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jeromesxreader16 · 3 years

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Such a Joker (53)

Part 52 Here!

~o0o~

I pack two sandwiches in my purse and proceed to cover my hair with the large silk scarf. "Where are you sneaking off to?" Babs asks walking past me and downing a drink. "Secret date? I figured you would get sick of the pale faced clown." I smile at my hands. I could never tire of my boy. I'm as crazy as him, maybe more, but he would never turn me away, and I could never leave him.

"I'm married." "Even better." I narrow my eyes at her. "Babs, I'm going to see my dad." She widens her eyes. "Now you're asking for a death wish." I walk out the door, my heels clicking every step. "If you say so."

I walk into the GCPD and can sense the chaos and tension thickly canned in the air. Not seconds later two individuals start brawling over bread. "Hey! Break it up!" My father pushes them back. "For all the new people here... everyone is welcome in Haven, but there are rules. And one of them is we leave the fighting outside. Government already thinks we don't deserve help. We have to show otherwise. Gangs want to tear themselves apart outside, that's their business. In here, in Haven... we help each other survive." I hum with a slick smile as the two dispute the issue and the tension falls. Saved for another day.

I walk up to him nudging his arm. "Nice speech. I think it worked." He turns to me and gasps, but recovers quickly. "(Y/n). You're so big. No... Just-" "Pregnant, dad." He nods smiling. "So what happens when they find out the government abandoned them?" He sighs, shaking his head. I pat his back. "Come on paper man. You need some real food." I pull him into his office and remove the disguise. "Italian sub for you, and tuna for me." "You hate tuna." I smile sitting down. "They don't." I pat my swollen tummy. "So there are two of them?" I nod smiling.

"And you're happy? He treats you well?" I nod again smiling at him. "Of course he does. He's not a monster, dad." He grabs my hand over the desk and squeezes it. "I don't... like him. You know this. He destroyed the damn city for christ's sake, but he is the father of my grandchildren, and the husband of my only daughter, so I can promise you... I will never kill him." I kiss his hand and smile. "Who knew that'd be so comforting to hear."

I walk into the elevator with the smile ghosted over my lips. Crackling from the speaker erupts my mind causing me to shake and grab the wall in fright. "Aw, honey, I'm sorry." Ecco's voice pipes up from the speaker. I wave my hand in front of the camera with a smile. "No worries. All good here." I laugh placing a hand on my stomach. "Where is Jerimiah?" "Working down below. Would you like me to get him?" I smile up at the camera. "Let me go down."

"Uh... Miss, I think we should wait. He doesn't want you around the-" I press the button to the bottom floor faster than light. "Oops," I smirk up to Ecco as the elevator skips the main floor and descends below.

The two doors slide open revealing a steamed room with the funk of hard labor. I step on the uneven ground and see Jerimiah fanning himself as he watches his workers. I rest my hands on his shoulders and kiss his cheek. "You're working hard." He spins around with a glare. "And you're not supposed to be here." He grips my hips pulling me towards him.

"I missed you." I nuzzle into his chest. He hums as we rock back and forth. "I missed you, my love. Come on. No lady should be exposed to this heat." He places his hand on the small of my back leading me to the elevator.

Holding me the entire way up and then carrying me to our bed, never letting us go. "Are my darlings all suggled up?" He asks resting my head on his chest. The icy colored flesh proving wrong to the touch of fire on my fingers. "Yes, Jer." I mumble feeling my eyes draw to a close. "Never will I go a day without my family... even your father." He kisses my head before I can ask the question.

Jeremiah POV:

My workers work endlessly day and night to break the walls of the under the earth. Slowing down each day, getting on my nerves in the end. You're pushing my men way too hard. "We're not gonna break through for at least a couple more days. There is absolutely no way to make it on schedule." The leader of the pack of sweat cogs comes in.

My wife doesn't need to be kept in this filth any longer. How dare he disrespect my future. "Well, not with that attitude, you're not." I slice the man's throat, as he falls to the ground, blood flowing on the dirt.

"Now... everyone... let's reach inside and dig... a little deeper, shall we? 'Cause that's the only way you're all making it out of this hole." I hum watching their fear thicken.

Two taps on my shoulder break my gaze from the project. "Oh, Echo. Are these all the recruits?" Skinny, no brains, slim Whitted. These are my soldiers?

"Well, I thought you would want quality over quantity. Not everybody can pass a .38 caliber test of faith." I smirk thinking of the trials and tests they've suffered. "Yes... you certainly have set a very high bar for devotion."

"Oh. Almost forgot. Bruce Wayne and his sidekick Curls... Or is he the sidekick? Anyway, they tried to infiltrate our little operation here."

"Oh?" " Oh. And Curls can walk, really well, especially... for a paraplegic. Ah. And she wants to kill you." I glare at her with a snarl. This doesn't help that my wife is being cared for in the same building.

"A lot, FYI. If I see her, I'll give you a shout. Oh... and kill her." I nod rolling my eyes. Finish the job and move on for the better of my wife and children.

I walk into the GCPD questioning room with my scarf wrapped around my head, and my belly protruding out. Quite the look I must say. I open the door to see Victor Zsasz pushed on to the table by Harvey.

"Ow. This is a really nice table." I snicker and take my glasses off. "You do realize her thrives on the pain." The three pairs of eyes look at me. "We got a dozen witnesses that saw you walk out of that building before it went kabooey."

"Yeah. I heard some gangs had taken over." Zsasz says turning his eyes to me. "Figured, with you guys occupied, I might help myself to some of your supplies. Hey, do you guys have any canned peaches? Man, I'd trade an arm and a leg for that right now. Not mine, somebody else's. Maybe little baby Maniax's." He laughs reaching for my stomach before Jim swats his arm down.

"If you're innocent, why shoot up a city block full of cops?"

"Because it was full of cops." Zsasz and I say at the same time.

"Who were also trying to shoot me. And, guys, those were warning shots. I mean, if I really

wanted to kill you... you'd be dead. You got a pen? I want to write this guy a thank-you letter. Do the math. If I blew up a building full of people, I would have covered

every inch of my body in sweet, sweet scars. Mrs. Valeska... want to do a strip search?" He winks before my father punches him. "She's married, pig."

I lock arms with my dad and walk through the station. "Got Lucius on the horn for you, Cap."

"Lucius, talk to me." I grab the phone holding it close enough for the both of us to hear. "Haven wasn't destroyed by a bomb. It was an RPG, like the one that took down the chopper."

"You sure?"

I'm holding what's left of it in my hand right now. We found pieces of it in the rubble. It was fired through the basement window, detonated the fuel oil tank. And we're still trying to figure out exactly which rooftop it was fired from.

"Rooftop?"

"Yes."

"Dad, the only angle you could hit this place from is above. Zsasz was on the ground. Looks like you need a new suspect. I think we need to-"

"Jim! Ah. I know the wheels of justice turn slowly, so I'm here to provide- a modicum of grease."

Rushing up towards the front, Oswald, the Mayor of fallen Gotham, stands tall and proud.

"You need to leave right now."

"Still claiming he's innocent, is he?"

"Yes. And as much as I hate to admit it, the evidence is backing him up."

Harvey busts out, "What the hell's going on?" "Harvey, according to Lucius, Zsasz couldn't have done it."

Oswald huffs with a smile. "I did not expect you to go soft, Jim. Actually, I did. Behind a grandpa and all must've changed your ways. Which is why I didn't come alone." Several gunmen come out armed and ready to fire. My father huddles me close and shields me from the view of guns.

"Bring me Victor Zsasz!"

"Leave, (Y/n). Go home!" Jim pushes me away towards the doors.

Jeremiah POV:

I wave my hat fanning my pale skin placed upon the crippling bones. It's so damp and hot in here, but I'm freezing. My heart has gone cold without her scent around. Not a touch, not a wiff, not a glace for days it seems. Where is my angel with my bundles of joy?

"You see, a river cuts through rock not because of its power, but because of its persistence. So what do we do when we feel like giving up? Dig a little deeper. And what do we do when we can't possibly go on any longer? Dig a little deeper. And what do we..." A sharp blade stabs into my side crippling my speech. I look down seeing the masked figure in the striped coat. I gasp feeling my footing slide as the attacker shoves the blade into my stomach further.

"Deep enough?" The individual removes the mask revealing the little pussy of them all. "Well, Selina, I must say..." She pulls the blade out plunging it back in sharply.

"Don't say anything." Over and over again the blade is shoved into my side. The light dimming, the hot steam hitting my brow, the devilish laughter of my brother. This is near my end? Maybe so...

"Selina!" The rat is stripped away from me causing me to fall to the ground barely clinging to the life of happiness I have.

"Selina!" Bruce Wayne holds the fierce kitty back. "Stop. It's done! It's over."

The building is quiet. The entire place is quiet... Not one swing of an ax hitting limestone, making a light clink sound. Not the ring of my husbands voice calling to his men. Not even Echo meeting me at the door with my slippers and milkshake. Something is not right.

"Jeremiah?" I call out as if he could hear me from below. If not him then someone. One of the members at least, but no one came. I proceeded to enter the elevator only to see blood on the buttons and floor. They were having the graduation today, not everyone makes it.

The doors open to the pool room and I could almost drop to my knees at the smell. Thick scent of blood coating the walls. I walk out of the elevator and down into the pool counting the dead. No Echo or Jeremiah. Good so far.

I make my way down to the tunnels where silence has taken over. Just a simple lone man sitting in a chair. "Where is Jermiah?" I panic pulling my jacket closer. Could he have left me?

"Mrs. Valaska!" "Where is my husband?" "He's off in the tunnels. He's got injured. I'm supposed to take you to him." "Well, go on!" He shuffles his feet in a pace of nervousness, tripping over rocks and pickaxes. "How did he get hurt?" "Someone came in and just stabbed the boss. She was taken away by Bruce Wayne." I feel fire ignite in my blood. Selina and Bruce. What a treat. Trying to kill my husband in my own home.

Down the tunnels I hear him. Groaning in pain as Echo stitches him up. "How could you let this happen?" I shout at her. "She was fast." "And you're supposed to be faster." I glare at her as she cowers at my words.

"Don't stress, darling. It's not good for the babies."

"Jeremiah." I kneel down next to him grabbing his face. "Are you alright?" He places his hands over mine, kissing them each. "I'm still alive. One thing I've still got on my brother. How are you, my love? I'm sorry. You must've been wrecked with worry." Jeremiah pulls me into his lap. I nod with my bottom lip out. "Yes, I was. I was so scared, Jer." He pulls me to him. "Aw my darling. I know. I know."

I shift my weight slightly causing him to jet in a sharp inhale. "Oh, honey. Stitches still sore?" He nods. "Never would have happened if you wore that armor I prepared." Echo hums, causing me to roll my eyes. "That bullet makes you sentimental of the wrong things." I huff out pushing her out of the view.

"Why would you not check who was working? You always do. You're always prepared." Jeremiah places his hand on my cheek again. "I had to let Selina thrust the knife into my flesh at least once. Verisimilitude trumps precaution, you see." "They think you're dead." I think putting everything together.

Echo stands to the side bouncing with information. "What is it?" She giggles jumping on her heels. "All systems go." Jeremiah lifts himself, placing a hand on the small of my back and leading us along behind Echo.

"You could've died." I whisper looking at the dirt. "I didn't." "But you could have, Jeremiah. That's my point. You have two children growing, and soon they'll be out in this world. They need their father. You've kept me safely away, but that won't mean shit if you're not around to protect your children." I move ahead of him in a fit of fire.

A hand grabs my shoulder spinning me around. Jerehimah dips me and pushes our lips together. His grip on my arm and hip so tight, keeping me pulled to him with no fight. He pulls away only an inch, looking at my eyes, looking into the soul. "Now, you may not understand everything I do, but I do it for you and these two kids. I think and I plan for hours. You sit up in the bed resting your feet like I tell you. When you start questioning if I'm going to make it, that's when this will fall apart. You're my darling. You've been mine for thousands of years. Never doubt me, (Y/n)." He places his hands on my stomach and pecks my forehead. "Come along now. We have things to do."

Leading me through the tunnels I start to see less of the dirt and more solid grey rock already formed into tunnels. "Where are we?" Jeremiah giggles pulling me alongside.

"Doctor. I'm hearing good things." Jeremiah says holding in laughter.

What is he up to?

The Doctor nods. "The bandages are ready to come off. Your assistant thought you'd like to see the results." Echo shakes her head in praise like a dog while Jer nods his head. "Indeed, I would."

He turns to me. "You won't want to miss this, (y/n)."

The Doctor unravels the bandages on the individuals faces revealing a profile built from professional lifestyle and diets. This is Thomas and Martha Wayne before my eyes... ALIVE!

"Oh, you two look beautiful." I smile looking down at her pearl necklace. "Down to the very detail with you." Jeremiah kisses my cheek. "I love family reunions, don't you?" "More than Christmas!" I cheer and giggle.

#jerome #jerome x reader #jerome valeska #jerome valeska imagine #jerome valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska imagine #jeremiah valeska x reader #jerome valeska smut #Gotham #Gotham City #gotham cast

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sneezefiction · 4 years

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apple pie & ice cream

Kenma x Reader - Scenario

desc: gloomy days can always be brightened with sweet smells, cinnamon sugar, and a homemade apple pie from yours truly: Kenma Kozume

a/n: to the anon who requested this a little while ago... happy birthday, love!! i hope you’re okay that i switched things around a little bit & had Kenma make you something sweet instead <3</i>

warning: slight language

wc: 1580

---

Some days are longer than others.

You’ve never had a good explanation as to why, but there are at least some telltale signs.

Like when red lights seem endless, your favorite song doesn’t sound as pretty as it should, and you just can’t keep your tired eyes open. Even with a cozy mug of hot tea in hand or the gentle stream of sunlight filtering through your office’s window, the warmth on your fingertips and face simply refused to reach you on the inside.

It also doesn’t help that you were flipped off not once, but twice, by some shitty drivers when you clearly had the right of way.

So you determine that the faster you can get home to Kenma, the better you’ll feel.

You take every short-cut and any back road, impatiently awaiting the moment that you can kick off your uncomfortable shoes and step out of those constricting work clothes. To turn on the air-conditioning and crash into a couch that proves to be far more welcoming than the outside world. Even just a nice, long stretch would do your aching back and heavy arms some good.

But most of all, you long to sink into Kenmas chest and lazily breathe in the comforting smell of home that rested on his well-worn hoodies. To run your fingers through his silky, soft hair and make messy braids out of it while sighing heavily to relinquish the day's grip on your tight shoulders. You can’t wait to bother him until he sets aside his black and red headphones to kiss your forehead and pull you into a soul-catching hug.

Most crappy days call for extra love from your gamer-boyfriend… but today Kenma has really gone out of his way to shower you in sweetness. Literally.

You’d sent him an awfully lengthy text about the number of crazy drivers on the road, the dreary weather overhead, following it up with a recap of your teary-eyed breakdown in a fast food chain parking lot... and you topped it off with just how much you missed him.

So he did the one thing he knew could lift anyone’s spirits.

Kenma got to baking his world famous apple pie.

Countertops were covered in white and brown sugar, apple peels, and other various, scattered ingredients. A store-bought pie crust was preheating in the oven, because only God knows how long it would take for Kenma to learn how to make that from scratch. Spices plumed in delicate, little clouds throughout the kitchen. Everything was coming together beautifully.

Kenma mumbles to himself quietly, a little miffed that he’s missing his weekly streaming session...

But secretly, he’s been meaning to do this for you for a long time.

He’s been dying to thank you for putting up with his incessant live shows and never-ending computer gameplay. For living with him in his rental house even though he could probably (definitely) afford something far more luxurious. And you deserved luxurious. You should be decked out in diamonds and fancy cashmere, lounging on a sofa atop some rooftop garden oasis that overlooks the entirety of Tokyo, and dancing the night away at clubs and galas.

But you chose him.

Simple Kozume.

A smaller-framed boy with a knack for video-games, patterns, and strategy. The one they jokingly called “pudding head” in high school. That kid who used to hide behind his own hair because the world around him was far more daunting than he thought he could handle.

Kenma would rather stay in and binge a series on netflix than spend a night out on the town. He invests himself in playing an overly-competitive tournament of Mario Kart with you over flying out for a highstakes game of poker in Vegas. He prefers nights surrounded in fairy lights when you collaborate on videos with him, throw popcorn at his long hair, and drink a bit too much just because you both compliment each other more when you’re a little tipsy.

You love all of this about him and you’ve reminded him time after time that you wouldn’t trade him for the world… yet Kenma is still determined to at least have this apple pie done by the time you get home.

But as luck would have it, you’re early.

The lock to the door clicks and twists as you slide it open with a few squeaks.

Your senses are instantly delighted by the blooming fragrance of cinnamon and nutmeg. An ambrosial wafting of warm apples and pastry dough permeates the airspace while the added ginger and lemon cut through the sweet scent.

As if the room had just handed over a fluffy blanket and set you in front of a crackly, wood-burning fire, you’re filled with that much needed comfort.

You’re home. And it smells so damn good.

If heaven had a scent, this was it. And you might as well be wearing a halo and angel wings.

“Kozume…?” You call out, wondering if it was really your boyfriend in the kitchen creating that mouth-watering aroma.

“...yes, y/n?” He replies slowly, trying to clean up the countertops, a little frustrated that the pie wasn’t finished in time for your arrival.

“Is that you? Or did Gordon Ramsey break into my house and take over my kitchen?” You giggle, waltzing into the kitchen, the stress of the day being alleviated immediately upon seeing those speculative, gold-speckled eyes.

His hands are in his hoodie pockets, but when your form turns corner into the kitchen and makes its way toward him, Kenma draws them out and sneaks his hands up to your cheeks, cupping them gently.

He leans in, his expression a tad quizzical and somewhat mysterious, and whispers…

“You’re an idiot sandwich.”

A laugh bubbles up and out, shaking your whole body as you wrap your arms around his frame. You’d seen him just this morning, but wow you’d missed him and his extensive knowledge of meme culture. Now Kenma has his arms draped around your waist, hands squeezing at your hips a little. Your flustered but smiley expression spurs on a soft chuckle, a gentle yet deep rumbling in his throat.

“I thought you’d be back a little bit later, but I’m glad you’re here.” He murmurs out, voice tired but so soothing to your ears.

“Mmm, I’m glad to be back… now are you gonna tell me what that magnificent smell is? Or should I open up the oven and check?” The cheeky tinge to your voice causes him to pull away from you for a moment to look you in the eye.

“If you want it to turn out well, I’d keep your pretty little hands away from the oven for the next few minutes.” Kenma quips.

You playfully stick out your tongue but then proceed to place a teasing peck between his eyes, making him crinkle his nose cutely.

“So, when you sent me those texts earlier, I might have accidentally made an apple pie.” Kenma admits, looking away.

“Accidentally?” A grin slowly spreads across your face, eyes glinting with humor.

“Yep. Accidentally.” He shrugs, “I found some ingredients and a pie dish and I just accidentally threw it all together. So yeah, how convenient is that?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes.

He’s really something else. And to think your day had previously been wrought with misery and disappointment.

“Mmm I don’t know, Kozume… it doesn’t sound like an accident to me. I think you did it because you wanted to be sweet.” You whisper softly into his ear.

Leaning back to brush away a strand of his hair from his face to get a full visual of his cat-like gaze.

“And why would I do that?” He teases gently.

“Oh, I don’t know… maybe because you love me?” You poke at his shoulder.

“Huh? Love?” He gives you a goofy look, raising both eyebrows in mock confusion. “...Is that some kind of sauce?”

He tries to keep a straight face, but the quirk of his lip gives him away.

You just stare at him before giving in to another fit of rolling giggles. The hearty, unrestrained laughter overtakes the both of you, causing you to double over and clutch your middle in an attempt to hold yourself up. Kenma has his back up against the counter-top, holding the edges of it with both palms to keep himself steady and from falling to the floor.

As you both recover from aching lungs and that cloudy, euphoric feeling, you can’t help but let a smile plaster itself on your face.

Kenma has done many things today.

He gave you a reason to come home with hope in your heart. He’d drawn you into a heartfelt, soul-refreshing hug. He had made you laugh like nobody ever could. He’d even baked you an apple pie.

But best of all, he‘d held you together.

Like he always did.

Every single day, without a doubt in your mind, you could celebrate and smile. Because you would always have this cinnamon-covered cutie to smile and crack up with. He would always brighten the most mundane of weekdays and find the loveliest of ways to match your moods.

You two are like apple pie and vanilla bean ice cream.

And speaking of ice cream…

“Hey, Kozume?” You bring him into one more bear-like hug.

“Yeah, babe?”

“Did you get ice cream to go with the apple pie?” You ask, your face preciously tucked into the crook of his neck.

No reply. Had he heard you?

“Kozume? Did-”

Cue a huge sigh from Kenma.

“...Where are my car keys? I need to go to the store immediately.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals, @moonlightaangel

(comment, dm, or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #kenma kozume #kenma #nekoma #haikyu #haikyuu fluff #hq #hq x reader #hq scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #kenma scenario #kenma imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu kenma #sneezefiction

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lovestrucked-again · 4 years

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Only You | L.Mark

Summary: When your childhood friend finally comes home on tour, he confesses something he never would’ve before.

Pairing: idol!Mark X female reader Word count: 4.7k Warning: okay more smut than storyline. oral sex (reader/Mark receiving), virgin, cum licking/swallowing, marking, biting, hair pulling, unprotected sex, rooftop sex, 18+

Genre: fluff, smut - first time

Hi! I love the way you write so much! Are you open for requests? If yes, I hope you could make another first time with mark lee but this time he’s an idol. I hope its slow fucking and intense as the one you did first. I think out of all the smut fic that I’ve read yours are the best and detailed! Gosh I loved it so much!

a/n: I hope this is it.. <3 _____

“Should we come here some other time, then?” you ask innocently, spreading your arms out to the open scenery as you turn to look at him.

He laughs, “That’s a great way to ask me out,”

“That’s because I know you’re not going to,” you counter back.

“I’d love to ask you out.”

“Then ask.” You watch as he hesitates, parting his mouth to form a word before he shuts it quickly, deciding not to. “See what I mean?”

The two of you climb down from the rocks and he offers you a hand, guiding you down carefully. As you land your last foot down, steadying yourself Mark clears his throat, turning to face you, a question on his tongue.

“So, Y/N…I was wondering if you’d like to, you know, go out on a…date?”

You can’t help but burst into another fit of giggles feeling guilty as an embarrassing blush creeps over his ears and cheeks.

“What are you so afraid of?” you ask, “You’re so confident on stage, but balk at the prospect of asking a girl out on a date.”

“I guess I need some more practice,” he replies cheekily. “So?”

You step closer, wrapping your arm around his neck and pull him until your faces are centremetres apart. Up this close in the dark, his soft brown eyes are spellbinding, determined, yet scared. As your lips inch close, the realization strikes him.

Before you know it, he moves first, your lips meeting, soft and hesitant. On an instinct, he pulls you closer against him, mashing your mouths together. You lose yourself in the soft, warm feeling. He pulls gently at your lower lip, sucking on it and you let out a moan, winding your fingers in his hair and pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

His hands, with a will of their own, roam over your back, sighing contently as your body rubs gently against his, your breasts soft against his chest through the fabric of your shirt and the warm scent of his light musky cologne infusing your senses.

Unfortunately, the kiss goes on for so long that you never notice your lungs begging for precious air. You part reluctantly, your lips producing a soft ‘pop’ as they separate and you bury your face in his chest.

“How’s that for a yes?” you ask, voice muffled against him.

He takes in a deep breath, your body rising with his as he speaks, “Wow.”

The two of you remain like that, just holding each other, basking in the warmth and quiet companionship.

“So, that’s what it’s like to kiss someone?” he asks after some time.

“I…it was a first for me.” You whisper.

He looks down at you and smiles. “We’re on the same boat, then.”

***

The two of you kiss for a good fifteen minutes, each round growing more fierce and desperate than the last. It’s good, but it’s not enough. You want more.

“It’s getting late,” he whispers reluctantly. “My manager will raise hell if he finds out about my nocturnal activities.”

“Let’s go to your house then.” you propose, craving for more of his touch. “You can tell your manager you’re staying home for the night since you're here.”

He gulps. “Are you sure?”

“Well,” you trail, running a hand lightly over the obvious bulge in his jeans “someone wants to play,” He lurches back from the illicit contact.

He regains his composure very quickly. “Okay, call someone from your house and say that you’re staying over and…whatever else you need to say.”

Oblivious to him who seems to be stuttering all over the place, you’re already done texting a message before he can complete his words. You grab his hand and race towards his car leaving him a stumbling mess as he rushes to keep up.

The drive back to his house is full of anticipation. As if time has slowed down, making the short journey incredibly torturous. You kiss some more during the red signals, not even noticing the light turn green until the driver honks angrily behind you.

He opens his garage doors long before you’re in sight of the house and parks the car with squealing tires. You don’t know how you navigate through the house, but somehow, you end up on his bed in a tangled heap of intertwined arms and legs. Your hands are everywhere at once, as if it’s the end of the world with far too little time to spend.

“I have a crazy idea,” you say, pulling back from the kiss.

“What?”

You give him a cheeky smile, “Let’s go to the roof.”

He smirks, “I like the way you think.”

The two of you rush up the stairs, careful not to make much noise. He settles the blankets and pillows on the roof and you push him onto his back as soon as he’s done.

“Easy,” he laughs, but you swallow his next words with a kiss.

You’ve never felt so…daring, so eager for someone’s touch. As if a dam has broken somewhere inside you, carrying you away with its tide. It’s the one thing that you’ll never regret doing in life. He rolls over on top of you and holds your hands above your head, controlling you effectively.

“Slow down, we’re not going anywhere,” he says, grinning down at you. You try to think up an excuse, but you realize he’s right. You’re both panting like dogs in heat. “Nice and slow,” he says and buries his head in the crook of your neck, sending tingles of shock as he nuzzles into your skin.

His warm body is a comfortable weight atop of yours; allowing you to wrap your legs around his hips and hold him closer to you, sighing in contentment as he kisses your neck and shoulders. Your heart feels full, almost to the point of bursting out of your chest with sheer joy.

He kisses your cheek, your jaw and descends down to your throat. A startled gasp escapes you when he kisses a particularly sensitive region. His lips quirk into a devilish grin as he spends more time on that place, licking and nibbling and eliciting small gasps from you. He nibbles at your neckline as his fingers search for the zip of your dress.

Your heart jumps when he finds it, holds it and pulls it down slowly. The sound, instead of arousal, brings panic. He stops. Holding your chin, he makes you look up at him. His eyes are sincere, full of love and understanding.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, Y/N,” he says simply, and just like that, a sense of peace and calm replaces the panic. He leans down and kisses you once more, your lips molding with each other’s. “If anything makes you uncomfortable, tell me, and I’ll stop.”

You nod gratefully. He pulls the zip down to your waist. Threading a finger to each of the straps holding your dress, he pushes it aside and brings it down to your waist. His eyes remain glued to your skin, revealed inch by inch, as a piece of your dignity is carefully pried apart. You raise your hips as he pulls the material down to your legs. I’m out of it, finally, clad only in my bra and panties.

You wonder if anyone can see you on the roof, with you laid flat in your underwear. Maybe doing it in such a romantic setting was a bad idea.

“No one can see us,” he says, reading your thoughts. “It’s just you and me.”

Just you and Mark. It sounds like music to your ears.

He draws another lingering kiss from your lips and then kisses your sternum, down to your cleavage. He reaches behind your back and unhooks your bra…or tries his best to. You giggle uncontrollably as he fumbles with it and curses under his breath.

“I hate this thing,” he says, mock-anger in his voice.

“Maybe you need some more practice.” you smile and reach behind yourself, unhooking the bra and holding the cups with one hand.

He watches you with barely contained lust. You feel like a virgin deflowered by the meanest wolf around. The panic begins to resurface, but a sudden kiss on your lips surprises you, making you open your eyes. The sight of his face so unexpectedly close to yours brings you to realise that you closed them out of fear.

“I wish I could tell you how beautiful you are to me, Y/N,” he says, a faint smile on his lips. “You don’t have anything to hide.”

You bite down on your tongue, trying to keep the laugh that’s trying to escape, “You always know the right thing to say, don’t you?”

“Yes, I think…” he trails off as you let the bra fall.

Your breasts, though not the biggest, are well-formed – teardrop shaped topped with light pink areolas and nipples. Many times a day you would stand in front of the mirror, wishing them to somehow grow bigger; but not today.

“Like what you see?” you ask, even though his expression of sheer awe says it all.

“Love it.”

His warm hands make your breath catch as they caress the sensitive underside, hefting your breasts and worshipping them slowly. Your insides clench with pleasure as he rubs your hardened nubs, rubbing and rolling them over. His touch, so foreign, make your nerves tingle with an electric shock as he gently lowers his head and takes one of your pink nubs inside his hot mouth.

“Oh,” you gasp, as his wet tongue flicks over your flesh.

Your eyelids shut down as you take in the sensory overload of two nipples being stimulated simultaneously. You never notice his other hand moving down onto the crotch of your panties so when his tentative fingers rub your slit through your moist panties you jerk beneath him.

It’s only a matter of a few moments before a small wave of contractions grip your body in its throes of orgasm. Everything falls apart and you clamp your thighs closed, nearly crushing his hand.

You barely hear his grunt of pain as you familiarize yourself with the foreign feelings coursing through your veins, stimulating you to a limit far beyond your imagination. Slowly, the muscles of your legs relax and Mark pries his hands away.

He lies down beside you, draping an arm over you, embracing you sideways, as you stare at the stars above.

“You look adorable with your eyes shut.”

“Really?” you ask. It feels like an out-of-the-body experience for you, as if someone else had asked it.

He laughs softly. “Having my hand crushed for that cute scrunched up face was definitely worth it.”

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, reaching for his hand.

“It’s the other one,” he says, amused. You reach for it, but he holds it away. “It’s alright, Y/N. You didn’t break any bones.”

As you lie there, doing nothing and basking in the comfortable silence of the twinkling stars, a realization hits you.

“Hey, how come I’m the only one naked?” you ask.

He grins as you get up and straddle him. You open his buttons one by one, following each with the softest kiss. After you throw the offending piece of clothing away, you start kissing back again from his neck, biting particularly hard at a spot near the junction where his throat meets his chest.

“Ouch,” he yelps. That bite will bruise proudly on his neck for everyone to see. “I’ll have a hard time covering that up,” he says.

“I’m marking my territory,” you say a little more harshly than you had intended.

"Always yours," he replies sincerely, taking your hand and kissing it softly.

You respond with a sweet kiss to his cheek. You unbuckle the belt and pull his jeans and shorts down his legs in one go before he can protest. His cock jumps up, freed at last. You hold the warm throbbing flesh with your hand, marvelling at its warmth and inherent pulsating beat.

Mark looks at you apprehensively. “Look, Y/N, you don’t really have to…OH SHIT!”

The next few words are drowned by his moans of pleasure as you envelope the sensitive head with your mouth and lap it gently with your tongue. While you are a virgin, you were no stranger to blowjobs, but you never thought that you’d actually enjoy giving one.

“You were saying?” you ask innocently.

He grunts his denial, and you happily go back to your mission of keeping him in touch with pleasure. You take your time, marvelling at the way his thick shaft hardens further inside your mouth. A strange taste invades your senses as his precum oozes out, lubricating him further. You pump him rhythmically, swirling your tongue and sucking over his glans.

“You know what?” he asks mirthfully.

“Hmm?” you hum, sending vibrations straight to his cock. He moans and clutches a handful of blankets as the gratification scatters his train of thoughts. You want to giggle, but it’d ruin the effect.

“Masturbating with my hands will never be the s-same.”

This time, you have to pause and laugh. The little remaining tension in your gut dissipates as you laugh together.

You dive straight back to your homework after that. His hands reach for your hair as his back arches off the makeshift bed. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you gag. Thankfully, it doesn’t last long and he pulls back, letting you take control once more.

“Y/N, I’m going to cum,” he gasps after a minute.

You look into his eyes and renew your efforts, watching his eyes lose focus and then roll back as he ejaculates inside your mouth. The first spurt hits the back of your throat, and you swallow it quickly, making sure not to let it leak over and make a mess.

Mark tastes somewhat like peach, a sweet-salty peach at that. Your instant reflex was to spit it out, but you bear it quietly, knowing that you’d do this for him. He calms down after a few moments, and shudders sporadically as you lick him clean. His semi-limp manhood pops out of your mouth apparently satisfied for the moment.

He hooks his hands under your arms and drags you upward until you’re lying on top of him. You half-squeal in fear but calm down as your common sense takes over. He kisses you hard, possessiveness evident through the act, like never before.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Thank you too,” you whisper back.

He catches his breath, while you acquaint yourself with the turn of events. Never in your wildest dreams did you think about having sex with Mark, on a rooftop at that. It seemed like such a foreign idea. Now? Well, your compromising position speaks for itself.

The sensitivity in your body dwindles somewhat, renewed slightly by the friction as your nipples rub against his chest. You feel him with your hands, slowly this time, wondering if it’s a dream.

“I’m real, Y/N,” he says, “Everything is happening for real.”

“Will you regret it in the morning?” you ask quietly, “will you regret it when you’re back in Korea next week.”

You don’t know why, but your insecurities always crop up as mood spoilers just when you feel most vulnerable.

“Never,” he says without hesitating, “tomorrow morning or the next ones after that.”

you just hold him tight, afraid to think what would happen if he ever chooses to leave you. It would be too much to bear.

Mark kisses you again, his touch gentle and reassuring. He rubs your nipple and pinches it, sending a sudden jolt to your senses. He leaves behind a trail of wet kisses as his lips trace a path from your lips to your shoulders and down to your breasts. The attention goes back to your nipples again, this time more roughly. He suckles on one nipple, and then bites on the sensitive nub.

You’re just a wet, shivering mess. You’re sure that your panties are thoroughly soaked with your juices as he kisses your stomach. More than a source of arousal, his tongue is ticklish on your skin and you end up serving him an accidental kick towards his groin area, luckily just skimming past his most sensitive spot.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’ll live,” he wheezes.

Carefully avoiding your tummy, Mark skips down towards your feet, planting soft smooches all the way. Lingering on your mound, he peels off the last remnant of your clothing, leaving you completely naked. You raise your hips and watch the soggy cloth being carefully ditched to the side with your dress.

Each kiss sends a thrill from your legs to your spine and straight to your head. You nearly faint as you feel his wet lips on your inner thighs. Your scent must be overpowering him as he stops just short of your sex.

“Do you want me to kiss down there?” he murmurs, afraid to do anything that you didn't want. You nod, fearful that your voice would be too weak for an answer. “I can’t hear you,” he teases.

“P-please kiss me down there,” you beg, voice stuttering out the words.

Your legs part and you feel a gentle touch of his warm lips against your inner thigh, just an inch away from your pussy. A groan of frustration is all you can manage.

“Not there,” you whine.

“Here?” he asks, placing another kiss on your outer lips, centremetres away from your throbbing clit.

“Please kiss it.”

“Kiss what?”

“My pussy,” you cry exasperatedly.

He runs a slow tongue on your slit, from the perineum to your clit that’s aching to get out from underneath its hood. He wraps it up with his lips and sucks it gently. Your back arches and your thighs jerk to close instinctively, but he holds them apart.

There’s no escape. The assault is slow but relentless. The pressure builds up as he licks your warm folds, almost exploding as he sucks on your clit. Your legs, held roughly apart by him are of no use so you use your hands instead, clawing at the soft sheets and grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

You explode when he firmly wedges his tongue inside you and begins to explore. Breathing is a foreign idea, as is seeing. It’s not a tidal wave, but a storm that sweeps away everything in its path. The cry that escapes is hoarse, deep throated and guttural as the joyous feelings course through your veins.

Another storm sweeps, unexpected and sudden as he reaches up and pinches your nipples rhythmically, suckling on your clit hungrily at the same time. Your thighs clamp shut on his head, your hands on his trying to stop and augment his touch at the same time. You take a deep breath and cry out in joy, uncaring of the judgmental world that can hear you.

Your vision darkens around the edges, and soon, you see nothing but blackness as your thighs lose their strength and rest lazily on his shoulders. He licks some more, feeling you quiver with each stroke of his tongue before you finally collapse.

“Stop,” you whisper, exhausted

“Don’t you like it?” he asks, sucking your clit to emphasize his point.

You groan and pull away. “It gets sensitive.”

“Oh.”

He sits up, kneeling between your legs. With your hair askew and skin visibly flushed, you look magnificent to him. Lying by your side again, he holds you close, feeling your breathing slow down to a normal pace.

“Where did you learn to do this?” you ask, still twitching occasionally as you try to relax.

He grins, “That’s a secret.”

"Here!" Haechan says as he dumps a freakishly thick book on Mark’s bed.

"Guide to a Woman's Body," Mark reads the title out loud, incredulous, then looks up at him. "When did you get the time to buy this piece of crap?"

"Hey! It's not a piece of crap." Haechan holds up the book with an expression of sheer reverence. "This is my gift, in advance, for your birthday."

"I don't get it.” Mark slaps his head in dismay.

"You are going out on a date with Y/N."

"Sooo…?”

"You are in the ‘Friends' zone of her brain. Nothing more than a male acquaintance she can freely talk to without getting hit upon, you get my drift?" He starts pacing back and forth. "If SHE has asked you out for a date, then I believe the day is not far away when she wants to take things a step further. The last thing I want you to do is to perform a two-second squirt and go your different ways singing Sayonara.”

Mark flips through the first few pages, grudgingly admitting that the younger boy is probably right.

"Just read it. You won't regret it, I promise.”

***

“Well?” he asks. “Now what?”

“That’s a rhetorical question right?” You ask, confused at his use of tone; sounding like it’s time to wrap up and go home after a long day. He chuckles quietly as you both stare up at the night sky.

“I’m scared,” he admits.

You roll over on your side, shuffling around to get on top of him. “Would you like to know a secret?”

He grins, holding you at your waist to help you balance, “Gladly.”

“I’m scared too,” you whisper, your breath hot in his ear.

Slowly rising until you straddle him, you place your hands on his chest for support as you adjust your position. You grind on his cock slowly, just like the last time, lubricating with your juices, preparing it for the inevitable.

“I’m safe; on the pill,” you tell him, rising and positioning the mushroom tip to your opening, grazing the sensitive head along the entire length of your slit. “Let me do it.”

You don't move as you prepare yourself. Taking a deep breath, you plunge down on his length. The barrier inside your walls resists as his cock pushes against it, and then it gives away. Barely half of his shaft is inside when you stop, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Fuck,” you mutter shakily, “that hurts.”

Your hands tremble as you fight against the pain, trying your best to accommodate the intruder. Your slick wall pulsates around his cock’s head, making him want to push further inside and take you completely.

It’s a terrible way of testing his self-control, but somehow he does it. He sits up and holds you tight against himself, running a gentle hand on your back, soothing you as you sniffle quietly against his chest. Ever so slowly, you calm down and he slides down along the rest of his shaft, feeling your walls stretch as you accommodate a cock inside for the first time in your life. Your groins meet as you hold each other in an embrace, each of you trying your best not to lose control.

Mark stays silent for a few minutes, waiting for you to adjust, “It hurts, but not as much as I expected,” you admit. He hums in response, focused on his breathing and trying to push out the fact that he’s actually inside you.

You stay like that for a few moments, just you and him in your own embrace. You push him back again until his lying down on his back and start moving tentatively. He lets you do the work as you grind your hips in slow, tight circles, bouncing a little and trying to adjust to his size. Your insides are like a hot, velvety glove that wraps tightly around his shaft and milks it gently.

Your breathing gets faster and more ragged as you grind against him. He traces a path from your thigh to your clit with his thumb and rubs it gently. your eyes fly open and you hump faster as your own climax approaches.

Mark spurts of semen coat your insides as his control caves in. He squeezes the soft flesh of your breasts with the other hand as the pleasure mounts to dizzying heights. The pleasure rises as you keep thrusting down on his length until you remain still, but your insides are a different matter altogether. Your insides pulsate erratically, your slick channel’s warmth providing a giddy pleasure. You bite down on your lip and attempt to stifle your moans. Your breathing becomes hard as your nails dig into his chest, making him grit his teeth as the pain combines with pleasure.

As the tide fades, you lie down on top of him with your forehead resting on his chest. His dick slides out of you and electric tingles shoot lazily from your over stimulated nerves as the head slides against your skin.

“Mark?” you ask after some time.

“Hmm?”

You trace a finger on his chest, drawing abstract patterns of circles and triangles. “Do you love me?”

He stares up at the dotted lights, wondering what you’re up to. “I think I do.”

“You think?” you laugh.

“I don't know what it’s like to be in love.”

“What about your family?”

“That’s a different kind of love. Certainly different than this,” he emphasizes squeezing a palm over your breasts.

You smile. “Sometimes I wish you’d stop making this much sense.”

“Me too.”

***

The first rays of the sun hit your face, waking you up. You swear you had only closed your eyes to rest them for a while, but somehow you ended up sleeping the entire night.

Mark’s asleep too, this time to your side with an arm draped over you.

“Good Morning.” You whisper, intertwining your fingers with his.

He mumbles something back and scoots closer. You contend yourself by studying him. His hair is astray, and his face radiant. He looks peaceful, serene and ethereal. And its nerve wrecking to think, he’s yours.

You know you can’t live without him. When time comes for him to leave once again, a part of you will hate yourself for falling into this that brings nothing but pain for the two of you. A part of you hates his profession as much as you know you shouldn't. You don’t want to let go.

“What are you thinking?” He’s barely awake, but alert enough to have sensed your inner turmoil.

“About you,” you say. “About us.”

“I love you."

You stare at him, the question evident in your eyes. After all, he had claimed to be unaware about love just the night before.

“This is the most I’ve felt and cared about someone else,” he confesses. “If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”

You kiss him, a soft lingering touch. “I thought you’d never say that.”

“I know you’ve been hurt before,” he continues. “I’m not the perfect guy, but I’ll try my best to give you whatever I have.”

You kiss him again. There’s no urgency to it, just a gentle reminder of what you are. It grows fierce, but you pull back.

“I need you.” He whispers, breaking away. You roll over obediently until you’re face to face. You pump his shaft until it’s rock hard and wraps your legs around his hips.

“I’m all yours.”

He slides against your silken lips, finding your opening and pushing inside. You groan as he sheaths himself inside you slowly, inch by inch. He expects a bit of dryness as you had cleaned up last night, but to his surprise, your channel is slick and ready. As your hips merge, he pumps the last inch inside you quickly, mashing against your clit and taking your breath out.

There’s more control this time. He keeps a steady rhythm of pumping inside and grinding against your clit at a few intervals. He wraps his lips around an erect nipple, suckling on it and making you gasp.

You shudder unexpectedly as he thrusts harder, feeling his own orgasm approach. He buries himself to your hilt and lets loose spurts of semen inside you. The two of you mold into one. He stays there, taking his weight on his arms and knees instead of crushing you beneath.

“I love you too,” you whisper softly, the smile lingering on your lips.

#nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct mark #nct reactions #nct #mark lee #mark imagines #mark smut #nct127 #superm #nct blurbs #kpop smut #nct x reader

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riseofnightwing · 4 years

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You are safe now - Dick Grayson Imagine

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Summary: Dick and Y/N have a son who is kidnapped by Deathstroke. What should they do now?

Warnings: Lot of fluff, a bit of angst and cursing.

Notes: Is it normal crying by reading your own imagine? @boyy-wonder-grayson cami, you always help me with these ideas and working with you is amazing, thank you.

When you are hero, a good hero you are needed in every place, all the time. That’s what Bruce used to tell Dick and Y/N when they first wanted to create Titans, so they could teach the right things. And that’s what they had done. They had always been there, the old titans, and now the new ones. They kept San Francisco -and the world- safe for a long time along with the Justice League. When Y/n realized how she felt about Dick, there was no turning back for her. She felt as if the air was sucked out of her lungs every time Dick walked into the room, and she noticed how her heart started to beat faster every time Dick complimented her for something she’d done. Her cheeks would turn red-ish whenever her hands brushed with his, and even though she was oblivious to it, Dick felt the exact same way about her. His palms got sweaty whenever he saw her in her suit, and his eyes wandered through her body. Her laugh would make his stomach twist in knots. Being the leaders of the group and having to support each other when things went wrong, brought up feelings that had always been there,in their hearts.

[5 years ago, Titans Tower, living room]

Dick sat in the couch resting his head in the back of it, in front of the fireplace. After a long night of solving fucking mysteries that Riddler had spared around San Francisco, along with Y/N, Dawn, Donna, Hank and Garth. They did everything to stop the bastard but he got away nevertheless. They went back to the tower so they could make a better plan, and try again next time. They would catch him.

“Hey, Grayson, rough night wasn’t it?” He saw her beautiful face appeared on the living room and sat by his side.

“I couldn’t agree more, Y/L/N” He answered the woman, trying to mask the way she made him feel.

“What do you think about drinking some beers in the rooftop so we can relax?” She asked with a bright smile, a smile that Dick loved, and of course he couldn’t say no.

“I think it’s a pretty good idea.” He said with a grin and they laughed, making their way to the rooftop.

That was the first time they kissed; it was as simple as that, all the questions were answered, all fears were put to rest, all doubts were removed. What they felt wasn’t just passion, it was a bruising tenderness and a love so strong it made them burst into flames.

Dick and Y/N had their first time together. Intoxicated by the alcohol there was no way Y/N could hide her feelings anymore. Neither did Dick, things were taking place, one after the other. They turned invincible together,

After a month Dick asked Y/N to be his girlfriend, and she said yes, to the man she loved with all her heart.

After a year, Dick, Y/N and the Titans had the misfortune of losing Garth to Deathstroke, and Dick swore himself he would take him down, no matter what.

It ended up with the tragedy of also losing Jericho, a sweet boy who earn a place in each of the Titans hearts. Those were dark days for everyone. After that incident Hawk, Donna and Dawn left. Dick and Y/N stayed in the tower. The were both broken after Jericho’s death. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.

[4 years ago, Titans Tower, Dick and Y/N’s bedroom]

Dick was in the computer’s room reuniting information about Deathstroke for him to use in the future. Y/N was sleeping since she seemed so tired this past weeks, the missions kept the same rhythm, but she seemed more and more exhausted each passing day, so Dick let her sleep.

In their bedroom, Y/N got up feeling nauseous, she immediately ran into the bathroom emptying the contents of her stomach.

Something was wrong and she knew it. She had slept for 12 hours straight last night and now she felt like she couldn’t feel any type of smell. Everything made her sick. Her period was late this month, but she thought it was the stress messing with her body, after all, things haven’t been particularly quiet.

Dick went to their bedroom searching for her

“Babe, where are you? i think i found something” Dick entered the room to find Y/N washing her face.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked leaning on the door’s frame. She seemed sick, her skin was pale. “Come here” he opened his arms for her to get closer.

Y/N loved Dick’s perfume, she did, but today, when she felt it, she made her way right back into the toilet, throwing up again. Dick looked at her worried, instantly helping her by holding her hair and caressing her back.

When she finished, she brushed her teeths and went directly to their bed, with Dick by her side afraid that she might pass out any minute. She lay there an asked him if he could stay with here for a minute. They lay there in comfortable silence.

“Dick?” she whispered.

“what’s wrong?” Dick asked running his fingers through her hair.

“I think I’m pregnant” She said almost crying. She couldn’t imagine his reaction, after all, these past few days had been so hard for him, but it is Dick Grayson we are talking about.

He was shocked, and for a few seconds he didn’t say anything, just hugged her, “I love you, i love you so much”, he said.

It seemed like someone up there didn’t want Dick to sink into blame, giving him a sight of hope. When Y/n took a test to find out that she was, in fact, pregnant, Dick couldn’t be happier. He thought he was too damaged to feel things like this but now he understand that the L word saved him.

[4 months later, TitansTower]

“Babe?” Y/n stood in the door leaning on the frame. She smiled at him, he looked really hot when he was concentrated.

“Hey love” Dick answered smiling at her.

“I have something for you.” She handed him a envelope.

He opened it and there was an ultrasound, that was the first picture of their baby. Dick got tears in his eyes he got up and hugged her.

“It’s a boy” she said smiling up at him.

It was a Boy. Y/n was expecting a boy and he looked at her with so much love in his eyes, he was so happy.

“John” they said at the same time. They laughed together and when the laughter died down, he kissed her passionately.

Dick felt deep inside that now his duty went towards protecting his family. It was all that mattered to him at that moment.

The next day he searched for a house in Detroit, leaving San Francisco and their pasts behind.

He was Detective Dick Grayson now, working on Detroit City Y/N and him moved to a beautiful house located in a calm neighborhood where they started living their lives, trying to do it as normal as they could. They couldn’t take the risk of being in danger in such delicate moment.

Six months later, Y/N gave birth to John Grayson, a beautiful little boy. Dick was a father now and their lives had changed forever. They’ve changed for good. Because he couldn’t feel anything but happiness and love in his heart. He would give his life to protect his wife and son.

[2 years ago, Detroit, Dick and Y/N’s house]

Two years after John was born, Dick decided they had to take another step.

Y/N and Dick were in the kitchen while John was playing with his toys in the living room. She was cooking while they were drinking some wine and watching John, carefully.

“I have something for you” Dick huged her from behind while he spoke.

She turned to him smiling “What’s it, babe?”

He took a blue box from his pocket and her hands flew to her mouth in surprise.

“Y/n, it took us a lot to get where we are now. We went through the hardest times and we ended up happier than we could ever think. So I wanted to ask you…Will you marry me?”

She hugged him fiercely before kissing him deeply. “I couldn’t say anything but yes, Grayson.”

“No measure of time will be long enough, so let’s start with forever” He told her. When the looked at John the little boy was smiling at his parents.

Dick and Y/N got married a few months later; they didn’t want something big, just the three of them was enough. Besides, something big would draw too much attention.

Time passed and and their lifes went on, Dick kept working on Detroit Police Department as a Detective.

[6 months ago, DPD]

“Hey Grayson, You have that thing for helping kids, right?” Dick’s superior asked him and motion for him to follow him to the room where the kid was.

“Hi there, how you doing? Word on the street is you like playing baseball with bricks and cop cars? I’m Detective Dick Grayson.”

Dick talked to the purple haired girl. She looked scared.

“You wanna talk about what happened?” He asked looking for an answer

“it’s you.” Okay, he wasn’t expecting for that kind of answer. “The boy from the circus, please, can you help me?” How did she even know about his past as a Flying Grayson? Dick felt something inside of him, something that was telling him that he needed to help this girl. Call it a hunch. He decided he would help her, but he needed to go somewhere first.

[8P.M Dick and Y/N’s house]

“Babe? I’m home, where are you?” Dick looked for Y/N, as he entered the house with Rachel behind. He left his jacket, his police ID and everything he used to bring back home in the stand next to the door. He heard noises coming from the kitchen, Y/N and John were there while she prepared some food for the boy.

“Hey love, i’m here, how was your day?” Y/N asked before kissing the man. She looked surprised to see another figure standing behind him, a little girl who looked really scared.

“Hey, Rachel, this is my wife, Y/n and my son John.” Dick introduced them while y/n looked at them in confusion.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, i’m Y/N” the woman understood the kid needed a place, by the way she looked

. “I’ll show you the bathroom so you can fix yourself and then you can have dinner with us, okay?”

Y/N guided Rachel to the bathroom and gave her all she needed. When she saw that Rachel was out of sight, she went to talk to her husband who was now playing with baby John.

“Dick, who is she? What’s happening?” She asked.

“Babe, this girl, she’s like us, she’s special. They took her to DPD today and when I tried to interrogate her to find out what happened she told me i was the circus guy, and that she needed help. I couldn’t say no, her mother died, and I…she needs our help.” Dick said sighing.

“ Babe, we gave up our hero life because we needed to keep John safe. I’m not sure about it.” Y/N said without looking at him in the eyes.

“Hey” he lifted her face with his finger “What would have happened to us, if Bruce hadn’t done the same thing?” He asked “You and John are safe with me, i’ll never let anything happen to any of you. Never.”

“You can’t resist a bird with a broken wing, can you, Grayson?” she asked him with a half smile and he already knew she was on board with his plan.

“I wouldn’t say i can”

With everything that happened, Y/n, Dick, John and Rachel followed the road in search for some answers. Along the way they found Kory Anders, Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

Dick and Y/n fought with everything they had, but not as heroes; their suits were kept locked inside a suitcase, and they hoped they would stay that way.

Beating Trigon with the help of the old titans made them realize the safest place they could go was the old tower, after all, there was the only place that always felt like home.

[9 PM Titans Tower, Living room]

“Guys, make yourself at home” Dick said to the new members of the team “ the first door is mine and Y/N’s bedroom, the next door is John’s and you can choose any of the other rooms. Tomorrow we will start training.”

Dick told the group before leaving his and y/n’s things in their bedroom and John’s in his own. It seemed like Bruce had made all the adjustments the tower needed while they weren’t there.

John’s bedroom now had a bed; when they left there was just baby things and a baby crib. Bruce always took care of this type of things.

[10 P.M Titans Tower, Living room]

Once the titans were already in their respective rooms, Dick had John in his arms sitting next to the fireplace, while they looked to the city of San Francisco through the window. The boy was almost asleep, resting his head in his dad’s shoulders.

“Tired, Little Bird?” Dick asked John.

“Yes, daddy, i am, but I liked it here. You can see all.the lights from here” He answered.

“It’s a good place, johnny” Dick told him kissing his forehead.

Y/N looked at her two boys, smiling to herself. She couldn’t believe that they were a family.

They were back here after 4 years and now, John was here with them. They weren’t the heroes they once were, but they knew they would never truly leave this life behind. It was a part of them.

Two days after the Titans had come to the tower, things were going normal, they woke up, had their breakfast and Dick gave them some martial arts book they should study. In the afternoon, they were trained by Y/n and Dick who were almost veterans of war. Jason had a lot of experience which helped a lot at teaching moves to the newbies.

The teams was hanging out in the living room, after a tiring season of training, when a light coming from a helicopter in the sky illuminated something in the ground. It seemed like a police chase.

Dick turned the TV on to see a young girl running from the cops and fighting them. It instantly caught his eye.

“I’ll be right back, stay here.” He told Y/n and left. Y/n knew he would help the girl, it was the Dick Grayson type of thing.

As she expected, the girl came to the tower, she was hurt. Her name was Rose; she had a eye patch in one of her eyes, y/n could tell it was from fighting. Dick decided that she would stay for the night, and Y/n agreed to it.

The next day, Dick, Gar and Jason found out she was Deathstroke’s daughter. And Dick instantly told Y/n, they already had a past with this guy and they needed to be careful. So they agreed they had needed to call their old friends.

That same morning, they received Donna, Hank and Dawn. The guys didn’t know that Dick and Y/n had a child. So it was definitely a surprise.

[8 PM, Titans Tower, Living room]

The old titans arrived feeling the tension between the new titans. They didn’t know what was going on. Not yet, but they came because of Dick and Y/n’s call. It should be important.

“Finally” Y/n said as they made their way to the living room. She hugged Dawn.

“I missed you, Troy.” Y/N said when she hugged Donna,

“You’re prettier than ever, Y/n” Hank said trying to piss Dick off.

“Carefull.” Dick said making everyone laugh.

“And who’s that beautiful boy who’s standing there clinging to your leg?” Donna asked, the boy was shyly trying to hide between his father’s legs.

“Come here” Dick took him to his arms to introduced him to his friends. “This is John. Mine and Y/n’s son. I’m sorry you couldn’t met him.”

“Hey little Bird, I’m uncle Hank”

“Hi I’m John Grayson” the little boy said shyly.

The girls looked surprised, but made no comments.

“we will have time for everyone to meet him, hopefully.” Y/n said.

The old Titans went to the training room where Dick and Y/n explained the situation with Rose. They couldn’t believe Slade Wilson was in their lives again. But they would stay, and help them to beat this guy once and for all. They decided Rose could stay until they caught Slade but Hank couldn’t agree that much with them.

The next day, things were strange. Rachel freaked out and almost killed Jason when she founded some crucifixes in her mirror, Donna found a bottle of her favourite drink that Garth would bring to her. It was painfully strange.

“So it was you Jason? You did it? Why?” Donna asked him.

“I don’t know what’s happening but it wasn’t me” he retorted blinking the tears away.

Dick had left early saying he had things to do; he didn’t look good, Y/n could tell that he still felt guilty about the whole Jericho situation.

“Guys, Deathstroke is here.” Dick came from the elevator holding a gun.

“Babe, what is this? Talk to me. What do you mean by “he’s here”?” his wife asked.

“Jason” he says and went to the rooftop.

Y/n couldn’t understand it and she was sure no one else in the room could. She went looking for John; he was playing with his toys in his room, but when she got there, the window was wide open,and there was no sign of the little boy.

“John?” She called, but he doesn’t answer.

The woman feels something strange in her heart, and came back running through the living room.

“Has someone seen John?” She asked with a trembling voice.

“Babe, what happened? Where’s John?” Dick got down from the rooftop, he also seemed to feel that something was wrong, John wasn’t the type of kid that would hide from his parents, but they searched everywhere and they could not find him. That was until Dick received a call from an unknown number.

“I told you Grayson. I warned you, and you brought the Titans back anyways.” Dick was trembling now. Slade had John. And he hung up.

“What, Dick? Who was that?” Donna asked him now, everyone had stopped looking and was paying attention to Dick’s pale face.

“Dick, please talk to me, who was it? Where’s John?” Y/n asked getting closer to her husband.

“I…Slade has John.” Dick said. He saw the emotions on his wife face before she broke down in front of him. She fell into the ground, crying. He hugged her trying to calm both of them down.

It was nearly impoofor Dick to be strong now. His son had been kidnapped. Fucking Deathstroke, he would pay.

“That bastard, that FUCKING bastard.” Hank yelled. Everyone knew how much of a horrible person Deathstroke was,but taking baby john? This was way too much.

Rose had left, after that.

Dick took Y/N to the couch, he couldn’t leave her side, he would get their son back, he would do everything he could.

“Baby” He said getting her attention, she looked at him with red eyes from crying “I had the bad habit of underestimating you. Every obstacle you faced, i’d think you couldn’t overcome it. And you just did. You are the reason I have something to fight for, my family.” He told her with tear in his eyes “Listen to me, I won’t let him hurt John, I’ll bring him back to us.” The woman hugged him and cried even more.

“We will” She answered him.

Dick left to go get his suit. After everything that happened to them, he decided he needed a new identity. It made him remember the thing Clark Kent told him once about Nightwing and it all made sense now.

Bruce had sent him the new costume he needed after burning the Robin one. Now was the time, his son needed him. Y/n looked at her suitcase, long time without wearing it, but now she was back, for good. All the titans were ready. Slade would pay for taking their son away from them.

Dick received a call, anonymous again.

“Grayson, be careful, if you want your son back, find me in the old church in the center of san francisco in 15 minutes.”

And Dick knew, nothing would stop him from beating deathstroke today. Rose was a bait. He put her there so they could think she needed help while he could break them from inside.

They planned that Dick would enter the place first, Y/n, Jason and Donna would be going after him and also the titans would cover them.

“Slade, I’m here, let my son go, he’s a baby, he has nothing to do with this. You can kill me today if that’s your point, but let him go.”

“The old Dick Grayson, always playing the martyr. You remember what you and your team did to MY son? Isn’t it fair that I took yours?” Slade mocked him.

“Don’t be a fucking coward, Wilson, he’s 4 years old” Hank said.

“You’re right, Hawk, today is about Dick and me” Slade said and John came running for Dick

“Dad” He cried and Dick felt his heart almost stop. Their baby was okay.

“Dawn, take him to the tower, go” Dick commanded after checking that his kid was okay.

“Here you are trying to kill me again. I hope you can do this now, Nightwing, because i won’t let you live if you don’t”

He said and Dick ran to punch him with all the anger he had in his body, John was safe now and Slade had to die. With his escrima sticks he hits Slade, and he fell into the floor. Y/N and Jason came after, shooting their birdarangues, and finally a person that they didn’t expect, Ravager.

Rose wilson appeared stabbing Slade in the chest with her sword. Deathstroke was dead.

After the fighting, Y/n ran into Dick’s arms hugging her husband. “He’s okay Dick, we did it. Our son is safe and sound.” She cried with joy.

“I told you babe, no one can mess with my family.”

When they got in the tower, they were received by a blonde little guy running to them. “Mommy, daddy you’re home!.” the kid said with innocence and Dick hugged him, bringing Y/n into the hug too. Everything was fine.

“You are safe now son.”

“I know daddy, because my mommy and daddy are heroes.”

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ythankucaptainmccoy · 4 years

Text

Captain Rex x Reader (Love and Friendship is Forever)

Alright guys @mackstrut requested a Rex and Reader Rebels reunion. This will be pure fluff and a sad/happy ending. I hope it turns out good because I haven’t even watched Rebels. Here we go. I do not own Star Wars or any characters. WARNING:FLUFF, CHARACTER DEATHS, REUNITING and SAD/HAPPY ENDING!

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Waking up in a cold sweat was not the way you had planned your morning to go, but being hunted made your anxiety shoot through the roof. You felt like you had aged a hundred years. The fall of the Jedi Temple forever giving you nightmares, and all the younglings you couldn’t save. The one that made your stomach turn was how the clones had turned against you, but you soon found out about the chips while sneaking around Kamino for answers.

That had meant your lover Captain Rex was either working for the Empire against his will or he had died. You had hoped that he died because you couldn’t stomach to see him turned against you. You often cried out in the night for him only to wake up alone. “Rex I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you”, you sobbed pulling your knees to your chest. You were roaming the plains of Seelos hoping to die at this point.

You had been without food for four days and two days without water. The sun was beating down hard, and you could feel your life force draining. Stumbling around on this plain was not the way you thought you would go, but you collapsed face first into the ground. It seemed like it was taking forever to die or maybe it hadn’t been that long. How funny your mind was, it was playing tricks on you. You swore you heard what sounded like an old AT-TE walker getting closer to your position.

You looked up, and sure enough you saw an AT-TE walker coming toward you, but it looked like scrap at this point. You tried to get up, but your body couldn’t take it and it was drawing closer. Your vision started to go, and you finally let go and darkness consumed you. Rex and Gregor were talking about what they should make for dinner when Wolffe yelled to them about someone laying on the ground in their path. “Let's check it out”, Gregor told them, grabbing a blaster.

The three of them made their way to the figure, and Wolffe stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong Wolffe?”, Rex questioned. “That robe is the robe of a jedi. I say we leave them”, he growled as he started making his way back to the AT-TE. Rex rolled his eyes as he approached the figure, and then his eyes landed on the lightsaber that was peeking out from the robe. That was (Y/N)’s lightsaber, but she was in the Jedi Temple and there was no way she survived or had she.

He broke out into a sprint landing on his knees as he reached a hand out. He gently rolled the person over, and recognized (Y/N) immediately. She looked worn and extremely exhausted. She must be on the run from the Empire he thought. Rex caressed her face then slowly kissed her forehead. He slid his arms under her, and picked her up carrying her to the walker. Once inside he lay her down on his bunk, and asked Gregor for a wet cloth to cool her down.

(Y/N) was murmuring in her sleep, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. Wolffe was not happy about you being aboard the walker. “If the Empire finds her here we are all as good as dead”, Wolffe complained. “Oh calm down I’m sure that they don’t know she is here”, Gregor huffed. “What if she tries to kill us for what happened”, Wolffe waved his arms. “She won’t”, Rex growled. Wolffe threw his hands up and went back to man the walker. Gregor watched as Rex lovingly stroked the Jedi’s face. “You knew her?”, Gregor asked. “Yes, me and her were together back during the war”, Rex replied smiling at the fond memories.

“Wasn’t it against the Jedi code and regulations?”, Gregor grilled. “Yes, but to us it didn’t matter. We loved each other, and I had hoped that she had died a swift death at the Jedi Temple when it was overrun instead of her joining the Empire or being tortured for the whereabouts of other Jedi”, Rex frowned. You started to stir, and suddenly cried out his name as you jolted up wide awake. Rex resisted the urge to pull you to him in fear that you would panic more than you already were.

“Easy (Y/N) your safe now”, Rex soothed. Gregor was watching her like a hawk for any sign of trouble. She gulped air as though she had been starved for oxygen as she turned to look at the man beside her. “How did you know my name?!”, she growled reaching for her lightsaber. “Cya’re it's me. It’s Rex”, he replied hands up in surrender. “No he died, who are you?!” she hissed. “I’m Rex I promise I age faster than normal remember?”, he questioned.

You looked at him and reached out with the force. It was him, and you began to cry as you threw yourself into his arms. “Rex I thought the worst when the Temple was over run”, you sobbed clinging to him as he wrapped his arms around you to pull you closer. “I thought you died at the Temple that night”, he told her as tears formed in his eyes. Gregor left them so they could talk in privacy, and went to sit with Wolffe.

You both talked, and you told him how you had escaped the Jedi Temple, but how many Jedi and younglings you couldn’t save. He told you of how he and Wolffe removed their control chips, and how they met Gregor. You sat in his arms for hours as you both caught up on the things that had happened to you both, and reminisced back before everything fell apart. “Remember when Ashoka caught us making out in one of the refreshers”, you giggled. “Yes and how I had to explain that it was just an experiment because I wanted to know what making out was like”, he groaned.

“Yes and how she didn’t buy it for a second”, you laughed out. “Yes and I remember you distinctly saying that no one else knew, but come to find out all my men knew”, he smiled. “Yeah”, you grinned. “I have missed you every day”, you confessed. “Same here mesh’la”, he cradled your face giving you a quick peck on the lips. This all felt normal being with him again, and his force signature was comforting. Wolffe finally let his guard down, and you all sat down for a nice dinner that Gregor had made.

You listened to them joke, and talk about the good old days. What they would all give to go back, and try to change things. The night was quite somber after they got done, and you all went out to watch the stars for a while. Rex held you close as shooting stars filled the skies. “Rex I want you to know that I love you, and that if anything happens I will always be yours”, you confided. “I agree and the same goes for you (Y/N)”, he told you as you fell asleep tucked close to him.

The weeks went by quickly, and you had to make a stop in a nearby settlement to pick up supplies. While there you decided to get some fruits, but what you didn’t know was that a hunter was watching you from the shadows. You had just gotten back to the three men when you sensed her, and the familiarity you had with this person's force signature. “Sula”, you gasped, turning around. There stood your former padawan drawing a lightsaber.

The lightsaber glowed red and angry just like the hatred in your old padawan. “Master it’s been a long time”, the young woman growled. “Sula what happened to you?”, you questioned as tears threatened to spill. “You left me to die at the Temple that day, but the Empire found me and tortured me until I became powerful. I hunt the remaining Jedi, and I will not disappoint the ones who gave me this second chance at life”, she snarled.

“Sula I never left you. I tried to get to you, but they got to you first”, you cried. “No you never came for me! You were supposed to protect me, protect the younglings and you failed”, she laughed. “Sula don’t do this”, you pleaded. “No I have to do this. You were dead to me that day, and today I will let your memory die as well!”, she yelled as she came at you. You ignited your own saber, and blocked her blow, and she pushed you back with the force. She was a lot stronger in the force than you remembered, but the dark side did that to people.

You blocked blow after blow, and using the force to try and slow her movements. You didn’t want to kill her, and you kept thinking that you could save her from this life. “Sula you don’t have to do what they tell you. Join me and I promise they won’t get to you again”, you grunted. “No all lies what makes you think you could protect me”, she spat. You pushed her back with the force, and deactivated your lightsaber tossing it to the ground.

“I promise I will protect you. Please just come with me, and we can run away. I have friends that will protect us. You were like a daughter to me please Sula come with me”, you urged. Sula deactivated her saber after thinking about it. You walked up to her, and hugged her letting the force flow through her. You pulled away when you heard Rex and Gregor approaching at a run. They had heard about what was happening from the locals, but they stopped at what they saw.

You turned to tell them everything was fine, but something hot and searing went through your body. You looked down to see the red of Sula’s lightsaber sticking out of your stomach. Everything seemed to slow down as Rex screamed, and you saw Gregor reaching for his blaster. A blaster rifle sounding from a rooftop. The force was swirling all around you along with pain. The red disappeared as the lightsaber deactivated, and your knees hit the dirt. Rex was in front of you as you fell forward catching you to turn you on your back in his arms cradling you.

You looked down at the wound, and back up to Rex who had tears running down his face. You weren’t scared, not even a little as you felt the force calm around you. You looked to your side to see your old padawan with smoke rising from the back of her head from a blaster bolt. Wolffe stood just behind her, and you knew that he had been the one to take the killing shot. Looking back to Rex you raised a hand to cup his cheek.

“It’s okay Rex”, you calmly stated as tears left your eyes. “No not like this (Y/N) I lost you once I can’t lose you again”, he choked back a sob. “Rex I will always be with you. When you think you're all alone I’ll be there to help you and guide you. My presence will be with you always. Love I will wait for you, and when you join the force… We will...be… together..again. Promise...me that you will give...me and my padawan a proper Jedi… send off”, you grimaced.

“No you're going to be okay”, he was sobbing now. “Promise”, you whispered. “I… I promise cya’re”, he told you as his body was wracked with more sobs. “I love..you”, you whispered on your last breath. “I love you too (Y/N)”, he wailed cradling your body in the middle of the market. Wolffe watched as Rex sat crying over your body. “Rex we need to move”, Wolffe pressured. Rex looked up, and knew they needed to go so with a shaky breath, and tears still falling he closed your eyes, and picked you up to carry you back to the AT-TE.

Gregor at the command of Rex carried Sula as they left. That night they had set up a large wooden pyre that you and your padawans body lay on. Rex looked drained, and Wolffe had only seen him like this once, and that was when their men turned on the Jedi. Re grabbed a torch, and set the pyre a blaze. They watched as both bodies burned, and became ash. Rex didn’t leave until the pyre stopped smoldering, and joined his brothers back on the AT-TE. He sat under the star as his brothers slept.

He felt a presence and turned to see a blue haze. He watched as it took shape, and you stood there, and then several more appeared. All of his old friends Fives, Dogma, Tup, Jesse and several more including Sula. “I told you, love, I would always be with you. WE will always be with you”, you all said in unison to him. He cried as you wrapped not only your force energy, but those of his comrades' energy around him. He stopped crying as he felt the calming and reassuring embrace.

After that night he always knew that you all were watching him. You never left him even as he died. You welcomed him home, and so did his vode as he joined you. The others cheered as he pulled you to him, and kissed you. You were there for every clone or Jedi that met their end. The reunion between Cody and Rex was the sweetest as well as Wolffe meeting Master Plo and all his vode he lost, Fives and Echo reuniting at last was a welcomed sight. All of you were with any Jedi left, and stayed with them cheering them on, and helping keep hope alive.

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Alright guys this one made me shed tears as I wrote it! It was just too good an opportunity to pass up. I hope you all liked it, and now I will go cry myself to sleep after a double shift, and writing this.

#star wars rebels #captain rex x reader #sw rebels #death #funeral #fluff #sad/happy ending

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allthemeninmybed · 4 years

Text

Who do you belong to? (Joaquin Phoenix x Reader) NSFW

Anonymous: Can I request an imagine where Joaquin is protective over you? ✨

It turned out a bit smuttier than I’ve planned, but please forgive me, I cannot not write smut if Joaquin is involved!

Summary: Reader and Joaquin are together and one night an old friend of reader shows up at the door. Joaquin doesn’t like him and doesn’t want him to be around reader because he believes he’s toxic.

Warnings: strong language, arguing, smut at the end.

Word count: 1757.

It’s Friday night and you’re reading on the couch, waiting for Joaquin to come home when the doorbell rings. You’re a bit suspicious but you get up and walk to the door. When you open it you can’t believe your eyes.

“Surprise, baby girl!” – your best friend, Rob is standing in the door with a bottle of wine in his hand.

“Oh my god! What are you doing here? What the fuck, Rob!?” – you’re screaming like an idiot while hugging him tight. You haven’t seen him for months now, he’s always working, going on business trips and all that shit.

“I’m in town for a few days so I thought I’d come and see you. Are you happy to see me?”

“Of course, stupid, come on in! Make yourself comfortable, I’ll open up this wine.” – you say with a huge smile on your face. You and Rob have been friends since high school, he’s the only school friend you’ve got left.

“So… where’s the man?” – he asks cynically, putting emphasize on ‘the man’.

“He’s not home yet, but can arrive at any moment. I’m glad you two will be able to meet.” – you say with forced cheerfulness.

“Yeah…so am I.” – he says while rolling his eyes. The fact is, Joaquin doesn’t like him too much. Well, let’s face the truth, he fucking hates his guts and the feeling is quite mutual. He always says that Rob isn’t a true friend, that he’s a megalomaniac who only wants to be around other people, including you, to be praised and put on a pedestal. What is more, Rob tends to flirt with you all the time. He isn’t explicit and you don’t take it seriously, it’s his style but Joaquin is fucking annoyed by it. He gave voice to his opinion right after the first time they had met. It was a fucking wild night; you were arguing for hours but somehow you managed to calm him down and you haven’t talked about it ever since. Well, this will change tonight for sure.

You’ve been chatting and drinking for like an hour when you heard the front door cracking.

“Hey baby, I’m home!”

“Hi honey, I missed you so much!” – Rob is imitating your voice and sending kisses in the air towards Joaquin. He’s petrified beyond measure. You walk over him and give him a kiss to which he doesn’t respond.

“Hey babe, indeed I missed you.” – you laugh a little as to ease the tension but it clearly isn’t helping.

“Come on, man, contain yourself, don’t be this delighted to see me.” – Rob walks forward and offers his hand.

“Hi Rob, what a pleasant surprise.” – Joaquin shakes his hand hastily and pulls you into the kitchen.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” – his eyes flash, he’s furious.

“He’s just showed up; I didn’t know about it! He’s in town and he wanted to see me. Come on baby, you know he’s my best mate, my oldest friend, don’t be like this, please, I’m asking you nicely.” – you say, almost begging him. He stares at the floor with his frown so intense you can barely see his eyes and gives a short nod. You wouldn’t say you’re relieved but it’s definitely better than yelling.

“Guys, I know you’re talking about me literally behind my back so why don’t you come back in? And Joaquin, you can say whatever you want to me, don’t be shy!” – Rob shouts cockily.

“I hate him.” – Joaquin mouths angrily before the two of you get back to the living room. As you’re chatting with Rob you try to draw Joaquin into the conversation but all you get is three word sentences. Rob doesn’t seem to care, he’s paying attention only to you and this infuriates Joaquin even more.

“…and then I went to Shanghai, then Tokyo, oh man, the hotels I was staying at…Jesus fucking Christ. This is a nice place you have here but those suites… Out of this world. You guys have no idea what I’m talking about.” – he’s doing it again. He always brags, you know that about him and you love him anyways but this is too much. Now he’s insulting Joaquin too and you don’t like it. He starts pacing the room, telling another incredibly awesome story and then he stops behind you and places his hands on your shoulder. He starts to rub them while still talking, sometimes asking you something, but always staying amazed by his own voice. Joaquin looks deep in your eyes. He doesn’t do anything but you can tell he’s raging.

“You know what, Rob? It’s almost eleven and we had a long day. What about we pick up from here tomorrow? We could go out and have dinner or something, hmm?” – you suggest in a hurry before things get out of hand.

“Okay baby girl, I need to leave anyways, I was invited to a huge rooftop party and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” – he says while bending down and placing a kiss below you right ear, almost on your neck. Your eyes widen as this was highly unexpected, even from Rob and you don’t know how to react. Fortunately, you don’t have to, he’s already walking towards the door and you go with him, letting him out and waving goodbye.

“What the fuck was that (Y/N)? Who the fuck he thinks he is? If you’re telling me this was normal I swear to god, I’ll…” – he’s enraged.

“Don’t fucking yell at me like I’m the one who asked him to behave like this!” – you say on the verge of crying from distress.

“I don’t want you to be around him, okay? He’s a fucking vermin, he always makes you feel less than him, how can you be fucking friends with him? I truly don’t understand (Y/N), tell me!”

“He was there for me when I needed someone, he was the only one, right from the start! You fucking know how hard high school was for me, don’t you dare blaming me for not wanting to be all alone!”

“And don’t you think he’s there for you only to have someone to brag to? He treats you like shit and I don’t like that, you don’t deserve it. And that fucking kiss on your neck? He’s making fun of me, what a prick, he’s a fucking asshole (Y/N), don’t you see it?” – he walks towards you, cups your face and leans close.

“I don’t want you to see him again. I fucking love you and I won’t let anyone harm you and treat you bad, you understand? I don’t want him to touch you, ever again. He’s a fucking egoist and he’s claiming you like you were his. But you are mine, aren’t you? No one calls you baby girl, but me, right?” – his anger is gone, he speaks slowly, his voice is profound. His face is motionless; he’s being so serious it almost frightens you. You want to answer the question but he doesn’t let you. He presses his lips on yours, sliding his tongue in without hesitation, swirling around yours. His hands go wild on your body, gripping your ass, your waist, your breasts, finally arriving to your neck. He grabs your throat with his right hand and places hot and needy kisses on the side of your neck. You run your fingers through his hair trying to find something to cling to. His way of acting this protective and jealous really turned you on, you can’t deny that.

“Ah, baby, don’t do this, let’s talk about this…” - you want to talk, for real, but it seems he has other plans.

“I don’t want to talk about him anymore, all I want you know is that I’ll always protect you from fuckers like him.” – he speaks assertively, his voice echoes in your ears. You don’t control yourself anymore, it’s pointless. You let down your walls and lose yourself to his will. He drags you to the bedroom, he’s like a predator and you’re his prey. He tosses you to the bed and strips you and himself down.

“You’re fucking gorgeous; I don’t deserve you.” – he says softly as he’s lowering himself on top of you. He intertwines his lips with yours in a sloppy kiss as he slowly pushes himself into you. He has no trouble entering you, you’re shockingly wet for him. You let out a loud moan when he’s fully inside of you, your voice making you even more desirable for him. He doesn’t start gentle now, he’s thrusting into you hard and heavy, constantly quickening his pace.

“Yes baby, oh my god…” - feeling him sliding in and out of you makes you gasp with every thrust, he’s so big and perfect you could cry in pleasure.

“Moan for me, baby girl, yes, so hot and sweet.” – he kisses you passionately, swallowing your moans, biting and sucking on your lower lip. He slams himself into your wet pussy so intensely and in such a perfect angle you can feel your clit pulsating against his cock. You want this to last but you know it won’t happen, you’re too close.

“Oh yeah baby, I’m gonna…” – you cry out as he’s choking your throat lightly.

“Yes baby girl, cum around me, I fucking love how it feels.” – he’s pounding fiercely and you can tell from his groans that he won’t be able to hold himself back much more.

“Who do you belong to, huh, who? Tell me baby, I want to hear.” – he asks impatiently with clenched jaws, his voice is raspy.

“To you baby, I’m all yours, ah fuuck…!” – that’s it, you’re unable to refrain, you let yourself go. You cum hard and uncontrollable around his cock; your whole body is shaking from pleasure. You’re still riding out your orgasm when he grabs your waist with both of his hands, holds you down securely and starts shoving his cock inside your faster than before. He’s ferocious, making your body bounce like you’re a rag doll, but you don’t mind, you fucking love it. Suddenly he pulls his cock out of you and with a loud moan he empties himself all over your pussy, cum’s dripping down your clit and folds. He’s fucking pleased with the view and neither of you mind the mess he’s made.

“I guess it’s settled then…” – you say smiling – “…we won’t be having dinner with him tomorrow.”

“I’d be happy if we didn’t baby.” – he chuckles and leans in for a kiss.

@syvellsworld

Let me know if you want to be tagged in my next imagine!

And please leave a comment if you enjoyed it, I’m always happy to have feedback! 🧡

#joaquin phoenix #joaquin phoenix imagine #joaquin phoenix x reader #joaquin phoenix smut #joaquin phoenix fanfic

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nomolosk · 4 years

Text

Snapshots (AU Yeah August 2020)

read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25655623/chapters/62283055

Day 10- Reverse Crush

Mayura jumped and flipped over rooftops which were entirely unfamiliar. Not for the first time, she wished she could borrow Chat Noir’s endlessly telescoping baton. She had a suspicion that Paris was now one enormous University campus, with all the buildings morphed into classrooms, cafeterias, dormitories, and parking garages. There would also be maintenance buildings and administrative offices, and the police force had probably simply morphed into campus security. The point was, she wondered how different it would look from above.

She could still see the Eiffel Tower in the distance, so at least one famous landmark was still present- after all, everyone currently thought they were either going to school in Paris, or working for a university in Paris, and no doubt that idea needed reinforcing the longer this went on. She wasn’t sure how long Universal could keep up a single alternate reality. Did it depend on her stamina, like it had with Animan? Or did it depend on how well people accepted the new reality? Surely there would be a few each time for whom the shift was too stark, too different from their normal life. Perhaps if enough people began to question it, it would shatter again.

Or perhaps it simply depended on when Universal herself got bored. She’d shifted between several different universes by now, and hadn’t seemed to spend much time with any of them. Perhaps they were not so compelling once she made it reality. Mayura frankly found it all annoying. Hawkmoth didn’t usually create akumas with powers to affect reality itself, and now that she was experiencing it first hand, she was beginning to have doubts about using the Wish, even if it would save Emilie.

But currently she was trying to keep herself oriented, while also visible enough to draw out the heroes. She would obviously need to find her way back to the administrative office where she currently worked after the battle.

----

Adrien Agreste beamed at the pretty design student who had actually succeeded in sending Lila off without a scene for once.

“What’s your name?” he asked earnestly. She blinked in surprise.

“Uh, M-Marinette,” she stuttered slightly. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

He grabbed her hand and kissed it, watching her flush adorably.

“Thank you,” he continued. “It’s nice to know the name of the woman I’m going to marry.”

She laughed and he caught the nervous note to it. “Well, thank you for the compliment, but it’s really not that big of a deal. I knew someone like her back in college and lycee, so I’ve got some experience in dealing with it.”

Adrien’s interest was genuinely piqued. “Oh yeah? I actually had to go to school with Lila, and that was an experience I really wish had ended with graduation. Not only do I still have to model with her sometimes, now she’s followed me to University.”

“That sucks,” Marinette said. Then her face flamed again. “I’m so sorry, by the way! You must get girls doing this all the time, and I didn’t- I mean, I kind of implied that you and I are together, but it was just to get her to back off, you know? I didn’t- I don’t want to force you into a relationship,” she finished with a soft, sweet smile. “You should be able to make your own choices.”

Adrien could have sworn his heart literally melted at that moment. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, there was a little voice reminding him of the existence of Ladybug, but she’d suddenly become a lot less important to his personal happiness. She was a great partner, but… well, perhaps that was all she’d ever be. And he was… okay with that. More than okay! After all, without the guilt of harboring feelings for his unattainable partner, he could pursue sweet, feisty, wonderful Marinette instead.

“About that… actually, would you mind having lunch with me? I’d really like to get to know you better,” he said, trying for a balance between his usual Chat Noir flair and his model reserve. When he saw her hesitate, he quickly added, “Anyone who can handle Lila like that would be a great friend to have!”

----

Marinette hesitated. She didn’t really know why, but as hot as this boy was, he was still freakin’ Adrien Agreste! She couldn’t go around dating the son of the Dean, not when she was a design student herself! Besides, she couldn’t get that kiss between her future self and future Chat Noir out of her mind. It had been so simple, so loving… so full of trust and tenderness, even for as quick as it had been. And she wanted that. Something had changed, and she could admit that to herself now- perhaps for the first time.

It had been so long since Chat Blanc… perhaps the danger was over, the peculiar circumstances that had allowed or caused that future no longer existed, surely. She could finally stop fighting herself and allow herself to fall for her partner. Right?

“Um, well, I guess,” she finally said. “Sure! That’d be nice.”

She saw the look of adoration on Adrien’s face and convinced herself that he was a model and used to looking adoringly at women. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, like that over the top exclamation about marrying her a few moments ago. He couldn’t really mean it, they hardly knew each other! And besides, it was probably just an exaggerated way of showing his appreciation.

----

Adrien could have danced on air. “Great! So, how about that new place that just opened up-”

The akuma alert suddenly went off on both their phones and his heart sank like a stone. Here he was, finally getting somewhere with the girl of his dreams, and stupid Hawkmoth had to interfere.

He cursed, already scanning the area for the best route to a place where he could transform. “I’m really sorry, Marinette. I… have to go.”

“Oh, that’s fine!” she reassured him, “I, um, I get really nervous during these things, so… I’m just gonna go this way. See you!”

She was already hurrying off, and Adrien was halfway to his own exit before he remembered that, like an idiot, he forgot to get her phone number. Well, at least now he knew her name.

----

Marinette checked the LadyBlog on her way to a place where she could transform. Alya had posted a video someone had taken of Mayura jumping from rooftop to rooftop, with the disclaimer that no one had yet seen an akuma, but the presence of the villainess could indicate that there was one out there somewhere, or would be soon.

“Alright Tikki,” Marinette said, stopping in a secluded area of campus and opening her purse. “Any more hints as to what’s going on? First you were sure something was up last night, and now Mayura is hopping around rooftops all by herself. Any ideas?”

Lately, Marinette had taken to consulting with Tikki before transforming, unless the akuma in question seemed really straightforward. Ever since she and Chat had cleared the threshold of maturity needed to use their powers more than once a battle, the akumas had gotten more devious and harder to beat.

“I’m beginning to get an inkling, Marinette,” Tikki said encouragingly. “You know how I’m the kwami of creation?”

Marinette nodded.

“Well, there’s something in the air that reminds me of what creation feels like.”

“Something in the air? Like, the physical air, or are you using a metaphor for the feel of a place, like a vibe?”

“I don’t know what a vibe is-”

“It’s like a feeling you get sometimes, from people or places. You have an instinct about them, and it can be either bad or good. I remember feeling really good about Alya when I first met her- she gave off good vibes. And we’ve been best friends ever since! Does that makes sense?”

“Yes it does! Thank you, Marinette! And yes, a ‘vibe’ is exactly what I’m talking about. Although,” Tikki paused, putting a nub up to her chin, “I supposed it could also be in the physical air. Creation can leave things behind, you know. And if this is coming from an akuma, it might well be connected to the physical air.”

“That would be a new direction for Hawkmoth,” Marinette mused. “His akumas have been getting a lot harder to beat lately, but the only time I can remember him going so subtle was with Sabrina that one time, and then the time he was Scarlet Moth and had that whole secondary attack planned that took us by surprise.”

Tikki shrugged. “Well, this definitely feels like creation magic to me, Marinette. You should be careful! And try to make sure you don’t forget anything important. You know akumas can affect memories sometimes.”

Marinette sighed at that rather useless bit of advice. How she was supposed to guard against forgetting things when they were dealing with an akuma that shared Tikki’s power and could possibly affect memory?

“Alright, Tikki. I’ll try to be careful and not forget anything, and I’ll make sure to warn Chat as well. Are you ready to transform?”

“Go for it!”

Marinette spoke the words, and shortly thereafter Ladybug was swinging away over the familiar rooftops of the great University of Paris.

----

Chat Noir was annoyed. He’d rushed away from Marinette for no reason apparently- there was no sign of an akuma anywhere, and while Mayura had triggered the alert, she was nowhere to be found either. He moved swiftly and quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself, but he couldn’t find her. A few minutes after he decided it had been nothing more than a feint or a distraction, Ladybug showed up, swinging up to his current rooftop.

“H-hey Chat,” she said, her tone oddly breathless. She started to walk over to his vantage point and tripped over thin air, recovering quickly, but still blushing in embarrassment. A few years ago this greeting would have had Chat over the moon with the possibility she was finally falling for him, but now…

“You okay there, Bug?” he asked. “Getting enough sleep? I know you said your schedule was pretty packed this semester.”

Ladybug smiled widely. “Sure! I’m slapping- sleeping! Fine. Just fine.”

Chat raised both eyebrows, but looked back out at the campus. Then he noticed it- it was slow, but inexorable.

“Ladybug,” he breathed. “Look!”

Ladybug joined him at the edge of the roof and together they watched as a circle of change spread slowly across the campus, leaving other buildings and streets in it’s wake.

“Chat, take us up,” Ladybug said, and this time there was nothing in her tone but command.

Without hesitation, Chat grabbed her around the waist and extended his baton with them at the top until they were in danger of being hit by low flying aircraft. They watched as the change engulfed the city and… there was something familiar about it.

“This has happened before, hasn’t it?” Ladybug murmured.

“I think so,” Chat said.

Ladybug let out a shaky breath. “Do you remember it?”

“No,” Chat admitted. “But I think… I think I’ve noticed it before. And then forgot.”

“Me, too. Tikki says she can feel something like the power of Creation in the air,” Ladybug said. Her arm around his shoulder tightened, as she got her yo-yo out again. She opened it to map-mode and Chat could see the spreading change on it as well, the magic of their miraculous somehow picking up that of another. She quickly tapped a few commands, and the screen zoomed out until there was a flashing dot in what could be the center of the circle. “That’s where it started,” Ladybug said.

“I don’t think we can get there before we forget again,” Chat said, feeling hollow.

“Maybe,” Ladybug replied, and he took heart at the strength of her voice. “But I’ve got the location saved in the yo-yo now, so even if we forget what we’re doing right now, we’ll have a clue. I frankly doubt the akuma will stick around to be found like that, but it will at least give us a starting point, right?”

“Right.”

The circle of change had reached where they would be if they were still on the roofs now, and Chat braced himself for… something. Ladybug tensed, too. When nothing happened for a few seconds, he started to relax… only to feel the change wash over him a breath later.

@auyeahaugust

#mlauyeahaugust #auyeah2020 #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #reverse crush

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mandadoration · 4 years

Text

hound - vii.

summary: You head to Canto Bight to gather more information about a bounty of yours when you’re ambushed and drugged. Your relationship with Mando is ever confusing.

word count: 3, 200

pairing: mandalorian x mandalorian!reader

Warnings: non-consensual drug use, swearing, sexually suggestive content, canon-typical violence

a/n: I know I said I wouldn’t update this until next week... But are you complaining? If you follow this story on AO3, you will see that I predict that there will be 14 chapters total!

chapters: i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii

Read this on AO3

You vaguely remember Mando saying that Canto Bight was nice this time of year, back when you were bleeding all over the floor of the Razor Crest and half delirious. As you fly in, the bright lights of the city almost make your head hurt. You’ve been here once a long time ago, you remember, for an emergency landing that had cost you an arm and a leg just so that you could leave your rented ship overnight.

It’s a bit of a rough landing about a mile or so away from the city, landing somewhere in an unlit, grassy area, scaring some fathiers away. You head to the back to suit up, Mando trailing after you.

“We’re looking for someone by the name of Desdre,” he informs. “He was a part of the same intergalactic gang as the bounty. He says he’ll tell us where Jahjon is in exchange for our word that we won’t turn him in.” You tilt your head. It seems suspicious that he was willing to give such precious information in return for safety. There’s no doubt the same thought has crossed his mind.

“Will we?” you ask. Mando scoffs and slings his rifle over his shoulder and tucks ammo away.

“We’ll see,” he says curtly, and leaves the ship. You tuck in a few more medshots into your vambrace and check the fuel for your flamethrower and follow him like a shadow.

You don’t feel underdressed, exactly, but in the glitz and glamour of the glitter and expensive fabrics, you and Mando stick out like a sore thumb with your scratched up beskar and arsenal. If Mando is affected by the stares and whispers that follow you, he doesn’t show it. He goes through the alleyways and backstreets of Canto Bight, past the drugged-out spice users and teens using deathsticks, past the couples and trios and straight up orgies on the streets. You’re not quite sure where he’s going, but you stick close to him, warily watching the rooftops. Eventually, he stops at an ornate wooden door, and knocks three times.

“Who is it?” a singsongy voice calls out. The door swings open to reveal a very scantily dressed man, gold paint rimming his dark eyes, face flushed from drinking and eyes red from spice. He pushes his curly hair up and out of his face, the bangles on his wrist jingling, eyeing you and Mando up and down hungrily. “Oh hello there,” he purrs, and practically lounges against the doorframe. “Mandalorians? What brings you here to my humble abode?” You shift your eyes away from his searching gaze to look beyond him and into the room. Moans and giggles drift into the open air. Did Mando just bring you to drug den?

“We’re looking for Desdre,” Mando answers. “Urgent business.” The man raises a carefully plucked eyebrow and squints his eyes.

“Like what?” he questions. There are hickies and bruises lining his throat.

“None of your business, that’s for sure,” Mando says, and you think that the man is about to refuse you entry, but his face breaks into a charming smile and motions for you two to come in.

“Be my guest,” he drawls. He doesn’t move from his position, and forces you and Mando to brush past him, and you grit your teeth as you feel hands feel you up. Judging by the sudden tense shoulders, the same has happened to Mando. The man’s voice leans in close and you do your best to try not flinch from the sudden wave of perfume and musk. His grip on your wrist is hot. “If you and your friend ever decide to come back, not on business, just ask for Pretre, hm?” he whispers, voice low and wanton. You quickly pull yourself away from him, ignoring how he laughs, and follow Mando to the back. “I’ve always wanted to fuck a Mando!” his voice calls out after you.

The further back into the room you go, the less clothes there are, and the more blissed out the people look. Eventually, you come to an area of the room blocked off by velveteen curtains. You push through it, and wince.

You didn’t think that people wore those gold metal bikinis willingly.

Still, it’s better than nothing, and your gaze settles on a man, sitting in the center of the pile of blankets and soft pillows, covered by a thin robe, pulling his face from the neck of an attractive Twi’lek whose hands are tangled in his dark hair, and grinning when he sees you and Mando. A few men and women peel themselves off of the floor to prowl around you. It’s hazy in here from smoke and stifling from all the bodies. The lights from outside are barely trickling in, heavy curtains on every window, and your eyes strain to adjust.

“Desdre,” Mando says. You scowl under your helmet as you grab the wrist of someone who was feeling up your leg.

“Mando!” Desdre crows. He flourishes his arm out. “Come sit! You and your friend- please, relax.” Neither of you move, and Desdre at least has the decency to look a little sheepish. “Well, can I offer you something to drink? Some spice? Or a girl?” he offers, waggling his eyebrows.

“We’re not here to waste time,” Mando says. Desdre sighs and gets up, soothing the girls that whine and ruffling the hair of a boy that kisses his calf as he moves to stand in front of you and Mando, pipe dangling in his fingers.

“Always business, Mando, and no play,” he complains in a lilting accent. “Who’s your friend?” He trails a finger up your armor before tapping it a couple of times. “Another Mandalorian?” He takes a deep drag from his pipe and blows sickly sweet smoke in your face. Although your helmet filters out most of it, the smell still makes your head ring.

“Yes.”

“Hm, interesting,” he hums. He stares intensely at you.

“Jahjon. You said know where he is?” Mando asks. Desdre nods, and goes back to join his harem, leaning back languidly as they crawl over him again. He teasingly smacks the rear of someone you can’t quite see.

“I do, my friend,” he says. “But remember what I asked for? My safety guaranteed for information.” At that, more people slip in the room past the dividing curtains. You count in your head. There’s seven people in here now, all looking at you like you’re their next meal.

“You have our word,” Mando says, but Desdre clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“I need to hear it from both of you,” he orders, his piercing gaze looking straight at you. You clench your jaw, and you want to smack the smug grin from his face. “I’ve heard about you, you know? The Dog? Loyal to your master and hunting together. I’ve heard you’re ruthless in the field.” All the heads in the room have turned to look at you in unison, and you would’ve found it unsettling if there wasn’t a cold weight settling in your stomach. “Especially how that poor Gran came back in pieces, body mangled like he’d been bashed in.” He’s playing you, you know it, and you shouldn’t let it affect you, but your temper is uncharacteristically short. “Your bite really is worse than your bark, huh? I wonder what you’re like in bed. If you fuck as brutally as you kill.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Mando finally says frustratedly. He steps forward. “If you won’t help us--”

“You have my word,” you grit out, interrupting Mando. You hate this. You hate how you’ve become notorious and people have started assuming, more bold and daring, pushing your buttons and bending you, expecting you to break. You hate that people have started twisting the facts about you to make you more vicious, more blood-thirsty and unforgiving when that’s not anywhere remotely close to the truth. You don’t know how it’s come to this. You haven’t really even done anything remotely interesting. As far as you’re concerned, you’re nobody. A Mandalore without a clan who doesn’t even know why there are people so curious about you. You think the world is against you, using your moment of weakness where your nightmares have been gnawing at you to try and knock you down, degrading you down to a feral animal. You want to prove them wrong. You’ve bled for Mando to know you're human, and you really don’t want to bleed again.

“And so she speaks,” Desdre says, looking pleasantly surprised, and Mando glances at you. “Mando finally took the muzzle off you?”

But you decide to play the part of that mangy mutt, and bare your teeth.

You don't know what it is that made you do it, what possessed you to make such a rash decision, but you pull the blaster from your holster and point it at Desdre.

“Jahjon. Where is he?” you demand, voice low and dangerous. The people flocking on either side of Desdre scramble away.

“Dog,” Mando hisses. “Put that down.” You ignore him and stalk closer, your blaster still carefully trained. Desdre doesn’t even look fazed. He looks at you curiously. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Something’s wrong. Your limbs feel too heavy and the room is spinning. It’s too bright in here, even in low-light.

“Answer me,” you bark. Your grip wavers, and Desdre smiles.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

Mando walks up to stand close to you and tries to pull your arm back, but you wrench it out his grip, and accidentally fire into the ceiling.

The room descends into chaos.

Desdre stumbles back, and his little harem get up, looking alert, drawing their own weapons, and as more people flood into the room, surrounding you, you know what this is.

Desdre never had the intentions to tell you anything.

And this was an ambush.

You fire your blaster a few more times, hitting Desdre in the leg and another shot going through the chest of a half-naked humanoid that you can barely make out from your blurred vision before it’s knocked out of your hand. You lash out, your fist catching the jaw of some other poor soul, sending them flying back and taking two more down with them. Your vambrace shoots out a medshot, knocking the Twi’lek he was kissing before out, and your grappling line tangles around their ankle. Yanking on it, another harem girl stumbles over them.

A staff knocks you over the head, increasing the ringing that’s building up in your ears. You whip around to see Mando shoot them with his own blaster, their body falling limp at your feet. He’s got blood smeared on his chestplate as he fights around the small room. It’s too cramped and too risky to use his amban rifle, but overall, most of the attackers are already dead or knocked out, too drugged up and sluggish to take down two Mandalorians. A tap on your shoulder distracts you. You turn around, fists raised, but a sharp pain twinges in your neck. It’s Pretre, and the gold paint in around his eyes sparkles as you raise a hand and pull out a syringe. Your chest feels tight as you drop it. It shatters on the ground, red liquid seeping out and soaking into the carpet.

“I forgot that your helmet filters,” he says. Pretre’s voice sounds slow and deep as the room starts to tilt. “I was wondering why it took so long for this to happen. Luckily I had this. My brother is too incompetent. Ah, well, hindsight, you know?” A smile plays on his lips, and you wonder why you hadn’t seen the resemblance before. A wave of pleasure rides over you, but then it starts dragging you down, making your eyelids heavy.

“You… what?” you ask stupidly. Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth and fire is dancing across your skin. “What did you…?” Everything’s muffled. He puts a hand on your chest and gives the gentlest of pushes, but it topples you over as you collapse on the ground. He stands over you, a pitying smile on his face, showing the barest of white teeth. You vaguely register Mando’s voice calling out to you, but it’s cut off and there’s more blaster fire.

“I do hope I didn’t give you too much,” Pretre sighs. He bends down and crouches next to you, running a single finger down the length of your helmet, dragging a finger across your neck, nails digging in. “Oh dear. Maybe just a smidge too much… Just ride it out, and you’ll be fine.” He hooks a finger under your helmet, and you cry out weakly, but you’re arms are too heavy and your mind is too light to stop him. Just as he finds the button to release your helmet, something catches his attention. His head snaps up and he pulls away. “Next time,” he promises, “and my offer still stands.” He leaves you on the floor, and your vision is swimming, the ceiling and tapestries on the wall swirling together as you feel sweat dripping down your neck. Whatever Pretre put in you was making you burn up and feel sickly. You hear panting next to your ear. You turn your head--

-- and there’s a strill snarling in your face.

You reel back, away from its dripping jowls as it pads closer to you. It bays at your sudden reaction, and more hounds appear, surrounding you as you gasp in shallow breaths and scramble away, tripping over bodies and pillows in your effort to get away. They follow you, eyes red and glowing as they bare their sharp teeth at you. Their claws are tearing up the carpet underneath them. The strills come closer and closer, but your back is already up against the wall, and your blaster is too far out of your reach. The one in the front, the biggest and angriest of the pack, goes right to your face, nose touching your helmet, and you close your eyes and curl into yourself as howling echoes in your ears.

“Dog!”

Your head snaps up. The hounds are gone, and Mando is hovering over you. He holds out your blaster for you to take.

“We have to go,” he says, out of breath as he looks around. “That stupid kid who met us at the door- he took Desdre and left. We have to leave before more come.” You stare at him blankly. Where had the dogs gone? When you look, the carpet in front of you is intact and whole, and there’s no slobber. You slowly reach up to take the blaster, holding it in your hand. You pull yourself up, head swiveling as the howling picks up again.

“Did you hear that?” you choke out. You wave the blaster wildly as you spin to try and find the source.

“Hey, calm down--” You jerk back as his hand rests on your shoulder. His voice is loud and booming in your ears. Spots dance in your vision as Mando grabs your hand and tugs you along, through the curtains, through the now-empty room, and into the alley ways of Canto Bight. The lights are bright and sends piercing pains up your head as you stumble along.

“Mando,” you gasp out. It’s getting harder and harder to keep your feet under you. You think you hear dogs running behind you, but every glance back comes up empty.

“What?” he grunts, pulling you into another winding backstreet. Bile rises up in your throat with each yank.

“Mando,” you call out again. There are phantom hands against your throat and you can’t breathe. “Mando.” He finally stops and pulls you into an alcove.

“What? What’s wrong?” he hisses, and then he takes in you heaving shoulders, your choked out pleas, and hold your head in his hands. He calls your name, your real name, soft and pleading, and that’s when it peaks.

You faintly register how your eyes roll to the back of your head and you collapse like a puppet with its strings cut, Mando just barely managing to catch you before you can hit your head. But his hands add on to your discomfort as it feels like there are thousands upon thousands of hand pulling, tugging, and scratching you, around your throat and holding your arms and legs down. A panic swells in you and you struggle to get away and push the hands off you. It’s smothering, the suffocation in your lungs and your head making you dizzy. It feels like they’re trying to pry your helmet off, but as you go through the streets of Canto Bight, jostling in someone’s arms, you realize it feels like they’re trying to rip your head from your shoulders and tear you limb from limb.

You think you hear screaming, and as more and more things come into focus, you realize it’s you. You shoot up from your cot, gasping and Mando shushes you and calms you down. You flail around, trying to make sense of things.

You can breath, finally, as the recycled air of the Razor Crest buzzes over you. And you realize it’s light outside.

“How long--”

“Just a day,” Mando answers, and he sounds exhausted. You wonder if he stayed up to make sure you were okay. “What happened?”

“Drugged,” you say. “I… I don’t know what it was.”

“You were freaking out,” he starts, “horribly. You were screaming and trying to claw your own skin off, talking about dogs and strills.” He eyes you warily, taking in your hunched stance and bouncing knees. “You wanna talk about it?”

And although you know you should, that those hallucinations are fresh and feels as real as memories, the words die in your throat as you clam up. “I can’t,” you admit. “I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t trust you, I just--” Mando abruptly stands up.

“It’s fine,” he says, but his tone is short and you can tell he’s irritated. “I’ve located the last of the bounties. We’ll be there in a few hours.” He leaves to go back up the cockpit and you tamp down the urge to bang your head against the wall. The emotional stalemate is driving you up the wall. You can’t understand why Mando is upset you can’t confide in him when he himself is the most closed off person you’ve ever met. If anything, you’ve given him more than he has. After a moment, you go meet up with him.

You see a red liquid shimmering in a vial in his pocket. He follows your gaze to see what you’re staring at, and he pulls it out and hands it to you. “Mnemiotic drug,” he says. “Imps used it all the time. That’s what they gave you. Modified, but the base is the same. Hallucinations, raised body temperature, heightened aggression, increased sensitivity. Brain damage in extreme cases.”

“What happened to Pretre and Desdre?” you ask him. He doesn’t need to describe the effects if you’ve lived through them.

“They got what they deserved,” he says, and leaves it at that.

Hound Tag List: @knockbeforeyouspeak @gothtechie @killtherandomness

#mandalorian reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin reader #mando reader #my writing #fic: hound #the mandalorian #mandalorian #din djarin

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forlornmelody · 4 years

Text

Three Robins Rose Has Kissed And The One Who Kissed Back

Rating: Explicit (there’s smut, and lots of swearing, and some implied drug use.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: JayRose (Jason Todd/Rose Wilson)

AO3 Link: Here

Summary: Rose Wilson has a type and it is former protégés of Batman.

Note: For the sake of this story, I'm assuming both the events of the Crisis continuity, and the New 52, happened. (But we're just gonna pretend DC didn't nerf Rose for daddy-fodder, kay? Kay.)

-*-*-

“Rose.” Nightwing stares down at her, narrowing his eyes, but his grin betrays him. “Something tells me you’re doing this on purpose.”

“What makes you say that?” The mat presses up against Rose’s back.

“That’s the third time today I’ve swept you off your feet.” Dick’s got her in a full nelson, one of his escrima sticks pointed at her throat. He’s not actually going to bust her, though. Nightwing, the former Boy Wonder, is too good for that sort of thing. It frustrates her to no end.

“Maybe I need more practice.” Rose can’t help the playful lilt creeping into her voice. The blue and black look good on him--better because they hug his body in all the right places. All she has to do is tilt her hips--there. One flip and Rose leans over him, pressing both his wrists against the mat.

“You? You’re better than this.” Somehow it sounds like Dick is commenting on more than her training room flirting tactics, and the smile slips from her face. Like he hasn’t hit on half his opponents already. Hypocrite. She’ll show him.

Time slows as Rose closes in, so close she can hear Dick’s heart speeding up. Just as her lips are about to brush against his--Dick turns his head and her kiss lands on his cheek. “Oh come on.” Just like that--Dick’s on his feet, launching Rose off him.

“Focus, Rose.”

Their sparring session continues, and Dick never once brings up the kiss. He drives her crazy, in more ways than one, but she seems to have him off-balance for now. Rose presses her advantage, and she pins Dick face-first against the Robin costume on display. Freezing, Dick sucks in a breath. Before Rose can ask what’s wrong, he shoves his elbow into her sternum, pushing her away.

“Dick?”

“Not now.” He doesn’t even look at her as he slams the door behind him.

What’s his hang-up with his old costume, anyway?

-----

Rose’s only on this team because of Dick, because even though he doesn’t lead the Titans anymore, what he says goes. Even when the Titans hate his decision. Even when they hate their newest member with a passion. Even though she tried to kill them before.

But Rose knows more than just martial arts. And she knows just how to get under Tim’s skin. Or on top of it, rather.

Click. Tim’s got her pressed face-first against the mattress and her hands cuffed behind her back. Somehow Rose suspects this isn’t a bondage thing. Too bad. She really liked the feel of Tim’s lips against hers.

“Hot damn.” Eddie stares at them through the open door and Rose can literally see steam coming out of his ears. That might be normal for him. Rose hasn’t been paying attention, at least not before now.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Tim says quickly.

“Yes it is,” Rose says even quicker. Sometimes Rose’s visions don’t help much. People’s choices determine the future and people can be oh so finicky. It drives her nuts. Fights are one thing--people either want to kill her or they don’t--the rest they have ingrained through practice or the lack thereof. Knowing whether someone wanted to get in her pants--well. Apparently, she hasn’t quite figured that one out.

Tim pulls her cuffs off, extracting himself from the bed and putting some distance between them. “Put some clothes on.” Damn. She’s 0-2.

But with the way Eddie’s eyes linger on her as she slides her armor on? Maybe it’s not a total loss.

----

First Stephanie giggles, and Rose can hear it echo across Gotham’s rooftops. “What are you doing?” Then her smile slips, and the silence is deafening.

Rose leans in closer, both their asses teetering on the edge. “You and Tim are on a break, right?” Her lips part, and she can smell the lavender in Spoiler’s shampoo. Their breaths intermingle and she’s so close to--

“Rose, I’m straight.”

“Seriously??”

----

Honestly, Rose had given up trying at this point. Jason Todd--Gotham’s best, or perhaps worst bad boy--should have been an easy target. Except he wasn’t Rose’s target, not this time. Her employer wanted Roy Harper out of the picture--Jason was just in her way. And he rarely left his best friend out of his sight. And Rose thought Koriand’r would’ve been more of a problem. And with her out of town--possibly out of planet--this should have been a piece of cake. Just get off The Red Hood’s radar by getting into his pants. How hard could it be?

Way harder than Rose ever imagined.

But the price on Roy’s head? Too high to pass up. With that kind of money, Rose would be set for life. No more relying on her dear dad to help with bills every so often. Or his car. Or his safehouses. She could even get her brother the care and protection money to keep him away from all those bent government agencies and mad scientists who wanted to dissect his brain, or worse, use him for their own ends.

So, Rose stayed. Even after Jason turned her down, more than once.

The first time, it’s on a mission in Hong Kong, where Rose just so happens to be going after the same target. The Jade Dragon--Kingpin and Slum Lord who owned half the Indian Ocean. Roy waits for them on the roof with their getaway ride, and Rose joins Jason in the elevator. Halfway up it just so happens to stall. She really outdoes herself.

Jason’s blue eyes stare not at her, but at the emergency hatch. The back-up lights cast a soft glow on his skin as Rose closes in. “It’s probably a power failure. No way they don’t have backup generators in this place.”

“Yeah. But they don’t run the elevator when the power goes out--in case of a fire.”

Jason swears under his breath, eyeballing the distance from his feet to the ceiling. “So what. We’ve got about ten, maybe twenty minutes before they fix it?”

“Something like that.” Rose touches his shoulder. “Relax. Where’s your slumlord going to go? The roof?” The stairs don’t go to his penthouse. She checked. Something about a security risk. Rich wackos like him like to be airlifted out in case of emergency.

Pressing his lips together, Jason lets out the breath he’s being holding for two minutes. “You’re right.” He slumps against the back of the elevator, staring at buttons like they’ve personally wronged him. “I just hate waiting.”

Rose slouches next to him, not quite touching him, but close enough to where they can feel each other’s heat. “I know how we can pass the time.”

Jason blinks, finally giving Rose more than a passing glance. “...You’re kidding, right?” He laughs softly, and it’s the softest she’s ever seen his expression. “We just met.”

The batkid who got hired for jacking the Batmobile’s hubcaps, who had a reputation of going just a little too far when beating up bad guys, who actually killed more than one villain who got under his skin. Jason Todd--the guy on ten international watch lists--a prude. Who knew?

----

Except Jason isn’t really a prude, now is he? Nah. Rose’s caught him stealing glances at Kori more than once--always looking the other way when Kori’s boytoy Roy stands nearby. Hell, the way Jason and Roy fool around sometimes—Rose’s not completely convinced of the joke. She’s even found some saucy text messages in his phone, and more than one picture of a gorgeous flight attendant. An old flame--Rose guesses.

But he doesn’t spare her a second glance.

And it’s not like Rose doesn’t know what she’s doing. Infiltration isn’t her favorite--she’d much rather blow up The Starfire with a heavy payload. Simple. Quick. A big, beautiful explosion to light some fire in her eyes. But the fucking employer wants Roy’s head as proof. Says he and his friends tend to walk away from this sort of thing. Her employer seemingly has all the time and money in the world--so long as Rose completes the job. She’s starting to wonder what Roy did to piss him off. But she knows how to get under a guy’s skin--the right clothes, the right words, simple gestures to lure him in.

The second time it’s after the mission, when they’re celebrating with drinks--with sparkling cider instead of alcohol (what is it with these guys?) Rose dons a bikini with his favorite colors--red and black and lounges on the deck chair next to Jason. Roy and Kori have the right idea--already having forgotten their bubbly beverages--drinking instead from each other’s lips. And Jason’s staring up at the stars.

Rose kind of envies him in that moment, floating on the water with nothing but wonder on his face. She swan dives at the opposite end, swimming her way toward him. The splash does stir his floaty, and Jason turns over to glance her way. Maybe, just maybe she has a chance.

“Nice moves out there today. You dad teach you that?”

Rose shrugs. “My mom taught me a few things, too.” Mostly how to draw in close without her mark noticing. But nothing seems to slip Jason’s attention.

Jason eyes her as her arms brace themselves on his thigh. “You really want me, don’t you.”

“Can’t fault a girl for trying.” And damn her, he’s gorgeous, and cut like a rock. Was it all his years in the batcave or his time with the All-Caste?

But that’s not want hooks Rose the most. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not like that.” It’s the softness in his eyes. She’s only seen it a couple of times in the past few days, but each time he looks at his friends like that Rose swears she’s being let in on a big secret.

“Do not tell me you’re gay.”

Jason laughs, laughs, and Rose immediately knows she’s in too deep. “Gay? Straight? Labels. Who needs ‘em?” He stretches out on the pool mattress, and he lets the leg Rose’s leaning on slip into the water. “They’re just more rules.”

“Then why…?” Rose doesn’t say it. Doesn’t voice the rejection sinking into her brain. Admitting it out loud would mean admitting failure, and Rose Wilson does not fail.

Shrugging, Jason murmurs. “Don’t know you well enough, yet.”

----

Rose should’ve given up at this point. Gone for the easier kill, damn the consequences. Just snapped Roy’s neck while Kori was in the shower. And why hasn’t she? She hasn’t the foggiest idea. But if she’s honest with herself--Rose knows exactly why.

Roy is Jason’s best friend.

Jason would never forgive her if he found out.

And why does it matter if Jason hates her?

Damnit, Rose.

This was exactly the kind of fucked up shit her dad warned her about. Don’t stick around too long. Don’t make friends. Don’t let your mark get under your skin. And what did Rose do? Exactly that.

Her employer doesn’t care if she seduces Jason Todd or not, so why does Rose?

Damn it all to fucking hell.

Rose beats the hell out of the punching bag, shaking the chain it hangs from with every strike. Each punch she lands inspires a new idea. Slip some arsenic in his drink. Stab him from behind. Throw him off the roof of the ship. Press a pillow into his face. Snap his neck. Snap his fucking--

“Rose?”

Her fist freezes midair, and she pants, not bothering to turn around. “Yeah?”

“It’s Roy. Something’s happened.”

Fuck. “Is he dead?”

Jason’s eyes tighten as he shakes his head. “We need to find him. Fast.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

----

Rose should be happy. Roy did all her hard work for her. Someone found him while he was on a bender, tied him up, and has been carving up his skin as if the answers themselves will bleed right out.

Amateurs. A professional knows only to interrogate a sober target. Establish a baseline of what the hostage knows and then break them down with intoxication if need be. Break them slowly, only as much as needed. Dead hostages can’t answer questions.

“Arsenal?” Jason whispers, tilting up Roy’s chin. He doesn’t respond, and his head flops down, heavy against his chest.

Kory shoots the nearest window, a low growl escaping from her throat as glass shards rain down the side of the building. Rose jumps a little, despite herself. She doesn’t want to imagine being on the receiving end of one of those star bolts.

“C’mon, Roy. Answer me.” Rose never thought she’d hear Jason beg, not like that. She can’t stand it.

Walking over, Rose check’s Roy’s pulse and sighs in relief. It’s sluggish, almost too faint to feel. Rose could put him out of his misery right here and now and his friends would have no idea who killed him. Just slip her knife in to hit his artery and bam. Problem solved. Her fingers slip toward the knife on her belt, but Jason’s pleading gaze stops her cold.

“Is he…?” Oh fuck. Jason has tears welling in his eyes.

“Alive.” Rose can just see the barrel of the gun her employer will use to tie up loose ends. “Not for long, though.”

Between the three of them, Jason, Rose, and Kory carry Roy back to the ship where they can apply first aid, and the ship’s alien technology can perform a synthetic blood transfusion. Roy’s pulse slowly returns to something recognizable, and Rose sinks in her seat. She’s deciding between her safe houses when Jason’s fingers graze her jaw.

Rose jumps out of her seat, using everything in her power not to deck him in the face. “The fuck…?”

“Hey.” Oh. Jason’s nose is so close to hers that she can feel his breath on her face. She can smell the mint he just put in his mouth. Never once did Rose imagine Jason could be such a sap. The heat of his fingers sears her skin, but she doesn’t pull away. Rose dares a glance down his lips and when she looks back up Jason’s already tilting his head to meet hers.

His kiss is softer than she expects, lightly brushing his lips over hers, holding her jaw just enough so she can slip away if she wants to. Rose freezes, never expecting this after all this time, all those refusals. Jason starts to pull back before her brain finally stops dividing by zero, and she grabs the back of his neck, crushing her lips against his. Swearing softly, Jason meets her tit for tat, and they stumble out of the med bay and into the hall.

Rose presses him against the wall, slipping her hands inside the opening of his favorite jacket, feeling the heat rising off his chest and the rush of his heartbeat. Part of her still expect to wake up from this dream in her bed alone, heart hammering, skin flushed, thighs damp with need. She mouths a silent prayer into his lips, to the god she never bothers to answer to, pleading to make the dream real, just this once.

Jason’s hands wander across her shoulders, down her arms, and around her hips to her back. Rose steps between his legs, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Breaking for air, Jason’s words come out ragged. “We...we should pick a room. Yours or mine?”

Instead of answering him with words, Rose guides him to his door and shoves him inside, tossing his jacket to the floor. Jason stares at her breathlessly, and she hesitates. “Too much?”

“Never.” His fingers wind in her hair, pulling her back into another kiss.

Rose drinks him in like she’s parched for thirst, scratching the edge of his hairline from the tips of his ears to the base of his skull. Jason sucks in a breath and Rose grins into his mouth. She tastes him, gasping softly as his fingers twist in her curls, pulling at her hair just enough. HIs other hand wanders just south of her waist and he freezes. Stepping back, Rose loosens her hold, looking him over from head to toe.

Jason pants, taking her in too. “...Are we…?”

Leaning against the closed door, Rose folds her arms. “Are we what, Jason?”

“Is this a onetime thing or…” Jason’s eyes trail back in the direction of the hospital room and suddenly the tension between him and the other Outlaws make a lot more sense.

Damnit. “I’m a merc, Jason.” Really, she should be happy with the kiss, more than the kiss, but this--former Robin proves hard to let go of. “I’ve stayed here too long as it is.”

Jason’s eyes narrow ever so slightly and Rose plasters on her poker face, hoping he hasn’t found her out tonight of all nights. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Push me away.” His voice wavers as he speaks, and Rose’s heart plummets to her stomach. Damn him.

“What do you want from me?” And damn her too, that waver is apparently contagious.

Jason steps closer, sliding his hand in to cup her jaw, the edge of his thumb grazing the bottom of her cheek. “I don’t want to just fuck, Rose.” His eyes close, and he brushes his nose against hers. “I want to--” He clamps his mouth shut, trembling slightly in his touch.

The word teeters on the edge of his tongue, but it doesn’t come out, so Rose pulls it out with a snarl. “Loving me will get you killed, Jason.”

A sloppy grin forms on his face, and Jason nods at her. “Death isn’t as final as you think.”

“So what. You’re immortal now?” She’s grinning too, and she knows she’s fallen too far to get back up.

Jason brushes his lips against hers. “I sure feel like I am when I’m around you.” His next kiss probes deeper, and one hand tugs on her elbow. “Stay. After this is over.”

Her answer is right there, just inside her mouth, but Rose says something else instead. “Oh? You’re that sure I’m a good fuck?”

His lips smack against hers. “I’m not here to fuck you.”

“Jason--”

He silences her with a finger, and then he traces the edge of her lips with his fingertip. Rose resists the urge to pull it into her mouth and suck on it. She’s doomed. “I’m here to make love to you.”

Rose swallows, freezing on the spot. “I can’t promise you anything.”

His smile slips, and she desperately wants to put it back on his face. Rose doesn’t want to break his heart, not anymore. “Rose--”

“No one can.” Tracing the space where his heart hammers in his chest, Rose whispers softly. “Someone could break in ten minutes from now and shoot me in the head.” Standing up on her tiptoes, she kisses his forehead. “Nothing’s guaranteed.” Then she kisses the back of his hand. “Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jason watches her, his face inscrutable as ever.

Shit. Did I make things worse? Rose opens her mouth to murmur another apology but Jason kisses her before she can say a word. He pulls her close, his hands seemingly everywhere at once, and yet she craves more of him. Daring to slide her hand up Jason’s shirt, she grins into his lips as he leans heavily into her touch, a groan escaping from his lips despite himself. She grazes the lines of his abdomen with her nails. “Oh,” Rose says softly.

Jason Todd. Blushing. As he watches her. “Like what you see?” he says just as soft.

“I haven’t seen anything yet.” She ducks down, pushing up his shirt and following its path with her mouth.

“Fuck.” One of his wandering hands finds its way back to her hair, holding her head as she breathes against his stomach. “Rose.”

Rose stands up, grinning against his collarbone. “Getting there.” She finds the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder and lavishes her attention there, charged by the tightening of his grip.

Jason pushes her to arm’s length, taking a ragged breath. He drags down the zipper of her jacket, taking in the sight of her skin inch by inch. Rose presses into his touch, admittedly reddening a bit herself. His lips part with hunger, but it's the wonder in his eyes that stops her in place—like he sees the stars flickering across her skin. With his fingers he traces the scar on her shoulder and the ones that line her arms. Sucking in a breath, he circles the mark of a bullet on her chest. “That must’ve hurt.”

“Like hell.” Rose mutters, only to gasp when Jason presses his lips against it. “Jason.”

“Shh,” he says softly, breathing in her scent as he edges his fingers beneath her bra and the plastron it holds. He traces a path up her neck and across her throat until he makes it to her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Why does the thought of him being gentle make her heart beat faster? Part of her wants him to have his way, and take his time exploring her body. Another, much louder part wants to rile him until he takes her fast and hard. Rose grabs the edge of his shirt, looking up at Jason. He nods, and she bites her lips as she pulls it over his head.

Holy shit.

Rose thought she had a lot of scars. Jason has so many she doesn’t even know where to start. There are the bullet marks, the punctures, the rhythmic signs of torture, the line going up the side of his neck and into his hairline where a crowbar must’ve bashed his head in. It’s not until Jason tilts her chin up that Rose realizes she’s been holding her breath. “I’m still here,” he whispers, pulling her into another kiss. She wonders how many times he’s kissed Death on the lips, only to pull back when it wanted him most.

“Soon, you’ll in bed.” She grins against his lips, finding the latch on his belt. “Booby traps? Really?”

He laughs once, running a hand down her breast, feeling the softness of her skin there. “Safety first.” When he gets to the lines of her abdomen, he swallows, drawing a grin from Rose’s mouth.

Stepping back, Rose eyes the latch, her brain already processing the potential catastrophes, and the configurations that would enable them. “Gotcha.” The belt clicks open, without a single explosion or poison released.

Jason blinks at her as she sets the belt aside. “I can’t decide if that’s hot or terrifying.”

Rose stands up on her tiptoes, whispering in his ear. “Why not both?” She punctuates her question with a bite on his ear lobe. The rumble of his groan stirs her chest, sending shockwaves between her legs. Hooking her thumbs in his belt loops, Rose pulls him closer, grinding up against him.

“Rose--” He says, in pleading or in warning, Rose isn’t quite sure.

“What do you want, Jay?” She runs the tip of her tongue up the ridge, shivering at the way his ragged breaths stir her hair.

“Bed,” he says hoarsely, “now.” He pulls her with him, and they tumble into the sheets, boots still on.

It’s a race, then, to see who can get the other’s off the fastest. Four thunks, laughs, and tangled sheets later, Rose climbs up his body, guiding his hands to her belt. Jason’s removed plenty of belts, that Rose is sure, but it’s like he deliberately fumbles his hands against her skin, just so he has an excuse to graze his knuckles there. And damn him, her skin jumps every time. Fine. She’ll make him lose track for real. Rose plants a wet kiss against his lips, running her hands down his shoulders and his arms, guiding his fingers until her belt clangs against his bookshelf before sliding to the floor. “Better,” she murmurs.

Jason runs his fingertips along the edge of her jeans, drawing his touch up and down her spine. “I could stare at you for hours, you know that?”

Rose snorts. “I can think of better ways to spend your time.”

Tilting his chin in challenge, Jason sits back. “Oh? Like what?”

Biting her bottom lip, Rose catches his wandering hand, and takes it to the button of her jeans. “Lemme show you.”

Jason holds his breath, unbuttoning her jeans and drawing the zipper down. He’s so quiet Rose starts to doubt what her late-night visions have been telling her for months. Maybe they weren’t her precognition talking. Maybe they’re just the wet dreams so many guys and girls have had ever since Jason donned a mask. Searching his eyes, Rose says, “We can stop--”

Holding her gaze, Jason replies, “I don’t want to.” HIs fingers follow hers inside her jeans and inside her underwear, and he sucks in a breath. “Shit, you’re wet.”

Rose blushes, despite herself. “You really all that surprised?” She presses his fingers in slow, small circles, holding onto the headboard behind him for balance. Then she moves his touch faster, harder, gasping against his shoulder. “Nn, fuck.”

“Breathe.” Jason chuckles softly, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. He moves his fingers more independently now while she’s distracted. And Rose breathes him in, awash in gunpowder and amber, and that salty scent he bears after a fight. Always so uniquely Jason Todd that the smell of it sends Rose right over the edge. He shakes them both with his laughter. “And our pants aren’t even off yet.”

“Shut up.” Rose pulls back to look at him.

He smirks. “Make me.”

Jason doesn’t need to say it twice. Rose assaults his lips with hers, pushing him down into the mattress. Making quick work of his jeans, she pulls them down as he shimmies out of them. Boxers briefs, huh? They’re just a simple grey with a black waist band--for some reason she’d expected some sort of smart-alecy words printed on them. Sliding down, she runs the tip of her nose up the line of his bulge, grinning as he writhes beneath her. While she sits up, Rose edges her fingers inside, feeling along his length, breathing in Jason’s unsteady gasps. Always so coy and cocky, and now he can’t form a single word. “Cat got your tongue?” she murmurs against his ear.

Jason turns his head, kissing her long and deep, rolling them over. Rose lifts her hips so he can get her jeans off, and he kisses just south of her belly button. “Mm.” Glancing up at her, Jason grins, kissing harder against that spot, lavishing his tongue until she squirms beneath him. But she doesn’t beg, not yet. The lines in his back are coiled tight, so tight his body might burst at the seams, but Jason takes his time, kissing down her hips, her thighs, her calves. Swallowing her whine, Rose reaches for his shoulder, but Jason takes her hands, placing them back at her sides.

“Patience, Rose.” He silences her protests with a kiss, diving back between her legs, edging them apart so that he has room. His lips find her ankle, the back of her knee, and Rose heart pounds as he gets closer and closer to her underwear. There’s no hiding her need for him now, with the way it soaks the front of her boyshorts. Jason samples the taste of her through the fabric, giving her one long lick.

“Oh fuck.” Rose gasps and twists, and Jason has to hold her down with one arm slung across her abs. He peels her underwear off, testing her with different pressures and strokes. Every so often, she catches him looking up at her, assuring himself he’d doing it just the way she likes. Her insides clench, and she twists in bliss, but Jason doesn’t stop, only pausing briefly to come up for air. Even then, his fingers fill in while he wipes his mouth.

“Shh.” He whispers against her mouth, reaching over into his bedside drawer for a condom. Did she say something?

“Yeah?” Rose asks, and her voice comes out hoarse. Fuck, she must’ve been screaming. While he slides on the condom, she’s reaching over for a bottle of water, downing half of it without giving a fuck to whom drank from it last.

Jason returns to her, surprisingly shy when they’re so close to merging their bodies. He gives her one chaste kiss, then another, letting her lead the pace. She winds one hand around the back of his neck, scratching the skin at the base of his skull. The other she uses to thumb the scar next to his eyebrow, the sharp line of his jaw, the sheen of sweat running down his neck to his collarbone, and that delicious line that runs down to the thatch between his legs. Guiding him inside her, Rose closes her eyes, letting his groan wash over her shoulder.

Rose traces circles across his back as he thrusts in and out, only to grip his shoulder when he picks up the pace. Jason grins against her mouth, sliding his hand between them, and Rose jolts, clinging to him as she whimpers into his neck. “It’s okay,” he murmurs against her mouth. “You can let go.” His tone meanders between loving and teasing, and maybe for Jason there is no line between them.

She doesn’t want to, not again before he does. But then Jason has to fucking whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

“You’re so beautiful when you let go,” he says softly, and her world flashes white, much like it does on the cusp of a vision. Her body coils like a spring, and Rose hooks her ankles around his hips, drawing him deeper inside as she clenches around him.

Jason’s eyes pinch shut as he loses his tightly held control, and Rose rolls her hips until he falls to her side. “Holy hell,” he gasps softly, muffled by his pillow.

“Yeah.” Rose shouldn’t, but she can’t help but kiss his left temple, tucking them in and tossing the spent condom aside.

She spends the night committing every line of his body to memory. And it helps soothe her in the weeks, months, and years ahead.

---

The next morning, Rose rolls to get closer to him, only to find his side of the bed empty. In his place, Jason left a small, folded piece of paper, and Rose takes her time undoing all the creases.

Rose,

You’ve no idea how amazing you are. I hope last night isn’t the end of it, but I understand if it is.

--Jason.

Beneath his name, Jason’s inscribed his number, and though Rose memorizes it within seconds, she always keeps the note close, in her utility belt or between her bra and her plastron, next to her beating heart.

#dc comics #jayrose #jason todd #rose wilson #demisexual jason todd #bisexual rose wilson #actually everyone in this fic is bi unless stated otherwise #melody writes #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #and they were teammates #lemme know what you think!

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freedom-shamrock · 5 years

Text

Hero Cafe

Also on AO3

The idea for this was sparked by a recent comment Dawn_on_Fire made on AO3 on the BAMF Marinette story "Snack Chat."

⁂

Marinette looked over everything in the mini refrigerator while Tikki ran down the checklist.

"It looks like you've got everything set, Marinette," her kwami said brightly. "This is such a sweet idea. I'm proud of you for moving past your worries to make this happen."

She closed the door and stood up, gazing proudly at her balcony's new setup. Superhero work was exhausting and took a lot of reserves. A few months back, she'd started bringing a bag of end-of-day breads and pastries whenever she was on patrol or training with any of her teammates. While they'd all appreciated it, Chat Noir had actually gotten tearful in his gratitude. Her partner was far too thin. Sure, his black suit emphasized that, but she'd picked him up enough times to know that it wasn't an illusion. She'd heard enough to know that his home life was garbage, and while she couldn't ask, it was clear he wasn't getting enough to eat.

It had taken far too long to come up with a solution that didn't involve her going out every night to feed her kitty. Lycee had gotten intense and she was stretched too thin as it was; she couldn't afford to give up more sleep if she wanted to keep all her commitments and ensure Paris' safety.

Pitching the plan of creating a superhero rest stop to her parents was easier than she'd expected, though perhaps pointing out Chat Noir's dangerously underweight physique, and likening it to her friend Adrien's, was all it took. Her parents were feeders and caretakers; they couldn't abide underfed children.

"It was so nice of your parents to get you the mini-fridge and microwave," Tikki said. "You're not the only member of the family with great ideas!"

"We Dupain-Chengs are creative." She tickled the little red being's tummy. "And I'm sure it helps to have the literal embodiment of creation hanging around us."

Tikki shook her head. "I'm drawn to creativity, and I might boost it because we're so close all the time. But I can't make what isn't there."

Resting her hands on her hips, Marinette surveyed the finished project. It far exceeded her plans of a cooler and box of snacks, with boxes to sit on. She'd found a tiny table and two low profile chairs at a cafe that was changing out all of its patio furniture. She'd expanded her brightly colored awning to cover the entire patio, not just the corner where the food was kept. She'd added curtains on all sides that could be dropped for privacy or protection from the weather, though she expected they'd stay rolled up most of the time. For the nights when more than two heroes were out and about, she'd added a storage bench full of blankets. Her fairy lights had been swapped out for a larger set.

Tikki swooped over to the pseudo-kitchenette and hung up the laminated page explaining all the features of the space. Then she darted over to circle the empty rings in the new ceiling. "Let's put up your sign. Then you'll be officially open for business."

"Business," Marinette snorted, but picked up the little sign she'd crafted. "This is a philanthropic activity. I don't get paid for it."

"True," Tikki agreed. "But you do get peace of mind."

Sighing happily, Marinette nodded. "Yeah. I do."

⁂

"Where are we going?" Chat Noir asked as Ladybug led him over the rooftops.

"It's a surprise." She couldn't look at him right now; she was afraid her giddiness would give her away. She couldn't wait to see his reaction. They were nearly there. "You'll want to vary your approach trajectory in the future to prevent suspicion."

"So it's someplace we'll be going routinely, then?" he asked, and she could imagine him tapping his clawed index finger against his chin as he followed. "New roof for meeting or training?" he guessed.

"Nope. This is way cooler." She paused on a roof where she could see both her old college and the faint twinkling of her patio lights. She had her glee under control now, and could glance over at him. "I know we've saved and met a lot of civilians, but do you happen to remember Marinette?"

His smile practically lit up the night. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The amazing up-and-coming fashion designer and daughter of the folks who run my favorite patisserie? That Marinette?"

She nodded. She'd managed to stay out of akuma attacks as a civilian for the last two years, so she was frankly surprised he remembered her so clearly.

"She's amazing," he gushed. "She's so kind and brave, and she's as creative as you are. You should probably consider her as an option for a third string miraculous wielder. I bet she'd be fantastic."

She turned away so he wouldn't see the hot blush in her cheeks. Why did her partner's effusive praise please her so much? This was ridiculous! "Sounds like some kitty has a crush," she teased.

"Won't deny that for a moment," he said, completely unperturbed. "I think it's impossible to meet Marinette and not develop a crush."

"Really?" she asked, her voice squeaking in surprise at the confirmation.

"It's like a whole new law of physics," he said, rubbing his chin with one knuckle. "If you are capable of romantic or physical attraction, you will be attracted to Marinette."

"What?" Where had this come from? "Hyperbolic much?"

"Not at all," he insisted, utterly serious. "Every one of my friends who have ever come in contact with Marinette has gotten a crush on her."

He sounded so sincere, but his words didn't match up with her reality at all.

"So much concentrated energy and compassion," he continued with a sigh. "Definitely doesn't hurt that it comes in such an adorable package. She's deceptively strong, but so nurturing. I know she'd treat a sweetheart right."

She let out an undignified squawk and tripped off the edge of the building.

Chat was snickering when he caught up with her at the next rooftop over. "So shall I add you in the crushing on Marinette club?"

"Oooh, no." She shook her head. Dating herself? That'd be a trick.

He smirked. "Aaah yes. Denial. I remember that stage. You should just move on to acceptance. Then we can talk about how awesome she is when we're playing hot-or-not. Spoiler, she's hot."

"Are you dating her?" she asked, hoping to derail that trainwreck. "Because if you're not, it sounds like you want to."

"I wish." His amusement turned to wistfulness. "I don't dare get that close to her as my super self or my bland civilian self." He shook his head. "It wouldn't be safe for her."

"Wow," she whispered. "That's both really sad and amazingly wise all at the same time."

Chat Noir shrugged. "I've grown up a bit the last few years."

"I'd noticed," she pointed out with a grin.

"No, I mean mentally… emotionally." Another shrug. "I was kind of stunted when we met. But I've learned."

She patted his shoulder. "Well, we're heading to Marinette's," she said. "She's got snacks for us."

His eyes were wide, and a blush kissed his cheeks.

She swung herself over, landing just before him, so she could see his face as he looked around the renovated space.

"Marinette's Hero Cafe?" Chat Noir read the sign she'd hung up with Tikki as the final touch. His mouth was open a little in awe. He crossed into the kitchenette where a little chalkboard on top of the microwave declared stew the special of the evening. She'd worked with multi-colored chalks to draw designs like she'd seen in various cafes around the city. He reached out and ran a finger over the stack of dishes and peeked into the refrigerator, stocked with energy drinks, a pitcher of water, fruit, cheese, and the pot of leftovers.

After he'd read the laminated sheet and marveled over every last detail, he turned to her. "Did you already see this?" he asked.

Ladybug nodded. "She flagged me down and shared the idea with me when she was just starting work on it. It's… grown a lot from what she first envisioned." She shrugged. "It's probably a little over the top. What do you think?"

He beamed at her. "I love it." He glanced down at the skylight, but her room below was dark. "If she were home… or awake, I'd have to thank her profusely. Grandly. In true Chat Noir style." He struck a pose, then dabbed.

"You're ridiculous," she said, snorting with laughter. "And while thanking her is fine, you really don't need to go over the top."

"But…" He waved around them at the remodeled space. "She made this for us. I know she used to use this space for brainstorming and designing."

"She still can," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but… I don't think she'll feel as free to do so now. Maybe during the day, but not at night." He rubbed at his chin. "I know what she's like. She's set this space aside for us, and I bet she doesn't even really think of it as hers anymore."

She stared at him, blinking in stunned silence. How did Chat Noir know Marinette so well?

"She'll want us to feel comfortable here without risks, so she'll probably take care of the space, and bring up the leftovers from dinner." He pointed at the refrigerator. "But she'll want to leave it for us."

"I hadn't thought of that." It wasn't true. She had thought of it, and felt the pros outweighed the cons. "Maybe she feels it's worth it? It's her way of thanking us for taking care of Paris."

Chat Noir lifted the glass cover off a platter of pastries to pluck out his current favorite, a croissant with just enough dark chocolate to make it feel decadent. "I may not be able to thank her tonight, but mark my words, I will rectify that in the future."

"There's no need to get all over the top and ridiculous about it," she cautioned.

"Pfft. I am Chat Noir," he announced. "Ridiculous is what I do."

She shook her head. "That's what I'm afraid of."

"And Marinette deserves an extra helping of my gratitude."

"Chaaaat," her tone was a warning.

"Think she'd accept payment in exotic fabrics?" he asked.

Ladybug stared at him, stunned for approximately the fifth time in the last hour. He knew her, Marinette her, well enough to know exactly what would appeal. She found her voice after a moment of heavy silence. "I think Plagg needs to add a tag to your collar."

His luminescent eyes blinked slowly in confusion.

"You are clearly Marinette's cat."

⁂

It’s not a one-shot anymore, and you can now check out Chapter Two if you’d like.

If you’re so inclined, feel free to support me over on Ko-Fi

#Miraculous Ladybug #Fanfic #My Writing #Marichat #Fluff #Marinette #Tikki #Ladybug #Chat Noir #Hero Cafe

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 5 years

Text

Blight | II

BTS

Jeon Jungkook/Reader [F]

Genre: Dragon/Shapeshifter AU, Magic AU, Enemies to Lovers

Words: 7k

@tamedandscripted @syubcandy @cencoroil @kathrynwynterbourne @fireflower90 @bluegreenguppyfish @queen-pharaoh-hatshepsut @mygukandonly

Jungkook wasn’t sure how long he’ been here. Resting alone in silence in his secret place. It wasn’t like some sort of fort of anything, no. Where he was was a beautiful section of flourishing forest.

It was a hidden area, a secluded patch of land. One had to find a cavern entrance that hid behind thick hydrangea bushes to even begin to search for it. Even then, finding the hydrangeas was a feat. The cavern was hundreds of miles underground. It was secluded and any possibility of it ever being discovered by anyone other than Jungkook was a rare chance. Man would never set foot here so help him.

A far off, desolate cliff in the middle of a mountain range untouched by man. A rare feat. A long flight up to the near peak of a mountain. Find the large, wide hydrangea covered rock area and with them behind the vines is an opening.

Going through that opening and traveling through the rocky, vine-covered cavern walls the cavern opens. A giant hole, leading straight down into God knows where. No human would ever try and explore, and if they did, they would for sure lose their life. It was far too deep and far too dark. However, if one ever got down the entire trip that traveled the entire mountain and below the ground, they would come into a clearing. A clearing leading into a vast, almost completely different world.

Enchanting was the only word to explain it. A magical place, a lake an entire ecosystem were thriving inside this mountain. Hydrangeas sprouting in mass with all sorts of wildflowers growing by its side. Trees wept with green, low hanging branches and vines. Water flowed in a strong, brilliant waterfall in the side the of the rocky cavern, most likely from a lake or body of water on the surface. A crystal lake sits beneath, capturing the mirror-like water. This lake had healing properties Jungkook had discovered in one of his many trips here. Just standing in the water could heal any injury. Finally, floating orbs of soft, yellow and blue lights kept the ‘jungle’ lit and navigatable.

This place must have been crafted long ago by magicians: witches and warlocks. There was no other way to explain the flourish so far beneath the ground. As well as the inscriptions on some cavern walls and glyphs that so depict an ancient civilization with ‘God’s Gifted Ones’.

The other piece of evidence was a large rock island in the middle of the lake. It was jagged and uneven but it had arches of rock and covered in vines that bloomed in deep, crimson flowers he couldn’t name. The arches were incomplete, the very tops of them open and staggered like a ray of magic just shot through them. Underneath the open arches was a single throne of rock. Uncomfortable looking though it may be, the carving among it makes it seem like a seat for royalty. He’s never sat there, and something in his blood demands that he never does.

This place was the only thing Spellcasters had his respect for.

Jungkook sat in a small space he liked to call his own as he looked around. He wasn’t the only living thing down here, no not at all. There were small creatures and animals that resided down here in harmony. Almost all herbivores he’s gathered as the only remains he’s ever found were caused by nature and time; not by some sort of predator.

He lay on his back, his hands clasped behind his head and one of his legs propped up on his foot as he looked up at the trees above him. The weeping willow blew in the small constant draft that seemed to circle endlessly around the cavern. It gave a nice, gentle chill. For a hot-blooded, fire breathing, mobile furnace, the breeze cooled him and made him relax.

If he closed his eyes long enough, he would think he heard bells in the distance, but knew it was only his mind adding onto the soft atmosphere this place gave him.

Here, he was free. He was a free man. Not roped into classes and exams to ‘hone his abilities’. He wasn’t stuck in the same boring lecture cycle of Masters and how he would need to valiantly and obediently follow his one day. He wasn’t just some jock who needed to keep his team strong and never lose, lest he gets ridiculed.

He was just himself. He was just Jungkook.

Jungkook had never found a place so calming once he left home. At home, it was his mother that warmed his breast and made him smile. She loved him so, but once she lost her life, the candle she kept within her was snuffed out. Taking all the light and warmth with it. Jungkook was lost for a time. His mother gone, his father always a way for business and no siblings to try and connect with.

Then he met Jimin. Jimin ran into him when accidentally running into one of his living room glass doors that lead out into his yard. He had been so distracted in chasing a shadow cat that he ran smack dab into the glass in his dog form. Jungkook, startled into showing his horns and scales, watched as the dog changed into the form of a small boy not much older than himself.

Somehow, after that, a friendship bloomed and Jungkook almost felt warm again. He and Jimin stuck together and eventually were both able to get into the main academy of Hearst. However, they didn’t plan on being Ranked the same and pinned as classmates both in their first year and now, yet it was a minor chance of luck that Jungkook wouldn’t refuse.

Yet, even with Jimin, the warmth wasn’t the same as it used to be like as his time as a small child. So, he would explore every chance he got. Transforming and flying miles upon miles away just to find something, anything to help the void in his chest. The hole in which his mother’s death forged so long ago. Then, he found it in this place.

He couldn’t remember exactly when or how he found this wonderful world of his own, but he didn’t care. He found it, and it was his and he couldn’t be warmer.

Somewhere along his visit, he drifted off. He didn’t know when but when he woke up, his arms that stayed under his head were nearly numb. He sat up and let the tingling pins and needles of his blood rush back into his arms and hands. He sat looking around. He could never tell the time of day in this place, that’s a given. Yet, he decided it time to go once again.

Working his way out from under trees and into a clearing he lept into the air and took off upwards with his wings that tore from his back. Up the long drop that seemed to get shorter with each visit and out the cavern into the hydrangeas before soring into the sky of outside. It was dusk. The sun setting with each ticking moment below the horizon, kissing the daytime farewell until morning. It was a beautiful view, yet a view that no longer captured Jungkook’s jaded perception.

He moved above the clouds until his nose picked up the scent of the school ground and soon descended onto the rooftop of the main building. It was always much easier making a landing on the roofs than into the fields or courts. Less chance of conflict.

His feet touched the hard roof and breathed a content breath. He made his way down and into his building where he went to his locker to retrieve the shirt he discarded and replaced it on his chest. Now fully dressed, he was lucky not to be caught and stopped by some random person who would definitely scream about some ‘nudist’ on campus. It’s happened before and it was not fun.

He was finishing up grabbing whatever he needed for tomorrow’s academic courses when he heard a group of B Ranks who had just come from the upper floors, ready to leave for the day. Jungkook ignored them as they soon passed and Jungkook slammed his locker shut. They were talking about the Spellcaster Exams happening tomorrow. They were to perform trail tests and magical limits to see if they were qualified for a Familiar.

“Fuckin’ Spellcasters,” he murmured as he too left the building and soon the campus to his own dorm.

XXX

The dorms were not laid out in any sort of system like the school itself. Many students of different species and ranks lived among each other as neighbors or even roommates. Had it not been for Yoongi needing a roommate and purposely waiting for you to enroll, you would’ve probably roomed with a Spirit, given a choice.

Currently, you were sat on the floor, nursing a bag of your newly owned chips - that Yoongi got as promised - completely drowning in worry. The exams were tomorrow, just hours away and you swore you could tear your hair out. You stared at the ceiling as your head was kicked back while your back rested against the foot of your shared couch with Yoongi in the main room.

Said warlock had just leaned over the couch, catching your attention and making you crane your neck further back to an uncomfortable position and also drawing a headache to the surface.

“You really shouldn’t worry. It’s not that difficult of an exam and it’s held twice a year. You have way more than one shot going forward.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve already passed. You just don’t attend the ceremony to actually get a Familiar.”

“Well, yeah. Why would I do that when I can pick my own partner on my own terms?”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I get it. You’re super advanced, rub it in why don’t you.”

Yoongi just shook his head at your pessimistic attitude. Honestly, if he told the truth, he knew you had nothing to worry about. You had magic storing down to a T and your ability to maintain and manage your magic was outstanding for a C Rank. It was whether or not your execution of said magic would go as planned. You, one might say, were a nervous test taker.

Yoongi rounded the couch, sitting on the cousin behind your head as you had taken to pushing your cheek against his knee. He hovered his fingers above your head as the magic that gently came from them made your hair dance like static. You were always emotional around exams or ceremonies, but he supposed in your situation that you had every right to be.

“Would you feel better if I waited outside the exam hall? Results won’t be posted until the next morning. We can go to that lame, gross ‘asethetic’ diner you like so much.” You rolled your eyes as you contemplated actually biting his knee.

“That ‘lame, gross ‘asethetic’ diner’ makes me warm and fuzzy so shush your mouth you Dark Wizard.” He tapped on your head, a bit reprimanded. You strictly knew wizards were half-breeds between humans and magic users, a rare breed to be sure. “Besides, when exams are over, we still have academic courses.” Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but they aren’t mandatory.”

“I’m not ditching class, Yoongi.” He sighed as you and he got quiet. Sitting in silence he knew the reason you were worried. He just didn’t know how to phrase it without making your mood any worse. Though, it wouldn’t hurt, would it? It was already floating around in your head, drilling into every corner of your thoughts like a nonstop drill with rechargeable batteries.

“Y/n,” he started, voice uncertain, “are you worried about your dad again?” You were silent, still and unresponsive. Perhaps you fell asleep? You’ve don’t so before. However, you soon nodded. “Don’t worry about it,” he thought that might be the case.

Your father wasn’t the most generous man on the face of the planet. A big name for himself in your family history and hardly any people even knew he even had a daughter.

Growing up he was earning awards and making headlines left and right and featured in reports and newspapers frequently. Succeeding in classes of all kinds, magical or not and gaining his Familiar in his first year right off the bat when he entered and enrolled in Heart Academy for the Wicked and Supernatural.

That Familiar ended up being your mother.

Your mother lost her life when you were born. It was normal, well as normal as being born a Spellcaster can be.

Spellcasters almost always end up stealing the life of their mothers upon birth. The magic gathered and stored into their small, infant bodies only obtained their powers from their mother’s life. They took the life energy from their carriers and converted it into magic to store and released that magic when they are born. The only way to slimly avoid death is by C-sections, but it’s risky. There’s always a chance that both parties would lose their life if the doctor is too unskilled.

Once a Spellcaster, witch or warlock or even half-breed wizard, is born the father is either pulled in one direction of the other. They are either completely overprotective and shelter their children until they can’t possibly shelter them any longer. Or, they reject them absolutely.

Your father rejected you. Absolutely.

Yoongi has known you since childhood, and he’s seen the way in which your father completely overlooks you and your presence as a whole. It wasn’t unnatural to guess your father grew up into a wealthy man, so the house was filled with staff that was directly in charge of raising you. You were raised by interchangeable faces and fake gestures all because you were ‘the bosses daughter’. The only plus was Yoongi’s companionship and friendship.

His father was loving to him. Waiting on him hand and foot until middle school when Yoongi was able to sit down and talk with him, telling him to back off and not to treat him like a fragile doll, but a person. LIke his son, and his father listened to him. Maybe it was because he was a boy, or maybe it was because his father accepted him from the beginning, you weren’t quite sure.

That’s why you always tried so hard. Whether it be in class, working on book smarts or building your magical properties. Why you pushed so hard for a Familiar. If you were to gain a Familiar, maybe he would finally notice you and all your potential you could build from now into the future.

Yoongi just pat your head and reached forward into the bag of chips to grab one and force it between your lips. The salt stung slightly as you scowled at him. He just messed up your hair before he stood up, making your body roll to the side and now lay on the ground.

“It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about a 6-foot tall demon when you have me.”

“You’re literally 179 centimeters. You’re a single inch off of 6 foot.”

“That, my dear friend, is what makes me so much better. I’m an inch smaller for travel convenience.” You rolled your eyes as you watched Yoongi trot off into the kitchen, hearing clunking and removal of pots and plates from cabinets thereafter.

The rest of that night, Yoongi made it a top priority to keep your mind off the exam and most importantly your father. Throwing jokes, starting little skirmishes and even dabbled on the idea of getting you drunk so you could just puke and go to bed. However, he took a miss on the alcohol, you did have a test in the morning. Hangovers don’t work out for the brain and magic. You could very well make something blow up if you're too hungover.

It was 11 when you finally crashed. Spending so much energy just dealing with the back to back objects and tasks Yoongi threw at you. Yoongi nodded in satisfaction before maneuvering you to throw you over his shoulder. You know, like real friends do.

Marching to your room with your body folded over his shoulder, utterly unconscious for the night, he moved into your room where he blew his lips and a small puff of light floated around to light the room. There was a chance if he flipped the light switch on, you’d wake up and proceed to yell at him for carrying you like he was, a fact he knew you weren’t fond of. The light, though small, was bright enough to show the path to your bed without running into anything or tripping on the journey from your door.

It was a mystery, how your den and your bedroom had polar opposite vibes. Your den, as he knew, was dark and felt like a cave when one stepped inside. However, your bedroom was like how he could only imagine a child felt walking into a damn Build-A-Build store. It was bright, and resemble your white magic specialization to a T. Pastels from coral, to teal and even a nice shade of grey specked your room in the form of books or knick-knacks.

Though, Yoongi wouldn’t say he disliked it. His room resembled a monochromatic museum, that was just his style. However, he would like to camp in your room with you if he ever needed a spark of color to lift a bad mood he felt on the horizon of his mind.

He carefully rolled you off his shoulder and put you, rather sloppily into bed. Laying you sideways and having your feet hang off the edge of the mattress, but he couldn’t be bothered. You were on the bed with no way of falling off unless you decided to fight in a war in the 6 hours you were going to be asleep. He tossed your comforter over you and stretched his back.

You may be smaller than he is, and he may be a man, but that doesn’t make you any less heavy than the scale you complain about every morning. I mean come on, the average weight for someone like you wasn’t something to get bent out of shape about. Yet, it was often times he’d see you shove down rabbit food in the form of salads and greens before turning around and enjoying those chips you devour each chance you get. Thus, prompting him to poke fun at you.

He turned to look into the mirror you had in your room. It was large and wide as it sat upon your rather magnificent vanity. The same vanity that Yoongi’s father and he helped pick out for you on your 18th birthday. That was probably the first time Yoongi saw you actually cry in joy at something most girls had at the age of 13. He smiled as he recalled the memory before he whistled lowly and the orb of light faded out.

He followed the light from the hall that leaked in through the doorway to work his way out, one against without stumbling and took one final look back at you. He smiled as he lifted his hand and created a small symbol. It resembled a pair of doors opening inwards, hardly noticeable and small enough to hide in his palm. He blew it out of his hand as it flitted over to you were it stuck your cheek.

Then, he quietly closed your bedroom door. He walked around the dorm and shut off all the lights and the TV before he retired to his own room. He was still going to go to the stupid diner with you, even if he didn’t exactly like the taste of anything in there. Min Yoongi was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. He promised to go with you, so he would.

You woke up the next morning to the sound of your alarm. Annoyed you swatted your wrist at it, some force flinging from your fingertips to knock the clock off your bedside nightstand and against the wall. Hearing the cracking of the cheap plastic, you lifted your head with squinted eyes before pushing your face back into the pillow. Now you’d have to buy a new one, knowing Yoongi would refuse to fix another alarm clock from you. This is the 7th alarm clock you’ve broken in the last 2 months alone after all.

Yet, none of that mattered as all you could think about is you had to get up. You had an exam today.

XXX

The morning trudged on as sparingly as you knew it would. Getting dressed was the only fast part of your morning, racing against time on getting ready in your exam gowns. It was a fundamental rule that when important eams rolled around, you were to where your school provided gowns. They were simple, the female design much different than the male.

The top was a black, almost violet undertone, fabric that ruffled and ran horizontally along your chest and hung below your shoulders around your bicep. A hood and low hanging scarf were attached loosely to the back of the ruffled patch behind you that you looped around your neck and sat among your breasts. The gown clung to your torso and the skirt divided at your thigh. A centerpiece almost resembled a thick, old fashioned loincloth, covered your front (although just barely) while the rest of your skirt was cut off and fluttered behind you at your ankles.

It was flattering and charming sure, and even you were quite taken with how it looked from a mundane standpoint, but it was so exposing. Walking around with it on, even if no one was around, made you feel too open. And, of course, you ran into Jungkook.

Yoongi was at your hip, glaring at any filthy minded warlock who tried to even think about peeping beneath your shoulders or down your legs. It was actually Jimin, who stood at Jungkook’s side (as per usual) that flagged you both down. It was a routine by now, one that Jungkook could frankly do without.

As you approached, clutching your spellbook to your front and keeping your eyes downcast, any other guy would probably see you as cute. Cheeks red at the unwanted attention and quiet disgusting cat-calls threw your way. You were quite the sight, much to Yoongi’s dismay. It was like people were hitting on his sister to his face.

“Wow! Your exam robes look really good on you Y/n! You look so pretty!” You rubbed your bare shoulder with a free hand as you only managed to keep eye contact with the friendly Hellhound for a moment before staring back at his shoes. Your own footwear was a pair of small, 3-inch, thick heels. Also a stupid requirement of this damn gown.

Jimin sensed your unease. Sure, you were embarrassed by your gowns, you usually were, but you always tried to play it out with being extremely boisterous or over the top. Overdramatic, so to speak. Today, though, you were different. You were quiet, clammed up and he could practically smell the anxiousness pouring out of you with his heightened senses.

He looked at Jungkook’s back; he had only glanced at you before he went back to swapping book in his locker to his bag. Maybe an unexpected compliment would cheer you up?

Jimin grabbed the back of Jungkook’s shirt, twisting him around and slammed his locker shut.

“What are you doing you-?!”

“Don’t you think Y/n looks nice?” He questioned. You ducked your head. You knew that Jimin only wanted to help cheer you up, the hound was always in tune with emotion. No doubt he could tell your overly dramatic depressed mood. Though, turning to Jungkook wasn’t the best option. You were absolutely certain that the insult that was bound to roll off the stupid dragon’s tongue would push you to tears.

You were too emotional this morning. Fuck hormones.

“Well?” Jimin pushed a Jungkook remained silent. He looked at you, but to him, you looked the same. So what if you were wearing different clothes? You were still you, the insufferable brat he’s put up with since he enrolled. But, even he could feel the dread coming from you. Jungkook wasn’t heartless.

“Jimin,” Yoongi starts, trying to avert a possible scene to keep you together, “It’s alright. We’ll just-”

“Yeah,” Jungkook interrupts. Yoongi looked at him, almost insulted he was interrupted. Jungkook just slung his bag over his shoulder as it rested on his back now. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he slouched to a leg. The bangs that were separated off his forehead shook in the bounce he took to look at your smaller than usual form. “You look nice.”

Jimin and Yoongi for shocked, to say the least. Sure, Jimin wanted him to compliment you, but he didn’t actually think he would! Jimin broke into a smile and turned to you. He quickly grabbed your hand that still rubbed your naked shoulder. You snapped your head to him, cheeks still flushed as they seemed to lose their redness at Jimin’s over-enthusiastic form.

“See! Now, good luck on the tests! You’ll do great! The best B Rank witch ever!”

“That’s what I told her too!” Yoongi quips up to help lighten the mood. And before you knew it, you busted into laughter. You don’t know why you were laughing, you were still dreading the exam and you were still so nervous walking was a chore, but you felt better.

You turned to Yoongi after you pulled your hand from Jimin. “I’m ready to go now. Better rip the bandaid off, right?” He nodded as he slung his arm around your shoulder.

“That’s the spirit!”

You quickly turned to Jungkook, looking at him as he watched all of this happened in silence. He could’ve left, maybe he was hanging around waiting for Jimin. He did every other time. “Thanks,” you quietly say before Yoongi is dragging you off until you both are out of sight.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered completely to himself. Jimin looked at him.

“Did you say something?”

“I called her stupid.”

Jimin opened his mouth in astonishment. “Come on! You were just nice to her!”

“Yeah? Well, there’s a first for everything. I still don’t like her. Salem will still be on my ‘hate’ list, no matter what fancy garbs she puts on.” He spun on his heel, working his way to his first class. “Come on, we’ll be late.” Jimin ran behind him, catching up.

“We’ve been late before! Hold on!” Jungkook only sped up, leaving his best friend to run in a chase. Though Jimin easily caught up, he was a hound after all.

XXX

Yoongi sat in his class, watching the clock tick down second by second with a bouncing, impatiently knee. He sat slumped with his elbow on his desk as his palm supported his chin. Fingers tapping his cheek. He wasn’t even paying attention, frankly, he hadn’t been ever since he sat down. Once this class ended, you’d be out of your exams and he’d get to find out if you passed for the third attempt since your first year or not.

It was 14 minutes later when his class was dismissed and Yoongi literally just phased into a shadow. Hiding his body and zipping through the halls along the walls and ceilings. Traveling by shadows is the fastest, most efficient form of travel; at least for a dark warlock like himself who knows how to actually control it and now get stuck in the shadows like many have done before.

The tactic was much more complex than you would think. If not performed correctly, one could even suffocate within the shadows of something as small as a puppy.

He was down the halls, scaling stairs and zooming along the corridors of the outside courts before he quite literally flew out of a wall right next to the door of your classroom. Your class had already started filing out, the hoods of robes being flung down and some stupid, over appreciated jocks even flexing the pride that is their passing grade.

He waited at the doors until he peeked inside, still not seeing you exit. Perhaps he came just a split second too late? He leaned in the doorway to see you, standing in front of the professor as he spoke to you, waving his hands about. You nodded, talking back with him as Yoongi stepped inside. He was familiar with this professor anyways.

“Ah, Min Yoongi, what a pleasure,” the professor spoke. You turned around, flipping down the hood of your gown as he moved briskly to your side. Yoongi nodded to the teacher.

“Tihex,” he said. He had long dropped any title from instructors names. No Mr. Ms., or Professors for him. Just using their names. Some found it endearing, others not so much. Tihex didn’t really care though, he was a young professor and rather open-minded. Wanting to connect with each student of his in one way or another. Yoongi looked at you as he opened his mouth. “How’d you do?”

You blinked up at him as you then looked to Tihex. He smiled as he motioned to Yoongi basically telling you to tell Yoongi your scores. The way that scoring works is that throughout the exam, your given a slip of paper for your professor to mark points on. Whether to deduct or add on points. Another is the class ranking. On the wrist of each participant that passed the exams with high enough remarks and points were given a name stamped on their forearm. That number places what magical standpoint they are in their class. The Spellcaster with the number 1 on their forearm being the most excelling student as of the current standpoint.

You opened off your spellbook and handed Yoongi your point slip as he looked over the numbers. High marks all around. He smiled as you tilted your head in pride.

“These numbers are awesome!” He cheered, even stomping a little jig in excitement. “What rank did you get in class?” He was eager to know. Y, u however, didn’t even know that yet.

“I don’t know. I was about to be stamped when you came in.” The two of you looked to Tihex who was busy playing with his magic stamp. Customized with stickers and even a little bow, of course, the stamp wasn’t originally his and he did have to pay the school board a hefty price once he started slapping stickers on it.

He stuck out his hand to you. “May I finally place you in the ranks now, Miss L/n?” You nodded as you rolled up your sleeve and showed him your bare, blank forearm. Yoongi looked over your shoulder, forgetting the idea of seeing your face before he knew your number.

Professor Tihex took the back of your hand before he placed the stamp on you and with a small push, a puff of pink smoke and a few coughing fits later, he pulled the stamp away from you. There on your forearm was a pink, scripted 1.

Yoongi crashed into your back as he picked you up and flung you around, almost violently. This is all he wanted, you to succeed. He stopped shaking you around, yet he still held you off the floor, toes just brushing the tile as Tihex laughed.

“You two are like a pair of siblings.” Yoongi laughed as he felt you try to touch the ground, to which he lifted you higher. You had half a mind to place a weight spell on your body, but you knew he could counteract it with a relieving spell, so it would just be a waste of magic and time.

“We have a diner to go to!” He cheered. You grabbed his arms, panicking slightly as you raise your knees.

“Yoongi! No!” You felt him start to shift his body to travel in the shadows again, only this time, he’s taking you with him. “I’m still in my gowns!” Then, he sunk into the floor, taking you with him and zooming out, leaving Tihex wondering if he’d bring you back to finish your classes for the rest of the school day.

The ceremony for passing Spellcasters was 3 days later. Letters and messenger falcons (old school yes, but some folk refuses to conform to technology) were sent out to every parent of the successful students. Many showed to see their children come back with signs of a Familiar. Some whose child wasn’t shy even got to meet their child’s new Familiar’s first hand.

The robes for the ceremony were all the same style. As opposed to exam gowns that differ between the sexes, ceremonial gowns were all the same. A completely black get up for dark magic users and completely white for white magic users. Though there are some who dabble in both, they always lean more towards one than the other. Yours, of course, were pure white.

Long sleeves wide and rather comfortable. Fabric layered overcrossing over the chest and waist in diagonal cuts. Top piece cut into a square around the neck, and uncommon yet flattering attention to detail. The bottom was cut into pant sleeves, yet most certainly aren’t pants. They were large, fluttering and spacious. Though divided, they moved around your legs and feet like the skirt of a dress. Your hair was up, pushed into two thick hair ties, the handy work done by Yoongi himself. Finally, each student wore a numbered necklace of their rank. Yours was a golden 1 that rested on your chest.

You were gathered in a room with your fellow classmates, family and friends outside in the courts yards out front, holding small conversations here and there as well as taking congratulatory remarks for being top. The feeling still hadn’t sunk in yet that you passed. Now, here you were about to get your Familiar that has been chosen by fate.

Soon, a bell was chimed and each student went to their numbered chair. Chairs were lined in rows in the main building as the Spellcaster head professor stood on a small stage in front of a door leading to a private back room. The ceremony of Familiar and Master is entirely private, not even the professor may know unless the Master so chooses.

Interestingly enough, the order in which the students are called up to cast their spell and summon their familiar is from the bottom student to the top. So, you would be the final student to summon. Time ticked by, students going in and coming out with a neutral expression, some with mixed feelings and others practically dancing.

“Spellcaster 1,” the professor speaks and you stand, making your way to the stage door, white gown flicking your leather sandal covered feet. You stood in front of the door and took a shaky breath. “Good luck,” the professor spoke without even looking at you as you pushed the knob into the room down and stepped inside. You heard the door lock behind you as you looked around.

A summoning circle was in the middle of the room with a spellbook on an altar in the center. Open and bookmarked on the page in which the spell you needed was open and ready for reading. The room was flicking with floating, uneven orbs of light and it was dark. Black cloth hung from the ceiling covering the tiles from view as you stepped forward. You stopped in front of the altar and looked at the spell.

You knew this spell well, you had read and re-read it over and over again in hopes of one day finally being able to use it. Now was that time. You closed your eyes and took a breath, right before you opened your mouth and began to softly speak the incantation.

XXX

Jungkook was sat in his room in his dorm which he somehow got all to himself. He was a late student to apply for a dorm room, so he was stuck with the last option, a one-person dorm with a single room, bathroom and kitchen. He didn’t mind though, being on his own in his own space was actually preferred. He sat at his desk, typing up an essay he had due for a class when he was dozing off.

He was jerked awake and startled when he thought he heard someone mumbling behind him. Spinning around in his twisting-rolly chair, he nearly flung himself out of it. No one was there, there couldn’t be. Wouldn’t be. He lived in this dorm alone and even if someone got inside, he could hear them. Turning back to his computer he left with a long line of ‘kkkkkkk’ after he dosed with his finger on the key, he backspaced and jerked when he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him.

Jungkook kicked up, pushing his chair behind him as he stepped away from his computer and looked around. His body felt light and heavy, stuck in an uncomfortable balance. It was like he was on the verge of getting drunk, yet still not there and haven’t taken any shots.

Another jolt of shock made him shout in annoyance as he felt himself phase between consciousness. He rubbed his eyes, blinking once then twice before his wrist began to burn.

Shrieking, he wasn’t used to the idea of burning, given he wasn’t supposed to feel heat. It stung as he looked at to what he could have possibly done or what to see what was happening. A small burn was etching into the skin of his wrist. Circling his wrist like a bracelet in red, angry, raised skin. The pain made his body shift.

Breaking into a mid-shift form, his wings tore through the fabric of his shirt and stayed folded against his back. His horns twisted from the crown of his head as the scales on his neck and cheeks felt chilled. His fangs bit into his lip as his golden eyes glowed and his slit pupils dilated.

The burn soon finished etching it’s tribal pattern and ignited. Jungkook shouted as he slapped at it, waving to put the random flames out. Oddly enough, the fire engulfed his hand, yet it was only his wrist that continued burn. Soon, the fire snuffed itself out and all that was left was a black, tribal tattoo around his wrist.

“What the hell?” He whispered, out of breath and confused. Voice shaking and looking around, he wondered if he was somehow hexed.

His eyes burned and watered as he rubbed at them. Blinking once and then twice, he looked up to find himself somewhere that was most definitely not his dorm room. He stumbled backward. “What the fuck is happening?!” He was in a room with black cloth and stupid lights of what? Gas?

“Jungkook?” He whipped around, more than ready for any explanation as to what in the everloving hell was going on only to have his face fall when he saw you. Dressed in nothing but pure white garbs, you stared back into his half shifted form.

“What in the hell are you doing here? No, wait, where the hell is here? Where am I?!” He whipped his arms around as the short sleeves of his torn shirt showed his arms and wrist, to which you looked your eyes onto. Jungkook saw you looking wide-eyed at his wrist. He brought it up and pointed it at with his opposite hand. “Did you do this to me!?”

“I-” you started, looking around with a fallen face. He seethed as he stomped towards you, grabbing the rectangular collar of your gown and pulled you to your toes. “Jungkook, stop it!”

“What did you do, Salem!!”

“Release me!” You demanded as his hand immediately opened, dropping you and he took two prompt steps backward. As if he had lost his free will for a moment. He shook his head as he looked at his hand then to you.

“What did- did you just control me?” You didn’t answer, only pulled up the sleeve of your gown to show him the same burned on tattooed on your wrist he had on his. He looked at his wrist then to yours. “What?” He was so confused as the turn of events blew right over his head in terms of what was happening. You sighed as you pointed behind him to the spellbook on the altar.

He turned as he looked at the title of the incantation.

“Summoning and Binding of a… Familiar?” His voice shook as he read the title aloud. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He spoke with a breath of disbelief. “I got bound?” He turned around. “To you?” He spoke with wide eyes and a wrinkled forehead from his raised brows. He pushed his hair back, his claws scraping his skin as he remembered he was still partially shifted.

He took a few calming breaths before tucking his wings back into his back and hiding his scales. His teeth shortened and his eyes reverted back to their wide pupils and whites. He cleared his throat as you stood there.

“What just happened was absolute subjugation. I gave you an order unquestionably and you were forced to obey it.” You rolled your sleeve back down to lay against your fingertips. “It’s a power that a Master holds over their Familiar,” you muttered. Jungkook cursed as he looked at his two sides.

One door was to his right, outside it was a small murmur of chatting. The Spellcasters must be outside that door. To his left was another door with the light from outside slipping through the cracks. He clicked his tongue as he stomped over to the outside door and opened it. Seeing the courts behind the school.

“You are not my Master, Y/n,” he spits as he stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind him. Leaving you the Master of a Familiar who never wanted you. Your one true wish crumbling at your feet. All good things, you feared, must always come to an end.

-TBC-

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crystalsexarch · 5 years

Text

spell in waiting - estinien - e

“Take me...take me to Aymeric.”

“Aye.That’s my intent.”

“Please don’t...drop me…”

The Warrior of Light makes some hasty decisions while continuing to mourn the greatest casualty of the Dragonsong War, but luckily she’s got Estinien to keep her in check...right?

Part of What We Already Know, available here with more writing.

Estinien grunted. Drop her. He’d be lucky if he could walk straight, much less make it back to the manor with the Warrior in his hands. He wore his alcohol far better than she, but they’d been going for quite some time at the tavern. The only reason the bartender hadn’t cut them off, he thought, was her status as the Warrior of Light...and perhaps his as Azure Dragoon.

At least the Warrior was light.

“How...how far…”

He bit his tongue to keep himself from laughing. “We’ve only just left.”

“You’ll have to...the rooftops…”

“Aye, Dragoon. The rooftops.”

He had no intention of using the rooftops. He did do his best to avoid areas where they were more likely to be seen. After all Ishgard had been through, his own reputation wasn’t exactly sterling, but he knew the Warrior had something worth losing. Besides, she wasn’t lucid enough to realize he was doing something nice for her.

By the time he’d plodded all the way to Aymeric’s manor, she’d grown heavy in his arms. He trudged up to the door and kicked once, twice, nearly losing his balance.

“Is he home?” the Warrior asked. The sound must have roused her.

Estinien eyed the candle-lit window on the second story. He usually preferred that entrance, but better safe than sorry. “Aye. He’s home.”

“Edmont isn’t here?”

It was so late it was nearly morning. Of course the Count wasn’t there. It seemed her heart was drunk, too. “No. He is not.”

“I can’t let him...well, you know...seeing me like this, and all that…” Her voice trailed off.

A light bobbed through the glasswork on the manor door and soon the Lord himself appeared with a lantern in his hand and a hint of slumber in his pretty blue eyes. He waved the pair in.

“No servants?” Estinien asked, entering.

“Your voice carries,” Aymeric said. He was wearing a blue robe, casual for him but grand for an adventurer’s standards. “I was awake...and I thought I should tend to my honored guests personally.”

“Yes well, would you mind taking this one off me?” He held the Warrior out and started working his boots off.

Aymeric took the woman and squinted. “It must be later than I thought if you’ve managed to knock that many back.”

“I’m awake,” she said with her eyes closed.

“I...see.”

Estinien had managed to wrangle his boots off, but that, the alcohol, and the walk had taken most of his stamina. “To your quarters. She’s hopeless.”

“Right.”

After Aymeric had set her on his bed, they worked off her boots and belt, her shabby trousers. They replaced her heavy vest with one of Aymeric’s silken tunics and set her in the middle of the bed. After a little conversation between the two Elezen, the manor’s master decided he ought to see himself to sleep as well, almost as though he’d been awaiting their arrival. He blew out his candle, and he and his companion took up space on either side of the Warrior.

The arrangement was comfortable. The three of them had adopted it before, usually after another sort of interaction. Sure, Estinien had had his fun with the Warrior when she began training under Alberic, but she ultimately became his friend's primary interest. The trio had a great deal of chemistry, he might say. But he had never doubted the true partnership was between the Warrior and the Lord Commander. Inevitably, they would realize this and stop seeking his carnal companionship.

Estinien woke to the sounds of Aymeric dressing himself. He raised himself on the bed and grunted out what he hoped sounded like a question.

“I’ll return by mid-morning,” Aymeric said so as not to wake the still-resting Warrior. He tightened his belt. “Stay longer than you’d like, if you would. I pray you...mind her, as well.”

“Hm.” The Dragoon fell back on the bed, a mess of hair and headache. Aymeric left not long after.

At first, Estinien thought he’d nod off as quickly as he’d woken, but no sooner had he closed his eyes, than the Warrior stirred at his side. She blinked her eyes open and rolled to look at him, her horns forcing her head to rest at what others might consider an awkward angle. “How...bad…?” she said, her voice hoarse.

“You...looked a fair mess.”

“Ah.” She rolled and set her face on the pillow. “I...shame him.”

“He doesn’t mind.”

The instant he spoke the words, he realized she wasn’t talking about Aymeric. The silence that followed made him want to scratch that itch that told him always to leave, to forge a path elsewhere. But he stayed.

“Aymeric has left?” she asked.

He felt like he was allowed to breathe again. “Not long ago.”

“I see.” Her shoulders fell. After breathing through the pillow a few more times, she returned to her original position. Now her eyes were open. They were literally open, but Estinien also felt they were open in another sense, too; she was allowing him to read her completely.

“I am...so lonely, Estinien.”

He pursed his lips. “Mm.”

“Won’t you...hold me, this morning? Pretend you are warmer than you are? If you care.”

He did care. He valued her companionship, her presence. But he said nothing. Actions ought speak well enough. He wrapped his arm around and drew her closer to his chest. This kind of intimacy was not entirely new to him, but with her it felt un-sacred. It tasted like betrayal. Still, he tasted.

The tip of her nose nudged his collarbone and made his heart race. Was he yet drunk? Was she? He was too old to feel nigh giddy from a simple touch. If Aymeric had been there, the small things would not have felt so blasphemous.

“Estinien…” Her voice was little, whining, wanting. And when he cast his eyes down, he knew exactly what she wanted.

Through all their debauchery, they never kissed until that day.

It is a test, he thought, and soon she’ll recognize it for what it is: wrong.

But she kept testing. She was the one who pushed harder, who let her tongue onto his lips and into his mouth. She was the one who reached around his neck and willed him to roll over, to straddle her. Was he imagining it? No. The instant he tried to pull back, she whined and pulled him harder, wrapped a leg around his waist.

His body responded as bodies did, yes. He was very aware of the tent in his smallclothes. But as they kissed, he couldn’t so much as keep his eyes closed for fear of committing some type of sin, some impropriety. Had he not already?

All the things they had done together long ago - he had done it because he once assumed she’d take her leave of Ishgard, of the lance as many others had. What did it matter if they sinned for a while?

But now she was different. A friend. Aymeric’s friend and prospect. A dead man’s lover.

He wrenched himself away. “You don’t want this.”

“I don’t know what I want.” She was breathing hard. “But right now I know I want this.” She tugged at his silver hair.

“You want,” he said. “But you do not want me.”

“I want you this very moment.” Her hands were at his cheeks.

“You do not.”

“Is it because of Aymeric?” Her brows turned upwards. “Is it because of...because of…”

“It’s because of you.” She had her fingernails on the skin of his neck. He wished he could have tossed her to the side but...he did not. “You remain a bleeding wound, and I refuse to help you keep tearing yourself open.”

“And what are you?” She said it ugly. “That you drink with me, share a bed with me, but can’t kiss me when I tell you I need it?”

“What you are asking for is not a kiss. This, in Aymeric’s house, in his bed, in his clothes.”

“You think he loves me? And for that reason you are afraid to ask yourself whether you feel the same way?”

Oh, he hated her in that moment. He flared his nostrils in disgust and looked away.

She jerked his head back. “Once,” she said. “Let us once. Then shall we know.”

A kiss was not what started him again. It was her leg that had long been resting around his waist. It only took a little encouraging for him to draw his hips down and show her how hard he’d become. Despite his frustration, it pleased him to see her wince at the sudden pressure.

He decided - if they were going to fuck, he’d try to fuck her like he’d fuck anyone else - without sentiment, if he could manage.

“Are you going to boss me around?” she said.

He put one hand over her mouth and used the other to free himself of his smallclothes. “Won’t have to.”

On his palm, he could feel her trying to speak, but he wouldn’t let himself listen. Instead, he drew his hand to her thighs and moved the fabric aside. The wetness surprised him - scared him? Could it be she truly wanted him that badly?

But ah - that was a distraction.

He stroked himself a few times and let her watch him set his cock at her entrance. It wouldn’t be the first time she had taken it in, but it would be the first time she had taken him there instead of her mouth.

Estinien’s eyes glazed over. Of the other Elezen who had had her - how did he compare? He knew, of course, where Aymeric ranked, but what of Haurchefant? The thought made his lip twitch, that vanity could be so indiscriminate, so cold. He hadn’t known the man as well as he should have, and now he did him dirty. It nearly ruined his spirit.

But she bucked beneath him, ignorant of his idle thoughts. A beg, if he’d ever seen one.

He pushed his tip inside and waited to feel her hot breath against his palm. Then he pressed further and brought his chest to hers so he could look her in the eye.

“When I remove this hand,” he said, “try to stay quiet.”

She nodded.

He set that hand up her shirt - Aymeric’s shirt - so he could rub her breasts while he began to move. At first he was slow, that dreadful sentiment building up again, but as she arched and strained, his nature took over.

Did it feel wrong because it was right? Fucking his fellow Azure Dragoon? Or did it feel wrong because it was wrong?

If he fucked her hard enough, he could convince his cock not to care. He sat straight and grabbed her thighs, pulling her so he could hit her deeper, faster. As his speed increased, the sound of her voice grew. She tried to use her own hands to cover her mouth, but it was useless. What Aymeric’s serving staff would divulge to their master, Estinien knew not, but they would certainly harbor suspicions.

“You’re going to - make me come - “

She could hardly say it. The words sent a hot chill through his spine and made him want to fuck like his lance depended on it, but his principles got the better of him.

“No.”

He slid out and leaned back on his elbows. It hurt him, but it was worth hearing her wince, seeing her oft-stoic face turn feeble. Her lips trembled in protest.

“Well,” he said. “You started this, so it’s yours to finish.”

“Mine?”

“Yours.”

He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. The setting was too pretty, too fine, for their crude and sudden coupling. The bed shifted as she worked her way toward him, and soon her tiny hands were pressed against his chest.

He grabbed them.

"Can you do it, Dragoon?"

"I will…"

She rubbed herself on his cock, and he kept her wrists together. While she prepared to ride him properly, he wondered what would happen if Aymeric walked in? Would he be pleasantly surprised? Or wounded?

The thought of wounding his friend made his eyes wide.

No.

That’s not what did it. It was the realization that feeling her mount him was more important than Aymeric's feelings, if indeed her harbored any. In that instant. In that moment. Just then - as his tip surpassed her threshold, and he shook upwards into her - he remembered what it was like to have his body taken from him and used.

But now it wasn't Nidhogg. He was a vessel to his own bestial nature.

"Does it please you?"

She wore that smirk like a badge of honor while she shifted her hips. The sounds their bodies made could have driven him mad. At the least, they melted his ability to feign indifference. "Yes…"

"Is this...positive affirmation?"

"Just work, you. There's no need for talk…"

His grip on her wrists loosened. He was letting himself enjoy it. Warmth spread through his body like the prior evening’s alcohol. When he opened his eyes, he enjoyed the spectacle, too - Aymeric's shirt slipping down her shoulder, her breasts bobbing in response to her effort, her hard nipples speaking through the thin, white fabric.

Oh, Aymeric. Lucky bastard.

Why?

Why did he have to think that? On paper, it didn’t make any sense.

To distract himself, he cupped both of her breasts through her shirt and watched her try to move with the same vigor with him toying at her nipples. Her thighs had started shaking as she strained, and she was giving him that pitiful look - the one that said soon, soon. The one that said you must take over. But that he would not do.

“Keep going,” he said, through gritted teeth.

She tried to respond, but could speak no words he recognized. When her knees knocked into his chest, he knew she had reached climax. He could feel it in her body, too, those tell-tale pulses, the tremble of her hands upon his collar bone.

But he hadn’t come yet. “Keep going.”

“Ah...ah...I…”

Can? Can’t? Whatever her answer, she was taking so long. With the Warrior yet in the throes of blinding pleasure, Estinien grabbed her hips and held her so he could rail in and out of her from beneath. It didn’t take long; watching her squirm with sensitivity enhanced his own experience. Soon, blood rushed in his ears until that final moment of raw feeling - and he came inside her.

She cried out and fell upon his chest. His hands wound up moving from her hips to her back. He kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see how like proper lovers they looked.

“Estinien,” she said, lips pressed into his neck.

“My friend.”

“Thank you.”

He furled his brow. They were both panting like animals and sharing a coat of sweat. “My pleasure, really.”

“Do you think...I am making bad decisions?”

Yes. But how to phrase it? That one word didn’t sum up his understanding of her vulnerability, of the way she mourned. There was something wrong and also right about their being together, her being with Aymeric, the three of them sharing a bed from time to time.

He understood. “Better, I think...to make bad decisions with us than others.”

Because we care, he should have added.

Because I care.

#estinien #ff14 fanfic #final fantasy xiv #implied wol and haurchefant #implied wol x aymeric #we stan a slutty queen #ffxiv #mywriting

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ivedonestranger · 5 years

Link

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Teen Titans (Animated Series) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Robin/Jinx Characters: Robin (DCU), Jinx (DCU), Raven (DCU), Koriand'r (DCU), Garfield Logan, Victor Stone, Gizmo (DCU), Mammoth Additional Tags: Angst, Mistakes, Language, Jinx swears a lot, Unplanned Pregnancy, Cheating Summary:

Robin made a simple mistake in the moment of grief. Now what?

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

The rain was nonstop as Robin ran from rooftop to rooftop. Beast boy, in Eagle form, soared ahead while Starfire and Raven flanked him on each side. Cyborg took up rearguard, making sure they weren't flanked. The call came screaming over the criminal alert when Jump City PD reported meta conflict in the southern part of the city. Robin landed on edge and crouched, keeping a low profile while the others gathered around him.

Down in the street, Robin quickly picked out the forms in the center. A massive behemoth in black and yellow, the dark caped teleporter, a pink-haired girl, and the rest of her team.

"Of course it's gotta be the HIVE 5," Beast Boy growled.

"Been a while since we rumbled with them. Looking forward to kicking Gizmo a few times," Cyborg laughed.

It was Raven who alighted beside Robin that saw what he did.

"Something's wrong."

"Yeah," The boy wonder said, drawing his bow staff. "They're surrounded."

From the corners of the streets and moving slowly on them were armored soldiers in black and gold firing on the HIVE 5's perilous positions. An open black van waited in the far reaches.

"It's a grab team," Robin said, his heart spiking as he saw the pink-haired girl flinch as a chunk of hot metal from a round struck her in the face.

"What do we do?" Starfire asked.

"Those aren't police issued uniforms," he said. "Defend the HIVE."

"What?" Beast Boy said, surprised, but they were already gone.

Firing his grapple gun and creating a rappel line, the boy wonder slid down, over the head of the HIVE, and right into the lead soldier that was preparing a grenade. The sonic weapon detonated among his companions behind him.

"Titans! Defensive positions. Talon maneuver."

Immediately Starfire and Raven took to the air. Koriandr's starbolts were ripping into the surprised troops while Raven through up a half-circle of dark magic protecting the battered HIVE members. Robin slid in beside them, quickly accessing. Gizmo had raised his weapon at Robin, but Jinx smacked him down.

"He's helping us, you idiot," her voice cracked in admonishment. Their eyes made contact, and he could see the sincere relief. "Thank god, it's you, pajama heroes."

"What's going on?"

"HIVE retrieval team," Kid Wykkyd muttered in his quiet voice. "We kinda….revolted."

"A story for later," Jinx said quickly. "We thought we had enough of a head start, but Private HIVE turned on us. Gave away our location."

"Make for the Titan's tower," Robin said, grabbing Jinx's hand and placing his ID card in it. "Pin is 10-9-14-24. We'll cover your retreat."

"We're not walking right into prison, ya scrum sucker-" Gizmo started to complain, but Jinx shot him a dark look that made Robin uncomfortable.

"Retreat Pattern Theta on Robin's mark," Jinx said cooley as the team turned away, she grabbed Robin and planted a kiss on his mouth. "Thank you."

"Now!" Robin said, trying not to get lost in the intoxicating touch of those forbidden lips. He had a mission to focus on and his team.

Charging out and lobbing a handful of mini-bombs, the loud explosion shook the gathering advance of the HIVE attack teams. With bo-staff extended, Robin began to fight the way he was trained. At a glance, he could see the HIVE splitting into 2s and vanishing in different directions.

"Where are they going?" Cyborg demanded.

"Don't worry about them," Robin said, pointing to the three black vans. "Cyborg, can you take out their vehicles? If we make this battle not worth it, they should back off."

Cyborg did not question why he thought that but had changed to his sonic cannon and was making his way towards the vans to get the best shot.

A green velociraptor shot by him and the following screams of the terrified soldiers running away was as expected. Black bolts mixed with green bolts descended until the two of the vans erupted in flames. That was when they decided it was over. Fleeing in different directions, the HIVE agents took off in the remaining vans, in the air with powered boots but everywhere.

Raven was about to grab one when Robin yelled to her. "let's go."

She stared at him with an intense curiosity for a second before returning. They turned and made their way to the tower.

It took 2 hours to clear up everything with the police. The police and SWAT teams descended to seize and arrest the injured HIVE agents that had not escaped. They each took their reports, but Robin made sure that it was known that the HIVE 5 had left the scene and did not appear to be involved, but they had no other information.

They trudged back to the tower with Raven and Starfire being considerate and staying with their team. Robin's feet hurt, but he knew his day wasn't over yet.

"Why did we not do battle with Jinx and her ilk?" Starfire asked, still trying to process a different direction.

"Cause your boyfriend decided we should protect them," Cyborg said with a laugh. "I think you've been keeping him too distracted, Star."

"I have not!" Starfire said indignantly. "There has been moderation when it comes to the nightly-"

"Star," Raven interrupted amused. "This is one of those boundaries things."

"Oh, yes," she said, surprised but understanding. "I forgot that some relationship activities are not usually discussed in public, even among friends."

Robin grimaced. Back at the tower, when Jinx was gone for a few weeks on her missions, the boy wonder felt like the world was back the way it was supposed to be. Afternoons talking with Starfire about her day, curled up watching movies in the evening, but he knew it was all an act. An act Bruce had taught him, to pretend everything was fine when you were a monster inside.

They arrived at the tower, and Cyborg typed in his passcode. The doors rumbled open, and he walked in.

"Well, I'm hungry, and I want pizza," he said. "So, if we're not going to discuss how we're going to catch the HIVE, then I'm going to-"

It was at that point that they realized that the tower was filled with a delicious smell of baked goods and cheesy goodness.

"What the-"

"Everyone calm yourself, I-," Robin started as they entered the common room. See-more and Mammoth sat on the couch watching the evening's baseball game while Gizmo was tapping away on one of the computers in the corner. Kid Wykyyd was at the bar sipping on a bright drink while Jinx was laying out the fourth hot, luscious pizza.

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET IN HERE!" Cyborg roared activating his weapons, and the entire Hive team froze. "AND…...is that pizza?"

"Yeah," Jinx said sheepishly. "Didn't know when you all were coming back, so I thought to make some pizza and blueberry muffins might keep you from murdering us."

"Until after dinner, of course," Kid Wykyyd remarked wryly from his corner.

"There's….there's even a tofu-vegetarian blend," Jinx coaxed, pushing one towards Beast Boy.

"That's nice and all," Raven said coldly. "but that doesn't give me a reason why I shouldn't stick your asses in an alternate dimension until I'm good and ready to hand you over to the cops."

"Cause I let them in," Robin said, trying to get ahead of the conversation before it turned bad.

"What?"

He scooped up the passcard that was on the table and pocketed it. "I made a snap decision. The Hive 5 was under attack, which made them the victims at this moment, and there is nowhere else they could stay away from the grab teams."

"Snap decision….is that what you're calling it?" Beast Boy said, and Robin gave him a puzzled look, but the changeling stuffed a slice of pizza into his mouth.

"Why are you being chased by your people?" Starfire asked, standing beside Jinx. Robin could see her trying to remain calm, having the Tamaranian that he ha been cheating on standing so close. If she knew, Jinx wouldn't last a second that close.

"I….I was running," Jinx started, but Gizmo came over with arms folded across his chest.

"All because one of you stupid hero types knocked her up."

The room was silent, and Robin could barely breathe. He tried to force himself to show not a single bit of emotion, and nobody was looking in his direction, except for those beautiful, imploring, pink feline, eyes. Raven and Starfire looked at each other with surprised while Beast Boy about choked on his pizza. Cyborg was mid-bite at the words.

"Congratulations," Raven asked, coming over and removing the mitts from Jinx's hands and escorting her to a seat. "But that's a pretty bold claim."

"Hey," Gizmo said. "She told us the father was one of those Justice League shits and if the Hive found out, they'd use this to their advantage."

"Who is the father of the little bumgorf?" Starfire asked excitedly, alighting beside Jinx brimming with joy. Jinx flinched again. "This is such a glorious occasion!"

"She isn't saying," Mammoth growled as the baseball team he appeared to be rooting for was declared out on the television. He shoved a muffin into his mouth.

"I'm not comfortable saying anything until I speak with him," Jinx said quietly. Robin had moved to the kitchen near the pizza, where it was the farthest from her. He grabbed a slice to appear normal desperately.

"So, you all defected for...Jinx?" Raven asked incredulously.

"Our team sticks together, just like yours," Gizmo growled. "And I don't appreciate the insinuation that we don't."

"Well, it looks like we're going to have new roommates for a little while," Cyborg said. "And I don't think a prison cell is not gonna cut it for a pregnant gal."

"You're not sticking any of us in there either," See-More said, his southern twang escaping. "We came here voluntarily cause your boss told us too. You aren't sticking me into any cell."

"Everyone gets rooms, " Robin said for the first time trying not to sound like his mouth was dry. "but you'll understand if we are taking some security steps while you're here."

"Not like we got much of choice, " Gizmo muttered. "I'm just hoping they keep this in house and don't hire outside talent. Then we're really screwed."

"I'd like to discuss our arrangements with your leader," Jinx said officially. "I think if he and I come to some terms, we can keep our respective friends in line. I'd like for this to all stay as civil as it has been so far."

"Sure...um…," Robin said, trying not to look so confused. Everyone was no looking at him, and Raven had a quizzical look on her face.

"My office?"

"Sure."

He motioned for Jinx to follow.

"Everybody relax," Robin said to Cyborg, and Jinx added for her team. "And all you do is eat pizza until I get back."

Down the hall, they went, and the lights turned on low to light the way. The sensors kept the lights off when not in use, part of Cyborg's green initiative. He tapped his passcode into the wall computer, and they both strode in.

Papers were strewn everywhere, and the multiple cases lay open on his desk — a large light burning down on it.

"Computer. Medium lights." Robin said.

The room brightness raised a bit more, and all it did was show the mess more. As soon as the doors closed, Jinx launched herself into his arms and deeply kissed him, her tongue exploring his mouth. Oh, god, did she taste so good? He pulled her beautiful gray face back, and she looked quizzically at him.

"What? You don't like my kisses anymore?"

"Raven and I have a bond from one of our missions along time ago, " Robin said, trying to catch his breath. "She can sense my emotions very well at short range."

"Ooooo. So I get to fuck you physically, and she gets to mind fuck you?" Jinx cooed teasingly. "I didn't know you were into threesomes."

"Jinx," Robin said, trying to keep the silly grin off his face. "The pregnancy thing. Why did you choose that tactic to get access?"

"Um…," Jinx said, raising her eyebrow and wrinkling up her lips in irritation. "It's not a joke, buddy. I've been throwing up every morning for the past three weeks. The test came back positive. I'm pregnant, and it's yours, Richard."

Robin groped around for a seat but wound up sitting on the floor. He looked up at her, stunned.

"I'm keeping it, sweetie," Jinx said, pushing around a few papers on his desk.

"I have a girlfriend, Jinx," Robin started, but Jinx turned on him hard, her fiery eyes locking on to his.

"Don't start with that shit, Richard. You've been going through the motions with her while you've been coming to my place and sticking it in every hole you wanted. I've seen you at your vulnerable, and you're an honest guy. God, you're such a hero that it makes me sick, but I can't live a second without thinking about you."

"And I can't stop thinking about you either, Jinx, but we agreed this was a mistake."

"And then we agreed that it was good to have some friends with benefits. We kick each other's asses in the daytime, and then we do it again in the sheets. It's great stress relief."

Jinx sat down on the floor in front of him and took his hands. "I know what I said. I know I said that I just wanted to screw and have a good time, but...this baby made me realize that this is my chance for a different trajectory, and I want the baby to have a father."

"If I come out and say the baby is mine, the JLA will strip the Titans of their certification and I will be removed from the register," Robin said slowly. "Starfire will be devastated and will more than likely kill me."

"Not me?"

"You have a little bumgorf," Robin said with a dark chuckle. "She'll kill me twice. Raven will probably shred me with her powers the Beast Boy, and Cyborg would never speak to me again. In short, it'll shatter the Titans to the core."

Jinx sat there quietly.

"So...the choice appears to be me or your entire life and identity."

"Yeah...I'm a horrible person, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you're a real ass," Jinx said, pulling in her knees and laying her chin on it with a pout. "I know I was living in a fantasy world and hoping that maybe you'd choose me over them. I'm a stupid girl, aren't I?"

Robin reached out and stroked her head, but she pulled back.

"You can't treat me like your love, Robin if you're just going to toss me aside in the end."

Robin's hand froze there for a second before he returned it to his lap. They remained silently for a few minutes before Jinx spoke up again.

"You do know this conversation is moot?" Jinx finally said with a sigh.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to remain silent and not admit to Starfire that you've cheated on her and that the baby inside a villainess is yours?" Jinx said, playfully punching his leg.

"You're the white knight, the truth, and justice deep in your soul. You're going to tell everyone, and you're going to take the beating you're going to get a cause that's who you are. You made a mistake, and you're going to pay the piper."

Robin hung his head in shame. Since the first night he spent on the roof with Jinx, he knew that his days were numbered. He desperately wished he could lie, cheat, do something to keep things from changing, but the pinkette in front of him was correct. He was too much of a good guy.

"Yeah, I'll tell them, but not tonight," Robin said. "Let them have one more night of happiness before I destroy everything."

With the heavy burden on his shoulders, Robin went back into the main room. For tonight, was the last night of acting.

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

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AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/49752254

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#teen titans #teen titans jinx #teen titans robin #fanfic #ao3fic #ao3 #fanfiction #ivedonestranger fic

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eyesintheshadows · 5 years

Text

hi my name’s ruggy and this is the product of 6 real time years of the longest fucking slowburn ship i have ever done in my life @ironclawed

“William, William look at me—God, please, don't leave me... you'll be okay, just hang on, you'll be okay...”

A blood soaked hand shakily reaches up, pressing to Joe's face as tears trickle down his cheeks, and a gloved hand quickly wraps around it, leaning into the touch. There's blood, so much damn blood, and William can only cough up more as his body begins to fail him. The action has Joe holding him tighter, breath trembling.

“Please don't leave me alone..”

---

“Come with me.”

“To France?” The tone is skeptical, unintentionally; it's more shock than anything.

“Oui, why not? We are no longer needed here, and you never had the allegiances to the Assassins as I did, anyway.” William had given it a lot of thought, and still Joe was stunned.

He had never given any thought to doing anything other than filling contracts, working alongside William, and occasionally being able to simply relax with the Huntsman. Their relationship had blossomed, and a decade had passed since they had begun to work together. America's freedom had been won, and while the Assassins had continued fighting long after the Revolution had ended, the days of needing to keep that peace so vigilantly were dwindling. Many others had gone their own ways, according to William, and Joe had certainly taken notice. But he was a mercenary they contracted, so it had never really felt like his business to know, or care.

Except he did, because of the Huntsman.

---

The next week saw them boarding a ship, Joe lingering on the gangplank. A reassuring touch to his arm draws him out of his hesitation, and William offers him a smile that reminds the Night Stalker of why he fell so hard for William in the first place. The journey is long, and Joe can't exactly say he's fond of it; he'd forgotten how much he hated ships. But the journey is different from when he first came to America; he has William with him.

While they had gotten their own cabins (it was nice to have money, for these little luxuries), Joe often sneaks into William's and shares the small bunk with the Frenchman, the night more often than not finding the room filling with the rustling of blankets, stifled moans and soft gasps. Hands grip at anything they can, clawing at a back, the sheets, tangling in hair and curling around other hands for dear life, and by the time morning fills the room, it's to warm the exhausted bodies that cling to each other, arms wrapped around each other.

Disembarking is a strange experience; Joe watches William quietly as they step onto the busy port, and he gets the sense that William is conflicted. France was his home, yet he'd spent a good bit of his life away from it, while also having essentially forsaken his family lineage in favour of loving a man. That last bit of the thought is banished quickly from Joe's mind, before he can think it over too much, and nudges his lover lightly.

“We should find a place to stay, unless you...already had somewhere in mind?” He offers quietly, trying to bring William out of his own thoughts. He doubted returning to the de Saint-Prix estate was an option.

“Yes, you're right. My family has a small villa that we used to stay in during the summer, mostly for my Assassin training,” William sounds thoughtful, yet still very distant. Joe watches him for a few heartbeats, before flagging down a carriage, and letting William fall into his natural state when the driver speaks French. Joe spends most of the trip peering out the window, simply watching the streets turn into countryside, when William speaks up to thank the driver.

It wasn't that he didn't know French; he just didn't feel comfortable speaking it, because he knew he had no accent. William had been far too aware of this; he'd tried not to laugh the few times Joe had tried to be romantic and say some loving affectation in French, only to gently correct the Night Stalker, and instead fluster him. But the meaning behind those attempts were what meant the most to William.

The villa is larger than anything Joe was used to, and for the first few weeks, he struggles to settle in. “There's too many damn rooms, what the hell do you need all this space for?!” The shout echoes, and William has to stifle his laugh, watching the taller man move from room to room in frustration.

“You left your coat upstairs, in the third room on the left.”

“I hate you.”

That finally draws a laugh from William, Joe disappearing up the stairs and shouting his annoyance once he finds the aforementioned room.

---

“I thought you said you were done with the Assassins,” Joe frowns, watching as William unfolds a fancy letter one night, the fire flickering brightly and warming the room. It was October, and they'd lived together for four months, every bit the married couple that they wanted to be, yet knew they publicly couldn't be.

“It is not simply an occasional hobby I can choose to pick up or put down, Joe, I have an obligation to the Parisian Brotherhood as much as I did the American Brotherhood. It was they who sent me to the colonies, in the first place,” William replies curtly, despite knowing it would only draw Joe's ire. And indeed, he feels the glare, but cannot feel the concern Joe does.

“Why should they need you?”

“Joe--”

“You already fought through one revolution, why is this one your problem?!” Joe's voice wavers, and he sits down, rubbing his hands over his face. William waits for him to calm down before answering.

“Joe, America's revolution was not my fight. I am not American, yet I still aided when I was needed. France is my home, and I feel a responsibility to see this one through.” He decides not to mention that he's not particularly thrilled at being called back to duty, either, but the way Joe sags in the chair pains him.

“Then let me fight beside you. It's not my fight, but I want to be with you.”

“Non.”

“William!”

“I do not think you understand, Joe, customs here are vastly different from what you're used to! I am still looked at as part of a noble family, and expected to marry and have children, or at the very least have children. These are not things I can do, being with you, and I am more than okay with that. I've made my peace about it, but American customs do not have noble families arranging marriages for one another. I still have an image to uphold, despite having been gone for so long.”

Joe stills, feeling like a red-hot dagger had pierced his heart, and William's expression changes in a flash when he realises what he'd said. “Joe, that's not what I meant--”

“I know.” It hurts, but he knows William would have never tried to hurt him. He knows that William is still expected to keep a clean reputation for his family name, but he can't stop the sting of knowing that he'd ruined William's life. It felt like that night on the docks all those months ago, when he'd had doubts. He was free to love William as much as he desired, because he had no family, had no title, nothing to uphold. But William was risking everything simply by keeping Joe as company. He could never acknowledge their relationship publicly, and they could never be more than simply partners in various terms of the word.

William gets up, kneeling in front of Joe's chair and taking his hands into his own, meeting Joe's gaze. “Do not ever doubt my affections for you, Joe. They have never wavered, I have never regretted my decision to love you, and nor will I ever. But I think you sometimes forget that we come from two vastly different worlds, and need to be reminded.”

Silence lingers on Joe's end for a long while, and William's afraid that he's already broken their relationship irreparably, before the Night Stalker speaks. “I know.” It's not reassuring, but Joe leans down to kiss him softly, a kiss William happily reciprocates. Joe presses their foreheads together, sighing softly against his lips. “I wish things could be different for us.”

---

William's work for the Parisian Assassins leaves Joe to his own devices most nights, and while they come to an agreement that Joe can tag along, he also has to remain some distance back. He becomes like William's shadow, and while it's difficult and unnatural at first, they fall into a rhythm that works.

A small box waits for William when he returns home, two years into their living in France, and William picks it up in confusion, opening it slowly. A simple gold band sits inside, and Joe watches with his breath held as William picks it up, unable to fathom the implication.

At first, Joe's afraid he hates it. He opens his mouth to try and justify the decision, before William slips the ring onto a small chain, fastening the chain around his neck. He closes a hand around the ring, Joe closing his mouth as he does, and he doesn't remember a time when William looked so full of varying emotion, all positive. His own ring rested around his finger, yet another instance of him knowing that he could get away with wearing it in public, but also knowing that it would remain hidden whenever he needed it to, simply because of the fact he wore gloves and William did not.

Later that night, William curls into his side as Joe wraps his arms around the Huntsman, before William holds the ring again, closing his eyes happily. “It will always be close to my heart, just as you are, mon ami.”

“God, you're disgustingly sappy.”

“Says the one who bought us wedding rings.”

“I'm trying to catch up to your sappiness, there's a difference.”

William chuckles, Joe kissing his head before pulling the blankets closer, closing his eyes. The next two years are blissful with the weight of the rings on their bodies, and for all the world, they truly do feel united.

---

Nothing is unusual until William leaves for his contract mission one night, a simple recon. Joe tagged along, hovering nearby as they crouch on a rooftop, chatting idly to pass the time. It's spring, and the crowds take longer to die out as the cold of winter is chased away, leaving them plenty of time to simply relax.

Two hours pass until William reacts, and Joe lingers, staying back a rooftop. It's only when he sees a glint in the corner of his eye that he realises someone had anticipated William's arrival, and he turns a moment too late, the gun firing. The bullet whizzes by him and finds its target, and time feels like it's slowing as Joe turns back to see William recoil, hand clutching at the entry wound. He stumbles a few steps, body crumpling and causing him to fall from the rooftop, the sight drawing a horrified shout from Joe.

He races forward, disregarding his own safety as he drops from the rooftop, knees falling to the ground beside William's body. His hands tremble, afraid of touching William but resolving to pull him up gingerly, cradling him as William gasps for air. There's no exit wound, and the dark stains that grow steadily across William's chest, coupled with the faint rattling every time he breathes, tells Joe exactly what he doesn't want to know. His lung had been punctured, and the bullet was still lodged in his chest.

His scarf is yanked down, hanging loosely beneath his chin as a shaking hand presses lightly over the wound, as if that could stifle the flow of blood. His eyes begin to sting, and it takes Joe a moment to realise that tears are burning them, escaping down his face and plipping onto the ground.

“Stay with me, just hold on... I'll get you to a doctor, they'll fix you up.” He knows it's a lie, but he can't bear to think about the painful reality. William, on the other hand, has already accepted his fate. Blood trickles from his mouth, and Joe lets out a weak sob, shaking his head. “Don't do this, please hold on...”

“I'm glad... we had the time together...that we did. Being with you was... the best thing that ever happened,” William struggles to speak, but he forces himself to get the words out, and Joe only lets out another sob.

“William, William look at me—God, please, don't leave me... you'll be okay, just hang on, you'll be okay...”

“Please don't leave me alone..”

William's hand falls from his cheek the second Joe's own hand releases it, and shock freezes the Night Stalker to the core, eyes widening. It takes a few moments for him to register the Huntsman's still form, hand pressing to his chest and frantically searching for the thump of a heart beat, finding nothing.

“William. William, wake up. Don't you fucking do this to me, open your eyes, you fucking bastard..!” His voice breaks, tears dripping onto the man's face as Joe sobs, curling over William's body. His sobs turn to mournful screams, the night echoing with his agony, and when the sun rises, it looks for all the world like he'd become a corpse as well, holding onto his lover's body tightly when his sobs had finally fallen silent.

#ironclawed #otp brokeback losers

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