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lily-drake · 3 years

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Fantasy/Twin AU

Sorry for being late and not posting for a bit. Was a bit burnt out and had writer block. I will go back to write the other days soon though. Also, sorry, I suck at writing wing aus, this is my first time doing it.

Earth J-236, an earth full of mystical life. An earth where everyone is born with wings. Your wings represented who you are; well not really, but that’s what people believed. If your wings were bright and colorful then you were obviously an amazing person, but if your wings were darker or had little color, then you have great evil in your soul. Marinette was born seconds after her twin, Damian. It takes a few years before your wings fully grow in, usually to about 6. But with the accelerated growth serums used in their artificial wombs, it took them till they were three for their feathers to sprout. Damian’s were black like their father’s with subtle hints of red like their mothers. Marinette’s were pure black, devoid of any color, and her mother was so proud of that. She was the League’s charm, for it’s believed that anyone with pure black wings was pure evil. Her only purpose being to protect her brother, nothing else was more important than her brother’s safety. She would die for him, because if he died she might as well have died as well as her only purpose for living would be gone.

Damian glared at his sister, his wings ruffling in annoyance. She was hovering close to him again, and she never said anything to him ever unless she was completely sure they were alone. He did not believe that his sister was or could ever be, “pure evil” just because of her wings. In fact, her mannerisms are the exact opposite of what people believed. She, in her own ways, is caring, sweet, and protective. He had seen, and helped, her nurse a baby bird that had fallen from its nest back to health. She would often place little things around the base for only him to find such as some extra baklava, a throwing knife, a drawing of someone, beads, or other random objects. Grandfather had always been extra hard on her, making sure she wouldn’t betray them, she wouldn’t become “evil enough to lose herself”. Sometimes she would sneak into his room at night, and it tore him apart to see silent tears run down his little sister's face as small black raven feathers fell onto the floor from her days worth of training. He had been learning how to fly, her wings had been clipped every two or three months so she could not leave the base. She had learned long ago to control her facial and wing expressions, but he could always see the droop in them and the sad shine in her eyes as she stood on the ground while he was in the air.

________

Marinette looked up and watched as the fiery Phoenix flew through the air setting Nada Parabat aflame. She didn’t feel much as she watched her grandfather get blown up. She only felt great anxiety and fear as she could not find her brother. She loved her brother, and if her job was to cause chaos, she would make sure she could prevent it from hurting him. Grandfather had told her about how cursed she was, it’s why they had to be extra tough on her, and she understood that. They couldn’t have her hurting anyone they needed, only the people they wanted gone. She was angry at grandfather yesterday for taking some of her feathers for failing a task, this must have been her fault. She didn’t want to hurt her brother, her wings had only proven nothing but destruction. She had to leave now, then she could go where no one else was, and she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else. So like a coward, like the disgrace she was, she ran. She kept her wings tight against her back making sure that no one could grab them as she ran. An arrow hit one of them, but she didn’t have time to think about the burning pain as she ran and ran and ran farther and farther and farther away. Tears ran down her cheeks as she silently prayed that her brother would be okay.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but she knew it must have been a really long time as she had just collapsed from exhaustion in the woods. She looked back at her wings and slowly and carefully spread them out and hissed in pain from where the arrow had pierced her left wing. Drops of red slowly dripped down her feathers and dropped on the ground. She quickly closed them and made sure they were as small and put away as possible. She looked up at the trees made of brass with different colored jade leaves. Pearl-like apples growing on a few. She watched a baby griffon follow it’s mother in the distance, turtle ducks waddling to a pond somewhere nearby, deer nibbling on plants, she could hear the rustling of leaves and branches from unseen creatures and everything was getting more blurry and dark. She was cold, it felt very cold. She slowly unwound her wings from around herself and closed them tightly around her, but that didn’t stop the chill that went deep down to her bones. She was a failure, a mistake, she would only cause harm. Here she wouldn’t be able to do that, and if she died here, then no one would be hurt by her again, and wasn’t that such a nice thought.

________

Tom and Sabine had finally been able to hire some trusted employees and explore places in Tibet. They had made lots of money over the years with their successful bakery, and they thought now was a better time than ever to go on a real honeymoon as they hadn’t been able to afford it before when the bakery had first started. It was during one of these forest explorations when they saw a trail of little drops of blood and felt they needed to follow it. What they discovered broke their hearts. There lying on the cold forest floor was what appeared to be a child hugging their very black wings around them. They knew of the rumors and myths of black winged people, but they did not care. They believed that their wings were not what made them evil, but rather situations put into their lives. Sabine quickly checked for a pulse, and though it was slow she sighed in relief when she felt it. She quickly handed the small unconscious girl to Tom and they both quickly went to the nearest hospital. How could someone leave such a small child all alone to die like that? It looked as if she had been injured if the dried blood on the small fragile wings said anything. And worst of all, upon closer examination, they had been clipped, recently too.

As soon as they arrived they carried the small girl to the front and demanded that they take her in. They waited until the doctors were done and gave them permission to visit claiming to be the girl’s adopted parents. It wasn’t technically a lie, they would be soon even if Sabine had to force it to happen.

When Marinette woke up she knew something was off. She was under a blanket, she’s never been given a blanket before. The sent of bleach and chemicals were everywhere and it hurt her nose. There was a beeping noise next to her that was giving her a headache. She didn’t know where she was, and that was bad. She opened her eyes a small fraction so nobody could see she was awake and looked around as much as she could. The entire room was white and there were bright lights. There were two strange people waiting in chairs near where she was laying. She wondered if they were the ones who brought her here. Slowly she opened them up all the way and silently sat up. It’s best to make no noise, then she wouldn’t disturb anyone.

“Oh sweety, I’m so glad you’re awake.”

The woman said in a cheery and relieved manner, but she just continued to watch and study them silently. Her wings felt stiff against her back, though she made sure they didn’t move or give anything away.

“How are you feeling dear?”

Silence greeted them, and her face remained as impassive as ever. They wanted something, why else would they save a freak like her? What were they aiming for here?

“Did your parents hurt you? If so, we can take you away from them.”

Marinette’s eyes widened only a fraction. These were randoms, innocents if you will. They obviously had no idea who she was, and they seemed unafraid of her and her wings. Did they not know how dangerous she was, didn’t they know that black wings meant she was cursed? The man and the woman looked at eachother and spread their wings. Marinette was shocked, but she wouldn’t show it.

The large man had light brown eagle wings while the small woman had white and black woodpecker wings. She wanted to reach out and touch the feathers, but then something bad would happen to them, so she held her hands together.

“We don’t care what your wing color is. Your wings don’t define who you are, it’s what you do with your life that does. Can we please help you?”

The woman said sincerely as she gripped the man’s hand in hers. She felt a pull to them, something telling her to accept. She didn’t want to hurt them though. But maybe she could protect them? Maybe she could find a way around her curse and make sure they don’t get hurt? Slowly she nodded and they both looked so happy when she did. She hoped that she wouldn’t hurt them, they didn’t deserve to be cursed. Maybe if she didn’t touch them things would be ok. If she didn’t let them touch her then it wouldn’t spread. She could do this!

________

Apparently she couldn’t do it because this is a very affectionate family, and the first thing that happened before they let her sleep on their —super fluffy, pure Heaven— bed was give her a hug. She had made sure that her wings were tucked under her clothes and tight against her back the entire time though. So they didn’t touch her wings, so maybe that meant they wouldn’t be cursed.

It was strange, because the next morning they went to a courthouse, and she was adopted. She hadn’t said anything throughout the entire event, she just watched and observed what people did. They stayed in Tibet for another few days before they flew to Paris, France. This was supposed to be her new home. The city of light and love. Maybe here, it would stop her curse. It was so bright that it had to block out her darkness. She still always carried one of her knives with her, she felt naked without one. Tom and Sabine seemed to understand somehow, and said that it was her business and that was enough for them till she was ready to talk about it. It was strange not to be interrogated for now wanting to tell someone something.

Marinette had lived with the Dupain-Chengs for about a year now. It was strange really, they were honest business people and their joy was always sincere. They didn’t question much of what she did even though it was probably weird to them. They didn’t punish her for messing up like the league did, and they never went near her wings without permission. They never plucked her feathers, and they would often ask if they could preen her wings. She would refuse every time, but she would often wonder what it would be like to have someone else touch them. Think of what it would be like if she weren’t cursed. When it was time for school she would always wrap them around herself then tape them so no one would see or be able to touch them. Things were finally going well, she couldn’t risk it now!

There was a blonde brat that liked to act like she was above her, and because her wings were always hidden with no explanation she made sure everyone knew that she was “wingless”. She didn’t care though, being wingless was better than being evil winged. She never really said anything in class or to other students, she never gave much reaction keeping her stoic face up. The brat left her alone soon after for being a, “ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous freak.” And nobody was the wiser.

Being Lady Chaos was….the best thing that ever happened to her if she was being honest. Even with pure black wings, people still thought she was a hero. She never flew, she was scared she’d fall and die. She was never allowed to fly before, and even if she technically can do so now, it’s not worth the risk. Her partner though, Mr. Bug has gold, red, and black wings. He can fly through the air with ease she wished she desperately had. Sometimes after patrol she would go to the very top of the Eiffel Tower and just stretch her wings out as far out as she could. She would close her eyes as the wind blew past her and ruffled her feathers and pretend that she was soaring through the air.

________

Year three of living with Tom and Sabine she was comfortable talking to them more, and with Plagg there to control her chaos she finally let them touch her wings. It was strange really, she never took care of her wings, never cared enough to. When she first felt the hands on her feathers she had to will herself not to draw them back for fear of them plucking or ripped out. But Sabine’s hands were so gentle and smooth that they seemed to move on their own and go closer to her touch. Sabine would smile and hum as she gently preened the dark raven feathers that were soft and smooth. Maybe she could finally tell the class that she wasn’t wingless soon, and maybe they would be okay with it.

No, they would not as she learned from listening to her classmates talk to the new student, Lila Rossi. To them Lady Chaos was the only good black winged person because she was chasing after Mr. Bug to earn his affections. Lady Chaos was obviously evil before she met Mr. Bug and she would always be evil no matter what she did. Marinette felt nauseous that she ever thought about telling them the truth. She had never felt more betrayed than she felt now, because she had given them her trust, and they broke it without even knowing it. After that day, she made extra sure that her wings were hidden and wore a bit thicker clothing just in case. Tom and Sabine are a little worried about it, but she calmed them pretty quickly. She was fine, it wasn’t like they were all great friends to begin with. That’s probably why everyone sides with Lila and decides that she’s a terrible person.

She had tried leaving her past behind, pretending that she didn’t hurt and kill people. Pretend that she wasn’t a weapon. She tried to push it far away, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. She had abandoned her brother. She betrayed the league. She did unspeakable things to please someone who would never care about her, just her use. The city of lights seems duller than usual, it was probably her fault Hawkmoth came to be in the first place, afterall she was cursed to bring ruin everywhere she went.

________

Lila and Chloe thought it would be a great idea to bring everybody to the Crime Capital of the World for their senior trip. Probably to watch people flounder and worry when things go wrong, which they definitely would. She had stopped Hawkmoth a month before the trip, but Mr. Bug took all the credit for it. The arrogant self centered bas*. Adrien kept giving her side glances that always made her feel uncomfortable and slightly disgusted. During school he would try to touch her with every chance he’d get. He almost discovered her wings at one point. She couldn’t do anything about it before because of the stupid your-rich-so-do-whatever-the-heck-you-want treatment. Now that Adrien’s family fortune is gone, and people don’t trust him because of what his dad did, so he has to be more careful. He now kept some distance, which she was extremely grateful for.

She would have broken his hand, she had imagined it plus other things more than once. But then Tom and Sabine would get in trouble by Gabriel for her actions. They didn’t deserve that, they had been nothing but good to her since they found her abandoned in that forest.

She would be fine though, as long as Lila had a grip on his arm and she was in the back, away from him. She listened to their tour guide, Richard Grayson, talk about the history and importance of WE. The architecture was brilliant really, and you couldn’t blame her for having to draw and sketch it. She often thought of Damian when she sketched. She used to leave drawings for him around the base, little things that expressed her adoration for him without getting too close. She wondered if he was still with the league, had he escaped, did he die? She hoped that wasn’t the case, she hoped that he would be alive and well. Bright orange and white wings nearly slapped her in the face if she hadn’t stopped right before the movement had occurred.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry Marinette! Sometimes my wings just spasm out of control like that! I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Marinette just silently rolled her eyes and took a few steps backward and watched the class glare at her waiting for her to comfort the liar. She would never lower herself to do that. She was still an Al Ghul afterall, even if she did leave it behind when she fled. She was thankful when lunch came, she waited far away from the line and watched silently from a dark corner to make sure no one would hurt her. Then she felt it, a hand touching her back feeling for something. She quickly and instinctively grabbed the arm and twisted it behind them pinning it behind their back at a painful angle.

“Ukhti, let go.”

Marinette knew that voice. She remembered that name and she could feel her heart stop. The lunchroom was silent as they watched the small bluenette silently and quickly release the “Ice Prince”. Everyone watched with bated breaths to see what would happen next. The boy’s wings were ruffled in agitation and fear.

“Where are they?”

He demanded. Marinette knew what he was talking about, she simply wrapped her arms around herself and turned her head away definitely.

“Why are you hiding them, Malak? Please.”

Marinette could feel her wings moving in defiance to what her brain was saying. They wanted to be shown, they wanted to be touched by her brother again. She looked down and slowly uncrossed her arms from her body. Damian gently took her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes.

“Everything will be ok, Taw'ami.”

She slowly nodded and with shaky fingers reached under her hoodie and began to slowly unwrap the tape that kept her wings confined. When all the tape was in her hands she hesitantly removed her hoodie and let her wings unfold from around herself and into the open. She had made shirts that let her wings slip through slits in the back that were tailored to her wings specifically and were most comfortable. Damian marveled at how big her raven wings had grown and how shiny they were. He reached out a hand slowly and gently ran his fingers down the inky black that was her wings.

Shouts of fear and accusations were thrown at her, mostly from her class. She didn’t listen though, she just observed. The tour guide was coming over now, probably to kick her out. He had such lovely wings though, they were a deep navy blue that looked similar to black with dark red and light blue running through them. They looked so well kept and soft.

“Damian, what’s happening? Who is this?”

“Grayson, meet my twin sister, Marinette.”

“You have a twin?!”

Richard exclaimed loudly, drawing even more attention. The insults and jeers stopped after that. She looked over at the class and smirked when she saw their shock and confusion.

“Yes, keep up.”

Damian said brusquely. They must know each other well then.

“Come, we must take her away from these imbeciles and take her to father.”

Damian grabbed her wrist and tugged, her quickly falling into line like she used to when he did this.

“Now tell me Ukhti, have you been taking care of yourself?”

She nodded as they came to an elevator and walked into it with Richard right behind them. Marinette felt her feathers fluff up nervously. She wasn’t in control of them right now, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Damian ran a hand gently down her right wing trying to smooth it down.

“Things will be fine Marinette. Just watch, father will be glad to meet you.”

She looked him in the eyes and squeezed her hands together.

“No, I have not told him about you. Things will be fine though.”

He seemed to understand her weird way of communicating, she still didn’t understand how he did. Richard cleared his throat and both turned to look at him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but um…I’m Dick, I’m Damian’s, and yours I guess, oldest brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

He spread his wings in a welcoming way that meant and showed safety and peace. Her wings involuntarily rose up as well to reciprocate his greeting. When the door to the elevator opened again she quickly forced her wings to hide on her back trying desperately to keep them from sight. Damian didn’t seem to like it, but he just grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a large office room. The plaque on the door read “CEO Bruce Wayne”. Their father was Bruce Wayne?! She couldn’t go in there, she couldn’t curse him and ruin his life. No, she had already messed up at the league, and she was just barely not messing up with Tom and Sabine, she would definitely ruin Bruce Wayne’s life, and she would not allow that to happen. She tugged at his grip desperately trying to get away.

“Marinette, stop. Your wings are not cursed, that was a lie.”

Marinette shook her head and kept trying to escape the iron-like grip.

“Do you not trust me anymore?”

She froze at that and quickly shook her head. Of course she trusted him, it was her that shouldn’t be trusted.

“Good, because we’re going in now.”

And that was that, because the door was now open and she was being dragged into the office room where their father and another boy with large bags under his eyes stared at them. Damian puffed up his chest and feathers letting his strong, big, and brilliant wings rise into the air.

“Father, this is your daughter, my twin, Marinette Erebus Al Ghul-Wayne.”

They both stared at her in shock and Marinette slowly and cautiously raised her despicable black wings into the air. Both stared at them in awe before looking back at her, but she didn’t meet their eyes. She didn’t want to see the disgust and hatred in their eyes.

After a few moments she looked up and saw their wings greeting hers like Dick’s had. Their father’s wings were a mix of black and dark grey alternating the color in each row of feathers. The other boy’s were black at the top and slowly turned to red at the bottom. But they were welcoming her openly, so that must mean something! Well, it was time to get to know her father, she guessed.

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mauxanhduong · 2 years

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YOU ALL. I THINK NEW YURI ON ICE CONTENT IS COMING SOON.

So as we all know, new official Yuri on Ice art dropped!!! BUT. There’s more to come!!

If you check out the official mizuno website, it actually says that more official art is coming out early February!! (Which, by the way, syncs up with the start of the Winter Olympics... hmmm...)

Okay, so that’s pretty obvious. But if you take a look at Mitsurou Kubo’s Twitter bio... (ID in alt text!)

I don’t know about you, but “Now at work #iceadolescence” is pretty telling. Also the fact that she’s not sharing any details and that she’s hiding her tweets from everyone but a few select people.

Besides these, there’s also been more subtle hints about new Ice Ado content coming around February. For example, Ice Ado’s all about Victor going to the Winter Olympics, and it would make a lot of sense if new content was dropped sometime around February (when the Olympics start!) Also: the fact that the new version of History Maker dropped a little while back kind of hints at something at more content to come.

Overall, all this stuff makes me think that something big might be planned for the start of the Winter Olympics—probably Ice Ado related. Maybe a new trailer?Anyways. No matter what’s coming, I’m literally so excited!!

Thanks to this post and this post for helping me put stuff into words!

#yuri on ice #not trek #victuuri #yuri!!! on ice #ice adolescence

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ayamturd · 3 years

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bisexual│mcyt hc

warnings: small mentions of hate, fluff

prompt: (requested 1 & 2) “Hello uh I saw one of your posts about the dream smp reacting to you coming out so I was wondering if you haven't already done it can you do dream smp reacting to you coming out as bisexual?”

“Hello yamturd so I was wondering if maybe you could do tubbo, Tommy and Ranboo reacting to reader coming out as bisexual or lesbian if you haven't already done it :)”

pairings: irl platonic! dream, ranboo, tommy and tubbo ; c!technoblade

a/n: if i offend or misinterpret anything in this hc, please feel free to message and correct me otherwise. i will always try to correct or delete this post if asked so <33

sending my love to all those who identify as bisexual <33

wc: (1.5k) - m.list

dream -

considering his prideful personality sometimes, you probably wanted to play with his ego and drop subtle hints

not anything too obvious, but enough to make him kick himself when he realizes

though it was admittedly difficult since he plays into the dnf ship so much that he thinks you’re also joking more than half the time

imagine you two were in a voice call one evening and randomly discussing the recent fanon and what would be funny to turn into canon (to mess with the fandom)

you’ve been recently shipped with two other content creators, both of opposing female and male gender, separately and together

“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind hitting that.” “Which one?” “Both.”

He’d laugh, but you didn’t.

“Wait, you’re serious? You actually identify as…?” “Bisexual. Yeah, I’m pretty sure anyway.” “Y/n, that’s amazing.”

takes pride in the fact that you trust him, but would feign being upset that you messed with him for as long as you did

be jokingly offended if he found out someone knew before him

“Wait…” “Yes?” “You told Bad??” “Yeah, he was one of the first.” “W— Why??”

It was your turn to laugh while he gawked in disbelief.

“It’s Bad! Of course I told him.” “… Fair enough.”

hate is a given, and he’ll always be there to support and defend you

he’ll always ask your permission before taking any action, however, because he respects you too much and knows you can fight your own battles

dream is someone will show relentless support, whether that be through words or moral support, he’ll always be there for you

c!technoblade -

i honestly feel like you never officially came out to techno

as you began to recognize yourself as bisexual, you slowly expressed yourself around him more openly to the point where he unconsciously knew

it’d probably would have hit him in the most random moment after months of assuming he knew

imagine you’re in the midst of battle when techno paused entirely with wide eyes

“Y/n!” “What!?” “Are you gay??”

you would tease him when discussing your love life in one-sided conversations with him; him basically choosing to ignore you when you talk to him

“Honestly, Techno, how could you not want to hit that?” “Please, just stop.”

(i’ve written this before but will stand by this that) he truly doesn’t care for your sexuality

you’re a friend, someone he trusts and relies on, he doesn’t need to consider who you’re attracted to since he sees you for your skills and friendship

the only, and only time he is mindful of your sexuality depends on others unnecessary comments about it

the smp is a known judgement free land, but there will always be someone with ignorant opinions that he is always quick to shut down (or kill)

nothing much can be said besides the fact that you’ll always be y/n to him: a loyal friend and someone he would fight the world for

ranboo -

oh sweet ranboo, dear ranboo

considering how openly supportive and kind he naturally is, you didn’t question the idea of telling him

i’d like to imagine that unlike most where you planned or waited to tell, the moment you knew, he would know soon after

imagine you called him before he began his lore stream to hype him up

you both were talking about more mundane things to calm his nerves as people joined when you brought it up

“Oh actually, before you start, I wanted to tell you something.” “Sure, what is it?” “Well, I— I’m Bisexual.” “…You’re tELLING ME THIS WHEN I’M ABOUT TO START MY STREAM??” “Y/n! I’m so happy for you, that’s amazing!”

he’s incredibly patient concerning how you wanted others to know or when you were ready to be completely out

similar to c!techno with the same beliefs you’re still y/n, and nothing has changed besides you coming out as yourself

he’s your go to when days are rough, because he knows how to help you understand you’re still loved as the same y/n and nothing less

“Hey, hey, listen to me. I love you, y/n. We all do, and you’ll never be alone when things get rough, alright?” (love /p)

knows how to silently deal with hate in his chat unless it becomes evident enough to address it (doesn’t want to bring attention to meaningless words until it becomes serious)

ranboo’s your rock and makes show that he’ll never believe anything other than that you deserve love

tommyinnit -

as someone who took pride in defending the LGBTQ+ community, you had no hesitation when coming out to tommy

if any, your reluctance would come from accepting yourself to the point to be open with other people

it’s not as if he didn’t accept you, he could never imagine doing so in the slightest, but he probably wouldn’t know what to say initially

imagine you both were in the midst of playing bedwars together in a recording for a video

he had been busy gathering emeralds while you remained at the base, and the comforting silence gave you the confidence to blindly address it

“Hey Tommy?” “What, y/n? I’m in the middle of something right now.” “Oh, um, I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual.” “…” “…Tommy?” “…” “T— Tommy?”

it’d be dead quiet for a few seconds before you heard the noise of him rustling in realization

“Wait wait wait, you’re serious? You’re bisexual?” “Haha yeah, yeah, I am.” “WHA—!”

he was happy for you, to say the least

tommy loves to joke, and one he loved to make would be your attraction to both genders

you like women? pog!

you like men? a shame, honestly

if you were publicly out, his favorite bit would be to include you in his obnoxious swooning

imagine he was streaming while talking about his love for women

“Boys, honestly, the ladies just can’t resist me.”

The ding of discord notified you entering the call, the sound of your laughter immediately coming through.

“I agree, Tommy, I definitely agree.” “Y/n! You are attracted to women, and I am also attracted to women. You can agree women are amazing, yes?” “I can, Tommy. Women are indeed amazing.” “Good lad!” “Tommy, you do realize I’m not only attracted to w—” “Shush, we don’t speak of that.”

he showed his support by normalizing your sexuality, his acceptance quick and easily integrated into your lives

(this is getting long but—) tommy was well aware he lacked some knowledge when being in the LGBTQ+ community, but openly voiced his ignorance as a sign of awareness itself

he was always quick to correct either himself or others, he refused to accept slander of any type in his streams

would probably try to keep it light heartedly, but scold nonetheless

tommy was your figurative cheerleader, always there to include and uplift you, whether that be through the smallest gestures or loudest cheers

tubbo -

poor tubbo

since he wasn’t the most careful with secrets, you probably withheld telling him till you were ready for most to know

this isn’t to deter anything of not trusting him, he’s still supportive and loving tubbo that wouldn’t dare do anything purposeful against you

if anything, you might have forgotten that he didn’t know when you were casually taking about it within a group

imagine you and Ranboo were trying to get him to sleep one early morning but gave up

you started talking about personal stuff and the topic of your love life came up, specifically the attraction to someone of the same gender

“I don’t know, Ranboo, I mean, I think I like them but at the same time I’m not sure.” “That’s fai—” “Wait, y/n. You’re gay??” “Bisexual, actually.” “WaAA—”

his very sleep deprived state was extremely happy and emotional for you

he’s like the little duckling with a knife, like he loves you completely but will try to hurt anyone that offends you

like tommy, he has no personal knowledge when being in the LGBTQ+ community but will solely learn for your sake

whether you’re younger or not, tubbo never fails to remind you that he looks up to you

he gives his all and won’t hesitate to provide in any way he can if needed

“You matter,” he’ll always say, “you’re important and no one else’s opinion matter.”

is proud to be your friend and expresses his platonic love in full, for you’re you and are so brave to be yourself despite all

choosing not to tag my usual taglist just cause its a headcanon with a specific request <33 (huge ty to @basilly and @inniterhq though for the advice/motivation to finish this)

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mercy-burning · 3 years

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High Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Spencer calls Reader to see if he can come over, but she’s already having her own fun and suggests something... out of the box. Category: Smut 18+ (oral- male receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, sex while high) Warnings: Smoking (marijuana), language, smut. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 4.1k

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The prospect of seeing Spencer Reid again was something that always excited Y/N. They'd only been seeing each other for about two months, but she never really knew when she would get to see him because of his job, and that made their relationship all the more interesting. Though, she wasn't really sure if she could call it a relationship, considering they had only went on one date. And even then, it was barely considered a date because they ended up leaving the movie twenty minutes in and spent the rest of the night having sex in her car.

Recalling that night to herself, Y/N smiled and wondered about all the other things they could do together.

She daydreamed for a few more minutes, and in no time her legs had started to shift together, craving any form of friction. And since her partner wasn't there to help, Y/N figured she'd find it elsewhere.

After shuffling to her bedroom, she stripped herself of all her clothes except for a pair of thin scarlet panties and put on a hotel bathrobe she'd stolen, not bothering to tie it closed. Then she opted to reach towards something she didn't normally use, but had on hand in case the need ever presented itself.

In a small box under her nightstand was a lighter accompanied by some joints she'd gotten from a friend a few weeks ago. The only time she ever really smoked was when she was with said friend, but it wasn't something she was ever opposed to partaking in. It just rarely ever crossed her mind.

Minutes later and Y/N was on the couch again, windows shut, lights off, a few candles lit in an attempt to offset the strong scent, and her earbuds in. There was a glass of red wine and another glass of iced water on the table in front of her, and she was all set. Before she took the box out of the pocket of her robe, she took a sip of wine and leaned back against the arm of the couch, one leg hanging off and and the other pulled to her chest.

After turning on a lo-fi playlist and taking a joint and the lighter from the box, Y/N finally lit it, then set her things on the table before taking a long drag. When she pulled it from her lips and slowly exhaled, she closed her eyes and focused on the music blasting through her earbuds. It didn't take long, only a few 3-minute songs, to feel a little buzzed. She kept her breathing steady, only taking a few drags once in a while as her free hand drifted over the front of her body, tracing patterns down her stomach and occasionally her breasts.

She was completely and totally relaxed. But just as she was about to dip her hand past her panties, the music stopped and her phone rang.

Had she not been slightly buzzed, she would have been more annoyed, but instead she just sighed, more disappointed than anything that her plans would (maybe) have to wait, depending on who was calling.

So Y/N was more than happy to look at her phone and see the words 'SPENCER REID' across the screen.

Unplugging her earbuds and then taking one more drag from her joint, she answered the phone. "Hey, Doc, what's up?" she inquired, smoke falling off her lips. "I'm happy you called."

"Hi, Y/N. Sorry to call so late."

"Nah, that's alright. It's never too late to get a call from my favorite guy."

She heard him laugh a little from the other end of the line. "Good. Well, um... I just got back from work and I was wondering if... maybe I could come over? That's fine if you're too busy, but I could really use the company, and I... I've missed you."

The smile on Y/N's face was unavoidable. And maybe it was only the buzz talking, but God, if hearing his voice wasn't the best thing in the whole world. It was almost as intoxicating as the high she was slowly but surely achieving.

"Aw, I've missed you, too, Doc," she purred. "What did you have in mind?"

Would it be wrong of me to pick up where I left off, she wondered as she waited for him to answer, her hand hovering over the waistband of her underwear. She took another drag of the joint and decided against it, though it was still tempting.

"Well, we can do anything you want, really, I just... I just want to be with you, that's all."

"Hmm... Alright. Well, come on over, and I'll be waiting."

"Okay. Should I, uh, bring some overnight clothes?"

Y/N felt like that was his subtle way of asking if they were going to be sleeping together that night, and just in case it wasn't, she added extra emphasis on her answer to either confirm his inquiry or give him a hint. "Yes."

He cleared his throat on the other end of the line before saying goodbye, and it made her giddy. They hung up, and she put the joint out, sticking it back in the box before wafting away some of the smoke and tying her robe closed. Every move she made made her head swim a little, but if anything she figured the small high she's created will make the sex feel even better.

She ran to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then spritzed on some perfume, hoping to mask some of the smell in case, for some reason, Spencer had a problem with it. She was sure he wouldn't, but she never wanted to make him uncomfortable with anything. Also, she just wanted to smell like the vanilla perfume she had that he once told her he loved anyway. Running back out to the living room, Y/N noticed that it still faintly smelled like marijuana. The candles masked it enough, though, and she figured it might dissipate by the time he got there.

Eventually she found herself on the couch again, before deciding to wait by the door. The thought of seeing Spencer again sent her body into a giddy, lovesick mess. She wanted to see him as soon as possible, and if that meant waiting by the front door like a puppy then so be it.

And then there was a knock at the door.

She wanted to wait. Really, she did. But she couldn't resist, and almost as soon as he'd stopped knocking, Y/N grabbed the doorknob and twisted, opening the door to reveal him standing there. He almost looked shocked, probably at the speed and ferocity with which she used to open the door, but once he saw her face, the shock melted into pure adoration, his lips forming a shy smile as he clutched his bag in his hands.

"Hi, Y/N," he said softly as she stepped aside and let him in.

"Hey'a, Doc," she chirped happily as she shut the door behind him.

He took his shoes off and set his bag on the ground before he spoke again. "You... lit candles," he observed, then turned around to fully take her in. His eyes drifted to her robe, which hung loosely closed, her underwear just barely peeking through. "And you look..."

His soft voice turned her insides into a quivering mess, and it took all of her strength not to jump him on the spot. She waited for him to finish his sentence, but it was clear that she'd rendered him speechless.

"Yeah, I was only going to have a relaxing night in," she explained, tilting her head up and exposing her neck. "You called at just the right time."

His head also tilted upwards, but he sniffed the air a few times. "Have... you been smoking?"

Y/N was a little panicked, but she tried not to let it show. "Oh. Yeah," she laughed, twirling a piece of her hair in between her fingers. "I was smoking a joint when you called, so I'm just a little buzzed right now. I hope that's okay. I thought maybe the candles would help offset the smell, but it's pretty strong I guess."

Spencer cleared his throat before speaking. "Oh, uh, no, that's okay. You know, actually, research related to using cannabis before and during sex isn't really conclusive, but it's theorized that depending on the person it could increase pleasure during orgasm, and even just touch in general."

"Is that so?" she responded, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. She could have listened to him talk all day. He nodded, a faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. It made her want him even more. "Well... I think we should test out that theory. Don't you, Dr. Reid? Wouldn't that be fun?"

Her hands played with the tie of her robe before she slowly undid the knot and pulled the soft fabric apart, running her fingers lightly across her bare stomach as she did. She took her hands away from the robe just before it exposed her breasts and dropped her hands to her side. Spencer's eyes raked over her once more, each of his breaths getting noticeably heavier.

"Well?" she encouraged, tilting her head to the side.

He took a step towards her, clearing his throat a little. "Are, um... Are you high enough to try do you think? Or do you want more?"

She smiled. "Well, I can definitely feel a little of the effects right now, but some more wouldn't hurt. Would you prefer I smoke beforehand or during?"

"Um... Either is fine, I suppose."

One more step and he was close enough to touch, so Y/N reached for his hand and laced their fingers together, already melting at the contact.

"Would you like to share?" she finally asked. "Of course I won't make you if you're not comfortable, I just thought I'd ask."

He smiled a little, squeezing her hand. "I appreciate that. And... I'd love to share."

Pulling herself away from the door, she kept her hand locked with Spencer's before leading him a few steps away into the living room.

"Have a seat," she offered, reluctantly letting him go as he made his way to sit on the couch. Y/N turned and cleared the coffee table, setting the drinks and candles on the side table instead, and then grabbed the small box as she turned to face Spencer.

Her eyes locked onto his as she swiftly opened the box and grabbed a new joint and her lighter. Setting the box on the side table, she made sure to keep her upper body somewhat covered by the robe. It left just enough exposed that Spencer's eyes briefly left hers and glanced down at her chest, checking to see if anything had slipped. Almost as quickly as he'd looked down, he looked back up, swallowing and slightly parting his lips.

Y/N took that moment to close their distance and promptly straddle his lap. He straightened and placed his hands tentatively on her waist, over her robe as she brought her hand up to his face, lightly tracing the end of the joint across his jawline.

"Have you ever smoked before, Doc," she asked softly as she brought the joint around to trace his lips.

He exhaled a little, and she could see his tongue dance behind his lips, trying to find words it seemed, before settling on, "A few times... I don't particularly care for the smell, but I manage."

She pulled the joint away from him and placed it between her lips, simultaneously holding out the lighter for him to take. He did, and she watched his hands as he flicked it on and lit it for her. She took the lighter from him and reached to the left to toss it on the table next to the box, her hips grinding softly in his lap. She could feel Spencer's breath hitch as she came back, this time leaning backwards a little and sliding the robe over her breasts, finally exposing them as she inhaled.

The pure longing in Spencer's eyes was just as exhilarating, if not better, than the feeling Y/N got when she removed the joint from her lips and slowly let go of her breath. She blew the smoke to the side, barely missing his face, and she noticed how he slightly chased it, tilting his head to inhale some of it.

With her free hand, Y/N dragged her fingers across her breasts and sighed longingly. "You said this could increase pleasure just by touching, right, Doctor?"

He nodded, his eyes drifting down to her chest as he softly bit the corner of his lip.

"Well, I can't tell if this feels better than it would normally, but it definitely feels pretty damn good," she remarked before taking another short drag. Her fingers pinched her nipple lightly, and she moaned as she exhaled, grinding her hips against his once more.

This time he breathed a little louder, nearly a whimper, and it urged Y/N forward. "Touch me, Doctor," she breathed, grinding her hips once more and taking her hand away from her breast.

Without hesitation, Spencer's hand replaced hers, his thumb rolling softly over her nipple. She sighed, holding onto his shoulder with her free hand before taking another drag. This time, when she exhaled, Y/N tilted her head upwards, exposing her neck and, again, grinding her hips. Her eyes closed as he continued to touch her, his other hand resting firmly on her bare waist, skin burning skin.

Every second of this is pure bliss, and they both still had a good amount of clothes on. It could have been the drug taking effect, or maybe it was the fact that they hadn't seen each other in a few weeks, but it was the best Y/N had felt in a while.

As she leaned into him, enveloping herself in every sensation, Spencer leaned his head forward and took her nipple into his mouth, lightly sucking on it and swirling is tongue over it, his other hand tightening its grip on her waist. She moaned again, grinding her hips even harder and feeling her stomach flutter at every touch. He moved along to her other breast, following the same motions with his tongue as before as she continued to rock into his hips.

She took one more drag and then exhaled before pulling herself away from him and forcing him to look her in the eye.

"As much as I love how this feels, Doctor, I think you have on a few too many clothes. Here." She handed him the joint. He took it and she climbed up off of him and knelt to the ground, taking him in as he brought it to his lips and inhaled. Y/N sighed, tilting her head and softly biting her bottom lip when he pulled the joint away and breathed out, smoke pooling around his face.

God, he's so hot, she thought to herself as she took him all in. He was wearing just a white button down dress shirt with a tie, black pants, and one sock that was purple, the other white with red polkadots. The sleeves of his shirt were pulled up just below his elbows, showing off small muscles and veins.

My God, those veins...

She pulled herself out of her trance, crawling up Spencer's legs and resting her hands on his belt. "Can I take these off for you, Doc?"

"Yes," he responded breathlessly.

Y/N looked up at him as she worked at his belt, unbuckling then sliding it out and tossing it on the floor. Then she deftly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants before sliding them down, also tossing them aside.

"I'm a little more high than you right now, Doctor, so you might want to catch up if you want this little experiment to be accurate," she purred as she palmed him through his underwear. Without hesitation he took another drag from the joint and closed his eyes, leaning his head back while she continued to tease.

"That's it, Doc, just relax. I'll take good care of you."

Spencer exhaled, groaning as he did so. Y/N's hands continued to trace his dick through the fabric, and she could feel him getting harder beneath her touch. Her head leaned down to kiss his inner thigh, and she trailed her tongue lightly upwards, eventually reaching and pressing a firm kiss to the tip of his dick through the fabric when he took another drag. Her mouth then travelled upwards to his lower stomach, undoing the bottom buttons of his shirt and slowly working her way up, pressing soft kisses and little licks to his skin after undoing each one. She took her time, lightly raking her nails up and down his torso in between buttons. By the time she reached the top, undoing his tie and tossing it aside, leaving his shirt on but completely open, he was in the middle of taking another drag.

Sliding off her robe and tossing it aside, Y/N waited until he exhaled, then straddled him again and firmly pressed her lips to his. Her hands glided up to the back of his neck and through his hair, tugging lightly, as she's learned over time he very much enjoyed. As if she'd needed confirmation, Spencer moaned into her mouth, using his free hand to lightly caress her back.

Now that there were less clothes between them, Y/N ground her hips against his again, and her lower stomach practically burst into butterflies, sending her into a mess of tremors. She moaned softly as she took his bottom lip between her teeth, and then before he could lean in and kiss her again, she pulled away, taking the joint from him and taking another long drag. Her other hand played with his hair as she leaned her head back and breathed out, smoke falling around her.

Spencer's hands gripped her waist firmly as he rocked her hips into his, leaning forward and kissing down the front of her neck.

"Fuck," she breathed, grinding harder and feeling her breathing pick up. She could probably cum from just this if they kept at it, but in the weeks since she'd seen him last, she'd craved him, and so she was willing to drag this out as long as possible in case he was somehow called away in the middle of the night.

Reluctantly she peeled herself away and handed him the joint. "You want me to suck you off while you get high, Doc?" she inquired, kneeling once more and tugging on the waistband of his underwear. "Would that feel good?"

"God, yes, Y/N," he breathed, throwing his head back.

"Well, then your wish is my command," she purred, pulling his underwear down and tossing them aside with the other clothes. His dick was even more perfect than she remembered, and her stomach erupted at the sight of it. Licking a line up the length of him, Y/N's eyes fluttered up to look at him through her eyelashes. He was taking another drag of the joint as she took him completely in her mouth and started bobbing her head up and down at a torturous pace. His other hand drifted down to her hair, and he combed it back, away from her face so he could see her.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so good," he groaned, smoke exhaling from his lips as he said it.

She moaned softly around his dick in response, gradually increasing her pace. The lack of breath through her mouth mixed with the cannabis in her system made her head start to spin, but in the best way possible.

Eventually she slowed her movements again, then removed her mouth from him completely, replacing it with her hand. "Would you say the cannabis is increasing you pleasure when I touch you, Dr. Reid?"

At the smooth, seductive tone in her voice, he leaned his head back and sighed as she continued stroking him with her hand. "Yes. You feel so good. You make me feel so fucking good, Y/N."

His words made her stomach coil in desire, and she decided promptly that she needed him right then and there. She peeled her hand away from him and got up, sliding her underwear down and looking him dead in the eye.

"Mmm, I love when you use your words, Doc," she purred, straddling him once more and taking the joint from him to take a drag herself. She took her sweet time, sinking down just a little so that the tip of his cock sat firmly at the base of her pussy, barely touching. She exhaled and used her other hand to comb his hair with her fingers. "Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything you want." She meant it wholeheartedly.

His hands slid up her sides and over to her breasts just lightly, enough so that he wasn't touching them completely, but enough that she shivered. He ran them back down and firmly gripped her waist. "I want you to fuck me, Y/N," he said, completely entranced and desperate. "Ride me. Please, I want to feel you."

"Happy to," she breathed before completely sinking down onto him and rocking her hips forward. He groaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "Fuck..."

She set a steady pace, bouncing nicely on his cock as she took another long drag of the joint. Everything was dizzying and light around her, and every part of her body lit up with pleasure. As she exhaled, she let out a moan louder than she had all night, everything so overwhelmingly blissful and, well... high.

It wouldn't take long to come undone, she was sure of it, and she didn't want this to end so soon. So she slowed her pace, rocking against him ever so slowly, soaking in every inch of him, every touch of his hands as they roamed her body.

Spencer took the joint from her fingers and took another drag, locking eyes with her as he did it. When he blew the smoke out, it enveloped the both of them, and she breathed it in through her nose, taking a deep breath and gripping his shoulders as she worked her hips against his.

"Fuck," she breathed, leaning forward to kiss him. When their lips connected, that's when everything started to build. Y/N was pulled impossibly closer to him and her speed started to involuntarily increase. His tongue swiped out to meet with hers and his free hand reached down to her clit, circling it with his thumb. The extra sensation sent her into overdrive, and her orgasm crept up into her, threatening to explode. She groaned into Spencer's mouth, signaling how close she was to coming undone. Her lips parted from his and she rested their foreheads together, his hips bucking upwards to meet hers and plunging himself even deeper into her as his thumb worked her clit.

"That's it, fuck," she breathed, and in no time at all, release found her, blinding her so brightly it was like she was wasn't even on this plane of existence. She let out a long moan, her hips stopping and staying completely still as he fucked into her relentlessly. Her eyes screwed shut, seeing stars as her bliss increased, every thrust of his hips bringing her higher and higher until she was calling out his name.

His name falling off her lips was enough to push Spencer over the edge himself. He pulled her closer as he spilled over inside of her, and Y/N felt like she was on fire. They both hung on to every second until they were both slumped against each other, completely spent and also lightheaded.

Y/N was so unbelievably unbothered and comfortable in that moment that she didn't want to get up, but reluctantly she helped herself up off his lap and placed herself next to him, still hugging close to his side. Neither of them said anything for a while. Rather, they passed the joint between the themselves until it was finished, occasionally kissing each other in between passes.

She set the end of the joint on top of the box on the table before leaning back to Spencer and resting her head on his shoulder. She was completely aware of every glide of his hand up and down her arm as they sat in comfortable silence, until he broke it.

"Gotta say, that's not exactly what I had in mind when I called. But I'm happy about it anyway. We should do that more often."

Y/N snuggled up into his side and giggled. "Anytime, Doc."

#spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid

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realcube · 3 years

Text

CELEBRATING YOUR BIRTHDAY

characters ♡ bokuto, tendō, matsukawa & suna

tw ♡ gn! reader, timeskip! bokuto (all sfw tho), swearing, reader wears makeup (matsukawa), swearing, mentions of death & food

cred ♡ thanks to anon for this request <3

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO

♡ he was literally counting down the days to your birthday, he even took the day off practise to celebrate it with you so imagine his surprise when the special day finally rolls around and he wakes up to an empty bed

♡ at first, he thought that perhaps you were just around the house somewhere but nope, the place was completely empty and even worse, all signs pointed to his theory that you had gone to work/school on your birthday

♡ outraged. he was absolutely outraged.

♡ firstly, he tried calling you but you wouldn’t pick up, even after his many attempts so his next resort to call your place of work/school reception

♡ obviously he managed to get a hold of you then-

♡ he was originally gonna yell about how you lied to him about taking the day off on your birthday but there was no way he could be angry at you — almost ever — so instead, he made the quick decision of telling you to have a nice day before hanging up

♡ you were kinda pissed that he wasted your time like that but how could you stay mad at him? he’s fkn adorable! he blew you audible kisses over the phone for good luck!

♡ you laboured your way through the day, putting in great effort yet through it all, the only thing on your mind was how much you wanted to just pass out on the couch with bokuto as soon as you got home. you weren’t even sure if you had the energy to change into your pjyamas.

♡ however, when you finally did arrive home, there was no need to put yourself through the onerous task of changing clothes as the first thing you were greeted by when you stepped foot in your own home was a chorus of cheers of ‘surprise!’ followed by people spilling out into the foyer from the kitchen and living room

♡ then there was bokuto, the loudest of them all leading the crowd, blowing into the party horn while dashing up to, throwing his arms around your shoulders to pull you into a tight hug, ‘happy birthday, sweetie!’

♡ a light gasp escaped your lips at the sudden hoots, and the unfamiliar — and frankly uncomfortable — sight of many friends swarm towards you had you on edge but when you felt bokuto wrap you in his warm embrace, you knew you were home

♡ he held you close until you were forced apart by many guests tearing you away to personally wish you a happy birthday

♡ now that the initial shock had died down, you noticed that there wasn’t as many people present as you thought, it was a humble gathering of all your closest friends

♡ there was a massive pile of bright-colored gifts lying on the stairs, and it was hard not to immediately acknowledge them as the sheer mass and number of the presents scattered across the steps prevented anyone from being able to go upstairs

♡ the following day, you were made aware of the fact 90% of those presents were addressed from ‘your best ace husband ;)’ which was pretty straight-forward considering you only have one husband; kiyoomi sakusa.

♡ jokes, you married bokuto but sakusa was also at the party. he originally just wanted to drop off his gift then leave but bokuto persuaded him to stay, though he seemed to be regretting it now as almost everyone at the party now shared an unspoken goal to slam sakusa’s face into one of the cupcakes that decorated the circumference of your cake

♡ speaking of the cake, bokuto remembered what type of cake was your favorite from the wedding planning and he was so chuffed with himself. in fact, he was so confident in his cake picking ability that he ordered a massive 3-tier monster of a dessert

♡ neither of you would be able to finish it before it goes bad so you ended up cutting it up into pieces and sending each guest away with a little goody-bag with a slice of cake inside lmao

♡ once you had finished your goodbyes and everyone had filed out of your home, you flopped onto the couch and let out a deep sigh of relief. well, it was only a sigh for a few moment as it became a wheeze when bokuto laid down on top of you

♡ ‘happy birthday, (y/n). i’m sorry if i tired you out.’ he hummed, fiddling with your fingers as his lips curled into a shaky smile

♡ ‘i’m a bit sleepy but i had an amazing time. thank you so much, kō.’

♡ bokuto smiled, his heavy lid falling shut as he finally rested his neck, being able to fall asleep comfortably now that you’ve told him that you had fun

SATORI TENDŌ

♡ unlike bokuto, he’ll actually mention your birthday a few weeks prior to the celebration so he can plan the perfect date :3

♡ ‘so do you wanna go to the aquarium or the theme park? because i know we’ve went to the park before but they remodelled it apparently. plus, maybe the aquarium is a bit underwhelming for such a special day, but it’s up to yo--’

♡ ‘we won’t really get to spend much time in either. if you consider the time school finishes, the train ride and the time the aquarium and park closes so maybe we could just chill at my house instead.’

♡ tendō deadpanned for a moment, the most unamused look taking over his features until he suddenly burst out laughing, cackling as if you just told the joke of the century, ‘seriously, (y/n)? you’re gonna go to school on your birthday.’

♡ ‘yes, of course.’ you replied in all seriousness, resulting in tendō awkwardly beginning to stifle his chuckles.

♡ he frowned, slumping back into the seat beside you, ‘c’mon, it’s your birthday, though! you deserve the day off.’

♡ you shook your head, kindly declining his suggestion, ‘i have a test on that day.’

♡ ‘all the more reason to ditch!’

♡ now it was your turn to deadpan

♡ tendō tossed his head back while letting out a sigh of defeat, draping his arm around your shoulder to lovingly pull you to his chest, ‘alright, then. whatever you want, dear.’

♡ you smiled, glad that you didn’t need to disagree with him any longer — and you were even happier on the day. even though you insisted that he keeps things small on your birthday, he still managed to find a way to make things extra asf by getting you a massive plush that was about half the size of your stature and a hamper of homemade chocolates ><

ISSEI MATSUKAWA

♡ honestly, he’s never been the best at giving gifts but he tries extra hard for you

♡ like if you off-handedly say that you are cold during class, he’ll buy you a bunch of new jackets, jumpers and gloves

♡ or if you say you need more mascara, he’ll buy you exact same one you usually wear

♡ he’s observant enough to notice and remember the exact shade and brands of all your cosmetic products but he’s not observant enough to pick up on the subtle hints you drop as to what you want for your birthday

♡ you can never guess what he’s gonna get you and that adds to your anticipation for the day

♡ if your birthday is on a school day, he’ll bring in a batch of homemade cupcakes (which hanamaki helped him with) and stick a candle in one of them for you to blow out

♡ he offers you one but they are all pretty stale- just smile and nod while your teeth feel like they are being shattered trying to bite down on the cupcake

♡ it might set off the fire alarm but oh well, just count that as another present

♡ oikawa will probably get you something like a bouquet and try flirt with you so at that point, matsukawa and hanamaki begin using the cupcakes as weapons

♡ they are a two for one deal so you’re going to be spending the day with both of them tailing you like lost puppies

platonic RINTARŌ SUNA

♡ (requester specified) your birthday is on the same day as his so ofc he’s going to be a little salty abt it

♡ you both created a game to see who receives the most birthday wishes and whoever won gets ¥1500 from the loser’s birthday money

♡ for the past few years, he’s usually been the winner by just a few but this year, you made it a point to befriend all him teammates in order to ensure victory

♡ having to pretend to be friendly with atsumu — who wasn’t very good at hiding his massive crush —was definitely a challenge but you powered through

♡ in fact, you may have played the role too well as both the miya twins gave you a gift

♡ osamu gave both you and suna a plastic bag filled with some food he made and water bottles

♡ as for atsumu, his gift to you was a massive hamper filled with an assortment of many different luxury confectionary which didn’t look cheap at all but it didn’t feel appropriate to question the price so you simply took it from him with a bright smile

♡ of course, suna was excited (and very hungry) as he expected the same gift but he was more than disappointed when all he received was a bag of chips and a slap on the back

♡ he goes out of his way to tell every teacher it’s your birthday in hopes that they’ll make the class sing happy birthday to you

♡ but it pisses him off to no end when you add that it’s his birthday too so he ends up getting roped into your misery

♡ also your thumbs are going to be sore at night swiping through all the various candid pics that suna took of you throughout the day (in less than flattering poses) which he uplaoded to almost all of his social media stories with stupid ass captions

♡ but dw bc he’ll eventually post a nice photo of you with a sweet message

♡ ‘happy birthday to @(y/n) . i would die for you, bitch (even though you annoy the hell out of me every single day 🤠).’

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forthehpfanboys · 3 years

Text

Hush-Hush

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: After pestering Ron about your romantic relationship for far longer than you anticipated, Your relationship with Ron was more than a mystery to his two friends, but one day, it comes tumbling out in the library, in the middle of the night, with a few witnesses.

Warnings: Swears, arguing.

Notes: I love Ron so much, oh and friendly Draco. And Slytherin reader. And I’m posting this at 4:35, so it isn’t the best.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

You didn't even want to look at him, not in class, not in the corridors. You ignored his longing glances and his little notes during class. If he’d kept his promise, you would be sitting beside him, joking with his friends, not having a care in the world, but of course he didn’t. Ron had already made you more promises than you could count on both hands and he, somehow, managed to keep none of them. Almost every night he made a new empty promise.

So, you sat across the dining hall, your nose stuffed in one of your favorite books to distract yourself from the big blue puppy dog eyes a table away. You turned the page, your eyes gliding across the words with ease. Your brain effectively blocked out the empty threats, loud laughs and extra noise of the cramped room.

“I’m surprised you weren’t put in Ravenclaw.”

You barely casted the owner of the voice a three second glance before going back to your book. The body next to you let out a silent huff of annoyance before filling your empty cup with water. He never did like being ignored.

“If you’re gonna be petty, at least drink some water. I did warn you this was going to happen. His pride is higher than his squeaky voice.” The Slytherin next to you snatched the book from your hands before setting the glass in front of you.

“I don’t need you to take care of me, Draco.” Your nose scrunched up, your eyes scanned across the room, almost on instinct, and rolled seamlessly over the pouting redhead. “I can handle myself.” You gave Ron a sneer, causing him to flinch. The sneer quickly vanished as your gaze moved down to your plate. Reaching forward, you grabbed your goblet of water and took a sip.

“Good boy.” Draco’s words had you close to spewing water all over the book and poor students in front of you. Instead, it slid down the wrong pipe, resulting in a coughing fit that had you seeing shooting stars behind your lids. “Now maybe you can actually talk to him?” Draco gave your back a few pats, pathetically helping you recover from the near-death experience.

“No. I’ve spent too many nights sneaking out with him and too many hours in hidden tunnels arguing over this shit.” Your nose scrunched up again at the idea of experiencing another fight, the words from the night before still echoing in your conscious.

You didn’t like saying Ron had many flaws, most of them were stereotyped or just gossip floating around, but this was one of, like, five. He was thick-headed. He hated losing, hated arguments, and hated losing arguments more. He was a redhead that was hot-headed and he could be a nightmare. Swearing, interrupting you, yelling- however, he never insulted you head on. Just the occasional ‘don’t be daft!’.

Oh, and the topic of argument never really changed.

“So, you're going to break up with him? That’s… Well, as much as I hate the weasel, that might not be the best idea.” Draco held his hands out, palm side up, teetering his hands up and down, weighing the options. You watched him, now chin on your own palm, elbow on the table, eyes rolling. “I’d just talk to him.”

Your eyes moved from Draco’s silvery ones to Ron’s baby blues. A silent sigh left your body as he gave you a sad smile and a shy wave. He was doing that adorable thing where ears turn pink and it spreads across his cheeks and down to the tip of his nose. It wasn’t something he could control, but it was still adorable.

“They’re gonna pick up on it. Seriously, you’re making it far more obvious than he would like, (Y/n).” He gave you a soft nudge in the arm. Naturally, your attention moved from the Weasley trying to get a smile out of you to the blonde at your side. You missed Ron’s smile dropping off his cheeks. “I won’t beg you to talk to him, but you really should. Sometimes, words speak louder than actions, (L/n).”

“Says the one who decided the best way to ask out Zabini was knocking him off his broom during practice.” You smirked, raising your eyebrows as your friend's cheeks quickly changed from the usual pale to pink. You couldn’t help but snicker at his flustered expression. It wasn’t easy to fluster Malfoy, especially when he knew he was one of three people that knew this secret topic.

“Shut up, this isn’t about me. Focus, (Y/n). Just ta-” He was cut off by Dumbledore announcing that breakfast was over. He let out a groan, his hand coming up to rub his temples. “Look, please just talk to him. I’m sick of hearing him cry and bitch and moan and whimper and whine about how he’s so touch deprived.” Draco stood up, sliding your book off the table and into his hands. “Now stop reading and comfort your idiot lion.”

With a pat on your shoulder, he was following the rest of the Slytherin table out the colossal doors. You kept your eyes on his retreating figure until he got lost in the crowds. Soon enough, you were left alone, sitting idly by yourself in a huge dining hall. You watched the house elves come in and the food disappear, so you decided to find your way out.

You were swimming in your own thoughts, eyes not fully seeing and ears not fully hearing. You didn’t want to break up with Ron, you loved the idiot, but he was absolutely terrified to tell people he was dating you. Not because he didn’t feel the same way, but rather because of your house.

Not like your home status, like money and all that jazz, but over your Hogwarts house. He didn’t want to face the shit he’d get from his brothers, family and both houses in question. Ron was more worried about you than him. He didn’t want you being bullied, being thrown off the quidditch team or targeted by Snape like every other Gryffindor out there.

As you were walking out, you passed the Golden Trio, who were all chatting and chuckling, until they noticed you. Then the chatter died down, and two scowls were directed in your direction.

“What?” Your voice was flat and unwavering. Your eyes flicked between emerald green and cocoa brown, completely avoided the baby blues right between them. “If you're gonna say something, do it now. I’m really not in the mood for more of your biased shit.”

When no one spoke up, you nodded your head and turned away. You missed your ginger boyfriend taking a step forward while you hurried down the corridor. However, you didn’t miss the not subtle ‘Ron, what are you doing?’ and a soft ‘nothing’ following after. You rolled your eyes hard enough you almost tripped on an uneven tile.

They still didn’t know.

You stomped to your first class, ignoring the echoing footsteps a few feet behind you. You peeked over your shoulder and couldn’t help but let out a dramatic sigh. You ducked into transfiguration, hurrying over to an empty desk, claiming one of the last few empty seats. The trio that had followed you to class filled in after you, all three freezing at the sight of the desks.

It was usually two students per desk, meaning one was going to have to branch off to sit next to you. Hermione offered to split off, but Ron beat her to the desk, setting his stuff down on top and sat on the bench next to you.

“(L/n).” He greeted, watching his friends move into the empty desk from his peripheral vision. The redhead was trying to play it off like you barely talked to each other and that only fueled your disgruntlement.

“Weasley.” You responded, voice just as flat as before. You crossed your arms over the desk, hopefully signaling you weren’t in the mood for playful chatter during the class, but of course he didn’t pick up on it.

“How was breakfast?” His voice was quieter, softer than before. He played with the quill that once sat at the top of the desk, watching the drops of ink land back into the well. “I saw you talking with Malfoy.”

“Yeah?” You didn't even turn to him or show him a hint of a smile.

“Yeah.” Ron set the quill back in the ink before looking up at one of the many cages that surrounded the room. The silence that spread between the two of you quickly dispersed as McGonagall finally entered the classroom and started a cheerful good morning. She quickly slid into the lesson, the chalk effortlessly floating in the air as it wrote out the spells they’d be learning.

You rested your cheek against your hand while your dominant hand scribbled away on parchment. Soon, the various animal sounds were accompanied by the sound of writing and you really couldn’t complain. It was a nice sound, but you noticed your boyfriend hadn’t even picked up his quill. Giving him a harsh nudge brought him back to reality, allowing him to catch up on the topics.

“You never answered my question.” Ron leaned over to whisper to you, still actively scribbling his notes. Granted they were messy, but if he could read it, who cared? “How was breakfast?”

“Fine, Ronald. It was fine.” You still didn’t turn to him or look at him. Like Draco, Ron didn’t like being ignored. He licked his lips before opening his mouth again. He knew why you were grumpy with him, but he was hoping his charming demeanor would shove the frustration away from you.

“Can you at least look at me? I miss your pretty eyes.” He tried to flash you a charming smile, but it quickly faded when you gave him an unimpressed look. He swallowed thickly, turning back to the front of the classroom. “Sorry.”

You let out a sigh, glancing at the table to the right of Ron, accidentally meeting brown judgmental eyes that belonged to your boyfriend's friend. You faced the front quickly, letting out a sigh through your nose.

“Alright, I’m sorry for being sour. I have every right to be, ya know.” You whispered quickly, repeating the spell with the class after McGonagall, like she instructed. You brought your pointer finger to your mouth, nibbling on the skin next to your nail. It was a stress habit you had picked up recently.

“It’s ok, lovie.” Ron couldn’t help but smile, albeit a small one. He reached out, gently placing his hand on your knee. “I- hey, stop that.” He smacked your hand away from your lips, shooting a soft glare at you. “I know you're stressed. It’s gonna be ok.”

With a quick glance back at the table to Ron’s right from the corner of your eye, you gently moved his hand off your leg. When he opened his mouth to question what you were doing, you cut him off.

“They’re getting suspicious. I’ll meet you in the library tonight, usual time.” You tried not to smile at the enthusiastic nod he gave. And you especially tried not to nod when McGonagall called on him.

“So, Mr. Weasley, you do know the answer?” Her tone had a hint of judgement to it, and the sudden attention drawn to him had Ron’s cheeks brightening in color again. You almost snorted as he stuttered out a loud ‘n-no ma’am!’.

The classes dragged on from there, leaving you tired, frustrated and more touch deprived than ever. You were excited to have some time alone with Ron and prayed to Merlin that it wouldn’t lead to an argument. You wanted to lean against him while he read the Beedle the Bard stories- more specifically the Tale of the Three Brothers that he knew by memory.

The daydreams of being pressed against him while he read to you helped you get through dinner. You borderline sprinted through the halls, weaving through everyone to get up to your dorm. You grabbed a few books from your collection before you were running through all the halls again. Balancing the thick books against your chest, you pushed open the towering doors of Hogwarts library and hurried in.

“Ronnie?” You whispered, walking deeper into the dark room. Your eyes were naturally drawn to the faint light of a lantern illuminating from one of the many tables and figured it must be Ron. It was far past curfew to be anyone else. “Ron?” You called out, louder this time, weaving past the study areas and great book shelves.

“Over here, darling.” His distinct voice filled in the room, immediately putting you at ease. You quickened your pace, breathing heavily from the weight of the books. Once you made it to the table Ron had deemed his, you set the books down, wincing at the volume of the bang. “Merlin! What did you bring?” He teased, looking at each book title.

“What? They're just books. I know you can read, so I plan on extorting your vocabulary.” You smiled, slipping into the seat next to him. You reached for his hand, enjoying how his calloused skin finally eased the itch you’d been feeling for the past few hours. “Will you read to me?” The edges of your smile twitched downward when he broke out in a fit of giggles. “What?”

“First of all, that’s adorable.” His sideways smile and charming voice had you blushing under his gaze. “And second, we’re in a library. I’m gonna say the words again. We’re in a library. Why did you bring your books when we’re surrounded by them?”

“Because.. I did not feel like looking for them.” You stammered, nudging your boyfriend away from you when he wrapped an arm around the back of your chair and tugged it closer.

“I have a feeling that’s not the real reason, dollie. Is it because my boyfriend forgot what a library was for?” His smug tone had your face turning a darker shade of red.

“Shut it, Weasley. Just read to me.” You stood up, ignoring Ron’s deep laugh. You effortlessly slipped out of his grasp and transfigured your chair into a medium sized bean bag for you and Ron to share. While you moved the bag against one of the book shelves, Ron regathered the books and the lantern.

He plopped onto the bag, enjoying how his body sunk into the middle of the bag. He set the books down next to him in a stack and balanced the lantern on top. Then, he opened his arms, allowing you to sit on his lap and lean back into him. He was able to wrap his arms around your waist and peer over your head, making this the best reading/snuggle position known to wizard or man.

“Pick your poison, (Y/n). What story do you want?” Ron kissed the back of your head before naming off the stories.

“What about Babbitty Rabbitty and her Cackling Stump?” You looked up at him, craning your neck to see his expression. His eyes gazed into yours before his tongue was poking the inside of his cheek.

“You just wanna hear me say Babbitty Rabbitty and think it’s cute. Not gonna happen, cookie. Pick a different one.” He gave your stomach a pat of affection, his eyes twinkling in the lamp light.

“Fine, the Three Brothers, then. I knew you would end up picking that story anyway, it being your favorite and all.” You grumbled the last part, jokingly crossing your arms with exaggeration. He rolled his eyes, not that you saw, and began to tell the story, by heart, like usual.

The only unusual thing was his story telling kept getting interrupted by his own yawns, causing him to lose his place and nearly start the story over. He removed an arm from around you to rub his eye, trying almost desperately to stay awake. The ginger was so focused on staying awake he almost missed you speaking, but managed to catch the tail end.

“-like the brother who asked to hide from death, don’t you think?”

“Come again, love?” Ron ran his fingers through your hair, enjoying the way it moved with his hand. His grin matched his joy, easily, especially when he thought his amazing and talented boyfriend had a question about the story. However, he was no wear near ready for the curve ball coming his way.

“I was just saying maybe we.. We could actually sleep if we told everyone. We wouldn’t have to sneak around.”

“Not this again, (Y/n), come on.” he spoke, putting his hands on your waist and moving you forward on the bean bag, trying to signal you to stand. “We’ve talked about this dozens of times! I’m just not ready.”

“When will you be ready?” You stood up, turning toward him. While he thought over his reply, you ran a hand through your hair, foot tapping impatiently as tension filled the once related and happy room. He just pathetically shrugged his shoulders. “Ron, that isn’t an answer.”

“It isn’t fair for you to ask me to set a date to tell my friends I’m frisking with the enemy!” His frustration over the topic was quickly coming back, as it usually did. You, on the other hand, just felt pissed. Your jaw was hanging open in disbelief.

“I’m sorry. ‘Frisking with the enemy’ might not be the term you're looking for. Would you like to try again?” You stood up, crossing your arms over your chest, this time with actual anger.

“You know what I mean!” He shouted while struggling to leave the bean bag’s slippery grasp. “Damnit!” He grumbled through his teeth, effectively slipping and falling back into the soft chair.

“All I’m saying is that it’s just beneficial. We could be open! We wouldn’t have to stress about looking at each other too long or brushing shoulders in the hallway! We could be a normal teenage couple!” You didn’t think you were being unreasonable.

“I thought you could let this go for one day!” Ron had finally stood up, moving around you to now pace in the empty library. He put his hands in his pocket, turning back to you again. “Just one day, let us, maybe, not fight.”

“It isn’t my fault you don’t listen to reason.” You grumbled. Ron made a confused and almost betrayed sound.

“Me? Oh, no, darling. You’re the one that’s being all mental. Do you know what they’ll say about us? A Slytherin and a Gryffindor?” He pointed to you, then himself. “We’ll be a target for both teams. They’ll drag us apart and run us through mud!’

“Ronnie, I’m not asking you to wear a sign that says you're boning a Slytherin and share it with the whole school. Just our friends.” You ran your hand through your hair again. Your stress from the day was beginning to boil over. “You can’t keep brushing this off like it’s not affecting either of us.”

“It isn’t! I’m perfectly content like this.”

“The bags under your eyes and the constant yawning say otherwise.” Running a hand down your face, you looked around at the empty library. You were sure Madam Pince was out, due to the fact that she would’ve already had a cow over the fact you both snuck in. “I..” Draco’s words from earlier were ringing in your skull all over again. You brought a finger to your lips without even realizing it and began to chew at the skin anxiously.

“What’s wrong?” Ron tried to keep the anger out of his tone, but he failed. It shined through like a dirty penny being whipped clean, exposing the shiny copper beneath the grime. “Is it something I did again?”

“I don’t know how long I can keep doing this, Ronnie.” As you spoke, your nose began to sting while your eyes burned. You didn’t want to say it, and maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did. His face changed between a few dozen emotions before finally landing on confused. Ron took careful steps toward you, his eyes swirling with worry and fear. Fear of losing you. When he was close enough to feel the short breaths leaving your mouth, he grabbed your arms, giving you a soft squeeze.

“What do you mean?” His eyes bounced back and forth between yours, his arms squeezing a tad harder. “Do you want to break up with me?” His heart felt like it was caught in his throat. Once the words were out, you realized that was far from what you actually wanted.

“No!” Your anger was making a sequel appearance in the argument. “I just can’t keep sneaking around! It hurts!” You didn’t care that you sounded like a child, it felt like everyone was waving a relationship in your face and you couldn’t do anything about it.

“What do you want me to do? Stand up on a table and shout it out? I’ll do it!” Ron ran over to one of the few tables not crowded by carbon copies, putting one foot on a chair and the other on the top of the oak polished. He easily put all of his weight on the table, flaring his arms out before allowing them to fall back against his legs.

“Ron, get down!” You whispered harshly, hurrying after him and tugging on his hands. You’d gladly tug him down and continue this argument anywhere else. “Please get down.”

“Nope! Not until you stop being mad at me!” He crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the sting of his lip trapped between his teeth. The Gryffindor took a deep breath before he let out a sigh. His fingers tapped along the side of his biceps and his gaze moved to the old high roof of the library.

“I have every right to be mad at you! Now come down right now!” This time you tugged at his pant leg, a groan of frustration leaving your lips as he took a step back. The table creaked in protest, but both of you ignored it.

“No! If this is what I have to do to make sure we can keep staying together, then I’ll do it! Because you mean more to me than anyone in this school and I can’t afford to lose you!” He stomped his foot to emphasize his point. While he was doing his tangent, you made eye contact with some students who really should’ve been sleeping.

“Um, Ron?”

“I really should say it more often but I love you! And-”

“Ron-”

“Don't interrupt me, lovie, I’m trying to save our relationship. And I should prove it more often too, so, tomorrow, I’ll stand up on the dining tables during breakfast and announce I have been dating (L/n) for the past year and that nothing can change that!” He tossed his head back, holding his arms out like a man feeling rain for the first time in a century.

“Are you done now?” You watched him carefully, crossing your arms over your chest. Once his arms dropped to his sides again, he nodded his head. “Cool, cause they know.” Ron’s head snapped around the empty library before he turned around, seeing Harry and Hermione standing just a few feet behind the table he was standing on.

“Oh. Hi, guys. I thought um.. What aarre... Why?” He took a step back, effectively shifting the weight from the middle, resulting in the table tipping. With a shout, the ginger collided with the floor. You, Harry and Hermione flinched at the thud that echoed in the dead silent room.

“Ronnie? You ok?” You walked over to him. You couldn’t help but snicker at the strawberry tint that covered his pale skin. You bent down, obstructing some of his view of the beautifully articulated ceiling, which he quickly brought up, hoping to cause his friends to forget about what they heard.

“Wow. They really put a lot of work in the detailing, huh? Brilliant! It’s truly fantastic. Is that oak?” He rubbed his head as he sat up, looking at the titled table. He looked up at his best friends before standing up, albeit clumsily.

An awkward silence quickly fell over the room. Ron shifted his weight between his feet. You chewed on your nail. Hermione played with her hair. Harry rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well? Are you going to explain yourselves?” Hermione spoke up suddenly. She put her hands on her hips, clearly not happy with the outcome of everything.

“Or we could just let them be. They seemed to be having a moment.” Harry spoke up, awkwardly putting his hands in his pockets and looking down at his shoes.

“Nonsense. You dragged me out of bed for this, Harry. I expect a full explanation.”

So, with that, Ron fixed the table, everyone sat down and the story of how your relationship with Ron morphed from enemies to lovers in a few years time. Both of his friends listened intently until the story was over. Hermione asked a few questions about some basic things, one of them being if that was why he was rubbing your knee earlier that day, but soon enough, the four of you decided it was late. After transfiguring the bean bag back into a chair and putting the lantern out, you split up, heading back to your different common rooms, but not without a kiss and a good night from Ron.

The next morning came quickly and Ron was waiting by the entrance to the dining hall. He had woken up early, despite the few hours of sleep he’d gotten from the night before. Talking to his best friends about his secret boyfriend went far, far deeper into the night than he’d expected. So, here he was, waiting patiently for them to show up so he could keep his promise.

He nodded to his brothers and their friends, and his sister and her friends, before his own finally came trotting along. His heart physically fluttered when he saw Harry, Hermione and you, not just walking side by side, but joking and laughing. He bit his lip to try to prevent his smile from growing too wide.

“Hey guys!” He called out, ignoring everyone in the hall and rushing over. This time, he didn’t hesitate to grab your hand, even going as far as kissing your knuckles. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinning or blushing over the simple affection, and you felt the touch starved itch disintegrate inside of you slowly.

“Hey, Ron.” Hermione chimed in, catching her breath from laughing.

“Good morning, mate. Ready for the big day?” Harry asked, nudging Ron in the side.

“As ready as I can be.” He replied with a grin, shooting your confused expression a wink.

“What are you guys goin’ on about?” Your eyes danced between Harry’s and Ron's, that seemed to have an invisible way of communication that you were quickly becoming jealous of.

“Nothing, prince. I’ll tell you while we eat.” Ron casted you his mischievous grin while getting the door and was hoping Merlin you couldn’t see the nervousness in his eyes. When you walked in, you instinctively began to head over to the now waving Draco, ready to tell him the news, but the hood of your robe was grabbed and you were being dragged to the Gryffindor table.

You were sat down and Ron was scuttling up to the teachers table, but before long, he was coming right back to the table to sit next to you. Except, he didn’t sit, he stood behind you, fixing your robe.

“Seriously, Ron, what are you doing?”

“Nothing, bunny, just relax.” He kissed your head, shooting you another wink. “I just want to keep my promise from last night.” Before what he said could even click in your head, he was climbing onto the Gryffindor table, grinning down at you. “Oh, and before I forget, or get buried alive by my family, remember that I love you, yeah?” All too suddenly, he was whistling to catch everyone in the dining halls attention and he was dramatically clearing his throat.

Why McGonagall let him stand on a table and talk for almost fifteen minutes about how he was dating a Slytherin, you still don’t know, but you couldn’t help but smile up at him as he ranted about your gorgeous smile and your perfect hands and shiny eyes to the entire school.

And, of course Draco started chanting ‘kiss! kiss! kiss!’ after his speech was done.

#ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley imagine #Ron Weasley #hp x male reader #x male reader #male reader #hp imagine #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Hermione Granger

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Note

Hi! I wanted to request a story where Hange asks Onyankopon to look out for Levi in case something happens to her and to not leave him alone, even after he recovers from his injuries 😭❤️. I love the way you write both Levi and Hange without being self-indulgent and I thought of asking you this, but only if you have the time to write. I know you’re currently working on other Levihan stories and you also have your own personal life and I don’t want to impose on you, so whenever you feel like it. I just wanted to share this idea with you.

Title: Coast Lights

Summary:

"Once or twice a year----or sometimes even less frequently than that, the moonlight would kiss the coast in a way that only the ocean would understand.

At the mercy of that breathtaking view, Levi let out a strange sound, a mix between a crack and a ragged breath. Then he spoke up. 'I can’t help but think, Hange would have liked to see this.'"

After the war, Levi still thought about Hange and maybe Hange still thought about him too.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: I have been meaning to write a post 139 fic for a long time and this prompt just took the cake anon, thank you so much for sharing and also for your kind words. Sorry it took a while, this prompt meant a lot to me and I wanted to be in the right mood when I wrote it.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated :D

Once or twice a year----or sometimes even less frequently than that, the moonlight would kiss the coast in a way that only the ocean would understand.

Sometimes, the moon and the stars cooperated. Sometimes they created their own luminescent paths along the black of the sky. Some lights would fall to the ground in streams. Then by coincidence or maybe by fate, the streams of light would dance amongst the glowing blue, making yellows and reds out of the sand underneath.

Times like those, the beach was chaos, a war of lights, where each source was fighting for the privilege of being seen by even the most casual bystander. Of course they would fight to be seen, that beach, isolated by two imposing cliffs at opposite ends never got too many passers by.

Hange was just one of the lucky witnesses. She was the witness to a beautiful war, one of the only wars maybe that she would have liked to be part of.

She ran to one end, stretching her hand out towards the cliffs, only pulling back when she was millimeters away from touching them. She then spun around and studied the beach, tracing with her eyes, the blue glow that lined the coasts.

Glowing blue jellyfish. She remembered reading about them in one of Armin’s books once.

She wished she could have seen them as a kid. With a little more wonder and with a little more innocence, maybe she could have thought they were magic. Maybe she could have believed miracles were real.

She had spent her earlier years trapped within the walls. Then her later years outside the walls but ironically, trapped by duty and obligation.

Now you’re free. She told herself, a feeble attempt to propel herself forward. Freer than ever. That one reminder proved more melancholic than happy.

She had fought for freedom her whole life. At that moment, she was blessed with the ultimate freedom and she felt guilty for not celebrating, even just a bit.

But it wasn’t the type of freedom most people would ask for. Of course she wouldn’t be completely jubilant about it.

Beggars can’t be choosers. That was the saying that echoed inside her.

Hange modified it into something more relatable.

Soldiers can’t be choosers. Soon after, she brushed away before it grew to anything worse.

She stretched again then ran forward, careful not to jostle the blue jellyfish that had settled at the coast. Then she laughed when she realized it wouldn’t matter.

Although she had grown accustomed to the lightness, to the disconnect over time, sometimes the old habits presented themselves in bouts of an ingrained respect for nature, in bouts of curiosity and wonder towards the world.

There were parts of the world she had never seen before and she had an eternity to explore.

That was one perk of freedom.

Funnily, she had chosen to tie herself down.

It wasn’t the best decision. Although sometimes, she considered the opportunity cost. When she looked back at the house up on the hill, only accessible through the precarious steps that lined the steep cliff, she remembered, it was an easy enough decision to make.

The world could wait. She could experience the world and its beauties in the next life, then the next life after that.

There was someone she would rather not keep waiting.

She climbed up the steps, only held together by ropes. When it was anyone else climbing, they would wobble, they would swing from left to right. For Hange, and Hange alone, they stayed still, made the climb all the easier and Hange was up before she even counted eighty steps.

The field was easy to run through. Maybe because as the house got nearer, she only ran faster. And she knew that if she scurried to the right of the porch, there would be a wide window and he would be there, sitting like he always was.

He didn’t greet her. Too engrossed in his book maybe?

Hange knew there was a more obvious answer to that.

She entered through the window and that time, she didn’t bother to pretend she was still at the mercy of natural laws. Even after months, it was surreal but when she imagined the mustiness by just the state of the dim room, she allowed herself to be pulled back to the world, even just by her imagination.

Levi’s reaction to her entrance though was a glaring reminder that it was only imagination.

Hange still liked to make conversation. “What are you reading this time?”

He didn’t reply.

She wasn’t bound by natural laws, nor was she bound by social laws. So she stood behind him, bent her head forward and read over his shoulder.

Simple prose, unknown characters, not recommended to start a story mid novel. The words blurred together quickly and Hange decided that it wasn’t worth her time to read through. Instead, she focused on his side profile and she traced the scar on his right eye. It was almost fully healed, save for the raw pink and the unseeing eye underneath.

“We could have been matching,” she said. Really, she probably would have gotten rid of the eyepatch if she knew he wouldn’t have bothered even getting one.

She didn’t know how long she was staring, how long she was following his eyes as they skimmed over lines. Restlessness had settled with the rhythm and the predictability of the small details.

Restlessness would settle but it would never die out. Hange was constantly impatient, she was constantly bored.

His concentrated face though and just the little details that composed him were enough to make time tick for her, albeit slowly.

When reading, his eyes would dart from left to right, sometimes his lips would move as a small and subtle movement. When he looked up, then behind him, Hange jumped.

Did he see me?

Surprise then bliss came and went in a split second. No, he didn’t, there had been someone else at the door.

“Levi, it’s late. You should go to bed,” Onyankopon said.

Hange begrudgingly sank back towards the corner of the room.

“I’m fine. I never slept more than three hours a night back---”

“Back in the military right?” Onyankopon interrupted. Then, he sighed. “You’re not as strong as you were before. Besides, there’s not much of war you’ll need to fight anyway, it’s best you use this time to recover.”

Levi didn’t reply. Instead he dog eared the book, closed it and dropped it on the side table. A sign for Onyankopon to go ahead, wheel him back to his bedroom.

Hange followed behind. In Levi’s bedroom, she stood a foot away and watched as Onyankopon methodically went through the process of pulling out his pajamas and dropping it on the bed then he helped Levi out of the wheelchair, gently propping him on the bed. He left the room long enough for Levi to undress.

Hange had some decency to turn her back. A naughty part of her had her settling on the bed, just for some hint of an illusion that maybe in another life they could have----.

Before she could even say it, she let out a hushed laugh. Then something louder when she realized, he probably wouldn’t hear it anyway.

The door creaked open again. “Levi, are you okay? You want anything?”

“Nothing.” Levi’s voice was muffled, his back facing the door.

“It’s a nice night outside. If you get bored, just look at the window, maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

Or maybe it could do the complete opposite. For Hange, there were more than enough constellations to trace, paths to put her thumb over. She wished she could warn him that he might not even sleep if he got lost in them. Then she remembered Levi didn’t sleep much anyway. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference.

Onyankopon let out a sigh, muttering something about a walk.

That had been more than enough to incite Hange’s curiosity. She followed again behind him. Levi was still far from healed. He probably wouldn’t be moving anytime soon anyway so maybe she could leave him, just for a moment.

After all, how many nights a year did the moonlight kiss the ocean? How many times did it take advantage of that opportunity when the coast was lined with a glowing blue? How many nights a year was the glowing blue bright enough to kiss back?

And Onyankopon had seen it too. Maybe he noticed how the night sky was a lighter blue than usual, and he saw how the streams fell deeper than the view the cliff allowed. He walked slowly at first, then he started to jog forward.

Hange did not need to make much of an effort to keep close behind. When he stepped onto the wobbly staircase, Hange was careful to pull back. She was light, most likely weightless but she didn’t want to take the risk.

So she jumped off the cliff.

Even the force of gravity didn’t demand to be felt. The pulling sensation at her gut, familiar from years working in ODM gear, was absent. Ruefully she noted, she probably would never feel it again. At the least, she got to enjoy the free fall with little to no pain at all. Whether she had landed on her ass, or her own two feet, she was in no state to tell.

She was too distracted by the glowing blue though to trifle with such details. She walked ahead, she allowed herself a quick scurry over the blue, down to the shallow waters which glowed with the same neon shades.

There were still streams of light. The moon was large, still high above the sky. And when she was staring straight ahead, counting stars and sketching shoddy drawings in the sky, she didn’t notice it or consider those two points in particular.

Something came as a hush. Then louder. “Hange?”

Hange spun around, looking back at the light blue by the coast. Just behind the rows of jellyfish was Onyankopon, his face pallid. His eyes and his mouth were both larger than what Hange had ever gotten used to, as if he had seen a ghost.

“I’m here!” Surprise or maybe desperation had her saying those words to the loudest of her abilities. She could never tell how far her voice travelled anymore, since it didn’t echo. It didn't tussle with the other sounds for its own place among them.

That time was no different. As soon as it came out of her mouth, she didn’t hope. Instead she walked back to the shore, plopped on the ground and sighed.

“God, I’m probably going crazy.” Onyankopon put a hand to his forehead and shook his head. “I should go to sleep.” His voice was tighter and Hange could have sworn she heard a crack. She didn’t even think that voices could experience wear and tear until then.

Seconds after that, Onyankopon made the trek back to the house.

Hange stayed behind. She lay back down on the sand, a bag of disappointment. An air of disappointment. A nothingness of disappointment.

When she was nothing, she was free but somehow, staring up at the sky, she realized, maybe she would have given up her freedom for just a little more time.

***

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Falco brought it up hesitantly over lunch. Even with his experience in the war, he was surprisingly still meek, easily rattled.

“Why are you asking about ghosts?” Gabi asked as she pierced another potato with her fork, so forcefully that it almost made Hange jump.

“Well at night… maybe even really early in the morning… Sometimes I hear the creaks of the floorboard coming from Levi’s room,” Falco said. He turned to Levi questioningly. “Did you ever hear anything?”

“I’m usually asleep.” Levi shrugged as he clumsily guided another spoonful of soup to his mouth. Learning to eat with his left hand was slow going but everyday, he was making some progress.

“Does anyone else hear it?” Falco’s eyes darted, alternating between the two other faces.

“This is an old house,” Gabi said.

“But why Levi’s room… there shouldn’t be… Levi can’t even walk right?” Falco argued.

“You read too many ghost stories…” Gabi’s tone was unchanging.

“What if it is a ghost?” Onyankopon dropped his own spoon and leaned back on his seat.

Gabi’s jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me you believe him?”

“You know, I took a walk along the coast last night.” Onyankopon pointed towards the window, tracing a line with his pointer finger for emphasis. “And I thought I saw someone there.”

“Maybe it was a trick of the light,” Gabi suggested. “There are jellyfish down there at this time of year right? And there were lots of stars last night…” Her words deteriorated to unintelligible babbling and Hange almost suspected she was a little more scared than Falco was.

Onyankopon shook his head. “It looked like a person.

Gabi’s hand was halfway to her mouth before she dropped it back on the plate. “It’s a trick of the light.”

“You know, in my culture, we believe ghosts exist. Ghosts of our ancestors, our friends, they all watch over us,” Onyankopon said, his voice light. “Or that is what my grandmother used to teach me. And if you don’t believe in them… You’re insulting them… And they might just come to haunt you!” He had said that last part loudly, a stark contrast from the overall volume of the conversation. It had seemed scary at first, before settling as something more playful.

Hange snorted.

Gabi didn’t see the play in it, she screamed, jumping up. “Maybe we really should get out of here. I wanna go back to Marley…” She buried her head in her hands. Her breaths came slow and deep, sometimes in heaves and exhales.

Exasperated or terrified. Before Hange could even make sense of it, Gabi quickly sat up.

Levi spoke up, his calm voice caught the attention of the room. “Even if there is a ghost here, even if there’s one in my room…” He worked his way slowly through those words.

Falco interrupted. “Aren’t you scared?”

Levi shook his head. “No, I feel more comforted than scared.”

“Why?” Falco asked. He moved to the seat next to a seemingly shaken Gabi.

Levi was playing with his food then and it looked as if he had no intention of putting it in his mouth. He hummed for a second longer.

“I’ve seen a lot of death in my life,” he started. “Even after my friends die, I worry about them. I wonder what happens to them after…If they see darkness or if they really just stop…maybe they don't even know what darkness is anymore.” He paused and took a deep breath. “But if ghosts exist at least I’m reassured, when people die, they don’t just… stop existing. It’s a reminder that maybe even after death, it’s not just nothing. There’s something after...” Levi could have said something more, but he didn’t and soon the anticipation died down to dead air.

After a brief silence, conversation shifted to plans after Levi’s recovery, Gabi and Falco’s plans when they grow a little older.

Levi kept quiet, instead focusing on getting the food into his mouth and Hange couldn’t help but note, he was eating much faster. Somehow, he had managed to chew with a ghost of a smile on his lips.

***

The conversation had proved to be informative. Hange only needed her sharpened deduction skills to make use of it.

She held her working hypotheses like a charm.

Hypothesis one: She was in one world and they were in another one

Hypothesis two: Sometimes, the lines would blur.

And Hange just had to listen more closely, she just had to feel it more carefully.

Over time, she had attributed sensations, feelings as things exclusive to the rest of the world, the living and the tangible. At three in the morning, she willed herself to focus on the silence, taking stock of the characteristic something-ness of her surroundings and the characteristic nothingness of her actions as she leaned on the door of Levi’s room.

Levi was unmoving on the bed and he was a good beacon, a sight to focus on. She moved forward slowly. If she closed her eyes and willed it, she had feet, she could move forward in slow and careful steps.

One step. Then two steps. Around the third step, the floors creaked. Then the rustle of sheets filled the room then a long groan.

Those last few movements weren't her doing. Despite his injuries, Levi had quickly pushed himself to a sitting position. Even in the darkness, the wince was very visible and Hange dropped her little experiment, rushing forward towards the bed.

He didn’t feel her hands on her shoulders, he didn’t grip when she slipped her hand under his. When she looked into his eyes, she saw they were far from blank. He was looking down at the floorboards, and it looked like he was searching for something.

He continued to stare.

Hange counted a few more seconds, then a minute.“Are floorboards really that interesting?” She asked with a laugh.

He didn’t answer.

Maybe Hange could have walked back to the doorway, then made the path back to the bed again, just to let the floorboards creak one last time. She made herself comfortable though, working for a semblance of a tingle as she lay on the bed next to Levi.

She felt a pang of regret when Levi let out a shuddered breath and fell back on the bed. She had known him long enough to read disappointment.

Then she didn’t have to read him anymore, he spoke up in silence. “If you’re the ghost, you’re free to haunt me all you want. Make the floors creak as loud as you want.”

Hange though, was done for the night. Instead, she slipped her hand much further under his. It could have been her own imagination or it could have been something more.

She didn’t have enough emotion to spare to ponder all those at once. So she squeezed hard again and concluded for herself that maybe he could have felt it too.

***

The line between her world and his was a fickle thing. In time, with the right experiments, sufficient awareness of her own surroundings, patterns showed themselves and Hange was quick to pick them out.

There were times she had wanted to cry. Guilt, sadness, regret were the first line culprits. Then there was anger, frustration at the tears she couldn’t shed. For someone without a body to hold them, emotions found other ways to channel themselves, to let themselves be known.

There were heavy waves that transformed into whirlpools. They welled inside her, they swirled into every end of her body, sometimes they manifested as tingling sensations at her tips.

When Levi lay in his bed, an alarming white, Hange was sure it was everything at once.

“Pneumonia,” Onyankopon repeated, a simple enough explanation for Gabi and Falco who had hesitantly settled in the room.

Onyankopon continued. “He might have to stay overnight at the hospital. I called some help to get him transported to the nearest town.”

“Nothing they can fix here?” Falco asked.

Onyankopon shook his head. He didn’t say anything more. He was silent when help came and when the paramedics carried Levi like he was a starved child. Hange only noticed, when it had taken only one burly man to carry Levi to the ambulance, that Levi was small, very small.

Then another whirlpool of emotions took over. Anger? Pity? Regret? They were incomprehensible but they were enough to have Hange rushing behind them.

The town hospital was busier than she had expected. Her senses were suddenly heightened, maybe because it wasn’t just her world anymore. When she closed her eyes, when she let herself feel the bristle at her tips, she felt the presence of other companions. She wasn’t alone. If she called out, maybe someone would come.

Her focus was on Levi and as much as possible, she didn’t spend too much time along the hallways. She rushed into his room, behind the doctor, slipping herself through the crack of the door.

“He just has to make it through the night.” The doctor’s words were cold, firm. For a second, Hange wondered how he had managed to reach that age, making a living off of aiding patients when he had the bedside manners of a brick. “It says here he was caught in an explosion a year back, did a number on his organs.”

The smoke, the fire, maybe that was the reason, his lungs were weaker. Hange quickly deduced.

That wasn’t an excuse to die.

For a second, Hange even entertained the possibility, if he died, maybe he would see her. They could talk, catch up, hold each other. She shook those thoughts away, letting the guilt fall with it and she jumped onto the bed, next to him. “Come on, you can’t die here, You didn’t survive a decade long war just to die of pneumonia.” She let out a laugh, she timed her own breaths to the sound of the beeping of the machine, to the whoosh of the ventilator.

And she pressed herself closer to him. He was still breathing, still moving just slightly. A sign of life maybe. And the closer she went, the more she realized, she could pretend it tickled her ears.

“Fight,” she whispered.

Levi opened his eyes, turned to his side. A glimmer of hope for a second, as Hange pondered if he had seen her.

“Levi, rest.” Onyankopon was behind her again, having settled on the chair by the bedside.

Disappointed, Hange rolled out of the bed and back to the floor. The world was suddenly heavy. Whether it was their world, or hers, or both, she didn’t think too hard to tell. But she could release it somehow.

She played pretend again. She saw the side table, a bottle of water, a packet of pills and she swept over it in one violent movement.

For a second she felt hard plastic, the rough paper at her tips. Then nothing.

Everything scattered to the ground, in some chaotic order. Calm again, Hange bent down to pick it up, only to find out she didn’t feel anything again, even as she hovered closely over them.

They weren’t hers to touch anymore.

In some act of obligation or maybe act of support, Onyankopon appeared next to her. He bent down, picked up the bottle on one hand, the packet on the other then placed them back on the side table.

Then he broke the heavy silence. “Hange, if that’s you… We’re trying our best.”

When Onyankopon left for the night, it was just her and Levi in the room. Sometimes, the occasional nurse would pop in but not for long enough for Hange to have to gather herself.

She let the emotions out again, not as bursts but as streams. She found, if she gave it more than enough time to come out, they didn’t riot. They complied with limits, they acted with civility.

There was a pen on the side table, and on the wall next to Levi’s bed, there was a chart. There were numbers Hange could make sense of if she tried hard enough.

At that point, her goals were different, so she ignored it. She hovered her hand over the pouch next to it. She had managed to connect two fingers together, she just needed to do similarly with a pen in between them.

For just a second, she was successful.

But only for just a second.

The pen fell to the ground with a clatter. Hange decided it wasn’t worth it to bend over. Maybe because she theorized, if she did, she might not be able to stand up again. She stared once again at the white board. Wet hot tears welled inside her, wet hot tears that would never meet the light of day.

Hange stretched her hand out. She saw two fingers, then five as she opened up her fist, a fist she didn’t even know she had. She propped one finger nail on the board, digging it deep into the wood.

Her grip on the world was consistent enough at least that she could manage one rough and dotted line. So she traced it again and again, until the dots were completely carved over. That one straight line turned into another.

It turned out to be an unsettling sensation. The whiteboard made an ugly whittling sound, it danced even against her shaky touch. The few times their worlds connected, she felt a stinging phantom pain at her tips.

There was nothing to feel pain for her. There were no nails to break, no fingertips that could bleed. There was no living entity to take the consequences of leaving a shoddily covered sign on the whiteboard. Besides, it was small enough anyway, that anyone could easily brush it off.

Then she wondered if Levi would see it. Maybe he wouldn’t. At that point, she was too far gone, so she finished the message then allowed herself one last peek of Levi’s sleeping face. She sluggishly made her way to the corner of the room, lowered her body back down and closed her eyes.

It would be a long night.

***

By some miracle, Levi recovered quickly.

By the next morning, they removed some of the tubes. By evening, he could sit up, even for just a bit.

Hange had made enough of an effort to last even her afterlife. She was exhausted. Maybe dispirited was the right word? But it was a strange feeling that made the days move faster. She did not have much control over speed, over thought.

Even when visitors had come one after the other, even when Levi had attempted to sit up, she couldn’t bring herself to rush beside him. He was there though, he was alive and that had been good enough.

The next evening, a nurse finally pointed it out. “Someone wrote on the chart.”

“Did you coordinate the other nurses?” Onyankopon asked.

The nurse shook her head. “Not write… Carve. There’s a message here, carved on the edge of the board.” She undid it from its place on the bed and gently placed it on the side table. “Did any of your visitors do this?”

“So far, only Gabi, Falco and I have visited…” Onyankopon trailed off.

“Do you recognize the handwriting?” The nurse slid the board to a better angle, easier for Levi to crane his neck and take a look.

“It’s hard to tell…It looks like it was carved on the board with a fingernail...” Onyankopon said. “Levi, do you?”

“No.” he said it too easily.

Hange held herself closer. A part of her wanted the corner to swallow her whole.

The nurse shook her head. “Maybe we just didn’t notice it before. Could have been from another patient…” She muttered about other theories Hange didn’t bother to mule over.

Soon the nurse was out the door anyway and it was just Onyankopon and Levi in the room.

Levi spoke up. “Onyankopon… What if I told you, it looks like her handwriting?” His voice was weak. For Hange, it was strong enough to turn complete desolation to a glimmer of hope.

“If you think it’s her handwriting. I don’t see why we can’t stick with that assumption.”

Levi leaned back on the bed. “Well, it’s nice words to live by, especially if it came from her.”

Onyankopon nodded. “It is.” Then he slid his fingers over the wooden frame. “Live on.”

“Live on, Levi,” Hange whispered. To hell if those words even touched the still air of the room.

***

Hange became obsessed with noise. Many types of noise: The creak of the floorboards at her feet, the bump on the walls, the thump when items swayed with just a shrivel of wind.

The more she let emotions take over, the more things went bump and she started to realize it was an exhausting ordeal. Sometimes, the natural laws didn’t listen. Sometimes her hands didn’t connect with surfaces, sometimes hands permeated through solids.

Disheartened, Hange stood by the side of the kitchen a day after Levi was released by the hospital. He had retired to his bedroom as soon as they arrived home.

It was Onyankopon, Falco and Gabi gathered on the table. Hange took one of the empty seats, pretending that she was very much in need of the same comforts as everyone else.

“Have you ever gone down to the beach?” Onyankopon asked. It was an odd opening statement but as soon as Hange scanned the faces, noting the sullen mood. She realized there were only too many things one can say to even attempt to lighten it.

“A few times,” Gabi answered.

“But not at night right? At this time of the year?” Onyankopon asked. “Sometimes, the jellyfish would get washed up on shore and when they glow… it’s a beautiful sight.”

It has been a year since the last time Hange walked along the edge.

“What do you think?” Onyankopon asked. “We could go down, just long enough to cheer you two up.”

“We’re not sad,” Falco said, an uncomfortable grin on his face. “We’re just worried.”

“I’d rather you didn’t waste your time on that. Levi’s gonna be fine. Besides, we’ve lived here for more than a year already, it’s unbelievable to me that you haven’t seen it.”

It didn’t take much prodding after. The three made the trek all the way down from the cliff, they took to the staircase with prudence. Hange took the short more dangerous way, making the fifty feet drop down to the coast.

The blue jellyfish were there again, like they were every single other time. Onyakopon had been taking more walks, Hange had to note. Maybe that was how he had figured it out.

Eventually, they were all lined up at the coast, their expressions all showed different levels of wonder.

“I told you right? I saw someone the last time I was here,” Onyakopon started.

Gaby held herself close and Falco stepped forward, nearer to the shores.

Surprisingly, Falco had done the braver thing. “Who did you see?” He asked.

Onyankopon shook his head. “It could have been a trick of light. But you know, if you ask for a name…" He paused for a second, seeming deep in thought. "I could have sworn it was Commander Hange Zoe.”

Commander Hange Zoe.

In a world where she was a nothing, constantly floating amongst shifting lights and shifting darks, her name said aloud by someone other than herself, was a strong grip. Long ago, she was alive. Long ago, she existed. And maybe even after that, she continued to exist. If that limbo she found herself in, counted as existing.

It did count as existing. She was still very much Hange Zoe.

Realization was a burst of energy. Something that had her running forward again, just like a year ago, through the glowing blue, through the shallow salt waters that should have tickled at her shin.

It was like that scene last year again, with just two extra visitors.

“Did you see that?” Falco asked.

“See what?” Gabi asked.

Falco shook his head. “It could have been a trick of the light… But there was someone there in a green---”

“In a green cloak, then the wings of freedom?” Onyakopon said, a good guide for the two young kids.

Falco nodded. “The wings of freedom… The blue and white symbol right?”

“That was the symbol of the survey corps," Onyankopon explained.

Falco hummed. “If I’m not the only one who saw it… That means…” He still seemed unsure of his own conjecture.

And it turned out Gabi wasn’t in any hurry to help. “Ghosts don’t exist! Let’s go back upstairs.”

***

Some people saw it, some people didn’t. Hange only had to look back at her own experiences with ghosts to stumble upon the conclusion.

There were believers. There were zealots. There were warriors. There were scaredy cats, even among the battle hardened soldiers.

Over the years, it was a lingering belief, a passing one. When it became her whole life though, she decided to give it more than just a passing thought. Onyankopon could see with the right combinations of lights and Falco had proved the same.

When there were only four people in that house, barring the occasional visitor, It was only natural that her thoughts would fly to Levi. He was the only one after all among the four, who hadn’t witnessed the lights show for himself.

Timing though was a tricky thing. After all, the lights only came together once a year. If they were lucky, twice. If they were unlucky, none at all for that season. And Levi was in no position to walk, let alone climb down such a dangerous set of stairs.

A part of her would rather he never did anyway. He might even die just making the trip to the beach.

Live on. She held those words like a charm, as she sat by his bed, silently watching his sleeping face.

Even if ‘living on’ only composed of long days locked in the bedroom, of long hours in the reading room turning pages of books. After all, there was something beautiful about the small yet noticeable changes. The way Levi was sleeping more, yet waking up earlier.

He was turning pages faster. Sometimes Hange heard the rustles more incessant, loud sounds crammed into a second and she thought to herself, how it would have been nice to feel the rough paper on her skin again.

Onyankopon probably held the same thought. He never told Levi that he had seen a silhouette of Hange down at the beach. Hange could have sworn she had heard their hushed conversation about it, at three in the morning.

Would Levi have gone down if he knew?

Maybe he would have. No, Hange was sure she he would have. After all, he continued to look for her.

Hange still made the floors creak. Sometimes, they came as a high chirp, sometimes a low rumble. Still, every single one, had been enough to have Levi stirring, turning on his side, just to get a good look at the floor, the very boring wooden floor.

Sometimes, he would sit up on bed, still staring expectantly at the wooden floor underneath.

When Hange thought it important that Levi got some rest, she minimized it. Instead, forcing herself to stay calm as she lay next to him on the bedside.

And she learned overtime, at their calmest, at their most relaxed, spirits were very much invisible, maybe even dead to the world.

Dead enough to forget her own name? For a second there, she almost forgot who she was.

***

Time passed, by some miracle, Levi’s world got a little bigger. There was no prodding, no pressure to get better. It was only Levi’s pride that had him leaning on the side table, foregoing the wheel chair for slow painstaking steps.

Stairs were still a mind game, still a circle of hell for him but he had learned to let the bannisters do their work. If he held on tightly enough, shifting all the weight to his good leg, he could get down in time.

Many times, Hange had to stop herself and force herself to stand idly by. For a while, she had been almost envious of the bannister for having the right facilities to support him.

Once again, envy had her remembering, she was nothing but a ball of memories, a ball of emotions, only held together by faith and beliefs every year. It was the work of the concrete and the tangible, to keep Levi up.

Falco and Onyankopon still went down to the beach every single year. Sometimes, they called her by name, sending another wave of energy through her, letting the memories rush through her at once.

She was still Hange Zoe. She would always be Hange Zoe. In the next life, maybe in the life after that. That was what had her going, sitting by Levi’s bed every night. As long as she kept a tight grip on memories, they were still very much there.

Years passed in a very conspicuous way when there were two kids in the house.

Within years, Falco shot up. Suddenly, he was strong enough to carry Levi down the stairs on bad days. Gabi was getting taller as well, Soon, her head barely brushed Onyankopon’s ear.

It wasn’t just the people that changed though. Although that had been enough for Hange to realize, time was passing. There were other things that came abruptly.

Like an eviction notice.

“We’re gonna have to move,” Onyakopon said over lunch one day. He slapped the document on the table, and shook his head.

Of course, they couldn’t stay there forever. It wasn’t their land. They were merely paying rent, at the mercy of a landlord.

“Wait, why?”

“They wanna reclaim the land, turn it into a small port,” Onyankopon explained with a shrug.

“Wait, reclaim the land… You mean?” It was Falco who first put two and two together.

“The beach?” Gabi added.

“They’ll put more sound and soil over the water, build a street over it,” Onyankopon said.

“The jellyfish?” Falco asked.

“They’ll have to find another place to live?” Onyankopon seemed noticeably sad for a bunch of jellyfish.

“It’s not just tha--” Falco’s eyes were wide with horror. He turned to Levi before settling on the plate in front of him. “How long do we have?”

Onyankopon turned the paper around then put his finger on the first line on the upper right. “A month.”

For one season a year, the jellyfish would line the coast.

By some coincidence, or maybe by fate, it was already that season and if they were lucky, maybe they could catch it one more time in between packing things and cleaning the house.

Hange decided, she would rather it was coincidence than fate. Fate had already proven multiple times to have a cruel hand.

“You wanna go down to the beach? One time before we leave? It’s beautiful out there,” Onyakopon brought up the question while Levi had been putting away books from the shelf, throwing them into boxes.

“What does the beach have that I can’t imagine here?” Levi asked.

Maybe if Hange had a voice, she could have explained it. The way the lights mixed amongst each other, creating colors no one would have ever believed to have existed. If she was there, that would have worked. Even if the words didn’t work, if she had hands, if she had control over the tangible, she would have pulled him with one hand. Hell, she would have carried him herself.

Onyankopon had his own experiences, his own words. They turned out to be just as effective. “Hange.”

Levi looked back, his eyes wide. He didn’t respond. Maybe he had been too preoccupied with the shaking of his hands, uncontrollable shaking that ended with one heavy book splayed on the floor.

Onyankopon rushed to pick it up. “It’s beautiful down there. The jellyfish rest near the shores before they migrate elsewhere. They glow at night and the stairs look beautiful behind it. Sometimes, it’s enough to forget reality.”

Levi dropped his shoulders. “If they’re gonna reclaim the land, maybe it would be worth it to see it one last time.”

Onyankonpon sighed. “I’m gonna have to warn you, the trek is hard.”

“I think I’ve recovered enough for a small walk.”

***

A small walk was a very dangerous understatement. Levi lived on understatements though.

Hange just wanted to make sure, that understatement wouldn’t have been enough to kill him.

So she didn’t jump down. She crouched down over the cliff and watched as he descended the first steps. When she found herself having to bend over further just for a horrible and awkward angle, she decided to just take the drop and watch from the beach.

It took approximately fifteen minutes to get him down and Hange counted three times where she had ended up letting out a half scream before Falco or Onyakonpon had pulled him back at the last minute.

That one last almost-fall had been the scariest. Maybe because for that split second, Levi’s jaw dropped, his eyes widened. He seemed to have lost control of himself in that second.

Hange understood though just why he had seemed uncharacteristically disconcerted. It was in the glowing blue reflected in his eyes.

“If we show this to the landlord, do you think he’ll spare it?” Falco asked. It was a pathetic question and both a yes or a no wouldn’t have sufficed.

Levi sat back down on the sand in three stilted movements. “They don’t listen to anything but money,” he answered softly. The venom in his voice hinted that he could have said more.

“Let’s just treat this as the last time,” Onyakopon said.

Hange gripped time again and counted backwards. Five years.

Five years since Onyankopon had first seen her. Then the next year it had been the three of them. Then the remaining years it had been Falco and Onyankopon visiting.

Five times was enough though to get attached, especially when the view was strange enough to take someone’s breath away.

And it would be the last time they could appreciate that view. Hange wasn’t too surprised when she heard ragged breaths and soft sniffles behind her.

“We’ll just have to look for another one,” Falco shrugged.

“But do you think we’ll ever find one that shines the same way?” Gabi asked.

“Maybe,” Levi said.

“You know Levi, if you stare at it long enough, you might just see ghosts.” Onyankopon added playfully, close enough to Levi that it could have been just for him.

“I’d love to see a ghost,” Levi said, barely a whisper.

Hange had been close enough to hear it. She saw that as a cue to step forward, lightly over the sea of jellyfish. When she looked down, the water didn’t ripple. She hovered over it like a spirit, like air, like a trick of the light.

Onyankopon and Falco’s own belief had already convinced her long before, that with that exact way that the lights from the sky and the lights from the shores cooperated, the line between the two worlds blurred.

And there were just certain people, who could distinguish others as more than a trick of the light.

For how long would they see it? She never thought deep enough to find out so she didn’t know. If she could get a message across, it couldn’t hurt to try.

Maybe that would be the last place she could ever be visible. How many beaches shone with the same glowing blue? How many skys still glimmered with a clear view of the stars above?

More importantly, even if other places existed, were they so easily found? Especially when the three were constantly on the run from angry soldiers around the world.

Hange looked back, to see that Onyankopon and Falco had focused on her again, their mouths completely agape.

“Do you see her?” Onyankopon managed to ask, after one deep breath.

“See what?” Levi asked.

And with that question, disappointment blanketed the air of wonder.

“She’s glowing, green, brown, red just like when she died. Then a burning blue.”

Levi didn’t answer. His eyes seemed blank. They darted from each corner for a second before looking ahead then they narrowed. His lips trembled with what Hange could guess was frustration.

“And she’s smiling,” Onyankopon said.

Hange had to admit, she had let the warmth of the moment take over.

“A sad smile,” Falco continued.

Hange had to admit, she gave some of that disappointment free reign inside her.

“All I see is light,” Levi said.

“You get it!” Gabi put her hands up. “I thought I was the only one just seeing late. They made me think I was crazy for seeing nothing.”

Hange shook her head before she turned back to Onyankopon and Falco. The two were still staring.They wouldn’t hear her, Hange had tried too many times before.

But maybe if she mouthed something, they would get it. She didn’t let a silent sound escape her lips. At the same time, she made sure to enunciate every syllable.

“Did you catch that?” Falco asked.

Onyankopon only nodded. “Maybe I did.”

Hange blithely made her way back to the shore and bent over next to Levi. The sand didn’t crunch as she fell back on it. Over time they stopped making even the slightest sounds and she realized, maybe she didn’t mind being nothing.

“This might be the last time we're going to see something like this. Enjoy it,” Onyankopon said.

“I am,” Levi said.

“Take all the time you need.”

For a while they were silent. For how long? Hange didn’t bother to count anymore. Maybe it was the better choice to just let time flow in some incomprehensible way. After all, time was a concept exclusive to the living.

Levi let out a strange sound, a mix between a crack and a ragged breath. Then he spoke up. “I can’t help but think, Hange would have liked to see this.”

Onyankopon’s response came out seeming unrehearsed. “She likes it. I’m sure she does.”

“You think she got to see it?”

I got to see it every single time Levi. Hange decided, thinking it was enough.

“She was walking through it,” Onyankopon said. “Right Falco?”

Falco nodded lightly. “She was.” He had always been a genuine person and maybe that was why Levi had swallowed it so quickly, even if it could have seemed like a lie at first.

“What did she say?” Gabi asked.

Levi didn’t verbalize it. In fact, he seemed to have been asking the same question.

It was Onyankopon’s question to answer and he approached it like a painter muling over his first piece. “‘Take care of Levi.’ She told me to take care of you.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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itsthemoofacewriting · 3 years

Text

It’s heaven in your arms - Chapter 2

Welcome back!

You guys, I was so nervous posting this and everyone’s been so lovely ;_;

I don’t know if anyone picked up on it, but my title has two meanings. One, because it’s a bed sharing trope and two, because Ace died in Luffy’s arms. I’m a monster, I know.

Summary: It may have been two years since Ace’s death but, for Luffy, sometimes it still felt like just yesterday. Or, sometimes, something beautiful can blossom from a place of hurt. Raining: K+

You can also find this on AO3 and FFN.

Enjoy!

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

But when he’d shot her those excited puppy eyes and asked if they could have another sleepover, she’d found herself caving. Even more so when the thought cropped into her head that maybe he was asking because he was struggling. She’d rather know where he was if he was going to be upset than worry about him being all alone out on the deck.

She’d raised an eyebrow when Luffy had arrived with Zoro in tow but that had been quickly snuffed out when he’d smugly said, “A one-time thing, huh?”

From there on the second time turned into a third time and then a fourth and now she’d lost count of how many times this had happened. It wasn’t every night, mind you, as they all had watches and if one of them couldn’t be there, then it was an unspoken rule that the others would sleep separately. Although she couldn’t be sure that Luffy and Zoro didn’t in the men’s room, but she’d seen those bunks and they’d never mentioned it.

The point was, it’d turned into a routine that no one blinked an eye at, and she’d even got them bathing regularly because there was no way either of them were getting in without being clean.

She’d also never slept better than she did when she had those two in her bed, piled in whichever way they found themselves throughout the night. Luffy liked to be the big spoon, which was something she felt like she shouldn’t know but did, he almost insisted on it even as he climbed in first and took an end. It was a funny sight when Zoro ended up in the middle, his hulking figure being cuddled up to by Luffy. The person on the other end was hardly left out when he stretched his arm to curl around them. It was like he was trying to keep them all close.

When they weren’t being spooned by Luffy, another favourite was when Zoro would lay on his back, an arm thrown out either side and she’d naturally gravitate towards him until her head was on his chest or tucked into his shoulder. His beefiness made a nice pillow, something Luffy must have agreed with as he normally mirrored her on the other side.

She’d stopped being flustered by all of this long ago, it was easy to get over when they did it all the time and neither said anything about it.

She did, however, question whether it was right that she had a preferred sleeping preference with the both of them and that she was ranking them.

Nami was sunning herself on her lounger, it was a pleasant day with the sun out, the ocean still and the background noise of Luffy, Chopper and Usopp running around in the distance. Footsteps approaching caught her attention only to see Robin making her way over, two drinks in hand that must have come from Sanji and a third arm holding a book. She greeted the other woman silently, turning her head to smile at her before facing the sun again and closing her eyes to enjoy the warmth on her skin.

There truly was no better way to spend the day-

“My invitation to your little sleepovers must have got lost in the mail.”

Nami was ripped from her peace as she gaped, feeling heat flush through her body at this finally being acknowledged. She shot a nervous look at Zoro who was sleeping only a few feet away from her sun lounger against the railing. Just because he looked like he was asleep, didn’t mean he was, but when he didn’t move or twitch or give any indication that he might be awake, she let herself relax slightly.

And focus back on the woman next to her still staring her down for an answer. Even though it was a statement, she felt the need to explain herself.

“No- Robin! It isn’t… like that?” She could almost feel the ghost of Luffy’s breath against her skin and Zoro’s arm wrapped around waist, an unwelcome reminder to contrast her words.

Robin hummed, a look in her eye that told Nami she didn’t buy it. “You three looked adorable all cuddled up this morning.”

Of all the ways she thought she was going to die throughout her life, at the hands of Arlong, dropping from Skypiea or on Whole Cake Island to name a few, she never imagined this would be it. Embarrassed to death.

How was she going to explain that this had started with comforting Luffy and snowballed into whatever the hell they were doing now.

She didn’t have to either as Luffy came barrelling over with a chirp of “Nami!”, unaware of their conversation or her embarrassment only to make it worse by squeezing himself onto her sun lounger, ignoring how close they were or that he was practically laying over her. He chattered excitedly next to her, telling her about what him, Usopp and Chopper had been doing, at one point using her straw to take a long gulp from her drink and all the while she was very aware of Robin’s eyes on her the whole time.

“It’s sweet. I’m happy for you three,” Robin said as soon as Luffy bounded off after telling her his short story.

He was out of sight soon enough, but her eyes naturally trailed over to Zoro, only to find his eye trained on her already. She couldn’t be sure whether he’d heard what Robin had just said, but the smile he gave her before closing his eye again certainly didn’t help.

It was full of warmth.

‘It’s sweet. I’m happy for you three.’

Robin’s words replayed in her head, over and over.

The last couple of weeks washed over her. Robin’s words bringing to the forefront how Luffy and Zoro’s behaviour had changed.

Luffy was the first one up in the mornings, unable to wait for either of them to wake up as he heard Sanji bustling around the kitchen and the lure of food too strong that he’d hastily take off, plastering a hurried kiss on the cheek or forehead of whoever was closest. Sure, it’d stunned her at first, but he’d done it to Zoro too and the other man hadn’t even blinked, so she’d let it go. Even if it did take her by surprise each time.

Then it just left Nami and Zoro by themselves to wake up together. He was so casual as he stretched, murmuring out a “mornin’” as he removed his arm from wherever it was laying against her body and it lingered a second too long, brushing against her skin. It was more subtle than Luffy’s gesture, but this was Zoro. It might as well be the same act.

She felt like an elephant in the room needed to be addressed, yet neither of them acted like anything had changed.

Outside the bedroom it changed too.

Where she used to be alone in the library as she drew maps, Zoro would now be napping against her desk or on the sofa, saying how it was quieter in there and because she was so cranky, they wouldn’t be disturbed. Luffy would soon gravitate towards them, asking questions about her maps that he didn’t really listen to the answer to, or he’d go lay his head on Zoro’s lap whilst he slept, a rare moment of calm that would punish them later as he bounded around.

Luffy would find her more often too, clambering over her seat if she was sun lounging or bringing over things that he’d found and deemed ‘cool’. Kind of like how a cat would bring mice to its owner to impress them… not that she was Luffy’s owner.

They still hung out with their other friends, but instead there’d be Zoro’s arm casually thrown over the back of her chair and Luffy at her other side, a hand constantly finding a way to touch her or draw her into his chaos.

Small shifts, so subtle it had taken her this long to piece it together.

It was almost like…

Almost like they were in a relationship. The three of them.

It made her stomach churn, but she didn’t know if it was in a good or bad way, like how it did when she was dreading something or excited.

And then the final puzzle piece slotted into place.

Oh.

She was in a relationship with them. Or at least the early stages but it was all there, for everyone to see and she’d missed it every step of the way. Her thoughts were jumbled. Too many fighting to be at the forefront and how had she not figured this out sooner?

Her mind had been running for hours whilst she was squished between Zoro and Luffy, staring up at the ceiling. It was still dark outside and all she’d done all night was drift in and out of sleep. She had more hours left to sleep, but she couldn’t calm her mind enough for it.

She rolled onto her side to face Zoro, in his sleep Luffy sensed her movement and filled the slither of free space to spoon up behind her, his breath heavy against her neck. She studied Zoro’s profile, from the scar covering his eye, which when he slept like that she couldn’t tell if he was awake, to the strong line of his nose, the normal severe expression softened in his sleeping state. Even when he slept on the deck, he didn’t look that relaxed, this was something privy to her and Luffy.

There was no way around it. She was attracted to him, and she couldn’t deny looking down at his lips a few times recently as he spoke. They looked dry, like he needed a good slather of lip balm over them, but she it didn’t stop her from entertaining the thought of pressing her lips against his. Luffy’s on the other hand, looked softer and she wondered if the texture was the same as his skin, still soft like human skin but there was a hint of resistance, of elasticity there. She was attracted to Luffy too, his carefree grin and contagious enthusiasm. How weir-

What she wasn’t expecting was for Zoro to suddenly stretch and stir, making a noise of contentment before he rolled over to face her and she didn’t have the sense the clamp her eyes shut in time. She stared back into a lone grey eye.

“Y’alrigh’?” Zoro slurred out, still caught in the grasp of sleep as he settled into his new position.

“Yeah.” She sounded too awake for how early it was and too vacant, unsure, that it caught his attention.

“What’s wrong?” More coherent now.

“Zoro… is this not a bit weird?” Luffy’s arm tightened around her, and he snuggled further into her back.

Zoro had already turned to face her, his arm haphazardly thrown over her, but after her question she could feel the shift, how he was looking at her before but now she could tell she had his full attention. He stared at her, all the signs of sleep or tiredness from before gone from his face. His eye was trained on her and it felt like she was being accessed, that he was trying to look through her.

Another second passed until he answered with a shrug.

“I dunno, maybe, but when have we ever done anything by the book?”

He made a good point and when had she ever cared what others thought?

Her silence seemed to make him take a step back, second guessing the intention of her previous question, as he asked, “Do you want to stop doing this?” The arm over her waist lightened, like he was ready to remove it at a moment’s notice and if she thought she was being accessed before, it was nothing compared to now. His gaze scrutinizing, flittering around her face for any sign of discomfort.

She considered it for a second but the thought of going back to an empty bed permanently made her ache. There’d be no whispering as they tried to go off to sleep, no elbows digging her in the night, no snoring in her ears and it wouldn’t be like an oven all the time with their combined body heat. It’d be cold and silent.

It sounded awful.

“No,” she whispered and Zoro’s arm rested back over her body like before, palm splayed across her waist and squeezing slightly, like he was encouraging her to continue. “But what if- what if this…” ‘doesn’t work out’, She wanted to say.

It didn’t matter, he was on the same page. “This is Luffy we’re talking about. And it’s me.”

He was telling her to trust them. Trust that this would all be okay regardless of the outcome because it was them, and they’d been through hell and back with each other since the very beginning.

And she did, the instinct flaring up instantly to calm her down.

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed, body relaxing and mind going blissfully silent with that little piece of reassurance.

“Good, then go to sleep, you’re gunna wake up cranky otherwise.”

He was pushing his luck, but she’d let it slide right now mainly because one, she didn’t want to wake Luffy (he was almost as bad as a baby when woken) and because he’d just been very sweet just then, in his own gruff way. And she was feeling generous.

A moment after closing her eyes there were warm lips pressing against her forehead and she sensed a slight hesitation there before they were gone. She cracked her eye open to look at him, but his eye was clamped shut stubbornly, pretending that he hadn’t done anything. There was no mistaking the blush on his cheeks though.

In the morning, when Luffy performed his routine of frantically jumping out of the bed to chase Sanji to the kitchen, he placed his usual hurried kiss on her cheek but this time around, she leaned into it with a smile on her face.

Since that night, things had changed. Everything seemed easier, casual touches that she no longer overthought and, if anything, she leaned more into them.

All of it felt more natural but then maybe that was because she’d relaxed.

Like déjà vu, Nami was on her sun lounger the next day. The hot weather from the day had simmered down into a mild evening and she was making the most of the quiet before they did it all over again tomorrow. Robin was next to her too, reading with the little light naturally left, she’d be moving indoors soon to carry on.

Nami’s eyes stung a bit, from the lack of sleep the night before and she hadn’t napped, but she felt lighter after last night. So much so that she confessed, “I’m in a relationship with Luffy and Zoro.”

Robin stopped reading and turned to smile at her patiently. “It would appear you are, are you happy about it?”

“Yeah,” she said, feeling her cheeks go rosy. “We can make arrangements though, it’s your room too,” she added as an afterthought.

“As long as it stays pg, it doesn’t bother me at all.”

She spluttered, her previously rosy cheeks turning red as it spread hotly across her face and down her neck. She’d only just wrapped her head around the fact she was in a relationship with them, she couldn’t even think about that yet.

“Besides, I believe I have somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

Robin looked over her shoulder and Nami peered behind her to see Franky walking off to his workshop.

Oh.

Nami’s grin turned teasing, it was only fair with what she’d had to put up with recently, except her fun was interrupted by Luffy calling from the women’s room stopped her in her tracks, Zoro poking his head out of the frame to grunt at her. Honestly, as if it wasn’t her room.

“I believe you’re being called for by your boyfriends,” Robin teased, twinkle in her eye.

“This isn’t over!” Nami pointed her finger at her.

“I didn’t doubt it.”

She crossed the deck, on her way to her room when the thought from last night popped into the forefront of her mind and how she could actually act on it now.

Zoro’s mouth opened when she appeared in the doorway, no doubt something snarky about her being the last one present but she couldn’t hear it over the blood thumping in her ears.

She marched over to them on the bed, a woman on a mission and Luffy looked at her curiously until he yelped as her hands cupped his face and brought him into a kiss. He hesitated for a second until his hands gripped her arms and his lips responded in kind. Whilst it was clear he lacked experience, enthusiasm dripped from the kiss and it more than made up for it as his lips moved eagerly against hers. She angled her head, encouraging him to do that same and trying to keep up with the frantic pace he was setting, all the while batting down a smile. It was him all over, joyful and chaotic and she didn’t know if she’d ever get enough of it.

They pulled apart and there was a split second of relief in his eyes, like maybe he thought this moment was never coming, before it was trampled by his excitement, and he beamed at her.

“You want one too?” She teased, looking over at Zoro, eyebrow raised in challenge.

Zoro’s response was a heavy palm on the back of her neck that had them both leaning in, over Luffy, to meet in the middle for a kiss much different from hers with Luffy. Zoro’s pace was slower, more thorough as he took his time against her lips, yet it was firm. He had a bit more knowledge, he was surer in himself, and it showed as she sunk into the kiss, for once letting herself be led. She enjoyed it just as much and she knew she’d relish taking her time to pull apart the differences between them, savouring the way they both made her feel.

A daring swipe of her tongue across his bottom lip and then they broke apart, Luffy in the background demanding another kiss when Zoro smugly said, “Took you long enough.”

He wouldn’t look so smug when she pushed him off the bed tonight.

Luffy’s pleas weren’t ignored when Zoro said, “Captain,” to capture the other boy’s attention and tugged on his vest to kiss him and it made her feel warm, a flutter in her stomach because whilst she wasn’t a part of the kiss, she was a part of them. The three of them.

Luffy looked dazed and then elated when they broke apart, grin splitting his face and there was a glint in his eye that told her more kisses would be demanded before they went to sleep.

She’d get changed and brush her teeth before getting in bed, maybe check that both of them have done that already because she didn’t remember smelling or tasting mint on their breath, when something caught her eye.

There was a space in the middle for her already.

And she smiled; her boys.

-------------------------------------

It’s been a while since I’ve had a fic practically write itself, I’ve missed that.

Luffy and Zoro may be idiots most of the time, but they’re both emotionally smart, it’s been shown time and time again. Nami, on the other hand, is in some cases but she’s also a bit of a worrywart too. So yeah, they kinda eased Nami into what was developing because they didn’t want to freak her out.

As always, please excuse any errors.

If you got this far, thanks for reading, it means a lot.

#ZoLuNa #ZoNami #LuNami #ZoLu #LuffyxZoroxNami #opwriting #opfanfic #One Piece #Luffy #Zoro #Nami

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

Whiskey Titties

Day 16: Nipple Play

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean loves your boobs and whiskey.

A/N: Inspired by @deanmonandnegansbitch 's drabble, check it out! I know I'm late and sorry! Today's one will be posted too hopefully in the right time but no promises because I plan on going to my aunt's today. Also, have I mentioned how much I love that Dean's canonically passionate about women's boobs? No? Okay!

Ps: Certain names that will show up were also Yas' and a lovely anon idea! (no spoilers!)

Warnings: dirty talk, humping, nipple play

Dean Winchester was a boob man.

You knew that before he even touched you. The not subtle glances that he threw at your cleavage in that bar back then made you roll your eyes and Sam give him an empty stare. But Dean was cute, hot, and funny. You let that first impression slide by the end of his hunt, giving in to his dumbfounded charm. And man, he wouldn't stop watching your boobs pounding while he fucked you that night.

It hadn't stopped. Dean would groan and place his head on your breast when he was frustrated, lay on top of you and rest on your boobs after fucking, or even just smirk at himself watching you walk around in summer clothes.

Undoubtedly, that translated into sex. He had left your chest full of hickeys, kisses, and bites. Dean relished into sucking your nipple, cupping your breast, or just kneading them.

That man really loved women's boobs. Especially yours.

They were just too good. So pretty and perfectly fitting in his large hands — like they were made for Dean to take care of. It might not compare to eating pussy, but fuck he could adore more than one thing about his woman's body, thank you.

So, you couldn't blame him for being distracted by your tities again. Come on, you had mixed boobs and booze, his two favorite B's. What did you expect?

“Fuck.” You groaned, impatient with the drop of scotch that dropped on your cleavage accidentally. Grabbing a napkin, you tried to clean it up, knowing that was helpless. It was a good old drink, you would be smelling like alcohol for the rest of the night. You sighed, throwing the stained napkin on kitchen's counter, where you were sitting. Your eyes went to him, a single eyebrow arched when you noticed his obvious lack of attention. “Dean?”

All he could emit was a hum, “Mhm.”

Tilting your head to the side, mouth contorted into with a wondering expression, you moved on the counter — which made your boobs shake a little. Dean licked his lips, watching as carefully as he'd watch one of his private movies.

You followed Dean's eyes only to find your own breast under his adoration glare. A huff came out of your lips as you slapped his arm, waking him up. “Hey!”

You held an indignant glance. “Seriously?”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes, pointing at your cleavage. Dean smirked, already a goner. How could a pair of titties look so good, all wrapped up with your red tank top like a christmas present? The fact that the tank was a bit too tight and squeezed them together, making them come out even more, was a big bonus.

“Can you stop looking at my boobs for two seconds?” She chortled in dismay, unable to discern whether he was listening to you or not. Men and boobs. “Do you even remember what I was talking about?”

The male used all his inner strength to look up and focus on your words. Dean frowned, not even a slight glimpse of what you had been saying in his mind. Nonetheless, he attempted a shoot: “Something to do with Sam's date?”

You shook your head. “You are unbelievable.”

“It's not my fault my girlfriend's smoking hot.” He said, a devilish grin on his lips as Dean scooted closer to you, forgetting about the dishes he was cleaning. The hunter placed his hands on your lips as he got himself between your legs. “And got such nice boobs.”

“Dean…” It should come out a warning, it should come out as a refrain. You two were adults, Dean himself in his forties— you shouldn't just mess in the middle of the kitchen like two horny twenties. Yet, the crack in your voice made it sound vulnerable, like you were pleading for him.

You were.

Dean bent down, swiftly putting his face between your breasts. This was heaven. He couldn't help a moan, the sound slightly muffled by your boobs.

Your eyes shut instantly. The Winchester's tongue was already doing the dirty work, licking and caressing every bare spot the red fabric left for him to play with. He spotted a trace of whiskey mixed with your sweaty and apple soap.

He lifted his head, licking his lips as he glanced at you. If he looked down, he'd catch your boobs. If he looked at your face, he was seeing your features turned into an exciting expression; lips slightly open, eyes closed, and heavy breathing. All because of him. More than an ego boost, that made Dean feel proud of himself. To make you feel good was always his priority, as deeply as a religious obsession. “What if we add a little flavor here, sweetheart?”

“Like whipped cream?” You opened your eyes, frowning at the lack of friction.

Dean grabbed the half empty bottle that laid next to you, a malicious smile on his lips as he shook the bottle. “Like Whiskey.”

“You sure Sam isn't coming back tonight?” You bit your bottom lip, considering.

“He's busy with Eileen, training his sign language.” Dean wiggled his eyebrows, gaining a smack on his shoulder. “What? It's been awhile since he got some.”

You decided not to answer him, rather taking off your shirt and throwing it away. Astute hand grabbing the bottle from his hold and to open it, whiskey soon drizzling on your breasts.

A perverse grin appeared on your face. “Shut up and suck my boobs, Winchester.”

Dean might had been to heaven a couple times, but this was paradise. You, in the middle of the bunker's kitchen, legs spreading and whiskey titties.

“You know I love when you take control like that, honey.” He provoked before he burrowed his face between your boobs again.

All response you could give was a groan as Dean's skilled mouth started to work on you: he pecked the valley between your breasts, a gentle buss undercurve the right one — his personal favorite, the beloved righty. Your ass got the nicknames AC, the right one, and DC, the left one, so he didn't have the best naming for your boobs. — His lips went up, crashing against your chest as he gave it an open-mouthed kiss.

A shameful moan left your lips. Your head was falling back, legs wrapped around Dean's waist used to pull him closer. The green eyed man got your hint for more touching, licking around your areola (god, your skin felt even softer with alcohol), then swipping his tongue over your nipple until he made it as hard and got it between his teeth. Dean didn't bite it, only adding pressure to the arousal. Meanwhile, his other hand found its way to cup your bosom, kneading it with his fingers.

The hunter savored your breast a bit longer, caressing the left and finally sucking your nipple. This, this was everything he wanted to taste in his mouth besides your pussy. The strong taste of Whiskey, laced with your salty derm, while he also got his head between a pair of boobs.

His cock was already full awaken, protesting in his jeans. Yet, he didn't want to stop now. Dean simply slid his free hand in his pants, grabbing his cock.

You weren't that far either, the obvious slick between your legs reported your desire. You pushed yourself to the edge of the counter, and pulled Dean closer — such movement causing the clothed boner and your soaked panties to collide.

A howl left both lover's lips. Yours legs trying to bring Dean near — as if that was possible.

Your hand on his head, fingers between his fingers as you pressed him deeper into your breast. “Come on, Dean. Suck my boobs. Don't you love them, baby? Show me how much. Leave hickeys on them. Make me come just like this, and maybe I'll even let you fuck them later. Don't you want that?”

An animal noise echoed from the back of Dean's throat, the smell of whiskey invading his nostrils. He wrapped the most he could of your boob in his mouth, sucking it ferociously. His hand caressing, squeezing the other one. You moaned helplessly, moving your hips towards his while his mouth praised you.

You are trapped in pleasure. Dean was lost in wonderland. This was one hell of experience, he could spend all day just playing with your boobs, kissing them like he kissed your mouth, making you come like he was eating you out. All the things he could do to you just like this were going through his lustful mind.

It didn't take longer for him to hear the most beautiful music coming reverberating from your trembling body, announcing an orgasm. His cock was still hard, ruining his underwear with pre cum and hurting against his jeans. He wanted to fuck you right on the kitchen counter, make you a cooking mess more than you already was. But the picture of your pussy, all soaked by wetness and cum came to his mind.

He pulled away, licking his lips. Dean needed to eat you out. He had his drink, it was just natural that he went to the main meal; your cunt.

Next time, he was going to get his cock in the middle of your pretty boobs, and fuck them good. Right now, Dean had to use his mouth to make you come again and ultimately get his needy cock inside your tight walls.

Leave a comment and REBLOG. Feedback is magic! Tags on my reblog, send me and ask or dm if you wish to be on my taglist!

#dean winchester x reader #kinktober #dean x you #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #supernatural #spn #dean winchester imagine #supernatural imagines #spn reader insert #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester imagines #dean winchester x reader smut #supernatural smut #kinktober day 16

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undine-taz · 3 years

Text

5 times Diavolo failed to be a sugar daddy and one time he succeeded

I'm just imagining poor Diavolo trying SO HARD to spoil an MC who is just. Not greedy in the slightest and loves weird little shinies while being totally indifferent to the super crazy expensive gifts he usually gives to people he's trying to woo. Just in case, this is the PUREST OF FLUFF and completely sfw. I can’t even think of any tw to tag??? Let me know if you notice something. Oh, and MC is imagined to be gender neutral. There’s a mention of perfume, but not in the feminine sense- that’s just the proper word for a certain level of scent concentration.

1. Expensive Perfume

Diavolo's first attempt is the most expensive perfume/cologne money can buy

He's not quite sure what MC's favorite scent is, so he buys a wide variety

All the bottles are sleek and minimalistic and the scents inside are VERY obviously expensive, the kind of thing Mammon would probably lose his mind over

MC's reaction is perfectly grateful, they say sincerely how much they appreciate him thinking of them. He doesn't feel a single lie off of them and he walks away mostly satisfied thinking maybe they’re just the type to not show a ton of excitement over gifts

That is, until he's walking down the hallways in RAD and happens to overhear a conversation between Asmo and MC

Asmo's talking about how he's been going through perfume at a record pace lately, and he feel so bad about wasting these beautiful bottles... would MC like them? He has one shaped like a rose, one like a star, one modeled after the cosmos...

Asmo doesn't even get to finish because MC is already flapping their hands in joy (I'm autistic and MC is going to happy stim if it kills me) and wiggling and practically jumping into Asmo's arms in excitement

Asmo's laughing and promising to save all of his prettiest empty perfume bottles for MC from now on and MC is practically wiggling in joy and nuzzling their face into Asmo's chest in happiness

They’re talking about spending the night in Asmo’s room trying to make perfume blends for each other to fill up the bottles and tossing scent ideas back and forth

And Diavolo is sitting there feeling a bit like he's been bonked over the head. Those happy stims are ADORABLE and he wants to be the one who causes them. He's not sure why his perfume failed and Asmo's literal empty bottles worked but he's DETERMINED to try again

2. Fancy gemstones

Diavolo's next attempt is fancy gemstones. He finds large, beautifully cut and processed gemstones, the type that are so perfectly processed they look almost identical except for color

Again, when he gives MC his gifts he can tell that they're sincerely grateful! They tell him they love that he was thinking of them, they worry that he spent too much money on them ( they try to refuse at first because it's too much, but Diavolo breezes past their protests with a smile and an iron will) and Diavolo doesn't sense even the tiniest hint of untruth from their professions of gratitude

But.... there are no happy wiggles, no stunned gasps, no joyously flapping hands, no nothing. Just calm gratitude.

Diavolo goes back to the drawing board, and he's just going to visit the HOL library for inspiration in a rare book (and as an excuse to see MC) when he hears Satan and MC laughing together in the library.

When he walks in, he sees Satan and MC crouched together with some strange tools in their hands, gently chipping away at a large rock. There's a tiny pile of uncut, unprocessed gemstones at MC's elbow.

As soon as MC sees him, he's aflood in a wash of excited chatter as MC tells him about the gemstone mining kit Satan bought after reading a book on gemstones. In fact Diavolo can see the book open at Satan's elbow along with a notebook where the two have been identifying every gemstone they dig up.

Before he knows it, MC seizes his hand and he's drawn into the game, watching their eyes shine and seeing them bounce in their seat with excitement every time they uncover a new gemstone.

Dammit. Another failure. But, Diavolo finds as he watches MC's obvious joy, he can't be too frustrated when they're this happy.

3. Shopping spree at Majolish

Diavolo is undeterred! He takes a day to bring them to Majolish, having them try on outfit after outfit. Sure, they're not picking out very many things, but he loves spending time with them and they say they're enjoying themself.

After several hours, Barbatos gently reminds him that he has a meeting soon and that MC seems absolutely exhausted.

Diavolo pouts, especially when he sees that MC hasn't picked out very many things, but he sighs and concedes.

When he drops them off at the HOL, MC gives him a hug and thanks him for helping them pick out some more formal outfits for any upcoming RAD events. Diavolo accepts the hug gladly, but there's no squeaking or jumping and DEFINITELY no flapping. MC seems rather exhausted, and Belphegor has appeared from nowhere and draped himself over MC and is mumbling about needing a nap buddy and MC isn't even trying to argue

The next day, Barbatos shows him Levi's post on Devilgram. It's a video, of Levi giving MC a plain, unassuming box.

When MC opens the box, their mouth drops open, their eyes go wide, and they fling themselves at Levi, happily nuzzling into his chest and mumbling incoherent thanks while Levi turns bright red and starts stuttering and clearly tries not to combust

The video cuts out for a second and then starts again with MC wearing a simple shirt embroidered with a strange logo, which Levi explains from behind the camera is inspired by MC's favorite series and was handmade by Levi for practice. Levi was apparently asked to design formalwear inspired by anime, and he chose MC's favorite to practice a design. According to the caption, the two spent an entire day together watching the series and sketching ideas!

MC is beaming and happy stimming while Diavolo thumps his head into his desk dramatically and Barbatos elegantly stifles a chuckle behind him.

4. Bouquets of flowers

Well now Diavolo is determined. HE WILL MAKE MC HAPPY STIM IF IT KILLS HIM

HE HAS HIS PRIDE AS THE FUTURE DEMON KING DAMMIT

He begins watching the corniest of romcoms for ideas.

Midway into one of them, he sees the character buy their love interest bouquets upon bouquets of roses

BRILLIANT! He's up and placing orders immediately. Barbatos stays behind for a few minutes to actually watch how this particular ploy works out on screen, before laughing and going to watch the chaos

As dedicated as he is to the young lord, watching Diavolo scramble around trying to impress his first puppy love only to fail because the target of his affections is simply too humble.... well, it's honestly adorable. He'll step in if it goes on for too long, but for now it might actually be good for the young master to experience something he can't have by throwing money or influence at it.

Diavolo has some of the Devildom's finest florists on the horn and he's sending a veritable flood of their finest cut flowers... AND he's sending them from an anonymous source, just like in the movie! The woman in the movie only sent over THREE bouquets to the object of her love, so Diavolo sends 300. Only the best for his MC :)

He's waiting impatiently for the results of his little scheme when he gets an apologetic text from Lucifer saying that he'll be late to the meeting and MC won't be coming at all. Some anonymous admirer sent MC an excessive amount of flowers and the sheer amount of pollen triggered allergies in ALL of the demon bros and MC.

Lucifer needed time to clear out the house and distribute allergy meds to everyone and buy out the nearest store on tissue paper

Barbatos is no longer even bothering to stifle his chuckles while Diavolo buries his face in his arms to hide his shame

To rub salt in the wound, Lucifer tells him a few days later that he set up a miniature greenhouse for MC to grow humanworld herbs in and they've barely left it in the last two days

Lucifer’s been spending most of his free time in the greenhouse with them, helping them tinker with humidity spells and listening to their excited monologues on human gardening techniques

Lucifer is definitely smirking as he tells Diavolo this and Diavolo doesn't bother to ask how Lucifer knew what was going on, because his old friend knows him too well and Diavolo realizes he's not exactly subtle.

What he doesn't realize is that Barbatos is also a dirty dirty snitch and he and Lucifer have been watching over his attempts with a mix of hilarity and pity

5. Desserts

Some might give up, but not Diavolo! His newest ideas is fancy desserts. He was told by a sweet old succubus that the best way to his lover's heart was through the stomach (actually she initially had some far raunchier suggestions that had made Diavolo blush and had given him some ideas for far, FAR in his future relationship with MC, but that's neither here nor there) and so here Diavolo is, placing a giant order at Madame Scream's to be delivered to the HOL.

This time he has learned from his mistakes and he signs it as being from him and addresses it to "MC and the residents of HOL" because even he recognizes there are far too many sweets for a human to eat before they go bad

Barbatos by this point is starting to feel pity and is almost tempted to suggest he wait until it's not Beel's day for Fangol practice to send a giant array of tempting sweets.

Almost. If it weren't for the maid cafe fiasco of last week Barbatos probably would have, but that lace had chafed in areas that should never be chafed.

Diavolo sent his gift only to receive a poorly drawn thank-you card drawn by Beel and signed by everyone at the HOL, including MC, even though "I didn't even get a chance to eat any, BEEL"

This poor man feels his soul leave his body, especially when he returns home from RAD to find Barbatos and MC baking together and singing along to Disney songs (well, MC was singing, Barbatos was simply watching them with a smile and occasionally twisting them into a simple dance to make them laugh and squiggle with joy)

Et tu, Barbatos?

After yesterday's glitter incident, Barbatos has no shame and simply smirks back. He'll help the young lord when he can shower without finding glitter in every crevice.

+1: Tea together

Diavolo is planning his next gift when he gets a message from MC, of all people

His heart flutters, he has butterflies in his stomach, and he hasn't even read it yet!

It's a simple text- "What are you up to?"

Obviously Diavolo can't admit he's shirking paperwork to try and figure out a gift that would make them happy! So he improvises and claims he's working. He gets back a sad face emoji and a simple "Miss you! I feel like we haven't hung out in forever, but I know how busy you are. Good luck, I'm rooting for you!"

SHOT THROUGH THE HEART AND MC IS TO BLAME

This man is dramatically draped over his desk wailing about how cute MC is.

Luckily for him Barbatos has forgiven him for both the maid cafe incident and the glitter incident and Diavolo has been too distracted trying to plan gifts to cause any new chaos

Barbatos hands him a lovely picnic basket, complete with tea and fancy sandwiches, and tells him to go see MC and take a break since he's clearly not getting any work done as is.

Cue guilty glance to the overwhelming stack of paperwork that's been building up. He swears he's never seen Barbatos place more and yet they keep growing, are they breeding somehow...? Did Lucifer curse him after the taffy incident?

Either way, Diavolo takes the basket and heads off to HOL.

He's either very lucky or (more likely) Barbatos bribed Lucifer into helping him out, as MC is the one to answer the door.

They look kind of down until they see him and he explains he's there to spend time with them, and then they absolutely LIGHT UP.

Before he knows it, they've thrown himself into his arms and they're bouncing in excitement and snuggling him and happy flapping and boyo is confused but OVER THE MOON.

He finally did it!?!?! What was it!?!?! The picnic basket? Do they have a thing for picnics baskets!?!?!

And then he actually tunes in a d listens to their flood of chatter and how happy they are to see him and how much they've missed him and how excited and grateful they are they he took time out of his busy schedule to spend time with him and out in the thought to prepare a way for them to spend time in each other's company...

O H

He is M E L T I N G

He can't believe it was this easy.... no need for fancy gifts or anything like that, just... paying attention to their likes and spending time with them????

Holy shit he is gonna protect this human's smile witH HIS LIFE

And now that he understands them better he can buy EXPENSIVE SHIT THEY'LL ACTUALLY LIKE AND HE'LL GET ALL THE HAPPY SNUGGLES AND JOYOUS STIMMING IN THE WORLD!!!!

Yes, he decides, wrapping his arms around them while trying to keep the basket level

Now that he's gotten a taste of their sincere joy, he's hooked and he's going to make them as excited and happy as this as often as he possibly can.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #obey me one master to rule them all #sfw #fluff #bc Dia is just as starved for a friend #gn!mc

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Whisky Secrets (sequel)

Here's something different. Before I ever thought about posting fanfic here, I used to write things inspired by fanfic I found by some of the incredible writers I found on tumblr. I've never posted any of them but I've really felt like writing something for Aleister Black/ Tommy End lately.

So I reached out to one of my original favourites on this site, @ghostofviperwrites and asked her if she'd mind if I published this sequel I wrote to her story Whisky Secrets. She gave me the ok (for which I thank her very much).

You absolutely have to read her piece first or this won't make any sense. It picks up literally at the point where hers leaves off and the entire premise is based on what she wrote. I think this goes in a very different direction than what she had in mind, though.

Since this is an old story, some of the characters are very different than they are now. It was set at around the time I wrote it. Based on events in the story, it's pretty clear when that was.

It's a bit dated but I hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Aleister Black x OFC (hints of Roman Reigns x OFC)

Word count: 7,031

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, language, incidental roughness that some might find stressful

You rested on the sofa for too long, knowing that you had to get to work, that you were already behind on an assignment that was due that afternoon. As much as you desperately wanted to cling to the scent and the feeling of him being there with you and the idea that he might someday want to be there with you for longer, you knew that you were only wasting time by indulging in a fantasy. Once again, you reminded yourself, he saw you as a friend, a landing pad after he was finished his adventures. And so you dragged yourself to the computer and tried to focus.

It was a fluff piece you’d been hired to write: places for new residents of Orlando to meet people. You’d accepted it because the pay was good and it had seemed easy. But what the hell did you know about meeting people? You’d barely met anyone and the only ones that you’d call friends were the ones you met when you’d done an in-depth profile on the WWE and their development territory NXT. Of those, only Aleister had remained close and even then, you couldn’t say that the two of you had ever properly opened up to each other. Nevertheless, you’d stayed in touch with a number of them, occasionally meeting for coffee or drinks. None of this was in any way useful when it came to recommending locations to connect with strangers.

You’d tried to start the article the day before but now when you opened the file, you discovered that you’d only come up with a half a dozen corny titles and one word of text:

When?

The word was too painfully appropriate.

When were you going to run out of luck and be unable to find further work as a journalist?

When were you going to admit that what kept you here, rather than moving to another state and pursuing more secure work, was the fact that you were in love with a man who was only interested in your capacity as a friend and caregiver?

When was your hopeless love going to break you beyond repair?

Annoyed with yourself, you deleted the word and tried to start again. You could meet people at the gym classes that were ubiquitous in this city. You could meet people at get-togethers for shared hobbies like hiking or pottery or basically anything. No one had to meet people by getting thrown into their orbit and being unable to extricate themselves.

About half an hour into your resentful hammering on the keyboard, you were startled by your doorbell. For one sweet instant, you imagined that it was Aleister dropping by to pass some time with you. Then you realized that he never came to you without an invitation unless it was dead drunk in the middle of the night. Even when you invited him, it was only every fourth or fifth time that you asked that he agreed to come over and watch a movie or go for a walk in the nearby park. There was no way it was him at your door at eleven o’clock in the morning.

In fact, the person at your door was Bayley, chipper and warm as always, returning the spare laptop you’d lent her a few weeks before.

“Thank you so much,” she beamed, thrusting the computer into your hands. “You are a lifesaver. I’d have lost my goddamn mind if I hadn’t had this while mine was in the shop.”

“It was nothing,” you insist, smiling at her unconstrained warmth even though you didn’t feel very positive about your life at that moment. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

She nodded cheerily and stepped across the foyer. You never really knew how you fit in with the women of WWE, even though you’d spoken to many of them in depth. Bayley stood out because she was determined to be your friend despite your introvert’s reluctance. And, indeed, she was irresistible. Much like her in-ring character, she cast sunshine wherever she went and her glow was contagious, even in your darkest and lowest moments.

You motioned her into the kitchen, offering her a choice of lemonade, iced tea or water. Her eyes immediately fell on the empty whiskey bottle you’d left on the counter, her expression growing more serious as she focused on it.

“Getting started early?” she cajoled.

“A friend left that here,” you replied guiltily.

She narrowed her dark eyes as she looked at you. Sweet and optimistic as she was, Bayley was not naïve. She knew exactly what friend had left the bottle behind and she knew how you felt about him.

“I’ll have a glass of lemonade,” she said, the smile slowly returning to her face.

You joined her and the two of you jokingly touched glasses before drinking.

“So, a few of us are getting together tonight,” she said hesitantly. “I thought you might like to join us.”

Your first instinct was to ask if Aleister would be there, but you thought better of it. Instead, you responded, “Well, I have an article I need to finish.”

Of course, your article was due by the end of the afternoon, which meant that your evening was free regardless, but part of you wanted to be at home in case Aleister came staggering over again.

Bayley’s jaw set in a determined expression you’d only seen from her in the ring. “We’re having a party for Roman, to celebrate him going into remission.”

Well now you felt like a bit of a bitch for making excuses and didn’t know what to say.

“It won’t just be wrestlers there. Some other journalists are even coming. And I know that it would mean a lot to him if you were there.”

When you’d done your article on the WWE, you’d interviewed Roman Reigns and he’d been incredibly generous with his time. He’d even contacted you after your interviews to confirm that you had all the detail you needed. He was the face of the company and had done everything possible to make sure that the company had provided what you required. He’d clearly wanted to make sure they’d left a good impression and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his PR skills. Although you knew it wasn’t true that it “would mean a lot to him”, you were touched by the idea that he remembered you and might like you to be there to celebrate his great news. At the same time… you needed to be there for Aleister.

“Look,” Bayley insisted, “I’m going to text you the details for the bar where we’ll be. It’s not a big deal, just a bunch of us getting together to be happy for our friend.”

There was no way that you could refuse that, so you shyly thanked her as she gulped the rest of her lemonade and made for the door.

“I’m serious,” she said as she departed. “You work so damn hard you deserve a night off. Finish what you’re doing and come have fun with us.”

As soon as she’d left, you once again sat down at your computer. Before you could return your attention to your work, however, you couldn’t resist checking Instagram.

Someone had tagged Aleister in a photo on Instagram.

Yes, you were that pathetic that you always checked.

With trepidation, you clicked the link to look at what was there. As it too often did, the notification came from an airbrushed-looking woman, her collagen-enhanced lips pressed against his. She looked arrogant and proud, while he looked smug and inebriated.

“Guess who I got to hang with last night?” the caption gloated.

You knew damn well what “hang” was a euphemism for. He never cared that the Barbie dolls he hooked up with advertised their conquest on social media. He was single and hot. Why should he care if people knew that he always scored with the sort of women other men lusted after? Why should he care that it ripped your heart to shreds every time you saw him with another woman so unlike you in every way?

The woman had posted a few other photos of the two of them together, embracing. Every part of her magazine-ready body was on display, save those parts that would have gotten her in trouble. Her artificially perfect breasts were spilling out of a tiny tube top while her endless legs were shown in their full glory between the edge of a skirt that likely required her to trim her pubic hair and the sky high heels that raised her enough to press her lips to his without having to stretch herself awkwardly. She was nothing like you, with your unkempt hair and loose, bohemian dresses, your comfortable ballet flats and blandly natural face. She had all the glamour that you lacked and he ate it up.

The images of the two of them cut into you like a laser and, for once, all you desired was to break free from the pain of feeling. A few minutes later, when Bayley sent the text she’d promised with the details of where you could find the party tonight, you immediately responded.

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

To hell with Aleister and the designer women he adored, you told yourself as you returned to your article with a vengeance. Tonight you were going to do whatever it took to break the spell he had cast over you.

It was just after nine when you found yourself teetering to the entrance of the bar where the party was taking place. It was marked only by a subtle sign, no words, just a stylized anchor, and it was hidden away on a tiny street that was hardly more than an alley. In your fit of pique, you’d finished your article two hours before your deadline and then, having examined the options in your closet and found them wanting, headed out and spent entirely too much money on a new dress that clung perfectly to your breasts before flaring out to highlight the movements of your body, while covering just the bare minimum to maintain decency. You’d also picked up a stylish pair of ankle boots with heels higher than you were used to and that posed a legitimate threat as you made your way down the roughly paved road to the speakeasy-style bar.

A little further down the alley, you see a couple leaning against a car, taking turns swigging from a liquor bottle. The woman is one of those glamorous animals that makes you so insecure, laughing in drunken delight in a way that only confident people can. In one quick movement the man spins her around and bends her over the hood of the car. He immediately takes out his cock, stroking it a couple of times before he thrusts into her, one hand on her back while the other holds the bottle that he continues drinking from. And it’s a moment before you realize that it’s Aleister, fucking away at a woman whose name he won’t remember in a few hours.

The sight makes you want to curl up and die, makes you want to say that you’ve made a mistake and run along home so you can bawl your eyes out while you wait for his inevitable drunken arrival. But, if nothing else, the damage that you’ve done to your credit card in order to make yourself look just a bit more sexy and edgy than usual, as well as the glasses of wine you had already consumed to fortify your courage, push you forward. This is a test. In order to pass, you need to be able to ignore the man whose indifference is killing you and enter the world of others, where someone who wasn’t up to the standards of the rarified model girls might be willing to give you a second look.

Aleister doesn’t even glance up as you enter the bar a few feet away from him, can’t feel the dark weight of your eyes on him or the force with which you tear them away as you step through the door.

As soon as you do, you are once again frozen with the idea that you’ve made a mistake. When Bayley characterized this as a “get-together”, you’d assumed it meant a group of people spread out around a few tables chatting away and toasting Roman’s health. Instead, what greets you is a basement club full of people with a dance floor alive with writhing bodies. You recognize a few journalists but for the most part, the space is taken up with every WWE and NXT star you’ve ever heard of. It’s a convention of beautiful people and you can’t help but feel dowdy even in your overpriced finery.

You slowly descend the stairs, fully intending to look around, say hello to a few familiar faces and then bolt for the exit, but you’re immediately greeted by a familiar voice that fairly shrieks. “Oh my god woman, just look at you!”

It’s Sasha Banks, standing at the edge of the stairs with Bayley, who gives you an exaggerated round of applause.

“Miranda, you look amazing,” Sasha continues breathlessly. “Seriously, you’re putting everyone to shame.”

You don’t feel like you’re putting anyone to shame, least of all Sasha in her body suit that hugs every curve of her perfect little hourglass, but you blush at the compliment.

“Come on,” Bayley gushes, “we need shots to celebrate your hotness!”

She pulls both of you through the crowd to the bar and somehow is able to get the bartender’s attention almost immediately, ordering two rounds of tequila shots because, she tells you and Sasha, there’s no point in getting just one round when you know you’re going back for seconds. The three of you toast and toss down the shots and then immediately do so again and you have to admit that you’re feeling the warm glow already. Sasha, apparently feeling something herself, wraps her arms around you and once again reassures you that you are devastatingly beautiful.

Another shot is thrust into your hand, this time by Dash Wilder, who’s arrived with his Revival partner Scott Dawson. Wilder has always been attractive to you, so you give him as radiant a smile as you can manage and you swear he blushes a little just before he downs his shot. Dawson is hugging Sasha and Bayley close to him, allowing Dash to edge a little closer to you and you’re feeling a little high on yourself when another voice cuts through your circle.

“Miranda? Holy fuck I can’t believe you’re here!”

Roman Reigns pushes right through the bodies close to the bar and grabs you firmly by the shoulders, his eyes gradually focusing on yours. He’s grinning with an intensity that clearly comes from his being a little past feeling no pain but it doesn’t hamper the thrill it gives you when he wraps his arms around you and nearly crushes you in a hug.

“I mean, shit, I don’t think I’ve even talked to you since you did that interview,” he pouts. “Thank you so much for coming.”

You smile as another shot is pushed into your hand, biting your lip self-consciously. You down about half the shot before Roman grabs it from you and finishes it, breaking up with laughter. He signals the bartender for another round, keeping an arm around your back until the tray of shots arrives. You’re all toasting each other and you wonder why you ever questioned yourself for coming here because this is exactly what you needed.

“Come dance with me,” Roman chuckles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the dance floor. He’s clearly floating on a sea of drunken bliss, goofing around and happy to have someone to have fun with, someone he didn’t expect to be there. Even if you wanted to resist his offer, you couldn’t because, while he isn’t doing anything that might hurt you, his grip is strong enough and the rest of him powerful enough to compel you forward.

The two of you deliberately dance like complete nerds in high school, awkward movements and ironic posturing until you’re both laughing so hard you can barely stand. It’s then that you realize that you’ve become the focus of some attention; Roman goddamn Reigns, the face of the company, the locker room leader, the man who everyone has come to celebrate, is dancing with you. Most of the people here have no idea who you are but because you’re with Roman, you are somebody. Basking in the subtle attention and envy, you close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the music, swaying to the beat until you feel a large pair of hands on your hips.

You open your eyes to see Roman pulling you closer to him with a devilish grin before spinning you around and pulling your back against his massive chest. You continue to move but at a slower pace, your movements limited by how close he’s holding you and the sensual way in which his body moves against yours. Keeping one arm loosely around you, he lets his other hand fall against your thigh, lightly playing with the hem of your dress. It makes you gasp.

“You never responded to any of my texts,” he murmurs gruffly in your ear.

You remember at least half a dozen messages asking if he could clarify anything or if you needed any additional material for your article. You hadn’t needed anything else but you suddenly feel terribly rude for not answering.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “you were very professional and I should have at least told you that I had what I needed.”

His voice drops even lower as he speaks. “I didn’t mean to be professional about them. And I was hoping that you didn’t have everything you needed.”

He pulls you up and firmly against him and for the first time you can feel his hardening cock through his pants. You can’t help but thrust your hips into him, barely able to process what’s happening to you. The two of you are still ostensibly dancing, although it’s more like a rhythmic grinding to the music as he reaches down and pulls the hem of your dress up, rubbing your thigh and then your ass as he presses his lips into your neck. His hands are everywhere on you and you’re aware that your entire lower body is basically on display for anyone who cares to look but you don’t care because it feels like you’ve won the lottery. You moan at the feeling of his growing excitement against your flesh, both his large hands grazing up the front of your thighs and for a moment you think that you’re ready to beg him to take you right there when you’re violently spun away from your dance partner, a bruising grip on your arm.

It’s Aleister, eyes incandescent with rage as he tells Roman, “I need to speak to her for a minute.”

Roman looks confused and tries to speak to you but Aleister drags you away and a gaggle of women immediately descend on Roman, desperate to take your place.

Aleister flings you against the wall, glaring at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen outside the ring.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“I was dancing before you interfered,” you snap back at him, rubbing your arm.

“Dancing?” he repeats with derision. “That’s what you call that?”

“I was having fun.”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

For the first time since you saw him with his woman of choice outside, you feel ridiculous, like a girl trying to look glamorous by donning her mother’s clothes.

“I wanted something a little different.”

“A little?” he hisses back. “Do you realize what you look like? You’re all tarted up and letting some guy grab at you and get you half naked in front of a bar full of people.”

“What I look like?”

“Everyone could see practically your whole goddamned body. They could see what you were letting him do to you.”

“You mean to say I look like a whore.”

Aleister crosses his arms and glances away, refusing to confirm what you’ve said.

“So what, Aleister? So what if I’m letting a man touch me and show me that he wants me? Who cares who else sees? Maybe that’s what I want!”

“Are you so stupid that you think he wants you for anything other than a one night stand?”

The accusation stabs at your heart and your confidence but you’re determined not to let him see that.

“Again, so what? Maybe I’m happy to have this big, gorgeous man want me. Maybe I’m fine bringing him back to my place for a few hours of fun because at least it means someone is thinking of me as a sexual being for a change.” You pause, knowing the danger of what you’re about to say but unable to stop yourself. “Maybe I’d be fine if he just took me outside and fucked me over the hood of a car.”

For a second, you think that Aleister is going to strangle you. The look on his face is like the moment before the sky erupts in thunder and lightning. Truthfully, you expect that he’ll turn on his heel and walk away from you and never come back, and perhaps that’s what you need him to do so that you can get over him.

Instead, he grabs you, pinning you to the side of his body and pulling you towards the door. His movements make you stumble, and the more you try to resist him, the more ungainly you look.

“She’s dead drunk,” you hear him assure a few people, “I’m going to make sure she gets home.”

And while it’s true that you are drunk, you’re not nearly as drunk as he’s making you out to be. The second he has you outside, you try to twist away from him and go back, only for him to wind you closer, pulling you off balance so that you look even more inebriated.

You hear him whisper to Seth Rollins, who’s observing the spectacle through the corner of his eyes. “Look, tell Roman that she’s falling down drunk and I just had to get her home. No disrespect meant.”

Seth has a confused expression on his face but nods and tells him, “Sure thing.”

Realizing what Aleister is doing, you once again try to rush past him, but he blocks you, gripping your arm and pulling you after him so that you really do appear pathetically unable to take care of yourself.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” you shout at him, figuring that there’s no reason to worry about who might hear you, there being no further you can sink in their estimation. “Why can’t you just let me enjoy myself?”

“Jesus, Miranda, you’re loaded. You can barely stand up.” He emphasizes this by jerking your arm forward, which almost causes you to keel over onto your face. “You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“No,” you insist, pulling yourself to a halt. “I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. Sure I’m a bit tipsy but-“

“You don’t want that,” Alesiter snaps, threading his arm through yours and continuing down the street. “You don’t just want to whore yourself out for a night because you think it might help your self-esteem.”

“You don’t get to decide what I want, Aleister.” You’re crushed against his side and he’s moving so quickly that your feet only graze the ground every third or fourth step. “Let me go. I’m sick of playing the surrogate mother for someone who’s incapable of seeing me as a real woman. I want to go back there. I want to have someone make a show of wanting me. I want to get fucked so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Aleister shakes his head like a parent frustrated with a misbehaving child. “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

“So let me be ridiculous!” you yell back, trying unsuccessfully to extricate yourself from his grip. “What the hell is it to you? Are you worried that for once I’m not going to be there when you need a place to collapse at four in the morning?”

The two of you reach the corner where the alley meets the street and he swings you to face him, glowering at you with a terrifying expression, gripping your biceps so hard you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. He says nothing but stares at you until he whips his arm out and hails a taxi seemingly out of nowhere.

He launches you, there’s no other word for it, into the back seat of the car and snarls your address to the driver as your tears start to fall. The cabbie is noticeably uncomfortable with your quiet whimpering and seems confused by the fact that Aleister does nothing to comfort or engage you. He sits with his arms folded, scowling, until you arrive at your building. Reflexively, you reach for your purse only to have Aleister swat your hand away and pay the driver himself. You try to keep pace as he yanks you towards the door, but stumble because of your unsure footing in these strange heels and because your vision is glazed by the tears you’re fighting to hold in.

When Aleister pins you against the door and rummages through your purse to find your keys, it somehow feels more invasive than Roman gripping your ass for an entire bar full of people to see. You feel, for a moment, that he is looking at you with tenderness. But when the door opens, he simply guides you through it. As you hear it click shut, the last of your strength, physical and emotional, gives out and you drop to your knees, finally allowing the tears to fall. It’s a full-on ugly cry, punctuated by guttural, anguished sounds you’d never allow anyone else to hear. Despite everything, you desperately want to hear the door open again behind you and to hear him say that he’s realized he loves you.

But no, in the end, he’s just found it gross that the woman he sees as his caregiver might have another side. He found you pathetic in your overpriced dress and shoes. He knew that you were desperately trying to act like something you could never be: like someone who could compete with the perfected Instagram beauties he fucks every night. You could never be that. He knew that you were just a sad little woman decked out in a gaudy outfit. You’d never be that sexy, desirable person who stopped men dead in their tracks, no matter what your dance with Roman had temporarily led you to believe.

You’re on your knees for what seems like hours, choking on tears and snot and trying to restrain yourself from howling. Just as the sound overpowers you and a low wail escapes your lips, you’re startled by a pair of arms, familiar, tattooed arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

“Shh. There’s no need for any of that,” he grunts into your hair.

And while you’re shocked and thrilled that he actually stayed behind to make sure that you were ok, it’s also even more humiliating that he’s seen you fall apart so spectacularly. Your body feels limp with defeat and unable to react at all as he gathers you up and carries you into your bedroom, setting you gently on the edge of the bed. He rests his hand on yours for a moment and you’re able to stem the flow of tears until he stands up and heads back towards the door. This time, you’re determined to hold in the worst of your misery until you’re sure he’s gone, even though you can’t stop the tears from running down your face.

But after a few minutes of straining to hear the door close, you see Aleister return, a damp washcloth in hand, and he sits once again beside you on the edge of the bed. He presses the cloth, cool and soothing, against your cheeks and then holds your chin as he delicately wipes it across your face. It takes you some minutes to realize that he’s removing your smeared makeup, cleaning you off so that you look good as new, so that you look more like the plain girl who lets him into her home in the middle of the night, his touch filled with a tenderness that you never imagined him capable of. When he’s satisfied with his work, he tosses the cloth aside and wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against him. The sweetness of his friendly gesture makes you want to cry all over again but you choke it back, knowing that you’ll have plenty of time for that when he’s gone.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he whispers, the sound of his voice making you feel weak.

You nod and roughly pull back from him, unsure of your ability to stop yourself from throwing yourself at him and begging him to wreck you. You fumble with the zipper of your boots until Aleister slides off the bed and onto his knees and removes it for you. He glides his hand along your calf, up to your thigh and then moves to your other boot. As he slides it off, he presses his head against the side of your knee, giving the skin a light kiss before rocking back on his haunches. You know he’s being gentle with you because he feels sorry for you. He finds you pitiful, which is even worse than finding you asexual.

The feelings are too much for you to take and all you can think of is that you want to get into bed where you’ll be safe and where you can sleep off the nightmare your evening out has become. You clumsily shed your dress, stockings, bra and panties without thinking much of the fact that you have an audience. Why should it bother him seeing you naked, after all? Normally, you put on some nightclothes but you don’t even have the strength to bother. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Aleister has turned his head towards the door. He’s embarrassed for you, the way you would be if a parent or sibling was undressing around you.

You crawl under the covers with a grumbled “good night” and immediately start to feel yourself drift off. You’re jolted back to wakefulness when Aleister climbs in beside you. In all the time you’ve known him, as many nights as he’s come and collapsed on your sofa, you don’t think he’s ever seen your bedroom. Now, having seen it, he’s apparently happy not to leave it, indulging in the comfort of your bed without even asking permission. It makes you a little self-conscious that you’re nude but it’s hardly the most humiliating thing to happen to you tonight, so you let yourself ignore it. If you can just fall asleep, this night will be over and you can begin the process of trying to forget it.

It’s only a matter of seconds, though, until you feel his body pressed against yours from behind, one hand coming to rest flat on your stomach and pushing you back against him so that you are acutely aware that you are not the only person naked in the bed. The hand on your stomach flutters downward until his fingers are moving lightly over your pussy, like he’s plucking the strings of a harp. His other arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you flush against him, close enough that you can’t mistake the feeling of his erection against your back.

He presses his lips and tongue against your neck, making you whimper as you try to keep your heart rate stable. Your little noises seem to motivate him further, his touch becoming more insistent and one of his legs snaking over yours, pulling it back to give his hand greater access.

“Such a little fool,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking insistently along your fleshy folds. “Thinking I don’t see you as a sexual being.”

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you cry out- more from the shock than the pain. His mouth continues to move around your neck and shoulders, nipping and sucking on the skin there, his grip on you tightening until it’s nearly painful.

“What are you doing?” you manage to ask.

“Leaving marks,” he says matter-of-factly.

You’re at a loss for what to say, but are saved from having to answer as he pushes two fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. You’re embarrassed that he must have felt how wet you were just from being in his presence but he says nothing, quickening his pace and giving satisfied little growls when his touch elicits gasps and cries of pleasure from you.

It’s pity, you remind yourself; what he’s doing to you, he’s doing it because he feels sorry for you and because he’s drunk and horny despite his encounter earlier in the evening. But the thought gets whisked away as he brings you closer and closer to what you’ve desperately needed from him for so long. You let out a little shriek when he removes his hand, unable to believe he’s so cruel as to bring you to the precipice and then deny you. But he simply flips you onto your back before pressing his fingers inside you once more, watching your reactions to be sure he’s hitting just the right spot before burying his face between your legs. His tongue, lips and fingers work together like an orchestra. Your knuckles are white from the force of clenching on the sheets and you’re biting down so hard on your lip to muffle the sounds you’re making that you’re worried your teeth will end up permanently embedded. He unexpectedly raises his head and stills the movement of his hand inside you and the shock is almost enough to make you start crying again. You look down at him, his eyes sparkling in the low light with an expression you can’t read.

“Why won’t you let me hear you?”

Because you don’t want him to know how good his merciful little gesture is making you feel. Because you don’t want to admit to yourself that it’s better than you’d imagined. Truthfully, whenever you’ve thought about the mechanics of sex with Aleister, you imagined that it would be fast and rough and hedonistic, much like his other sexual encounters seem to be. But he’s chosen this moment to take his time, to focus on his partner, rather than go for a quick, dirty fuck in a darkened corner.

You don’t tell him any of this, instead croaking out, “I’m shy.”

He raises himself up and over your body with the effortless grace of a serpent, pressing his head close to yours and kissing along your jawline.

“What do I have to do to make you not be shy?”

“I don’t know… I just… am.” You wriggle a little under him, turning your face away when he looks directly into your eyes.

He cups your face in one hand and runs the other, still wet with your juices, over your breast, teasing the nipple and making you shudder involuntarily.

“Am I moving too fast?”

You shake your head, not quite trusting your voice.

“Is there something that you’d enjoy more? Something you want me to do for you?”

You give him another little shake of the head.

“You don’t have to be shy with me. Whatever you want, I want you to tell me so I can give it to you. Anything.”

For the first time, he kisses you on the lips, his tongue, that still tastes of you, slides against yours and the hand at the side of your face slides to hold your neck, cradling your head so that you don’t have to tense any muscles to stay in that position. Your body has nothing it needs to do but experience the sensations he’s creating. Of course, you still answer his kiss, hungrily flashing your tongue against his, reveling in the light scrape of his lip ring against your lips. His hand glides back down between your legs, and even the proximity is enough to draw a couple of little mewls of pleasure. You feel him smile a little against your lips at the noises and he pulls away from the kiss.

“Am I making you feel good?”

You nod as he starts to work his fingers around your entrance once again.

“Do you want my mouth down there again?”

You nod even more vigorously than the first time but he shakes his head.

“Tell me. Say it out loud.”

You open your mouth to do so and he immediately thrusts his long fingers into your g-spot and your clit at once, making you yelp in pleasure. It’s almost enough to make you cum on its own but he eases the pressure before you reach that peak.

“Yes?” he asks again.

“Yes, fuck, yes!”

“Then let me hear you. Please.”

He returns his attention to your core and has you making all manner of unholy noises in short order. He expertly teases you and then holds back, so many times that when he does finally take you over the edge, you feel like you might pass out from the intensity of it. Your gasps for breath sound cavernous in the quiet room.

He keeps the palm of his hand firmly against you as he leans forward and presses his lips into your neck, letting out a satisfied purr every time an aftershock rolls through your body.

When he’s satisfied that you’ve fully come down, he raises himself up on his arms, giving just the hint of a smile when you grab onto his biceps to steady yourself.

He’s so rigid that he doesn’t even need a hand to guide himself into you. He simply presses forward in one slow but sure moment, his eyes closed as if it’s a kind of religious experience, not opening them until he’s fully seated inside you. It’s been long enough since you’ve been with anyone that the feeling of being stretched draws a little whimper from your throat. He remains still, his eyes open and bearing down on you with a delirious kind of excitement, aching prick twitching inside you, desperate to proceed but waiting for a signal that he can.

And it’s at that moment that you allow yourself to think that this isn’t pity or a drunken mistake, that he’s as hungry for you as you have been for him and that what’s happened tonight has just served to connect a circuit. The fiercely possessive look in his eyes as he watches you, the fury when he thought someone else was claiming you, the need to mark you to make you his, the flush of pure lust on his face and chest… it is just a little frightening, something you suspected was in him but never that it was focused on you. But you’ve always known you could handle his darkness if he let you in. So you thrust your hips a little and wrap your legs loosely around his waist to show him that he can continue. Just as he starts to move, he cups your face and presses his mouth to your ear.

“You deserve so much better.”

“Stop trying to make those decisions for me,” you moan, feeling your insides flutter with his movements.

“I’ve never felt anything like that jealousy.” He’s staring into your eyes as he confesses. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder pressing deeper inside you and gasping at the feeling. “Knowing that everyone could see how sexy and beautiful you are… And I’m an idiot for waiting for that to happen before I did anything, I just…”

He grimaces and slows his pace a little, obviously trying to prolong the sensation.

“You mean it?” You have to ask because you still can’t quite believe that this has been on his mind for all this time when he’s shown no sign of it to you.

“God yes,” he answers through gritted teeth, once again allowing himself to move faster and more urgently.

You can’t completely banish your fears that he’s going to regret this in the morning and just shut you out again but every second with him is pushing them further away. You lace your fingers through his hair, nipping at the shell of his ear as he lets out his own stream of desperate, lusty noises, running your nails gently down his back as he approaches his crescendo.

His head drops to your chest and he cries out as he releases inside you.

“Fuck I love you, fuck I love you, fuck I love you.” He repeats it like a mantra that brings him back down from his high, saying it a final time as he looks into your eyes.

Slowly, he rolls onto his side, gathering you close to him like he thinks an errant breeze might carry you away.

“I have…” he begins quietly, “… there’s a lot that goes on in my head… Bad things, I guess. I thought you’d run away. Or that I’d pull you down with me. I still don’t know that won’t happen.”

He looks so vulnerable that it makes your heart hurt but at the same time you have to stifle a smile.

“Well I’d rather you let me try to deal with it. I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for being.”

His expression grows a little guilty and he nods. He wraps his arms tighter around you and you do the same until the two of you are lying in your bed, wound around each other.

#aleister black fanfic #aleister black fan fiction #aleister black imagine #tommy end imagine #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #wayward wrestle writing #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction

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victoria-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter One: The Queen of Hearts

AN: At first, I was going to delete this story because it wasn’t gaining any traction, which was disappointing, but as the days passed the notes started coming in I decided to keep it posted. Thank you to everyone that’s read this fic so far.

Trigger Warnings: subtle racism

Word Count: 4.6k

Chapter Two: Division X

The car journey was slow and tedious, it had only been three hours since the three of us had set off. I was dozing off in the back seat cocooned in my tan wool coat as my head used the window as a pillow, listening to Charles and Erik talk softly amongst themselves, they must have thought I was fully asleep.

"Why recruit an empath?" Erik asked curiously. "Why not recruit someone with a more destructive power?"

"You forget Claudia is also telekinetic," Charles answered. "I mean did you see her? When she lifted that knife, her eyes, it was as if they were glowing. It was beautiful to look at!" Charles exclaimed, and I could envision a brilliant smile on his face.

"You find her attractive, don't you?" Erik asked, almost amused. "I'm sure Agent MacTaggert will understand," Erik continued, still in a teasing tone.

Charles chuckled delightfully, "I'm not going to comment on that," Charles stated, clearing his throat and changing the topic. "But do not discount her empathy as not a destructive gift, that particular ability can enhance her mind and body to be nearly superhuman if she wished it to do so, along with projecting her emotions to other people. Empathy can be extremely dangerous,"

"Do you think she has used it in a dangerous way?" Erik questioned. Erik's question hung in the air for a while. "Charles?" he prompted.

"There is danger within her," Charles answered softly.

His voice, hazy as the air in summertime, seemed to come from somewhere outside of himself. The two of them were silent then, knowing and sharing this sudden, troubling observation. Just as my eyes felt heavy and I felt myself drifting into a peaceful sleep when Erik's voice startled me.

"Charles, do you really think that this is a good idea?"

"Erik, if I didn't have faith in how powerful her abilities are then I never would have allowed her to get mixed up in this in the first place," Charles assured.

"And just how powerful are her abilities, Charles? I feel like there's something you're hiding. What more can she do?"

"She's more powerful than even she knows. You've only sampled a small amount of the power she possesses. But I think that she's holding back what she can do, so until she tells us, we'll have to wait,"

My mind became fuzzy and I soon drifted off into total and calm oblivion.

~~~x~~~

When I woke up, my head was still resting on the window. I lifted my head from my makeshift pillow and saw Erik looking at me, through the rear view mirror, with a mixture of emotions that I didn't recognize. I shifted slightly and sat up slowly, my limbs groaning in protest. It was now early afternoon, as we made the drive to the CIA headquarters.

My eyes shifted between the back of Erik's seat and the back of Charles seat every few minutes. Charles looked at the mirror, shifting his eyes slightly so he can still see the road and keep eye contact with me.

"So Claudia," he began in attempt to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen on the car now that I was awake. "What did you do at your job?" Charles asked politely.

My eye twitched as I stared at the mirror, "Clearly, I was in maintenance," I retorted sleep still heavy in my voice, as I gestured at my dress underneath my coat.

Erik's eyes moved from the passenger side window back to the mirror, looking at me, "Sarcasm won't be the best way to pass time," he turned his attention back to the road.

We sit in a tense silence, I never was one for small talk. I just left my home and job only a few hours ago to help two strangers I just met. They worked for the government, which raised my suspicion, but the fact that they knew how to find me so easily and knew what I could do was unnerving. I believe that I deserved to be left alone with my thoughts, this was a lot for me.

After a few minutes of more tense silence I spoke up again, "Psychologist," I answered, causing the two men to look back at me. "I was a psychologist's assistant, I only have my bachelor's degree," I explained.

It was the perfect cover, I gave mental support to patients and their families. No one really knew what I was and what I could do if I was given the chance. Secretly, I always hoped something would happen that'd make me use my powers for a cause bigger than myself.

Charles smiled at me, "Where did you attend college?"

My voice turned monotone, "Howard University, but you probably already knew that and my whole life story," I remarked.

"Contrary to your belief, I am not one to betray someone's trust. You asked me to stay out of your head, so until I have your permission, I won't reach out for you telepathically," Charles looked at the rear view mirror again, catching my eyes again.

Regret flashed in my eyes as I dropped my gaze, playing with my hands, "My apologies,"

"There's no need to apologize to me, Claudia,"

I cleared my throat, feeling uncomfortable, I glanced out the window, "Where are we?" I asked, changing the subject.

"We're coming up to the headquarters now," Charles answered, gesturing to the large building looming up ahead of us.

I looked out of the window to see the headquarters. It was made up of one huge tan stone building surrounded by acres of clean, green fields and deciduous trees, with a rather odd looking satellite to the left of it that looked like a large golf ball atop of a tee. It was quite remarkable and imposing, but also very conspicuous.

"I would have thought that it would be more camouflaged, being a government building and all," I quipped, and Erik let out a light chuckle.

The car came to a gradual stop before we pulled up to the curb and we all stepped out of the car.

"Home sweet home," Erik noted dryly.

The air had turned cold and bitter and I shrugged my coat closer to me in an attempt to keep warm, before I grabbed my suit case out of the black car. Charles, Erik, and I had gone back to my apartment after I was recruited to gather my clothes and valuables into my suitcase. I smiled inwardly thinking back on how Erik ordered me to hurry up and pack my belongings and I did just the exact opposite just to piss him off.

"I thought I told you to make it quick," Erik grumbled, trying to steer me out of my own apartment.

"You did. I just didn't listen," I answered simply, before latching onto Charles' arm, and he guided me out the apartment.

"Claudia, Erik. Please. Do try to get on. We have a six hour car journey ahead of us and I don't think that my sanity will be able to stand you two bickering for that length of time," Charles groaned.

"My, my, is he always like that?" I asked, looking over my shoulder with a wry grin and Erik just glared at me.

"Erik?"

"Who else?" I retorted, rolling my eyes. "Is he always so hostile towards people?"

"I would say not trusting in your case, my dear," Charles corrected. "Just give him time and he will come around, probably not entirely, but I trust he will not try to kill you," Charles stated sending me a reassuring smile, that I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow to.

"I'd like to see him try,"

It was starting to become fun, arguing with Erik. He had a quick wit, not unlike myself. We could keep up with each other. Shaking my head out of my daze, I closed the car door. Charles came up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder and slowly guided me towards the front door.

"Now Claudia, there are six more people here just like us. You will meet them shortly," Charles informed, as I walked beside him with suitcase in hand.

"Ah, Charles, Erik, welcome back. I see you have brought one more recruit," A large, more plump man greeted us, sporting a black suit, wore square glasses, and had jet black hair. "Welcome to my facility, the CIA's new Mutant Division," he welcomed as I looked on impressed. He extended his hand out to me, I was shocked by the gesture. "I'm Agent Platt, and I promise you I'm on your side,"

"Claudia Walker," I greeted back smiling while giving his hand a firm shake. "And by that I hope you mean you support us, because you aren't a mutant," I hinted, my smile never wavered. Agent Platt raised his eyebrows, glancing to Charles uncomfortably. "I'm an empath Mr. Platt. I might not know what you're thinking, but rest assured I know what you're feeling," the man smiled, his cheeks scrunching up.

"Well, anyway, let's introduce you to your new partners, Claudia. You'll be with them for a...long while, so might as well get acquainted," Agent Platt stated.

"We are actually are on their way Agent Platt," Charles informed, shoving his hands in pocket. "We got it from here," Charles stated.

Mr. Platt nodded, "It was nice meeting you, Claudia," I gave small wave and the man twisted around and walked away from us.

As we moved around the halls, which were full of CIA agents, some of them had stopped in their tracks, watching as the three of us made our way through. Some had disgusted looks on their faces, like they had smelled something awful. Others had smirks plastered on their face, and I could see it in their eyes that they were working on plans on how to make my life miserable. It wouldn't be hard, those stares were enough to make me feel uncomfortable.

Charles and Erik seemingly ignored the stares and both pointed out places. It had already become easy to tell who really was fully into this, and that was Charles. As we moved into the laboratories, he lit up with explaining ideas of mutations in genes and all sort of things that revolved around an expansion of the human race. His hope for this new sort of combined world was almost infectious. And then there was Erik, the gruffer of the two who just sort of nodded along, ignoring the mutations speeches, but pointed of the more relevant things like the bathroom and kitchen. Both had their positives and negatives, and you could tell that they were good friends that filled in what the other was lacking a bit.

"Here is where you'll be staying," Charles pushed open the door to the small simple room. "All of us are staying in this hallway. Welcome to your new home Claudia," I looked at Charles smile and internally shake my head.

This was hardly my home. All it was was a big, white, cold building that stuck out like a neon flashing light. It might as well say "Mutants helping the CIA are here. Come check them out!"

I opened my mouth to voice my opinion, but changed my mind, "Thanks," I smiled to him as I stepped in and put my bag on the bed.

"Do you mind if I change. Sleeping and sitting in this dress for six hours was incredibly uncomfortable," I explained.

"Of course, we'll be right outside the door," Charles replied, and he left the room.

My eyes scanned over the room once more, my bedroom looked like a stereotypical military barrack. Grey walls, grey prickly carpet, grey, bland itchy bed covers, a lumpy mattress, standard chest of drawers and a small desk with a small desk lamp. No personality. At. All. It was definitely going to need a change, because this would not do.

"Alright," I shrugged and turned to unpack my suitcase. Flipping it open I started pulling out my perfectly folded clothing and shoes. It was then as I started stooped down and lined my shoes up along the end of my bed that I realized Erik was still there, because he started chuckling.

"Can I help you, Chuckles?" I questioned, glancing back up at him.

"Nope, just wondering where the crack is in that perfect exterior you've built," he shrugged. "I mean, from what I've seen, all of us have one," he reasoned and I knew that he wasn't just talking of the human race, but specifically mutants.

"You tell me yours and I'll possibly tell you mine," I smirked as he raised an eyebrow to me and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms.

"I'm a survivor of the Holocaust," he replied with a look that silently tested me to freak out or something with this information.

This man wanted a reaction and I wasn't going to give it to him.

"That's one enormous crack," I turned back to him unconsciously rubbing my wrist, a motion that Erik did not miss as he raised a curious eyebrow.

"You're telling me," he replied dryly. "So...come on. You've got the Miss Perfect act down to a 'T', so where is it?" Erik asked, his eyes scanning over me.

"I don't if I should say now, yours would trump mine any day," I explained, as I ran my hand down my neck uncomfortably. I cleared my throat hoping to dispel the suffocating atmosphere that was closing in on me. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to change," I reminded, and Erik shot annoyed glance and grunted, before leaving the room.

I turned back to my suitcase and searched through my clothes to change into some more comfortable clothing. After finally deciding on what to wear I had changed into a pair of black cropped pants, flats, and a red turtleneck sweater. I walked out of my room, to see Erik and Charles waiting next to my door.

"Did you get lost in there?" Erik asked irritatedly.

"No. Beauty takes time, didn't you know?" I retorted, and Erik rolled his eyes. "Now, where are the other mutants, Charles?" I asked, focusing my gaze on Charles now.

"Follow me," Charles said, extending his arm out.

We had taken several corridors before finally coming to the room where the others were being kept. I grimaced at my thoughts, I made them sound like caged animals.

Charles stopped at the doors and turned to me, "Can you make sure they don't get into too much trouble? Charles requested.

I nodded slightly curious to see who I'm working with, "I'll be sure to," I answered.

As we stood in front of the door I took a moment to compose myself. I smoothed out the wrinkles in my pants and made sure my hair was in place though it was loose, I wanted make sure it wasn't all over the place. After all, first impressions were everything.

Charles pushed open the double doors and walked in. Erik followed with me in tow. I looked around the room. It was quite large with chairs and tables, couches in the middle and a fish tank against a wall. Two large windows were on either side of the room and it looked out towards the grounds.

"Everyone, I would like you to meet our final recruit,"

I then noticed the other people in the room. They were all younger than me, and staring at me.

"This is Claudia Walker and I hope you treat her well. Now if you would excuse Erik and I, we have some matters to discuss," he announced.

My head snapped up and glared at Charles' retreating form. I lifted my barrier slightly.

"Feed me to the dogs why don't you,"

Charles left with a laugh and several confused glances before he and Erik were finally out of the room. A stunning blonde ran up to me, pulling me into a tight embrace. I stepped back a little startled. Admittedly, I enjoyed being wrapped in her arms, it had been a long time since I last had a friend.

"I'm Raven, Charles' sister," she introduced, pulling away.

"I didn't know he had one," I replied, letting out a laugh.

"Well, he's barely here anymore to talk," Raven sighed, and then flashed me a fake smile. "Anyway, come and meet the others!" Her faux smile turned into a grin as she dragged me to the sofa. "Okay, this is Armando, but he prefers to be called Darwin," Raven started, nodding towards a slim, dark skinned man, clearly the oldest of the group of teens. "Angel," she named, nodding at a beautiful, tan skinned girl, with pitch black hair, and sultry, dark brown eyes. "Sean," my eyes moving to Sean, a pale, ginger, and rather lanky boy.

Sean stood up and took my hand, kissing it, "Sean Cassidy. Sixteen years old, I like fish, and pretty girls with black hair," he hinted. Raven and I exchanged amused looks that said, "Is he serious?"

"Teenage boys and their hormones. It's like being back in high school," I thought.

A muscular, blond boy pulled Sean back into his seat by his shirt, "Alright Casanova," he said dryly, and a laugh escaped me. "Get over it, man. She's out of your league, and probably older than you," the blond boy did a double take, his hand still fisted in Sean's shirt, "Wait, how old are you?" he questioned.

"Twenty-two," I answered.

"Six years older, man," the blond boy pointed to Sean before letting him go.

"I can take older women!" Sean protested.

The boy rolled his eyes and turned to me, "Excuse Ginger's-"

"Hey!" Sean interjected.

"Sad and obvious excuse to get you in a closet, a date, or in his bed...but I'm Alex. Alex Summers," he introduced, a smile forming on his face.

"And finally, Hank," Raven continued, motioning to the last guy left, clearly the nerd of the group, with his glasses and dorky jumper.

Hank reached out a hand, that I briefly shook, knowing it made Raven uncomfortable. She clearly liked him, it wasn't that I couldn't see where she was coming from. He was cute in a way, but just not my type.

"Now we're government agents, we should have code names," Raven suggested. "I want to be called Mystique," she announced, clearly having previously thought about it.

"Damn! I wanted to be called Mystique," Sean protested, faking disappointment. I couldn't help but chuckle and shake my head.

"Well, tough I called it," Raven laughed.

In seconds, blue scales trickled down her body before feathering into a perfect replica of Sean. Sean was taken aback, nearly spilling his drink. After the initial shocked faded, Sean began to study himself. We couldn't help but gape, it was truly amazing.

"Besides, I'm way more mysterious than you," Raven added, everyone broke into laughter, giving Raven a round of applause, as Sean turned back into a rather bashful Raven.

"Darwin, what about you?" Raven asked, taking her applause modestly.

"Well Darwin is already a nickname and it kind of fits," he nodded at us. "Adapt to survive an' all. Check this out,"

Darwin strode over to the fish tank, I couldn't help but wonder what he was about to do. He dunked his head into to the water of the fish tank, we didn't even have to blink before newly formed gills appeared on his face. We began to cheer, as he opened his mouth, impersonating a fish. The gills disappeared as he took his head out of the tank, shaking off the water, before signalling to Sean.

"What about you?" he inquired.

Sean pressed his hands together, taking a moment to decide.

"I'm going to be...Banshee," Sean decided.

I was about to open my mouth to speak before I was interrupted by Hank.

"Why do you want to be named after a wailing spirit?" he wondered, taking the words straight from my lips, I nodded in agreement.

"You might wanna cover your ears," Sean warned, getting up from his chair, revealing his full height, winking directly at me and I rolled my eyes.

All of us frowned in sheer confusion before reluctantly covering our ears. Sean bent down, keeping us in suspense. Letting out a high pitch whistling noise, shattering the glass window. Sean winced slightly when he saw the damage he had done before joining in with the others laughter. I gazed in horror at it.

"Charles is going to murder me," I thought to myself.

Maybe I would be able to...fix it, but I knew it was a useless thought.

"Your turn," Sean signaled at Angel, returning to his previous seat.

"My stage name was Angel," she began, standing up, sliding the leather jacket down her arms, revealing her bare back. Sean let out a wolf whistle and Alex shifted uncomfortably, clearly affected. "It kinda fits," Angel turned around revealing tattooed wings on her back slowly peeling off, starting to flutter effortlessly.

"You can fly?!" Raven gaped, mesmerized by her pixie wings.

"Uhuh and..." she bent over, and spat out a ball of what appeared to be acid onto the top of the statues head.

I had to suppress another groan at the damage inflicted upon the statue. Somehow I knew that the night was only going to get more destructive.

"That's disgusting," I muttered under my breath, thinking no one could hear me.

"Well what can you do," Angel challenged me, since I wasn't that impressed with her display.

I smirked and stood up, straightening myself out, "Well, I'm an empath. I can detect other peoples feelings and manipulate them, Watch," I instructed.

I walked over to Darwin and place my hand on his arm, "Amazement," I named, before moving over to Sean. I touched his arm, wrinkling my nose a little. "Lust. Ew," I commented, as everyone laughed and Sean turned a light shade of pink. "And..." I walked towards Alex, about to do my trick on him, when I see him tense up.

The emotions I feel are mixed, there is a hint of happiness, but it is over shadowed by a depressing, dark feeling. I looked into his eyes and there is so much mystery, so much hurt, that I am compelled not to reveal this boy's current emotional state to the entire group.

"... You get the picture," I finished, walking away. I might've been mistaken, but I swear I felt a slight sense of gratitude radiating off of Alex. I took a seat across from Angel, sitting at the edge of it, focusing on Angel's brain. "What I'm doing right now is accessing the hippocampus of Angel's brain, having that send messages to the amygdala, which is the part of the brain that is responsible for emotions. I have to choose an emotion then release and Angel will act the way that emotion wants her to," I explained, looking at everyone.

My choice was to make her really sad, I don't know why but it was just for no reason. When I released her brain, she started to cry hysterically. She could probably fill a bathtub with her tears. Releasing my control over Angel, she calmed down after few minutes, everyone choked with laughter, and Angel glared at me.

"Ask and you shall receive," I stated, returning an innocent smile with a shrug.

"Oh, and I can also-" I broke off, as I pointed towards Sean's glass that he was about to take a drink out of. It took itself out of his hand surrounded in a violet aura and hovered just out of his reach. They all looked up at me in amazement. Sean whistled, clapping. I gave a small smile, bowing in my seat.

"Hmm...what about...Blithe? But spelt B-l-y-t-h-e!" Raven said excitedly.

"I don't get it," Sean stated, confusion evident in his expression.

"It means to be happy and carefree," Hank explained, quietly but all of us heard him and we turned to look at him. He cleared his throat before carrying on looking at me. "It also means to show a casual and cheerful indifference, not that I'm trying to say that you do-" Hank starting to ramble.

"It's fine, no offense taken," I reassured, cutting him off and he looked up at me. "I love it," I looked back over to Raven. "Blythe...It's got a nice ring to it," I carry on smiling at her.

"What's your name?" Raven asked. Hank looked down, embarrassed.

Alex choked on his drink, "How about Bigfoot?" he sniggered.

Raven turned her head to glare at him. I shot a disapproving look at Alex, it was like he had shattered the little confidence, Hank actually had.

"Well, you know what they say about guys with big feet," Raven started, looking down to Alex's feet, I frowned in confusion. Hanks mutation was big feet? "And yours look kind of small," Raven's tone turning spiteful. I couldn't help but laugh along with the others including Alex, all except Raven and Hank, who sat in an awkward silence.

"Alex, what is your gift? What can you do?" Darwin asked, motioning to him before leaning back into the sofa.

"Uh it's not...um, I can't do it, I can't do it in here," Alex stuttered, avoiding everyone's gaze.

My own gaze softened, I found myself feeling sorry for him, "Guys," I started, looking at him in sympathy. "Let's leave him be,"

"Can you do it out there?" Darwin asked, gesturing out the window.

"Darwin!" I exclaimed, making him look abashed. But it was too late, the idea had already caught fire.

"Why don't you just do it out there?" Raven said, her eyes alight with mischief.

"Come on!"

The room erupted into cheers of Alex's name. Leaning back in my seat, I sighed heavily. This is fantastic. Soon giving into the calls, Alex stood up. They cheered, Raven laughing.

"Get down when I tell you," Alex ordered, looking deadly serious. He seemed deathly afraid of his own powers, whatever those were. We got up from our spots on the sofas and piled along the edge of the window. Alex was outside, a little to the side of us.

"Get back," he warned. We ducked back into the room, before peeking our heads out once again. He had a determined expression on his face and his arms were slightly outstretched in front of him.

"Get back!" He ordered, and they repeated their action from before, while I didn't. However, after a moment, they joined me once more. "Whatever," Alex grumbled.

Alex began to circle his hips, in a way that would make you think he knew what he was doing, as three red rings appeared. Letting go, the rings flew in different directions, one of the other beams came dangerously close to hitting Raven another one sliced through the statue, clean in half. When he did, I groaned loudly, clapping a hand to my forehead. The others clapped and cheered, impressed more likely at the destruction of the statue, more than Alex's power.

He split the thing in half! How do you even do that? Giving up, I marched back over to my seat, collapsing in it.

"Sorry Charles," I apologized in advance. "I wasn't a very good caretaker,"

"You know what this party needs?" Darwin asked rhetorically, standing up, "Alcohol," He pulled out a bottle of tequila out of the cabinet.

He was met with cheers as everyone besides me rushed to get some.

"Well," Angel began. "I think we deserve a little music," she suggested.

Rolling my eyes to myself, I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I predicted more damage. Sighing, I sat down in my spot, leaving the others to their antics.

They already caused a large amount of damage, what more could they do?

Chapter Three: Budding Relationships

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x reader #erik lehnsherr x oc #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine

84 notes · View notes

galli-writes · 3 years

Photo

(Click here to read on Ao3!)

fandom: Teen Titans

pairing: BBRae

genre/warnings: AU - Canon Divergence; Implied/Referenced Abuse, Abusive Parents, Childhood Trauma, Graphic Depictions of Violence

additional tags: Angst, Family Issues, Friendship/Love, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions

summary:

There are a few things that Beast Boy knows for certain:

He’s 21….and a total lightweight. He’s a vegan (but not like…a pretentious vegan). He’s not going to be single forever.

And the Teen Titans are the only family he’ll ever need.

a/n: Hello everyone! I am finally back--though in a way I guess I never really left. I've been working on this fic on an off since I last posted, but things have been so busy that it's been rather slow going. I'm going to try REALLY hard to keep to a more consistent schedule going forward. The fic is entirely written, but needs some pretty heavy editing. I'm going to shoot for an upload every other Friday from here on out. Thank you all so much for being patient!

Chapter 5: A Helping Hand (words 6,264)

It wasn’t often that Beast Boy played hooky. At least, not when he thought there was a good chance Robin would catch him. Skipping practice was a serious no-go, outside of a few exceptions. Beast Boy knew he wasn’t a good enough actor to feign sickness. The ‘family emergency’ excuse existed strictly as a formality for obvious reasons. Reasons that were starting to seem less obvious now.

The letter in his drawer was already old news--at least to him. Beast Boy knew the contents of the note by heart. The memorization wasn’t intentional, but the words swam around in his head constantly nonetheless. A symptom of a much larger disease, as Raven might have put it. So he’d moved on to obsessively deconstructing and reconstructing the many packages that still littered their living room. Not that doing so had given him any more insight into who Nicholas Galtry was. Or why he had had possession of all of his parents’ things. Or why they were here now. Among the many disjointed thoughts that rattled in his brain, one consistently nudged its way to the top of the pool. That one was also tucked neatly away in a drawer in his room. Though he hadn’t dared to look at the picture since first putting it there.

Beast Boy glanced behind him at the clock in the kitchen. He’d been here an hour already--someone was probably already out looking for him, Robin’s orders. He quickly shut the box he was currently sorting through. It had been the same as all the boxes before it--filled with priceless, nameless items from another place and another time. He felt like a thief, searching his own belongings, not knowing what exactly he hoped to find among them. Each time carefully packing the boxes back as he’d found them. Like a thief, hoping to cover his tracks.

“There you are.”

Beast Boy flinched, instantly shrinking back from the box in front of him. He turned around to face Cyborg looming over him.

“Man, I’ve been lookin’ for you everywhere ,” Cyborg said, a twinge of frustration in his voice. “What the hell are you doin’ up here?”

“Nothing,” Beast Boy said, anxiously getting to his feet. “Just...hanging out.”

Cyborg frowned. “Well maybe you should come ‘hang out’ at training.”

“Training?” Beast Boy repeated automatically.

“Yeah, you know...the thing we have scheduled every single afternoon? At the exact same time? Every day?” Cyborg said, cocking an eyebrow at him. Now he seemed more confused than frustrated—a switch that was very typically Cyborg.

“Right. Training. I was wondering where everyone else was,” Beast Boy answered. It was a poor excuse, but it wasn’t actually a lie.

Cyborg sighed, but there was a hint of a joking smile on his face when he spoke next. “Let’s just get down there before Robin kicks both our asses, okay?”

Beast Boy nodded, and for a moment it was as if the boxes behind him ceased to exist. It currently felt like there were two worlds jammed under one roof, and now that he’d been pulled out of the one behind him, he saw just how much he preferred the one in front of him. Even if it meant getting his ass kicked.

The training field had come a long way from the public school playground it resembled when they’d first settled into the Tower. It was Robin’s ongoing project--adding another ropes course, integrating fully automated sparring dummies...there were even obstacles designed with each of their abilities in mind. Beast Boy was sure that Robin had a Pinterest board dedicated to the fiasco for all of the crazy things he was constantly adding to it.

Which is why Beast Boy was confused to find that none of it was being used.

“Oh no. Don’t tell me--”

“Yep,” Cyborg said, walking the opposite direction of Robin’s martial arts art display.

“Dude, I suck at hand to hand.”

“Probably why Robin thinks you ditched,” Cyborg shrugged.

In the distance, their three remaining teammates were gathered in a clearing at the opposite end of the field. Starfire stood leaning against a tree on the sidelines, water bottle in hand. In the center of a well-worn patch of grass, Robin and Raven circled each other in what seemed to be a never-ending dance.

“So when you said Robin was gonna kick my ass...you meant that literally, didn’t you?” Beast Boy said with a frown.

“Well it might not be Robin who kicks your ass,” Cyborg smiled. “It could be Star, or Raven, or yours truly.”

“Wow, thanks,” Beast Boy grumbled. He knew Cyborg was only teasing, and Beast Boy had been the first to admit that the skillset wasn’t exactly his strong suit. But the remark lingered in his mind a second longer than he knew it should have.

“Okay, so maybe it’s not really your thing, but hey,” Cyborg said, placing a hand on Beast Boy’s shoulder. “Practice makes perfect. You’ll get there.”

“Dude. I turn into animals for a living. Most of which don’t even have opposable thumbs,” Beast Boy said, flexing his own in front of his friend. “I don’t need to be good at something I’m never gonna use.”

Cyborg merely shook his head dismissively. “Never say never, man.”

“Okay, Robin ,” Beast Boy replied with a smirk.

As if on cue, Robin and Raven’s dance came to a halt as soon as the words left Beast Boy’s mouth. He had figured they were still out of earshot, but maybe he’d been wrong.

“There you two are,” Robin said as the two of them stepped into the loosely defined dirt ring. He glanced down at his watch and then directly at Beast Boy. “Beast Boy, you’re twenty minutes late. Practice starts at four. You know that.”

Any trace of teasing Cyborg had expressed instantly evaporated when Robin spoke.

“Uh...four-twenty blaze it?” Beast Boy said with a shrug and a terribly awkward smile. The one that always appeared on his face whenever he didn’t know what else to say--which was more often than he would have liked to admit.

Robin closed his eyes, raising a hand to his temples.

Raven’s facepalm was much less subtle.

“Starfire are you ready to go?” Robin asked, shaking his head slightly.

“Mmm hmm!” Starfire hummed in response.

“Great. Then I’m gonna have you and Beast Boy up next.”

“Uh…” Beast boy shot a glance at Starfire, who was practically the living portrait of an Instagram athlete. “Shouldn’t I warm up first or something?”

“In a real fight, you won’t always get the chance to ‘warm up’ beforehand,” Robin said, crossing his arms over his chest. Which was definitely his way of saying ‘that’s what you get for showing up late’.

“Don’t worry, Beast Boy,” Starfire smiled. “I will try not to injure you too terribly.”

Beast Boy certainly began to feel warm now, to the point where he was sure his face was turning red.

In his peripheral, he saw that Cyborg had cleared the training ring and was now standing beside Raven on the sidelines. She leaned in slightly to her left, whispering something into Cyborg’s ear with a devious smirk.

Beast Boy felt his stomach drop. He didn’t know what was worse. Starfire’s complete sincerity or Raven’s total lack thereof.

But he didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought before it was overtaken completely by a harrowing sense of panic. He had been posed for a fight, staring head on at his partner. But it was only now that his vision snapped back into focus, just in time to catch a whirling ball of green energy headed directly toward him.

He quickly swerved out of the way, trying to regain his balance. But before he could find his footing, another blaze shone at his feet, knocking him straight to the ground. He squinted, eyes beginning to water from the dust cloud that now surrounded him. He wanted to open his mouth to say something--make some complaint that he hadn’t been ready, that there had been no signal to start. But he knew that wouldn’t buy him any sympathy in Robin’s eyes.

Of course, vying for Robin’s attention was even less of a no-go once the sirens started blaring.

Without so much as a nod from the leader in question, everyone took off in the same direction. Everyone except Beast Boy, who was still on the ground.

He pushed himself to his feet, the palms of his hands stinging against the soil. He knew it wasn’t personal. None of this was personal. Kind of like how the sense of isolation and strangeness he’d felt around his friends since the reading that letter certainly wasn’t personal .

But as he watched them disappearing now--not one of them looking back to see if he had followed--it sure felt that way.

So what if calling shotgun was more important than helping him up? He shook his head, now unable to hold back a self-satisfied smirk. No matter how much of a head start they had, no one was going to outrun a cheetah.

Within seconds, the ground flew under his feet like a treadmill set on max speed. When the garage came into view, Beast Boy was relieved to find that it was already open--and more importantly empty. In a flash, he transformed back, and with the same proud smile lingering on his face sauntered over to crack open the passenger door.

His smile instantly disappeared when he saw who was behind it.

“ Raven ?”

Even at her name, she didn’t so much as shoot him a glance. Raven just sat there, comfortably nestled in the passenger seat with her feet kicked up on the dashboard. She scrolled through her phone with a bored expression--like she’d been there for hours.

“How the hell did you beat me?” Beast Boy blurted out, feeling irrationally annoyed as Raven continued to sit there, chewing a piece of gum in silence.

“Want a piece?” she said absentmindedly, materializing a pack of DoubleMint from the locked glove box. There were dozens of other flavors inside--so many packs that they filled almost half the compartment. “It’s Cyborg’s secret stash--but I won’t tell.”

Beast Boy ignored her. “There’s no way you could have beaten me here. I took a shortcut even you don’t know about,” he said curtly.

“Weird, huh?” she said, turning her attention back to her phone. “It’s almost like magic. ”

Beast Boy frowned. “That’s cheating.”

“And you turning into a cheetah clearly isn’t,” she said plainly. Then another sly smile crept onto her face. “Get it? A cheetah ?”

Beast Boy’s face scrunched up in even further annoyance. Without a word, he shut the passenger door, opening the one behind it. He already knew which seat he’d be directed to sit in. Though even calling it a seat was a bit generous. Nevertheless, he’d occupied it since day one because, of course, ‘he was the shortest and it just made sense for him to ride in the middle because if they were ever in a crash the height of the headrest wouldn’t do anyone else any good blah blah blah’. As if something as normal as a car crash would really be enough to injure a bunch of superheroes.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Cyborg said, swinging open the door to the driver’s seat and hopping inside.

As the doors on either side of him opened and closed in perfect sync, Beast Boy was struck with another harrowing consequence of his seating arrangement.

It was true that Robin and Starfire were relatively tame as far as couples went--at least in terms of explicit PDA. It was only once in a blue moon that you actually caught them exchanging so much as a kiss on the cheek. But there was no denying the magnetic force between them. And it was times like these that Beast Boy felt less like a person and more like a glitch jamming the radio signal.

“Okay,” Robin said, flicking open the communication device on his wrist. A small holographic map appeared above it, marking several heat signatures as they traversed the grid on the screen. In an instant, an identical image appeared on a screen in the center console of the car.

“Looks like they’ve already hit Gorman street,” Cyborg said, glancing at the center console.

“They’re moving fast,” Robin added, adjusting something on the device. “But only because they’ve sacrificed numbers for speed”.

“Well let’s just see if they can outrun this, ” Cyborg replied, revving the engine in response. Within moments, the Tower was far behind them.

Beast Boy leaned forward slightly to look out the window on his left. They hadn’t been driving long at all, but he had no idea where they were. Left and right, worn down warehouse buildings lined the streets as far as he could see. Overhead, a thick gray fog swallowed the entire sky.

“Starfire, I want you and Cy to go after the group of three heading west,” Robin continued, pointing to several figures on the map as he spoke. “I’ll go after the solo. Raven, Beast Boy—you two track the pair heading in the opposite direction.”

Raven didn’t outwardly protest, but her agitated sigh was enough to send its intended message.

After what seemed like only a second later, the car skidded to a halt at the edge of a narrow alley. And without missing a beat, everyone else took off in their respective directions at full speed. This time Beast Boy could confidently blame the middle seat for keeping him a step behind.

“I’ll race ya,” Beast Boy said, throwing a competitive smile at Raven, who had surprisingly seemed to be waiting for him.

“Just hurry up,” she said plainly, looking to the sky.

The streets seemed even more bleak from above.

Every other street light flickered as if choking out its dying breath. Cracks ran down the sidewalks like jagged scars, and chipped paint and graffiti adorned the walls of the decrepit buildings. Beast Boy found himself wondering where everyone was--there were barely even any cars on the streets.

“Ow!” Raven exclaimed suddenly.

Simultaneously, Beast Boy felt his wings crumple under him as he crashed into her from behind. He screeched involuntarily, trying to regain his balance.

“Why are we stopping?” he asked--or rather squawked--momentarily forgetting he was still very much a bird.

Luckily, Raven seemed to get the idea. Without a word, she pointed to two shadowy figures slipping around the corner of a nearby building. She started to open her mouth to say something then, but Beast Boy was already locking in on the figures below.

Without a second thought, he dove sharply down toward one of the shadows in his sight. Talons poised, he only managed to graze the top of his target’s head. Or at least what he could think of as being the thing’s head, as the action felt more like skimming a silhouette than an actual person.

At the very least, the surprise of his attack was enough to knock the figure off balance and trip on some debris below.

Beast Boy landed nearby, skidding onto the asphalt. Back on two legs, he whipped around and morphed once more. A rhino was always a solid play when you didn’t quite know what you were dealing with. He kicked up the rubble under his front foot and ducked his head, preparing for a running start. Then he let his momentum carry him forward--feeling the power of an entire stampede in his muscles--which turned out to be much more than he bargained for.

It was like the wall came out of nowhere. Or maybe he just hadn’t looked before leaping. Though his horn mdulled the impact slightly, Beast Boy felt every shard of cement as the crash sent a shocking ripple through his entire body. When he opened his eyes, he was back to his usual self again. But unlike a moment ago, his head was spinning, and he was on his back watching the dark clouds rolling above. His vision had doubled, even tripled, and he shook his head wearily in an attempt to focus on anything at all. Instead, he saw the shaking image of someone approaching him. And his gut told him it wasn’t one of the people they were after. It was something much worse.

“What the fuck was that?” Raven said, leaning over him with a disapproving pout on her face.

“Rhino,” was all Beast Boy could manage, his head still spinning.

Raven scowled, but extended a hand out to him regardless. When she yanked him to his feet in one swift motion, the gesture suddenly felt less sympathetic.

“We’re supposed to be working together , moron,” she said, her tone biting. “How the hell are we supposed to do that if you knock yourself out before we even catch up to the bad guys?”

Beast Boy didn’t have an answer for that. So he didn’t give one, which probably didn’t help his case any more.

“God, you’re useless,” Raven said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him behind him. “Come on.”

They continued down the natural path of the alleyway uneventfully. And that was what worried Beast Boy most. If he wasn’t going to die at the hands of their enemies, he was sure he’d die of embarrassment knowing he’d let them get away. Again.

Luckily for him, if Raven had any more thoughts on the matter she kept them to herself.

When they reached what seemed to be the end of the narrow street, Beast Boy was somewhat relieved to find that it wasn’t the dead end he had been expecting. Rather, the space before them now opened dramatically into something resembling a large courtyard. The entire perimeter was lined by walls of surrounding brick buildings--the only other entrances and exits to the pavilion being opposing alleyways much like the one they’d just emerged from.

But the courtyard’s strange location certainly wasn’t the most interesting thing about it.

In the very center, shrouded by a cloud of steam trickling through a nearby grate, two figures turned abruptly to meet their gaze. Even though Beast Boy could hardly make out the eyes looking back at them, he knew their stare was a threat.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Raven said quietly, lingering in the shadows for a moment longer.

The words echoed in Beast Boy’s head, this time in his own voice. Then a wave of panic suddenly passed over him. He wasn’t actually sure he knew the difference between what was considered brave and what Raven would consider stupid. And he didn’t exactly have the time to mull it over.

Raven stood next to him, arms outstretched, as a flurry of flying rubble began to swirl around the two figures like a vicious tornado. Everything pulled toward them like scrap metal to a magnetic core--everything from the pebbles on the ground to full sized wooden beams and crates that littered the edges of the arena.

Beast Boy searched desperately through this mind for something to do--something to be. A mouse? Small enough to go unnoticed, but way too slow to bridge the gap between the opposing sides in such a short time. He thought to the opposite end of the spectrum. A gorilla or a bear could give him a boost of much needed strength if he cut back on speed. But maybe that was too on the nose. Just like the rhino.

He bit his lip nervously, catching Raven in his peripheral again. They were supposed to be working together after all--and she had clearly taken the lead. But he had no idea how she expected him to follow.

And suddenly, it occurred to Beast Boy that that was the secret to the riddle. The one way he could truly and certainly ‘not do something stupid’ was by not doing anything at all.

For a moment, he was almost proud of himself for finally cracking the code. But the false sense of pride evaporated as soon as he realized what it implied. Maybe his only use was...being completely useless? And just like that, he felt his stomach twist in a knot again as a familiar sense of embarrassment washed over him.

“Hellooo?” Raven’s voice rang out suddenly, snapping Beast Boy out of his daze.

He turned to look at her, finding her in the same position, teeth clenched and arms shaking ever so slightly as she held her pose.

“I said not to do anything stupid ,” she snarled. “Not ‘don’t do anything at all’!”

Beast Boy blinked hard, absorbing her words--the hint of need in her voice, however faint. And suddenly, miraculously, his feeling of uncertainty disappeared as quickly as it had come.

In a flash he was a mighty T-Rex, half as tall as the building behind him. Charging forward, he reached down and fished out one of the criminals from the fading cyclone. Grabbing the figure by the arm, he swung them into the adjacent wall with ease, a cloud of dust gathering upon the point of contact. A hit that would probably kill the average person; but Beast Boy knew that right now he was just buying time.

From the corner of his eye, he caught the second figure starting to pull out a small radio, shielding it from the winds as they spoke into the device.

But before they could utter more than a sentence or two, Beast Boy spun around, sweeping them off their feet completely with his enormous tail. The person went flying at a ninety degree angle from the last, and he watched as the body hit the crumbling wall with a ‘definitely unconscious’ crash.

Morphing back, Beast Boy stood tall, admiring his work.

Raven appeared beside him a moment later, surveying the scene.

“Not bad, huh?”

“I warmed them up for you,” Raven said matter-of-factly. But Beast Boy couldn’t stop himself from brandishing another self-satisfied smirk.

Raven automatically went over to the first fallen figure, pushing directly past him as she went. Beast Boy took the hint and headed the opposite direction, preparing to inspect the second wreckage site hound dog style.

Bombarded by a multitude of different scents, he realized that he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for. He hoped he would know it when he came across it. And he did--when something cold and metallic brushed up against his nose.

With an obnoxious sneeze that sent his floppy ears soaring, Beast Boy took a step back from the dust cloud he had created in front of him. He squinted, coming back up on the area after the dust had settled to find a small coin-like silver disc buried in the ground. But it looked incomplete somehow, like it was only one half of a whole, given several small divots on the surface of the disc. And there was something else mixed in with the scent of the cool metal. Something thick and tangy. He followed the scent further until he found its source.

“Uh...Raven?” He hesitated, instinctively pulling back from the spot it had led him to.

Directly at his feet, the second figure lay face down in the rubble. Their clothing made it difficult to tell what kind of injuries they sustained, but there was blood. Lots of blood.

At the top of the neck, just under their hairline, a perfect silver circle was embedded in the skin--a corresponding piece almost identical to the one on the ground a few yards away. Except this one was covered in miniature circuits and drenched in the dark red liquid oozing from underneath it.

Beast Boy quickly turned back to pick up the first piece and compare the two. He was certain they had once made a single whole. But the half he inspected in his hand seemed to be no more than the covering to the blood caked battery beneath. There was some writing on it though--and maybe that could tell him something .

In a moment, Raven was beside him again, abandoning her less interesting finds at the other end of the courtyard.

“What is it?” She asked, leaning over to try and get a better look at the item in Beast Boy’s hand.

“I don’t know,” he replied, squinting at the object as he tried to make out the markings engraved on its surface. “A...R...S…,” he read slowly. “It looks like there’s more but I can’t make it out.”

Raven extended her hand, and Beast Boy automatically dropped it into her palm for a second opinion.

“Whoever these people are, they must have something to do with that break in,” she said, flipping the silver piece over in her hand. “I guess Robin was right.”

Beast Boy looked down at the body again with a frown.

“Okay, but we still don’t have any more of an idea what they’re after.”

Raven didn’t say anything. She just stood over the body, staring at it intently--in a way that suggested more than just superficial intrigue.

Suddenly, the small metal badge embedded in the figure’s skin was enveloped in a purple haze, and Beast Boy watched in horror as it began to peel away from the flesh underneath like a perfect silver scab. Leaving behind a gruesome red ring of skin, it slowly floated up and over into Raven’s open pocket.

Beast Boy swallowed hard at the sight, a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. For a split second, he was worried he was about to revisit breakfast in the worst way.

“Dude...what the fuck ?” he said, eyes darting between the site of the impromptu surgery and Raven’s slightly blood stained pocket. “That’s nasty.”

Raven didn’t even blink. “Yeah, well so are you and Robin still keeps you around so...”

Beast Boy took a step back from the scene, the scent still of blood still lingering a little too strongly for his liking. And after watching Raven pull off something like that without so much as a moan or a grunt from the disc’s owner, he wasn’t so certain the victims were just napping anymore. He tried not to think too much about the potential fate of the person at his feet. He hated the possibility of pushing that boundary--even if they were ‘the bad guys’.

“You know, that actually wasn’t too bad,” Beast Boy said suddenly. His laugh was stifled and unconvincing, but he knew Raven wouldn’t likely acknowledge his discomfort, which was a bit of a relief in its own right. Regardless, he turned on his heel and made a purposeful decision to start walking away from the scene in hopes that she would naturally follow. Luckily, she did.

“The fight? Or having to be alone with you for more than five minutes?” She said, overtaking him by a step or two. “Because if you’re referring to the latter I’m gonna have to disagree.”

“I mean, but it works. We work. Sometimes,” Beast Boy said, though he was unsure why he was still talking. “It’s like...you know,” he droned on as they walked. “Like oil and vinegar.”

Raven noticeably began to slow her pace. “Like what ?”

“Oil and vinegar. You know. It’s like our flavor ,” Beast Boy said, making some attempt to clarify with a hand gesture.

It was here Raven stopped completely, turning to face him.

“ This ,” she said gesturing between them in return, “is not a flavor .”

Beast Boy shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well I still think it’s a good metaphor.”

“Why? Raven replied, mimicking his pose. “Because we can’t stand being together and naturally repel each other?”

“Buuuuut,” Beast Boy added pointedly, “sometimes when you put us together you get an affordable and delicious salad dressing.”

Raven paused. She closed her eyes, raising her hand to her temple in a deep, meditative stillness before opening her mouth to speak. “You know, sometimes I really wonder how I haven’t killed you by now. Even accidentally.”

Beast Boy frowned. “Just to be clear, you’re the vinegar in this situation.”

The two began to walk again, but Beast Boy only made it a few steps before Raven thrust a hand out in front of him, stopping him mid-stride. And this time it didn’t seem to be because of anything he’d said.

“What?” he blurted out stupidly. At least this time Raven would be able to understand him.

Raven was completely still for a moment longer, her eyes slowly scanning the area around them. “You didn’t hear that?” she said quietly.

“Hear what?” Beast Boy said, again the words feeling stupid and redundant the moment he uttered them.

“Something other than the sound of your own voice,” Raven said under her breath.

Beast Boy looked all around them, just as Raven had. But he didn’t see anything. Let alone hear anything out of the ordinary.

“You’re just being paranoid,” he said, lightly pushing her arm back down to her side. “There were only two of them. You saw on Robin’s map.”

Raven didn’t seem too comforted by the reminder.

Beast Boy moved slightly to meet her gaze, which was focused somewhere far off in the distance. “I’m tellin’ ya. Oil and vinegar.”

Then, with a little more force than he expected, Raven pushed pushed past him and began to walk again.

“Where are you going?” Beast Boy said, somewhat startled.

“Home.”

“Didn’t you wanna sweep the area first?”

“Not if it means twenty more minutes of this,” Raven said, waving her hand dismissively. “Besides, I’m just being ‘paranoid’.”

“Okay, well so much for working together then I guess,” Beast Boy said, rolling his eyes.

Raven shot him a look over her shoulder. Then, in an instant, she froze, eyes growing wide as she opened her mouth to say something.

But Beast Boy beat her to it.

He wasn’t sure the noise he made was completely human, even if the small blade twirling in the dirt just past him hadn’t completely hit its mark. He bit his lip to keep himself from another outburst. It had only grazed the side of his calf, but that was enough to bring him to one knee. He knew that if it had hit him the way it had been intended, he’d be on the ground.

Suddenly, everything around him was engulfed in shadow--and Beast Boy wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about ‘blacking out’. He really hoped that wasn’t what was happening. Not in front of Raven of all people. And not over a glorified paper cut .

A moment later, finding he was still very much conscious, Beast Boy was relieved to find that Raven was the source of the shadowy dome that now surrounded them on all sides. But the relief didn’t last long.

Beyond the opaque screen of darkness, there was a ceaseless blur of motion. Hundreds of tiny silver sparks rebounded off the outer edge, like hail raining down in a terrible storm.

Beast Boy glanced up at Raven from where he knelt on the ground. She was gritting her teeth, brow furrowed and eyes aglow. She didn’t so much as blink when he looked at her, which wasn’t a good sign.

He looked around frantically. Every direction depicted the same terrible scene. Every direction—except for one. It was only now that he noticed how soft the earth was underneath him. How the asphalt of the alleyways seemed to melt away as they worked their way toward the center of the courtyard. And that gave him an idea. An idea Beast Boy didn’t allow himself to think through.

There was something reassuring about being so close to the ground. But the transformation into a badger probably hadn’t been the best for his wound. His leg was starting to ache even more now, and he realized that would probably make digging all the more difficult.

But before he could test his hypothesis, a voice rang out over the crackling of bullets, clear and strong and demanding to be heard.

“Do you have a death wish?,” Raven yelled, her voice cutting above the static.

“What do you think?” Beast Boy said, instantly morphing back. The words came out as sharp as the blades whirling around them.

“Well I guess it’s a good thing gophers are bulletproof ,” Raven said with a laugh dripping with anything but humor.

“ Badgers . It’s a badger .” Beast Boy could feel the adrenaline pulsing in his veins like wildfire--even though he knew the reaction was unwarranted, especially given the more concerning matters at hand.

“Really bad time for an argument, Beast Boy. Really bad time,” Raven bit back.

For a split second, Beast Boy thought of going ahead with his plan anyway. Then it occurred to him that he’d probably already used up what little luck he had for the day.

“Okay, so what’s your bright idea?” he said, struggling to hide the growing annoyance in his voice. But all things considered, he really hoped she had one.

“Not dying. That’s my plan,” she said, shutting her eyes tightly.

Beast Boy looked around nervously--though he wasn’t sure what he was looking for.

“Can’t you just...teleport us out or something?” he said, biting his lip.

“Teleportation or force field. You get one .”

The second Raven spoke though, she was interrupted by a noise that overtook even the hammering of the bullets around them. The short metallic pings were swapped for one firework-like explosion, the ground beneath them trembling just enough to make Beast Boy second guess his balance. From the looks of it, their attackers hadn’t been so lucky.

The bullets raining down on them slowed to a drizzle--then seemed to stop completely after a few stray shots. But not because the remaining gunmen had ceased fire. Rather, the firing now seemed to be directed somewhere else entirely.

Before Beast Boy could figure out where everyone else had turned their attention, his own focus was redirected again as he felt something cold on his wrist. A hand, gripping onto him with what felt like an unnecessary amount of force.

Beast Boy felt the ground sway beneath him again uneasily until it disappeared completely, the hard dirt and asphalt replaced by rough gray concrete. When the scene before him came into a clear focus, his stomach lurched. With a primal desperation, he reached out, searching for the hand that had just let go of him. Now he was the one holding on like his life depended on it.

In front of him now was a perfect aerial snapshot of the pavilion. They had to be at least ten stories up, given the size of the figures below them.

“Um…”

Beast Boy looked up, heart still pounding, though he wasn’t sure the vertigo was responsible for the anxiety he felt now.

Raven was staring at him--or rather their hands intertwined--with a clear level of discomfort. What kind, Beast Boy couldn’t tell.

“You can let go of my hand now,” she said slowly.

Beast Boy flinched, releasing her hand from his own as quickly as he had grabbed it. His knuckles were stiff, flushed by the strain of his grip.

An awkward beat of silence passed between them, broken only when Raven turned to grab something from her pocket.

“What are you doing?” Beast Boy asked, terribly conscious of the slight crack in his voice.

“Calling Robin,” Raven replied, an audible ring echoing from the blood-spotted comms device now resting in her hand.

The two waited for another excruciatingly long moment until the ringing came to an abrupt, unanswered halt.

“I guess he’s busy,” Beast Boy shrugged. But something snagged in his stomach at the thought. Robin probably was very busy. But Beast Boy wasn’t sure he really believed that was why he hadn’t picked up. He took out his own pager anxiously, already flipping through the contacts on the main screen. “Lemme try Cyborg.”

The dial tone cut off after the first ring.

Raven paused for a moment then looked up at him. “I don’t even have a signal.”

Beast Boy looked down at the device in his own hand. Neither did he. “Huh. Well that’s...weird.”

“Yeah,” Raven said, a definitive frown forming on her lips. “And that’s not the only thing that’s a little weird.”

As she spoke, Raven stared down at the pavilion below them, unblinking. She seemed intently focused on...something. But Beast Boy wasn’t entirely sure that it was the fight happening on the ground. A fight that was becoming increasingly hard to follow, even for someone who was trying to keep up with it.

Beast Boy scanned the turf once, then again through the eyes of a hawk, hoping for a better view. Squinting beyond the cloud of dust, he finally was able to hone in on the action--and more importantly, their attackers’ new target.

The man stood out like a current rolling on a still sea. Rather than trying to dodge the attacks of his pursuers, he danced through the waves with an impossible accuracy, almost as if he were intentionally trying to attract their shots. And he did--like hungry flies to a show horse. Only he never seemed to get bitten. The flies bit themselves. They bit each other. Falling one after the other around him as they continued to follow him further and further away from the center of the pavilion.

Just before the man disappeared into the shadows of the opposite alleyway, Beast Boy finally caught a glimpse of his face amongst the swarming insects--his shiny black hair and toothless grin glistening in the artificial night.

#bbrae #bbrae fanfiction #beast boy teen titans #raven teen titans #dc #i still don't know how to properly use tags lol

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thatsamericano · 3 years

Text

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too

Pairings/Characters: America/Romano. Background Gerita, and Seborga and Prussia are there too. Very brief appearances from Denmark and Lithuania in the video, as well as a ton of other characters who don’t get lines.

Rating: Teen, but only for cursing. Very fluffy, and no warnings to speak of.

Word Count: 2518

Summary: America sends Romano a special video for his birthday. He isn’t Elvis Presley, but it’s the best rendition of the song Romano’s ever heard.

A/N: I wanted to post something fluffy for Romano’s birthday. This will be up on AO3 soon.

It had been a nice, quiet birthday for Romano so far. Feli’s macho potato had dropped by to spend the day with him, and Prussia had tagged along too. Savino was glad Gilbert and Marcello were here, because otherwise he would’ve been stuck third-wheeling the sappiest couple in the world on his own birthday. Spain and Belgium had said they would arrive in a couple hours, which Romano was looking forward to as well. Most of the people who had sent his little brother a happy birthday message had remembered to send one to him too. America had sent them both silly e-cards, and the gifts he’d sent had arrived a week early and would be unwrapped along with all the others after they frosted the cake.

Romano was not lonely, especially not for someone who would’ve had to fly across a whole ocean to see him. He only threw a spatula at Germany’s head when he leaned in to kiss Feli right after he put the cake in the oven because the sight of the potato bastard kissing his little brother grossed him out to no end.

Feliciano pouted at him. “Fratello, that wasn’t very nice of you.”

“I had to stop you two before I lost my appetite. I want to actually be able to eat a slice of cake later!”

Germany muttered something under his breath, and Seborga giggled while Prussia ruffled his hair. “Relax, Savi. It’s your birthday.”

Romano shoved Gilbert’s hand away. “I’m relaxing just fine, damn it.” He walked over to the counter to check his phone, which had received a few new messages since he and Feli had started making their joint birthday cake.

As he was reading a message from New Zealand (who seemed to be confused by the time difference and hoped their message had arrived on time), a new text popped up on his phone. From America.

“Huh, that’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” Marcello asked.

“America sent me a link to a Youtube video.” Alfred liked to upload a lot of strange things on Youtube, including cooking videos with his twin, recordings of him prank calling England, and the occasional stunt that would’ve turned Savino’s hair gray if he’d aged like a human. Seriously, what the fuck had possessed him to surf down a staircase on a fucking ironing board?

The message before the link was cryptic as hell. Happy bday. Here’s an extra present for you. 😉 Hope you enjoy.🎶 Knowing America, Romano wouldn’t have been too surprised if he’d opened up the link and seen that one Rick Astley song the idiota still thought was funny to send to people. But Feli immediately got excited about it.

“Oh, he finally sent you the video! I thought he’d do that a month ago!”

Prussia smirked as Feli rushed over to them. “Nah, Al had always planned to upload it today.”

Germany came over with a subtle hint of a smile on his face, like he knew what all this was about too. At least Marcello still looked baffled as he leaned over to get a look at Savino’s phone.

“What the fuck are you assholes up to?” Savino didn’t like this feeling. He didn’t like that everyone except his baby brother had been plotting something behind his back.

“It isn’t bad, Romano,” Germany promised. “Just open the link and you’ll see.”

Romano didn’t trust Germany further than he could throw him, and the guy was way too heavy for him to even lift. But if Germany thought it was okay, it probably wasn’t a video involving the kinds of ridiculous shenanigans America liked to film, and it certainly was nowhere near as heart-attack inducing as some of the videos he’d seen Fredo post (especially if Prussia or Denmark were egging him on). Savino squinted at Ludwig suspiciously before he clicked on the link.

It wasn’t Rick Astley. The video started with a black screen. “No, Gil, you’re supposed to press the red button!” The voice sounded like Denmark.

“Magnus, I pressed the red button!” That was Prussia.

“Guys, maybe we could use my iPhone instead?” America asked. His voice sounded uncharacteristically strained and nervous. “The quality won’t be as good, but at this point Vinny’s probably given up anyway.”

Suddenly, the image of a white dress shirt with a navy tie (and an inexplicable ukulele) appeared on the screen. The camera zoomed out a little, and he could see Alfred smiling at him in a crowded bar with many nations Romano knew well, and many who were only acquaintances. Denmark rushed past him, but Romano could scarcely take his eyes off America. He was wearing the same outfit he’d seen him in on the day of the last world meeting he’d attended a couple months ago in Berlin, and he was cradling a ukulele in his arms. His warm smile, as always, made Romano’s heart skip a beat. But there was a hint of anxiety in his crystal blue eyes, and that made Romano wish he was there to talk to America and help him with whatever seemed to be bothering him.

“Hey, Vinny! Right now it’s still January, but by the time I upload this video, it will be your birthday, so happy birthday, dude! I hope you’re having a good day with your brothers.” He chuckled. “You guys will probably need a huge cake if you’re gonna blow out all your birthday candles.”

Romano rolled his eyes. “That’s what numbered candles are for, idiota,” he murmured.

“Anyway, I know I’m not the best singer in the world—” Prussia snickered from behind the camera and America glared at him sharply before relaxing back into the smile he’d had on his face before. “But I’ve been practicing this song a lot, so hopefully you’ll like it.”

Romano wondered which song it was. If it was the Italian version of “Happy Birthday,” America wouldn’t need a ukulele, and this video would not be three and a half minutes in length.

America started strumming the ukulele, and it wasn’t the “Happy Birthday” song. Savino vaguely recognized the melody, and apparently Feliciano knew what the song was, because he was bouncing next to him and muffling squeals behind his hand. Savino was tempted to smack him, but that would involve looking away from his phone.

Then, America started to sing in a shaky but surprisingly clear voice, staring straight at the camera. “Wise men say, only fools rush in…”

Marcello gasped. “He didn’t!”

“Oh, he totally did,” Prussia replied smugly.

Savino was too emotional to talk. He teared up as Alfred continued with the next line. “But I can’t help falling in love with you.” Fredo’s voice was full of sincerity, like he actually meant it, like he actually loved him. For so long, Romano had assumed his feelings for America were completely one-sided, that he would have to ignore them as much as possible, vainly hope they might disappear, and move on with his life as best he could. But clearly, he had been wrong, and the proof was that America was serenading him with a love song. On his birthday.

America started walking backwards with his ukulele, and Prussia’s camera followed him. At the end of the first verse, he’d reached a booth with Spain, Portugal, Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg. They all held up signs wishing him a happy birthday in various languages as they sang the last line together. Spain waved and Belgium winked at the camera, and America grinned as he kept walking through the bar.

He briefly stopped by other groups of people to allow them to hold up signs wishing Romano a happy birthday as he sang. Russia, his sisters, and Canada. Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia and Poland. Hungary, Austria, Germany, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein. China, Japan, Taiwan, Vietnam, and South Korea. France, Monaco, all the UK countries, and Ireland. Australia, New Zealand, Seychelles, and Kenya. Greece, Turkey, and Egypt. All the Nordics too. It was the sweetest, most romantic thing anyone had ever done for Romano. America must have gone to so much effort to orchestrate something like this, to gather so many countries together in one bar in Berlin and convince them to go along with his plan. Savino smiled as he kept watching the video. Maybe Alfred wasn’t as good a singer as Elvis Presley or any of the many people who had covered this song, but his performance was heartfelt, and Savino loved every second of it.

Near the end, all of the countries sang the line “For I can’t help falling in love with you” together and held up their happy birthday signs. The bartender and some confused humans sang along with them. Savino laughed as Alfred chuckled sheepishly in the video, cheeks turning pink because this was an unusually public spectacle, even for him.

Alfred repeated the final chorus and sang with just him and the ukulele, as he had begun the song. “Take my hand, take my whole life too.” His eyes were shining with tears, and not the happy kind Savino had been shedding since the second line of the song. “For I can’t help falling in love with you.” He repeated the final line then took a deep breath.

“So, yeah. That uhh… wasn’t just a song.” America glanced off to the side. “I’ve kinda been hopelessly in love with you for a while.”

“About 90 years, give or take!” a tipsy voice shouted from off camera. It sounded just like Lithuania, the few times he’d had a little too much to drink at a speakeasy back when he, America, and Romano all lived together. Romano remembered those days fondly.

America hunched his shoulders with a pained look on his face. “Yeah. What Tolys said. You mean a lot to me, Vinny, both as a friend and possibly more, if you want that. If you just wanna stay friends, that’s cool. I hope you liked the song. Happy birthday.”

The screen abruptly cut to black, and the video ended. Savino wiped his eyes and looked up at Feliciano. “This is… this is why we had to fly back right away, isn’t it? Our boss didn’t call you.”

Feli shook his head. “I lied. America asked me to lie so he could surprise you with that video.”

“I can’t believe he did that for me.” Part of Savino felt like he didn’t deserve it, but a much bigger part of him was too selfish to care about what he did or didn’t deserve. He just wanted to be happy. “I wish he was here,” Romano confessed quietly. “I wish I could tell him I feel the same way.” And he wanted to kiss away every tear that idiota had ever cried over him, which was long overdue.

Savino ignored his little brothers cooing over what he had just said and tried not to bristle at the fact that even Germany seemed to think it was adorable. Prussia, weirdly enough, was too busy texting on his phone to join in on the overbearing fawning.

Gilbert chuckled at something on his phone. “Alfred’s a lot closer than you think. He decided to skip the Saint Paddy’s Day parade this year.” He grinned up at Romano, who instantly got the message. Alfred wasn’t celebrating with his Irish-American citizens. He was here in Italy, and it wouldn’t take much effort for Romano to find him.

He sprinted to his front door and flung it open. Alfred, who had been standing with his back to the front door, turned around to face him. “Vinny, I…”

Savino was too impatient to let him get another word out. He tugged on the collar of his emerald green t-shirt and sealed their mouths together. Alfred made a muffled sound of surprise and started kissing him a couple seconds later. He wrapped an arm around his waist, and Savino could feel that he was holding something wrapped in cellophane in his hand. He didn’t give a fuck what it was. He didn’t give a fuck about anything except the fact that Alfred was grinning against his mouth as he reluctantly pulled away for air.

Alfred’s face was flushed, and he had to reach up to fix his glasses. “Wow. This t-shirt never worked before.”

Savino glanced down at the shirt, which read “Kiss Me, I’m Irish!” (of course it did) and snorted. “I didn’t kiss you because of a fucking t-shirt logo. I kissed you because I watched that birthday video you sent me, which was the most adorable goddamn thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“So you liked the song, huh?”

“I loved the song. And I love you too, Fredo.”

He heard sniffling, and it couldn’t have been Alfred, who was beaming at him like every prayer he’d ever uttered had been answered just by Savino saying those words to him. And the sniffling noise was coming from behind him. At least one person had followed Romano to the front door, but Romano had been too focused on America to notice.

Romano tensed up as America laughed and put an arm around his shoulder. “Germany, are you crying, dude?”

“I… I’m verklempt. That was a beautiful moment.” Savino glanced over and saw that Germany wasn’t the only one. Veneziano, Seborga, and Prussia were all standing in the entryway, and they all looked misty-eyed.

Romano groaned and turned to bury his face in America’s ridiculous t-shirt. “Seriously, did you come out here to fucking spy on us?! What the hell is wrong with you?!” America squeezed his arm around him in a silent gesture of support. He could probably tell how embarrassed Romano was.

“Well, you were the one who decided to run out the front door suddenly,” Marcello said teasingly. “You can’t blame us for wanting to see what was going on.”

Veneziano piled on. “It’s nice of you to visit us on our birthday, America. You can come inside if you want, or you can stay out here and kiss Savi some more.”

Romano growled and turned to shoot vicious glares at both of his brothers, but America didn’t seem bothered at all. “As tempting as it sounds to stand here and kiss Vinny all day, I think I’ll come inside.” He dropped his arm from around Savino’s shoulders and presented him with the floral bouquet he somehow hadn’t noticed earlier in his mad dash to the door. “These are for you.”

“Grazie.” Savino smiled as he bent his head to sniff the bouquet of red roses mixed with white lilies. The symbolism wasn’t lost on him.

“Anything for you,” America whispered, too quietly for the others to hear. He pressed a kiss to Savino’s cheek, grabbed his wheeled suitcase, and dangled out his free hand as they headed into the house behind the others.

Romano grabbed America’s hand and laced their fingers together. This was the best birthday he’d ever had, and it was due in no small part to the fact America was holding his hand right now and smiling like he was the one who had received everything he ever wanted.

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starkeristheendgame · 4 years

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Hi! Are you still taking prompts? If yes, can you do a Starker one, where Tony is oblivious, and Peter doesn't know what to do, and ask for help to a close friend of Tony and they try to make him jealous by pretending to date and Tony is like of course he is with him he's everything i'm not and having a total breakdown and peter realize that they hurt tony instead and ask for forgivenes and end up together, pleasee? Thank you! If you aren't please just ignore this!

Against my better judgement, my prompts are never closed! Thank you so much for this super sweet/angsty prompt, Nonnie! I realised after finishing this that I never directly included Peter asking for forgiveness, but I hope this feeds you just the same! ❤

TW: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Self-worth issues | Jealousy | Alcohol mention

SFW

Harley Keener is two years Peter’s senior and nicer than Peter could have ever imagined. When Tony had first started to talk about the ‘the first one he pseudo-adopted’ and how Harley had grown into more of a ‘mini me’ than he could’ve imagined, Peter had felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut.

What if Harley was better than him?

What if Tony liked Harley more?

What if, with Harley around, Tony didn’t want Peter around anymore?

He needn’t have worried, though. Harley wasn’t as ‘outwardly’ nerdy as he was, but he was more than happy to gush over the latest Star Wars LEGO offerings, and Tony snarked them both in equal measure. It was surprisingly like having another Ned around, and it took less than a week for Peter to feel stupid for having worried about his place besides the two of them.

Tony even joked that Harley was the ‘prototype’ and Peter was the ‘updated model’, to which Harley had just rolled his eyes, knocked Tony’s spanner off the table like a cat and gone straight back to talking to Peter about ComicCon.

They became fast friends, and Peter supposed that was somewhat why he tended to forget there was a second person in the lab with them here and there, starkly (heh) reminded of it when Harley flopped down next to him on the penthouse couch one evening and said; “so how long have you been in love with Tony?”

He could have cried. The Avengers he was around almost every other day for the past two years brushed off his doting as a hero complex and ‘mentor crush’ and it had taken Harley Keener less than three weeks to call him out on its true nature.

Naturally and mortifyingly it ended up with Peter sniffling against Harley’s shoulder, wailing about how Tony was out of his league, how every single possible thing that could was against them, and how worst of all; Tony wasn’t interested.

“He’s interested,” Harley had shrugged, gingerly plucking a tissue from the box and holding it out to him. He’d been somewhat cryptic about the basis of his statement, but had enthusiastically proposed a manner of ways in which it could be proven. And Peter…

Peter agreed to one.

He didn’t know why. He wasn’t exactly a glutton for punishment and he certainly didn’t get his kicks out of being humiliatingly, crushingly rejected, but...But Harley had said so make jealous. Tony always wants everything, and when he thinks he can’t have something he just tries harder to get it and Peter had inexplicably said yes.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, Peter didn’t quite know which) the only real, viable option was...Harley himself. None of the other Avengers would work; since they were all taken, straight and/or highly unlikely to be receptive to fake-dating a teen half (or more) their age.

Neither Ned or MJ had access to the Tower or could really be around any SHIELD, Stark or Avengers activity, and that left quite literally no-one else but Harley.

“I mean, in a way, its perfect. I’m the grandmaster of the plan anyway, and you don’t have to wordy about hurting my feelings or me falling for you. We can collaborate flawlessly to get you some Grand-Daddy dick,” Harley hummed around the stick candy in his mouth, and Peter wasn’t quite sure what part of that sentence offended him the most.

“Does literally nobody want me?” he pouted, bottom lip pushed out dramatically as he kicked Harley’s leg out of the way and picked up the PS5 controller.

“Hey, chin up, munchkin. You’re prettier than half the girls I know. I’m just not wired that way.”

“You’re straight?”

“I’m not anything. It’s like asexuality and aromantic, but both,” Harley pulled a face, clearly trying to remember the term, then shrugged. “Ah, I can never remember it. Anyway, point is, I’m not interested in anyone. You’re a little cherub, for sure, but you’re cute like a cat, not suck-my-dick cute.”

And, well. Cute like a cat? He considered that a high compliment.

Thus, Operation Get That Grand-Daddy Dick (Peter did not name it) was underway. They both agreed to keep it natural and subtle, since Tony walking in on them half-naked or all over each other was just likely to spook him off. They’d edge into it; hint that they were spending more time together, act a little cosier, maybe get caught holding hands after a week or two.

In truth, it wasn’t all that different to how they had been before, except that Harley made his smiles even softer, a little more secretive and let his gaze linger when he was sure Tony would notice. They sat and stood closer together than before, and here and there Harley would press a lingering hand to his back or arm.

They made sure when one or both left they secreted away just out of sight and took a little too long, standing close together by the elevator and making sure to hug ‘longingly’ (whatever that meant in context) should Tony happen to peek.

And yet for all his smarts, Tony didn’t seem to particularly notice anything amiss until the first time that he spotted them ‘romantically hugging’. Harley was actually a very good hugger, and they stood in front of the elevator together, with Peter facing it and Harley facing the lab. Harley had his chin over Peter’s shoulder and his hands low and tight on his waist, holding him close.

“Spotted,” Harley whispered quietly, and moments later Tony spoke up.

“Well that looks cosy.”

Tony’s voice was carefully level, no betrayal of emotion as Peter shyly disentangled himself from Harley, taking a step away as though caught doing something he shouldn’t. He didn’t have to fake the heat in his cheeks when he glanced up at where Tony stood, arms folded, and he fumbled with the strap of his backpack, glancing across at Harley before he gave Tony a meek smile.

“Um, I’ll-- I’ll see you Friday, Mr. Stark!” he chirped, shuffling around Harley and into the elevator. Tony was still staring at him as the doors began to close, and Harley turned, casting him a wink and a finger-waggling wave. Peter waved back sheepishly and the moment the doors were shut, he whipped out his phone.

[To: Thing 1] Did he look mad? It looked like he looked mad. Omg. U gotta tell me anything he says :// [19:31]

Harley did in fact text him back two hours later, though there wasn’t much to report. Tony had made a few flippant remarks that could either be parental interest or slight jealousy, and had dropped the subject after a short while in order to focus on his latest project.

Peter slumped. There was snails who had a faster moving love life than he did. With a groan, he stuffed the last of his anxiety snacks in his mouth and flopped back against his pillow to discuss the next step with Harley.

Social media was their next plan of attack. Tony followed Peter on Instagram and Twitter, and had his Snapchat even if the older man rarely used the platform, so they were going to up the pressure by hanging out outside of the lab (which they did anyway) and posting it to social media.

It was too soon to cancel plans with Tony to hang out with Harley (and frankly, Peter didn’t want to anyway) so they simply both made themselves unavailable on certain other days, or hung out together without mentioning it to Tony beforehand.

They got ice cream at the park, went to the art museum downtown, visited several different cultural/ethnic based stores and went to the arcade to kick ass at air hockey over the course of a few weeks, all while keeping up the poorly secretive touching and closeness at the lab.

And he’d still have more luck getting blood from a stone.

Tony seemed...Either completely oblivious, or just completely unphased. Whilst Peter caught him watching them here and there with an unreadable expression, Tony never directly asked them or overtly commented on what was happening. There was the odd, “enjoy the park yesterday, kid?” or “saw your post the other day, you should try this place next,” but never anything along the lines of what Peter hoped for.

Even Harley was starting to doubt his original statement that Tony was definitely interested.

Especially when Tony was the one who started cancelling plans, telling them both to ‘go enjoy themselves’ and ‘live the lives of young people’. He didn’t do it all the time, but here and there they’d both receive a text telling them not to come today. The lingering looks got longer and more weighted, but even so, Tony made no move in either aspect.

“I think I’m just gonna have to give it up,” Peter admitted to Harley one night over the phone, hanging upside down in his bedroom with the phone dangling on a web besides him.

“Maybe he’s just not ready for anything right now?” Harley suggested on the other end, between the frantic sounds of tapping buttons.

“Maybe-- Oh, hang on. I’ve got an inbound from JARVIS. It might be Avengers stuff,” Peter hummed, quickly twisting to tap on the screen to accept the incoming call from JARVIS.

“Hey, J. What’s up?” He greeted the AI, blinking at the call screen.

“Apologies for the disturbance, Mr. Parker, but protocol deems that when Mr. Stark is in distress I establish contact with someone on his emergency list in order to inform them.” The AI’s voice was as smooth and unhurried as ever, but Peter frowned at the screen.

“Distress?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker. Sir’s heart-rate is elevated and he is displaying significant symptoms of sadness, including light drinking, darkened lighting and angered viewing of your social media.”

“Angered viewing of my social media?” Peter echoed, fear ratcheting up as he dropped from the ceiling and moved to tug on a pair of shoes. Fuck, had he let something sip? Was there something in the background of his photos? Had someone figured out who he was? He was hopping towards the door on one foot when JARVIS spoke again, and he had to hop back to pull his phone down from the web.

“Why is he sad over that? Did I do something wrong?”

JARVIS was silent for a short while, as though the AI was debating on how best to respond.

“I... Believe Sir may be feeling lonely. Or unworthy of company. There have been a multitude of such instances over the past several years,” JARVIS replied after a pause, as Peter locked the web shooters around his wrist and tugged the Spiderman mask over his head to avoid any cameras, crawling out of his window and leaping out into the brisk air.

It didn’t take long to swing to the Tower, especially not when panic and concern had him pushing it, testing his muscles and leaving him slightly out of breath by the time he slipped onto the top landing console.

JARVIS directed him through to the penthouse and up the set of 12 steps that lead to the ‘upper level’ of it, to an open doorway that revealed Tony Stark sprawled out on his bed, staring blankly at his phone with a neglected, half-open bottle of whiskey loose in one arm, like a newborn babe.

“Mr. Stark?” he asked softly, and Tony’s gaze flit up to him, clearing immediately. His mentor cursed and jerked upright, almost sloshing the whole bottle over his bedding.

“Shit! Kid! Wh’r you doin’ here?” Tony’s voice was just hinting on slurred, the same easiness and lack of concentration that came when you’d had a shot too many. Or five. Peter’s heart cinched as he stared at Tony gingerly putting the bottle on the bedside table, at the redness of his eyes and the messiness of his hair where he’d been running a hand through it, over and over.

“JARVIS called me. He said you were sad,” Peter managed after a moment, hands wringing the mask between his fingers nervously. He’d never seen Tony like this, this...uncomposed. He looked haggard, tired and sad, and it made Peter feel empty and adrift, unsure of how to approach this new version of the man he loved.

“Fucking snitch,” the older man grumbled half-heartedly, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Shit. Don’t-- Ignore me, kid. Adults my age are entitled to a night like this once in a while. Go back home, I’m fine. Fuck, you didn’t leave Harley for this, did you?”

“Harley?” Peter parroted, brows furrowing as Tony waved a hand.

“Go on, kid. Get. Make the most of being young and pretty with someone young and pretty.” Tony reached for the bottle again and Peter found himself striding across the room, placing himself in the way of Tony’s outstretched hand and the whiskey. Tony’s fingertips brushed his stomach and recoiled like he’d been burnt by the contact.

“Mr. Stark, do you think I don’t want to hang out with you anymore?” he asked after a moment, voice fragile. God, he’d hoped to maybe make Tony a little jealous, but nothing like this. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him. And he clearly had. There was nothing but rawness in Tony’s eyes when the older man looked up at him.

“I’m not taking it personally,” his mentor attempted to joke, but it came out bitter and too flat to land lightly. Peter’s heart cinched in his chest and he shuffled to sit on the edge of the large bed, teeth on his lower lip as Tony turned away from his gaze.

“Mr. Stark, I’ve never...I’ve never not wanted to hang out with you. Even if I have other friends, too,” he pointed out tentatively, and Tony scoffed lightly.

“You’re too good for a world like this, shortstack. For someone like me. You should be trailing after someone like Captain Uptight,” Tony muttered lowly, and Peter scowled.

“You’re not less better than he is. Both of you are good people. Both of you make mistakes. Both of you save the world.”

Tony’s brows pinched, and he breathed out something that just barely sounded like then why aren’t I good enough?

Making an executive decision, Peter toed off his sneakers and crawled further up onto the bed, picking up Tony’s arm and settling down against his side, curling up under his arm and wrapping his own around Tony’s waist.

He could feel Tony’s heart thumping wildly in his chest, could feel his breath hitch and the hesitant way that Tony let his arm settle over Peter, fingers curling in his hoodie.

“You are,” he offered simply, squeezing gently. “This is my fault. I was acting like a dumb kid, and I thought... I should’ve known that it was just gonna end badly.”

“Is being my mini-me really that bad?” Tony choked out, and Peter pushed himself upright, alarmed.

“What? No! Mr. Stark, being around you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t ever ever regret being around you! I just... I have to…” He trailed off for a moment, frustrated, then prayed to Harley for forgiveness and sucked in a deep breath.

“I’m not actually dating Harley. At all. He doesn’t like people that way. Any people. We’re not boyfriends and I don’t want to stop spending time with you to spend time with him. I like spending time with you and you’re still my hero. Tony Stark or Iron Man,” he stated firmly.

Tony looked at him for a moment, then looked away.

“You should be with Harley, kid. Or someone like him. Not someone like me. Not someone with my history. I’m a shit person, kid. All this Iron Man stuff hasn’t even wiped half my scoreboard clean. Someone like Harley... He’s the better parts of me. Like you. He’s worth your love”.

Tony seemed almost startled at saying that word, twitching a little before he attempted to turn away from Peter again, gaze finding the far end of the room like he wished he was anywhere but here.

Peter fidgeted, then sucked in a deep breath. “Please don’t hate me after this,” he fumbled out quickly, then rolled half on top of the older man, hands fisting in the front of his shirt as he leaned forwards.

The kiss was awkward and clumsy and couldn’t have lasted for than two seconds before Tony pulled away, eyes wide and voice rough.

“Kid, what-- You can’t--”

“If you say you’re not interested, I’ll respect that,” Peter interrupted. “Or if you say I’m too young or whatever. But if you say anything along the lines you of not being enough, or not being worthy, or-- or-- Or whatever it is you feel you aren’t... You’re wrong. The reason me and Harley were acting like that is because I was trying to make you jealous.”

“What-”

“And I know its dumb! I don’t it was childish and I never thought it would hurt you like this. But I’ve lo-- I’ve really liked you. For years. And I know you’re a lot older and we might never be able to be...To be...Normal. I guess. But I want whatever I can get with you, because you’re worth it,” Peter barrelled on, desperate to at least be heard before Tony kicked him out. Except when he trailed off Tony was just... Staring at him.

“It’s just... Hero worship. You still think I’m some magical superhero and you--”

“No offence, Mr. Stark, but you don’t know what I think. Not when it comes to you, clearly,” Peter cut in, cheeks heating at being so brash. Prior to this he wouldn’t have ever dreamed about being so direct and forceful against Tony.

Well. Not in any PG-rated sense, anyway.

“Just... We don’t have to talk about it now, okay?” eh offered, sliding off Tony just a little so he was back up against his side, wriggling around until he could grab the faux fur throw on the bottom of the bed, pulling it up over both of them. Tony remained quiet at his side, just watching as he got them both settled.

“Just... I’m gonna stay, alright? Right here. With you. Because this is where I want to be, and its where I’m gonna stay until... Until you tell me to leave.” His lower lip threatened to wobble with mounting emotion as he lay his head on Tony’s chest, feeling the thick ridges of his scars beneath his shirt.

A moment later, Tony’s hand settled lightly over his head, fingers sliding tentatively into his hair.

“And if I never tell you to leave? If I’m selfish and never want to let you go?” the other man whispered.

“Then I guess that makes us both selfish, because that would make me happy,” Peter mumbled into his chest, wrapping his arm tighter around Tony’s waist. The room went silent for a while, save for their breathing and Tony’s heart thumping beneath his ear.

“Okay,” Tony rasped after a moment, and Peter smiled.

“Okay, Hazel Grace.”

“...What?”

“Nevermind. You’re too old for that reference.”

“You’re a little shit.”

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