#with a few other artists thrown in for spice

[wyvernspirit]

im actually looping 2 playlists i made for my braintrot rn

one is based on Gem this season of secret life

and the other is for Shiny Duo in secret life

[books-books-smolderinglooks]

Thank you lovely @nicksmile for the tag. 🧡😊🧡🌼

Nickname: Maripili - it's newish and I love it. 💜

Zodiac: Leo

Height: 5'1

Last Movie: Steel Magnolias - I've been sick and it just makes sense 😌

Last Thing I Googled: images of books because I thought I wanted to change my header image

Favorite Musician: there's too many amazing artists, how can you ask me to pick? Lol Here are a few I always go back to - The Strokes, Arcade Fire, Radiohead, Brandi Carlile

Song Stuck in My Head: Love of My Life by Harry Styles - Harry's been stuck in my head for some time now. Help. 😆

Other Blogs: Nej

Do I get asks: every once in a while

Blogs following: 144

Amount of Sleep: 4-8 hrs. I used to work overnights so falling asleep was hard but now that I'm not, I'm slowly getting back to decent sleep.

Lucky Number: 9

What I'm Wearing: a black t-shirt with red and white gym shorts

Dream Job: getting paid to read, travel the world and eat

Dream Trip: Europe especially Sweden (I wonder why 😂)

Favorite Food: Pasta, pasta, pasta, with a couple of mushroom and pepperoni pizza slices thrown in there 😊

Play any instruments: turns out I still remember how to play clarinet 🙂

Languages: English and Español

Favorite Song: Again, so many good ones but Que Puedo Hacer by Omar is a must listen to everyday jam.

Random Fact: my wedding band is made of opal, my absolute favorite!

Describe your aesthetic as things: ummm.. stacks of books, colored pens, cinnamon spice scented candles, a dark blue cardigan with rainbow buttons, a rainstorm

Tagging: @walewalentina, @plantbasedfish, @girls-are-weird, @the-amber-fox, @echocoffee, @simons-purplehoodie, @thebirkenstocksocialist, @cinnamoncoffees, @eyeofthedrgn, @ishotforthestars, @earlgrey-lateatnight, @pagegirlintraining. ❤️❤️❤️

[morganofthewildfire]

12 Days of Rowaelin Day 1 - Happy Accidents

Here’s day 1! This is based off a prompt sent in by the lovely @writtenonreceipts

I work at the local library and I’m trying to put up all the decorations myself, but I fell off the ladder trying to hang up the garland and you caught me

Hope you enjoy! - 1233 words

~~~~~~

There were many reasons why Aelin Galathynius loved her job. She loved the atmosphere, loved being surrounded by books, loved all of the kids she interacted with, and just generally loved coming to work every day. Rowan Whitethorn certainly didn’t hurt, either.

He worked next door to the library, and he came in about every other day, always checking out some new history book. Aelin quickly discovered that was his favorite genre, and began giving him some recommendations, starting a conversation every time he came up to her desk.

She would never admit that she spent time every night researching which ones to talk about. Being a fiction reader herself, she didn’t have any experience in that field. But she looked forward to him coming in every time, so she was eager for any opportunity to talk to him.

Rowan had started coming to the small library a few months ago, and Aelin gradually learned more about his personality and what went on beyond his handsome face. Because he was handsome. Dreadfully so. With his silvery hair, deep green eyes, and tan skin. With the striking, artistic black tattoo and the charming smile that drew her in and enthralled her all at the same time.

And he was funny. A subtle funny that took a few visits for her to pick up on. He was very intelligent, always responding to her witty comments with some snark of his own. And he was kind, considerate, and compassionate beneath his calm exterior.

Basically, she was screwed. Because she was completely and utterly, into him. And he had no idea.

Aelin sighed and rested her chin on her hand, slumping in her chair. It was a quiet day so far, the cold and snowy weather outside keeping a lot of people from venturing out. Soft Christmas music played over the speakers, and she began humming to it slightly, trying to think of what she could do.

There weren’t any books to put away, no new deliveries were due until next week, and she had already organized all of the late fines the day before.

So she was stuck. A few people were dwindling in some of the seating areas, but none of them needed her help and she didn’t want to bother them unnecessarily.

Aelin had hoped Rowan would come in today, he hadn’t been in almost a week, but it seemed so far her hopes were dashed.

Her eyes wandered around her desk, looking at everything and trying to find something to distract herself with until her shift was over, but she came up short until she landed on a cardboard box half hidden under the jacket she had haphazardly thrown that morning.

She smiled and dragged it over to her, opening it to reveal a few strands of garland. Aelin had forgotten about her plan to start hanging up the Christmas decorations, formulated yesterday. This was only one box of many, and she could definitely spend her empty hours working on that.

Every year she tried to spice up the building a little bit by adding all the decor. Nobody else who worked there seemed to really care, but she wanted to bring a bit of holiday cheer.

So she got up from her desk and walked back to the storage room, keeping an eye out to make sure no one needed her help, and grabbed a short ladder and some tape. There were a few archways throughout the library that she could hang the garland up on, but they were too tall for her to reach by herself.

The first one was easy: the garland was light, the tape held it up well, it took her only a few minutes. Same with the second one.

It was the third where she ran into trouble. The garland had somehow gotten knotted, but she didn’t realize until she was already halfway through taping it up, and she was determined to not have to start over. So she tried to untie it while reaching over her head to get to the middle of the arch, which turned out to be a very bad idea.

She didn’t realize she was falling until it was too late, her foot slipping out from under her as her balance was thrown too far to the side.

Her eyes squeezed shut as she cringed, accidentally pulling the garland down with her as she braced her arm out to hopefully hurt her wrist instead of her head.

But when she landed in a pair of warm arms instead of crashing into the floor, Aelin looked up in confusion, eyes widening as she found herself staring at Rowan.

Her cheeks bloomed red as she looked at their position. She was practically cradled in his strong arms, pressed close to his chest. His comforting pine and snow scent enveloped her and she found herself wanting to stay there forever, cuddled tight with him.

But the moment ended too quickly, as he set her down carefully.

“That was a close one,” he said, chuckling slightly. Aelin mumbled an agreement, cheeks still flaming.

“Who knew Christmas decorating could be so dangerous,” she replied, trying to laugh it off. But she was embarrassed for more than one reason. First, the obvious one, and second, because he looked like an absolute dream today and she could not stop staring.

He was in his work clothes, the black suit jacket hugging his broad shoulders, and his hair was wonderfully tousled, the short cut still long enough to where she could run her hands through it.

She shook her head, getting rid of the distracting thoughts. It was then she realized he had been talking, and was now staring at her expectantly.

“What?” She said without thinking, and she just blushed even more. Why couldn’t she act normal around him?

“I was asking if you wanted some help,” he said, smiling at her, “I’m on my lunch break and I have nothing to do.”

Aelin nodded a little too quickly, and cursed herself silently for looking too eager. But Rowan didn’t seem to notice. He just walked over to the fallen garland and picked it up, effortlessly untying the knot.

“When did you even come in?” She asked, trying to sound nonchalant, “I didn’t see you a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, I just got here,” he said, “I didn’t see you at your desk so I came looking.”

Her lips curled up on the edges and she ducked her head down, the statement making her unbelievably happy.

“You came looking, huh?” She said, not missing out on the chance to tease him.

“Of course,” he said, over exaggerating the words, pretending like he was offended by her accusation, “I can’t go to the library without seeing my reading buddy, can I?”

Her smile deflated a little bit. That sure sounded like something you’d say to just a friend. Not anything more.

“Definitely not,” she said, tone falling a little flat.

But Rowan tucked a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, and leaned in to place a delicate kiss to her cheek, her eyes closing at the touch.

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he whispered, before pulling away with a smile, nonchalantly climbing up the ladder and taping the garland and leaving Aelin to process what just happened.

Maybe he did like her after all.

Taglist:

@lexflame

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@camilamartinezdunne

@rolltide7

@sleeping-and-books

@tottenhamboys20

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@yesdreamblog

@jlinez

@superspiritfestival

@courtofjurdan

@booknerdproblems

@queen-of-glass

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@imaginedhaven

@fangirlprincess09

@lauraisfae

@claralady

@sassys-world

@booksbqueen

@aelinashryvergalathynius18

@more-espresso-less-depresso-xx

@http-itsrebecca

@perseusannabeth

@throneofmak

@emilyoftheshadows

@poisonous00

@thegoddessofyou

@highqueenofelfhame

@chieflemming

@danaanruhn

@westofmoon

@acciowests

[troublesometrollhunters]

could you write douxie falling in love at first sight with wizard!reader? thank you!

(Would like people to make their asks more Valentiney or Valentines Day specific please. As a writer I'll take creative liberty and say that this is around Valentine's day but the ask box isn't just open. The ask box is only open for QnA O.C asks Valentines related requests. Thanks! :D)

~ Maybe it's because love is in the air and he's always been a romantic, maybe it's because you seem like his type and the universe is willing you to be together, or maybe he's just a hopeless fool who's gotten a crush but Hisirdoux finds himself instantly smitten when he first sees you.

~ Zoe finds Hisirdouxes lovesick behavior something between disgusting and hilarious to be honest. Your one of her workers and depsite the trying job you always have a chipper attitude and a gentle smile as you work. She was half convinced you were a robot when you started. With how you present yourself and all but she's seen you eat and drink so that theory was quickly thrown out the window as you became friends. Looking back on some of your earlier reactions you honestly remind Zoe of Douxie so when he sees you and asks about you she finds it cute.

~ Douxie begins bumping into you more. Well seeing you around more. Since it's near Valentine's Day people are buying Hex tech for their partners or getting upgrades for themselves as a treat all over town.

~ Zoe told him your powers involve something with space and energy. Your main job other than fixing the occasional broken monitor or taking vexxing house calls is to deliver things for Zoe since teleportation is your magical expertise.

~ Your good at hiding your magic, teleporting in allies and creating wormholes to travel through when no ones looking. But Douxie begins to see your magic since he's looking for it. He notices you around town skullcandy headphones in as you carry around boxes or a clipboard delivering or checking on various things for Hex tech. He just thinks your amazing. The more he sees you, the more he begins to fall in love.

~ You have a kind heart and your passion for magic and your job is admirable. He also can't help but notice you have an artistic soul. With the way you always listen to music while you work, or hover when your doing a job at Arcadias museum. Zoe says you spend a lot of time there, looking to the past to get creative inspiration for the present.

~ Douxie thinks this watching you from afar is getting well to put it lightly, a bit stalkerish and tries to stop but he can't. He wants to talk to you he's just nervous. He hasn't liked many people and as smooth as he is on the regular he isn't very suave when it comes to someone he genuinely likes. It doesn't help that you have very badass magic. The young wizard could watch you teleport all day.

~ As your boss and both your friends Zoe can't watch this shit show anymore. You've seen Douxie around and have admitted to Zoe about having a little crush menawhile Douxie is full blown in love.

~ Beginning to plot, the pink haired mage doesn't want either of you alone on Valentine's Day with it fastly approaching. So to help the poor goober out she recruits Archie to try and set you up with Douxie in secret. After all Douxie is a romantic, he's a good guy with a kind heart and your both single and have shown interest in each other.

~ Hisirdoux is mortified at the idea of Zoe pulling strings to orchestrate a meet cute but Archie only encourages Zoes meddling behavior agreeing you'd both be a good match. Kinda feeling pressure but also really wanting to meet you Doxuie relents to their schemes.

~ However despite Zoe and Archies efforts it seems life is thrawting them. Or maybe your magic just makes it hard to predict where you'll be with how your always zipping about. Every time they try and make a meet cute happen Douxie gets nervous and bails or you leave on an errand before they can get you two in the same room together.

~ Valentines Day has come and Zoe decides it's time to cut her losses as Archie also steps back letting the universe figure it out. The familiar goes to Zoes office to nap as Hisirdoux decides to get a coffee and spend his Valentine's alone.

~ Your both at Arcadias famous coffee cafe when it finally happens. Stepping up to Order Hisirdoux pauses as you and him both say the same order at the same time. Spiced latte. Laughing at the fact you both like the same drink and he's not going to be alone on Valentine's, he insists on paying for the coffee and smiling you let him.

~ Sitting down together on your day off you enjoy talking with Douxie. Apparently you'd been trying to meet the mage but you'd been having some difficulty. By traveling through your little worm holes you could see brief images of the future but because of unpredictable space lapses you aren't always able to land exactly where you need or want. It wasn't a coincidence Hisirdoux had seen you so much it was just a pain to try and meet him when your magic could be unreliable.

~ You both found it hysterical how others were trying to push you together when you'd both been trying to gain the courage to walk up to each other and meet by yourselves. Apprentally your timing on temporal rifts was right but Zoe and Archies interference is what threw you off every time.

~ Deciding that since you had the time now and neither of you had dates you spend the rest of Valentine's Day getting to know each other. He tells you about Camelot and his experience with Merlin while you explain your powers more in depth and show him a few tricks. All in all it's a good day and you end up exchanging phone numbers and a small kiss.

~ When you walk into work the next day with a big smile and Hisirdoux follows some hours later to visit you on break Zoe smirks before she highfives Archie. Job well done.

[sapphicscholar]

A/N: quick content warning for some canon stuff around Ava's relationship to her parents, Deborah's relationship to food, and some panic (nothing sustained, but it's in there)

Fic Preview:

The only good thing about having endured this many weeks of American Talent auditions is that by now, there are fewer acts that make Deborah actively want to claw her eyes out. Sure, there are still the stray wishes for an earthquake or a freak tornado to come and kill them all, but it’s a vast improvement from those early open casting calls across the country. There are precisely zero jugglers and pickup artists left in the pile these days. And Deborah has not suffered through another off-key rendition of “I Will Always Love You” in weeks.

Of course, in exchange, her home base is about to be relocated to a suite in some LA hotel, since apparently no expenses are to be spared once they’re down to the final 20.

The network has finally begun airing those early audition episodes, much to Marcus’s delight, and the producers have explained that they’ll condense the material from the callback rounds into episodes that will air during their first few weeks in LA before live filming begins. The producers have explained she and the other judges are meant to mentor the contestants in the meantime—something about community bonding that makes Deborah gag. Damian has also gone on and on at length about how they’ll use those weeks to film “behind the scenes” segments about each of the contestants, get some sob stories and interpersonal drama to really spice things up. Deborah wants no part of it and has made Marcus swear he’ll book her as many QVC gigs as he can.

“Welcome back, Cynthia!” Jared calls out, and Deborah jerks back into the present moment. She blinks up at the young woman striding across the stage with a too-wide smile on her face. Deborah vaguely remembers being unimpressed last time, but Jared had swayed Kendra to push her through.

She attempts a Beyoncé song this time and misses enough high notes that all three judges send her packing.

The contortionist that follows tells them he’ll be “attempting something never been seen before on the stage of American Talent.” They let the EMTs pass along the bad news about his future in the competition.

Even the tap dancer Vivian can’t get her act together enough to make it through, and the assistant producers on set that day are starting to look panicked at just how many people they’ve sent home.

It is at that moment, of course, that Ava strides through the door. Deborah plasters on her best professional smile when the camera pans to her, letting it fall only when Ava glances in her direction.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve got some new material that I hope you guys are gonna like,” Ava says, flashing a smile at Jared.

The jokes have punchlines—mediocre punchlines, but punchlines nonetheless. They appeal to the audience. There’s a whole bit about the boybands of Ava’s youth that has Jared preening. Deborah swears she even sees a few of her own signature expressions thrown in for good measure. And she hates every goddam second of it.

Read the rest on AO3!

[for-writing-shit]

All But One

~a/n this is the second chapter of this fic!! you can find the other chapters linked at the bottom. some more tsukkiyama fluff in this chapter because you can never have to much. a little angst thrown in there too because i needed to spice it up a lil.

~main ship: TsukiYama

~side ships (with their own chapters and pov’s): KageHina, AsaNoya, DaiSuga, BokuAka and KuroKen

~warnings: slight homophia, cursing

~word count: 1000+

Chapter Two

Tadashi’s POV

I stand to the side while Tsukki unlocks his front door. I glance over the front garden but my eyes are drawn back to some strawberry plants in a little bed separate from the rest.

“Hey Tsukki are those the strawberries we planted in middle school?”

“Um yeah I think they are.”

I can’t believe he still has them. A small smile makes it’s way onto my lips. He finally pushes the door open. As soon as I step inside I smell Tsukki’s mum’s famous pork buns.

“Hi Kei, Tadashi. Terribly sorry but I’m late for your fathers appointment. I’ve decided to stay over for the night. Your brother will be home for dinner tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Tsukki’s happy tone has disappeared. His mum gives us each a kiss on the cheek and rushes out the door. It slams shut and Tsukki heads to the kitchen without a word.

I take my time undoing my shoelaces. I set my trainers neatly on the shoe rack. When I come into the kitchen Tsukki is heating up the oven to put the pork buns in to warm them up and I stand next to it. I forgot my hoodie at home and I’m cold.

Tsukki turns around and suddenly his face is inches from mine. We stand there studying each other, subconsciously moving closer together. As I’m about to close the gap the front door opens and we both jump apart. I hear Tsukki’s mum shout from the hallway.

“I just forgot my coat. I’ll be back for lunch tomorrow!”

I turn back around and Tsukki is staring at the ground biting his lip. He only does that when he’s nervous or trying to hold back tears. Oh shit. His family are ultra-conservative and he was just about to kiss another guy. No wonder. I reach out to take his hand but he flinches away.

“Can you get some glasses out please.” He says in a whisper, still not looking at me.

“Okay.”

Twenty Minutes Later

Although the pork buns are delicious I can’t properly enjoy them because of how freezing I am.

“Hey d’you wanna borrow one of my jumpers? You look like your freezing.”

I do very much so want to wear one of Tsukki’s big jumpers but I am not going to actually say that.

“I’m fine.” I am not fine.

“You’re clearly not fine. Just give it back to me at training tomorrow.”

“Can I have the big red one?” I will do anything for the big red one.

“Fine.” I can see he’s holding back a smile. So am I.

I get up and as soon as I’m out of the room I let my smile break. I scan the wall as I slowly walk up the stairs. I stop at a finger painting that has Kei Tsukishima written at the bottom in neat print. It’s of a garden with what appears to be cabbages, carrots, strawberries and peas growing in it. He was never the greatest artist so I can’t really tell.

Once I’m in his room I take a look around. He has a shelf entirely dedicated to dinosaurs. I spot his red jumper on the back of his desk chair so I grab it and put it on. It smells of Tsukki which makes my smile even bigger. I’m about to turn to leave when I spot a notebook on his desk. I take a look at the first page but I see it’s a diary and I immediately shut it. On my way back downstairs I can’t get it out of my head. I’m not stupid though, I’ve seen movies I know it’s never a good idea to look in someone’s diary. Damn my moral compass.

—————

Tsukki’s POV

Tadashi trails down the stairs and back into the kitchen a few minutes later. I almost gasp when I see him. With my red jumper that almost reaches his knees, his freckles and his hair he looks like a human strawberry. The cutest strawberry I have ever seen.

“What?” He notices me staring and now he has a faint blush on his cheeks which just adds to the strawberry affect.

“Nothing, but shouldn’t you be outside with the rest of the strawberries?”

He flicks the back of my head on the way past and puts the kettle on.

After dinner we make our way to the sitting room as per usual to watch a movie.

“So what do you want to watch?” He settles into the corner of the sofa, and curls his legs up inside my jumper and is softly blowing on his tea.

“I don’t mind.” I don’t intend on actually watching whatever Tadashi picks out. I do intend to kiss him though.

“Tangled it is.” He presses play. Huh, so he already had it queued up.

It sit down beside him and the opening music surrounds us. Hell, maybe I will watch this.

Twenty Minutes Later

Screw that.

A few minutes ago I noticed Tadashi looking at me with a strange expression.

“Are you hungry again? There’s more pork buns if you wan-” He wrapped an arm around my neck and slammed our lips together before I could finish my sentence.

He’s clearly hungry for something.

“I’m good.” He said breathlessly.

“Okay.” Then I leaned down and tilted his chin up. He sat up onto his knees and slung one over my lap. His hands were gripping my cheeks and my hands traveled down his back to his waist.

Ten minutes later and Tadashi is still gripping onto me like his life depends on it. Suddenly I hear the front door open and hear footsteps coming towards us. We jump up a second before someone flings the door open.

“Hey little bro!” My brother stands there with his arms wide open.

“I thought you had a game.” I say stiffly.

“Not happy to see me?” He says with a fake pout. I see him glance over us and can tell he’s noticed our messy hair and Tadashi’s jumper. His arms drop. “So what are you up to?”

“We were just watching a movie.” I glance over to the TV where Tangled is still playing.

“Ah I love Tangled!” He sits down right in the middle of sofa so we have no choice but to sit down either side of him.

The next hour is gonna be so fun.

~a/n hope you enjoyed!! the next chapter is one of my favorites so don’t worry it will be better than this one. from now on every second chapter will be a different ship so the next one is *drumroll* KageHina!! it includes some exciting news so yay. if anyone wants to be added to the taglist my ask box is open :) if there are any typos or mistakes please correct me. all likes comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

masterlist

[namfine]

⊙ | 𝕷𝖚𝖝𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖆 : 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 | ⊙

              Lust is an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body. 

                                       - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

α pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

α word count: 7.1k

�� summary: A loveless marriage drives you to a dark part of your city in search of the things that once made you happy. Instead, you find a man who awakens carnal desires deep inside you that you never knew existed. An impulsive decision and a loss of control make for the best paintings but driven past the point of no return- tell me, is it worth falling for?

α tags/TW: 18+, smut, bts smut, taehyung x reader, reader insert, artist Taehyung, strangers, knife play, blood play, rough sex, master x servant relationship, dom x sub relationship, dominant male, dirty talk, unprotected sex, affair, alcohol consumption, sex under the influence, daemon au

α part: 1 of 7 of our Seven Deadly Sins Milestone Challenge.

⋫ Link to Master List here 

α  a/n: Hello and welcome to the first piece in our Sin Challenge! We are beyond excited to share this journey with you, please check out the master list for the rest of the pieces which will be released once a day for the next 7 days. This piece was a blast to write but I did let out a little bit of my kinky self (just a tiny bit, it’s not too crazy) and I hope you all enjoy it. 

- ☆.｡.:* Zesty .｡.:*☆

The minute you saw him you knew you were in trouble.

It was a Tuesday. You were out for a walk trying to escape the reminders of a loveless marriage that waited for you when you returned home. You were in what would have been called a dodgy part of your city but it reminded you of your old college town and you couldn’t give it up.

Litter crowded the sidewalk and you swerved around panhandlers trying to score a few cents. You stood out in your business clothes, the handbag a gift from your husband as an apology for his latest secretary fling.

You looked at the bag, the designer label loud and proud on the front. You can’t say you were surprised that your husband had wandering eyes. After all, that’s how you came to marry him in the first place. You were his secretary too, once. A fling that he started to escape his second wife. One you participated in because you were young, vulnerable, and searching for a thrill. You were always just another conquest on his radar, never seen as an equal and definitely never loved.

In college you never imagined living such an unhappy future.

Maybe that’s what drew you here. What led you to the little art studio under the neon signs, tucked behind the tattoo shop where men slouched outside taking long drags of stolen cigarettes. A quarter life crisis where you tried to grasp what made you happy in the past.

Stepping into the studio was like taking a step into another world. Darkness enveloped you, the walls a deep sapphire blue with spotlights illuminating the classically inspired art pieces. You walked further in, careful to avoid the other patrons, the grey stone floor made your heels sing and you wished silently for anything else so you wouldn’t draw any more attention to yourself. No one was speaking loud, only hushed whispers as pairs and groups mingled through the gallery, admiring the works. You weren’t surprised as you took in one after the other of the elaborate paintings  that the visitors were both too stunned and aroused to casually chat. The works depicted some of life’s most desired and feared moments.

Every one of the paintings showed people fucking.

Every position you could imagine, with and without clothes, choking, bondage, everything. You perused the works, each one simultaneously taking your breath away as well inspiring a curiosity deep within you that you hadn’t felt in years. Clearly the creator was proficient in the art of lovemaking and not afraid to show it.

You zoned in on the face of a woman in pure ecstasy, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt that sort of passion with your husband or any of the others before him. You didn’t think you’d ever had.

Something drew you from your thoughts and your eyes flicked across the room, surprised to meet the eyes of a young man. He looked to be mid to late twenties and wore simple loose fitting tan pants with a deep blue shirt tucked in. He was flanked on either side by two beautiful women who appeared to be deep in a conversation that didn’t include him, but his eyes never left you. He was striking, to say the least, with brilliant shaggy black hair and a smirk that conveyed a lazy sense of male confidence that you could feel from where you stood.

It was exhilarating.

Unnerved by your response, you broke the gaze and spun out of the gallery back to the loud street. You paused for a minute on the street, your back flush against the brick building of the gallery, avoiding the looks of edgy passersby.

Who was he?  

You pushed the thought deep into the back of your mind and left the street heading back to the silent home where you knew your husband would be absent.

                                        - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

You found yourself in that little gallery in the corner of the city a few more times that month. Soon, it was like your feet were bringing you there without your mind even realizing it. You would just wake up when you walked through the ornate gold trimmed door, into the plush dark blue of the room. It was better than being home, constantly reminded that your marriage was a sham and probably the biggest mistake of your life. Whether you visited for the art pieces or him even you didn’t really know. Regardless, you never caught another glimpse of the mysterious raven-haired man and honestly, it was probably for the better. At least this way you retained some form of plausible deniability about why you actually visited the gallery.

It was a Saturday, late in October, when you noticed it. You were working your way through the pieces, paying special attention to your favorites, the ones you wished you were bold enough to try when your eyes found a small one tucked into the back of a winding hallway. Like all the others, the only luminance was the small spotlights meant to display the piece and you moved down the hall to get a closer look.

It hadn’t been there the last time you visited, you were sure of it, so it must have been new. It was smaller than the others, more intimate, portraying two lovers, as opposed to some of the elaborate orgy scenes you had witnessed the artist releasing more of lately.

The male had what appeared to be a medieval dagger in his hands and was using the handle to pleasure his partner’s clit. She had nicks on her skin on her collarbone, fingers, hips where he must have pricked her before but she looked to be enjoying every second, a leather collar tight around her neck, it’s leash in his other hand that gripped her firmly on her hip.

“I haven’t seen you here before, is this your first time?” A husky voice from behind you caused you to jump and you turned around, your face turning beat red.

It was him.

He was garbed in a similar style as the last time you had seen him, this time black slacks and smooth red silk shirt. He blended into the darkness of the navy walls and stepped forward a bit so the spotlight from the painting bounced off his chiseled features. He was even more beautiful up close with eyes so dark the pupil disappeared and full lips above a defined jaw. He had styled his hair today slightly to the side and you could see a sliver of a flawless forehead. Clearly, he had been taking care of his body and you could see the peek of a toned chest from the deep v of his shirt. He was all dark shadows and long lines, his feet slipped into a simple pair of backless dress shoes.  How did someone this beautiful exist? Did he not remember me from last time?

Of course he wouldn’t.

He had been surrounded by two stunning women and with a face like that, you were sure he was used to it.

“No,” you responded motioning to the art work. “I come here often after work. I really like the artist’s work. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he responded and you whipped your head back to him to see him hiding a small grin.

“You’re the artist?” You asked, amazed.

“Is that so astounding?”

You took in his appearance again, so casual and cool. He had both hands in his pant pockets now and was leaning on one foot, giving off an air of quiet confidence.

You shook your head. “No, I guess not.” It really didn’t surprise you in the slightest. You were immediately drawn to this man and obviously attracted to the artwork so it made sense that he had created it. “So . . .” You were eager to continue the conversation, get to know him more. “What’s your favorite piece?”

His eyes lit up at that and he led you on a tour of the studio, pointing out pieces he particularly enjoyed making or that he thought turned out well. You watched as his features changed from casual aloofness to one of childlike excitement as he talked about his work. It was late and what few patrons there were happy to leave you both to your own devices, and you continued for about an hour with no interruptions. It was near closing when he led you to another piece you hadn’t seen before.

This one was simpler, two people once again in the throes of passion but this time only the man’s face was visible, his eyes peering down at his lovers while he chased his release.

“Are all of your paintings. . . . uh” you searched for the right word. “Do all of your paintings contain such visceral acts?”

He raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “Yes, all of my paintings show people fucking.”

The way he enunciated the last word made the hairs on your arms stand up.

“And. . . “ you couldn’t meet his eyes. “Do you paint from experience?” You didn’t know what game you were playing but you couldn’t deny your attraction to this man. You were walking a dangerous line.

He studied you intently. “Not all of them. Some are just fantasies of mine. I like knowing that my work can inspire others to spice up their sex lives. Give them ideas of things they might like to try.”

Wow, a real civil servant.

“What are your fantasies?” he asked, bluntly.

You met his eyes. “I don’t know, I guess I’m sort of stuck. Maybe that’s why I keep coming here.”

“I have some more, up in my apartment if you need more inspiration.”

A dangerous line, indeed.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t even know your name and besides-” you indicated to the ring on your finger and shrugged. “I’m married.”

The man didn’t seem deterred by the announcement of your marriage in the slightest. In fact, he didn’t seem surprised at all. “The name’s Taehyung and I highly doubt your husband will be upset if you come home with some great ways to spice up your sex life. In fact, he’ll probably be grateful.”

He had you there. Although it had been months since your husband had even touched you.

“Okay,” you replied before your brain could stop you.

“Great, let me close up and grab my coat. It’s within walking distance,” he turned to leave.

“Y/N,” you blurted and he turned to look over his shadow at you. “That’s my name.”

“I know.”

                                     - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

         Hyper indulgent.

                                               Irresponsible.

                                                                                   Impulsive.

That’s probably what they’ll say about me, you thought as you followed Taehyung out the back door of the studio and into the crisp night air. It’s important to note that you knew it was wrong. When all was said and done, you went in with your head clear.

You weren’t ignorant. You knew where this was heading.

He led you down a winding alley behind the gallery, wrapping his hand warmly around yours when you tripped on some exposed cobblestone. He and you both knew that seeing the paintings was a cover for what he really could offer you. A night of passion.

The sun had set long ago but you found yourself admiring the way the street lights illuminated the crevices of the brick buildings. Something about being with this man heightened your senses. You found yourself entranced with the laundry that dangled thirty feet above your head, the steam bursting out of the old metal pipes that danced outside the buildings.

He glanced back at you, watching as your face changed into one of wonder, your fingertips brushing the edges of the alley, returning covered with dew. You missed the small, mischievous smile he gave you as he pulled you up some narrow stairs. Too focused on your heightened awareness of a city you thought you had seen every bit of you didn’t resist as he pulled you into a doorway at the top casting a predatory look at the lines of your neck, the curve of your collarbone.

You came to your senses within Taehyung’s apartment. Dark shapes rose out of the darkness and you felt a slight prick of fear in the back of your mind as you realized you had just followed a stranger to his apartment in the middle of the night and no one knew where you were. He released your hand, as if he sensed your unease, and began moving around his space turning on the few lamps he had but mostly lighting the candles he had lined against the walls.

Tentatively, you took a few steps into the room. The soft light illuminated the dark shapes to be a collection of eclectic objects that included a few nude marble statues, a large dark green fern atop a baby grand piano, and a suit of armor stashed in a corner. To say he was a collector was to put it minimally. He had the usual couch and dining table but they were buried beneath art supplies and hidden behind canvases of unfinished works. A single door appeared across the room, furthest from you as he lit a few more candles that you assumed was his bedroom.

Your mind followed your feet as you were drawn to a rather large painting across from the couch where one may have put a television, although Taehyung didn’t have one. It was of two lovers, gripped in a passionate embrace, not unlike the others in the room or in his studio. What drew you to it was that the people weren’t quite  human. You couldn’t put your finger on it but there was something different about the way they gripped one another. The glint in their eyes as they fucked, almost predatory - but definitely vital. Desperate.

You tilted your head and watched as their forms seemed to shift before your eyes. Dark wings sprung from the male’s back, a spindly tale grew out of the female. You reached out, tracing the edge of the elongated canines on the male, your fingers moving down his body to the nails growing, shaping-

“Like what you see?” Taehyung’s voice drew you from your trance and you turned to see him looking at you from across the room, face shrouded in the darkness of the dim light. He was shaking his hand slightly to extinguish a match.

You whipped your head back to the painting to find the creatures returned to their human state. No wings. No tails. Just regular plump humans gettin’ it on.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your fingers tracing the same hand that had grotesquely sported the inhuman nails only seconds before.

“Would you like something to drink?” Taehyung asked, his voice sounding off further than it had a second ago. You whipped your head in his direction only to find him behind the counter of the kitchen, clear on the other side of the apartment. How did he get there so fast?

“Uh, yes please.” You responded moving towards him and pushing the thought of the shifting painting from your mind.

Taehyung pulled out an aged bottle of what appeared to be red wine from a place called LaVeyan Vineyards. The bottle was nearly completely black, dusty like it had sat for years in the same place, and a simple gold trim around the edge of the label.

“What is that?” You asked, sitting on one of the twin leather barstools across from him.

He looked at you, a single eyebrow raised. “Wine.”

You rolled your eyes. “I got that, genius. I meant what kind?”

Taehyung pulled two ornate wine glasses from an old china cabinet and placed them in front of you, making quick work of opening the bottle. He shrugged as he poured two glasses. “I don’t remember. A friend of mine made it ages ago. It’s vintage.”

You took a glass in your hand, swirling it slightly to make sure it was properly aerated, brushing off the comment about his friend making vintage wine. Taehyung didn’t look much older than 28, you weren’t sure how anything his friends made could be considered vintage.

Regardless, the wine emanated a strange smell that you couldn’t quite place. You were no expert but you had enjoyed more than your fair share of wine in your life and this one smelled metallic.

Taehyung didn’t seem to notice or at least didn’t care and brought the smooth liquid to his lips for a long taste. Following suit, you sipped it, smacking your lips to try and place the flavor. Sweet yet . . . . tangy?

“Do you like it?” He asked, leaning his elbows on the counter across from you so that your faces were closer together.

You nodded. “It’s . . . . unusual. But good.”

He smiled. “So, y/n, are you an artist as well?”

You shook your head, taking another sip of the wine. It was growing on you. “No, not at all actually,” you placed the wine on the counter, clasping your hands under your chin and resting your head on them to peer up at him through long lashes. “That’s part of the reason I was so drawn to your work. It’s something I have absolutely no talent for.”

Taehyung chuckled. “Ah, so you were drawn by my work. Not necessarily by me.”

So bold.

“I didn’t say that.” You traced the rim of your glass with your index finger, aware of the way his eyes devoured your every move. I am so going to hell for this.

Taehyung smiled, but it was a smile that held no joy. He smiled like he had a dirty secret that only the devil knew about. “What do you want, Y/N?”

The question took you by surprise. What did you want? Why were you there? In the back of your mind, you knew this was wrong. But there was just something about Taehyung, you couldn’t put your finger on it. Something about him called to the primal parts of your body, the parts that you usually buried deep inside yourself. He made you want to throw caution to the wind and just let go of your inhibitions.

It wasn’t only that he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen, although that helped, it was his entire aura. The manor in which he conducted himself, his confidence, the deep timbre of his voice.

You were losing control.

You lifted the wine glass to your lips, now less than half full and took a long sip, considering your answer.

“I want to have a choice in my life for once, I want to do what I want to do. Not what someone else tells me I should do.”

Taehyung seemed to like that answer. He stared at you thoughtfully as he polished off his glass.

“What about you? What do you want?” you asked.

The dim lighting couldn’t hide the glint in his eyes as he reached to grab the bottle of wine, pouring himself another full glass. The dark red liquid swirled slowly, guided by an expert hand and he brought it to his full lips to take a sip before answering your question.

“I want you.”

You were taken aback by his curtness, you had only just met after all. You brought your wine glass to your lips and tipped it back only to stop abruptly. The liquid at the edge of your mouth wasn’t wine.

You pulled the glass back and for a brief second you stared at the liquid, thicker than wine but just as dark. You dipped a single finger into the glass. The liquid was room temperature, as all red wine should be, but slightly heavier in viscosity. You lifted the red coated finger to your lips, inserting the finger into your mouth. The liquid was metallic in taste, different than it had tasted mere minutes before. Taehyung’s eyes watched you intently.

It was almost like the more  you drank the more you wanted him. The wine acting as some sort of criminal aphrodisiac, pushing yourself past what your sound mind told you was okay. Pushing you past your normal boundaries that kept you in the stagnant life you ached to be released from.

“I want you as well.”

It was as if you had opened the dam to a great reservoir, Taehyung was on you in seconds moving from around the counter to scoop you off the barstool and place you on your feet. He pushed his lips against your own, opening his mouth immediately, nothing chaste in his actions. You wrapped your hands around his neck and he cupped your ass bringing you closer to him before hoisting you up and placing you on the counter beside your glass.

His kisses did nothing to aid the strange metallic taste in your mouth, in fact, it made it stronger. Stronger in taste and stronger in the lightness that flew to your brain urging you to pull him closer, open your legs wider.

He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and you groaned into his mouth as his hands found purchase in the buttons of your blouse and began to hurriedly undo them. His fingers were deft and within a few short minutes you sat before him with only your bra above your pants and he pulled back to look at you.

“Is this what you want, y/n?” He asked, his lips swollen from kissing, his hair tousled in candlelight. “Are you sure you want to continue this journey?”

You weren’t sure what journey he was referring to but if it had to do with what you hoped he was about to do to you in the bedroom, you sure as hell were ready. It was Taehyung, for the short period of time you had known him, he liked to be dramatic so you brushed off the comment.

“Oh,” you said, pulling him towards you by the cloth of his loose silk shirt and reaching up to whisper into his ear. “I’m ready.”

Taehyung growled in response and gripped your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter so you could feel him through his loose dress pants before slowly rolling into your clothed core. He was already so hard. “Then there’s one thing you need to learn about me,” he whispered, ghosting his lips over the crest of your ear, one hand snaking up your body to palm your breast through your bra as he subtly thrusted into you. Your head tilted back, a soft groan escaping your lips. You had never felt this way with a partner before. With Taehyung all your sexual senses seemed heightened somehow. “I take what I want.”

He scooped you off the counter, careful to avoid contact with the candles, as he walked you both to the doorway on the far end of the apartment, what you had earlier assumed to be his bedroom.

It was like you were walking in a dream, somehow a thick mist had descended onto either the apartment or your mind, casting the collection of strange objects back into a heavy darkness as Taehyung carried you to the room, his lips never leaving some part of your exposed body.

His bedroom was massive. Dark velvet curtains draped the walls, candles once again covered the walls and bedside surfaces although you had no recollection of Taehyung lighting them earlier. His bed was in the center of the room, a massive dark wooden four poster with an extravagant  comforter. Taehyung kicked the door shut behind you both before throwing you onto the bed. The curtains surrounding the bedroom blended into the navy walls, creating a sense of comfortable warmness that seemed to soak up what limited lighting there was in the room.

You turned your head, eager to absorb as much of the space as you could and your eyes caught the glint of a group of knives on the bedside table. Fascinated, you rolled onto your side, reaching for them. There were five in all, varying shapes and sizes but overall petite little things. One caught your eye, it was about the length of your hand and had six simple deep blue sapphires embedded in the handle. You ran your fingers over the blade gently, intrigued.  

Taehyung followed your gaze as he crawled onto the bed behind you, the silk of his shirt felt cool against your skin as he spooned you from behind, nipping softly at the pulse point on your neck, clearly eager to continue what you had started in the kitchen. “I collect them,” he murmured against your skin and you struggled to push down your fascination with the blade before turning in his arms to face him.

“Of course you do,” you whispered. It seemed completely in character.

“Things like that capture my eye,”  he ran a finger down your throat. “Beautiful,”  his finger dipped lower to the valley between  your breasts before tracing down your torso until it rested on the button of your pants “but deadly little things.” Searching your eyes for any retaliation, he paused.

When you smiled at him, a slow lazy smile that you knew would drive him crazy, he slowly untangled himself from you to work on pulling off your pants.

Released from your leg confines, Taehyung pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing a broad expanse of toned stomach  before crawling back over you, dipping his head to catch your lips. You eagerly returned the kiss, wrapping your legs around his hips and he dipped his pelvis down, grinding his erection against your sensitive clit through the thin material of his pants and your panties. The wine was making your head spin, although you had only had a glass. You wanted him more with each breath. More than you had ever wanted your husband.

You groaned as he found the right amount of friction and he quickened his pace, roughly rubbing up into you with each thrust. You could feel how incredibly hard he was already and you arched up with each movement, meeting his thrusts but eager for more. Much more.  

“You like that, little darling,” he whispered harshly into your ear, his voice raspy and a little out of breath. “You like that you can feel how hard and ready I am from just tasting your lips?”

You responded with your body, chasing a high that only he could give you and he began to end each thrust with a deep roll of his hips. He had to know how he was affecting you, like some \ sex starved teenager dry humping in the back of your dad’s pickup truck. You had never acted like this before, but the way he ground into your clit with each thrust heightened your arousal. You were sure by now, that you were soaking.

Entangling your fingers in his dark hair you pulled slightly as Taehyung began to plaster your neck and torso in large open mouthed kisses, murmuring dirty words and planned actions as he took in every crevice of your exposed body, a hand finding purchase in your clothed breast once again and massaging it in tempo with his thrusts. When he latched onto your pulse point with his full lips, you pulled a little too hard on his hair earning yourself a harsh bite from Taehyung.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, breaking the embrace, shock written purely on your features as your hand flew to your neck and returned, fingers stained crimson.

You hadn’t realized you were bleeding.

“Sorry,” Taehyung murmured, pulling you back to him, his lips returning to envelop the wound, his tongue swirling around the puncture marks and your stomach rolled in pleasure forgetting the strange occurrence from moments before. What is wrong with me? “I’ll be more careful.”

Finishing his apology on your neck he leaned back, balancing himself on his elbow over you, bringing your bloodstained fingers up to his lips. His hooded eyes, dark with desire, never leaving yours as he took your fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the blood, sucking it off.  Heat pooled in your core as you watched him, something incredibly carnal and erotic in his gaze, like he couldn’t wait to consume you whole. He finished with a loud pop and you felt something in you snap.

You didn’t know what came over you but before you even fully realized what you were doing you twisted in the bed, reaching for the pretty little sapphire knife on the bedside table. Grasping it by the handle you pulled it from the magnetic strip attaching it to the holder and turned back to face Taehyung.  He hovered over you, watching intently as you grabbed one of his hands and slipped the blade into it. He seemed neither surprised or turned off by your actions as you brought the blade to rest against your throat, he merely raised an eyebrow like he was interested to see how far you would go.

“Why don’t you show me what you can do with these pretty little knives?” You whispered, the blade cool against your throat. “They’re on your bedside table for a reason.”

There was no point in denying it and Taehyung knew it, his gaze darkening, a sly close lipped smile making his features seem almost sinister. When he spoke, it was almost like his voice had dropped an octave, a deep rumbling that sent shivers up your spine.

“Do you trust me, y/n?”

“I wouldn’t give you the knife if I didn’t, Taehyung”

His entire demeanor shifted. He was a commanding presence before, treating you roughly but still like you might break. Holding the knife in his hand seemed to open a new layer of Taehyung that made you realize just how little you knew about him. He twisted the blade in his hand, dragging the tip along your jawline.

“Then why don’t you remove that pretty little bra of yours, darling?” He demanded, his voice low and menacing. “Before I cut it off.” You were ashamed at how turned on it made you as you arched your back up and maneuvered your hands behind you to unclasp the back. Once you had slipped the straps off your shoulder, Taehyung took control clearly impatient with how slowly you were moving to tease him. He grabbed the bra, flicking it off the bed in a period of seconds before leaning down to kiss each of your breasts, paying special attention to each nipple, knife momentarily forgotten.

Your back arched into the mattress but the kiss of the knife against your throat stopped you from moving more. Taehyung stopped his work on your breasts and peered up at you from under long bangs.

“Did I tell you you could move?” He dragged the knife’s tip down the column of your throat, slowly making his way between your breasts and stopping by your naval. “Don’t forget who’s in control here, darling. God forbid,” he circled the knife around your belly button before sitting back on your thighs looking down at you and bringing the knife to his ring finger. “You cut yourself.” He sliced the tip of his finger, not deep, but enough to draw blood.

You let out a small gasp and he smiled lowering himself back down to you, bringing the knife back up your torso, between your breasts, before lifting the bottom of your chin with it, his face inches from yours.

“Suck,” he commanded, holding out his cut finger. You were eager to oblige, bringing his finger past your lips, the wine once again making you bold. Bold enough that you didn’t process that the metallic taste was the same you had encountered earlier that evening. You sucked his finger like your life depending on it, swirling your tongue around the wound, watching his expression take on one of pure euphoria. He was losing control and so were you, but your descent into madness had begun hours ago.  

He tossed the knife onto the bedside table, not caring where it landed and roughly pulled his hand out of your mouth. His actions were frantic now and he used the bleeding hand to hold your torso down as his other made quick work of your panties. Gone was the calm and collected Taehyung who had you completely under his control mere minutes ago. Here was the Taehyung acting only on impulsive desires. Your body reveled in this realization.

Before you could process it, his mouth found purchase on your clit and you couldn’t stop the breathy exclamation of his name as the hand on  your torso moved to grasp a breast. He was still bleeding, albeit slowly, and you could see the trails of smeared blood drying on  your skin wherever he touched you, marking you as his.

You were lost in the moment, his tongue circling and flicking your clit with the occasional suck of his lips. His other hand was parting your folds as he slowly slid one, then two fingers inside you.

“God, you’re soaked,” his voice throaty. “All for me, I get you first.”

You were too caught up in your own pleasure to correct him. You weren’t a virgin, this wasn’t your first time. Although this was the first time anyone had made you feel like this.

You looked down at him, you could feel his teeth scrape your clit lightly and you nearly screamed. “Taehyung, I need you inside me right now.”

You weren’t going to last much longer, and he knew it. He continued his onslaught, moving his fingers in and out of you in an increasingly rapid pace, his teeth scraping against your clit, harsher than before but you weren’t complaining. When you twisted in his grasp he let out a low growl that you felt vibrate along your inner thigh and you screamed out his name as you came.

Taehyung worked you through your climax, placing gentle kisses on your mound as he watched you become a soaking wet mess for him. When you were finished you looked down the length of your body at him, amazed that he made you feel like that with literally just his mouth and fingers.

He pulled his face back to look at yours, his face messy, his hair tousled but his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you slowly as you came down from any remainder of his high. His appearance seemed different than before but you couldn’t quite place it.  Wait- his-  

You lurched back in surprise, breaking contact with Taehyung, who watched you with dark eyes. His teeth! Taehyung smiled a slow, boxy grin and you focused on his canines. Once average, the incisors had elongated, into twin fangs. Sensing your unease he released you, his mouth quickly closing. He cocked his head at you, an inhuman action.

“What’s wrong?”

“Y-your teeth,” you blurted, sitting up and reaching out to cup his face so he couldn’t turn away. “They looked like. . . . “ You pulled him closer, ignoring his surprised look as you used a finger to lift his upper lip. No fangs. You dropped your hand.

“I think you’ve had too much wine,” he chuckled leaning forward to capture your lips with his own.

Am I losing my mind?

Taehyung’s hands found the buttons of his slacks and he pushed them down, kicking them off and over the edge of his bed. You were momentarily surprised that his pants were the last layer between you and the thing you wanted most but your lust filled mind figured that Taehyung was always hot and ready for the next time he would get something to fuck.

And right now, that very thing was you.

His cock wasn’t obscenely large but it did have a healthy curve to it as it flopped up to hit his stomach. You were practically drooling from where you lay on the bed, eager to get along with the process. Taehyung grinned down at you, taking himself in one hand and pumping slowly.

“Are you ready, little darling?” He murmured, his voice hoarse. “Are you going to let me fuck that tight,  little cunt of yours?”

You nodded, eagerly, and he sat back on his ankles so that he was kneeling in front of you. “Then come here and sit on master’s cock, alright?”

He didn’t have to ask you twice.

You got up and maneuvered yourself so that you were hovering over his hard cock. Taking it in one hand below you, you ran your fingers over the velvety surface, gently bending the tip and watching as his face contorted in pleasure and he took his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a groan.

“Stop teasing or I’m taking over,” he threatened but it was empty. With one hand wrapped around his cock, you knew he wasn’t the one in control here. Gripping him at his base, you slowly lowered yourself onto him, head lolling back as you felt him fill you, inch by glorious inch. You took your time, making every minute count as he stretched you to the brim. When you bottomed out you both just sat there for a moment, satisfied with the feeling you gave one another.

“God dammit,” Taehyung whispered, encircling you in his arms so that you were flush against his chest. “You’re even better than I ever could have possibly imagined.”

He slowly began to roll his hips up into you and you lifted yourself off him in a steady rhythm until you had both established a rapid pace. He was breathing heavy into your ear as he picked up speed, letting out a series of earthy grunts as he fucked up into you, slamming into you with reckless abandon.

You could feel that he was still holding back and you balanced your hands on his chest as you rolled into tempo with him. From  this position you were slightly above him and you met his eyes as he looked up at you from beneath dark bangs, his pupils nearly completely dilated and his beautiful lips parted, panting with exertion.

You could die happy right now, filled to the brim with this exquisite man.

When you began to slow down, grinding your hips into his with each thrust to ensure he could strike you deeper and longer he groaned out a breathy “F-Fuuck” and moved his hands down to grip you by the hips.

Before you could react he shoved you back onto the bed, never pulling out, and began to slam into you, scooting you further up the bed with each thrust until your head connected with the pillows at the headboard.

“Heaven-” he grunted, enunciating the word with a harsh thrust and you wrapped your legs around his hips, bracing your arms behind you to keep your head from slamming into the mahogany headboard.

“Be-” He thrusted again, his eyes piercing down at you, his face flushed with exertion.

“Damned! You have no idea how amazing you feel.”

You tried to raise your hips to meet him but his pace was too brutal. Fucking Taehyung was unlike any other sex you had had before. He was insatiable. The feeling of his cock buried deep inside your pussy drove you to pleasures you hadn’t known existed. The tiny sounds he made as he thrusted into you drew responses from you as your back arched up into him.

You could feel him everywhere. Again, maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the desire you had forced down deep inside you for years. But with Taehyung you weren’t just chasing sexual release, although that was part of it. You were chasing a release from a life you had grown to hate. You were giving into your feelings and what you wanted and it felt so damn good.

Taehyung lowered himself closer to you, wrapping his arms up around your back to find purchase in your hair and he tugged a little bit as if he was trying to find a solid grip while he slammed his cock into your pussy sloppily. His pace slowed and he began to roll his hips into  you and grind down, emitting a series of low rumbles that had you preening.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you ran your nails down his back trying to find purchase. You did finally, on two feathery appendages that had sprouted from his back.You ran your fingers over what felt to be feathered muscle and Taehyung lowered his mouth to your ear. “That’s right darling, let your master fuck you.”

Wait, feathers?

You released the appendages and your eyes flew open to find Taehyung’s piercing into yours but when you tilted your head to look- nothing was there.

I really am losing it.

Taehyung didn’t seem to notice and he dipped his head down to capture your lips in large open mouthed kisses, his tongue teasing yours as he tightened his grip on his hair, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

It was like you were trying to consume one another, you couldn’t get any closer  but goddammit if you weren’t going to try. Taehyung was finally losing control. You could see it in his eyes, feel it in his body as he murmured dirty things on your lips, in your ears.

He had resumed pounding into you, using your body to chase his release and  you welcomed it, tightening your walls to urge him deeper, to throw him over the edge. It was working and his words turned into animalistic grunts as he slammed into you again and again.

When he finally began to sputter out of control he bottomed out once again, pushing himself as far as he could go before spilling himself into you with a loud “Fuck”. His body responded in such, continuing to gently roll into you as he came, lowering his sticky forehead to your own.

After he was finished he rolled off the top of you, slowly pulling out with a sickening pop and you felt the loss of him deep in your core. He rested his head on his hands, peering up at where you lay propped on the pillows he had fucked you into from beneath those dark eyelashes before taking a hand and gripping your chin gently to make you look at him. He lifted himself up and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, a slow smile making it’s way over his features.

“Just wait till they get a load of you, darling.”

[vikingpoteto]

middle children must unionize

read on ao3 ______________________

my contributior for @batfam-big-bang

Summary: Jason realizes no one is taking care of Tim - not even Tim himself. He decides to do something about it.

Notes: I can't stress enough how grateful I am for joining this event. First of all, stan the mods. Stan my beta reader team, @timmydrakewings, @stormleviosa and @sun-lit-roses. Stan my artist team @houser-of-stories, @reese-haleth and @anicomicqueen To all of these amazing talented people that, for whatever reason chose to help me with this story, I can't stress enough how grateful I am. ________________________

Jason doesn’t keep in touch with the Bats after Bruce’s gone.

Batwoman only trusts him as far as she can throw him. Dick is not easy to avoid, but Jason keeps their contact to a minimum nonetheless. Ninja girl doesn’t speak with him. Replacement… Well. Jason does have a weird professional relationship with the kid. As professional as you can get with someone you tried to kill. Barbara will probably never forgive him for making Dick cry so many times. Brat girl will probably never forgive him for trying to kill Replacement. The other one, whatever his name is, is low-key/high-key terrified of Jason. As for the gremlin... Well, he’s like 10? 11? Jason doesn’t hang out with children, not even assassin ones.

So yeah. Not on friendly terms with anyone in the Wayne family.

However he is an instigator at heart and, while whatever they’re doing in the Batcave is none of his business, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish one of his rare visits by stirring things up a bit.

Dick usually makes sure he doesn’t do anything too outrageous, but a distraction comes in the form of Gremlin, who shows up demanding to know why Dick is late for their training session or whatever. The brat sends Jason a scathing look but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him. Dick only smiles patiently and waves Jason goodbye, leaving Replacement unsupervised. Before heading out, Jason approaches Replacement, who’s sitting by the batcomputer.

“So,” he starts. Jason notices when the kid flinches a little. Your regular guy wouldn’t, but Jason was once a bat too. “How does it feel to be replaced, Replacement?”

Replacement’s shoulders go stiff for half a second.

When he turns to face Jason, however, his expression is empty.

“Predictable,” he says.

Jason quirks an eyebrow up. “Meaning?”

“I was only a Robin because I was, how can I put this, a coworker?” Replacement turns his eyes back to the computer and starts typing. “It was a no-strings-attached sort of deal. Bound to end at some point.”

That’s… new.

“You’re legally adopted into the Wayne family,” Jason hears himself reminding him.

“Yeah, ain’t that a pickle,” Replacement laughs. “Can you guess who forced Bruce to do that? My money was on Dick, but now I think it was probably Babs or Alfred.”

Jason stares, unsure what to make of that. Before he decides, the kid stands up.

"I have always been a patch job, so being dismissed is to be expected. I'm just overstaying my welcome at this point."

“You can get dismissed? I thought this was an until-your-untimely-death sort of gig.”

That was not how Jason expected this conversation to go, like, at all. He had never seen Replacement looking so… worn out? Lifeless?

“I don’t know, man,” Tim frowns as though he made himself confused. “God, I’m sleepy. See you around, I guess.”

And Jason watches him leave the cave with his shoulders hunched and an empty stare. Dick and Gremlin are so preoccupied with their sparring session that they don’t seem to notice. Jason sticks around for a few more seconds, stunned, before he realizes what he’s doing. He goes home.

Jason can’t stop thinking about what the kid said.

It’s not that he didn’t think something of the sorts, especially when he was angriest at Bruce. He had thought about how Batman trained his children to be soldiers and, like soldiers, they could be easily replaced. After all, what was one more problem child joining their broken family? What’s another deadly brat being thrown at some creeps wearing literal clown costumes?

He did think of them as Bruce’s kids though.

Not that Batman had any expertise in healthy parenting techniques, but Jason didn’t have any healthy son experiences to compare so it didn’t matter much. They were Batkids for the better and mostly for the worse, and if something happened to them, well, the crusade must go on.

He never thought of Robin as someone that could be sent home out of the blue, like your average GC Pig. A disgrace to the family? Sure. See, kids, we don’t talk about cousin Jason. He got himself killed and came back all crooked. That’s what happens if you kill murderers or forget to brush your teeth. Still, the idea of being dismissed for no reason never occurred to Jason. It was absurd, because, as far as Jason knew, his replacement was the perfect little soldier. Why would he walk away?

Dick fought with Bruce. Jason… well. You know. Brat girl had to move cities or whatever? Or she died, but got better? Jason doesn’t really know anything about the chick. Either way, he knows she became Batgirl soon after. Tim, however, had nothing stopping him from staying masked. Why would Replacement talk about being Robin as if it was a summer job?

Does that mean that the wimpy kid Jason has been bullying was really that cold and detached?

He thinks about it until his head hurts and he starts remembering times with Bruce and Dick and Alfred and suddenly he doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

It’s a good thing Jason is good at compartmentalizing, because that’s what he does. He pushes thoughts of Batman and Robin to the depths of his mind and forgets about it.

He doesn’t find out until weeks later.

He’s not visiting the manor because he wants to. It’s just that there is this stupid encrypted information he needs for a case and he isn’t exactly tech savvy. He doesn’t think Barbara would do him a solid - she’s still ignoring him for… whatever. He doesn’t even know. Probably something about hurting Dick’s pwecious feewings or eating the last cookie Alfred made. Either way, Jason first tries contacting Replacement directly. Only when the kid doesn’t pick up he forces himself to go to the cult headquarters.

He needs that data, dammit, and whoever called programming logic, was out of their damn mind. If true, execute commands 1, 2 and IV, it said. If what was true? Jason read and read and still didn’t get what it was referring to. And why would someone name the commands regular numbers then just… throw a fucking roman number? Just to spice things up? Whoever wrote that damn code should get a bullet in the foot.

“Jay!” Dick grins at him, although he looks unamused by the fact that Jason is coming in through a window on the second floor. “You do remember that we have a door, don’t you?”

“I like to keep ‘em guessing,” Jason says. “Which room is the kid’s? I have a job for him.”

Dick tilts his head to the side, confused. “Damian is at school?”

And then there’s that. A lot to unpack. First, Jason is deeply offended that Dick thinks he would ever go there after Gremlin, the child that likes to criticize Jason's  skills despite the fact that a) Jason was trained by Damian's father and then b)Jason was trained by Damian's mother. Second, Damian Wayne. Going to Gotham Academy. Does he wear the uniform? Does he have homework or does he threaten the teachers with a sword until they quit? Did anyone explain to him the concept of playing tag before he murders a bunch of 9 year olds? Jason has so many questions. If only he had time.

“I said the kid . The human one, not the imp.”

“Oh.” Dick seems taken aback. “Oh, he... Jason, Tim isn’t in Gotham. You didn’t know?”

Jason groans. “Are you kidding me? You annoyed him into leaving the planet with his alien friends again, didn’t you?”

“No, he… I actually don’t know where he is now.”

Jason blinks in surprise. So Dick didn’t pick Bruce’s habit of microchipping his kids?

“What do you mean you don’t know? How do you lose a whole Robin? The uniform is basically a traffic cone.”

Dick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Jason had seen Bruce do just that so many times he forgets for a moment whatever stupid joke he was about to make. When did his older brother become the dad?

“He left a while ago. He barely spent any time here at the manor after I gave Robin to Damian, so…”

Jason freezes. After I gave Robin to Damian, he says. Being dismissed is to be expected, the kid said weeks ago.

“Dick. What the fuck did you do?”

Dick looks surprised at the raw anger in Jason’s voice, even though he shouldn’t fucking be. Jason remembers the distant voice on that day. He did think that was oddly cold for Replacement, even if he was a calculating nerd. Except that wasn’t him being cold. That was him lying to himself.

Jason would know. He spent most of his childhood telling himself he didn’t need a loving father. A good part of his teenage years telling everyone that would hear that he didn’t care at all that Bruce kept holding him to the standards of the perfect son that went away. It’s a lot easier to pretend you didn’t care because it makes it hurt less when things are taken away. Jason was a fucking pro at that technique, so much he wonders how the hell he didn’t notice earlier.

“I did what I had to do,” Dick says, defensively. The way he does when he’s second guessing himself, but still in denial about it. “Tim’s a hero of his own right and he’s capable enough that…”

“That you fucking fired him?” Jason barks.

“Damian needs Robin, Jason! He’s just so lost and being Robin gave him a sense of purpose, allowed him to actually be a child.”

“No shit Gremlin is a child! What about Replacement? He’s, what, 15?”

“He’s 17, how do you not know your own brother’s age?”

“Whatever! He’s just a teen and you basically just told him to fuck off.”

Dick sighs. “Look, I tried to help Tim. Tim’s friends tried to help Tim. But he’s a mature person and he wanted some time for himself.”

Ain’t that a familiar song. A good dose of leave me the fuck alone while still wearing a goddamn bat on his chest and making sure to make enough noise to draw attention. He doesn’t like how close it hits to home, how Dick, who’s supposed to be the best of them, ends up being just as shit as recognizing emotions as any other Bat. Jason laughs without any humor.

Incensed, Dick’s jaw sets in challenge as he adds: “I trust Tim and I respected his choice to leave on his own mission, because he knows what’s right for him.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night,” Jason says. “You’re right. Give the demon what he needs. Replacement is a grown ass adult because you respect him so much .”

“Jason, I didn’t say that…”

“He was never a kid here, Dick, even I know that. You all keep throwing shit at him, messes for him to fix ‘cause it’s fine, it’s little Timmy, he’s so fucking capable, he can take it. Have you ever considered that he was always an adult because you all are the fucking children?”

I have always been a patch job sounds awfully similar to I’m here because he got lonely after you left.

But apparently Dick is done exercising his brotherly patience and Jason hit a nerve.

“What do you know about him? You never bothered to talk to him, to spend time with him. You don’t know shit about Tim.”

Jason scoffs. Dick’s face grows unevenly red.

“You don’t, Jason! You were busy trying to kill him. Remember that bonding experience? Must have been fun for him. Having the hero he grew up admiring trying to murder him?”

Jason throws the first punch. Dick easily dodges, the motherfucker, the damn superior Robin.

Screw it, Jason thinks as they start yet another classic Robin Brawl that would only end when Ninja Girl mysteriously dropped from the ceiling and kicked both of their asses.

Jason doesn’t hear from the cave for a while. His phone gets a weird virus, so he guesses Oracle heard he pushed Dick down the stairs. He just tosses the whole thing away and decides that screw his stupid case with the weird code, screw detective work. The biggest detectives aren’t around anymore. He'll just call Kory and convince her to help torch the place up and hopefully the new Batman and Robin will have to deal with the aftermath.

The next time Jason hears from his brothers, it’s a frantic call from Dick that makes Jason’s blood turn into ice: freaking Ra’s Al Ghul is in Gotham doing his whole Head of the Demon thing. He grabs his bike and he’s still on the comms with Dick as he heads to the manor because Alfred is in there.

“What did Gremlin do?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Dick answers and Jason can barely hear him over the wind. He’s probably swinging around Gotham as he speaks. “It was Tim. Tim’s back and Ra’s is after him and everyone he cares about.”

Fuck. This is the kid Dick trusted to go out alone on a self-discovery journey or whatever. Jason wonders what the hell he had been up to get that much unwanted attention.

In the end, everything works out, kind of. No one on their side dies, but Tim does get thrown out of a window. Of a very, very, veeery tall building. Jason still thinks he got off too easy. As smart as he is, Tim shouldn’t have survived a run in with Ra’s.

Jason is curious enough about it to stay in the cave after the fact. He and Dick sit near Tim’s bed while Leslie works her magic. Dick doesn’t take his eyes from his little brother’s pale face for even a second.

“We almost lost him,” he whispers at some point. “Again, we… I almost lost him.”

“But you didn’t,” Jason says, voice flat. “You saved him.”

Dick bites his lower lip hard enough to break the skin. Jason punches his shoulder to snap him out of it.

“Jay, about last time…”

“Ugh, don’t apologize, you freak. Why can’t you just bottle up your emotions and pretend nothing happened like the rest of this stupid family?”

That makes Dick give him a weak smile. If not for the bottling up part, for the part in which Jason admits they’re a family.

“You were… well, not right. I still think Tim shouldn’t be treated like a sidekick anymore,” Dick continues, despite Jason’s disgusted noises. “But he shouldn’t be left alone either. No one in this family should.”

Jason pretends to be gagging long enough that Dick gives up on trying to be a sensible adult and returns to silently watching over his brother.

After that, it’s a matter of stalling and by stalling he ends up watching the other Bats. He finds from Alfred that Ninja Girl isn’t looming over Tim’s bed because she’s in Hong Kong. Brat girl comes and goes the whole night and Jason doesn’t understand why she can’t simply sit down and wait as a pile of nerves like Dick is doing. At some point, she reads the morning newspaper and starts making so much fuss the one Jason doesn’t know the name - Dave? Dylan? - takes her upstairs to calm her down. Damian is nowhere to be found

In the end, Jason manages to be there when Replacement wakes up. Everyone is busy celebrating, too elated that Replacement is fine, so much they forget Jason is still lurking around. No one sees when his face goes pale and he feels like he’s going to puke.

“How did you know I was going to catch you?” Dick asks.

Tim gives him a tired smile. “You’re my brother, Dick. I knew you’d save me.”

Fuck.

Fuck. It’s like looking into a goddamn mirror, except Tim is so much better at this than Jason ever was. So much that he might even be fooling himself.

But he can’t fool Jason. Dick wants to believe in the best of them, he wants them all to be sane and safe and happy - as much as a Bat can be, at least - but Jason is more of a realist. He knows no one can plan that far ahead. He knows Tim went to a meeting with the Head of the Demon fully aware that he would most likely be carried out in a coffin. Considering Dick’s misstep from a couple months earlier and the fact that Tim had already assigned him and Damian a task, Batman was the last person Tim was expecting to show up.

Of course Dick would save him, any of them. Despite his issues with Bruce, Jason had his hero worship towards his brother restored pretty fast. Dick, the golden boy, the perfect son, loved him no matter what and Jason loved him back. Knew now that Dick had love enough to go around for all of them - all of them. But did Tim know that?

Tim finished his little mission, wrapped it all pretty with a bow, making sure no one kicked the bucket. Except for himself. Timothy Drake-Wayne was the contingency plan for Batman’s contingency plan, but he didn’t care enough to make a plan for himself.  

Bruce is gone. Dick is painfully blind. The Drakes are dead. Alfred has his hands full. The Behemoths or the Little League, or whatever the hell the super kids call themselves now, were just that. Kids. Jason curses to himself, because, if no one else will watch out for Replacement, it’s none of his fucking business.

It’s not.

However…

Jason doesn’t know how to put his not-plan in action. He can’t exactly walk up to Tim and say hey, I think we’re not so different, you and I, so I’m worried for your safety. I know I tried to kill you, but that like... two years ago, get over it. Let’s be friends.

Before he figures it out, he hears that Bruce is back. The real Bruce.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it, so he decides to put some distance between him and the family one more time as he takes some weeks to process. He goes out of town to hang out with his friends. He is done with Gotham bullshit for a while.

Unfortunately, Jason finds himself facing his worst enemy: the damn encrypted data.

He hates that dealers now do their thing through the internet. Who the fuck buys marijuana online? Where is the poetry in that? The class of being friends with the sketchy guy that lives around the corner and hangs out with you while you smoke? If they’re gonna sell oregano online to rich white kids, fine, but they’re selling heavy stuff to people that live in his territory and there is a thing bigger than just drugs, if Jason’s hunch is right. He could confirm it by cracking the numbers he stole from their stupidly unguarded computers.

Except the encryption is too complicated for him to access the files.

Well, isn’t that the perfect excuse to take a visit to the kid’s apartment.

Because that is the situation right now. The kid is emancipated, controlling Wayne Enterprises and living by his damn self. There is so much to unpack that Jason wants to throw away the whole suitcase.

He should probably do just that, or at least that’s what he thinks when he climbs to Tim’s balcony (in his head, he hears Dick’s voice going what do you hate about front doors, man?) and he is immediately pushed to the ground.

He is wearing his helmet, sure, but it doesn’t make it less painful when someone fucking stomps on his head, forcing his face against the floor.

“Fuck,” is all Jason thinks of saying.

He then kicks his assailant in the shin and is satisfied when they tumble backwards. Unfortunately for him, they - she - doesn’t fall over the railing, she just stays away long enough to give him time to stand.

A bald girl wearing a distasteful crop top glares daggers at him. She is already back on her fighting stance - one that looks way too familiar for Jason’s taste - ready to strike. And strike she does.

Her movements are similar to Jason’s - fast, strong, unpredictable, unfair - but she has the advantage of being more slender and having more freedom of movement in the small space. All Jason can do is defend himself and not get tossed over the edge. Who the fuck is this girl? Why is she attacking him? Doesn’t she know he is the freaking Red Hood? He just wanted the damn-

“What on Earth are you guys doing on my balcony?”

The girl freezes. Jason does not. He lands a punch straight on her nose and she falls backwards, her mouth opening in pain even if no sound comes out.

“What the hell, Hood!”

Tim rushes to the girl’s side.

“What the hell Hood?” Jason parrots, indignant. “I just got here and she attacked me!”

Tim frowns and turns to the girl. “Is that true?”

Instead of answering, the girl holds her bloody nose and glares at him. She uses her free hand to show Tim four fingers. Tim sighs.

“I know it’s the fourth time you’ve had your nose broken,” Tim gives her a wry smile. “But the three other times you had it coming. And maybe even this time. Why did you attack Red Hood?”

She makes the gesture of someone walking with two fingers then points at Tim’s balcony door. Jason doesn’t know a lot of ASL, but those don’t seem to be the same signs Cassandra uses.

“She attacked me because she thought I was trying to break in?” He asks. “You have a bodyguard now?”

Tim stands and holds out his hand to the girl. She begrudgingly takes it and lets him pull her to her feet. “Why don’t we all go inside before someone notices the Red Hood on my balcony?”

Jason grumbles in annoyance but does make his way in. Tim is right behind him and Jason can’t help but think he’s acting as a shield in case the girl wants revenge for her nose.

“Come here, Pru, I’ll get something cold for your nose.”

Jason takes a look around. As they cross the living room, he notices it looks like a shiny rich person apartment you’d see in a magazine. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s new crib, and he knows the kid just moved in, but the fact that the place looks like a hospital’s reception makes him feel some sort of way.

Fortunately, the kitchen is a bit better. Not much, but it’s something. There are papers spread across the table, dirty glasses in the sink, a mug full of black steaming tea, Tim’s laptop open on top of a pile of books, and there are pictures on the fridge. Jason remembers vaguely Dick mentioning that one of the kids had a thing for photography and another liked drawing. He has to assume Tim is the photographer as he takes a good look at them: one of Brat girl’s grinning face with a big heart magnet, one of Tim and Cassandra sharing the same reading chair, one of Bruce in one of those fancy sweaters he used to wear at home, one of Dick and Cassandra doing handstands, one of a red head kid, behind him Tim, a muscular girl and an even more muscular guy. Jason doesn’t need to be a detective to figure those, even without the uniforms, are Impulse, Wonder Girl and Superboy.

“So,” Tim starts. He hands the girl a pack of frozen peas and shrugs at her dirty look. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Without ceremony, the girl takes a seat by the table and tries to steal a glance at Tim’s laptop. He casually closes it and smiles at her. She scoffs.

“First, you explain the bodyguard,” Jason says, gesturing to the girl.

“Right. Where are my manners? Pru, this is Red Hood. Hood, this is Prudence.”

He doesn’t turn to her so she can read his lips or use gestures to speak, so Jason figures she isn’t deaf, only mute. Maybe it’s something like Cassandra?

“Really? Prudence? That’s ironic. ”

She shows Jason her middle finger. Definitely not deaf then.

Unlike Prudence, Jason doesn’t make himself at home. When he crosses his arms and doesn’t say anything for a minute more, Tim reads his silence correctly and adds, “We’re working together for a while and there are a lot of people that want us dead, so you’ll have to forgive her. She saw a suspicious guy trying to get into my place and she assumed the worst.”

Jason quirks an eyebrow. Tim can’t see his expression behind the helmet, but he sighs nonetheless.

“Come on. She couldn’t know I sometimes work with the Red Hood too.”

I sometimes work with. Ouch. Jason supposes that’s fair, though. Tim hasn’t exactly been informed of Jason’s newfound empathy or his protective streak.

“How did you know where I live, by the way?” Tim asks.

“Alfred told me you moved,” Jason says. “I got your address from Cassandra.”

Tim’s brows disappear under his messy fringe. “Really?”

Jason nods. “Took a lot of convincing before she believed I didn’t want to kill you in your sleep.”

At that, Tim snorts. He’s still grinning when he asks, “What did you want it for then?”

“Tech support,” he says as he fishes a small flash drive from his pocket. “I was hoping you could crack some files for me.”

Tim takes it and nods. “I’ll check it out. I’ll send the results to you as soon as I have them. Anything else?”

Again… ouch. Apparently imprudent girl is welcome to kick back and hang out, but Jason is just a fellow associate that came to hand in an assignment and promptly piss off.

Then Jason realizes that that was exactly what their relationship was like before Tim went around the world to fight Ra’s al Ghul. Damn.

Well. It’s not like he can take off his helmet and stick around when there is a stranger in there, especially when Tim carefully introduced him as the Red Hood instead of good ol’ Jason Todd. He just wanted to check on the kid and he did. No need to get all clingy. That’s Dick’s thing, not his.

It isn’t until much later that Jason realizes how pointless the visit was. He wanted to see if the kid was okay. He suspected he wasn’t, but it wasn’t like he had any idea of what to do about it.

Lucky for him, Tim looked a lot better than last time. Less dead eyed, more like he has some sort of purpose. The fact that Dick is included in his little photo collection must mean they made amends. Whether it was because Jason’s whooping Dick’s ass or in spite of it he’ll never know. Based on what he knows about Tim, the kid might have just worked everything out by himself and forgiven Dick on his own terms.

Despite his decision to take care of Tim from then on, Jason is definitely not great at it. He doesn't think he lost the rights to admonish Dick for not talking to his brother. The fact is Jason isn't great with words. He wants to help Tim through actions.

Still the question remains: how?

(And Tim emails him the files he needed 8 hours later and Jason worries that the kid didn’t sleep, which… great. This is just great.)

Less than two nights later, someone gets into Jason's frequency. He's about to head out for patrol when a creaking sound inside his helmet precedes a familiar voice slightly twisted by static.

"Red Hood, this is Red Robin. Do you copy?"

Right. He goes by Red Robin now.

"What you want, rep… kid?" Jason inwardly winces at his misstep.

There is a moment of confused silence before Tim mercifully decides not to ask what that was. "I'm pursuing a lead in your territory."

Jason hums. "What's it? I'll handle it."

"No!" Tim says too fast. "I mean… it's my case. I just thought you could take the night off? Please?"

This is supposed to be the smart Robin, right? He does know that Jason isn’t a complete moron, right?

“What’s in it for me?” Jason asks.

If this was Damian, he’d get a colorful death threat. If this was Dick, a winded speech on how brothers are supposed to have each other’s backs and he's just asking for a tiny favor, Jason, don’t make me make my ex-girlfriend hack into your phone and block Netflix again. Tim, however, knows that everything has a price and has an answer ready.

“You owe me for those files I decoded for you.”

Straight to the point. No bullshit. Jason is starting to really like this kid.

“Fair enough. You go follow your lead and I won’t murder you for being in my territory.”

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Hood.”

Jason didn’t say anything about taking the night off, though.

Jason knows that, if he was working alone, Tim wouldn’t ask for permission. He would let himself in and out of Jason's territory assuming Jason wouldn’t even notice - he’d done it before as Robin, and Jason did notice but pretended not to. He can’t track Red Robin as easily, but the fact that he doesn’t want Red Hood around means there is something or someone he can’t control tagging along… and who’s the one person even Tim Drake can never control?

“Brat girl,” Jason mutters to himself, a cocky grin spreading on his face. One of his informants just confirmed he saw Batgirl driving whatever the fuck that is that capsule vehicle into an empty building just south of Jason’s place.

Oracle is probably out of town again, otherwise she wouldn’t allow her precious not-daughter to be messing around with Tim in Jason’s territory. But then, if most of the rumors are correct, even Barbara can’t quite control the new Batgirl.

He wonders what the duo are up to as he lets himself into the abandoned place through a hole in the ceiling. Red Hood walks on the rafters in the dark until he can hear familiar voices. He stops on his tracks when he notices that Red Robin and Batgirl aren’t alone. Wonder Girl and Impulse stick out like bright red sore thumbs against Gotham’s darkness.

Red Hood hears enough to know they’re planning on saving someone - one of Impulse’s friends? - from a local group connected to Black Mask. Their plan is solid, but it’s hardly a task herculean enough to warrant the presence of a speedster and an amazon. Red Robin makes it sound like it’s absolutely necessary nonetheless, assigning each of them a role that fits their powers and going over every little detail. It’s the first time Hood sees the kid in a position of leadership and he thinks it suits him. He seems extremely at ease.

Actually… that’s not quite it. He’s not as wary of the world as he is when he’s with the Batfamily. Not Batman’s perfect mini-detective, not Nightwing’s model little brother, not WE CEO. He’s still very much a hero, a Robin, but it’s possible to see he’s seventeen under the cowl. Even his posture changes, his shoulders relax and he allows himself to be… God, himself. That must be the first time Jason sees Tim completely in his element, no tension, no (metaphorical) masks.

Real Red Robin stays close to his friends. Very close. Hell, Impulse is almost sitting on his lap, his arm firmly wrapped around Red Robin’s waist as he points at some sort of map his wrist pad is showing. Batgirl is clinging to his other side, her chin resting on his shoulder using the excuse to see better what he’s showing. Hadn’t those two broken up?

Then Red Robin says something so softly not even Hood picks up. The other three teens get tense. Impulse nods and disappears in a gust of wind as his friends wait in silence.

Half a second later, something hits Hood’s back at a very alarming speed because of course Red Robin noticed someone listening and sent his speedster friend to get him. He curses while he falls, barely managing to roll fast enough to avoid serious knee damage when he lands.

“Jason!” Red Robin whines not unlike an embarrassed child crying out mom, not in front of my friends!

“Maybe check who’s spying on you before sending a child bullet careening into their back, will ya?” Jason complains.

Wonder Girl frowns. “Is that…”

“The Red Hood,” Batgirl confirms in a flat voice. “Yup.”

“Isn’t he a criminal?” Impulse asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

A facepalming Red Robin groans. “He doesn’t do crime anymore.” Under Batgirl’s skeptical glare, he corrects, “He doesn’t do bad crimes anymore. What are you doing here, Hood? You said you were taking the night off!”

“I said I wouldn’t shoot you for being in my territory,” Hood corrects. “But I didn’t say anything about your super friends, because I didn’t think you’d be breaking so many rules in so little time. Really? Bringing metas to Gotham?”

Red Robin simply shrugs. “What Batman can’t see doesn’t hurt him.”

Batgirl snickers and Hood grins a little under his helmet.

“Little Timmy,” he gasps, resting his hand on his chest in mock shock.

“Shut up, why are you here?”

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up.”

The other three kids look from Red Hood to Red Robin. It’s obvious that whatever Tim’s verdict is, they’re going to accept it. Even Stephanie. And she knows Jason (sort of).

“Fine,” Red Robin groans. “But no shooting anyone.”

“No promises.”

Wonder Girl and Impulse are obviously wondering whether they’re joking or not. Knowing they’re completely serious, Batgirl makes a face and pokes Red Robin’s cheek. He frowns at her and the two of them seem to have a conversation consisting of weird mouths and head shakes for a moment. Jason would know. He and Dick used to do that all the time. Finally, whatever face Red Robin is making convinces her and she lets out a defeated sigh.

“Well then, ladies,” Batgirl deadpans, “let’s get this bread.”

Despite Dick’s best efforts, Jason never quite fit in with the Titans. With Tim and Stephanie, however, he can work.

Breaking into one of Black Mask’s hideouts is a piece of cake, if not outright fun. He has to hand it to Stephanie. She is not as cunning as Barbara or as deadly as Cassandra, but the girl can blow up a marijuana deposit like no one else.

Sure, the smoke makes them at least 30% high—all of them except Impulse, whose metabolism won’t let him get intoxicated, to which… Just R.I.P. you funky little man, Jason really feels for him.

Even with the little diversion, there were still plenty of crooks to fight. Wonder Girl takes care of most of them on her own— amazons, man —and soon enough Impulse comes running, carrying a dark-skinned boy wearing power-dampening cuffs who keeps yelling at them in Spanish. At that, Red Robin announces they’re retreating.

Tim looks a lot more comfortable with his peers than he is with the Bats. Part of Jason wonders if he could’ve been like that. If he would have ended up differently if he had actually stayed with the Titans and made friends like Tim had. He tells himself not to go down that path, because he is who he is, he certainly doesn’t make friends in that teen sitcom way and you can’t change the past.

He is genuinely glad that Tim has those friends, though. He’s glad that he can feel that way despite the hint of jealousy.

As they leave a ruined hideout behind, Wonder Girl and Impulse are drowning Red Robin in hugs and cheering so loud one would forget they’re still in Gotham. Their friend laughs with them even with the stress of being so rambunctiously rescued. Batgirl slaps her arm around Hood’s shoulder and admires the Titans being loud as if congratulating themselves on the job done.

If all of them— all of them—are still smiling themselves silly as they leave, it’s only 50% because of the marijuana.

Jason quickly learns that Tim doesn’t like owing people. When Jason asked Tim to crack some encrypted documents, he just needed the damn files. He didn’t expect the kid to show up to tear down the place when Jason decided he had enough reason to dismantle the operation.

“What, you can’t tell me there is a case and expect me not to follow up,” Red Robin quips as he nudges a goon with his foot. The man groans, but doesn’t get up. Seemingly satisfied, Red Robin crouches down and starts cuffing the man to another by his side.

“Remind me to never ask for your help again,” Red Hood says.

Red Robin glowers. “I saved your ass from getting stabbed about three times.”

“I shot the kneecaps of four guys trying to murder you, so don’t expect me to thank you.”

They hear sirens. Red Robin stands. “Well, guess our job here is done.”

Hood nods. It’s been a while since he fought side by side with a fellow Bat, just him and another Robin and... it was nice. Roy and Kori are great partners and all, but they don’t have the same training a Robin does. They don’t get the specific maneuvers and the subtle secret signs. The fact that it had been so fun fighting side by side with Red Robin makes Jason feel like his not-plan of taking care of the kid was finally going somewhere.

Then Red Robin stretches his arm to grapple his way out of there and gasps.

“Red?”

“Uh…” He is now pressing his hand to his side.

“Is… is that blood?”

“Uhhhh…”

“Did you get stabbed and didn’t notice, you freaking idiot?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he groans, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes over the cowl. “Why me?”

Red Hood sighs. “Relax, kid, it doesn’t look that deep.”

“I’m gonna have to call Batman,” Red Robin whines. “A’s gonna kill me.”

“Over a tiny stab wound? Don’t be a pussy, I’m sure you can stitch that yourself.”

“The stitches aren’t the problem, it’s just the medicine…” Red Robin says, making vague hand gestures. “I have no spleen.”

And then there’s that.

“I’m sorry. You what?”

Red Robin pulls a guilty face visible even under the cowl. Jason wouldn’t blame Alfred for killing him. He has no spleen and he just… decided it was a good idea to bring a staff to a gunfight at one of the grimiest places of Gotham.

Tim Drake-Wayne, everyone, smartest Robin to date.

Jason, however, decides not to kill Tim for his stupidity. He recognizes that particular frown. It’s the I-messed-up-and-I-don’t-want-dad-to-find-out face.

The GCPD sirens are getting closer.

“I’ve got a big collection of antibiotics back at one of my safehouses,” he mentions casually. “I could patch you up so A doesn’t have to.”

Tim’s wide eyes are evident. Jason wonders if this is him being able to read the kid too well or if Tim straight up sucks at hiding his emotions. It’s probably a bit of both.  

“You know. As thanks for helping me.”

“I thought you wouldn’t thank me.”

“Don’t push it, kid.”

By now, they can see the red and blue police lights.

“Lead the way.”

He rolls his eyes and drags the kid to his bike. He really hopes the pigs didn’t see them, because it’s bad enough that a hero showed up to Red Hood’s bust, he doesn’t need any cops thinking that he kidnapped Red Robin or any shit like that.

“Are we going to the one behind the new theater or the one around crime alley?” Tim casually asks.

Jason freezes halfway through mounting his bike. “How the fuck do you know about those?”

“I know the location of all of your safehouses,” Tim admits.

“Batman knows about my safehouses?”

Tim quirks an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, I’m not Batman.”

...oh.

That’s… nice. Kind of. A confirmation that he can trust the kid to have his back.

“Smug nerd,” Jason mumbles.

Tim only chuckles in response. They set off to Jason’s place.

The rest of the night is peaceful. At least for a Bat’s standards. Jason helps Tim disinfect his wound and stitch it closed while Tim raids Jason’s medicine stash until he finds the ones he needs. Jason promises to hook him up with his supplier so he doesn’t have to rely so much on the cave. By the time they’re done, Tim’s lips are permanently curled upwards.

When he starts shuffling awkwardly as if looking for a way to say goodbye, Jason nonchalantly announces where he can find clean towels and clothes, as if this is a thing they do everyday. Tim seems baffled, but thankfully he doesn’t call Jason’s bullshit and obediently heads to the bathroom. By the time he’s done, Jason is fixing a meal for the two of them and some stupid movie is on TV—never the news, god, Jason hates watching the news.

Like a skittish stray, Tim is unsure of what to do with himself at first, but he catches the cue fast enough. He sits on the couch all stiff and restless until something on the screen grabs his attention.

“You like Wendy the Werewolf Stalker?” Tim asks, eyes wide.

“Do I like fucking what?”

Jason just needed the background noise to avoid freaking out about  how weird he’s being right now. Apparently, that was the wrong answer. Tim launches a rant on how amazing Wendy is and half of it goes over Jason’s head. He just gets that apparently Tim and Superboy both have a crush on this werewolf hunting chick and they used to spend hours watching her instead of doing actual work at Titans Tower.

He also manages to actually eat the food Jason made, which is a win in Jason’s book.

It’s a nice night, overall.

It becomes, not a habit, but a thing. Tim sometimes shows up to one of Jason’s safehouses needing a stitch job or medicine. Jason doesn’t know how he nails which one Jason is at currently or if he just goes to every single one still bleeding until he finds Jason. Or even if he just lets himself in and takes care of his wounds without any help. If so, Jason wouldn’t blame him. He’d choose his crappy hideouts over Tim’s soulless apartment any day.

On the third time it happens, Tim isn’t hurt at all. He just wants to bitch about Vicki Vale stalking him and his supposed ex-fiancée that he's actually trying to date. Jason feeds him real food, as usual, and listens to what he has to say, as unusual. They end up on the couch watching A Nightmare on Elm Street, which, oddly enough, has Tim getting overly enthusiastic about going to bed because he’s curious about the magic behind Freddy Krueger. Jason tells him to let him know if any dream demons show up when he leaves Tim dozing off on the couch.

Tim starts texting Jason. At first, it’s all very professional. Messages like 1 of the stupid crooks in your territory almost killed robin yesterday do smth abt it followed by I don’t care that he’s a demon in a kevlar vest Hood you didn’t have to deal with nightwing crying afterwards!!! Then they slowly shift into something more casual on the lines of is dis u? An d attached a picture of Elizabeth Bennet wearing the red Power Ranger helmet which… What sort of context led to that meme being created?

Jason pretends not to care, but he preens with pride when Tim laughs at his dark jokes. Stupid gallows humor that would have made Bruce call an expensive therapist and Dick squirm in discomfort have the kid snorting coffee out of his nose.

It’s like they’re friends.

Part of him sometimes toys with the idea of them being normal kids —or as normal as you can be in Gotham—and he realizes that he would’ve made friends with Tim so fucking fast. Dick is the golden child and all of them would end up worshiping him and respecting him as their older brother, of course. Tim would be added to their family and Jason, not-murdered, regular problem-child Jason, would resist him at first, but he would soon see that he wasn't just an annoying nerd. He was a fun, annoying nerd. They would gang up on Dick, as younger brothers ought to do, and Jason would protect Tim from bullies and Tim would use his good son credit to get Jason out of trouble with Bruce.

This, however, may be as good as it gets for people with their fucked up upbringing. Jason already knew Tim wasn’t your regular spoiled rich boy and they bond over having shit childhoods even if they don’t talk about it.

All in all it feels nice to be looked up to. To have the kid come to him when he’s in trouble. To have someone looking at him with a shine in his eyes like the one Jason has when he looks at Dick. It makes Jason feel like he’s worth something. He sees Tim get comfortable with him after weeks of acting like a stray cat and he knows the kid feels the same. It’s a new feeling for both of them.

It’s like they’re really brothers.

Being part of the Red Robin fan club, Jason finds out, gives him good credit with the Bats.

Bruce and Dick are always going to be concerned about Jason’s slightly loose moral compass. Gremlin is always going to hate him because he’s a Gremlin. Barbara tolerates him at best.

Stephanie, however, shows up unannounced to one of Red Hood’s busts and laughs it off when he complains about Batgirl ruining his rep. She then invites Jason to watch a movie with her since they finished early. He thinks that’d be very weird, so he refuses. Unbothered, she says an airy “Maybe next time” before leaving.

He thinks a shadow once told him to come by the manor more often, almost giving him a heart attack. He thought Cassandra was in Hong Kong, for fuck’s sake; when did she come back?

One time he texts Tim for tech support and no one but the Signal shows up at Jason’s doorstep with a codebreaker and a list of instructions from Red Robin. Duke doesn’t look as wary of Jason as he once was and the two quickly fall into friendly banter, complaining about Tim’s nerdiness.

Jason knows if he asked Steph about it, he would never hear the end of it. Cass isn’t the easiest person to hold a conversation with. He guesses Duke is decent enough not to dwell on it, so he asks,

“Why are y’all suddenly okay with me?”

Duke quirks an eyebrow at him. Fortunately, he’s smart enough that Jason doesn’t need to explain further. “Tim trusts you,” he says simply. “Tim is the holder of the one brain cell of this family, so long we follow his cues, we’re golden.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Why, you don’t want us around?”

He mumbles something about it not being a big deal. Duke shrugs it off and changes the subject. Jason knows he’s doing it for his sake, because Duke might be the kindest person in their whole messed up family. Jason feels bad for refusing to learn his name for so long.

So it seems like two-thirds of the Batgirls and Signal were always less worried about Jason’s past than they were about his rivalry with Robin III.

And, fine, Jason does get a little jealous of that but he’s mature-ish enough to take what he can get. Plus Stephanie is funny as shit and it’s always fun to annoy Barbara by getting Batgirl involved in his fights, especially when Red Robin is around to back him up.

Everything is sort of nice now.

Sometimes, however, Jason wakes up in a cold sweat with the taste of copper in his mouth and a nightmare gunshot still ringing in his ears. He tried to kill Tim. He could’ve killed his little brother. He’s thankful for the times the nightmares come when Tim is sleeping over, because he can walk to the living room and check on the kid. Remind himself that Tim is alive and breathing under the old blankets and that he’s forgiven Jason. When he isn’t around, Jason is absolutely not above calling him in the middle of the night, making up a stupid case he needs Tim’s help with. For all his smarts, Tim never seems to realize Jason’s true motives.

Now that he thinks about it, he notices that Tim is on good terms with a lot of people that tried to kill him. Jason. Damian. That Prudence girl. He doesn’t find out the details, but he does hear something about Stephanie fucking him up and she’s now his best friend. Jason is more than a little concerned about that forgiving side of his.

Red Hood hates a lot of things. If he were to make a list, it’d take days to write it all down. He knows for sure that on the top of that list would be clowns. There is nothing he hates more than clowns.

Scarecrows are a close second, though.

Definitely close to a tie as he watches Red Robin stumble. “I think…” he mutters. “I think my rebreather is broken.”

“ Shit.”

Red Hood has to think fast. Fear gas is every-fucking-where and he lost sight of Scarecrow three canon-fodder crooks ago. He doesn’t have an extra rebreather, because he’s wearing his helmet and that does the job. He’s used to fighting alone. Not that having another rebreather would do them any good now that Red Robin has already breathed the nasty toxins.

In the end, Hood decides to take the defeat for what it is: a defeat. He throws a smoke bomb on the ground and grabs Red Robin by the waist, ignoring the startled squeak the boy lets out. They need to get out before Scarecrow’s goons realize what they’re doing.

“Stay with me,” Red Hood hisses. “Whatever you’re hearing or seeing, it’s not real.”

They’re five minutes away from his nearest safehouse. It’d be faster to take one of their bikes, but he can’t risk it in case Tim starts hallucinating halfway there. They can make it there swinging, he can keep his brother out of danger.

“I’m fine,” Red Robin says. The way he’s limp in Hood’s hold, says otherwise.  “We’re going home. We’re safe.”

“We’re going home. Close your eyes. Focus on my voice.”

He does it.

“It’s just us now,” Hood reassures him. “We’re on the way to a safehouse where no one can find us and you can rest until the toxin is out of your system. Safe, easy.”

“Steph is fine, Bart is fine, Cassie is fine,” he chants, “Cass is fine, Alfred is fine, Dick is fine, Tam is fine, Pru is fine.”

He keeps listing people that are fine, because of course his fears are all about his friends being hurt. Surprisingly, Hood recognizes all of them. He’s heard Tim talking about all of them repeatedly and he knows their names and personalities, even if he doesn’t have all the faces to match. He isn’t surprised that his friends come first then their family.

“That’s right, kiddo,” Jason encourages. “Who else?”

“Dad..” Tim’s eyes shoot open. “Dad’s gonna kill me. Dad, Dad will know I’m Robin, he’s- He’s gonna take Robin away from me, I can’t- This is the first time I’m being useful.”

Fuck.

“Your dad isn’t here. And you’re not Robin, kid, you’re Red Robin,” Jason reminds him.

“That’s… that’s right. I failed him. I failed Dick, so…”

Double fuck.

“That’s bullshit,” Jason says, but it’s hard to keep the conversation going while he’s carrying Tim’s weight.

They’re two minutes away from safety before Tim starts struggling to get away from Jason. He doesn’t say anything else, which may be more concerning, he just grunts with the effort and squirms. Jason really hopes no one was paying attention enough to notice what looks like Red Hood kidnapping a terrified Red Robin.

“Shit- Stay put, Red, we’re almost home,” Jason says.

Tim’s breath catches and returns, erratic, and Jason can’t bear to look at his horrified face, he hates to see the utter fear that has his brother’s already pale complexion turn ashen, his lips pressed into a line so tight it has got to hurt. Jason starts listing the names of the people that are supposedly fine and that catches Tim’s attention long enough that Jason can swing straight to the fire escape of the abandoned building where he set his hideout.

He sets Tim on the dusty mattress on the corner in a hurry and tosses his helmet aside. He starts undoing Tim’s safety measures so he can remove his cowl. Unlike Jason, he doesn’t wear a domino mask beneath it and Jason makes a mental note of talking to Tim about that later.

“Almost there, Timbers,” Jason says. He rips off his own domino without caring about the sting, hoping a familiar face will help. “I’m here. Now, where do you keep your fear gas antidote? I know you carry some around.”

Tim unconsciously reaches for a particular capsule on his bandolier. That’s enough of an answer for Jason, who pushes his hand away not as gently as he should and reaches for the small vial inside.

“Jay,” Tim whines. “Jay, you’re okay, right?”

Jason blinks, confused. “Of course I’m okay, Timbers. I’m right here.”

And as he rushes to grab the first aid kit under the sink, Jason starts to freak out. This gas isn’t causing hallucinations as much as it’s making Tim feel paranoid, it seems. What if it’s a new formula? What if the antidote doesn’t work? What if Tim keeps having anxious thought after anxious thought, until his heart gives in and-

“Jay!” Tim calls, desperate. “Jay, we have to get Kon! He’s- He’s in danger.” He starts getting up.

“Nope!” Jason pushes him right back into the mattress. “Kon is fine, he’s invulnerable, remember? He’s probably doing superdouche stuff in Metropolis.”

“He’s not, he’s- He’s gonna kill himself, Jay!” There are tears welling up in his eyes and Jason feels like someone just punched him in the gut. After all the shit they went through, he had never seen Tim cry. “He’s gonna sacrifice himself to save everyone, I can’t lose him, please, I’ll do it instead. He’s- No! Please, don’t do it!”

There we go. There are the hallucinations they all know and hate. Tim stretches out his hand as if he’s reaching for an invisible Superboy, so Jason takes the opportunity to start rolling up his sleeve and cleaning the inside of his elbow. Lucky for him, he always has a sanitized syringe. Now he just needs Tim to stay still.

What if it doesn’t work? What if I make it worse?

“Kon El, no,” Tim gasps. “KON EL! CONNER!”

Jason had never seen Impulse going full speed. But he did meet Barry Allen back when he was Robin and he never forgot the deafening noise of someone breaking the barrier of sound. More familiar is the noise of his freaking wall exploding. Before Jason realizes, he’s being ripped away from his screaming brother. He hacks and struggles, but there isn’t a lot he can do when a kryptonian steel arm presses against his throat, effectively pinning him to the wall.

“Give me one reason not to kill you,” Superboy growls, his eyes already glowing red.

Jason would be impressed with the boy’s ability to look murderous if he wasn’t about to have his head melted. He struggles a little more. Superboy doesn’t even seem to notice. Jason then pathetically raises the syringe in his hand and manages to choke out:

“A-antidote.”

Superboy blinks once. His eyes return to the regular shade of blue. He blinks twice. His expression shows only confusion when he releases Jason, that promptly falls on his knees. Jason coughs, touching his throat as if to make sure it’s still intact. Damn clone.

“What happened to him?” Superboy demands.

Tim isn’t trying to get up anymore, but rather convulsing on the same spot, screaming wordlessly in horror, tears streaming freely down his pale cheeks.

Jason coughs some more before he’s able to say something. “A-ask that first next time, will you? It’s… it’s fear gas.”

“And, what, am I supposed to believe you were helping him?” Superboy snarls.

Jason groans. He doesn’t have time for this. Tim has his eyes firmly shut and every scream, every time his voice breaks, it feels like someone is slashing at Jason’s chest, robbing him of air almost as effectively as Superboy did.

“I was about to do that before you interrupted,” Jason shows him the syringe again. “What do you think?”

Superboy squints at him, unhappy with his response.

“We don’t have time for that,” Jason snarls. “At this point, he’s gonna have a heart attack. I need you to hold him still.”

Superboy bites his lip in hesitation but Tim screams his name again and he winces as if the sound is kryptonite for his ears. Finally, he nods and crouches down by the mattress.

“It’s okay, Rob,” he says. “I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

At that, Tim miraculously relaxes for a second. Jason kneels by his side again and holds the outstretched arm Superboy is keeping still.

“Don’t hurt him,” Jason warns. Judging by the look Superboy gives him, the only reason he’s not getting the laser eye treatment is because he’s the only one around capable of helping Tim.

“No,” Tim whines. “Not Jason…”

Jason freezes. Superboy’s eyes start to glow again.

“Not Jason, not again,” Tim continues, delirious, his expression twisting in pain. “Please, please, don’t, help him, HELP HIM!”

Jason stabs the needle into his pale skin and it’s a miracle that he does it right, because he is shaking. Fuck this. Fuck Scarecrow. It’s wrong, it’s horrible to hear Red Robin begging like that. He hates the way the kid startles with the needle. He’s thankful that Superboy makes sure Tim stays put, because he doesn’t think his trembling hands could do that now.

“It’s okay, Timbers,” Jason hears himself saying, “it’s over now.”

“Please,” Tim sobs again, “I- I’m gonna solve this.”

God. Jason grabs his hand. “You did enough, baby bird. You solved enough already.”

Tim whimpers, but finally starts relaxing. It seems like the antidote is working its magic and the boy falls right asleep.

Superboy refuses to leave, much to Jason’s chagrin. It doesn’t surprise him, though. Conner is Tim’s favorite conversation subject when he’s in a good mood and apparently the clone is ready to just fly to Gotham if he hears Tim’s voice.

“You know, metas aren’t allowed here,” Jason reminds him.

Superboy has been stomping back and forth around Tim’s mattress. He's so angry that Jason is worried he’ll break the floor any minute now, but he stops to give Jason the biggest, meanest glower of the night. He doesn’t look anything like the mental picture Tim painted of him. Even with his ripped skinny jeans and 90’s leather jacket and dumb earrings, Superboy looks absolutely murderous.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see that Tim’s fine,” he says.

Jason sighs.

“Why are we here?” Superboy snaps. “Why didn’t you call Alfred or… or Batman or…”

“Because we don’t do that,” Jason cuts him. “Red Robin is not Batman's sidekick. If we can solve shit without involving Batman, we don’t involve Batman.”

It’s their unspoken rule, Jason knows that since the first time they fought side by side - the first time they had a sleepover - and he brought Tim home to patch him up. They don’t call dad or their older bro if they’re in trouble, because that’ll lead to them being in more trouble. They simply watch out for each other as much as they can.

Superboy isn’t happy with that explanation, but, before he can murder Jason for real, Tim stirs.

Jason and Superboy are kneeling by his side at the same time, which says something, since Jason doesn't have superspeed.

“Timbers?” Jason calls.

“Jay…?” Tim mumbles and his voice is still a little raw from all the screaming. He blinks and his eyes set on his best friend. “Conner? What are you doing here?”

“You called,” Superboy says simply. “I told you all you had to do was call my name.”

“How’s the head?” Jason asks. “You're still smart, right? You can’t afford to lose your brain cells, Timbers, with your ugly face they’re all you have.”

Tim snorts. Then groans. “Fuck off, Jason, don’t make me laugh.”

Jason smiles at him and he doesn’t notice the weird look Superboy is giving them.

“Rob? Do you remember what happened?”

Tim starts to sit up and Superboy is faster than Jason in wrapping an arm around his shoulders to steady him. He helps Tim rest his back against the wall and the grateful look Tim gives him makes Jason frown a bit because he feels there is something there he’s missing.

“Hmmm… We were fighting Scarecrow,” Tim says. “Fear gas, broken rebreather...” He looks at Jason as if seeking for confirmation. When Jason nods, he continues, “Jay got me out of there and the rest is… Wait. Where is Scarecrow? Did he escape?”

“That should be the last of your worries, Timothy, you almost died of fear,” Superboy scolds.

Tim sighs. “Oh, to be a young vigilante in the XXI century… passing away of fright.”

Superboy doesn’t get it, judging by his expression, but Jason does and he laughs out loud. He doesn’t miss the way Tim’s lip quirk up.

“See, baby bird, this is why I wear a helmet and so should you,” Jason says.

“Okay, but have you considered that we’d look stupid if we were all the man in the iron mask?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “God forbid a whole family fighting criminals in leather fursuits look stupid. We wouldn’t fucking want that.”

Tim laughs, even if his voice is still a little hoarse, and Jason is relieved.

He is so relieved to see his brother fine that he doesn’t pay attention to the fact that Superboy still has his arm around Tim’s shoulders. That Superboy’s eyes get all soft when Tim laughs. That Superboy looks a little hurt when he offers to fly Tim home, but Tim refuses, saying that he’d rather spend the rest of the night here.

“I mean, if that’s fine…?” He glances at Jason, reminding him of those first sleepovers, when he was still unsure whether he’d be welcome or not.

Jason is so done feeling or letting his brother feel like an outsider. “The mattress is big enough for both of us, I don’t see why you’d go back to your own apartment when you can just sleep on a perfectly good mattress on the floor.”

“Hm. Cool then,” Superboy says, but instead of flying out through the giant hole he made on the wall, he shifts his weight from one foot to another awkwardly, clearly stalling.

Both brothers notice it. Neither has a problem interpreting Superboy’s fidgeting. Jason finds it annoying, but Tim gives him a pleading look. Jason sighs.

“You can stay too, big guy, but you gonna have to sleep on the floor.”

Superboy’s face lights up and he definitely doesn’t look like he wanted to melt Jason’s head just a couple of minutes ago. He rambles that it’s all good, he just needs to text Ma Kent to let her know where he is and he’s used to sleeping on the floor of the barn with Krypto and the cows (Jason would find that more upsetting if he didn’t know there is a cow somewhere in the Wayne manor too and Damian sleeps in the cave with it all the time).

In the end, Tim bullies Jason into giving Superboy the thickest blanket he has around. He tries suggesting he should sleep in the blanket and let Jason and Superboy share the mattress, but shuts up mid sentence under their glares.

It’s probably the most awkward sleepover so far, but Tim grins at Jason, grateful, and turns his back to him to be able to talk to Superboy in hushed whispers.

Jason tunes out their conversation and focuses on the fact that he did it. He saved Tim. It doesn’t make up for the times he fucked up in the past, but it sure makes him feel better about the present. He’s also thankful that Tim stayed instead of going to his own place. Hearing your little brother scream in fear for your life isn’t something enjoyable and Jason is sure he would have nightmares about if it wasn’t for the fact that Tim was laying right there in front of him. It’s the sound of his brother’s muffled laughter, mixed with Superboy’s, that lulls him to sleep.

Jason should have noticed then. But he didn’t.

For an intelligent guy, Jason can be really stupid sometimes.

The thing is… Jason is smart. He’s not Tim Drake smart, but he’s still a good detective. He’s also fairly sociable. Or at least he used to be, before he, you know, died and went through all the trauma, etc. He is no Dick Grayson, but he can hold a good conversation, pick up the right social cues, all that crap.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t mess up sometimes.

You see, months go by. Red Hood and Red Robin don’t often go on the field together, after all it’d do a number to both of their reputations, but, when they do, one of them always ends up injured and the other carries him home. It’s like a curse, the universe telling them to stick to their off-patrol partnership. Then a couple of weeks go by and they miss the feeling of fighting side-by-side and there they go again.

Tim keeps showing up at Jason’s place whenever he feels like it and he even hangs around Jason’s visiting friends sometimes. Kori adores Tim from the first time she puts her eyes on him. Roy takes a little longer to warm up, but even he can’t resist the kid. Jason likes it. He likes having his brother around. He likes that they get on like a house on fire.

So much he forgets Tim is a master of hiding shit.

On the week nearing Tim’s 19th birthday, Jason goes to his apartment. He doesn’t realize until he’s halfway there that he hadn’t been to Tim’s place since the night he met Prudence, which is odd, because it’d been basically a year and a half. Still, Tim goes over to Jason’s place all the time. The fact that Jason doesn’t repay the favor has everything to do with the fact that Jason hates Tim’s magazine apartment and nothing else.

Right?

Instead of going for the door, Jason uses his signature move and just swings to the balcony. The door is unlocked - Jason really has to have a talk with Tim about security, they’re in Gotham, for fuck’s sake - and he lets himself in.

To Tim’s credit, the place looks more well lived in now. There are mismatched pillows on the couch, a forgotten mug and a couple of books on the coffee table. Jason recognizes his copy of The Count of Monte Cristo and makes an annoyed sound noticing Tim’s bookmarker is still somewhere in the middle of the book even if it’s been weeks since Jason let him borrow it.

“Tim?” Jason calls. It’s half past nine, a little early for vigilante standards, but…

He hears the sound of someone sputtering and coughing from the kitchen. There he is.

Jason heads there and finds Tim desperately grabbing paper towels to clean coffee he apparently just spilled on his bare chest.

“J-Jason!”

“Jumpy aren’t we?” Jason comments. “What’s up, baby bird?”

It’s clear that Tim had just woken up, judging by his messy hair and the fact that he’s wearing nothing but red sweatpants with Superman’s symbol all over. His mildly terrified expression is weird, though. Tim is usually slow in the morning, but not that easy to startle.

“What are you doing here?” Tim whispers, clearly panicking.

The fact that Jason never visits Tim’s place suddenly comes to his mind. The possibility of him not being welcome hits him and it’s surprisingly painful. He thought they were doing well, that the kid liked him. All this time, was he being arrogant?

As his brain scrambles for something to say, something to think, he notices a sound that he hadn’t registered before: the shower.

Suddenly Tim’s rapidly reddening cheeks and doe wide eyes gain a new meaning. Jason forgets the hurt and a sly smile stretches on his face.

“Oh my god. Oh god, this is priceless. Baby bird, do you have a lady guest from last night?”

Tim makes a weird choking sound and this is too good, Jason is too delighted, look at little Timmy go, already getting it. (Jason would’ve chosen different pants for the morning after, but alas.)

Then a voice calls out: “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

A male voice.

Tim’s face becomes three shades darker, now perfectly matching his pants. Jason’s grin is now frozen on his face, his eyes wide with the realization.

The shower stops.

“Tim?” The voice calls again.

“I’m fine, Kon!” Tim responds and his voice is surprisingly even, considering he looks like he’s having an aneurysm.

That’s a bat for you. Master of hiding their emotions.

Sort of.

Kon, Tim said. Jason realizes that Tim isn’t wearing Superman merch. The sweatpants are Superboy themed.

Jason still remembers Superboy’s protective streak all those months ago and the fact that he woke up to the two of them holding hands - at the time, he thought nothing of it, because it had been a stressful night and he didn’t blame either boy for wanting to make sure the other was okay - and he thinks of all the subsequent times Tim went on and on about Conner and how a couple of weeks ago Tim just stopped mentioning Conner altogether.

God, Jason is the worst detective ever.

Tim pushes Jason out of the kitchen and towards the living room, presumably farther from the bathroom where his boyfriend with super hearing was showering.

“Fuck,” Tim mutters, “ fuckfuckfuck… ”

And he looks and sounds so distraught that Jason loses all the eagerness to tease him, concern quickly replacing any initial surprise he might have been feeling.

“Look,” Tim murmurs, looking anywhere but at Jason’s eyes, “it’s not… we’re just…”

Tim scrambles for words and this is so unlike him - Tim always has a plan, always knows what to say - it takes a moment for Jason to catch up on why he’s a stuttering mess. Jason had been so excited to find out his little brother had a boyfriend he forgot he lived in a world where homophobia was a thing.

“Timbers, chill out.” Jason grabs Tim’s hands from where they’re still resting on his shoulders. “It’s just me.”

Tim dares raise his gaze to meet Jason’s and it hurts a bit to see still a little fear in his blue eyes. Jason gives him an encouraging grin.

“I can’t believe you officially bagged a kryptonian. Way to go, kid.”

His shoulders slouch in utter relief right before he starts blushing again. What a cute kid.

“You keep calling me kid. You’re not that older. And don’t say it like that,” Tim mumbles.

“Like what? Like you’re snogging Superboy?” Tim punches him on the shoulder and Jason laughs. “Now I know why you were in such a hurry to leave the manor, you wanted your own place to bring your boyfriend over…”

“That’s not why I left and who said anything about a boyfriend? Maybe this was just a one night stand.”

Jason gives him a condescending look. “Timbers, I might have not realized you’re gay, but I do know you. You’re a boyfriend kinda guy.”

Tim rolls his eyes and mumbles something about assuming shit. “I’m bi,” he says.

“Cool,” Jason says, a shit-eating grin never leaving his face.

“Fuck,” Tim groans and lets himself fall on the couch. “How do you de-escalate an emotional situation so fast?”

“It’s a Bat thing, and you know how to do it too. All of us are trained to avoid emotions like the plague.”

“I was not prepared to come out when I got up this morning,” Tim admits.

Humming, Jason finally realizes that Tim doesn’t want to skip the emotions for this one. He sighs. The things he does for his brothers.

“It’s not a big deal, though,” he says. “I mean, you’re happy right?”

“I’m never happy.”

“Don’t quote Zuko. You started the real talk. You don’t get to bat your way out of it now.”

A sigh. “I’m happy. Conner is… the best.”

Jason nods. “Then it’s all good. I’m sure all the others would say the same.”

“You can't tell them!” Tim snaps, his eyes suddenly wide with panic again. “Seriously, Jay, you can’t-”

“Calm down, kid,” Jason cuts him off. “When did I make a habit of spilling your secrets to the B-man? It's none of their business.” Tim visibly relaxes and Jason adds: “Actually… Want me to make your house Dick-proof?”

“...what?”

“I mean, not kryptonian dick, you’re clearly into that,” and he ignores it when Tim pops him on the back of the head. “I mean Dick Dick, our brother. I could set up a better security system so you don’t have to worry about one of your siblings walking into something scarring, especially the clingy one.”

“No security system can stop Dick’s clinginess.”

“How do you think I keep him off my place?”

That’s when their little pow wow gets interrupted by more kryptonian skin than Jason ever wanted to see as Conner walks in with nothing but the smallest of the towels wrapped around his waist.

“Babe, what is--” He notices Jason and slips on literally nothing, barely catching himself before falling on his ass. “ Shit- I mean, nothing, I mean, we were just binging Wendy!”

Jason doesn’t say anything, but he does give Tim a look that says it all. He wasn't judging earlier, but he is now. Tim gives him a look that definitely means shut up.

In the end, Jason stays for breakfast.

It’s only mildly awkward, because he and Tim fill the silence talking about the latest case Jason’s working on while Conner makes them pancakes. Judging by the fact that he’s getting the ingredients from a bunch of plastic bags, he must have brought all the food with him. If anything, Jason is grateful that he and Alfred are no longer the only people trying to get Tim to eat actual food.

When Tim turns to Conner for his opinion, leaving Jason to enjoy his coffee, Jason looks around and notices that there are new pictures on the fridge. There are some of those disgustingly cute pictures of Tim and Conner, their cheeks pressed together as they make weird faces for the camera. There is a picture of Conner by himself and, again disgustingly, he is smiling at the camera as though the most precious person in the world is behind it. Both pictures are held by a sun magnet. There is a new candid shot of Cassandra, one of Alfred-Alfred holding cat Alfred, a new one of Dick and even Damian is in there.

And, his heart stops for a second, because now there are pictures of Jason as well.

They’re carefully placed far from each other, but there are three different pictures. There is one of Jason wearing his Lord of the Rings shirt, eating cereal on the couch, a confused expression on his face. He remembers when Tim took that picture, because Tim waited until Jason had his mouth full before calling hey Jay? and snapping the picture right as Jason looked at him, his cheeks like a chipmunk's. The second picture is a candid of him smiling, leaning against the rail of some safehouse balcony. The shot was carefully framed to not show anything distinct of the surroundings, just Jason and Gotham’s sky.

The third one is a selfie. In it, Jason is asleep, his lips parted and face relaxed, his head resting on Tim’s shoulder. Tim has a shit eating grin on his lips as if there is nothing funnier to him than his giant older brother falling asleep on him in the middle of movie night. Tim had the decency of drawing a mustache on Jason’s face to decrease sappiness, but that effect is ruined by the fact that the picture is held by a magnet that was clearly Iron Man but Tim had painted it red to look like Jason’s hood.

Jason had sworn off killing, at least for a little while.

But he would gladly kill again for his little brother.

As he gets ready to leave, he turns to Conner and deadpans, “I don’t have to tell you that I can and I will make kryptonite bullets, do I?”

“Jason!” Tim scolds.

“What? I’m the first of the family to find out. Least I can do is taje care of the shovel talk.”

“Stop threatening my boyfriend.”

Conner blushes profusely and mouths the word boyfriend with marvel and ugh. Just… ugh . Jason is happy that Tim is happy, but he and Conner are apparently that kind of couple and Jason wants to have none of it.

“So, first we kill Damian,” Jason starts.

“No,” Tim says.

“Aw, come on, you didn’t even consider it!”

Cassandra waits until they decide their plan of action (it’s probably going to be Tim’s) and keeps her expression carefully neutral as not to show which one of them she agrees with (Tim).

The thing, Jason realized, is that all of them have favorites in their family and knowing that makes it easier to tear them down. Dick can fuck off with his I love you all equally bullshit, because he clearly always favors Damian. Damian swings between Batdad’s little boy and Nightwing’s murder baby. Tim will easily lose focus whenever Steph is involved. Steph is oddly protective of Duke, for some reason. Cassandra is mostly neutral. She’s everyone’s favorite, including Bruce’s, but she’s also the deadliest of them all so she is no one’s weakness. She does, however, have a soft spot for Tim over any of her brothers. Since Jason became close friends with Tim, he entered Cassandra’s selective protection bubble and he’s now, by all definitions, untouchable.

Or at least that’s how he felt when she chose him for her team right after Tim.

“We kill Dick first,” Tim knocks down the little Nightwing action figure on the carpet. “Cass, you’re the only one who can take him down. Jay and I distract the others while you do the job. Damian will get personally offended by that and will grow reckless.” He knocks down the little imp figurine. “I can take care of him then. Steph will be hiding somewhere ready to strike. She is best in close range combat. Jay, I need you to take her down before she gets too close.” He pushes down the Barbie doll someone dressed as Batgirl, because apparently they couldn’t find blonde Batgirl merch and they were very offended. “Then we win.”

He may sound impressive, but the whole time he’s speaking he has his head resting on Cass’ lap and she is carding her fingers through his hair as a villain would do to their evil pet cat.

“Can’t I murder the demon brat?” Jason complains.

Tim glares at him - again, not very intimidating while he’s basically lying on his sister’s lap.

“You know Steph would wipe the floor with me. You’re the only one I can trust to get her.”

“Unless…” Jason turns around. “Du-”

“No.”

“Come on, I’ll give you ten bucks.”

“Jason, we’re all rich, you can’t buy me.” Duke doesn’t even raise his eyes from his book. “Plus last time I let y’all drag me into this shit, Steph knocked off one of my teeth with Tim’s staff.”

“If you hadn’t killed me, then she wouldn’t have taken revenge,” Tim argues.

“And yet you’re planning to kill Dick counting on the fact that Damian will try to avenge him.”

“Wet blanket,” Cassandra says.

Tim and Jason go into a giggling fit as Duke sputters, too indignant to put his thoughts into words.

In the end, Duke still doesn’t join them.

As they expected, the enemy was listening to their plan - Jason is sure Dick was against it, but Stephanie and Damian are definitely not above spying - nonetheless they still played their parts as expected: Steph and Damian tried protecting Dick first and foremost, but not even the two of them combined could take Cassandra. Not with Jason and Tim backing her up.

Cassandra knocks Dick down and sits on his back. The large yellow paint splash on his chest proves that he’s dead. Rather than being upset, Dick starts doing push ups with his sister there as the rest of his siblings and Steph fight to death.

Unfortunately, Damian wasn’t as angered by Dick’s demise as they expected and is still a good match for Tim. Until Tim gasps and goes Titus, don’t eat that! It was an obvious ploy, but still got Damian to let down his guard and whip his head around looking for his precious dog. Tim shoots him without hesitation and Damian goes on a rage soliloquy.

Jason would appreciate it if he wasn’t having such a hard time with Stephanie. Apparently Barbara has been feeding her steroids, because the girl is now as quick as a ninja. She hits Jason in the kneecaps with Tim’s staff - they’re not even in the same team this time, how the fuck did she get Tim’s staff??? - and shoots him point blank in the chest. And damn, that shit hurts. He bets it’s purple under his shirt too.

Steph is mid celebration when her victory whoop turns into a pained groan. Twin splotches of red and yellow bloom on her back as Cassandra and Tim lower their guns.

“Fuck,” Jason complains. “Couldn’t’ve done that before she killed me?”

“We win,” Cassandra says.

“Shouldn’t you be fighting to the death now?” Dick asks. Now that Cass is off his back, he’s lying on the side like one of your French girls. Jason wishes Cass would shoot him again.

“I would never betray Cass,” Tim says.

“We rule together.” She walks to him and stands on her tiptoes to kiss his forehead.

Tim grins a wicked grin because he knows he is Cassandra’s favorite and everyone can die mad about it.

Steph and Damian start shouting their complaints at the same time while Dick laughs his ass off. From his lawn chair, Duke is glaring at them as if he can’t believe he’s legally related to any of these weirdos.

His gaze meets Dick’s and his older brother looks absolutely elated with pride even though all of their siblings are yelling about paintball.

Jason simply smiles back.

[simsadventures]

Paint Me Pretty

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You have an idea on how to spice up your sex-life with Bucky. Will he be down for one of your crazy ideas? Especially when it involves paint and naked bodies?

Warnings: fluff, smut (MUST BE 18+ TO READ THIS STORY), body paint(?)

Word Count: 1740

A/N: This idea was brought to you by a challenge thrown upon me by the loveliest Satan @official-and-unstable-satan​. The first GIF for this challenge was Deadpool holding a bunch of paints, looking like Deadpool, and the second one was Loki saying “I’ll have that drink now”. I had to incorporate these two things and create a story and voila, here it is. Hope you guys will enjoy it :) xx

Bucky Barnes Masterlist __ Masterlist

Being the girlfriend of James Buchanan Barnes had its perks. Not only were you accepted between the Avengers and you even felt like a part of the team, you also dated one of the hottest, if not the hottest man in America right now. There were very few things not to totally adore about him.

He was smart, funny, beautiful, attentive, protective, and so much more that your heart was ready to burst whenever you were with him. Of course, there were things that needed improvement, but who didn’t have those, right?

When you met Bucky two years ago, he was very closed-off, he barely ever spoke outside of the comfort of his or your apartment, and to get him to kiss you took you a good 5 dates. Not that you complained. You hated when men tried to jump your bones on the very first date, and at least that way with Bucky, you could get to know his soul before you learned about his body.

And there was so much to learn! Because of Bucky’s past, he himself was pretty unaware of what he liked and disliked, what was something that he wanted to try or what was a no-no for him. You got to learn all these things alongside him, and you were eternally grateful for that. You still lively remembered the first time you called him “daddy” between sheets and the way his cheeks suddenly turned bright red, although his eyes grew three shades darker.

You then discussed it with him, asking him if he liked it, and although it took a lot of coaxing from you, he finally admitted that yes, indeed, he was a fan of this particular nickname, although he didn’t need you to call him daddy all the time.

With sergeant, that was a different story. It slipped past your lips after one of his mission when he got home to you still in his tactical gear. It felt natural, and the growl that left his chest just spurred you on in calling him that in the bedroom. He later said that he never felt such hunger in his life.

And ever since that, you tried to find other things that made his skin crawl with excitement and horniness. You knew he had some experience during the 40s, but you also knew that most of the experience was fairly vanilla, with a pinch of some bites and hickeys. Bucky even said that in those times these bites were generally frowned upon and he was seen as one of the naughtiest people in New York.

He then laughed knowing that a simple bite didn’t do it for you, and when he slowly found out all your kinks, he knew that his buddies back from the time wouldn’t even believe him if he told them about how you loved to be choked, denied orgasms, or how anal wasn’t a swearword in your bedroom.

He knew he had to expect new things from you because you loved to experiment, but what he didn’t expect was to come in in your shared bedroom to find you naked in the middle of the room with four bottles of paint in your arms standing on top of a canvas.

He perched an eyebrow and didn’t move from his position, just assessing the whole situation enfolding in front of him.

You patiently watched the circles in his mind turn, but because it took too long for your liking, you smiled at your boyfriend sweetly and beckoned him to come closer to you.

He did so cautiously, taking off his shoes and standing next to you on the canvas. His eyes took in your body, stopping at the arc of your breasts, licking his lips mindlessly. When his eyes met yours again, you could see he was already intrigued by whatever was happening in front of him.

“Would you like a drink before I explain what I had in mind for today?” You asked Bucky sweetly, wanting to make sure he was comfortable and maybe a little more pliable than usually. But he shook his head and kept staring at you intently. You scolded yourself for getting naked so early because you felt like he wouldn’t say no to you now. But you wanted this to be an enjoyable experience for both of you, and not only because it would involve raw fucking. But what could you do now, right?

“Alright, so I was thinking, and I came up with something I thought might be fun. It will be messy as hell, but I’ll clean up afterwards, gladly on my own, might I add. How about we make a painting with our bodies? While we’re fucking?” You said as quickly as possible and bit your lip, waiting for Bucky’s reaction.

You could hear the circles in his mind finally click, and the expression on his face changing from utterly confused to mildly intrigued.

“Why would we do that? I mean, can’t we just fuck as is?” He asked, putting his hand on your collarbone, drawing little circles there, knowing full well how much you loved when he did that.

“Ugh, Bucky! C’mon, don§t you think it will be hot to then frame a part of the picture, if it’s like, super pretty, and hang it somewhere in the house to show to everyone, but nobody will know we actually did it while fucking? I, for one, think it would be incredibly hot,” you countered and waited for his reaction.

Bucky obviously mused for a second or two, and when he finally decided, you could feel your heart beat a little harder. He would actually do it!

His clothes were sent flying across the room, and in no time, Bucky was standing in front of you completely naked.

“So, how do we do this?” He asked as he put some strands of hair behind your ear.

“It’s easy. I’ve already heated the colours as per the instructions. This is a paint specifically made to use for this body painting, so you don’t have to worry. And now all we have to do is to put some of the paint on the canvas, some on your bodies, and then we can fuck till we can’t no more. Sounds good?”

Bucky didn’t answer you. Instead, he kissed you passionately, revelling at the feeling of not yet being covered from head to toe in paint.

“What colours did you choose, doll? Something I’ll like?”

“Yup! I’m not stupid! I went for the classic: black, blue and white. I think it’ll look real pretty. Especially with our black sofa and all, you know? It will be super badass and hot!” You whispered into Bucky’s ear, and that was his moment.

He swiftly grabbed the colours and poured some on the canvas while squirting some on your chest and belly, doing the same to himself. You looked at each other, and although it would have been a funny scene under normal circumstances, there was nothing funny about it now.

Bucky grabbed you and pushed his chest against your, tangling his fingers in your hair and kissing you breathless.

In no time, you were sitting on Bucky, dry humping his thigh while rubbing his cock between your belly. The paint was all over both of you by now, different shades of blue could be found on Bucky’s shoulders and your thighs, while the rest was mixing in a beautiful fusion on both the canvas and you.

Bucky quickly grabbed your thighs and laid you down on the canvas, making his way between your legs, rubbing his achingly hard cock between your dripping folds. He took a quick glance on the sheet underneath you and then at you, and he could have sworn he fell in love with you even more than he already was.

You looked like a French model on canvas, all painted, moaning and dripping only for him, solely for your artist whom you allowed to touch you anyhow he liked.

Without a further warning, Bucky sheeted himself inside you until his pelvis was touching yours. Your back arched and your hands slapped the canvas in need to try and grab something to ground yourself from all the pleasure you were feeling.

Every movement was calculated and languid, the whole fucking session sensual but still somehow desperately hot. You could feel Bucky’s breath against your shoulder, the hot air hitting your burning skin sending shivers down your spine.

“More, I need more baby,” you urged Bucky on, needing to feel him all over your body. And Bucky was more than happy to oblige.

He picked up the speed, making your toes curl while your left hand pinched your nipple with your right hand drawing on the canvas.

It took Bucky only a few more thrusts before he felt you coming around him, your walls drawing an orgasm from him as well. You both chanted each other’s name like a prayer, never wanting to let go. It was, without a doubt, the most intense feeling you’ve ever had. You were drunk on sex, love, and art, and you couldn’t get enough.

Bucky kissed your forehead before he carefully pulled out of you and looked for the prepared slippers by the canvas before he helped you get up as well.

When you were both on your knees (although you needed Bucky to hold you close, you didn’t trust your legs just yet), you both looked at your piece of art.

It was mesmerisingly beautiful. It was the perfect combination of colours, and it was the perfect proof of your love and desire. You both stared at it silently, enjoying the moment passing between you.

Bucky then squeezed your hip, making you look up at him, and he smiled at you, lovingly.

“Thank you for this, Y/N. I didn’t think we could create something so bewitching. But here it is, and we’re hanging it up as soon as it dries! But to get back to you, I’ll have that drink now, if I may,” he smirked at you, and you just shook your head, laughing.

“Sure, let’s just have a hot shower to get the paint off of us and then we can get drunk as fuck, and we can try to have a totally wasted sex afterwards. Sounds good?” You smirked at Bucky and walked towards the bathroom, Bucky quickly following. He couldn’t wait for round two.

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​ @sasbb23​ @p8tn0lish​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @waiting4inspiration​ @caswinchester2000​ @mogaruke​ @justthatfangirloverthere​ @mushyjellybeans​ @livsheph​ @sebbbystaaan​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @itsunclebucky​ @rinkashirikitateku​ @leosandbuckysgirl​ @miraclesoflove​ @keithseabrook27​

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​ @s-trawberryv-eins​ @reniescarlett​ @bxrnsfeyson​ @the-soulofdevil​ @haru-ririchiyo​ @winterboobear11​

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @lumar014​ @ptrs-prkrs​

[a-monsters-love]

Spice

[Master List]

Art credit goes to: @ianterweb​ -- [Original Post]

Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: swearing (obvi it’s Bakugo), blood, a drop of gore (not in a stomach churning way), toy guns, implied pining, spoilers if you haven’t watch season 4, mentioned of death, Slow Burn

Genre: angst, fluff, combat

Word count: 12k

Time Line: I extended the timeline around between the provisional licensing exam and the work study program, part of me doesn’t think irl they’d just thrown out of the frying pan and into the fire.

A/N / Inspiration: So I rewatched ATLA and honestly I really wanted a Ty Lee styled reader for this, like just upbeat and positive but irl she’s got demons. Also I fully believe Ty Lee could kick Bakugo’s ass, no one can change my mind. I firmly believe he needs an S/o who can just whoop his ass, part of me thinks that’s the only way he’d ever accept a crush or a relationship. 

*So like, if (y/n) fought like Ty Lee who uses Tai Chi and Dim Mak (loosely translates to “Touch of Death” but we know it as chi blocking)

*All Tai Chi and Yoga pose names I fully researched  

*don’t @ me for this but because their classes only carry 20 students I’m sacrificing our sweet boy Rikido Sato (code name: Sugarman) b/c I haven’t seen enough of his character to know how to write him :L #TheProverbialSacrificialGoat

(Y/N) = Your Name

(Y/N/N) = Your Nickname

(L/N) = Last Name

(H/C) = Hair Color

(S/C) = Skin Color

(E/C) = Eye Color

(H/L) = Home Land i.e country of origin

——————

“Listen up.” Aizawa Sensei announced to the class dropping a book on his podium, gathering the classes attention he lazily sighs before speaking again. “As you’ve all noticed we still have an empty seat in the back of the class,” He points his hand in the general direction. “Moving forward, I have to introduce you to a new student to the class.” On cue the classroom door slides open, you walk in calmly despite your excitement. Your (H/C) hair is pulled up into a neat bun with your bangs clipped to the side, the only addition to your uniform being a pair of half palmed white gloves, you can feel everyone’s eyes scanning over you as you waltz in. “This is (L/N) (Y/N), I’ll let her introduce herself.” He finished as he stepped into his sleeping bag.

You glanced over at your new teacher, quickly understanding what kind of person he is before looking back at the class. “Hello, please feel free to call me (Y/N/N).” You giggle softly, “I just moved to Japan from (H/L) and it’s my understanding you guys have been together for sometime so I‘ll be in your care.” You smiled sweetly and gave a delicate bow.

“You’ll be sitting behind Koda,” He pointed to the obvious empty seat, “Between Ochaco and Shoto.” Aizawa Sensei made little effort to discern the two. “(Y/N) has already been moved into the dorms so I expect everyone to do their part in helping her get settled.” 

You only smiled as you made your way to your desk, shaking hands and giving polite greeting to your new desk mates. The girl beside you made quick work of making friends with you, the boy in front of you was extremely shy but made his own effort to wave back at you. You listened in on the class as the morning babble began, whispers in curiosity and a few waves and smile. You can feel a creepy gaze that made your skin crawl and heard a single but loud tongue click. “Another extra.” You heard him groan, the comment only made you snort a bit before the lecture started. 

You took color coded notes based off theme and what you decided or Aizawa Sensei said was important. Ochaco whispered about how cute your notes are causing you to whisper and explain why you did it. You noticed the way Shoto listened in on your organization explanation when you silently offered him a red and green pen. He took them both gratefully and confused at your action before deciding to make his own version of you system. When first period was over your desk was swarmed by your new classmates. 

You smiled brightly as they all introduced themselves when a boy, who introduced himself as Iida, tried to dispel the mob. “No-no it’s okay, we have plenty of time to get acquainted anyway.” You reassured him bashfully as the slimy kid, who introduced himself as Mineta, got a little too close for comfort. You took great pleasure in watching the pink girl grab him by the ankle and drop him in the trash. 

It was then that you heard a soft and almost awkward voice, “Can I ask what your quirk is?” Asked the green haired boy, Izuku is what someone called him.

“Of course!” You beamed, his clear anxiety from the question washes away as he pulled out a beat up notebook. “My quirk is called Molecular Regeneration, so basically Healing+, from what Aizawa-Sensei explained to me this morning I’ll be able to fully show everyone during gym.” You scanned over the group and motioned for Denki to come over. “I can heal little things like this pimple-“ You removed a glove and tapped his skin, fading the pimple away. “To great wounds, within reason of course. I have to eat a ton of food for the carbs, fats, proteins and all the extra good stuff if I use my quirk excessively but it’s a trade off I’m happy to make.” You put your glove back on and rubbed the back of your neck as you watched Izuku beam and start spiraling as he took notes. One of the other students explained that he does that often.

——

During gym everyone was paired up to fight, for practical and strategical purposes. Everyone gasped when Aizawa paired you up with Bakugo, saying it was cruel and you were new. You giggled at their concern, knowing full well that you could and have taken the blunt of an actual bomb and come out fine. Well fine-ish. “I paired them up purposely because I know he’ll be able to go all out and she’ll be fine.” He droned at his gaping students.

Each pair took turns, you watched everyone fight, analyzing their fighting styles noting where they went wrong. Your mother was a trained martial artist so you learned at a young age to do this. When your turn arrived you were excited to finally get up. You decided to take off your shoes as the boots you were provided weren’t practical for how you fought. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re a girl.” Bakugo hissed.

You just smiled widely, “I’d be insulted if you did.” You chuckled, stretching a bit before getting into the Brush Knee starting position, legs spread slightly with a bent knee, one palm flat towards the ground and the other raised facing the boy. You looked relaxed, which seemed to anger him. As Aizawa blew his whistle he was quick to charge, when he got close you slapped his inner wrist the back of each hand. This pushes his arms to his sides as you twist around him and aggressively push on his spine with your palm causing him to falter forward. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re a boy.” You teased at him, the face he made was that of confused rage.

“You think you can beat me with a few slaps?” He chided, earning a laugh from you as he charged again. 

“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” You snorted.

His wrists sparked as he aimed to use his quirk on you, “We’ll see about that.” You could almost hear amusement in his voice as he made a circle out of one hand and shot exploding bullets at you. You barely managed to dodge as you pushed yourself into a backhand spring, you confused him when you used your arms to push towards him. 

He went to use and exploding hand to punch at you as you jabbed repetitively at his quirk fueled arm. His explosion dissipating as his arm went limp. “I suppose we will.” You beamed close to his face before failing to see the swift kick he struck your side with, easily throwing you from your close proximity. You chuckled a bit with a small cough as you skidded in the distance, didn’t see that coming.

“What the fuck did you do to my arm?” He demanded an answer as you ran back and cartwheeled towards him using the propulsion to jump at him, aiming a leg to kick him from the side. Knowing he’d reflexively block the kick when you were close you used your other foot to kick his chin upwards. 

Your kick was successful and satisfying, “Dim Mak, also known as Chi Blocking.” When he regained his stance from your kick you jabbed at his other arm causing it to go limp. You stood beside him as he groveled a bit. “And with that~ I think I win, I don’t think it’s much of a fair fight at this point.” You smiled sweetly at him. 

Aizawa whistled again to end the match, you grabbed Bakugo’s wrist shaking the limp limb to Aizawa when you heard a pop, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” You quietly warned him still holding his wrist with a smirk but being who he is as a person the hand you held exploded with his quirk. 

You heard an audible scream from the class, after the dust dispersed your hand was basically gone. Your radius and ulna bones were cracked and broken poking up from your tattered forearm, blood splattered across both your face and Bakugo’s. All the rage that quelled in his system wiped clean with a guilty and horrified expression, seeing the blood that soaked part of your hair and the mess he created. “Oh fuck, I-“ He started but realized you were still smiling, even as blood dropped down your arm. Aizawa groaned loudly. 

“Well, that was… spicy.” You snorted. Within moments the bones started to grow where your hand once was, thick red muscles climbed the bones followed by skin. You were regenerating your hand, you smiled but your gaze was dark as you stared at him. “I told you not to do that.” Using your newly regrown hand you punched him in the side of the face causing him to hit the floor, hard.

“I deserved that one.” He mumbled quietly on the ground, you stood over him smiling smugly. 

“Come on, get up and let me fix your arms.” You waved for him to sit up before looking to Aizawa, “I’m leaving early after this for a shower.”

“Please.” He sighed, sending up the next group who were just staring at you in a mix of horror and awe. “We don’t have all day.” Aizawa said.

You sat Bakugo down and sat behind him, almost forcing him to lean his back into your knees and shins. “Alright, Spice, let me fix your nerves.” You removed the glove that didn’t get blow up and pulled at a limp arm, using your quirk to heal the damaged nerves as well as massaging into pressure points to release the tension you forced into his blood stream. He groaned in agony before sighing in relief.

When you were done he rubbed his arms and hands as the prior numbness faded, he looked back at you as you decided to heal the burnt skin on your shoulder and cheek. You smirked when you caught his gaze on you, he ruffled his hair aggressively as he got up and ushered you to follow him. You both needed to head to the dorms to clean up, as you followed behind him you heard him mumble. “I’m sorry.” He earned a chuckle out of you causing him to look back. I just blew up your literal arm to the bones and you were acting like a ray of fucking sunshine, he thought to himself as confusion knitted his brows. “I’m not sure what happened, I didn’t know I could be that lethal.” He admitted almost hissing out the words as if they were painful.

“I’m not mad, Aizawa paired me up with you for that reason.” You shrugged bashfully, “And what happened back there was kinda… mostly my fault..” Your admission seemed to confuse him more. “When I jabbed you’re arms I disrupted your blood flow and by default your quirk. You have a strong one so it essentially grew like an actual bomb and exploded more or less on its own.” He watched you explain, you just hoped he wouldn’t feel too guilty. “Look. If you’re sorry just get me lunch or something, Spice.” You smiled softly at the comment as you finally got to the dorm, making your way to your rooms to grab a change of clothing and then to your respective bathrooms to shower.

Bakugo grumbled over the whole ordeal before settling on the new nickname you’ve given him. Spice. What the fuck is that about, he couldn’t wrap his head around it but he learned quickly that he wouldn’t be able to stop you. You made that clear when you essentially wiped the floor with him, the thought of that made him yell out in frustration. “Stupid girl.” He hissed as he got dressed. 

You were waiting for him at the door in a fitted t-shirt and your gym shorts. Flitting through your phone aimlessly, he noticed your usual smile was gone. Replaced with something bored and almost listless, when you noticed him your lips curled at the edges into a soft smile. “Come on, Spice.” You waved for him as you opened the front door.

“Stop calling me that.” He snapped, frustrating that he could tell you wouldn’t.

You snorted with a loud ‘HA’, “Would you prefer Spicy Boy? Blasty? Bomb-dot-com? Oh! What about Limb Remover?”

Bakugo groaned trying to walk faster than you, “No!” He hissed at you, eliciting a hearty laugh from you.

“Spice it is.” You wink as you took lead almost skipping in front of him. He groaned loudly as you joined the rest of your class before gym was over. The two of you bickered back and forth for sometime and you could only laugh at his rising and dwindling frustration. Kirishima joined the conversation, fist bumping the only other person he could imagine withstanding an explosion from Bakugo. You could hear Izuku spiraling behind you and decided to turn a bit to answer his questions. “I’ve never successfully grown other people’s limbs or organs back but I can accelerate growth of, like, hair and finger nails.” You commented to one of his questions. “Though if you’re arm got like cut off cleanly I could potentially reattach it, I imagine it wouldn’t feel the same though.” You scratched at your damp hair that was now down from its bun to dry, your mouth was slanted not quite a frown but it was obvious to anyone that the gears in your head were spinning. 

Bakugo just stared at you with half lidded eyes as you spoke, part of him wanted to hiss at Deku to piss off with his nerdy ass research note book. However when you pulled the note book from Izuku’s hands and flitted through it with knitted brows and scold him for the condition of the note book it almost earned you a laugh. Almost. When you asked about the burns on the notebook he was hesitant to answer, “Accidents happen.” Was all he managed, you gave him a raised eyebrow but didn’t pester the topic. 

——

At lunch you had lost sight of Bakugo and didn’t think much of it, you were quickly wrangled by the girls of class 1-A as you paid for your meal, they pulled you to a table where you sat with Asui, Ochaco, Shoto, Izuku and Iida. You were quiet listening in on their conversations, providing a comment when needed as you quickly ate your food. You temporarily sated your stomach, knowing you should eat more before your quirk absorbed the contents of your stomach. You got up to put your tray away, running into Bakugo on the way back. “Hey, Spice. I lost you for a minute.” You snickered at him, he just grunted and rolled his eyes. Dragging you back to the lines to get lunch, or in this case a second helping. He didn’t say anything as you waited in line with him, he paid for your meal and made sure you received it before walking off. Waving a lazy hand back at you. “Prideful brat.” You snickered to yourself before rejoining your table.

“What’s all that?” Asui asked.

“Bakugo bought me lunch,” The table gaped at your comment. “As an apology for blowing up my arm.” You said pointedly, “Plus my quirk already started to absorb what I got earlier since I had to regrow a limb.” You half sighed half laughed at the comment. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you guys.” You rubbed your neck, this was a tell for you. 

Shoto shrugged, you knew Izuku nerded out on what happened, “We’ve seen scary quirks, yours wasn’t as scary as the situation, kero.” Asui said, Ochaco nodded fervently in agreement. 

You sighed in relief and started eating gleefully. This hit the spot, you were grateful to Bakugo even though it was your idea.

——

At the end of the day you followed your class back to the dorms, making quick work to get into your comfy clothes. You wore a short (but not quite cropped) shitty band shirt and a pair of high waisted pajama shorts that were just long enough to keep yourself covered if you stretched. You sat at the bar with a book as you idly watched Momo file through the kitchen. She offered tea which you happily accepted, discussing each of your preferences. You were a big fan of spiced drinks, chai’s more often than not.

Iida made his way to you not too long after with a schedule in hand, it showed everyone’s chores and what days they do them and with whom. He had added you to the schedule, noting that you had been paired with Bakugo on a large handful of occasions. Iida mentioned that you were one of the few who made it clear that you could clearly handle him he decided to rearrange the schedule as such to relieve some stress from your other classmates. You laughed and agreed that it would probably be for the best. 

The evening droned on a bit before dinner, you offered to help Izuku and Ochaco in the kitchen since you gave everyone quite the scare earlier. They both happily agreed, you helped out and decided to make a side dish your mom always made at home when you had a bad day. It was simple and it always seemed to cleanse the palate. When you let it simmer you made quick work of pulling out plates to serve at the table, helping Ochaco and Izuku when something started going awry.

When dinner was served and everyone was seated you weren’t sure where to sit until Kirishima dragged you to sit with him, Mina, Denki, Bakugo and Sero. You laughed, figuring you sat with the others at lunch. “Fine, fine, I’ll sit just stop dragging me.” You sat in the middle of the table between Bakugo and Kirishima, who asked loads of questions about your fighting style. “Oh, it’s just Tai Chi.” 

“You mean that thing old people do at the crack of dawn?” Denki asked, that’s definitely not what he expected.

You snorted and rolled your eyes, “Yeah, Tai Chi is a form of defensive martial arts that can also be used for meditation.” You ate a bit before continuing. “When used offensively the base principal of it is redirection, our bodies are covered in pressure points that-“ You took a sip of water. “If hit hard enough can fuck up your opponents whole fighting position and quickly turn the tables.”

“You still never explained what you did to my arms.” Bakugo hissed, almost pouting as he ate.

You scoffed, “Yes I did! I told you on the way back to the dorm after you blew up my arm!” You laughed, “I can explain it again if it didn’t make sense, Spice.”

The other boys and Mina snorted at the new nickname, “Please explain,” Sero managed to laugh out. 

“Okay. So, the fighting style for that is called Dim Mak, which means ‘Touch of Death’. Essentially I hit all the right pressure points directly to disrupt his blow flow, disabling his arms and quelling his quirk. Well, until the end.” You rubbed your neck bashfully at your mistake. “With Tai Chi you only hit pressure points to redirect, not do damage to the nervous system.” 

The other four just laughed, Bakugo just grunted and rolled his eyes as he ate. When they moved to the side dish you made Denki and Sero almost inhaled it. “This is so good, what is it?” Denki asked, knowing you helped in the kitchen.

“Oh, I made that. It’s [Food Name], just comfort food my mom always made for me when I had a bad day. I gave everybody a good scare today so I figured it’s be nice to have.” You shrugged to him nonchalantly, not noticing Bakugo had also made quick work of the dish. 

“I’m gonna need seconds of this.” He snorted getting up. 

You didn’t say much else while you ate, eating was a reprieve for you. When you finished your dishes you let out a happy sigh. Finally satiated for the day, you leaned over to Bakugo as he finished eating. “You never gave me a chance to thank you for lunch.” You gave him a smile before getting up to clear the table of empty dishes to return to the kitchen. 

“Shut up.” He snapped, following your actions as you walked into the kitchen. You hummed at his response, figuring he was too prideful. 

“Well, thank you none the less, I would’ve been starved if it weren’t for you.” You snicker, Bakugo just crossed his arms and looked at the time. You heard Mina call for you and ask if you wanted to watch a movie before bed, “Of course!” You call back, “You gonna join us Spice?” Looking back at him with a tired smile. 

“No.” He retorted quickly before leaving the kitchen heading towards his dorm, hearing a faint ‘good night’ from you.

You join your new pink friend who loops her arm in yours pulling you to the living room where you sat almost snuggled between her, a pillow and Ochaco. You were cozy enough to fall asleep but every movement either of the girls made roused you. You remembered seeing this movie once, letting you answer a few questions anyone had without spoilers. “Damn,” You mumbled to yourself with a yawn, realizing how tired you actually were. You shook Mina, whispering that you were heading to bed before sliding over the back of the couch. You waved a lazy good night to the others who noticed and headed to your room. 

——

The next morning you woke to the sun rising and danced across your eye lids, getting a good pop filled stretch before crawling out of the warm comfort of your blankets. Your morning routine was simple, brush your teeth, sort out your hair, wash your face, down a glass of water, make tea, listen to music and practice your morning yoga and tai chi filled exercises. You decided to wear your gym shorts for stretching; not with a creep like Mineta in the house, you thought storing your pajamas. You walk to the patio out front, enjoying the brisk morning air before setting down your tea on the banister. You had your Bluetooth headphones in and placed your phone on the windowsill. You made basic stretches to loosen up before grabbing your ankles as you bent into a full uttanasana, you stretch up pulling your leg to a natarajasana but pulling your foot closer to the back of your head before switching legs. Continuing this for sometime before starting your Tai Chi, ‘fickle habits lead to fickle lives’ your mother mantra played in your mind frustratingly. 

Bakugo has always been the ‘first to bed - first to rise’ type of person. In the dorms this gave him more liberties in the morning, as he had a tendency to walk out of his room to the showers in boxers and maybe a t-shirt most mornings. The last thing he was expecting was to see the electric kettle steaming after it’s obvious use. His eyes darted around, listening keenly to the main lobby of the dorm. He didn’t hear anything inside but spotted a phone outside of the building on the windowsill. Bakugo’s sight narrowed in before realizing he was walking towards it to see who the fuck is outside at this hour, or if someone left it outside on accident. He stepped slowly seeing you stretching on the patio, he couldn’t hear anything but he noticed the device was lit up playing music. Holy shit she’s listening to aggressive rap, he thought spotting the song title. The playlist was labeled ‘✨ GOOD MORNING ✨’ he snorted at the idea of that being morning music, the song changed to some classic punk rock song he recognized. He decided to leave you be, he would never admit it but he absolutely took in the sight of you before shuffling to the bathroom to start his own morning routine. 

When you finished your morning routine you made haste to grab your uniform and run to the shower. When you got out you saw Bakugo in the kitchen preparing what you assumed was his breakfast. “Good morning, Spice.” You said sweetly.

You just hear a grunt from him when you sat down to dry your hair properly, “Morning.” You hear him quietly mutter, as he brought out a plate with his breakfast. “Dry your hair properly.” He hissed, you snorted and continued working the dampness from your hair. 

Once you were satisfied you finished buttoning your uniform top and tying the tie, you left for a moment to return your towel to its home and pull your hair into a bun. Clipping back your mostly dry bangs as you returned to the lobby, “Whatever you made smells great,” You made your way to the kitchen for a second cup of tea. “Want tea?” You asked in passing. He grumbled something but didn’t say no so you made him a glass anyway, letting them steep as you made your way to your room to grab your book bag. When you got back and the tea had settled you placed a glass in front of the seemingly agitated blonde. Making breakfast for yourself and joined him at the table. You ate and flitted through yesterday’s notes.

Bakugo watched you out of the corner of his eye, you were so casual as if you’d been here the whole time. Something about you frustrated him endlessly, he figured he’d be able to narrow it down later. He begrudgingly accepted the tea, it was spicier than he expected. He wondered if this was a jab at him with the shitty nickname you’d bestowed him with.

—

A couple weeks passed quickly as you adjusted to your life at UA, you spent your early mornings with Bakugo before the other lazily made their way to the lobby, class began, then gym, then lunch, more classes, back to the dorms for a mix of homework and playtime with dinner somewhere in the mix. 

One weekend you decided to sleep in, which was a mistake as Mina had invited herself into your room and tackled your sleeping form. Eliciting a great squeal from you and you both ended up on floor with a loud *THUD*. “You know. I’m gonna skip the ‘what is wrong with you’ and go straight for the why, Mina.” You groaned, groveling on the floor at her excited stupor.

“We’re going to the mall! Get up! Get dressed!” She was bouncing at you as you slumped upon the floor, calves still on your bed. “Come ooonnn (Y/N/N)!!”

You snorted at her, “Fine, give me 20 minutes.” With that she was gone as fast as she came, you stood and pulled out your casual clothes you now rarely got to wear. Throwing on a pair of high waisted skinny jeans, a fitted white crop top, a thin burnt amber cardigan that went down to your calves, topped with honey brown softly pointed ankle boots. You left your hair loose aside from pulling your bangs upright to clip them back, providing a small bumped look you could live with. You grabbed your small purse that slings across your shoulders only holding your phone and wallet and a pair of round darkly tinted sun glasses before meeting up with the Bakugang. Mina gaped at your outfit excitedly, all four boys on the other hand just stared. “Too much? It’s just casual wear.” You shrugged and offered a soft but awkward smile.

“Shut up, you look great!” Mina snorted, she wore a loose crop top that hung just above the belt line of her skinny jeans, “You have plenty of time to check (Y/N/N) today idiots, let’s go!” She looped her arm with yours and almost dragging you along.

You never cared to much for shopping, you had what you needed and what you liked but you enjoyed spending time with the Bakugang outside of UA. Mina asked you about what your makeup preferences were and you admitted that you knew little regarding the topic. The boys whined to eat, “I’m always game for food.” You snorted, you were being dragged around more than anything anyway. 

You all sat around a table in the mall talking about nonsense, eating your respective lunches. They quickly got used to just how much you ate, much to your relief. When lunch was over the six of you ended up in an arcade, you and Denki played a shooting game with the big plastic colorful guns. Denki grabbed the red plastic cabled hand gun leaving you with the bright orange cabled shot gun. You snorted when he thought he had the better gun. “HOW ARE YOU SO GOOD AT THIS?” He whined as he watched you take shot after shot.

“The keener the eye the better the hero, also my dad was big into hunting back in (H/L).” You chuckled, “Both of my parents are Quirkless so they reveled in what they could.” You quickly beat the game, re-holstering the plastic gun you collect your almost endless stream of tickets. “You can imagine I was a huge surprise for them.” Sero snorted and agreed at your last comment. 

You made an abysmal attempt to fold up your tickets when Kirishima pulled you into some game him and Bakugo were playing. You were sure the blonde would get you guys kicked out as he seemed to be intent on destroying the game itself. You laughed loudly at him yelling “DIE!!” And “I’LL KILL YOU!!” At the console. Mina pulled you to play skee-ball next to them, you made for a mediocre game as you couldn’t stop laughing at Bakugo’s video game rage.

You managed though, collecting more tickets and playing another round as Mina, Sero, Denki and you made a bet. The person with the lowest score would have to calm the blonde down. “Game on!” Denki puffed, you smirked cheekily as the challenge began. 

After about 5 minutes the four of you were neck in neck with high scores but you fell short of third place. You groaned, collecting your tickets. Mina and Denki wiggled their eyebrows at you and Sero just laughed at your dismay, “Fine!” You laughed, walking over the the blonde on the verge of explosion. “Hey, Spice?” You placed your gloved hand on his shoulder. He snapped at you, scowling at your disruption. “Help me pick out a prize with my tickets?” You didn’t wear your usual smile, your brows knitted, concerned about the potential problem if he blew up the game.

Bakugo could almost breathe fire at you in his rage, but the concerned look you gave him threw him off. He just tossed up his hands and almost growled before crossing his arms letting you usher him to the prize table with a relieved smile. Sero, Mina, Denki and Kirishima were floored; their jaws slack at the ease at which you had simmered him and removed him from the game he almost blew up. They all looked at each other with devious grins as they huddled together. 

At the prize table you had to put all your tickets into some machine that counted them out, “Thanks for agreeing to help me.” You smiled up at him as he unraveled the mess of tickets you had. He just grunted and huffed in response, he wasn’t a big talker outside of when he screamed about being the best or when he got mad. When he did talk you could tell he put thought into his words, even when he wasn’t talking to you. When all the tickets were counted out you were directed to the charm section of the prize table. “What do you think?” You pestered him.

He squatted down, eyeing most of the girly charms. He didn’t know what girls liked, he watched you look over the more boyish themed charms. “I don’t know,” He hissed, “What’s the point of this anyway.” 

“Making memories.” You smiled into the glass, spotting a charm that caught your eye. “Oh! Can I look at that one?” You asked the staff behind the counter, the pulled out a little bob-omb phone charm. You snickered at it, “How do we feel about this one?” You handed it to him, he just stared at it with knitted brows before scowling at you. “What??”

“It’s a bomb.” He said.

“So are you.” You snorted and rolled your eyes. “I think it’s cute.”

With a over dramatic “TCH.” He handed it back, “Well I guess that’s the one then.” He rolled his own eyes, “Why did you ask for my help if you didn’t need it?”

You handed you ticket stub to the staff and looped the charm onto your phone, “I didn’t know I wouldn’t need your help.” You pushed him back towards the group, “Come on, I think everyone is burnt out on games.”

Before leaving the arcade everyone found a one of those kawaii photo booths. Mina somehow managed to usher everyone in, her and the other three boys pushed you and Bakugo together, you took the standard photos, Kirishima managed to swindle the ‘Glamouroki’ face out of Bakugo for the final ‘funny face’ photo. You, Mina and Denki burst into tears of laughter at the scene, Sero wheezed into the side of the booth. The face was now encapsulated for all of time in the photo booth six sticker sheets. You slipped the photo behind your clear phone case, making sure not to stick it down. “God. We have to keep this forever.” Mina cried out.

“That was solid gold.” You wheezed out wiping your face, Bakugo shouted and hit Kirishimas hardened head when he figured out it was photographed. “Holy shit, that couldn’t have been more perfect.” You panted taking a deep breath.

“Let grab a few drinks before heading home.” Kirishima cried out from his own laughter, you all agreed. Heading to a vending machine on your way out.

——

The next day after finishing weekend homework the bakugang decided to have a movie night. You noticed that Mina and the boys had been pushing you and Bakugo together, not that you minded but you couldn’t pin point why so you shrugged off the thought. It had been decided that the four of them would prepare snack and drinks if you and Bakugo would pick a movie. “Soo- they’re clearly plotting something,” You joked at the blonde as you both dig through his movie collection. “Should we pick a movie they can’t handle as revenge?” This elicited a laugh out of him.

“I didn’t think ‘little miss sunshine and rainbows’ would come up with such a devious idea.” He snorted at you.

“Sunshine and Rainbows only appear after a dark storm.” You smirked while pointing at him. 

He laughed, you almost dropped the DVD you were looking at when you heard it. “Oh, this is gonna be great.” The two of you picked the most gruesome and twisted movie you could find in his collection. Putting it in his DVD player before the others returned. You and Bakugo were chuckling at each other, unwittingly it seemed to excite the other four. You and Bakugo sat on his bed as the rest sat choice-fully on the floor. Denki turned off the lights as Mina sorted out snacks so everyone could reach them and passed around drinks.

They movie started fine, easily pulling them in, you stifled laughter. Bakugo was much better at doing that, though he had a smirk plastered onto his face. You adjusted yourself to pulling your knees up to your chest comfortably, to an outside perspective your were preparing for the movie to get more twisted, from Bakugo’s perspective he just noted a smile that curled at your lips behind your hands that rested on your knees. He started to get irritated with how much attention he paid to you. The simple ways you shifted as the movie dragged on, the excitement that built up causing you to bite your bottom lip. He had the urge to smack you and telling you to stop biting your lip. He shook his head at the thought. Nope, nu-uh. These are not thoughts he was ready to have. He forced his attention from you and focused on the movie with knitted brows. 

You adjusted again, crossing your legs and grasping your ankles in anticipation. Part of you was totally enthralled in the movie, you love this stuff, the other part was excited for the wicked prank you and Bakugo had setup for your poor unwitting friends. The first scene that got to them came, enticing a loud set of screeches from the four on the floor and you had gasped at the scene jumping a little and then a chuckle at their responses. You looked back at Bakugo who was already looking at you and beamed, “Success.” You whispered at him, he smirked back and nodded before your attention was back on the screen.

By the time the movie was over you firmly believe you traumatized the four, “WHY WOULD YOU PUT SOMETHING LIKE THAT ON.” Mina whisper yelled.

You and Bakugo glanced at each other from where you sat on the bed and laughed softly, “I thought it was a good movie.” You retorted. 

“You guys are a bunch of babies, if you want to watch something soft you pick the movie.” Bakugo snorted waving a hand at the movie collection, it was movie night after all.

Denki looked a little brain fried as Mina and Kirishima darted to the movie collection to pick something to quell their pained minds. You laughed again, sliding off the bed as you looked at the time. “It’s getting late, we can afford one more movie but I’m gonna go change.”

You made your way out of Bakugo’s room to yours, you tossed your hair up in a messy bun and threw on a baggy shirt, a pair of shorts and a warm cardigan. Quickly making your way back to his room when you hear bickering. “Don’t you dare, that’s (Y/N/N)’s!” You hear Mina say. 

You poke your head in to see her wrangling your phone from Bakugo’s grip, trying to get the photo you slid into your case out. “Oh-ho.” You piped out, “I see, I can’t trust you with my belongings.” You snorted, knowing how he felt about the hilarious photo. You slid in quickly snatching your phone from them both before finding your barely warm spot still on the bed. 

Mina huffed in success and Bakugo just crossed his arms, “It’s just a stupid photo.” He grumbled.

“It’s my stupid photo, Spice.” You said, “And if you try to take it again I’ll print large poster versions of it and plaster it to every wall in the school.” You chided at him with an almost evil smirk.

He groaned and Mina turned the lights back off as the next movie played. You felt Bakugo’s knee tap yours, as if it was some silent confirmation of your words. Your smile softened a bit and you glanced at him from the corner of your eye. His scowl still ever present but softer than his usual. Kirishima yawned, causing everyone else to yawn. You cozied yourself in your sweater against the wall as you watched the movie with half lidded eyes. Your shoulders slouched a bit and you ended up leaning you arm into Bakugo, who just stiffened at the action. This kept you awake through the movie, not that you were paying it any attention to it.

Bakugo on the other hand was now wide awake due to your sudden touch into his arm, this is not how he expected things to go. Though your prank was an absolute success, he wasn’t prepared for the aftermath. He was irritated and confused at your current actions, you should be angry at him not leaning into him! Did he want you to be mad at him? He couldn’t think straight.

As soon as the movie ended he ushered everyone out, even you in your sleepy stupor. You and Mina just looped arms and made your way back to the girls side of the building, triple checking that you had your phone. 

You knocked out quickly when you got to your room, you had a great weekend. Bakugo didn’t have such luck, he just assumed you showed anger different ways and made a mental list of what to do about it before he had the luxury of sleep. 

——

The next morning you were back to your usual routine, however you found you weren’t the first one up. You watched the blonde cook in the kitchen before starting your routine, you got ready to exercise when you decided to disturb him. “Good morning, Spice. Food smells great, as usual.” 

You watch his frame stiffen, but grunt as usual, “Morning, (Y/N).” He groaned, maybe he slept on the wrong side of the bed? You thought, continuing your stare at him.

“I’m gonna work out, come grab me if you need anything, okay?” You offered but he just waved you off stiffly. You got to your work out, followed by a shower and drying your hair properly so you didn’t have to listen to Bakugo whine about it. Making your way back to the kitchen to make tea for the both of you. The blonde just stiffened at your presence in the kitchen so you made quick work of the tea, this morning was different though. Bakugo had made breakfast for you too, uh oh. You thought, something must’ve happened. “Are you alright?” You asked staring in surprise, “Not that I’m not elated to try your cooking but-“ You were cut off by him shaking his head and starting to eat.

You watched him for a minute before started to eat as well, holy shit. Was all you could think, “This is really good.” You said softly, smiling as you quickly ate. 

He still didn’t say anything, you wondered what snapped in him. You finished quickly and when he was done he collected your dishes. Finishing his cooking in the kitchen after the rice cooker pinged. You flitted through your papers making sure everything was in order  for the day when you hear a *thump* beside you. You looked over and it was a larger than average bento, wrapped neatly. You just cocked an eyebrow at it and looked at Bakugo, “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s wrong?” He’s clearly broken this morning. “Are you sick?” He scowled down at you, differently than you’ve seen before. He just let out a frustrated noise at your confused behavior. 

You watch him for a moment before anything happens, he just pushes out the chair beside you and sits crossing his arms scowling differently at you. “The last time you were weirdly quiet and gave me lunch as when you blew up my hand...” You lean your head back thinking before it clicks. “Oh my god, is this about the sticker??”

He just groans in frustration, “Obviously! Your probably furious with me!” He hissed, watching your form relax, no smile in sight just concern. “I don’t fucking know!” He threw his hands out. 

You put your hand to your face, a chuckle escaped you and turned to a hearty laugh, “Katsuki.” He flinched, that’s the first time you’ve said his name. “I’m not mad, that sticker is just a fucking sticker. I only wanted to keep it because it’s an original. Those photo booths have an option to email the photos, so I have a digital copy.” You pull out your phone and hand it to him. “If you don’t want me to have it to the point of this much guilt or frustration, take it. I won’t fight you, Spice.”

He stared at you in awe, now he just felt like a fucking idiot. His brain was addled with you over some stupid fucking sticker. What is going on with me?? You seemed to agree that he was losing his shit, not that you even knew it was about you. He pushed your phone back towards you and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t worry about it.” Was all he said before he got up to clean, leaving you with both photo and bento. He doesn’t say anything to you for the rest of the morning as he disappears to finish getting ready for school. 

——

A few days passed and Kirishima brought up the provisional licensing exams that passed before you transferred in. “He probably would have passed if you were there (Y/N).” Kirishima says in passing. You had asked him how they did the testing in Japan.

You hummed at the comment before looking at the redhead, “I don’t think I could have made him be nice to people.” You shrugged a bit, he only failed because he’s abrasive. “He doesn’t yell at me because I’ve proven I can kick his ass.” The comment makes you both chuckle but Bakugo just shouts out in the distance, you both only laugh harder. 

That morning the class found out about the work study program, you weren’t here for the sports festival so your options were more limited. Ochaco wanted to introduce you to GunHead but he wasn’t taking work study students; Aizawa said Amajiki-Senpai would introduce you and Kirishima to Fatgum. The two of you fist bump at the offer knowing full well that your friend harassed the poor kid into it. No one could foresee the events that followed. 

You found yourself in a meeting discussing the take down of a Yukuza crime syndicate and the rescue of a small girl named Eri. The details of the situation she was in made your stomach churn. Over the next few days you found yourself hanging out with Kirishima, Ochaco, Asui and Izuku more. You all were brooding over the up coming event, your normal routine didn’t change much but the event pulled the 5 of you together. On movie night Denki decided to bring it up to you and Kirishima, you both just kind of looked at each other before making up some bullshit answer. “Honestly, the work study program is just a lot more than we expected. We were just brooding about it.” Was all you could manage, you rubbed the back of your neck uncomfortably. You hear Bakugo click his tongue at the blatant lie but you couldn’t defend yourself. It was getting harder to wear your usual smile while waiting for a message for the raid. 

—

The day of the raid was devastating, even though the raid itself went by a lot faster than you had expected. You rode in the ambulance with Sir Night Eye, keeping him stable until you arrived at the hospital. You can’t regrow other people’s missing organs but you did everything you could, you just sobbed for most of the time. You were lucky you didn’t receive any damages that would have you stuck in the hospital, you helped heal everyone’s wounds to get them out sooner but it was draining. A few hero’s who claimed to be in your debt brought food to you as you ran around the hospital. Forcing you to sit down and eat, you thanked them telling them they didn’t have to but they waved off the comment.

——

A few days later you were sitting, curled up in the corner and arm of a couch, in the common room in the middle of the night, you didn’t want to be stuffed in your room anymore. You felt like your tears dried out, you just sat staring at your phone screen when you heard foot steps from behind. You payed no mind to it as they walked into the kitchen, you’ve been staring at the same page on your phone trying to focus until the other person spoke, “It’s the middle of the night, go to bed dumbass.” You looked up to see Bakugo, he was right but something made tears bubble in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill. 

Bakugo had just run down to get a bottle of water when he saw you sitting on the couch, you were just on your phone so he couldn’t understand why you weren’t doing that in your room. After he spoke up he turned to face you, he saw tears in your eyes as they slowly ran down your cheeks. He panicked he’d never admit that, he walked over and squat down in front of you. He didn’t say anything but he just stared up at you with his brows knitted. “S-sorry. Ah-I just, I d-don’t-“ You stuttered and rubbed your eyes furiously.

He clicked his tongue, “Shut up.” He hissed, he hears what ever you were going to say hitch in your throat and you try to stifle your tears. “That’s not- ugh.“ He cut himself off, comforting people wasn’t in the list of things he was good at. Bakugo gets up from were he was squatting and walks back into the kitchen. When he gets back he hands you water bottle and sits down next to you. “Drink.”

Your hands were shaking but you managed to open the bottle and take a sip, Bakugo finally got a glance at the mess behind your hands. Your (E/C) eyes were red and puffy, the skin around them was raw, your nose and cheeks were irritated from being rubbed at. His brows knit further watching you struggle to put the lid back on. He just snatched the lid and puts it back on for you, “T-thanks.” You sputtered at him, “Sorry, I’m a mess aren’t I?” You force our a small chuckle, he only clicks his tongue.

“Stop apologizing when you’ve done nothing wrong!” He whisper yells at you, you nod at him from behind your hands as they made their way back to your face. “Stop that!” He grabbed your wrists causing you to look at him, when he hoped you’d stop abusing your pretty face he let go of your wrists and grabbed your ankles. You almost yelped at the action as he just lifted them up and aggressively scooted closer, dropping your legs over his lap. “What the fuck is so wrong that’s got Little Miss Sunshine in tears?” He hissed at you. 

You almost gaped at him, who is this and what have they done with Bakugo?? As soon as you snapped back to reality you wrapped your arms around your thighs, tears still dripping out of your eyes. “I just, I feel like a failure.” You go on to explain the raid, how messed up Kirishima and Tamaki-senpai got and the loss of Sir Night Eye. “I should’ve been able to do more!” You whisper yelled through tears, “My quirk is molecular regeneration for fucks sake!” You dropped your head into your knees, sobbing quietly.

Bakugo had crossed his arms and listened as you explained everything. Kirishima was his best friend sure but even he knows there’s a limit to every quirk. “(Y/N).” You lifted your head to look at him. “You’re not a fucking miracle worker.” He adjusted in his seat, propping an arm up on the back of the couch and leaning his head into his fist, you felt him adjust which made you focus for the first time on his close proximity. You went to say something back but nothing came out, you dropped your chin onto your knees and let the tears stream thinking about what he said. You knew he was right, you used your quirk a ton before Kirishima and Sir Night Eye were even brought out, even the medic staff thanked you greatly for keeping Sir Night Eye stable the whole way to the hospital. “This is a part of working as a Hero.” He grumbled.

You stayed quiet for some time before responding, “I know.” You tilted to the side and leaned into the blonde, your tears slowing. Your head and knees leaned into his chest lightly, you could feel him stiffen at the action. You went to sit up properly when you felt him pull you back roughly, you let out a small ‘oof’ at the action. The whole situation bubbles up in your stomach, causing you to giggle through what’s left of your tears. “If you keep being nice to me I might have to call you Sweets instead of Spice.” You snorted out softly. 

You could feel him stifle a chuckle before clicking his tongue, “Shut up!” He growled, “Don’t even think about telling anyone I was soft with you once!”

You chuckle a bit and lift your head to look at him, wiping your face with your shirt. “You really think I’d share such a sappy moment about you? Nuh-uh, this is my memory.” You chuckle a bit and lean back into him, missing the blush that decorated his scowling face. The two of you stayed like that for awhile before he convinced you that you were tired and should go to bed, you groaned and yawned before you begrudgingly agreed. 

The next day Bakugo invited told you to go with him to see Kirishima, you agreed a bit reluctantly. He basically dragged you by the wrist the entire way there, you blushed over the action but didn’t argue. When you arrived Bakugo watched you in a bit of confusion as you were basically on a first name basis with the nurses, and older nurse had pulled you into a big hug that elicited a loud whine from you. They laughed and sent the two of you up to the room where Kirishima was. When you opened up the door you found the redhead was wide awake, he offered a bright smile that just made you cry again. Visible panic set in his face and Bakugo dragged you in by the hand to sit next to him, he explained the situation to his friend and the two let you sob. “I heard about everything you did.” Kirishima said, “I get where you’re coming from but you did a lot (Y/N/N). Like a lot-a lot.” He told Bakugo about what he heard from the nurses and Fatgum about your frenzy around the hospital with all the hero’s and officers who were at the raid.

“I’m sorry for getting upset.” You mumbled, “I just feel stupid. I know what I signed up for when I decided to go into the field of Heroism, but this was just a kick to the gut.” You rubbed your temples a bit, “Honestly, having my arm blown up was better than being this unprepared.” You sputtered, this earned a chuckle from the two. 

“Dumbass, I told you you’re not a miracle worker!” Bakugo spat and dropping his palm on the top of your head, ruffling your hair aggressively. “Now stop being upset!” He hissed, you and Kirishima laughed at his aggressive ‘kindness’. The three of you talked for awhile, you offered to heal your friend more but he declined saying he’d be out soon anyway. You pouted but understood.

When you left Bakugo was still dragging you by your hand, “Thanks.” You said softly, smiling a bit. “That made me feel better.” You squeezed his hand lightly when he grunted at you. Such a weirdo, you wondered what’s gotten into him lately. 

“Shut up.” He shouted, “It’s fucking weird seeing you upset.” 

“Is that your version of saying you like seeing me happy?” You sniggered, this only elicited his grip on your hand to tighten. Your chuckles were cut short and you blushed loudly at the situation, he likes seeing me happy? You internally questioned.

After the trip to the hospital you became way too aware of Bakugo’s presence, anytime you bumped into him or happened to be too close your ears burned with blush. You were finally feeling more like yourself and now you felt like a wrench was thrown into your mind. As far as you could tell Mina was (of course) the first to notice. She pulled you into Jiro’s room, causing you to yelp. “Spill it (Y/N/N)!” She put her hands on her hips while wearing a smug grin. Jiro and Ochaco just stared at you two confused.

“What.” You chocked out.

She wiggles her eyebrows, “You’re all blushy with Bakugo! That’s what!” You almost tackled her at the statement.

“DON’T SAY THAT.” You shouted, the other girls were quick to pick up the situation. Mina grabbed your wrists and the other girls started to poke at you, you squealed loudly from being tickled. 

All the yelling caused concern in the other dorm-mates who knocked on the door. Momo opened it up revealing herself, Toru and Iida. “(L/N) has a crush on someone! We’re trying to get her to confess the details!” Jiro tittered.

“DON’T LISTEN TO HER. SOMEONE HELP ME.” You cried out from being tickled, Momo ushered Iida to leave and the girls entered the room to poke at you. “NO!” You shouted while laughing. 

“Just tell us what happened!” Ochaco teased you finally agreed and huffed for air.

You collapsed on Jiro’s bed, “I was really upset the other night Bakugo basically said he likes seeing me happy and now I’m like- hyperaware of his presence and the things he’s done. I feel like I’m losing my mind!” You whined softly.

“What’s he done?” Momo asked, you sat up and explained what he did after the sticker incident. You absolutely showed them the sticker and told them that he’s the one who’s been making you lunches. Mina explained how you easily calmed him from almost destroying the arcade game, the other girls just gave you the knowing look. 

“Girl.” Mina facepalms, trying her hardest not to laugh. “How are you both are so fucking dense?”

You throw your hands up defensively, “I don’t know!” You yell out when there’s another knock at the door.

Jiro gets up to open it, and speak of the devil. “Boy Wonders here.” This elicits an unintelligible shout from you. 

“Wha- AGH. Can you stop making her yell.” Bakugo glowered at your friend. 

“I don’t think that’s on me, it’s just.… Girl talk.” She retorts with a snicker. He hears you groan in the background and sees a pillow thrown, your face is undeniably blushing. 

He puts his hand on the door and leans in over the girl. “(Y/N), stop yelling.” He says sternly, your face drops into the bed as you wave him off. The girls are laughing at the interaction but he just scowls at them and walks off. 

“Can someone just bury me already, I’m dying.” You hissed from the bed. 

“So, he obviously likes you.” Jiro says walking back.

“Ohmygod. No he doesn’t!” You blurted.

“If he didn’t like you he would’ve told us all to ‘shut the fuck up’ or ‘keep it down’. He made that about you.” Mina jeered at you.

“Bakugo only feels anger!” You laughed, you knew that was a lie but he’d kill you if you said otherwise.

“Maybe he just feels less angry with you?” Ochaco snorted. 

“I’ve never seen him be that considerate to anyone, let alone be as nice as you’ve mentioned.” Momo said.

“You’re in denial because you just noticed your feelings for him.” Toru snickered. 

Mina laughed and grinned deviously, “If you’re so sure why don’t you ask him?” 

“Wh-what? N-NO! I can’t do that!” You stammered, sitting up quickly. “If he liked me he would’ve said something by now! Can any of you imagine him just letting something he wants get away from him?” The girls looked between each other, you were right.

“OH.” Toru piped. “What if we convince him your interested in someone else? If he likes you he’ll do something about it right?” You could hear the implications in her voice. 

You frowned deeply, teetering your head back. “That’s... Fair? I guess, but what if he like, tries to interrogate you guys?” You question, the girls smile and usher you out to make a plan.

Over the next several days the girls in passing talk about you and your crush, making sure it comes up in conversation near you and Bakugo. You always blush whenever they do, making sure you get a good jab or pinch in every time. 

Bakugo is getting increasingly frustrated, you guys hang out all the time. What was this stupid crush about? Why was he angry about it? Why did he want to confront you over it? This frustration has him blowing up over everything. He’s managed to break pens, pencils, cups, plates, a book, and a few other miscellaneous objects. Denki and Sero try to get you to calm him down but you said he hasn’t talked to you or made the problem apparent so there’s nothing you can do. 

“I think this is about your crush.” Denki mentions, which for you was the final straw you snapped, you were so tired of this crush nonsense. 

“Denki.” You smile at him your gaze was dark in frustration, he looks over at you. “If I have to hear anything else about that topic I will flip your skin inside out, rub salt on it and throw vinegar at you.” You smile widens evilly. “Got it?” He just nodded furiously and runs off. 

You drop your head on the counter where you sat at the kitchen bar, groaning loudly. You feel an aggressive tapping on your shoulder seconds later. You snap in their direction with a scowl, it’s Bakugo. Your expression softens when you’re met by an equal glare, “Come with me. Now.” He commanded, you follow him reluctantly. You weren’t paying much mind but you slowly realized you were heading to the boys dorms, more specifically his room.

You’ve been in there dozens of times, why are you so nervous now? You let out a sigh, trying to calm yourself as you made your way into the room. You sat on the edge of his bed, like you had many times before. “What can I do for you, Spice?” You ask, smiling at his glare. 

He started pacing back and forth, he isn’t quite sure why he brought you here. He’s just mad and it has something to do with you. “What is this whole crush nonsense about?”

You froze a bit, “I have a crush on someone and the girls weaseled information out of me.” You rubbed the back of your neck, the statement was pointed, it wasn’t a complete lie. 

He just stared at you in disbelief, all your actions proved you were telling the truth. “Who?” He hissed, less asking and more demanding. You looked down at your feet, you didn’t say anything. “Is it Kirishima?” He snapped, I mean it would make sense with how broken up you were with his injuries. You stared at him, squinting your eyes a bit. Giving him the ‘are you serious?’ expression. “Tell me it’s not Denki? Dudes a fucking idiot.”

You laughed out at this comment, “No, dumbass. I’m not that desperate.” You roll your eyes, you watch the gears turn in his head furiously. It’s not clicking. “For fucks sake, Spice. You really can’t figure it out?”

He scowls at you, you just groan and jump from your seat. You walk up, get in his face and grab him by his shirt collar. You pull his face into your for a kiss. It takes a few seconds for him to grab you by your waist and pull you up, kissing deeper. He bit at you lip as if asking to enter your mouth, you comply easily while you wrap you arms around his neck. Your fingers find his hair when you both pull away for air. “You could’ve just said something, dumbass.”

“Oh, I am not the only dumbass here, Sweets.” You snickered at him. A frustrated blush tints his cheeks at the new nickname. 

“Don’t call me that.” He snaps pulling you in aggressively for another kiss.

You tug at his hair a bit at the kiss, “Only when we’re alone.” You retort between kisses. “God, I don’t know if I should kill the girls or thank them.” You pant out, he sends you a questioning look. You chuckle a bit, “The whole crush nonsense was their tactic to force us to admit we had feelings for each other.” Bakugo’s face burned with frustration but he found that he was far less frustrated after the aggressive make out session. Your phone pinged with a text from Mina.

Mina:

Are you making out or killing each other? Hurry up it’s movie night!

Received 5:59PM 

(Y/N):

Yes

Sent 6:00PM (seen)

(Y/N):

You hurry up we’re already here

Sent 6:00PM (seen)

You removed yourself from his grasp and grabbed his hand. “Come on, let’s pick a movie and pretend fight so they’ll shut up.” He just rolled his eyes and smirked. Not too long after the rest of the Bakusquad (minus Kirishima) made their way to his room, followed by a few of the other curious girls. “You’re so fucking weird why would buy that??”

“It’s a classic! Dumbass, why don’t you have good taste in movies?” He hissed. 

“Ooh, excuse me for having my own opinion!” You snapped, it was so hard not to laugh.

“What have we done..” Mina groans.

You both look at the door, “Shut up!” You both hissed in unison, snapping back to face each other.

“Don’t copy me!” You yelled.

“You’re one to talk!” He snorted. 

Mina ushered the girls off while her and Sero broke up the fight, little do they know it’s totally fake. Mina picks a LOTR movie at random. “Just sit down and let’s enjoy a movie!” She snapped. You both fake hissed at each other as you sat in your normal spots on his bed, a bit closer than normal. 

While the others got caught up in the movie you silently laughed to get it out of your system, Bakugo snorted quietly at the whole situation. 

At some point during the movie when you adjusted your sitting to stretch your legs Bakugo decided to lay across your lap. Not like a normal person would with their head in you lap, but on his side. The side of his abdomen pressed down your thighs as he propped him head up on his hand. Elbow pressed into the mattress, he snicker as you readjusted. You didn’t mind as much as he thought you did, you were focused on the movie. You had absentmindedly started to comb your fingers through his hair, causing him to get tired. The movie was about 4 hours long, which ran into the time you and the blonde typically went to sleep. Bakugo had already fallen asleep across your lap, you had crossed your arms and started dozing off. 

When the movie was over, Mina, Denki and Sero got up to go get ready for bed. When they turned on the light they all stared at the sight before them, you were sat dozed off peacefully against the wall. Your arms crossed head still slightly upright, one leg out and one leg bent with the foot on the opposing knee. While Bakugo was laying on his chest in your lap with one arm under and wrapped around your bent leg with his face buried into your thigh like it was a pillow. Mina was quick to silence her phone and snap a dozen photos, “Should we wake them?” Sero whispers.

Denki shook his head, “You really want to wake the two scariest people we know?” The other two agree and quickly escape the room and turn the light back off.

——

Bakugo woke up in the middle of the night, he was warm and cold in all the wrong places. He rubbed his face into what he quickly realized wasn’t a pillow and shot upright. There you were, totally asleep. Same position as the Bakusquad had left you in, with the softest snores escaping you. He just stared at you in shock before he reaches over for his phone. It’s 2 am, he debates whether to wake you or not. He decided to just scoop you up and lay you down on his bed, there’s no getting out of this one. He gets up to change into his sleepwear and climb back into bed, you were already in comfortable clothing (shorts and a baggy t-shirt). He pulls the covers over you and lays facing the wall with his back to you under the covers. 

The sun flickered against your eyelids and woke you as usual in the morning, but something was different this morning. You felt a warm and heavy weight holding you down, when you opened you eyes you realized what’s wrong. You were still in Bakugo’s room, you felt him adjust in his sleep which forced you to assess the situation. He was big spooning you, in his bed, one arm under your neck and the other arm wrapped around your waist, hand under your shirt tucked beside your bare ribs, lightly snoring into your neck where his face was nuzzled. Holy shit, was all your brain could process. 

You decided to sneakily grab your phone, double check it was on silent mode and snap a few pictures. You now have dirt on him forever. You attempt to pry yourself from his sleeping grip but the second you manage to sit up right his sleeping form curls around your waist. As cute as this is you wanted to go change and get ready for the day, “Hey, Sweets?” You whine at him, he adjusts in his spot. “Bakugo.” You press further, he grumbled but nothing further. You think for a moment and lean down a bit, “Katsuki.” You say in the most seductive voice you can manage, this quickly pries his eyes open. It takes him a solid 30 seconds to realize the position he’s in, how the fuck did this happen?? He doesn’t quite move as he feels his face heat up. “Good morning. Please free me so I can get ready, I’ve been trying to get you up for like 5 minutes.” You yawned out to him, stretching a bit. When he finally let go he just lazily dropped his face in his pillow that now smelt like you, groaning softly.

You looked back at his figure, frustrated noises escaping him as his neck turned red. You just laughed softly before making your way to get your day started. 

Bakugo came down with a few other, later than usual when Mina finally tackled you in the lounge. “You’ll never believe what I got a picture of last night!” She snickered.

You laughed softly, “Oh I have an idea, considering what I got a picture of this morning.” You both laughed at this, “You’re such an ass, why didn’t you wake me up?” 

Mina just shows her pictures triumphantly in response, you ask her to send them to you when you show her the pictures you got this morning. Her jaw looked like it was about to fall off when Bakugo sped over to see. “DELETE THAT.” 

“Absolutely not.” You locked your phone and hid it away. “You’re so cute when your asleep, so peaceful.” You gushed, Mina was actively losing her marbles at the interaction. “Get over it Spice, you can delete them if you beat me in a fight.” You winked at him, the whole speech burned a blush into his face as he stomped off shouting. “He’s so cute when he’s embarrassed.” You snickered to Mina as you both stood up. 

“SHUT UP!” He bellowed out from the kitchen, causing you to laugh harder. 

[zot3-flopped]

People need to ask themselves, how many girl/boybands have there been? How many breakout artists have come from them?

Beyoncé from Destiny’s Child is SORT of an example, but she was always the lead singer, and not in a sense where she got most lines like Harry. To the point where most people don’t even know the multiple line ups they had (six members, then four, then three). Beyoncé’s dad managed them, gave all his focus to Beyoncé and took away and reintroduced members like they were trading cards instead of people.

Michael Jackson/Jackson 5 is another example usually thrown around but that was a family band managed by their father. It was more comparable to Britney Spears starting off in the Mickey Mouse club than a boyband. It wasn’t exactly a band that split up, it was more like a kids band that grew up. Also, you have Janet Jackson coming really strong from that band as well.

This same example applies to Ricky Martin/Menudo, which didn’t have an established line up that went on for years. They had members coming and going (almost 40 members in its 20+ year run).

Actual comparable examples? Justin Timberlake (‘Nsync), Robbie Williams (Take That)… that’s it. You have attempts by Nick Lachey, Nick Carter, Omarion, Nick Jonas (and Joe Jonas with DNCE, to a degree), JC Chasez… for the most part, boyband/girlband breakouts are a flash in the pan. Like Zayn.

Think of the amount of boy/girlbands we’ve had in the past few years. Spice Girls themselves… The Pussycat Dolls had a clear lead singer and Nicole Scherzinger still couldn’t make a career out of it. New Kids On The Block, Five, Westlife, The Backstreet Boys themselves.

Justin Timberlake, Robbie Williams, and Harry, are the only examples of breakout solo stars from actual boy or girl bands who manage to not just have a hit, but big albums (and multiple hits), sold out tours, and forging careers in other fields (fashion, movies). Even if Harry suddenly decided to retire now, he did it all. He didn’t just have one viral hit (which Joe and Nick Jonas sort of had as well as Geri Halliwell and Zayn Liam and Niall, though obviously those hits weren’t AS big).

I don’t think it’s IMPOSSIBLE for BTS to find solo success, but I find the idea that it’s just ~gonna happen, incredibly naive and shortsighted. It simply doesn’t happen enough to be a sure thing.

Excellent research and analysis! And Portrait thinks ALL of them could be more successful than Harry, even the ones not in the vocal line.

[vake-hunter]

Acceptance into the House of Chimes results and which Master is playing Chimes in those results

this is fun and cute little details about the Masters

An innocent (Pages)

A fresh face among the jaded horde! No doubt you will achieve great things one day. But watch yourself: in Fallen London, innocence is a commodity like any other. 

Mr Chimes glides across the floor and grasps your hand in a spotless white glove. It feels like shaking a branch wound with spider-silk. 'Most optimate friend!' it whispers. 'Welcome to our Chamber of Delicacies!'

An Extraordinary Beauty (Apples/Hearts)

Persuasive 20

That skin! Those eyes! That delightful nose! Nobody can resist you!

Mr Chimes glides across the floor and surveys you up and down. 'My dear, my dear,' it says. 'How very appetising to have you here with us. Will you tilt your head to the right a little? Just so. Just so.'

A Player of Games (Iron)

Watchful 20, the Boatman's Opponent 1

You are an emperor of the chess board. You shuffle tiles and playing cards with dazzling speed. Rumour has it that you have diced with Death itself.

Mr Chimes approaches: the clicking of its boot-heels on the floor is like bone dice thrown on marble. It hands you two mah-jong tiles. Engraved on the back of the Winter tile is the single word 'WELCOME'. On the back of the Plum tile, you read 'LUCK IS THE PREROGATIVE OF VICTORS.' 

A noted trainer of Weasels (Apples/Hearts)

1 x Araby Fighting Weasel

The weasel-fanciers of Spite speak highly of your expertise with the genus mustela.

Mr Chimes is suddenly at your elbow. It inhales deeply. 'Oh, toothsome, my dear,' it says. 'Toothsome. Let the little fellows run free, by all means. Someone will manage the results, I assure you.' 

A true patriot (Wines)

1 x A Copy of your Patriotic Adventure

Your writings inspire the youth of Fallen London to a frenzy of patriotism!

Mr Chimes takes your arm and guides you into the lobby of the House. Its grasp is like the clutch of a winter tree. 'We respect loyalty to an ideal,' it says. 'One of the more austere forms, perhaps. But a true realisation nevertheless. No?'

A masterful cat-chaser (UH I ACTUALLY DONT KNOW? Veils maybe?)

Shadowy 30

You have honed your skills in pursuit of the city's most evasive felines. They speak your name with respect, if not quite affection.

Mr Chimes steals up on you from behind, but you turn just before its gloved fingers touch your shoulder. It chortles. 'Who can stalk the stalker, eh? Welcome to my House. Ware the Bell!' 

Not to be crossed (Iron probably)

Dangerous 20

There is something disquieting about your appearance. It's hard to pin down, exactly. An aura of suppressed violence.

Mr Chimes strides toward you. It holds up a hand in greeting. Or in warning? It nods once; it turns to go. That is all.

A crown in shadows (Wines)

1 Fate

Royal blood? Can it be true? On the wrong side of the blankets, no doubt. But that's what they say.

Mockery or respect?

Mr Chimes steps aside for you and makes the gentlest inclination of its head. 'We will bring you a bottle of something a little special,' it avers. 'We are delighted to add another crownable head to our collection!' Hm. 

Allergic to brass? (Spices probably)

1 x Nevercold Brass Sliver

The touch of the stuff hives your skin and blears your eyes. It makes you weep tears of blood. This makes you an object of some fascination at parties.

A bewildered Master

Unthinkable!' the hooded Mr Chimes shrieks. 'Impossible! Unprecedented!' It seems quite cheerful about it, though. It does insist you demonstrate the weeping-blood business, unfortunately.

Exceptionally Talented (Cups/Mirrors. Possibly Hearts/Apples but almost definitely Cups/Mirrors)

10 x Confident Smile, Persuasive 100

Both ladies and gentlemen pause immediately before speaking your name. There is a quality to that pause which is not easily described.

A friendly thing

Mr Chimes' hand spiders along your arm. 'My dear,' it coos. 'If only my tastes ran to... well, perhaps if your blood was a little cooler. No matter, my dear. You will be treasured.' 

The Rooftop Dancer (Veils)

Shadowy 60, Route: The Flit 1

You know the ways of the Flit like few others. They say you can reach the summit of All Christs' spire in the space of a single breath. They say you stole a feather from the Topsy King's hat. They call you 'Pussyfoot', but in a good way.

An avuncular approach

Mr Chimes drifts up like a scrap of silk on the wind. 'Good evening! Good evening indeed! You're a swift and circumspect maker of ways, aren't you? You are indeed! How very much to be admired.' 

An Unparalelled Grotesque (Maybe Wines because it has blue eyes)

10 x Hard-Earned Lesson

In the decades since the Fall, no-one has ever looked quite like you. Thank God.

A long silence

The bluish glimmer of Mr Chimes' eyes is steady, but you sense an obscure emotion. 'Well,' it says at last, 'why not? Why not indeed.'

A Visionary (Wines. Not Pages due to wording. Royal we makes it Wines)

A Person of Some Importance: A Significant Individual

You have made the Square of Lofty Words your playground. You have cowed the women and men of the University. Your ideas are simple in outline and intricate in implication. They will be remembered, perhaps, when everyone in this room is dead. Except Mr Chimes.

A debatable honour

‘Dear friend,' Mr Chimes murmurs confidentially. 'We have often read the surveillance reports on your speeches. We have commended your texts to the Ministry of Public Decency. We look forward to hearing more of your thoughts.'

A Prisoner of Despair (Fires)

Melancholy 4

Can your misery be so deep and unrelieved that even Mr Chimes has taken pity on you? Or does it simply hope you'll be a diverting mascot?

Mockery, or Hope?

Mr Chimes bears down on you, robe flapping like a tent in a hurricane. Its voice is an alto shriek. 'Come along upstairs! It's warm enough. It'll steam the chill out of your heart. And, here - ' It hands you a candle. 'It'll light you to bed.'

A Speaker of Truth to Power (Iron)

Forceful 3, Subtle 3

You've said the wrong thing to the wrong people once too often. You're going to be a lot of fun.

An ambivalent welcome

Mr Chimes perches on a high carved chair like a black gull on a cliff. A footman approaches with a silver tray bearing a single card. It reads: 'SILENCE'. An announcement? A suggestion? An instruction? Or is Mr Chimes just being difficult for its own inscrutable entertainment?

A Possessor of Impossible Table Habits (Who knows. One who knows table manners I guess)

What are you - no. No! Such things were not to be dreamt of! A fork cannot be put to such uses! Close your mouth! Close his mouth! For the love of all that is holy! DON'T TOUCH THAT SPOON!

Mr Chimes arranges an audition of sorts. You are served a hearty meal of beef-steak and winter vegetables, and provided with all the cutlery you might require. You perform the operations for which you have become notorious. After a suitable time for the onlookers to recover their composure, you are admitted to the House.

Orphaned in a Grisly Accident (I want to say Veils due to what we know of its collections)

Mr Chimes likes tales of blood and terror. It likes tales of butter and whimsy too. Tales of blood, terror, butter and whimsy are like music and water to one dying of thirst in the Desert of Cymbals. The tale of your parents' death at the hands of the Dairy Kings will bring breathless listeners to the fire for a hundred nights.

Not a dry eye

You tell the tale, long and horrible as it is. Mr Chimes convulses with... Mirth? Pity? Fear? Black-liveried footmen watch impassively while its shoulders writhe and roll, and its eyes shimmer like topaz deep in its hood. At last it subsides and you are admitted to the House. 'Step carefully,' Mr Chimes flutes.

An Artist in Ivory (Wines was the Khan of Dreams, but this could be Spices talking. Or Cups/Mirrors.)

a Scholar of the Correspondence 1

You have carved flutes from femurs and trinkets from tibia. Your sigil-circled skull sits in the grandest gallery of Veilgarden. They whisper that when you die for the last time, Mr Cups itself will come for your bones.

A pale horse

‘A little gift,' Mr Chimes informs you. 'Something to recall the Khan of Dreams by. Since you seem so keen to commemorate him.' Do you? Or has Mr Chimes misunderstood the nature of your project?

A wanderer of Parabola (Mirrors)

7 x Memory of Light, A Game of Chess 9, Is Someone There? 10

In your dreams you have seen the Mirror-Marches, the Menagerie of Roses, the Castle of Forests, the nests of the Fingerkings... even though you may forget them when you wake. But there is a light in your eyes.

A light in the darkness

‘Yes,' says the Master quietly. 'The mirrors know your name. The serpents have your scent. The rivers of roses will not drown you. The apples of glass might lie quiet in your hands. If you burn, you burn like a candle. If you die, you die like dawn. You are very delicious.' 

A zub-mariner! (Spices from voice but sounds like Fires from excitement about boats)

1 x Zubmarine, An Experienced Zailor 3

You are charting the unknown leagues beneath the zee.

Mr Chimes lopes towards you across the stone floor. 'Marvellous!' it shrills. It pumps your hand excitedly. It's like grabbing a nestful of velvet spiders. 'You'll fit right in here. Grab a seat.'

A killer of renown (Iron)

A Bringer of Death 1, 1 x Ravenglass Knife

Even in Fallen London, where bloodshed is as common as glim-fall, your name is whispered with apprehension. 

Mr Chimes approaches in utter silence. It hands you a rostygold knife, hilt-first. Engraved on the blade is the word: MEET. That is all.

A font of devil's tears (Want to say Cups due to smell but could be any)

Connected: Hell 20

Did your masterwork really make a devil weep? It must be true. Mr Chimes has the tears there in a little bottle. Wait. Is it drinking them?

A chuckle in the hood

Mr Chimes drapes a companionable arm across your shoulders. It smells of dust and winter starlight. 'Devils despise that kind of humiliation,' it confides in you. 'I laughed for days. Come on upstairs.' 

An Oenologonaut (Spices)

1 x Greyfields 1868 First Sporing, 1 x Greyfields 1879, 1 x Greyfields 1882, 1 x Black Wings Absinthe, 1 x Morelways 1872, 1 x Broken Giant 1844, 1 x Strangling Willow Absinthe, 1 x Fourth City Airag: Year of the Tortoise, 1 x Cellar of Wine

No-one has plumbed the secrets of the grape, the hop and the blood-apple more deeply than you. You can identify the products of vineyards that have no name in any human tongue.

Fond Sighs

Dear one,' says Mr Chimes warmly. 'Pleasure is a wilderness. We are its cartographers. Let us embark, you and I, on the catalogue of delight! Our journey begins here.' 

A Liar among Liars (No idea)

1 x Appalling Secret, 1 x Uncanny Incunabula, 1 x Extraordinary Implication, 1 x Searing Enigma, 1 x Whispered Secret, 1 x Cryptic Clue

Who can ever believe your stories? Truth is mingled with falsehood like blood in milk. You are a prince of rumours. Or is it a princess? Who can ever be sure?

An impassive audience

Mr Chimes listens to your stories of star and sea and shadow. It neither nods nor shakes its head when you suggest certain relationships between the Mountain of Light and the troubling thesis of Mr Darwin. It is motionless when you venture a hypothesis as to why only six symbols of the Correspondence can be written together on one paper. When you begin to discuss a matter of wells and candles and the Third City, it raises a finger. 'This is false,' it murmurs. 'Let us ensure it remains that way,' 

A Legendary Calumnist (Apples/Hearts)

Scandal 7, Persuasive 100, Watchful 100

Your barbs and insults and the twisting satires you've spawned have been the bane of the lowly and the great alike. All fear the savage edge of your tongue.

A cautious welcome

‘My dear,' Mr Chimes whispers. 'Be kind to the little ones, will you? Not all have your advantages. I admit you only on condition that you choose not to bite.'

‘I know a man.' (Probably Wines)

Connected: the Masters of the Bazaar 5

If it can be called a man. Step aside, peon. I am already welcome here.'

A hearty welcome

Come in, come in! A place by the fire is prepared for you. The table is set. The brandy rises from the cellar like the laughter of friends! Forget the petty troubles without. You have earned this night of peace.' 

I will scream until your House rings with the Words of the Thunder! (Probably Wines)

Stormy-Eyed 5, having Recurring Dreams: What the Thunder Said 10

I am the storm, I am the wind, I am the rain! I demand admittance! Defy me and I will blow your House down! 

The cloaked thing bows before me!

I fling gusts of squalling rain at its head! Then I race through the dusty corners and crannies of the House of Chimes with a cleansing breeze! I bid lightning spring from its spire in celebration! The Master insists I hang my oilskin on the hatstand before I drip on the carpets! 

The Inescapable Arm of the Law (Spices I believe)

investigating the Rubbery Murders 12, ascending the Reliables list of Mr Pages 3, Connected: The Constables 50, Connected: The Great Game 50, Watchful 100, 1 x Antique Constable's Badge

Your eye pursueth the malfeasant as the wrathful eye of God pursued Cain across the desert. You have returned wedding rings to costermongers, cats to dowagers, and stolen hearts to sorrowful tomb-colonists.

A nervous flutter?

We are most pleased to see you here,' Mr Chimes shrills. 'You are an ingeniate of great note! But perhaps you should limit your investigations in this House, eh?'

A Blood-Cousin to Predators (Veils probably)

1 x Ancient Hunting Rifle, a Procurer of Savage Beasts 1, 1 x Fairly Tame Sorrow-Spider, 1 x Bengal Tigress, 1 x Araby Fighting-Weasel, Dangerous 100, Watchful 100, marked by the Eater-of-Chains 3.

You have brought the great beasts low and walked in the footsteps of the fierce. You have turned fang and cunning, spine and venom and brute strength, against the monsters who wield them.

A peculiar passion

Mr Chimes inclines its head to you. 'Beasts. Beasts beasts beasts! So many beasts, such little time. Perhaps you could turn your energies to the pursuit of troublesome humans, hey? Why waste your time hunting those who cannot speak? Or sing? But welcome welcome!'

[supremeuppityone]

Chapter 119: Part 2 — What Makes Up a Monster

Author’s note: This is a sequel to Chapter 47 - What Makes Up a Monster in my series, A Beautiful Symmetry. This was written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events. P.S. See if you can spot my shameless plug for another of my stories. :)

Part 3 can be found here.

Prompt: “What do you mean you’re a vampire?” Klaus may have played the lead in a wildly successful monster movie franchise, but it never occurred to him that there was any truth to the stories.

Warning: Angst. Also, some sexy times! Plus, I lost count of all the TO shade. :)

“Some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild.” ― Stephen King, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption: A Story from Different Seasons

           Maybe the plastic vines wrapped around that twit’s neck would strangle her. Caroline watched in irritation as the twit actress Camille pretended to struggle with the vines, whose pointy thorns were somehow supposed to mean the demise of Klaus’ character, Hell’s Hybrid. They were a couple of weeks into filming the movie in the immensely popular franchise, Hell’s Hybrid 5: Terrible Tears in New Orleans, and Camille’s hilariously awful overacting coupled with her exaggerated facial expressions only had gotten worse.

           But what had gotten better was the view. The familiar clip-clop noise of Klaus’ cloven hooves drew her attention, and she eyed his muscular chest appreciatively. It had been decades since a human had captured her interest like this; every covert wink and sly smirk of his had her blushing like a schoolgirl and she couldn’t wait to drag him back to his trailer for some in-depth makeup removal.

           Their initial meeting had been memorable — he’d assumed she was either a stripper or a hooker his brother had hired, and she’d been so charmed by his appreciation for ‘60s horror movie makeup that she’d thrown caution to the wind and revealed that she’d been the mastermind who’d created those designs. Because she was a vampire.

           “What do you mean you’re a vampire?” Klaus’ reaction hadn’t been unexpected once he’d seen her black veins and sharp fangs, but once he’d calmed down, he’d bombarded her with questions about her experience in the movie industry over the past century. His enthusiasm was endearing. Klaus had been reduced to a wide-eyed fanboy when he heard about his favorite actors from his childhood.  

           “You mean the Pageant Screams reaper’s stunt double also was in Chupacabra Cheerleaders? AND he ad-libbed that harvest scene in Cutthroat Coven?”

           “Yes, and then the writers forgot to tie his speech back into the main plot, so there were all kinds of embarrassing loopholes with the harvest witches’ ancestral magic. So, I just added more blood spurts to the makeup special effects to distract the audience,” she cheekily explained, heart fluttering a bit at Klaus’ delighted laughter.

           “Doesn’t someone’s nose need to be powdered,” Camille snidely asked, jarring Caroline from her thoughts.

           Caroline blinked back her monster who’d been a bit on edge after she missed her snack because the extras required prosthetic touchups. Twit actress did not want to light this particular fuse. “Yours certainly does, but I sent one of the PAs for the really big sponges first. It must be awful to be cursed with an oil slick for skin.”

           She’d always been a petty bitch, and there was nothing more satisfying than putting someone in their place right after they’d failed to put her in hers. Caroline’s blue eyes twinkled with malice as Camille valiantly searched for a comeback.

           They both were distracted when the scene broke and Klaus began to towel off, sending Caroline a flirtatious wink that made her cheeks turn rosy. Camille hissed venomously in her ear, “Just remember, you’ll never be more than Klaus Mikaelson’s side piece.”

           “Easy, love,” Klaus murmured as he reached her side, “I assume you’ve no interest in showing your lovely second visage to the rest of the crew?”

           Caroline rolled her eyes as they walked back to his trailer. “Your groupies are getting ridiculous. This morning, I caught the one with the perpetual pout adding laxatives to my spiced chai.”

           “Bloody hell — we should report that to Enzo. As director, he could kick her off the movie.”

           She was touched by the concern she heard in his voice, but she waited until they were safely inside his trailer before she kissed him. “You’re sweet, but it’s not necessary. Most human drugs have little effect on my kind. Besides, I really enjoyed making her think she’d drank my tea by mistake.”

           Klaus chuckled as he sat beside her on the couch. “I suppose you’ve acquired...groupies over the years as well,” he asked, determinedly trying to keep his tone light.

           “I’ve never been one for blood bunnies,” Caroline sarcastically replied, hating the twinge she felt when their conversations brushed up against anything too real. “Besides, human relationship are hard — they pretty much have to give up their world for yours in order to keep your secret. It’s not an easy life.”

           The small circles he traced on her back were soothing. His voice was hesitant as he commented, “It sounds lonely. I can’t imagine what it would be like to not have...” he quieted, an awkward silence between them as Caroline realized he was going to say family.

           It was one of the first things he’d asked about once he’d gotten over his shock at her revelation of the supernatural world. He was very close with his siblings, and it seemed to pain him to learn that she didn’t have a family. Smiling brightly, she laced their fingers together and teased, “It’s not so bad. I’ve gotten to meet giants in the industry — Lugosi, Garbo, Hepburn, Crawford...you...” she trailed off with a knowing smile.

           He snorted softly, “I’m not an industry giant.”

           “Not yet,” she replied, playfully poking one of his dimples. “But I predict Klaus Mikaelson will go on to do great things.”

           Klaus’ gray eyes suddenly lit up, his handsome face breaking out into a silly grin as he told her excitedly, “Actually, I do have some news that I’m really excited to share. I received word today that I’ve been cast as the co-lead in A Simple Kind of Man!”

           Caroline let out an excited squeal at his news. Industry insiders were vying for a piece of Spielberg’s bold, sweeping Norse saga. Even a year out from pre-production, it already had garnered more than its fair share of Oscar buzz. “That’s amazing news,” she replied, pulling him in for a fierce hug, “I told you you’d be a giant in this industry! With your talent, it was just a matter of time!”

           He laughed, a slight flush staining his cheeks as he enthusiastically continued, “My agent and publicist are planning a big media blitz, so you can’t say anything yet, but this adds a whole new layer to my career. I can parley this opportunity into even bigger and better roles and create a legacy; I’ll be more than just a mere footnote in the industry.”

           Her smile dimmed at his words, but she did her best to keep it in place. She’d watched Klaus on and off the set over the past couple of weeks and he breathed so much life into the silly Hell’s Hybrid franchise. He was meant to be a star. He craved it. He wanted to settle into a career that lasted decades; to become the next McKellen or Hopkins. It would be an amazing life for him. And one she couldn’t be a part of.

           “Sweetheart, what is it?”

           She shook her head, blue eyes shining with unshed tears that she furiously blinked away. It was stupid to mourn something before it had the chance to become something. “It’s nothing. I’m really happy for you, Klaus. It’s everything that you deserve and I know you’ll be amazing.” She lowered her gaze, unsure of how to explain. “You desire the spotlight, and I want you to have it. But being what I am, it’s a place I can’t follow.”

           His crestfallen expression hurt her heart, and she gave a half-shrug, chuckling darkly, “Us monsters have to stick to the shadows.”

           “You’re not a monster,” Klaus quickly disagreed, “and the time we’ve spent getting to know each other has been amazing. We’re building toward something that could be incredible — don’t you want that?”

           Damn it. His pleading, earnest tone made Caroline want to weep. “Of course I do.” She held his face in her hands, desperate for him to understand. “But your world is about to get a lot bigger and way more complicated. That spotlight you crave is blinding and everyone will want a piece of you. And they’ll definitely want to know everything there is to know about the mysterious makeup artist who’s caught your eye.”

           Her voice became a harsh whisper. “My survival depends on anonymity. It’s not how I want it, but that’s the way it has to be.” She surged forward, capturing his lips with hers. They’d carried on a flirty relationship since they began working together, trading a few sweet kisses here and there, but it was nothing compared to this. This was fire and carnal need and her skin vibrated under his roaming touch as they sank together on the couch.

           Klaus pulled back slightly, his lips still hovering over hers and his tone rueful as he asked, “How are we supposed to walk away from this?”

           A tear escaped as she replied with a soft sigh, “We just have to.” Caressing his cheek, she tentatively questioned, “But maybe we could have this first. Can one night be enough?”

           Gray eyes blazed as he swore, “One night with you would never be enough. But it will have to do.” He brought his mouth down on hers in a punishing kiss, his hands roaming over her body as though trying to memorize every line.

           She purred in delight when he yanked her fuchsia tank top over her head, nibbling at his collarbone as he groaned above her. All those hours he’d spent in her makeup chair had been sweet torture as she’d done her best to avert her eyes from the tight-fitting shorts he always wore. But now, she let her hands roam with wild abandon, eagerly palming him as his flesh twitched in pleasure.

           “I want you,” she panted, hooking her thumbs under his waistband to slide down the material underneath his rock-hard cock. She let out a giggle as he accidentally kicked over the side table, scattering his werewolf claws and cloven hooves.

           With a sexy growl, he ducked his curly head to lightly bite at her exposed hip, dragging down her ruffled skirt until she was bare before him. His lusty gaze made her feel desired. Like she wasn’t a monster. Caroline let fingers wander down her belly, teasing him as she barely grazed her clit.

           “Fuck yes,” Klaus breathed, staring hungrily at her.

           He liked to watch. She licked her lips when he joined her, their fingers gently sliding into her warmth, slow, steady pumps that built up that golden sensation to make her weak. She was so close to the edge, but he pulled away at the last moment, plunging their fingers into his mouth with a satisfied grin.

           She parted her thighs, a low moan escaping her lips as he positioned his slick tip, slowly rubbing against her. That first thrust wrecked her, their bodies crashing against each other as she cried out in pleasure. It was a thing of beauty to watch his muscles flex and strain to please her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist to bring him closer. She needed to touch every part of him.

           Klaus bucked into her, keeping up the punishing pace as she started to ride out the waves of ecstasy. One final, deliciously dirty grind had them both seeing stars, their moans threading together in a steady hum of bliss.

           “You’re a bloody revelation,” he panted, pulling her into his arms as they settled back on the couch.

           Caroline breathed in Klaus’ citrus and cedar scent, idly wondering if she’d carry him on her skin once they were done. She wanted to remember everything from this moment. “And you’re wonderful,” she sighed regretfully.

           His embrace immediately tightened, and she did her best to relax her body against his. Klaus’ tone was gruff as he asked, “So, this is it — we somehow manage to walk away?”

           This is it. Caroline knew all of her reasons by heart — even if Klaus had no intention of pursuing fame, he’d never be able to keep her secret — he and his siblings were close and at some point, he’d feel that burden of not being honest with them. Plus, he loved being a star. And as his star shined brighter, paparazzi would swarm them, picking apart every detail of their lives. And then they might find out about her.

           Heart thudding in her chest, she leaned over to give him a lingering kiss, traitorous tears clinging to her lashes by the time it ended. Once he opened his eyes, she took a breath, hating what would happen next. “Klaus, I want you to listen.” It was difficult to keep her tone even and melodic, but she pressed on knowing it was important that she did this right. She summoned her monster, letting her eyes widen as she captured his gaze.  

           He looked at her with so much trust. There was a sadness that settled over him, almost as though he instinctively knew what was she was going to do. “I wish I could trust you, but I can’t take the risk. This is how I survive. It was impulsive and stupid for me to show you what I am, but we had this connection and I couldn’t help myself. I’m selfish.”

           Caroline hated his blank stare. The one that she put there. “You won’t remember the time we’ve spent together. You won’t remember what I am. I’m merely a makeup artist for your movie and while we’ve exchanged a few words, you barely know me.”

           “I barely know you,” Klaus mumbled flatly, still dazed from her compulsion.

           She choked back a sob, quickly pulling on her clothes and leaving his trailer. She didn’t look back.

                           _________________________________________

           She’d mercifully managed to avoid Klaus the next day, compelling Enzo to insist Davina handle Klaus’ monster makeup while she focused on the group of extras that were filming the Abattoir scene. The unnecessarily darkscene because Enzo stupidly had thought that he was establishing a gothic atmosphere, but instead would just give the moviegoers eyestrain when they tried to see the actors. She threaded her way through the giggling extras, in desperate need of a caffeine fix if she was going to make it through the day’s grueling shooting schedule.

           “Come on, you’re telling me you’ve never hit that?”

           Caroline stopped short, realizing that was Tyler’s voice. Tyler was part of Klaus’ growing entourage, and his main function seemed to be partying on Klaus’ dime. One more exclusive Arcadius diamond timepiece and she was compelling Tyler to give sponge baths at the retirement home in the Valley.  

           She cautiously peeked around the edge of the fireplace set, noting with a pang that Klaus somehow looked even better today. Of course he would — he hadn’t been up tossing and turning all night. Because he didn’t remember.

           He ran a hand through his curls, tossing an irritated look at Tyler. “Caroline’s a makeup artist for this movie and while we’ve exchanged a few words, I barely know her.” Fuck. Caroline felt that all the way down to her toes. You did this. Those are the words you compelled Klaus to say. You aren’t allowed to be upset.

           “Whatever. She’d probably be a clingy one-night stand anyway.”

           Klaus glared at Tyler, a hint of a growl in his tone as he said, “Don’t be daft. I suspect one night would never be enough.”

[johaerys-writes]

Once Upon A Dream

Fandom: The Song of Achilles Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Prompt: Reincarnation!AU

This is my entry for Day 1 of @patrochillesweek 2020, where reincarnated Achilles and Patroclus meet in Victorian London! I hope you enjoy :)

Read here or on AO3!

***************

The rain pattered softly against the roof of the carriage as the horses pulled it through the grand gates of Lord Angove’s estate. It was just an hour’s drive from London, away from the bustle of the city, yet to me it seemed like the entire city had somehow found itself there. The long carriageway was filled with coaches, horse hooves clopping on the now muddy ground, lords and ladies in their finest outfits crowding before the manor’s entrance. In the dusk that was falling, the lit up windows looked like stars, gates into another realm, perhaps. It appeared almost dreamy, in the way the golden light of lamps and crystal chandeliers flickered and trembled, in sharp contrast to the darkening sky, to the shiny black wood of the coaches, the elaborately dressed figures that wove amongst each other like schools of fish, languidly drifting in warm, tropical waters.

“Let’s go,” my father said gruffly as soon as the carriage had stopped, snapping me out of my reverie.

The raindrops dampened the top of my head, the shoulders of my fine coat. It was amongst the finest I owned; my father had insisted I wear it, though it made me feel even more out of place than I already did. I followed him up the glossy marble steps, through the manor entrance, into the grand ballroom the footmen led us to. Chatter rose from every corner. Luxurious and decadent it was, without a doubt, with high, domed ceilings and elaborately carved columns, with exotic plants and odd artifacts that graced the walls. Lord Angove’s trading ships went far and wide, and they often brought back animals that no one had ever seen before, spices that burnt your tongue if you tried them, wines that were said to steal one’s wits after a couple swigs. The entire room seemed to be an extravagant display of wealth. Father disliked Lord Angove, of course, as he did most people. Including myself.

“Stand straight,” he hissed at me. “Don’t slouch.”

I sighed. “Yes, Father.” I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin. It was a hot evening despite the rain, and the scent of wet earth that drifted through the open windows mingled with the smell of freshly poured wines, of fine perfumes, of food being cooked in the kitchens below. I slipped a finger below my collar and carefully loosened it, taking in a breath. I hadn’t wanted to come, but Father had insisted upon it; so, I had acquiesced. And now I was paying for it, with a head that was already heavy and sore, and an undershirt that was slowly, yet steadily, growing damper.

I sipped on the sweet, red wine in my glass, wishing it was cool instead of uncomfortably lukewarm, when a wave of laughter drew my attention to the far end of the room, where a cluster of people gathered. Someone amongst them had just said a joke, I presumed, a rather hilarious one, judging by their reaction. That someone was standing in their midst, sipping on his wine, eyes glittering with mischief and satisfaction while the others howled. They were all young lords, their clothes were fine and well made, much finer than mine. Frills and ruffles, silks and velvets, thread of gold and silver embroideries on their sleeves, their doublets, their expensive vests. Perfectly groomed hair, beards and moustaches on comely faces, yet they all looked coarse and dull compared to the man they were all so affectionately peering at. His garb was simple compared to theirs, his hair gathered in a simple tail at the nape of his neck, strands of spun gold that glittered in the light as he moved. The colour of his skin was rich and slightly tan, like he’d been under the sun all day. He had this air about him, polite yet just a touch indifferent, like the doings of those around him did not interest him as much as they all assumed they did. Graceful, yet casually unaware of it; eyes as keen and sharp as a hunting cat’s. He smiled when someone whispered something in his ear. Peony coloured lips widened over teeth white as peeled almonds, and it seemed to me that the room grew a little brighter; he laughed, and his chin that lifted slightly exposed the soft, fawn-smooth skin of his throat.

I caught myself staring, and quickly looked away, but curiosity nagged at me. Who was this man?

“The Prince,” my father said, having noticed me watching.

I gaped at him. “The Prince? I thought he was studying in Rome.” So, that explained his tanned complexion, the golden, sun-kissed hair. Or did it?

“He’s recently returned,” Father continued. “The King’s health is failing, and he has been called for. He’s the most sought after bachelor right now. Dozens of families are clamouring for his hand. Soon, he’ll be the most powerful man in England.” He shot me a sharp and harshly appraising look. “This is what a son should be like.”

His words drove through me, like a lance. I pressed my lips firmly together, looked away from him. I hadn’t asked to be the way I was. I hadn’t asked to be small and weak and unremarkable in every way. I hadn’t even asked to be there, in that stifling, suffocating room, yet there I was. And no one was thanking me for it, or looking at me with glittering eyes, like they all seemed to look at him.  

The man in the distance said something again, and the others laughed and cheered, raising their glasses to him. Anger rose in me, slow and dull; and something else, something dark and sinister, like jealousy, that coated my tongue and made it taste bitter like bad almonds. Prince, I sneered, inside my head.

As if he had heard my thought, his gaze snapped to mine. Green and vibrant, twin emeralds that sharpened and focused on me. I stood, frozen, a deer before bright lights. Everything around me faded in the background, the people, the music, the jests and the songs. It was like time had stopped, and there was nothing else in the world, other than the two of us, gazing at each other from a great distance.

I jerked my eyes away, feeling heat travelling up my cheeks. It was not polite to stare. I shouldn’t have done it, yet something tugged at me, something that I couldn’t quite decipher. I turned back to him, but his attention had been diverted elsewhere once more. He seemed to have entirely forgotten I was there. He probably had.

Later, after the food had been served in the expansive hall and everyone had eaten and drank their fill, I had no desire to remain in the stuffy room. While my father talked with Lord Bramante about the King and the current state of affairs, I quietly slipped away, leaving the talk, music and commotion behind me. A few servants eyed me warily and bowed hastily when they passed me by in the otherwise empty corridors of the manor, and I nodded in acknowledgement, hoping that I hadn’t strayed too far, into areas of the house I was not supposed to be. At that moment, though, it didn’t feel like I wasn’t really supposed to be anywhere. The day had dragged on, and I was weary, and I wanted nothing more than to return to my own house, in my own room, and lock myself away from that world that did not agree with me.

I had heard that Lord Angove was a lover of the arts, and that was no lie. I passed room after room whose walls were almost entirely covered by frescos and large paintings, depicting idyllic scenes or scenes of battle from famous legends and stories. I followed them curiously, standing before this one or the other, noticing their details, the soft or dynamic brushstrokes, the colours, the emotions. There was one in particular I wanted to see, one that was said the Lord had acquired at great expense, painted by an artist who was supposed to be a master of his craft and had been dead for at least a hundred years. It would be hidden in some of the inner rooms, I guessed, so I followed the trail, looking for it. When I finally found it, I realised I was not the only one that sought to admire a piece such as that.

The Prince was standing before it. He was alone this time, without his loud entourage. He somehow seemed even more kingly without it. He looked serene, entirely absorbed; his silence and stately grace his only companions. I stood at the door, unsure whether I should intrude upon his quiet meditation or withdraw before he had noticed my presence. Before I’d managed to make up my mind, he turned to look at me with those keen, feline eyes of his.

“Come,” he told me, and his voice carried that effortless command that seemed to come so naturally to him. I obeyed, though somewhat grudgingly. I disliked being told what to do, yet he was the Prince. The heels of my shoes clicked on the polished marble floor as I approached, coming to stand beside him. His gaze had drifted from me to the painting before him once more.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked. His voice was bright and clear like freshly melted snow, with a soft cadence to it that reminded me of the sighing of mountain winds, the trill of songbirds hidden in thick foliage, maple leaves stirring with the breeze. A stream flowing over polished rocks. Rose quartz crystals glittering in the morning light. Painted constellations on a domed cave roof.

Orion, I thought to myself, conjuring the shape of the stars in my mind. The Pleiades.  

I started at my own knowledge. I didn’t remember ever studying the names of constellations. I did not even know that place that sprung up in my memories, yet it felt like I did. Like I had been there, once. Perhaps in a dream.

I took a breath to clear my head and looked up at the large, magnificent painting, brushing the odd images away. The scene depicted was a large and messy one; a proud warrior was standing on his chariot, his golden armour glinting in the sun, his spear poised to be thrown, while scores of horses and chariots ran behind him. Awe gripped me the more I stared at it. “It is,” I replied, softly, as if scared to disturbed the man in the painting from his sacred mission.

“Are you familiar with the story of Achilles?”

“Of course,” I said. “Who isn’t?” My tutor had made me memorise the entire first book of the Iliad when I was little, had made me recite it to him word for word. I was never drawn to ancient myths and legends of battle, their ferocity felt odd and foreign to me, yet the legend of Achilles always held a place of wonder in my heart. A fearless warrior, the son of a goddess, a god himself- a human. A friend. A sworn and loyal companion. His devotion always at odds with his might, his arrogance, his hubris. How could I not know about his story? How could I not be drawn to it?

The Prince nodded, his hands folded at the base of his spine, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “Do you believe that he and Patroclus were lovers?” he asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to ask.

I choked in the act of swallowing, and my lungs spasmed in a fierce coughing fit. I wheezed and gasped through it, glancing wildly around me. If anyone had been there to hear-  I did not even want to think about what they would have thought. Lovers? I shivered. Such statements, such words were unthinkable, unutterable, unnatural.  

I did not want to admit that the very same thought had troubled me for nights on end.

He was watching me calmly, his gaze steady, while I gaped at him, my eyes wide as saucers.

“No,” I croaked, “of course not. They were friends, companions, not- not that. ” I blinked, and something like hope rose in me, swelling in my throat. “Weren’t they?”

He turned back to the painting. He stayed silent for a moment before he said, “Would you lay waste to an entire city for a friend?”

“If… if it was a good friend.”

“Would you keep his dead body in your room for days?”

“I-”

“Would you ask to be buried with him, for his ashes to be mingled with yours after you died?” His eyes focused on me, steady and relentless. “Those of your friend?”

I would, if it were you.

The thought came to my mind suddenly, unbidden. It was one of my own thoughts, yet it did not feel like mine. It was as if there was someone else whispering at me, or some hidden, forgotten part of me, struggling to break through. It shocked me to my very core, as much as it gripped and pulled at me. At that moment, as we gazed at each other, I knew it that, should he die, the world would lose something irreplaceable. Something beautiful and bright and true, and wasn’t that a crime to make all other crimes pale in comparison?

I tried to look away, tear my gaze from his but I was caught, pinned, unable to do anything else other than return his stare. His eyes were seas of forest green, and I was wading through them, breathless and eager to get somewhere, to find something. What, I did not know.

My mouth was dry when I tried to speak. "I… am not sure," I managed finally, after what felt like ages. "Perhaps."

He watched me in silence for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, softer than it had been. "It always makes me wonder," he said. "The depth of his devotion. The magnitude of his grief. His… love. Simply put. I do not understand it, yet it pulls at me. It begs to be understood. To be made sense of." The Prince's attention was on me entirely now, as if there was nothing and no one else in the world for him right then. He tilted his head to the side, studying me. "Have we met before? I swear you look familiar."

There was no haughtiness to his expression, no mock or ridicule. There was interest, and earnest curiosity, as if my answer would shift something significant inside him.

"I don't believe so,” I replied, the words catching in my throat. “I'm sure I would remember." He was indeed familiar, I realised. I studied the contours of his face, sculptor perfect, the smooth skin that stretched over his brow. I followed the line of his jaw with my eyes, the tendons of his delicate throat. There was a grace in those features, soft like a woman's, but angular and precise at the same time. He looked like no one else I’d ever seen, yet I knew I’d seen him somewhere before. I knew, with a certainty that startled me, that I knew him.

The sound of his laugh, rich and clear like a babbling brook. His hair under the bright midsummer sun. The amber light of a fire catching in the emerald depths of his eyes. His hand in mine. Moments of happiness and grief, of quiet contemplation, and moments when my heart beat so hard I thought it would burst. A thousand little moments, like fireflies in the night, crowding forward.

“Maybe in a dream,” I whispered, before I’d even realised I’d spoken.

He considered my words carefully, holding my gaze, as if I’d said something of great wisdom.

“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “In a dream.”

The rain, soft like distant whispers, pattered gently against the window panes.

[thelazyhermits]

Friendly Rivals

While I started on this earlier this week, I wanted to finish and post it today in honor of @l-insomnity-l‘s birthday. It’s unfortunately not Tamaki or Hawks fluff, but I’ll hope you’ll enjoy reading about the two characters I chose to star in this drabble ^-^

Happy Birthday!! Hope you’re having or that you had an awesome day! <3

“Sensei!”

Shortly, after you leave the dorm to meet up with Shinsou for training, you hear a familiar voice calling out to you, immediately making you turn to look behind you. You tilt your head curiously when you see Ojiro running to catch up with you. 

“What’s up, Ojiro? Need me for something?”

After he comes to a stop beside you, the blond rubs the back of his neck. “Sorta. I was wondering if I could train with you today. I was hoping to see if my speed has improved since our last spar.”

His expression turns sheepish. “But, if you think I’ll be in the way of your training, then I could-”

Before he can finish that sentence, you grab his hand and start pulling him along as you resume your trek to the training grounds where you promised to meet up with Shinsou, catching the martial artist by surprise. “Of course, you can come! This actually works out perfectly since recently I’ve been thinking that me and Shinsou need to change up our routine a little bit. Sparring with you will be the perfect way to spice things up!”

Ojiro blinks before tilting his head. “I didn’t know you trained with Shinsou. Is he always your training partner?”

You nod your head. “Yep! Back during my first week at UA, not long after I met him, I asked if we could train together since I wanted to keep in shape and help him with his hero training. And, we’ve been training together ever since.”

The blond scratches his cheek. “In that case, are you sure I won’t be a third wheel? Shinsou might not be a fan of someone else suddenly joining your usual training sessions.”

With a shake of your head, you wave a dismissive hand in his direction. “Nonsense! I’m sure he’ll be glad to have a new opponent too since it’s good to change things every now and then.”

A grin forms on your lips. “And, this way you guys won’t have to wait for the next Sports Festival to compete. I’m sure he’ll love that!”

Your student dons a similar grin. “I can’t say I’d be opposed to the idea.”

Much to your surprise, shortly after he says that, the younger boy’s voice gains a nervous tone. “Uh, Sensei?”

Curious, you turn to look at him, and he immediately averts his gaze to the side for some reason. That’s when you notice the light flush coloring his cheeks. 

Naturally, your curiosity only grows after seeing this. “Yes?”

His cheeks turn a darker red. “How….How long do you plan on holding my hand?”

Blinking, you look down and realize that you never released your hold on his hand. So, that’s why he looks so flustered and can’t meet your eye. 

Sheepish, you quickly release his hand before moving to rub the back of your neck. “Oops. Sorry about that. I didn’t even realize I was still holding your hand.”

With a grin, you wink at him. “Guess I was enjoying holding your hand so much that I unconsciously decided not to let go.”

At your words, the blush coloring his cheeks, which had begun to fade, comes back with a vengeance as he makes a choked sound. All you can do is laugh as Ojiro attempts to hide his embarrassed expression from view.

A few minutes later, just as you’re managing to finally rein in your mirth, a familiar voice dryly asks, “Something funny, Sensei?”

You turn to see Shinsou clad in his gym clothes, walking toward you. When he raises an eyebrow at you, you grin, “Just teasing Ojiro. Some of you students have the cutest reactions when you get embarrassed, so sometimes I can’t resist having a little fun.”

While your embarrassed student averts his gaze, Shinsou snorts, “Should’ve known.”

After saying that, he tilts his head. “So, did you bring Ojiro with you just so you could mess with him, or is there another reason?”

The corners of your lips lift higher. “Ojiro asked me if we could spar since he wanted to see if his speed has improved since our last spar. That’s when I came up with the great idea of bringing him along so he could spar with both of us. I think fighting someone like Ojiro will be a great experience for you, don’t you?”

Ojiro smiles sheepishly as he rubs the back of his neck. “I feel bad for interrupting your usual training schedule, but I would like the chance to spar with you, Shinsou. I think it would be a good learning experience for both of us.”

Surprise quickly flashes across the purple haired boy’s face before a small grin forms on his lips. “Alright. I’m game. Just don’t complain too much when I win, alright?”

A matching grin appears on the blond’s face. “I think that should be my line.”

Warmth bubbles in your chest as you watch the boys interact. It’s hard to believe they’re getting along so well now considering how they first met.

Just goes to show how much they’ve both grown since the Sports Festival. And, you couldn’t be more proud.

Not long after that, your group arrives at the training grounds where you and Shinsou usually spar. Once you’ve all done some stretches and loosened up, you gesture for the boys to go first since you can tell they’re eager to spar with each other.

Normally, you and Shinsou spar without using your Quirks since if he were to successfully use his on you then it wouldn’t be a fight anymore. Since he knows he needs to improve on his hand-to-hand skills, the purple haired boy refrains from using his Quirk during his spars with you.

However, for this spar, you tell the students that they’re allowed to use their Quirks. The main reason for that being that you know they want to fight each other at full strength, and you want to give them that opportunity.

The other reason is that Shinsou hasn’t fought a hero course student since his match against Midoriya at the Sports Festival, and you think this will be a good way for him to see how much he has grown since then. You also believe that this will be a good opportunity for him to discover what he needs to further improve on as far as his fighting and tactical skills are concerned.

As expected, Ojiro does not disappoint when it comes to technique and physical power. His movements are so fluid, and his strikes are obviously strong considering the way Shinsou winces whenever he attempts to block the attacks thrown his way.

And, that’s not even taking into account the blond’s Quirk which definitely makes things even more difficult for Shinsou since he has to worry about dodging it in addition to his opponent’s punches and kicks. It’s obvious that the purple haired boy is at a disadvantage.

However, what Shinsou lacks in physical skills, he more than makes up for in tactical skills. 

After getting knocked back by Ojiro’s tail, Shinsou dons his trademark grin. “Not bad. You’re obviously in top form today, or maybe it’s because Sensei is watching and you’re trying to impress her?”

His grin grows when a light flush colors the martial artist’s cheeks. “I wonder....Maybe instead of for training you actually sought her out today ‘cause you wanted some alone time with her. How sly of you, Ojiro~”

Ojiro’s face turns a darker red as he adamantly shakes his head. “Y-You’re wrong! I-”

Unfortunately for your student, he doesn’t get to finish that sentence thanks to Shinsou’s Quirk taking effect. As the purple haired boy grins in triumph, you give him an amused look. “I honestly thought it’d be a lot harder to get him to respond. Guess you found his weak point. Congrats.”

Shinsou does a little bow, smirking all the while. “Your earlier teasing played a role in my master plan, so thanks for the unintentional assist.”

You fondly roll your eyes. “Glad I could be of assistance. Now, release the poor boy, and don’t make him do anything embarrassing just so you can tease him more. He’s already been through enough today.”

With a huff, Shinsou releases his hold on the other student. Once he regains his senses, Ojiro attempts to hide his face behind his hand. “I can’t believe I actually fell for that.”

His words make the purple haired boy snort. “Honestly, I was a little surprised about how easy that was. I didn’t realize you were as easily flustered as Midoriya.”

After saying that, Shinsou adds, with a smirk, “Unless, you reacted like that because I was spot on with my guess. Could it be you’re not as innocent and harmless as all the girls think you are?”

A scowl forms on Ojiro’s lips as his cheeks redden. “Knock it off. I had no ulterior motives when I asked to train with Sensei. Don’t forget I said I wanted to spar with you too.”

Before Shinsou can tease your student further, you decide to intervene by loudly clapping your hands together, successfully gaining their attention. “Alright, boys, enough of that. Shinsou, you can tease Ojiro during fights when you’re trying to use your Quirk on him, but no teasing outside of spars, alright?”

Once he gives you a reluctant nod, you smile, “Good. Now, let’s get back to training! Don’t forget that I haven’t gotten a turn yet!”

The students share a look before donning large grins. “Right!”

[starshinegoblin]

like the midnight sun

This is set in my Our War of Hearts au; @ruensroad -  so here is my slice of the Xicheng pie that’s baking for the au. I hope that you like it! Lan Xichen didn’t care how the argument came about or how the new Jiang sect Leader came to be the one doused in red wine. All he cares about is that an entire decanter of wine was thrown at Jiang Cheng’s face soaking his robes. He should feel guilty about being so pleased about Wen Sect Leader Qing’s second cousin, Wen Chao’s drunken behavior. The latter still sour about losing to Wangji during the tournament. But Lan Xichen isn’t even the slightest bit apologetic because he’d been able to usher a flustered and embarrassed Jiang Cheng from the dining hall towards his rooms.

He left Jiang Cheng in the front room still trying to pat down the wet spots with a handkerchief that had been given to him. Lan Xichen grabbed one of his more fitted sets of robes before going to the bathing room. He hung up the robes upon the rack, then poured warm water into the bowl so that the younger man could easily clean himself up.

In his state, Jiang Cheng hadn’t realized where he was being taken until he was already inside the hanshi. His hands immediately dropping from his stained teal silk outer robe to his sides. His eyes wide taking in the Lan sect leaders room. For all the times he’s visited previously they’d only ever met outside on the porch or in the courtyard. The room was neat and orderly. Exactly what he expected of the man.

Speaking of the man. Jiang Cheng watched the other step out from behind the divider where most likely his bed is with a small bundle of robes. It wasn’t until the older man came from what must be his bathing room extending a towel to him that he realized he should go back to his guest room. He didn’t want the others gossiping about Lan Xichen.

Still flustered he made himself speak up, “I apologize for what happened.”

“No need.” Lan Xichen chuckled “It’s done now and you need to get out of those robes.”

“I’m fine, really. I could just back to my rooms.”

“And what? I know that through our letters you’d only meant to be here tonight then leave. So you weren’t prepared for this to happen. Now, I insist,” Lan Xichen replied gesturing to his bathing room.

“I-alright.” Jiang Cheng replied with a quick nod and a thin smile in gratitude. How was he supposed to deny the offer? It was generous and he also didn’t want to offend him. However, it felt like this moment was more than clothes. Gathering his courage once more, he took the offered towel. He leaned against the door, sighing heavily once it was shut behind him. He wasn’t blind and the other wasn’t as subtle as he liked to think he was. Jiang Cheng just didn’t understand it.

What made Lan Xichen be drawn to him? He was nothing like his charismatic brother or enchanting sister. Jiang Cheng knew that he was more made for war not love. The way their father had wanted it. So that he never out shined Wei Ying. He was born to be in the shadows and married off if need be. And it still would have been that way if his Mother hadn’t taken control after their father’s demise. Now their roles were reversed. Not that Wei Ying minded. His brother is happily married to his proclaimed soulmate. All thanks to him, Lan Xichen, and Wen Ning.

The knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. “Jiang Cheng, is everything alright? Do the robes fit alright?” Lan Xichen asked through the door. Jiang Cheng jumped managing to keep his very manly yelp stuck in his mouth.

“Uh, yes they do and I’ll be out in just a moment.” He answered finally moving to get underdressed.

“Take your time. I’ll make us some tea.” Lan Xichen replied moving away from the door.

Jiang Cheng huffed before heading over to the basin. He took off his soaked outer robe neatly folding it before taking his hair piece out. He touch tested the braids to find them soaked as well. He sighed undoing the braids. He’d have to wash his hair. Hopefully by the time he went back to his room it would be dry.

On the shelf above the basin he saw bathing oils. He didn’t want to use any of it but he didn’t want his hair to get tangled. He used the one with the all too familiar scent of lavender. It surprised him that the water was warm and he was grateful for it. After washing his hair, he shed his damp inner layer. Surprisingly his under shirt was too. He hadn’t thought it would be.

Before the water grew cold he wiped his chest and arms down. His eyes finally taking in the robes hanging on the rack waiting for him. The weighty emotions coming back. Jiang Cheng took a shallow breath trying to calm his racing heart. These were robes he’d seen the other wear before. He decided to not go down that mental rabbit hole and got dressed.

Lan Xichen was glad he was sitting down when the sect leader came out. He was blessed by the heaven’s above with the sight. He’d made the right choice in lending him his navy robes with the white and dark grey inner robes. Despite their similar frames he did have a few inches on the younger man making the sleeves and hem longer. To him, Jiang Cheng is beautiful like the midnight sun all the time, but to see his sect colors on the man and his normally up hair down. It set his blood on fire with desire. He only hoped his normally controlled face didn’t betray him. He was almost positive that Jiang Cheng would leave if he saw even a flicker.

“You’re just in time. “ Lan Xichen smiled warmly to him, "Come and join me.” The older man offered gesturing for him to take a seat across from him as he poured them both a cup of tea.

Just like the robes, the tea felt like it would be leading to something else to Jiang Cheng. He didn’t know if his heart or mind could take it. He had the physical and emotional scars of wanting to be loved. Wouldn’t this be greedy to want this? To let the other man in, despite Jiang Cheng himself, not being the least bit deserving of it? His grip tightening on the neatly folded robes in his hands. He remained where he stood.

“I thank you again, Lan Xichen but I -” Jiang Cheng started but Lan Xichen interrupted him.

“What? It is still too early and people will be leaving the dining hall. Why not stay here and chat till past curfew then you can go back. In the morning before you leave. I will have-” Xichen gestured to the bundle of soiled robes in Jiang Cheng’s hands “those ready for you. Anyways, like I have said before, there is no need to thank me. Now, come.”

Lan Xichen knew that he was borderline bullying the other now. But how could he not want to hold onto this moment longer? He saw Jiang Cheng’s eyes flick to the door before a thin smile formed on his lips.

“Very well.” Jiang Cheng replied finally walking towards him.

Lan Xichen inwardly preened knowing he had no right to be doing so. He scooted the cup towards Jiang Cheng as he settled across from him. Sapphire eyes peering down to see an orange peel curl floating in the cup. The tea was Jiang Cheng’s favorite orange spiced tea. A newer more intimate smile settling on the other’s face. The expression making his heart ache happily.

“Earlier, I believe I heard you tell xiao-Sang that you’re building a school dedicated to the arts? And it will have a theatre?” Lan Xichen asked hiding his own smile behind his cup.

“Uh, yes, I am.” Jiang Cheng replied setting his cup down before continuing on telling him about the project. It would be a new type of arts school that would allow the creativity of the students to share with the community as they progressed.

“I look forward to seeing it once it is finished and open to the public.” Lan Xichen stated pouring another cup of tea for Jiang Cheng.

“Why would you want to do that?” Jiang Cheng asked confused. He inwardly grimaced at the sharpness of his tone. 

“You should ask why I would not?” Lan Xichen replied setting the teapot down, “You’ve done an amazing job of building the sect that your father and mother let decline because of their own pursuits.” He didn’t like how Jiang Cheng would put down his hard work. The younger man had been handed a fractured sect when he became sect leader. It had only taken him a year to fix it and make the sect stronger. Jiang Cheng needed to recognize that he is a good man, loved by his people and respected by his fellow sect leaders.

Jiang Cheng was about to say something but Lan Xichen raised his hand to stop him.

“Let me show you something.” Lan Xichen stated as he stood up. He wanted to share a piece of himself that only his uncle, brother, and his sworn brother’s know about. 

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what he thought the room would hold but he hadn’t expected it to be Lan Xichen’s painting room. Now he knew why that Lan Xichen has been so interested in the school. He is an artist of not just music. Breathtaking landscapes hung on the walls and leaning against the wall on the floor. Along one wall an open face cabinet holding his paints, brushes, and canvases. In the center of the room in front of the window is the older man’s easel. He walked forward seeing the start of a star filled night sky that seemed familiar to him. He reached out his hand to touch it but stopped letting his hand go back to his side.

“It’s beautiful.” Jiang Cheng said without looking away from the beautiful unfinished painting as Lan Xichen came to stand beside him. 

“I will send to you when I’m done.” Lan Xichen stated seeing the look of awe on Jiang Cheng’s face. He filing away in his mind the sight before him. He knew now that school wasn’t just to honor Wei Wuxian but it was for himself. It made Lan Xichen’s heart swell with pride. 

“You don’t have -” Jiang Cheng started snapping his head around to look Lan Xichen. 

“Of course I don’t Jiang Cheng but I will do so anyway.” Lan Xichen replied smiling at him. 

“Then I..I look forward to seeing it finished.” Jiang Cheng replied saying how own words back to him with a smirk that made Lan Xichen fall a little bit more in love with him.