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somedaylazysomeday · 2 months

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Good Intentions Part Twenty

The Haven gets a new donor, Silco wants a side deal.

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 4,900

Warnings: Ongoing references to sex as a form of payment, veiled references to organized crime, arguments, oral sex (fem!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, and blackmail

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You did your best not to squint at the men on the other side of the table. Doing so would only make it look like you were suspicious of them.

You were suspicious of them, of course, but there was no need to be obvious.

“My apologies, gentlemen,” you said slowly. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but with all of the opportunities available to you, I don’t understand why you are so interested in helping to fund the Haven.”

“It’s complicated.” Jayce Talis, the most famous Piltover inventor in recent history, rubbed at the space between his heavy brows.

“I do own and operate a relief organization and facilitate certain healthcare treatments, including minimizing the effects of Shimmer withdrawal,” you pointed out mildly. “Maybe, if you explain it slowly, I can follow along.”

One corner of his mouth curved upward, emphasizing the fullness of his lips. He was famously handsome and infamously unavailable, but that was fine. Your tastes ran in other directions.

His business partner - a man who was known around the Undercity only as Viktor - crossed his arms, slouching back in his seat. You tried not to judge it as a show of poor manners, especially when he straightened his leg with a wince. It was very likely Viktor just needed to adjust positions. Of course, it was equally likely that he didn’t find you very amusing.

“Make your point, Jayce,” Viktor muttered. “We have important business to take care of at the lab.”

“Yes, the lab,” Jayce said, adding a nod in your direction. “As you may already know, HexTech is doing well. We have made several important advancements and are set to debut more over the next few years. We own the patents to everything outright, so all profits come to us. Piltover has given us a few dozen grants and investments have flooded in. We have plenty of money to pursue the further development of HexTech.”

You nodded. It all seemed simple to understand so far.

“There is one particular area where HexTech does not excel: outreach.” Viktor interrupted with an impatient look at his now-pouting business partner. “That is why we reached out to you.”

“Yes, but is there a particular reason you want to support the Haven rather than any other Undercity outreach?” you pressed. Maybe you were a little paranoid, but your recent experiences with Silco had convinced you that being more discerning was probably a smart move.

Jayce sat forward slightly. “The Haven’s track record is impressive. Your expense justification reports have all shown remarkably low operating costs, your residents have started to find work with other Undercity businesses, and there’s plenty of buzz about the dent you’ve made in the Shimmer trade in your neighborhood.”

The blood roared in your ears at that. “That’s an overstatement, of course. Drug use waxes and wanes in neighborhoods over time. It’s just coincidence that Shimmer use decreased when the Haven opened.”

Jayce furrowed his brows, but Viktor looked like you had finally said something interesting. “I assume that is the line one must repeat vehemently if one wants to avoid the attention of the chem barons.”

“Chem barons?” Jayce repeated, now frowning harder. “They’re a local legend, a convenient shadow government that the people can blame their problems on.”

“Of course,” you agreed.

Viktor looked darkly amused. “Nothing more than a legend, certainly.”

“Yeah…” Jayce said slowly, glancing between you and Viktor. “Anyway, we’ve heard about the decreased drug use and we want to support that as much as possible. You and the Haven seem like the best choice to make that happen.”

“How is your security?” Viktor asked abruptly.

“We have a small team of guards for the exterior of the building,” you said honestly. It probably wouldn’t help anything if you told them exactly who was paying for that small team of guards. “There is almost no Enforcer presence in the Lanes, so we can’t count on a patrol happening at a crucial time.”

“I can pull a few strings,” Jayce assured you, totally confident. “I have some connections with the Enforcers. Piltover wants to support new development, especially when it isn’t tied to the drug trade. And they’re not going to find anything better than an anti-Shimmer organization with a proven track record.”

You nodded in acknowledgement of his point, but looked to Viktor. “And you? Do you also think the Haven is a good match for HexTech’s goals?”

Viktor lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I fail to see what impact your outreach could possibly have on the Undercity. The politics are snarled, the people are desperate, and there is too much money to be made from exploitation.”

That was a harsh assessment, but it was true. Jayce cleared his throat uncomfortably, but Viktor spoke again before the better-mannered of the pair could offer any reassurances. “That being said, I am… reluctantly impressed by what I have heard of your meetings with Silco. There are few willing to argue with him.”

You stiffened slightly at Viktor’s mention of Silco. Up to that point, you had both pointedly avoided using his name, as evidenced by the way Jayce was glancing between the two of you.

“I don’t understand,” Jayce admitted. “Who is Silco?”

“You will find out,” Viktor said, the statement sounding both threatening and utterly inevitable as he stood. “I must return to the lab. Jayce, I agree with whatever choice you make.”

You watched as Viktor leaned heavily on the cane and left the building. It was situated at the edge of Piltover, just across the bridge from the Undercity. Jayce had assured you multiple times that, if they were not working on time-sensitive experiments at HexTech, they would have been more than willing to meet you in the Undercity. He may have even been telling the truth.

Jayce was still half-smiling when he looked back at you. “Who is Silco?”

You got the impression that he would keep pushing until he got an answer, so you chose your words carefully. “He is a… major player in the Undercity. He wants- well, he says he’s working for the good of the people. That’s up for debate.”

“But what does he do?” Jayce pressed.

“He’s an industrialist.” You sat very straight on the edge of your chair - not quite standing, but giving the impression that you were ready to leave. “Speaking of helping the Undercity, I need to get back to the Haven. When you’ve made a decision about your outreach, please let me know.”

“Easy enough,” Jayce said, standing to offer a hand over the table. “HexTech would like to provide funding for the Haven, to be used in whatever way you think is appropriate.”

You were giddy with excitement, and it rushed through your veins like adrenaline. Somehow, you managed to keep a straight face long enough to thank Jayce and accept the check he filled out for the Haven. It was generous, which made your heart soar. You would be able to help so many people!

The good news put a spring in your step and you were still bouncing as you climbed the stairs to Silco’s office. Thankfully, no one was around so early in the day - you had serious doubts about your ability to look cranky and irritated right then, but you would have been obliged to put on a performance if there were onlookers.

“You seem cheerful,” Silco noted as you closed the door behind yourself.

“So far, so good,” you told him, walking over to his desk. “What’s the plan for today?”

He ignored your question. “Productive morning, I take it?”

“Very.”

You peered out through the window. The Last Drop was just barely tall enough for you to catch glimpses of the building projects happening over near the Haven. The mechanic’s shop was well on its way to being completed, the construction crews had broken ground on the second apartment building, and the grocers were taking over an existing building, so they were already in the process of hiring staff.

As you leaned back, you caught sight of a familiar handprint on the glass and your lower belly tightened with the reminder of how it had gotten there.

“And how much will HexTech be allotting you?”

With the casually conversational way Silco asked his question, you didn’t immediately notice that anything was wrong. Your attention was split between the handprint on the window and the ever-increasing needs of your body. At last, awareness filtered through and you froze.

‘I-” You cleared your throat, giving your best innocent expression as you turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Silco gave an impatient gesture. “Come, pet, we have already discussed that I know all that happens in Zaun.”

“Nothing happened in Zaun,” you said blandly.

His answering look was dry. “But a potential alliance between the Haven and HexTech undeniably concerns Zaun and her future. Do me the courtesy of assuming I know of your meeting with the two inventors behind HexTech.”

“Fine,” you agreed, largely because he gave no indication of moving on. “I met with the owners of HexTech.”

“Thank you,” Silco said, gaze drifting to the window. “And how much has young Talis decided to give the Haven?”

You paused, uncomfortable with the idea that you needed to place a boundary. You and Silco shouldn’t be close enough to need things like boundaries - the clear divisions between you should have been so obvious as to be implied. “I’m not sharing that information with you.”

“Why not?” he asked. “If I know the size of their donation, I can exceed it.”

“I don’t need any more donations at the moment,” you told him.

Silco’s brows unfurrowed. “Ah, that much? Congratulations. You may rest secure in the knowledge that the sale of your morals has fetched so high a price.”

You recoiled at the slight before you could stop yourself. A drug lord was going to lecture you about morals? That bothered you. Surely that was the cause of your discomfort. Any other reason would imply that Silco was important enough to you that his opinion mattered.

“I didn’t have to sacrifice my morals to accept their donation, unlike others the Haven has received in the past,” you told him icily.

Silco stood abruptly, his chair lurching back with the movement. You held your ground, though it took more effort than you were comfortable with. “My donations served your residents just as well as the ones from HexTech will, and at far more dire a time. Do not act as though I were not there to support you every time you have needed me.”

You gaped at that. “Because we’re in a deal! Every donation served you just as well as it did me - it increased your leverage over me and the Haven. Convenient, since you need me around for an easy source of sex.”

He scoffed, looming over you. “Do you truly believe that there are not others who throw themselves at my feet? I receive more offers of easy sex than you would believe possible.”

“Then why keep me around?” you pressed.

“Because you are the only one who offers the slightest hint of a challenge!” he snapped, breathing heavily. You had stepped into him rather than away, and he was already so close that your chest and his were nearly touching. You glared at each other from inches away before one or both of you closed the gap separating you.

His mouth was hard and unyielding against yours, disinterested in any hint of refusal. Fortunately, refusing his kiss was the last thing on your mind. The energy of securing the HexTech donation was still crackling through you, and sex was a wonderful outlet. The slight tinge of irritation accompanying it only served to increase the appeal.

You met him with lips that were already slightly parted, and your tongues were dueling in a moment. Kissing Silco wasn’t entirely unfamiliar to you, but it was still rare enough that you considered it a novel experience.

Your toes were curling at the slow luxury of his mouth on yours. Silco was rarely in a hurry, even now, when you were apparently taking a break in the middle of a fight. Your interest was only piqued further when he started removing your clothing with rough movements. When he had finished, he pushed you backward as you gasped with shock.

Fortunately, Silco had thought far enough ahead to position you close to his desk. The sensation of your bare ass on the cold surface of the desk was jarring, but you watched Silco eagerly. You were more than willing to brave the temperature difference in order to watch him undress for you.

To your surprise, Silco lowered himself, fully-dressed, into his throne-like chair. You eyed him, frowning as he took your ankles in his hands. They were placed to either side of his chair, leaving them supported by the arm rests at his sides. It went without saying that your knees were forced open by the position, leaving your core exposed to the air… and to Silco’s gaze.

That mismatched stare was fixed between your legs, studying the most private parts of you as you tried not to squirm. When he reached out to touch your cunt, you felt his fingertips like electric shocks… but he only parted your folds and continued his silent observation.

Irritation, embarrassment, and need swirled together in you until the pressure pushed words from your mouth. “Silco. What are you doing?”

“Studying my favorite acquisition,” he replied distantly. Even lost in your own distraction, you could feel the echo of your first time together, in this very situation in this very office, when Silco had said something similar. “And wondering how my pet can be so very unyielding, yet yield so delightfully in other areas.”

You frowned at him - not that Silco was looking at your face. “Whatever answers you’re looking for, you aren’t going to find them down there.”

That made him glance upward, a small smile playing around the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps it would be best if you lay back.”

You complied, though not without rolling your eyes. “If we’re having a repeat of our first session, I hope the sex is more satisfactor- Oh!”

Without any sort of warning, Silco’s mouth had closed around your clit. You half-lifted back off the surface of his desk, staring down at his face between your legs. You could only hope that your expression was less desperate than you felt, but wicked pleasure filled Silco’s gray-green eye, so you didn’t think that was accurate.

And then he set about making you forget all about expressions and irritations. Silco buried himself between your thighs, teasing you with fingers and lips and tongue and teeth. He nibbled, he stroked, he thrust… He used every hint of weakness he had gathered from you over your time together, recalling every sensation that drove you wild and subjecting you to all of them at once.

You arched up off the desk so sharply that the muscles in your back and abdomen protested. Your knees tried to close around Silco - either to keep him close or to force him away from you, you weren’t sure which - but his shoulders kept you spread open and subjected to his torment.

By the time he had pressed three fingers deep inside of you, your body was glistening with sweat. You were panting, your hips trying to both ride him and grind closer to the lips that were wrapped around your clit.

Silco always ate you like he was trying to ruin you for anyone else, but this was more intense than anything you had experienced with him before. You didn’t remember when you had sank your hands into his hair, but it didn’t matter. You were using him only as an anchor; he never moved far enough away for you to need to pull him back.

At last, he removed himself from you, pulling away almost entirely. The only parts of his body that was touching you were his shoulders, still holding you spread open for him.

“Silco?” you asked, an edge of desperation clear in your voice.

“Shh, pet,” he soothed. “I am trying to decide whether you deserve the reward of coming on my tongue.”

You whined, lifting your hips as if you could convince him to come back.

“I am less than thrilled by your association with the Piltover business,” Silco admitted slowly. Torturously slowly. “Yet I suppose you may have earned a treat for coming to meet with me anyway. Is that correct?”

You nodded.

Silco leaned slightly closer. “You would not break our deal over a single donation from another business, would you?”

You shook your head.

Silco came even closer then - still not touching you, but near enough that you could feel every exhale on your damp folds. “Does our deal still stand, pet?”

You nodded, but Silco shook his head. “I need to hear it in that lovely voice. Tell me, darling: does our deal still stand?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, the dryness in your throat making it difficult to speak. “Yes!”

“Ahh…” he mused. “How long will it stand?”

He watched you with a gaze so sharp you understood instinctively that he would only accept a spoken answer. This one was more challenging; he hadn’t told you what he wanted you to say and thinking was difficult when your brain was soaked in hormones and arousal.

“Until- ah!” Silco had darted a long lick up your folds - not touching anything firmly enough to throw you over the edge, but still startling. And distracting. “As long as I’m in the Undercity.”

“Our deal will stand as long as you are in the Undercity,” Silco repeated. You nodded and he looked thoughtful. “I suppose I must offer sufficient incentive for you to stay, then.”

As if the shock of it removed you from the situation, you noted it dispassionately as he parted you a little more, nestled his nose against your clit, and thrust his stiffened tongue up inside of your heat.

And then the moment of observation passed. You were thrown back into your body just in time for it to go through an earth-shattering orgasm. Your body arced up off the desk again, muscles spasming so hard that you had the vague sense of Silco holding your hips against the surface so you didn’t throw yourself onto the floor.

But that was a dim knowledge, far in the background of your thoughts - the vast majority of your brain was caught in a stranglehold of pleasure. How could you be expected to lay still when every bit of you was crackling with such intense energy? You had to move. It was not possible to do anything else.

At last, Silco removed the live current that was his mouth against your core. He had to struggle against the grip you had on his hair. You weren’t really trying to keep him in place, but your muscles had locked down in the aftermath of your orgasm.

“How do you feel?” he asked conversationally, when he had freed himself from your grip, losing a few strands of hair in the process.

“Nnn umm…” Nope, those weren’t words. You tried again. “Needum mint.”

“Take your time,” Silco invited, relaxing back into his chair. He licked his lips, cleaning the shine of you from them with his tongue. Watching the process made your uncomfortably sensitive body tighten, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away. When he had licked everything he could reach, Silco retrieved a handkerchief and wiped his mouth, chin, and cheeks.

If you were capable of higher thought at the moment, you might have been embarrassed by how much of a mess you had made on Silco’s face. Fortunately, the brain fog was still too dense, and you just watched him vacantly.

Rather than rush you into another round, Silco snagged a piece of paper from beside your hip. He lifted it and started to read. From the light that filtered through it from the window behind him, you could see that there were schematics of some kind drawn on the page. They were highly detailed, but something about the writing looked young, like it had been done by someone without fully developed fine motor function.

And then Silco’s fingers wrapped around your ankle and you stopped thinking about anything else. Especially when those fingers began to play idly against your skin, tapping an unfamiliar rhythm on your anklebone.

“How much more reading do you need to do?” you gritted out at last.

Silco glanced up at you instantly, eyebrows raised. “I can stop at any time, pet. I was under the impression that you needed a moment to recover.”

“I have recovered.”

“Why did you not tell me immediately?” Silco asked.

Despite the censurious words, he lazily tucked the schematics into a desk drawer before he stood. In a moment, he had opened the front of his trousers, pushed aside the layers of fabric, and lined himself up with you.

There was something almost sweet about the fact that Silco was so hard. He had brought you pleasure without being touched in return, and yet his erection hadn’t flagged while he sat quietly reading for minutes. For all that he was a selfish, manipulative bastard, Silco was surprisingly impacted by the way he affected you.

Any hints of altruism were shoved aside as Silco plunged inside of you. Rather than hesitating or asking if you were ready, he surged powerfully forward until he was seated as deep inside you as he could be. Your hips shifted to accommodate him and your legs trembled against the arms of his chair as you struggled to surface against the pressure of him stretching your walls.

Silco’s hands were tight on you. One was wrapped around your hips, providing an anchor point as he began to thrust in and out of you. His other hand was firmly on your ass, half-lifting and half-squeezing as he rolled his hips against you.

That rolling motion made your lips part for air as you stared up at the ceiling. Silco was big enough to fill you, but something about that motion put pressure against your walls in a way that felt almost cyclical. It was like he was fucking a little circle inside of you every time he pushed in, which meant that you got intermittent pressure against your g-spot. It was magical.

You tried to lift against him, to counter-thrust and speed things up, but Silco wasn’t having it. His grip was firm enough to hold you utterly still, making sure that all you could do was experience the way he was taking you apart for a second time.

“Silco, please,” you gasped out. “Faster. Harder. Please.”

“No,” he denied simply. Silco’s hand momentarily released your hip to grab your wrist instead. He tugged it downward until your fingers were brushing the throbbing place between your legs. “If you want your pleasure, you’ll have to take it.”

You were tempted to deny him and yourself, if only to prove that he wasn’t in charge of you, but the slight graze of your fingertip over your own clit made you squirm. But if you were going to be responsible for your own orgasm, you were damn well going to make sure that Silco helped.

With some effort, you lifted your legs from where they were still resting on the armrests of Silco’s chair. It took only a moment to wrap them around his waist, and when you tightened them, the pull was strong enough to force Silco forward against you.

When he had bottomed out inside of you, Silco’s grip shifted upward, pressing against the surface of the desk on either side of your hips to support the shift in his center of balance. His eyes widened, startled as you kept him close. You used your newfound freedom to thrust your hips, moving him and out of your core as you strummed at your clit.

The resulting sensations were enough to take you sailing over the edge again. This orgasm was less abrupt than the last one, but almost more satisfying because your inner muscles had something to lock down around.

Dimly, you registered that Silco was trying to withdraw from you, but couldn’t escape the grip of your leg muscles. You only understood his reasoning when his body stiffened, face tightening and growing slack as he reached his own peak.

Silco’s orgasms tended to be subtler than yours, but even his legendary poker face failed him. His expression tightened, then went slack as his body spasmed in a series of explosive surges. He hissed out a curse that sounded like half a prayer, his lips continuing to move long after he had stopped speaking loud enough for you to hear it.

Slowly, you let the tension seep from your leg muscles. When your feet were dangling toward the floor once more, Silco eased himself out of you. The first spill of your combined mess seeped directly onto the surface of Silco’s desk, but he cleaned it up and caught the next with the same cloth he had used to wipe his face earlier.

When Silco was seated in his chair once more, you took the cloth and held it in place as you slid down from the desk. Silco smiled wryly. “I never intend to make such a mess, but you are irresistible. Especially when you’ve wrapped me in those lovely legs. If I must be trapped, I will say that I prefer to be trapped in your embrace.”

“Flatterer,” you accused gently.

“It is a lovely benefit when the truth is flattering,” he replied, giving you a look you didn’t quite understand… until he added, “Now, pet, tell me how much I should write for the amount of my next donation check.”

You turned toward him with an irritated huff. “Are you still talking about this? I don’t need an extra donation from you, especially not when your motivation is simply to outdo someone you consider a threat.”

Silco’s lip curled. “I hardly consider those two boys to be a threat.”

“Then what is your problem with them supporting the Haven?”

“I dislike the idea of Piltover gaining a foothold here in Zaun,” Silco explained after a moment of thought. “Even if their influence is only over a small outreach. It could hinder the growth of Zaun’s independence.”

You bit back the irritation that rose at the Haven being referred to as a small outreach. It was a small outreach, of course, but it was so important in your life. It hurt to be reminded that your work was considered minor to other people.

“Fine,” you said instead of telling him any of that. “What are our options? I’m not telling you how much they donated.”

“Very well,” Silco said tightly. By all appearances, he was displeased with your insistence, but something about the look in his mismatched gaze gave you the distinct impression that he was getting something he had been angling for all day. “If you will not allow me to match HexTech’s donation amount, I would be willing to overlook their involvement in the Haven…”

“And what will it cost me?”

“I want to be part of the Undercity Innovation Committee.”

It took a beat for you to remember what that was. “Jazper’s group? No. Absolutely not.”

Silco watched you in silence. His brow creased and it was like watching a far-away storm building into something catastrophic.

“I have no control over that,” you expanded. “I can’t risk everything I’ve built - I can’t risk the Haven - to argue for you being part of the meetings.”

“And I would never ask you to,” Silco assured you smoothly. “I have other resources at play. All I need from you is not to argue against me being on the committee.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “So you don’t need me to fight for you? Just don’t tell them not to let you join?”

“Yes.”

It seemed simple. Almost too simple. And yet… it had been a long day. You could use some simplicity. “Fine, I agree to those terms. If someone else brings up the possibility of letting you join the committee, I won’t argue against it.”

“Perfect.” Silco took the end of your conversation as an opportunity to refasten his clothing, so you started to get dressed as well.

By the time you had finished, Silco was holding out a slip of paper toward you. You looked from it to his face, unwilling to accept an unknown item from him. He continued to offer it anyway.

“If I understand, your objections were not to me making a donation, but to me trying to make a larger donation than HexTech,” Silco explained. “I do not know how much they donated, but here is my offer.”

“Silco…” you lamented, arms still folded across your chest.

He lifted a brow. “If you prefer, I could resume trying to discover the HexTech donation amount…”

You sighed loudly so there could be no mistaking your irritation as you snatched the check from his hand. You didn’t look at the amount, but the way Silco grinned as you shoved it into your pocket didn’t seem promising.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I'll see you next month with another update!

Quick reminder: this story does take a lot of time and effort to write, edit, and format every month. At this point, we're up to roughly a 200-page book. I appreciate the likes that you guys give me, but reblogging my work is the only way new people can find it. I would really appreciate it if you would reblog not only my fics, but any fics you enjoy!

55 notes · View notes

impishtubist · 4 months

Note

Prompt: Three times Sirius almost murdered someone in public over his fame and one time he tried to use his fame to his advantage (and failed) - bonus points if he was trying to bone someone😬

So, confession time: I actually started writing this prompt when you first gave it to me, without the boning part, so now I feel weird that the "failed" portion of the ficlet involves a child and does not involve boning 🤣

That being said, I think that someone *cough cough* could write a 5 + 1 ficlet about Sirius trying to get laid, and he fails 5 times because no one is impressed with his fame, and succeeds once because, idk, Kingsley is more famous than he is. ANYWAY. Here is your fic. It's very dumb and unedited. Enjoy.

---

“Mr. Black!”

“Lord Black!”

Shit. Sirius shoves his list into his pocket and pops the collar of his coat in an effort to shield most of his face from the cameras. He’d purposely come to Diagon at ass-o’clock on a Sunday, hoping to get his shopping out of the way before the crowds arrived. He’d managed to get gifts for everyone on his list, too, except for Harry.

Harry is the one he always has the hardest time shopping for, because the gifts have to be perfect. He accepts nothing less for his son.

And now the paparazzi have spotted him, which means that he has to put off shopping for Harry until another day. He briefly contemplates setting the street (and the reporters) on fire as a distraction, but that would only draw more attention.

Instead, he ducks down an alley and Apparates home.

---

Harry glances over his shoulder, and quickly pales. “Uh, Sirius…”

“Don’t tell me,” Sirius sighs.

“Yeah.”

“We’ve in the fucking Maldives.”

“They have reporters in the Maldives.”

Sirius glares at him, and Harry gives him an innocent smile. “They’re here for you, too, Potter.”

“I didn’t get voted Sexiest Wizard Alive by Witch Weekly this year. They’re here for you.”

Sirius twirls his wand between his fingers, eyeing the approaching reporters warily. “Do you think I can transform them all into rabbits?”

“I don’t think Remus will bail you out of jail again. Aunt Andy said she wouldn’t, either.”

“Kingsley might.”

“Yeah, because he’s asked you to marry him three times and you keep turning him down. He’d do anything for you.”

“He would, wouldn’t he?”

Harry’s nose wrinkles. “Gross, Sirius.”

Sirius winks. “It’s the Black charm, Harry.”

“Yeah, well, can the Black charm get us out of here unnoticed and without any murder? I want some lunch.”

---

Sirius steps into Remus’s office, and the whole room falls silent, sixteen pairs of eyes staring at him in astonishment.

“Er,” he says eloquently, “hello.”

Pandemonium breaks out after that, students clamoring for his autograph and his photograph and wanting to shake his hand. If he’d known that Remus held office hours at six o’clock on a Thursday of all days, he wouldn’t have stopped by to visit his friend after the Board of Governors meeting let out.

“I’m going to kill you,” he mutters under his breath at one point, while three awestruck first-years try to get his attention.

“No, you won’t,” Remus says cheerfully. “You need your best man intact for the wedding.”

---

“Mummy, I can’t see!”

“Shh, darling.”

“But I can’t. He’s too tall.”

“Here, Melinda, why don’t you sit on Mama’s lap? That will help you be taller, won’t it?”

There’s some shuffling, and then a huff. “I still can’t see.”

Sirius can’t help it. Curious, he twists around in his seat to find a young girl glaring at him. She can’t be older than Lily Luna, and she’s dressed in a frilly princess dress for the show. Her mothers gape at him.

“Oh!” the one holding Melinda exclaims. “Oh, Lord Black, I am so sorry--”

“It’s quite alright,” he says, giving Melinda the patented and dazzling Black smile. She remains unmoved. “I am very tall, aren’t I?”

“I wanna see the dancing,” Melinda pouts.

“Why don’t we switch?” Kingsley suggests, and he swaps seats with Sirius.

“You’re too tall, too,” Melinda informs him. “Mummy, can I sit on your shoulders?”

“No, baby, I don’t think the theater would like that very much.”

“But how am I supposed to see Clara?” Melinda demands. “And the dancing?”

“We’ll switch seats with you,” Sirius says, and both of Melinda’s mothers look mortified.

“Oh, no, Lord Black--”

“We couldn’t possibly--”

“I insist,” he says, getting up, and Kingsley follows him. The two women get up after a moment’s hesitation and take their seats, Melinda on one lap. “Is that better, my lady?”

“Yes,” Melinda says, not sparing him a glance.

“Melinda,” one of her mothers scolds. “What do we say?”

Melinda turns around to look at Sirius. “What’s your name?”

“Sirius.”

Her nose wrinkles. “That’s a funny name.”

“Melinda!”

“Thank you, Sirius,” Melinda says primly, and then she turns around again, Sirius utterly forgotten.

Her mothers are bright red. Sirius leans forward.

“My granddaughter is five,” he says to them. “I've never been so humbled in my life.”

#sirius black #harry potter #kingsley shacklebolt #starking #parents take small children to see The Nutcracker right?????#anyway here is some nonsense #imp is writing #follower milestone celebration #come give me prompts or cause chaos with me!

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fficway · 1 year

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I love how you write Donnie!!! PLEASE GIVE US MORE!!!

Thank you so much! I originally had this idea for a Leo fic, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought it would work better for Donnie, so here you go!

Synopsis: One of Donnie's inventions ends up on a rampage and you have to think of a creative way to get Donnie to quiet down so that he doesn't reveal where you're hiding.

ROTTMNT Donnie x Reader insert. (No gender specified). Age is irrelevant in this fic and not specified so age them to the show or up, however fits you best.

[This is actually angst before the fluff. I don't usually write angst because I really don't enjoy it but I need more practice writing drama and resolution. It's not like dramatic life or death angst, just heart break before the resolution. I also re-wrote the ending a few times and still don't love it (I think it's a little rushed and cheesy lol) but I hope you all enjoy it at least!]

"Shut up, Donnie"

"Feast ye eyes, brethren, on my newest invention: the Pizza Maker 9000! Patent pending, state of the art, trademark, magnificent pizzas at the ready with a mere touch of a button, and voice activation!" Donnie pulled a cloth from atop of a new machine he had created. The light sparkled off of the neatly polished silver appliance. "Allow me to demonstrate-"

"What's the 9,000 for? Did you try to make 8,999 of these before this one?" Raph questioned from his seat on the couch with his brother's. Leo sitting at his side and Mikey leaning from behind over Raph's shoulder.

"No, the 9,000 stands for the 9,000 possible combinations of pizza this baby can make! Well technically it would be over 7.7 million!" Donnie emphasized proudly, "But 9000 sounded cooler. Now, allow me to-"

"But I thought I was the designated pizza chef!" Mikey whined, "You guys love my pizzas!"

"Yes, Angelo, we did. Up until your adventurous, for lack of a more insensitive word, endeavors you've been concocting lately." Donnie replied flatly.

"What's wrong with Pizza Milkshakes? We all love Pizza, and we all love Milkshakes! Obviously combining them would be delicious! And Pizza noodle soup! And pizza with brussel sprout toppings! And-" Mikey's argument was interrupted by Leo.*

"Everything! Everything is wrong with those combinations!" Mikey pouted at Leo's words.

"However, segway! This Patent Pending Donnie Tech Pizza Maker™ does make delicious pizza combinations!" He pressed a button to turn on the machine so that it would make a pizza in front of their eyes as he continued his speech. "With over 100 types of dough, 1,800 types of cheeses, 43 types of tomatoes, and an infinite possibility of toppings, gentleman, I give you: the perfect pizza." The machine finished with a *ding* and a pizza came out of the front.

"Uuuugh, Hawaiian? Ugh I knew I should have removed pineapple from the ingredients list!" Donnie rubbed his hand over his face in frustration as Leo and Raph laughed at him.

"Ahhh yes, the most rare of unlimited possible pizza combinations: the Hawaiian!" Leo howled with laughter.

"I could've made that." Mikey crossed his arms, still pouting.

"Alright, so it made a pizza that we could just order. But how does it taste?" Raph walked up to grab a slice.

"Oooor I could make it! We don't have to order one!" Mikey whined again, his arms flailing in frustration.

"Come and see for yourself. And by 'see' I mean 'taste' of course." Donnie stepped aside for Raph, confident in his invention. "Even though there is pineapple on that pizza, the cheese, sauce, and dough are all chosen to be the best possible combination to compliment the fruit topping."

Leo walked up as well to take a slice. Raph and Leo shrugged at each other with grins before biting into their slices. Hey, free pizza is free pizza!

Donnie and Mikey watched with held breaths for their reactions.

"O-ho-hoooo boy this is some good pizza!" Leo crumbled to his knees with the half eaten sliced raised to the sky as if he was worshiping it. Then he quickly finished off his slice and took two more in his hands.

Raph mumbled through a full mouth, "Great jub Dunnie! Now we'll nuver huve to ordur out again!"

"We haven't ordered out anymore anyway because I've already been making us delicious pizzas!" Mikey yelled in protest.

Donnie stood straighter with his hands proudly on his hips, "Relishing. And I am relishing. And I am still relishing." Mikey huffed at Donnie's smugness.

"Say," Leo paused in his pizza eating to take a breath when a thought occurred to him. "This isn't going to turn evil and attack us later like your other inventions is it?"

"Please, 'Nardo, you place such a ridiculous hypothesis upon me with very little statistics to support your claim." Donnie scoffed, his proud stance not wavering a bit.

"U-huh, yeah, because when have your inventions ever tried to get us killed." Leo rolled his eyes sarcastically to himself as he continued with another slice of pizza.

"Not including Albearto's, S.h.e.l.d.o.n, the defense bed-" Mikey mumbled, listing off a few on his three fingers before Donnie interrupted to correct him.

"The Personal Slumber Defensive Device did not try to kill us, it did exactly as programed and defended the sleeper, a.k.a. Pa-pa."

A noise from the entrance made everyone look over to see you and April entering the lair.

"Hey guys! What's going on?" April asked. It looked like you both had interrupted something.

"I smell pizza but don't see any! Did Raph and Mikey already scarf it down?" You asked half joking.

"No. I refuse to touch something so devoid of artistic flavor and love!" Mikey crossed his arms in a huff.

"Oh no. Mikey used big words like 'devoid.' That means he's upset." You looked at April.

"My guess? It's another one of Donnie's inventions." April looked from you to the three turtles gathered around the machine, solidifying her guess.

"It's the Patent Pending Donnie Tech Pizza Maker 9000™ AKA the PM9000™!" Donnie gestured dramatically to his shiny new machine that was currently making a second pizza of random order for an excited Leo and bouncing Raph.

"That's great! Another invention that will later try to kill us." You chuckled sarcastically.

"That's what I'm saying!" Leo agreed before stuffing his face with a fresh slice from the newest pizza, this one with olives.

"It will do no such thing! It is programmed only to concoct the highest of quality pizzas! Allow me to demonstrate since you guys missed it the first time!" Donnie rushed through the last sentence excited to show you and April his genius.

"Hmmm, I sure am hungry for a pizza!" Donnie annunciation his words clearly with a finger in the air in the center of the room. Everyone stared at him expectantly in silence as nothing happened. You and April shared an impassive glance. A light flashed from the Robot as it started up again, and everyone 'ooh-ed' as it spoke back.

"One Perfect Pizza™ at the ready." It's robotic voice sounded as a mechanical arm stretched out towards Donnie and reconstructed into a conveyor-belt. The third, and newest pizza arrived in front of Donnie, steaming hot. (The pizza too.)

"It will deliver your pizza to you anywhere in the Lair!" Donnie said proudly, taking a slice out of his own pizza now.

"Oh so it responds to us just talking about pizza? What if I say that I'm going to cook a pizza?" Mikey protested. The machine flashed again and a new conveyor-belt transformed in front of Mikey, a new pizza coming his way.

"One Perfect Pizza™ at the ready."

"Is it really going to say "trademark" every time?" April asked.

"Nuh-uh! No way! If you think I'm going to betray the years of hard work I've slaved away in the kitchen learning how to make my perfect pizza, you can think again baby! I'm the Pizza chef around here! It's either me, or another being with a heart that will be making the pizzas for us! A machine can't recreate the love that goes into cooking!" Mikey had slapped away the pizza and was now dramatically spieling. You started to realize that Mikey really was actually offended, and you felt bad for him. You know how much Mikey loves cooking, but you also know how much Donnie loves his inventions, and they both do their crafts as their own way to help their brothers out and do nice things for each other. This was complicated, and you knew this had to be settled between the turtles, so you watched on. Leo and Raph will surely step in if it gets out of hand.

"I don't know, this tastes like love to me!" Leo said between mouthfuls of pizza.

Ok... surely Raph will step in if it gets out of hand.

"Yeah, and Donnie's pizzas are cooked faster than yours Mikey, so I say for the Lair pizzas, Donnie's machine is best." Raph was already ordering a third pizza now.

Oh boy...

"Boom! Hahaha! Technology is the future of civilization, there is nothing that can beat it!" Donnie was proud that two of his brothers had liked his invention, and his words were insensitive to Mikey, however, and you winced. You're sure that he doesn't mean to rub it in Mikey's face-

"In you're face Michelangelo!" Donnie laughed while pointing.

-Ok, the universe is apparently going out of it's way to prove you wrong on everything today. You know Donnie doesn't mean to be mean to Mikey, he's just being immature right now. But honestly? This'll help you to convince yourself that he isn't perfect.

You've known the turtles for a while now, and had originally developed a crush on the intelligent and passionate Donatello. However your crush has recently begun to fade. Yeah, you could always just tell him how you feel, and take whatever answer he gives you. You could handle it (you think), and you're positive that Donnie wouldn't treat you differently just because of a one-sided crush. However, you decided there was no benefit in telling him regardless. The reason being was because of said one-sided crush.

You know that it's one sided because Donnie is very forward about himself. He's choosy on what emotions he shares with people, sure, but you've seen how he lights up when talking about his childhood idol and crush Atomic Lass, as well as when he fights villains like Cheery Tomato at Albearto's. He has a type and is not shy in his advances when faced with those caricatures, so you're certain that if he did have an interest in you, you would have noticed by now. Therefore, if confessing to him of a one-sided relationship would make no difference in your friendship, then not confessing to him would ultimately bring the same result, so you've concluded that keeping it to yourself and willing yourself to get over him is the best course of action.

This was a good opportunity to tell yourself "See? He's not perfect! He can have immature moments too! You can get over him!" But your heart chose to make excuses for him. Not to excuse his behavior at Mikey as ok, but to understand that he doesn't mean it that way. At any rate, you decided to step in to mediate now, and tried to stay impartial.

"Donnie, I think you've had the floor to talk about your invention long enough." You approached Mikey and put a hand on his shoulder. "I, for one, would love a home-made Mikey Pizza Special." You smiled at Mikey's gleeful expression. You told yourself that you weren't siding against Donnie as a selfish way to push away from him. This was fair! Donnie had two people on his side, so its only fair that Mikey gets one person on his team!

"One Perfect Pizza™ at the ready." The robot's voice sounded as a pizza was delivered in front of you. Mikey slapped it away again while pointing triumphantly at Donnie.

"At least someone here has a refined palate, knowing exactly who here is the better pizza maker!"

"What is your order?" The Pizza Maker responded to the words its named after.

"How could you choose Mikey over me?" Donnie was looking at you shocked and betrayed. You were sure that it was because of his pride in his inventions.

"I didn't choose anyone over-" You were interrupted by Mikey.

"Maybe because your not-so-perfect pizza machine is so-not-perfect enough to compete with me and my so-perfect artistry!" Mikey issued the challenge to Donnie.

"You're suggesting that art somehow bests science? Oh sweet 'Angelo, if it's a challenge you want, it's a challenge you shall receive!" Donnie and Mikey were quite literally butting heads.

"Somehow, I think I might have made this worse." You mumbled defeatedly.

---

It was decided that Mikey and Donnie('s invention) would go toe-to-toe in a pizza making contest. The judges being you, Splinter, and April. Leo and Raph were not allowed to intervene other than to host the event with a microphone and referee. Splinter and April were chosen as neutral third parties, but you were still unsure why you were a judge considering that you had only asked for Mikey's pizza. You didn't want to chose a better pizza. It was irrelevant! You just wanted a normal pizza made by Mikey to help him feel better. Yet somehow you were roped into not only being a judge, but your vote counted three times as much as Splinter and April's vote!

"Then why add other judges if your votes don't count?" You asked April on your walk back to April's apartment. You were going to be sleeping over at her place anyway, you both had just decided to stop by and see the boys on the way home (which you were now regretting.)

"I have some ideas in mind, but the short of it is? Because you intervened." April poked you with her joking response. She seemed to have some reason to find all of this funny. You on the other hand were dreading what was going to happen tomorrow.

The competition had been postponed to the following day as Donnie declared that he wanted to make some last minute upgrades on his tech. When Mikey had taunted that it was because Donnie knew that his machine would lose, Donnie had laughed off the remark, and replied with his own. Something about proving something and making things right again? You assumed that it was "proving Mikey wrong" and "making [the tech] right again." That's the only combinations that made sense to you.

After April and you had dinner (pizza was off the table since you'll most likely be getting your fill tomorrow), you settled in for the night after a movie.

April was on her phone a few times throughout the movie. You assumed she was texting Sunita.

"Uh, hey! I gotta step out for a quick sec! It'll only be a minute but feel free to crash if you get tired!" April kinda rushed to the door. You sat up, now anxious.

"What's going on? Is there trouble? Should I come too?" You questioned her.

"NO! Uh, no! The boys just had a mission alarm go off, but it's just a petty thief! No biggie! Only two of them are going to check it out, all of us aren't needed!" She waved her hand a few times to emphasize that it wasn't a big deal.

"Then why are you going?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Uhhh, be..cause it's at the new shop I work at! I gotta check it out as, you know, an employee and all! Psssh you know how it is!" She crossed her arms casually.

"You got a new job already? Where?" April's phone dinged as you spoke.

"Uh, I'll answer all of that when I get back! Gotta go!" She ran out of the door in a hurry, leaving you swimming with questions. You could see she was acting suspiciously, but you've had a lot of your assumptions proven wrong tonight so you decided to just drop it for now. You'll have her explain what's up tomorrow. Yawning, you settled down after a frankly exhausting day.

---

"There you guys are!" April panted catching up to Raph and Donnie.

"Alright, show me to the scene of the crime stat! I still have to finish my modifications before tomorrow's competition and I don't trust Mikey being back at the Lair so close to my tech without me." Donnie was looking around the empty street as he spoke, "Why did he and Leo get to stay home while I got dragged by Raph out of my lab? If the thief isn't that big of a deal then why not let Leo handle it?" Donnie's brain was still in overdrive since he had been freshly pulled from his lab.

"Donnie, there is no thief. We needed to talk to you and knew you wouldn't listen if you were still in your lab." April explained.

"What? Why? What is there to talk about? If you're going to convince me to go easy on Mikey I will have to decline! He will gain nothing from us going easy on him! And by "us" I do of course mean "me and my tech"." Donnie crossed his arms.

"Donnie, you know who this is about." Raph crossed his arms as well.

April had been the one Donnie confided in when he realized he had begun to have feelings for you so long ago, but out of fear that you would not reciprocate, he pushed those feelings way down. April had been the only one to notice and weasel it out of him. Raph, however, had overheard, and therefore was sworn to secrecy.

Which apparently did not include secrecy from Leo and Mikey because Raph told them within the hour. April, who Donnie had dubbed responsible for the entire "Donnie's Secret Crush in Now a Lair Known Fact " fiasco, agreed to do everything in Donnie's best interest when it came to you. Whether it be keeping you from finding out his feelings for you or helping him to get to spend more time with you. April had been frustrated for months because of Donnie's contradictions. He wanted to spend more time with you yet didn't want you ever finding out how he feels! So the long and short of it was, there would be no end to his ridiculous antics while pining after you.

Donnie had even gone as far as to create secret phrases and code words with April and his brother's so that he could communicate emergency protocols. There was no real use to this because Donnie kept flipping between code "help me get an opportunity for us to be alone," and code "abort! The truth must not be revealed!" And quite Franky, while his family found his rare moments of panicking endearing, they were getting quite sick of it.

So after the events that happened today, Leo, Raph, and April had decided to get Donnie out of the lab, away from his work, to give April the opportunity to convince Donnie to fess up to you. Since Mikey and Donnie are in the middle of a feud, Leo agreed to stay home with Mikey to give them the space Donnie needs to calm down and think rationally. And who knows? Mikey could've ended up using this as a way to rile up Donnie! Emotions were high between the brothers so it was best to play it safe.

"Dee, you saw how you acted today. You know that it's time." April tried to gently persuade Donnie. "You can't keep letting your emotions get the better of you and drag others into your situations. Especially not the person you've got such a crush on."

Donnie sighed. "I know but, but to choose Mikey over me like that! I just feel so frustrated! I can't say anything now! It'll look like an excuse, or a way to cheat the contest, or-"

"Just confess after the contest then." Raph suggested. "Regardless of who wins the pizza contest, it has nothing to do with you. Your feelings are-"

"It has everything to do with me!" Donnie sighed. "If my tech that can be upgraded and evolved beyond human, yokai, and mutant abilities isn't good enough, then how can I think that I am?"

An explosion from a couple blocks over interrupted April and Raph from the rare moment of Donnie being vulnerable and honest.

---

An explosion woke you up. You jumped up and scrambled to the window to look for what was going on. There was a light from the next block over that looked like it was the light of a large fire. You grabbed your weapon and ran down the fire escape to head to the scene.

As you approached you saw Mikey jumping around a couple roof tops. "Ohmigosh! Ohmigosh! Ohmigosh! Ohmigosh! Ohmigosh!" He sounded panicked.

"Mikey! You ok? Where's the others? Did the thief do this?" You had so many questions and Mikey shouted back a rushed answer.

"Thief? What thief? I mean- yeah! A thief totally stole Donnie's tech and messed with its wiring! We need to stop it!"

You got to the scene of the fire finally to see Donnie's Perfect Pizza Maker™ wreaking havoc, shooting flames all over the place and slicing through walls with giant pizza cutting saws and giant kitchen knives.

"How did a thief get to Donnie's tech if he was working on it? He wouldn't have taken his eyes off of it long enough to-" Mikey jumped down and cut you off.

"That doesn't matter now! We have to stop this thing before Donnie finds out!"

"What do you mean 'finds out?' Mikey, what did you do?!" You didn't get an answer as you both jumped in different directions to avoid the blades swinging down at you.

"I'll explain everything later! Just please don't be mad!" Mikey yelled from across a rooftop, jumping to dodge a fire blast.

"It's a little late for that!" You yelled back, ducking a blast from a pepperoni pistol that shot at your head. "Where are the others?"

"Raph and Donnie went out earlier! I don't know where they went!" Mikey attacked at a mechanical arm. "It was just Leo and me at the Lair!"

"Then where's Leo?" You were panting now. Between the yelling and fighting, you were having a hard time catching your breath.

"He's uh... a little tied up at the moment!" Mikey answered with a lower volume this time but you still heard him, and it was only then that you noticed Mikey fighting with only one nunchaku.

"Mikey, I swear, if I live through this you are in so much trouble!" You blocked another knife attack.

A few purple missiles shot past the building you were fighting on top of accompanied by a shout: "Phalange Sandwich!"

"Donnie! Up here!" You shouted down.

"No no no! We're ok! Nothing to see here!" Mikey shouted back.

"Is that, is that my PM9000?" Donnie asked when he jumped up onto the rooftops near you guys. The machine had been knocked through a parking lot and slammed into the mall. "But, how? I mean I know I wasn't finished with the upgrade, and sure I maybe went a little overboard with the modifications-"

"A little?" You shouted back to him as you ran towards the mall. The fight isn't over. Not until you made sure the tech was destroyed or shut down.

"Ok, maybe a little more than I should have but even in the midst of the upgrades it doesn't make sense for it to be going crazy like this!" Donnie, Mikey, and you landed inside of the mall to find a crater in the floor where the Pizza Maker had landed... yet no Pizza Maker in sight.

"Where did it go?" You asked aloud, looking around.

"What does it matter Donnie? You could add every upgrade under the sun and it still couldn't beat me and my pizzas!" Mikey apparently was still heated from earlier that day as he threw a quip at Donnie.

"Oh, I didn't need to add anything to beat you, I just wanted to make sure to not go easy on you. A growing boy needs his life lessons, Michael," Donnie sarcastically quipped back.

"Ugh, can both of you just drop it? We need to find the pizza-" You were interrupted by a red light shining down on all of you. Looking up you all started sweating at the sight of the undamaged Pizza Maker.

"Pizzaaaaa." It glitched out the word in an elongated, chilling robotic voice before lunging down at you three. All of you jumped out of the way, scrambling to defend against the mechanical arms that attacked with blades and flames.

"This way!" You yelled at the two turtles as you ducked and ran towards a store in the mall. The turtles batted away the mechanical arms and ran after you. You jumped and ducked down behind a counter, and the two joined you.

"Oh look Donnie! Another one of your inventions trying to kill us!" Mikey whisper shouted at Donnie.

"I know my engineering better than anyone! There's no way this could have happened!" Donnie retorted before a realization hit him, "Unless you messed with the circuitry! You did, didn't you!"

"You guys, now is not the time!" You hissed at them, watching as the machine scanned the store. It turned and started back towards the doors and you sighed in a relief that proved to only be temporary.

"You have no proof of that! What if I decided that my artistic squills and love was what was missing from your boring pizza maker?" Mikey crossed his arms.

"I knew it!" Donnie shouted as the counter you three were hiding behind exploded. You ran out with the turtles hot on your heels.

"How is it tracking us? It's scanners didn't notice us! Can it hear us?" You yelled back at Donnie.

"Of course! I created it to pick up key words like 'food,' 'pizza,' 'hungry,' and more! Even going as far as to include hearing the sounds of a rumbling tummy!" Donnie explained, still running, yet sounding proud of himself.

"Are you kidding me?" You shouted exasperated.

"See Donnie? This is your fault! If you wouldn't have tried to replace me as the pizza chef of the lair then none if this would have happened!" Mikey shouted.

"My fault? You're the one who messed with the Pizza Maker's circuitry and made him into this killing machine!" Donnie yelled back.

"Are you guys forgetting the part where this thing can hear you?!" You tried to shout over their bantering but a burst of flame hit the ground just behind you. Donnie turned around and blocked a blade with his tech bo before it reached you. You dodged just in time as another blade cut down at you.

Flames burst from one side as two blades cut from the other. The three of you dodged and parried the attacks. You were keeping up, but getting tired fast. These attacks were too quick and relentless! Finally, Mikey wrapped a chain around one of the metal arms and jerked it, pulling the Robot up into the air and throwing it across to crash into a store.

"Split up!" You shouted at the first opportunity. Mikey and Donnie are still too heated over the pizza thing to stop arguing or using the key words that the robot is drawn to. You're no strategist, nor their leader. The best thing to do was to split up and stall until backup arrived.

As you all took off in different directions, a metal arm with a blade on the end slammed down in front of the direction you were running, cutting off your route. You turned and ran the opposite way, being met with a wall of flames. Donnie slid to a stop. His battle shell transformed into jets and he quickly shot from one side of the hall to the other, picking you up in his arms as he zoomed past.

You both crashed and rolled into another shop. You rolled to a stop, but upon glancing back at the hall at the machine getting up, you pushed over Donnie to roll you both a few more times to hide behind yet another counter.

"I can't believe he messed with my tech's circuitry! That means he went into my lab too! Ugh! I thought we all learned from this after the incident with S.h.e.l.l.d.o.n!" You looked down to shush Donnie but blushed at noticing your position atop of him. He apparently hadn't noticed yet.

'Or if he did, then it probably doesn't phase him.' You thought sorely to yourself.

"Donnie, now's not the ti-"

"I knew it couldn't have been my programming! Oh! That's right! It's my programming! Maybe I can still hack his data-frame!" Donnie interrupted you, reaching for the screen on his forearm.

"No!" You slammed down his wrists so he couldn't reach the electronic cuff. The pizza maker entered the store. The last thing you need is a new way to lure it to your hiding place! "Donnie, the only thing you need to do now is be qu-"

"But if Mikey hasn't touched the mother chip processor, then I can still shut it down using my override protocol!" Donnie protested. The Pizza Maker started scanning the store as it grew closer.

"Donnie, it can hear-"

"I mean, that is a big 'if' considering he went as far as to ruin a perfect invention of mine!" Donnie kept going.

"Donnie don't-!"

"All over something as silly as piz-" Donnie didn't get to finish saying the key word.

Your lips were on his. You panicked! You had been holding down his arms to prevent him for reaching for his electronic cuff, and he wasn't listening to your attempts to shush him! You had to cover his mouth and you panicked!

You can't complain really. You've always wanted to do this. To kiss Donatello. Not in this way however, and you had hoped you'd be a couple by the time you'd kiss him at least, but if you're putting away your feelings for him anyway, at least you've gotten this chance.

His eyes were wide as he stared up at you for a moment of shock. Your eyes were squeezed shut. Your lips were so soft. It felt amazing! Being kissed wasn't at all as bad as he had feared it to be, being the over-thinking science man that he is. In fact, it was euphoric! He felt fireworks in his heart and butterflies dancing in his belly! He closed his eyes.

You stayed lip-locked with Donnie as you cracked open your eyes to look over towards the machine that was finishing its scan of the store and turning to leave. You startled when you felt Donnie's lips move against yours and snapped your eyes, wide with shock, back to his face. He was kissing you back!

You were so confused. Was it possible that he liked you back? You wanted to melt into the feeling of him kissing you back! You wanted to kiss him for real! But now wasn't the time for that. You looked back over to the pizza maker as it finally vanished around the corner.

You pushed off and away from Donnie and sat back in shock once there was a little bit of space between you, but you didn't go far enough to reveal yourself from behind the counter. Donnie raised up on his elbows, his eyes were half lidded and he had a silly half smile splayed across his lips.

"Did you just kiss me?" You asked. You didn't mean for it to sound so accusational. You were still panicked from all that just happened within this past 30 seconds. You tried to calm your beating heart.

"Correction. You kissed me!" Donnie sat up fully now, wearing his usual confident smile now, his eyes still half lidded as he looked at you. His heart beat was finally calming down and the full realization that you both had kissed was putting him on cloud nine

"But you weren't supposed to kiss me back!" You were anxious and in denial of what just happened. None of this made sense, and none of it was supposed to play out this way! Your face was still hot.

Donnie's smile faded. He began to look unsure of himself. "But, I thought that's how kissing worked? You put your lips on mine, and it wasn't in a life saving maneuver such as CPR so I assumed.."

You groaned in embarrassment, your hands coming up to cover your face. "Donnie, think about it! Why would I kiss you?"

At the look of hurt that crossed his face you immediately regretted your word choice. You meant it to mean "why would you kiss him now in not-so-suitable conditions like in the middle of hiding from a foe after shushing him constantly!" Not "why would you kiss him!"

"Oh.. Right. But of course." He stood up. "I'm.. sorry for the awkward assumption." He said 'sorry' and you winced. He rarely says sorry, but here in this context it made your heart break.

"Donnie, that's not what I meant, I swear!" You stood and reached for his arm, desperate to clear up this misunderstanding, but a new explosion went off, this one finally triggering the sprinkler system in the building.

You could see electricity crackling through the mall. You heard a loud "bang" and then cheers from outside. It seems like the others had arrived in time to take out the Robot.

You looked back at Donnie, the sprinklers making it as if you both were now in the rain. You couldn't see his face, but he wasn't standing as straight as usual. He shoulders were shrugged up a bit, and his hand around his tech bo looked tight. There's no way... he's upset? Because you retracted the kiss? Does that mean..?

"Donnie,-"

You didn't get a chance to talk to Donnie before Leo and the others were walking into the destroyed store you two were still in.

"There you guys are! You missed out on Donnie's invention trying to kill us again! Hmm, gee, I wonder who could have seen this coming?" Leo stopped talking when Raph gave him a rough nudge. Raph shrugged his head towards Donnie, and Leo notices Donnie's expression.

"Uh, I mean, Donnie! It's too bad about your awesome invention! Maybe, uh, you should make another one?" Leo tried to perk up the mood.

"Yeah! You still haven't gotten to do your contest remember? We can postpone it until you get the new one up and running! Right Mikey?" Raph turns to Mikey, who is looking really guilty now.

"Well, actually you guys," Mikey starts to confess, "I kinda... cheated. So I think the win should go to Donnie."

"No, don't worry about it." Donnie finally spoke up. He still didn't face anyone. "It's not important anymore."

You made eye contact with everyone as they turned to look at you at his words. You looked to April pleadingly.

"Dee?" April walked up and put her hand on his shoulder and looked at his face.

"I'm uh, going to head back first. My battle shell is water resistant, but, you know, it's uh, best to keep it dry." April had a slight surprise, then looked sad and backed up. Donnie's jets came out of his battle shell and lifted him out of the store through a hole in the roof.

Once he was gone the sprinklers finally shut off. Everyone looked at you. You immediately hugged April, tears in your your eyes.

"Woah, hey! It's ok! Calm down. Just tell us what happened?" April's hands were on your shoulders to pull you away from her enough to look at your face. The remaining brothers gathered around.

"Is he that upset about me messing with his tech? He usually gets angry. I didn't think he'd get... like this." Mikey looked down and his fidgeting hands, feeling guilty. Raph put a hand on his shoulder. The look on his face telling Mikey that it was ok, but he also should properly apologize to Donnie later.

"I think I messed up big" You told April, the tears in your eyes were threatening to fall now.

"It's ok. I'm sure it was a misunderstanding. Now you just have to fix it." April said with a soft tone. She looked at Leo.

"Way ahead of you." Leo put on a rare game face and sliced up a portal. You looked between him and April.

"What if I mess up again? Every time I've assumed one thing today, I've been proven wrong in the worst way." Today had been one bad choice after another for you. The fear of making it any worse was almost paralyzing.

"Then stop assuming and just communicate! Knowing Donnie, he'll want this patched up just as much as you do, m'kay? There's nothing to worry about." Leo smiled and stepped back towards Raph and Mikey.

April smiled at you, "I'm just a call away if you need me! We'll hang back a bit to give you both some space."

You looked around at them and gave a small smile. They were helping you to fix this. You have to take advantage of this opportunity. You took a deep breath and stepped through.

---

Donnie flew to the sewer entrance. He felt so heart broken. He didn't even get a chance to confess, which at this point sounded silly to have put the inevitable off for so long. Heck, even confessing and getting rejected the normal way would have been a lot less painful and humiliating than what just happened.

"Why would I kiss you?" He shrunk in on himself at the echo of your voice in his head. He pressed his hands to the sides of his head with a groan in an attempt to forget about it. He began his dissent into the sewer now, trying to ignore the broken record that played in his head.

Why did you kiss him? He wondered as he reached the bottom of the ladder. He played over the scenario in his head a few times. The realization finally hit him that it was simply to shut him up. Every time you had spoken during the entire fight it was to try to get him and Mikey to stop luring the robot over with the key words he had programmed the robot to pick up, and you had obviously been exhausted by the fight. He had put you in danger repeatedly during the duration of the fight. What a cruel and even more humiliating realization to come to. He slapped his hand over his face, his eyes glued shut. Maybe if he did this long enough, he'd wake up in bed, all of this being nothing more than a bad dream.

Donnie ran his hand down his face and stopped walking when his fingers brushed his lips.

He could still feel the warmth from your own. He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes but squeezed his eyes tightly shut again in an attempt to keep them at bay.

"I really do have a type," he sighed out with a choked chuckle, "cute and... mean."

He took a deep breath, forcing his brain to do a mental reboot, closing the many open tabs about you in his brain, and continued to the entrance to the lair. He was sure that the others would already be back by now and wanted to at least appear normal until he can escape to the privacy of his room or lab. However when he walked into the lair he heard silence. Minus the muffled snores coming from Splinter's room.

Donnie sighed, grateful for the chance to slink away and shut himself inside his lab. He didn't feel like socializing. Much less talk about the events from tonight.

He disengaged his battle shell on his wall, put up his tech bo, and grabbed a couple tools to work on literally anything to distract himself. He sat down and rummaged through blue prints on his table. Nothing seemed to peak his interest. Not even the bust of himself.

He remembered that there was a simple yet time consuming experiment that he had been meaning to conduct for a while on some mystic material he bought in the Hidden City! That would be the best thing to use to shut himself away in his lab as it required a controlled chemical environment and could take up to a couple days, so he could have uninterrupted time to himself to process everything. He looked around for his notes and the main pieces for the project.

"Donnie?"

"Oxygen and Magnesium!" Donnie startled and turned around to find you standing in the doorway.

"Sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I thought you could hear me walk in." You rubbed your arm awkwardly. Donnie was a ninja, the fact he was too distracted to notice you approach was probably a bad sign.

"No, I uh, hadn't." He turned back around and tried to keep his posture nonchalant as he continued gathering his notes, but his eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. "So are the others back yet? Would you give this to Raph for me? I need to start on this experiment now and it's going to take me-"

"Donnie, can we talk?" Your voice sounded soft, almost meek. It cut Donnie off from his rambling excuses. He really didn't feel like talking about this right now. He wanted time to process it. To think out every possible conversational route with you and to pick the safest responses. He wanted to hide his embarrassment from you for just a little longer. He turned to give you another excuse and to dismiss you from his lab, but when he saw your face his resolution crumbled. Like a sandcastle to a wave.

Donnie collapsed into his seat. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry about tonight. I had gotten so frustrated at Mikey that I just kept going on and on and put you in danger, and I really should have stopped when you shushed me the first time. I realize now that it was all my fault."

"Woah, Donnie, nothing's your fault-" You started to cut in.

"No, but it is! The competition, making Mikey mad at me enough to tamper with my tech's circuitry, dragging you into this out of jealousy, putting you into danger, and the.. misunderstanding from you just trying to get me to stop luring the PM9000 with the key words." He looked down when he said the word "misunderstanding" and looked hurt.

"Jealousy?" You asked. You had heard him correctly, but now you were starting to become more sure about how Donnie feels about you. Actually sure. However you were going to take Leo's advice and communicate instead of jumping to assumptions again.

"I, yes," He sighed, embarrassed. "I really didn't mean to put you in an awkward position from you having to do what was necessary to get me to stop jeopardizing the mission and stop talking. I was just.. I don't know.. surprised. Well, surprised isn't the right word. In fact, that's a lie. I don't know, I was making things worse during that fight, and I feel like I'm making things worse now-"

"Donnie if you don't stop talking I'm going to kiss you again." You interrupted him before he started spiraling.

"I mean if I had-" Donnie short-circuited, his head snapping towards you with his face red. "What?"

You had gained a little confidence and were attempting to take advantage of it for as long as it lasted. Or until you both got everything out into the open. "Everything I did today went so wrong. I kept making one bad call after another, assuming that the situation was one way instead of communicating, and ended up hurting you because of my own bias against you."

"Bias? Against me?" Donnie looked hurt, but more-so confused.

"I..." you sighed, face red, and avoided his eyes. "I was trying to get over my feelings for you."

"What? 'Get over?' But- But that implies that you had feelings for me in the first place, that doesn't make sense! Since when? How long?"

"Dee, I've had feelings for you for over a year now." Your face was hot but it was time for this conversation. No matter which way it goes.

"What, but that.." His heart was beating so fast now and he could feel how hot his face was. "Then why did you say that earlier? Why did you ask why you'd ever kiss me?"

"Oh, Donnie, no, I didn't mean it like that! Honestly!" You finally had a chance to clear this up! "I asked that to have you realize that I was just trying to get you to be quiet so the robot wouldn't find us! I'm sorry Donnie, I really could have handled all of that a much better way. I should have! I really didn't mean it like that. I.. kissed you in that moment more from.. panic or impulse. Honestly I think I mostly did it because I just really wanted to." You couldn't meet his eyes admitting this.

"But, your actions contradict your words? You're saying that you're getting over me, but why?" He was confused, and you didn't blame him. You were one big contradiction tonight, acting selfishly then pushing him away and hurting him before he even can react to save yourself from the possibility of getting hurt.

"As for why I've been trying to get over you, I just didn't think you felt the same. You're just always so bold with your advances on your mascot crushes, and since you had never been so bold or forward like that with me, I just assumed.. You know, that you weren't interested." You looked away from him again awkwardly with a shrug. You were only barely sure now that he reciprocates your feelings by how he had been acting tonight, but you couldn't help but to still feel shy and insecure putting your feelings out in the open like this. Especially with everything that you were admitting to.

"Well, yeah. Sure I can be bold about my advances with mascot characters, it's just living out a fantasy! I don't know who's in those costumes, and they don't know me! They reject me and it's just a mutant turtle they're rejecting! But you.. you know me. If you were to reject me- I mean.. I couldn't be that bold or forward with you because you make me feel... I care too much about what you think, and therefore was too scared to find out." Donnie trailed off. "I just kept running from the risk of scaring you away and ruining what I already have with you by confessing my feelings for you." His heart was beating so fast now saying it all out loud. "I wanted to be selfish and.. cowardly."

"So you do have feelings for me?" You asked, hopeful. It was the question you've been dying to hear the answer to for so long.

"I do.. Have feelings for you that is." He clarified.

You both were staring at each other, blushing hard. Shy smiles started to appear on your faces.

"So, am I.. too late?" Donnie asked, uncertain, referring to your mention of trying to get over him.

You smiled, "Well I mean you aren't the only one who's acted selfishly, Dee." You confessed, "Like I said, I honestly could have let go of your hands to cover your mouth earlier."

Donnie raised an eyebrow at your comment, a smile sneaking onto his own face. "That's right. 'Impulse' you had said?"

"I mean, if I'm being honest here, it's not like it was the first time I have ever had an urge to kiss you." You tried to push on with the confidence you were feeling. Everything else was already out in the open, might as well ride the wave!

He was over the moon to hear this. Sure, you haven't answered his question directly yet, but he took this as a green light to test the waters. You had mentioned that you wanted bold and forward, flirty Donnie?

Noted.

"Not the first time, you say? Pray-tell, how often have you thought of kissing me?" He questioned back, causing you to blush. You felt butterflies at the confidence that started to overtake him. Just that was enough to make you feel all shy again? Hoo-boy.

"Hmm, it depends. Are you asking for the number of time from this past year? Or just the amount of times I've thought of kissing you during my futile attempt to get over you?" You questioned back.

He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "'Futile,' huh?" He quoted back to you. He stood up and crossed his arms. "So you're saying that you've wanted to kiss me? Or rather, would it be more correct to use present tense: you want to kiss me?"

You were now embarrassed. You didn't want to humor his smugness with an answer.

But on second thought, maybe this is an opportunity you can take advantage of to see more of this side of Donnie.

You crossed over to him. "What if I say that is correct? I do want to kiss you?" Bold flirting isn't easy, but you couldn't miss this opportunity.

Donnie's smirk grew, his eyelids lowered as he looked at you approach. He pretended to think, "Hmmm, 'why would I kiss you?'" He smugly echoed your question from earlier that night back to you.

You grabbed his face in your hands, smiling at him, "Shut up, Donnie." You kissed him. Properly this time.

You felt his lips move against your own as his arms wrapped around you to keep you in place. You're not going anywhere this time. You both had apparently been taking turns to be selfish, so now it was his turn.

He leaned his weight against his desk behind him to prop himself up and lean you more into him. He'd never admit it, but his legs felt weak. If he had felt fireworks earlier, now he was feeling the stars. You were like a supernova, so bright and pulling him in. The idea of floating among nebulas paled in comparison of feeling you in his arms. When you moved one arm around his neck, he quickly placed one of his hands atop yours that was still on his face, keeping it there to relish in your touch a little longer.

When you broke apart, you didn't separate too far. He moved your hand to his lips to kiss your fingers, before moving it to his plastron. You could feel how fast his heart was beating. Or was that your own? You pecked his lips again, both of you smiling too much to give a proper kiss again. You leaned your forehead to his and you couldn't help but to giggle.

"Donnie, are you in here? Mikey wanted to- Oh! Oh, sorry guys! Uh, hold on! Let me just-" Raph had walked in and immediately shuffled awkwardly right back out of the room. He loudly cleared his throat before enunciating every word, "Donnie! Knock. Knock! May I come in?"

You and Donnie had already pulled apart when Raph had walked in but you still took a quick second to compose yourselves. Donnie's attempt to act natural was to examine his bust of himself while you pretended to hand him random tools... like a saw...? You were flustered, ok?

Donnie cleared his throat as well before calling back to Raph nonchalantly, "Yes, yes, come in!" Raph stiffly shuffled back into the threshold of the lab. He didn't know if it was appropriate to say anything about the development between you two. Should he congratulate you? Fist bump? Cheer?

No, that can wait until later when you both are ready to tell the family. After Raph tells Leo, Mikey, and April first of course.

"Mikey wanted to talk to you if, uh, you have a second. But no rush! In fact, take your time! I'll just be on my way now that I've relayed the message!" Raph pointed towards the living room as he squeezed back behind the wall as he started sneaking away. "You know, to let Mikey know that you'll come and talk to him!" Raph took off down the hallway.

"Oh no you don't loud mouth! Get back here!" Donnie yelled as he urgently chased after Raph.

You looked at your fingers that Donnie had kissed and moved them to touch your lips, blushing deeply. The sounds of the lair muffled around you as you relived the moment that had just happened between you and Donnie a little longer. You'll need to find more excuses for Donnie to be quiet in the future!

---fin---

*Reference to the 2012 TMNT series. (I like that all of the TMNT series reference each other so I wanted to do that too)

#rottmnt #donatello #rise donnie #donnie x reader #donatello x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt x reader

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ridorukunmajitennshi · 10 months

Note

13 w ace please? :o

pairing: ace trappola x gn!reader cw: suggestive a/n: i know ace shares a dorm with other first-years but i only remembered that fact half-way through, so we're gonna be delulu, okay? i hope you enjoy!

send me a number + character!

Hot, dewy tears clung to your lashes as you knocked on Ace’s door past curfew—and, even if Riddle would surely have his head for this, he let you inside without questioning it. He was your best friend, and he wasn’t going to refuse you when you showed up in a pitiful state. He couldn’t.

“Shh, hey,” Ace’s voice is shockingly mollifying for someone with an intrinsically cheeky attitude as he tugs you deeper into his dorm room, “what happened?”

“⋯ I got rejected,” was all you managed to murmur out whilst suppressing the urge to start crying.

Ace felt that oh so familiar twinge in his chest, the one that makes it as if his heart is being gouged out with a dull blade and the remains are discarded in a bloody, grotesque on the floor. “Ah⋯ from that guy you were talking about a week or two ago?” Ace acted as if he assuredly remembered, but he usually zoned-out whenever you blathered about any crushes you had.

Why would he want to listen to you babble on about someone else; when he was right in front of you?

“He said I wasn’t cute enough.”

“Okay, that’s just bullshit,” Ace spat out acerbically, not heeding his caustic tone—if anything, he shamelessly wished this guy could hear his voice and melt into the ground in a deplorable heap. “You’re the cutest in the whole school! Everyone knows that.”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at how heated Ace appeared to be getting over this, and from his patent exaggeration. “I am not,” you whispered, lips curving into a small smile, “but⋯ thank you, Ace.”

In Ace’s eyes, you truly were the cutest little thing⋯ and he desperately yearned for your color to be dyed in his, a sickening crimson that needed you as he needed oxygen.

“C’mere,” with a small pout as he uttered that, Ace opened up his arms to you and encircled your frame within his embrace; pressing a feathery kiss to the top of your head, “you are the cutest, though. At least to me.”

“You really think so?”

Reflected in your glossy eyes was a scintilla of dubiety, and Ace would perceive that—so, with a spuriously teasing smirk, he mocked, “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Hehe, well, you do lie sometimes, you know⋯”

“I’d never lie about something like this,” Ace reassured you with an abrupt pensiveness, “not to you.”

Left breathless by Ace’s confidence, how soft yet affectionate he sounded, you clung onto him tauter and squeezed as a silent affirmation of your appreciation.

“Let’s head to bed, yeah? Knowing you, you wouldn’t wanna be alone after what happened,” Ace suggested, albeit there were tinctures of selfishness underneath his act of being your one and only best friend.

Why wouldn’t he want you to sleep over? To keep you to himself as you recover from your heartache?

Rummaging through his wardrobe and fishing out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that’ll be way too big on you, Ace handed you your makeshift pyjamas. He rolled on his heel and turned the other way so you could change, but whenever he thought you weren’t looking, he peeked over his shoulder for just a crumb of what he’s been hungry for.

Ace and you head to his bed, where you flop down onto it—and then Ace does as well, although he practically descends atop of you and shoves his weights on you as he does.

“Oof! You’re heavy!”

“Nah, you’re just too small,” Ace quipped back.

“I-I’m still growing⋯!”

“Sureeeee you are, cutie⋯” Rolling his eyes playfully, Ace nudged you as he shortened the propinquity between you further. He planted a kiss on your neck, allowing his lips to linger over your hot pulse. “Why don’t you close your eyes? Get yourself some rest with me.”

“Mhm, yeah, good idea⋯”

Too credulous and trusting for your own good, Ace watched with a simper as you fluttered your eyes shut as he continued to press small kisses along your sensitive neck, dragging the flesh of his moist lips against the flushing skin as he took advantage of you.

“Sleep if you need to,” he added.

Ace wasn’t sure if you were asleep or not, but he rolled overtop of you, pinning his hands beside your head as he stared down at you. Prepossessing and alluring, you looked like a damn angel with your countenance eased.

Tracing a hand under your shirt as if he’s holding your hip, Ace drew his lips down to your chest where he placed another kiss right above where your heart rests. Before then bringing his mouth back up to press harder, firmer kisses on your neck.

Hearing as you made a soft noise in your sleep, Ace couldn’t fathom what the other boys in school didn’t see in you; you were adorable. The cutest in the world. It was unbearable.

He was losing control⋯ the enticement of your skin heating up beneath his mouth was clouding his mind, corrupting his sense of command. And so, Ace kissed you deeply on the lips; keeping you restrained against the bed so you couldn’t move or escape.

Your eyes flung open in discombobulation, and Ace kept his lips attached to yours in order to occlude you from speaking properly.

“Shh⋯ just lay back,” Ace whispered, hand roaming beneath your shirt and leaving searing imprints along your belly, “I’ll make you feel good, best you’d ever had.”

Kissing you once more, sensual and deep, Ace felt your lips part and he didn't squander a second before rolling his tongue into your mouth—even if that wasn’t your intention. Groaning against your lips, Ace clasped your waist and dug his hand into you.

Feebly struggling, you couldn’t stop Ace from affixing his lips onto your neck once more; mewling as he begins to suckle on your skin, teeth roughly, he was inexperienced, sinking down. “Wh-Why do⋯ you want to?”

“Because⋯ I want you. All of you,” Ace heaved, leaving a bright hickey on the side of your neck, “and it’s about time you see that.”

#ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #suggestive #ficlets #gn reader

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lawlietscaramels · 5 months

Note

okay okay okay I know you said no stories (understandable the holidays wiped me out too agshwsj) but I just got this random idea in my head and I could wait...!

So you know how voice filters are so normal now? even copying VA's to a seriously convincing level. What if people started using L's usual voice filter? Like nothing malicious, just people posting the craziest shit using THE detective L voice.

voice clips, shit posts, thirst traps, tiktok sounds of his public challenge on kira, people hating and simping on main and L can only helplessly watch. His pride won't allow him to change the filter he uses he made that himself it's his damnit! it'd be useless anyways, they'd just copy that too .

What can he do? are there legal repercussions? can he even copyright that? or is he doomed to be the biggest meme for the next 3 months like all public figures are subject to in life? Does L even notice?

So can I request an L-centric headcanon for this? You don't have to do it right away! Write whenever you feel like it! I just thought it'd be funny. Have a happy holiday!✨

–🍰 anon

That's My Voice! ╾ L

PFFTJSBAHHAHA CAN YOU IMAGINE?! this is the best way to start of 2024 pfft

also I have rested and relaxationed™ so I am doing a hc/story snippet mix!

okay okay yes. let's go.

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

It's hard to say how quickly L would notice if this happened. Perhaps on the first day; perhaps he'd remain oblivious until it all blew over. the former is more likely than the latter.

but oh gosh once he notices...

Putting the key in the lock and turning it, you expected to find L standing right in the doorframe to greet you, the affectionate weirdo that he is. But he's staring in horror at one of the monitors lighting the room, mouth wide open and a lollipop forgotten in his mouth.

"y/n, they've stolen my voice!"

he probably hasn't encountered this kind of technology outside of like, criminals faking voices to commit crime or whatever so he's completely confused as to how and why ordinary citizens are using the voice filter he spent months of his childhood tinkering with.

they should make their own! can't he use copyright or something?!

"Oh, don't worry so much, L. It's just a trend, it will blow over quickly! There is no harm in them having fun."

He throws his arms in the air and for a moment you're concerned he's going to tip his seat over again. "What do you mean there's no harm?! They are 'simping,'" with the most dramatic air quotes you have ever seenー L must have learnt the term and immediately decided it did not deserve to be a wordー "for a cartoon man named Miguel from Arachnid-Man! In my voice, y/n!"

And you burst out laughing, which doesn't seem to help at all.

L goes silent and furious for a good hour as he desperately searches for a way to stop this from happening. I don't know the copyright laws myself, but I imagine as it isn't L's real voice and he likely wouldn't have seen the need to apply for a patent (or whatever equivalent there is to protect a voice filter), he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

he would still seriously consider taking these good-for-nothings to court though...

You watch with both a- and bemusement as L taps his bottom lip over and over, fast.

"L," you say, "what are you thinking?"

It's not a good sign when that British accent begins to fall over his words. "I am weighing up how likely it is I would win a court case to sue for millions, strip these imbeciles of the right to technology, and publicly humiliate them. Do you think we could bring back tar-and-feathering...?"

DO NO T LET HIM. hahags it will take a solid hour or more of convincing but L will eventually give up, pouting and dedicatedly following the hashtag #iamLtoo

he might actually learn a lot about popular culture

he might also fall out of his chair in shock and cry

so, you win some, you lose some. maybe it's best to just take away his browsing privileges and remind him of whatever case he's working on. DISTRACT DISTRACT!

you're right, his pride would definitely stop him from trying to stop these "trollers" (he called them trolleys at least three times) via changing his voice filter. He made it himself, he won't give it up because of some teen living in their parents' garage!!! Though he might try to rig a program to detect people using it and delete their accounts or whatever

not sure how to segue into this one but here's another story bit

After finally calming L down and reminding him the tar-and-feather punishment was abolished for a reason, you manage to get into bed for some rest. To your surprise, L joins you, staring expressionlessly at the ceiling. This is what he always does when thinking, so you assume his mind is on the case and he's forgotten about the whole voice fiasco until he starts... cackling.

"L..."

Yep, there's a good chance he'll swing from "this is the most horrible thing that's ever happened to me ever!!??'!;;'!;';!!;"! :(" to quoting the memes.

he might actually really enjoy some of them.

though it's hard to tell if he genuinely thinks some of what these "trolleys" are doing is creative and amusing or if it's just a coping strategy for the next few months.

well, that is until he makes a subtle reference to the most viral of the videos in his next address to the public...

after that I'm afraid the craze sets off once again

L will sit back and watch with a smile

though if one of the uses of his voice filter insults him the whole thing is shut down faster than you can say tar-and-feathers

"You're a strange man, you know that?"

"So is this 'Miguel' character."

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖙 ˏˋ⋆˖⁺˖⁀➷ 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 + 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

©lawlietscaramels. Do not repost on other sites, claim as your own work, edit, rewrite or “fix,” feed to AI or otherwise use unethically.

#ehdhehhe this was actually so fun to write i did it in what ten minutes? 15?#lei's lawliet #death note #l lawliet #writing #dn #x reader #fluff #crack #anons #🍰 anon #lei writes #writers on tumblr #death note crack #death note headcanons #death note hc #death note imagines #l death note #quick read

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laguera25 · 1 year

Text

I'm going to clarify something, and then I'm going to STFU until something more than unattributed screenshots and frazzled mania comes out.

I believe something happened to that woman. What I don't know is if it was anything untoward. Maybe between the booze and the excitement and her Lexapro and dehydration, things just went wonky, and she went off her ass. Maybe it was innocent.

Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe someone did spike her. Maybe they did it to make her more pliant, or maybe they did to get people high and didn't realize that whatever they added would interact badly with her meds.

I believe Till made an asshole of himself and pouted when she declined to have sex with him. I believe he sulked and flounced off.

And that alone makes him a dick. It doesn't speak well of him that he was willing to have sex with someone obviously off their ass and then turned into a toddler when she said no. It makes him sound sleazy, predatory, and entitled. And sad.

But.

This woman herself acknowledges that when faced with her refusal, Till accepted it. With ill grace, it must be said, but nonetheless. He did not press the issue.

I do not believe Till, or anyone else involved with Rammstein and its satellite organization, assaulted this woman. If Till had wanted to, he could've done so under the stage. No one did, and the woman herself claims that her memory didn't abdicate its duties until after that.

I'm not saying she wasn't assaulted; and to her credit, she has made no explicit claims as yet, though she's certainly been dancing around the subject since she first showed her bruises, especially the finger marks on her ribs. FWIW, I think she got most of those as she stumbled about in a stupor she does not recall. The finger marks may well be from equally intoxicated people trying to help her up.

In sum, I think Till has brought this on the band. Whether it was an intentional spike or a bad mix of booze and meds, he still tried to have sex with a woman blasted out of her mind, and even though he refused, the very fact that he attempted to do so has ratcheted up the nightmare scenarios of what might have happened in her mind. The truth is, she doesn't know what happened after her memory peaced out, and likely never will, but because Till showed his ass, she's always going to wonder. And that's on him. And on the band for letting these parties go on under their auspices.

I know this woman is now claiming this was never about legal justice, which doesn't really gibe with her first post, in which she swore to get "her justice, but there we are. I think she realizes that any chance she had of collecting physical evidence has passed and has now shifted gears to a righteous crusade to stop the "filth and depravity."

I can't say she hasn't been without success on that score because allegedly, the next few Row 0 parties have been nixed or moved to an outside club, and Alena is doing cack-handed damage control on IG, begging girls to post positive party experiences with the hashtag, "Istandwithrammstein." Which, LOL. I can't imagine the band came up with that dumbass stratagem. She, at least, is on the defensive. And fucking good.

All of that said, this woman's credibility is still shot, and rather than posting every harebrained, "My friend snorted coke off Till's dick" story that lands in her DMs, she needs to stop posting manic IG stories and get a lawyer because by posting every bit of drivel that floats into her inbox, she not only looks credulous and crazy, but she's opening herself up to legal action I'm sure she can't afford.

*There is a difference between credibility and truth. While this woman might be telling the truth about what happened to her as far as she can remember, she has no credibility because she's tossed it in among patent hogwash and posted shrill videos of herself as a an avenging angel for Great Justice, which makes her look like a gullible, loony misandrist.

**She's not claiming explicitly that Till or anyone affiliated with Rammstein sexually assaulted her, but she's certainly insinuating that they've done it to others, and that's what might land her in very deep trouble.

ETA: And now she's dragging Richard into it. His nefarious misdeed? Sitting in the same room at the afterparty. 'Kay.

#rammstein

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economy-wonderglue · 2 months

Text

@acorncoffeeformysweetheart was my giftee for Celebradiation this year. Have a little thing about Daisy, reading, and the upsides of having a friend that can act as a nightlight.

—————

The first snow of the season has started its descent. Little flurries stick to the window before melting against the glass. The cold seeps in through gaps in the walls, despite Daisy’s best efforts to finally get the second floor of the store fixed up. With heavy reinforcements (more blankets) and a resupply (extra wood for the barrel fireplace), Nate and Daisy have managed to stave off any further encroachment (the room getting too cold to bear). They’re equipped with a stack of overdue library books that Nate brought around to share before turning them in for book tokens. Daisy has a beginner’s guide to rodent care, and Nate holds a copy of Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground that he keeps setting down.

“Daisy, this is patently unfair,” Nate says, watching with obvious jealousy as Daisy flips another page in her book. She doesn’t look up.

“You’ve got your own stack of books,” she reminds him. It doesn’t wipe the little pout off of Nate’s face, and he continues to wallow in his pile of blankets on the couch, arms crossed over his chest.

“Uh, no. Your friend?”

“You’ve got Dogmeat.”

“Yeah, but all he does is bite people and sleep.”

Dogmeat lets out a tired little whine-sigh of a wasteland dog living a tough life. He’s currently enduring the hardship of sleeping underneath Nate’s knees like a living cushion. Never mind the fact that he crawled under the vault dweller’s legs to get there, or that Nate has been feeding him mirelurk jerky the whole time. He pokes his nose out from under the blankets.

“Where did you even find it?” Nate asks, shimmying against the couch to keep his shoulders under the blankets.

“I think it’s more accurate to say that it found me. It was limping around the entrance of Goodneighbor, and I felt bad. It just needed a little love, isn’t that right?”

Daisy raises one hand to scratch at the chin of her “friend” currently draped over her shoulders. Her friend emits a happy whuff and resumes napping. Dogmeat makes a noise that sounds like an attempt at mimickry, trying to be cute as well. Nate rolls his eyes.

“How come you can’t be like Daisy’s friend?” Nate asks. Dogmeat grumbles. “Come on, it’d be cool! Think of how useful it would make you too!”

“I’m not sure Dogmeat would be as good at sneaking,” Daisy points out, turning the page in her book.

“Do I look like the kind of person who sneaks?”

Daisy gives Nate a once-over, which isn’t quite as helpful thanks to most of his body being covered by blankets. The two scars crossing his face are good enough to answer his question.

“I know the kind of ammo that you buy from KL-E-0.”

“Exactly.”

Something downstairs makes a strange sound, and the floor lamp next to Nate’s couch goes out.

“Aw, shit,” he mutters. He makes no move to get up. “Daisy, can you—”

“No way, vault dweller.”

“But I can’t read without a light!”

“I’m not having any trouble.”

Daisy tries to hold back a smile as Nate lets out a long, annoyed groan. He wiggles his legs to knock the blankets off, and awkwardly lifts them over Dogmeat to avoid kicking him in the head.

“That is so unfair,” he tells Daisy.

Nate walks over and gives her friend a quick scratch on the head, before walking downstairs to restart the generator. Dogmeat uses the opportunity to take over the couch, eyeing Daisy as he lays down on top of the blankets to make himself a little nest.

“Hey, no eating my friend,” she tells the dog, who rests his chin on the couch’s arm and gives her a pointed look. “I need my reading light.”

The glowing mole rat balancing itself against Daisy’s shoulders and the back of the armchair seems to pulse for a moment. It glows with just enough light for Daisy to keep reading. Nate climbs the stairs again and puts his hands on his hips.

“Again, super unfair,” he says, and Daisy shakes her head.

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m better at finding animal friends than you are,” she replies without a hint of remorse. The book says something about the highly social nature of rats, and Daisy wonders if her new friend needs some other mole rat buddies too. The only problem with that is finding and taming them. They bite without hesitation, tunnel all over the place, and chew on everything in sight. Daisy’s friend is content with living indoors because of his mangled front paw making it too difficult to dig anymore, but any other mole rats would immediately set off to cause structural damage all over Goodneighbor.

“Have you named it?” Nate asks.

“Not yet. I wasn’t going to, but I guess we have to call it something other than just ‘my friend’. Any suggestions?”

“Glowy.”

“No.”

“Radstorm.”

“No.”

“Mole?”

“You are terrible at naming pets.”

“Hey, I’ve never named a pet in my life. Dogmeat came with that name already.” Nate pauses, looking thoughtful. “Hey, how about—”

“I am not naming it Ratmeat.”

Nate takes to calling the animal “Not-Ratmeat”. The mole rat starts responding to that name after a week.

#fallout #celebradiation24

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baronaliswritingcorner · 4 months

Text

Fódlan Flufflets #25: Popular (Felix/Bernadetta)

A parting gift before my two-week retreat -- the return of Fódlan Flufflets!

In honor of the #ChooseYourLegends results, have some #Felibern -- my very first, in fact! Please enjoy this latest slice of my patented Fódlan anachronism. ---

Felix had endured countless humiliations in the maelstrom of agony that was his life. Losing spars to classmates and veteran knights alike. Falling for Glenn’s mischievous pranks, guised as “coming of age” rituals. Enduring the second-hand embarrassment that was Sylvain’s skirt-chasing.

All soul-crushing in their own ways, but experience ingrained a budding humility that’d bloomed into his adulthood years, and he’d learned to brush off such embarrassments like the pitiful swings of a fresh Fraldarius troop.

This, however, was the final straw. Not even a day into their vacation at Derdriu, and they were greeted with the culture shock that was the city periodical’s headline:

““SHIPPING WARS” RUN RAMPANT -- “FELIBERN” OUTPACES THE LIKES OF “DIMILETH”, “SYLVGRID”, “FERDITHEA” and “LEORENZ” IN NEW POLL DECIDING FÓDLAN’S CUTEST COUPLE!”

And that was how, after being chased by hordes of screeching fangirls, Felix and his wife found themselves holed up in Derdriu’s fanciest inn. The screams of adoring fans and invasive paparazzi buzzed incessantly outside their window like a sea of hungry gnats, swarming the Aquatic Capital and descending upon their refuge -- their cheers and demands invasive as they were utterly confounding.

“FE-LI-BERN! FE-LI-BERN!! FEEL THE BERN!!!”

“WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! COME OUT AND SMOOCH FOR US!”

“CAN YOU COMMENT ON THE RUMORS SURROUNDING LADY BERNADETTA’S PREGNANCY?”

Cornered, exhausted, and utterly defeated, Felix’s face rested firmly in his palms – not merely because of the egregious invasion of privacy, or the impossible likelihood of escape, but because of one unfathomable variable he’d never have predicted.

“Ehehehehe,” giggled his wife. “Oh my gosh, Felix! Look! They drew us as little kitties! And we’re snuggling!”

No, it was because after all the screaming and hiding ceased once all the facts were laid bare, Felix came to the horrifying realization that Bernadetta actually liked it.

“Bernie’s never won at anything,” marveled Bernie, “but Cutest Couple in Fódlan? Hehe! It’s funny because it’s true! Bernie prevails!”

“Please stop,” moaned Felix.

“But look at all the competition!” said Bernadetta as she thumped her chest. “We beat out Ashette, Mercedue, Cysithea, and, and-”

“Yes, I read the article.”

“Ehehehe, do you know what this means? We have fans!” said Bernadetta with a squeal. She unlocked the window and waved outside. “Yes, hello! Bernie sees you!”

Wincing at the deafening roar, Felix yanked her back inside and slammed the window shut. “Don’t encourage them. And since when were you such a social butterfly?”

“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Felix!” said Bernadetta with a pout – shaking her arms in that familiar display of protest. “C’mon, didn’t you see the artwork? They’ve got some serious talent!”

Shoving the paper into his face, Felix was met once more with the paper’s meticulously detailed header image: the two Fraldariuses, engaged in a wistful liplock amidst glowing fireflies in a moonlit forest; a menagerie of doe-eyed woodland critters surrounding their tryst with palpable adoration.

Felix composed himself with a deep sigh. “Last I checked,” he said with an elaborate exhale, “our marriage wasn’t out for display. I don’t know how this whole nonsense started, but once we get back, I’ll appeal directly to Dimitri for an immediate ban on this so-called ‘shipping’.”

“Oh, come on – it’s all in good fun! Here, check these out,” said Bernadetta as she flashed a collection of paper-thin tomes, their covers decorated with amorous embraces and lovelorn looks courtesy of Fódlan’s top couple.

Felix nearly hurled. “What are--wait, where’d you even get those-”

“Oh, some fans shoved them into my hands while you were swinging your sword at those journalists – I think they’re called ‘zines’? Let’s see: there’s “Arrows and Swords” – it’s full of little stories about us! – and this one’s called “Violet Dreams and Azure Courage” – chock-full of pictures; see, I’m a mermaid! -- and this is…um, I’m not sure what the “18+” stands for, but it’s called “Steamy Fraldarius Nights” and--oh my-”

Ripping that last one out of his wife’s hands, Felix threw the offending zine to the floor and smote it with a Thunder spell. “Look, we came here for a retreat,” said Felix, incredulous at reminding Bernadetta – Bernadetta! -- of the values of privacy. “How do you expect us to relax if we’re constantly entertaining the delusions of these obsessed goons?”

Bernadetta pouted as she crossed her arms. “Well, you can say what you like, but they’re not leaving!”

“Then I’ll make them,” said Felix as he marched to the window and swung it wide open. “People of Deirdru, may you promise to leave us alone once I give you what your pathetic hearts desire!”

“WE HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR, LORD FRALDARIUS!”

“Felix?” said Bernadetta as her husband pulled her to the window, “what are you-”

Immediately swinging Bernadetta to his front, Felix elaborately dipped his wife out the window and gave the entirety of Derdriu front-row seats to a passionate kiss.

The city shook with a rumbling roar – the raw power of nerd fandom rippling the very air itself, enduring even as they pulled apart.

Bernadetta flushed crimson, reduced to lovestruck babble. “N-no fair.”

Felix grinned roguishly. “Just promise me you won’t wound Lorenz’s pride by rubbing our victory in his face, and I won’t embarrass you further.”

------

AO3 Link

#fodlan flufflets #felibern #felix hugo fraldarius #bernadetta von varley #i just love absurdism #bernie and lorenz do seem to have an antagonism thing going on #choose your legends #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses fanfiction #fe3h

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kjack89 · 2 years

Text

Only Fools Rush In

E/R, modern AU. Pure fluff.

“It seems ironic,” Courfeyrac called airily, as if they were out for a jog instead of bolting away from a protest scene that had erupted into chaos.

Enjolras didn’t bother looking over at him. “What seems ironic?” he asked shortly.

“That the armed-to-the-teeth riot police would break up a peaceful protest calling for increased gun control.”

“You and Alanis Morisette may want to have a conversation about the definition of the word ironic,” Combeferre interjected. “Because from where I’m standing, the militarized police system is working exactly as intended by those in power.”

“Except you’re not standing,” Courfeyrac said, in the same blithe, unconcerned tone. “You’re running.”

Enjolras gritted his teeth. Seemingly nothing, not even running away from the cops, was enough to get Combeferre and Courfeyrac to shut up.

Not that Enjolras really had any leg to stand on (or, in this case and before Courfeyrac interjected otherwise, to run on), but luckily for him, Grantaire had chosen a different route to flee the scene, which kept Enjolras from participating in any post-riot bickering.

On that particular day, at least.

Still, running pell-mell down side streets and alleys was one of those things that would never not remind Enjolras of Grantaire, which was one of those things that Enjolras was fairly certain he should never mention out loud to another person as long as he lived or else subject himself to mockery or, worse, the kind of cooing that Courfeyrac did whenever he saw a baby animal.

Maybe Enjolras just needed better friends.

As if he could read his mind, Courfeyrac asked, voice saccharine sweet, “What are you thinking about that has you smiling like that?”

Enjolras was just glad that his cheeks were already flushed from running. “Nothing,” he muttered.

He didn’t look over at Courfeyrac but could tell he was grinning just from the delight in his voice when he asked, “Ok, so then who are you thinking about that has you smiling like that?”

In lieu of an answer, Enjolras gave him the finger before finally slowing down to a more reasonable walk, having deemed that they were far enough away from the scene. Courfeyrac and Combeferre followed suit, with Courfeyrac immediately looping his arm through Enjolras’s. “You can’t tell me you weren’t thinking about Grantaire.”

“Last I checked, I don’t have to tell you anything at all,” Enjolras grumbled. He gave Courfeyrac a pointed look. “And considering what a mistake it was to tell you that Grantaire and I hooked up in the first place, I doubt I’ll be telling you anything ever again.”

Courfeyrac pouted. “It’s not my fault that you two have a glorious, epic love story for the ages!” he protested.

Combeferre snorted. “Last I checked, Enjolras and Grantaire have fooled around a handful of times. That does not a great love story make.”

“Only because you’re choosing to focus on the physical aspects only,” Courfeyrac shot back. “But when you look at their journey from sworn enemies to reluctant friends to illicit lovers to—”

“Grantaire and I were never sworn enemies,” Enjolras said. “Nor, for that matter, would I refer to our relationship as ‘fooling around’. And I would greatly appreciate it if we could change the subject to something, anything, less patently ridiculous.”

Courfeyrac scowled and pulled his arm away from Enjolras. “And here I thought you getting laid on the regular might improve your mood,” he sniffed.

Enjolras rolled his eyes but decided against saying anything, letting Combeferre and Courfeyrac fall back into their usual pattern of bickering as they finally reached the Musain. Once inside, the bickering fell by the wayside as they went into their usual post-protest routine: posting on Twitter and instagram to call out the unnecessary police presence and subsequent abuses, coordinating press responses, and making sure everyone made it back in one piece.

Since Enjolras focused mostly on the first two, it took him longer than usual to realize that while most of the remainder of Les Amis had trickled in, there were a few notable faces missing.

One notable face in particular.

Enjolras glanced at Combeferre before looking around to make sure Courfeyrac wasn’t in ear shot. “Where’s Grantaire?” he asked, keeping his voice down.

Combeferre didn’t look up from his computer, but the tips of his ears burned red the way they did when he was lying. “I’m sure he’s just taking his sweet time getting back,” he said, in a deliberately vague way.

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed, and he glanced around the room again, his chest suddenly feeling like it was being squeezed when he realized that the only other person missing was Joly. Which meant—

He was out of his chair before he realized it, making a beeline for Bossuet, who was talking in an undertone to Jehan. “Where’s Grantaire and Joly?” Enjolras asked, not caring that he was interrupting.

Bossuet and Jehan exchanged glances. “Look,” Bossuet started, something almost soothing in his voice that set Enjolras’s teeth on edge. “It’s nothing. Everything is fine.”

“No one says everything is fine when everything is fine,” Enjolras snapped. “Where are they?”

“There was an – incident,” Bossuet said carefully. “Joly took Grantaire to get checked out at Memorial Hospital.”

Enjolras’s blood ran cold. “What kind of an incident?” he demanded, gripping the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Jehan placed his hand delicately over Enjolras’s. “Grantaire was hit in the face with something,” he said. “There was some blood, but even minor head wounds tend to bleed. There’s no reason to think—”

But Enjolras didn’t wait to hear more, turning to head to the door. Bahorel sidled into his path, his arms crossed in front of his chest, looking for all the world like a bouncer. “No,” he said firmly.

Enjolras stared at him. “Move.”

“No,” Bahorel repeated. “First rule of post-protests, no one goes anywhere until the heat dies down. Cops are still out rounding people up. And before you give me any shit about it, it’s your rule.”

“If it’s my rule, then I should be allowed to break it,” Enjolras muttered mutinously.

Bahorel ignored him. “Secondly, the absolute last thing Grantaire needs right now is to be worried about you. So you need to stay here until we get more information.”

“Bahorel, you know I love you,” Enjolras said, as calmly as he could manage, “but if you don’t get out of my way, I will beat your ass.”

Bahorel looked almost amused, and for a moment, Enjolras was pretty sure he was going to take him up on that. But then Combeferre called, “Let him go.”

When Bahorel looked over at Combeferre, assumedly to protest, Enjolras slipped past him, stepping out into the sunshine and immediately making his way to the nearest major street to hail a cab (significantly safer than taking a Lyft or Uber – cabs still accepted cash, after all) to take him to the hospital.

He called Joly as soon as the cab dropped him off at the Emergency Room entrance. “Where’s Grantaire?” he demanded.

“Bed 6,” Joly said, sounding bemused. “But Enjolras—”

Enjolras hung up, jogging past the front desk and the intake nurse who tried to stop him, looking wildly around for Grantaire and Joly. “Why the hell aren’t the beds fucking numbered—”

Then, he spotted them, Grantaire sitting on a gurney, an ice pack pressed to his head, as Joly sat in a chair next to him. Enjolras hurried over to them, opening his mouth to say something when Grantaire spotted him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, dropping the ice pack from his head and revealing a small bandage at his hairline.

“Bossuet told me you were here, and—”

“And there’s probably, what, four warrants out for your arrest?” Grantaire interrupted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Get out of here.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “There are no warrants out for my arrest,” he huffed, before amending, “Well, no active warrants, anyway. I didn’t even do anything. The fucking cops saw to that.”

Grantaire didn’t look convinced. “Ok, but still, don’t you have work to do?”

“Of course,” Enjolras said impatiently, “but that’s not important—”

“Since when?”

Enjolras paused, taking a moment to unclench his teeth before letting Grantaire suck him into one of their usual arguments. “Are you going to let me get a complete sentence out at any point today?” he asked instead, struggling to keep his voice mild.

Grantaire sighed, raising the ice pack to his head again. “Sorry. It’s the pain meds. They make me terse.”

“Pain meds?” Enjolras asked sharply, looking at Joly.

“Non-narcotic NSAIDs,” Joly said without looking up from his phone. “He’s on glorified ibuprofen.”

Enjolras looked back at Grantaire, who had the grace to at least look slightly shame-faced. “I wanted morphine, maybe fentanyl, even a goddamned Tylenol with codeine, but Jolllly said no.”

“Good.”

Grantaire gave him a look. “But I am again assuming you didn’t come here to make sure I maintained my sobriety, so…”

He trailed off pointedly and Enjolras sighed. “Not so much, no.” He wet his lip before squaring his shoulders and starting, “Grantaire, I—”

He had practiced this in his head so many times on the cab ride over, but now that he was standing here looking at Grantaire, he couldn’t seem to choke the words out, even if he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he meant every single one. Grantaire half-smiled before prompting, “Grantaire, you…”

Enjolras managed a smile and took a deep breath. “I came here because I have something that I wanted to tell you, something that I should have told you a long time ago, but better late than never, right? Especially since you got hurt—” His voice broke on the word hurt, and Grantaire reached automatically for his hand, his smile long-since disappeared, replaced by a confused look. “So I came here to say it now. Grantaire, I lo—”

He didn’t even get the entire word out before Grantaire yelped and dropped his hand. “What the fuck?” he half-shouted, and Enjolras raised both eyebrows.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you – did you – what the fuck?” Grantaire spluttered, all the color drained from his face.

Enjolras blinked before glancing at Joly. “Is he having a stroke?”

“Doubtful,” Joly said, looking and sounding like he very much wanted to be literally anywhere else besides there.

Enjolras looked back at Grantaire, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “Are you ok?” he asked carefully. “I promise I didn’t come here, to upset you, I came here to tell you—”

“Stop!” Grantaire yelped. “Don’t say it!”

Enjolras stared at him. “Don’t say what?” he asked blankly. “Don’t say that I love you?”

Grantaire groaned, covering his face with both hands and flopping back on the gurney. “Yeah, that,” he said.

Enjolras’s brow furrowed, trying to figure out why Grantaire was acting like he had just told him his cat had died. “Well, it’s a little late for that,” he said, his voice rough, and he shifted awkwardly, beginning to feel like this had been a mistake in more ways than one. “So I guess I’ll just—”

Grantaire sat up again, dropping his hands from his face to scowl at him. “I’m sorry, you can’t just drop a bomb like that and then leave, any more than you get to rush over here and tell me that you love me just because I’m dying!”

“You are not dying,” Joly said in a bored voice before Enjolras could even ask.

“Just because I have a traumatic brain injury!” Grantaire amended.

Joly sighed. “You barely have a bruise.”

“Just because I have an ouchie!”

Grantaire’s voice was a little strangled on the last one, and under different circumstances, Enjolras might’ve laughed, but he was too pissed that his attempt at a grand romantic gesture had fallen apart so spectacularly. “Did it ever occur to you that I’m not just saying it because you’re hurt?” he demanded, glowering at Grantaire. “That I’m saying it in spite of you being severely and likely irrevocably brain damaged?”

“Do either of you actually care that he’s not that injured?” Joly asked.

They both ignored him. “If you’re not just saying it because I’m hurt, then why did you wait until now?” Grantaire asked, meeting Enjolras’s glare with one of his own.

“Because I’m an idiot!” Enjolras snapped. “For waiting as long as I did, mostly, and for a lot of other things too.” Grantaire’s lips twitched, just slightly, but it was enough for Enjolras. He took a step closer to the gurney, reaching out for Grantaire’s hand. “But even though Joly is about to roll his eyes so hard they’ll fall out of his head, you did get hurt,” he continued, his voice softening. “And even if the chances of your ouchie causing any lasting damage are probably slim to none—”

“Like, literally none,” Joly said. “I made him get a head CT. He does not even have a concussion.”

“—If there was even a chance that you could leave me before knowing, I had to tell you,” Enjolras finished. “Because I love you enough to sprint over here like a moron and stand at the side of your gurney and tell you that I love you. Because even though you deserve me telling you this at a romantic candlelit dinner, this could’ve been the only time we had.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” Grantaire whispered, but he was grinning, and he tugged Enjolras in to kiss him.

Enjolras was grinning as well when they broke apart, though he hesitated before asking, aiming for casual, “Do you, uh, have anything you want to tell me, besides that I’m an idiot?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I’ve loved you since the day I laid eyes on you,” he said impatiently. “It’s not my fault that it took you forever to figure that out.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything else, someone cleared her throat from the foot of the bed. “Dr. Joly?” an older woman in a white coat asked, sounding amused. “Dare I ask why we appear to have a scene from a romantic comedy playing out in my ER?”

Joly scrambled to his feet, blushing almost as much as Enjolras. “Dr. Simplice,” he said, slightly higher pitched than usual. “These are friends of mine. The patient presented with a head lac, and I had the neuro on call clear him for TBI. We’re just waiting on discharge paperwork.”

Dr. Simplice let out an inscrutable hum. “Why don’t you pop over to the nurses station and see about expediting that paperwork?” she suggested, her voice sweet but with a razor sharp edge.

“Yes ma’am,” Joly muttered, hurrying to do so.

Dr. Simplice gave Enjolras and Grantaire one more piercing look before sweeping off, and Grantaire whistled under his breath. “That was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen,” he muttered.

“I thought she was going to give us detention or something,” Enjolras said under his breath.

Grantaire laughed. “Well, that’s what you get for rushing over here and causing a scene,” he teased.

Enjolras snorted. “Don’t remind me,” he said with a sigh, before glancing at Grantaire. “You’re really ok?”

Grantaire nodded and squeezed his hand. “I’m really ok,” he confirmed.

“So are you going to tell me how you hurt yourself in the first place?” Enjolras asked.

“Oh, no,” Grantaire said decisively. “Absolutely not.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

“Because it’s super embarrassing.”

Enjolras frowned. “Did you miss the part where I sprinted here to tell my boyfriend who barely has a bruise that I love him just in case he dies?”

“Yeah, and that’s super embarrassing for you,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “I do not need to add to that.”

“What if I take it back?” Enjolras asked sourly.

Grantaire just smirked. “You can try, but I have witnesses. Like, so many witnesses. An embarrassing number of witnesses, honestly.”

“I hate you.”

Grantaire grinned. “Love you too.”

Enjolras sighed. “So you’re really not going to tell me?”

Grantaire hesitated for a long moment before sighing as well and looking away. “I tripped.”

“You tripped,” Enjolras repeated, a little incredulous.

Grantaire nodded. “And I fell.”

“You fell.”

Grantaire traced a finger along the seam of the gurney pad. “And as I fell, I bonked my head.”

It took everything in Enjolras not to laugh. “You bonked your head.”

Grantaire nodded and sighed heavily. “I bonked my head,” he confirmed.

Enjolras wet his lips before asking, “On what?”

Grantaire deliberately avoided looking after him, squinting off into the distance as if he was trying to read very tiny print. “On my own protest sign. That I was carrying. As it were.”

Enjolras very rarely gave himself credit for being even remotely good at interpersonal relationship of a romantic and/or sexual nature, but he was fairly certain that he deserved a boyfriend of the year award for not laughing at that, even if the only thing he could manage to say without laughing was a choked, “Wow.”

“Yep.”

It took a long moment for Enjolras to manage, “Bossuet must be so proud.”

Grantaire snorted. “Bossuet was so busy laughing that he ran face first into a brick wall so I’m going to give him a pass on this one.”

Now Enjolras did laugh before leaning in to kiss the top of Grantaire’s head. “So we both made complete fools of ourselves today.”

Grantaire shrugged, his smile returning. “Pretty much.”

“Well, thank God.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Beg pardon?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I didn’t want to be the only idiot in this relationship.”

“As if I haven’t made an idiot of myself many, many times over,” Grantaire said dryly.

Enjolras nodded slowly. “That is true,” he murmured. “Well, now I feel better.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “And here I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better,” he said sourly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Do you want me to kiss your ouchie?” he offered.

“Do you want me to punch you in your perfect teeth?” Grantaire returned through clenched teeth.

Enjolras snickered but composed himself enough to ask, mostly serious, “Do you want me to tell you I love you again?”

To his surprise, Grantaire hesitated, his smile fading, just slightly. “Are you sure you still love me?” he asked quietly, and Enjolras frowned. “Even though I tripped and bonked my head?”

He couldn’t quite finish without laughing, and Enjolras rolled his eyes. “It would take a hell of a lot more than that to make me stop loving you.”

“God, you are a fool,” Grantaire sighed, but he was grinning.

Enjolras stuck his tongue out at him. “Takes one to know one.”

“You are not wrong,” Grantaire agreed, before adding, “About this, at least.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Enjolras ordered. “Idiot.”

“Takes one to know one,” Grantaire said before kissing him.

And Enjolras found that he didn’t have it in him to argue that point any further.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les amis #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #fluff #developing relationship #love confessions #minor injury #idiots in love

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levmada · 1 year

Text

A League of Our Own

After retaking Wall Maria, Hange and Levi weren't the same, and neither was their relationship, it came to happen. Now that they're finished grieving, it's brought to a whole new level.

content/warnings: canonverse (after s3p2), oral (m!receiving), fingering, teasing, that one trope where characters take their clothes off because it’s too hot, fluffy, gnc Hange, dirty talk

wc: 4.7k

Part 2 || Part 3 ||

Levi tips the fresh pot of tea into one mug for himself, a second for Hange. Can't forget about their outrageous amount of sugar and honey too, which he adds with a careful, scrupulous expression. He’s determined not to mix them up again.

If he even did. He’s doubted it since it happened, especially since Hange was alone with the drinks right before tragedy struck. He gagged on the spot.

He glances over his shoulder across the kitchen island—the whole thing fit for a Commander of course—at the back of their head. They’re reading still. Their messy bun is barely holding onto its structural integrity, but it hides the strap of their eyepatch still, so he says nothing. They hate when it shows.

Levi won’t be swayed by the feeling that unfurls in his belly to see (for the nth time) one of his tan suit jackets resting over their shoulders.

It’s too hot for a sweater and a jacket, he complained to them earlier.

“But you’re wearing the sweater I got you for your birthday last year!!” They shot back. “We have to match!”

Levi dipped his head in the neck of the black turtleneck.“...No, we don’t.”

They deadpanned. “C’mon… Both or neither.”

He wasn’t seriously going to say neither… though part of him still wants to challenge them. Get them back for that supposed tea mix-up.

“Leevvii,” they sing-song tiredly. “You’re staring at me I think. Is it my hair?”

A response dies on his lips as they nonchalantly tug their hair tie free, so the rest of their thick brown locks tumble down their shoulders.

“Better?”

He deadpans. Doesn’t matter if they can see him or not. “As long as it’s washed.”

“Like a whistle, baby.”

He darts his attention back to the mugs, still steaming, and grumbles under his breath, “It’s clean as a whistle…”

He’s flustered now, but Hange’s going to get even more weirded out if he wastes more time deciding.

He stealthily crosses his wrists so the mugs are mismatched when he picks them up.

As he thought, Hange isn’t reading for pleasure. It’s an accounting book—for what, Levi doesn’t know. The thunderspears are kept separate from the weapons’ budget because of some shitty issue with a patent, so they still aren’t considered official military hardware. Whatever. Hange works too much. Too much like him. They deserve a break…

At the last moment, he sets their shitty sugary tea down in front of them. Soon. But not today.

Instead, Levi fixes a glare at them until they put down the pamphlet and rub their eye with a groan. “Sorry, sorry. It’s our designated free time. I remember.”

Levi stares some more.

They pout. “You’re the one who said not to bother.”

“After you forgot.”

“I’m so deeply apologetic that I forgot to kiss you good morning,” they say, then lurch forward as if they mean to kiss him then and there. The table is too long. “I’ll give you a good evening kiss. How about that? Does the currency check out?”

His lips press and his brow narrows to cleverly mask the smirk that wants to turn his lip up. “Maybe. Depends on its quality. That’s a simple job you can do on your day off—instead of reading numbers.”

“Simple?” Then lean back, covertly shrugging the jacket onto the back of the chair. “Maybe. But it’s a vital job.”

The game they were playing just now breaks a little. It’s true, Hange forgot to kiss him good morning, which Levi only brought up because they firmly established a while ago (at least, it didn't seem like they were joking…) it was to be routine. He’s kept complaining since Hange kept groveling.

“Forget it,” he grunts. “It’s not that—”

“You’re right. It’s not important. It’s dire. I should cherish all the free time we can be afforded these days.”

Levi’s eyes widen, and fail to track them after they shoot out of their seat and appear beside him, outstretching their hand for him to take.

It’s his turn to pout. Just the smallest bit. “You’re going to waste tea just to kiss me,” he retorts. He wants to make sure he has that right.

“Vital, I said!” they exclaim. “Hurry! I’ll drink the rest of the pot after.”

They’re acting more like themself than usual. Occasionally, the person they’ve had to become to fit their role as Commander falls off a little. He feels a weird sense of pride of having accomplished that by himself.

He stands without taking their hand, however. Facing them, he crosses his arms and upturns his chin expectantly.

“‘Simple job’, huh?” they retort.

Hange touches his biceps as their face gets closer, until their soft lips take his in a simple, but tender press.

For all his threats and bitching, Levi’s hands drift up to their shoulders and cross behind their neck, tilting his head for more. Theirs naturally come to rest on his waist.

They promised one kiss, but when the kiss deepens, it lingers on. He’s keenly aware of their soft breaths touching his face, and the odd, giddy joy he feels from their sheer proximity. Time passing doesn’t occur to him until their fingers glide through his silky hair, combing his undercut backwards. A move that gets his shoulders to sink and relax. They hum in some kind of agreement. Levi doesn’t know what, but he’s on the same page.

In their kissing, the same hesitance there always is clings to their lips… but soon... fades as they cross a certain threshold. A passion they've never exchanged.

By the small of his back, Hange brings him closer. Soft smacking sounds cause him to hum, small.

Which stutters as Hange’s spare hand slides across the nape of his neck. He doesn’t drop right to the ground, of course—but his weak knees puts more of his weight against him. That artificial peace, inside and out tears away his guard—he makes a petulant sound when he can't move his lips any more than lazily.

Lips smack when they part, and the hand disappears. “Sorry. Forgot you’re part-Titan.”

He manages to look grumpy. “Tch, spare me... You did it on purpose.”

They kiss him once, then again. “It is charming, you have to admit. But I won’t ask what it feels like this time.”

"...You kissed me three times."

"Interest."

“Hm.” He eyes them with amusement, and tilts his head up. This is... they're embracing. This is the perfect time to kiss and keep kissing—for it to go further—but as usual, hesitation permeates the air.

Each of them in turn always revert to that unspoken question: How long should they grieve? Is it right at all to move on when their respective halves meant as much to Hange and Levi as they do to each other, in the present? Will it hurt too much. Will they lose too much.

“You don’t see him when you look at me, do you?” Hange once asked in a peaceful, quiet moment.

Nestled under the sheets together, their bodies were intertwined. Levi couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face at that time of night. It hadn’t been the first time they slept together like that, but it was early on enough for Levi to feel somehow… scared in a good way.

Levi blinked. “...Why would I? Because you have the same job description?”

“Ha. When you put it that way, it sounds stupid.”

Softly sighing, he nosed their cheek. He knew what they meant. “I’m not your assistant, am I?”

“In job description, maybe…” They sigh, too. “I know what you mean now.”

“Good.”

Levi makes the next move first—he stroke their cheek with his bony knuckles. His heartbeat grows into pounding at the heat he feels radiating from there. The desperation, and the adoration Hange looks down at him with. It feels like… any second… he’ll melt into a puddle on the floor. But it beats the absolute delusional paranoia that he will walk in at any moment, and hate Levi for this.

“Do you have any work to do tonight?” they blurt out. They take Levi’s other hand and plant it on the table behind them, caging themself in.

“No,” he lies. “Why?”

“Me neither,” they reply, also lying. “Well, I was just thinking, we could keep kissing. Or you know—ah”—they take Levi’s other hand, too—“I don’t know. I just want to spend time with you like this, does that make sense? Not in the professional way, although—”

He leans up and smacks a kiss to their lips, shutting them up. “You talk too much. Kissing doesn’t need a stupid itinerary. Just do it. And…” He shifts his eyes. “…whatever else.”

They beam.

It turns out they do "whatever else" for a while. They both forgot—in the torrent of training, recruiting, and getting funding—about the novel they'd been reading together; Hange's vase of daffodils (the Premier had gifted them when Hange was sworn in) looked in bad shape, so he coddled it first; honestly the whole bedroom needs to be dusted, but he stopped himself at the thin coat of dust on the vase.

"'The lie was about the life of an artist, which he was definitely not. But he understood, primally almost, the concept of losing, of loosening oneself from the world'," they read.

This is nice, he catches himself thinking. While Hange reads, thick paperback clasped in one hand, stroking his hair with the other, he lays flat on top of them, so their voice not only touches the top of his head, but the vibrations from their chest as well, alongside their beating heart. They probably don't even realize they're petting him like this.

Their hair really does smell nice. His fingers sometimes comb the thick brown ends.

He's not tired, but this is the most relaxed he's felt since... the last time he and Hange got some free time (even though even now, in reality, they have shit to do...).

Without his permission, his eyes float closed. The scene unravels in his mind as Hange reads. Their voice is warm, preferable to the way they used to shriek and shout most of the time, but... He hasn't heard it in so long, he finds himself missing their craziness anyway. Shiganshina changed them. Changed them both.

He nestles his cheek in the apex of their chest, and sighs softly. Back to this moment. He doesn't want to miss the story because he's thinking about that day again.

"…of disappearing into a different place, one of retreat and safety, of the twinned…’ Are you getting bored?"

"No." He frowns. "I'm sweating, though. Gross."

The vibrations of their soft snicker surround his mind. They aren't immune to the summer heat either. "Get off me, then."

"No," he says again.

"I'm sweaty..." They huff. "Take off your clothes."

At that he raises his head, and stares. "Huh?"

"It's called a compromise, silly." Despite what they're saying, he spots the blush rising to their cheeks as it appears. "So what'll it be?"

This isn't something people just do. Levi realizes they're making a move. Maybe a bit of a creepy, cliche move... but it fits Hange somehow.

...So he climbs off and sits beside them, crosses his arms at his waist, and works his sweater up and off. "Make sure you save your spot. Don't forget like last time. And use the bookmark."

They usually use a scrap of paper or whatever else.

"Done and done." It thunks dully on the nightstand. Off with their stretchy tanktop, which didn't hide much anyway. At some point since he's known them, they underwent a procedure, and have pecs in the place of breasts, so he doesn't feel much anxiety until they strip their shorts. Leave it to Hange to not be wearing underwear.

Fuck, they're ahead of me.

He was staring too long.

He plants his feet on the floor, freeing his belt with a delicate clink, followed by his fly. Everything's down to his ankles at the same time, which he kicks off. He gathers up and folds his clothes immaculately, quickly.

His heart is pounding again. Not because of being naked, exactly (military life is military life)... but because it's Hange. And he's a little hard.

Wordlessly, he shuffles around. Their eyes lock as the tension once again becomes palpable. Their apprehensive eye takes in his sculpted form from his head to his knees, visible, all densely-packed muscles and yet lithe curves. Him, their honeyed skin and waist like an hourglass, and the tone to their soft muscles. They have a bush, the same color as their hair. He swallows.

Their face is properly red now. "I don't think I can focus on reading, actually."

"You're an idiot for n-not thinking of that beforehand." He crawls forward on his hands and knees, and places his lips on theirs. Fingers promptly mingle in his downy hair, scooping up the tail in the back he needs to trim soon. It's deep, even ravenous, but affectionate just the same.

They drape an arm over his shoulders, and roll them around so Levi is pressed down on his back. He softly grunts into the kiss, and inhales as desire heats his lower half—by Hange doing nothing more than being between his legs.

Shyly, he tilts his head and embraces their lithe frame. Their lips, a little swollen already, start to smack.

"Mm," they hum, bordering on a whine. Levi already knows he's properly hard now. He can't. With the proximity. The tip keeps brushing their navel, causing shivers that grow harder and harder to stifle.

Huffing tightly, he hooks his teeth in their bottom lip until their tongue slides in, and coils around his. Their moan that results echoes in his mind endlessly.

The bend of his knees close on their waist without him even meaning to. It's been so long since he's done anything like this. He thought, for a while, that he was... too ruined.

They close in on him suddenly, causing their teeth to clack in a sudden shift to a rough, hurried kiss. His nostrils flare. For a second, they suck on his tongue before pulling away entirely, and begin dotting kisses below his chin instead. He doesn't catch his gasp in time, and tosses his head to give them room.

"That's sensitive," he chastises, when really he means, his neck is the most sensitive place on his body to receive kisses, besides his inner thighs, and the obvious. Picturing Hange's tongue lathing, or their buttery lips closing on either place has him squirming lightly in anticipation.

They hum roughly at the comment, and does what Levi should've expected—sinks their teeth into his tender neck, sucking deeply. They hold nothing at all back.

His toes curl and he swallows another moan. They don't relent until the flat of their tongue rakes the third or fifth hickey, finally yanking a whine out of his throat. He's now blushing to his ears.

"Hange," he says tightly. "Shit. You're fucking—stop doing everything."

They pull off, only to cackle. "I can't believe you said that. You're really the self-sacrificing type, huh?"

"Shut up," he huffs. He reels them in by their hair, kissing roughly. Finally, he can put his hands all over them now. His thumbs pointedly rake their peaky nipples, he digs his fingertips into their waist.

But they still won't be deterred. They sit up a little more, the tops of their thighs nestled with the backs of his. Each of their fingers slide out from the center of his chest, following the indented bruised scars from years of ODM use. Delicate fingers trace them in crossing patterns.

His chest rises and falls with quickening breaths as his hands slide around and take heavy handfuls of their ass. He can't help but squirm.

"Mmm," they hum.

His breath stutters as they caress the graceful curve of his waist. The pad of their thumb, small and a little rough, rakes the neatly trimmed hairs that follow down from his navel. Their hand is right there.

"Hange," he says urgently.

"You're so sensitive... Who knew?"

He squirms with a the steadiest scowl he can muster (which isn't much). Legs shift by their waist. "Stop pointing it—"

Their index fingers frantically scrub his nipples, leaving them hard and pointed in seconds. His hips snap up, head tilting back.

"What was that?"

Heat pounds in his lower half. "H-Hah... Ah. Touch—touch me. Let me touch you, fucking something."

His cheeks are on fire, his cock rapidly twitching over his navel. It's so embarrassing. One hand abandons their hip to hide his face in his bent elbow.

"And you're shy, too?" they croon.

"Fuck you. 'm not."

"The facts don't care about your feelings."

"…Fuck you..."

Palms spread up again, pushing his pecs together and tweaking his blushing nipples until he gasps through his nose. His thighs tense. Despite himself, he's too reluctant about boundaries to reach down. They're just beginning to do shit like this. He wants badly not to fuck this up.

"Seriously," they murmur, touch smoothly sliding up to his shoulders, cradling his neck and jaw, and brushing the fuchsia marks left by their mouth. His grey eyes spy their hooded gaze through his thick lashes.

"What?" he murmurs back.

Down the thick muscles packed into his abdomen. His hips are wide, giving his short, stocky build a touch of femininity. Reflective of his early years spent in darkness, he's pale. His thighs are plump, but firm. He's made of solid muscle. More heat stirs in their lower half.

"You're seriously good-looking," they admit softly. "Like out of my league good-looking."

Tenderly, he brushes their pronounced hipbone. He likes the look of their skintone alone—like rich honey. "Don't have a league, Eyepatch... It's just us."

"Can you ever take a compliment?"

He deadpans, balancing his chin on his elbow now. The words get stuck in his throat as their warm palms slide under the seat of his thighs, squeezing and working his plump, round ass, making his dick throb. "Hange."

"Levi," they acknowledge. "Do you want, to touch me? Or something like that?"

His eyes open into slits. "Yeah," he says quietly.

They sigh, letting their longing out through it, knowing now he shares it. "Me too."

They steal his hand and climb up on top so their weight rests evenly across his thighs. His eyes are locked on his hand being guided between their legs, down past their bush.

His eyes widen as syrupy wetness coats his palm from a mere touch. "How are you this wet? From some kissing?"

Its their turn for their eyes to widen. "You're really surprised?"

"Tch..." He slots his middle finger between their lips, rocking through their slit with purpose, exploring while he spreads their cum around. Hearing the heated moan that follows is music to his ears. He burns when their thighs try to twitch shut, after he taps their swollen clit.

"Ugh." They shiver. "God Levi, I need more..."

His cock again throbs helplessly as they palm his pecs, and cant their hips down. It's too fucking—they look so... and their pussy is so buttery and warm, even just here. They're too fucking good.

"Please," he whispers. On cue, cum wells over his tip and oozes onto his navel. "Fucking please."

Hange experimentally parts two fingers, and strokes his slit.

"Fuck!" he gasps. His other hand flies down and grips the base, groaning breathily. That was too close.

"Are you close?"

"I said sensitive. You weren't listening."

"Oh, I see." Their bigger hand replaces his. Little more than the tip isn't swallowed up by their grip; it's more effective to flick their wrist and tug. The other scoops up his heavy balls. "I can't imagine how pent-up you are. Are they full? Do you need to come?"

Taking his embarrassment to new heights, it throbs in their fist. The worst part is, he can't tell if they're seriously asking.

"Sh-Shut up..." He braces their thigh and uses two fingers of his own on their firm clit. Between rapid sweeping motions, he scissors it. Their chest lifts with a feverish whine.

It's so hard to focus with his dick being hugged and massaged like this. His teeth are perpetually hooked in his bottom lip. And, his balls are full. He does need to come. They're fucking right.

"Gonna put them inside," he says—more of a question. He would rather assume the obvious is a boundary to be crossed than make them uncomfortable.

"Mm."

They slot their wide thighs outside his hips. They're close enough to kiss if they lean down a little, and he has more room now. But the new proximity places his cock so close to their cunt, and their clit he continues to rub in steady, deep circles. Something about doing nothing about it makes him hot all over—even though. Even if he could last, he doesn't want to fuck them right now. The idea strikes a fear in him that's hard to describe or name.

He... doesn't want to fuck this up.

He blinks from his thoughts—always been stuck in his mind lately—and steadies their hip while two touch their rim, circling them to give him a gorgeous reaction even before he even sinks them inside. With total and complete ease. He watches their jaw drop. He drinks in all their reactions.

Their pace on his cock has slowed. Distracted.

Levi sighs hopelessly. It's so warm and syrupy inside, like silk. From the instant they push past their rim, their cunt squeezes them, fluttering tight. They haven't done this in a while either, he can tell.

"Just like that," they hiss urgently. "God."

"Uh-huh?"

"It's—you get them so deep."

His fingers truly aren't thick, but they're lithe. Down to the third knuckle, a thick and erotic moan falls from their mouth. He nestles them deep inside, and, sensing their urgency, their never-ending whining begging him for more, he adds a third and pistons them in at a steady pace. The thick wet sloshing sounds send delightful shivers down his spine.

He groans again as their pace finally tightens and resumes. "Shit. That feel good, sweetheart? Hah, inside this tight cunt?"

They gasp from their chest. "Yes. Yes."

He curls them in loose, rapid strokes, and watches as Hange jerks. Their rising, hitched moans tell him everything. Their quivering walls. "Levii," they whine.

He accidentally mimics the sound when they say his name like that. One of their hands abandons his balls to fondle their clit. They're even riding his fingers almost, so he puts more work into curling them, letting them have him their way.

"Levi, 'Vi... Dammit, I'm close al—ready."

"I can tell—when you're this tight. Fucking squeezing them. You hear yourself?" he rambles. "Quit holding back. Come."

"Lev'—" they grit out in a tiny voice, and their jaw drops as their muscles lock up before his eyes. For a second, their cunt is so tight he can barely curl them, and then with a cry, they break out into harsh shivers, scrubbing their clit with abadon.

He hammers them hard and quick, curling tight when their moans reach another peak, dragging it out for them. They never quit chanting his name.

He can't keep his eyes off them. Their head is thrown back, so he gets the most out of their dropped jaw and its constant wobbling. He wishes the angle were better so he could drink in the naked bliss etched into their expression, but he'll take the loud, honeyed sounds too, and the feeling of their pussy gripping his fingers, as if it was his cock instead.

"That's it," he moans.

"Ffuck..." They slur, shivering with the ebbing throbs. He doesn't let up until their thighs instinctively try to close from the stimulation.

Pulling them out, he swallows at the sight of their shiny gush coating his fingers, webbing them together when he spreads them.

"Sorry," they sigh, before they've even caught their breath. "I neglected you."

Automatically, his lips form to say, Don't worry about me, when they guide his sticky hand around his thick, even swollen, pink cock.

He gasps at the sight—and finally, they're touching him again—of Hange using his fist to coat his own dick in their cum. His hips automatically lurch up as he goes loose and pliant under their touch. Hange's palm lays and caresses his cheek, causing his eyes to close.

"Good, huh?" They squeeze his cock. “You like it hard?”

“Fuck.” A bitten whine leaves his throat. "You don't have to," he whispers tightly. It's their first time, he doesn't want to be a burden on them if they're tired. He got all he wanted out of this already.

"Ohhh, that's the exact wrong thing to say to me."

Before he can argue any more, Hange slams their lips together, actually sucking his plump bottom lip before tearing away and dropping between his thighs. He's shot one loose, cocky smile before they pin his thighs under their palms, and a sea of silky heat swallows in his cock.

"Fuck!" he cries, his chest heaving up and down as the tight suctioning motions start with abandon. “Hah, fuckshitHange!” His jaw drops open with a whorish moan. He can't move his hips, can't close his legs to ebb his rapidly-approaching climax, so he writhes helplessly, hands diving into their hair, and their rapidly bobbing head.

His toes curl. "I can't"—his back curves—"Too, s’too close you idiot, have to pull off. I’m g-gonna come—I’m—Ah—Ah."

He whimpers when his cock pulses, and he's thrown over the edge into a sea of pleasure. He vaguely registers the dull, wet smacking noises over his own too loud moans.

Hange groans thickly as he pumps his cum down their throat, takes a handful of his balls and massages. There's no way to stop himself from whimpering so fucking loud, and jerking his hips. Each messy thrust is puncutated by a hard groan. This kind of climax causes light to flash in his eyes, his hips to physically lift off the bed.

It doesn't even feel like he's tethered to his body by the time he's soft in their mouth, and mewling from the volts of confused pleasure-pain. He gasps for breath. “Han—Hange…”

They come up. They’re even more out of breath than him, red to their ears, but to Levi’s surprise, not coughing.

He tries to be annoyed. “Seriously…”

It doesn’t work. He forgets all about it after the sly little grin they give him. “Blow your mind?”

He drags his arm across his eyes and lays the other beside himself as an invite. Hange takes it, and lays a thin sheet across their lower halves while they’re at it.

He hears himself sigh as they lay their head on his shoulder, arm draped across his waist. His own lays down over their upper back. Lazily, they wiggle until they’re comfortable. All becomes still and quiet except for their softening breaths.

“…You blew something,” he remarks dryly and stuffs their mouth in his shoulder before they can use it to retort. A weary, muffled chuckle can be heard anyway.

His heart skips a beat even in this state. Affection that feels a little like fear flowers in his chest. It’s, it is scary, he can admit to himself. Whenever he gets distracted by the ghosts at his back, he remembers what Hange said, how you have to accept that one day, everyone you meet will die.

It’s a comforting thought to him. They aren’t together because they have confidence they can keep each other alive. They are together because they want to be—despite the looming visage of death that may strike either of them, or both of them, whenever the chance presents itself. That takes the most strength of all.

“I meant it,” he mumbles. “You didn’t… pull something, did you?”

“Mm… Pulled all those pretty noises out of you.”

“Shut up,” he snips, blushing red-hot all over again. “I meant your throat, you brat.”

“…I’m really good,” they relent, sincerely this time.

He agrees with a grunt, nosing their hair. The blush on his cheeks won’t go away now that he thinks back to the way he sounded a minute ago. He’s too weak for them.

“Are you really good? Yes or no. No back-assward answers,” they murmur warmly.

His lips press to bury a quirk to his lips. “…Mm.”

“Mhm or hm-mm works, I guess.”

“Mhm.”

They chuckle once again. Again Levi catches himself think, This is nice.

#levihan fanfiction #levi x hanji #levi x hange #hange x levi #hanji x levi #aot smut #aot fanfiction #aot ships

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jaimebluesq · 2 years

Note

Okay, Jaime, I have my request! (I have 10, actually, but I'm leaving this one now 😆). I wrote this, but I want YOUR version bc... it's YOU sjksjsksj: Sangcheng and Nieyao living in the same house, other people (you choose who) say each couple should get their own house, but they just don't feel like living apart. They reach a point of annoyance with their friends saying this over and over that one of the four just finally goes ape and let it all out!

All right, here's my take on it - my boy didn't quite go ape-shit but he did do what he does best. I hope you like!

~~~

Nie Huaisang's belly felt full after an evening of barbecue steak and homemade macaroni salad. Most of their guests had left once the sun had set, but the most important people in his life remained behind, enjoying the night sky under strings of patio lanterns.

“My feet hurt,” he pouted, lifting a bare foot and slipping it into his live-in-boyfriend's lap. “Jiang-xiong, give me a foot rub?”

“Why do you always stick your smelly feet in my lap?” Jiang Cheng protested even as he began rubbing at Nie Huaisang's ankle.

“You like my smelly feet in your lap,” he murmured contentedly.

“Considering Da-ge was the one cooking all afternoon at the fire,” Meng Yao spoke up from his spot in a rattan chair, his hand running idly through the head of hair in his own lap, “perhaps he's the one who should be getting the foot rub.”

Nie Mingjue snorted while staying still enough to keep Meng Yao's fingers in his hair. “Does that mean you're willing to give me one later?”

“... I would be happy to pay for a full-body massage and pedicure at my favourite spa,” Meng Yao replied with his patented customer service grin.

Jiang Yanli giggled, having evidently had one too many glasses of prosecco. “A-Cheng, is that how you pay your keep? Offering foot massages?”

“I hope not,” Wei Wuxian countered. “Not unless you want him to break your legs. And they're definitely not keeping him around for his winning personality.”

Jiang Cheng grabbed a nearby cushion and threw it at Wei Wuxian's head. It would have hit had Lan Wangji's hand not grabbed it mid-air, then tucked it under Wei Wuxian's head to keep his husband comfortable.

“I'm certain everyone has their own quirks and things they bring to the home,” Lan Xichen said, ever the peacemaker.

“I still don't understand why some of you haven't moved out yet.” Jin Zixuan replaced his wife's glass of prosecco with ginger ale, hoping she wouldn't notice. “I couldn't imagine living with my family at your age.”

“For the first time in my life,” Wei Wuxian said, “I actually agree with the peacock.”

Jiang Cheng groaned. “Now you're sounding like Mom.”

“And if I'm agreeing with her, you know something is wrong,” Wei Wuxian said officiously. “Come on, you can't tell me the four of you actually like living in each others' laps all the time.”

“A-Xian, behave,” Jiang Yanli partially slurred.

“You've said it yourself!” Wei Wuxian gave her a betrayed look – perhaps he'd had a few too many drinks as well.

“Behind closed doors,” she stage-whispered.

“This is ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng grumped.

“Like, don't any of you actually want some privacy?” Wei Wuxian continued, not willing to let this one go. “I can't imagine anyone else being in our house when we pa-pa-pa."

“Your whole neighbourhood hears whenever you pa-pa-pa,” Jiang Cheng countered.

Lan Wangji's lips turned up just the slightest at the corners.

Nie Huaisang lifted his glass of wildberry cooler, using it to point at his friend. “That is why we invested in excellent soundproofing, Wei-xiong.”

“And why I make them live in the basement,” Nie Mingjue continued.

“It's nice and cool in the summer, too,” Nie Huaisang grinned. “And I don't get woken up by the sun.”

Jin Zixuan wrinkled his nose. “It still sounds crowded. What benefit is there?”

“Well,” Meng Yao offered, “whenever A-Jue and I have car trouble, Jiang Cheng takes care of that for us.”

“Meng Yao handles all of our expenses,” Jiang Cheng explained, “and our taxes.”

“And makes sure we get to appointments on time,” Nie Huaisang added. “And Da-ge cooks and does all the house repairs.”

Wei Wuxian finished his glass of beer in time to begin laughing. “And what about you, Nie-xiong? What the hell do you bring to this arrangement?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Nie Huaisang countered. “I force everyone to relax and take it easy before they have an aneurysm from working themselves sick.”

Wei Wuxian looked about to laugh even more, but stopped when Nie Mingjue, Meng Yao, and Jiang Cheng all nodded in agreement.

“I still think the arrangement is ridiculous,” Jin Zixuan muttered.

Meng Yao let out a loud sigh and placed his glass of merlot on a nearby table. The moment the glass hit the metal, Nie Mingjue, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang all lifted their heads to look at him.

“I can understand your confusion, brother dearest,” Meng Yao began, a deceptively calm look on his face, “considering your own in-laws want to murder you in your sleep. Have you ever had a good night's sleep while visiting the Jiang home?”

Jin Zixuan shut his mouth with a snap and Wei Wuxian began snorting.

“And as for you, Wei Wuxian,” Meng Yao continued, “are you actually confused and concerned about our living situation, or is it that you simply can't think of an inoffensive way to ask if our sleeping arrangements switch up from time to time? That is what you've been tempted to ask, is it not?”

Wei Wuxian's eyes opened wide and he looked from Jiang Yanli to Lan Wangji, both of whom shook their heads as if to say I didn't tell him.

“So,” Meng Yao concluded, “ are we really going to ruin a lovely evening with this kind of nonsense? If so, I might need to ask some people to leave. Otherwise... would anyone like some cake?”

“I would,” Lan Xichen replied quickly. “Perhaps I could help.”

Meng Yao nodded and stood up, receiving a final loving look from Nie Mingjue before he led Lan Xichen to the kitchen. Together they collected the cake from the fridge and a handful of plates and forks. “You were rather silent during the discussion, Xichen-ge.”

Lan Xichen shrugged. “I believe I'm the only one with the opposite point of view.”

“How so?”

“You know I appreciate living alone, having my own space and nobody making demands upon my time,” Lan Xichen began. “But I will admit to feeling lonely from time to time. I admire how the four of you have made things work. You're all quite different in your own ways, but somehow you compliment each other. We should all be so happy.”

Meng Yao smiled and tried to ignore the choked up feeling in his chest. It was times like these he remembered just how much he appreciated having a friend like Lan Xichen. He opened his mouth to make some sort of reply-

“-It was just a joke!!!” Wei Wuxian shouted.

“Wei Wuxian!!! I'm going to break your fucking legs!!!” Jiang Cheng roared.

“Why don't we settle this the old fashioned way,” Nie Huaisang piped up. “I'll get the kiddie pool and the baby oil and you two take your shirts off-”

“Not in my back yard!” Nie Mingjue shouted.

“He didn't mean you, A-Li,” Jin Zixuan hissed. “Please put your shirt back down.”

Meng Yao traded a look with Lan Xichen and they both had a good laugh. When they returned to the back yard, it was in complete chaos, but Meng Yao couldn't deny that he loved everyone there, and that despite their various attitudes and biases and combative personalities... he wouldn't have them any other way.

“Though I will say,” Lan Xichen whispered into Meng Yao's ear, “I have wondered the same thing as Wei Wuxian. On occasion.”

Meng Yao shot him a glare. Lan Xichen simply smiled apologetically and carried the cake out onto the backyard's picnic table.

#sangcheng #nieyao #prompt fill #this was fun!#I may write this verse again

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babygirl-diaz · 2 years

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Samtember 06: Redwing | Technology

1681 words | Rated G | for @samtember2022

Sam put on his favorite white-rimmed glasses and turned up the volume on Marvin Gaye’s “Got to Give it Up” and sat down on his stool as he got to work. He hooked up the toy he had fondly named “Redwing” to the computer and started making the changes he needed to work on.

Sam was a world-class engineer and an entrepreneur, and Redwing was his newest creation. Something he made for his daughter, Riley. Just a few months ago, there was a kidnapping attempt on the 5-year-old. Not wanting something like that to happen again, Sam decided to create something that would protect his kid. He made Redwing resemble a falcon, and it could do so much.

Sam did not hear anyone come in, as he moved to the music and typed away on the keyboard. It wasn’t until a tiny head popped up next to him that he realized that his little one had broken into the lab.

“Whatcha doin’?” Riley asked.

“Working on Redwing,” Sam replied.

“Is she ready?” Riley asked, reaching out to touch Redwing, but Sam grabbed her hand.

“No touching,” he told her sternly. To which the little girl just pouted.

Soon ‘Superstition’ started playing and Riley danced along to it. “Papa, dance!” She insisted.

“I can’t, baby girl. I have way too much work,” Sam replied.

“Papa, pleaseeeeeeeee….” Riley gave him the biggest puppy dog eyes, and how could he say no to that?

Getting up from the stool, Sam went over to his little girl and started moving to Stevie Wonder along with her.

Sam picked up Riley and took her small hand into his and started swaying them both to the music. “When you believe in things. That you don't understand... Then you suffer... Superstition ain't the way…” The father-daughter duo sang together and laughed.

“I’m more of an Al Green guy, but this song is a classic.”

Sam became alert when he heard another voice and turned around to find Tony Stark standing in the middle of his lab.

“Cherie!” Sam called out to his AI. “What have I told you about letting in strangers?!”

“Mr. Stark is listed as a friend,” Cherie replied.

Sam threw a glare at Stark. “Did you hack into my AI?”

Stark bit his lips and put his hands up in surrender. “I had a Friday off.”

“What do you want, Stark?” Sam refused to let his little girl down, especially in the presence of his rival. So he kept her close.

“I heard you were making something for the little one over there,” Stark commented and got closer to them. He reached out to touch Riley’s nose but Riley whined and turned her head away.

“Back off, Stark,” Sam warned him. On the list of people who had a vendetta against him and could have possibly tried to kidnap his child, Stark was at number two.

“Okay, okay, backing off,” Stark put his hands up in surrender again and smirked.

“So is that it?” He asked, leaning over Sam’s workstation.

“None of your business.” Sam went to his workstation and stood in front of it to hide his work from Stark.

“Aw come on. Don’t be a spoiled sport. What happened to sharing and caring?”

“It died since you stole my last idea,” Sam told him.

“I didn’t steal it. I just released it first,” Stark said with a shrug.

“And that’s exactly why I have already patented every single part of Redwing,” Sam told him. “You touch her and I will drag your pathetic ass to court.”

Stark fake gasped and looked at Riley. “Daddy said a bad word. Court.”

“That’s not daddy, silly,” Riley told him. “That’s papa. Daddy doesn’t live with us.”

“Right… daddy left because daddy was smart,”

Sam closed his eyes and counted back to himself. He really did not want to punch Stark in front of his daughter.

“So what does your infamous creation do?” Stark asked. “I am curious.”

“You can find out with the rest of the world,” Sam replied.

“You’re no fun!” Stark fake pouted at him. “Anyway, you wanna be my date to the charity ball this Saturday?”

“What?” Sam asked incredulously. “No! I don’t wanna be your date!”

“You break my heart, Wilson,” Stark pretended to weep and subtly take to a photo of Redwing, but Sam caught him.

“Man, get out of my house.” Sam really did not have the patience for him.

“Fine, I’m going,” Stark replied and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Goodbye brat.”

Sam was about to say fuck it and attack Stark when he added, “And goodbye, Riley.”

Sam closed his eyes and groaned before letting Riley down once Stark left.

“Papa, don’t let the bad guy bring you down,” Riley told him. She was very understanding for her age. Sam kind of wished she wasn’t. Because that meant she was growing up.

“Thanks, baby girl,” Sam thanked her and unhooked Redwing from the computer. He then picked up Riley and put her on the workstation table. “You wanna see what Redwing does?”

Riley excitedly nodded.

“Redwing, bird mode,” Sam said.

“Bird mode activated,” Redwing replied.

“Redwing, talk,” Sam told her.

“Redwing, talk,” Redwing replied like a parrot.

“That’s so cool!” Riley replied, clapping her hands together.

“That’s so cool!” Redwing repeated like a parrot once again.

It was bizarre seeing a falcon talk like a parrot, but Sam didn’t care.

“Redwing, chipmunk voice,” Sam told her.

“Chipmunk voice, activated,” she said in a chipmunk voice.

“Riley is the bestest!” Riley said.

“Riley is the bestest,” Redwing said in a chipmunk voice.

Riley giggled behind her hand, making Sam smile and forget all about Stark.

“You wanna see something cool?” Sam asked.

Riley nodded enthusiastically.

“Redwing, fly mode. Rainbow style,” he told the bird.

Redwing immediately got into flight mode and then took off flying around the lab. Not only that, she left a trail of rainbow colors behind that dissipated in the air after a few seconds.

“Wowwwwww….” Riley said in awe. She soon yawned and Sam decided that showtime was over.

“Okay, time for bed, baby girl,” Sam told Riley, getting her off the work table.

“But papa… I wanna play with Redwing,” she pouted.

“Not today, sweetheart. You can play with her when she’s finished,” Sam told her. “Now come on, let’s get you to bed.” Sam took Riley’s little hand and led her to her bedroom. While she brushed and changed, Sam sent a message to his ex-husband.

When Riley came back, Sam tucked her into bed and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Love you, baby girl,” he said.

“Love you, papa,” she replied. “Goodnight.”

Sam turned on the nightlight and left the door slightly ajar. “Goodnight,” he said on his way out.

As soon as Sam left Riley’s room, the front doorbell rang and Cherie announced Sam’s ex-husband’s arrival..

Sam went to the door and opened it. “Hey, Buck.”

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky came in and gave Sam a hug.

Sam hugged him back and let out a breath of relief. Even though they had parted ways, Bucky’s presence always made Sam feel better.

“Come on, let’s go to the workshop. I need to finish cleaning up,” Sam said, leading Bucky to the workshop.

“Wow… is that your Redwing?” Bucky asked.

“Not my Redwing. She belongs to Riley.” Sam replied.

“She huh?” Bucky chuckled.

Sam rolled his eyes at the other man and asked, “Do you wanna drink something?”

“I know you’ve got the good whiskey, so, yeah, I’ll have that.”

Sam went out and poured them their drinks and then returned with two glasses. He gave one to Bucky, who raised it towards Sam. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Sam replied and took a sip.

“So Stark…” Bucky trailed off. “The audacity of that man.”

“I know,” Sam sighed. “I know you say that whoever tried to kidnap Riley was related to your work, but I still think it was him. He just wanted to get back at me.”

“I don’t think Stark is capable of kidnap, Sam,” Bucky told him as he took a sip of his whiskey.

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Sam replied. “Anyway… that’s why I’ve made Redwing over here. She will protect our little angel.”

“What exactly does she do?” Bucky asked and picked up a little garbage and threw them in the trash.

“When she’s finished, she will send me back a 360-degree video feed in multi-spectrum. She will also have tracking software. And scanning abilities, so that she can see through objects,” Sam replied.

“That sounds…. Scary,” Bucky replied.

“Oh, and she will also come with projectile grappling handcuffs,” Sam added.

“I think you’ve gone a bit overboard,” Bucky replied. “No parent will buy that for their child.”

Sam sighed. “I just want our child to be safe.”

“There is only so much you can do to keep her safe, Sam,” Bucky told him.

Sam hugged Bucky and sighed. “I know. But I wanna do whatever it takes.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around Sam and held him close. “I know.”

“I love you.”

A robotic voice came from somewhere, and Sam immediately pulled apart from Bucky.

Bucky frowned and turned to look at Redwing before turning back to Sam. “What the hell was that?”

“There is a glitch in her system,” Sam chuckled. “Sometimes she randomly starts saying I love you,” he replied. “Right now, she decided to say it at the most inopportune moment.” Sam turned off Redwing and put her back on the table.

“Anyway, let’s clean up, and then we can watch a movie or something,” Sam suggested. “That is, if you have time?”

“For you?” Bucky asked. “Always.”

Sam felt his cheeks heat up at that. “Cherie,” he called out at his AI to change the subject. “Play some music,” he told her.

Within a few seconds, Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” started playing over the speakers.

“What the hell?” Sam said in a high-pitched voice.

Bucky laughed off to the side. “I love technology.”

***

Songs used in this fic:

#samtember2022 #samtember #day 06 #sam wilson #bucky barnes #original child character #tony stark #sambucky #fanfiction #aashnas drabble #Spotify

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westerosoliviapope · 2 years

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Confession: Nymeria Sand is my favorite character in the Scandal Westeros Universe.

She leapt off the page from the beginning, which is why she's the first member of the Sphinx Consultants team that you meet in "It's Handled." On the surface, she's a fast talking, designer-clad hot girl. But as I wrote more, she showed up as observant, wise, and a fierce protector of those she loves.

And when I finally told her love story with Jennelyn Fowler? She knocked me off my feet. I knew she wouldn't have a typical "happily ever after" (few characters in this universe do, it's not my thing), but I LOVED the friendship, affection, and attraction between her and Jenn.

It was never about control for her. Her pleasure came from being a safe space for her tightly-wound friend to let go. She's never felt that overwhelming instinct to protect or care for another sexual partner. "Only you...only ever you" she'd promised Jenn and she meant it. She'll stick to the freedom of taking discipline going forward. Much less work that way.

Here are a few of my favorite #Scandal!Nymeria moments:

Recruiting Brienne to the Sphinx Consultants' Team:

“I enjoy foreplay as much as the next girl, Brienne, but I am not asking if you want the job because we both know you do. No matter what you say, you want more for yourself than busting your ass in the name of some Ken doll you diddle yourself to when you go home at night. So, Cinderella. You can keep scrubbing Renly’s floors hoping someone will make you the belle of the ball or you can let Fairy Godmother Sarella make you a warrior in a suit.”

When Sarella Catches Nym, Obara, and Jon Watching Prince Viserys' Sex Tape:

Nym, who actually has a bag of microwave popcorn in her lap, turns her head sideways to follow the action as the Prince guides Taena into another position. “No wonder he is such a slut. Slinging a cock like that is a community service.”

Giving Sansa a Pep Talk After the Team Fixes Her Divorce from Joffrey:

"In the next few years, your therapists and people you love will treat you like a victim. They mean well, but do not let them. "You married a brute who did horrific shit that you did not deserve—that is a fact. But it does not have to define the rest of your life. Do not let anyone make you feel small. Joffrey was small. You? Are a She-Wolf.”

Teasing the Wolf Out of Jon:

“I’m guessing you’re used to sliding your hands into some pink cotton blend travesty purchased at the mall while cuddling on the couch over pizza, beers, and a movie you’re pretending to watch, so I’ll warn you—before you get all worked up imagining you can handle me—that this...” she slowly runs a black stiletto nail up her thigh. “...isn’t that.”

Jon’s jaw clenches. It’s subtle, but she sees it. She’s hit a nerve.

Good.

Correcting Jon's Assumption About Where He Ranks for Her, All-Time

“Humph,” Nymeria pouts. “You are no fun.”

Feeling nature call, Jon rises from his seat and winks. “Nym, we both know I’m the most fun you’ve ever had.”

She squints. “That honor belongs to a pretty blonde in Skyreach but I will give you top five. Top two cock, for sure.”

Welcoming Brienne Back to the Team:

The click of stilettos accompanied by Nym greeting her with “Well, if it isn’t G.I. Jonquil?" in her patented Dornish drawl makes Brienne smile.

Her Role as the Big Sister:

When it comes to the general welfare of Oberyn’s older brood, four women from four mothers with distinct upbringings and issues to accompany them, Nymeria Sand is the keeper of the keys.

It’s her job to notice when Obara goes too many days without showering because occasionally, she has PTSD relapses from being waterboarded by a Qarthene drug lord.

To call Tyene and dish about their sexcapades to make sure she’s staying on the healthy side of her sadism fetish instead of taking out her rage and abandonment issues on her poor husband’s ass.

To note the dryness in Sarella’s normally flawless skin and the lines around her eyes as signs that she’s holding herself together with red wine, coffee, and 90 hour work weeks.

And if you think a former assassin and a Type A Domme are a lot to handle, try telling a know-it-all workaholic with a 154 IQ that she either needs to talk about her feelings or get a facial, get fucked into a coma, and get over it.

#dornesolstice #dorneuniverse #sand snakes week #nymeria sand #modern nymeria sand #scandal westeros #house martell #modern martells

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generalluxun · 1 year

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Record Scratch Chapter 8 -Fanfiction.

In the wake of their renewed... they don't know... Chloé invites Nino to a party, but a party with Chloé Bourgeois can never be a simple thing can it?

At the party Chloé finds herself immersed in a life she knows all too well. The past and present collide messily. Can she find a way to navigate it all, and does Nino really want to be here or does he find her simply, ridiculous? --------- Full text after break.

Nino got away with another week without interrogations. He chalked it up to Alya, whose interest expressed itself as a curious look once each time they hung out, one that vanished and had no follow up when he wasn’t forthcoming. Not that he was hiding anything intentionally. He just had no way to explain it, even to himself. Hanging out with Chloé didn’t feel like dating, it didn’t feel like not dating. Occasionally it didn’t even feel like being friends, yet they both came back to whatever it was.

They still didn’t talk at school, something that was both a relief, and nagged at him. He didn’t want to sneak around. Sneaking had never been his strong suit, and he didn’t want it to become one. Yet, he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with everything that would come up as a result of such a simple yet tectonic shift as talking to someone in front of people. He was in Calculus, hating all things COS when the thought bubbled up: When did we go from avoiding her, to avoiding her ?

He didn’t know, should he ask Alya again? Was that leaning on her too much? Adrien might be a sympathetic ear, but his friend was a walking example of conflict avoidance. Marinette… Marinette was probably the best one to talk to about this. He just needed to be sure he was ready for a fight. Wrestling her around on anything wasn’t easy, but she was a powerhouse in your corner once you got her on board.

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

Nino was sitting solo outside after the final bell, taking a break from brooding to just drift on some beats while he doodled. The doodles might become future tunes, if they were lucky. It wasn’t meter and time he was drawing, it was compositions. This time the snare was a series of triangles, one behind the other drifting to the bottom right of the page. The kicker was a series of blobs drifting upwards with smudgey edges. Other sounds incorporated themselves into shape and color as he listened. The end result would be a hodgepodge mess, but it would be what he was hearing in the moment.

The sound went tinny in his left ear as his headphone was pulled away.

“Beeps and squeeks being good to you today?” Chloé’s voice purred in a way he felt itching in his palms.

Nino pulled his headphones off and covered his notebook. “Beebee!” he glanced up and down the stairs into the school, they were alone at the moment.

Chloé straightened up, having bent over to speak to him. She was dressed in- Nino sucked in a breath. She was dressed in prep school sin. Patent leather shoes with golden buckles, knee Socks, a thigh length pleated skirt complete with an obscure crest on the left hip, pristine white frilled blouse under a tailored blue blazer that made the most of her modest chest, and to top it all of a pair of braided pigtails that hung to her waist. Beebee, damn.

Chloé swung a matching leather satchel in both hands in front of her while bouncing on her toes. She knows exactly what she’s doing. She tilted her head one way and then the other. “That’s me. Do you have a minute?”

Nino turned to face her, still seated. “You’re asking instead of telling, so it’s got to be important. I have all the time you need.”

She didn’t break character. Instead of a smirk or an eyeroll she stuck her tongue out at him and affected a pout. “There’s a party Saturday. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me?”

Nino ran a mental checklist. “A party? Who’s throwing one?”

Chloé swung her case from in front to behind herself, hands clasped in the small of her back. “Oh, it’s out of town. It’s a Fannn-ceee party. You’ll have to dress up.”

Apprehension and curiosity got into a wrestling match. Bravado answered while they were distracted. “Sounds cool, I’m game.”

His answer seemed to tickle her more than Nino could account for. Her whole face lit up in a way Nino was coming to appreciate. There was something indescribable when someone’s feelings weren’t simply genuine, they were impossible to contain. She rocked back onto her heels then up onto her toes again, an ecolè bounce on a nightclub physique. “I’ll pick you up at three. I’m wearing a dark blue dress. Don’t be late!”

With that she turned and skipped down the stairs. Pleats hugged her hypnotically all the way to her waiting limo, and Nino stared in his mind’s eye long after she was gone. As he came back out of his daze a thought occurred to him. He looked down at his notebook and asked the air, “Why did she tell me her dress would be blue?”

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

It turned out, it was so they could match. Detective Lahiffe had done some internet sleuthing that very night, not only to find out that bit of fashion knowledge, but then to figure out what from his small selection of expensive clothing would fit the bill and prevent him from standing out, while also preventing him from blending in; after all, Chloé Bourgeois wasn’t a dame to respect blending in.

When her limo pulled up he was dressed in one of his own deep blue shirts, with a silver-and-black vest worn over top. Tuxedo pants and a pair of black dress shoes he spent all night polishing finished the look, save for a silver fob chain hanging out of one vest pocket. He didn’t have an actual watch attached to the chain. He didn’t know if pocket watches were in or not, and if he didn’t have one, he wouldn’t be tempted to be constantly pulling it out or fiddling with it.

Nino ducked into the limo, nearly tripping on his way in when she smiled at him. Her hair was up, ringlets in a teased ponytail. Diamonds dripped from each ear, sparkling even in the car’s inner light. She was molded into a midnight blue off the shoulder crushed velvet dress. Cutouts at the waist emphasized the already obvious fact that there was very little material between her skin and the world.

His fumble brought a familiar smirk and superior bobble to her head, yet her words were new. “You look good, Nino.”

He couldn’t help preening just a little. Being complemented on how you were dressed, by her, was a rare treat. He adjusted his cuffs and stopped himself from reaching for the watch that didn’t exist. “Thanks, Beebee. You look dressed to kill yourself, though I shouldn’t be surprised by now. Was this a test?”

She answered with a pleased squint. “It might have been. One you passed, and one I have too, because that little quip tells me you left just one thing out.”

Chloé turned to her other side and lifted something from the seat. She brought out a brand new fedora in pristine condition. It was the kind of thing that would be hand made and expensive if anyone bought it. Coming from her the price probably tripled, with a name he couldn’t pronounce scribbled on the label inside.

She offered it to him. “I think this is yours.”

A girl who knows a way to a man’s heart is a dangerous thing, because you never know if she’s holding a knife until it is too late. Life had made my heart hard, but not proof from a well aimed blade. I wanted to trust Beebee. No one had ever given the detective the time of day before. He was a rider in this crazy thing called life. Now I set my hand on that hat and wondered: Was this a chance for him to get equal billing?

I set it on my head, it fit as if made just for me. It probably was. “Far be it from me to refuse a gift from a pretty lady.”

The limo ride was a mere ten minutes. However this ride didn’t just stop at some hotel or mansion. It stopped at the airport. I think Beebee really got a kick out of my confusion as she led the way to a small private jet and waited for me to hand her up inside. Plush carpeting was like cotton underfoot. The dim inside lights were a mood one step removed from candles themselves. There were a scant few seats before a door in the rear of the plane. The front two were swivel seats, and Beebee poured herself into one.

I sat but my curiosity overcame my calm. “Where are we going, the Casbah?”

“Close.” She was positively glowing with excitement. The way her eyes settled on me when she spoke, I don’t think it was from the idea of the party itself. “We’re going to Seville, Spain. It’s just a little two hour trip.”

A little… Spain? My reaction must have been painted on my face, because she covered a girlish giggle with a hand before saying simply, “Surprise?”

I took my hat off and placed it over my heart. “Beebee, with you nothing should be a surprise, and yet I’m here as living proof that everything is.”

Nino leaned into the aisle between them and added, “And I like it.”

The look he got in exchange had him warm from toes to hair for the duration of the flight.

Chloé reminded herself for the hundredth time on the car ride to keep from fidgeting, keep from sniffing, keep from letting her nervousness out in random scathing commentary. Nino had taken her hand almost as soon as they got in the car. Did he know? Did he know what she was thinking? Sometimes, it felt like it. Others, it was fun to tumble him around with moods and displays that buffeted him from all angles. Is that bad? Should I be doing that? Is seeing him a little off balance, and liking it, something I shouldn’t do? It was one more thing to look up when she was alone.

When the car finally stopped outside the Hotel Alfonso XIII she was silently suffocating in her own self doubt. Nino opened the door and she slid across the seat in unseemly haste to follow him out, not wanting to wait until her own door was opened. He glanced back and offered her his hand. She took it and showed him a worry-free smile. She could do ‘radiant’ all day, it didn’t even take effort anymore most of the time.

As they crossed the threshold into the hotel she reminded him, “Hat off.”

He jumped to comply and it was so unbelievably cute. Is it him, or the compliance? How do I know? I want to like it. That sheepish smile is precious… or am I just enjoying his embarrassment? Roiling within, she led him under arabesque arches and across marble floors into the royal ballroom.

He whispered, “Where do I put my- oh.”

An attendant claimed Nino’s fedora. She saw his fingers twitch after it as the gift was whisked out of sight. Was it a good idea to buy it for him? It’s not the same as just clothes. He’s here, so I owe him for coming. Owe? Should I not be using that word? Did he want to come, or is he humoring me? I wanted him here, tonight. I’ll tell him before the night’s over, I didn’t want him to come out of obligation.

Chloé glanced across at Nino, his eyes were still taking in the room full of power and luxury before him. She let her gaze linger. Would he stay this way, cute and a little lost, under her wing? Would he switch over to that cocksure persona and slow drawl that possessed him at times? Would he instead show that third side, that new side. The one who had come to her in the park. The one who had held her at her worst. The one who had visited her dreams to finish what they had started.

That line of thinking made her acutely aware of the lay of the dress she had chosen across her body. Before the sensation could bloom past anything more than giddy tickles, she grabbed Nino’s hand and pulled him onward. “I’m going to guess you’ve never attended a proper ball before. There is a lot of mingling, chatting, food, and music, and maybe a little dancing, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

Suddenly the order shifted. He was striding alongside her. His hand slipped her grip, and pressed into the small of her back. “I’ve very fond memories of the last time you danced. I don’t think it’ll be quite the same, but I’d like to join you this time.”

Whether it was his touch, the memory, or the warmth of his words, Chloé was at a loss to tell. It might have been all three, but her throat tightened and she suddenly felt light headed. She couldn’t kiss him here. Would he want her to? Her lips started to tingle. It was a special night after all… maybe he would…

Chloé waved a hand between them, sidestepping his touch to keep her sanity. “We’ll see, later. I can introduce you around if you would like, or we could each circulate on our own. There are all kinds of ridiculous little people here. It can be fun to see them scurry about.”

“I’ve people watched before, but maybe not quite the same way.”

Chloé tensed, head to toe. The words had tumbled out of her mouth naturally, but his tone, gentle but skeptical, made her rethink. There were ridiculous people here, by the handful even! It couldn’t be wrong to laugh at them, could it? Everyone laughing at each other, you just try to get the most laughs in first. It was a game, and she was good at it. She wasn’t supposed to be proud of half the things she was good at anymore, was this one of them?

She opened and closed her hands, trying to bleed off the tension. Nino didn’t need to see tension. Nino should have a good time. Nino should enjoy this, it was fancy! The odds he’d ever have set foot in this hotel were slim to none without her. She was being good.

She forced levity into her voice. “It comes with practice. You can stay close if you would like, I can introduce you around. I really must make myself known to a few people here, for my image.”

She waited, not looking at him; praying instead to higher powers she didn’t believe in.

Nino spoke against her ear. His fingertips touched lightly at her waist. “I’ll be okay, Beebee. You have fun, I’ll look around. I’m sure I can find someone cool in here somewhere.”

He drifted away and she instantly felt his absence. She turned her head- too late- to give him a parting kiss on the cheek. She stood a moment longer, watching him attach himself to the nearest cluster and slide seamlessly into conversation. This is fine, I can still do this. I can have fun, just for tonight.

Chloé took a breath, adjusted her smile, and inserted herself into the mix as well.

That peculiar magic of social function timing took hold. A handful of greetings, names dropped, and quiet pleasantries melded into a trip to the buffet for a drink and a snack. She circled further, following the social flow. In both no time at all, and after what could have been hours, she found herself face to face with Nino again. She felt suddenly winded, but he only smiled.

“Am I still getting that dance?” he asked.

Chloé tried to scan as much as she could without turning her head. No one else was dancing, people rarely did at these functions, even through music played the entire time. “We’ll be the only ones.”

That easy smile slid into place on his face. He rolled his eyes at the crowd and flicked them back to her. “Well, I’m only interested in dancing with one person here anyway.”

Idiot . Chloé snorted a chuckle in spite of herself. She shook her head, then tilted it towards a corner. “Away from the hoi polloi?”

They walked out of the main press. The area they had to themselves was dismally small, and two potted plants threatened to take up most of it. Nino wasn’t griping though. He took her hand in his, and set his other hand on her hip, drawing her in close as he began to move in time with the slow tune.

It wasn’t even a proper waltz. It was the kind of slow methodical tune that drifts off into the background. Ridiculous. Nino kept moving though, and his quiet presence was a touchstone. It's okay if wrap my arm around his waist, became, no one will see if I lay my head on his shoulder.

Around them, the world shrank. The music slowly did its part by drifting off, leaving them circling in a void. Chloé let out a slow sigh, edging closer against him.

She felt as much as heard his whisper through their contact. "There we go. That's better." His fingers pressed gently at her waist in a light squeeze.

"Hmmm?" She struggled with thinking.

"You were tense." His voice danced in her ears.

"I want you to have fun."

"I'm trying," he explained.

She traced the seam of his vest against his back with a fingertip. "Thank you for coming."

"A thank you? That's a rare gem for just tagging along."

She was too exposed to be anything but honest. "It's my birthday."

Nino stopped. Chloé held her breath. One of his hands moved up to brush the nape of her neck, and he resumed the slow dance. "Why didn't you say so before?"

"I didn't want you to just come along because it was."

"It wouldn't have been the reason."

"Maybe."

He was silent in response for several long moments. Chloé's hand drifted aimlessly, finding the line of his hair, the shell of his ear, the tip of his glasses.

He asked, "So, this is your birthday party?"

"No, just a party on the right day." She felt brave enough to tease, "Even I don't need to fly to another country for my own party."

He teased back, "Now, that doesn't sound like the Beebee I know."

It was too raw to continue the game. "I'm trying."

Did he hear it in her voice? He stopped again. His arms squeezed. "Don't change too much, I don't wanna miss the girl who helped me out of my funk."

She twisted her head suddenly, burying her face against his shoulder. Don't ruin the silk! She muffled a sob, held in another, and gripped him as if she might collapse.

"Bee…" he kept her on her feet. Another squeeze and a light hearted whisper in her ear. "If you wanted to cry, you should have thrown your own party."

The next sob turned into a laugh, still wet in her throat. Chloé forced herself to ease up, but not let go. Stop being a sop, he'll think you're boring.

She raised her head and affected a sniff. "I can cry at any party I wish, and do it twice as good as anyone else in the room."

"That's my girl."

Chloé let the words sink in as they circled. It couldn't mean what it sounded like, but it was a little fun to pretend it did. The fleeting fancy let her perk up a bit more.

As the music shifted from one obscure tune to another she asked, "Ready for round two?"

Nino didn't miss a beat. He whispered, "Right here? I didn't think it was that kind of party."

Her screwed up emotions responded in several ways at once, resulting in a shiver that couldn't be explained away. So instead she pulled back, patting him on the chest. "Go on. We'll meet back on the other side and compare notes."

He started to lean in, but stopped. Chloé realized she had already parted her lips in response. She blushed and looked away, patting his chest again. They parted, but he caught her hand as they did, and held it until their fingertips were drawn apart by distance.

Chloé drifted among groups on her second pass. She was lost in her thoughts. Wants conflicted with shouldn't. The now wrestled the past. Impossibilities became maybes. It was ridiculous all of it, and she wanted it more than she dared to admit. It was risky to admit really wanting something. Those were the things you were least likely to get.

Things began to pick at her pensive state, snippits overheard.

"Who is he here with?"

"-a disc jockey, or whatever it is. Can you imagine?"

"-those thick frames? Ugh-"

"-get him to talk about his brother, it's hilarious!-"

"-maybe we should have him brought around again, for a laugh?"

"Ewwww no."

The pieces began to add up. Nino! Chloé's head swiveled to the last speaker. A girl two years her junior with a fountain of chestnut curls and a look like she had just stepped in something. Chloé hurried past but another whisper drifted out from another group.

"-must be poor, I so hate when they try to fake being real people."

Chloé spun, picking out a blond ponytail, and for a horrifying moment saw herself among the gossiping circle. She fell back from them, fetching up against a wall. Every whisper was another barb now, another reminder; the truth.

I’m them. I’m these people. Voices melted and became her own, until it was a chorus of her own words thrown back at her from years ago. A bill she had no idea how to pay, growing with interest the longer she put it off. Chloe covered her ears, but it didn’t help. The words were already inside with her. His glasses ARE ridiculous…

… but I can’t imagine him wearing anything else.

He IS poor…

… so? I’m rich enough for any three people.

...That’s what money is for, right?

He has a brother? Ugh, kids are gross…

… maybe, he isn’t too bad?

....I can try to find out.

We can’t be seen together!

...No, we can’t.

Stupid Dupain-Cheng!

…isn’t it time I was done with her?

...So much energy, for what?

...She’s happy. Look at me. I’m a disaster.

I hate her!

…maybe I do. That’s my problem, not hers. Right?

All this STUPID nonsense isn’t worth it!

… he is.

What? Do you think you’re in love? HA.

Don’t kid yourself.

You know how this goes.

… no. He’s just… nice. Can’t I have something nice?

Daddy will buy you a hundred nice things…

… daddy can go to hell. Mommy can too.

...I’m so sick of being a Bourgeois.

Get used to being poor then!

...Maybe I will!

Laughter, her mother’s voice but her own self-doubt, echoed back at her. Chloe bit her lip, trying to down it all out with pain. She couldn’t scream here. She fled from her own thoughts out into the room. She scanned for Nino. He’s got to be putting up with it, probably for me. I need to get him…

She spotted him talking with three vapid interchangeable tuxedos. The arrangement was clear, the tuxedos had blocked off all escape, even if Nino didn’t see it yet. Chloé could see it. Chloé knew all about how to do it.

She rushed across the ballroom. He hadn’t seen her yet. She saw a grimace ghost across his face. I knew it!

Chloé thrust herself between two of the tuxedos and caught Nino by the wrist. “We’re leaving, now!”

She turned and pulled, taking strides as fast as her dress would allow. To hell with it, if she split a seam she could just move faster.

Nino trailed after her, stumbling to keep up. “Bee?”

They had to keep going, if they could just get clear.

“Going so soon?” The voice dripped with oily authority. ”But we were just getting to know him. I’m thinking he’d make an excellent addition… to the help.”

Chloe was in Tuxedo’s face. There was no moment in between for thought and sense to interfere.

“You! You grubby, grimey ridiculous little worm! How DARE you! I know what you've been saying! I know your type!”

I am your type.

She jabbed Tuxedo in the chest with her nail. “He’s ten times the person you’ll ever be, clinging to your daddy’s leg your whole life! I know you, Rotimer Kurst! Getting fat off your daddy’s gem mines! Laying around doing nothing while other people work to make your daddy rich. What have you ever done though? You fall off every horse you’ve ever gotten on. You sank a sailboat in the dock . Your university degree cost your daddy an entire library, a library of books you probably can’t even read! If you ever dare to show your face in Paris again I’ll…. I’ll have my daddy arrest you!”

It didn’t exactly make sense, but it didn’t have to make sense. She was angry. She was screaming at eighteen years.

Tuxedo didn’t even flinch. Tuxedo folded his arms and smirked. “Paris? Daddy? That means you’re Chloé Bourgeois doesn’t it? Oh, I know you too,” that oily voice purred. “You’re such a foul little thing that you drove your mother away as a baby. She ran off to America of all places and went rutting. She squirted out a replacement for you, and kept that one. Then, of all things, she brought the little cuckold-fruit home and your own father decided he liked her better didn’t he? She’s the one he brings around to social functions anymore. When was the last time you were invited anywhere? I’m guessing this was just another invitation you coasted in on because Mommy and Daddy couldn’t make it. Your low-class little minion might be unfit for this company, but you don’t belong anywhere. ”

At one point, she might have had the venom and energy to fight back again. Too long trying to ‘be good’ had pulled her fangs. It didn’t help that this horrid beast had struck right through to the one thing that hurt above all others. Maybe it was luck, maybe her disgrace was just common knowledge at this point. Whatever the reason, Chloé’s keyed up emotions burst. Embarrassment and grief rolled with anger but all of it was capped off by the truth that she could do nothing to change this reality, even if she changed herself. Frustration won out over all and what should have been an angry scream turned over into a defeated wail.

Chloé sank to the ground, sobbing. Sobbing as she hadn’t let herself before. Sobbing even more deeply than she had against Nino’s shoulder, back in her suite. This was loss. She’d lost what she was. She’s lost even the part of herself who could be what she was, and be happy with it. She wasn’t daddy’s girl. She wasn’t ‘The Mayor’s daughter.’ She was nobody, and nothing. She’d been running from the truth, praying to rebuild the pieces into some semblance of a person before it caught up with her. I almost made it… almost.

“‘S’cuse me dude. Do you know who Nino Lahiffe is?”

The words passed over her head.

“No.” The indignant reply.

“Cool.”

Tuxedo flew into Chloé’s blurry view, sprawled on the ballroom floor clutching his jaw.

Strong hands, gentle hands, picked her up. “C’mon, Beebee. This party sucks.”

#ml fanfic #chloe bourgeois #nino lahiffe #DJBling

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rayslittlekitten · 2 years

Text

Emeralds & Pearls

A/N: So it took me a bajillion years to finally finish this. I had this specific idea and so the fic started strong and than I don't know what happened. I've been a huge struggle writing smut lately which is why you've been seeing a lot of angst and fluff. This didn't quite really pan out the way I wanted but it's finished. Hope you enjoy. Thank you @lovebarefootblonde for beta reading!

RATING: E (18+ONLY)

Word Count: ~3k

Pairing: Raymond Smith x Wife F!reader

Plot: You kickstart your romantic anniversary night with a necklace.

Contains: unprotected sex (P in V), oral sex (F receiving), fingering, spanking, pussy slapping, crotch-sniffing, light choking, body/partner worshipping?, pantyhose tearing (I think that is all)

Your husband is always lavishing you with jewelry, exquisite dresses and shoes, French lingerie, fur coats and when he can, fine dining, but you’re a woman with simple needs and tastes. All you really want is to be able to enjoy your marriage, but it’s hard when he’s more committed to Mickey Pearson. You know that a lot of him feels guilty for missing out on spending time with you due to the nature of his demanding job so he tries to make up for it by showering you with gifts, but you also know a part of him enjoys seeing you wearing some of those said gifts. You've seen the way he's looked at you when you put them on for him, but there is one thing that drives him particularly feral.

It's your wedding anniversary and you're getting ready to celebrate it while waiting for Raymond. You're sitting in front of the vanity, putting final touches on your face when you hear him coming through the front door. Your perfectly lined eyes dart over at the clock while cleaning up the edges of your bright red lips. It's a surprise he's actually home on time.

"Hi, my love!"

You hear him coming up the stairs and rushing past the bedroom straight to his office, as usual, to drop off the work he brought home.

You quickly scan your face in front of the mirror before standing up from your vanity chair. The thin heels of your six-inch Jimmy Choos hit the hardwood floor with each step you take towards the door. The sound of your steps echo as you take your time to walk down the hall towards Raymond's office.

"Are you ready, my love?" Raymond checks his watch. "I don't think we have too much time left. Our reservations are in forty-five minutes and we need to go across town. You know how the M25 gets around this time."

When you step into his office, Raymond quickly glances up at you for a moment and goes back to what he was doing, but then does a double take. He pauses his task and stares at you expressionless as you slowly put one foot in front of the other. His eyes travel from your cat-lined eyes, to your bright red pout, and then to the pearl necklace he bought you for your anniversary last year sitting just above your naked chest which you display proudly. His eyes darken. Your arms are covered in black satin from the tip of your fingernails up to your biceps. He scans below your waist and his jaw drops a little lower seeing your bottom half wrapped in sheer stockings and your feet in patent leather heels.

He continues to watch you quietly like a hungry wolf as you walk around his desk. You run your gloved hands over his chest as you get closer to him. His eyes drop down to your neck again and he brings his hand up to it, lightly stroking the front of your throat with this thumb. You know it drives Ray absolutely wild to see you adorned in nothing but an expensive necklace. Something about you wearing only something so elegant and precious while he defiles you gets his blood flowing.

You noticed in the beginning of your relationship, Ray would gift you these shiny diamond necklaces and thought he was just trying to impress you, but over time, you caught on to his antics.

"I think I'm a bit overdressed for the occasion," you tell him.

"No, you are perfect," Raymond responds while cradling the back of your neck. His eyes admire every single part of your face as if it’s the first time he saw it. He was so taken away by your beauty, and now he is a slave to it - to you. The moment you said 'I do', Raymond just wanted to make love to you, to his wife, right there and then, over and over again. The marriage license and officiation wasn't enough. He wanted to consummate the marriage and claim you as his wife. It's what makes your wedding anniversary extra special to him. While you may look more or less the same as you did the day you met him, to your husband, you are a goddess and with each day that passes that you are married to him, you become more beautiful and god-like to him.

You can feel the coolness of his wedding band against your sensitive skin. His lips ghost over yours as you lean your head away from his. He tries to kiss you again, but you move away. His other arm grabs your waist and pulls you flush against him, holding you in place before smashing his lips against yours.

Raymond's hand slides down behind you, squeezing your ass, and then he presses his crotch against yours. You can feel where all the blood in his body has rushed to. His lips leave yours and dips down to the side of your neck and shoulder. Taking his time, he kisses you all over, being careful to not disturb the pearls. Although now he's thinking about giving you another one as he's imagining you kneeling in front of him with pleading eyes.

For a man who seemed to be in a rush to leave, he sure is taking his time. He is giving equal amounts of attention to every part of your body, making sure to appreciate and worship every inch of your skin. You let out a small moan when Raymond's teeth grazes your shoulder. He doesn't quite sink them in, gently teasing you, although you know he would love to mark you. He wants everyone to know you are his.

Raymond's hand slips down from your neck to one of your breasts. His large hand kneads it as he continues to caress your neck and upper chest with his soft lips. Your breathing is noticeably heavier and you let out a sigh when Raymond backs you up against his desk and presses himself on you. The edge of the desk is digging into your backside.

"Raymond," you pant as you run your fingers through his slick back hair and neck.

“Yes, my love?” Raymond hums and you arch against him when he pulls a nipple between his pink wet lips. His tongue swirls around the nub a few times before he completely puts his mouth over it and sucks on it.

You moan in response. He moves on to your other nipple and repeats the same movements, giving it just as much attention. Your hips thrust into the open space between the both of you, needing some friction.

Raymond moves further down your torso and starts placing butterfly kisses all over your belly as his palms run over your hips. As he continues to kiss his way down your body, his teeth catch on the top of the pantyhose and snaps back up into place after it stretches down a few inches.

You look down and watch Raymond who is now kneeling, hover over your heat. You can feel his warm breath on you. The tip of his nose grazes the front of your stockings and he takes a whiff. He looks up at you as he licks you through the thin nylon. You throw your head back and moan, entangling your fingers in his hair.

Suddenly, he flips you around and you brace yourself on the desk. He pushes your ass up and spreads your cheeks. He shoves his nose and mouth against your hot core. He moans as he inhales your arousal, your intoxicating scent. If he could, he would bottle it up and sniff it all day. His face is pressed so close against you, his glasses shift around as he licks and kisses you through the damp delicate material. His hands knead your ass and he buries himself further as his mouth continues to devour you.

You bite your lower lip and push back, grinding yourself against his face, wanting more - needing more. Raymond then digs his fingers into the thin stretchy fabric covering your aching pussy. He bunches it up in his hands and then rips it apart, forming a large opening, exposing your naked wet slit. He practically shredded the expensive French back-seamed pantyhose.

Raymond goes right back in and sticks his face between your legs. You gasp when you feel his thick velvety tongue slip inside you. You clench up when you feel the tip of his nose poke your puckered asshole. He runs the flat of his tongue from your clit up to your dripping opening before he dips the tip of his tongue back in. He puts his mouth over your cunt and sucks on your lips.

The obscene wet noises and your pants and moans fill up his office and that’s all he needs to keep him going. Your hips jerk when you feel his fingertips teasing your entrance. You push back again hoping his fingers would slide in further. You feel relief when he slips in two fingers all the way up to his knuckle. You clench around his fingers as he slowly works them inside you. You close your eyes and concentrate on the sensation of the penetration and his lips pulling on your clit. The stimulation is making you heady.

“Right there, Raymond,” you moan.

He keeps the pressure and pace consistent. Just as you’re ready for your release, Raymond pulls away, causing you to whimper. You turn back to look at him, but you yelp when you unexpectedly feel him slap your pussy. His hand comes down on it a few more times, leaving it puffy.

“Don’t worry, my love. I’m not done yet.”

You feel him smack your ass a few times and then sink his teeth into one of your cheeks. The sting and bite makes you hiss in delight. Raymond then flips you back around and hoists you up on his desk. He steps into the space between your legs.

You pull his tie out of his waistcoat and pull him closer to you. You kiss him and grab his face with both your hands to deepen it, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue as you run your smooth hands over his rough beard. As you make out with him, you slide a hand down the front of his jeans, slipping them inside his boxers and grasping his length and running your silky fingers over him.

Raymond moans into your mouth and you nibble on his bottom lip. You pull back and pop your pointer and middle fingers into his mouth. You slide them in and out between his lips as you jerk him with your other hand. He gently grasps the tip of your gloves between his teeth and he tugs on it. You pull your hand away from him and the glove effortlessly slips off. Ray looks away for a moment to spit the glove.

You suddenly feel Raymond slip a finger inside of you and you moan into his mouth. Only after a few pumps, he slips another in. You pull away, throw your head back and moan again. You brace your hands on the desk to get better leverage as you ride his fingers. You bite your bottom lip as you feel him curl his fingers up, rubbing that soft spot inside you.

Ray brings his other hand up to your collarbone, teasing and caressing the string of creamy white beads. He grasps your chin and leans in to kiss you again. You shove your tongue into his mouth and he reciprocates with as much passion. You whine when you feel him pull out of you, but he quickly replaces his mouth with his fingers that were just inside you.

You suck on them, tasting your juices. He then wipes his fingers on your lips, smudging your lipstick even more than it already is.

“Lie back,” Raymond commands.

You do so and watch Raymond swiftly unbuckle his belt and undo his fly. He pushes his pants and boxers down, freeing his heavy cock that’s been straining behind his zipper. He grips your thighs and shoves them open. He reaches down to align himself with you and rubs the tip up and down your drenched pussy, rubbing your clit along the way, before sinking into you.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan loudly as he starts moving in and out of you, slowly at first. It feels like torture.

“Please, Raymond,” You reach your hands out to him.

“What do you need, my love?” Raymond leans down closer to you and pushes himself to the hilt. You sigh feeling him filling you up. You feel so full.

“I need you,” you manage to say as you run your hands over his chest, under the collar of his waistcoat. You want to feel him. You want to feel his body on yours.

You grip the gaps between the buttons on his shirt and pull it open, sending buttons flying everywhere. You reach up and press your palms to his bare chest. Feeling his warm smooth skin on yours makes you feel closer to him.

One of Raymond’s hands finds his way back to your neck as he punches his hips into you.

“Who does this cunt belong to?” Raymond asks.

“You,” you answer him.

“Tell me that,” Raymond wraps his fingers around your throat.

“My cunt belongs to you, Raymond.”

“Damn right, it does,” he grunts.

You grab the opening of his shirt and pull him down closer to you. You smash your lips against his. Raymond grips your jaw and deepens the kiss. He releases your face to push both your legs up and folds you in half until your knees reach your chest.

He grasps the edge of his desk above your head, pinning your legs back and reaches deeper into you. He pounds into you hard and fast, hitting your g-spot as he does. You moan into his mouth as you feel your orgasm quickly bubbling.

“Don’t stop, Raymond,” you breathe out.

“Cum for me, my love. I want to feel you cum all over my cock,” Raymond grunts. “Your cock. This cock is all yours.”

He presses his forehead against yours as he slams his hips into you, making his desk jump and shift against the hardwood floors. You throw your head back and cry out as you let your orgasm take course through your body.

“Oh, my love,” Raymond growls as he reaches his own release, painting your walls white.

He stays inside you as you both lay there for a few moments to catch your breath.

“I love you so much.” Raymond pecks your lips.

“I love you too, Raymond.” You smile at him.

Raymond then gently pulls out of you, letting his seed leak out of you.

“Come on, my love. We have a dinner reservation.” Raymond pushes himself off of you and offers his hands.

He pulls you up off the desk and you both head back to the bedroom to quickly clean yourselves up and pick out some new outfits. You slip into the green dress you had picked out for tonight and abandon the torn hosiery. You look into the floor length mirror to make sure everything is in place and your makeup is decent.

“That color looks so lovely on you,” Raymond eyes you up and down and then comes up behind you, placing his hands on your waist. He pushes your hair aside and starts kissing your neck.

“Raymond,” you tilt your head to the side and hum. “We’re already running late.”

“I have something for you. I think it would go so well with your dress.” He brushes his lips against your shoulder before pressing his lips to it.

He presents a velvet box to you and you take it. You have a feeling you already know what it is. You open it up and gasp seeing an emerald necklace shining at you. The large cut gems are set in yellow gold and surrounded by diamonds.

“Raymond…” you whisper as you run your manicured fingertips over it.

“You like it, my love?”

“This is… too much. I can’t–”

“Nothing is ever too much. Not for you, not for my wife.” Raymond leans in and kisses your cheek. “Here, let me put it on you.”

He first removes your pearls and then takes the new necklace from the box. You watch in the mirror as he hangs it around your neck and clasps it in place.

“Thank you, Raymond. I love it.” You turn to him and kiss him. “Happy Anniversary.”

“Happy Anniversary, my love.” Raymond smiles.

“Oh wow, is that really the time? We’re never going to make it in time,” you tell him, seeing the clock. “We might have to order takeaway instead.”

“Don’t be silly, my love. I promised you a nice anniversary dinner. I’ll just tell them we’re stuck in traffic and will be a little late,” Raymond tells you.

“You think they’ll still hold the reservation?” you ask, centering the necklace and admiring it.

“Michael is a part owner. They’ll stay open past closing time if I tell them to,” Ray replies. You see him wink in the reflection and then he gives you a kiss on the cheek.

His eyes darken again as they shift down to your neck and he licks his lips.

“We better get going now or we’re never going to leave,” he growls into your ear and then playfully bites your neck.

He takes your hand in his and leads you out of the bedroom.

“By the way, those were one of my favorite pairs of nylons,” you tell him.

“I’ll buy 20 pairs for you, my love.”

“I don’t need that many,” you chuckle.

“They’re for me so I can tear them off of you again and again,” Raymond smirks mischievously.

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