnel to drag the kicking and cursing boy back to his mother. Then she pulled Adrien with her, towards the private box where his father sat.

Adrien gulped.

Gabriel Agreste was utterly motionless, looking down upon the chaos below. Not a hair was out of place, not the hint of an emotion in his eyes.

“That would be all, Nathalie.”, he said simply, and Nathalie let go of Adrien to return to her tablet.

“Father…”, he said, voice breaking. “I don’t understand what happened. Did I… did I do something wrong?”

His father was still watching the crowd below. The press, trying to get a shot of Evelyn Leanne. The police, running around and interviewing people. A blonde boy in navy blue, so small from above, blocking his ears and trying escape the cameras.

A show in ruins.

“Sir,” Nathalie spoke up again, before Gabriel could even turn to his son, “we heard back from Madame Bourgeois. She wants to reconsider doing her Fashion Highlights article about the Gabriel Brand instead of Leanne’s. And there’s a British perfume company looking for a new partner in fashion.”

With that, Gabriel stood up. His son lowered his head, trying to sink into the ground before the yelling could begin. But instead of raising his voice, his father raised his hand and –

“Let’s go home, Adrien.”

–…pat him on the shoulder.

“Father?”

He was confused. He’d been so sure this was his fault, that he had messed up somehow.

“Shouldn’t I- shouldn’t I go talk to Felix first?”

His father looked past him, towards the Leanne’s.

“I doubt you will be working with him again.”, was his reply. He looked almost… content when he turned away from the scene. “Let’s not waste our breath.”

With that, Gabriel Agreste started walking away.

And Adrien, ever the obedient son, followed.

—

Many things would happen between that fateful night, and another night that promised to be even more fateful.

Adrien had lost his mother.

Adrien had gained friends.

Adrien had gone to school; Adrien had left it.

He had been a hero and a villain, and through it all, a child.

A child that had to be better. A child that now knew, he could become what had become of René Bordeaux.

A child that would not.

He would not become like Bordeaux. Like Lila. He wouldn’t allow it.

And he would prove it!

He would do better, be better. So that he could return to school, to his friends, and show them that he wouldn’t let them down again. If they’d still have him.

He would show Nino that he’d never ever lie again.

He would show Alya that he’d never let her be used again.

He would show Marinette that he would never abandon her again.

And… he would show Felix that he got it now. That he wouldn’t disappoint him again.

And maybe, that would show Ladybug that she had been right to trust him one last time. Even if it wasn’t as her partner.

The door to his room opened, and Adrien held his breath. Nathalie would have knocked.

“Adrien,” his father greeted him, an even for him atypical amount on tension in his face, “we need to talk.”

“We do,” Adrien agreed, opening the tab with the list of therapists he’d been considering. Then he remembered himself and bit his lip. “Uh, you go first.”

He didn’t know if his father had even heard him. He was turned towards the window, before looking back at his son.

“I always wondered… I knew you were hiding something. Your behavior was so… unlike yourself.”

Adrien’s brow furrowed.

“Father?”

“I am not mad at you Adrien, though I admit, at first…”

He turned around, simmering anger in his usually cool eyes.

“I couldn’t believe you would be able to hide something of that importance from me. Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Father, I- “

“No. Listen to me, Adrien. This might be our chance, our onlychance. Your mother’s only chance.”

The room seemed to get colder. Gabriel talked on.

“I never thought I would be able to involve you, always thinking you might be too… fragile. I see now that this was a mistake. If I had been more open in my endeavor, this would have ended a long time ago. But maybe it needed to happen. It needed to happen, so that you would truly understand what needs to be done.”

What do you mean, Adrien wanted to ask, but his mouth was frozen shut. Something icy was growing in his chest. In his pocket, he clutched a colorful little lucky charm like a lifeline.

“Adrien.”

His father stepped closer.

“I know that you were Chat Noir.”

Somewhere, deep in his soul, his subconsciousness was already connecting the final dots, only waiting for his mind to catch up. It kindly refused the invitation, choosing to revel in blissful ignorance for a few more minutes.

“I… F-father, I… I swear- “

“It’s alright, son. Everything will be alright. Look at me, Adrien.”

He did. He did, and he did not know who he was looking at.

“My son,” his father said, and there was a spark in his eyes that scared him, “it seems so fitting. That all of us would carry such a burden, at one point. As if fate itself kept a close eye on our family.”

“You are Hawkmoth.”, someone said. It took both Agreste’s a few moments to realize it had been Adrien who’d said it. And even then, it took Adrien’s mind several more to put ‘blissful ignorance’ back into its box and catch up with his subconscious and mouth. The lucky charm in his pocket felt cold, so cold, like it had felt only once before.

At TV1.

“You are Hawkmoth,” he repeated, and his voice didn’t falter. Neither did his father.

“I understand if you feel… betrayed.”, the latter said slowly, pronouncing the last word like something spiky he didn’t want to get too close to. “There is much you don’t know yet. But until I show you, I need you to remember that we are family. And that we have a common goal, and since quite recently, a common enemy.”

In his head, his thoughts were racing, too fast to be of any use to him. He felt numb. But fifteen years of experience with his father had taught him when to be quiet, and when to ask questions.

“A… common enemy?”

“Yes.”

His father smiled. It looked wrong.

“You were a hero. You were the Black Cat, you were Chosen. But they took that from you. The moment you didn’t meet their expectations anymore, they tossed you aside. As if you hadn’t sacrificed so much for them. I saw you, everything you did for them. For her.”

“Ladybug.”

The word felt odd in his mouth, as if it didn’t want to be said. His father’s smile widened.

“Ladybug,” he agreed, and if the name had hesitated on Adrien’s tongue, it positively rebelled on Gabriel’s. It sounded poisonous, dripping with disdain. “And the Guardian. And, not to forget, the imposter that took your place.”

Adrien looked up at him, slowly.

“You akumatized me.”

His father didn’t flinch. But he blinked, once, before stepping back.

“So I did.”

He turned around, towards the window. Towards Paris beyond, that feared him every day.

“Imagine my surprise when I learned that the one I was doing this all for was the one fighting me, all along. That the key to our happiness had been beneath my very own roof.”

He shook his head.

“The past is in the past. I know exactly how you felt, in that moment. I could feel it firsthand. How alone. Abandoned by those that should have stood with you.”

He turned back around, facing his son. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was genuine emotion on his face.

“Adrien, if you still feel that way, then we can fix it. Together. We can retrieve your Miraculous, and every other Miraculous too!”

He gripped his shoulder with unexpected strength, eyes wide.

“Adrien, I know just how deep Ladybug’s betrayal cut you. But now that you see her for what she really is, you have the power to make her regret. To take back what you deserve, what you are owed.”

He remembered Lila. Her power to make people believe anything. Just by knowing what they wanted to hear.

“Imagine it, son.”

Adrien imagined.

Being Chat Noir once more. The thing in his life he had loved so much, so much.

But he knew, it hadn’t been the costume he’d loved. When he thought of being Chat Noir, he thought of Plagg’s annoying voice. His constant company, his purrs. He thought of Ladybug and laughter, and racing over rooftops with someone that believed in him.

He thought of escape. Why did he want to escape?

Alone. Abandoned by those that should have stood with you.

He hadbeen alone, for so long. He had been abandoned.

“I love you, Father.”

He looked up. His father looked confused.

“I will always love you.”, he added, and the words felt right. They felt true. He smiled.

“Of course I will help you! I have always supported you, no matter what.”

Because what else could he do?

“I knew I could trust you.”

He was no hero anymore.

“I am so proud of you.”

And he was no villain either.

“You’ll see, Adrien.”

He was a child.

“It will all be worth it, in the end.”

A child that knew he could become everything his father wanted him to be.

A child thatwould not.

“Of course, Father.”

He would not become like Bordeaux. Like Lila.

Like Gabriel Agreste.

“Let me show you the reason for all this.”

Adrien felt like he knew already. Like it would be painful. Like it still wouldn’t change anything. And yet, he smiled. He smiled, the exact same smile he had always worn when his father ignored another birthday. The smile for when his father turned his back yet again. The smile that was so false it hurt.

The smile that would have given him away if his father had looked at him just a little bit closer, those past few years.

“I’m right behind you,” he said, reaching out with one hand for his father’s, with the other for his phone. He had no way to contact Ladybug now. But he knew someone who could. Whose lucky charm was in his pocket, comforting and warmonce again.

He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t angry. He knew exactly what needed to happen, and that she would makeit happen.

“With your help, Adrien, this will all be over soon.”

Alone. Abandoned.

Oh yes.

Distant, dismissive, derogatory.

He was right.

I will not disappoint you.

More so than he knew.

“My son,” his father said, and Adrien was so sure he could see love in his eyes. “Now I know that we will be victorious.”

With that, Gabriel Agreste started walking away.

And Adrien, no longer the obedient son, followed.

[queenmuzz]

Happy Mother's Day

I'm terribly sorry, this is supposed to be a happy day between mothers and their children, but you know how I am... Note: Set Between DMC4 and DMC5

Nero’s legs wobbled with numbness as he cautiously got off the bike, making sure that the motorcycle wouldn’t tip. He really didn’t want to bring it back to Lady with a ding in it. But when she had offered it to him to borrow, he couldn’t resist taking it for a spin. The vehicle was a beaut, lovingly taken care of, and...very, VERY fast. How that waif of a woman was able to hold on for dear life, he had no idea.

After he had steadied himself, he looked at his destination and frowned, looked down at the paper in his hand, and looked back up. The address was a match, but this place, right smack in the middle of downtown Redgrave, looked like a dump. A decrepit skeleton of what had once been a magnificent manor that looked abandoned for decades. Even though it looked like a prime location for a demon hang out, Lady had insisted that Dante wasn’t on a job. Nero had gotten the feeling she really wanted him to find the elder demon hunter.

Confused, and more than a little curious, he passed through the broken down wrought iron gate towards the house.

The overgrowth was tall and suffocating, but Nero noticed, just before what had been the entrance, a new path going to the left had been created, freshly trampled grass going around the corner. Nero didn’t see any other sign of disturbance, so this is probably where Dante had gone. So, he trudged along, wondering why of all places the man would have come here.

He pulled around the corner, and instantly came to a stop. Unlike the rest of the property, this area here had been recently maintained, the grass recently shorn (Nero had a sneaking suspicion it was Rebellion’s doing) A large oak tree, with bright green newborn leaves, cast a lovely dappled shadow upon the ground. And beneath the aged trunk was Dante, his back to Nero, facing a pair of granite stones. It took a few moments for Nero to realize...not stones… gravestones.

“Lady,” Dante didn’t turn around, “I told you that I didn’t need you here. I’m fine…” Nero caught the scent of flowers, specifically roses fluttering in the breeze. The young man awkwardly coughed, startling the man in red.

“Sheesh!” Dante rapidly turned around, revealing that the scent came from a bouquet of red roses in his hand. Well, nearly all red. In the middle of the bundle, was a single blue rose. “Didn’t expect to see you here kid! Heard Lady’s bike rumbling down the street, so I thought she was sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.” “Yeah,” Nero said, scratching the bridge of his nose. Had Lady used him as a tool to get to Dante? “You weren’t in the office when I came by, but Lady let me use her bike, and gave me directions to...this place.” He didn’t know the significance of this area, but it was probably very important to Dante.

“Did she eh...?” he murmured, slightly annoyed, slightly resigned for some reason.

“Yeah, Kyrie told me I needed to get out of Fortuna, to take a break from rebuilding Fortuna. And the only place on the Mainland that I knew about, was your place.” That was partially the truth. Nero had also wanted to ask if Dante would be interested in a business idea that Nero had come up with: A mobile franchise using the Devil May Cry name, centered in Fortuna, but he had the feeling that this was not the time nor place to bring up business matters.

Dante chuckled, and looked down at the roses he was holding. “I guess Lady didn’t tell you why I was here.”

“Nah, and I didn’t ask.”

“Welp,” Dante rolled his shoulders, the joints popping. “Might as well get this over with. You know what day today is?”

Nero was perplexed. It was just another Sunday in May. He shrugged.

“Ah, maybe they don’t do it in Fortuna. Here, today is Mother’s Day. Where kids and adults spend time with, and thank the women that raised them, and well… I’m visiting my mom.”

Nero felt the pieces of the puzzle falling in the place. Fortuna’s version of Mother’s Day was during the autumn, and Nero hadn’t really cared much about it, considering his background. But to Dante, the day was more significant.

Suddenly, he felt the yank on his sleeve, and before he knew it, Dante had dragged him towards one of the gravestones, the one that was older, and slightly more worn. It was simple, no words on it, but there was flowering climbing roses carved along the edges. The one stone beside it was similar, but newer, and there were no roses, just intertwined climbing thorny stems.

“Hey Mom, I’d like to introduce you to that kid I was telling you about. This,” he pushed the boy further in front of the stone proudly, “is Nero.” He stood there, partly awkward and partly proud at the thought Dante had talked to his mom about him. Dante hadn’t mentioned his mom much, but Trish had helpfully filled in the blanks when Nero had asked why Dante had a pic of her on his desk.

“Oh, that’s not me...that’s Eva, Dante’s mother. It’s complicated, but I was created by Mundus to look like her, to lure him into a trap many years ago. She was very important to him, and while I don’t quite understand it, I know that she loved him dearly she loved the bot-”

She’d been interrupted by Dante coming in the office, and Nero hadn’t pried further.

Nero tried to come up with some words “Uh...hi.. It’s nice to meet you.” God he sounded like an idiot.

Thankfully, Dante swooped back in. “She was a wonderful woman. You’d think she was soft and demure, but the moment you pissed her off, she was as hard as steel. I can still feel her pulling on my ear when she caught me sneaking into the cookie jar before supper.” He chuckled and winced as he rubbed his earlobe, “A fantastic cook, a wonderful violinist and… an irreplaceable mom.” Dante’s voice trailed off, and for a moment all that could be heard was the rustling of the wind through the grass. Strange, despite never meeting her, with no connection to this family, Nero had a feeling he...belonged here.

“She would have adored you…” Dante murmured softly, startling Nero. He turned to find the older man with a wistful, almost melancholy look on his face.

“Huh?”

Instantly, that softness, that rare glimpse of something seldom seen, was locked up behind a steel grin. Dante laughed. “It’s nothin, just me talking without thinking. So, what about you? You’re on the Mainland now, best time to talk about your mom.” Dante must have seen his sudden scowl, and placed his hands up in surrender, realizing this was a sore spot. “Doesn’t have to be your blood mom. Can be any woman that helped you grow up!”

“Well,” Nero mused, “There was Cecilia, Kyrie’s mom,” he explained, “she was a heck of a woman. When Kyrie brought me home after I’d gotten into a scrap with the other kids at school, when they took my lunch, after she made sure I was okay, she gave me a ham and cheese sandwich on two pieces of fresh bread. She was a baker by trade, you see. And every day after that, when school was day, Kyrie would bring me to her, and Cecilia wouldn’t let leave until I couldn’t eat another bite. She was always looking out for me afterwards. Making sure I got my school work done, mended my clothes, and then when the Orphanage didn’t have clothes my size, she got Credo to get me measured up so she could get me several sets of clothes. But most of all…” he continued, trying to figure out why his eyes were getting all watery. Must be from the newly cut grass. “Unlike the rest of the island, she never judged me, never made me feel like I didn’t belong. I…” he took a deep breath, “I would have been proud to be called her son-in-law. But she never got the chance to see Kyrie and me grow up, to become a couple… Maybe if I had been there when the demon attack...” he trailed off, feeling a bit lost and alone. He couldn’t feel the same pain as Kyrie or Credo had, but there was pain nonetheless. He was surprised by a firm hand on his shoulder, and looked up to see the older man giving a smile of sympathy.

“I kinda feel where you’re coming from. My mom, she died in an attack too…she died protecting me from demons.” That smile vanished as Dante looked down at the gravestone...not this mother’s, the one beside it. “Our positions should have been switched” he murmured softly, grief on his face, “things would have been so much different, so much better...” Nero was perplexed. Was Dante wishing he had died so his mom had lived?

“Well, if she’s even half the mom you claim her to be, she’d probably be happy that you’re alive, strong enough to protect yourself, and others….” Nero tried to say what he was feeling, and it seemed to be what came from his heart. It seemed to do the trick, because Dante had perked up, and that mask of a grin was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re a good kid, Nero.” Dante said, and rubbed Nero’s head, laughing at the halfhearted scowl that earned. Dante looked up at the sky, the noon sun shining happily down. “Welp, I’m famished.... How bout we get our asses- I mean butts, sorry mom, back to the office and order some pizza. I’m pretty sure Lady owes me a couple boxes of them, for what she’s done…” Dante glared at her bike, barely visible from their location. Nero didn’t quite understand, but he’d never turn down free food.

“You go ahead, bring that bike back to her, tell her I’ll be there a bit later, just have to do a…” Dante looked down at the pair of graves. “A few more things to spruce up the place.”

Nero nodded. Obviously, Dante deserved some privacy, this was his mother’s resting place, so he turned to leave, his stomach already growling at the thought of pizza. He slightly worried he was turning out like the old man. Next thing he knew, he’d be having questionable tastes in fashion, and have a penchant for shooting old men in the head without explaining beforehand that the guy was trying to take over the world. Strange, he thought as he got on the bike, and looked back at the manor. It didn’t look as decrepit and creepy as before. Instead of a carcass of a house, it was a dignified memorial of happy times long since gone. A place that seemed to welcome him to return as often as he’d like. As he drove off, he remembered that he’d forgotten, in all the emotional unloading, to ask about the other gravestone….

------

When the sound of Lady’s engine had finally faded away, Dante let out a breath that he’d been holding in for longer than he thought. Damn Lady, trying to get him to break down and tell the kid the truth. Well, there had been a few close calls, a few words slipped out, but that façade had been maintained, with the kid none the wiser.

He looked down at the bouquet in his hands, and then at the grave before him. “He’s a great kid, like I said.” He sighed, “I know you’re probably disappointed at me for not being truthful, you were always a big stickler for ‘Honesty’ but…” he pulled out the single blue rose out of the bouquet, and spun it between his fingers. “Bad stuff happens to us Spardas. You, me…” he placed that blue rose before the newer gravestone, “Vergil.... I just don’t want that to happen to him. The less he knows...the better. He deserves the stability that we never got...” He placed the roses down, and knelt down, eye level to the grave.

“I hope, wherever you are, that you’re at peace, and that he’s with you, so you can tell him what I never could, that he was loved just as much as you loved me….” His forehead touched the cool stone, and a few drops of water splashed onto the crimson blooms.

“Happy Mother’s Day”