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caitimetravels · 3 years

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she's insignificant

chapter 10: where you've gone

the umbrella academy x (fem) reader

disclaimer: i do not own the plot/storyline of the netflix tv series and i do not own the umbrella academy characters.

warnings: none

masterlist

with a sigh, y/n stood. five was still writing away behind her on the walls non-stop. she didn't dare interrupt him, simply leaving. she would be back anyways. all she needed was a nice walk.

as she wandered down the street with no destination in mind she spaced out, eyes trained on her feet. suddenly someone knocked her shoulder and brought her back to reality. she raised her head, hoping they weren't someone looking to start a fight or argue with her.

"y/n?" instead she was met with allison. her technically older sister seemed frustrated.

"allison? are you okay?" y/n's eyebrows furrowed, looking up at the curly haired woman.

"yeah.. i think so" she frowned, "i'm worried about vanya. she won't listen to me but her boyfriend, whoever he is.. i think he's dangerous. i couldn't find anything about him-"

"you went searching for his records?" y/n pulled back in disbelief, "allison! you know vanya doesn't like-"

"i know, she already got angry with me" allison sighed, shaking her head.

"why would you do that?" y/n tilted her head up at her, eyes narrowing incredulously. "where are you even going?"

"well, i found his address. i was going to see if anything's weird.." she earned a disapproving look, "i can't just sit around and do nothing y/n! please, help me, for vanya?"

y/n's expression only darkened, "why are you trying to ruin one of the only good things in her life?! she deserves to be happy for once and im not going to help you take that away from her!" she begun to shout, freezing as she realised her powers were getting out of control in the middle of the street. "just.. leave them alone!"

she took off, hoping to get away, she needed to get away.

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as the sweet melody came to soft halt y/n smiled up at her sister. vanya donned a similar grin, placing her violin down and joining y/n on the floor, cross legged and leaning back against her bed.

"one day, you're going to be amazing, v" y/n mumbled quietly, looking like she was in a slight daze, "more amazing than you are now.. you're going to be a famous violinist, i can see it now. 'vanya hargreeves, the world's best violinist'"

vanya softly nudged her shoulder, shaking her head. "no way, the world? c'mon"

"i'm serious!" y/n was adamant, sitting up straighter to see her better, "you're gonna be so cool! and everyone here is going to see you and say 'damn, wish i had seen how awesome our sister was back then' and you're going to have lots of fans!"

vanya snorted, shyly brushing her long hair to the side, "yeah, right"

".. you won't forget me when you're famous, right?" y/n leaned back against the bed to avoid direct eye contact, her voice was much softer now. "don't forget me.. okay?" she nervously side eyed her sister, trying to gauge her reaction.

"i could never" vanya shook her head, leaning into the h/c haired girl. both of them shared small content grins.

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as she walked upstairs to five's room she heard a commotion, hopefully he hadn't gotten into a fight with one of their siblings again, right?

wrong.

"put her down" five snarled, holding a gun up to luther who held dolores' body out the window. y/n grinned at the sight, highly amused. who would have thought luther would ever threaten someone? well, y'know excluding their missions.. but five nonetheless? she leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossing and waiting for them to sort out whatever issue she walked in on.

"put the gun down, you're not killing anyone today. i know she's important to you so don't make me do this" luther paused, waiting to see what five would do. "it's either her or the gun.. you decide"

eventually five did decide that dolores was more important and dropped the gun before spacial jumping to catch dolores before she could fall. not that much damage would have occurred to the mannequin anyways, maybe a few scratches.

"i can keep doing this all day" luther spoke triumphantly, now holding the gun at his side. y/n snorted, catching their attention.

"you're such children" both glared at her in response, "c'mon, surely you have a better plan than whatever ended up in this-" she gestured vaguely between them, "squabble"

"we did not squabble" five hissed, placing dolores down and straightening his jacket. "but yes, i do have a one other plan"

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the three of them, five, luther and y/n, drove down an empty road before slowing to a stop. five unbuckled his seatbelt and sighed, looking around.

"you know, i never enjoyed it" he started and luther turned to him in confusion.

"what?"

"the killing. i mean i was- i was good at my work and i took pride in it but it never gave me pleasure" he took a deep breath, "i think it was all those years alone. solitude can do funny things to the mind"

"yeah well, you were gone for such a long time.. i only spent four years on the moon but that was more than enough. it's the being alone that breaks you" luther placed a hand on the briefcase, "you think they'll buy it?"

"well, what i do know is that they're desperate. it's like a cop losing his gun" he alluded, "if the commission finds out they'll be in deep shit, well not to mention that they'll be stuck here until they get it back"

"i should hold onto it" luther suggested, patting it with one hand.

"hm?" five's eyebrows furrowed,

"incase they make a move on you" he added to explain his point.

"okay, luther.. but be careful. i've lived a long life but.. you're still a young man, you've got your whole life ahead of you. don't waste it" y/n snorted and five turned to her, unamused.

"what?" they stared at each other for a moment before five shook his head, looking away with a small smile.

suddenly a car began to drive towards them and they all made to get out of the car. "here we go" five sighed again, he was doing that a lot, y/n realised.

the car continued to drive past them, stopping a few metres away.

"if this all goes sideways.. do me a favour and tell dolores i'm sorry" five turned to luther who nodded slowly.

as five walked away from them y/n leaned back against the car.

"i have a bad feeling about this" she nervously picked at her nails and luther frowned, looking over at her.

"why? what's wrong?"

"that.. i don't know yet" she looked down the road, "i just.. feel like something's off" she shook her head as five walked back, leaning next to her.

luther stepped forwards a bit, "what happens now?"

"now we wait"

barely a moment later they heard the music of an ice cream truck. y/n squinted against the sun and wind, trying to work out who it was. she took a moment to focus, sensing klaus, diego and ben. uh oh.

as the car got closer luther turned to five, "is that her?"

"luther, you idiot" y/n shook her head, "it's klaus and diego" right on time klaus waved to them as they passed.

the two assassins begun shooting, thinking it was a set up and y/n raised her arms to cover her head as luther stepped in front of her and five to block any shots.

suddenly time stopped.. well, only for five.

he frowned down at y/n next to him, the girl cowering in on herself. he felt bad for bringing her into something like this but she was very persistent.

he slowly stepped under luther's arm, looking at everyone frozen in slight confusion.

"neat trick, isn't it?" a feminine voice called out behind him and he turned to face the woman he had asked to see. the handler. she stared at him, pulling the veil over her face up and onto her hat instead before pulling her sunglasses off.

"hello, five" she smiled, "you look good.. all things considered" she softly gestured to all of him.

"it's good to see you again" he nodded back,

"feels like we met just yesterday, 'course you were a little bit older then" she teased, "congratulations on the age regression, by the way. very clever, threw us all off the scent"

"ah, well, i wish i could take credit" five shrugged, looking away. "i just miscalculated the time dilation of projections and.. well, you know, here i am" his gaze met hers once again, throwing his hands up before putting them back in his pockets, casually.

"you realise your efforts are futile" the handler shifted so that her briefcase was behind her, "so, why don't you tell me what you really want?"

"i want you to put a stop to it" five moved his own hands behind his back.

"you realise what you're asking for is next to impossible even for me" she shook her head, "what's meant to be is meant to be. that's our raison d'etre"

"yeah?" five smiled sarcastically, pulling a gun from his shorts "well how about survival as a raison?"

"i'll just be replaced, i am but a small cog in a machine" the handler waved it off, ignoring the gun pointing straight at her heart. "this fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is just that.. a fantasy. i must say though, we'll quite impressed with your initiative, your stick-to-it-tiveness, really quite- quite something. which is why we want to offer you, a new position back at the commission, in management" the handler held a hand up, smiling like her offer was an obvious choice.

"sorry what's that now?" five scoffed as she stepped closer, hand tightening on the gun.

"come back to work for us again, you know it's where you belong"

"well, it didn't work out too well the last time" he glared up at her, not liking the persistence.

"oh but you wouldn't be in the correction department any longer, i'm talking about the home office, you'd have the best health and pension and an end to this ceaseless travel" she laughed freely, "you're a distinguished professional in.. school boy shorts. we have the technology to reverse the process. i mean you- you can't be happy like this" she slowly pushed his gun down, stepping ever closer.

"i'm not looking for happy" he spat through gritted teeth.

the handler only tilted her head, eyeing him carefully before raising a hand to stroke his cheek, "we're all looking for happy. we can make that happen, we can make you.. yourself again"

five huffed a laugh, gesturing to his siblings. "what about my family?"

"what about them?" the handler raised an eyebrow, acting like she didn't already know he intended to save them.

"i want them to survive"

the handler took in a deep breath, taking in the sight of luther protecting y/n who was still crouching against the car as well as diego and klaus who were in the middle of crashing the ice cream truck.

"all of them?"

"yes, all of them" he narrowed his eyes at her,

the handler gave him a small smirk, moving towards the recoiled girl. five watched carefully, waiting to see what she would do.

"it's such a shame.. she would have done well with us. if only we could take her too" she reached a hand out, about to touch her but five moved first, spacial jumping in front of her and grabbing her hand. he held her away from y/n.

"don't touch her" he snarled, unmoving from his protective stance.

"my my, five, i didn't expect such protectiveness from you" the handler merely smirked, stepping away. as they walked back she once again proposed her deal.

"well" the handler begun, reaching a hand into her pocket and pulling out her sunglasses before putting them back on her face. "i'll see what i can do from them.. do we have a deal?" she reached a hand out to him, awaiting his acceptance. he merely stared at her hand before sighing,

"one thing" five stepped back, putting his gun in his shorts again. he walked over to hazel's gun on the floor, taking out the ammunition and chucking it on one side of the road before chucking the rest of the gun to the other. he turned and walked back, noticing the bullet headed towards luther and y/n. he frowned, using his pointer finger and thumb to move it over so that it would hit the car instead of them.

as soon as he shook her outstretched hand they disappeared and time was restored.

y/n shivered, ignoring the bullet hitting the car next to her and the way her siblings scrambled around to get away quick. she allowed herself to be shoved into the car with klaus and diego, spaced out.

"you alright?" diego turned to her while klaus stuck the middle finger up at hazel and cha cha.

"i felt someone else.. it was only for a moment but i felt someone.." she spoke solemnly, staring at her shaking hands. "and then five just.. disappeared"

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#tua #the umbrella academy #tua x sibling reader #the umbrella academy x sibling reader #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #luther hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader

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candyflosstoxicity · 3 years

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Wanna Be Your Setting Lotion

Endeavor x Black!Reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Power imbalance. Unsafe sex. Creampie. Breeding kink. Breath play. Pain play.

Despite the sizable uptick in his popularity after triumphing over the High-End Nomu, Enji still felt that his ability to relate to the everyday civilians was sorely lacking. There was still some doubt amongst the masses that he could be a suitable replacement for All Might. As much as that stung his ego, Enji knew that their misgivings weren’t unfounded.

He had promised his son that he would become a hero that he could be proud to call his father, and that meant more than just saving lives. Enji had to work to build a relationship with the public, and be a hero that was not only powerful, but approachable and relatable.

So, with his secretary’s assistance, Enji reached out to the most highly recommended media relations agency in Musutafu and requested that they pair him with a very particular type of publicist. He made sure to specify that they had to be thick-skinned and prepared to undertake all the work that would come with being the publicist to the number one hero. Though he had certainly made some important changes within himself, he still didn’t know how to talk to people and didn’t want to send the publicist running for the hills.

That was how you ended up standing outside the Endeavor Hero Agency. The glass skyscraper gleamed brightly under the sun, and really impressed upon you that this was happening. You had been assigned your first hero, but not just any run of the mill hero and it honestly had you feeling nervous in a way that you never had before. It’s not as if you doubted your ability to manage and improve the Flame Hero’s public image, but this was a major assignment that could either launch your career into the stratosphere or sink it like a stone.

After taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you walked briskly through the front entrance and into the main lobby, where you were greeted by the receptionist. You explained who you were and what you were there for, and she immediately hopped up from her desk in a panic and hastily led you to the elevator. It did nothing to quell your anxiety, because if his receptionist was losing her cool, what chance did you have against the man?

Upon reaching the top floor, the receptionist all but shoved you out of the elevator, giving you a hasty “good luck” while frantically pushing the button to close the door. You stumbled forward and were faced with a large, hardwood door. Having decided that you simply could not delay your assignment any further, you squared your shoulders, took decisive steps forward, and knocked on the door.

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That was several months ago, and you could say with hindsight that you were right to be anxious. While working for Endeavor was the best way to cut your teeth as a publicist, the man himself was...something fucking else.

It wasn’t just that he was physically intimidating, with his towering height and mountains of muscle. Honestly, you were able to quickly get past that and start working towards building a friendly, yet professional relationship with your boss. Except, he was the most tight-lipped, awkward person you had ever dealt with when he wasn’t in the process of saving lives. And when he was actually somewhat talkative, he was so intense that it left you flustered.

However, Enji always treated you with respect and courtesy, and when you did well, he told you as much. Heat would crawl its way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes whenever he would tell you, “You’ve done excellent work this week, (L/N)-san. Your efforts are appreciated.”

To anyone else and coming from anyone else, it might not mean much, but Todoroki Enji wasn’t just anyone. He had high standards for all of his employees, and you were no exception. Praise from him was hard to come by, and when it was directed at you, it made you feel some type of way.

It was obvious to everyone with a pulse that Enji was an incredibly attractive man. Indeed, every interview you scheduled for him with a female journalist found him being inundated with coy smiles, flirting, and pointed questions about his relationship status.

To be fair, you had asked him the same question, but only because it was important for you to know as the person who handled all of his public relations. It definitely wasn’t because you were lusting after your client and hoping that he was free to maybe, someday, knock your walls down.

Still, you had always prided yourself on being the consummate professional, so you refrained from asking any questions that were too personal. Even though you were so often alone with Enji in his penthouse office, with little to no interruption, and a lot of plush furniture he could fuck you on…

You shook your head sharply, your dark, curly hair moving with the motion. ‘Focus, bitch. Don’t be a goofy and try to fuck your boss. He would probably fire your ass before you could ask for a crumb of dick.’

It didn’t matter if you hadn’t gotten laid since you started working as his publicist; you were NOT going to fuck Todoroki Enji.

Little did you know, Enji was enduring his own share of suffering and sexual frustration. And he had no intentions of denying himself. For him, it was simply a matter of opportunity.

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It was finally Friday evening, and Enji was more than ready for the weekend. After a solid week of double patrols, while squeezing in PR appearances that you had set up for him, he just wanted to sit down in his recliner at home and have a stiff drink. He was sitting at his desk with his laptop open, finishing up some last minute paperwork on a report he needed to submit to the Hero Public Safety Commission by Monday.

Just as he put the final signature on the last page, you came bursting through his office door, without knocking, of course. Not that he minded; it was always a treat to see you, even if you were a bit...distracting. Your shapely legs carried you briskly towards his desk and he couldn’t help but admire how enticing they looked sheathed in your sheer stockings. He almost missed what you were trying to tell him, too busy imagining them wrapped around his waist.

“Endeavor-san, I’m sorry to disturb you right before quittin’ time, but I just finalized the details of your appearance on Present Mic’s late night radio show for next weekend,” you chirped with no small amount of satisfaction. Ah, right; Enji had agreed to make time for that, considering Mic was very popular with the young crowd and an appearance on his show would do wonders for his popularity with that demographic.

“He promised to keep it light and casual, and most of the time block will be spent playing some music that you both enjoy. I cross-referenced his playlist with the list you compiled, and y’all have some bangers in common. We’ll need to go over your note cards again, but I’m sure you’ve got that part covered by now.”

Your eyes were focused on the folder in your hands, flipping through the papers there as you went over the last minute details. Enji’s eyes were watching you, though, and he found himself struggling to give a damn about Present Mic or his radio show. Not when you were standing before him, a radiant vision of smooth brown skin and a halo of curls. How badly he wanted to sink his fingers into them and tug your head back, make you submit to him…

“Endeavor-san, are you listening?”

The question coming from your pretty lips, in that sweet, but sharp voice, was enough to finally get his attention. He tore his gaze from your petite frame and looked up to see your dark brown eyes staring at him sternly. Enji coughed and shifted in his chair, trying to subtly adjust his now rock hard dick.

“My apologies, (Y/N), I’m a bit worn out from this week,” he hastily assured you. “If you wouldn’t mind emailing those notes to me, I will look over them again this weekend.”

Your expression softened and you tossed the folder onto his desk before walking around to the side and perching yourself on the edge. Enji could practically feel the blood rush to his dick with you sitting so close to him, the scent of your perfume immediately clouding his mind. Your already short skirt rode up even higher and he had to force himself to look you in the eye, which he regretted shortly after.

“Have I been riding you too hard, sir?”

Enji’s eyes narrowed slightly at you, thinking that you must be toying with him. But, your face was devoid of cunning, and you seemed genuinely concerned for his well-being. He wasn’t used to that kind of consideration from really anyone, especially not one of his employees.

“No, far from it. You probably take it a bit too easy on me, but you still produce amazing results. I would be completely clueless about this public relations crap if I didn’t have someone as bright and clever in my corner,” Enji rumbled, almost bashfully, the tips of his ears still pink from your accidental innuendo.

He had no way of knowing, but the feeling that Enji’s praise gave you was like a shot of adrenaline to you. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks, and you quickly began stuttering and trying to downplay your contribution. However, Enji was having none of it and reached out to grab your anxiously fluttering hands, which had the desired effect of shutting you up.

But, Enji didn’t stop there. He was tired of you not giving yourself enough credit. More than that, he was tired of only being able to show his gratitude in words. So, he took advantage of your size difference and tugged you into his arms and then settled you on his right thigh, forcing you to straddle the muscular appendage.

“E-Endeavor-san?!” you squeaked out. Your tiny hands were encased in his much larger ones and even that small bit of skin to skin contact was enough to set a fire low in your belly.

“Please, call me Enji. It seems a bit formal considering the things I want to do to you.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to me, Enji?” Your voice was low and breathless, but he could see the excitement clearly in your deep brown eyes.

He released your hands and let his own wander down the curve of your sides to settle on your hips. Still maintaining eye contact with you, he engulfed the soft flesh there with a gentle, but firm squeeze. You gasped softly and instinctually ground down against the flexing muscles of his thigh.

Enji growled lowly in his throat and took one hand off your hip, and reached up to bury it in the soft curls that framed your gorgeous face. At first, he gently massaged the scalp with his fingertips, but when he felt you relax, Enji used the curls at your nape to tug your head back.

He loved how small you were in his arms, how easily he towered over you and controlled your movements. And there you were, gasping and squirming in his lap, letting him touch you in such a dominating way. It stoked a fire within him that he hadn’t felt in a long while, urging him to make you fall apart under his touch.

“There are so many things that I want to do to this tight, little body,” Enji whispered against your throat. He placed a heated kiss there, followed by a gentle nip before continuing, “But, for now, I want you to ride my thigh.”

To his delight, you didn’t hesitate to start meekly rolling your hips forward, your skirt bunching up around your waist with the motions. Still, you seemed to be holding yourself back, and he was having none of that. Using the hand that was still gripping your hip, Enji forced you to press down harder and move faster. Getting the message, you braced your palms against his broad, solid chest and began grinding against him in earnest.

The filthy moans you let spill from your plump lips were music to Enji’s ears, and he struggled to refrain from just ripping your stockings off and sliding your down onto his aching dick. There would be plenty of time for that later, but in that moment, he wanted to make you felt just how appreciated you were.

“Come on, little sparrow, I know you’re close. I can feel you soaking my pants leg.”

The desperation and desire in his voice drove your lust even higher. That, combined with the friction of your nylon stockings against your bare pussy, had you teetering on the edge of release.

“Please, sir!” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he seemed to. And he was going to make you beg for it.

“Please what?”

“I...I want you to fuck me, sir! Please let me cum on your dick,” you pleaded with a breathless whine, never ceasing your wanton grinding.

“Oh, you will be cumming on my dick. But, first, you’re going to make yourself nice and sloppy for me.”

Enji gripped your hair tighter and pulled your head back until your spine arched. Now, your nails were digging into the skin of his pectorals, but he didn’t care because the end result was you humping against him with reckless abandon. No longer needing to guide your movements, he reached up and wrapped his other hand around your delicate throat, squeezing just enough to make the blood rush to your head. That was just enough to tip you right over the edge.

“Oh, oh!” Your hips began to stutter slightly in their movements as your orgasm crept up on you. A scream that surprised you, but made Enji growl in triumph, was ripped from your throat as you bucked wildly through the peak of your release. Letting go of your tresses and throat, Enji pulled you gently into his chest and ran his hands soothingly down your back. As your body trembled and quaked through the vestiges of your orgasm, he murmured soft praises into the crown of your hair.

“You did such a good job for me, baby girl. I’m so proud of you and all your hard work. Are you ready for your reward now?”

Despite the fact that you had just cum your brains out, his words of praise had you moaning wantonly, your head bobbing lazily in consent. Enji wasted no time in standing you up between his legs, supporting your weight effortlessly as he slid his hands up your inner thighs towards the crotch of your stockings. A brief, but loud ripping sound echoed in the spacious office, and then you felt a cool breeze against your soaked lips. Enji took a moment to run a thick finger through your dainty folds, making you shudder and moan.

Enji considered having you ride him again, but a glance at the large sectional he had in the corner of the room gave him other ideas. Picking you up as if you weighed nothing, he carried you to the luxurious piece of furniture and laid you down on your back. He immediately covered your body with his own and locked his lips with yours, the kiss quickly turning heated. While your lips moved together with unrestrained passion, he busied himself with undoing his belt and slacks. Once he got them undone, he freed his aching length from the confines of his underwear, hissing at the sensation of the cool air hitting the too hot skin.

Pulling away from your soft warmth, Enji made you look him in the eye before he asked, “It seems a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is what you want?”

Thinking he was just being considerate, you smiled softly up at him and nodded in affirmation. He kissed you hard, one more time, before looking down to guide his more than impressive dick to your dripping entrance. As soon as he pressed the head in, you knew what he was really asking you before, which was whether you could handle being stretched to your absolute limit.

You threw your head back, pressing into the soft cushion underneath you, and struggled to breathe around the sensation of his girth splitting you open. It was a good thing he made sure you were wet enough beforehand, otherwise, you were sure that you wouldn’t have been able to take all of him.

Enji made sure to take his time pressing in and withdrawing, inch by inch, enraptured by the sight of your pretty pussy stretching around him. It was a couple minutes more before he was fully seated inside you, the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix. He paused his movements to press sweet, but rough kisses along your jaw and collarbones. You reached up and buried your fingers in his hair, applying the barest pressure to bring his face closer to yours so you could press your foreheads together.

“I��d really like for you to move now,” you panted softly. Sure, it was quite the stretch having him inside you, but it didn’t hurt and you were still filled with a burning desire to be wrecked by the giant hovering over you.

Withdrawing slowly, so slowly, Enji paused again to watch your face as he gave a quick, experimental thrust. The cry of pleasure you let out snapped his resolve to continue taking it slow, and he began to fuck into you with a vigor. All you could do is tighten your grip on his red locks and hold on for the ride.

“God, you feel so good wrapped around me. Do you have any idea how long I have wanted this? How many times I’ve fantasized about fucking into you like this, making you my little cumdump?”

Enji was actually caught off guard with how visceral your reaction was to his dirty talk. He didn’t think it possible, but you became even tighter around his dick, nails biting into his scalp, as well. You began trying to thrust back up against him, but he was having none of that. Enji pulled back just enough to take your legs and throw them over his shoulders so he could put you in a mating press.

“Oh gods, yes, just like this, Daddy!” you wailed loudly, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed with the pleasure from his rigid member rubbing against your velvet walls with the new angle.

A groan that sounded like a snarl rumbled in Enji’s chest at the sound of your fucked out voice calling him ‘Daddy’. It made him want to grind his dick deeper into you, until all you could see, feel, or taste was him and the pleasure he was giving to you.

“Fuck, if you call me that again, I’m going to fucking cum and I’m not going to pull out.” He expected you to object, or something but instead, you attempted to pull him in closer with the strength of your legs alone.

“Please, please, please fill me up, Daddy! I want it all, please, give it to me!”

Pace quickening at your filthy words, Enji leaned forward until you were practically pressed in half and his thrusts had the tip of his dick bumping your womb with every plunge deeper. You were unable to even scream, the air knocked from your lungs and your brain foggy with thought-warping ecstasy.

“Goddammit, you’re gonna make me cum, baby. I’m gonna fill you up to the brim. Gonna make you round with my child. Is that what you want?”

All you could do was nod frantically, incoherent pleas and his name spilling from your drooling mouth in an endless stream. You would do anything, say anything, just to feel his hot cum paint your walls.

From the way you were clenching and pulsing around him, Enji knew that you were close to the precipice again already, and he was ready to tumble over right along with you. Letting go of the last bit of restraint holding him back, Enji captured your lips in a searing kiss and swallowed your cries of passion as he began to piston into your tight heat, chasing his orgasm and hurtling you towards yours.

A shrill scream muffled by his lips and the sharp tightening of your walls around him signaled to Enji that you were cumming, and he quickly followed after you. His powerful hips stuttered once, twice before he drove his entire length fully inside you and stilled, his head pressed to the opening of your womb. Much hotter than you were expecting it to be, spurts of cum that seemed endless gushed deep inside you, prolonging both of your orgasms to the point of over-sensitivity.

When you both finally came down and got your breathing under control, Enji slowly pulled out from you and gently eased your legs off his shoulders. He gathered you up in an embrace and flipped the two of you over so that you were laid on top of him, head resting against his chest. Again, he stroked your back and sides soothingly, murmuring words of praise and comfort.

For your part, you were fucking wiped, your heart still racing and brown skin dewed with sweat. You could feel cum leaking out of your abused hole, but could hardly be bothered to care with exhaustion and satiation weighing so heavily on your eyes.

With strong arms wrapped around you and every bone in your body feeling like marshmallow, you snuggled closer to Enji and fell asleep to the steady pulse of his heart in your ear.

#todoroki enji x reader #endeavor x reader #bnha smut #endeavor smut #todoroki enji smut #black reader

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

This Side of Normal Chapter Three

AO3

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is tired. She’s tired of emotional terrorists and liars and classes with a teacher who cares more about keeping the peace than teaching. She’s also just plain tired. Taking a long swig of coffee, Marinette jumps slightly as someone flounces down next to her. Wearily glancing over, she frowns at the look on her best friend’s face. Her mind runs a million miles a minute as she searches for the reason for the look on his face. The conversation on the roof with Jason flashes in her mind and she frowns, realizing why he looks so sad.

“Adrien-” She starts, but he shakes his head.

“I know, Mari. I know he’s our best suspect but...it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” He says, slouching so that he can lay his head on her shoulder. Marinette sighs in response

“You’re gonna get in trouble sitting back here, kitty.” She mumbles, trying not to laugh at the absolutely adorable pout on his face that forms once she’s done talking.

“It’s worth it. I hate sitting by Lila.” He grumbles, the sad look on his face breaking Marinette’s heart.

“I-Well, maybe Mme. Bustier won’t notice.” She offers with a small smile. The smile falls almost immediately as a loud gasp rings throughout the room.

“Mme. Bustier, isn’t Adrien’s seat in the front row? Has the seating chart changed again?” Lila asks, her voice wobbly with tears. “Do I- do I have to sit by myself?” She adds. Marinette groans and drops her head onto the desk.

“Adrien? Why don’t you come back to your seat. We’re going to start class soon.” Mme. Bustier calls out.

“Sorry, guess I spoke too soon.” Marinette mumbles from her spot against the table. Adrien groans, but drags his bag down to the front row, furrowing his eyebrows as Lila immediately attaches herself to his arm. Marinette rolls her eyes, trying her hardest to pay attention to the lecture when all she wants to do is sleep. Between Ladybug duties, commissions, and homework, Marinette was lucky to get more than a couple hours of sleep each night. Add in the fact that once she could go to sleep her brain wouldn’t shut off, and Marinette was ready to petition her parents for an IV drip for her coffee. Having been completely zoned out for the entire class, Marinette jumps when the telltale sound of an akuma alarm suddenly blares throughout the room. Pulling out her phone, Marinette curses under her breath. Another element based akuma. Quickly grabbing her bag, Marinette follows the rest of the class towards the akuma shelter, silently slipping away and into the bathroom. She wastes no time in transforming, instead swinging herself out the window and to the fight.

----

Glancing down at his computer, Jason frowns. Gabriel Agreste has a kid. A kid Damian’s age, who lives in Paris. If Gabriel Agreste really was Hawkmoth, he was doing it knowing that his kid could get caught in the crossfire. Damn shitty parents. Letting out a shaky breath, Jason tries to think about things that calm him. Breathe. Can’t get pissed off here. Can’t make it harder on those kids than it already is. Deciding enough is enough when it comes to research (especially since he didn’t give Replacement specifics, just told him to look into anything sketchy with Agreste), Jason walks over and glances out the hotel window. A sudden alarm blaring through the hotel makes him sigh in frustration. It was the same alarm from last time, when he watched Paris flood and hundreds of bodies float in the streets. Climbing out onto the fire escape, Jason hurries up to the roof, scanning the horizon in hopes of seeing the akuma.

“Shit.” He says, eyes widening at the sight of flames twenty feet high. Regretting letting Bruce convince him to leave the helmet in Gotham, Jason has no choice but to watch the akuma fight from afar. Even if the two heroes hadn’t recognized him, Jason was in Paris on “official” W.E. business. Being recognized as Bruce Wayne’s adoptive son while fighting a supervillain? Probably not the best idea. He’d do more damage than help, and at least by staying away from the fight, he could help the kids later. And maybe track down the son of a bitch who decided focusing the majority of his attacks on a school was a good idea.

----

Jason grit his teeth as the lights flashed and ladybugs flew around, fixing up the city. This battle took almost three hours, and the smell of burning flesh was lingering, despite all of the corpses being reanimated. Huffing, Jason climbs back off the roof, only thinking one thing. There was no way in hell he was leaving Paris until Hawkmoth was out of commission.

----

Landing softly on the rooftop, Marinette glances over at the strange man. Jason. The man who, for some reason, was willing to train them late at night on top of a roof, just so they could fight out of the suits. Not that he understood everything that the suits could do, but that was for the best. Even though his intentions seemed genuine, Marinette had learned not to trust easily anymore. Ever since Lila came, Marinette was wearier, and more likely to ask questions before accepting someone.

“Here’s your mask, if you wanna go ahead and change and start doing some basic stretches.” Jason instructs, getting right down to business as he passes the black domino mask to her. Marinette nods and flits behind the chimney.

“Spots off.” She says quietly, grinning at Tikki.

“Is this really a good idea?” Tikki asks, her face scrunched up with worry. Marinette sighs at her friend.

“He’s gonna help us find Hawkmoth. And he has a point. What happens if I can’t transform but someone still needs my help? I don’t want to be helpless, Tikki.” Marinette says.

“Just be careful, you don’t have the suit to stop you from being too injured.” Tikki warns before flying to the top of the chimney. Marinette hesitates a second before sliding the domino mask on, blinking to get used to the eye cover. It was...weird, having a mask on that wasn’t magic. With the mask that came with her suit, Marinette couldn’t feel it. It was just there, part of her. The domino mask, though, was solid. She could feel it resting on her face. Taking a breath to steady herself, Marinette walked out from behind the chimney.

“Chat Noir’s changing over there.” Jason says when he notices her, nodding towards an air duct on the opposite side of the roof.

“Thank you, for offering to help us.” Marinette says, Jason nods, a tense smile on his face.

“No problem.” He says.

“Did you happen to look into Gabriel Agreste today?” She asks.

“Yeah, what kind of asshole decides to be an emotional terrorist in a city where his kid lives?” Jason asks, a dark look crossing his face. Marinette flinches, looking at Jason nervously. If he had the means to train them, she really didn’t want to deal with him as an akuma.

“Gabriel Agreste, apparently.” Adrien says, finally joining the two, his arms crossed. Marinette frowns at him. It was much harder to read his face with his eyes hidden.

“So did you guys want me to look more into Agreste?” He asks, raising an eyebrow as he looks between the two. Marinette glances at Adrien, letting out a small breath when she sees his small nod.

“Yeah. Even if it’s not Gabriel, we need to know for sure.” She says. Jason nods.

“Alright. That gives me something to do tomorrow. Now, stretch and warm up. I don’t wanna have to drag your asses off this roof ‘cause you pulled something trying to jump right into things.” Jason says, a teasing grin on his face. Marinette grins back, finally feeling lighter. Maybe training would be a good thing.

----

Training was hell. Okay, maybe not hell, but it was not easy. Gasping for air, Marinette dramatically collapses on the roof.

“Aw come on Pixie, you can do better than that.” Jason teases, still standing in a sparring stance.

“Jay, I swear. We’ve been training for over a week. I’m exhausted. And you’ve already kicked my ass twice. I’m giving up.” She says, throwing her arm over her face to block out the lights from the surrounding street lamps.

“Come on Bug, don’t give up!” Adrien cheers from the side, a smirk on his face. Marinette sits up and narrows her eyes at him, despite knowing the mask wouldn’t let him see her eyes. And the level of done that was visible there.

“Why don’t you try again?” She asks in a taunting tone. Adrien snorts.

“You and I both know that I can’t beat Jason.” He says, shaking his head in amusement.

“Not with that attitude. Come on kid, let’s go.” Jason says, turning to face Adrien instead of Marinette. An idea flashes into Marinette’s head and she smirks, lunging forward and yanking Jason down as his attention is completely on Adrien. Grabbing his wrists as he falls, Marinette manages to twist him around so that his face is against the rooftop and his arms are bent behind him.

“Okay, okay, I tap out.” Jason chuckles, accepting Marinette’s hand when she jumps up and reaches out to help him up.

“I won.” She says with a wide grin.

“You totally cheated.” Jason replies with a snort.

“Nah, Kitty and I just worked together to outsmart you.” Mari says.

“Don’t drag me into this, I had no idea what was happening ‘til Jay was on the ground.” Adrien says, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Traitor.” Marinette huffs, sticking her tongue out at her best friend.

“Hey, you guys are gonna have to go home soon.” Jason says, glancing down at his watch. Marinette frowns.

“What about the Plan?” She asks. “I thought we were gonna work on that tonight so that we have an actual plan to stop Hawkmoth instead of just letting him run around and terrorize people nonstop.”

“Pixie, it’s late. I promise we’ll start with planning tomorrow. But you guys need to go get some sleep. Chat told me you’re already living off of coffee alone. That’s not healthy.” Jason says. Marinette rolls her eyes, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout.

“Coffee is my life fuel and I will not apologize.” She says, making both Chat and Jason groan.

“You’re worse than my brother.” Jason says and Mari grins.

“I’m sure we’d get along swimmingly.” She says, and Chat shakes his head.

“Nope. I draw the line at your coffee addicted butt meeting another coffee addict. I’m not about to watch that train wreck.” He says, grabbing Mari’s hand and tugging her behind the chimney so they can transform. Saying their phrases quickly, the two dart back over to Jason.

“Same time?” Marinette asks with a bright smile. Jason nods. Marinette waves, running over to the edge of the building and swinging away, waving at Adrien as he vaults towards his house. As she lands on her balcony, Marinette can't help the wide smile that stretches across her face. Maybe they could finally end this.

#maribat #maribat jason todd #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #fanfic #ao3fic #maribat fic #platonic jasonette #platonic maribat adrienette #This Side of Normal

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dessarious · 3 years

Text

What Makes a Family? Pt18

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

“And what price are they going to have to pay for your magic?” Marinette couldn’t help but smile at the protective tone in Bruce’s voice as he glared at Plagg. She was beyond relieved that he seemed to be a good person and even her Guardian instincts were calm around him.

“The Miraculous are all about balance. In our case, as true Chosen, they affect us whether we use them or not. That’s why Cass’ life has been so difficult and mine has been relatively calm. Actually being in possession of Plagg’s ring will make things better for her. As for other holders, it varies. The longer you hold a Miraculous the more it pulls out certain traits in you. Good or bad depends on both the person and how in tune with the Miraculous they are.” Chloe’s over protective nature and Adrien’s possessiveness were both likely side effects of being holders but there was no way for her to know for certain.

“So they begin to turn you into a different person?” Marinette was shaking her head before he was even finished. She really wasn’t good at explaining things to other people.

“No. Any traits that the Miraculous bring out were already there. If anything they bring out a person’s true nature so they can’t hide who they really are. My former partner for instance was always showing his best face to the world around him but Plagg’s influence allowed those looking for it the ability to see some of his less desirable qualities. Especially when transformed.” While it made perfect sense that the ring had brought out the things Adrien felt he had to hide from the world, she still felt guilty. She also had to wonder how different his life would have been if she’d found her real Black Cat sooner. Cass burrowed into her side.

“Not your fault.” Marinette just hugged her twin closer. Even if Fu had picked Adrien, as the current Guardian he had still been her responsibility. She’d let her knowledge of his personal life define how she treated him when she should have simply judged his actions as a hero. It had been reckless and irresponsible. She’d put everyone at risk. She felt a vibration at her side and actually laughed when she realized Cass was purring to calm her down.

“Well if I needed any more proof that you are Plagg’s chosen, the fact that you’re picking up cat traits without even having the ring on you would have done it.” Cass stopped abruptly and buried her head into Marinette’s shoulder with an embarrassed whine. Mari just grinned and kissed her temple to try and soothe her. “At least yours is cute. The first trait I picked up was reflex bleeding.” It was a small consolation that Lila had a rash for over a month after grabbing her.

“Do I want to know what that is?” Marinette offered Bruce a commiserating smile. It was a lot to process.

“My skin secretes a toxic substance when I feel threatened. Sadly enough it’s actually helped in battles before. Poor baby August tried to eat me a few times while Akumatized.” Bruce just blinked at her and Marinette could practically hear him thinking ‘what the fuck?’ She grinned at him. “Once you’ve actually been through an Akuma attack, remind me to show you footage of past battles. It will prove educational and quite possibly entertaining.”

“You expect me to be entertained by one of my children almost being eaten?” He sounded insulted at the suggestion but Marinette rolled her eyes.

“No, but the fact that Hawkmoth tends to Akumatize the worst suited people into villains should. The only reason he’s still around is because he’s a coward. If I could find him all of this would be over in a heartbeat. Hopefully with Cass here my luck will keep shifting for the better.”

“I thought you were the one with good luck.” Mari let out a frustrated breath.

“Technically yes. However having the Miraculous active, especially with the ring being held by someone so much less in tune than I am, has been affecting me. It’s gotten better since I added other permanent holders but certain things haven’t improved at all. Also, the Kwami are of the opinion that Cass and I rubbed off some of our luck on each other in the womb. It’s likely the reason she ended up with you around the same time I first became Ladybug. Being together will allow us to buffer each other.” Bruce was still frowning at her but it seemed more contemplative than anything else.

“Cass.” She watched her sister peek at Bruce from her position. “What do you want to do?” Marinette let out an approving hum at the question. She got a strange sense of satisfaction that he treated Cass with such care even though she wasn’t his. He wasn’t as warm as her parents, but it was obvious he did care.

“Stay. Help.” Bruce let out a sigh but nodded. Cass relaxed further and Marinette could feel contentment radiating off her.

“So Selina said you’re a fashion designer?” Marinette rose an eyebrow at the subject change. “Since there’s nothing more to be done at present about what’s going on in Paris and it doesn’t appear to be an urgent issue, I would like to get to know you and I’m sure Cass does too.” She felt Cass nod.

“Yes, I’m a fashion designer. It was always what I wanted to do, but my actual start was one of the first twists of fate after I got my Miraculous. I ended up designing something for Jagged Stone and everything just sort of took off from there.” Cass stiffened slightly and Marinette saw Bruce’s eye twitch.

“You’re the designer he’s always bragging about?” Marinette felt her face flush. It hadn’t really occurred to her that he would be familiar with Jagged. Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. “The boys are not going to leave you alone. Dick, Jason, and Tim have a running bet over who can get a commission from you first. I apologize in advance for whatever happens at dinner.” She laughed at his dry tone and caught Cass’ smile out of the corner of her eye.

“I assure you it can’t be worse than Uncle Jagged himself. He introduces me to all my new clients and I swear it gets more embarrassing every time. I’m fairly certain he practices just to annoy me.” Bruce’s mouth twitched into something between a smile and a grimace.

“Do not underestimate the boys’ ability to be annoying or embarrassing. That’s not even counting the fact that Damian is likely to challenge you to a duel in order to prove that he’s meant to be my true heir and I have no idea what weapons he managed to smuggle on the plane.” Marinette rolled her eyes. Why wasn’t she surprised?

“I take it Talia’s teachings are still strong?” He frowned at her. Oh right, he didn’t know she knew. “When she and Ra’s were in Paris she enjoyed bragging about him and his bloodlines. That’s how I figured out you were Batman. But don’t worry, I can handle him.” The skeptical look he shot her just made her grin. “Trust me. Besides, I just have to prove I’m not a threat to him. Given that I have no wish to take over your business and I have my own hero problems to worry about there’s no reason for him to take issue with me.” Bruce still seemed uncertain but Cass signed something at him and he nodded.

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.” While Bruce obviously doubted her, she felt nothing but confidence from her twin. As nervous as she was to meet the others, Damian trying to kill her wasn’t that big a problem. At least with him, she knew what to expect.

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

Ko-Fi

Tag List

@moonystars14 @ladybug-182 @elmokingkong @smolplantmum @jessigurl-design @trippingovermyfeet @its-salty-bug @whydoexamsexist @scorchdragon88 @alenee13 @lil-1254s-blog @sturchling @random-fandoms7 @fandom-writer642 @chylou34 @thewitchwhowaited @junarvion @laurcad123 @hakoirii @aestheticnpoetic @aegyobutpsycho2 @sassakitty @swiftie-miraculer13 @miraculous-simmer7 @peachedpocky @misslenamooney @shamefullove @user00000003 @18-fandoms-unite-08 @galla02006 @thestressmademedoit @toodaloo-kangaroo @trinity-1002107 @alessialeone6997 @i-shizen @necromancerflight @astoriaandromeda @devils-wrath @adrestar

#MLB DC Crossover #marinette dupain cheng #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #bio dad bruce wayne

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Frustration

Characters: Childe, Diluc, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,068 words

Premise: Commissions don’t always go as planned, much to your frustration. Luckily there’s someone there to make you feel better.

Author’s Note: So I’ve been thinking of writing Genshin stuff for months now but haven’t, for various reasons mainly that being how much this blog is already a bit of a disarrayed mess. But after awhile I decided another fandom won’t hurt. Besides I think it’s better to write something than nothing, even if the fandom keeps changing. So… yeah?

This particular scenario was basically my day today. The characters have been chosen out of my own personal will. I was going to do Zhongli as well but I’m exhausted so if this is well received perhaps I’ll do that another day.

Also I’m so tired I’m halfway to a headache and feel a bit floaty so sorry if there are grammar mistakes and such. Anyways, hope you like!

Character Banners in progress

Ao3 link in reblog

Childe

“I’m gonna kill someone.” You muttered, slamming your weapon down on the table, causing the ginger next to you to start.

“As long as that person’s not me I’ll be glad to help you.” You weren’t sure whether you found the comment worrying, insulting, or charming, and decided not to reply, instead throwing yourself in the chair across from Childe, usually reserved for customers or some member of the Fatui higherups, though today you could care less.

“Hey, am I not good enough?” Childe half whined half joked. You only grunted before getting up and walking over to his chair, plopping yourself on his lap and promptly picking at a stray thread on his coat which had caught your eye and was now becoming an increasing source of irritation.

Taking this as a sign Childe gently pried your nails away from the offending thread. Placing your palms in his gloved hands he smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Want to tell me about it?”

“It’s this stupid ley line! You know, the one in the stone forest? I was commissioned to keep an eye on it, normal stuff, but this one seems absolutely crawling with all sorts of slimes and the like, hilichurls too and a stray bandit here or there. They keeping breaking the damn thing and the minute I fix it they’re back again. At this rate I’m not going to finish it!” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking of the hours you’d spent fighting with the thing. You’d even let out a few tears of frustration in the process, and having nothing to show for it was intensely irritating, to say the least.

“Poor darling.” Childe’s smirk was timeless, but there was a softness to it that you took as confirmation that he understood. I mean if anyone was going to understand it was going to be a member of the Fatui. As much as you disliked the group on principle, you did have to admit that Childe was certainly a hard worker, and running around at the whims of the far off Tsaritsa certainly had its trials.

Slumping against his chest you allowed yourself to relax a bit, some tension brought out simply by the act of telling someone about the frustrations that were building up, like someone shaking a corked bottle. Childe kissed your hands, a welcome distraction, before giving you a peck on the nose. You smiled at that, squeezing his hands. It felt good to have someone to complain to, to have someone who understood. But that was Childe, surprisingly understanding. And always looking for a fight.

“So…” as if on cue Childe spoke up, tone becoming truer, his smile becoming more foxlike. “You have something you need help fighting I hear.”

“Don’t let this get you any ideas.” You smirked right back. “I can still whip you when it comes to sparring at you know it. Besides, won’t I get in trouble if you’re there.”

“Give me half the commission rate and we’ll call it square.”

“Such a steep rate!” You gasped in fake horror, nevertheless lifting yourself off the chair. Childe was up no sooner, giving you a mischievous grin.

“Well of course! I can’t have you fleecing me out of my money. Not when I’ve already given you my heart, which is quite expensive by the way.” Giving you a quick forehead kiss he took your hand then, giving some half assed excuse to the poor desk clerk when they asked where he was going. “I have to save someone some trouble.”

You scoffed at that, but it was true. Childe was saving you a lot of trouble, and keeping your pride in some sort of piece. That was Childe. Wild, passionate, aching for a fight, perhaps not a great person – no in fact decidedly not so. But he was also surprisingly caring, reliable, and steadfast. And that was all you could ask for in the moment.

Diluc

“Do you know where in Monstadt someone is supposed to find 50 Windwheel Asters?”

Diluc whipped his head up at that one; out of all the things he expected you to say that was certainly not one of them. It was almost closing time at the Winery, and this was normally the time when you came up to see him, chatting about this and that, waiting for him to close the ledger so you two could have some time together. In the entire history of your relationship there’d never been an evening that began such as this.

“There should be some around here, and Windrise if you’re in for a bit of a hike. But 50 is an awful lot, and I’m not sure the florists would be happy if you carted off with all their flowers.”

“I know.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the wall, picking at your fingernails. “I know that finding 50 of anything in a day is a hard task. But I was given a short noticed commission by some wealthy tradesman who’s passing by and wanted some flowers for a gala or some such thing. It’s important for the Guild that I complete these you know, and I’m not looking forward to telling Katheryne about it tomorrow.”

You sighed, glancing out the window of the Winery. You thought of all the places in Monstadt the view was perhaps loveliest here, cozy, with a view of all that made Monstadt, the planes, the forest, even a glimpse of the waterways that ran through it. But right now all you could think about was how in such a vast swath of land you’d still failed to meet the goal, you’d still turned up empty handed.

“Would you sit next to me?” Diluc’s voice broke you out of your depressing reverie and you sat down in the chair adjacent to his – a recent addition to his office – laying your head somewhat awkwardly on his shoulder, running your hands through his soft hair. You two sat in silence like that for a bit, the steady flow of Diluc’s pen keeping your eyes occupied while your hands braided and twisted at random, gentle and absentminded.

Finally the ledger was closed and Diluc turned to you. Smiling he massaged your left shoulder slightly, eliciting a sigh from you.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for things like this.” He began, his tone soft and low. “No reasonable person on Earth would ask you to gather so many flowers in a day. Even Flora doesn’t sell that many to a single customer without an order, and her whole job consists of selling flora. You’ve watched me work long enough, do you think I’d sell 50 kegs of wine to a tradesman on site?”

“No, of course not.” You mumbled. “But it’s my job to do the unconventional requests, how can I pick and choose at random? I can’t very well complete only half of my commissions.”

“Of course not, but nobody expects you to simultaneously catch 50 flowers out of thin air either. The Guild has its own regulations and rules you know, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this was a violation of one. No one doubts your prowess my dear. You’ve slain Eyes of Storms and have scaled mountains taller than most people in Monstadt might ever imagine. You done what might be considered impossible to some many times. So you should trust in the Guild and in the people of Monstadt. They aren’t well likely to turn their back on you over such a ridiculous request.”

You hummed a reply, resting your hands on Diluc’s. All he said was probably right of course, Katheryne could very well tell you how ridiculous such a request was, and no harm would come to your reputation. But your relationship with Diluc was still young, there was still so much to learn about the other, and so hearing such confident praise from him felt like a sort of gift, recompense for such a frustrating ordeal. Humming once more you leaned your head on his shoulder again. Tomorrow you would go and tell the Guild about the debacle, and let the man know the ridiculousness of his request. But tonight you just wanted to rest with the person you cherished the most. That was all you wished for.

Xiao

“Something’s wrong.” Xiao’s voice was purposefully flat, and you wondered not for the first time how the adeptus in front of you had become so good at reading your mood, especially considering the fact that he admitted himself that his grasp on human emotions was a tricky one. He always seemed to know when you were upset at least, and your initial urge to attempt to hide your frustration immediately blew away.

“It’s been a rough day.” You admitted, standing next to him on the Wangshu Inn’s railing, letting the cool evening breeze cool you down. It’d been an obnoxiously hot day, and you were glad for any bit of fresh air. Xiao said nothing, but you could feel his gaze on you, waiting for your decision as to whether or not you’d let him know the reason you were upset. Not that it was really a question, at this point you couldn’t imagine a time when you didn’t tell Xiao practically everything, from the most mundane to those things that loomed largest in your life. You’d never met someone you trusted so much in your life before, and it felt rather freeing, knowing that he didn’t mind a bit, something that had scared you when you first began opening up to him.

“It’s just a commission, nothing ground shaking. Thankfully.” You added on, thinking of when Liyue had almost been swallowed whole; the moment when it seemed all would fail, before the miraculous traveler had bound the adept and the citizens of Liyue together. It was something you weren’t likely to forget, and something you never wished to relive. “That being said.” You added on. “It’s something that, well, is distressing me a lot.”

Xiao stood patiently as you explained to him that your deceptively simple commission of delivering food to someone had managed to go horribly awry after a group of Cryo slimes had left the food frozen solid, with the angry customer unwilling to pay or wait for a replacement.

“It wasn’t too expensive thankfully.” You remarked. “I mean it was just food. But it feels silly, and a bit embarrassing. I mean of course I should’ve paid, I don’t begrudge that. I just don’t understand how I managed to screw up something so fundamentally simple. It seems… somehow a bit of a slap in the fact. I mean, aren’t I any good?”

“Of course you are.” Xiao’s answer was firm, but not unkind. Instead it held in it the certainty of one who’d lived thousands of years, and whose trust in you was absolute. Drawing closer, the adeptus glanced around, making sure there was no one around, before slinging an arm around your own, drawing you close and running soft circles around your shoulder.

“You’re a great adventurer.” He remarked, voice filled with as much serious as there was fondness. “I’ve seen many warriors, many adventurers come and go in my time. Those whose feats will fill the pages of books and the staves of songs long after they themselves have been reduced to ashes. Those who will be called great heroes. All of them fell sometimes. And, if you must fall, I’d rather it be over something so simple as a botched food delivery.”

You glanced up into Xiao’s eyes. Normally he was reticent with words, even moreso with gestures. Every word let you deeper into someone’s life, into their past, their personality, their soul. No word was careless with Xiao. And as you stared at eyes filled with pride and love and worry, suddenly you felt as if what had just passed was small, oh so very small. There would be another commission, just as there would be another tomorrow. There’d be another failure most likely too. Many of them even. But they were small stones in a great big pond, quickly sinking out of sight and out of mind.

“I love you.” You breathed, and Xiao’s face seemed to open all of a sudden, shedding a thousand cares and a thousand worries. He pressed his forehead to your own.

“I love you too.”

#I'm so so so tired #sorry for not writing for so long #and having no good schedule of works of fandoms #I'm sorry #genshin impact #childe #diluc #xiao #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact x reader #scenarios #my writing

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foodieforthoughts · 3 years

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Sand and Stars - Chapter Eight

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, foul language, mentions of war, military technicalities (thread with caution)

A/N: Dum, Dum, DUM!!! We are finally here! The smutty part of the series is here and also an added twist in the end. I hope you guys like it because we are almost reaching the end. And as always a massive thank you to the wonderful beta @thelastsock who's been a huge help. Also, thank you to @cheyentjj for suggesting an appropriate face claim for Liv, Julianne Hough is the only one I’ll see as Liv now.

<Chapter Seven

Title: Chapter Eight

Sy grumbled as he stared at himself in the mirror. His buzz cut was growing out and his beard was becoming scrawnier. He turned his head to the side, grazing his finger over the cut he had over his cheekbone. He had no idea how he had even gotten bruised like that. He wasn’t one to have an opinion on how he looked, but now that he had a woman in his life, he was suddenly more mindful.

Shrugging his shoulders, Sy turned around to grab his t-shirt from the back of the chair. His eye caught the silver chain lying on the table. He grabbed it in his hand, turning the medal in his palm. Liv always wore it but somehow, she had forgotten about it today. Sy was not religious or superstitious but he liked the idea that Liv’s friend cared about her enough to gift her something to keep her safe all the time.

Placing the chain back on the table, Sy couldn't help but think about what he had going on with Liv since the night she had spent in his room. He felt their relationship had evolved; she was opening up to him, telling him about her life, letting him in. Although, his heart had ached when she had told him about her family.

Sy had his arm draped over Liv, his fingers entwined with hers. Her back against his chest, her head resting on his extended arm. It was the third night in a row when Liv had come knocking on his door. He didn’t question her, only embraced her and cuddled her to sleep.

“Are you still awake?” He had whispered that night, not wanting to disturb the silence.

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?” When she nodded, he continued. “What did you mean by ‘no one’s waiting for you back home’?”

Sy stared at the back of her head. He had been meaning to ask her about it for a while, but the moment never seemed right. He was almost certain she wasn’t going to answer when Liv sighed.

“My dad always wanted a son.” She adjusted against him, pulling his arm tighter around her. “He’s a real estate broker and has made a fortune out of it. He always had the idea that a son would be the one he would pass the mantle to.”

Sy scoffed. “That’s misogynistic.”

“Yeah, that’s my dad.” Liv sighed. “After I was born, he was clearly disappointed. He took his frustration out on mom, he treated her very badly. In turn, she took it out on me. So, I never really spent time with them as much. When my brother was born, my father was overjoyed and showered my mother with all his love, and she decided to dedicate her life to my brother’s upbringing. When my grandma asked me if I wanted to move in with her, I didn’t even put up a fight, and neither did they.”

“Baby,” Sy turned her in his arms to face him. Liv’s eyes held sorrow but there were no tears. Sy wondered if she had grown so accustomed to being neglected by her parents, she didn’t even feel anything more than disappointment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. If they wouldn’t have treated me the way they did, I wouldn’t have become the person I am today. I probably wouldn’t have even joined the army.” She placed her hand on his cheek, smiling weakly. “How would I have met you?”

Sy smiled to himself. He had kissed her after that, feeling immensely happy for having her in his life. He would have never imagined meeting an incredible woman like Liv while being out in the desert. Sometimes he wondered if he was falling for her.

“Hey!” Liv announced, opening the door wide. She had a huge smile on her face, her skin slick with sweat and her eyes blown wide with exhilaration. “Pepps’s going to tell you everything, but I was so excited to tell you first.”

Sy raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. He could see Liv practically bouncing on her toes as she rubbed her hands together. He watched as she closed the door and walked up to him to give a chaste kiss on his lips.

“You know we’ve been trying to get more people on our side,” she pulled her jacket off, draping it neatly over the chair. She plopped down on the bed, crossing her legs and smiling widely up at Sy. “We just got someone on the inside.”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me we have intel that there’s a new leader for the militants, I suggested we should try someone to infiltrate the group. Mahmoud fixed us with a young man who is on our side but will provide us information about the militant activities.”

Sy was impressed. He had approved Pepps for trying to recruit Mahmoud’s man, but Liv had no knowledge about it. He wanted to see how much effort Liv was ready to put into getting the job done. He felt even prouder and in awe of his woman every time he saw her in action.

“Also,” She straightened her leg and fished out a trimmer from her pocket. “I managed to get it from a barber shop at the village.”

Sy smirked with a naughty thought entering his mind. “Want a trim? Maybe I could help.”

Liv rolled her eyes at him and started detangling the wires from the trimmer. “Just FYI, I got everything laser removed. So, it’s smooth like butter down there.”

Sy felt his mouth go dry with the new revelation. He couldn’t help but let his imagination run wild, thinking exactly about having his mouth on the aforementioned part of Liv's body. Explicit was often where his thoughts went when he had her in his arms lately. Her body fit wonderfully in his, arranged in his arms like a perfectly matched puzzle piece. Each night he fought the urge to wake her and make love to her then and there.

“Okay, soldier. I can practically hear your thoughts.” She snickered, pointing at his crotch. He grumbled adjusting his pants that had tightened under the inevitable effect of his filthy ideas. “And this for you. I see how you keep looking at your hair and your beard. I could give you a buzz.”

Sy scoffed, grabbing his gun from the table and putting it in his thigh holster. “I’ll get it done from someone else.”

“Sy, I’m tired and I have only three hours until I have to go to my post. So please, get your ass here.” She bent down to wave her hand over the floor. She plugged in the trimmer on the socket above the bed. She looked at him expectantly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

“If anything goes wrong, we’ll just shave it all.” Sy muttered and sat down on the floor, resting his back against the metal frame of his bed. He grimaced as the familiar buzzing of the trimmer started behind him. With the touch of the old blades of the device, Sy winced involuntarily.

“Stop it.” Liv warned, holding onto his shoulder and running the trimmer along his neck. “I know what I’m doing, Captain J.A. Syverson.”

Sy groaned on hearing his full name. Liv staying in his room meant she noticed personal things about him. She had looked through his trunk for a spare t-shirt and casually asked him about his initials written on the metal box. He knew at some point she ought to know about his first name, but he was perfectly fine with being known by his last name for the time being.

“I figured it out by the way.” He could hear the glee in her voice over the buzzing of the machine. “Why did you never tell me your name's John Andrew?” She giggled, brushing the hairs out of his t-shirt.

“I was getting to it.” He mumbled bringing his legs up and resting his arms on them. “Who told you?”

“I’m not going to rat out my informant.” Liv tapped him on his shoulder and indicated him to look up. She trimmed the hair on the top of his head with her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth in concentration. Sy smiled at her adorable face, his fingers itched to touch her. She kissed the top of his head when she noticed his smile, moving onto his side burns next.

He tried to look at her from the corner of his eyes while she trimmed his hair. Everything about this situation felt so domestic. He had no clue he had yearned for something like this, only feeling it now he was experiencing it. It felt blissful and satisfying. Sy also felt delighted about Liv’s cheerful attitude and watching her be her previous self was like a breath of freshness in the stale air of grief that surrounded her.

“All done.” Liv announced. She dusted off the hair, turning his head from side to side to check her work. “Part-time at the local salon has finally paid off.”

Sy was about to stand up to look in the mirror when a knock sounded on the door. Pats, from his men, pushed open the door. A cigarette hung from his mouth, his dark beard scraggly and long. Sy jutted his chin for him to speak, looking himself in the mirror and being content with the way Liv had trimmed his hair.

“Call from the base.” Pats informed, throwing a casual wave towards Liv before heading out into the corridor.

“Duty calls, Captain.” Liv yawned, sniffling and settling down on his bed. “Wake me up when you come back?” She yawned again as she pulled the blanket over her body.

“You’re going to sleep here?” Sy questioned as he walked back to Liv. He smiled as Liv nodded, pulling the blanket up to her nose. Sy looked down at her, smiling as he observed her bundled up on his bed. For the first time in his entire military career, he wanted to neglect his job and just curl up next to Liv. “How do I thank you for a job well done?”

Sy noted how Liv bit her lip between her teeth, looking up at him with mischief dancing in her eyes. She closed her eyes and brought her arm to rest on her forehead. “I’m sure you can come up with something.” She whispered sensuously, peeking at him from underneath her arm.

Sy felt his throat go dry again as several ideas popped up in his head. He cleared his throat and leaned down to place a kiss on her lips. “Will do, ma’am.” He said, stealing another kiss and walking out the room. He looked down at his wrist watch, anticipation already brewing for when he could get back to her.

***

Liv groaned as the voices of men from the other room disturbed her sleep once again. It was a hefty price to pay for being a light-sleeper and living around men who could be boisterous when need be. She turned around to face the wall and pulled Sy’s blanket closer to her face. She breathed in the faint smell of his musk, imagining him to be lying next to her. Habituation was a bitch because she couldn’t get a good sleep until she had Sy’s arms around her.

The door to his room creaked open, alerting her of another presence. She half turned her body to look behind as she heard the door lock and found Sy in the process of removing his holster.

“Back already?” She looked at her wrist watch and noted she still had plenty of time until she had to go to her post. “What did base want-” Her question was cut short as Sy kneeled down next to the bed and captured her lips for a heated kiss. She gasped as he pulled the blanket off her body and threw it unceremoniously on the floor. Without breaking the contact between their lips, Sy climbed on the bed over Liv, capturing her between his limbs.

When they broke away to take a breath, Liv placed her hands on his chest. “What was that?”

“I’m thankin’ ya.” His accent came out prominent and his voice grew huskier. Liv noted how far his pupils were blown as lust overtook his darkening orbs. Running his tongue over his lower lip, Sy leaned down again to kiss her while pulling at her t-shirt tucked in her pants.

Liv’s heart skipped a beat when Sy’s warm calloused hand touched her bare stomach. She arched her back to let Sy pull the t-shirt off her head. She moaned as Sy let his lips travel down the side of her neck, pausing to suck at an erogenous zone which made her toes curl. She grabbed at his t-shirt, tugged at it and helped Sy discard it, adding to the pile of clothes on the floor. She took a moment to marvel at his furry chest, raking her nails over his torso and down to his belly. Her core quivered as she eyed the hairy line that travelled down the middle of his stomach, disappearing beneath his belt.

“I want you so badly right now.” Sy breathed, resuming his work on Liv’s neck, his beard leaving a tingling sensation as it grazed her skin. She reached between their bodies and worked at his belt with an unrestrained urgency. His erection was already beginning to strain against the fabric of his pants, rubbing on her lower abdomen as he moved down to her chest. “I want to fuck you so hard.” He growled against her chest, pulling her bra down to expose her hardened nipples.

Liv gasped as Sy latched onto her nub, sucking at it and grabbing at her other breast. She closed her eyes, drowning herself in pleasure as Sy lavished attention on her tits, sucking and groping each in turn. She palmed Sy through his pants, getting a groan in response that vibrated against her chest. He bucked his hip down, rubbing his crotch against her hand which jostled against her own groin, sending a jolt of excitement throughout her body.

With sweaty hands, she tugged at his pants and pulled them down his hips. Sy shimmed himself out of them and kicked it down to join the discarded clothes. Liv licked her lips, grabbing at Sy’s hardening length which pulled a throaty moan from him. She gulped as she stroked his cock, her fingers unable to fist it entirely in her hand. Sy travelled down her chest leaving kisses along the trail. Her body shivered with what was to come as Sy hurriedly bared her to his gaze.

Lying under Sy’s lascivious stare, Liv’s core throbbed, her stomach fluttered as she felt exposed and vulnerable. She clenched her thighs together as the warmth from her cheeks travelled down to her chest. Sy licked his lips with desire blazing in his eyes. He leaned down again to kiss along her thigh, tickling her with his scruff and nudging her legs apart with his hands. She watched with baited breath, craning her neck to look between her thighs as Sy kissed his path to her mound. Her thighs shuddered as his warm breath washed over her drenched hole. She clutched at the sheets with the anticipation of feeling his mouth on her.

“Get to it already.” Liv pleaded. She could feel Sy smirking against her for which she wanted to just shove his face on her need when suddenly he ran his tongue over her slit. “Fuck.” She rasped as an exquisite pleasure consumed her body. She couldn’t help but moan as Sy pulled her tender folds apart with his fingers, opening her up to him as he lapped at her with voracious hunger.

“You taste delicious, Liv.” He cooed while stopping to pepper kisses on her inner thigh, his finger rimming her clenching pussy. Liv was aware of the many men littered around the compound, some even in the adjacent room. She bit her lip from stopping herself to cry out like a wanton whore as Sy thrusted a thick digit inside her. She grabbed at his shoulder, digging her nails in his skin as he returned to flick his tongue over her clit.

Liv was a squirming mess as Sy worked around her cunt, devouring her with a carnal need and thrusting his finger inside her with fervor. She brought her other hand to her exposed breast, pinching her nipples between her fingers. It wasn’t like Liv was a virgin, but she had to admit she had never felt so overwhelmed by a man eating her out. A strained moan escaped her lips as Sy added another finger and pumped them together, curling them inside her to rub against her swollen bundle of nerves. She could briefly feel his mouth sucking at her sensitive nub, nibbling at it momentarily before licking it.

“Sy.” She groaned. The knot in her belly was tense with her impending orgasm that Sy was trying to draw out from her. She gasped with widened eyes when a third finger entered her tight hole, Sy scissoring them while plunging them in and out of her. It was too much for her to take and with an unrestrained groan she came against his fingers, her body trembling under the intensity of her orgasm.

She laid spent on the bed, sweat covering her skin as ripples of aftershock travelled down her body. Sy licked her clean, placing a gentle kiss on her clit and climbing up to her face. She looked at him with a weak smile, noticing the grin on his lips under his wet whiskers.

“Fuck me, Sy.” She instructed raggedly. Sy leaned down to take her lips in his, her taste lingering on his lips and tongue. She took a shuddering breath as he lined his throbbing cock against her dripping entrance. In one swift move Sy entered her with a grunt, splitting her with his girth and drawing out a sinful moan from the pair. The tip of his cock rubbed against the apex of her womb, teasing it as he moved his hips to pull himself out before plunging inside her again.

“God, you feel so good.” Sy groaned as he began pounding into her with vigor. “I won’t last long.” He warned, laying over her body and bringing his arms underneath her back. He circled her lithe waist with his strong, wide arms as he mercilessly thrusted into her every time reaching up to the hilt, the metal frame of their bed rattling with Sy's thrusts. The sounds outside had faded into nothing, only the wet sound of skin on skin and rhythmic moans reached their ears.

Liv wound her arms around his neck kissing him deeply with a ravenous need to feel every inch of his body. “Cum inside me.” She breathed against his mouth, looking into his eyes with fervent desire. She could feel the unmistakable coiling in her lower belly as Sy’s pelvis ground against her sensitive clit. She knew Sy was close as his thrusts became frantic and his grunts became louder, chasing his release.

Liv dug her face in his neck as another wave of euphoria washed over her making her cry out in ecstasy. Her walls clenched around his pulsating cock and with a guttural, animalistic groan, Sy jerked his hips one last time as he finally reached his release. She felt his release painting her walls, milking him for every drop. The warmth pooling inside her mirroring the warmth pooling in her chest as she regarded Sy above her.

Sy lay over her, careful not to crush Liv with his weight. As he caught his breath, he made to move away but Liv placed her hands on his taut buttocks. halting his movement.

“Stay inside me.” She pleaded with him. Tears pricked at her eyes, her senses overwhelmed with the profound, all consuming passion she had experienced moments ago. Sy looked up at her, his sweat slicked skin sliding against hers. A soft smile lifted the corners of his lips as his eyes focused on hers.

“I’ve never fallen for someone so hard and so fast.”

Liv stared at him, astonished at his words. She blinked, trying to understand if she was hearing him right. She was at a loss of words, confused and consumed with the fluttering in her chest. She could hear the rapid beating of her heart in her ears as the moments ticked by.

Sy reached up to cup her cheek, sympathy shining in his eyes at the overwhelmed woman in front of him. “You don’t have to say it back, but I think I love you.” He grazed his lips gently over hers, the carnal desire from before replaced with delicate emotion. The silent kiss they shared was soft and placid, enveloping Liv in an unknown tranquillity. “And to answer your question from earlier, base is sending more people here.” he added, with a cheeky smile.

***

Liv gazed at Sy while being seated from across him in his office. He was looking over the papers about the new team arriving later in the day. He wasn’t thrilled about accommodating more people, grumbling about how they worked better in a small unit. She bit her lip as the memories of their frenzied lovemaking from only a few hours earlier came to her mind. There was a huge hickey on her chest which tingled with her heating cheeks.

“Stop staring, Liv.” He mumbled, not even glancing up at her and reaching out to his cup of coffee.

“I’m not staring. I’m admiring.” She teased. She stood up, grabbing her gun from his table and slinging the strap over her shoulder. “Stop stressing about the new people.” She walked up to him and placed a kiss on top of his head. “I’m going to head out.”

“Stay safe.” He called out, shuffling the papers around.

“Be nice.” She winked at him when he looked up.

Liv walked out into the compound with a bounce in her step. Ever since Sy had told her he loved her, she felt elated. She knew she felt something for him but was confused if she liked him or was it love. She didn’t want to mislead him with false promises, waiting to make sure what she felt for him was indeed ‘love’. She'd made that mistake before.

Pepps greeted her near their Humvee. She had grown accustomed to the man’s company and respected him for his skills as a soldier and a negotiator. He tipped his cap at her, pulling his gun up from the hood of the vehicle. “It’s going to be a good day.” He commented before rounding out to the other side and getting into the car.

After an entire day of talking to various men and women who supported their help, Liv was content with their progress in increasing local assistance. One lady had offered her home-made lunch which had smelled delicious but owing to protocols, she had to decline. She had been ecstatic with the new information they had gathered from the informant about the militant leader which was apparent by the bouncing of her leg with impatience.

When they arrived at the camp, Liv noticed the new Humvees parked out front with new faces greeting them at the gate.

“Guess they are here.” Pepps announced, driving their car to an empty spot.

Liv noticed Sloan jogging up to her hurriedly. She alighted the car but was quickly held by the shoulders by the blonde. “You are not prepared for this.” She warned, turning her head to look behind her.

“What-?” Liv questioned but was rendered speechless as her eyes followed Sloan’s line of sight.

It was like the air from her lungs had been punched out. She felt her limbs become cold as a bead of chilling sweat dribbled down her forehead. She gulped as with pressed lips she stared at the one person she did not expect to see, not until she was on leave again. It was like god was laughing at her and plotting to twist her life as she watched both Sy and Alex walk towards her.

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

Chapter Nine>

#Captain syverson #captain Syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #Captain Syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #sand and stars series

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lunar-jimin · 4 years

Text

i can be temptation, you can be my sin

Pairing: Jimin x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4.5k

Genre: smut, tiny side of angst and fluff, office!au (not the TV show), coworkers!au

Warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dom!Jimin, sub!reader, spanking, fingering, semi-public sex, dirty talk, degradation, reader sends nudes

Summary: Between bragging about his prolific sex life and his horrific design ideas, Jimin has managed to make your work life a living hell. Then one little accident sends you hurtling towards him, and as hard as you try, you can’t seem to stop yourself.

A/N: This is a commission for @ppersonna for @ficswithluv‘s ChangesWithLuv project dedicated to raising money for BLM. I’m so sorry this fic took forever to write (I’m not sure why), but I hope that you enjoy it! A huge shout-out to my lovely beta-reader, @jinterlude. She’s the best!

| m.list |

“Jimin…” a groan tumbles out of you, “that shade of yellow is-“

“Bright and comforting?”

“-awful.”

His thick lips curve into a pout, eyes doing little to conceal his mock hurt. Exasperation runs through your body, grasping your brain in its clutches. Your entire week has been filled with Jimin’s progressively hideous design ideas for a book cover, to the point you’re beginning to wonder how he got hired at all. The piss-yellow mock-up in front of you is just another straw in the stack that is going to break your back.

“What?” he looks confused, “You said you wanted something eye-catching, and I would have to say this is pretty darn, eye-catching.”

“It’s blinding is what it is. Maybe if we toned it back a bit…” your eyes drift over the design, horror twisting in your gut.

You want to cry. A week ago, your boss had enthusiastically paired you with Jimin to design a book cover for an up and coming YA author, claiming the two of you were the best designers she had, even promising the both of you a promotion if things went well. You aren’t sure what designs Jimin had produced in the past, because what he was bringing to the table now wasn’t much better than a shitty college club poster.

Jimin didn’t make for great company either. Sure he had legs that went for miles, and a face that would outshine angels, but his mouth was filthy. If the two of you weren’t bickering over fonts and hex codes, you were stuck listening to him brag about how loud he could make a girl scream. What’s worse is that while your brain was logical enough to know that Jimin was no good for you, your body had other ideas. As a result, you often went home after a long day, frustrated in more ways than one.

With a little luck- and quite a bit of compromising- you manage to make it to five ‘o’clock without murdering anyone. You manage to talk Jimin down off the yellow in exchange for completing the pitch presentation by yourself. Presentations are time-consuming and tedious, but it’s better than being out of a job because Jimin is set on making the cover look like a neon highlighter.

A half an hour later, you're collapsing on your soft couch, ready to do absolutely nothing for the rest of the weekend. A sigh of relief carries an iota of the stress out of your body as you sink back into the welcoming cushions. You grimace as the tension in your neck became apparent, and you feel the growing ball of angst you have for Jimin tighten. You were going to send him the bill if you had to go to a chiropractor.

In an attempt to move on from your hectic week and into your relaxing weekend, you wander to the kitchen, searching for the merlot you have yet to open. The tall green bottle greets you from the counter. You find a glass and watch as the red liquid quickly fills it. You savor a long sip as you let your mind stray away from the thoughts of work and stress and into notions of self-care and relaxation.

An hour later, having eaten a frozen pizza, you find yourself soaking down into the hot bath suds. The heat begins to draw the ache out of your sore muscles. Once again, Jimin flashes through your mind, coupled with resentment. Your eyes prickle at the thought, sick and tired of Jimin living in your mind rent-free. Why is he preoccupying your brain instead of Seokjin, the cute cook you matched with on Tinder?

While you had yet to meet in person, you and Seokjin had hit off right away when he opened with the cheesiest pick-up line you’d ever heard. He worked at a five-star restaurant a few blocks from your office, but you’d never met in person. That didn’t mean that you hadn’t had a few scandalous conversations. You weren’t usually one for sexting, but Seokjin’s way with words left you little choice.

Eager to take Jimin off your mind, you grab your phone from the side of the tub, quickly opening your messages. You’re much too impatient for small talk, so in the interest of sparking some saucy dialogue, you take a few snaps of your bubble-covered nude body. You suck in a breath as you hit send, anxious for your reaction. It wasn’t the first time you had sent him a nude photo, but it didn’t make you any less nervous. Seokjin was one of the most attractive men you had ever had the privilege of laying eyes on, and it was only natural for you to question your appearance in comparison to his. He would always reassure you, though, flattering you with compliments, both sultry and sweet.

When he doesn’t respond fifteen minutes, a knot forms in your stomach. What if he didn’t like them? What if he was seeing someone else? What if he lost interest? You check your messages with hurried concern. What you find on your screen mortifies. In your haste to tease Seokjin, you had accidentally sent the photos to the last person you texted: Jimin. Worse yet, the little grey “read” sits just beneath the last picture. As you stare at the screen with abject horror, a little speech-bubble pops-up. Your stomach twists in knots, anticipating of what he might say striking you with fear.

The Office Brat: if you wanted a piece of me baby girl, all you had to do was ask 20:33

You suck in a breath when he immediately follows the text with a picture of his own. He’s shirtless, lip between his teeth as he grabs his prominent erection through grey sweatpants. You can’t help the whine that slips out of your mouth at the image. You try to ignore the heat that rushes to your core as your legs rub together. When your senses finally return to you, you drop your phone on the bath mat before sinking into the water, leaving only your face out. The photo is still seared into your brain, taunting you with his delicious abs and what turned out to be a healthy sized dick.

You immediately resolve to forget it ever happened. You spend the rest of the weekend attempting to distract yourself through a binge of every cheesy rom-com you can find on Netflix. You sent Jimin a quick text, informing him that the photos weren’t actually for him. He hadn’t responded, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or not. It certainly didn’t aid the dread building in your stomach at the thought of having to face him again on Monday.

When you walk into the office two days later, you’re relieved to find that Jimin seemed nowhere to be found. You pray that he actually had an iota of shame and quit out of humiliation. Your hopes are crushed when not five minutes later, you notice him prancing toward your cubicle, his ever-present smirk plastered across his face. When he reaches you, he plops down in an extra desk chair, arms crossed across his chest, eyes looking you up and down. You can’t help but shiver at the knowledge that he knows precisely what you look like underneath your work clothes.

“What do you want, Jimin?” you sigh.

“Haven’t I made that obvious, baby?” He grins. “I want you.”

You roll your eyes.

“Jimin, what happened this weekend was an accident,” you give him a firm glare, “so no matter how much you claim to want me, I want nothing to do with you.:

He raises his eyebrow, eyes locked on yours, before standing and walking to you. His breath is warm on your neck as he leans over to whisper in your ear. You clench your thighs in an attempt to extinguish the heat beginning to burn in between them.

“We’ll see about that, now won’t we, baby girl?”

He pulls away with a smirk, before turning to head to his desk. Your eyes trail to his ass as he leaves, only worsening the situation in your underwear. You silently vow to yourself not to fall for his tricks. You have more self-respect than to allow yourself to be yet another notch in Park Jimin’s bedpost.

Brushing thoughts of your troublesome coworker from your mind, you turn back to your bright computer screen, determined to lose yourself in your work. Your eyes widen when you find an email from Jimin taunting you in your inbox. Heart pounding fast, you click on it, half afraid to find another nude of his (it wouldn’t be beyond him). Instead of a naked Jimin, a PDF with the details for the cover design presents itself. You’re taken aback. Not only had Jimin swapped the yellow for soft coral, but he practically redesigned the entire thing. Scrolling through, you’re embarrassed to admit that it was nearly as good, if not better, then some of your best works.

You immediately realize that this means he’s been pulling your leg for over a week. A groan escapes you, and your head falls forward, smashing into your keyboard. Of course, he was a fucking amazing graphic artist; you shouldn’t have expected anything less. Fury floods down your spine as it dawns on you that it was all a trick to get out of doing the PowerPoint. Now you were stuck making an entire presentation, just because Jimin had pretended to love piss-yellow.

It takes every ounce of your self-control not to march to his desk and strangle him. White anger flashes in front of your eyes, resentment growing to cover every waking thought in your brain. When you finally calm enough to rationalize that murder isn’t going to get you anywhere, you decide that your best course of action is to avoid him until the day of the two of you are scheduled to present to the board.

The world isn’t being kind to you today, because when you finally head to the break room for lunch, you immediately run into your new worst enemy.

“What’s got your panties in a knot now, love?”

You glare at him, not trusting yourself not to stab him with your salad fork. He smirks in response, before turning to leave. At the last second, he turns back to you.

“Have fun with that PowerPoint.”

You want to scream.

“Jimin, I swear to god, you little shit, I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna what? Spank me?” His cheeky grin widens. “You know, baby, I’m usually a dom, but if it meant feeling your sweet pussy, I’d definitely be a sub.”

You are lucky that no one else is around to hear his words because you are mortified enough. Red creeps across your face as Jimin winks at you. When he finally leaves, you collapse back onto the counter, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. You swear to high heaven that you’ve never hated someone so much in your life, yet feel so attracted to them at the same time. As infuriated as you are with him, you are even more infuriated with your inability to control your body’s reaction to him.

Why did he have to know exactly what to say to soak your panties? Why was he so hellbent on getting you to sleep with him? Why did you ever have to be assigned to him in the first place? These questions plagued your mind as the week trickled slowly on. Your anger with Jimin was beginning to be diluted with anxiety about your upcoming presentation. No part of you looked forward to standing in front of the company board to make a potential career-changing pitch with the person you hated most in the world. Not to mention public speaking made you want to hide under a rock and never come out.

Thankfully, Jimin is kind enough to offer to do most of the talking- even if his original deal included a blow job- but it also meant you had less control if things started to go south. By the time Friday rolled around, you’re shitting yourself with fear. Jimin does his best to calm you down as you sit in hard plastic chairs outside the boardroom, waiting to be called in.

“Look, we’ll do fine. You made an amazing presentation, and I’m pretty brilliant at charming people if I do say so myself.”

He reaches over and gives your hand a small squeeze. You’re just nervous enough to offer him a small smile. For what it’s worth, he wasn’t terrible at comforting people.

“Thanks, Jimin. I’m sure everything will go great.”

Everything did not go great. In fact, it went very, very badly. Somewhere out there, someone must have hexed you because that’s the only reason you can think of that would explain why you placed Jimin’s original yellow design in the slideshow instead of his new one. You feel terrible. Not only have you fucked up in front of the entire company, but you’ve put both of your jobs on the line.

As soon as the meeting ended, you rushed off to the bathroom. You already embarrassed yourself enough as it is, you don’t need everyone to see you cry too. Tears roll down your face as you sit on the toilet, praying for the sudden end of your existence.

You had one job and somehow you had managed to fuck it up. You managed to ruin your career. You’re going to end up jobless. Broke. Destitute.

You’re jolted out of your thoughts by a knock at the door.

“Doll? Are you in there?”

Jimin’s voice is soft and comforting, and if you weren’t so afraid of humiliating yourself, you would have gladly welcomed his arms around you. But you are, so you try to stifle your sobs in an attempt to make him go away.

“Doll? I know you’re in there. I can hear you crying,” he sighs, “Please just let me in. I just want to talk.”

A sigh escapes your lips as you debate your options. If he already knows you’re crying, what difference will it make if he sees you? You stand up from your seat on the toilet, make a quick attempt at cleaning up your ruined makeup, and hesitantly open the door to let him inside.

He immediately takes you in his arms, closing the door behind him. The feeling of his body wrapped around yours only serves to induce more tears, and you find yourself crying into his shirt collar.

“I’m so, so sorry, Jimin,” you hiccup, “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how I used that one. I’m so sor-”

“It’s okay, baby.”

You pull away to look at his eyes.

“What? How can you say that? I ruined the presentation, and we’ll be lucky if they want us to come back to work tomorrow.”

“They loved it.”

“What?”

“They loved it. They thought it was bright and innovative and really demonstrated that we understood design enough to push its limits.”

You look at him in shock. They loved it. They thought it was great. Your job was safe. You weren’t going to be fired. You may even receive a promotion.

“Feel better, doll?” He smiles down at you.

For once in your life, you return his smile, while shaking your head in affirmation.

“Well, then…”

You’re still smiling but suddenly unsure of what to do. Jimin’s hands are still on your waist, and you hated how aware of them you’re becoming. He seems to notice at the same time and quickly pulls them away.

“I have a question.” His voice is soft and shaky, and his eyes shift from side to side, seemingly unable to focus on you.

“What?”

“Why do you hate me so much?”

You’re taken aback. Jimin, who was usually so confident and larger than life, is now standing before you, small and meek, like an underfed puppy begging for scraps.

“I, I don’t hate you, Jimin.”

“But you must,” his voice is curt, “You never flirt back with me, yet I see you tease Hoseok all day long. You never laugh at my jokes. You never praise my work. As soon as I come anywhere near you, you close up. You snap at me, and you have no patience with me. You avoid me at all costs. So let me ask you again: why do you hate me?”

This time, instead of avoiding eye contact, he stares at you like he’s trying to read your soul.

“I really don’t hate you, Jimin.”

He raises his eyebrow.

“I just don’t want you to hurt me.”

He looks genuinely confused at your statement.

“How could I possibly hurt you?”

“The same way you hurt all those other girls.”

“What other girls?” His voice rises with defense.

“You know, the ones you sleep with in bathrooms, only to leave them broken-hearted when you never so much as glance their way again? The one’s you brag about fucking every chance you get until I want to slam my head into a brick wall? The ones that prove you’re nothing but a narcissistic fuckboy whose only goal in life is to get his dick wet? Those are the girls I’m talking about.”

Jimin looks shocked before his face morphs into an angry scowl, eyes heated and alert.

“That’s what you really think about me? That I’m a no-good player who uses girls for their bodies? Do you really think I trick girls into sleeping with me? Because you're wrong. They know what they’re getting into when they agree to restroom rendezvouses, but they always seem to convince themselves that they can convince me that I should be in a relationship with them. That’s not my fault. I would never sleep with someone under false pretenses. And I bragged about them because I wanted you to like me! Do you not get that? I don’t ever try this hard to get anybody to sleep with me, but I like you. I like you a lot, and this whole time you just thought I was a misogynistic fuckboy because you never cared to get to know me better.”

Jimin is seething, like a dog that went feral. His chest rises with heavy breaths as he backs you into the wall, eyes staring down yours. You let out a small whimper when he leans into your ear, hot breath ghosting your neck.

“If you think I’m such a fuckboy, then a fuckboy is what you are going to get.”

Before your brain can properly register his words, his lips are covering yours in a desperate kiss. Despite your lack of cognizance, you respond immediately, lips moving against his as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into you. His hands ghost down your side before he grabs your ass with a rough squeeze, eliciting a whine from your mouth.

He flips you around before bending you over the sink, eyes holding yours in the mirror reflection.

“I think you’ve been a bad girl, don’t you agree? Leaving me with blue balls just because you think you’re better than me.”

Words fail you, so you nod instead. His hand slips under your skirt, softly massaging your ass.

“Don’t you think Daddy needs to punish you?”

You whimper, eyes struggling to hold his in your shared reflection. His gaze was burning with lust and fiery.

“I need you to use your words, baby.”

“Yes, daddy, I need to be punished.”

He grinned before flipping up your skirt to reveal the supple curve of your ass to his waiting gaze.

“Fuck, baby, do you know how long I’ve stared at this ass walking away from me, trying not to pop a boner in front of the whole office?”

He grabbed a rough handful.

“So long, baby, much too long. I think ten should suffice. Count for me.”

“Okay, daddy.” You whine.

“Say ‘red’ if it gets to be too much.”

“Yes, daddy.”

The first spank sent shocks running through you. While you expected the pain, you hadn’t anticipated how hard he would hit you, or how the contrast of his warm palm and cool rings would send pleasure singing through your body.

“O-one.”

The word barely made it out of your mouth, your brain hazy with lust.

The subsequent slap on the opposite cheek once again jolts you, and you fall forward, bracing your hands on the cold porcelain sink before you.

“Two.”

By the time he made it to five, tears had begun to well in your eyes, and you were sure your ass was painted a nice shade of crimson. By the time he made it to ten, tears had streaked your cheeks as moans and whimpers left your mouth alongside your garbled counting.

Jimin takes a moment to step back to admire his handiwork, his smirk only widening as he takes in his handprint bruised into your ass.

“Holy shit, baby, you’re so hot. You took your punishment so well. Look at how much of a good girl you are.”

Even in your hazy state, you beamed at his praise.

“Thank you, daddy.”

“I think you deserve a reward, baby girl.”

You nod vigorously at that, eager to feel him finally inside you.

“What do you want, baby? Use your words.”

“Your fingers, daddy, please.”

In an attempt to convey your desperation, you grind your hips into his crotch.

“Patience, baby girl. Where do you want them?”

“In my pussy, daddy. Please. I’m so wet for you.” Your sentence ends with a light sob, the need for him overwhelming you.

“Ask and you shall receive.”

With that, he pulls your panties to the side as he cautiously rubs his pointer finger up and down your soaked slit, before slipping inside.

“Fuck, baby, your dripping. Did spanking you turn you on that much? Is my baby girl that much of a pain slut?”

“Yes, daddy. I’m a pain slut just for you.”

He adds a second finger, and your head drops between your shoulders as he begins to move his digits in and out of you at a quick but intentional pace. Moans fall from your lips, and you let out a sharp squeal when he crooks his fingers and brushes against your g-spot.

“Fuck, daddy, right there.”

He quickens his pace, rubbing you perfectly over and over again as he brings you closer to the point of no return.

“Shit, baby, I’m so hard right now. Your pussy is so tight and wet around my fingers; I just want to sink my cock into you.”

“Please, daddy, I want your cock too. I want you to cum inside me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-“

Words fail you as you are sent hurtling into your orgasm, waves of euphoria crashing down around you. Your body is shaking as you collapse against the sink.

Jimin lets out a groan at your fucked-out state, removing his hand from your pussy and bringing it to his lips to taste you. He lets out a moan as he does, freehand going to the front of his pants to rub his prominent erection through the black fabric.

After you recover enough to stand, you turn around and replace his hand with your own, pussy clenching at how big he was.

“Will you fuck me now, daddy?” You look up at him under your lashes, and his head falls back at your mock innocence, a light whimper escaping his lips. He tilts his head back up to look at you, hand coming to grab your waist to pull you to his lips.

You taste yourself on his tongue as your hands come to play with his hair, tugging on the strands. He ruts up into you, desperation getting the better of him. He pulls away, revealing his swollen lips and hazy eyes.

“Fuck yeah, I’ll fuck you now, baby girl.” He makes quick work of his belt zipper, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to let out his cock and balls. The tip is an angry red, beautifully contrasted with the white of his dress shirt. Your mouth waters as you take in its wide girth and slight curve. You’re desperate to taste it, but right now there were more important matters at hand.

You drop your panties, before hopping up on the edge of the sink. Jimin gives his cock a few short tugs before lining up with your dripping entrance. You let out soft moans as he sinks into you, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him as close as possible. His hands grab your ass, pulling you to the edge of the sink, before slamming back in. He sets a slow but intentional pace, the sound of skin and desperate moans echoing throughout the small bathroom.

You aren’t going to last long, having already come once, and judging by his quickening pace, neither is he. Your lips meet each other in a messy kiss as he pulls you tight against his body. It’s hard to discern what is a part of you and what is a part of him. Your limbs are so intertwined, that it feels like you are one body.

As his cock continues to drill into your g-spot, stars begin to cover your vision. With the force of a freight train, you come unannounced; your mouth opens in a silent scream. Jimin follows right behind you, painting your walls white with his seed. He lets out a groan of your name, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

Both of you silently shake as you take a moment to catch your breath and process what just happened. He slowly pulls his softening cock out of you, watching as his cum pours out of your cunt.

“Fuckkkk, that’s hot.” He groans, tucking himself back into his pants, before wetting a paper towel to help clean you up.

“I’m sorry I thought so poorly of you.” You give him an apologetic grin, as you pull up your underwear.

“It’s okay. I can see where I might have led you to think that I don’t treat girls well.”

“Well, now I can see that I was wrong. You seem like you would be a fantastic boyfriend.” You move to exit the bathroom, eager to get away so you can process the rampage of emotions flooding through you now that your lust wasn’t getting in the way.

“I can be yours.”

You pause at the door.

“What?”

“I could be your boyfriend.”

“I-“

“I’ve liked you ever since the first time I saw you, and I think that maybe you like me, and I just really, really want to be your boyfriend.”

Your mind is racing at a million miles per hour, trying to process everything that’s happening. One moment he was fucking you like it was your last day on the earth, and now he’s standing in front of you, pleading for you to make him yours. You aren’t sure what to make of it.

“I think I would really like that too, Jimin,” he beams,” “but everything is going so fast, and I just need a little time to take everything in.”

His face falls a little, but he nods understandingly.

“That’s fair. Let me take you on a date, at least.”

You grin.

“Okay.”

“Coffee on Saturday?”

“Sounds great.”

#changeswithluv #bangtanhq #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #fanfic #one-shot #smut #bts #jimin #park jimin #bangtan #fluff #angst

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sunflowerspectre · 3 years

Text

Strange Magic | Ballroom Blitz

This is a 5k commission for @krystalmoonfae

Title: Ballroom Blitz Summary: As a newfound couple, Marianne and Bog work on grasping their new normal while trying to merge both of their kingdoms and cultures. Seeing as both sides have a ball quickly approaching, they see it as a great chance to be able to teach the other about their cultures. Rating: T for mentions of drinking (and Griselda) Tags: fluff, ballroom dancing, cultural differences, minor politics, minor mentions of discrimination

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Ballroom Blitz

“Is all of this really necessary?”

Marianne looks over at Bog as he stands in an uncomfortable stance, looking himself over with bristling wings. She has to admit, it does not suit him (some part of her whispers how fairy clothes never will and she needs to stop expecting them to; that it is okay that it does not). She does not need to worry about fitting in anymore, she thought that she already accepted that.

Bog is not Roland, she reminds herself. He will not give her grief if she wears something out of season or if his outfit is not up to par and ‘perfect.’ Bog cherishes individuality, he does not squander it. Which is why, even if he will not outright admit it, he hates trying on these ridiculous clothes. But he will, at least, try .

Bog glances at her from the corner of his eyes as she takes off the vest given to him, fluttering around the room in disarray as if any of the other vests already tossed around will be any better. He can see the worry and frustration in her brow. He will try anything and everything for her.

“Calm down, tough girl,” Bog tries to ease the tension.

“I can’t calm down.” Marianne admits, “I just want this to go well.”

Marianne plops down on the flowery bed with a tired, frustrated groan, her wings spreading out behind her. While her father was not thrilled about the idea of Bog being in the castle, nevertheless actually being inside of her room, he can not exactly keep the other King out; his daughter, after all, is an adult. However, she knows that Bog’s visit is kept on a need-to-know basis, as is all of his visits.

Which is exactly why this ball is so important. She is not ashamed to be with Bog, but she is ashamed that everyone is trying to get her to keep it a secret, like it’s a scandal. She is tired of people, especially her father, telling her what is and is not acceptable for her; the latter, she hears much more than the former. She can decide that for herself; and she has decided. She wants Bog and she wants everyone else to realize just how wrong they are about him.

“Do you know how much easier it will be if this goes well,” Marianne ventures carefully, her voice soft. Bog flitters above her, hand outreached to hold hers, his wings clicking to create an insect-like noise that she relishes in; something about it brings comfort to the silence that has befallen them. The spikes of his armor and skin would destroy the delicate bed (a mistake they will not be repeating since it was so hard to explain in order to get it replaced).

Marianne takes the outstretched hand, a soft smile on her face as she notices the nervousness in his expression. She continues softly, a soft blush brushing her cheeks. Her stomach flutters and she loves that he can get this reaction out of her just from being around her, that he brings this side out of her. She thought that after Roland, the butterflies that had once fluttered in her chest were dead, but Bog - he had brought them back to life without even trying.

“I just want everyone to see you the way I do.”

His forehead pressed against hers as their eyes close; he relishes in how warm her skin feels against his forehead. She can feel the comforting coolness of armor, pleated skin. His face is always the safest place for her to touch; the twigs are not as sharp, there’s less barbs for her skin to catch on.

“I know how everyone else sees me.”

Venom seeps into his voice, if a bit unintentionally, but Marianne can hear the hurt underlying in it. “And it’s - sweet - that you are trying, but I do not really think -”

The longer he talks, the more she wants to just scream how this is exactly why she wants everyone else to see him the way she does. Why she wants those stupid fairies to realize that Bog King is not as scary as they all make him out to be - well he can be, but that is far from the only thing that he is.

Marianne places a long finger to his lips, a soft smile on her face. He takes the hint and closes his mouth, stopping himself to let her speak.

“I’m tired of the court talking about you the way that they do.” Marianne softly admits.

She never elaborates on just what they say, but Bog imagines that it’s nothing he has not heard before. Her voice turns more bitter, almost venomous and frustrated.

“I’m tired of Dad acting like there are better suitors out there. I don’t just want everyone to see as equals, you deserve it. You deserve for them to see you as the Bog King. The king I know you are.”

She flushes when she realizes just how gushy she sounds. She never meant to go on a tangent, but when she starts, it is hard for her to get herself to stop talking. All of the things that she has been pent up come flowing out like a busted dam.

Bog sighs softly, his expression softening as he flutters down to her. The sharp edges of his armor and skin cut at the delicate flower petal, but he knows this is going to be much longer conversation than he imagined. He appreciates her enthusiasm, but he gave up on that dream before she even thought of it. He knows that the divide between their kingdoms is large; while it is making its progress, there are still many hurdles for them to fly over. Every step forward feels like it is followed by two steps back.

“They’ll never see me as equals to fairies, tough girl.” Bog speaks up; his expression more somber, solemn as if he already accepted his fate. As if he knew that he would never be enough for her.

Marianne, however, just grins viciously, her teeth gleaming like the devil he knows that she can be. Each time, that grin always reminds him exactly what he loves most about her - her strength, her rebellious side, her sense of justice, her wickedness. Her refusal to abide by their rules of her and to stand by her choices - even when that choice is him.

“I guess we’ll just have to give them no choice.”

_________________________________________________

Fairy balls used to not be the dread of her existence. Marianne remembers a time when she used to look forward to it. She used to love to dress up and to dance, even if her voice carried a bit louder than quiet conversation would allow or she missed a few steps during the dance or she stepped on someone’s foot. The more she looks back on it, the more she realizes that she never quite fit in during the balls even if she did at one point enjoy it.

So if she never fit in anyway, what was the point of trying to fit in now? She may as well do what she wants, have fun, and most importantly, get her dance with Bog. Her original plan was to talk to them, get them to agree to not only Bog attending, but to have her dance with him as well. But she is a princess. Soon to be queen and she will dance with whomever she wants.

If the elders refuse to see him as her equal, at the very least this (very public) dance will help her subjects see him as such. It’s admittedly a bit backhanded. But she knows that someone such as Bog dancing with their crown princess will make their courtship hard to ignore. Harder to try to talk her out of. Harder to slip under the rug or excuse. The more public and more aggressive she is about the fact that Bog is her partner, the less of a choice they have about ignoring him.

They can not outright deny him entry if he has an invitation, she reminded herself; the courts may not like it, especially her father, but they are all too proud to deny their manners as a host. Otherwise, she imagines Sunny would have been kicked out long ago despite Dawn constantly vouching for him.

“Should we be worried about how long they’re taking,” Sunny speaks up, anxiously, from beside her; unlike most of them, Dawn did not have to choose his outfit with the elf already being one of the most fashionable among them. She almost thinks it is a shame that Dawn has not seen him yet.

Marianne glances toward him, but otherwise appears not nearly as concerned. She continues to absently sip at the grape-based wine served, almost lazily, with the peace of mind that if she spilled any than at the very least, it would not show up on the dress. While not caring much about what the others think of her outfit - considering that she has already gotten more than a few stink eyes - she is looking forward to showing herself off to Bog. Dawn had worked hard on this particular dress, with Marianne’s own input, for weeks in preparation for this. The dark purple silk was carefully dyed with wine, intricately sewn in with matching petals. She felt the color was a good way to assert herself as royalty and, admittedly, it is also just her new favorite color. The overall plan is that the neighboring political figures will not make any mistake on who the crown princess is, which will make her dance with Bog an even bigger event.

But now that the ball is in full swing, an appearance from either Dawn or Bog would make them fashionably late; something that is usually more her style than her sister’s. As crown princess, she actually took her duties in getting the ball ready more seriously, which made her almost dangerously early. Her father was thrilled that she was showing more of an interest and she did not want to ruin his good mood by telling him she was only making sure of things this time around since Bog would be joining them.

“Dawn always takes longer to get ready for these things,” Marianne reminds him, “And with a new person to dress up….”

She trails off with a bit of a shrug. It is nice for her sister (her loyal, always by her side sister) to offer to take over Bog’s clothes for the ball; Dawn all but gave her no choice when she found out. While she imagines that Bog is not having the best time, she can not help but be curious as to what Dawn put him in. Out of the two of them, her sister has always had the best taste in fashion and understood the dynamics of being a seamstress must better than herself.

Not too much later after her words, Princess Dawn’s appearance is announced by one of the guards. Considering this is one of the larger balls the kingdom throws, a majority being fairies and political figures from neighboring fairy kingdoms, their father had insisted on the more traditional approach of having each guest carefully announced. Not the worst idea until someone - or two someone - are late.

Considering that there are most everyone is there, and whomever is not by now is considered by most to not be coming, Dawn’s announcement draws a bit of attention. Most of the fairies of their own kingdom pay her no mind, used to at least one princess being late, while their other guests at the very least, turn their head to glance her way. Most just continue their slow dances and hushed whispers - whispers that, with her late attendance, seem to get a smidge louder than normal among their visitors.

To their father’s credit, he does try to greet her, but Dawn wastes no time in going in for Sunny, grabbing his wrist, then dragging him out to the dance floor. Dawn barely even greets her own sister, a smile stretched out on her face wildly, and Marianne just returns the smile as she sips at the glass. She can see her father’s disappointment from here as some of the dancers glance at Dawn and Sunny with uncertainty.

But if the attendees thought Dawn was scandalous, Marianne can not help but grin wickedly when she thinks about the stir her and Bog will cause. She knows she will get an earful later, but she also knows that a statement like this can not be dismissed.

When the guard announces Bog’s arrival, instead of the hushed whispers growing, all sound seems to stop. While the musicians eyed each other uneasily, their music coming to an abrupt stop as an uncertainty washes over them all, the sound of Marianne’s shoes against the solid floor are the only thing echoing across the ballroom.

Marianne grins viciously, her eyes lighting up as Bog enters the party. Her sister did a dastardly good job. Forgoing too much that would cover his armor and rip due to his thorns, Bog instead wears a deep purple toga, made of a thicker fabric with layers. The fabric wraps from just beside his neck across to his hip, giving him the illusion of being covered for the sake of the event, but is open enough to reveal the intricacies of his armor and give him room for his large shoulder plates. It does not go unnoticed by Marianne that they, likely intentionally if she knows her sister, match.

“Care for a dance, Bog King,” Marianne bows deeply, one foot behind the other while her hand stretches out to him in an offering. She winks at him as she meets his gaze, relishing in the way it almost makes him flustered.

Bog matches her grin, shamelessly looking her over as he appreciates her choice of dress. The silky fabric is as dangerously scandalous as he is.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

They walk to the middle of the dance room, many of the guests parting to give them plenty of space, their heads are held high as Marianne evens her breathing. She does not even bother to glance at her father, instead only giving a small wave to Dawn as her younger sister openly encourages her.

A small nod to the musicians is enough for them to start up the music again. It takes a moment for the music to build, with Bog and Marianne taking that time in getting in the proper position. They stand facing each other, one hand behind their back, the other outstretched to barely touch their palms together.

As the music begins to pick up, Bog brings her closer just as they practiced before they start to go into a full swing. With each flare of music, Marianne moves - a kick of her feet, a twirl. All while maintaining her hold on Bog’s arm.

The longer they dance, the more she realizes that - for the most part - everyone has parted away from the middle floor to leave them both the space that they need. Either they realized just how dangerous her kicks are or they do not want to get close to the Goblin King. Like a weight lifted, she realizes she does not care.

All that she can focus on, as the background blurs around them through spins, turns and careful steps, is the fact that Bog is not missing a beat. They move together like one through a series of classic, yet dramatic, dances. The music echoes in her chest as it pounds in her ear, she counts each beat as thinks about where she has to step next.

“Purple suits you,” Marianne comments softly when Bog brings her in close. Her hand moves from position to scrape her nail along the underside of his armor at his neck. He almost growls, but instead grins deviously.

“Your hand is not in the right place, princess.”

Marianne does not move her hand. She just grins, her hand briefly going to his face.

“I beg to differ, Bog King.”

She is lightly pushed away as they part, her going into a twirl before coming back into his arms. As their dance closes, Bog makes a point to dip her a bit deeper than customary with his face too close to hers to be mistaken for casual. His hand is tight at her waist, with no sign of letting go. As much as she tries to hide it, with them so close, he gets a good glimpse at the flush dusting her cheeks.

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” Marianne compliments as they part, Bog maintaining his hand on her waist.

Marianne does not miss the way that the others return to the dance floor as her and Bog leave it. Granted, some go back to the wine bar as soon as her sister stumbles her way to the floor with Sunny back in tow. But at the very least, she knows that their message got across - especially as she looks at her father, who looks two glasses away from passing out. Despite knowing that, and knowing the lecture she has in her future, she can not help but feel elated at just how much fun it was. Her heart racing, cheeks flushed, she hopes that the ball in the dark forest - an event only a few nights away from this one - will be just as fun.

Bog draws her in close, his teeth bared in a predatory dangerous smile.

“You did pretty well yourself, tough girl. Now, it’s my turn.”

__________________________________________________

Marianne is a little more worried over Griselda being in charge of her dress, however at Bog’s reassurances, she takes a deep breath and lets go of the reins. After all, who would know what is more appropriate for a goblin ball more than the previous queen? If she can put her trust and faith into Dawn, she can do the same for Griselda, especially after all that his mother has done for them (if in a bit embarrassing manner).

But, almost embarrassingly so, Marianne is left in the dark as to what to expect for the ball in the Dark Forest.

Her father tried to instill fear and caution in her over attending an event by herself, at night, in the Dark Forest, surrounded by goblins. Dawn tried to imagine something hauntingly beautiful, and made a few passing comments about Griselda enlisting her help with the dress to make sure it balanced goblin fashion and fairy well; though she complained more often than thought that she is unable to attend as the goblin ball, as she would be too busy attending the elves’ own soiree with Sunny.

Bog, however, would just give her teasing comments here and there about preparing herself to see just how different a real party is compared to the one that the fairies had. While that idea is exciting - thrilling - she is a bit nervous. Especially since she knows that, just like the one in the Fairy Kingdom, this event would also have other representatives from different sections of the Dark Forest and who knew what else. She knew that she could protect herself and that Bog would stand up for her presence there, but she still remembers just how scary it was when she first accidentally stepped into the Dark Forest and feels that same fear bubbling under her skin at the idea of being introduced to so many unknowns. She is sure that Bog felt the same anxiety, however, about attending the fairy ball.

And she also has to remind herself that this is what she wants. She wants to be kept on her toes. She wants the challenge. She wants to learn more about Bog and his world, just as he did the same for her. More importantly, this is exactly what she always dreamed of (with a few minor things changed here and there such as actually dating the Bog King).

Griselda helps put the finishing touches up on the dress. With Dawn gone to the elven ball, Griselda puts her all into making sure each detail is perfect a mere hour away from the event. The previous queen is already dressed - with jewelry adorning her horns, but lacking shoes - and Marianne can not help but wonder if she should expect the other goblins to be dressed in something similar - and if going without shoes is the norm.

“You look - beautiful,” Griselda gushes, brushing a tear away from her eye with her pinky claw, “Boggy is just going to love you - well, he already loves you dear, you know that, but when he sees you in this dress - I better be getting grandchildren out of this.”

Marianne flushes deeply, eyes darting around as she can only laugh a bit nervously at the sentiment, especially knowing that Griselda says it so sincerely. Griselda immediately, lightly, scolds her for fidgeting as she finishes sewing up one last spot to make it the perfect fit. Marianne catches glimpses of herself in the mirror - and more she looks at it, the more she falls in love with what Griselda and her sister have created.

“-Is it normal not to wear shoes,” Marianne asks, hesitantly as she eyes Griselda’s toes balancing her as she stands up on them to reach a specific spot. Marianne glances down to her own feet, wiggling her toes, unsure about how she feels about the possibility of dancing barefoot and the more fairy part of her is a little worried about just how dirty her feet would get. She also already knows how Bog’s thorns feel when they prick her finger, she can’t imagine what would happen if he stepped on her toes while barefoot.

“Goblins do not need shoes, honey,” Griselda explains gently, “Our skin is tough and we’re made for running through stones and bark and twigs, not soft dirt and flowers.”

She gently pinches at Marianne’s skin as if to emphasize her point, “But do not worry about it dearie, I made a pair of shoes - with your sister’s input mind you - that will work perfect for tonight.”

_____________________________________________

“Is she here yet,” Thang attempts to whisper, his voice harshly cutting out.

“No.” Stuff rolls her eyes, crossing her arms, “If Queen Marianne was here, we’d see her.”

“ Oh.”

Bog sighs deeply, trying to fight the incoming migraine as the two smaller goblins debate about whether or not Marianne is at the ball yet. He leans on his staff, tapping his foot impatiently as he debates about searching the castle himself for his mother and Marianne. He hopes, at the very least, his mother did not put something ridiculous on Marianne; she would look beautiful no matter what she wore, but his mother’s atrocious ideas of fashion are (at times) a bit much to swallow, especially at formal events. But even he is starting to get impatient over his mother taking too long.

He notices his mother arriving first; it is hard to not notice her. Unlike the fairy ball, with formalities and announcements, Griselda comes in loudly and proudly - immediately calling out to the old politicians that she recognizes, waving to them enthusiastically. Bog sighs at the way some of the others street clear of her as she plows her way through the dancing crowd just to say hi to any given person.

But then he turns to see Marianne. Gorgeous, stunning, beautiful Marianne. Looking as if she belongs to be there as any of them do. The black dress she wears has thin, translucent sleeves that wrap around her arms, connected to the dark collar at her neck, her dark purple wings looking more like an elegant cape behind her as her sword glimmers at her hip. He glances down and is surprised to see that instead of her normal cloth and vines around her feet, she instead wears shoes that look suspiciously like his armor just dyed; they match the armored bracelets at her wrists.

She looks every bit like the future Queen of the Dark Forest should be.

Marianne’s eyes meet his - the dark shadow around her eyelids highlighting the gleam in her eyes and the flush of her cheeks. She holds her head high as she walks to him, with most of the goblins parting out of her way while others linger to look at her in curiosity.

She tries her best to focus solely on Bog, remembering to keep her shoulders back and walk with the confidence that she needs right now. The dark, low lights of the cavern inside of the hollowed tree are unexpected - lit mostly by fireflies and moonlight that beams in through the skylight. She glimpses the various types of goblins around her - batlike ones whose arms reach to the ground to support their weight, ones with ears larger than their bodies or some larger than she thought goblins could even be. The diversity among them is so vastly different than that among the fairies, from their sizes to features, but she feels an odd sense of welcoming that all of them are Bog’s people.

The music is deeper than she anticipated - tight strings with an ominous undertone. As if it is background noise to an anticipated fight. She supposes that that is not entirely wrong, given that she remembers just how Bog taught her how to dance.

“Wow,” Thang whistles, the sound sharp and crass against the rugged music playing, “She looks pretty evil.”

Marianne raises a brow, nose scrunched at the compliment, She is but bites her cheek for now. She is used to the ‘compliments’ people give her - pretty, quirky, awkward. She is used to what Roland used to pass as compliments, but (especially knowing Thang) this does not feel backhanded. It does not even feel like an insult either. But if it is a compliment, she is not sure what exactly it is supposed to mean.

Bog immediately bows to her, causing Stuff and Thang to stumble, squawking in surprise as they do the same. From the corner of her eye, she can see the other goblins do the same. She feels a sense of honor and pride, as well as absolute adoration from Bog being as bold to do something that clearly meant a lot to his people.

“I believe it’s time to dance, tough girl,” Bog takes her hand as he stands up straight, “Do you remember what we practiced?”

Marianne bares her teeth in a wild grin. She remembers exactly how to do this. For as often as she practiced dancing with him for the fairy ball, they practiced twice as much for this. She knows that if something goes wrong someone could get hurt - and she can not imagine what would happen if that person was accidentally Bog.

But she has faith in herself - and in him. She thinks that she has a good enough handle on this to do it well.

“How could I not?”

Bog guides her to the floor with an elegance. At his presence, the goblins make a very clear circle around them to give them plenty of space. She would be more worried about hurting someone if they did not.

Bog gives a nod as they part, gaining a few feet between them. Unlike the close, slower and more calculated movements of the dance they performed at the fairy event, this one starts at a distance as they draw their weapons. They close in with his staff against her sword, circling each other as they bring their weapons down against each other.

“By the way,” Marianne asks softly, eyes still on him- each movement she makes feels natural to her, with her sword acting more like a third limb than a weapon. “Was that earlier?”

“Which part,” Bog almost laughs, but his voice comes off hesitant, “What did my mother do?”

“No - your mother was fine,” Marianne assures him as their weapons hit each other once again, twirling around like this - she can not help feel the parallel to their first fight. “I meant Thang.”

“Thang?”

They stumble - for a brief moment, their dance stutters in an awkward pause as their weapons slip out of their hands and into the air. Their staff and sword glide pass each other in a fumble. They move fast, and as one, to cover the mistake - grabbing each other’s weapon in an elegant switch that causes the crowd to gasp, not noticing it as a mistake and instead as (what Dawn would call) a power move, as they continue on.

“He called me evil.” Marianne states carefully, unsure if it would come off insulting and this time, she is careful to hold onto Bog’s staff. The weight of it is unfamiliar, if oddly comforting, but considering she practiced with only her weapon, her words come out a bit slower as she concentrates more on her movements. “Is that - I mean, is that a good thing or -?”

This time Bog does laugh - bellowing and deep, it echoes through the room as he grins madly at her. Their dance picks up the pace as their conversation blurs among the clash of her sword against his staff.

“Evil is a compliment in these parts, tough girl,” Bog explains, a wicked grin on his face, “Evil is not malicious - but of strength, mischief - rebellion.”

Marianne lets out a quiet oh. She supposes that makes sense, if she squints. To fairies, evil means darkness, malicious intent. But hearing his version of it, she wonders just how much their version of ‘evil’ is just based in prejudice against the Dark Forest.

They come together closer as their dance starts to slow, neither out of breath as everyone watches them carefully. Marianne can hear Griselda already clapping, but for once, Bog does not pay much mind to his mother’s embarrassing attention.

“And there is nothing - ” Bog states, his voice low and soft. Their weapons are down, still against each other as Bog leans into her, close to almost whispering into her ear, “- nothing more rebellious than a fairy princess and a goblin king.”

#krystalmoonfae #strange magic #fanfiction #politics #cultural differences #fairy goblin #bog king #marianne #ballroom #myworks #fics #fic

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anbudrky2021 · 3 years

Text

Ch 5: Three Days

The 𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢 Sound of 𝒯𝒽𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 │ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕆𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕟

No smut warning in this one. Next one there will be :) Please click here for series description and TWs. 💕

I woke up to the sound of Nat at my door. She let herself in and sat down comfortably on the edge of my bed. “Hey sleepyhead, you missed breakfast..” she handed me a muffin.

“Oh,” I sat up, groggy and confused. “I must have slept through the alarm,” I noted, looking at my phone.

“That’s ok. Wanda is waiting in the lab with Shuri when you’re ready.” She gave me a kind smile. I smiled back. More tests. Like a lab rat.

“You’re not a rat,” Natasha laughed. “You’re a human going through something strange. We’ll figure it out.”

I laughed as well, “Ok. I am going to get up.” I said, finishing my muffin and moving the bedding. I got up and around, brushing my hair and teeth; I changed into some leggings and a t-shirt. I slid on my sneakers and sighed. “Alright. I’m ready.” I noticed Natasha was looking at her phone, confused. “Everything ok?” I asked observantly.

“Yeah, just a message from Tony I don’t understand.” She rolled her eyes and placed her phone in her pocket.

I bet it’s about Thor’s mission to observe Bucky. I scoffed at my own thought.

“No it’s about something else,” Nat replied, smiling softly.

“I really need to get this fixed,” I groaned.

We reached the lab in time to run into Thor wandering out of the wing. “Ladies,” he nodded his head in politeness, but continued walking without stopping. I blushed.

I counted his steps as he walked away, hoping it would keep me from projecting any thought I might have.

We entered the main area and saw Shuri in another room, through the glass. She waved at us to come to her. We walked together to the room and sat down in the chairs provided.

“So I was up...all night,” she began, looking somewhat exhausted but excited at the same time. “I have some ideas and Wanda volunteered to be like...”

“The control group,” Wanda interjected. I jumped at her voice, not realizing she had been in the room.

“So I am the experimental group?” I said, a little nervous.

“Yes, but you knew that already.” Shuri rolled her eyes and continued. “I have some tests I have already started with Wanda and would like to conduct with you, to see the difference in the firing of neurons, etc.”

“Ok...” I stared at her.

“Basically we’re going to compare her brain activity to yours, since she’s the closest example of someone who can use your same powers.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s another place to start..” she sighed.

I don’t want to be compared to Wanda. I do that myself enough. As soon as I thought it, I regretted it; I didn’t need Wanda and Nat to go on their ‘you’re beautiful as you are’ crusade. But nobody responded. Either I was being ignored or I hadn’t projected.

After about 15 minutes of setting up, a few projections, and some frustration, we were ready to start the first test.

Shuri had created a slideshow of different scenes, people, and words. Each of them had a purpose, according to her, and could hopefully help her figure out triggers or stressors within me and Wanda. Wanda had already completed hers.

“Ready?” Shuri asked. “Remember, some of these may be...upsetting or emotionally jarring. So let me or Nat know if we need to stop.”

Nat was beside me in the room, whereas Wanda and Shuri were on the other side of the glass, next to the computer.

“Ready as ever I guess...” I took a deep breath and watched the screen change.

The first few were almost funny; a cow, a dog, basic things.

The next few were more interesting; the compound, a field, the jet, knives

The knives made me uncomfortable but I tried to stay calm.

“The knives set off a different part of your brain,” Wanda said through the glass. Shuri shot her a look. “I wasn’t supposed to say that; sorry!” Her eyes were wide and animated. She was adorable sometimes.

Scott Lang, Tony, Bruce, T’Challa, Shuri scrolled on the screen, one at a time.

Wanda, Natasha, Clint, Thor

My heart was starting to race and I was not comfortable.

Steve, Pietro, Vis, Bucky

I didn’t move, I didn’t think, I didn’t say anything. Bucky wasn’t on the screen; he was in the next room with Wanda and Shuri.

“Can you leave,” I heard Shuri say, “Thor was looking for you anyway. Go find him.” She wafted him away. He made a point to look at me and smile. I didn’t smile back, only turned my head back to the screen.

Peter

“Can I take a break please?” I asked immediately.

“Uh, sure...” Shuri looked at Nat and nodded. Nat helped me remove the different testing measures and I left the room quickly. I took deep breaths but I felt like I was dying.

Wanda came out of her room and walked toward me. “Hey, you did a great job...” she soothed me, taking me into her arms. “You were so good.” She rocked me a little, allowing for me to calm down more. I was able to take a deep breath and collect myself.

“Sorry. I know the point is to identify brain...stuff...but that was a lot for me.” I shook my head with disappointment in myself.

“It’s understandable, Y/N, you’ve been through a lot and you haven’t necessarily had closure...” she rubbed my arm. “Are you ready to come back?” She pointed at the door.

“Yeah.” I took another breath. Ready to leave is more like it.

“Quitting isn’t an option today,” Wanda retorted.

I laughed but knew she was right.

We did some more tests for a few hours. Some emotional, some physical, some logic-based. By noon, Wanda and I were exhausted in every aspect of the word. Shuri let us leave but Nat stayed behind to help her work on the test results to find any patterns or relevance.

Wanda and I chose to take a walk on the Palace grounds to get some fresh air and sunshine.

“That was...a lot...” she said softly. It was hard on her, too. After losing her brother and her mom and dad... “I didn’t realize how much I missed Pietro..” she sniffled, wiping her face on her sleeve.

“Yeah, it was...” I rubbed her back as we walked.

We walked in silence for a while. We got to see some kids playing, a dog wandering around, and Steve down in a field with Bucky, sparring we supposed.

I did not mention the tight feeling in my chest when I saw Bucky fighting; I just walked and counted my steps.

“Y/N, why have you been projecting numbers?” She asked as we reentered the Palace.

“What?”

“Well it’s always a different pace, but it’s always numbers.” She looked at me quizzically.

“Oh, well I am trying to count footsteps instead of letting my thoughts project. I guess I am projecting the counting...” I laughed a little.

She smiled. “You’re so creative, you know that?” I smiled back at her as we parted ways. I headed for my room.

By dinner time, I was starving. I walked out of my room and headed to the dinning area.

“Y/N, wait up!” Steve called after me. I turned and waited for him. “How did today go?” He asked, thoughtfully.

“It was tough but hopefully worth something.” I gave him a forced smile.

“Bucky told me he walked in on you guys working. He felt bad about it, you know...” he looked at me wearily.

“I don’t care,” I smiled at him, pretending to not care even though I wanted to punch him for mentioning Bucky.

“Hey! Please don’t punch me,” he feigned fright by putting his hands up in surrender.

“Steve. I just-” I inhaled deeply. “I think about Bucky every day. I think about what happened all the time. I don’t want to think about him or it any more than I need to...” I trailed off. “Thank you for relaying that, but I don’t have the capacity to care about what Bucky feels.”

Steve nodded with understanding. “I gotcha.”

We walked into the dining room. Where, of course, Bucky was seated.

Goddamn it. This mother fucker.

Everyone looked at me. I blushed. Of course I projected that. I counted my steps as I walked to my seat, between Steve and Wanda.

Natasha sat across from me, next to Thor and Shuri. Bucky was on the other side of Steve, out of my sight at least.

As I ate, I counted my bites of food. I counted the number of rolls on the table. I counted the number of freckles on Steve’s arm. Anything to distract myself.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. Quit with the counting!” Bucky sat his fork down harshly. “Just tell me what you’re thinking so you don’t have to distract yourself and annoy everyone!” He looked around and past Steve, right at me.

Everyone was staring at us. “Buck, I didn’t hear anything...” Steve whispered to Bucky.

“Neither did I...” Nat interjected.

“So only Bucky heard the projection?” Shuri asked, interested.

“No,” Thor’s voice now echoed above theirs. “I heard it, too. I just assumed everyone did and I’m not as ass.” He glared at Bucky.

I was blushing and completely confused. I stood up and walked off without a word.

I heard large steps behind me but ignored them until my wrist was caught by a large hand.

“Y/N, are you ok? That was futile. Bucky was out of line.” Thor looked concerned.

“I’m fine. Please let me go. I’m just so tired.” I started to tear up. My mind was overwhelmed and my emotions were completely out of sorts. I needed my mommy. Thor let go of my wrist and nodded. “Do you want company? I can sit and talk or-“

“No. Thank you. I just need time. I’m going to go...Um, I’m going visit my mom..” I turned on my heel and left him behind.

I walked for about 30 minutes in one direction before approaching the cemetery. I took a deep breath for calmness and then entered the lot.

I walked among the rows, feeling more and more nauseous the closer I got to her. Finally, I saw her stone.

T’Challa had a special marble figurine commissioned for her. It was on top of her headstone. It was beautiful and exuded her brilliance tenfold. I smiled as I fell to my knees in front of it.

The sobs that left me the moment my knees hit the grass were earth-moving. I could feel my body tensing and writhing as my tears fell. My shoulders heaved with every cry. I slowly drifted closer to the ground until I was laying completely on top of her grave. My tears watered her grass.

I don’t know how much time passed, but I had fallen asleep on my mother’s grave. When I awoke, my head was pounding and my eyes felt like stinging, melting glass shards. I sniffled and sat up, looking around. It was dark. I sighed and looked again at her figurine.

“Mom what do I do? Everything is worse. It’s all getting worse. I’m projecting in the wrong ways or not at all. I feel so exhausted. I’m being triggered by everything. I need you, mom...” I listened to the wind in between the graves and stones. The breeze passing through crevasses.

I laid down on my back and looked up at the sky. It was beautiful. I smiled and remembered a moment with my mom in which we went star grazing in Wakanda. He laughed for hours and had the greatest conversations.

I wish Thor was here. He’d love this. I bet he would say something about the Asgard sky and then horribly describe it. But he’d be smiling and that smile...

I blushed thinking about his smile. But then I caught myself. But what about Peter. I groaned.

I looked more at the stars and continued to fight back and forth between thinking of Thor and Peter. I was so engulfed in my thoughts I didn’t hear the gate to the cemetery open and close.

“Y/n.” Thor voice was soft and respectful.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” I screamed and jolted upright. “You scared me to death!!!” I fell back onto the ground.

He laughed and said “this would be a good place to drop dead..”

I chuckled. “I suppose so...how’d you find me?”

“Earlier you said you were visiting your mom. You’ve been gone for hours...and then...” he looked at me strangely. “I started...seeing what you’re seeing. Like I’m you...” he sat beside me, elbows on his crooked knees.

“And then...Peter called me. He was freaking out asking if you were ok. Because he was seeing the same thing I was...” he looked down at me.

I looked at him, feeling nauseous again. Immediately, without warning I turned my head and vomited just out of moms burial site.

“Woah!” Thor held my hair back and soothed me the best he could. “Are you ok?”

“I-no-I don’t think-“ and I was done. I passed out in Thor’s arms and didn’t wake for three days.

#avengers smut #thor smut #mcu #bucky barnes #thor x y/n #thor #angst #present day au #canon divergent au #modern au

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delimeful · 4 years

Text

you will see a better day

donation drive commission for @starrykid with the prompt: Remus dealing with intrusive thoughts and the others helping him through it.

warnings: canon setting, intrusive thoughts (a fair amount), gore mentions, implications of thoughts of self harm, Remus Going Thru It

Before, whenever he had a Bad Day, it was just more fuel on the trash fire that was his brain.

It was routine: Remus would wake up with a litany of grotesque images on the back of his eyelids, present every time he blinked or squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. These thoughts weren’t the fun kind of gross, the type that was fascinating or funny. They weren’t fun because he didn’t choose them, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of them if he didn’t like them.

Guess that was how everyone else felt about you. Remus mashed a pillow over his own face as though it would muffle his own mind. What a stupid thought. He was a luxury few could afford, thank-you-very-much!

Back then, as soon as possible, he would find someone else in the Mindscape to bother, because if he had to deal with the awful thoughts carving and chipping away at the inside of his skull, it was only fair to share.

That was before, when things had been black and white and he could be a monster all he pleased because it wasn’t like anyone else thought differently. It wasn’t like Thomas thought differently.

Until he did.

And now they were all in one muddled up Mindscape and the others were trying, making an effort to clot their own bad habits and setting a place for him at the table. It was slow-going, like shoving a square peg into a circular hole, but it was also the most he’d ever had. Until something splintered, he was going to soak in every minute of it.

Or at least, that was his plan, up until he hit another Bad Day like a semi truck hit thrice-dead roadkill.

Same thoughts, same pounding (heh) headache. The difference was, now he couldn’t go word-vomit all over the nearest Side until he felt a little less like he was drowning. He was working to keep the delicate peace in his own way, and that meant not bothering the others with his… himself-ness on days like these.

He couldn’t stay in his room all day, though. For one it was boring, and for two, ever since they’d all agreed to try and cohabitate, Patton and Janus in particular were insistent on checking in if anyone acted strange. Cooping up in his room and not being his usual fantastically sickening and outrageous self would definitely pop up on their radar. If that happened, there was no way he could fool Janus outright. He preferred his own brand of frank honesty anyways, so clearly the only solution was to behave normally enough that nobody looked twice.

His version of normal, anyhow.

He groaned loudly and then dragged in a breath, manifesting a pair of slippers that looked uncannily like dead fish onto his feet. He would just have to put his excellent acting skills to use.

—-

Remus’s willpower was put to the test as soon as he reached the kitchen. A new record of his ability to destroy plans, this must be why Janus never told him anything.

Patton was spinning himself in circles on one of the round stools by the bar counter, humming a cartoon theme brightly to himself. At the stovetop, Virgil was sedately flipping pancakes, an easy set to his shoulders that meant he had probably recently taken a long-overdue nap in Logan’s room.

Normally, Remus would already be halfway into teasing the hell out of him, but now his brain felt scrambled with panic. Virgil was particularly susceptible to getting dragged into the cycle of intrusive thoughts on days like these, which meant the anxious Side was the last one he wanted to run into at the moment.

Two birds with one brick, his stupid hell brain suggested slyly. Send Virgil into a spiral and then it’ll be him who gets nagged, his fault for ruining the friendly atmosphere.

Stop it. Remus’s face twitched into a self-directed snarl for a moment, and he forced the thought away as Patton finally slowed his rotation to smile dizzily at him.

“Remus! Good morning!”

Virgil glanced over his shoulder, sending Remus’s heart rate briefly into the triple digits. Be normal be normal be normal. “Hey, Re. Morning.”

He didn’t even notice. So much for being your friend. If you’re subtle enough, you could sidle up behind him and smash his face into the hot burner—

“WHAT’S UP, FUCKERS!” Remus shouted, teeth spread in a too-wide grin. He bounced into the kitchen, depositing an assorted handful of teeth (his preferred currency) into the swear jar before Patton could say anything, and planted himself on the middle bar stool.

Patton scooted one stool closer to be next to him, because of course he did. Remus resisted the urge to start prying out handfuls of hair, his own or— no. Toned down, he was keeping it toned down. Buttcheek on a stick, this was difficult.

“Want to spin with me?” Patton asked, shifting antsily from side to side with barely contained energy.

“Whoever pukes first wins?” Remus replied automatically, and felt a bright burst of giddy joy when Patton giggle-snorted instead of recoiling.

“I think upchuck is actually supposed to mean you lose your lunch and the spinning contest, kiddo.”

Of course it did. You were designed to be the loser, even if you try to change the rules.

Remus knew that this time Patton had spotted the way his lips twitched down into a grimace, but before the fatherly side could say anything, there was the clink of ceramic plates on the counter in front of them.

“No spinning and/or vomiting if you want to eat my pancakes,” Virgil demanded, wielding a spatula threateningly at them as he clicked the stovetop off. “We’ll never hear the end of it from Princey if he has to reconjure all the furniture.”

Irrational, heated anger burned through him. Like Virgil could do anything to stop you. Social interaction was enough to give the guy a panic attack, he couldn’t tell Remus to do or not do anything—

“You good, Re?” Virgil asked, and he jerked, avoiding the other Side’s gaze as though eye contact would expose his thoughts. After a beat too long, his mind finally caught up with the plate in front of him.

His pancake was covered in a truly disgusting amount of cheese and ketchup, the way he always requested it back when they’d all been Dark Sides. Despite the fact that he always made a face back then, Virgil had made a point to remember, had done it without asking.

Like ravenous wolves, his thoughts instantly turned against him.

Pathetic. How could you think things like that about people who trust you? You shouldn’t even be here, pretending to be a person. You deserve everything coming to you.

His hand made it halfway to the fork sitting innocently next to his plate before he remembered himself. Virgil was still looking at him, clearly having caught the motion, and Remus lowered his hand, white-knuckled.

“Me, good? That’s a funny one, V-mo!” he tried to joke, but the odd edge to his voice made it fall flat. Virgil was outright frowning now, and out of the corner of his vision Patton’s eyebrows were drawing together.

“What’s wrong?” Virgil asked, his frame tight with tension and his gaze drilling into Remus. “Are you hurt?”

“I could be!” Remus blurted, trying to keep his tone saucy but ending up with something closer to desperate. “You ever think maybe bashing my skull in would be better than having to deal with its contents?”

The two of them winced, and he knew he’d given himself away completely. Shit.

Virgil reached out, and then stopped himself before he could make contact. Can you blame him? Jumping into an electrified tank of leeches would be more comfortable than willingly exposing himself to you.

Something of his internal diatribe must have shown on Remus’s face, because Virgil’s hesitant expression flickered into regret.

“Shit,” he swore, and this time Patton didn’t chide him. “I can’t-- I don’t want to send you into a spiral, Re. If I touch you, we’re just going to be stuck in a feedback loop of bad thoughts.”

“Like how you’re perpetually stuck in 2009?” Remus offered, instead of listing all the ways he could feasibly remove Virgil’s eyes from their sockets. It would almost be fun, if it wasn’t his friend’s eyes he was contemplating prying out with a spoon handle.

Virgil’s lips pulled up slightly. “Yeah, just like that. I’m gonna go get the others. They’ll be able to help you for real.”

He sunk out, and Remus’s head started to ache more severely as terrible and often gory predictions for the future began to crowd his mind. He shoved his hands into the roots of his hair and tugged ferociously.

“Hey, buddy, you shouldn’t pull on your hair like that,” a concerned voice chimed in. Remus had almost forgotten Patton was still there, sitting only a seat away.

He pulled harder on his hair, both out of spite and to distract himself from the urge to summon a weapon and see if Patton would still look at you with so much pity if you shanked his ass and tied his intestines into little bows.

“Hey, what do you call a seasick croc?” Patton asked, abruptly enough that Remus managed to shake his train of thought. He glanced up to look at the Heart, who offered him a tremulous mischievous smile. “A crocobile.”

Remus snorted, and Patton’s smile seemed to firm up.

“How about, why do ducks have tail feathers?” the moral Side asked in that same leading tone.

Remus thought for a minute. “‘Cause otherwise they’d lose their balance in flight and go splat against the nearest window?”

“I mean, maybe, but also!” Patton held up a finger for emphasis. “They have tail feathers to cover their… butt-quacks.”

There was a beat of anticipation where they both stared at each other, and then Remus threw his head back and outright cackled. Patton fist pumped in delight.

“I thought you might like that one, kiddo,” he said, beaming. Before Remus could reply, possibly with an atrocious pun of his own, Roman strode into the room.

There was a brief, awkward pause as the two of them made eye contact. Patton looked rapidly between them with concern, and Remus couldn’t blame him. Even now, their one-on-one interactions tended to end with vicious spats. They were too good, too practiced at pressing each other's buttons to settle into the newfound peace easily.

“... Bad one?” he finally asked, as though he could spot the wrong-evil-awful all over Remus from a mile away. Remus felt his expression drop into an irritable glower worthy of Anxiety, but before he could retort, Roman was seating himself primly on the communal couch.

He ran his hand through the hair at the nape of his neck in a nervous habit Remus constantly teased him about, and then straightened his shoulders and patted the cushion next to him. “I’ll… like when we were kids. If you want.”

Despite Patton’s confused head tilt, Remus got it immediately, and ignored the screaming violence in his head in favor of bodily throwing himself over the couch, jostling the hell out of his brother and eliciting a Grade-A Bitchface from him in the process. Remus grinned maliciously in return.

“Do the one that looks like a snake,” he demanded, running a hand through his hair and lengthening it. Of course, in addition, thick clumps of hair ended up falling out entirely, leaving weird-feeling bald patches that might have been interesting if he’d actually intended to create them.

“On purpose or don’t want it?” Roman asked, echoing a familiar question from their childhood. It had been a royal decree, before they grew so divided, that one had to ask before ‘fixing’ anything the other did, just in case it was on purpose.

“How are you supposed to braid what isn’t there?” Remus grumbled, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he unwillingly imagined restapling his hair to his skull. “Don’t want it.”

Roman dragged his fingers through Remus’s hair, lengthening it until it was long enough to do all sorts of stupid-complicated braids. He also made the new hair unforgivably glossy and apple-scented, but Remus could get him back for that later, when he was sure it wouldn’t be (nails through nasal cavities, a cloud of suffocating darkness, decaying hands pulling you down into freshly turned soil and burying you alive) disproportionate retribution.

Two braids later, Logan appeared, rising up in the mindscape with his tie perfectly aligned but lab goggle imprints around his eyes. He only took a moment to absorb the scene, as though it was normal that everyone was crowding around Remus attentively. “Virgil informed me that you could use some assistance?”

Remus snorted. “Maybe you can perform some impromptu brain surgery to stop me thinking? Hey, if you don’t use anesthetic, I promise not to squirm too much, doc.”

“I don’t believe that man’s ever been to medical school,” Roman quoted absently, still caught up in combining three braids together into one.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Regardless of my unfortunately lacking PhD status, I believe brain surgery to ‘stop one thinking’ is also colloquially referred to as an induced coma.”

“Perfect!” Remus cheered, and then yelped when Roman tugged on his hair harshly in retribution. Patton was making that half-pitiful, half-furious face that he always made whenever the emo talked bad about himself, strangely enough.

“There are plenty of adjectives I could use to describe such a solution, but none of them would be ‘perfect’, Remus,” Logan continued. “A more effective and patient-friendly answer would be addressing your irritating or harmful thoughts through the use of various mental health tactics.”

Easy for him to say. “That might work for Tommy-boy, but I am the harmful or irritating thoughts, remember?”

“Falsehood.” Logan declared, proving that no matter what aspect of Thomas they were, the Sides were all dramatic theater kid bastards at heart. “It has become increasingly clear that while we all formed to handle certain tasks or aspects, we are all increasingly complex at heart. None of us can be diminished to simply one trait. In the same way that Virgil is much more than the experience of anxiety, there is no logical reason to reduce yourself to the thoughts that you struggle with.”

Remus shook his head, though he wasn’t sure what part of the assertion he was resisting. Logan folded himself into a sitting position and reached over for Remus’s hand, his touch grounding.

“You’ve gotten through days like this before. You’ll continue to do so after,” Logan told him.

“I got through Bad Days by making everyone’s day bad,” Remus retorted. “I’m not you, but I’m not stupid. Nobody wants me making it into a communal event.”

“That’s what family’s for though,” Patton said, shifting closer from his own spot on the rug. “Listening. Helping. Having each other’s backs when things get tough!”

Logan’s grip didn’t falter. Roman’s presence was solid at his back. Remus was beginning to wonder if he’d snorted something hallucinogenic recently.

“The sentiment is admirable, if a bit hypocritical,” a familiar voice chimed in, and Remus looked up to see Janus leaning elegantly against the kitchen archway. Virgil elbowed his way past, ruining the dramatic pose and flopping down on the couch next to Remus. He bumped his shoe against Remus’s leg in quiet camaraderie.

“Hypocritical?” Logan echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Unless you’d like to tell me that everyone here has no problems whatsoever asking for help or expressing vulnerability on their bad days,” Janus proposed, smugly.

Logan inclined his head slightly. “Point.”

“Regardless, that doesn’t make Logic or Morality incorrect.” Janus looked at Remus intently. “None of us are allowed to simply suffer in silence, anymore.”

“I didn’t exactly suffer in silence before,” he pointed out, sounding uncannily sensible. Probably from the nerd’s proximity.

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem now, hmm?” Janus replied.

Logan sighed at them all, collectively, in general. “Look at it from this angle, Remus. Your previous coping mechanism was generally detrimental due to your lack of options and isolation. Now, you have neither of those holding you back. With knowledge and assistance, you can only improve from here on out.”

Now, that was doubtful. “And what if I don’t, huh? What if I just get worse?”

“Then we’ll still be here.” Logan squeezed his hand, and Janus confirmed his words with a nod, and even though his mind was cluttered and overwhelming, they were all still there at his side without complaint.

Maybe it wasn’t too much to ask, after all.

“Well, what are we trying first?”

#sanders sides #ts remus #ts janus #ts roman #ts patton #ts logan #ts virgil #donation drive #commissioned works #writing #my writing #starrykid #woohoo!#hurt/comfort #found family

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soulmate-game · 4 years

Text

Part 2 Of that brucinette one-shot I guess

Caution, this gets a little steamy in the beginning. Nothing explicit, but I’m not subtle.

Part 1

Marinette placed down her now-empty wine glass. Her deep red sleeves, fanned out around her wrist to create a dramatic drip and natural yet artistic wrinkles in the delicate fabric, pooled against the silver tablecloth as she leaned on that now-empty arm. Her blue eyes, partially obscured by thick lashes, looked up at her company as her wine-colored lips tilted upwards at the corner. Not a spec of lipstick was out of place, not a wrinkle could be seen that wasn’t deliberate. Despite the homey, slightly awkward person she had been when in front of his family, this version of Marinette was very much comfortable to be as teasing as she wanted. After all, the two of them were alone on a rooftop and she had waited for this date for twenty-three years.

Sure, she hadn’t stopped dating during that waiting period. She tried to get over him, and she didn’t moan and groan every day at not having him there. She lived normally, for the most part. Had normal relationships, even managed to hang onto one particular boyfriend for two years before she admitted to both of them that it just wasn’t working. It wasn’t what either of them needed.

But despite the normality, despite the attraction and the feelings she built and lost for other men, she never forgot Bruce Wayne. Not truly. Of course, it was hard to completely forget about the man when he still commissioned her twice a year for a new suit but refused to entertain any non-business related conversation. The guy was frustrating, aggravating, but damn did that just endear her to him more. Even when she was in relationships with other people, her image of a perfect family always seemed to star him at her side.

In the end, she knew exactly why she never mourned his loss for long or despaired over their lost relationship. It was never lost. She knew that she would stay in Paris until HawkMoth, and later Monarch, fell. She knew Bruce would avoid Paris just as long. But she also knew that she would see the day that Paris was no longer oppressed by supervillains, and she knew that once that day came Bruce wouldn’t have the chance to get away from her. If he broke it off even after that, then she would leave well enough alone and mourn for real.

But, her smirk widened as she saw Bruce place down his own glass from his spot across from her, a part of her knew he wouldn’t run. He had stayed away because he was bad at emotions, something Marinette had become an expert in herself. He was scared and worried, he didn’t want to lose someone else close to him and knew that superheroism rarely allowed a death of natural causes. He wanted to shield her from everything, keep anything bad from happening, but she told him that she couldn’t allow outside heroes to try to help. He felt like she was keeping him from doing the one thing he wanted to do, be there and make sure she stayed alive.

As usual, his issues with emotion led him away from realizing that she only forbade Batman from helping, not Bruce Wayne. She never would have stopped him from coming to help outside of his costume. He had more to offer than just brawn, after all.

Her eyes trailed along his arms. More to offer, indeed.

What? She was a grown, forty-three year old woman. She was entitled to a bit of fantasy about the guy of her dreams.

“So,” said dream guy spoke up, watching her with an equally, sweetly dark smirk. “I believe I owe you a patrol now?”

Marinette barked out a short peal of laughter, taking the hand he offered to her and allowing him to help her up.

“Are you sure your kids don’t realize that patrol is basically foreplay for seasoned urban-city heroes like us?” She teased him back, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth. Bruce chuckled, resting a warm hand on her lower back, right above the low dip of fabric in her dress and on her bare skin.

“No, because it’s only like that for us and not all seasoned urban heroes,” he corrected, his voice a low rumble in his throat that did things to her, especially with the way he gazed down their gaping height difference into her now dilated pupils. Marinette’s smirk widened into a heated grin.

“I suppose you’re right. But I’d like to get started, and standing on the top of your business’s tower in formal clothing and flirting isn’t exactly going to help us get to that patrol any faster, you know.”

Bruce smiled down at her, picking the smaller woman up to place a gentle kiss on her wine-painted lips. When he pulled away, his own blue eyes were sparkling in mischief to match her own. “Lucky for us, I have an extra suit in my office downstairs.”

“Pfft, amateur,” Marinette teased, tapping her earlobe. “I carry my suit with me everywhere.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Polite knocking on the door caused Marinette to groan, flipping over to bury her face in the scarred, solid, and deliciously bare chest that had been holding her while they slept. A soft chuckle, still deep with leftover grogginess, rumbled through the warm skin and made Marinette burrow in even closer. Her protection from the blasphemy that tried to awaken her rose slightly, making her groan again in protest of her comfort being disrupted. A warm arm wrapping over the top of her body to pull her closer silenced the groan and replaced it with a pleased hum.

“We’re awake, Alfred.”

“Good. I seem to remember Miss Dupain-Cheng having trouble getting up in the morning, so there is still half an hour until breakfast is ready. Masters Tim, Damian, and Miss Cain are already downstairs.”

Bruce laid back down all the way, allowing one hand to smooth down Marinette’s hair. It was still tangled and messy from the previous night. “Thank you, Alfred. It might take more than half an hour to get her up, but we’ll be down for breakfast.”

“Very good, sir.”

Bruce waited until he was sure Alfred was gone, allowing himself the luxury of just enjoying the feel of Marinette’s skin against his own as they laid peacefully in bed. Finally, though, he knew he had to get the both of them started for the day or they would miss breakfast.

“Mari, it’s time to wake up,” he made sure to speak at his normal volume, knowing from experience that trying to wake her up gently would not work. Out of all the heroes he had ever met, she was the deepest sleeper. He never understood how she managed to get away with it.

“Mmmm. I am awake,” she grumbled, but the way she just pressed herself closer to him to absorb more of his warmth just gave her away. Bruce rolled his eyes fondly, running his hand through her hair and picking apart tangled as gently as he could with one hand.

“That’s a lie. Come on, we need to get up and take a shower.”

“Is that an offer?” Was the mumbled response against his chest. He raised his eyebrow despite her not being able to see it.

“If we miss breakfast, Alfred will kill us both. Besides, if we aren’t down in time then the kids will know. They are old and smart enough to put that together, and I rather not scar them for life or endure their relentless teasing.”

“Uuuughhhhhh,” Marinette finally flopped over to lie on her back, one arm slung over her face as she groaned in despair. “I guessssss you have a poinnnnt,” she whined reluctantly.

“But, considering we only have twenty minutes left, we don’t exactly have time for individual showers, do we?”

Marinette’s pout turned into a grin.

Once they both rushed through a shower, absolutely innocent despite Marinette’s sleep-induced teasing earlier, they got dressed. Marinette just raised her eyebrows when she saw that Bruce had a small section of his massive closet stocked with clothes that were mysteriously in her size, but accepted them without a word. She wasn’t surprised.

Walking down the stairs together, Bruce realized he miscalculated when they were greeted by a wolf-whistle. Tim was the culprit, grinning unrepentantly. Damian looked sour as ever, pointedly ignoring the couple, while Cass just smiled knowingly.

Of course. He would have to endure their teasing anyway, because coming down the stairs with Marinette pretty much announced to all of them about how their night went. Great.

Marinette, however, just blushed. She had matured a lot over time, and owning her own fashion label for over fifteen years had helped her get used to being in the spotlight; she still wasn’t the best at dealing with attention though. She waved at the kids shyly before dragging Bruce over to where she knew he sat at the head of the table so that everyone could be distracted by Alfred’s cooking.

Most of the day went by fairly casually. Bruce had brought a lot of his work home with him, so he and Marinette spent a lot of time in one of his sitting rooms just doing paperwork side-by-side on a couch. Owning a company didn’t always allow for vacation time after all, and even though she was overseas Marinette still had forms to fill out and reports to read.

Throughout the day the amount of people in the mansion fluctuated. Damian and Cassandra left for their respective schools, and Barbara went to work. Dick popped by during his lunch break to waggle his eyebrows at the finally official couple and steal some of their cereal. Jason even entered through the window of the sitting room that they were working in, somehow with a knife already in his bicep, about an hour before dinner.

Jason Todd-Wayne learned to fear Marinette Dupain-Cheng that day, as Bruce allowed her to be the one that stitched him up and berated him for not being careful. He would never admit just how much he adored the unfamiliar feeling of being mothered.

And that led to patrol. Marinette knew she couldn’t get Batman to relax for more than a day or two at a time unless he was injured and it was logical for him to rest (and even then she knew it would be an uphill battle).

Having immediately connected all of Bruce’s myriad of children to the appropriate members of the BatFam, and having known Bruce’s identity longer than anyone else in that mansion besides Alfred, she was allowed into the Batcave to watch everyone train and get ready for the night. She was serious about relaxing though, and was sitting back to monitor things at the cave with Oracle this time.

Marinette blinked as Bruce sparred against Damian, the young teenager aggressive in his combat style. She didn’t know his full backstory, but she could piece together the obvious bits. Bruce hadn’t been aware he was conceived, she would have heard about it from Alfred if Bruce knew he had fathered a child, and something about his birth mother must have been touchy enough for Alfred to not have told her about the child when he finally did make his way to Bruce’s care. But seeing the way Damian fought was familiar, and made Marinette stand up and walk over to the spar. She pretended to not care about the heavy gazes that followed her.

She waited until Bruce pinned his son to speak.

“So your biological son has a history with the League of Assassins,” she mused, raising an eyebrow at her boyfriend even as the atmosphere grew thick with tension. “Honestly, What is with you and dangerous women? At least compensate a bit more for his past training,” she shook her head as if she was scolding a child before holding her hand out to Damian. “Come on. Bruce is trying to teach you defensive maneuvers, yes?”

Damian looked cautiously between his father and his father’s new lover. As soon as his father let him go and allowed him to stand up, the boy grabbed Marinette’s hand and tried to toss her over his shoulder. Little did he know, she fully expected that. She pushed herself off the ground, going along with the momentum he had given her. But when he tried to let go of her hand, she held on tight and tugged him along with her. Spinning in midair, she pinned Damian’s arms against his side in mid flight, and when they landed the force allowed even her light weight to completely knock the wind from him. The thirteen-year-old was already just as tall as Marinette and had more solid muscle mass, yet he ended up thoroughly immobilized in less than ten seconds without Marinette ever attacking.

“First off, if you don’t know what your opponent plans to do then it is a good idea to let them attack first. Go with their momentum instead of against it, because nobody is weaker than when they think they have you right where they want you.”

She held the position for another second before stepping off of Damian, and dusting her hands off. Dick whistled appreciatively.

“Wow. Amazing fighting, and good tips to boot. Have you taught other heroes before?”

At that Marinette couldn’t help but cackle, a hand flying to cover her mouth and try to muffle the sound. Once she calmed down, though laughs still forced their way from her throat every few seconds, she waved her hand over to Bruce. He was trying valiantly to loom intimidatingly since he knew where this was going. It did nothing to deter his girlfriend.

“Why do you think I met Bruce when he was eighteen?” Bruce had told her how much of their past he had relayed to his kids. “Back then he was in the thick of his training to become Batman, he didn’t think about much of anything aside from the next person to learn from. He found his way to Paris because a friend of mine happened to meet him in Tibet. Her own family had ties with the League back then and she was making sure they were severed for good. She saw how he was being trained, and after a few days of examining his character, she hinted to him that he could find a good teacher in Paris for what he wanted to achieve.”

“No way,” Jason breathed, eyes growing wide as he and the other kids already started to put together what she was getting at. She smiled widely, nodding.

“I had years under my belt as a hero by then. I’m not versed in nearly as many combat styles as Bruce, but I had a lot of practical experience. I taught him tactics and field improv. The whole reason he decided he needed to carry around Batarangs with him all the time is the fact that I once told him to try to attack me when all I had on me was a normal yo-yo and a length of rope. I handed him his ass for four hours straight. After that, he decided that having something sharp on hand at all times was necessary.”

While she spoke, Marinette went over to her purse and pulled out a normal yo-yo. It was a metal one, but not made out of anything expensive or unbreakable. Just a normal metal yo-yo.

And when she walked over to pull a coil of rope down from their weapons wall, everyone seemed to realize where this was going. She turned back to Damian, ignoring the feral smirk that was now on Batman’s face. She smiled with false innocence.

“Now, for some defensive training you benefit from a bit more, Damian. I’m going to attack you with nothing but this yo-yo and this coil of rope. Defend.”

—*—*—*—*—*

#mlb x dc #ml x dc #brucinette #aged up marinette

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dindjarindiaries · 4 years

Text

What Binds Us - Chapter 2: The Friend

summary: You are offered help from the Mandalorian and attempt to acquaint yourself with him—meeting some surprises along the way.

warnings: light angst

rating: T

word count: 3.04k

previous part ⟸ masterlist ⟹ next part

CHAPTER 2: THE FRIEND

You open your eyes as Ra’ani walks in the room, followed by a shadow you can sense without seeing. The tension that rolls off of him makes you chuckle slightly. You know you cannot look so intimidating to someone like him—a hunter, a warrior. The trembling of his gloved hands could not possibly be from the sight of you, kneeling here, an easy bounty that could be resting limply in his arms at the simple tug of a trigger. The sound of his heart slamming against the beskar covering his chest cannot be from this pitiful sight of you, a fugitive who is starting to run out of options.

And you get all this without seeing.

“Breathe, Mandalorian,” you say, loud enough for the hunter to hear you. He only tenses further at your words. “You already lack enough air inside that helmet of yours. There’s no need to make your lungs suffer further.”

Silence. Then, a hesitant step forward, the sound of his spur tearing through the quiet room. Still, he is tense, and you chuckle again to yourself as you give your head a shake.

“There’s no need to be afraid.”

The Mandalorian holds his breath. You can hear it clearly through his modulator before he speaks. “I’m not… afraid. And you shouldn’t be, either.”

“I could be more afraid if you gave me a reason to be, Mandalorian.” You pause, your head tilting in the Twi’lek’s direction as you sense her unease. “You may leave us, Ra’ani.”

“Are you sure?” she speaks, her voice wavering. Her worry for you is evident. You can sense it even without the aid of the Force.

“Certainly. I’ll find you when we are finished.” You listen for Ra’ani’s footsteps to disappear, taking a deep breath as she leaves. “You may close the door, Mandalorian.”

“I don’t intend on trapping you in here.”

“I know. But, I’m sure whatever you have to say, you wouldn’t like all those people to hear it, would you?”

The Mandalorian does not respond. Instead, you hear the closing of the door and another step of his boot, this time less hesitant than before. You smile to yourself as you sit up from your knees, turning around to finally face the armored warrior. You move to sit properly on the floor. Upon seeing your face, the Mandalorian draws in another breath, but it falters as he seemingly swallows it down. “We shouldn’t speak in here for too long. I found you quickly. The Empire won’t be far behind.”

You tilt your head at the Mandalorian whose figure towers over you from your place on the floor. It should make you afraid, but it does not. Clearly, he is a hunter, but for some reason, he does not want to hunt for you. “Are you trying to rendezvous with them, Mandalorian?”

“No.” The word comes quickly from his modulator, and he clears his throat as his gloved fingers curl and uncurl at his sides. “I’m trying to help you.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Does it appear that I need help?”

The Mandalorian holds his breath. He is panic-stricken and even for a man whose face is hidden behind a helmet, you can read him easily. “I… You—well, do you?”

You chuckle, waving a hand nonchalantly at him. “I’m only joking, Mandalorian. Though I can fight, I’m not sure I could take on the entirety of what remains of the Empire.”

You hear the Mandalorian scoff. “Not many can,” he mutters, and you cannot be sure if it is only to himself or to you as well. “Why do they want you?”

“I thought it wasn’t the code of a bounty hunter to ask why a quarry is wanted.”

“I… am not hunting you.”

“But, you are a hunter?”

You can sense the Mandalorian’s frustration growing. You know it is dangerous to play with a warrior in such a way, but you find it hard to resist. There is a certain energy about him that you cannot place, one that almost feels very familiar. “Yes.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to break your code.”

The Mandalorian takes one more step closer to you. “It wouldn’t be my first time.” He seethes the words between his teeth, as if attempting to keep his cool. You force a smile away from your lips. “If you want my help, I have to know—why does the Empire want you?”

“The Empire likely wants many people. Who’s to say why? To grow their ranks?”

“The Empire doesn’t just send out commissions for anyone. They pick and they choose, like the scavengers they are.”

There is a clear amount of distaste and hatred in the Mandalorian’s voice as he talks—and you can already sense that there is something about the Empire this Mandalorian is not telling you. He is not just helping you because you are an innocent person in need: it is because he will do whatever it takes to rid the Empire of what they want. “Almost like how hunters choose their quarries, no?”

“I don’t accept commissions from the Empire.” The Mandalorian points an accusatory gloved finger down at you, and it trembles in the feelings he attempts to suppress before it falls back lamely to his side. His helmet looks after it. “Not anymore.” He then shakes his head, as if clearing all the thoughts from it. “We don’t have time for this. We have to go.”

“And you want me to trust that you’re not lying to me, and you won’t just bring me right to them—even though you’ve told me you’re a hunter?”

The Mandalorian sighs, and his helmet looks around the room before it settles back in your direction. “As far as you know, I’m your best way out of here before the Empire comes themselves. You seem to be of too much importance to them to let the hunters have a shot at you for much longer.” He then reaches a gloved hand out to you. “I may be a hunter, but I don’t serve any Empire.” The Mandalorian then lowers his voice, as if his next words mean too much to leave his modulator. “Even hunters can be helpful if you give them the chance.”

Your gaze meets his visor as he says the words. Somehow, they strike a chord within you, as if you recognize them but cannot place them—something that is very unusual for you. Regardless of the actual words said, the Mandalorian’s tone was much gentler than before, and you can sense his honesty. So, with a small smile, you accept the hand he has reached out to you, letting him help you to stand up. “Thank you, Mandalorian.”

He nods at you. “I’ll tell you more on the ship. For now, it’s best to get out of here as quickly as we can.” You return his nod, showing that you agree with his words. He tilts his helmet when you do not make a move to reach for anything. “Do you have anything to take with you?”

You shake your head. “Just the skin of my back. It’s easier to run that way.”

The Mandalorian looks at you for a long moment, not saying anything before he turns around. “Follow me,” he instructs you, opening the door and coming back the way he came in. As you pass by the place where Ra’ani stands, she stops you to give you a warm embrace, pulling away to hold your face in her hands as she faces you seriously.

“Be careful out there, numa,” Ra’ani whispers, and you give her a nod of assurance as her green eyes continue to glow with concern. “You always have a safe place here with me.”

“I know, and I will,” you respond, giving her hands a squeeze before you fall back in step with the Mandalorian.

You pull up the hood of the tattered cloak that has been draped on your shoulders, hoping it will keep others from seeking out your face. The Mandalorian walks quickly but you can still stay in stride alongside him, and every once in a while, his helmet looks to you—as if to make sure you are still there. You can still sense a certain tension about him, but you cannot place it. He is not uneasy, nor full of guilt. Rather, it is one that is… wanting. Curious. Concerned. And all of this for you.

Who is this Mandalorian?

You thought you had him figured out when he came into the room, when he tensed so tightly at the sight of you, when he was somehow afraid of the deceivingly-meek sight of you kneeling away from him on the floor. He seemed like a hunter nervous to strike, with failure and the wrath of the Empire on his mind. But, then, you had conversed, and he proved to be much more complicated than that. He did not want to hunt you. He was not particularly afraid of the Empire. He even got you to agree to come with him, a stranger, a hunter—but he still has not been satisfied. There are many things he is hiding within that armor, and you know you must work your way inside somehow to dig it out.

Your thoughts on the Mandalorian dissipates when you hear a curt curse fall from his modulator. He lowers his helmet so that it is closer to you, keeping his voice hushed as he speaks. “Stormtroopers.” He gestures slightly to a duo of troopers that stand interrogating citizens just in front of the hangar, where you assume the Mandalorian’s ship lingers nearby. Your heart drops into your stomach as you take a deep breath, quickly considering what you can do. “I told you they wouldn’t be far behind.”

“It’s all right,” you insist, your gaze flickering over the troopers’ surroundings as you try to formulate a plan, “I’ve dealt with this before.”

“I’m sure you have—and so have I. But I’m not looking to start a fight out in the open like this.”

You finally spot a tall stack of wooden crates piled up near the stormtroopers, and your hand begins to flick underneath the fabric of your cloak as you focus and watch one of them begin to move. “I don’t think we’ll need a fight,” you insist, and as soon as the Mandalorian looks back in their direction, you let the top box fall on top of their heads. They instantly begin to search the area, leaving you two an opportunity to run past them unnoticed.

“That’s… convenient,” the Mandalorian mumbles, thankfully not suspecting you to be the cause of such a distraction. You both begin to pick up your pace and head towards the hangar. You follow the twists and turns he takes once you get inside, soon coming up on something that is hidden just outside the hangar: a Razor Crest. You figure it must be his.

The Mandalorian uses his vambrace to open the hatch, leading you inside and securing it shut just after. He turns and climbs up a ladder that leads to the cockpit. You take a quick look around the hull, observing the space this Mandalorian calls home. There is an open vacc tube just beside the ladder, neighbored by a small closed compartment, doors that appear to be hiding what you can only assume based on your knowledge of Mandalorians is a weaponry, some netting, and a carbonite freezer.

How comforting.

Still, you do not waste much time as you climb up after the Mandalorian, stepping through doors that open automatically for you and settling into a seat to your right. The Mandalorian is already working quickly to take off, his gloved hands flying over the controls as if it is second nature for him. Soon, you are watching the stars get closer and closer, until you are flying amongst them and off Scath for the first time in much too long.

You take a deep breath and lean back in the seat, looking out amongst the stars before they flash to blue—the signs of hyperspace. You look to the Mandalorian with an eyebrow raised. “Where are we headed?”

The Mandalorian turns to you, his gloved hands remaining on his thighs as his visor stares at you. “We’re going to the best hideout I know: Sorgan. You should be safe there for a long time, and since I know the people there, I can check in easily to make sure.”

You hum at his words. There are at least a dozen questions his answer has brought to your mind, but you spare him by asking them one at a time. “What kind of a planet is Sorgan?”

“Agricultural. It’s got a sparse population and it’s off everyone’s radars. I can quarter you in the middle of nowhere.”

“By myself? I hardly think that’s—.”

“No. You may think me cruel as a hunter, but I would never leave someone in the middle of a strange planet by themselves.” There is something to his tone—almost like a hint of hurt, or fear—yet you cannot place it. “There are some farmers there who I know, and I’m sure they’ll take you and disguise you as one of their own.”

“And is this something you were going to run by me?”

“I’m doing that now.”

“If I don’t accept these terms, will you turn me in?”

The Mandalorian sighs, leaning back in his chair. You watch his gloved hands tense in his lap. “I won’t turn you in. You can do what you want. But, I think it’s the best option to keep you safe.”

“And why do you want to keep me safe, Mandalorian? Has someone paid you?”

The Mandalorian scoffs, yet his hands relax on top of his legs. “I don’t need payment to do the right thing.”

You nod at him. “I figured as much. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“I’ll answer that once you tell me why the Empire wants you.”

You swallow hard, crossing your arms in an attempt to hide your discomfort as you maintain some sense of peace. “I told you, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know why the Empire is fighting tooth and nail to get you? Going to the point of sending out random Guild hunters to get the job done for them? Tracking you themselves to Scath, asking innocent villagers questions?”

You scramble for an explanation. “Maybe it’s because my parents were an early part of the Rebellion and they want to get their secrets from me.. I don’t know.” You shift your gaze to look out at the flashing of blue light, finding the empty look of the Mandalorian’s visor to be overwhelming amidst your lies. “All I know is I’ve had to go on the run ever since the Empire fell. Whatever they want with me… it’s probably to help them rise back up.”

“It’s what they want with everyone they’re after.” You look back to the Mandalorian to see his helmet staring at the door, and you follow his gaze to see nothing. Yet, when you stretch out your senses further, you can feel… something.

It happens in a flash, like a vision through the Force. A child, small and green with large petals for ears. He sees you, too. You realize you are not alone on this ship.

You rise from your seat rapidly, taking the Mandalorian by surprise as he nearly jumps. “Where is he?”

The Mandalorian tilts his helmet at you—but you are no fool. You can easily sense the waves of tension rolling off of him, now, as you have discovered his little and poorly hidden secret. “Who?”

“The child.”

The Mandalorian rises from his seat slowly. He does not speak for a moment; instead, he stares at you, the emptiness of his visor sending chills through you. “How did you know?”

“I heard him.”

He tilts his helmet at you. “He didn’t make a noise.”

You frown. “Yes, he—.”

You are cut off by the doors of the cockpit opening, and both you and the Mandalorian look down to see the child standing there. He is smaller than you could tell from the vision, much smaller—a baby. He coos as he looks up at you, his ears propping up on his head as his big brown eyes fill with wonder.

You kneel in front of him. “Well, hello there, little one,” you greet him, smiling as he waddles closer to you. He stretches out a three-fingered hand, and you feel an instinct to meet it as you press your much-larger palm against his. You nearly gasp at how strong the connection is there—at how strong this child is with the Force. You know he is even much stronger with it than you are.

“You’re up early from your nap, verd’ika,” the Mandalorian tells the child, and before you can even look up at him, he scoops the child up into his arms. “You must be hungry.”

The child coos with delight, and even without using the Force, you can easily sense the father-son bond they have created. Still, there is so much about this Mandalorian you cannot sense, so much he has yet to answer for you. As he begins to walk out of the cockpit, you stop him, raising your voice so you know you will be heard. “You can’t hide behind that armor for our entire time together, Mandalorian. If I’m to tell you more about myself and my experiences, I expect you to be able to do the same.”

The Mandalorian stalls, freezing in place without turning to look back at you. “I’m giving you my help and I’ve given you the safety of my ship. That’s what I’ve offered you.” With those words, he continues to walk away, leaving you to sigh as you sit back on the same seat as before.

You know you must get to know this Mandalorian—and figure out how his presence is already so familiar to you.

previous part ⟸ masterlist ⟹ next part

twi’leki (ryl) translations:

numa = sister

mando’a translations:

verd’ika = little soldier

what binds us tag list: @themandadlorian @adikaofmandalore @chibi-liz05 @frantheseer @liadamerondjarin @datmando @mandhoelorian @lizajane3 @poenariuniverse @hdlynn @roxypeanut @readsalot73 @mrsparknuts @moonlightburned @hoodedbirdie @iellaren-uodo-rian @chibi-liz05 @trevlyan @theocatkov @nerd-without-a-cause @hdlynn @spxcedxdddy @none-of-your-bullshit @mndalorians @sammiesweet @shrinkthisviolet @bwemph @starwarsslytherin

permanent tag list: @mikahidalgo @bestintheparsec @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13 @thisis-theway @beskars @rachelloveseveryone @theindiealto @hiscyarika @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @cable-kenobi @ezraslittleblondestreak @hdlynn @your-pixels-are-showing @b0n-chann @javier-djarin @nettyklecan @mistermiraclee @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @smellssharpies @catfishingmorales @badassbaker @wille-zarr @kaetastic @saltywintersoldat @agentpike @mrsparknuts @readsalot73 @yespolkadotkitty @mandhoelorian @lilangeldevil006 @cyaredindjarin @roxypeanut @phoenixhalliwell @hail-doodles @randomness501 @this-cat-is-dea @hopplessdreamer @paintballkid711 @captain-skytrash @whataenginerd @katlikeme @petertingless @propertyofdindjarin @theocatkov @bisexual-space-slut @cyaredindjarin @arkofblake @cryptkeepersoul

mandalorian tag list: @lola-wolf @professionalfangirl55 @themandadlorian @hoodedbirdie @chibi-liz05 @nerd-without-a-cause @hdlynn @thepjofanqueen @bwemph @starwarsslytherin @iellaren-uodo-rian

#when i say it's gonna be a slow burn y'all... i mean it #you gotta earn it #THEY gotta earn it #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #what binds us fic #dindjarindiaries

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enternalempires · 4 years

Text

A Surprise Visit

This is a Lukanette fic, with majority of fluff and a lil hurt. Hope you enjoy! Haven’t figured out how to use links yet but my Ao3 username is the same!

“Did you know,” Marinette said, twisting an ebony and silver ring around on her finger. It was one of Luka’s and she rarely, if ever, took it off. When he went off to college and moved to Lyon, a mere two hour train ride from Paris, he gave her a couple pieces of his jewelry, his favorite hoodie, a Jagged Stone t-shirt, and a promise of returning. “That I miss you?”

“Yeah, Melody, I know.” The Musician’s voice was clearly wistful despite. “I miss you too, more than you can imagine.”

“I think I can imagine it well enough,” She whispered back.

They were on a call, speakerphone allowing them to lay back on their separate balconies and star-gaze. The black spaces between the stars seems farther apart than usual, the moon more alone than before.

The distance felt longer than it was.

The days went by so slow, each hour lacking something and each night dragging on and missing a vital piece needed for good sleep. That wasn’t a piece, however, but a person— Luka. She wanted him closer, close enough to hold and laugh with and see that dopey smile he always had around her and blush at his sly comments and cheek-nuzzles after he kisses her forehead.

She misses the boy that, for the last couple of years, had become her best friend.

Alya was… supportive and an amazing friend but she just didn’t understand.

Luka did, though.

Whenever she needed someone to listen without judgement or without trying to solve her problems for her— to just listen, he was there. And when the musician needed someone to talk to him, to distract him from his thoughts and whatever was making his mind a too-heavy place to be, she was there for him.

He was her shoulder to cry on and who made her laugh and she was the same, holding him when his heart ached in his chest with memories it couldn’t forget.

They were each other’s rocks in an otherwise chaotic, always shifting tsunami of a life.

Marinette fully supported Luka following his dreams and going to college and getting a degree that will push him along and better his musical career— she just wished it didn’t hurt so much to be away from him.

She had half a school year left before her time in Lycee would be up and she’d be, coincidentally, going to the same university as him. It didn’t seem to come quick enough, though.

They were both busy. Luka had gigs with his new band called the Silver-hearts of Serpents, practice, and extracurricular activities and she had to work on her designs for anyone who commissioned MDC— the name on her website— and they both had schoolwork and classes to attend to so that meant little to no time to catch up with each other during the day.

Thankful for being in the time zone, they tried to make it work and usually called before going to bed and when they woke up and texted in between classes or things that kept them on a constantly shifting schedule.

But it wasn’t the same as just being able to go across town and curl up into their favorite person’s arms and just sleep the weight of the day’s events away. It wasn’t the same as laughing when stranded in a heavy downpour because neither of them checked if it was going to rain. It wasn’t the same as chasing Andre’s Sweetheart Icecream around for half the day just to drop it from tripping over themselves seconds later even though neither of them believed in the magic behind it.

It just wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t fair either, Marinette decided, that the boy I fell in love with and who genuinely likes me back has to be so far away.

But she didn’t tell him that— not when she knew it would make Luka feel even guiltier for leaving. They were each other’s greatest support system and they always would be, and he didn’t like being gone when she was handling so much.

That so much being Alya unable to understand that Marinette simply didn’t like Adrien anymore— her falling for Luka and falling for him hard; falling for him in a way that felt deeper and closer than anything she ever did for her former crush— and still creating schemes to get them together, to the point where it was getting dangerous and rather ridiculous.

She had homework, exams coming up, commissions, hours needed to help her parent’s in the bakery, other hours dedicated to helping friends, and being Ladybug and the burden that came with the earrings (not that, to her knowledge, Luka knew about).

To top that off, she dealt with a lot more frustrating people at Lycee than she did at Dupont, including belligerent teenage boys who don’t understand the word no or respect boundaries.

So she really missed him.

So much so that it left her heart aching.

Only a couple months, she reminded herself. It would only be a couple more months till the summer. Till they would be at the same University (and sharing the same apartment— it’s less expensive and they always used to joke that they’d make great roommates with how often they spent over at the other’s place).

“Melody,” Luka said, voice deeper than before but just as smooth. “Did you fall asleep on me?”

“No,” Marinette yawned, covering her mouth with a small squeak as she curled up and turned towards her phone, squinting at the bright screen that showed his contact picture— dopey smile and all. “I just got lost in thought, sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He reassured and she felt her mouth tug up into a warm smile. She loved when he called her that or his other pet names for her, it made her feel special. “But you sound tired and I know you have a test tomorrow morning, you should go to bed.”

“But Luka,” She whined. “I want to talk with you more. I really missed you today and, and I have more things that I want to tell you.”

“Come on, my Melody,” He coaxed and she pouted. He knew she’d do what he wanted when he used that stupid, attractive, comforting voice. It simply wasn’t fair. “Both of us are free tomorrow afternoon, remember? You’re only going to watch Kitty Section practice then going home and I only have my own practice to attend to. I’m sure we’ll be able to talk after.” Then his voice got softer. “I’ll always be here for you and I’ll always listen to what you have to say, but I don’t want to keep you up when that risks your grades and, more importantly, your health.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” Marinette grumbles, groggily getting up and moving over to her hatch where she easily slipped into her bed and snuggled under the covers. “Can you at least talk to me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course, beautiful.” Luka agreed, making a sleepy blush to climb her cheeks. “Anything in particular?”

“Just about things that make you happy.”

“Well, I know this one girl and she’s the most incredible person I ever met. She had amazing blue eyes and is a very talented fashion designer. Her smiles, man, her smiles make me melt and—”

“Luka,” Marinette giggles. “Not about me.”

“But you make me the happiest,” He protests.

“Sap,” She smiles, eyes closing as she laughs quietly one more time, head sinking into her pillow. “Can you… can you sing me something?”

“Mhm,” Luka hums and it’s not long before she’s falling asleep to the sound of her song, of the one he made for her.

That night she dreamt of two tattooed arms holding her and teal dyed, messy hair falling in front of aqua-blue eyes and woke up alone with tears staining her pillow— Tikki offered her a warm smile and a pat on the cheek but it didn’t seem to help the cold, lonely feeling in her chest.

* * *

The day had not been kind to Marinette.

She woke up with a headache, didn’t have enough time for a proper meal but remembered to grab a granola bar after Luka texted her and reminded her to eat, got a pretty bad bruise on her wrist from getting it slammed in a closing door, tripped multiple times, and managed to ruin her lecture’s notes with her coffee.

On the brightside she kept Luka’s hoodie clean— as today she decided to wear it over a simple white t-shirt and paired it with a black skater skirt, lace stockings, and combat books— and managed to not face-plant into anything by the time school ended and she was allowed to pack her things and start the walk to the boathouse to watch Kitty Section preform.

Since Luka was in college and lived too far away they had to find a new guitarist, just like Luka had to find new members to form a band.

Luckily Juleka mentioned Marc, Nathaniel’s boyfriend and the writer to his artist, played the guitar and was really good at it so within no time they were back to practicing and finding a new dynamic for the group.

Luka got lucky with some of his old friends and formed his new band which was just as good, if not better, than his old one but that was only due to a lot of extra practice and more opportunities to grow.

Axel was the band’s bassist, Bash was the drummer, Tyra was the back-up vocalist and keyboardist, and Luka was the guitarist, lead vocalist, and leader.

Marinette couldn’t wait until she could see them perform live. Luka had sent her videos and recordings of their music and songs or just of him singing or playing guitar but she knew first hand that nothing compared to seeing it in person.

And she knew that, either way, his band would be amazing.

“Marinette!” A soft voice called from behind her, making the young bluenette startle and turn slightly on the sidewalk to see who was calling her. It was Rose, a sweet smile on her lips and she tugs her girlfriend along.

As soon as her and Juleka catch up, Marinette tilts her head to the dark-haired girl’s silent greeting and drifts to the side so the couple wouldn’t have to awkwardly get out of the way.

“You’re watching us practice, right?” Rose asks. There’s an energetic bounce in her step that Marinette can’t help but to be suspicious of, and the slight smirk on Juleka’s lips don’t help.

“Yeah,” Marinette says, adjusting her purse to be in front of her as a group of obvious tourists cater to the side and almost crash into her, not wanting Tikki to get tossed around. “Do you know what you guys are playing yet? I heard Ivan mention something about revamping one of your original songs.”

“Oo!” The blonde giggles, wide eyes excited as she starts to rant about the different things her and Ivan were brainstorming earlier to improve their old work.

Her girlfriend nodded and added a couple quiet things here and there while Marinette listened, pilotely following along with the conversation and her mind strayed to Luka and thinking about what he was up to.

No doubt working on his own songs, hanging out with his band mates as they practice.

“Mylene is coming too,” Rose tells her and Marinette blinks back into reality, narrowly dodging a man skating with a yelped out apology. “So even if you won’t be alone, you’ll have company!”

“Uh,” She pauses, racking her brain to know if she missed something in the conversation. “Who’s going to watch the practice other than Mylene? Is Nate coming to support Marc?”

“Nate?” Her friend paused her skipping to let out an excited squeal. “Oh, you don’t know! Well—”

Juleka suddenly spun her girlfriend into her arms and pulled her into a kiss, causing Marinette to step away awkwardly but not retreat. Paris was a welcoming city and full of diverse and accepting people but there would always be that one jerk who had a problem with people loving other people and finding a problem if they happened to be the same gender— so she would keep a look out just in case someone wanted to cause a problem.

When the pair of girlfriends broke away a couple seconds later, Rose seemed too flustered to continue or even remember what she was saying and the bluenette laughed at how smug the blonde’s girlfriend looked.

A couple minutes went by filled with light banter between the couple and an amused Marinette refusing to join a side before the three of them got to the docs and made their way onto the boathouse.

“The rest of the band will be here soon and I want to be here when they do to ask Marc something,” Juleka says, a smirk just visible under the half of her face hidden by hair. “Can you do me a favor and grab me an extra sweater from Luka’s side of the room, Marinette? I started to keep some of my things in there when he left.”

“Uh, sure?” The bluenette nods, frowning slightly. “But didn’t he say not to—”

“Oh!” Rose suddenly bursts, whipping around to face her girlfriend. “That’s clever! You—”

And then they start kissing again and that’s Marinette’s cue to go.

She passes Anarka on the haul and gives her a friendly wave that the older woman returns with a wide smirk that she now knows her daughter inherited and quickly went below deck and crossed over to where Luka’s room was.

She grips her elbows with both hands, rocking on the balls of her feet with every step as she paces down the hallway, trying to hype herself up enough to actually go into his room.

It would be so… strange.

She was never in there without him being there before and it would be full of his things but the most important ones gone— the wall of guitar picks packed up and now put up in his apartment’s living room from what she saw from the video he sent, the little trinkets gone from the desk now bare, and his bed only having a bare mattress and the walls without postures or any pictures.

She doesn’t know how it would feel but she knows that it won’t be good, she knows it will make the empty ache in her heart stretch all the wider.

But now she’s in front of Luka’s door and she doesn’t have a choice.

Marinette took a deep breath and turned the hatch on the door, the metal giving a slight creak to it as she awkwardly used her bodyweight to open it, grumbling to herself as it hung heavily halfway open— not noticing the group of three that were holding their breath at her entry from the middle of the room— and one of the sleeves that were way too big for her got caught in one of the crooks on the edge.

“Aw,” Her brows furrowed and she pouted as she tried to tug the sleeve free, but of course the world was against her and she somehow made it worse. “Mr. Sleeve, I’ve had a really bad day, can you please just— ahah! Thank you!”

Freeing herself from the door, Marinette pulled the sleeves over her hands for better control of the jacket and twisted around to begin the search for Juleka’s sweater when she met a pair of vivid brown eyes— eyes she definitely wasn’t prepared for.

“Eek!” Squeaking and startled, the young heroine takes a stumbling step back and ends up falling onto her butt, skirt thankfully in place and with her wide, blue eyes traitorously filling with water.

“Oh my God, she fell!”

“Shit, Bash, you scared her!”

“Aw, that’s a cute skirt. Do you think she’d tell me where she got it?”

Came the voices of the three strangers that were now all focused on her, eyes pinned onto the girl that fell as she stared right back, a slow race of tears from the day’s stress finally snapping trailing down her cheeks.

“W-Who are you guys?” Marinette stammered out, mind reeling and anxiety having already taken hold of her even before she noticed the trio, just noticing the sting in her palms and the burning heat of the ripped open skin. “You, you shouldn’t be in here, this is a p-private room!”

“I’m Bash Vulcan,” The guy with vivid brown eyes— and the one who scared her— had slicked back blonde hair, a thick black sweatshirt, ripped skinny jeans with converse, and a shit-eating grin on his face as he offered her a hand up.

She refused and just remained on the floor, not trusting her legs to keep her up if she stood at the moment. Feeling extraordinarily pathetic, Marinette just couldn’t focus on anything besides her pounding heart. She defeated Akumas on a weekly basis but couldn’t handle a couple strangers?

It made her feel so weak.

And those stupid tears were still falling.

“Sorry this asshole scared you, he didn’t mean to. I’m Axel, by the way. Axel Jupiter?” The one who swore and reprimanded Bash gave her a sympathetic smile that she barely registered and waved at her, his light brown hair flopping in front of his face from where it reached his shoulders. He had a punk style to him— and he said his name like it was supposed to mean something.

Maybe it was.

Maybe on a good day or with a slightly calmer heart Marinettte would’ve placed who they are but she just came up blank. Blank and panicking.

The only girl in the Trio had a pixie cut that was a pastel green and a nose ring and anyone with eyes could tell that her style was gothic anad that she simply didn’t give a shit by the tilted smirk of her lips— that only deepened as she pointed to Marinette’s skirt and asked, “Where’d ya get it, girly? I’m Tyra Bellona, I guess since these idiots gave their last name too.”

Tyra. Axel. Bash.

They’re in Luka’s boathouse. They’re in Luka’s room. They’re in Luka’s band.

The Band.

Luka.

“L-Luka?” Marinette sniffled, wiping away her tears as she sat up and winced at the way her palms stung, the broken skin and forming scabs still tender. “Why are you guys here without Luka?” She asked, using the hatch’s edge to pull herself into a standing position.

It was Bash’s turn to look suspicious and he stepped closer and pointed his finger at her, eyebrows raised, “Everyone was supposed to know why and where. So who are you, huh? Whatcha doin’ here? Are you some crazy fangirl that snuck on board?”

“What?” The young heroine swiped at her tears again, voice slightly croaky as she took a shaky step back. “N-no! I’m not a fangirl! I was getting a sweatshirt for Juleka and—”

“I smell lies! What’s your name? Don’t lie. I can smell them. I can.”

“Man,” Axel throws something at the back of Bash’s head, making his bandmate back up. “Leave the girl alone, you prick. Look at her jacket? Look familiar?”

Tyra and Bash looked her up and down, the gothic chick laughing after a second before she shoves the latter in the shoulder with a cocky look playing on her features, “Just wait until Couffaine finds out you made his girl cry, Vulcan. I can’t wait to see him flip his shit.”

“Wait,” Marinette drew the attention back to herself. “Luka is here?”

“Aw, he didn’t tell her,” Bash snickered making Axel hit his gut before gesturing to the other door that leads back to the deck but on Juleka’s side, and explaining how Luka snuck up there thinking that ‘his melody’ wasn’t there yet and wanting to make sure that his demon of a sister didn’t get too smug and spill the beans.

Marinette tiredly, but with excitement running through her veins, dashed back through the hatch door— being quickly followed by the bandmates, because who would want to miss the drama?— and ran all the way up to the deck.

Anarka laughed whole-heartedly as she passed and yelled out, “Go get ‘em, lass!” that had her blushing up to her ears but she was simply too happy to care.

Luka was here! In hugging distance!

And the jerk didn’t even tell her!

She saw Luka sitting on the couch, his guitar next to him and his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He ran his hand through his hair and tugged, an anxious look on his face as he talks to Rose about something, eyes closed as he grumbled.

Which was perfect because he didn’t even see Marinette and didn’t get the choice until she was throwing herself on top of him, legs on either side of his and knees tucked into his hips as she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his neck.

“Oomph!” Luka let out a loud breath, eyes flying open at the abrupt weight settled onto his person but then softening as he saw the girl in his lap, his arms coming around her and holding her to him just as tight— his nose nudging the top of her head as he took in her scent of chocolate cookies and vanilla. “Melody?”

Rose was squealing somewhere in the background while Juleka and Bash snickered, Axel cooing at them while Tyra complained about the disgusting gooey-ness but all of that lended into the background.

All that mattered was the two of them— the fact that they were here, in the same space, breathing each other in, holding onto the other as tightly as they could.

All that mattered was them.

Not Juleka’s scheming falling into place, not Rose’s excited chatter or how smug his mom had been or how horrible the day had been leading up to this point. Just her and just him.

“No,” Marinette mumbled, flexing her arms around him as she fully relaxed into him. “You don’t get to talk. You might forget to tell me something very, very important. Like, I don’t know, coming back to Paris?”

“I’m sorry, baby.” Luka nuzzled his hand against her hip, rubbing his thumb in circles as he mumbled into her hair. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“I missed you,” She replied, forgiveness in her tone. “But let me be prepared next time.”

“I will,” He kissed her forehead, putting the tiniest amount of space between them. “And you know I missed you too, right?”

She shook her head.

“Liar,” Luka tapped his fingers on her sides and dug them in a bit, tickling her and making Marinette giggle loudly as she still refused to move away from him. “You just gonna stay there, baby?”

“Mhm,” The young heroine hummed, placing a light kiss onto the edge of his jaw.

“Did you meet everyone already?” He asked. “Assuming that’s how you found out I was here— seeing them, I mean?”

“She met us,” Tyra cut in, a cackle in her voice that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Vulcan made her cry and scared her, she fell down and hurt her hands I think.”

“He also then got all up in your girl’s face and accused her of being a crazy fangirl.” Axel oh-so-helpfully replied.

“Traitors!”

“Bash.”

“Oh, fuck.” The aforementioned boy squeaks out at Luka’s growl. “Dude, I am so sorry, I didn’t know she was—”

“We’ll talk later about it,” Luka brushed him off— which, coming from a Couffaine, is never good as they are people who like to be blunt and solve issues as soon as possible. To delay it means that, well, you screwed up majorly. “Melody, let me see your hands.”

“No.” Marinette grumbles, earning laughs from Tyra and his sister, who the guitarist quickly flips off. “I’m comfortable and it’s just scraped and I missed you.”

“Good luck getting her off in the next hour,” Juleka said, her hair pushed out of her face so when the young heroine peeked out from his neck she could see a sly smile spreading across her features. “Marinette’s been whining about not seeing you for weeks and she’s as stubborn as they come.”

Marinette flips her off, too.

“Aw!” Rose giggles, bouncing on her toes. “You’re becoming a real Boat Kid, Mari! They’re all adorably crass like that!”

“Says you, Rose,” She shot back. “I’ve known you for years and you’ve always sworn like a sailor so it was no surprise to me that you started dating one.” This got laughs from Axel and Luka, the latter’s chuckles she could feel in her own chest.

“Hey,” Juleka said, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend. “Leave my Manic Unicorn alone, it’s cute that her favorite word is fuck.”

“I watched your Manic Unicorn swear out a teacher when we were seven.”

“I genuinely would’ve paid to see that.”

“Oh!” Rose squealed, a soft expression on her face. “I remember that, she was so rude! Mrs. Palanchi never did anything about the girls who bullied Mari. It made me cry.”

“Aw, it’s okay. Marinette can’t get bothered by them now,” Juleka patted her head and blew a raspberry onto her cheek that had her girlfriend’s sullen expression go all giddy again.

After knowing Rose for so many years, she knew the blondie was a walking mood-whiplash, so she wasn’t really surprised.

“Wait, wait,” Azel held up a hand, drawing attention as his eyebrows pinched together. “Your girl’s name is Marinette? I thought it was Melody!”

“Nope,” The young heroine says. “It’s Marinette, you can call me Mari though. Rockstar here just calls me Melody.”

“Well then it’s nice to meet you, Marinette.” Axel did a playful bow, reminding her of a different boy in black. “This prick was always shy about the details even when he could go on and on for literal hours about you. Where’d you meet?”

“Erm…”

What was an appropriate way to say ‘his room because I was having a breakdown over a different guy that I was in love with and we sort of just clicked from there after he teased me about my stutter’?

“Jules had her over to watch the band practice,” Luka, thankfully, cut in— probably having felt her body tense slightly. “We became friends after that and just got closer since then.”

Not as close as she wanted, as she’d rather be a girlfriend than best friend but this was Luka and she’d take as much as him as she could and love it until she didn’t know how to anymore.

“When did you guys start dating?” Tyra asks, popping the gum that she just put into her mouth. “Couple years, right?”

Luka’s silent for a painfully long second before informing, “We’re not dating.”

Someone Marinette doesn’t see who but would take a wild guess that it’s Bash as he starts choking on the water he had been trying to swallow and the other two bandmates start protesting their confusion.

Sometimes she questioned if Luka still liked her— but Marinette had her fair share in experiencing unrequited feelings and she knows that this is not what that looks like— and it’s times like these that she hopes against hope that he likes her as much as she likes him because she fell and she fell hard and she can’t be the only one who fell.

Not again, not this time.

Not with him.

The next hour passes by in a breeze. Mylene and Ivan show up with Marc and soon Kitty Section is practicing, the other band handing out advice and compliments where they’re earned and Anarka drifting off to an unknown place to let the teenagers ‘cause mayhem as they please’.

Ivan and Mylene left early for a double date they had been planning with Alya and Nino and somehow they managed to convince Marc to drag Nate along so it was a group date.

Eventually everyone settled down into a circle around eight at night, having eaten and caught up or got to know each other better.

Marinette learned that Tyra was a little snarky but overall entertaining in the way she so passionately hated everything but loved to mess with Bash— Bash himself was a bit of an idiot but a goofball and it made him loveable enough to forgive the scabs on her palms (Luka didn’t agree with this). Axel was Luka’s best friend and he was a generally sane person but he was fiercely competitive and loved to cause arguments.

It was the most fun the young heroine had in a while and the boy she loved was by her side, so what could go wrong?

“Let’s play Truth or Dare,” Rose giggled, turning to Juleka with wide, puppy-dog eyes. “Oh, please! Can we?”

And like the lovesick fool Jules was she gave in.

Marinette knew something was either going to go wrong or horribly embarrassing from her by the wicked gleam in the purple haired girl’s eyes and, not even five minutes later (and after Bash was dared to drink hotdog juice), Luka got a dare.

Do Seven Minutes in Heaven with ‘his Melody’.

Stupid Juleka.

But also thank you Juleka.

Which— after making sure it was okay with her— he agreed to so it was safe to say all her nerves were on fire. And it absolutely didn’t help that Tyra snarkingly called out, “If you start bumping uglies, put on a sock on the door.” after them.

“One of these days,” Luka sighed out as he closed his bedroom door behind them. “I’m really going to kill my sister.”

“I’ll help,” Marinette giggled at her, though her face was still a burning red at what Tyra had insinuated— which they, of course, wouldn’t be doing.

“So,” He said and her smile widened at his semi-awkward tone, her hands bracing herself against the hatch as she watched the musician sit on his bed, twisting the bracelet on his wrist. “What now?”

She wouldn’t say it was entertaining watching Luka be so nervous but it definitely wasn’t something she saw very often so it definitely was amusing in some sense of the word. Usually she was the awkward one who didn’t know what to do with herself, not him.

“What?” She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know how to play?”

Luka gave her a flat look, “I’m in University now. Of course I know how to play seven minutes in heaven.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Baby…” He sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, because I do want to kiss you, I just— I don’t think… fuck, this is why I have my guitar.” He grumbled. “Words are not my thing.”

“That’s okay,” Marinette smiles at him, tugging his jacket’s sleeves down further her arms. “I mean, you’ve seen my stammering. We’ll just not be good with words together.”

“Together?” Luka questions, a slight quirk to his lips as his head tilted, teal hair obscuring his eyes.

“Mhm,” She nods. “Together. You and me.”

“I like the sound of that,” He smirks back at her, reaching slightly to tug her forward, the young heroine now standing between his legs. “You asked if I knew how to play— it’s my turn for the question. Want me to teach you how?”

“And you say you’re not good with words,” She sasses, a giggle falling from her mouth as Luka rolls his eyes and takes her chin into his hand, dragging her face down so they are eye-level, both of their eyes closing, and kisses her.

It’s not a heated kiss, not one that had Marinette’s heart racing but… it was one that made something slot into place in her mind, like something was missing before but finally found its way home.

As his mouth moved against hers, she leaned into his touch, hands fluttering through his hair and tugging as the strands, his own moving to cup the back of her neck and to the side of her jaw, angling her head for better access.

The emotions spilled out between them; the love they kept tucked into their sleeves, the joy, the passion and overwhelming amount of just… feeling safe and comfortable with each other.

It was by no means a kiss without soul.

Luka would go back to his university and she’d be stuck here for another month, their lives were so different and they were busy. Marinette had the responsibilities with the Miraculous and he had his band and they both had classes and a future neither could write out a solid plan for no matter how hard they tried.

So maybe it wasn’t the best timing, maybe it wasn’t the best situation or the best reason to kiss or the best way they could have gotten together, by a surprise visit nonetheless— but they were together.

And, at the end of the day, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

#lukanette fic #lukanette #luka couffaine #band #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #viperion #fanfic #lukanette prompt #surprise visit #hurt/comfort #fluff #angst

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