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sillyrabbit81 · 3 years

Note

Hi dear

I'm a big fan of your writing, especially the way you write Sy. Love it. If you are still taking prompts, I have one.

How would Henry and his characters react to having an Erectile dysfunction?

I think that topic is not being discussed enough.

🖤🖤🖤

Thanks for the ask Anon. I was having trouble with this ask so I discussed it with @henryobsessed and we worked on it together. To be fair, she did most of it! If you haven’t read any of her work I suggest you visit her blog and take a look at her Masterlist . She is a great friend and has a wonderful perspective and a unique style. I love her!

@henryobsessed here I have to interject and have my say too, I loved this request, it was so much fun finding creative ways to discuss a delicate subject. And for the record I may have done more characters but @sillyrabbit81 wrote more words per character HAHAHA. You are a wonderful Friend and Cavill sister you inspire and push me to be myself and I cannot be more grateful. That being said have fun reading guys 😊

Summary: Situations in which Henry and his characters suffer erectile dysfunctions

Word Count: approx 3k

Warnings: smut, masturbation (m), oral sex (m and f receiving), anal play, p in v sex, bad medical advice, incorrect use of prescription medication, bodily fluids, period sex, drunk sex, Dom/sub relationship, descriptions of violence and death,

Masterlist

Erectile Dysfunction Headcanon

Henry Cavill

Henry had been filming for months and now he was headed home for a week’s break. You sat there waiting in the tinted people mover, as Henry was ushered to the car. Lights blinded you as the door opened, he climbed in, and smiling a weary grin, he pulled you into a big bear hug. He missed you so much.

That night, he fell into your arms in a passionate embrace. You had both craved each other, missing one another’s touch. As the night progressed, you noticed things were different. For the first forty minutes you were ecstatic, he had bought you to orgasm three times. Your body was super sensitive, but every time he seemed to be close himself, the phone would ring, indicating someone needed him. You had switched it off after an hour, having enough, and wanting his undivided attention.

Henry had managed to stay hard, but after an hour and a half, it was beginning to be painful for you, and he seemed no closer. Eventually, he flopped beside you, drained from the physical exertion.

“I don’t know what’s wrong. It’s like I’m right there, but I can’t let go.”

You brought him into your arms, and caressing his back said, “Don’t worry love. It will be ok. Just give yourself a day, and maybe we can shut your phone off. I think the stress it is causing you might be a big part of the problem.”

He huffed at the thought. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe.” He sighed and soon you heard soft snores spilling from his lips.

Walter Marshall

It had been a long day, scratch that a long month. Walter had been working day and night to catch a serial killer. That night as he came home, he couldn’t forget the latest victim. What they had found had turned his stomach. In all the years he had been on the force, nothing could have prepared him for what they found that night.

Arriving home he collapsed on the bed, he was so physically exhausted, and for once sleep immediately consumed him. He woke nearly twelve hours later to the smell of bacon, eggs, and coffee. He groaned; he had forgotten it was his two-year anniversary with you. Walking into the bathroom he washed his face, staring at the blood shot eyes reflected back at him.

“Come on man, get it together. You promised her,” Walter tried to fire himself up. It was no use, he was spent. Sighing, he walked into the kitchen wrapped his arms around you and breathed in the soft floral scent in your hair. For the first time in days, he felt a spark within himself, and although the horrific images still played on his mind, he felt a slight peace. He kissed your head, relieved, something could still reach him, something was still good. “Happy anniversary, love,” he growled.

After a wonderful breakfast, Walter sat on the couch with you and the two of you cuddled while watching a movie. His eyes kept sliding shut, his exhaustion made worse by his full belly. His fatigue became even more apparent when after reaching your hand beneath the blanket, you could not bring his flaccid muscle to attention.

Normally this situation would turn heated quickly, you had a way with your tongue that often had him begging for more. But Walter couldn’t get rid of the images in his mind, the battered and dismembered bodies, and the fact they were no closer to catching the killer weighed most heavily on his thoughts.

After half an hour of you trying to arouse him, Walter said in a resigned voice, “Sorry love, I don’t think I can.” With eyes that spoke of immense pain he looked at you and asked, “Could we please just cuddle? I think I need that more than anything right now.” In that moment he knew you were the one for him. He had expected huffing or crying because you thought you weren’t good enough or you asking him to please you. Instead, you had adjusted your position, so he was tucked into your body, holding him close while your hand stroked his curls.

A calm filled his soul as you whispered, “I am here for whatever you need my love. Rest now.”

Captain Syverson

You were just about to turn the light off and go to sleep when you heard the front door open with a crash and heard a rough curse. You grin, Sy was home and wasn’t sober. You knew what that meant, rough, wild, primal fucking. You quickly turn the light off and hide under the covers, well acquainted with the game, you knew how to play your part.

“Where are ya, woman?” Sy’s voice boomed at your bedroom door. “Don’t think you can hide from me. I’m hungry!”

You peek out from under the blanket, Sy had turned the light on again and was quickly undressing. You lick your lips, watching your big furry ox as he dropped his jeans, and his cock was revealed already on its way to being hard. Turning suddenly, he saw you, and you yelped covering your face again. “I see you woman, don’t play shy!” You giggle nervously, excited, your core already dampening with arousal.

Sy pulls the covers back and smirks as he sees you’re already naked waiting for him, “You’re a cheeky little thing ain’tcha?” You bite your lip, opening your legs slightly, inviting him in. Grabbing your ankles, he pulls you down the bed and gets on his knees. A low growl emanates from his throat before he dives between your legs feasting on you with an eagerness that brings you swiftly to your peak.

Licking at his lips and sucking on his glistening whiskers, he stands up pumping his cock getting it ready. Your brows pull together, puzzled, he’s always hard when he eats you out. You don’t have time to dwell on it because he’s soon ready. Sy flips you onto your knees before he enters and begins his assault on your core.

Something is wrong though, you can feel him falling out of you. Did he cum already? Sy mumbles curses, pulling out and you turn around and see him fisting himself again as he slips his fingers inside you. In a few moments he is hard again, removing his fingers and replacing it with his cock. You sigh, relieved, as he builds his rhythm, and you hear him start to groan. But soon, it happens again, and try as he might he just can’t stay hard.

“Fuck,” Sy growls. You turn around and see the look on his face, a mix of frustration and embarrassment that melts your heart. “I think I drank too much Sugar,” he says, running his hand over his short hair. “Fuck. This hasn’t happened… Fuck!”

“Hey!” you say sharply to get his attention.

“What?” Sy replies just as sharply, but he doesn’t look at you.

“It’s fine, Baby,” you assure him. You see him jut his jaw and you reach up and cup his cheeks, making him look at you. “It’s ok. You’re just a little too drunk,” you smile and give him a soft kiss. “It happens.”

“Not to me it don’t.”

“It’s not forever,” you say. “Come on, let’s go to sleep. I’m sure it’ll be back normal in the morning.” You kiss him again and pull his head down to whisper in his ear, “maybe you could wake me up like you did last week.” You pull back and smirk raising your eyebrows.

Sy grins, still a little sheepish, but there was a hint of mischief in his eyes again, “You’re a good thing, Sugar.” He kisses your forehead and says, “I love you.”

Geralt of Rivia

Geralt had never in his life had this happen before. The bar maid who had eagerly agreed to keep his bed warm on this cold winter’s night, gaped in confusion.

How could it be? She thought, All the myths about Witcher’s said they were virile and could last most of the night. She had been consumed with the thought ever since The White Wolf had arrived in the area and was quick to accept his offer to take her to his bed. She was bitterly disappointed and pouted at Geralt. Her sweet, plump lips alone should have been enough to make his cock stand, but tonight it lay unmoving, and useless.

That blasted sorcerer, it must have been him who had cast a curse on Geralt. It could be the only explanation for his inadequate showing. Looking at the poor wench beside him, Geralt pitied her. She had been most eager to satisfy his needs tonight, giving a valiant effort to arouse him. No matter, he had other ways to enjoy bringing her to the height of pleasure. Granted he didn’t normally concern himself with their needs as his own normally coincided with theirs. But tonight, his fingers, and tongue would be adequate until he broke the curse and returned to give her what she truly deserved.

Mike

The party had been epic, the drinks flowed, pot was smoked in abundance and Mike had managed to capture the attentions of a wonderful long legged blonde beauty. She helped him back to her apartment and his heart rate raised as she slowly stripped him, leaving him in all his naked glory. Laying on the bed he watched as she did a strip tease for him, her perky breasts bouncing as she jiggled her ample peach in his face.

But something was wrong, the situation was right, she was right but… he held his hand out to the two or was it three beauties before him. One took his hand as he guided her to sit in his lap. He caressed her as they kissed, his tongue violating her mouth with as much enthusiasm as his inebriated self could manage. Even with her grinding against him nothing happened.

“Shit” he swore.

The girl frowned and her lips seemed to move in twisted patterns which stilled again before she snickered. An evil cackle reverberated in her throat and her face twisted into that of a demented creature. “Can’t get it up, boy?” she taunted as she continued to laugh. She collected his clothes and managed to push him out of her bedroom and into the night. Standing in the cold with only his briefs covering his body, he stumbled as he began his walk of shame home.

August Walker

August Walker was hands down, far and away, the greatest lover you have ever had. He was the only man who had ever been able to keep up with you, your average session lasting for four hours. He was able to cum and get hard again faster than any guy you had ever been with too.

But being with August meant following The Rules. There were many Rules, rules which governed how you would dress when you saw him, how you were groomed, how you were to address him and when you could contact him. There were punishments too, but you had been a good girl, never broken any of his rules, so you never gave the punishments a thought.

One of the many Rules was absolutely no snooping. He said it was for your protection as much for his privacy. You didn’t know exactly how August made his money, but you assumed it had to be from some sort of illegal activity. So, you obeyed this rule as you did the others until one evening after a marathon session, you realised you got your period. You were shocked August hadn’t said anything, clearly he had continued to fuck you while you were bleeding. You started opening his bathroom cupboards searching for a tampon or pad or something, hoping you wouldn’t have to stuff your panties with toilet paper until you got home.

You opened the cupboard behind the mirror and were surprised to see a pill bottle with little blue tablets. You recognised them and after checking the label and confirming it you were speechless. August used Viagra? But, it didn’t seem possible that he would need it, his stamina was out of this world… unless…

“What do you think you are doing Petal?” August said from the doorway, a box of tampons and a towel was in his hands.

Quickly recovering your senses, you grabbed the box and towel out of his hands and kissed his cheek saying, “Looking for those. Thank you, August.”

Quicker than you thought possible you were bent over the counter, cheek pushed into the stone benchtop. “You found my pills,” August said coldly. Leaning his body over yours, his weight pushed down on you, holding you in place as he kicked your legs apart. You muffled a cry as you felt him hard again against your ass. “I don’t need them, for most women, Petal. But for particularly slutty, insatiable, cock hungry brats such as yourself, it’s a necessary assistance.”

“I didn’t mean to pry,” you murmured, hoping he would take pity on you. Tears welled in your eyes as his finger pressed against your ass, forcing your tight muscles apart and you cried as he entered you. “I’m sorry, August.”

“My dear sweet, Pet,” August grunted as he violated you with a second finger. “If you aren’t sorry now, you will be.”

Napoleon Solo

Napoleon had been watching the siren from a distance all night. Her lithe body commanded all around to her attention. After she finished singing her call to the night goddess, he made his move. Two drinks in hand he set his sights and went in for the kill.

The two danced, drank and now were in her apartment, laid out on her bed he was happily pleasing her, mouth buried between her delicious thighs. His tongue flicked expertly over her button bringing her to climax, exciting his body, he climbed forward and for the first time that night claimed her lips. They kissed passionately until something changed, his mind grew foggy, and his cock deflated.

“Aww, is the great Casanova having trouble?” she laughed her sweet siren song changing to a bitter retort. His confused eyes tried to fix on hers as she began to distort, her last words filling his gut with fear. “Don’t worry love. I’ll take good care of you Napoleon Solo.”

Clark Kent

Clark was in college and his new friend Tommy was egging him on to take Crystal out for a date. He couldn’t understand why the cheerleader wanted to take him out. He wasn’t anything special as far as she knew, but she had been flirting with him all week.

Dinner was nice and Clark was surprised when Crystal suggested they return to her share house for dessert. Nervous as he was around her, he was pleased when after ice cream he had allowed her to talk him into a make out session in her room. They had only been in the room a few moments when he had felt strange. They had been kissing, it was enjoyable, but his stomach had begun to feel off and he felt unusually tired and weak.

The more they kissed the more frustrated he was to realise he wasn’t getting a rise out of his little friend. He noticed a pendant hanging on the wall near her bed, the green stone glowed eerily at him giving him a bad vibe. After a few more moments he politely excused himself, saying he must have eaten something off. Clarke murmured apologies and gave promises that he would call her and he left. Strangely, by the time he left her house he felt better, as if he had never felt ill at all. He was only a little upset that he had ruined his chances with Crystal, something about that pendant made him hope he would never see it again.

Charles Brandon

Charles sat in the apothecary rooms, wondering what he had gotten himself in for. The King had recommended him when Charles confided in his friend of his problem.

“So young man, why are you here?” the old man asked, his face kind but stern.

“Well, I’ve been having trouble, when I pee it burns and well, I can get an erection, but it deflates quickly and sometimes I cannot get one at all. I’m also having abdominal pain.”

The old man chuckled. After examining the affected area, he turned to his wall of potions. Pulling together some salves, and powdered herbs he turned to address the Charles. “Here, rub this on the affected area twice a day, and drink this tea three times a day.” The apothecary paused and said with a grin, “And finally, give the ladies from court a rest for a bit, you will regain your vigour again.”

Shame and chagrin filled Charles as he pulled his coverings back over his privates. Taking the medicines, he snuck out of the room trusting that no one saw him, and hoping against all hope, that this would work.

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock sits back in satisfaction, marvelling at his new invention. Based on some literature he read from the America’s he perfected the design and made it fit himself perfectly.

Having commissioned the glass tube and rubber attachments, the contraption worked by winding a small handle, creating the necessary suction to create a vacuum, pooling enough blood into his cock to make it erect. By placing a rubber ring at the base of his shaft, he found he was able to maintain an erection for approximately thirty minutes. He could even bring himself to orgasm by his own hand.

It really was a delightful invention. Now, he just had to find that little vixen of a maid and see if it worked with her too. Perhaps he should try and use her mouth first.

Tag List 1

@henryobsessed @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @posiemax @nostalgicb-txh @moonlacebeam @anitababi @agniavateira @blakerogue @shadesofarrogance @mansaaay @stxlemate @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @madbaddic7ed @eldarwen333 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @summersong69 @littlefreya @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @myloveforhenrycavill @mary-ann84 @tellingyouastory @beck07990 @zealoushound @sofiebstar @sweetlybigdragonn @bloodyinspiredfuck @marantha @diegos-butt @greensleeves888 @endofalldays01 @justaboringadult @ysmmsy @offroadinjandals @littlewrenofrivia @pussyverson @foxyjwls007 @kebabgirl67

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bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

25 lives — katsuki bakugo

ೃ pairing: pro! hero katsuki bakugo x fem! reader

ೃ tags: alternate universe/time traveler au, a lot of angst, fluff but the sentimental and nostalgic kind, flashbacks, bakugo travels through so many parallel worlds just to find you.

ೃ warnings: strong language. wc: 4,764 words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ i created a spotify playlist for this fic, feel free to listen to it while reading here!

ೃ please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr! if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask! ♡

ೃ Heavily Inspired by one of my favorite written poetry/prose of all time, 25 Lives by Tongari. The poem will be heavily referenced and mentioned in this fic! The lines from said poem can be identified [❝ like this❞.]

ೃ After losing the love of his life in a brutal villain incident, Katsuki Bakugo had lost a part of him. Nothing and no one could ever bring her back. He became the shell of a person he once was; fiery, bright, and the driven #2 Pro-hero in the country. He continues to live life with guilt, all hope still lost until he is gifted a time device that can transport him to parallel universes, dimensions and alternate worlds, where he begins his quest to find his lost love. Crossing a hundred of realities and living twenty-five lifetimes just to bring her back into his arms.

“Stars die. they die and they are not sorry

No matter how much the moon says otherwise.

Stars die and your whole galaxy explodes.”

For the majority of Katsuki Bakugo’s life, he is the main star of the show.

Then, you came into his life and made everything else feel like a rehearsal.

In a world where he mostly treated everyone in his life as extras, you were the main heroine.

When he put up walls around himself, you brought them crashing down.

To him, the concept of love and loving someone romantically was foreign. It always came to him as a question, If whether or not love was something worth living for and sacrificing for, giving your half to another person to be whole, when he can already live for himself.

It was always a question… until you became the answer.

“Use my new baby wisely! Okay, Bakugo-san!?”

Hatsume Mei, a schoolmate of Katsuki back in his UA days, warned him cautiously. She was now an esteemed scientist, one of the best in the country. Katsuki was the first one to come into her mind when she finally completed her new invention, a gadget that can transfer a person’s soul and being to a different body; one in a different space time continuum.

It was as if living a new and different life.

In another universe.

The concept of the device was pretty straight-forward. You are able to go to different dimensions and live the life of your other self; then if it wasn’t the world you wanted to live in, you are free to disappear and go to another parallel universe. It raised skepticism at first and it sounded too good to be true, as how could something as extravagant and complex as this become possible? But they were living in a world full of heroes with the most unique and bizarre quirks, so why can’t it be possible?

This was his chance.

Maybe, with this, he can bring back (Y/N)…

All along, there had been hope.

He was finally going to see her again.

His thoughts bring him back to the day of the incident.

What was reported to be a regular villain attack, escalated into something that no one could expect.

She was the only casualty-

And he was a minute too late.

Was he not fast enough? What could have happened if he had gotten there in time? Hundreds of hundreds of scenarios of what could’ve been still continue to haunt him until this very day, what could have happened if he had only arrived there earlier to save her? The things he would do to see her beautiful face and feel her calming presence once more, to see the loving woman he went back to after a tiring day, to pepper kisses on, to be dancing with in the kitchen at 2 am, to be the sharing the first cup of coffee with in the morning, the one to wake up to every single morning…

The one whom you’d share the rest of your life with.

But, now… that life was gone.

Seeing your limp and unmoving body surrounded by debris was the most devastating experience and image he had to see and go through in his entire life.

He could do nothing but hold you in his arms, gritting his teeth, tears streaming down from his cheeks, feeling nothing but frustration and powerlessness as the world came crashing down on him.

“Dammit (Y/N!) Why you? Why did it have to be you?”

Your resting eyes and dormant body remain steady and… cold. Your boyfriend rests his head on your shoulder, trying to hide that he was bawling in pain and sorrow. Katsuki began to feel the weight of his emotions pulling him down, his thoughts reminding him of his past failures and mistakes, and now that this accident that met your demise became one of those said mistakes, how will he be able to recover? If he was able to overcome his demons and insecurities solely because of you, his friends, and his parental figures to guide him… will he even be able to do the same once again?

He was the #2 Pro Hero too… What will the public think of him?

After he had failed to save the one that he had loved the most?

It has been a year since then.

Katsuki’s life went on without you.

Well, of course it did, Of course it does. It was just an ending, they told him. Not the end.

He told the general public that he had been slowly recovering and that he was able to bounce back to his usual explosive self. Still yelling, still being the competitive and pompous ass he is, even as a Pro-hero. But his friends and family weren’t dumb. Kirishima, his closest confidante knew there was something wrong with him. His parents noticed too that he still wasn’t himself. All of them did.

They all knew Katsuki still hasn’t recovered from the incident at all.

I mean, who would right?

It was perfectly normal to mourn. It was part of the healing process. The Pro Hero Dynamight still can’t move on and that feeling was valid. It takes time to fully heal and he had already made it clear time and time again that he will never ever love someone like the way he loved (Y/N).

But, if there was a way to bring her back, then he wanted to take that chance.

When Izuku heard of news from Hatsume Mei’s newest invention, Katsuki’s green-haired childhood friend immediately told him about it.

Although he was unsure at first, the quirky scientist assured him to wait a little bit more for the trials of the device to finish if he wasn’t sure about it. And when her test subject came back safely, bringing home their lost relative from another universe, that was when Katsuki became sure of his plans.

This was the key to bring (Y/N) back.

It wasn’t going to be easy but he would do absolutely everything just to see you again.

And with that, the day of his world-jumping adventure (literally) had finally arrived.

Bidding farewell to his family and friends, a small gut feeling inside of him says that this might be the last time he’ll ever see them again… and so, in the most Katsuki Bakugo fashion ever, he thanked everyone present that day… indirectly. He expressed appreciation to those who supported him and helped him throughout his life.

Now, it was his time to find the girl who had been there for him the most.

(through his darkest times and saddest nights, she was the ray of sunshine.)

He took a deep breath, turning to his loved ones one last time, a solemn nod yet the cheekiest smirk present on his face as he disappears, whisked away to another world.

The parallel universes that he was going through dropped him into different years of his life. So, Bakugo had to adapt to knowing what age his other self was in the timeline he was currently in. He was lucky that most of the time he landed in a world and at the time where he was a student at UA.

The time where he originally met you.

He needed to take note of every world he had been too because not only were each and every one so different. Katsuki wasn’t a poetic person (his vocabulary mostly composed of colorful words.) but as he continued to jump through so many parallel universes, he had begun to take note of the ones that stood out to him the most. In the form of a poem, one that he thought you would appreciate when he finally reunites with you. Another you at least.

[❝ The very first time I remember you, you are blonde and don’t love me back.❞

✧ This is the first parallel universe in where you were an upperclassman. From Class 3-A. A friend of Nejire, one of the big three. Katsuki was so delighted to see you, only for you to not know him. He was currently one of the most popular students in UA, of course he is, but you paid him no attention, passing by him in the hallways as if he was just another regular freshman, instead, you were seen holding hands with some slimey-looking guy that Katsuki has never ever seen in school. This wasn’t you. Or, at least, this wasn’t the (Y/N) he was looking for. This was only the first parallel world. He wasn’t going to give up.

[❝ The next time you are brunette, and you do.❞ ]

✧ Unrequited love. What a stupid cliché. In this world, he was an idiot too far up his own ass, whilst the entirety of Class 1-A loathed him and did not look up to him like the way they did in his original world. Katsuki was so caught up in trying to change his personality, that he failed to notice you. The girl who was always in the back of the classroom, looking out the window. You were always just there. Never noticed. Admiring him from afar.

[❝ After a while I give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything. because even if you don’t exist, I am always in love with you. ❞ ]

✧ This was practically the same world that Katsuki originated from. Only you were missing. Every single event that transpired in his life, had happened in this parallel universe. The USJ Incident, The Forest Camp Training, The Trip to to Nabu Island… everything. There was this huge empty space that you were supposed to fill. Except, you didn’t exist in this universe. It was the quietness and the lack of your presence in this world that bothers him. Katsuki wonders how this other self of his could continue this life without you in the picture.

[❝ I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together, when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me. ❞ ]

✧ This universe surprised him with puppy love. Here, he was brought back to his childhood. You were his dearest friend and childhood sweetheart. The three of you along with Deku, were a trio. At a very young age, you kept his feet on the ground, never wanting him to think that he was above everyone else despite his powerful quirk. The young Bakugo was able to share his frustrations and insecurities to you, while you always listened. You were always there. He talked about his quirk and his complaints about how the other kids only liked him for his powers, but not for who he actually is. You continued to support him and love him wholesomely for who he was and he was glad to have a friend like you and…. Deku. (as much as he didn’t want to admit it

However, it ended there. The two of you lying down on the hill, looking up at the stars, and shyly holding hands. Just randomly faded away. And in a blink of an eye, the timeline shifts forward to middle school. His worst years, he would say.

He was so eager to see you again and hopefully remain friends with Izuku after all this time.

Yet, you were nowhere to be found and… Izuku wasn’t his friend anymore.

Apparently, the two of you became distant after graduating elementary because you moved away and never got into contact with him ever again.

This was too heartbreaking for this universe’s Bakugo. To have such a wonderful and healthy social life when he was a kid, only for all of that to just disappear when he started middle school. On to the next parallel world then.

[❝ I love how you play along with my bad ideas, before you grow up and realize they are bad ideas. And in our times together I have many bad ideas.❞ ]

✧ The Sludge Villain. A very traumatizing experience that still haunts Katsuki until this very day. In this world, you were still friends with him. Always following him around and making sure he didn’t get into trouble. He continuously pushes you away, telling you that he didn’t need you and you shouldn’t be controlling of him.

You finally had enough of his arrogance that day and… got into an argument with him. It was the same day as the Sludge Villain incident.

It happened in this universe too.

After he was captured by said villain, you ran after him, tears welling up in your eyes, wanting to reach out and save him. The sludge villain noticed you, and became more interested in your quirk, targeting you instead. All Might was a little too late and…

The incident led you to losing your quirk and having to live in a hospital for the rest of your years.

It felt like a long bad dream. One that reminded him of your demise in his original world. Bakugo immediately teleported to a different parallel universe. Not wanting to deal with that kind of sadness ever again.

[❝ When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you. Yet, always, you forgive me.❞ ]

✧ In this universe, you were in the same hero agency. Not knowing each other prior to this. Bakugo was the new hotshot that all the other heroes in your agency were going crazy about, just because he was from UA and was attractive. You didn’t get the hype and why everyone else was fawning over him. He was a Pro-hero just like all of you. So, when you finally met him in the flesh, you could immediately tell he was a conceited ass by the way he looked at you and by the way he presented himself.

Unbeknownst to you, Dynamight’s heart was fluttering with happiness at the sight of seeing you again. Your Pro-hero self. Caring, Bad-ass, Confident, and Courageous… It was you.

Almost you.

After being partnered up with him in hero work for the past months, he began to turn soft, a bit annoying, and act flustered whenever you were around which you immediately thought was very out of character for him.

Then he confesses.

You said no.

It just didn’t feel right. First, your hero career was more important to you and you just couldn’t reciprocate those feelings back. The two of you weren’t for each other, and he understood that. He left you for a moment to go get get some “fresh air.”

Bakugo was getting frustrated. His mind going hazy at the thought that he’s gone to so many parallel worlds yet still haven’t found you is slowly beginning to take a toll on him. But he still wasn’t going to give up.

[❝ As if you understand what’s going on, and you’re making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist, and the ones where we just, barely, never meet. I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.❞ ]

✧ The next alternate worlds he went to were an absolute mess. One of them where the two of you barely meet. Merely passing by each other in the street, opening the door for you or entering the same convenience store. Fate not wanting the two of you to meet. Like magnets being pulled away from each other. A romance movie without the romance. As if telling Katsuki that the two of you were never meant to meet in this universe. Don’t even bother.

Then there’s the other one where you were a merciless villain and he was a pro-hero who had to defeat you. He couldn’t do that. You overpowered him.

But, hey, at least he got to see you as the girl who didn’t put up with his shit and could care less about him. Not to mention you were a part of the organization that was against everything that he stood for as a hero.

It was a tragedy. Not the Romeo and Juliet kind, but reminiscent of it. With Romeo sacrificing his life, yet Juliet remains the same and indifferent.

[❝ But when all’s said and done, I’d surrender to you in other ways. Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder is this the last time? Is that really you? And what if you’re perfectly happy without me?❞ ]

✧ Bakugo was finally teleported to a reality where he was a high school student again. However, he wasn’t studying in UA. Instead, having to go to a regular high school (which he was totally irritated about because why is his parallel self here going to a regular school in the first place? What happened to him?) The two of you pass by each other on your way home. Going off in different directions. You were a student at UA, laughing and mindlessly chatting with his friends. Mina, Kirishima, Denki, and Sero…

All of you barely even noticing him and acknowledging his presence.

At this moment, he realized that maybe you weren’t meant to meet in this world again. He felt like a simple character in the background. A small speck of dust in your universe. God, why was he thinking this? This wasn’t like him. He slowly lost his confidence as he goes from one parallel world to the next to find you. He couldn’t even motivate and give himself pep talks anymore. Has he reached the breaking point? Is he still even himself? Is he still Katsuki Bakugo?

Maybe, he should just give up trying at this point. Every single alternate reality so far all ended in tragedy. Not once were the two of you able to reconcile and have a happy ending. It was not like him to give up, but the chances at this point were slim and in each alternate universe, Bakugo just become more and more disappointed with how things turned out with your other-worldly selves…

It was as if the only universe where the two of you became happy was in his original world.

Was he going to stop here?

[❝ Ah, but I don’t blame you; I’ll never burn as brilliantly as you. It’s only fair that I should be the one to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes.❞ ]

✧ This was it. The twenty-fifth parallel world. Hopefully, the last one that he has to go to and hopefully the one where he finally he finds you.

Bakugo jumps into the portal, expecting the vibrant colors and hues of the city to appear around him, only for him to be transported to a white box.

In the middle of this white void was a cherry blossom tree. Blooming in the prettiest pink colors, and swaying with the non-existent wind. Near it was a small bench. A feminine figure sitting on it, facing the tree.

It was you.

You.

Katsuki knows it’s you because it’s the same dress you wore that day.

A beautiful blue dress that the two of you bought when you were out for some errands. It was the kind of blue that reminded you of the sky, which is why you bought it in the first place. You were saving it for that day, to wear when you visit Katsuki at work and drop him off his bento lunch.

That day.

Instead of a sky reflecting off of your dress, it became grey. Like the color of a storm instead.

He remembers fondly what happened at that same morning. He was getting ready for hero work, whilst you were rummaging for something inside the closet.

“Ahah!” You exclaimed, finally pulling out something to wear. The sound of the wardrobe hangers clinking from the inside.

Katsuki wanted to take a peek of you but you were giving him no chances. You see him trying to take a look when you noticed his blonde hair spiking up more than usual.

“Hey! No peeking!” You giggled, hiding yourself even further inside your closet.

“Gah. Come on! Just one?” He groans, teasing you, trying his best to pull out his puppy tone. “Please?”

“No.” You deadpanned seriously and you could practically feel him pop a vein.

“Hey! What was that for!? I was just joking-“

“I was just joking too you weirdo.” You giggled again, stepping out of the closet. You take a deep breath and straighten your dress, twirling around for him to see. “How do I look?”

He dashes towards you, picking you up from the ground as he begins to twirl you around.

“Katsuki! Put me down!” You chuckle, feeling his strong arms wrapped around you. “You’re going to be late for work!” You tap his back lightly, trying to get him to put you back on the ground.

“You’re beautiful. You always are.” He says seriously. Not a tinge of playfulness or abrasive in his voice. He was still holding you up, but positioned you in a way that the both of your faces were inches away from each other, gazing at each other’s eyes.

The both of you lean in for a sweet and blissful kiss. It felt light and comforting. A feeling that you always have whenever you were with him. A very giddy feeling.

And at that same day, when he saw you again, surrounded by darkness, your eyes closed, your body tranquil and your gentle face looking ever so at peace…

You still looked beautiful, even then.

“Suki-kun.” You wave at him from afar, a solemn smile present on your face. You beckon him to sit next to you but he hesitates.

“(Y/N)…” His voice cracks, not really noticeable, but you could hear it. “Tch… are you.. real? Is this really you?”

“It’s me, love.” You continue to show him your smile. As you blink, you were suddenly caught in his arms. Katsuki was hugging you tightly like there was no tomorrow, his head nestled on your shoulder. His hug felt warm yet cold, like he had been hugging skeletons all this time whilst trying to find you.

You had no words to say to him.

It was just that kind of moment.

Hearing your voice, hugging you tight, holding your hand, and seeing your smile was enough for him at the moment.

This was you.

Actually you.

“It seemed like a lifetime ago when I began searching for you.” He whispered softly, his voice still so rough yet loving all the same.

A lifetime of pain and sorrow. Of disappointment and missed opportunities.

“Ah…” Your voice trails off. “We don’t have much time left.”

“Huh? What the hell do you mean?” You untangle yourself from his arms, cupping his cheek and rubbing your thumb whilst he holds your hand still.

“I-I can’t go back to our original universe.” You mumble, trying to fight back the tears and continuing to caress his face. “We can’t go back together.”

“(Y/N)!” Bakugo’s face goes stern, as realization hits him. “Shit! (Y/N)! Look, We can get out of here okay!? There’s this device I have-“ The device on his wrist dissolves into nothing as the room around you begins to be consumed by darkness, like sucking you into a black hole.

“Katsuki… no. It’s hopeless! We can’t-“

“Damn it (Y/N)! I’ve traveled through every fucking imaginable universe possible just to find you again! I’ve gone through hell and back just to see you again! I’m not going to leave without you!”

Before you could answer his rebuttal, the bench that both of you were sitting on vanishes and now the two of you were falling in an endless black hole.

As this parallel world around you began spinning faster and faster, the two of you floated upwards, hands locked tightly together, and your eyes sad and bewildered.

The two of you watched as your faces grew younger back to your high school years, like this universe was going in reverse, moving the both of you backwards in time.

You were still holding onto Katsuki’s hands, trying to savor the last few moments with him as you began to say your goodbyes, tears coursing down your face.

“Katsuki… I know you had seen things you wish you hadn’t. You have done things you wish you could take back and I know you’ve been wondering why you’ve been thrown into all of this, why you had to suffer the way you did and why you had to go through so much just to find me. The ghost of me. And as you were going through all these alternate universes alone and hurting, I wish I could tell you that it’s okay. Even if you don’t find me again, I will always be here. My presence will always be lingering. I will live in your heart, Katsuki Bakugo. You deserve the whole world for traveling through twenty-five lifetimes just to look for me. I love you with all my heart, my soul, my being, and all that is left of me… I love you.”

“I-I love you too. Through all these lifetimes I’ve spent with another you, you will always be the one.” Katsuki mumbled, pulling you for one last kiss.

A kiss ever so soft and sweet, worth all the lives he’s experienced.

“Let’s meet again in another lifetime.”

Time continued to reverse back, to the point you no longer knew who you were with. Their face being blocked by a gleam of light. You were grasping the hands of a stranger, but you didn’t let go. And neither did they.

For a moment, there was a calming presence. A whole new world was opening up like a vortex, swallowing the both of you…

Into a whole new universe.

“(Y/N)-chan! Wait up!”

“Oh? Ochaco-chan!”

The brown-haired girl catches up to you, holding on to your arm as she catches her breath. “Can you believe it’s our first day in UA!?”

“I can’t believe it either!” You giggle along with her, taking in the sight that was the top hero academy of Japan.

It was finally the month of April.

The Cherry blossoms were blooming, symbolizing a time of renewal, a time for change and a time to turn over a new leaf.

Today is your first day in UA Academy.

You still haven’t even grasped the fact that you even got in the first place.

Everything still feels so surreal.

The entrance exams and the excitement you felt whilst waiting for the results to release and now, you were about to step foot into the school of your dreams?

What an amazing start to your high school life indeed.

You and Ochaco were standing in the middle of the walkway, still in awe of all the pretty sights when someone bumped into you.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” You called out.

No response.

You turn to take a good look at the person who knocked against you and it was… a guy.

Blonde. Spiky Hair. Hand in his Pockets. Earphones on. His pants worn loose.

God, what a dork.

“It’s alright (Y/N)-chan! He probably didn’t hear us.” Ochaco assured you, trying to pull you away from him before you could even start a fight.

You sighed, turning to your friend with a smile. “Fine. Fineee. Shall we head to class?”

“Class 1-A! Here we go!” She holds onto your arm once more as the both of you giggle and hop your way into the classroom.

“Ochaco-chan! What are you saying!? You do know I got sorted into a different class right? I’m in Class 1-B!”

“A-ah! You’re right! I’m sorryyyy (Y/N)-chan!”

Bakugo turns his head to look back at your animated figure walking behind him. He stares at you for a good second whilst readjusting the earphone on his left ear, as he too, heads on his way to his Class 1-A.

There is something so delicate about time, so fragile. In a slight moment, you can miss something so pivotal, yet never have the chance to see or witness it ever again.

Feeling the presence of the person you would be spending the rest of your life with, joining the dots in the sky, and wondering when your stars would align.

Until then, you will dream of him, and he will do the same.

It was only a matter of time. You will cross paths again.

[❝ until I find the one where you’ll return to me.❞ ]

- Fin.

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34 @sparkykatsuki @ramunegoddess, @serossimpy @drinktheramune

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo angst #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bakugo x y/n #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n #mha angst #bnha angst #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n

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diofasolia · 3 years

Text

{Always}

{Shattered! Dream x Reader}

Shattered! Dream by @shattereddreamsau

Writings by me

Today (8/7) is Shattered! Dream's birthday and I decided to post a writing I did last year—which is also the reason why I eventually join in the tumblr

Because back when I wrote this story, I found Dark Cream comic, which made by amazing @zu-is-here

Her creations give me the inspiration for the writing

The story is long (it has like 2000 words in it) and may be a bit cheesy, but I'll be happy to know if you read the whole thing (◡ ω ◡)

******

Before the story start, I want to ask you a question.

Do you believe that the worst person can change?

Oh! How awkward, sorry, I ask the wrong question.

What I meant to ask is—

Do you believe that the best person, the kindest person in the world can change?

Maybe…all it needs is a tiny push?

The harsh whipping hits in my abdomen again. I kneel on the ground, thinking how deep the scar might be from that blow.

"What're you doing!? Look at your king when I'm talking to you! Such a piece of useless trash!!"

"I apologized, My Lord."

Raising my bruised neck, I gaze at the former guardian of positivity. Those eyes that used to hold the tenderness, now only fill up with hatred.

"Where're those fricking basters!? I told you to track down my brother and other Sanses!"

"I'm sorry, My Lord. They escaped. I can't find where their location is–"

Not even waiting for my sentence finished, another powerful punch land on my face. I watch as a tooth fall out of my mouth. Blood dripping down my chin.

"Worthless! Can't even do a little task like that!"

Multiple kicks and insults throw at me. The numb feeling slowly occurs in my torso as I curling up into a ball.

Closing my eyes, the memories from the past arises in my mind, bringing me back to the day that I seal my fate.

"Dream? Earth to Dream!"

"(Y/N)? What's wrong, love?"

"What's wrong? I've called your name for five times! But you didn't answer to me."

Dream scratches the back of his skull, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Is that so? I'm sorry, (Y/N)! It won't happen again, I swear!"

I cuddle Dream close, letting out a giggle.

"It's fine! I don't really mind it. But Dream, you tend to space out recently. Is there something on your mind? You can tell me everything, you know that, right?"

Giving me a kiss on the cheek, Dream smiles gently. He assures me that there's nothing to worry about. It’s just the task of guardian makes him a little exhausted.

"Well, if that's the case, go on and get some rest! I will inform you if something was up."

"Okay! Thanks, (Y/N), I'm glad I have you by my side."

"Me too, my dreams and hopes."

It's been quiet in Dream's room. He must be very tired. I knock on his bedroom door, telling him to wake up.

"Dream, I know you're tired. But you still need to eat."

"Dream? Are you awake yet?"

There's no answer.

Guess I’ll have to get into his room.

Yet no one is there, only an opening portal hanging in the air.

A portal leads to Dream's corrupted universe.

"I'll show you, brother. I know what you're feeling…I know what you're going through…"

"No! Dream, stop!! You don't know what you're doing!!"

Two vague voices shouting in the distance. I begin to run like my life is in danger.

What the heck is going on here?

What is this dreadful feeling?!

I'm too slow.

The half bitten black apple lay on the ground. I watch in horror as the small tendrils creeping out Dream's eye sockets. His painful screech rings in my ears.

"Dream!!!"

I reach out to him, hoping that I can comfort Dream in my arms. The positive energy…they gotta do something, right?

"What…? Nightmare! Let go of me!! I need to…to get Dream!!"

"No! You can't get near him now, (Y/N)! You'll…you'll get hurt!"

I thrash in Nightmare's hold, screaming at the top of my lungs.

"Dream!! No! Dream!!!"

"What's wrong, love?"

My teary eyes stare up, it's…Dream's voice.

But it sends an unknown coldness down my spine.

"Ahh, you're crying! Good, keep doing that."

A sadistic grin spreads on Dream's face.

"I love it."

Nightmare is already sobbing, begging for his beloved brother to come back. I walk step by step to Dream, putting on the best smile I can muster.

"My love…Dream…please, come back to me…! I love you. I know you're strong enough to resist those negative feelings…"

Dream cackles loudly. The tentacles wrap tightly around my neck, pulling me closer to him.

"Go back? To my weak self? (Y/N), when did you become stupid? Why would I do that?"

"I've already past the point of no return."

A bucket of freezing water splashes on me. I must have passed out during the abusing session.

"Wake up."

"Get clean up, we're leaving."

I pick up my sore body, stumbling across the lonely hall that me and Dream live in. There's no one here except the two of us.

"Make a choice, (Y/N). Will you join me? Or will you prefer to disobey me like my coward brother?"

"I'll go with you."

I want to weep, yet I can’t even shed a single tear. I shouldn't be upset. After all, it's me who decided to follow my corrupted lover.

Filling up the bathtub, I submerge myself in the steamy water.

"Why, (Y/N)!? Why are you side with him!? Open your eyes! Dream doesn't love you anymore. He's just using you!"

"It doesn't matter, Nightmare."

"Great job, (Y/N)! You make this AU full of despair and miseries! I always know you're my favorite soldier!"

"It's my pleasure to serve you, my lord."

I scrub my blood-stained skin, the wounds sting because of the soapy water. Some of the old gash reopened, making me yell in frustration.

"We can save Dream! Don't lose any hope, (Y/N)!"

"How? There are barely things we can do. It's over, Nightmare. Look at yourself! You transfer back because Dream shattered! How are you gonna turn him back? By let someone else eats a black apple again?!"

The white dirty bandages wrap around my mess up torso. Why am I even bother treating my injures? They sure are going to reopen soon anyway.

"No matter what you say to me, I won't change the path I've chosen, Nightmare."

"I've already gone far enough."

"I don't understand…he's hurting you, (Y/N). Are you still…in love with my brother?"

I hate it so much.

The smell won't disappear no matter how many times I wash it over and over.

I hate it.

My hair smells like those disgusting goop on Dream.

Why can't I get rid of this sickening stink!?!

Throwing the bottles at random direction, I tug my hair till I scream out.

"What's with all that noises in there!? You better finish your business soon, I'm losing my patience!"

I hate it.

"I deeply apologize for making you wait for such a long time, my lord."

I wish I can understand your pain sooner.

"Whatever, time to leave."

I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

"My lord, where are we going, may I ask?"

Dream's left eye glows in excitement.

"I find out where those sneaky scums are hiding."

With a wave of hand, Dream opens the portal leads to an unknown empty place.

No one is left out.

Nightmare, Ink, Blue, everyone's here.

"And I'm going to give them a pleasant encounter."

But today is a little different.

Then all hell breaks out.

Nightmare's starting to transform. The dark gooey substance covering up his body gradually.

The same routine as usual. Nightmare pleads Dream to stop his actions while the former guardian of positivity just laugh it off, a bit talks here and there.

"Miss me, dear brother?"

The crazy laughter of Dream rings in the air.

"Yes! Finally, things are getting interesting!"

While Dream focusing on battling with Nightmare, I have to handle the two other skeletons.

"I know deep down you don't want to fight us, (Y/N)! Let's just drop our weapons, okay?"

Ink creates a bunch of arrows, ready to launch them at Dream. I block his charge immediately, slashing Ink's arm with my sword.

My silence is always my only answer.

"No one's going to get near Dream."

I continue to attack Blue. We've already been through this conversation many times.

"How…how's this possible?!"

Dream can only defense himself from Nightmare as the latter one keeps on firing attacks. It looks like Nightmare gets more advantage of the battle.

"Seems like you can't control your tentacles very well yet, little bro."

Nightmare mocks, resulting Dream to lose his temper. He strikes at Nightmare blindly, only to receive a powerful blow in the guts.

"Dream!!"

I rush to Dream, who’s looking more exhausted than usual. From the way how he’s panting heavily, I know he's already losing too much strength to fight.

"Get away from me! I don't need your help!!"

The attack is sloppy but I didn't dodge it. Dream can beat me all he wants after I get him to safety.

Even if it means I can possibly die.

"My lord, I apologize, but we have to move to another universe again."

Dream growls at me.

"It's you who are dragging me down!!"

They're still following us.

I'm whacking to the ground in a flash. A heavy boot stamps on my ribs harshly.

The nasty cracking sound and my piercing shirek fills in the air.

"You're no longer useful to me."

I watch as Dream disappears in a portal. He doesn't even spare a glance at me. Leaving me bleeding and slowly dying on the ground.

"I've told you."

Nightmare's lurking shadow towers above me.

"Oh no, Ink! We must save (Y/N)! She's…!"

Ink put a hand on Blue's shoulder, shaking his head solemnly.

"We can't, Blue. Remember, our priority is to capture Dream."

"Please, Night…"

I find myself pleading to Nightmare.

"Don't…kill Dream…"

"You and I both know that's an empty promise, (Y/N)."

Three skeletons begins to move towards the portal that opens by Ink. Before they leave, Nightmare whispers in a quiet voice but loud enough for me to catch.

"…he's in Dreamtale."

How much will you sacrifice for protecting your fallen love?

"You really are dumb. You know that?"

"Or you're just enjoy me breaking you apart bit by bit?"

"Don't you scare of your own nightmares?"

"I deserve it."

"I'm already living with it."

"You will always be my fading dreams."

"It's my own redemption."

"Surrender now, Dream. Then we can put an end to this whole mess."

My time is running out.

"Heh, I thought you know me well, dear brother. You should get the answer by yourself now."

"…goodbye, my poor little brother.

I pray to you, God. Let me see him one last time.

I can't save him the last time.

It's always a miracle how accurate the portal can lead to.

"(Y…Y/N)?"

This time, I'm going to save Dream.

There's no pain anymore.

"…at least…you……say my…name……one…last……time…"

Crimson blood drips down my penetrated torso. I think I see Dream's crying. But that might be just my own tears.

Forgive me, Dream.

My collapsing body falls forward, landing on the soft grass surface before me.

(3rd pov)

"Nightmare, I need your assistance."

"I thought we're enemies now."

"There's a method I want to try. It might succeed to bring Dream back."

"Well, I'm here to listen."

"She's just a tool."

"Nothing else."

"Because I know him well. The extreme emotion is the only possible way to get things right again."

Dream mutters to himself like a broken recorder. Staring the wrecking body of yours, his non-existent heart begins to hurt.

"I refuse! That's too dangerous! You surely will be dead in this terrible plan! Besides, how can you so sure he'll behave like you predict!?"

"It's worth it. I'm doing this for the whole alternate universes, and him."

"But…you…"

"Wake up! I demand you to wake up now! (Y/N)!!"

"It's not…worth for your own life."

"Don't pity me. Pity for the one who can't help himself in his own nightmare."

"Wake up."

"Don't leave me…alone, (Y/N)…please…my love…"

Ahh, it must be the time when he transfers into this horrible creature.

Nightmare, who’s now in his uncorrupted form, widening his eyes.

"…congratulations, (Y/N). Your suicidal plan…works."

Dream doesn't recall when’s the last time he breaks down.

No one dare to speak a word, except Dream drowning in his own pitiful cries.

"Always."

"I don't understand…he's hurting you, (Y/N). Are you still…in love with my brother?"

You look at Nightmare with a smile, replying to him like it's the only correct answer in your mind.

#my writings #solia's writing #shattered dream #shattered!dream #dream #shattered dream × reader #sans x reader #sans x y/n #ink #blue(underswap sans)#nightmare #fanfic #I think Shattered is kind of a special character me #hope you guys enjoy the reading uwu #tw violence #tw angst #tw death #tw a bit abuse mention

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amysteriousmessenger · 3 years

Text

‘It’s A Dangerous Game’ - Saeran Choi x Reader (Nsfw)

It’s here!! I’ve spent the last three days entirely dedicated to this fic, I really really hope you guys enjoy it! It’s an absolute labour of love and I would really appreciate any likes and reblogs on it and kind words! I’m sorry for the slightly odd formatting, tumblr messes with it! - Violet

If Day 9 of Saeran’s route ended a little differently. - A song fic inspired by the song ‘It’s a Dangerous Game’ from Jekyll and Hyde: A Gothic Musical, I really suggest listening to the song whilst reading this fic!

Title: It’s a Dangerous Game

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Saeran Choi x Reader

You were sat in your room, occasionally getting up to hear if you could make out any conversations on the other side of the door. It was rather muffled, but you heard Saeran’s name muttered a few times, your stomach starting to churn at the mention of him. You were so conflicted. You had loved Ray, that much was evident. You were still so drawn to Saeran, he was a horror at the start and had treated you with such irredeemable cruelty, but he was changing. His turmoil was so plain to see that even the believers couldn’t stop themselves from gossiping about it. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate Saeran, he was hurting you out of his own pain. He didn’t know what to do with his anguish, so he lashed it out on other people. He needed help, but you could only get him out if the two of you could first get to safety. You could tell he wasn’t ready for such an idea. You knew you needed to run far, far away from Magenta: but you wanted Saeran to come with you. Your cold fingertips grazed over the lovebite he had given you, and you felt an urge to see him. You knew it was wrong to feel like this, but you couldn’t help it. Saeran ignited something in you the same way that Ray had done. It felt different, but you couldn’t deny to yourself that it was there.

Rika’s words had worried you, it was plain to see she blamed you for Saeran going missing and it was just as clear that she was vengeful because of it. But, to you, the fact that this had happened was evidence enough that he was changing, confused and scared. You checked your phone again, but there were no new messages from him. Instead, you read through the messages from Rika once again, lost in her accusations.

‘_____?’ A nameless voice from the back of your room asked. You knew that voice all too well.

‘Saeran?’ You whispered back, trying to keep your voice down to ensure that the believers guarding the outside of your room wouldn’t be alerted.

‘You recognized me right away. You weren’t waiting for me, were you?’ He moved closer, but still maintained a tentative distance. You sat up in bed and started to move when he stopped you, ‘No need to get out of bed. Relax. I’m not here to torture you…’ He continued. You had never seen him look so… melancholic. Not even Ray had appeared so beaten down and vulnerable in front of you, even when the two of you had encountered V in the garden.

Saeran held your gaze, ‘I will no longer torment you.’

‘How come?’ you found your voice from the back of your throat and questioned him, but he explained that it was something he could not summarise in one word. His mint eyes glanced towards the edge of your bed and you beckoned for him to sit down, sensing that he needed to speak.

‘____, you never gave up on me no matter how much I tormented you. You didn’t let my torture and your wounds crush you. I cursed you dozens of times that your eyes are disgusting because you looked like you know a world completely different from mine. And when I kept looking into your face, it felt like I was losing. I wanted to get closer to you, but I also wanted to avoid you. I wanted to know you better, but at the same time, I wanted to neglect you. Even after I tormented you… it didn’t feel like I beat you. That’s why I felt empty. I felt so empty. So, in the end, I got angrier, and I wanted to torment you even more. You’re gentle, but you never fall down. You rebel, but you don’t return your pain to me.’ His gaze dropped for a moment, ‘You avoided me, but you never gave up on me completely… Even now, you haven’t given up on me.’

Your eyes dropped to the hand that he had rested on top of your bedsheets and you tentatively moved your own towards it, gently placing it on top. He startled for a second, not expecting such intimacy. He was so unused to it, it had always been so denied to him.

‘My darkness is melting away, but you still remain the way you are… How can you stay the same?’

‘I thought you were hurting others because you had been so terribly wounded in the past. I stayed the same because you’re you, regardless of whether you’re Saeran or Ray. I care about you both.’

‘You understood me. I should… thank you for understanding me, shouldn’t I?’ He turned his hand slightly to wrap his fingers around yours, ‘Thank you… for understanding me. All those things I said about you, how you were weak and useless, they’re not true at all. I was the weak one. I said all those cruel things to you because I didn’t want people to know I was so weak. I didn’t want to get hurt.’

‘But you hurt yourself by saying such cruel things, you hurt yourself and Ray.’

‘No matter how hard you tried to guide me to the right path, your words couldn’t reach me. Even now, it’s so difficult to accept myself the way I am. I’m ruined beyond hope. It’s impossible for me to throw away my hatred against the world and start all over again in this little hell, but maybe it’s possible for Ray. Right now, he’s speaking inside me… that maybe, just maybe, if what V said is true, he might be able to see his brother again. And that, if he begs for your forgiveness, and if by any chance you’re able to forgive him, then he’ll make you as happy as best he can, with everything he has. I can hear him now, he’s praying in the corner of my heart that everything will work out well and that he’ll be happy one day. I know nothing but anger. I get angry because I’m scared my hope will turn to despair again-‘

‘I won’t let it, not your hope nor Ray’s. I’ll protect it.’ You cut him off. In the darkness, you heard him swallow and it sounded like he started to choke on his own words a little.

‘We already are one. It’s just that my voice is stronger right now. Both Ray and I are… in this body. The monster that had to torture you to hide how pathetic he’s become is me, and the persistent idiot that doesn’t lose hope no matter how much he’s tormented is also me. If I become good enough to keep you unharmed… we’ll naturally become completely one.’ Saeran turned to you, a tear falling from his eye and landing on the hand which sat between the two of you, ‘I must leave.’

‘Saeran, don’t go.’ You clutched at his hand tighter as he tried to flee. The frailness of his hand worried you, knowing that he never ate enough food. You knew all too well that he had strength in those hands, but also tenderness. Softness.

‘I didn’t want to tell you… that I’m sorry. It feels too late, but I should do it anyway. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you.’ He said, stern but sad.

‘I know you did, but it’s different. You’re different. I know you’re sorry. You’re not the same person who did this. You were so…heavily drugged. You aren’t going to do this again, we both know you aren’t.’

‘But I’m the same person who did that.’ Saeran glanced at your neck, at the lovebite. He used his free hand to touch his hand against the bruise. His pale hand stopped just slightly short of actually reaching your throat. He muttered an apology and began to retract his hand, but you caught it and pulled it to your neck so his fingertips couldn’t deny that the lovebite took place. However, there was still such a slight fear of his touch, given everything that had happened, that you gasped at the feeling of his hand on your neck. The chill of fear wasn’t the only reason for the gasp, but he didn’t realise that and attempted to pull his hand away. You held the cold hand against the warmth of your skin.

‘No, no! It’s okay. You’re okay.’ You assured him. It seemed to work as Saeran began to move his fingers up and down the soft skin of your neck, his eyes falling over your bare shoulders and arms.

‘Ray… said that he wanted to be bolder to you, but he’s too scared. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing right now, but I have the capability of being bolder for him. Do you mind… if I try?’ Saeran didn’t move, but held the intense eye contact once again. You could have gotten lost in those eyes of his, but the racing of your heart and the burning in your gut kept you grounded. You wanted him to bolder, to touch you again, in the way that he’s supposed to.

I feel your fingers -

Cold on my shoulder -

Your chilling touch,

Watching your eyes

As they invade my soul -

‘Of course…’ You breathed out, meeting his gaze with a light dusting of red flushing your cheeks.

‘I can’t be tender in the way that Ray can…’ He trailed off.

‘That’s okay, you don’t need to be Ray for me. You can be Saeran.’ You replied and he seemed convinced by this and you felt as his fingers curled at the back of the neck slightly, bringing you closer to him. He pressed his chapped lips against yours for a moment and you were worried he was going to hear your heart beating so loudly at the contact. Saeran pulled away momentarily to gauge your reaction was a positive one, and then pushed his lips against yours once again with increased intensity. He was rough, that couldn’t be denied. But he wasn’t doing it to hurt you, Saeran just wasn’t as tamed as Ray. Your breath hitched in your throat as he crawled across the bed to be kneeling above you, refusing to break the kiss as he did so. Your arms slide around the back of his neck, working your fingers into his hair as one hand grabbed onto your thigh.

Forbidden pleasures

I'm afraid to make mine.

He opened your mouth with his own and pushed his tongue inside, causing you to moan. It felt so dangerous, with the believers outside. You knew someone could open the door at any moment and Saeran knew it too. It still felt risky doing such a thing with Saeran after he had been so cruel to you, but you didn’t want to stop. It was so good and you could tell by the way he looked at you, by the way he touched you, that he wasn’t the same person that introduced himself a few days ago.

At the touch of your hand -

At the sound of your voice -

At the moment your eyes meet mine -

I am out of my mind -

I am out of control -

Full of feelings I can't define!

He broke off the kiss first, needing a second to catch his breath. He seemed to be wary of the door opening too and moved off the bed to listen for any voices on the other side of the door. He paused there for a moment, waiting. You missed the connection and the sensation of his body so close, the touch of his lips against yours. An idea popped into your head. You slipped out of bed to grab a chair and handed it to him to slide underneath the door handles so they couldn’t be opened.

You also stood with your ear to the door and closed your eyes to concentrate on any slight noise. You couldn’t hear anything except for the thud of your heart and the quiet shift of Saeran’s clothes, which was a relief. Once you were satisfied that no one was outside, you sighed and were about to turn around to look for Saeran. However, before you had the chance to do that, his arms had already snaked their way around your waist and had pulled you close to him with his torso pressing against your back. He muttered your name as he sighed against your ear, placing small kisses along the side of your neck. It took everything you had to not moan in that moment, since you were both so close to the door, and instead you let out a few shaky breaths as he kissed your neck and shoulder with more fervour.

It's a sin with no name -

Like a hand in a flame -

And our senses proclaim

It's a dangerous game!

You weren’t sure how far the two of you were going to go, but the heat pooling in your stomach indicated that you didn’t want to stop anytime soon. Evidently, neither did he. Saeran pulled you by the waist and moved you up against the wall so you were facing him once again. His eyes seemed darker, half lidded and needy. Within an instant, his mouth was on yours once again, kissing and pulling at your lips. He let out a very quiet groan as your hands worked their way up his body and onto his shoulders before moving them to grab onto his hair. His started kissing along your jawline and onto your neck again, pausing next to the lovebite he had previously given you and you knew it was bothering him.

‘It’s okay. You can keep going.’ You whispered back and the man attached his lips once more to your throat, leaving small purple bruises as he did. Your own hand reached up to smother the moans coming out of your mouth as you got more and more turned on. He kissed every bruise he left, including the original one to change the meaning of it. It was no longer a thing of anguish, he wanted it to be one of affection.

A strange romance -

Out of a mystery tale -

The frightened princess

Doesn't know what to do!

‘Don’t cover your mouth, I want to hear you.’ Saeran whispered into your neck, giving you goosebumps at the sensation. As though to emphasise his point, he lifted your arms above your head, holding both of your wrists together as he went back into kissing you.

‘Ray wanted to do this to you too…’ He continued, sliding one of his legs between yours as you melted against him.

‘He can. I wouldn’t stop him.’ You practically moaned into his mouth and Saeran broke the kiss suddenly, conflict shadowing his face. You were confused, and a little scared for him for a moment. You were so worried that you had done or said something wrong and almost began to apologise. That was until you felt the source of his conflict pressing hard against your thigh. Saeran lent his head down so his forehead was pressing against your shoulder and sighed. He loosened the grip he had on your wrists in defeat.

‘I should go. This is too much for you.’ He muttered, cursing his body for such a reaction. It wasn’t as though it was entirely unprecedented given how the situation had escalated, but he didn’t want to push too much too soon. He knew he had to be considerate of you and considerate of his previous actions.

‘I don’t want you to go-’ You pleaded, using one hand to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss, ‘stay with me.’ He nodded, even if he seemed worried about imposing on you in such a way. He had you so painfully turned on and you were glad you had him feeling the same way. It wasn’t too much for you. In that moment, it was exactly what you wanted.

All I know is I'm lost -

And I'm counting the cost -

My emotions are in a spin!

And though no one’s to blame...

It's a crime and a shame!

When he was on top of you, you could feel his growing erection pressed against his suit trousers. There was a sense of urgency, desperation, about this intimacy and Saeran pushed your dress up over your hips, exposing your dark underwear in the moonlight. You were inexperienced, and oh so willing to let him take the lead with this, but still a little embarrassed and squeaked at the sudden cool air to your thighs. You went to close them but Saeran held them open, moving himself to lodge his torso between them, a smirk you had never seen appearing on his face.

but it's true all the same

It's a dangerous game!

You watched as his eyes darkened again at your consent and he guided you towards the bed, not being able to keep his hands off of you for even a single moment. They grabbed at your hips, your waist, your thighs. Your legs hit the back of the bed and you fell backwards onto the plush sheets with Saeran falling on top of you. He had taken to biting at your lips as one of his hands slipped underneath the hem of your black dress, squeezing at your upper thigh and making you shiver. You couldn’t help but moan each time he touched you somewhere new, and you nearly whined when his body left yours to take off his black blazer and tie. There was something about the way that he yanked his tie down to loosen it which made your legs shake slightly in anticipation. He didn’t take the time to fold them, instead leaving them discarded on the floor. They weren’t what was important right now.

‘Do you want to undo your dress? If I have to do it, I’d rather just rip it.’ He said, cocking an eyebrow. You complied and undid the zip down the side of the dress and pulled it off from above your head, wanting to spare the fabric. You hadn’t even thrown the dress on the floor before Saeran was grabbing for your chest with one hand and trying to undo his shirt with the other. His plan wasn’t exactly working, so you reached out your hands to unbutton his shirt for him. You felt so… naked under his intense gaze as he didn’t take his eyes off you as you undressed his pulling his shirt from his arms. His cold gaze followed your fingertips as they trace along the outline of his body, the weak body he hated so much, touching along the many scars he had. You couldn’t help but look in horror at the new ones from the ‘cleansing’ he was put through in order to destroy Ray. There were so many, they were so deep. Some of them had been bandaged haphazardly and disinfected, probably by Ray whilst others were barely starting to scab over. He must have seen your expression drop because he put his hand under your chin to make you meet his gaze.

‘You don’t need to worry about those. I’m okay now.’ He pulled you in to another kiss as he reached around to undo your bra, you were thankful that he decided to not rip it, and the lovebites began moving down your chest as he grabbed at your breasts. You gasped against him, unable to contain how good his hands were already making you feel. You didn’t need to find words to convey it, your body was already acting on its own. Wanting him, needing him.

‘I’ll ask one more time, are you sure about this? I don’t think I can love you in the same way that Ray can. I won’t hurt you on purpose, but I can’t promise I can do wha-’ Saeran started.

‘I’m sure. You’ve already said that both you and Ray are one. You don’t need to love me in the same that Ray would, because you’re Saeran. I trust… Saeran too.’ You touched the side of his face and he planted rough kisses down your body, placing one into the hem of your underwear before he pulled them down and off your legs. He positioned himself between your thighs, his rough hands grabbing and kissing at them, adding the occasional bite. You couldn’t deny that you loved the teasing, but you needed something more, you craved to be touched properly. His mouth found itself on your hipbone, sucking hard to form another purple bruise before trailing his tongue across to between your thighs, finally giving you the sensation you desired.

‘Sa-Saeran…’ Your breath choked in your throat as his tongue brushed against every intimate part of you. He hasn’t tentative, but bold and rough. He licked and sucked until he found out what made you moan the most, savouring the fact that he could make your thighs shake to such an extent that he had to hold them in a hard grip to keep them steady. His soft tongue was rough, but never forceful. It was eager, determined to please for both parties. You were embarrassed to look, but when you glanced your eyes down at him his powerful gaze was holding your own, deciphering every reaction you made. The intensity in his cool eyes caused the knot that had been slowly forming in your stomach to begin tightening more and more, to the point where his hands were the only thing keeping you from subconsciously squeezing your thighs around his head. You threw your hands into his bleached hair, unable to help yourself from needing something to hold onto.

‘Does the Princess like that?’ He asked, biting onto your thigh and catching his breath. All you could manage in response was a moan and a few whimpers, silently begging him.

No one speaks -

Not one word -

But the words are in our eyes

Saeran was also getting painfully hard from watching the reaction he had on you, how good he could make you feel with his mouth. He had never liked his body, but he, at a base level, at least appreciated that he was capable of bringing you such pleasure, even if it had to come at the price of first causing you such pain. He felt the tip of his erection leaking pre-cum uncomfortably into his tight boxers and deprived you of his tongue in order to free himself from the now restrictive trousers.

‘You’ll like this more.’ He knelt up on the bed, looming over you. The room was so dark, the moonlight providing the only illumination against his icy eyes and smirk. He wiped the wetness from his jaw and used the same hand to circle the head of his dick, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft. You clenched your thighs at the sight in absolute yearning.

‘Tell me that you want it, Princess.’ He edged closer to you, moving all the way up so that he was practically in your face. He hovered above you on his hands and legs, and you felt his erection touch the side of your leg. You were so desperate to be close to him once again, you swallowed.

‘I want…it.’ You whispered and you blushed and averted your gaze from his in embarrassment.

At the touch of your hand -

‘Say it again.’ Once again, he moved your head so you couldn’t look away from him.

At the sound of your voice -

‘I want it… Saeran.’ Your voice trailed off as you felt him reach down to adjust himself, lining up his tip with your entrance.

At the moment your eyes meet mine -

The both of you let out broken groans as he pushed himself into you.

‘Ah, you’re… fucking tight.’ You opened your eyes to see him with his eyes squeezed shut in a mixture of pleasure and concentration. For a moment, you were so lost in the feeling of being so utterly filled by him. He had already felt so good just going in that the idea of him finally moving inside you was nearly enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head. He waited until you felt comfortable enough for him to move before setting a rough rhythm. This time, Saeran did have to muffle your mouth to smother your moans. Of course, he made sure not to hurt you in the process. It fuelled his confidence to know he was fucking you that good, but this was not the time to get caught by another believer. He kept his gaze on your face, watching as you closed your eyes and a new wave of pleasure washed over you with every hard thrust of his hips. Occasionally, he dipped his head to bite at your collarbones or groan out a curse in your ear.

I am out of control -

Fighting feelings I can't define!

I am out of my mind -

It's a sin with no name -

No remorse and no shame -

Saeran continued to thrust into you, hitting you and new and deeper angles each couple of minutes so the sensations always felt different. His pace was merciless and you didn’t have an opportunity to think between every new snap of his hips. That knot in your stomach was almost unbearably tight and threatened to snap at any moment. Part of you didn’t want it to, because you didn’t want the moment to end.

Your arms grabbed along his back, unable to help but claw lightly at the damp skin. Even in your delirium, you made an effort to avoid any of his injuries. The last thing you wanted to cause Saeran was more pain. Eventually, he had to remove the hand from your mouth in order to support himself better. It was clear that he was also reaching his limit as he panted in the crook of your neck, his thrusts getting even rougher and more vigorous than they had been at the start.

And the angels proclaim

It's a dangerous game!

Suddenly, and without enough time to warn Saeran, the knot snapped and you orgasmed within him still slamming into you.

‘God!’ you cried, and you truly could have thanked God for the man between your legs right now, ‘S-Saeran, a-ah!’ You choked out between slam, your mind numb to absolutely everything other than the overwhelming pleasure he had brought you. He couldn’t handle the feelings of your walls clenching so aggressively around his cock and almost immediately climaxed at the same time, with barely enough of thought to pull out before he ejaculated. He managed to do it, finishing down the side of your inner thigh rather than inside you.

‘Fuck-!’ His arms were shaking and his eyes pressed tightly together. His panting and exhaustion were overt and you wanted nothing more than for him to collapse next to you, holding one another until you both passed out. When he opened his eyes again, they were so soft. The icy gaze seemed to have melted into pools of sweet oceans, holding infinite depths of tenderness and affection. No words were needed, you understood one another.

Saeran’s tiredness took over him and he collapsed on the bed next to you and you pressed small kisses against his temple, his cheek and eventually his lips. After a few moments, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. You couldn’t stop your heart racing, but it was okay, because you knew your hearts were racing in sync. By the time you had gotten ready for bed, Saeran had already gotten dressed and passed out on the side of the bed. You threw a blanket over him and got into the bed with your chest pressed up against his back, wrapping your arms around him in a silent promise to never let him go. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep and you were lulled into unconsciousness by the sound of his breathing and the quiet drum of his heartbeat. It was probably the best sleep you had had since you’d arrived at Magenta.

When the morning came, you found you were alone in the bed and feared that Saeran had changed his mind about you. Your hands desperately clawed at his side of the bed. He had left a letter tucked into the bedding for you, with your phone next to it and a spam of messages from the RFA. You’d been reconnected!

Opening the letter, it read:

‘Pack well, but lightly. Be ready, I’ll come and get you.

Trust me. - Saeran.’

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #mymes #mysmes #mystic messenger fanfiction #unknown mystic messenger #saeran choi #saeran choi x reader #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger headcanons #saeran ae

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fullmetalscullyy · 3 years

Text

royai week day 5 - illicit affairs

summary: the previous night – their social engagement and the subsequent events that followed a clandestine meeting at his apartment between them – shouldn’t have happened

rated: t | words: 2629 | tags: royai, inspired by music: illicit affairs (taylor swift), angst, fluff, angst with a happy ending, romance, sneaking around, relationship discussion

an: happy royai day!!!!!!!!!!! thank u for following along with my fics this week celebrating our two fave war criminals :') and thank you for participating in royai week, whether it was a creator, a reader, a supporter, or all three. its always a fantastic event to be a part of and i can't wait to catch up on all the amazing things created this week <3333 best week of the year!!! hope you all have a lovely weekend!

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

“What are you thinking about?”

The question broke through his quiet moment of repose while Roy dozed. It wasn’t loud or a disturbance. His companion sounded merely curious as they observed him, but they were also being careful, speaking softly so not to startle him.

Roy batted his eyelids open slowly, feeling the grip of sleep lingering on him, and was greeted by the sight of his darkened bedroom. The sun was rising outside. Beyond his curtains he could see light beginning to filter through, signalling dawn was approaching.

He had uneventfully awoken before the twilight hour arrived and had found contentment as he held the woman in his bed tightly within his arms. Roy was left with the feeling of never wanting to let her go, so had opted against trying to fall back sleep. He chose to lay awake, to simply enjoy having the ability to hold Riza so closely. However as time passed, unwelcome thoughts started to swirl around inside his mind. Roy had contemplated them as Riza slept quietly beside him, unaware of his inner turmoil.

The fact they were even in this position was the subject of his thoughts. His heart allowed it and rejoiced. His mind, however, did not. Did he deserve to hold someone close after all he had done in life? Did he deserve to hold her?

The previous night – their social engagement and the subsequent events that followed a clandestine meeting at his apartment between them – shouldn’t have happened. They both knew that. It was their reality, but they needed… Something. Each other. It was a coping mechanism. A breaking of the rules they had meticulously placed between them in order to follow duty and set them on the path to righting their past wrongs.

But this wasn’t the first time said rules had been broken. Roy didn’t think it would be the last either.

Their co-dependency would be their downfall, Roy was sure of it. It had the potential to ruin completely them and yet, they still toyed with fire. It was an unwelcome thought, but it was their reality. He wouldn’t deny that fact and knew Riza wouldn’t either.

As a means of fending the thoughts off, Roy had elected to focus on the sound of her breathing and the way his hand rose and fell on her back, moving with the inflation of her lungs. He’d splayed his fingers over her bare skin and caressed her scars as she slept next to him, fighting off the whispers in his mind that he needed to stop and put distance between them. To end their illicit affair there and then.

Those tiny actions and her presence must have eventually been enough to soothe and relax him, because he’d ended up slipping gently back into unconsciousness.

Movement pried his attention away from his dark ceiling. A beautiful face popped into view and commandeered his attention completely. Riza was looking at him curiously, just like her tone had suggested. Her head was cocked to the side, creating a curtain of golden blonde hair over one shoulder as she tried to figure out the puzzle that was his mind and thoughts while watching him.

“Sorry,” she apologised quickly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” he reassured with a smile. “I wasn’t asleep. Just dozing, really,” he yawned quietly.

Riza nodded. Her head righted and she lifted a hand to shift his fringe off to one side of his forehead, splitting it down the middle. He sighed quietly as her fingertips ghosted over his forehead.

“How did you know I had been thinking?”

Riza lowered her hand and then her head. She lay down against his shoulder and Roy wrapped an arm around her, holding her body flush against his. He inhaled, taking in the smell of her shampoo and conditioner. It washed over him like a comfort, and he angled his head to the side, so he was facing her. His lips were tickled by strands of blonde hair, causing him to smile at the sensation, despite his previous inner turmoil. He pressed his face into her hair and kissed the top of her head.

“There was a crease between your eyebrows.”

Automatically, the muscles of his face softened, and Roy realised there had indeed been tension sitting there. He shifted in place, relaxing his shoulders as well as his jaw.

“Am I that easy to read?”

“Oh yes,” Riza replied without missing a beat.

As he chuckled at her response, she shifted against him, and her head moved to rest atop his heart. It created a warmth there, spreading across his chest and pleasantly down into his stomach, to his very core. It was calming.

Emotions surged to the surface, forbidden and dangerous, but in the privacy and security of his own bed, Roy let himself feel them. For if he didn’t, it would all build up to a breaking point. It was a form of release to allow himself to feel the things he had to bury in the light of day.

“Well, you do know me better than anyone else does,” he remarked after clearing his throat.

His fingers trail up her bare arm slowly and with a feather-light touch. Goosebumps rose on her skin and the hairs on her forearm lifted to stand to attention. He could feel it under his fingers, and it made him smile.

“Although,” he mused out loud, “I don’t know how I feel about being unable to hide any secrets from you.”

“You’re keeping secrets from me?” She taunted him playfully and it changed his soft smile to a wide grin.

“Oh yes,” he answered, mimicking the way she’d said the same thing just moments ago.

Riza huffed to herself, and the air expelled tickled the skin of his chest. “I’m offended, Roy.”

“Having some secrets is healthy,” he countered.

Riza hummed against him. “What kind of secrets? Life changing ones, or day to day ones? How many have you got hiding in that head of yours, sir,” she added, poking him in the ribs gently.

“Like I said, a healthy amount,” he laughed quietly, flinching away from her light jab. “Like how I sometimes feed Hayate scraps off my plate when you’re not looking.”

“I knew that already,” she assured him confidently, but Riza still sighed heavily with disapproval.

“Damn… Well then, it looks like I don’t really have any secrets from you.”

“Good,” she nodded against him, her tone firm and approving.

They lapsed into silence and Roy continued his ministrations of running his fingers up and down her muscular arm. He enjoyed the feeling of hard muscle under her skin as he mapped out each one with every course over her forearm and bicep. He started to wonder if she was falling back asleep when Riza finally spoke again.

“I should go soon.”

It was a simple fact they both knew and were aware of, but it still felt like a bell tolling, signalling the end. It was the end of their peace, their time together, and their sanctuary. When the apartment door closes they will be back to superior and subordinate. Couple the power imbalance already in place between them and his thoughts from earlier, Roy can already feel a knot forming in his stomach. Because it doesn’t matter if they were together before her assignment under him. No one would care about that if it ever came to light. It would harm them and potentially completely destroy their plans for the future.

“Okay.” Roy swallowed to try and wet his suddenly dry throat.

He needs to stop this and put distance between them.

The pleasant feeling that had washed over him while they’d bantered back and forth was gone. Suddenly it felt like he’d been dunked in ice cold water.

Riza sighed quietly in response but still didn’t move.

That’s what makes it worse, he thought to himself. They both know they shouldn’t, it breaks so many rules and regulations, but they still do it. And they don’t want it to ever stop.

The fingers she had brought to rest upon his stomach slowly clench into a light fist. It was as if she was trying to cling onto him, and Roy tightened his arms around her.

They clung to one another in his darkened bedroom.

“I don’t want to leave.” Her voice was so quiet, as if voicing those thoughts aloud would rain down a higher power’s wrath upon her. It was a secret, one they both shared and hid from the rest of the world. He doesn’t want her to go either and feels the same way when they’re at her apartment.

“It’s wrong to stay, though.” Roy hated to say it, but it was the truth. They don’t shy away from their past actions. “It’s wrong to initiate it in the first place.”

“I know it is.” Her admission was as truthful as his, and her voice was subdued as she spoke. Her counter was not malicious, it was spoken like a simple fact, and his point was not made to scold her. He’d initiated it this time. Last time it was Riza who needed him. This time, last night, he’d needed Riza. Sometimes it was just for the release or on a whim. A true guilty pleasure, in every sense of the word. They are guilty of so much and this adds onto their pile. And they are equal in their desires of wanting to spend a night together.

Roy wrapped his arms tighter around her frame. “And yet… I can’t bring myself to stay away.”

Riza didn’t reply.

“In the privacy of my own bedroom, and in my own bed with you, I feel like I’m home,” he admits quietly. Breathes it like a prayer. “Riza… You are my home.”

Her head then body rose from the mattress and Riza propped herself up on one elbow so she could look at him. Her expression was neutral as she regarded him.

As wrong as their coupling always was, Roy took a deep breath and still revealed his true inner thoughts.

“Although nights like this shouldn’t happen,” he added, “they do. And I cannot deny the fact that I have never feel more at peace than I do like this. I won’t deny it to myself. I won’t deny it to you either.”

Riza blinked back at him, remaining silent. Her expression shifted slightly, and Roy had an inkling she was trying to keep some emotions at bay but didn’t comment on it. He simply observed and took note.

“This,” he gestured languidly between them, “is my sanctuary.” He lifted a hand to brush her hair over her shoulder. “I could never see myself with anyone else other than you.”

Riza still didn’t speak, but Roy could see a shiny film forming over her eyes in the growing light from outside.

“I love you. Always have, and always will.” His hand moved to cup her cheek gently. His thumb slowly stroked over her cheekbone once, then twice. “But I admit, I do fear for us and our future if we get too complacent and indulge ourselves too much. Whatever does happen, however it plays out, my feelings for you will never change. You can count on that.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed. Roy stroked her cheekbone again before lifting himself into a seated position. He waited for her to compose herself, enjoying the feeling of the soft skin of her face under his fingertips and the sensation of their heads bowed together so intimately.

“I’m sorry we have to resort to something that’s the equivalent of an affair,” he murmured quietly, running his thumb over her cheekbone one final time, “when you deserve something so much more.”

Her face screwed up slightly and Riza shook her head in the negative, protesting his statement. When her eyes opened, they were still shining but no tears fell. He offered her a tiny smile, secretly pleased she agreed with him, because it meant she was still happy, being like this, with him.

“I will love you forever, my queen,” he whispered. It was spoken so softly but held every ounce of passion it would have had if he’d declared it in front of a crowd of thousands. His speech was reverent, in awe of everything that she is, and of how much he loved this woman. They’re intertwined so intricately in everything that they do and while co-dependency may be their downfall, it is also a strength. Roy draws from it, from her, every day. Having Lieutenant Hawkeye by his side on his journey to the top is a blessing and having Riza stand by him through it all is something he doesn’t deserve. And yet, she’s there. Always steadfast and unyielding against any problems which are thrown their way.

A true queen.

Riza lifted her arms suddenly and latched onto him, finally overcome. Roy’s body was jerked forwards against her while one of her hands buried itself into his hair. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and Roy wrapped his arms tightly around her back. He couldn’t move far because of the grip she had on him, but Roy did angle his head slightly so he could press a kiss against her neck.

“I love you, Roy,” Riza whispered. “So much that it scares me, but it’s not unwelcome. It never will be.” She pulled away and he could see a tear tracking down her cheek. Then, a breathy laugh escaped her. “I know you enjoy a bit of sneaking around sometimes,” she snorted quietly, which was quickly accompanied with a smirk.

Roy grinned back because she was right. He did enjoy teasing her about the thrill of it. And somewhere, deep down, Roy knew she enjoyed it just as much as him. The quick escape in the wee hours of the morning, the furtive looks, the briefest of touches that would make breaths hitch when they were overdue for a “meeting”, and the white lies about what plans they had for the weekend; Nothing at all, Breda, she’d shrug, making him roll his eyes fondly because that was always her answer. Just a date, he’d smirk, making them all nod in understanding at his code, and start Havoc off on a thinly veiled interrogation of what Roy’s date looked like for the week. Mostly for appearances, but everyone knew he was also actually interested.

Little did they all know, they were having an illicit affair right underneath their noses.

When reality came crashing back down, it made his stomach tie in knots, but Roy would always argue it was worth it. Despite everything, the threat, the worry inside their minds, he knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat with no questions asked.

They were already breaking all the rules with his plans of ascending to power. What was one more?

“And while the danger of it is always present…” Riza continued, pausing for a second as she considered what to say next. “It brings me comfort, because you are a comfort to me, Roy.”

Their foreheads kissed together, and both closed their eyes, simply existing and basking in the company of the other. For a moment, they were filled with such content. Airing out their thoughts had done them the world of good. Communication was always key, and it was not something they had ever lacked. They were open and honest with one another always.

Despite their inner turmoil regarding their coupling, the fact was undeniable to them that moments like this were their safe haven. Their shelter in a storm. Pure, unadulterated peace, for a few hours at least.

Being with Riza like this left Roy feeling completely whole.

#royaiweek21 #royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai oneshot #emma writes

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arigatouiris · 4 years

Text

an inconvenient crush // kozume kenma x reader (2/2)

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the support! I really appreciate people coming in and telling me you liked my story! Makes me feel so loved and valid, I can’t even begin to tell you how special it makes me feel. Here’s the final part! Do let me know what you think! Thank you so much :”)

Word count: 4k+

Pairing: YouTuber! Kenma Kozume x Streamer! Reader

Summary: YouTuber Kozume Kenma has had the biggest crush on Twitch Streamer, (s/n) (y/n), who in actuality simps heavily after Kenma’s secret YouTube persona, puddinghead0.

What happens when their paths cross?

Kuroo is honestly tired of Kenma’s second-guessing, and (y/n) is a bit of a crackhead.

Warnings: unrequited love, one-sided crush, slight angst, pining, crackhead reader, internet bullying, slang, gaming references, haikyuu manga spoilers, fluff

C h a p t e r T w o: kozume in love

Kenma chuckled when he heard you scream over the controller. The both of you were currently fighting a boss named Martyr Logarius, and while you had beaten the game once, playing it in Newgame+ was extra hard. Kenma was certainly helping, but you had made a silly mistake and died for the fourth time in a row.

"You're dodging too early," Kenma said, still chuckling, "But it is entertaining to see you dodge in such panic."

"Shut up," You groaned over the microphone, earning more chuckles from him, "I'm trying, okay?"

"You beat this game, you said?"

"Ahhh!"

Kenma laughed some more, now covering his face with his hand. He could hear you laugh out of frustration as well, but while this entire orchestration felt funny to both of you, Kenma's heart bubbled dangerously. He loved the sound of your voice, and he absolutely adored the way you groaned and cursed at the bosses each time you died or each time you defeated them. You were good, and even as the game tested you, you trod on. He could see you loved gaming in its entirety, and slowly, he was learning more about you.

"I need a beer." You sighed.

"This game does that to you," Kenma leaned back against his bean bag, "I mean... Not to burst your bubble, but you do suck."

"Oye," You warned playfully, "I'm a streamer."

"Anyone can stream, (y/n)."

There was silence on the other end after that, but Kenma didn't think it was anything odd. The co-oping between you two was going on for a few days now, and it would last up to 5-7 hours at most. It was strange that despite college, you two managed to find time to sit and play, but after a point, it had become more than just the game. You began to crave his voice, crave the way he'd be there, whenever you were about to run low on health, he'd come over and give you time to heal.

Co-oping with Kenma was fun because it felt, oddly, as if he really cared.

"(y/n)?"

"I always thought you sounded familiar," Kenma blinked, "But I think hearing you say more words sort of... gave it away."

"Gave what away?" Kenma's heart was pounding now.

"Kozume-kun," He didn't want to hear the rest, "Are you puddinghead0?"

It took him several seconds to process what you said. He could practically feel his heart beat against his ears, and he could sense you getting impatient at him as well.

"Kozume—"

"How did you know?"

You took a few moments to answer.

"I... I've been a fan for too long not to recognize your voice, really. I just... I guess I had to hear you through the microphone to instantly pick it up? I don't know I... Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to know."

"Oh," His heart broke at how low you sounded. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't ask you because I knew you were him or anything! I asked you as Kozume—"

"Right."

"No, listen," You were panicking now, "I assure you, I didn't know until recently. I didn't even think... I never—"

"What did you picture him as, (y/n)?"

"What do you—"

"I'm sure you pictured him as someone different, right? It must disappoint you that someone you admire is in fact, a regular college student—"

"Don't say that! I really enjoy playing with you, and... I never even pictured how you'd look in the first place!"

"Sure—"

"Can we meet? Please, let me just—"

"Not happening. It was nice playing with you, (y/n). I hope you get the platinum—"

"Please, don't do this."

When Kenma hesitated, he knew that it was no longer an inconvenient crush. His fingers trembled and he couldn't look away from the television screen. His chest hurt and he was certain that his shirt was drenched.

"Please, let's—"

"Where do you want to... meet?"

"Oh, thank goodness," Your genuine relief made him want to laugh, "I was so certain you'd hang up. Oh, thank god. Uh, I don't know. You live near campus?"

He narrowed his eyes, "What campus?"

"Tokyo University?"

"You go here too?"

"Literature student! You go here? You mean to say the puddinghead0 goes to—"

"Please, just never call me that, okay?"

"Where do you want to meet?"

"I... Just come to campus, we'll figure it out."

What normally took Kenma 12 minutes took him 17 now. He spent some time pacing back and forth on whether to go or not, before understanding that he couldn't back out after assuring you that he'd be there. He wondered if you would come as a fan or as his friend (were you his friend?), but the foremost thing that Kenma worried about was what your interaction with him would be about. Why did you want to meet him? What explanation did you want to give?

Maybe she wants to thank me, he thought as he walked forward, finally bucking up and realizing that he might actually need to meet you alone as himself.

He noticed that you were waiting outside the gates of the campus, airpods plugged in, head rocking lightly to some music that you were listening to. From a distance, you caught sight of him and waved almost hesitantly, shooting his heart to the skies. Your hair was tied in a messy bun and you were wearing anime merch, a Bakugou shirt with regular jeans. No matter what you wore, Kenma thought you were ridiculously pretty. Kenma had always thought you were pretty, from the very first video that you uploaded. He caught your stream in Kuroo's laptop when he had come over, and apparently it was your first time. You were hesitant and shy, but it gradually died down the more you played. Kenma found himself laughing so much that it alerted Kuroo, who had understood right away that you held a special place in Kenma's mind since no one could make Kenma laugh quite like you could.

When he was a few feet away from you, you looked at him awkwardly before he noticed you were red-faced. Is she... blushing?

"U-Uh, yeah so uh," She was so nervous that it was making him feel weird, "I don't want to treat you differently but I just realized that I was gushing to you about puddinghead not knowing that you are, in fact, puddinghead and god, I feel like an idiot."

Kenma had to laugh at that before shaking his head, "It's fine, I don't get too many compliments anyway."

"You had me simping all over you and you knock that down as compliments? Please teach me the art of modesty, senpai."

Kenma laughed some more before letting out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. You were taking breaths now yourself; you were standing beside someone who had literally inspired you to start streaming gameplay, and you had no idea that you were playing alongside him all this while until he had practically confirmed it not too long ago. Of course, a part of you felt weird that he never told you himself, but perhaps he wanted to keep it a secret. Also...

He had been watching your streams. Kenma had admitted that as himself the first time you had met. You could practically die.

"There's this cafe down this road," You said, suddenly feeling a lot bolder, "We won't have to stand around awkwardly then."

"Alright."

The walk wasn't quiet, you were desperately trying to think of something to talk about, and you were mumbling a few things here and there about Bloodborne, and he commented back; but neither of you found your heart in the conversation and kept going because you didn't know how to handle the silence. While you admired Kenma, Kenma was also aware that you had no idea the feelings he had for you.

It made him feel a bit inadequate, and he wasn't sure how to take it.

When you reached the cafe, Kenma and yourself took the seats outside. You took in his appearance properly for the first time that evening; his hair tied in a messy, loose ponytail and wearing baggy clothing with black jeans and sneakers. Kenma was gorgeous, you wouldn't deny that, especially now that your heart was bubbling with excitement over how he was your YouTube idol. Strangely, his question rang in your mind:

What did you picture him as, (y/n)?

Your eyes softened at Kenma as he checked his phone for a minute; unable to look away. You stared at him the way folks stare at a rainbow, taking in all that unexpected beauty, not wanting to look away in case it might disappear. You felt yourself blushing when he looked up to meet your gaze, almost feeling time stop. But, you were too much of an overthinker to let that happen.

I'm sure you pictured him as someone different, right? It must disappoint you that someone you admire is in fact, a regular college student—

"Kozume-kun," What am I doing? "I can't picture anyone but you."

He was now staring at you like you were an idiot mumbling rubbish. He gulped, you could see the rise and fall of his adam's apple, but he wasn't saying a word.

"A few months ago, when I started the channel on Twitch, I could do it only because of you. You inspired me to upload my own gameplay because I now had a platform to be proud of it. But as Kozumu-kun, you gave me the courage to not only be proud of my gameplay but to see what's actually important," You smiled as you said, "Fun."

"You're giving me way too much credit."

You shook your head, "We don't always realize how little exchanges that we have with people cause ripple effects. Playing with you these past few days reminded me of what streaming for views made me forget. Views don't matter, the fun does. I let those comments get to me because the views mattered to me, and they still do. But, that's not everything. I learned that from you."

Kenma didn't know what to say.

"So when you figured out that I was... the YouTuber—"

"Puddinghead—"

"—Yeah, that. Didn't you think I lied to you?"

You shook your head, "You never had a face reveal, which meant that you wanted to keep it a secret. So why would I feel like you lied? You had every reason to—"

"Stop being so fucking adorable, it's actually pissing me off." Kenma snapped without realizing.

Both of your eyes widened—Kenma's and yours—at the words that exited his mouth. Your face was flaming at what he said, and Kenma probably felt like a suicidal ostrich. He wanted to bury his head under the ground and never rise, for that would keep him away from the embarrassment that was due; he could hear Kuroo's laughter in the distance, which made it all the worse.

"I'm... I'm not trying to be cute, you know?" You said, tilting your head a little, playing with a strand of your hair.

Kenma frowned at you, wondering now if you were doing it on purpose.

"What are you... doing?"

"There's a word for it!" You pointed an index finger in the air, "Hanker sore."

Kenma scoffed, "What's that?"

"It's finding someone so attractive that it pisses you off."

Kenma blushed, "Y-You're not all that attractive, you just... come across as cute sometimes."

Your eyes widened, "I'm a catch!"

He bit his lower lip, "Yeah, sure."

"Hey! I am a total catch, you could like totally fall for me!"

Kenma's heart skipped a beat, "Yeah, sure."

While you were sitting across him having a struggle over how he easily pushed away your claims, Kenma stared at you like you were all he could see, and as if you were a sight that he would forget if he didn't drink in your details at this very second. A moment later, you gasped before leaning forward.

"I think we should get something."

"Let's actually... go get your platinum."

Your eyes widened, "You... don't mind?"

He shook his head now that he was absolutely certain, "No, let's go back."

You were beaming and thanking him, acting as if he suddenly wasn't the YouTuber you had been simping after, treating him like a separate individual that he was, behaving as you would with anyone else; Kenma's worries dissipated in thin air, he was now confident that he had fallen in love with you, mind, body, and soul—your voice had ensnared and captured him, and now, your revelation had done the deed of claiming his heart.

"Oh, and," Kenma said, "No one will know."

You nodded before throwing him a mock salute, "Of course!"

You were legitimately freaking out.

Kenma had followed you as puddinghead on your professional Twitter and you had been staring at the screen for close to an hour now. You weren't sure if the reason for your heart to be beating the way it was was because Kenma was puddinghead or because you had finally learned what puddinghead looked like, but whatever it was, the feeling was intense.

Are these feelings romantic though? You wouldn't lie, before you knew puddinghead's face, you had pictured meeting him and dating him—the regular daydreaming that a person would do for the person they were simping after. And while those thoughts were innocent, now puddinghead had a name. Puddinghead was Kozume Kenma, an attractive college student, CEO of Bouncing Ball Corp, and YouTuber. Your mind was taking you to places, and juxtaposing your previous fantasies now with Kenma's face. No, no, no, you scolded yourself before covering your face with your hand. Yes, discovering his identity is huge, but don't forget, he thinks of you as a friend!

You were about to join his party on the PSN and co-op Bloodborne again, but all you could think about were how long Kenma's fingers were when they were placed on the table before you that day when you met him in the cafe.

You were practically out of it.

"Hey, Kozume-kun!"

"You know you can call me Kenma, right? I call you (y/n)."

"O-Oh," Your face reddened uncharacteristically. "R-Really?"

You heard Kenma chuckle and your heart was ready to combust, "Yeah, what's there to think about?"

Oh dear lord, "Okay. Uh... So..."

"So."

"Uh."

"(y/n)?"

Fuck, "K-Kenma-kun."

Kenma had his hand covering his jaw at how cute you sounded, but you were practically jelly yourself. It wasn't easy learning the identity of your internet crush and having to play with them as friends. It wasn't easy to accept these facts and to admit that maybe, just maybe, the person that they are in real life was equally attractive.

"We have to beat the Shadows of Yharnam today."

Did his voice always sound like velvet?

"Hm, I've heard they were relatively easy?"

"No," He said chuckling, "To you, they're definitely going to be a challenge."

When he chuckles, I feel like I'll die.

"Didn't you play against them without co-op?"

"Oh, yeah," You could practically picture him rubbing the back of his neck, "I did co-op for Gherman in the end, though."

Fuck, he's so cute!

"What?" Kenma asked, sounding confused.

"What?"

"You said 'he's so cute', you mean Gherman?" You gasped, "(y/n), he's... he's an old man?"

"Y-Yeah! Haha, I mean... Yeah. It's... I was..."

Kenma laughed before asking you to continue before you slapped yourself for making such a big fool out of yourself. Snap out of it, you scolded yourself once more. You can't like Kenma-kun just because you know he's puddinghead.

But, did you?

As days passed, you exchanged numbers with Kenma. Texting him was relatively easy since he barely tried to keep the conversation alive and you just had so much to say. Sometimes, Kenma believed he might be boring, but you kept texting him as if his personality wasn't really that much of a bother. He wasn't much of a texter, and you had caught on, a fact that didn't actually bother you. Kenma, however, would never leave you on read, would try to reply within the hour even though he doesn't text as often.

Your mind, however, revolved around the heart he had once sent you as puddinghead.

You were re-reading the tweets almost every night, and juxtaposing the image of an empty face with Kenma's. For some reason, puddinghead's image was slowly erasing itself from your mind; you became less fascinated with the YouTube persona, but instead, looked forward to hearing from his real-life identity, trying to know more about his day, about his other interests, and having learned that he was from Nekoma blew your mind since he was from a rival school.

Kenma and you often met at the cafe again, just to grab a few snacks and talk about games. It would be you most of the time who would be initiating conversation, and Kenma would listen and retort when he felt the need to. However, not once did you feel like he wasn't listening; not once did Kenma make you think you weren't keeping him engaged. His eyes were on you, his intense gaze enough to burn you to the ground. It practically had you shivering.

Your mind, however, still continued to revolve around the heart he had once sent you as puddinghead.

"I might need to go to a volleyball game soon—"

"Why did you send me a heart?"

Kenma froze before meeting your gaze. "What?"

You almost wanted to slap yourself but you had said it. You couldn't hold it back, you couldn't keep mulling over your thoughts and therefore, you decided to tell the source of your problems what your problems were.

"Kenma-kun, I... I had a big crush on puddinghead," Kenma's gaze on you was unwavering, "Now that I know you're puddinghead, and... and you were the one who sent me a heart, I... I've always thought you were cute and all—"

"(y/n)—"

"—and it's a bit unfair if I like you only because you're puddinghead, but I gave it a lot of thought—"

"—(y/n), listen—"

"—and I don't want you thinking that my feelings are just because you're a famous YouTuber and I just want to like... I don't know... I enjoy every second with you and slowly I just—"

Kenma's finger tapped your forehead, freezing you in position. His cat-like eyes were boring into your soul, and there he was, face inches away from yours, expressionlessly staring into you.

"I've been in love with you for the longest time," Kenma's voice was gold, "No pressure, though."

"No..." What the fuck? "N-No pressure?!"

Kenma laughed at your outburst, "Yeah, I mean... I took sometime accepting it, to even think that I liked you over the internet didn't make sense to me. And then we bumped into each other and we started gaming together and I guess I understood that your internet persona was just a part of you I'd liked, and now I like you more."

Oh.

Was it really that simple?

"So... If I liked you as puddinghead—"

"Please don't call me that."

"—and if I like you as Kenma-kun, then..."

Kenma sighed before offering you a sweet smile, "It's probably the same thing, (y/n). Stop worrying."

"Can I kiss you?" You blurted out, without thought.

God, this woman, Kenma thought, before covering his jaw with his hand.

In less than a week, you'd learned the route to Kenma's apartment by heart. You went over to game at his place, and slowly began streaming as (y/n) again on Twitch. You didn't want to stream with Kenma yet, because you guys had just started dating a month ago. For liking you longer than you liked him, Kenma was relatively cool about you hanging over at his, and about initiating any sort of touch—because your thoughts were practically spilling out of you and as cute as he once thought they were, he didn't want you to say 'pinch me' every time he kissed you.

Kenma's hands were buried into your hair as he kissed you fervently, softly at first before pulling back to see how flushed your face was. He'd never really imagined you being here, out of the screen he saw you from, in his arms, kissing him back.

He chuckled at the thought.

"What's so funny?" You were legitimately a crackhead, but he adored you.

"I thought having a crush on you was very inconvenient at first."

"Why?"

He shrugged before pulling you to his chest, your face reddening at the contact. He noticed, but simply shook his head as you buried your face into his chest.

"Because I thought it was too good to be true."

"Am I the one freaking out each time or are you?"

"Yeah, that part even I don't get."

You giggled before wrapping your hands around his neck, bringing yourself closer to him. Your face was at the crook of his neck, eyes closed as his arms were wrapped around your waist. You were both currently on Kenma's couch, nuzzling with each other on a lazy class-less Monday.

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing Kenma's roommate, in all honesty, did not know how to react when a famous Twitch streamer was lying asleep on his roommate. Kenma gave him a nonchalant look before placing a finger on his lips.

"She's asleep."

"Y-Yeah, that's definitely what I was thinking." The roommate said before rushing to his room and locking the door.

Well, Kenma thought before bringing his hand back around your waist, That's a problem for another day.

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years

Text

Not Your Hero. chapter 5.

Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three, Chapter four,

AN: Let The Games Begin.

Characters: Finnick Odair, Coriolanus Snow, Mags Flanagan

Pairings: Finnick x reader

Spoiler(s): None

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, death, murder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, psychological manipulation, intimidation, sexual harassment

Prompt/Inspiration: Cringe - Matt Maeson

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By the time you made it back to the tribute center, you’d stopped crying and had instead gone numb. You’d taken your shoes off at some point. Your feet were cold. You sniffed, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand and remembered, too late, the make up you’d been wearing.

“Fuck,” you said, without any real emotion as you took in the black smudge-marks on your hand, “that’s annoying.”

You weren’t surprised to find Finnick in your living room when you opened the door to your suite. When your client had first started to pull you away, you’d panicked and searched for Finnick with your eyes, but you never found him. Now, some part of you was grateful for that.

He looked a mess. His blazer was flung haphazardly over one end of the couch, his bowtie was loose, the sleeves of his shirt were dirty and rolled up past his elbows and his auburn locks were sticking up in all directions, like he’d been carding his fingers through his hair. He was watching a recap of the tribute parade on television but, when the door clicked into place, he whipped around. His eyes met yours and, as soon as they did, as soon as you saw the care there, the fear and tenderness all swirling together in the eyes of someone you trusted so much, you broke.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, tears spilling over your cheeks in a rush as sobs threatened to tear themselves free from your throat. In a second Finnick had leapt over the back of the couch and was in front of you, his arms half outstretched, like he wasn’t sure whether or not he could-

You launched yourself into his arms, collapsing against his body and letting him engulf you in a firm embrace. He smelled like vanilla and bourbon, and something cool and wild, like the ocean and you clung to that like a life raft, letting it flood your senses and block out everything else. Finnick held you like you were something precious, letting you cry into his shoulder while he stroked your hair and whispered comforting words into your ear. It was so gentle, so loving and tender that it made you feel painfully fragile, like you might shatter into a million little pieces at any second. Part of you wanted to pull away and hide, to push Finnick out and never let anyone touch you ever again. The other part thought that, if Finnick ever stopped touching you, you might die.

“I’m okay,” you eventually sniffed, your voice thick with tears and muffled by Finnick’s shirt.

“No you’re not,” he replied, squeezing you tighter, “I know you’re not.”

“I am,” you insisted, pulling away slightly to look Finnick in the eye, “I mean, I’m not but, the worst is over now, right? It’s done, I don’t have to be afraid of it happening anymore because it’s already happened.”

Finnick looked concerned, like he was fighting the urge to argue, but eventually he nodded.

He reached out and brushed your hair out of your face, making you shiver, “Come on, you should get cleaned up.”

For a moment you panicked. The thought of being alone with your thoughts suddenly so overwhelming that your heart froze but, as Finnick gently took your hand and led you down the hall, you realised what he’d meant. Finnick Odair had no intention of leaving you on your own, he wanted to take care of you. Without so much as a word, he washed your face, combed out your hair and put your shoes back in your closet. He waited outside while you showered, scrubbing yourself clean more times than you needed to because you couldn’t escape the feeling that you’d missed a spot. When you were clean and wrapped in a bathrobe, he helped you pick some pyjamas, three sizes too big with long sleeves and long pants and, while you changed, picked up the dress you’d stepped out of and took it away, putting it somewhere where you’d never have to look at it again.

By the time he got back, you felt almost like yourself again, or more accurately, like someone who could be you, given time. You’d slipped into bed and were sitting up against the headboard, staring into space and trying to convince yourself that it was time to sleep. Finnick, still without speaking, clambered in on the other side and shifted so that his side was pressed against yours. You snuggled into him, resting your head on his shoulder and letting him wrap an arm around your waist. It was comforting and warm and safe with Finnick, the kind of safe you couldn’t remember feeling since the games and you thanked your lucky stars that you’d met him when you did.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Finnick asked.

You shook your head, “Not really. I think you can probably imagine what happened.”

“Thadius?”

“No, some banker’s son named Proculos. He said he liked my hair.” you explained.

Finnick nodded, “I’ve met him. He’s a prat.”

“He is a bit,” you agreed, “but at least he’s too stupid to be mean.”

Finnick chuckled, even though nothing about the situation was funny, and gave you a gentle squeeze as you lapsed into comfortable silence.

“Thank you, by the way,” you eventually said, “for being here.”

Finnick smiled to himself, “Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

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

From there, life took on a strange kind of normalcy. Most of your time was spent coming up with strategies for your tributes or watching past games and taking notes. You hung out with the other victors in the sponsor rooms, made connections, charmed people, did interviews. You never talked about what happened with your clients and Finnick never asked you to, but he did watch you a little more intently than before, searching for any signs of distress. On his part, Finnick felt like he was being ripped in half. Every second spent worrying about you was a second he wasn’t spending on Annie and, every second he spent with Annie was a second not looking out for you.

How had this happened? How had Finnick Odair, king of the capitol, known bachelor and playboy, become so deeply entangled in the lives of the people around him?

“Hey, you,” you greeted, breathing heavily as you took a seat next to Finnick, “why the long face?”

You looked incredible, Finnick noticed with his usual pang of annoyance, with your hair pulled off your face and tight fitting training gear on. You’d taken Gloss up on his offer to train you in your free time, building up your strength and endurance with the fiery determination that Finnick had always admired in you so much. It was working too. In the few days it’d been happening, Finnick could already see the beginnings of real improvement. It made him absurdly proud.

“Annie.” He explained, “She’s not getting the buzz she needs from sponsors.”

“There’s still time,” you assured him, “and maybe when the training scores come out-”

Finnick cut you off, shaking his head sadly, “She won’t get higher than an eight.”

“An eight is good!”

“An eight is standard,” Finnick corrected, “at least for us it is.”

“I’d pay someone to give Adam an eight,” you sighed, “right now I’m expecting a five or six.”

Finnick cursed his own insensitivity, “Sorry, Y/N. No one really cares about the training score anyway, unless it’s super high or unreasonably low. They’re not really an indication of how well he’ll do.”

You shrugged, drinking deep from the water bottle you were holding, “I know,” you replied, “I only got a five on my year and look at me now.”

“Exactly,” Finnick smiled, “but for careers…”

“You’ve got to be better than good to stand out,” you commiserated.

“Yup.”

You opened your mouth to say something but, before you could, Gloss called you over. You shot Finnick one last sympathetic look and stood to leave.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?” you called.

Finnick nodded, pushing down his disappointment, “Yeah, of course.”

“Good,” you smiled.

And, just like that, you were gone, leaving Finnick with his thoughts. He knew he was moping, that there were surely better ways for him to be spending his time than sitting around feeling sorry for himself but, as he watched you and Gloss training in the distance, he couldn’t muster up the energy to do any of it. Without meaning to, he let his mind drift back to that first, horrible night when you’d broken down in his arms.

Never in his life had Finnick been so filled with rage. Not when he was reaped, not when his parents had died, never. That night, for the first time, Finnick had understood the desire to cause pain and fear in another human being. He hadn’t wanted to kill the person who’d touched you, he’d wanted to destroy them, to slowly cut away little pieces of them, one by one, until nothing was left but the raw, ugly, corrupted heart of them. He wanted to make them so afraid, wanted them to feel the pain they’d caused so acutely that they begged for death. Only then did he want to kill them.

It was a terrifying feeling, knowing that that monster lay inside of him somewhere, that it could come out at any time and do something terrible to the people he loved. How could a man be capable of such thoughts, such passionate hatred and such tender care? How could a man be both, without the two sides tearing one another apart?

Despite popular belief, Finnick wasn’t actually an idiot, he knew it was because of you. He knew he cared about you more than he should and his feelings were just a reflection of that but, nevertheless, it made him deeply uncomfortable. That’s why he’d decided to keep his distance a little, put some space between the two of you, redraw those lines separating friendship from more that had become so blurry. It was harder than he’d thought it would be. You were just so...you all the time, and he wanted to be around that every single day. But he couldn’t. He shouldn’t. For both of your sakes, it would be better if he wasn’t. He had other obligations after all, other responsibilities. Annie needed him focussed.

He remembered the look on her face when she stepped on the train like it was yesterday, all wide eyes and abject terror.

“This is insane,” she muttered, “Fin, what’s going on? How is this happening?”

He shook his head, still reeling from the shock himself, and pulled her into a rough hug. His ears were ringing, his fingers were numb, everything around him felt like it was happening in slow motion. Annie? Why Annie? She’d never taken out tesserae, she wasn’t a star pupil at the academy... It didn’t make sense. Why had no one volunteered? Why had she ended up alone on that stage?

It’s because of you, the voice in his head whispered, it’s because of you. You did this, you doomed her. Because of course it had been rigged. There was no way that, in all of district four, Annie Cresta, known associate of Finnick Odair, could be picked randomly for the Hunger Games. It couldn’t happen. This had to be some sort of message from Snow.

Which meant, Finnick realised with growing horror and dread, that it was his fault. She was here, sentenced to die, because of him. Shame wasn’t a strong enough word for what he felt.

He pushed himself up and made his way back to the elevator, determined to get some work done before the event that evening. Finnick could hear your voice echoing against the walls and, for a second, he considered just staying for a little longer. He’d almost decided that he would stay when the elevator door closed behind him and Finnick was reminded, once again, that he was alone. With a sigh, he pressed the button for the fourth floor. He felt like he was making the right decision, but why did it have to be so hard?

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

When the big day came you felt woefully unprepared. Ever since the victory tour you’d spent every free second trying to make sense of this moment. The start of the games. The first day. Everyone told you that the first one was the worst that, as the years went by, it would get easier. It was meant to be comforting but, to you, it had always sounded more like a threat.

You took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly through your mouth as the hands of the clock ticked on, bringing you closer and closer to the moment of truth. You were vaguely aware of the other mentors flitting around the large viewing room but they were like flies or little birds; pretty, but ultimately distant and unimportant when compared to the screen in front of you. You cracked your knuckles. It should be starting soon. Where was Adam right now? You wondered. Was he in the loading bay? Did he have his tracker in? Had his stylist helped him into his clothes already? Surely she must have. Your eyes flicked to the clock. Yes, by now he would be dressed and ready, maybe even already in the tube. What did they have in store for him?

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you swallowed hard past the lump in your throat. Arketia was explaining what to expect and you were trying to listen, you really were, but your eyes kept being pulled towards the glass ascension tube in the corner of the room. It was like a magnet, pulling you closer and closer to death with every passing second and there was nothing you could do but stare.

A rough hand under your chin pulled you back to the present.

“Focus!” Arketia insisted forcefully, “I’m trying to save your life here you silly girl.”

You winced as her grip dug into your chin, but nodded, recognising the sincerity in your stylist’s eyes.

“Sorry.”

Her gaze softened and she let go, gesturing to the outfit in front of you again, “Like I was saying; this is all cotton or some other lightweight fabric designed to breathe,” she explained, “except for the jacket. That means hot days and cold nights, you understand?”

“Yes,” you answered, looking over the beige and khaki outfit with a growing sense of dread.

“I would bet on it being some sort of desert,” she continued, “like a savannah or veld land.”

Your bottom lip trembled with the effort to stop yourself from crying, and you could feel the tube pulling your gaze, but you resisted. Arketia was trying to help. And, some part of you pointed out, this might be the last friendly interaction you would ever have.

“If it is, you have to find water, and soon,” she told you, a sort of desperation in her eyes, like she was trying to burn the information into your brain with only her gaze, “you’ll lose a lot in those high temperatures, more than you expect. And it’ll get extremely cold as soon as the sun goes down, so try to find somewhere sheltered to sleep, alright?”

You nodded, biting back a comment about how that was fairly general advice and letting her help you strip out of your fancy capitol clothes. All too soon you were dressed, and all you could do was wait together, sipping on bottles of water like they were a lifeline and letting your anxiety creep up and up and up and up.

“Jesus Christ, you’re really not listening to me, are you?” A voice questioned, snapping you out of your reverie with a jump.

Finnick collapsed onto the couch next to you, his perfectly sculpted face the picture of calm. You could see the tension he was holding in his body though, in the way he held his shoulders and fists. As you examined him further you could see the signs of sleepless nights in his face too. You smiled weakly.

“You look wrecked,” you teased, “your stylist didn’t have something to cover up those designer eye bags?” You asked, poking his cheek with your finger.

He laughed, moving his head away from your prodding, “Hey! Who asked you, kid? It’s rude to pick on me in these trying times.”

You scrunched up your nose, “Oh come on, you know you look perfect as usual. I pick on you purely out of jealousy.”

The banter was light hearted and joking but you both knew that it was nothing more than a smokescreen, a comforting exchange that kept you both from spiralling into uncontrollable panic and fear.

“Aww, Y/N/N,” he replied, the smile not quite reaching his eyes, “you’ve got nothing to be jealous of, kid.”

You flushed but, before you could answer, the anthem rang through the crowded room, silencing everyone and drawing their eyes towards the screens. You felt Finnick tense up beside you but you were frozen in place. Your heart was pounding in your ears as the cold hand of dread gripped your heart. For a moment, as the screens came to life, all you saw was the savannah, the miles and miles of brush and sand and the blistering sun, and the cornucopia; blindingly bright in the sun. And you were right back in it. Only the faint brushing of Finnick’s knee against yours pulled you back. You took another deep breath.

“I can do this,” you promised yourself, “I can do this.”

And with that, you pushed your panic deep down into the recesses of your mind and focused on the scene before you. You heard Finnick sigh with relief, and a few quiet sounds of celebration from the other mentors and you couldn’t help but agree, feeling the knot of worry in your chest loosen slightly. The arena was green, with sloping hills creating a sort of river basin and a towering wall of concrete and cement in the distance that looked like a dam. That fact, in particular, made you smile. Your district was full of dams, they were how you generated power and, even if the dam in the arena was unhelpful, you knew the sight of it would give your tributes some comfort the same way the river would for the tributes of district four. James caught your eye and gave you a brisk nod.

You heard the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith as he announced the start of the games, and the roaring cheer and excitement of the crowds of thousands of Capitol citizens who had gathered in the outside viewing areas. It made a rush of bile rise up in your throat.

The countdown began and, instinctively, you reached out and grabbed Finnick’s hand, squeezing tight as your eyes finally found Adam.

“3….2….1,” the robotic voice called.

“And so it begins,” Finnick said softly.

You nodded, “And so it begins.”

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

@i-love-you-green , @heatherhollowayst

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miraculousmarifan · 3 years

Text

Felinette Month - Day 1: Purrito

So this is my first time writing something that wasn’t academic or work documentation in probably at least 5 years and it’s definitely my first fan fic so please bear with the rough writing. And the potential out of character-ness of this. I wasn’t even planning to write for this but after reading a few of the ones by @fandomsilhouette, I felt too inspired not to try!

Fingers crossed that this burst of inspiration last long enough for me to finish the prompts on @felinettenovember!

This is based loosely on a fan fic I read a while back (if I remembered who wrote it, I’d completely tag them here but I don’t even remember the name now)

Chat!Felix and reveal

Around 1500 words and most certainly fluff

Marinette hummed as she put together the tray of cheese pastries and tea for her anticipated visitor. She loved the decision to make a schedule for patrol to clear up some time in her and Chat’s busy schedules. Under this, she had three days every week that she didn’t need to worry about sneaking out and one day that they could meet up from patrol to hang out and work on finding Hawkmoth. Additionally it resulted in a standing visit with her masked friend once a week, with her parents’ approval after the Weredad akuma brought it to their attention under the condition of homework still getting done, of course.

Once upstairs, Marinette worked on tidying up her room a little from her projects, as the scrap pile from her ongoing projects could be a little distracting and she preferred to have those in acceptable condition for smaller projects. Maybe she could make a nice patchwork quilt for Felix as a get-well present, since he seemed to be coming down with something. A cold or maybe the flu? He definitely seemed flushed and less alert than usual, seeming to space out while looking at her throughout the day.

As she sat down with the pieces, arranging and rearranging to find the most appealing look that Felix may approve of, a thump sounded from the balcony and the clatter of a chair falling. Quickly pushing the fabrics out of sight, Marinette climbed up and opened the door to peer out at Chat. He was still laying on the ground with a bright red face, visibly sweaty skin, and eyes shut.

“Oh! You look terrible Chat! Did something happen on your patrol?” Marinette rushed over to help him up slowly and stopped when she noticed the shiver running through him and the quick breaths. She felt his forehead, pushing his more disheveled than usual hair out of the way. His eyes slowly opened and a weak grin crossed his face.

“Hiya Princess. You look nice today. Is your hair down?” His hand reached up and batted at the closest pigtail. Her hair was definitely still in it’s pigtails, albeit a little longer than they were when these visits first started. That’s not a good sign…

“Let’s get you inside and out of the cold. Are you sick? Why didn’t you go home right away after patrol if you’re sick? Or better yet, why not call Ladybug and ask her to cover this patrol so you could rest up?” He mumbled incoherently and leaned heavily on her as she helped him climb into her room. The moment he was near the chaise, he collapsed heavily on it.

Marinette rushed to grab blankets and a pillow to make him comfortable, chastising him about the importance of taking care of his health and assuring him that Ladybug certainly felt the same way, despite his denials of being sick. With some coaxing, she managed to get him to sit up so she could wrap the biggest blanket she owned around his shoulders. She moved to grab another blanket and pillow and he let himself fall down again, rolling off the chaise onto the floor.

“Oh Chat! Let me help you back up! I’m sure you’d be much cozier than on the floor!” I’m sure my parents are wondering what is happening at this point. Hopefully they help me take care of him when they’re done prepping for tomorrow, at least enough that he can make it home.

“Nnnngh,” and curled up tighter in the blanket, burying his face into the spot where the carpet and the top edge of the blanket met. With a resigned sigh, Marinette went to the bathroom to find a thermometer and to see what kinds of medicine they had. At least if it’s only a cold, she might be able to give him something to help him through the night. Coming back into the room, she chuckled at the sight of him curled up tightly, like a little purrito.

“Chat, you need to get up and take this so you feel better soon. I have some tea that you can take it with, if you’d like,” Marinette cooed, trying to sound as much like her mother as possible, as she walked towards the nearly forgotten tray with medicine in hand.

“I don’t want to! I want to cuddle,” Chat protested and pulled the blanket closer in, somehow curling up even more and acting more like a petulant child throwing a tantrum with each passing minute. Marinette brought the tray over, setting it near the chaise, grabbing another blanket, and knelt down by his side.

“I tell you what, if you sit up and take your medicine like a good boy, I’ll give you this extra blanket and let you pick which pillow you want to use,” she bribed, hoping that the time babysitting Manon had taught her the right skill for this kind of situation. With this offer on the table, Chat managed to sit up slowly, his eyes looking more glazed over than when he had arrived. Marinette handed him the tea, grown cold by this point, and the correct dosage of cold medicine, to prevent him from accidentally taking too much.

He quickly took both without further protests and then a goofy grin broke out. “I want you to be my pillow!” His arms wrapped around Marinette and tried to curl himself up on her lap. The contact made her blush a bit and she tried to pull back.

“You’re such a flirt! What happened to being in love with Ladybug?” she joked nervously. After readjusting so he was just leaning on her shoulder, instead of across her lap, she used one hand to drape the second blanket over him. At least this way I can tell he isn’t too cold.

“I only flirt with you and Ladybug. I can’t help that if I didn’t have this curse, you’d be my first choice,” he murmured, seeming to be drifting back to sleep already. Marinette was stunned into silence. Did this mean Chat likes her? How did things change so much just from hanging out? With how out of it he seems, is he going to remember this conversation later? Are things going to be different the next time I see him?

For a few minutes she spiraled, thinking of every possible thing that could change, speculating whether this would affect how she treated him as Ladybug (try as she might to avoid letting these nights slip into her superhero life), and how different this might have been if she didn’t have a crush on Felix. Soon he startled her out of her thoughts with a jolt, as he sat up and started thrashing wildly at the blankets and pulling at his suit.

“Ack! Too hot! Stupid suit! Plagg, claws in!”

A flash of light and silence. Marinette clamped her hands over her eyes as quickly as she could with her brain already running on delay.

“Mmmmmmm. Much better,” he mumbled, before Marinette felt his head resting on her leg, arms wrapping around her waist, and body resting on her lap. She kept her hands over her eyes and freaked out internally. How am I supposed to talk him into transforming back?

“What are you doing kid?! You can’t do that here! Nobody is supposed to know your identity! I hate to say it but you need to transform back so Ladybug doesn’t get upset with you!” Plagg fumed. Marinette felt him try to pull on Chat’s arms

“You’re so warm,” Chat purred out, ignoring Plagg’s badgering, “Why don’t we do this more often, Princess? This would be perfect during movie nights.”

I need to do something. I can’t stay like this forever!

“Chat, why don’t you transform back and just take one of the blankets off? Wouldn’t that be better?” Marinette kept her eyes clamped together, moving her hands slowly down to where she thought his shoulder was and felt for the blankets. Apparently he hadn’t pulled them back up before curling up on her so it was just his shirt. Feeling utterly surreal, she noted that the sleeve’s fabric felt like the high quality fabrics she had to save up to buy for bigger, fancier projects.

“Noooooo. This is what I want. This is too nice to give up!” he protested, twisting his body up first to bury his face into her side, then shake it dramatically. A ticklish jolt ran through her body and she opened her eyes without thinking, pushing him back to stop him.

“Felix?!” Marinette gasped. Felix just smiled and continued trying to cuddle back up to her.

Just then Marinette’s parents knocked on the door downstairs and asked if they could come in. If her brain hadn’t come to a halt, she might’ve had a joke about their impeccable timing.

#felinette month 2020 #felinette month #chat!felix #fluff #felinette #miraculous ladybug

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frostsinth · 4 years

Text

Royal Flush - Pt. 3

Prologue - Part 1|2 - Grier Art - MasterList

GAAAAAAAAH!! This part had me near screaming while I wrote it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’m changing the tag from ‘slow burn’ to ‘angst’ I think, though I don’t doubt that both are rather fitting.

Thanks to everyone for all your support thus far! I love getting all the nice messages, comments, and reblogs. I re-read them when I need inspiration. Feel free to check out my MasterList above if you haven’t already, and BuyMeACoffee while you’re there if you want.

As always, shoot me a comment, ask, or DM if you have any questions. ENJOY!

The knock at the door didn’t surprise me. I had been expecting it, ever since the greys of the room had faded and the sunlight had crested the horizon. I didn’t know I could miss a window quite so much, and turned slightly to consider it as I sat up and slid my feet out of the bed. For at least now the passage of time could be as marked as my suffering. It had been a long, restless night. Every time I felt sleep brushing at the edges of my consciousness, a pair of scarlet eyes had filled it and startled me back awake. I dreaded facing those eyes now, and slowly pulled a tunic over my head. Leery of a repeat of the previous morning.

The new bedroom was larger than the guest quarters of the night before, and blessedly bare. The only furniture was the four poster bed, and a short, dark oak table set before a plush crimson cushioned couch. Hibik had scowled deeply at the “sorry state” of the room when he had brought me up the night before, but I had quickly assured him it was better this way. He had been saved only by the suggestion that I meet with the designer later and decorate the room to my own preferences (it had been his suggestion, but I had politely agreed).

I hoped the sleepless night wouldn’t show too heavily in my face, and ran my palm quickly over the top of my head to hopefully smooth the worst of my morning frizz. I didn’t linger long, as the second thunderous knock made me grit my teeth at the impatience of goblins. Honestly, you would think creatures so small would be used to having to take extra time to do things. Yet it seemed like they were more impatient to be finished with one task and move on to the next.

I moved from the bedchambers to the small foyer before the door to the rest of the castle. There were more rooms beyond the sleeping quarters, but I had not yet explored them fully. Now, it seemed I would be leaving them without the chance. Of course, I reminded myself somewhat bitterly, they were mine for the foreseeable future… Taking a deep, steadying breath, I straightened my shoulders and set my face into its stoney fixture. I took one last moment to brace myself with my fingers wrapped around the door handle before dropping it down to tug the door open.

My head dropped back as I looked not down (as I had set my gaze), but up. And up a little more. I couldn’t quite catch my eyes in time before they widened slightly, and scrambled to recover with a soft clearing of my throat.

It was not the goblin King who stood outside my door, nor Hibik or another goblin attendant. Instead, it seemed to be… well, I was pretty sure it was a goblin, based upon the long pointed nose, grey-green skin, and huge ears. But it, or more “he”, was taller than even I was! At least a head, with beady yellow eyes that filled with his toothy grin as we took each other in. He was leaning against one lean, muscular arm propped against the door frame, and his ears flopped as he titled his head to the side when I opened the door.

“Good morning, Your Highness!” He exclaimed, thick brow knitting slightly and one raising up in a quizzical expression. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. Did I wake you?”

“Erm, not at all, My Lord…?” I recovered from my shock quickly, and left the end of my greeting hanging to allow for introductions. I certainly hoped I wasn’t supposed to know this man already.

He gave a snort, waving his hand through the air. “No ‘Lord’, Your Highness.” I almost gritted my teeth at the lack of proper titles in use at this castle. “I am Damjan. General of His Majesty’s Armies.”

I tried not to stiffen visibly at that. A thousand thoughts quickly raced through my head, most prominently the one wondering what the man likely most responsible for the untold losses of my Kingdom would be doing standing at my door. I felt a stab of resentment at the sight of him, remembering the scent of stale blood and soft wails of anguish from the last time I had visited the frontlines. Was this the ploy? I felt anger bubbling in my stomach. Set me off balance, push me to the very edges of my emotions and let me have a sleepless night. Then have the General of their Armed Forces interrogate me. Ply me for secrets. My jaw tightened. They would get nothing from me, of that I was quite determined.

I wasn’t sure if his friendly smile was more aggravating or comforting with such thoughts and memories rattling around in my brain. I offered the older man a curt nod, working extra hard to keep my voice flat.

“A pleasure to meet you, General Damjan. To what do I owe this honor?”

If he noticed that I spoke at him through my teeth, he didn’t show it. He dropped his arm from the door frame, his athletic body moving with a military grace I found myself pleasantly familiar with. He cupped his hands in the small of his back, presenting himself with his feet shoulder width apart.

“I have been asked to escort you to the training cliffs,” He informed me, his professional expression breaking slightly to let the edge of a smirk cuff his thin lips, “As of today, I will be your personal instructor.”

“By whose authority-” I started, my voice growing a sharp edge.

“Come along, Your Highness,” He interrupted, turning and marching down the hall, “Let’s get a taste of what you know.”

Put off my guard, I stifled a sigh. Just a breath’s delay more, and I stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind me. I had to lengthen my stride to catch up to him, but soon fell into step at his side down the obnoxiously loud and cluttered hallways.

I couldn’t help staring at him out of the corner of my eye. Wondering what freak genetic mix-up had placed the disproportionate, lanky goblin frame in such a huge body. I quickly darted my eyes forward as I saw his flick to the corner to consider me as well.

“Something I can help you with, Your Highness?” He asked lightly, sounding amused.

I shook my head, tucking my hands behind my back as we marched along. “Apologies, I forget myself.” I replied, fully expecting a barrage of insults or a reprimanding for my insubordination.

He chuckled instead, and I glanced at him again out the corner of my eye. “I can understand your confusion. But I assure you, I am a goblin.” He cocked his head to the side, and a mischievous smirk twisted the corners of his lips. “Half, at least.”

I managed to keep my stoney face in place, but nodded politely. “I beg your forgiveness for my slight. I did not mean to intrude upon your personal life.”

He gave another soft chuckle. “A glance is hardly an intrusion!” He exclaimed, turning and leading me down a separate hall. I noticed the torches seemed to be lit on our path, whereas other hallways remained dark. “And I am proud of my heritage. My mother was an orc, you see,” He continued, bypassing a dark hallway for a lit passage again, “And my father was… well… he was ambitious.”

I barely managed to stifle the laugh that formed in my nose. Ambitious indeed! I could almost picture it, a sprightly little goblin trying to romance a behemoth orc. I pursed my lips to keep from smiling. But the humor quickly faded as I remembered just exactly who this half-goblin was.

“I have never met an orc,” I intoned dryly, “I imagine their prowess as warriors has served you well, General Damjan.”

He seemed to sense the rising tension, and shrugged it away. “I was raised beneath this very mountain, so I imagine I wouldn’t know.” He paused at a darkened intersection, turning his head to consider me properly. “But I do not share their views on war, and am more than happy to retire at a young age. Relatively speaking.”

That stopped me in my tracks, and I met his gaze with steel as I turned to face him as well. The unspoken words on my lips in my eyes. What about all those men who would not get to retire? What of all the soldiers who never saw an age beyond “too young”? We squared each other up, soldier to soldier. I had seen a few battles, and he had seen a few too many. But the history of the last decade aside… The fact that a human and goblin soldier could stand across from each other in the same hallway? Without drawing swords or exchanging blows? Ten years ago it wouldn’t have even been imaginable. Five years ago it would’ve been our worst nightmare. As we eyed each other, we both came to the same quiet acknowledgement, and I felt a strange contentment wash over me. He offered me a stiff, respectful nod, and I returned it graciously. Honestly. And that was that.

It was a good reminder of what once was and what was to come, and I felt suddenly glad that I was going to be a part of it. In whatever capacity. This new peace… it was for the better. For both Kingdoms. I studied his face briefly as he snapped his heels together to lead the way back down the hallway once more. The exchange having succeeded in loosening the unspoken tension between us, a familiar goblin grin returned to his face.

“Now, let’s see what you’ve already got, Your Highness.” His grin grew a little. “And what you’ve got left to give.”

…...….

I sensed more than saw the set of eyes on me. As I dodged and ducked under another fast paced swing from the half-goblin’s meaty fist, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. But if Damjan noticed our new observer, he gave no sign. If anything, his attacks became even faster. I moved my feet quickly, tightening my core and flexing my thighs to bound back and forth out of the way. I saw his feint for what it was and spun easily on the ball of my foot, jabbing my elbow towards him.

He grunted as the blow landed against his raised defense, yet was not so easily defeated. His hand caught the back of my neck, and his own elbow shot towards my face. I twisted from his grasp, forcing my shoulder into his chin then sliding my foot out as he fell off balance. Sweeping him off his feet.

General Damjan landed heavily with an even louder grunt than before. I drew in a sharp breath, looking down at him with my fists still balled, instantly regretting my brashness. I had gone too far, knocking him off his feet. I fully expected him to be angry with me for besting him, my host and senior. Not to mention our tentative peace; would he take this slight as a personal insult? Had I taken the spar too seriously? I took a few steps back, panting slightly as the sweat dripped over my shoulders. Already planning out my apology and preparing for the worst.

But the big green fellow suddenly laughed, and I looked at him with surprise. Wiping the back of one over sized hand across his forehead, he rolled back to his feet.

“Good match!” He exclaimed and I almost winced as he reached out. For of course there would be repercussions for having embarrassed my new instructor. But his heavy hand simply clapped me on the shoulder proudly. “You’re stronger than you look!”

I glanced up at him, beaming down at me with his pointed teeth. “...Thank you.” I replied finally, slowly loosening my stance as I realized this was no feint. “I found our spar quite… educational, General.”

He laughed again, dropping his hand and stretching. “Let’s do it again, Your Highness. You’ll keep me in my fighting prime.” He winced slightly, running his hand over the grey streaks in his short cropped hair. “My old age prime.” Then he cocked his head to the side, big ears flopping. “Tomorrow morning sound good?”

I offered him a curt nod, straightening back into my square shouldered formality. “I look forward to it.”

The half-goblin grinned again, bumping my shoulder companionably with his as he strode past me. I turned with the force of the gesture, absorbing the blow and spinning lightly on my heels with it, watching him head over to the ring wall where we had left our towels.

I stiffened at the sight of the goblin King leaning against it, an equally toothy grin on his own face. Luckily, my face was already flushed from the heat of the day and the strenuous activity. I was sure he wouldn’t notice it had darkened a few more shades. I wasn’t sure why I was surprised. Who else would make the hairs on the back of my neck rise quite like that? Still, it was the first time I had seen him since… the embarrassing misconduct.

Damjan gave the King a respectful half-bow, and I used their temporary distraction to consider my options. But there was no avoiding him, though I glanced out the corner of my eye to absolutely assure myself of that. The memory of the previous night had me hotter at the collar than the sparring match, and I steeled my gaze and my nerve as I slowly paced over to the wall.

“... Your Majesty,” I almost mumbled, nodding to him respectfully.

He held out my towel to me, still grinning like a fool. “You’re a good fighter.” He said as I gingerly took the cloth from his outstretched hand. “I am glad Damjan was available today.”

“You sent him.” I concluded. As I had expected, though no one would confirm it for me.

Grier cocked his head to the side. “You said you enjoyed training and sparring. I figured most of our soldiers would be no match for you, simply on account of their size, but the General might be more your level.”

“Yes, I found him a challenging opponent.” I replied formally, glancing down at the towel in my hands and resisting the urge to shift on my feet again.

“Perhaps we can spar sometime,” The King offered eagerly, “I would love to see if I might be an equally worthy challenge.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, and said nothing for a long moment. “...As you wish.”

I felt his scarlet eyes running over me, and was careful to keep my facade of stoicism uncracked in the face of his scrutiny. His smile returned, and he leaned down on his elbows over the wall. He was outlandishly dressed again, his tight shirt a faded orange pinstripe with a collar almost down to his navel and washed-out, billowing black pants with green embroidery. I wondered briefly if he owned a single article of clothing even mildly subdued in nature.

I wrung the towel in my hands, feeling very self-conscious standing before the goblin bare chested again. Though this time I was also coated in sweat and dust from the dirt ring. I rubbed one foot into the ground, longing to look away from those bright beady eyes. Struggling to find some words to say but finding everything wholly inadequate. The hot sun beat down on my bare shoulders, and I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. I began wiping down my arms with the rough cloth as an excuse to break our eyes apart.

“... Come, I am sure you would like to wash up. ” He exclaimed, straightening once more. “And the day is early yet, perhaps you would like some breakfast? Some tea perhaps?”

I hesitated again, chancing a glance up at him through my dark lashes. He had already begun to make his way back between the walls of the barracks, and paused, looking over his shoulder at me. He gathered my boots and shirt from where I had left them while he waited. I sighed internally, then placed one hand on the low wall of the ring. Hoping over it as easily as opening a door. I saw his scarlet eyes watching me intently as I did, and thought I saw his lips twitch slightly. He tossed me my things as I got closer. I dropped my gaze with the pretense of pulling on my boots, following after him as he finally turned and led the way back into the castle proper.

Once again, each windowless hallway we passed down had torches lit while others we passed by were so dark they appeared to be walls of black to my weak human eyes. I noticed Grier shooting a glance over his shoulder at me as we passed another such intersection, his red eyes glinting in the firelight.

“What are your feelings on magic?” He asked, his tone light.

“In what regards, Your Majesty?” I returned warily, following into a small side room which was still shrouded in mostly darkness.

I blinked a few times to clear my vision as he lit a few lanterns about the room. It appeared to be a small washroom, set with basins of clear water. I looked around carefully, considering the decadent mirrors that framed my sweat and dirt caked form now edged with the soft yellow glow. The basins flowed like small fountains, with fresh water pouring from intricately carved patterns in the walls. The water pooled in deep stone basins, then trickled over the edges into the pitted floor below before descending into some unseen place. I walked over to one curiously, as Grier gathered up a clean towel from a stack of linens in the corner.

“Goblins are quite practiced in magic,” He replied, wandering back over with a vivid red towel in hand, “It is integrated heavily into our days. Small magic for that, granted. Little charms and enchantments mostly. I do not believe it to be as common in human culture.”

I dipped my hands experimentally in the basin that stood at my waist. The water was cool and refreshing to the touch, and I cupped a small amount in my palms. It glistened beautifully in the lantern light, almost unnaturally. I brought my face down to splash it over my cheeks experimentally. It felt somehow crisper than normal water, and I watched the drops from my face shoot ripples across the surface below. A distorted reflection of my face peered back at me, and I ran my hand back through the water again to break my own gaze. I was very consciously aware of the watching eyes as I brought my wet hands over the back of my neck.

“I have little experience with it,” I said stiffly, “Except for-”

I stopped short, hesitating. I slowly ran water up my arms and shoulders, swallowing and half-hoping he wouldn’t notice the slip. I saw him tilt his head to the side in the mirror above the basin. I almost sighed. No such luck then.

“Except for?” He prompted, taking a few steps closer with a small smirk dancing on his lips.

I didn’t answer for a moment, dropping my gaze down to the surface of the water again. “... Except for the magic used against us on the battlefront.”

“Ah... yes,” I heard him shuffle, then give a nervous laugh, “I would apologize for that, but it seems tasteless to do so…” I glanced over at him as he came around to stand facing me, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms. “... I am pleased that I can assure you that our magic will only be a boon to your people now,” He cocked his head to the side slightly, holding out the towel to me, “And it gives me no small amount of relief to be able put this war behind us.”

I took the towel gingerly, making a point not to meet his eyes. I felt his fingers brush mine and tried not to stiffen noticeably. Unfortunately, I had never managed to master a flushing face. I prayed he wouldn’t notice the subtle darkening of my skin, and if he did, would choose not to comment.

“I was not, however, asking simply for the conversational effect,” He continued as I patted at my face with the surprisingly soft towel, “But to gauge your willingness to be charmed.”

I froze, looking up at him with the towel pressed against the lower half of my face. I had managed to keep the worse of my surprise from my eyes, yet judging from the twitch at the corners of his mouth, I hadn’t managed to completely hide it.

“I am afraid I don’t know what you mean, Your Majesty.” I breathed after a moment, composing myself.

He waved one three fingered hand in the air, smiling brightly. “Well, I am quite the charmer myself, if you don’t mind me saying. I would certainly be willing to put a spell on you.”

I turned away, clearing my throat and twisting the towel in my hands. So it was finally time for the conversation I had dreaded. My ears felt like they were on fire, and I cleared my throat.

“I beg your forgiveness for my rude behavior-” I started quickly, spilling out the words I had been practicing all night.

“Rude behavior?” He interjected, sounding surprised.

“My actions were improper.” I continued, trying to remember the rest of the rehearsed speech. Though his interruption had been unplanned, and let me a little lost. “I acted brashly, and hope you will not take them the wrong way.”

His silence sent a tingling spark down my spine, and raised the hairs on my arms. I gathered up my shirt, pulling it over my head with my back still to him. When he still didn’t answer, I slowly turned, carefully to keep my face expressionless as I tucked the edges of the tunic into my pants. I wasn’t sure if he had ever gone so long without speaking, at least not in my experience.

Scarlet eyes were waiting for me when I turned, and perhaps it was my imagination, but he seemed a little paler than usual. He managed a small, crooked grin that didn’t reach his eyes, and a chill rattled through me.

“... I was talking about casting a charm on your eyes. So you can see in the dark as we do…” He clarified quietly, then his eyes dropped. “But I don’t believe that’s what you are talking about.”

I blanched, my stomach turning over in somersaults. I very much wished at that moment to turn and bolt. Back out to the training cliffs perhaps, to have Damjan crack his fist into my face. Or to the empty tower bedroom, to throw myself out the window. Anywhere but in that small washroom across from the goblin King.

By some small miracle, I managed to keep my composure. I tucked my hands behind my back and squared my shoulders. Denying even to myself the absolute chaos that reigned in my head at that moment.

“My apologies, Your Majesty-”

“Grier.” He interrupted, perhaps a bit too harshly. The goblin stopped short, seeming to catch himself in surprise at his own tone. I saw him chew at his own cheek. “...You were talking about our kiss.”

I didn’t answer, my tongue feeling heavy and dry in my mouth. Maintaining my stony composure even as he began fiddling with the collar of his shirt. As per usual, I found myself without words. I scrambled, thinking over everything else we had talked about.

“I… I would want to know more about the magic,” I started, deciding ignoring the conversational switch had ever happened was the most polite thing to do, “Before I agreed to it. I do not have any charm experience.”

“Obviously.” The King snorted, and I felt my spine twitch at that.

I kept my gaze level though as he turned his attention back to me. In his eyes, something flickered; not quite anger, nor sadness. Something somewhere in the middle. Finally, he waved his hand in the air again, brushing aside the strained silence.

“But we have business to attend to, Prince Nikostratus.” He stated, then with lithe grace pushed himself off the wall with his shoulders and strode to the door. “I sent for Hibik to bring over the Treaty for our final review.” His usually languid stride was quicker, and I had to lengthen my own to keep up. “I thought it might be most poetic to sign them in the War Room, if you are in agreement.”

His voice was light and airy. As if whatever tension from just moments before had never happened in the first place. But as he continued on, babbling some nonsense about converting the War Room to some other purpose, I noticed it was distinctly too light. Too airy. His laughter was flat, and his toothy grin didn’t reach his eyes. I wondered if he was perhaps more insulted than I had initially thought; perhaps in goblin culture I had offered him some slight. I racked my brain over the memory of the previous evening, trying to pinpoint exactly where I had insulted him. If I didn’t know, then I could certainly never be sure I wouldn’t accidentally do it again.

I barely noticed as he led us into the large room, centered around a huge oval table with the world mapped out in intricate detail. Like all the other rooms, it was cluttered, though less with fabrics and mirrors. Instead, there were bits and pieces of armor, as well as swords and maces and pikes and numerous other weapons. They were… displayed, for the most part. Though a fair few looked as though they had been taken from their place, fiddled with, then never quite put back. I made my way over to the table, studying the intricate carved mountains and painstaking details of the plains and forests. It was actually quite beautiful, and I reached out to delicately stroke the polished edge.

I realized a silence had settled, and turned to find Grier watching me, his own hands clasped behind his back. I belatedly came to the conclusion that I had completely zoned out and stopped listening to whatever he had been saying. I removed my hand from the table like a child who had been caught at the sugar jar and cleared my throat. I noticed the corners of his mouth twitch, though somehow those deep red eyes managed to look a bit sadder.

I dropped my own eyes, and shuffled slightly. “Your Maj… King Grier,” I started, and the words felt heavy in my mouth. I felt my composure waver slightly, and tried not to let my guard down as I turned to face him properly. “I feel I should… “

“You have nothing to explain.” He assured me, his voice strangely thin. “I meant what I said last night.” I winced slightly, and he sighed heavily at that, sounding resigned and more than a little disappointed. “I will never ask more than you are willing to give.”

I was saved from having to scramble for some form of answer for him yet again by the sound of the door opening and the appearance of Hibik, arms overflowing with parchment. A step behind him was Damjan, who gave me a hearty grin when my eyes settled on him. And behind him… was Gareth.

I felt my back tighten at the sight of my guard, whom I had hardly expected to see here. I had thought him long gone from the region. His lips were tight, his eyes dark. There was an unkept scruff on his chin and cheeks that suggested he had not had the most relaxing two days. I squared my shoulders again, meeting his gaze with as much unwavering confidence as I could muster. Raising back up the walls I had foolishly allowed lowered just moments before. He offered me an overly formal and polite bow. Hibik’s ears bounced as he too bowed to me, handing me a copy of the Treaty, then bustled over to hand another to the King. Damjan dropped his heavy hand on my shoulder, and I jerked a little under the weight.

“ A historic day indeed, Prince Nikostratus.” The General exclaimed, still grinning. “And an early retirement for me!”

I offered him a polite nod, listening with half an ear as Hibik explained something about the need for witnesses. I watched Gareth out of the corner of my eye, but my old guard seemed to be making a point not to look at me. The goblins, varied in shape and size as the three of them were, seemed so very animated compared to the two of us. In fact, their chatter and gestures made me feel like a statue, and I clenched my teeth a little tighter for the fact of it. I couldn’t see the words on the page before me, but moved my eyes as if I was reading them anyways. Wave of emotion after emotion hit me, so fast and powerful I couldn’t even begin to register them before the next one rushed through.

Here was my mentor, a man who once had been one of the few people I would call my friend. He had also been a childhood friend of my mother’s and my only connection to her once she passed. There had been many years I had looked up to Gareth, and many spent training in his direct shadow. I had become a soldier because of him; and now I knew, above all else, that I had committed a crime barely shy of treason in his eyes. The distant way he addressed me, the cold anger that even now I could feel bleeding from him. I felt my own temper flare. What else could he have expected from me?? Allow my sister to be wed in my place? Allow my kingdom to fall to ruin?

I was glad we had spent so much time discussing and debating the previous day. It meant I didn’t have to worry that I absorbed none of the words my eyes ran over. Of course, that also meant I trusted Hibik, and in turn, Grier, to have transposed our agreements honestly and without malintent. I wondered briefly if they had guessed the effect Gareth’s presence would have on me, and had planned this moment. But one last glance at the edge of my vision, where the man stood with a chiseled expression that just barely held his rage, and I decided I would much rather trust my life to the goblins.

“If you are ready, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” Hibik intoned.

Grier nodded, and I thought him overly subdued despite himself. I didn’t have time to linger on it though. My heart raced and my head swirled as the parchments were placed on the notary stand and an inkwell was brought forth. Grier signed first, and I saw his mouth set in a tight line as he did. I felt equal measures of guilt and pain at the sight, which was quickly replaced by a heavy weight that settled on my squared shoulders as Hibik passed the pen to me. I tried not to hesitate. Tried to move with a befitting grace and poise. But my hand shook a little as I brought the quill back from the inkwell. Luckily, Grier would be the only one who would be able to see that. And I hoped he would not begrudge me the fear that drowned out all the sounds of the room as I brought the tip to the page.

I felt numb as I stepped back from the notary stand, passing the quill back to Hibik. I saw Gareth and Damjan exchanging looks that looked more akin to threats than peace, and could feel the tension in the air as palpably as if someone had filled the room with water. Hibik was dutiful and meticulous, however, and quickly sanded both signatures. He delicately rolled one copy, sealing it with wax and the Royal Goblin Crest before passing it to me.

Gareth stepped over, a lingering distrust in his eyes as he considered not only Damnjan, but even tiny little Hibik. I tensed as he squared up to me, bowing ever so slightly. The rest of the room forgotten.

“Your Highness.”

“Sir Gareth,” I greeted him formally, trying not to spit the words, “I trust you are well.”

“As well as can be expected, given the circumstances.” He replied, his tone so cold it burned. I felt his disapproval like a knife in my chest, and tried to stand a little taller in the face of it. He bowed his head slightly again. “... Your Highness.”

The way he added my title almost as if an afterthought might as well have been a slap to the face. And the malice in his eyes… I felt my pulse falter at it. But there was no going back now, and despite his disapproval… I knew this was for the best. I had to believe that.

“Your sister sends word,” He interjected, even as I opened my mouth to speak again, “She believes you have been held against your will.” I saw his eyes flicker over my shoulder ever so briefly as my retort died in my throat at the mention of my sister. “... It is not an uncommon belief.” My free hand clenched into a fist, so tight the knuckles turned near white.

I steeled my jaw, knowing his intent to cause me as much anguish as he could. “Assure her I am well, and enter into this Treaty of my own free will.”

His sneer was hardly perceptible to the less trained eye, as his fixed features barely shifted. But I knew him too well. “Your Highness speaks of the Marriage Contract, I believe?” Again, he didn’t give me time to respond. “... She wants to see you.”

My heart sank in my chest and I almost broke. The numbness in my breast had spread, and I could hardly believe I was still standing. I tucked my fisted hand behind my back. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing it shake.

“No.”

Gareth’s head cocked to the side. “Surely Your Highness has not forgotten the Princess’ tenacity already?” I wanted nothing more to punch the arrogance right off his face, and felt my eyes narrow slightly. “If you try to deny her, she will still find a way.” His face softened slightly for fondness of her. “Regardless of any attempts to detain her.”

I knew he was right. My sister was nothing if not intelligent, perceptive, and endlessly persistent. A drive that got her into trouble almost as much as it got her out of trouble. But the thought of her coming here? I almost shuddered. As though seeing her might remind the goblins of their initial marriage arrangement plan. And Morgana knew me far too well; I would never be able to convince her I was safe and happy if I brought her here. To the castle that made my head pound with the disorder and chaos.

“Your sister is welcome here.” Came a light voice from my shoulder.

I didn’t look at Grier, I didn’t need to, and felt the hairs on the back of my neck quiver as he moved to stand at my side, considering the guard before me. His scarlet eyes were filled with an unfamiliar chill. His disdain for the man hardly hidden.

“No.” I repeated firmly, my own anger barely kept in check and bleeding ever so slightly into my voice. “...Not here.”

“The border then.” Gareth decided, and I could have slapped him for his insubordination. I saw the glint in his eye daring me to. Proving to him what he had already decided.

Thankfully, Grier stepped in before I decided if I would, slipping the sealed Treaty from my clenched fist at my side. Physically putting his smaller form between the two of us. Forcing the soldier’s eyes to focus on him.

“Two days time, at the Northern Border. Noon, and no later.” He ordered him, then held out the treaty. “I trust you will be able to handle the safe delivery of this to your King?” One slender brow twitched. “Or shall I send an escort?”

The authority of his tone was undeniable, and again I found myself impressed with the strength of his execution. Despite being a foot shorter than both of us, his presence was powerful, and demanded respect. No quarters were given, no room for argument.

Gareth was forced to take a step backwards to keep the ample space required for royalty at the goblin King’s intrusion. I delighted in his outrage at having to do so, but knew he was far too wary of his tense standing with the goblins to act in any way that might be even remotely disrespectful. I saw him grit his teeth, then dip into a bow at the waist.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He took the parchment as graciously as he could, his voice hard.

“You are dismissed.” Grier ordered, even as the guard opened his mouth to speak further.

I wished I could somehow record the moment. The way his eyes flashed, the way his open mouth stayed that way, shock in every corner and crack of his stoic mask. I would have enjoyed revisiting it on future days. He cast me a final, borderline treasonous look, then straightened. Spinning on heel and marching out.

“All of you,” Grier waved his hand indistinctly after the man had made his exit, “Out.” I started to follow Hibik and Damjan, but was stopped in my tracks as the King quickly added. “Not you.”

I paused, glancing after the other goblins as they slowly closed the door behind them. My pulse raced, and I was hardly in the best place to keep my guard up. I struggled to keep my lingering anger in check, turning to face Grier with my hands clasped behind my back. I built the mask back up, piece by piece, soldering each into place. Leaving nothing but a cold stone statue to face the goblin King.

He took a long, slow breath, standing by the notary table, looking down at the parchment there. As he let it out through his teeth, I felt my own breath hitch in my mouth.

“So it is done.” He said finally, then reached out to trace the edge of the contract lightly with one finger. “For better or for worse.”

Most definitely worse, I thought quietly to myself. But said nothing. The numbness was returning. The weight of the rest of my life laying itself one brick at a time before my eyes. My breathing was shallow and thin, and I felt light headed. Yet still I stood, in silence. Staring down the man that was soon to be my husband.

“It has been a long day,” He continued, then chuckled softly, “And it is not even noon.” Scarlet eyes swept over to me. “Are you hungry?”

I shook my head, hardly feeling the motion. “No, Your Majesty.” My voice sounded distant, even to my ears, and painfully cold.

He sighed again, shaking his head and placing his hands on his hips. “I’ll take you to your rooms then.”

It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t give an answer, stepping to the side to allow him to lead the way out of the chamber. I felt my eyes dart a final time to the Treaty on the stand, felt the lump forming in my throat. I didn’t linger long, and was soon following the King down the hallways.

I didn’t bother to try and keep stock of our path. I walked through a fog of my own design, each step heavier than the last. Each thought more painful than the one before. I wondered in that moment if I would ever see my Kingdom again. If I would ever see the castle where I was born, or walk among my people. I was a pariah now, an outcast. In signing the Treaty that sealed their peace, I had also signed my death to them. I would never be accepted at court, most especially after we held an official ceremony. Least of all was the fact that I knew my father would disown me in whatever way he could without completely nullifying the Treaty. But for all that… I had brought peace. I had saved lives. Even as I tallied my losses and as visions of my dreary future paraded before me, I could hold that close to my heart. Like a balm to soothe the other pains.

I nearly ran into Grier as we reached the door to my quarters in the high tower. So lost was I in my thoughts. He shouldered open the door, gesturing for me to enter before lingering for a moment in the doorway. I would have groaned, had I less restraint. He had something more to say. And I wasn’t sure I had the strength to take one more beating that day.

“... Prince Nikostratus,” He began finally, seeming to carefully pick his words even as he spoke them, “I cannot begin to fathom what you are… feeling… or thinking…” He straightened, running one three fingered hand over the stone doorframe. “But I… I can not press enough that you never need to do anything you are uncomfortable with. And…” He took a deep breath, “And I apologize that I cannot just pretend it never happened as you do, but if last night… if that was the only kiss I shall ever receive from you… Then...” He hesitated, dropping his eyes, “Then... I will treasure it... For it is not your fault you are marrying a fool…” He shifted again, unable to stand still. “I just had to let you know that. And to know that you owe me nothing. Ever. You have already given more than enough in the service of your people.”

I faltered at his words, my heart racing at an alarming pace in my breast. The anger bubbled up in me, and my hands purled back into fists behind my back. Was this to be my life? Endless back and forth emotional assaults? Would I ever be given more than a sleepless night to just-

I grabbed the door in my hand as he moved to close it, and his eyes widened in surprise. I watched them look me up and down briefly, and took a step back, gesturing with my free hand. His pronounced brow jumped up at that, and I saw him draw in a sharp breath. But then he stepped into the foyer. I closed the door behind him, facing it for a moment while I composed myself. And tried to figure out what the hell I was doing anyway. I berated myself for my brash impulsiveness. Tried to sort through my spinning thoughts.

I turned back to him, standing with a very puzzled look on his face. I opened my mouth, but realized… I still hadn’t decided what I wanted to say. So I was forced to shut it again.

“... You owe me no explanation,” He offered, raising his palms as if to show me he was unarmed, “I need no apology. It was not my intent to make you feel guilty, or trapped.”

“Your Majesty-”

“I just needed to tell you. I am not like you; I wear my emotions on my sleeves,” He offered a light laugh as the words seemed to gush out of him, “Honestly, I found I am beginning to wonder if humans even have emotions. Or maybe it is just Royals. I have little experience with either you see.”

“I-”

“I mean no insult,” He said quickly, interrupting me again, “It will just be an adjustment. Or, or I suppose we can just keep it to the basics, yes?” He tapped his chin, “Some sort of schedule or routine. Whatever you are comfortable with. Limited to whatever capacity you want.”

“Your Majesty-”

“I mean professionally, of course!” He rushed to add, “I understand if our… private arrangements are to remain separate. I am sure that we can come to something comfortable for you, I mean, and you just need to tell me what that is. I don’t want to assume and therefore end up in an uncomfortable situation. Because honestly, I-”

“Oh, would you just, SHUT! UP!” I snapped finally, “Just shut up! SHUT UP! For two, goddamn, bloody seconds. Just-”

I cut myself off, realizing not only had I spoken out loud, my voice had risen to an almost disturbing volume. That, and the fact that the goblin King was staring at me with eyes the size of dish saucers. I stared back at him for a long moment. Then I felt myself crack, and shook my head. It was too late now. I’d already yelled at the King... Might as well let it all out.

“I just… By the Gods you are so absolutely…” I started, then dropped off again. I began to pace, from one side of the room to the other. I felt like with each step, a little bit more of my composure dropped away. “Do you realize how ridiculous… You think that just because I don’t spew my emotions everywhere every time I speak I don’t have any??” I managed to control my volume a bit better, but the tone was still harsh. “I just. Want. Two. GODDAMN SECONDS. Just let me breathe! Please, for the sake of the Gods and all that is…” I jerked to a halt, glaring at him, clenching and unclenching my fists. “You just make me so… I just… GAH!” I threw up my hands, pacing back and forth again.

For his part, Grier watched my track, following me with his scarlet eyes. He remained frozen in place, a million things flashing across his face as he stared. But I didn’t have the patience to try and sort them out. I was exhausted, worn out, and sick of it all. I stopped in front of him again, throwing up my hands one last time before crossing them over my chest.

“So there!” I snapped. “You broke me. Congratulations. You see the cogs behind the, what, let’s call it ‘seriousness’, shall we?” I clenched my jaw to keep it from shaking. “How surprising that the human statue has feelings.” I waited barely a breath, but when he didn’t answer, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well?? You’ve really nothing to say now?”

To my surprise, a small, coy smile played across his thin lips. He offered his hands, palms up again, giving a small shrug. “You told me to, what was it? ‘Just shut up’... Remember?”

I almost laughed at that, but instead heaved the heftiest of sighs, lifting my hand up and pinching the bridge of my nose between two fingers. I felt my anger starting to ebb away, and regret was quickly taking its place.

“I apologize, Your Majesty,” I breathed, “I am… very tired… And that was incredibly rude of me.” I winced, my face falling, “I would beg your forgiveness, and will throw myself at your mercy.”

He did laugh, loud enough for the both of us, and it made me jump slightly. “At my mercy? Good lord, where do you humans come up with these things?” He shook his head, wild hair dancing about his shoulders. “It is I who should apologize, my young Prince. I should not have pushed you. Which is ironic, as I was trying to do exactly the opposite…” He sighed as well, though lightly, shaking his head again, “I just thought that… well, I know what humans think of my kind, and last night when you…” He cleared his throat, looking down at his feet and shuffling them. “It confused me, but you have certainly set me straight, and I assure you it will not-”

“That’s not what I meant.” I interrupted, then flinched. Even going so far as to take a step back as if the King might strike out at me. But he merely looked up at me curiously. “... What I said earlier… My apology.” I swallowed hard. “It was not… ah…”

I dropped off, flustered, and rubbed at the back of my neck. Why was this so damn hard? It was like every word I knew had fled from my mind. And each strange thought and emotion this man caused to rise up inside me had no name, no label. No way for me to describe it to myself, let alone to him. He waved his hand errantly, as if he was detached from the situation. Though I didn’t believe it for a second. There was too much eagerness at the edges of his voice when he spoke next.

“Please, spare my feelings and speak honestly, my young Prince.”

I swallowed hard again, dropping my gaze politely. “I… I simply meant that it was improper of me to…” I cleared my throat, unable to say the word, “It was… unwarranted and impolite. I was certain you would take it as an insult, to be… assaulted in such a manner.”

“Assaulted?” He echoed, his lips curling back into the toothy smile. “I would hardly call a kiss an assault,” He cocked his head to the side, his grin becoming arrogant, “Especially when I already had my hand on your knee, as I recall.”

I felt my face growing hot at his words, and the memory they recalled, but buried my embarrassment and attempted to return my face and tone to be as flat as possible. “Such a thing, in any circumstances, is simply not done.”

“But you are my fiance,” he scoffed, “Surely you humans are not so uptight that kissing your intended is considered abuse?”

I had to purse my lips to keep them from quivering. “It is not common practice, to my knowledge.”

“Well then, I hope your knowledge on the matter is limited.” He laughed again, and moved a few steps closer. “So… You did not mistakenly kiss me?”

I took a step back, nearly stumbling. He paused, considering this, then fixed me with a new smile. I wasn’t sure I liked it. It made my heart rate erratic and brought more of those nameless emotions to my chest. I swallowed hard again.

“... No…” I admitted softly, and felt the same stabbing guilt at the confession as I had when I had admitted to him my preference in partners.

His grin grew to be almost unbearable, and I dropped my eyes. Then rubbed at the back of my neck. I saw him take a tiny step closer out of the corner of my eye.

“... Would it be too bold, then, to invite my betrothed to dinner?”

I stammered through a few useless phrases, and felt my face darken several more shades. Honestly, I was surprised the top of my head didn’t catch fire from the heat. My ears were painfully hot, and I rubbed at one as I tried to compose myself. I could see the goblin out of the corner of my eye, and couldn’t help but notice he seemed to be enjoying himself.

“I… ah…” I mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.

“To give you a few hours for your own company,” He offered, “Or to rest, if you wish.” I started putting the mask back up, forcing myself to meet his gaze and opening my mouth once more. “Don’t.”

He closed the distance between us in a final stride, craning his head to look up at me and efficiently halting whatever false politeness or proper response I had planned.

“You don’t need to… hide behind… all that.” He gestured to my face, and then laughed at his own ridiculousness. “You can be yourself around me… if you want, of course. If you prefer to keep up your.. Let’s call it ‘seriousness’, shall we?” He smirked, and I managed to close my mouth. “If it makes you more comfortable, then by all means. But maybe I can see a little more of who you really are…”

I hilted a sigh, glancing off to the side. “...I don’t know who that is.” I confessed, my voice thin and weak.

I started slightly at the feeling of his hand brushing my jaw. I looked down at him, meeting his scarlet red eyes as his hand slid to cup my cheek

“Perhaps I can make a suggestion then?”

He had to stand on his tiptoes to brush his lips against mine. Instinctively, I started to pull back. His hand was light against me, and he let me retreat. But I paused, a hair’s breadth from his mouth, his breath on my face. Hesitating. Because, perhaps... that hadn’t been all that bad.

He waited a moment, likely to see if I would prefer he cease and desist. Giving me the opportunity to break away. When instead a quivering breath chased out from between my lips, he chased after them. Kissing me more sincerely. I hesitated again, feeling my eyes and heart flutter. He ran his fingers along my jaw, tracing up to nestle the tips behind my ear. Stretching up to me and kissing me so gently it made my head spin.

I lost myself in the sweet taste of his mouth. My arm came up, wrapping about his waist. Pulling him closer to me. Pressing his torso against mine. I curled down, letting him rock back onto the balls of his feet. I could taste his smile then, and felt our kiss deepen.

I jerked back after a moment, and quickly dropped my hands, staggering back a step.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologize,” He ordered me, “Never apologize for actually taking something you want for once. For enjoying yourself for half a second.” His grin returned. “Especially when I enjoyed it too.”

I shook my head, unsure what else to do. He sauntered closer a step, but his proximity unsettled me again, and I matched it with a step back.

“In goblin culture,” he mused, staying a few paces away now, “It is quite expected for an intended couple to be physically affectionate towards each other.” He cocked his head to the side. “... Can I try again to tempt you with dinner?”

My heart was pounding so loudly in my ears, I almost didn’t hear his request. Finally, I nodded, if belatedly, and swallowed a lump in my throat.

“As you wish, Your-”

“If you say ‘Your Majesty’, I am going to scream.” He warned, flexing one elongated digit at me.

I pursed my lips, swallowing at the lump again. “... As you wish… Grier…”

His toothy smile returned quickly, and he beamed up at me like a fool. “Then I look forward to it.”

...

UPDATE: Part Four HERE

#goblin x human #goblin romance #goblin king #goblin lover #goblin husband #mlm #monster romance #monster lover #monster boyfriend #angst #slow burn #Royal Flush #royal marriage #monster marriage #terato #exophilia

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kittyanonymity · 4 years

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Marinette is the daughter of Wonder Woman X Superman

Hey have this!!!! I was inspired by @eve-valution and their wonderful art!

Also like.... It’s really just an excuse for Mari to be ridiculously overpowered tbh; plus.... the aesthetic of this tiny adorable girl accidentally breaking things all the time, and getting super flustered over it. >.> It’s cute, ok? lol

Honestly, my original plan for this was Daminette, and this version is; but I might also make some adjustments for a Timinette version (I love them, they’re adorkable together ok)? I haven’t decided yet. ALSO this is just a basic outline; not the fic itself. I haven’t started the fic yet. Feel free to ask things though!! ALSO THIS AU IS CLASS FRIENDLY!!!

~ DAMINETTE VERSION~

So in the latest DC animated movies, they’ve been pushing Diana/Clark pretty heavily while implying that despite Clark’s attraction to Diana, he’s still in love with Lois; this is seen pretty obviously when Diana and Clark go on a date, and Lois shows up. Clark immediately puts space between him and Diana and honestly, it’s a little telling. (this is all in stark contrast to the Justice League cartoon from the 90’s/early 2000’s, where Diana and Bruce ((Wonder Woman and Batman)) were shipped pretty heavily) Talk about baby’s first OTP, am I right? XD

ANYWAY THE POINT IS THIS.

Lois and Clark are together, like they’re getting married. (somewhere in the world, Damian is turning one; this is relevant later.) One night, Superman has a ‘moment of weakness’, and him and Wonder woman bang. BOOM! Pregnant.

Diana is rightfully upset, as Clark immediately tells her this was a mistake, they never should’ve done that. He goes back to Lois, and they don’t speak outside of the Watchtower anymore. Diana does not tell him when she finds out she’s pregnant. She goes to Bruce, tells him she’ll be out of commission for up to 3 years.

Bruce is rightfully concerned, but Diana doesn’t tell him what’s wrong. He assures her she can leave; they’ll keep it together out here while she rests in Themyscira. She feels bad for not telling him, but resolves to do it later. Home she goes, to see her mom and the rest of the Amazons!

Her mother is disgusted by Clark’s conduct, but Diana has always wanted to have a child. They know it will be a daughter: it always is, Hippolyta says conspiratorially. The pregnancy is interesting, and many of the Amazons are startled at how quickly their princess can finish her projects. Hippolyta watches on in concern; her daughter has become startlingly creative during these months, and as a previous Ladybug that can mean only one thing.

Tikki will be back in the family soon.

Hippolyta says nothing about this to Diana, not wanting to alarm her daughter.

When Marinette is born with dark hair, and blue eyes there is no surprise. Diana stares at her daughter as if she is the most beautiful thing to have ever existed, and to her, she is. Marinette spends 3 years on Themyscira, learning from her mother, grandmother, and all of her many sisters. She’s an excitable child, with a penchant for marking walls with whatever she can draw. She grasps language easily, and much quicker than anyone would think possible.

But Diana has a duty. She must return to the outside world to assist the league. She thinks of the outside world, how it has taught her, hurt her, but ultimately made her stronger; and she knows that she wants Marinette to have all of that and more. So she contacts an old friend in Paris.

Sabine had left Themyscira many years prior, once Diana had cleared the way for the other Amazons to venture out. She’d fallen in love with a baker, and though the 2 couldn’t have children of their own, they were excellent people. People Diana knew she could entrust Marinette with. Sabine agreed after they discussed it extensively.

Diana would come see Marinette regularly once she was 10, giving the girl some years to mature, and come to terms with her mother’s identity. Diana assured Sabine she’d send any and all support requested, along with letters and gifts for Marinette as she grew. Diana hated to leave her daughter, but seeing as she would constantly be in danger once again, she couldn’t bear to put Marinette through that. Diana tells Sabine who Marinette’s father is, so they can be ready.

Sabine threatens to cut his dick off, which Diana laughs at. Diana and Marinette live with Sabine and Tom for a year, letting Marinette get to know and love them; and then Diana tells Marinette she has to go, the world needs her.

And Marinette just nods, giving her mother a smile.

“I know mommy.”

Good byes and I love you’s are exchanged, and after many tears, Diana finally manages to tear herself away, and she leaves. There is a hole in her heart the size of the Earth, but Diana has a job to do.

This is the world where Marinette lives now too, and she must do all she can to keep her daughter’s world safe.

Clark and Lois get married while Diana is away, and Jonathan is born; he’s only a year younger than Marinette, and 2 years younger than Damian like in canon. Clark is curious as to where Diana disappeared to, asking around, but the only one who knows is Bruce. And when Clark asks, Bruce simply shrugs.

“She told me she’d be gone for a few years. I didn’t press her for details. Everyone needs a break, Superman.”

Clark didn’t like it; he was worried. For her to disappear so abruptly… Surely she hadn’t truly loved him? Clark hates himself as he thinks about it, regret permeating him. He does his best to not think about it.

At least until Diana shows back up, 4 years later, and a little more jaded than she used to be. Bruce welcomes her back with a small smile, and a nod. Diana doesn’t even look at Clark.

And for Clark, it’s enough to just know that she’s safe. He doesn’t blame her for hating him; he kinda hates him too.

Literally none of the League know about Marinette; Diana doesn’t tell fucking anyone.

Miraculous canon happens as normal, only difference is that Lila is fucking gone after the Volpina incident. She’s gone after that, no return, nothing. I hate that girl, and honestly, I just wanna write something where Marinette’s friends love her, without the class drama. I can’t forgive the Miraculous writers for doing that to the students. Chat is still pretty pushy in his pursuit of Ladybug, but not in an exaggerated way. However, it does still cause some eventual complications that he needs to learn and grow from. Minimum bashing should be involved, and it will be centered around pointing out the toxic things he does, and him correcting those behaviors. Adrien is my boi and I love him.

ANYWAY.

When Marinette is 10, Diana shows up to see her. Marinette has known that Sabine wasn’t her real mother; Mari still calls Sabine Maman though cause like… the woman raised her, duh. Marinette loves Diana, even though she doesn’t remember what her mother looks like. Diana always remembers her birthday, and all of the holidays; Marinette has saved every letter, and gift her mother has ever sent her. She doesn’t realize her mother is Wonder Woman yet. Well, at least until she shows up on her 10th birthday. Marinette recognizes her as the heroine instantly, but says nothing; she’s seen movies, she knows secret identities are important!

Over the years, Sabine has kept Diana informed on the progression of Marinette’s… abilities. Look, the girl is a split between the Amazonian princess, and a Kryptonian. God only knows what she’ll be able to do. So far, Marinette has displayed signs of super strength and speed, and most recently flight; she’s got the enhanced senses as well, and she carries ear plugs with her when they go out. Diana is happy to know though, that Marinette has a strong sense of right and wrong. She owes Sabine a great debt of gratitude, and knows she’ll never be able to thank the woman enough for raising their (because yeah, Marinette is theirs now) daughter.

(Marinette goes to school, excited to tell everyone about her 2 mommies and her daddy. Despite Diana not being romantically involved with them…. Yet???? Maybe????? HMMMM)

After Marinette turns 10, Diana makes a point to visit every spring for her daughter’s birthday, and to check in on things. The day of Marinette’s 14th birthday, Diana steps off of the plane, and on her way to the Dupain-Cheng bakery, she witnesses her first akuma. Preparing to step in, Diana freezes when Ladybug and Chat Noir appear on the scene.

Diana recognizes Marinette on sight, and the spots are familiar. She remembers her mother, the stories of Tikki, and the adventures they had, the evils they stopped. She remembers how anxious her mother was during her pregnancy, when Diana could not stop drawing, writing, whatever she could be doing.

Marinette is a pure soul of creation, born of Tikki’s essence, and she is Diana’s daughter, an Amazon, and half kryptonian.

Diana watches her daughter fight, hands clenched at her sides. The Amazon in her demanding she see this through, watch her daughter be the fierce warrior she is meant to be; the mother in her is clawing at her throat, preventing her from speaking with the force of her panic.

And Marinette is an excellent fighter. Diana recognizes many of the moves she used to practice while they were still on the island, and they’ve been refined, polished, and put on display to show the world. It had to be Sabine’s handiwork, teaching her this. Did Sabine know she was Ladybug? No, she would’ve told Diana first thing.

Diana does not intervene, watching Ladybug win, and undo the damage.

Once the akuma is dealt with, Diana follows her daughter as she swings away and finds a quiet place to de-transform.

“My little light, you have exactly 2 minutes to tell me what is going on.”

Marinette jumps a mile, whipping around to see her mother, and then Tikki is smiling, hugging Diana’s cheek.

“Diana! It’s been too long!” Diana gives the kwami a smile.

“Hello, Tikki, mother misses you.”

Marinette is dumbfounded.

Diana explains everything, about how she knows, and why; tells her about Hippolyta, and her connection to the Miraculous. It was the most exciting and stressful birthday yet.

Diana starts making more regular trips to Paris to assist her daughter when she needs the extra help; since Diana is generally fairly good at keeping her emotions in check, it works out. Marinette works extra hard to make sure she keeps her extra abilities in check.

She uses her powers in small subtle ways; using her flight to get a better distance out of a yo-yo swing, but doing it in a way where it’s unnoticeable to the standard eye. Or using her x ray vision to avoid people she doesn’t want to see. She lets herself be clumsy, and careless with her movements in her daily life, making sure none of her friends can ever make the connection between her and Ladybug later on; before Ladybug, she’s clumsy so she doesn’t draw attention to her powers. The only one who knows she has powers is Nino.

It’s hard to explain to your childhood friend why you’re flying after all; he had been there the first time she’d accidentally used this new power. OOPS

All abilities/side effects Mari has:

-Super strength

-super senses (hearing, sight, smell, etc ((is taste usually included in this???? hm)))

-Enhanced vision (x-ray, thermal)

-Flight

-Super speed (bout as fast as Superman if she tries hard enough)

-Ladybug luck

-Martial arts/various fighting styles

-Amazon swordfighting & archery

Side effects:

-Sluggish in Winter thanks to Ladybug things; will hibernate if she gets too cold

-Has bursts of creative energy that keep her up far longer than she should be; usually crashes afterwards; these will stop as she gets older, and gets a better handle on her Ladybug powers.

-Gets sick easily during the cold months

-Kryptonite hurts her, obviously; she gets a wicked migraine, and nausea; usually her vision gets bad too.

Marinette’s personality doesn’t change all that much, really. She’s still undeniably kind, and selfless, always going out of the way for her friends. She’s a bit more vocal about her sense of justice, not putting up with bullies. Chloe gets her redemption a bit early because of this. Marinette is also not afraid to just absolutely throw down and brawl if you’re being a violent asshole. Like, damn. She is tiny, but she will miss you up.

ANYWHO.

With Diana making frequent trips to Paris, it catches Bruce’s eye, and he of course gets suspicious. The French government has been keeping the situation with the Akumas under wraps for about 3 years now, no news escaping the country. Marinette is currently 16, Diana has been helping her deal with hard to handle akumas for 2 years; Damian is 17, and Jon is 15.

So when Bruce looks into Diana’s activity in Paris, he’s startled to find little to nothing about Wonder Woman. An article briefly mentions something called an ‘akuma’ but then there’s no further mention. Instead he finds records of Diana Prince shacking up with a married couple and their daughter.

When Bruce finds a picture of Diana standing with the Dupain-Chengs, his breath leaves him. She is staring at the girl in the picture with such a proud adoring gaze, and he would have to be blind to miss the resemblance. The girl’s age lines up with when Diana left, and Bruce remembers how unusually concerned Clark had been about her location.

He’s the world’s greatest detective, and the pieces are too easy to put together.

SO Bruce Wayne does what Bruce Wayne always does.

Finds a way to get information.

He invites Francois-Dupont to his yearly student seminar, meant to help students get a jump start on their careers. They must prove why they deserve to attend, like all the schools invited, in the form of an essay, accompanied by a video of their school.

Mlle. Bustier’s class is selected as the class to make the video representing the school; Marinette and Alya volunteer to head the project with audio assistance from Nino, while Adrien offers to help with the budget. The class comes together to offer some kind of assistance or another, even Chloe, who goes out of her way to help the class plan. Marinette writes the basic video out, how it should look, what it should say.

But they need a narrator.

The class unanimously votes for Marinette.

“You know us better than anyone, Nette. It’s gotta be you.”

“Everyone knows you here, Mari; you’re the sweetest girl in the school.”

“A WELCOME VIDEO!”

It’s Alya who shouts it, grinning at the class.

“It’ll be a welcome video with Marinette showing a ‘new kid’ around!”

Marinette’s gotta admit, it’s genius; the class agrees, and planning begins in earnest now that they have a better idea for it.

All of their carefully laid plans fall to pieces when their high end camera breaks the day they need to film. Everyone is shouting, stress is high, and Rose is crying. Marinette knows she needs to do something before an akuma shows up, but then she hears a yelp, and she looks over to see a first year stumble back as Kim knocks into her. Marinette’s there in an instant, steadying the girl on her feet, and giving her a smile.

“Are you ok?”

She’s unaware of Adrien watching her with a fond smile, while he elbows Alya; Alya stops yelling at Chloe long enough to look over, and quickly take her phone out, and press record. The classes attention immediately shifts, the tension all but disappearing.

The first year nods hesitantly.

“Y-yes I’m ok. It’s just my first day here, a-and I’m…” The dark haired girl bit her lip, looking at the floor, “I’m really scared.” Marinette frowned for a moment before she smiled, and took the girls’ hand.

“I’m Marinette, what’s your name?” The girl sniffled, rubbing at her eyes.

“My name’s Bridgette.” Marinette nodded, her smile growing.

“It’s nice to meet you. Sorry about my friend Kim over there. He gets a little excitable sometimes.” Bridgette offered her a smile.

“It’s ok. It looked interesting so I wanted to get closer, but I wasn’t paying much attention.” Her eyes fell, and she looked off to the side, but Marinette gripped her hand gently, causing her to look up.

“I can show you around the school if you like. Everyone here is really nice, I promise. We look after each other the best we can, and you can always ask one of us for help.” Marinette gestures to her classmates, who offer Bridgette encouraging smiles. It’d been awhile since they’d seen Marinette work her particular brand of magic. Bridgette’s smile grew, and she finally nodded.

“I’d really appreciate that, Marinette thank you.” Marinette simply waved her off.

“It’s fine! We’ll make it fun!” She turned to her class, missing Alya hiding behind Adrien, still recording.

“I’ll be back in a bit guys. Come find me when you get the camera replaced.”

The camera panned around Adrien’s back as Marinette turned away, and began leading Bridgette further into the school. Alya hurried to catch up, the class following shortly after.

Marinette showed the young girl all around the building, from her homeroom class, and to each individual classroom so the girl would never be lost. And she talked to her, learning that Bridgette had just recently moved there from Italy, escaping her old school and the torment she’d endured there. It burned Marinette to know that someone had been so cruel to such a sweet girl, but Bridgette assured her it was fine since she wasn’t there anymore. Marinette in turn, assured her that no one at Dupont would ever treat her so cruelly. And if anyone did happen to do so, she should come find her immediately.

Bridgette laughed, flushing pink.

“Thanks, Mari!” Bridgette’s gaze grew wistful, “It’s been awhile since I’ve laughed with a friend.”

And Marinette was resplendent in her joy, pulling the girl into a gentle hug.

“We’ll look out for you, Bridgette. You can count on us.” The girl returned the embrace, nodding. After a moment, the two girls pulled back, and Bridgette smiled.

“Thanks for caring, Mari.” Marinette shrugged, giving her a smile.

“You’re worth it, Bridgette, remember that.” She nodded her head towards a classroom, “But you should probably get to class now. I think you’re really late. I’ll have a talk with Mr. Beaumont about why right after my class and I finish this project, ok? Just tell him Marinette will explain, and he should understand.” Bridgette nodded, thanking her again, before kissing her cheek, and heading to her classroom. Marinette watched her go with a smile, and sighed, before turning to head back to her class.

Only to promptly freeze at the sight of them behind her, grinning in glee, Alya at the front, phone held high.

Marinette flushed bright red.

“Guys, what’re you doing?” Alya clicked end on the recording and grinned at her best friend.

“Getting our video of course!”

Marinette was certain she was going to die. Or combust on the spot. God, what if she actually did though, and it was just another damn power to worry about???

Needless to say, she’s embarrassed. But once the class reviews the video, they find it to be perfect. They were able to stay close enough to hear Bridgette’s and Marinette’s conversation, and hear Marinette explaining things to her. Nino took the audio and boosted it in certain parts, and making sure to edit out any personal information the girls discussed during the tour.

The video coupled with the 15 page essay Marinette submits secures their spot in the seminar.

Meanwhile, when Diana hears Marinette gushing about their school being invited to the annual Wayne Seminar, she is immediately suspicious. She finds Bruce within the day, appearing in the Batcave with no preamble; Bruce is waiting for her.

He offers her a drink. And Diana sighs, because he definitely already knows; so she accepts his drink, and they sit.

And they talk.

He asks why she didn’t tell him, he would’ve helped her. And Diana laughs, and it’s surprisingly good natured.

“Bruce, you would’ve killed him back then. Don’t think I don’t know how much you two hated each other back then.” She sighed, “You idiots were finally about to be friends, and if I’d told you what he’d said, what we’d done…” She snorted, “I was quite sure you would’ve killed him.” Bruce didn’t deny her accusations, nor did he accept them.

“What’s she like?” And Bruce watched Diana’s whole body relax, a small smile on her face as she swirled the liquor in her glass.

“She is the best thing that has ever existed for me in this world. She’s my little light, and I will see that this world is safe for her.” Bruce thought of his sons, his daughters, and he nodded.

“And her powers?” Diana’s grin grew broad, and she raised her fist.

“She is strong, Bruce. The strongest.” Again, Bruce nodded, having a drink from his glass as Diana stared him down, “If you hurt her while she is in your care, Bruce, we will have problems. You know this?” Bruce sat his glass down, reaching for the bottle to refill his cup.

“I know, Diana. My intentions are purely curious, I promise you.” He smiled, a small upturn of his lips, “She was the star of their video, you know.”

He shows her the video the class submitted, edited to include the class singing the praises of their class president as an intro, before it cut to some footage taken on a cell phone. It followed Marinette around as she guided a younger student around the school, offering advice, and going out of her way to help the girl. The footage ended with the girl’s blushing face before it cut to an outro featuring the Journalist of the class, Alya Cesaire. Alya had said that since Marinette was writing the essay, she knew her friend wouldn’t include her own good deeds, and since Alya was in charge of the video, she’d take care of it here.

And Diana watched her daughter’s best friend proudly declare Marinette’s achievements, and her aspirations; the good she’d done, and the bad she’d prevented, or outright ended.

Bruce pretended not to notice Diana’s tears.

OOF I DID NOT MEAN TO WRITE THAT MUCH OF THAT WOW

Ok so anyway, trip to Gotham gets secured cause of all that. Master Fu will send Kaalki with Marinette as an assured countermeasure against akumas, and Diana promises she will stay in Paris while Marinette is in Gotham. This assures Marinette that between her mom, Viperion, and Ryuuko they could hold their own until she could get there.

To Gotham! YAY!

They land mid afternoon, check into the hotel, and fucking sleep. That’s it.

Next day, they have a guided tour of the Gotham Natural History museum, which is super dope, and everyone is excited; except for Chloe, because even redeemed she’s kind of a brat. I love her. Marinette meets Tim first in this one. Tim is at the Museum because as CEO of Wayne Enterprises he is donating something to the museum. They bump into each other, and she knocks him down.

Tim is kind of stunned cause this tiny pixie like girl just knocked right into him and didn’t even budge, holy shit. And Marinette is stumbling over her words as she apologizes, and helps Tim up, and wow, that is one hell of a grip for someone that size, what the fUCK. Tim is properly dismayed, but waves off her concern good naturedly, saying he shouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the hallway like an idiot; Marinette flushes brighter, insisting she should’ve been paying more attention.

And then Jason shows up, cause like damn Tim, what the hell is taking you so long?

Looks at Marinette.

Hey isn’t she a bit young for you, Drake?

(in another timeline this would probably be a fun Timinette AU, I won’t lie. hmmmmmmm…..)

Tim rolls his eyes at Jason’s antics, offering Marinette a grimace.

‘Sorry about him, he’s deplorable. Again I’m sorry for running into you’

Marinette laughs it off, shaking her head

‘I’m so sorry for knocking you down. I’ll make sure to pay more attention.’

Tim and Jason leave, Jason offering her a wide grin and a little wave; Marinette just shakes her head in amusement, and catches up with the class.

MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE MUSEUM

Damian and Jon are hanging out; Jon has decided to come and pester him since his school, Metropolis Prep, is also invited to the seminar, and Damian likes his friend, he really does, but *god* he is suffering right now. Jon is making comments left and right, and Damian is about to lose it.

‘Ooh, am I making you mad, Wayne?’

Damian glares at his friend.

‘Stop talking. My head is killing me, and I am *this* close to killing *you*.’

Jon just laughs, and Damian rolls his eyes.

After awhile of wandering around, looking at things, they go get some lunch in the cafeteria. There’s a large group of French students taking up one of the tables, one dark haired girl standing while the others are sitting; there’s a map and a notebook spread out in front of her. Damian watches as she smiles at her classmates, writing things in the notebook, while marking things on the map.

‘Oh, that’s cool!’

Damian looks at Jon, ‘What?’ Jon grins.

‘They’re planning on what they want to see while in Gotham.’

‘How do you know?’ Jon rolls his eyes as they get some food.

‘Damian. I have super powers, idiot.’ Damian snorts.

‘Doesn’t explain your incompetence though.’

Both boys miss the wide eyed stare Marinette is giving Jon from her table.

She hadn’t MEANT to hear him, but when you can hear pretty much everything, eavesdropping is inevitable; doesn’t mean she has to like it though.

Also, wow that boy looks so much like her?? How weird.

She and the class finish planning other places they’d like to go, while Marinette turns the list of locations into Miss Bustier for her to review. They had a basic schedule set up, but their teacher had allowed them to see Gotham for what it was before finalizing things.

After lunch, their tour resumes, and Jon and Damian find themselves along the same path as Marinette’s class. They’ve moved past some of the older cultural items, and are entering the room of heroes and villains. Wax replicas of Batman, all of the Robins’, Black Bat, Batgirl, and various big name villains line the walls. Damian was on edge the entire time, not quite listening to Jon’s rambling.

And well OF COURSE something goes wrong, because you can’t have the Dupont kids go anywhere with no problems.

Two Face steps down from where his figure used to be, unloading his gun into the ceiling. He thinks he’ll have an easy time taking this French class hostage.

He is not prepared for these kids.

Alix and Kim tag team a couple of his henchmen with support from Max who has outfitted Markov with some new tech as well. Juleka (who has been tapped for the Lion Miraculous before) and Rose (who’s used the Mouse) take one down, while Ivan smashes two more henchmen together, shielding Mylene. Alya takes the knees out another one while Nino comes across his jaw with a hard left cross. Nathaniel is in front of Sabrina, shielding her when Chloe comes down hard on the henchman in front of them.

Adrien and Marinette go for Two Face, each of them a bit surprised at how the other moved.

And Damian is shocked stupid, watching this French class absolutely decimate one of Gotham’s finest rogues.

Meanwhile Jon is stuck staring at the duo. Between looking at the cute blonde boy, or the dark haired girl who is *WAY* stronger than she looks; especially if she can throw Two Face around one handed, damn.

And Marinette is more concerned with keeping her friends safe than hiding her abilities, and she probably moves too fast, and uses too much strength; her classmates buy her excuse of her extra martial arts classes outside of class.

Damian however does not.

And then the police show up, shocked to find this group of criminals subdued by a group of foreign teenagers.

The second Damian is out of the museum, losing Jon for a moment in the chaos, he calls his father.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a meta among that French class you invited?”

Damian can practically his father shrug.

“It’s not my business to tell, Damian. Just talk to her.”

He growled as his father ended the call; the man knew something, he knew it.

And thus begins the chronicles of Damian trying to figure out WTH is going on with Marinette; which leads to friendship. Damnit.

This is where the typical getting to know you Daminette stuff will happen.. Including dates, and identity reveals.

The biggest conflict of this is honestly dealing with Superman when he finds out. Marinette has known who her father was since she was 10 years old, when she learned her mother’s identity; but Diana didn’t officially tell her until her 14th birthday, after the akuma incident.

“No more secrets, little light; I will tell you everything.” Diana had said; and she had.

Marinette is glad to have Tom, because wow her real father sounds like a dickhead.

When she officially meets Jon (Damian introduces them), she immediately realizes ‘well fuck, I have a little brother???? And he’s best friends with the boy I have a crush on, shit.’

Anyway, Superman finds out Diana had a daughter, their daughter, after the trip to Gotham concludes, and he immediately heads for Paris as Superman. He finds Diana as Wonder Woman talking to a young girl in Red with black spots, but Superman is set on speaking to Diana as he lands, and starts striding up to her.

“We need to talk.” Diana stares at him dispassionately as he walks up.

“I have nothing to say to you. Leave.”

Clark reaches out for Diana’s hand, only to have his wrist grabbed by the girl in red; who is glaring up at him fiercely. Wow her grip is tight…

“If you touch my mother, I will decimate you.”

And Clark is reeling, because holy shit, this is his daughter; his and Diana’s blood. And Clark just looks at Diana, conflicted.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Diana?” Diana shrugged.

“Telling you would not have changed the outcome. I have always wanted a child, and she is everything I need of this world. Why would I tell you?”

“Because she’s my blood too! She’s kryptonian!” And the girl growls, and then she is hovering in front of his face, blocking his view of Diana. Her eyes are a blazing blue behind her mask, and Clark realizes: she can fly.

“I may share your blood, Superman, but I am not Kryptonian; I am an Amazon. I am Ladybug. And I will not listen to you berate my mother for her choices. She told you to leave, and I can assure you, I won’t be as nice when I demand your absence.”

And Clark is just. Stunned. Because yeah, that was definitely an Amazonian level threat she just gave him; but he’s Superman, and yeah, she’s his daughter, but how strong could she be? Should he push the matter?

Clark watches as other heroes slowly appear behind the girl; One clad in orange, one in green; A fox and turtle respectively. Then there’s the one in black, green eyes narrowed at him; a feral cat, it looks like. Then there’s the one in yellow and rusty orange, a snarl marring her lips; a Bee?? Or a Hornet?? The final two are teal and red, a boy and a girl; a snake, and a… dragon?

What has his daughter been up to in Paris?

Grief swells within him, and he sighs.

“Ok, I’ll-”

Ladybug screams.

“Hello Superman, I am Hawkmoth.”

And that’ll be the final fight of this fic I think! They’ll beat akumatized Superman (batfam Zetas in to help, and so does Jon and Connor), and then Clark leads them to Hawkmoth’s base, and Gabriel is dealt with, along with Nathalie. Marinette and Adrien will both do university in America, with Adrien learning under Bruce about business along with Damian (the 2 become surprisingly good friends after a point), and Marinette accepted Audrey’s internship while she goes to school in New York. She frequently pops over to the manor to see the Batfam.

I’m gonna work on the Timinette version of this next; that ship is so adorkable and I *LOVE* it

There may also end up being a Jasonette version?? I haven’t decided yet tbh

#maribat #daminette #mlb x dc #WonderSuper AU #that'll be the tag for this #will I actually write it??#WHO KNOWS!#NOT *ME*!#:D #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#this AU isn't entirely Superman friendly #but it IS class friendly!!! :D #here have this!

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baby-grayson · 4 years

Text

Sweet Enigma| Part 7

words: 2.7k tw: discussion of death/sickness, angst tags: @wheezeatmedolans @styles-dolan @prettyboydolan @evergreendolan @baby-turtles @dolanstacoma @kombuchagray @not-gbd @graysavant @someonetogray @dolansficsandpics @batgirl009 @voguekristens @letsgoget-high @crossedbone-kat @graysonsdollface

Ethan was angry. Ethan was very very angry at his brother. Outwardly, he knew to be understanding and compassionate in Grayson’s very trying time. But as a business partner, he silently wished that Grayson would end his romantic escapade with a past flame and return from Jersey to help Ethan launch two business endeavors: the lingerie & underwear line to extend their clothing company and the Wakeheart bath bomb launch.

When Ethan looked to Twitter, to find Sherry’s public break up with Grayson: all frustration left his heart. Even from 3,000 miles away, he could feel his twin brother crushed under the weight and impact of his own lovestruck decisions. Ethan managed to get him on the phone later that night, surprised to hear Grayson’s cool tone, “It’ll be alright E,” Ethan could hear some rustling from the background of the call, “I’m flying home—taking a red eye and I’ll be there in the morning.”

“You’re coming back?” Ethan was surprised: at both how confident Grayson sounded but also how quickly he was turning from his impromptu escape.

“Yeah but—yeah you can wear that one—sorry, but I want to go see Sherry. I want—I want to apologize in person, maybe see if I can do anything to make this better on her.”

Ethan’s eyebrows raised when he heard a girl’s voice in the background. He hadn’t asked Grayson about the photos of him and Kate, but he never pegged his brother to be unfaithful, even in the rockiest relationship, “Make it better?” Ethan mentally swore at his brother for being so idealistic, “You were caught out chea—with another woman Gray,” Ethan groaned into the receiver, “Are you sure going to see her is the right thing?” “Yeah I am,” Grayson sighed in acceptance, “I have to try—to try to apologize more than anything.” Grayson eyed Kate’s back as she innocently left his bedroom, “and E—I wasn’t with her, not like that when I was with Sherry. We’ll talk more when I get home but—those pictures make it look a lot worse than what it was.” “So, you’re saying you tracked down an old girlfriend to be nothing but platonic?” Instead of trying to mask the disbelief in his voice, Ethan leaned into it—hoping the comic edge took the sting off his words.

“No—” Grayson made a grumbling noise over the phone, “got it on in the shower a few hours ago.” “Gray!” “I know—I know. But she’s—I know that I need to apologize to Sherry and sort through everything right now before we can—before I have a chance with her. But like I said, I wasn’t with her when I was with Sherry, I wouldn’t lie to you about that E.” “Okay yeah bro, you didn’t have sex with her—sure. But your heart wasn’t with her?”

Ethan’s observation struck a chord in Grayson’s heart: joining the symphony of guilt that had been building in his soul over the past few weeks. For someone as familiar with pain as Grayson was, he hated causing it in others, especially when he considered them good people. He considered Sherry a good person, for all her faults. She was loyal, dependable, and positive. Despite his growing feelings for Kate, he was genuinely broken when he tried to face the emotional trauma, he caused his former fiancé.

In a white and gold bedroom in a house on the hills, Sherry Maddox clutched a framed photograph in her hands. Her long nails clacked against the glass of the frame while she sneered down at a happier version of herself, Grayson, Ethan, and Ethan’s ex-girlfriend on a beach in Tasmania. The only physical photographs Sherry owned were of her and Grayson from the past 18 months. She much preferred Instagram, but Grayson’s nostalgia had inspired her to collect happy memories of the two of them: memories that transformed her heart into a tainted space, left empty by the memory of who she thought he was.

Huffing, she slipped the photo from the back of the frame and pulled it out. She set the rose gold aside on her nightstand, letting it lean on a pile of a dozen others. In a swift motion, she passed the photograph through a shredder and watched as dozens of little strips came out the other end. The edge of the strips was not yet released from the shredder’s blades when she reached for another frame and began the process over again. Earlier that day, she commissioned an artist to construct a mosaic of herself, made from the shreds of her memories with Grayson.

The image of Kate shined in Grayson’s eyes, but her words made no sense to him, “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

His voice held the full weight of a dubious question, as if the letters did not belong sitting next to each other in the words they formed. His eyes looked down at Kate, not wanting to accept the truth that they would be separated, if just for a short while, after being reunited for the first time in years. Having her again just reminded his heart of how difficult it was to be without her. She nodded and assured him, “I need to go see my mom. For real. And you need to—you have stuff you need to do without me anyway.” Kate reached up to a hand through his hair and down the side of his face.

On the drive to Philadelphia from New Jersey, Kate thought long and hard about whether or not to tell her mother about Grayson. She considered the possibility that her mother might have seen the pictures of her and Grayson in the tabloids but decided that her mother never knew when a royal wedding was happening, much less when a scandal hit the papers. She tossed any thoughts of Grayson talk out of her head: it was not official enough to put on her mother’s radar. Instead, she spent the next few days at her mother’s bedside.

She held her mother’s hand and reminisced about the good old days. She told stories about California until she saw her mother’s eyes close, welcoming the sweet embrace of sleep. Kate tiptoed out of the room and gracefully closed the door behind her. She welcomed the warm aroma of pumpkin soup as she made her way down the stairs of the brownstone and to her grandmother in the kitchen. When she let her anxieties out and asked why this had to happen to their family, their tiny family who didn’t have people to spare, her grandmother put a knowing hand on her shoulder.

In a semi-hoarse, but loving tone Bethel insisted, “Family is more than the souls you share this Earth with dear. They’re the inspiration and the aspiration of everything you want to be and everything you can be. Your mother gave you everything you need to soar in this life and the next: I should know, I taught her everything she knows.” A few of Kate’s tears spilled onto the black and white tile of the kitchen floor while Bethel continued, “Your home isn’t an anchor: it’s a port in a storm, a refuge from the hardest of times but not a forever shelter because you were always meant to sail harder and farther than the rest of us.”

As Kate’s heart wrenched with the acceptance of the hardest parts of her life, Grayson’s twisted in agony on the other side of the country for a much different reason. Impulsive and filled with hubris, Grayson never formulated a plan for what he wanted to say to Sherry: he expected inspiration to strike him with brilliance in the moment. This is how he stupidly ended up pulling the door knocker on the Maddox West Coast home and waiting on the front steps.

Grayson’s eyes went wide with fear when the door cracked to reveal the lanky figure of Calvin Maddox standing afront of two massive security guards.

“Don’t you know when to quit?” Calvin’s voice was sharp as his elbows from where he crossed his arms.

Grayson stammered and twitched his jaw, his eyes excavating the scene for some kind of a way out.

“Now,” Calvin started with his low Southern drawl. He peered down his nose at Grayson, twisting his upper lip as he spoke “Let me tell you how this is –”

“—Daddy!” Sherry’s voice cut the tension with a shrill acidic screech. She moved between the security to stand in front of her father with crossed arms, in an identical pose to him. Grayson’s mouth went dry. “I’ll take care of it,” she asserted. Minding her father’s disappointed look, she turned to the security guards and waved with her hands, “Shoo.”

Sherry gracefully stepped out of the threshold and closed the door behind her, careful to match her father’s antagonistic stare. She huffed out of her nose and closed her eyes, her hand rested on the doorknob. She looked like she was about to open the door and go back inside when she said, “What could possibly be left for you here?”

Grayson opened his mouth to start to speak but was cut off by her harsh tone, “I mean—don’t try to tell me you want me back. I would never. I could never after you embarrassed me like that—no woman who knows her worth would return to a man who pulled your kind of stunt.” Her words fired from her lips like projectiles that battered at the sack of guilt Grayson had forged in his own stomach.

Grayson nodded and balled his mouth into a tight knot, “I know. You’re better than that. And I will say this until the day I die, but I’m so sorry Sherry. I—I –I—” Grayson reached out for something imaginary in the air, “I was fighting a war in my mind and I took you down with me as collateral and you—you never deserved that. You were never anything but good to me,” Grayson’s eyes welled in kindness and sadness. Sherry stared at him coldly and narrowed her eyes: still not convinced he wasn’t about to ask for her back.

“I would never want to be yours again,” Sherry retorted, trying to anticipate his next move, “The world would never believe it. The entire world would look at me like some kind of doe eyed, brainless Nancy.”

“You have every right,” Grayson nodded, breathing heavily and feeling his chest tighten with every syllable, “You—you ended us and you had every right to Sher—”

“Every right to?” her words came so slow they were slick on her tongue. “I had no choice to. What was I supposed to do?” she sneered, “post motivation quotes on Instagram and keep telling my family that it was just a phase?”

Grayson nodded and his sweaty palms found a home in his pockets. He looked at the floor, where he noticed an obtuse patch of dirt on the toe of his shoe. “I’m sorry,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “I’m so sorry. I’ll always be Sherry. I can only imagine what I put you through—and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

Grayson was shocked when she laid a delicate, graceful hand on his jaw. She drew him in and placed a puckered kiss on his cheek, “Grayson,” she stepped away from him, “you made me an underdog,” she placed a hand on the door knob, “and everyone loves an underdog.”

She turned to leave but twisted her upper body in his direction, “Was that all?” her tone was flat and devoid of any emotion.

Grayson gnawed at his lip and circled his head, “If—well—those pictures weren’t what it looked like—that girl, she’s—”

Sherry held out an intimidating, long, perfectly manicured finger in his direction. She spoke through gritted teeth, “Don’t.” She unlocked her jaw, “Don’t tell me a single word about her. I’m not about to spend the rest of my life swimming in those kinds of comparisons.” Sherry made a calculated move to swing her backside while walking away and closing the door behind her.

***

Later that night, Kate hung up the phone with Grayson as she leaned her backpacks against the dresser in her childhood bedroom. She dropped on her bed and eyed the science fair ribbons and faded polaroids strung on her wall. One of them showed her old cat, sleeping contently on a dusty couch. A few of them featured her friend Tabby: each iteration of Tabby wearing a different hair color. Kate never had many friends: tending toward shyness and introversion. Her eyes locked on one on the far left. She sat up and reached out for it. She thumbed the faded glossy surface carefully. The photo showed her and her mom on her 16th birthday: in front of a grocery store cake decorated with a few candles. She thumbed the surface again but standing up and walking over to put it in her bag to bring to California.

On her nightstand, her phone started ringing. She stared at the unknown number flashing across the screen. She questioned the chance of a paparazzi being on the other end: she swallowed hard and pushed the thought away that it might be Sherry. Throwing caution to the wind, she picked it up “Hello?”

“Hey..Kate. How are you?” Even three years down the line, she could tell the difference between Grayson’s voice and Ethan’s.

“Hi Ethan! Oh my god, how are you?” She turned on the speaker phone and sat cross legged on her bed: mimicking a pose she used to take when Tabby would come over to gush about boys. She hunched forward, leaning in as if Ethan was in the room with her. “I’m good.” Ethan started plainly, “Gray told me you were flying back tomorrow?”

“Yeah I should be there by lunch, I’m leaving at like 6 in the morning,” she started. She sighed and looked down at the phone. In that moment, she was struck by the fact that Grayson and her had yet to share the details of their mundane lives in the past few weeks, that had been anything but mundane. “Do you two still live together?”

“Yup,” Ethan let out a breathy chuckle, “I get to smell him every morning.” Ethan sucked in his top lip, wondering if it was too soon to make that joke in their relationship. “Um but yeah I wanted to call you, say hi.” He shrugged from where he stood, “Let you know that if you need anything, I’m here.” He was silent for a moment. “I’m happy the big guy came to his senses and found you again. I think the best version of my brother happened when he was with you.”

“That means more than you know Ethan.” Kate sighed and fell back against her pillows, “I just—this is so complicated. You don’t think that’s a bad sign or anything?” She spoke openly, feeling relief to have a place to candidly think out loud about the situation for the first time.

Ethan breathed through his nose and picked his words carefully, “It’s what you make of it. And as his brother, I know I’m--I’m biased, but all he wants is just an honest chance. He’ll come through if you let him. Just because things are twisted, doesn’t mean they’re broken.” “Thanks Ethan, that means more than you know.” Kate’s words fell heavy onto the phone. She sat up, as if somehow powered by the idea that twisted did not equal broken.

“Don’t stress about,” Ethan’s voice came with a promise, “If anything, you two taught me something about love last time around. You shouldn’t be worry about it.”

A/N: I feel like this part is kinda boring and I am sorry!

#grayson dolan #grayson x oc #dolan twins #youtuber #influencer #Ethan #ethan dolan #fanfic #angst #romance #fluff #concept #blurb #smut #long fic #chapter

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

Birds Still Sing When They Fall From The Sky

part 1 part 2 belongs to this

i think I should warn you. This is an old!Jaskier fic. Meaning, eventually Jaskier will lose his memory and there won’t be some magic spell to bring it back. He isn’t immortal either, so eventually there will be major character death. Neither happens in this chapter (it won’t happen for like 6 more chapters probably).

On the bright side, this story isn’t heavily plot-based, so if at any time you want to stop reading, you won’t be missing any big revelations or something. I will give content warnings when we get to the heavy stuff, but be warned that it will come to that eventually.

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It should have been strange. Sitting in a tavern simply because he wanted to and not because he needed to look for the next contract. It should be strange, unsettling even. It hadn’t been for a long time. Though it took weeks getting used to, Geralt came here with Jaskier time and time again, for the sole reason of enjoying themselves.

It should have been strange. A witcher and a bard – travelling no more, but collecting sea shells on their window sills, taking walks along the shore, hand in hand and without the pressure of knowing they’d have to leave soon, going to taverns like normal people did. Geralt was never going to be normal and as far as he was concerned, Jaskier was as far from ordinary as it could get. And yet. There was something beautiful, something soft in the simplicity of the life they were building here.

There was something so fiercely right about the way people referred to Geralt as “that lovely man’s beloved” instead of as a witcher.

Still, Geralt couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over the patrons, couldn’t keep himself from straining his ears. Even Jaskier’s arm around his waist wasn’t enough to counter decades of training and drilling instincts into him. As much as Geralt wanted to only feel Jaskier next to him, only hear his voice, whispering sweet nothings that were everything to him into his ear, he couldn’t help but pick up what he was trained to hear amidst the laughter of the crowd.

“It’s true, there is no way for me to bring my wares over to Blackrocks.” The voice was relatively new in town. A travelling merchant, probably. Though he forced his words to sound frustrated rather than scared, the hidden emotion was obvious to Geralt. Too often had he met people desperate to hide their fear. “Ol’ Olek – may his soul find rest in Melitele’s amble bosom – tried weeks ago and I’m not stupid enough to follow in his steps. Bandits and the occasional arsehole tollkeeper I can handle. But a griffin? I’d rather sit on a scorpion bare-arsed than coming across one of those.”

Immediately, Geralt tensed, but willed himself to remain seated. Years of being low on coin and desperate for any contract he could get were hard to shake off. He forced himself to relax. He didn’t need a contract. He didn’t. His place was with Jaskier. He didn’t need to go. He couldn’t do that to Jaskier, to them.

“Are you alright, love?”

Geralt closed his eyes when Jaskier’s concerned voice interrupted his desperate thoughts. As it should. Jaskier was what mattered most. He should always be at the forefront of Geralt’s mind. Not some merchant whose livelihood was threatened because of a monster that Geralt was trained to slay.

Geralt managed a grunt, not confirmation, merely acknowledgement of Jaskier’s words.

“Oh, dearest.” Jaskier twisted in his arms to face him, laying one hand on Geralt’s cheek and softly guiding him to look at Jaskier. “Ah,” he said after a moment, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “I know that face.”

Geralt let out a long breath, surrendering to his fate as Jaskier continued to study him as if he were a child’s poem, easy to read and easier yet to analyse.

“That is the face you make when you tell me ‘no’ before I even told you what I want.”

Geralt’s lips twitched. “Because most of the time I already know what you want.”

“Which is?” Jaskier lifted his chin in playful defiance.

“To come with me on a hunt.”

Jaskier laughed, freely and loudly and oh so beautifully. “Is there a hunt to accompany you on?” He asked as though they hadn’t talked about this before. As though Jaskier’s admission that he wouldn’t be able to go on hunts with Geralt any more hadn’t already broken his heart. As though the promise of a quiet life together hadn’t mended it faster than any spell had been able to heal his wounds before.

“No. There isn’t one.”

Jaskier cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. A few heartbeats passed and Geralt held his breath praying that Jaskier wouldn’t see, that he wouldn’t know –

“Geralt,” he finally said in a tone that suggested Geralt was a student who had been caught sneaking alcohol into the classroom without sharing it with the teacher. “May I remind you of how often I have seen you react to mentions of monsters near-by? The fact that I couldn’t hear whoever was talking doesn’t change a thing – it never has, whether it’s me being old or you having superhuman hearing. I know you.” His thumb brushed over Geralt’s cheek and his tone became fond once more. “So, what is it?”

“Griffin.” Geralt forced his eyes to let Jaskier in, needing him to understand. “I am not going.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a new one. Isn’t it normally ‘you are not going’?”

“What we have isn’t normal.” It’s so much better. It’s too precious and fragile to worth risking.

Jaskier sighed, his hand falling from Geralt’s face and dropping down to his chest, coming to rest on his heart.

“No, it’s not,” Jaskier said and undoubtedly he could feel the skip in Geralt’s chest as the relief of Jaskier’s agreement seeped through him. “But that doesn’t mean you have to give up your old life for me completely.” A sly smile stole onto Jaskier’s face and there was something in his eyes that Geralt couldn’t begin to name. “My eyes might not be the best and whatnot, but I assure you, my mind and memory are still sharp as ever. You might pretend it didn’t happen, but I very vividly remember having this talk before.”

Geralt’s shoulders sagged. “I know.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said softly, filled with a heart-shattering amount of fondness. “We both know you can’t just sit around doing nothing forever. Spending every day with you being idle was wonderful, but it is not who you are.”

“It’s who I could be.”

Jaskier didn’t answer. His look, tilted head and eyes so knowing said more than even a poet could express with words. Geralt might have that face he always made when he was going to deny Jaskier his request – his scary face, as Jaskier so fondly and teasingly called it - but Jaskier had this one expression, the one he would always use shortly before Geralt would relent and grant Jaskier his wish. Who was he to deny a bard in need of inspiration to come with him? And who was he to deny the man he loved and who so desperately needed to feel like he didn’t stop Geralt from being himself to give him that freedom to leave him?

“I will come back to you,” Geralt said and the smile Jaskier gifted him was almost worth the clenching of his heart at the thought of leaving him behind, however briefly.

“Of course you will.”

“Blackrocks isn’t far. Only three days on horseback. Two if I’m fast.”

“Don’t be.” There was an inexplicable strain to Jaskier’s word, an edge that didn’t cut, as his hand gripped Geralt’s shirt tighter. “Don’t be fast. Don’t rush. Don’t let the world pass by in a flurry. Take your time.”

“I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“And I don’t want you to miss out all the details.” His tone was back to teasing, but the unknown weight was still there. An unspoken need that Geralt wasn’t sure he’d ever be allowed to understand. “You do know that I will pester you for the grand tale of your adventure, don’t you?”

Geralt’s mouth quirked up involuntarily. “Naturally.”

Jaskier pointed a finger at him. “I am being serious about the details. Don’t just tell me about the griffin. I need to know about how the people you helped looked at you when they realise that they are safe now. I need you to stop and notice the different shades of the sky at dawn and the smell of the wildflowers. Try to find strange shapes in the clouds for me, will you? Promise me, you will see all of that.”

Something in Geralt’s throat grew tight. He gently took Jaskier’s hand that was still pointing at him and held it close. “You’d be far better at describing those things.”

“I don’t need you to describe them like a poet would. Just… see them. Can you do that for me?” Desperation coloured his voice that Geralt vowed to himself he would do anything he could to banish from Jaskier’s life.

“I can.” His voice, barely a whisper grew stronger. “I will.”

How could he not? To Jaskier, the world was so big and bright and beautiful. Geralt would not stand between Jaskier and this beauty that he deserved to breathe in with every inhale and feel with every heartbeat. Jaskier might be unable to leave, confided to the coast like the mermaid in his story was to the sea. Every step father from home would pain him, but staying in his confide unable to know what he was missing would hurt his soul just as much. Geralt would not subject him to this fate. He would do his best to make Jaskier see the world, even if it meant learning how to paint pictures with words instead of showing it to him first hand.

He lifted Jaskier’s hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against his fingers, a silent vow.

Jaskier understood. He always did. His eyes brightened and his smile grew warmer. The look he gifted Geralt with was so tender it almost hurt and Geralt knew what he had started to learn years ago; that there was nothing he wouldn’t do to see that look on Jaskier’s face.

Jaskier needed him to be himself and do what he did. Geralt still needed to help people. And Jaskier still needed stories. almost as much as he needed arms to hold him close and whispers telling him that there was nothing as important as him.

He gently gave Jaskier’s fingers a squeeze and stood up to talk to the merchant.

---

“The sunrise was more pink on the third day than on any other day. It was… the colour looked like that one doublet of yours. The one you wore on midsummer in White Orchard.” The words were awkward and nowhere close to the vivid descriptions Jaskier no doubt would have found, but Jaskier’s eager eyes were worth it. The familiar scratching of a quill on parchment accompanied Geralt’s words, lulling him into a sense of comfort. “When I told the people I had slain the griffin, one woman cried and the merchant looked like Bieberfeld did when he had realised that Dudu actually knew what he was doing with his money.”

A grin spread across Jaskier’s face at the memory. “Who would have thought. You do know how to tell a story after all.”

“I am sure you will find better words for it when you make it into a song.”

Jaskier tilted his head and gave his notes a long look, before setting his eyes back on Geralt. “No. I think I quite like the words as they are.”

He lay the quill to the side. Ink-stained fingers of parchment-skinned hands found Geralt’s hand. “Thank you, love.”

Warmth blossomed in Geralt’s chest as he looked at their intertwined fingers. Maybe this was good enough. Maybe life could continue to be like this. Maybe it could be that simple.

----

Against all odds, against all the rocks destiny was known to throw in his way, it truly was that simple. Despite everything, Geralt was allowed to have this.

He continued to bring Jaskier stories and Jaskier in turn would tell him what he had done while Geralt had been away. Somehow he managed to make the most mundane things sound like the biggest adventure. The knowledge that this was the life that they had, that when he returned from his hunts, they could experience these ordinary, domestic adventures together, made Geralt’s heart swell in his chest.

He brought Jaskier descriptions of the sky and Jaskier told him about the unruly sea.

When Geralt finally made true on his promise to go to the harvest festival in Corvo Bianco, he brought Jaskier a bottle of wine and a summer jacket and Jaskier in turn gifted him with the sight of immediately donning the garment and grinning at him with a flush that the alcohol was only partly to blame for.

“What do you think?” Jaskier asked, twirling around as much as his joints allowed him to.

I think I never want to give up what we have here. I think you are gifting me with the best life. “You look good.”

“Good?” Jaskier huffed. “Come on, Geralt. I taught you better than that. You were doing so well describing the world to me.”

Geralt sighed, but it held no annoyance. “I think…you look like you could make the flowers jealous.”

Jaskier threw his head back laughing and if Geralt were a poet, he would have thought that somewhere out there, a rose was seething with envy that she would never be able to give a lover the same indescribable feeling that Jaskier’s laugh gave Geralt.

#editing? never heard of her #in my defence my laptop decided to delete a good chunk of what i had written and i had to rewrite it #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher #witcher fanfiction #Geralt #old jaskier #old!jaskier #do i use the word 'gift' far too often in this?#eh probably #fic #fanfic #my writing #the coast #accidental multichapter #witcher #jaskier #Birds still sing when they fall from the sky

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