#as usual my excuse is that I’m high and I can’t be held responsible for what turns me on when I’m high | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mochegato · 10 months

Text

I’m Coming Over

Jason pushed out a harsh breath through puckered lips and sharply cocked his head to the side before pushing out another breath and cocking his head to the other side to crack his neck. His eyes never left his target, even as he bounced from foot to foot to get his blood pumping for the task at hand. He needed his focus. He needed to be on his game. He needed to have game, which was a problem whenever he spoke to Marinette. Or rather, whenever she spoke to him.

But he could do this. He’d strategized. He’d thought through what he was going to say when she responded to him. He was going to be cool. He was going to be smooth. He was not going to stutter or shut down or go into overdrive. Now he just needed to do it. Stop staring at his phone and use it. He pushed out another breath and selected Marinette from his contacts before he could overthink it.

It barely rang once before she answered. “Alya?” Marinette’s voice burst through loud enough that he had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Even better,” he crowed with a wide grin. She might not be able to see it, but it made him feel suave, confident. He’d like to think she could feel it.

Marinette took a deep breath. “Jason,” she greeted curtly. “What do you want?” He could certainly feel her pursed lips through the phone.

His smile faltered. This was not a response he had planned for. They bantered, things sometimes got heated, usually in a good way, but sometimes not. He needed to get the conversation back on course. “Well, good evening to you as well. I’m doing great, thank you for asking,” he chirped. When she didn’t respond after a few moments, he coughed awkwardly. “I’m looking for Tim,” he explained, desperately hoping it didn’t sound like he was scrambling for an excuse as it felt in his head.

“This isn’t Tim’s number,” she pointed out flatly.

He frowned. That wasn’t their relationship. He hadn’t done anything to deserve it yet. She rarely snapped at him before he’d gotten the chance to antagonize her. “Yeah, I’m aware,” he answered defensively.

“Why didn’t you call his number then?” she snapped.

“I did. He isn’t answering his phone. That’s why I’m calling you,” he snapped back. “You always know where he is.”

She huffed loudly. It was so iconically her, especially when speaking with him, he could picture the breath blowing her bangs out of her face. “He’s on a date.”

He blinked a few times. Tim was on a date and Jason was still trying to work up to it? “Tim! Like my brother Tim? Nerd, geek boy? So high?” He held his hand up to midway up his chest.

“Yes, your brother Tim,” she chided sharply. “So, try not being an asshole for once and leave him alone… and me. Good night, Jason.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and narrowed his eyes at it. The whole conversation was off. Her tone was off. It was scratchy and raw. He remembered the times her voice sounded like that. It was never good. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Her answer was too quick and abrupt, far too quick and abrupt to be the truth. He snorted at the blatancy of the lie, it was like she didn’t know how to lie convincingly. “I thought you hated liars.”

“And I thought you didn’t care,” she clipped back.

Jason paused, his mouth opened for just a moment before he snapped it closed again, the corners of his lips tugging down. That was a more convincing lie, if she were talking to anyone but him. They played detached, but neither was. She might not know exactly how deeply he cared about her and in what way, but she knew he cared. And what’s more, he knew she knew. And she knew he knew she knew. “I don't,” he lied. “But I can't pick on you if you're sad. It makes me look like an asshole.”

It took a beat for her to respond. A full ten seconds for her to respond. Ten seconds that lasted a full year. “You think that's what'll tip you over?” He could hear her lips quirking up slightly at the corners, exactly like he hoped she would.

“You’re right. Probably not even that. I’m too amazing,” he boasted.

The line was silent for a few moments. He waited with bated breath for her response, hoping he had been cheeky enough to get her to laugh. He got her to smile. He just needed a bit more to get her to laugh. And if he could get her to laugh, he could know she’d be okay. His hopes were dashed almost instantly when he heard her deep sigh. “It’s not good fodder for insulting me, so I doubt you’re going to care. I really have to…”

“That’s not… I’m not going to…” he cut in aghast. He huffed harshly. It was so much worse than he feared it was. Something had to be seriously wrong and, knowing her, she didn’t ask anyone to come support her. “Do you have anyone there with you?”

“Checking up on me?” she glowered.

“Yes,” he answered instantly. “Are you alone?”

Marinette snorted derisively. “Utterly,” she muttered.

It took all of a portion of a second for Jason to make up his mind. He was moving before he could even get the first word out. “I’m coming over.”

“You certainly are not,” she squawked.

“Pixie, you sound like Hell. Either talk to me or I’m coming over.” The words may have sounded like a barter, but he had already grabbed his jacket and keys. Even if she started talking, he was going to go over. There was no way she was reacting the way she was and didn’t need someone there with her. She may be too proud to ask. She may be too unwilling to inconvenience anyone. But he wasn’t going to let her suffer alone.

“As flattering as that is,” she hissed, “it’s nothing you can help with. Goodbye, Jason. And leave Tim alone tonight.”

He smirked at her response. She’d just given him the perfect opening. “If you want me to leave him alone, I’ll need something else to focus on, so I guess I’m coming over.”

“Jason…” she started warningly.

“See you in a few,” he chirped back. The sound of her objections were drowned out by the revving of his engine in the seconds before he hung up.

><><><><><><><><

He pounded on her door for the third time. Pretty soon, her neighbors were going to stick their heads out to yell at him, but he was fully planning on just breaking into her place before it got to that point. “Come on, Mari. Don’t make me huff and puff and blow the door down.” He raised his fist to pound again, but she opened the door just as his fist was about to connect. He had to pull his hand back from punching her in the eye.

She leaned against the door jam, arms crossed and lips pursed, blocking his entrance. “How’d you get here so fast?”

He took a moment to take her in before responding. She looked like Hell. Gorgeous Hell, but still Hell. Her eyes were red and puffy enough he wouldn’t be surprised if she was having trouble keeping them open. Her skin looked stretched thin, the way the skin of people waiting for their loved ones in the hospital look. He didn’t have to look hard to see the tear tracks still on her cheeks.

“A complete and utter disregard for any and all traffic laws,” he quipped as he moved past her and into her apartment. “There isn’t a traffic light or stop sign that wasn’t run through at my bike’s top speed.”

“Jason!” she admonished, but it lacked her usual heat. She trailed after him to continue her castigation. “There was absolutely no need for that. That was incredibly dangerous.”

“Seemed warranted,” he shrugged, letting his jacket fall and tossing it on one of the chairs on the far side of the room before he twirled to face her, arms crossed over his broad chest, his body propped against the back of the couch. “Wouldn’t have had to if you would have just told me what was wrong.” He tried to meet her eyes pointedly, but she refused to look up, her arms crossed over her own chest like an additional barrier to the space she kept between them.

He sighed heavily and stretched to wrap his hand around her arm and pull her closer to him. She came readily, but still kept a space, albeit smaller, between them, refusing to allow him to envelop her within the safety of his presence. He ducked his head even lower to meet her eyes, but she still avoided his gaze. “Mari… talk to me, please,” he begged lightly. “I’m worried about you. I can’t help if I don’t know what is going on.”

Her eyes finally snapped to his, but they’d lost the listlessness they’d had only moments before, replaced with a cold narrowed gaze. “There’s nothing you can do,” she xxx. “And I’m not talking to you about anything, especially something like this.” She waved her arms around her in a vague but harsh motion, just barely missing hitting Jason in the jaw.

Jason’s brow scrunched in confusion for a few beats before everything clicked into place; why she was so sad and why she didn’t want to talk to him about it. “Ahh, that.” He nodded in understanding. His scrunched brow scrunching further in anger and a touch of jealousy. “You need to shake this off. He’s an asshole. You won’t miss him. You’re better off without him.”

Marinette jerked back from him like he’d burned her. Her eyes widened for a moment before they narrowed disbelievingly. She barely managed to gasp out a horrified, “What?”

Jason took a step closer and gently grabbed her shoulders to reassure her. She was better than this. She was better than Tim. She deserved better. She deserved the best. She certainly didn’t deserve to be hurt or not seen. If Tim couldn’t realize what he was doing to her, he wasn’t the friend she thought he was and certainly not worth the effort. “That asshole’s not worth your tears. He’s absolutely blind. You’re amazing and he’s a douchbag. There are so many better people out there. If he can’t realize what an amazing opportunity he had with you…”

She tore her arms out of his reach, physically retraining herself from slapping him when every fiber of her being ached to. “How can you… What the Hell is wrong with you? How dare you! I know you don’t like him, but this…” She shook her head in disbelief. She knew Jason didn’t like him but she never thought… This was heartless in a way she never expected from Jason. Jason was always so caring… well, an asshole but a caring asshole. She absolutely could not deal with this right now. “You need to leave,” she stated resolutely.

“What? It’s true!” he exclaimed, following her. She had to know. She had to understand. This was Tim’s mistake, not hers. He faltered when she refused to look at him and her arms retook their protective position over her chest. There was no way she was this in love with Tim, so in love that him going out with someone else shook her so deeply that she was offended to her core at his words. “You may know him pretty well but I’ve known him longer, and if Tim can’t see how good he could have had it…”

Marinette’s eyes snapped to his, her arms loosening over her chest, almost falling to her sides. “Tim? You… you’re talking about Tim?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah,” he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The shithead going out with someone else…”

“Going out with…” she repeated slowly. The words trailed off at the end as she took them in until she folded over on herself, her entire body shaking.

Jason crossed the space between them in two quick steps. His hands were almost on her back to rub consoling circles until he realized she was laughing. He pulled his hands back, unsure how to handle the sudden mood shift. “Pix…”

She stood back up, tears falling from her clearly amused eyes. “You think… you… you think I’m jealous of Tim’s date?” she gasped out between bouts of laughter.

That response was just about the last thing Jason expected to come out of her mouth. He’d been prepared for being desolate, Hell, he’d even been prepared for her to lash out in anger. But laughter? And not even unhinged laughter. Actual, amused laughter? That was nowhere on his radar. “You… you’re not?” he asked uncertainly.

“No,” she gasped out. For the first time that night, a smile curled her lips. “That’s the only good thing about today, him finally going on that date. Do you know how many times I had to sing I Would Walk 500 Miles before Tim agreed to ask Kon out? Four! Four times! He made me do it four times before he caved. And all over asking someone he’s been pining over for months.”

Jason gaped at her. It took a full hour, or at least that’s what it felt like to Jason before he was finally able to find his words again. “Then why the fuck…”

He instantly regretted it when her smile dropped, her lips turned down into a devastated pout. “Adrien!”

Jason blinked. The words not quite able to register. He’d been sure she was upset over Tim going on the date. “What did Adrien do?”

“He didn’t do anything!” She yelled. She groaned and pulled at her hair as she folded over again. This time Jason was positive it was not with mirth. His suspicions were confirmed when she let out a loud, guttural groan. “See this is why I didn’t want to tell you. You always assume the worst about Adrien, and he’s never done anything to deserve it. You treat him like he’s a henchman or something and he’s my best friend. He’s like a brother. And he’s…” she choked out a sob. “He’s been in an accident and he’s in Paris and I’m…” she motioned around her helplessly.

Jason paled immediately as his words from just a few moments ago replayed in his mind, realization hitting almost hard enough to knock him off his feet. “Oh shit,” he murmured. He grabbed her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Pixie. I didn’t mean any of that. I know how much Adrien means to you.”

She let him hold her as she cried. “I can't be there to check on him or comfort our friends or be comforted or help. I just have to sit here and wait and worry and try desperately not to let my mind spiral into the worst-case scenarios or convince myself I’m a terrible friend. And it wants to spiral. It wants it so bad and it's taking all my mental capacity not to let it.”

He nodded as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Okay,” he started soothingly. “Let’s talk this through. Let’s start with what do you know?” He listened patiently as she told him everything she knew. It wasn’t much and it was very disjointed, she jumped from fact to fact and speculation to speculation, but her voice evened out with each jump, like each point grounded her a bit more. The pain and fear were still there, but they had eased back, no longer on the forefront.

“Alya called this morning, right?” He waited for her nod confirming his statement before he continued. “Have you eaten anything since you found out?”

She gave him a baffled look. “No?”

He nodded. “Okay. That was at least ten hours ago. Let’s get something in your stomach. Do you have chicken soup? Alfred used to make me chicken soup when I was worried. It always made me feel better.”

“Jason,” she said sternly, attempting, but failing, to gain his attention away from searching through her cabinets. “The only thing that is going to make me feel better is knowing Adrien is okay. Not something as frivolous as…” she motioned toward the can of soup Kon had brought over she didn’t even know how long ago as his contribution to a potluck she hosted.

“Alya will let you know if anything happens that you should worry about. But there won’t be. He’ll be okay, Pixie Pop.” He pulled her hands into his and stared deeply into her eyes. “I promise he’ll be okay. He’s strong. It’ll take more than a rogue science experiment to take him down. And talking care of yourself isn’t ‘frivolous.’” he insisted.

She shook her head. “I’m not…”

“It doesn’t make you a bad friend to take care of yourself. It doesn’t,” he said definitively. He lowered himself to catch her eyes to make sure he conveyed his earnestness. “You are maybe one of the best friends there is. You would do anything for your friends. It makes you annoying as fuck but absolutely riveting. There is nobody, nobody, I’d rather have on my side. You are fiercely protective of your friends. Every single one of them knows you would go to war single handedly on their behalf. And win. Whoever you went up against wouldn’t stand a fucking chance.”

She tore her gaze from his and wiped away a few tears that had escaped. “I think this is the nicest you have ever been to me,” she teased.

The tension in his shoulders eased somewhat at her smile, so soft, it was barely there. He smirked at her. “Well, you know… I don’t want you to get a big head. You’re so small, you’d topple over.”

“Oh my God,” she dropped her head on his chest and relaxed against him as he tightened his arms to pull her in further. “You’re such a jerk,” she said quietly as she burrowed further into his arms.

He had to stop himself from saying ‘your jerk’. That was too much, right? Surely that was too much. She had just been crying a few minutes ago. Definitely the wrong time for sensitive. “Yeah,” he agreed easily instead. “But I’m an honest one.” Marinette scoffed loudly.

He chuckled at her skepticism. “Yeah, okay. But I was telling the truth about this. I meant every word. You are the most impressive person I know and the best.” He buried his nose in her hair quickly getting lost in the feel of her in his arms. After a few moments he pulled away just enough to whisper, “And you are really small.”

Marinette groaned and shoved his chest. “Really?”

“Really!” he exclaimed. A broad, teasing smile that he didn’t have to fake, stretching his lips. “I have to crouch over to cuddle you. I’m going to end up with a bad back.”

She leaned back, still within his arms but establishing space between them. “You could just… not.”

Jason gasped dramatically and jerked her back against him. “No, I can’t.”

“You’re rid…” The rest of her sentence was lost when her phone rang, interrupting her. Marinette jumped immediately, lurching toward it until her foot caught on the corner of the couch. She didn’t even think to brace herself for the fall before strong arms steadied her, too focused on getting to the phone as quickly as possible. “Alya?” she all but yelled into the phone. After a momentary pause she spoke again, her voice much weaker. “Adrien?”

She spun toward Jason, her eyes watering again. He had almost pulled her into a comforting hug, his stomach dropping at her expression, but she spoke before he could. “Tomorrow is definite? Is Nino going to take you home?” She was silent for a few seconds as she listened, a soft smile developing as she nodded absently. “And how long until you’re back to normal strength?” Her smile widened as she listened. “Two weeks isn’t too bad. So much better than it could have been,” she offered with a bright smile. “Yes, I will try to get some rest now. You should too. It’s almost time for you to wake up,” she chided gently. “I love you too.”

Jason’s smile turned bittersweet at her words. She was able to say the works so easily to Adrien, even Tim. It was a reminder he wasn’t there. He lowered his eyes to the floor for a moment before looking back at the can on the counter. He turned back to her just as she launched herself into his arms. His response was like reflex, reacting before he even felt the blissful sensation of her body against his, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “He's going to be okay. Completely fine!” she exclaimed.

He pretended not to notice his chest getting wetter as she clung to him. “That’s great, Pixie Pop,” he whispered against her hair.

She pulled away just enough to meet his eyes and Jason couldn’t not notice the relief in them. “They’re going to let him go home tomorrow and then he needs to take a few weeks off, but after that, he should be fine.”

Jason grinned down at her and brushed away some hair that had worked its way over her eyes while she had buried her face in his chest. “See? That cat has too many fucking lives,” he grumbled playfully, exaggerating his voice to make sure she knew he was joking.

She started to push further into his fingers that lingered around her face but pulled away to quirk her head to the side and study him, sadness working its way into her gaze again. “Why don’t you like him?” Her voice was quiet. It was almost worse than the look in her eyes, but the two combined were devastating.

“I don’t dislike him,” he insisted instantly. She scoffed and stepped back. “I don’t,” he repeated firmly. “I actually… think he’s a really good kid,” he admitted grudgingly.

Her brow furrowed and her lips thinned just slightly as she considered his words. She believed them, which made it more confusing because that was not the way he acted whenever Adrien was around or even mentioned. “Then…” she started.

“Because…” he groaned and dragged his hand over his face a few times. Apparently, this was going to happen right then and none of the lines he’d prepared worked for this conversation. He’d prepared for almost every way the conversation would come up but explaining his feelings toward Adrien was nowhere on the list. Discussing feelings in any kind of depth, was nowhere on the list. The hours of preparation and strategizing were for nothing, which actually was probably for the best.

This wasn’t a mission against some villain or to steal something. This was personal. It was his soul. This was his heart… and hers, potentially. So, everything he said needed to be from the heart, which meant being honest. It was absolutely terrifying. He hated it. He looked back at her, meeting her gaze. Instead of making him more nervous, it reinforced his resolve.

“Because you two have a history. Because you trust him with your whole soul. Because he dated you. Because you love him and say it so freely. Because I can see the connection you guys have and I want that… with you. I want you to trust me like that. I want you to look at me like that. I want you to want me like that. I want you to love me like that.”

Marinette stared at him, mouth agape, utterly unprepared for the onslaught of emotion. She studied his eyes for any indication of dishonestly or uncertainty, but there was none, just unadulterated affection, so intense, her heart stuttered. After a few moments she shook her head slowly. “No, you don’t,” she said firmly.

She continued before Jason could object, his mouth already starting to open and his body angling closer. “I trust Adrien like a teammate, one I’ve had since the beginning, one who taught me as much as I taught him. I look at Adrien like a partner, someone who’s had to give up the rawest parts of himself to fight by my side. I want Adrien like an accomplice, someone who will jump into the fray without asking questions. I love Adrien like a brother, someone who will be in my life and supporting me no matter what path I follow, but not taking the path with me. That’s not what I want for you. That’s not where I see us going.”

Jason’s lips split into a broad grin. “No? Where do you see us going?”

Marinette bit her lower lip shyly, almost driving Jason into a frenzy. He was barely able to limit himself to resting his hands on her hips and moving into her space, towering over her with an adoring grin. “Nowhere tonight. It’s been a long day already and I don’t think I could take much more emotional upheavals, but eventually?” Jason nodded encouragingly. “I’d want you to walk that path with me, to figure out the path together.”

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to cup her face gently. “Oh, Pixie, you’re never going to be able to get rid of me… unless you, you know, don’t want me around… that was meant to be romantic not… creepy. I won’t like stalk you or anything.”

Marinette giggled and wound her arms around his waist. “I know,” she reassured him as she rested her chin on his chest as she craned her neck to look at him. “That’s how I took it.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief and hugged her closer, enjoying her in his arms again. Every cell sang with the contact. Every sense soared having her so close. “Thank God. Because I want to feel this every day.” He forced himself to pull away so he could meet her eyes sternly. “But for now, you should eat. Come on, I’ll make the soup for you.”

Marinette nodded. “Soup then sleep,” she agreed tiredly. But when she looked back up there was a devious glint in her eyes. “Will you join me tonight? To rest?”

Jason shook his head. “No, you need to get some good rest after the day you had and I don’t trust either of us to stick to that. I’ll let Tim know not to let you know about the date until at least tomorrow afternoon.”

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I thought you couldn’t get ahold of Tim.”

Jason waved her off almost flicking a noodle from the spoon he had used to stir the soup and still had in his hand. “I just needed an excuse to talk to you. I can break through if I need to.” Marinette gaped at him for just a second before breaking down into giggles. “So, tonight, uninterrupted sleep,” he continued. “Then tomorrow, get ready, because I’m coming over, and I may never leave.”

Marinette smiled and nodded. “I’ll be ready,” she promised.

@maribat-calendar-events

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2023 #prompt - Big Bad Wolf

86 notes · View notes

mochikeiji · 3 years

Text

Looking Like U Got Me

Request: "Prompt no. 56 and 55 for Gojo ＼(^o^)／"

55. "You look like my husband/wife"

56. "Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster"

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x Reader

↠ Warning: none! Simply fluff

↬ Word Count: 1.7k

↠ a/n: i accidentally mixed up prompts 55 and 57 ;-; but still hoping this turns out good!!

↳ from Go! Go! Gogatsu Event!

All he wanted was to wake up in bed, next to you— who would cuddle deeper in his arms even in slumber so he'd smother you with his kisses and tighten his hold around you and drift back to sleep longer, finally free of responsibilities for once and enjoy quality time with his only favorite person. But instead he wakes up with a groan passing through his lips, supporting his back side with his hand while shuffling to his side in a different position as the light sun rays shun through the window blinds, softly fanning his eye and forehead.

Gojo chuckles a bit before wincing. His lower back so tensed that he feels himself get older by the day. Pouting at the empty space next to him, he palms the cold sheet in wonder of where you are. Up so early in the morning when you could've just stayed in for him. How annoying. His eyes shut for moment when the scent coming from outside the room intruded his senses. Ah, you must be cooking breakfast. How sweet of you.

Thank goodness it wasn't another batch of dried crackers or cup of noodles that'll enter his mouth. He was never one to cook meals when he was on solo or when you weren't around. The very thought of not only the meal was awaiting for him outside, but also you excites him that it made him feel tingly inside. Call it dramatic, yeah, but it's not every day someone gets to wake up and immediately feel this full of love in the morning. You were the only and last love he's ever wanted to have in this world. It was so surreal even to him.

Sighing before pushing himself up, Gojo yawns out the remains of drowsiness in his system and stands. He didn't bother wearing a shirt since last night, claiming that he misses how his body rubs off yours in both comforting and suggestive ways. Plus it was just you and him home, he'd rather walk naked than wear the usual long sleeved uniform on a warm day.

The scent of coffee got stronger as he closes in his journey towards the kitchen. There was faint sizzling coming from the pan as you stood there in attendance. Stuck in your own little world, swaying to the sound of the radio playing, U got Me by Yung Heazy. It was one of the few songs that reminded you of Gojo back when you were both high schoolers. The exact song you remembered playing when you both hung out on a small cafe in Tokyo. Where he was so flustered, attempted to hide his blushes with his round glasses. The little things that reminded you of that memory never fails to make your heart race.

Of course Gojo knows this one as well. Because it was on that date as well he had call you, "his" after masking his embarrassment and from obviously checking you out every minute. How could he contain himself? He was a young man who was having trouble in the arts of love. Nevertheless he was glad to have grown up from those years. If his younger self could see him now, he'd be gagging at the sight of a softer version of his older self.

Snaking his arms around your torso carefully to avoid surprising you, he places his chin above your shoulder. Salivating at the sight of thick bacon in deep frying, shamelessly letting you know he was hungry from the sound of his stomach growling. "This is a nice way to greet me." you smile at the man behind you, who had his eyes closed in delight while rubbing his cheek against yours like a cat in need of attention. "Good morning to you as well, sweet cheeks." he says after pressing a kiss on your skin.

"You got up early." whining softly, his hair and nose tickling the side of your neck and shoulder, "I was hoping to stay longer y'know?" trailing his hands underneath the his shirt you were wearing, mapping out on all the skin he could squish and hold with his large palms. Noticeably pressing himself closer to your body, the much needed space gone but you weren't complaining. After all, this was Gojo, a man who knows no boundaries.

"I wanted to make breakfast for you. We haven't had one together since we're both busy." you say as you grabbed the nearby plate, turning off the stove as the now cooked meal sizzles softly from the pan before sliding down to the porcelain surface. In attempt to lick his lips at the now prepared food, his tongue grazes upon your skin, sending you to jolt a bit, hearing the joyous laughter from him as he places a kiss on the spot as an apology.

"W-why don't you go sit down, there's rice bowls and cooked eggs prepared already." stammering, you quickly excused yourself away from his embrace to clean out the mess from the counter. Gojo sighs out the adoration but obliges to your command. Not long after you had finally settled down in front of him. Seeing him in all smiles as he scarfs down on his food made you smile as well. Thank goodness his blindfold was off, they looked adorable twinkling in happiness.

This felt nice. To have an opportunity to be a normal couple once again. So many times you could only daydream of scenarios like this. He could say the same as now that you were present on the usual spot he'd come home to empty. Often dozing off during meetings thinking of where you were or how you were, the multiple times Megumi has fed up with his whining about how he never gets to see or have more time with you. Nobara even pointed out a fact saying, "You act as if you're both married." and Yuuji, being the happy child of the three had said something that always ponder in his mind, "Why don't you marry each other yet, sensei?"

It was a statement he's been considering for a long time. Marriage. Of course Gojo wanted to marry you after years of torment love. To have his precious students say that you both already looked as if you were married got him all heart racing, and very very happy. He's had vivid images of a life with you. Not far from what it is today, but imagine. Unlimited happiness after so long of fearing it. Perhaps maybe even tiny legs running around, giving him such big love as his grows for the family he's craved, watching you smile beside the doorway and calling them in for a meal.

If marrying you means he can have that every day, then the hell with it.

"You look like my wife."

The spoon drop echoes. Slowly his face erupted into a faint blush while staring back at your widened eyes and opened mouth. "What?" gulping down the stuck food in your throat, Gojo bites his lips watching you maintain your composure. So cute. "Y-you know you say funny stuff when you're out of it. Maybe some daifuku would help? Yeah! Wait a sec." quickly getting up from your seat and rummaging in your fridge, you breathed out the heavy puff of air from your lungs.

He did not just say that so directly towards you. Maybe you were dreaming? You wouldn't be if your heart wasn't practically being forced out. Gojo is always fun and games, right? He doesn't mean that.

Sad to think of it that way.

"Ow!" thumping your head above the fridge as you grabbed some of the take outs of Daifuku you got yesterday, closing the fridge back before returning shortly to Gojo, who seemed as out of it as you were. "You did say your brain functions best when you eat sweets. Luckily for you I bought these yesterday. That's why I cooked earlier now because I wanted to try it out with you!"

Gojo can't tell if he wants to be offended at the fact that you think he was joking or just now, cover his half of his face to hide his laughter and igniting squeals. God he wished he had his phone right now, the moment was just so priceless and precious as you were.

"...ter"

Muffles from behind his hand was heard. Tilting your head to the side, trying to process what he said but no avail. "What was that?" you moved a little closer next to him, tapping his hand away almost eagerly. When he does, you spot that knowing smile present on his lips and the uncharacteristic blush still painted on his cheeks.

"Keep doing that and I'll marry you faster, honey."

You've gotten more shy when his hand held yours in the most loving way while drawing patterns. Searching through his eyes if he was playing around, but you were met with ones you know of when they were full of sincerity. "I-i. You know, they were so cheap anyways and I figured you'd want them." he snorts before leaning his head on your arm and laughs hysterically. It was painfully obvious that you were in state of shock that you couldn't even process his words.

Up until now the effect he has on you was still there like before.

"Sweetie." he turns his body away from the table to face you, pulling you so that you were standing in between his legs looking down shyly on the floor. "I'm serious." his fingers reached for your chin to pull your head up to meet his features. His other hand still holding your smaller one; index finger tracing your ring finger in circular motions as if he was creating a make believe ring.

He should thank himself for falling in love and be trusting once again.

Because now, staring back at your eyes filled with the same amount of emotions as his. Reciprocating the exact thing he was feeling. Waking up just to start the day already wanting him to be there. Knowing all the littlest things he's shared. Hearing the erratic sound of both of your heart beats.

He knew he's made the right choice.

"You really do look like my wife. My future."

#gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo scenarios #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo imagine #gojou satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #raines: gogatsu event

2K notes · View notes

soulmate-game · 3 years

Text

Well, here is the stupid thing I was alluding to. It’s mostly a filler chapter, but yeah.

Harley’s Plea for Help, Chapter 3

“Well, that took a while,” a relatively deep female voice smoothly drawled. The plants placed right next to the window pulled away, no longer blocking the pathway inside. The two figures who were perched right outside the windowsill took the invitation and climbed inside, the shorter of the two looking at the woman who had spoken and smiling widely.

“Auntie Ivy!” Marinette happily exclaimed, making the redhead across from her grin back.

“That’s me. It sure is nice to actually see you in person, little Marigold,” she held out her arms for a hug, which Marinette instantly ran in to accept. “Video calls are never quite enough, are they? You’re so tiny! Are you sure you eat alright?”

“Auntie Ivyyyyyy,” Marinette whined, knowing full well that Ivy was just teasing her.

“So, what took you all so long?” Ivy asked Red Hood, even as she kept her arms wrapped around her soon-to-be daughter in law. “Usually you bats are all about getting back on the streets to punch people, we didn’t think you’d be bringing her in at almost one in the morning.”

Hood shrugged, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Your little garden fairy nearly gave us the slip. Went straight out the back exit instead of doin’ anything showy like we half expected and we almost missed her.”

“I stopped as soon as I noticed who they were, I swear!” Marinette pulled away from Ivy, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t expect Momma to send them to babysit me before our first full day being in Gotham. In hindsight, though, I really should have.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ivy agreed with a smirk, ruffling Marinette’s hair and making her pigtails go a little crooked. “And I know for a fact that you’ve done some stunts off your balcony back in Paris, so at least I know you can be responsible and hold yourself back from doing the same here. Must get that from me, because we both know it doesn’t come from Harley.”

Marinette and Hood both had to laugh at that. Being responsible was definitely not a trait that Marinette could have inherited from anybody in her family tree, that was for sure.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me in front of my daughter?” the comically scandalized voice announced the arrival of one Harley Quinn, who walked into the room in white onesie pajamas with a poker print on them. All of the “joker” cards were crossed out heavily with red sharpie, and a few of them had black-sharpie devil horns and handlebar mustaches vandalizing them. Marinette even caught one such card with a googly eye on it, the matching eye having fallen off and leaving only a small circle of since-dried hot glue where it used to be. “If you guys are gonna be that way, fine! Ivy dyes her hair!”

“No she doesn’t,” Marinette deadpanned, clearly fighting against a giant grin. The corners of her lips gave her away, they never stopped twitching with repressed mirth. “But you do. I got the pictures to prove—- aah!” Harley tackled her daughter to the ground, attacking her with tickles immediately.

“Take it back! My hair is naturally blond!”

“Yeah, naturally— hahahahaha! Sandy blonde! You— hahaha! Have just as much brown— stop I can’t breathe! hahahaha!— as yellow!”

“Hmph,” Harley finally backed off, crossing her eyes and looking away from Marinette with an exaggerated pout. “How dare you reveal my darkest secret?”

“I was a natural redhead even before I got my powers,” was all Ivy had to say, looking all too amused at this turn of events. “Your original costume completely covered your hair.”

“Don’t worry, Harley,” Red Hood butted in, reminding the three girls that he was still here. His tone suggested that he was definitely smiling under his helmet. “We found out about your hair dye years ago.”

“I just cover up the brown parts! It’s not like I’m changin’ much,” she argued before standing up again. “Thanks for gettin’ my cupcake back safely, little birdie. Oh, that's right! I made cupcakes! Hang on, lemme grab one for your trip back!” with that, she span on her heels and ran back further into the apartment. Marinette dashed over to Hood, immediately shoving him to the window.

“Quick, save yourself! Momma can’t bake for her life!” she whispered urgently. “I’ll say you were called away for an emergency, just hurry!”

“It’s not even a lie, getting away from Harley’s baking is an emergency,” Ivy agreed, waving as the vigilante took their advice and fled. It was only three seconds later that Harley slid back into the room, nearly falling due to the feet of her onesie having pretty much zero friction. Her face immediately fell when she saw that her victim was gone, leaving her standing there with a cupcake that was about twice as much frosting as actual cake, covered in sprinkles like a kid’s craft project that was smothered in glitter. The frosting was also shapeless, just heaped on the cake like a half-melted scoop of ice cream. She sighed in despair.

“There goes my chance of giving a bat diabetes. You guys warned him, didn’t ya?”

They both nodded shamelessly. “We’re not that cruel, Harley,” Ivy defended, getting up from her spot on her cushioned armchair and wrapping an arm around her fiance’s waist before she kissed the top of her head gently. “Hood got our little Marigold back safe and sound, and he’s even started a garden at his apartment. He doesn’t deserve to be poisoned by you.”

“I thought you said he got a single cactus at the flea market last month,” Harley deadpanned, making Ivy shrug.

“Might as well be a garden for him, and it’s something he’s not likely to kill so that’s a plus to me. He’s actually taking really good care of the little baby.”

“Speaking of garden!” Marinette gently took the sad excuse of a pastry away from her mom and sat it down on a side table before ushering both of them over to the living room and onto the sofa. “My garden back home is growing so big, I don’t think I can keep everything much longer. I barely have room to walk on the terrace, with all the vines and leaves and branches. Got any ideas of what I can do?”

“Of course! Do you have pictures, Marigold?”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slipping back through her hotel window at six in the morning was risky, since it involved climbing the wall and hoping nobody saw, but her classmates were so unpredictable that it was the only way she could be sure nobody would find out that she had violated curfew and snuck out. Of course, having Red Robin waiting outside her mom’s apartment’s terrace to escort her back helped. At least she knew that no street cams would record her comings or goings, and his grappling hook made the whole scale-the-hotel-wall business much more efficient.

Once she was inside, she sighed happily. “Thanks, now—“ her apology was cut off as Red Robin held up a finger to tell her to wait.

“Hold that thought, be right back. Don’t move.”

Thinking, rightfully, that something was wrong, Marinette obeyed. She watched Red Robin leap off of her hotel balcony and disappear into the streets. Immediately, she began a search to make sure her room had been left untampered— everything important had been packed in the backpack that she had taken to her mom’s place, but still. Could never be too careful. By the time she finished checking for bugs or any signs of snooping, Red Robin landed back on her balcony.

“Here we go.”

Turning to face him, Marinette opened her mouth to ask what the problem had been— only to tear up a little and walk over to the vigilante.

“Oh, my hero. Truly, my one and only savior. Knight in shining red Kevlar. I’m running on two hours of sleep and you have read my mind!” The pigtailed drama queen eagerly took the coffee that he offered her, and he sipped from a larger cup that looked like he had grabbed it from the same place. Marinette almost instantly sighed in gratitude when the hot drink lightly scalded her tongue. This. This was the elixir of life.

To his credit, Red Robin was able to restrain himself to merely an amused smirk. Probably because he was running on just as little sleep as she was. “Sorry it’s only a small, I figured it was best to have something you could finish quickly and easily hide the evidence for. If you need more caffeine, I happen to know that Wayne Enterprises has a very good coffee shop in their main hall. You’ll be touring there today, right?” He asked, taking another sip as he waited for the answer that he already knew.

Marinette nodded absently, drinking in the euphoria of her coffee as she tried to both savor it yet finish it as quickly as safely possible. When she came up for air, she said; “Yeah, that’s right. We’re touring Wayne Enterprises for most of the day, having lunch there, and leaving for dinner after the tour. Then we have a visit to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art, and we’ll stay there until about eight-thirty before heading back to the hotel.”

Red Robin nodded, then turned and looked out the window at the slowly rising sun. Sunrise was always a bit later in Gotham, partly because of the abundance of high-rises and partly because of the thick cloud cover and ever-present fog on the edges of the city making everything seem darker than it should have been. He had to be at work soon himself, which is why he had been chosen to escort her to the hotel in the first place, but that meant that he had to be heading off.

“Alright. We arranged for a bodyguard we trust to keep an eye on your class during the WE tour, but he doesn't know who you are or that we’re the ones who asked. We’re still in the process of arranging someone to shadow you after the tour, but we’ll tell you about that once it’s solidified. Until then, follow the usual self-defense procedures if you suspect anyone of following you. You have the panic button we gave you?”

Marinette nodded, gulping down the last of her coffee and carefully putting it in her room’s tiny trash can. “Got it. Thanks, again. Seriously,” she met his eyes— or, probably did since they were hidden behind that weird white film that the whole Batfam had covering the eyeholes of their masks. “I mean it. For listening to me, for listening to Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep the panic button on me, and I’ll use it if I think I can’t handle a situation on my own. I’ll cooperate with the people you get to watch over the class, and I’ll do my best to not get into any trouble. No promises, but I’ll do my best,” she maintained eye contact until Red Robin nodded, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. After a second, he cleared his throat.

“Well then. We’ll contact you once we have anything to say about your intel. Until then, I gotta go. And by the way?”

Marinette tilted her head curiously as Red Robin paused for just a moment on her balcony railing, aiming a smirk back at her. “Yeah?”

“Welcome to Gotham.”

And if she couldn’t help but smile widely as he grappled off into the fog-veiled sunrise? Well, only she had to know. She wasted no time closing and locking the glass balcony door, and pulling the curtains over it completely. Once that was done, she couldn’t help but do a little shimmy of Joy. She was caffeinated, she met Auntie Ivy in person for the first time, she got to sleep next to her momma— and she was in Gotham! Technically her hometown— or town she was conceived in? Didn’t matter. Point was, even with the chaos and dark energy clouding the very air, she couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in that city. Like that was where she was always meant to end up, where she could thrive and the environment that she was made to thrive in. The environment that she was born to start fixing.

She beamed at herself in her bathroom mirror as she gave herself one more once-over. Yeah, so far her visit to Gotham was going much better than she could have hoped. Now, she just had to make sure it stayed that way.

Three businesslike raps sounded against the door to her room, just in time for Marinette to feed Tikki one more cookie and straighten her purse on her shoulder. Madame Mendelieve’s voice called out from the other side of the door in her usual no-nonsense bark;

“Dupain-Cheng! Room check! It’s time to get up, we’re meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes.”

Marinette ran up to the door, not quite able to contain her energy, and swung it open with her trademark large, beaming smile.

“Way ahead of you, Madame Mendelieve!”

Her science teacher blinked, adjusting her glasses on her nose as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Ah. You’re already awake and ready?”

Marinette giggled and nodded. “Yup! I was so excited for the tour that I could barely sleep! Does the hotel breakfast include free coffee?”

—*—*—*—*—*

The hotel breakfast did, in fact, include coffee. What it did not include, however, was free coffee that Marinette could reasonably stomach. Especially after the heaven in a cup that Red Robin had gotten for her earlier, the watered down motor oil in the hotel lobby had been unbearable. She had barely managed two sips before regretfully throwing the rest away. Which is what brought her to stand in line at the very same coffee shop that Red Robin had mentioned was in the main hall of Wayne Enterprises, as the rest of her class mingled and waited for their teachers to check their tour group in and their tour guide to arrive.

“Hmm. Sorry, this is my first time ordering here,” she apologized when she reached the counter, gaining a slight lopsided grin from the barista at the register. “Um, I usually like strong coffee, with a lot of caffeine, but I also like something sweet. I don’t need anything too complicated though, do you have any recommendations?”

The barista gave her a customer service smile that seemed just a tad softer at the edges than usual. “Sure! So, we can add an extra shot or two of espresso to any of our drinks, to make it stronger and give it an extra kick. If you’re looking for good sweet flavors, the classics are our white chocolate or caramel. But we also have a seasonal syrup right now that I personally love, which is our cinnamon butterscotch. Did you wanna try that?”

Marinette smiled widely. “That sounds delicious! Then, if I could have your largest size café latte, hot, with… two extra shots and that syrup? Does that sound good?”

The barista actually let loose a soft laugh, already keying in the order. “If you’re a coffee lover and a sweet tooth at the same time, then you’ll love it. If not, come back during your tour’s lunch break and I’ll make you something else.”

Marinette made a little more small talk as she handed over the proper cash for the order, and grabbed her drink after just another minute’s wait. She turned around, taking a sip of the unsurprisingly heavenly coffee and started off to join her class.

Only to realize none of them were where she had left them. She sighed, starting to reach into her purse to see if anyone had texted her about where they were going, but a heavy presence stopped her. She could feel him approaching from in front of her, slightly to her right, but she couldn’t hear him at all. On guard, she straightened up and turned to observe the potential threat.

A security guard. Marinette blinked, running over what she had been told earlier that morning. Was he..?

He seemed to notice her instinctually defensive posture because he raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he apologized. “I’m the guard that was assigned to your tour group. I offered to stay behind until you got your coffee while the rest of your group went ahead and got the run-down on all the boring rules and whatnot of the tour. Figured you’d already know everything they had to say anyway, you’re the class president right?”

Marinette relaxed her posture, nodding and sending the man a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Well, that explains why they left without me then. Usually Madame Mendelieve is strict about following rules though, how’d you convince her to go on without me?”

The man chuckled, jerking his head to show that she should follow him as he began to lead the way to a side door. Marinette kept her guard up just in case, but wasn’t too worried. If nothing else, she was still in the middle of a super crowded building and the other security guards around didn’t seem concerned. She could easily yell for help if she needed to.

“Well, can’t you tell it was my devilish charm?” He teased, grinning. He waited until she rolled her eyes to continue; “but really, I’m like a second tour guide. She made me show a lotta proof that I’m actually assigned to you guys and not just faking it, not that I can blame her. Eventually she saw the logic in my suggestion and agreed. See, there they are,” he pointed casually ahead of them in the large side hallway they had entered. Sure enough, near the end of the hallway was her class at what looked to be the tail-end of a standard rules-and-guidelines speech from the tour guide. “By the way,” the guard spoke up again, holding his hand out. “My name’s Jason. You’ll be seeing me more often, since I’m supposed to guard you guys for all of your visits to the Tower. Call me if you need help with anything, ‘kay kid?”

Marinette grinned, now positive that this guy really was the guard that Red Robin had said was assigned to her class. She switched the hand she was holding her coffee in so that she could properly grab Jason’s hand for a shake.

“Got it, Monsieur Jason. Let’s both hope I don’t end up needing your help though, I think that would be easier on both of us,” she joked, earning a chuckle from the large man. And— yeah, now that she was relaxed, he really was big, wasn’t he? Then again, Marinette didn’t always realize when people were a bit larger or more buff than they should be. Living with her dad had seriously skewed her perception of the normal size of an adult male (which, she learned when she was seven, most definitely was not almost seven feet tall and muscled enough to make a pro wrestler jealous). But she would like to think she had gotten better in that aspect, and Jason was definitely a big guy. A little over six feet tall, she thought, and though the guard outfit hid a good portion of his physique, she could tell he carried enough muscle to do serious damage if he wanted to.

With a wave, she left him to join her class and sipped at her latte. She had figured that the Bat Clan’s criteria for civilians that they would put to guard her class had to be high, but now she had to wonder just how high. Most police officers or security guards were fit, sure, but not like Jason. Casting a quick glance back at him, she confirmed that he had quite a few faded but visible scars. Again, more than your average officer even for Gotham. Who had they tasked with her class’ safety, exactly?

An elbow in her side distracted her from her thoughts, forcing her to blink and stop her cup from going back to her lips. The grin of none other than Adrien Agreste greeted her when she snapped out of her own head long enough to pay attention to her surroundings. He jerked his head to indicate that the class was already starting to move off.

“Come on, Mari or you’ll get left behind again,” he teased. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes but falling into step beside him as they followed at the back of their class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gonna marry that coffee. You haven’t zoned out that badly in years,” his tone was light and cheery, but Marinette didn’t miss the concern in his emerald eyes. She sighed, gently bumping her shoulders against his in silent reassurance.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. But this really is good coffee. Elixir of the gods,” then, just to provoke him, she took a giant gulp of the still steaming hot drink. Adrien grimaced in pained sympathy even though Marinette didn’t seem affected at all.

“Oww, Marineeeeeeeeeette,” he whined. “Don’t do that, my throat hurts just watching you guzzle hot coffee like that,” he complained, rubbing at his neck to make his point clear.

“Wimp,” she teased, unrepentant. Adrien just groaned dramatically.

“I’m not a wimp, you’re just concerningly used to burning your throat from the inside out,” he accused. “Anyway, how’d it go?” He was being deliberately vague, but it was obvious to her what he meant. He was only one she had told about visiting her mom, after all, just in case she needed a quick getaway.

In fact, he was the only one of her friends that she had even told about her biological parents. Alix knew too, but only because of time shenanigans. Marinette was fine with it now, but still.

“It went great,” she smiled widely at him, keeping her voice low but casual. “If I have a chance, I’ll introduce you sometime during the trip. I have a feeling you’ll love Auntie Selina, but I have to meet her first. All I have so far are stories.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed easily. “But you don’t have to, you know that right? I’d love to meet your family, but I’m also fine just being your pseudo-brother like I have been up until now. I know it might be a bit… uncomfortable, for you.”

“Nah,” Marinette shrugged. “Nerve wracking, maybe. But that’s also about half the things that I do in my life period, anxiety is no joke. I’ll catastrophize for a while, but I know you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Sounds like they have paw-some taste,” he didn’t even miss a beat with his puns, earning a playful glare for his efforts.

“Never mind. You’re a heathen. Disowned. Who are you?”

“Mariiiiii,” he whined, causing them both to laugh for a while before focusing on the tour.

So far, so good, Marinette thought.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1 Part 2

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman @deathssilentapproach-blog @user00000003 @frieddonutsweets @blur-of-colours @prettylittlebutterflie @ladyqnoirr @a-star-with-a-human-name @mizzy-pop @laurcad123 @dorkus-minimus @chocolatecatstheron @tazanna-blythe @golden-promises @literaryhiraeth @asrainterstellar @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @miraculous-trinity-leo @missanalysis @lovelyautumnsunflower @lolieg @ann0631 @whitetiger1249 @meow-now @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #marinette x damian #damian x marinette #damimari #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #bio!mom harley quinn #eventual daminette #probably #daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #platonic dickinette #platonic brucinette #Joker can choke on a cactus

376 notes · View notes

bigtittydemonwife · 3 years

Text

The pasta’s love language Part 1

Jeff The Killer

Protectiveness

this is the most obviously way the bastard man lets you know he cares about you

Behind the asshole tsundere attitude and I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude about life lays another smaller asshole and buried deep under that lays the small boy that picked a fight with three bullies to protect his loving brother

Weather it’s him decking o**enderman for being creepy or saving you from a tricky last victim it seems Jeff always knows when your in trouble

So low-key about it you never really notice his eyes on you until you’re being helped, and even then you never notice how they never leave

Jeff is like a dog, but not the loving wagging tail dog, the asshole that stands on your feet with his sharp claws, rips open your pillows and terrorises the mailman so much your mail is delivered by drone.

but he is also the dog that late at night sneaks onto your bed and whenever there’s someone strange approaching you on the street at night stands in front of you and bares his teeth

Physical Touch

Jeff’s love isn’t soft

Jeff’s love is as rough as he is

Jeff’s touch is soft head-pats after you put someone in their place

His touch is high fives after a successful mission where your hands linger together

His touch is quick side hugs before he goes off to go do something stupid

Cheeky neck kisses in front of others to make you flustered

fingers running though your hair or down your sides whenever he gets bored

easiest way to get cuddled by this man? after a mission when he’s too tired to act like a tsundere

Jeff is funnily like a cat in this regards, his cuddles are fun but he has to want to, otherwise it’s deemed as unnecessary

Defensiveness

Jeff isn’t a rational man

So when he gets jealous his first response is to just stab the guy and run

Ass a traumatised stubborn teen Jeff is quick to anger but he toe’s the line (aha reference) at when people disrespect you

Is he an asshole to you all the time?

Yes

Is he the only person who can be mean to you?

Yes

Despite what everyone thinks Jeff does understand the difference between mean teasing and just being an asshole

And if your someone like me who shows your love to people you care about by teasing and being mean to him he’s gonna understand if your friends are the same way

What he does not accept is anyone who dares treat you like your lower than them

thats when he pulls out his knife and commits stabby stabby

Ticci Toby

Physical Touch

Unlike Jeff when Toby is in love he’s a touchy feely person

And once again unlike Jeff when it comes to cuddles Toby is most likely to be the one to initiate cuddles

On a good day Toby recharges with touch

Most of the time he’s all over you

His favourite way to cuddle is him on the bottom with you on his chest and your face buried into his neck

If you cuddle with him like that theres a 97% chance you are not leaving any time soon

He loves to hold your hands alot, Toby hands are an eternal mystery as sometimes their cold as fuck and others their super warm

After a really bad day when he’s had his alone time and recharged (which can take as long as a week) he just wants to lay with you a bit

this usually happens when he’s burnt out (missions do not help)

on days like that he wants to be held in your arms and rest his head on your chest

that way as he falls asleep he can hear your heartbeat and know your safe and alive

Compliments

Toby is an asshole, but he’s a lovable asshole

And on a good day when he’s happy and in love he’s acting like a lovestuck school boy

He’s the type to give you either the cutest nicknames or the weirdest

One day he’ll call you love the next Mustard

His compliments are the sweetest thing ever because of how special they are

instead of complimenting something basic about you (well not basic but well seen by everyone) he compliments you on some of the most obscure things that you didn’t think anyone noticed about you

“I love how fast you talk when you get excited”

“I love easily you get along with sally”

“Your eyes glow in the sunset, it’s really pretty”

Ben Drowned

Space

Ben is an antisocial person.

He’s not bitter about it but most of the time he prefers to keep to himself

Ben understands if his partner isn’t like that, but one of his ways of showing love is giving them space to be their own person

While Ben does love to spend time with you and share interests and hobbies

He is a human demon? ghost? thing that loves alone time

And by giving you space and your own time alone it’s his way of letting you still have freedom to be you

Ben recharges his social battery with a quiet atmosphere so alone time or cuddle time is his favourite thing to do with you when he’s down

Don’t get me wrong he loves cuddles

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to be clinging to you 24/7

Acts of service

Ben is a patient person

Despite what people think all his years of gaming have taught him a lot about taking his time and how easier it is to get things done when he’s chill

So he’s quite alright with doing things for people when they need help

But even so he’s still his own person

So he doesn’t usually do it for free unless it’s for someone he really cares about

And that’s when you come in

Ben is basically ready to do anything for you

Will Jeff call him a simp? Yes, will he care? No

In the end of the day he’s getting ass and Jeff’s not

Anyway

You could ask him to hack the government for you and he would

But basic shit is him bringing you snacks he stole from Jeff’s room when your hungry

He just likes making you happy

Physical Touch

Ironically enough in complete contradiction of the first one Ben actually loves spending time with you

Not all the time, otherwise in his opinion the time he gets with you will feel less special

But when either of you have a bad day he likes to either cuddle you and take a nap or hold you while you both/ he plays video games

Ben’s a ghost? Thing so his body is always cold

That’s one of the reasons why he loves holding you so much is feeling your warm body against him

He likes to nap on your tiddys because 1) he’s perverted and 2) he likes to hear your heartbeat

He finds the sound of it fascinating

Sometimes he feels his pulse just because the shock of not feeling anything is fun to him

Ben is probably one of the easiest pastas to date

He’s like a house cat

Just give him attention and water and he can fend for himself all good

Eyeless Jack

Giving Gifts

Jack in love is a very very confusing thing

Not because he’s contradictory but because the way he flirts sometimes ties into his demonic animalistic tendencies

For example

His gifts to you can sometimes be very sweet things that instead are normal gifts like flowers or chocolates but instead small things like breakfast in bed after a stressful mission (He may or may not use his acting like a doctor as an excuse yes EJ is the mansions doctor fight me bitch)

and then other times it’s organs like a heart or an eyeball, bones or a skull (sometimes animal) and sometimes even teeth, if your lucky most of the time once more they just belong to some pour animal in the woods

and they say romance is dead

Jacks way of showing love is sorta a mixture of how some birds gift their mates things to flirt and how cats give their owners dead animals

He’s cute I swear

Acts of Service

Unlike Ben jack isn’t going to drop everything to please you

but once again the way he shows his love is more casual(?) (I mean he gives you dead things to show his love that ain’t casual)

and if he’s in a good mood/ had a good day then more often than not you’ll find yourself being spoiled in a completely Jack way?

You’re thirsty? He made you both coffee/ tea/ hot chocolate

You’re on a mission and it’s raining? Take his jacket (not like he’s gonna die from the cold)

You’re hungry? Take a snack from his secret stash that no one else is aloud to go through (though most of the time it’s filled with organs)

Jack hates it when his lover is stressed so he likes to do whatever he can to help them out

Physical Touch

I hate to sound stereotypical but Jack does this the most because he is extremely touch starved

Trust me he’s not into PDA at all but behind closed doors he’s finding any excuse he can get to touch you ( with your consent )

he loves sleeping together because usually at night he’s reading or trying to piece together his broken parts

But when he’s holding you in his arms, and whispering how much he loves you in your ear when he’s sure you’re asleep he feels like he doesn’t to be whole

that he can’t expect you to fix him at all, but being with you is enough to make him feel like instead of being broken, being fractured is alright

But weather it’s his hand on your cheek on your hands laced together Jack likes to feel your skin against his

fucckkkk I’m tired, this like took three days, you’re getting a part two when I don’t feel like my head’s trying to kill itself and no I did not spell check this nor will I ever as spellings for pussys and people who graduate school

873 notes · View notes

mythiccheroacademia · 4 years

Text

What You Fight About

part 2

A/N: just something I thought about

Headcanon: what you two would fight about the most

Warnings: toxic behaviors, yelling, cursing, angst

Midoriya Izuku:

his absence

being the number one hero is demanding

it’s also been his dream since he could remember

you understood that, but that didn’t mean it didn’t frustrate you when he’d disappear for days at a time

izuku tries to balance his job and home life

but it isn't enough

~~~

You and Izuku don’t fight much. In fact, you never really do. You’re both so compromising that disagreements rarely happen.

But when your kid is involved, that complacency slips away. Even when it comes to one another.

“I’m done talking about this.”

“Honey, why won’t you just listen to me?” he begged, but the irritation in his tone gave it more sharpness than he intended. “[S/N] doesn’t need the tutor. It’s just the teacher.”

You began to pick up the leftover toys from floor more so to expel pent up energy rather than to simply clean. You scoffed, shaking your head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me?” Midoriya snipped. His eyes followed you as you discarded the toys and crossed your arms beside the couch, finally giving him your attention. “I think I know my own son, Y/N.”

Izuku cared so much for your child and you knew that. But that underlying message your brain processed within his words pissed you off.

“And you think I don’t?”

“I just don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”

An incredulous laugh left your lips before they moved into a frown. “He’s failing 4th grade, Izuku. We can’t move him to a different classroom every time he gets a bad grade. At some point, we have to take responsibility! He needs the extra help!”

“You just don’t understand,” the hero muttered, running a hand through his hair.

What he said shouldn’t have set you off, but it did. Everything suddenly flooded your head. All the stress you had to deal with alone bubbled up your throat and exploded.

“No, you don’t understand!”

“Yes I do!”

“How!? You’re barely in his fucking life anyways!”

It went silent shortly after that.

The outburst felt good, but the aftermath made your squeeze with guilt. Izuku’s frown softened into shock before melting into something deeper than pain.

Once your words finally processed through your head, you immediately tried to take it back.

“Izuku, I didn’t mean that—”

“Yes you did.”

You thickly swallowed and averted your eyes to the floor. He was right. You did. You’d been wanting to say it for so long, but this wasn’t the way you planned to deliver those thoughts.

Your gaze moved back to your husband once he gathered his duffle bag and slid on his shoes.

“Baby,” you sighed, your voice much softer than before. It was almost insane how easily the anger left you. “Where are you going?”

You wilted with his next words. “I’ll stay over at the agency. To give you some space. We’ll talk more after we’ve both cooled down,” he sadly smiled.

Despite the hurt silver-lining his green eyes, Midoriya softly held your chin and kissed your forehead. Something he always did when your disagreements didn’t end on a good note. As if to reassure you that, even though he was upset, he still loved you all the same.

And that just made you feel worse.

“’Zuku—”

“Don’t worry about [S/N]. I’ll take him to school tomorrow.” He paused to look you in your eyes. “I love you, always.”

“I love you too,” you quietly resigned and watched him disappear behind the front door leaving you to let your head fall into your hands.

Bakugo Katsuki

his jealousy

bakugo is confident in many areas of his life

it’s one of his qualities that won you over

but he still had those tiny insecurities that showed up in large ways

aka losing you

and he had no idea how to handle it

~~~

The alcohol probably wasn’t a good idea considering Bakugo was already noticeably pissed on the way to the house party. But everyone assumed it was just another one of his moods he’d get over sooner or later. He wasn’t a drinker, but a beer or two usually loosened him up.

However, your friends looked at each other with worry behind the door to the room you two were in. Despite the party lights and booming stereo, they could hear the angry muffled yelling you two were doing.

You were 100% drunk, but you were 110% sure this man was telling you to stay away from your friend. Your best friend.

“If it’s one thing you have, it’s the audacity,” you sassily quipped.

“I’m not fucking playing around with you, Y/N,” Bakugo snapped with too much bite than you cared to hear. “I want you to stay away from that two-bagged eyed bastard!”

“You always do this! Shinsou’s my friend!”

The redness in his ears wasn’t only from the drinks as his nostrils flared with barely contained irritation. “Friend my ass. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, and that fucker had the nerve to grab you in front of me!”

“He was moving me out of the way!”

“He fucking felt you up is what he did!”

You smacked your teeth, entirely done with the argument. You weren’t getting anywhere. “Now you’re just being delusional.”

Bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out in a desperate attempt to calm himself. A feat even he was surprised about considering the situation. He tried so hard to not be as explosive, to reign in his emotions, for you. But his jealousy burned hot within his veins.

“Y/N. I’m asking you, as your man, to put some distance between you and Shinsou,” he lowly warned.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, but the words flew out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Like hell I will. Hitoshi’s been here longer than you have by years. I’m not gonna drop him just because you feel insecure.”

That withered away any form of self-restraint Katsuki had left. He felt exposed and hurt. And dealt with that the best way he knew how.

His hazy brain clouded over with anger and he went on the defensive.

“I bet you want him.”

“What? No I don’t?”

“You’re probably sleeping with him behind my fucking back,” he dryly laughed. “Am I not good enough anymore? Is that it?”

You were quickly sobering up. “What the fuck is wrong with you!? Of course not! I’m not a cheater!”

“Then why won’t cut him off, damn it!?”

Your voices rose in volumes too high for comfort. The crackle in his palms didn’t scare you one bit, but it was enough for Kirishima and Mina to come in and try to separate you two.

You ignored their pleading and the two of your found each other in the other’s face.

“Why are you so jealous!?”

“BECAUSE HE’S TAKING YOU AWAY FROM ME!!”

“NO HE’S NOT!

“IT’S SO EASY FOR YOU TO DEFEND HIM AND PROBABLY JUST AS EASY FOR YOU TO SPREAD YOUR FUCKING LEGS—"

A resounding slap cut him short. That seemed to snap him out of whatever alcohol induced rage he was in. However, Bakugo only had a moment to register your expression of disgust before Kirishima pulled him away.

“Fuck you, asshole” was the last thing you said before Mina lead into the hallway.

Kirishima watched his friend’s breathing turn ragged with each puff.

“Come on, man. Let’s just—”

“FUCK!” Katsuki roared before throwing a nearby water bottle to the floor. He fisted his hair and clenched his teeth.

He messed up. Big time.

And as upset as he was with himself, he couldn’t help but be even angrier at the thought of who you’d run to first.

Todoroki Shouto:

how blunt he is

he was a bit socially inept and you loved him for that

but sometimes, you get frustrated

todoroki does too because 9 times out of 10 he doesn’t understand why

when you get angry, he completely shuts down bc he doesn’t know how to handle it any other way

and it didn’t help that he was petty asf

~~~

“Okay.”

You looked up and folded your lips in a tight line. It was the same monotone answer he’d been giving you all day and it was getting on your nerves.

“Sho, baby, can you at least try and act like you somewhat care about this vacation we’re planning,” you said as sweetly as possible.

Although you were annoyed, you understood that things flew over your boyfriend’s head sometimes and, hopefully, a little nudge would point him in the right direction.

“I’m listening, prince(ss),” he dimly responded.

He didn’t bother to look up from the papers he was reading at the table and it made you huff. Folding up the magazine, you just stalked your way out of the kitchen.

“You know what? Don’t even bother. I’ll do it myself.”

That made Shouto look up. His brows furrowed in confusion and he caught your hand before you could completely pass by him. Why were you suddenly upset? He told you he was listening.

“Hey, wait. What’s wrong? Did I do something?” he asked.

You let him pull you in between his legs. He looked genuinely lost and it was enough to soften your exterior.

“I just feel like you don’t care sometimes,” you said, deciding to just be blunt.

“Huh?” he hummed. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know…it just seems like you don’t have an interest in anything I have to say if it doesn’t involve hero work, your family, or something like that.”

Todoroki took offense to that. Of course he cared about what you had to say. He loved you. Just because he wasn’t gripping on to every word you spoke in mundane life didn’t mean he didn’t care.

There were ways to express his thoughts, but Shouto wasn’t always the best at gently doing it.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t agree,” he said.

You looked off to the side for a second before looking down at him. “Well that’s how I feel,” you retorted.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re wrong.”

You watched him for a moment, waiting for him to explain himself. However, he just stared back at you as if there was nothing else left to say. The silence was sickening.

You snatched your hand out his grip. “Okay, Shouto,” you bit and left.

He hadn’t heard his first name in a while.

Your boyfriend dumbly blinked already feeling more lost. He didn’t understand why you were so angry.

He called Midoriya about it and was told he was being intolerant. The entire conversation honestly made him feel like an asshole and Todoroki didn’t like that at all. So he gave you some space before finding you in the kitchen again, this time equipped to right his wrongs—even though he still wasn’t entirely sure what he did.

He called your name once and instead of responding, you just kept going about your task. That sort of miffed him, but he tried again. This time, you hummed back but the tension behind it made him feel defensive for some odd reason.

“Can we talk about this morning?”

“What? Are my feelings suddenly valid to you now?” you sarcastically replied.

Todoroki raised a sharp brow at your attitude and decided he was over it already. Here he was trying to apologize, and you were being difficult. He wouldn’t fight with you over something so insignificant.

“Fine. When you’re done with your little tantrum, we can talk about this like adults.”

You’d never spun around so quickly. “Really, Todoroki?”

Last name basis. Petty.

But he was even pettier.

“Yes, really, [L/N].”

His half-lidded bored stare made your scalp prickle.

“Fine. Me and my little tantrum are gonna go somewhere and you can plan the vacation all by yourself like the adult you are.”

“Fine. I’d probably get it done faster anyways.”

You let out an offended gasp. “Fine!”

“Fine!” he tsked, crossing his arms.

You two looked away from one another and stomped out of the room in childish anger.

#bnha headcanons #mha scenarios #bnha x reader #mha x reader #izuku x reader #todoroki x reader #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #todoroki shouto #bnha #mha #bnha bakugo x reader

2K notes · View notes

whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Note

Oh god please, more cheating and angst (hoodie? Tim? 👀👀👀) Idk u just write it so good and my aching heart feels better oddly because of it. I fuckn love angst djsjsjjdjdjd

Full Moon and Being A Horrible Person

[Masky X F!Reader]

[Warnings: language, physical cheating]

[AN: i love angst too]

The full moon makes us do weird things, it’s been well documented. From the people bouncing off the walls to inducing labor, all the way to making us make questionable decisions, the full moon is to blame, not him.

It was a full moon when he caught the eyes of a woman with dark, sweet chocolate colored eyes. She looked so beautiful under the lights of the bar, yellow illuminating her skin like it was gold.

She’d been flirting with him across the bar the entire night. Wry smiles, tapping her fingernails against the glass, twirling her dark hair and giggling when he caught her eyes and by extension, her attention.

“You know Reader isn’t gonna be happy with your behavior,” Hoodie had lightly chided him before downing more of his beer. “Why don’t you let me take over? I haven’t-”

“No,” Tim laughed, pushing at his best friend’s shoulder. “It’s harmless flirting,” he finished, watching Hoodie’s expression from the corner of his eye.

“If Reader was doing this, would you consider it harmless flirting?”

Kate excused herself from her conversation with one of the ladies from the booth behind the table she and her group shared, then turned her attention to her group leader. “He has a point,” she said, grinning when Hoodie leaned over the table to high-five her.

Tim rolled his eyes and began to lazily swish his drink. “It’s nothing, I promise.”

“You mean to say you haven’t emptied your balls in a few weeks and you’re desperate,” Hoodie deadpans, breaking his blank expression when Kate loudly laughs.

“Again, he has a point,” Kate smirked. “C’mon, let Hoodie or Toby take this one. Neither of them are in relationships and are less likely to get attached.”

Tim raises a brow at Kate. “Attached? What does that mean?”

Hoodie shares a look with the woman across from him who nods at him to explain what exactly she means. “She uh,” Hoodie awkwardly sips at his beer before biting the bullet completely. “C’mon man, you have an addictive personality. Pills, cigarettes, Reader…” He trails off before Tim hisses and punches Hoodie’s shoulder, roughly. Hoodie only barks a laugh and raises his hand up in submission. “I’m right, I’m always right!” He manages to choke out through remaining giggles.

“Can we just drop it for now?” Tim growls.

Kate rolls her eyes and then pulls a face to Hoodie, who stifles his laughter just barely before she turns back to her conversation with the ladies from the booth behind her. She’s up and out of her seat following a group of them to the other side of the bar, giggling and laughing as a woman with short pink hair holds her hand and weaves her through the crowds.

Hoodie feigns innocence before standing up. “I’m gonna find Tobes, who knows what he’s doing. Tearing up the dance floor, maybe?”

Tim watches as his best friend shuffles out from his seat, beer still in hand as he disappears into the sea of people. He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. His dark eyes scan the bustling room full of bright, rainbow colored strobe lights and too loud music only to catch a glimpse of the full moon outside. It’s tinged pink, and seems to blossom the longer he looks at it. Due to where they’re currently at in the city, he can’t see the stars - much too much light pollution. A sigh is about to escape his lips when he feels a hand brushing over his, pulling him from the light of the full moon and onto the woman he’d been flirting quietly with all night.

“Never thought I’d get you alone,” she says, voice sweet like honey and smoother than silk.

Tim thinks about his words, his group’s chiding before mentally shrugging off all responsibilities. “I know, right?” He replies, voice low and deep, something charming and sweet.

She grins like the Cheshire Cat before playfully biting her lip. “I’m just passing through here,” she begins, “maybe we could… Have a few more drinks then head back to my hotel room?”

Tim feels a slight blush come to his cheeks before swallowing it back down. He smirks, leaning into her presence. “I’d love nothing more.”

The two of them knock back a few more drinks, the woman mostly choosing fruity things and Tim sticking to whiskey. Their touches become more and more bold, and their words more lusty and obscene by the moment. He has her sit on his lap and he whispers all the nasty things he wants to do to her and she gobbles it up, giggles and soft licks to the shell of his ear driving him up a wall.

And then, he follows her to her hotel. It’s a tangle of lips smashing against lips, hearts beating in sync and hands grabbing in the most inappropriate of places. Her clothes lie on the floor before getting covered up by his, her body following in suit.

Tim takes her. He drinks her in full and has her seeing the stars that were once only gazed upon by you. He touches her in ways you’ve never been touched and allows her to touch him in ways he’d always claimed were ‘too much’ for him.

When the deed is done, he’s cuddling her much like he would cuddle you, cigarette in his mouth and bliss on his face.

Tim stayed the night.

The next morning, he’s so groggy that he doesn’t even realize he’s still got her lipstick stains on his skin. He gets back in his car (failing to realize his group had to either walk back to the temp or hitch with someone else), and heads back to the only true home he’d ever considered.

It’s a few hours to your place, but he makes it, and that’s all that matters. Your car isn’t in the driveway, so he lets himself in. A quiet stumble to the bathroom and he sees he looks like a mess. The weight of what he did to you begins to sink in.

Tim turns the shower on and strips off his clothing - the clothes still linger with her perfume before he hops in and begins to furiously scrub at his skin. Tears well in his eyes. How could he do that to you? What kind of common sense was he lacking in that moment?

He continues to scrub, slowly coming to the realization that he’s going to do whatever it takes to hide this from you - you can never know. It was the light of the full moon, people always act crazy when the moon is in that phase, and he was drunk, like really drunk.

Excuses, excuses.

The water stops right when he hears the front door open. He hears your voice. You’re greeting him sweetly, like you always do.

He takes in a deep breath. You can never know.

It was only inevitable that you’d find out, though he’s surprised you went as long as you did without knowing. Tim hid it from you for months, and he probably could’ve kept it longer if he didn’t come with you to Target when you asked. You’d always been a fan of late night store runs, and he hadn’t gone on one with you in a while… What harm could it possibly do?

A lot. A lot of harm that surfaced the truth.

“I should’ve cuffed you when I had a chance!” The woman giggled as she came up beside you as you looked at the early Halloween decorations.

You raised a brow. “Excuse me?” You looked over to your boyfriend, whose face had gone pale. “I think you have the wrong…”

“You’re a lucky girl, y’know that?” She continued, brushing off your words. “He took me to the moon.” Her voice was so sultry and decadent. “Hope he takes you to the moon as well,” she says, her fingers trailing Tim’s arm.

He pulls away from her. “W...Who are you?” He says, attempting to sound confused.

The woman pulls a face before looking in between the two of you, her dark eyes glancing and putting together the pieces. Instead of being embarrassed or ashamed, she chuckles and begins to take off again. “I did you a favor, honey,” she calls over her shoulder, hips swaying as she turns down another aisle.

You don’t want to admit it, but now you know why Tim’s been so weird lately and nicer than usual. Sure, Tim is a sweet guy, but his behavior the past few months has been OVERLY nice, and now you know why. “What was that?” You ask, eyes narrowing and tears welling.

“Nothing, let’s just pay and get out-”

“I wanna go home.”

Tim moves to rest his hand on your shoulder, but you recoil as if you’d been burned.

A huge argument ensued when the two of you got back into the car, lots of harsh words were traded. He tried reasoning with you, he tried telling you how much he loved you, he tried everything in his power but he’d ruined a good thing.

You ended up pulling over on the side of the road, slamming the breaks, tears in your eyes and turned to him. “Give me the key to my house.”

“What? No-”

“Give. Me. The. Key. Tim,” you hiss, punctuating every word with stronger venom. You held your hand out.

Tim sighs deeply and reaches into his pocket, pinching the bridge of his nose as you harshly snatch the key from his awaiting hand. “It’s not like that, you know I love you-”

“Is that what you’re calling it? Cheating on me and then lying about it for months?” You rhetorically ask, growling and seething further and further. You feel rage wracking your system as it exhausts you further and further. You can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because if you do, you’ll melt.

“I’m telling you, it was to protect you,” he attempts again. “Let’s just, let’s just go home and-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you say, drawing in every remaining and residual strength you have as hot tears scald your cheeks.

“You don’t mean that-”

“I do.”

“Reader, baby please-”

“Get the fuck out of my car,” you repeat. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake your head and then turn back to the road. “Do it before I do something stupid.”

Tim feels his heart shatter, cracking on impact as it falls deeper and deeper. He shakily runs his fingers through his hair before sliding out of your car, slamming the door shut and watches as you drive off and out of his life. He wants to scream, or cry, maybe both at the same time? He’s not entirely sure yet. He just knows his world is crashing down and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He betrayed your trust and broke your heart all for one singular night of passion.

The emotionally distraught man looks up at the moon, finding no solace that it’s full again.

271 notes · View notes

imaginativeamateur · 3 years

Note

can you do 30 with kakashi and a fem reader pls 🥺🤲 I love your work and am so happy for you regarding your follower milestone, congrats !!

[Kakashi Hatake X Reader] The Power of Love

|200 Followers Event|

Prompt: 30 — "I mean it."

Pairing: Kakashi Hatake x fem!Reader

Note: Aloha, I'm back!!! Thanks for the request and the cheers😝 Okay, this one is AHHH, the title :DD This one is very sentimental but playful at the same time. There's like some serious talk but also entertaining moments, too. Without further ado, please enjoy!

Constant requests that you get married were sent in your way for the past several months. Your parents were tired of having to wait to see you bring a man home, but you had no intention to comply. The topic would come up to the table during dinner every now and then, with your mother furrowing in her brows and your father sighing in distress. On your part, you played cool, soothing them that you just found a guy and dismissing the matter with a feigned grin.

Everything would be ordinary, much to your own liking until your parents secretly signed you up for a match-matching service. You had a big argument that night but they smugly smiled and ensured that you would fall in love with him immediately. It was ridiculous.

“You’d be head over heels in no time, Y/N,” your mother said.

“Like she knows who he is,” you mumbled, scoffing on your way back to your apartment.

Though you completely shut the door to the new romance—the guy that you presumably knew nothing about—you woke up earlier than usual, earlier than you should. You blamed it on your neighbor’s child crying but you discerned that you were being irrational. The whole situation was aberrant. You purposefully threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt that was too worn out for a first date. Still, you could not be any more careless, the last thing you wanted was to get the man to generate some form of adoration for you. You checked yourself in the mirror and made sure that you looked representable nonetheless.

The sun was already high up in the sky when you locked your door and tiredly dropped the keys into your handbag, storming to the destination with angry steps. It was your day off and you could have spent your time on something much more meaningful, training, for example. Kakashi-senpai said you still needed to hone your close combat skills. You pursed your lips at the thought of the Hatake, feeling even more enraged and annoyed. The said Shinobi was a nice guy, he was gentle and mannered with everyone but you. He treated you like his kid, bossing you around, requesting you to dig through the shelves of bookstores to find the limited edition of Icha Icha that was recently published. But you did not quit being his subordinate. Kakashi had everything that you needed to harness, from his skills to knowledge, and you would never let such a golden opportunity go wasted.

Being with him for two long years brought you many benefits and visible improvements, one of them being your patience. You were short-tempered and Kakashi was just the perfect tame to your boiling climate. The silver-haired veteran knew you were cantankerous on some days, like today, when you were having an involuntary sunbathing session, and would always be later than he usually would. Over the drenching months, you grew indifferent to his tardiness, adapted to his peculiar conscience of time, and no longer rambled when he arrived. He would come up with the most bizarre excuses to get away with it, and at first, you were furious about it, but you found them somewhat adorable now.

You smiled, wondering why you were recalling your moments with Kakashi when you were waiting for your date to come. You bit the inner side of your cheek when you realized your patience was running thin—it reminded you of your silver-haired senpai. Releasing a shaky breath, you calmed yourself down, assuring that you would apologize to the man that it was merely a misunderstanding with your parents that they signed you up for today. You rubbed the surface of the table with your fingers and let your thoughts carried you away at the moment, unconsciously drumming the rhythm of your favorite song—his favorite song that you grew accustomed to after years of the very special silver-haired occupying your day.

“You seem nervous.”

Your head perked at the unexpectedly familiar voice, “Kakashi-senpai?”

The silver-haired settled himself in the opposite seat with ease, “Good morning, Y/N.”

“What are you doing here?” You did not bother to greet him back properly due to the tremendous shock being registered into your system.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to… to,” you came to a halt, fumbling with the hem of your shirt when you found it impossible to continue. It was embarrassing.

“Blind date?” He questioned, quirking a brow.

Your cheeks heated up in modesty, unable to answer his beseech.

“That seems like a yes,” Kakashi leaned back, enjoying your flustered state, “I’m here for a blind date, too.”

“A what?”

“A blind date,” he repeated without failing to lose his composure.

It took you several seconds to comprehend the whole situation, then you shifted in your chair, propping your elbows onto the table to hide your blush, “This is such an… interesting encounter. But I won’t change my mind.”

You were fairly absolute with the plan to turn the whole thing down, despite whoever was your date, despite it being Kakashi Hatake. You did not want to risk the bond that took you so long to form with him and the trust that he enlisted you upon. You could not.

“I also came resolute,” he made a simple, yet down-to-earth statement. Kakashi caught your eyes and challenged, “What do you want to do after a coffee date?”

“No,” you jerked away, “what are you saying? Are you okay, senpai?”

“We’re on a date and you still call me senpai?”

“Look, we’re not going to do this, we can’t, Kakashi,” you tried to explain but to no avail.

The silver-haired smugly smiled, “Good, Kakashi sounds much nicer.”

“I’m not joking,” you cleared your throat and glared at him.

“Neither am I, Y/N. I mean it.”

Your lips fell apart as the coherence in your mind shattered into bits and pieces. Kakashi silently observed the fleeting expressions that you made, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know,” you stuttered. You knew who Kakashi was and the tragedy of your occupation. The two of you did not deserve anyone’s love, for once that you held the chance of breaking their heart. You looked away from his eyes to conceal the wavering of your emotions, “I never thought about life in that way. I don’t need a man in my life, that’s what I’d like to believe. I don’t want anyone to feel battered when I’m gone.”

“I hate it to see those I love cry and mourn, too,” he mumbled. You listened attentively as though it was yourself confessing to the dark. Kakashi continued, “I only live for a certain amount of time but I have been constantly filling it with despair and loneliness. There were things that I want to do and people that I want to love, but because of my fear of hurting them, I didn’t. But after the massive loss that I’ve experienced, everything was different, I understood how painful regret actually is.”

Tears began to well in your eyes the more his words dropped. You balled your fists, blinking profusely to prevent the warm droplets from escaping. Kakashi noticed your quiet sobs, running his fingers over your trembling hands, loosening your grip, and interlacing your fingers with his. You released a heavy sigh and pulled both your hands back, wiping away your tears as quickly as when they fell and dampened the fabric of your jeans.

“You’re not at the bottom of agony when you lose someone important,” Kakashi breathed, “it’s when you feel empty after they’ve left and mourning on what you could’ve done when they were still with you.”

Your sobs eventually assuaged as you chewed on his words. The silver-haired distracted himself by stirring the liquid of his drink, but he was in no state to enjoy its taste. He already said everything he wanted to say, and the decision was now fully on your shoulders. But by your lack of response, he was sure that you did not see your relationship taking another form—the way that he wished. He abruptly stood up from his seat, fleeting on his feet, “Let’s forget about what’s happened. I mean I still respect you as my teammate, Y/N. Don’t forget our meeting tomorrow.”

“No-no, Kakashi-senpai, wait,” you moved, hastily shoving your hands in his direction, gripping his wrist like a vice. You hung your head low to avoid his investigating gaze as you spoke, “I do.”

His gears in his head turned, and Kakashi smiled with satisfaction, “You do what?”

Your heart was beating frantically in your chest, so fast that you felt its rapid pumps in your throat. You stuttered out, voice growing quieter the more you expressed, “I-I want to go out with you, senpai—”

“Drop the ‘senpai’ already,” he playfully hissed and you grinned, certain that you just made the best choice of your life. Kakashi leaned down and rested his chin on your shoulder blade, snuggling his face into your neck, “Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for letting me love you.”

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

Taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @thenightfallingstar @iam-gaaras-loveintrest @animepickle7 @tirzamisu @rinnegankakashi

#kakashi hatake x you #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x y/n #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x y/n #hatake kakashi x you #hatake kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake imagine #naruto x reader #kakashi imagines #kakashi fluff #kakashi fanfiction

199 notes · View notes

asset35-maya · 3 years

Note

I am sleepy but I gotta make a request before the busy tomorrow so 2 things on my mind! Sleepy and the 'oh my god they were roomates' vine xD with any characters and aus I love everything you write anyways xD Happy timezones and best vibes your way >^<!! 💖💞💕💕

Oh my god, they were roommates…

“The rental market in Detroit is absolute shit! How dare these bloodsuckers charge such high rates for the most under-developed properties! This city’s going to the dogs!”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have to pay your own weight in gold just to live in a shoebox for a year. Nonsense!”

“Uh…”

“Are you even listening to me, Tina!

Tina?

Goddamnit Tina!”

Gavin thumped his fist on her desk, but Tina’s eyes barely flicked up from her phone.

“Oh my god, you sound like my grandpa…”

Gavin turned red and his brain buzzed with a thousand colourful retorts. He was just about to pick one when Tina stopped scrolling and turned her phone screen towards him.

CYBERSCALIA @ NEW JERICHO

The suburban paradise for executive androids and humans alike. Located 25 minutes drive from downtown Detroit, with a full amenities.

Gavin’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He balked at her.

“You’re joking? How could I possibly…?”

“Get with the times, boomer…”

Tina lazily skimmed her thumb over the screen. The webpage promised plenty of greenery, good infrastructure and modest but spacious rooms. The extremely reasonable price tag was Gavin’s dream come true. He’d spent weeks apartment hunting in the wake of an early lease termination by his cantankerous landlord. Gavin knew he’d never find a better deal.

“Shit, this is so good, T! Why the phck does it have to be in that- that place!”

His friend arched a sceptical eyebrow.

“What place?”

“The Tincan ghetto!”

Tina smacked him on the arm. None too gently.

“It’s subsided public housing located in an android-friendly estate… because they’re the ones that need it most right now. And frankly, you seem to be in just as much need, so you should really get off that high horse.”

“Fine, fine. You’re right. I should seriously consider this place, even if my neighbours are gonna have more in common with my car than me. But damn, it seems a little too good to be true. There’s probably some fine print, hidden costs that’ll come out later.”

“Hmm… let’s see…”

Tina scrolled further and then let out a half-laugh. She held her phone up again.

“Nothing shady about the rates, but there is something you should know…”

At the risk of being called old again, Gavin squinted at the screen and read aloud.

“Bearing in mind the founding principles of New Jericho, all human occupants may only apply for tenancy in co-habitation with at least one android citizen of the United States of- JESUS PHCKING CHRIST! Absolutely not! I am not going to live with a plastic prick!”

Gavin had to get through half a bottle of wine before he could bear to scroll through the rental listings. Unlike other humans who had happily moved into New Jericho with their android friends or partners, he had to find an android who was also looking for a flatmate.

Some listings came from ardent supporters of Markus. These were the androids who wanted to ease the post-revolution transition by reaching out to humans. Some listings were put up by the android equivalent of frat boys. These individuals were clearly looking for someone on the fringes of human society, someone who could show them a good (if not illegal) time.

Other posts came from eccentric androids who craved company but had likely been rejected by their own kind. Gavin felt a strange twisting sensation, almost like pity, when he came across a post written entirely in third person by someone called Ralph.

He had almost given up hope when he came across a simple little listing for a two bedroom apartment in Cyberscalia.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Seeking a neat, self-sufficient co-renter. Human or android, no preference. I spend most of my time working and will be out of your way for the better part of the day. I only ask for silence during my nighttime stasis cycles, timely payment of dues and upkeep of cleanliness.

Gavin sighed in relief.

“Your room is the first door on the left, mine is the second. The bathroom, laundry and kitchenette are shared, as is the living room. I scarcely find use for the latter, so you need not worry about my intruding on any of your social gatherings, or vice versa. As long as you adhere to the terms of the agreement, our paths will not cross much.”

The tall, stiff-necked android dropped a set of keys, both mechanical and digital, into Gavin’s open palm.

“Er thanks.. RK… sorry I forgot your full model number…”

“You may call me Nines. Although, I’d rather you didn’t call me much of anything. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

In a swish of black fabric, the android turned on his heel and disappeared into his room. Two rapid clicks indicated the shutting and locking of his door.

Gavin sighed and looked around the open-plan living room. It was nothing fancy, but it was far beyond any of the other properties he’d viewed in weeks of unsuccessful house-hunting.

He sat down on the simple black couch with a huff and contemplated his situation. He’d ended up where he’d truly never expected to go, but objectively speaking, things were good… barring the high-handed manner of his robot flatmate, but who gave a shit about that.

He pulled out his phone to text Tina his thanks.

“I can’t! I refuse to! It is a violation of my personal ethics and I will simply not take this assignment any further. Good day to you sir!”

Gavin nearly dropped his bowl of cereal one morning when his roommate burst out of his door and rushed into the open balcony.

He hadn’t seen Nines in days, which was perfectly normal. The android came and went at odd hours and made hardly any noise. It was almost like living alone. The only reminder of Nines’ presence was the sight of several dark shirts and trousers regularly hung out to dry on the rack above the washing machine.

Gavin set his bowl down and watched the android tightly grip the bars of the railing and take several unnecessary breaths to calm down. He’d seen deviant colleagues express emotion many times before, but this was the first time he witnessed such a potent mixture of rage and sorrow from a synthetic being.

Out of empathy, but mostly curiosity, Gavin approached cautiously.

“Hey Nines… is everything alright…?”

There was no response for several moments. Then Nines turned around with a grimace and hands held upwards in a placating gesture.

“I apologise for the disturbance. It was hypocritical of me to disrupt the very peace and quiet I demand of you.”

“Uh… no worries…? Are you okay?”

There was a flash of steel blue eyes.

Gavin kicked himself mentally as he realised too late that he’d broached uncharted territory. Their interactions didn’t extend beyond curt nods on the rare occasion they found each other in the same space. It was almost as if Nines engineered the lack of contact, which wouldn’t surprise Gavin at all if it were the case.

“I’m fine. I merely experienced some frustration with my work.”

Perhaps it was boredom, perhaps it was his usual lack of self-preservative instinct… Gavin threw caution to the winds.

“What do you actually do?”

Nines’ expression remained stoic but his LED went through a spectacular series of colours and flashes. His next words were reluctant.

“I’m a private investigator.”

“Oh shit! I’m actually a cop.”

Gavin pointed dumbly at himself and then let his hand drop when he saw absolutely no surprise cross the android’s face.

“I know. That’s why I let you stay with me.”

“For safety?”

“Certainly not for your fashion sense.”

“Wow okay, I didn’t think I’d be much protection for a big scary droid like you.”

Nines hummed dismissively and started to move out of the balcony, body language fully indicating the end of the conversation.

Unable to help himself for some strange reason, Gavin blurted out another ill-advised question.

“What pissed you off so much?”

Nines paused halfway through side-stepping the human. A thrill went through Gavin at the shards of ice he observed for the first time up close in Nines’ irises.

“If I tell you, will you promise to stop asking pointless questions?”

Gavin nodded earnestly, and frankly… rather foolishly.

“I helped a client gather evidence to initiate divorce proceedings on the grounds of infidelity. I provided ample photo and video evidence for his lawyers to work with. Now they want me to keep following the spouse to capture more details that could gear any future settlement in his favour.”

“So what’s your problem?”

“They’re offering me an incredible amount of cash to follow her 24/7. To stake out her workplace, her gym, her parent’s home. They want me to crouch under the window of the bedroom where her children sleep. I can do a lot of things, but not that. It’s deeply insulting that they even asked. That’s why I was so… pissed.”

Nines slipped past and was nearly back to his bedroom when Gavin spoke.

“I respect that.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know, but for real though, I think ethics are important in our line of work. Not just because of we need morals or a sense of right or wrong blablabla, but because we need… clarity.”

Silence floated through the hallway as Nines paused with a hand on his doorframe.

“Clarity?”

“Yeah, like a sense of direction. We don’t just take cases right-left-centre because they make us money. I mean, we could, and people do… but they never become specialists or experts of any kind. You gotta strategise if you want a career. Ethics helps with that. I think…”

Gavin wasn’t sure what made him say any of that. He was neither one for small talk, nor a man of many words… but something about Nines prompted that unusual level of introspective discourse.

“Sorry that was weird. Never mind.”

“That was actually… very astute.”

Their eyes met and Gavin could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile.

“It’s good to see that not all humans are as one-dimensional as I thought.”

The door clicked shut, but there was no locking sound.

Since the morning of Nines’ uncharacteristic outburst, the frequency of their encounters in the common areas of the apartment increased. Wordless nods became hellos, and hellos eventually became full sentences.

Not that he’d admit it, Gavin actually looked forward to enquiring about the android’s day and the cases he was working on. It was utterly fascinating to hear about legal investigations without the constraints of police procedure.

For his part, Nines would share as much as he had the patience to, before disappearing into the confines of his room. Though the time he spent outside steadily increased every day.

Another morning, while Gavin was making his coffee, Nines emerged from his room, still in his pyjamas and looking as livid as he had the time before. Gavin had never seen him in anything but crisply ironed businesswear. Before he could voice any concern, Nines stiffly asked Gavin to keep a lookout for a homicide suspect.

He nodded and immediately reached for his phone to text the sergeant on duty at his station. By midday, there was an arrest.

That evening, when Gavin settled in front of the TV with his usual glass of wine, he heard the familiar sound of Nines’ door opening. The couch dipped beside him.

“Thank you.”

“Just did my job. I should thank you for the tip.”

“Hmm.”

Gavin chanced a glance at his roommate, and found him looking right back.

“What?”

“Nothing… I just had the realisation that much of my work is impotent without the authority and means to take any kind of action.”

The sitcom began to play and Gavin thumbed the remote to reduce the volume.

“Takes all kinds to keep the streets clean. PIs can do things cops can’t. We rely on guys like you for intel all the time, you know.”

“I know.”

No words were exchanged for a while thereafter. Gavin found himself unable to focus on the TV show with all the brooding energy emanating from his right.

“If you feel like being a private eye doesn’t make enough of a difference, then why didn’t you… um… you know…”

“Join law enforcement?”

“Yup.”

“Plenty of my fellow androids have done so. I know for a fact that my predecessor model chose to remain there. You might know him.”

“Connor? Yes. Very annoying.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

“Totally. But why didn’t you join too? You’d be brilliant on the Force.”

“My skillset is certainly well-suited, but I didn’t want to become another puppet of the state.”

Gavin really didn’t know what to say to that. He nodded uncertainly and looked back at the television. He wasn’t sure why Nines was suddenly this social.

“What are you… watching?”

Androids could scan and detect just about anything in the world, so there had to be something else to the question. Gavin, strangely, was happy to oblige.

Nines made an appearance every evening, without fail. He would sit through the TV shows if they were of interest, or he would bring his case material and notes to the coffee table to work in silence beside Gavin.

Sometimes Gavin liked to work on jigsaw puzzles on the dining table. Nines would sit beside him, pretending to read a paperback novel, but actually scanning the puzzle and passing the right pieces over from time to time.

Against all odds, an evening ritual and a tentative friendship developed. It was simple, but it was warm. Comfortable. Like nothing Gavin had ever had before, even with humans.

He awoke one morning with a slight crick in his neck but the feeling of being very well-rested.

His eyes flickered open and fell upon the window. Familiar greenery came into view… but wait… had everything slightly shifted to the left? And was that the New Jericho Capitol building? He couldn’t see that from his room! There was a tree in the way! A tree that was now a few feet away from where it used to be.

Gavin sat up in alarm as he realised that he was not in his own bed. His heart flew into his throat as Nines walked through the open doorway. Shirtless and carrying a mug of blue liquid.

“Oh good, you’re up.”

“Wha-what happened!?”

Nines frowned and sat down on the edge of the bed. He set the mug on the floor and pulled on a plain black t-shirt.

“You passed out on the couch last night. I think you finished a whole bottle waiting up for me? Sorry, I was out working later than expected.”

Gavin looked down and sighed in relief as he found all his clothes still on him.

“I didn’t want you to injure yourself sleeping at an odd angle so I brought you here. Your door was locked.”

“You could’ve easily opened it.”

“Yes, but that would’ve been an invasion of privacy. I reserve that for working hours alone.”

Gavin looked deep into the sparkling blue eyes and as usual found no trace of humour.

“Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it. Now get out. You’re ruining my silk sheets.”

Against his best efforts, Gavin could not keep the thought of being carried to bed and tucked in safely out of his mind. How many years had it been? Since something like that had been even remotely possible for him?

He knew that Nines was just being kind in his own pragmatic little way… but Gavin found that he wouldn’t mind the prospect of waking up in the android’s bed in a wildly different context.

He realised he had it bad when Tina caught him smiling to himself at work one day.

“Why so happy?”

“Oh… nothing. Just remembered something my roommate did… He’s a… funny guy.”

“Huh. Well, look at you getting along so well with androids.”

“Android. Singular. Just him.”

“Wowwww… he sounds special.”

“Who did this?”

“Gavin, the damage is merely superficial-”

“Who phcking did this??!”

He reached forward and gingerly touched Nines’ split cheek. His synth skin was smeared with blue blood and glitching in and out. Nines winced at the contact.

“Shit, sorry. That must hurt like a bitch.”

“Androids do not feel pain.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m merely experiencing a surge in sensory input wherever my chassis is exposed. I’m fine.”

“Shut up and give me your first aid kit or whatever toolbox equivalent you tincans have.”

A shade of embarrassment appeared over the android’s features.

“I… actually don’t have one. I didn’t think I’d ever need it.”

“Didn’t think anyone could kick your ass, huh?”

“No… I didn’t think anyone would ever spot my hiding place.”

“Huh. How’d that happen?”

Nines’ eyes dipped, but as always, he answered the question.

“I was… distracted.”

Something in the air solidified and both of them felt it. Gavin cleared his throat and slapped his knees like an old man about to stand up.

“Right. Let me go check if the neighbours have anything that might help with your face.”

“So who’s this dapper young gent you’ve brought to the party, Gavin?”

“Er… he’s my uh… roommate.”

Captain Fowler nodded and winked.

“That’s what they called it in my day too.”

Nines shifted beside Gavin and cleared his throat.

“He’s a PI. But I think he’s wasting his talent taking pictures of cheating spouses. He’s quite interested in police work. Maybe we could get him to assist on a couple cases now and then?”

Fowler put down his drink and extended a warm hand to Nines.

“Oh thank RA9!”

Nines came running to the cluster of police cars and enveloped him in a giant hug. Gavin laughed as he patted him weakly on the back.

“Watch the ribs, big guy.”

“I was so worried.”

“Why? Your info was good. No chance of error.”

“I meant about you.”

Gavin pulled back and regarded Nines with confusion. The flashing red and blue lights of the cars made it hard to read his LED.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe you have to ask.”

The android pulled him into a bruising kiss. The officers standing nearby broke into wolf-whistles and applause.

“What the-”

“Oh I take full credit for that, sir.”

Fowler glanced at Tina.

“The case, Chen?”

“Oh of course. I solved the whole thing. But I mean that specifically.”

She waved a hand in Gavin and Nines’ direction. The two held each other tightly and seemed unlikely to come up for air anytime soon.

“Like I helped Gav find an affordable place in New Jericho and then he met this handsome investigator droid and they were roommates.”

“Oh my god, they were roommates…”

“Yeah legit.”

\\\

Thanks so much for the request @jude-shotto

This ended up being a lot longer than expected, but I couldn’t help it. Your prompt just took me on a whole journeyyyy <3

#maya bday ask event #reed900 #rk900 #gavin reed #dbh gavin #dbh nines #gavin900 #gavin x nines #gavin x rk900 #dbh fanfic #dbh rk900 #dbh #dbh writing #my writing

115 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

One Night🌙10

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, angry Andy, hormones

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Another update? Who is this bitch actually trying?

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The bus chugged down the city streets as you sat closer to the back. You stared out the window and watched the grey sky of Nelson hanging overhead, a cloudy backdrop to the smoking city.

You sighed every now and then, trying to forget the beeping and when it stopped. You still felt Andy’s hand on your back and the suffocating silence of the drive home. The burden of the dead woman on your shoulders.

It was as if it had been years since you saw the slightly crooked pole that held the bright sign. The bus stop was as desolate as ever, the dirty bench marked with spray paint and the shelter glass cracked. You set off around the corner past the house. Each was familiar but not comforting.

Your hips hurt from the stiff ride and you rubbed your stomach. You wore one of Andy’s hoodies under your open jacket, the zipper of the latter no longer meeting. You stopped in front of your parents’ house. You hadn’t asked permission; not from your mother, your father, or Andy. There was no courtesy phone call so you hesitated, afraid you might be sent away.

It was noon. Your father would be in the garage. He always had some project going. That was his work. He was cheaper than any other mechanic in the city, he just did it all from home. He could recycle parts from the junkyard and charge half price. They usually did better than the newer parts sent away for down at the Jiffy.

You walked up the driveway, the garage door was only halfway open, the bite of the late autumn, rather the early winter, mingled with the warmth flowing under the metal. You tapped on it with your knuckles, “dad?” you called.

You stepped back as his oily hands gripped the bottom and he hauled it up entirely. He tilted his head at you but couldn’t hide his smile. He looked at your stomach and you dropped your hand. He drew you to him before you could react. He hugged you tight and rocked you.

“Your mother’s gonna be mad you didn’t call before you came,” he let go of you and looked you over again.

“Mad that I’m even here,” you remarked.

“No, she might act like it but…” he waved you into the garage and rolled over the little stool he sat on when he was working. He helped you sit and put his wrench on the plywood table against the wall, “she missed you. We both did.” he wiped his hands on his jeans, “you could have called us. You know how she is. She feels before she thinks.”

“She kicked me out,” you felt precarious on the little rolling stool, “you let her.”

“So why’d you come back?” he asked.

You hung your head and hugged your stomach, “well, I’m having your granddaughter. I didn’t want you to find out from anyone but me.”

“It’s a girl?” he grinned.

“Sorry, wish I could give you a boy to get all filthy in this place,” you shrugged.

“You never minded getting your hands dirty,” he neared and grasped your shoulder.

“Yeah, guess it doesn’t matter too much, she’ll be as curious as any kid,” you said.

You were quiet as you looked around. Your dad’s rolling chest of tools was dented and rusted, the same one he’d had your whole life. The place hadn’t changed, only the car sitting in it.

“That’s not the only reason you’re here,” he said. Your father was a simple man but he wasn’t dumb.

You frowned and felt a prick in your eyes. The hormones, you told yourself, they were getting to you.

“I need you guys,” you said quietly, “is that so bad?”

“I missed you, you’re mom did too, she’s just stubborn. Think that’s where you get it,” he turned his hand over and held it out to you, “but she won’t turn you away.”

“You sure?”

“I won’t let her. Not this time,” he bent and took your hand, “now come on.”

You let him help you to your feet and he led you through the side door into the house. You heard your mother’s old Patsy Cline CD droning from the box speakers on the shelf as she muttered to herself.

Your dad kicked the dirty off his boots and you slipped your own off. You followed him and peeked over his shoulder as he went to the living room. Your mother was wiping down the framed picture from your high school graduation.

“I got a surprise for you,” he announced as he stepped aside and beckoned you in alongside him, “and she’s got a surprise for you.”

Your mother turned and froze. Her lips formed a straight line and her eyes pierced you. She didn’t say anything as he stared at you then tossed the dusting cloth onto the table beside the lamp. She looked down at your feet.

“You remembered to take your shoes off,” she said.

Your lips parted and your chest gripped. She was still mad.

“You remembered us,” she swept over to you so quickly, you flinched. She hugged you and her middle met yours. She let go and looked down at your stomach. Her eyes were sad but not angry, “I’m…” she lifted her head and met your gaze, “I’m not good at saying it but I’m sorry.”

You watched her for a minute. She was still her mother as nasty as she’d been. You could see her regret and it coupled with your own. It didn’t fix everything but for her, it was a lot.

“I’m sorry too,” you breathed, “it was… me being stupid started all of this. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“You gotta tell her,” your dad intoned.

You glanced at him then back to your mom. You gulped, “we found out yesterday, it’s a girl.”

“We? And where is… he?” your mother bristled.

“Working,” you said.

“We went to the diner, they said you quit. The café too,” your mom batted away lashes, “please, sit.” She touched your stomach, “you’re so big.”

“Five months, I think,” you said as you let her take you to the old floral sofa, “and the doctor recommended I take it easy so I had to… leave.”

“Oh? Is something wrong with the baby?” she picked up her cloth again and resumed her dusting. Your father quietly excused himself.

“No, just me,” you leaned against the arm, “but they said my blood pressure is getting better, just have to check it now and again.”

“And that man? The least I can say is at least he’s taking responsibility, even if he is married,” your mom hung the picture back on the nail.

“It was a mistake,” you said, “but you know, I think it’s taught me a lot. Not that it was worth it.”

“I don’t mean to rag on you, but… it’s just not how it should be,” she went to the television stand and focused on the edges.

“You think I don’t know that. Mom, I didn’t come here to argue my morality. I came here…” you paused as you felt your phone buzz. You slid it from your jacket pocket and checked the ID; Andy. You ignored it and dropped it back inside, “I just wanted to see if you had any interest in your granddaughter.”

She spun back and her face wrinkled with sadness. She twisted the cloth and retreated to the rocking chair and sat. She chewed her lip and looked at the floor. When she looked at you again, her brows crinkled.

“I’m trying,” she said, “but what you did, I don’t know if I can’t get over that. That man, everyone knows him, and when it comes out, with his wife still in a coma, you don’t think about what that does to us.”

“Well,” your throat constricted and you held back the hot tears bubbling behind your eyes, “she’s not anymore.”

“What?”

“She… she passed last night,” you sniffed, “and I’ll admit that I came here as much for me as you. I just needed… needed to get away. Just for a little.”

Your phone went off again and you grunted as you pulled it out and swiped away the second call from Andy. You kept the phone in your hand and rested it against your thigh.

“I just need time,” your mom leaned back heavily.

“Well, it’s quickly running out,” you replied, “she’s gonna be here soon enough.”

“I know,” she said grimly, “I know.”

There was another silence and your phone twitched. You turned it over and checked the message on the screen; ‘why don’t you invite your parents for dinner if you’re not gonna answer me?’ You let the phone slip between your legs and slowly raised your eyes. How did he know?

“I can go, if it’s too much,” you said, “I didn’t expect to get past the front door, honestly.”

“It’s not-- you’re still my daughter,” she uttered, “and even if it’s not the best situation, you got my granddaughter too.”

Your phone began to shake between your legs and you huffed, “sorry,” you stood with effort as you snatched the phone up, “just a second.”

You went into the dining room and answered. You hissed into the phone, “what do you want, Andy?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going there?” he asked sharply.

“How do you even know? You following me?” you kept your voice low.

“I know, that’s all,” he retorted, “it is… surprising.”

“They’re my parents,” you scowled at the tabletop as you leaned on a chair.

“Mine, too, right? Considering--”

“Andy,” you warned, “come on. Let’s cut this out--”

“Invite them for dinner. You’re right. Our kid will need her grandparents,” he interrupted, “I’ll get off early and help.”

“I don’t think--”

“Invite them,” he demanded, “and don’t take the bus back. I’ll send you the money for a cab.”

“Jesus, I can take care of myself--”

“No, you can’t, which is why you’re sleeping under my roof. And this isn’t about you, it’s about the baby,” he exhaled and you heard a squeak of metal, likely a chair, “Now I want you home by two. I’ll be there shortly after.”

He hung up before you could argue. You closed your eyes and forced down the angry bile in your chest. You shuttered and tucked the phone back in your jacket. How did he know you were there?

🌙

Your parents agreed to dinner. Your mother wasn’t subtle that she was curious to see Andy’s house. Her judgement was always her driving motivation and you were certain she could find something to hate, even in the suburban utopia.

You took the bus out of defiance and brewed with anger as you got off just outside the cul-de-sac. You walked the single block to Andy’s and paced like an angry lioness inside.

He arrived at three, just after. Your anxiety boiled with anger and you stopped to face him as he entered. You watched him put down his briefcase and hang his long black coat. Your nostrils flared as you braced yourself for the onslaught ready to spill forth.

“So, you weren’t following me?” you challenged.

“I was working,” he said quietly, “to pay for all of this…” he pointed to the ceiling, “and that,” he pointed to your bump.

“No, Andy, you don’t get to do that every time,” you snarled, “how did you know?”

He didn’t answer and brushed by you. You followed him into the kitchen as he went to the coffee machine and pressed the buttons bluntly. You watched him from a foot away, your hand on the cold marble.

“You can’t just ignore me. How did you know I was there?”

“Because…” he grabbed a mug and filled it with water. He poured it into the machine and snapped the lid shut, “because you have my baby and I have a right to make sure you don’t take it from me.”

“That’s not an answer,” you sneered, “Andy, I have done everything you’ve wanted. I have stayed here, I have quit my jobs, I have kept this baby for you, and you… you’re what? Tracking me like a dog?” You reached into your back pocket and slammed your phone on the counter. You slid it over to him, “when did you do it?”

His jaw ticked as he put a pod into the machine and hit start. He tapped his fingers on the counter and let out a long breath through his nose. He turned to you and crossed his arms.

“After you stayed out that night. I couldn’t worry like that again. I had to know,” he said staunchly, “because I’ve had a wife go out and not come back. A child--”

“I’m not your wife and I won’t ever be. This child is all we have in common,” you rebuffed, “even after last night. What you did, that doesn’t change things.”

You nearly tripped as he marched towards you. He had you against the far wall, his hand planted on either side of your head as his anger rippled across his forehead and set his jaw square. You pressed yourself against the pure white wall and tried not to wither.

“I did that for you,” he breathed, “I’ve done everything for you. Don’t act like you’re the only one doing shit.”

“Andy, get away--”

“No,” he punched the wall and you gasped, “my wife is gone. Jacob is gone! This is all I have; you, my daughter…that’s everything and I will be damned if I’m going to let you take any of it away from me.”

“You’re scaring me,” you wisped, “Andy, please--”

“No, you shut up and you listen. This is the last time we have this conversation. Your parents are coming and you’re going to be good. You’re going to wear something nice, you’re going to cook something good, and you’re going to smile. You don’t let them see you crack, not once.”

“You can’t--”

“Enough!” he hit the wall again and you heard it crumple under the force, “if you don’t, they won’t be around. Ever. Do you understand me?” you gaped up at him and trembled, you shook your head in disbelief. He leaned in and spoke softly to you, “Understand that I will make sure you and no one else ever sees them again.”

“You… wouldn’t…”

“I could. I will. You’re fucking bitch of a mom deserves it,” he hissed, “so, honey,” he growled the second word, “what’s it gonna be?”

Your lip quivered and you searched his face. The rage had his blue eyes alight and his breath rasped out like animalistic snarls. You thought of Laurie, of how blank he’d been when they stopped the machines. And that smile, after. What was that?

“I’ll… be good,” you murmured, “I will.”

His lips twitched and he shoved himself away from you. He stomped over to the fridge and took out the light cream. He added it to his mug of fresh coffee and stirred. You stood straight shakily and looked up at the hole beside your head.

“Well,” he said, “better figure out what you’re making for dinner. Our guests won’t be long.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #series #one night #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

467 notes · View notes

swanimagines · 3 years

Text

GROWING OUT | JASON RIPPER

Fandom: Pennyworth (I don't write for other characters, put Freddy at fault for this)

Summary: Thomas was trying to persuade Patricia to leave the cult, but he definitely didn’t expect to meet Y/N, his other sister, again after all these years of thinking she’s dead.

Characters: Y/N Wayne (female), Jason Ripper, Thomas Wayne, Martha Kane, Aleister Crowley and Patricia Wayne.

A/N: @thereagles has been my consultant with this so if there's any mistakes, she's at fault ahem, thank you Rowan!! Also thank you for feeding my temptation to write for multifandom + random Freddy's characters from shows and movies I haven't seen completely because I'm unable to. Also since this is written from Thomas's POV, this is written like "Y/N does this and that and Thomas looks at her" instead of "you do this and that and Thomas looks at you".

Also in this oneshot, stuff that happened in S1E2 didn't happen because Jason appears to be a completely different person in E7 and in E2 he's just... brrrh, that version won't get any fics from me, sorry 😅

Also @ilovemarvelanne1 asked to be tagged so here you go Echo!

Warnings: a hint/mention of smut + mentions of reader’s pregnancy (DISCLAIMER: this kinda excused everything I usually am not comfortable writing so if you request another piece with someone else where the reader is pregnant or there's mentions of smut, there are high chances I'm turning it down)

Word count: ahem... 9.2k (some of it being straight from the show though because again, this is told from Thomas's POV)

(the gif is mine)

“This is the place.” Martha said as they neared a manor.

“Are you sure?” Thomas asked, sighing. He really didn’t feel like going to people’s doors and gamble with people’s patience. Martha seemed upset, and he was fearing that she’d demand to get inside people’s homes in search of the man she held responsible for her amnesia and kidnapping Thomas's sister Patricia.

“It looks different in daylight, but this is the place. I think.”

“You think?”

“God, stop it. Can’t you just believe me?”

Thomas shook his head. “I can’t believe I trusted you. What a mess.”

Martha scoffed. “Then go. I can handle this.”

Thomas sighed. “Three days, Martha. A three day blackout? Forgive me if I doubt your ability to handle this.”

Martha stopped, turning to look at him, before she scoffed again. “I can and I will.”

Thomas sighed deeply and followed her as Martha knocked on the door. “You have no conception for the trouble you made. Every time Patricia pulls a short straw, the Wayne family name gets dragged into the mud.”

Martha scoffed again, making her way to Thomas. “You self-important boob. I woke up half naked at the edge of town, I have no idea what happened to me. Your sister is missing and you’re worried about your name?”

She went to knock on the door again, but it opened before she could. A young man with a cup of tea came out.

“Oh. Hello.” he said, and Martha stormed past him without saying anything. Thomas took in a quiet sigh and followed behind her. “Welcome back, Martha. Who’s your friend?”

Thomas cleared his throat. “Pardon me intrusion. This young lady says my sister might be here. Patricia Wayne.”

The man smiled. “We always got so many guests.”

Martha marched to a lounge area, and looked around. “Where’s Crowley? I want to speak to him. Immediately.”

The man smiled again, turning to Thomas. “Have a drink. Wet your whistle. I’m sure we have anything you’d like.”

“No thank you. As I was saying, my sister?” Thomas replied, and Martha turned around.

“Where’s Crowley?”

“Hold your horses, Martha. It won’t be long.” the man answered, and Martha raised her hand at him.

“Call me Miss Kane, whoever the hell you are.” she paused, looking at him. “Who are you?”

The man frowned slightly, but then smiled again. “Oh. I never introduced myself properly. You saw me dancing at the party… at least you were looking towards us. I’m Jason. Pleasure to meet you.”

Martha raised her eyebrows. “Right. That guy. You were dancing with that woman, and you ran upstairs together shortly after like two lovebirds.”

Jason smiled. “So you do remember something.”

Martha took in a deep sigh. “It's hard to forget. You two were glued to each other and she giggled so much, it caused me a headache. But enough about it. Get Crowley down here. Immediately. Or I’ll call the police.”

Jason raised his hand up slightly, still a smile on his face. Thomas thought that his smile began to be a bit creepy. “Oh, don’t do that. No police.”

Thomas finally popped in, “No, we don’t want the police here either. We just want my sister.”

A man emerged from the doorway. “Miss Kane. How lovely to see you again. And in such an illustrious company. The famous Thomas Wayne. Your sister speaks very highly of you.”

“I doubt that.” Thomas replied. ”Crowley, is it? Where is my sister?”

Crowley sighed. “I’m so sorry you’ve been worried about her. Patricia’s fine. She’s upstairs. Safe and sound.” He took a cup of tea from Jason and took a sip.

Thomas nodded. “Well, good. Bring her here, please.”

“Of course. But since you came all the way here, there’s someone else you should meet. You see, Patricia isn’t your only sister living here.” Crowley smiled at Thomas’s frown and Crowley turned to Jason. “My dear boy, please get the girls.”

Jason nodded, looking at Thomas before walking out of the room.

“Girls?” Martha cocked her head with a frown. Thomas just stared at Crowley, completely oblivious to what the man meant by that. Patricia was his only living sister - Y/N had accidentally been run over with a horse, her body was never found but the rider confessed it, he had paid a generous amount of money to bail himself out and that was it. Unless there was an impostor, there was no way he’d mean her.

“He’s just trying to mess with us, Martha.” Thomas muttered. Crowley chuckled.

“Am I?” he smirked and glanced at the hallway. Patricia emerged from the doorway, smiling brightly at Thomas as Jason sat back next to Crowley.

“Tommy!” Patricia ran to hug him and her eyes shone in excitement when she pulled away. “You’ll never believe who’s here!”

Thomas frowned, looking towards the doorway, seeing a young woman stepping forward from the shadows in a long coat, way too big for her frame, and she had wrapped it tightly around herself. She looked at him shyly, and Thomas felt like his heart stopped when he walked to her with a few quick strides, intending to grab her to make sure she’s real, but the young woman quickly took a step back, clutching her coat even tighter around herself if possible. Thomas paused and stared at her, he would recognize her anywhere. His sister - his dead sister, was alive and in front of him.

But it was impossible. It couldn't be her, it couldn't. His eyes must be lying to him. But the longer he looked at her, the clearer it became. It really was her.

“Y/N?” he finally whispered, still taking her features in. Even when it had been over ten years since they had last met, he knew it, she definitely wasn’t an impostor. “What- how?”

“Wait, is she your-” Martha started, but Y/N cut her off.

“We paid that man so he’d claim that I’ve been killed.” she muttered.

“Why? Do you have any idea how worried we all were? Ten years- mother cried herself to sleep for years and still cries for you every time when I meet her.” Thomas growled, he could feel angry tears starting to form in his eyes. All these years wasted, Y/N had let everyone just think she’s dead. Y/N winced at the mention of their mother.

“I’m sorry. But I fell in love and father didn't approve of him. And then... he suggested that we run away. And I was so angry, I agreed immediately.” Y/N confessed, her voice cracking.

“You're sorry? That should cover it, all these years? And you fell in love? Y/N, you were fourteen years old.” Thomas scoffed, rubbing his face.

Y/N sighed and raised her gaze to look Thomas in the eyes, her voice gaining more confidence. “Exactly, father didn't approve of my relationship with him because I was 'too young'. I tried to talk to father, but he wouldn’t even give him a chance!”

Thomas remembered how Y/N had fought with their father that night she disappeared, it had been hard to ignore. He had loudly declared that he'll never approve Y/N's boyfriend because taking that boy into the family would stain the Wayne family name and that if Y/N wouldn't agree to find someone else, anyone else, he will make sure that she marries someone honorable to continue the Wayne heritage once she turns eighteen, and Y/N had screamed back that she hates him. Then she had taken her coat and ran into the night, and everybody thought she'd go for a walk to cool her head and then come back, like she always did. But this time, they never saw her again. Father had never forgiven himself.

But now there she was. All grown up.

Y/N closed her eyes and swallowed. "I... I know you tried to look for me despite believing I'm dead. I know father used a lot of money for it. It was all around the newspapers, my picture and clothes I was wearing that day and a promise of a cash reward if my body will be delivered back so you'd get a proper burial for me and get to say your goodbyes. And when I saw those... week after week... I wanted to come back, to tell everything and just trust that father would give my boyfriend a chance once he sees how much I love him. But... I was afraid that it would backfire. That he'd think that my boyfriend has manipulated me. His family name has a really bad reputation... a lot of awful stuff. He's not like the rest of his family, but father didn't believe it. The moment he heard his name, he ordered me to break up with him."

Thomas stared at Y/N, who now looked like she's about to cry. He sighed, trying to calm himself. But his words still held a strong tone that came out as accusing and frustration was painted all over. "We tried to find you, Y/N. Father prayed for you to be found every day. He was sorry about everything, he would have given your boyfriend a chance if you had informed us somehow. He always keeps saying that if only you were alive, he'd do everything differently. But instead, you chose to... continue pretending to be dead. You broke our mother's heart and father... he still hasn't forgiven himself for this."

Y/N nodded, looking at the roof briefly, tears falling from her eyes. "I regret running away like that every day. I should have at least left a note, but... I didn't know for sure if father would really give him a chance. I was afraid that he would find me and rip me away from my boyfriend. I really loved him and I was scared that even if I sent a letter and told that I'm alive, father would think that he corrupted me, or has kidnapped me, he'd find me through that letter and I'd lose my boyfriend anyway. And that fear just haunted my mind for all these years and I always told myself that what if, what if. I made a decision to write that letter when I'd turn 18, and I did keep that promise. But just before I was about to send it, when I was at the mailbox, another what if crossed my mind. What if father will arrange me into a marriage with someone 'honorable' so I would be forced to break up with my boyfriend? So I didn't send it and put it to my nightstand's drawer, I still read it sometimes and have wanted to send it every year on my birthday, but I've always chickened out."

For Thomas, Y/N's explanations sounded reasonable. For a fourteen-year old teenage girl. But not a twenty-four year old woman. So he scoffed, letting his full frustration come back.

“You really loved him and for that, you couldn't even give us a single, vague note that you're not really dead and that you're safe. You chose him over your own family. Right." Thomas echoed her words, running his hand through his hair. "Are you still with that boy? Who is it?” Thomas asked, his voice wavering, and Y/N averted her eyes very briefly to glance at something behind Thomas and swallowed. She was silent for a moment, just staring at her brother. Patricia let out a slight giggle.

“Actually, he’s-”

“Dead.” Y/N finished Patricia’s sentence, sending her a glare. “He’s dead. He died a few years ago. Tuberculosis. I lived on the streets for a year after I buried him, until Mr. Crowley took me in.”

Y/N was an excellent liar now, but Thomas still recognized the signs. How her left brow twitched when she lied, and how she played with her pinky. She hadn’t learned to hide those, even when her words flowed believably now. And her lies would go right through with someone who didn’t know her like her family did.

“Tell the truth, Y/N.” Thomas muttered, laying his hands on her shoulders gently.

She looked into his eyes, but then shook her head. “I can’t.”

But Thomas didn’t back up, he had to know. “No, tell me.”

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Wayne. If Y/N doesn’t want to tell you, then she doesn’t have to.” Crowley stepped in between them, and Thomas frowned at him.

“Is it you, then?” he asked, and for a moment Crowley looked like he wanted to laugh.

“Me? Oh dear, I haven’t been fond of teenagers since I was a teenager myself.” he shook his head. “No, I assure you that Y/N has been in good hands ever since she faked her death. I know her boyfriend personally and he’s such a sweet boy.”

Now Thomas understood. "Ah. You're protecting him. He's one of your followers, isn't he?"

"You could say that I'm protecting him. And yes, he works for me, that's why I trust him with treating Y/N well. But you seem to be very upset at the moment, I don't want you to go after him, wherever he is right now."

“Aleister…” Y/N muttered, she sounded nervous.

“Don’t worry my dear, I won’t spill anything more. But your brother must know that you’ve been treated well. Poor man has thought you’re dead for all this time. He deserves to have peace of mind.” Crowley purred. Thomas frowned, glancing around the hall, settling his gaze on Y/N again.

“Can I speak with you and Patricia, alone?” Thomas asked. Y/N shook her head immediately, clearly scared that she'd spill something she shouldn’t spill, and Patricia just raised her eyebrows at him.

“I don't want to.” Patricia said, and Crowley sighed.

“Go, Patricia. He’s just worried about you. As for Y/N, Mr. Wayne... she seems to be upset right now. Give her a little rest and come back to talk to her later.”

Thomas took in a deep breath, holding himself back to retort that he has the right to talk to Y/N too in private, without Crowley influencing her words, but he knew it himself - she indeed was upset and he agreed that she needed a break.

"Fine. Patricia, come." he said, gesturing to Patricia to come along.

Patricia sighed and stood up from the couch, sending Y/N a dazzling smile as she went past her, and Thomas noticed that Y/N’s eyes flashed with a pang of fear.

The garden was beautiful, and Patricia picked flowers as she walked there with her brother. Thomas asked her multiple questions, so sure that Patricia would try to plead for help, but what he saw instead was his sister being genuinely happy.

“Are you really happy here?” he asked after a moment of silence, and Patricia hummed.

“Yes, Tommy. I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be?” She sent him a smile and handed him a flower. “I’m finally where I belong.”

Thomas’s lips twitched. “Is... is Y/N happy too?”

“Oh, she’s happy. She’s doing more than fine. You might have to buy a new suit soon, a celebration is coming.” she giggled and bit her lip.

“Is she getting married with that... follower?” Thomas asked, and Patricia shook her head.

“No… but I don’t think she wants me to tell.”

Thomas frowned again. A celebration where he needed a suit but which isn’t a wedding? Her birthday was a couple of months ago, so it couldn't be that either.

“Don’t tell her that I told you but… she’s scared of you not approving it. That’s why she hasn’t told you yet. You should be more supportive of us and we’ll be an even bigger happy family again.” she smiled and handed Thomas another flower, before she broke into a wide smile again, causing Thomas being even more puzzled. “I can’t wait for it to happen.”

Thomas took in a deep sigh. He didn't want to believe it, but he had no choice. His both sisters really seemed happy here, he couldn't drag them out. And he knew Patricia, she'd drag Y/N out by force too if she truly felt threatened and Y/N wasn't stupid either, unless she was madly in love. So he just nodded.

“Fine. I’ll believe you.” he said, and Patricia began to smile widely again, throwing herself to Thomas’s arms.

“Oh, Tommy. Y/N will be so happy, I’m going to send you and your girlfriend invitations too.”

“Okay. That’s great. Can’t wait.” Thomas choked out as Patricia was squeezing him too hard.

“It will take a few months, but it will happen soon.” Patricia told him as she pulled away.

They walked back inside, and Thomas sighed when he looked at Crowley. “If any harm comes to my sisters, you’ll pay dearly.” he said, and Martha’s gaze snapped at him instantly. Y/N let out a quiet breath and seemed to smile a bit as she glanced up briefly.

Martha frowned, standing up from the couch. “Thomas-”

“I assure you, I would never harm your sisters. And with Y/N, I wouldn’t have just you to answer to. I would never.” Crowley replied, cutting Martha off, and Thomas nodded.

“C’mon, Martha. We’re leaving.”

“Leaving? You can’t leave them here!” Martha exclaimed, and Y/N looked up at her.

“They are adults. They can decide where they are living.” Thomas told Martha and sighed. Martha glanced at Y/N, Patricia, Crowley and finally Jason, who sent her a smirk again.

She turned back to Thomas. “Thomas, this man-”

Thomas cut her off, “I know what he is, God damn it.”

Crowley stood up. “Oh, please. You shouldn’t leave so soon, not with such a bad temper. You could at least stay for something to eat. I’m sure your sisters would be happy about it too. We have so much to talk about-”

“Good day to you, sir.” Thomas cut Crowley off, and turned to Patricia, then at Y/N. “Patricia, Y/N… if you change your mind, call me.”

Patricia smiled a bit. “Thank you, Tommy.” Thomas looked at Y/N, who just nodded at him with a soft smile before he walked out.

Once outside, Martha took a hold of Thomas’s arm after he had waved himself a taxi. “How could you do that?”

"Do what?" he asked, turning around slightly.

Martha groaned. "Leave them! With such a man! Patricia is just messed up and Y/N and that boy, Jason, have something going on. I saw them at the party, and seeing them now, I'm convinced they have a relationship-"

Thomas lifted his hand, cutting Martha off. “As I have said a hundred times already, they’re adults. And if you’re so worried about my sisters, maybe you should take a look at yourself first. I thought you’re a sensible woman. Apparently I was wrong.” Thomas said and walked to his taxi. “My sisters have the freedom to choose how they’ll live their life. I won’t dictate them.”

And with that, he stepped into the taxi, leaving Martha in front of the manor, before she too began to walk away with a groan.

---

A knock on Thomas’s hotel room made him sigh. He was in the middle of work and the old housekeeping lady always forgot to clean up some minor thing and was insistent on cleaning it again. At first, he thought the lady wanted to steal something, but apparently she was just obsessed with making everything overly shiny. So he got up, ready to tell her that it’s okay and that she really doesn't need to come in and hope she wouldn't be so insistent this time.

He wasn’t quite sure if he was relieved or disappointed when it wasn’t that lady.

“We have to get your sisters out.” Martha told Thomas as she stormed into his hotel room.

“Martha-”

“I remember more of what happened. Your sisters are in danger.”

“Fine. What do you remember, then?” Thomas asked, and Martha sat on his bed, and suddenly her eyes started glistening.

“It was horrible.” she choked out.

Thomas took in a deep sigh, a fear setting in. “Were you… sexually assaulted?”

Martha shook her head. “Worse.”

“Worse how?”

Martha gripped her head. “I don’t know! I just… I just know something evil happened. Your sisters are in danger, we have to get them out.”

“We don’t have proof of what happened. You could have drank too much and lost your memory because of that.” Thomas sighed.

“Why would you leave Patricia and Y/N there? You saw the place. The man is a lunatic.” Martha muttered, her hands folded on her lap. Thomas sighed deeply.

“They’re adults, they’re perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. I saw enough, and as long as they’re happy and safe, it’s alright. They’re free to come and go as they please. They’re not prisoners. And I know my sisters. They seemed genuinely happy there.”

“Exactly! How much sense does that make?” Martha exclaimed, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

“What makes you think they aren’t happy? And what makes you think Y/N would be dating- oh Lord, why am I even trying?” Thomas groaned and rubbed his face with his hand.

Martha sighed. “Crowley himself confessed that the boy works for him. And Y/N seemed very nervous when Crowley talked about him - what if the boy in question was in the room? And she seemed to have fun at the party with Jason when I saw her. And well, she was acting weird when you were out with Patricia.”

Thomas frowned. “How so?”

“Remember when I told Jason about remembering seeing him run upstairs with some woman? That woman was Y/N. And last time she was nervous. Fidgeted with her hands as she sat on the sofa. I tried to talk to her, but she answered with just a few words or a shaky smile. And she seemed to avoid eye contact with Jason. But he kept sneaking glances at her. And one time they got into eye contact by accident when he gave her some food, she looked away immediately, but I saw her smiling slightly. She tried to hide their relationship from me, I'm certain about it.”

Thomas huffed and went to the window. “You know what, Martha? You drank too much. Partied a little too hard, and then fell to sleep and that’s why you don’t remember anything, and most of your memories are hazy. And about Y/N - you saw her for the first time today, and connected her to that woman who danced with Jason because your brains try to understand. End of story. You remember it wrong, and today you were overanalyzing.”

Martha gave him a look. “I remember that perfectly clearly, it was Y/N who was in Jason's arms at the party. I recognized her. And I’m a journalist, Thomas. My job is to analyze situations, and to remember faces. But I’m telling you, that place isn’t good for those two. Whatever it is that’s between Y/N and Jason can’t be healthy, and Patricia just is messed up completely.”

Thomas shook his head and turned to Martha slightly. “Y/N was just embarrassed when her secret came out. She most likely thought she won’t have to see her family ever again. Of course she was nervous, memories pooled back to her mind. Things she has tried to shut out. And Patricia… has been taking something. They both will eventually come to their senses. But for now, they’re safe at that… place. They felt relieved when I told them that I won’t be taking them by force.“

Martha scoffed, standing up from the bed. “If you won’t help me, I’ll go alone.” she said and stormed out of the room. Thomas tried to resist, but she had too strong grip on him, and soon he found himself following after her.

Back at the manor, Martha stormed along the hallways with Thomas in total silence. Eventually, they found Crowley from the dining room.

“You’re back!” Crowley exclaimed, putting his fork down. Thomas sighed, he most definitely didn’t want to come back. Patricia and Y/N were both adults, they could care of themselves and they wanted to stay at the manor, but Martha was stubborn with it. And as much as Thomas hated to admit it, he cared about Martha way too much to leave Patricia and Y/N to the manor. Crowley reached out to Jason, laying his hand on Jason’s arm. “Please fetch the girls, my dear boy.”

“At once, sir.” Jason said, looking at Thomas and Martha for a moment before he walked out of the room.

“Such a lovely boy, isn’t he?” Crowley smiled. “His girlfriend is a lucky woman.”

Martha's gaze snapped at Thomas when Crowley said "girlfriend" and the man sighed, knowing perfectly well what Martha was about to say. “How much?” Thomas asked as he sat down. Crowley raised his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“You know damn well what.” Martha huffed. "You have even tricked Y/N to fall in-"

“Martha, patience. As we agreed?” Thomas told her, and turned back to Crowley. “Pimps and perverts like you always have a price. How much for the freedom of my sisters?”

Crowley sighed. “I’m not a pimp. I don’t want your money.”

Thomas laid his hand in front of him. “So what do you want, then?”

“I’m very fond of your sisters. Even if they wanted to leave - which they don’t - I’d be terribly sorry to lose them.”

“I’m waiting…” Thomas folded his hands on his lap.

Crowley raised his gaze to look at Martha. “Martha knows what I want. Don’t you, darling?”

“A good beating.” she answered in a heartbeat.

“Such spirit.” Crowley replied, almost sounding proud.

“What do you want, Crowley?” Thomas asked, this time his tone was demanding.

Crowley looked at him for a moment. “I want your soul, of course. That is, my Master wants it.”

Thomas broke into a laugh. “That's all? Fine. Consider it yours. Now, get me my sisters.”

Crowley sighed, cutting another piece of his steak. “You’re a businessman, Mr. Wayne. Just saying something doesn’t make it so. I need a contract. Inked in your blood.”

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut, he was beginning to feel frustrated at this point. This man was really making things difficult. “Oh please, spare me from this. I don’t believe in Satan.”

“Oh, you’re modern. Rational. Well educated. Civilized man of peace and moderation. Of course you don’t believe in Satan, but that doesn’t matter - Satan believes in you. He knows there’s a beast inside of you.” Crowley nodded his head.

Thomas scoffed again. “There is no beast in me, just profound irritation.”

“Oh, have a little faith.” Crowley said as he waved his hand, a door slamming shut immediately after it.

Thomas’s eyebrows raised. Was this man thinking he’s stupid? “Cute. Wayne Enterprises has a door just like that, in our Gotham lobby.”

“Ah, yes. Wayne Enterprises. How marvelous it must be to be a billionaire. Such freedom.”

Now Thomas understood. He sighed. “Ah. I see. When you say you want my soul, you mean my company and its assets. Dream on, buster.”

“Heartbreaking. You spend your whole life, never knowing if someone’s interested in you, or just your name. Believe me when I say that it’s you he wants. Your spiritual essence. Not your company.” Crowley muttered, and Thomas sighed. He really wanted to punch this man and drag his sisters out.

“Wow. You’re a good con man. I see how you brainwashed my sisters. But you need more than magic tricks to convince me.” Thomas nodded at Crowley as Patricia entered the dining room.

“Oh, Y/N isn’t taking part in this, she’s living here for other reasons entirely. Unlike popular belief, Satan helps those who need it. Y/N isn’t judgmental towards us, and that’s why Satan lets her stay here.” he turned to Patricia. “Your brother thinks I’ve brainwashed you.”

“That’s ridiculous. Aleister is just a very wise and loving man. A teacher.”

“Patricia, he’s the servant for the fucking Devil.” Martha told Patricia, and Thomas took in a deep sigh.

“Martha… I’m trying to make a deal with this person and you’re making it really difficult.”

Crowley stood up with a wine bottle in hand. “Tell me, how did you two end up working together? What was the League thinking?”

Y/N came to the room, breaking off the conversation. She was wearing a red dress which had a lot of ruffles. Patricia broke out into a laugh upon seeing her.

“What a hideous dress, not your style at all. It looks like you’re trying to hide something.” Patricia snickered and glanced at Thomas. Y/N sent a glare at her sister.

“I wanted to dress up. We rarely have such fancy dinners together, even more rarely with guests, and never with our brother attending.” she calmly told her as she sat down, and Jason came behind her, cutting her a piece of steak and pouring her a glass of water. She smiled and glanced at him briefly. “Thank you, Jason. Looks good.”

Patricia chewed on her own piece slowly, her gaze following Jason as he went back to Crowley before she turned to Y/N again with a smirk. “Well Y/N, tell us about your boyfriend. He’s quite a character.”

Y/N shifted on her seat, glancing up at Patricia, then at Thomas. “What do you want to know?”

“His name is nice, fits perfectly together with your name. I can’t wait to design wedding invitations.” Patricia leaned on her hand. Y/N sighed deeply and didn’t answer anything, cutting her steak into pieces. “Well, what about his appearance? He has gorgeous cheekbones.”

That made Y/N pause for a bit and glance at Thomas worriedly. He frowned. Y/N turned to their sister again. “I haven’t noticed anything out of average with his cheekbones.”

Patricia pouted. “Oh, don’t be boring. Give our brother something. It would be good if Tommy would know about what kind of man it is you ran away with.”

“His appearance is irrelevant.” Y/N huffed. “But fine. He listens to me and is always interested in what I have to say. He gives the best cuddles. He reads a book to me if I have trouble falling to sleep. He’s supportive of me. We take long walks together. And he definitely never interrogates me like you do. Happy?”

Patricia groaned. “But Y/N, we’ll never know if Tommy will meet him someday, I’m sure he’d be happy to meet him.” Y/N was silent again, rolling her eyes slightly at her sister before taking a bite of her steak. Silence engulfed the room, just dining utensils clinking against the plates as they ate.

“Tommy, last time you visited, you asked if Y/N was happy here. A night some months ago sounded like it.” Patricia said after a moment of silence.

"Patricia, please," Y/N whispered. "Not now." But Patricia just wouldn’t stop, she clearly wanted the drama to burst out. She leaned towards Y/N.

“It really sounded like you enjoyed yourself that night, the bed’s creaking and all those moans and you begging him to go faster and harder told me that much, and then it suddenly stopped when he groaned and you both turned to be dead silent. I think he accidentally came inside you and you got spooked because of accidents,” she sent another smile at Thomas, and Y/N's face became more and more pained and Thomas could hear her broken takes of breath, like she was panicking. But why would she be panicking? Sure, Thomas felt embarrassed too because of Patricia's stories about Y/N's passionate nights with her boyfriend, but it seemed like Y/N was terrified of something.

"Patricia, stop it." Y/N hissed, her voice cracking slightly. Thomas could almost hear her pulse rising.

Patricia giggled. "After a few minutes, I heard fast steps coming from your and his room and going to the bathroom and then I heard the shower turn on. You tried to wash his semen out of you."

Now Crowley sighed audibly, lowering his fork and tutting. "Patricia, that's enough."

But Patricia didn't care, and pressed on, “Don't be ridiculous, Y/N. Tell him. Our brother must know." When Y/N didn't reply, just staring at her sister in total disbelief, she groaned and turned to Thomas. "Fine, I'll do it myself. Tommy, it's time for you to know more about that celebration which I mentioned yesterday. Did you know that we’re not the only ones here? The one we'll be celebrating is hidden-”

Now Y/N seemed to get furious, standing up from the table, her glass of water falling over. “I said stop it!” Thomas looked between Y/N and Patricia, utterly confused about what was happening.

“Girls, please.” Crowley sighed. “We have guests. Jason, dear, could you help Y/N clean up?”

Jason made her way to Y/N, pulling out two napkins from his pocket, gave the other one to Y/N and began wiping the water from the table cloth with the other. Thomas caught him glaring at Patricia briefly.

“Oh, Jason is always such a sweetie. Helping Y/N, when she’s in that state.” Patricia smiled.

Thomas’s brains began whirring slowly. “What state? Are you sick?”

Y/N looked like she’s on the verge of tears which made Thomas even more puzzled. Patricia seemed to notice it too, as she fell silent suddenly, her smile faltering slowly as she laid her gaze back to her plate. Y/N threw the napkin on the table, storming out, leaving everyone staring after her.

“Jason, please check on her.” Crowley sighed, which resulted in Jason nodding, folding the napkins so they’d absorb the water from the table and then he went after Y/N. “And Patricia, you went too far. Please be more respectful towards your sister. She’s in a fragile state now.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Thomas asked again, and Crowley sighed.

“Women’s things. We, as men, can’t entirely understand it, but I assure you, Jason knows just what to do.”

Patricia looked at her plate, looking like she lost her appetite. “I didn’t mean to upset her that much. I just wanted to tease her a bit, like sisters do.”

Crowley nodded. “We know that. And Y/N will understand too. Jason will be there calming her down, she’ll be back in no time. Just apologize to her immediately when she does.”

Patricia nodded. “I will.”

Martha sighed and stood up. "I'm going to check on her too."

"Ah, but I wouldn't encourage you to do it, Jason knows how to help Y/N-" Crowley tried to say, but Martha had already disappeared from the doorway. But it didn't take even a minute before she was back, Y/N and Jason coming after her. Thomas noticed that Martha laid wary glances at the two as Y/N kept her gaze down, before Martha sat back down at Thomas's side.

"What?" Thomas asked, but Martha just shook her head.

"I'll tell you later."

Crowley looked at Patricia, who nodded and sent a small, nervous smile at Y/N. “I’m sorry. I went too far.” Y/N just nodded, but didn’t answer anything.

“Y/N? Dear, your sister just apologized.” Crowley sighed, and Y/N rolled her eyes before turning towards Patricia.

“My relationships or sex life aren’t yours to scatter around. If you’ll keep quiet about them and my boyfriend in front of our brother, I’ll forgive you. If there's something to tell, I will tell him myself,” she muttered and looked at Crowley. “Can we return to eating now?”

Crowley nodded. “So glad to see you girls can talk again. And yes, I have a few things to say to your brother, Patricia cut me off last time.”

Thomas sighed deeply. “What?”

“The League. What was it thinking when it put you two working together?”

“What League?” Thomas asked, and Crowley smiled.

“Now now, I’m not a fool. The No Name League.”

“We are not working for the No Name League.” Thomas said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Really? Next you’re telling me you’re not a spy for the CIA.”

Thomas tensed up immediately and raised the wine glass to his nose, but didn’t take a sip, suddenly feeling Martha’s gaze on him. He tried to prevent himself from shaking. All these months, he had successfully been hidden but now some pervert had found out about it. Did CIA have a spy? “A strange idea. Not true.”

Martha frowned at him. “You’re CIA?”

Thomas felt his pulse begin to rise, and now Patricia and Y/N were looking at him too. “I’m not.”

“Holy shit. Of course, I should have guessed.” Martha looked distraught, and Patricia broke into a wide smile again.

“The CIA? Like… the CIA?” she started laughing, and now Thomas felt like he understood a little why Y/N got so upset a moment ago. His sister knew how to be infuriating.

“I’m not. Where did you get such a notion?” Thomas asked Crowley.

“My boss. Where else?” Crowley answered, and Martha looked Thomas up and down, and Thomas felt how his temper was crumpling.

“Okay, it’s extremely dangerous to spread that kind of a lie!” he shouted.

“Tommy,” Thomas heard Y/N’s voice say. He turned to her slightly. “Please don’t yell.”

“This man isn’t respecting me and lies about me, Y/N. I have the right to yell.” he said a bit more calmly. Crowley smirked.

“Your brother has a beast inside him, Y/N. And it’s only waiting to be set free. Don’t blame him, he has tried to hold it in for such a long time.” he said and Thomas took a deep breath.

“I’m so impressed, Tommy. The CIA. Have you killed people?” Patricia asked, and Thomas turned to her.

“I repeat - no.”

Martha smacked the table. “Son of a bitch. CIA. Wow.”

Now Thomas was tired of arguing. “Never mind the CIA! Which I’m not a member of. Let me get this straight - in exchange for the liberty of my sisters, I have to sell…” he couldn’t hold in a laugh. “I have to sell my soul… to the devil?”

Crowley stood unfazed. “Precisely. What do you say?”

“I’ll give you one hundred thousand to hand them over.”

Patricia huffed, and Y/N glared at her brother.

“Excuse me?” Y/N asked, she sounded upset.

“We’re not goddamn packages.” Patricia continued.

“I don’t want your money.” Crowley repeated his earlier statement.

“Don’t you think my actual soul is a bit high price for my sisters? They’re not Snow Whites. Four thousand hundred pounds.”

Y/N blinked at him with her mouth hanging open, as Patricia said, “fuck you” for them both.

Crowley took his wine glass, walking slowly towards Thomas. “You get much more than just your sisters, in return. You get my master’s eternal friendship. You’re a smart businessman, Mr. Wayne. Think about it, think about the power you could have.”

“I have enough power, you fool!” Thomas hissed to him.

“See now, there’s a beast inside of you.” Crowley smiled. “The real Thomas Wayne is a murderer.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll play along with your little charade. You’re Lucifer’s servant. I don’t negotiate with underlings. Let me speak with your boss.”

Crowley smiled again. “As a rule, he doesn’t ground personal gatherings for audiences, except for Saints and the like. But there’s no harm in asking.”

Thomas nodded, and Crowley nodded to Jason, sending him away from the room. Thomas noticed Y/N glancing after him worriedly, and then glancing at Patricia.

“Girls, you can go to the lounge to wait for us to come back.” Crowley said, and then led Thomas out of the room.

They didn’t get far, before Thomas heard heels on the floor nearing him.

"Thomas, wait." Martha stopped him, and Crowley laid a glance at the two. Thomas cursed quietly, he was getting tired of Martha's overanalyzing and observations. But he still cared about her too much to let it be.

"A moment, please." Thomas sighed after a moment. Crowley looked at Martha.

"Of course." he then said, gesturing to the hallway, indicating they could talk there.

"What?" Thomas sighed. Martha looked around for a moment, and leaned forward.

"I went after Y/N because I had my doubts on why she was on edge, and my doubts were comfirmed. Jason was at the lounge with her calming her down, he muttered something to her, his forehead against hers and he was wiping her tears while holding her hand, and then he moved his other hand on her stomach, Y/N moved her own hand over his and he smiled when he looked down at her stomach and he asked if Y/N 'feels any kicks yet'. And then they noticed me, I must have made a noise, and jumped apart immediately. Thomas, she's pregnant." Martha whispered. "And Jason is the father."

"My sister? Pregnant? With a satanist?" Thomas scoffed with a short laugh. "Don't be silly, Martha. You probably heard wrong and got it all wrong. That boy is Crowley’s servant and does whatever he asks of him, he was just calming Y/N down."

Martha huffed and laid her hand on Thomas's shoulder. "They were being weird yesterday too when you were at the garden with Patricia, remember when I told you? And didn't you notice how Patricia was acting weird at the table, making strange comments about Y/N's dress, and that thing about the bed creaking and 'accidents'? It would make sense, she was hinting about Y/N and Jason in hopes it would set you off."

"Patricia has been brainwashed, she's being delusional. She probably doesn’t know herself what she’s talking about." Thomas waved Martha's hand off.

"Then why did Y/N get upset about her words? And why was Crowley so insistent about sending Jason after her? And when you got angry at Crowley, her hand immediately went to her stomach, as to protect something, and then she was asking you to calm down." Martha shook her head. "Just face it, Thomas. It's silly of you not to see that, the signs are obvious."

"Y/N is brainwashed as well. Her mind has been shaken because of these people. At the very most, she thinks she’s pregnant, but there’s no way she actually is. She doesn't even have a bump." Thomas sighed, but deep down he was feeling a tingle of doubt.

"God, Thomas. You haven't seen her for ten years, you can't know who she is now. And in case you don’t know how women become pregnant, it doesn’t need anything else than one passionate night with a man ejaculating inside the woman, and-" Martha hissed.

"I know how women become pregnant, Martha! But I also know my own sister, she isn't some whore who runs around fucking people and getting pregnant before marriage." Thomas hissed back, cutting Martha off. Martha groaned.

"I didn't say she's a whore, I said that-"

"Everything alright here?" Crowley had appeared beside them and before Martha could say anything, Thomas nodded, turning away from Martha.

"Yes. Everything is fine. Shall we go now?"

Crowley nodded, gesturing to the small door under the stairs, and Thomas stepped through it. They came to a creepy basement with an altar dedicated for their sick rituals, and Thomas rolled his eyes.

“So… you want to meet the Devil.” Crowley said as he made slow steps towards the altar.

“No, I don’t. And I’m confident I won’t.” Thomas replied.

“Supposing you do. Suppose you meet him.” Crowley turned to Thomas. “Will you listen to what he has to say?”

“Can we get on with this, please?” Thomas retorted. “I’m curious to see what kind of hocus pocus you’ve cooked up.”

Crowley nodded. “Good enough.”

He gestured to Jason, who rolled up a projector screen. Thomas chuckled and grimaced. Jason rolled a projector to the middle of the room, and Thomas sighed.

“Okay?” he asked, and Crowley pulled up a chair for him to sit. He obliged, and Jason put the film to roll. The first thing coming to screen was a naked woman, and Thomas huffed. “Really? Nude movies?”

But soon it came clear to Thomas that it wasn’t any porn movie - he saw Patricia having sex with multiple men, and Jason started mocking him.

“Your whole family must be messed up. Look at your filthy sister.” he said, and Thomas just felt a wave of rage washing over him, silencing his rationality. He just saw red.

“Turn it off!” Thomas screamed, and when Jason didn’t make a move to do what he was told, Thomas stood up, marching to the projector. “I said turn it off!” And proceeded to break the projector. Jason looked up to him.

“You missed the best part.” he told him, and Thomas’s fist made contact with his face. The next moments, he didn’t even entirely know what he was doing. He realized he was strangling Jason, wanting to kill him. Jason laughed at first, but after a moment Thomas could see terror setting onto his features. It just gave him more fuel, and he slammed Jason to the ground, wrapping the film tape around his neck. He pressed down on his neck, seeing Jason’s face turning bright red.

“Jason?” Y/N’s voice gasped suddenly from the stairs, and Thomas could hear her hurrying down. But he was too much in rage to stop what he was doing, and only registered Y/N properly when he saw her hurrying towards them.

“Get off him!” Y/N screeched and basically charged at her brother, knocking him backwards before she crawled to Jason, helping him get the film tape off from around his neck and pulled his head to her lap, stroking his hair as he struggled to breathe. “Oh, Jason, honey… you’re okay now.”

Honey?

“Y/N?” Thomas choked out. She just gave him a glare and cradled Jason closer to her body and the softness in her eyes returned immediately when she looked at him.

“Breathe, my love. You’re alright.”

My love? Thomas blinked a few more times to make sure he wasn’t seeing or hearing things, but he still saw his sister cradling Jason’s body, running her fingers through his hair and shushing him as he coughed after finally being able to breathe properly. Was Jason the man who she ran away with? Was Martha right? After Y/N could help Jason to stand up, she whipped around to face her brother.

“What the fuck Thomas, you could have killed him!” she screamed at him, her eyes full of wrath and fire, and Thomas staggered back.

“Is he that boy who you ran away with?” Thomas asked after Y/N had stared at him for a moment. “Y/N-”

“Shut up.” she said, and Thomas caught Jason’s eyes. The bastard was smirking at him.

“Son of a bitch.” Thomas growled and stepped forward again towards Jason. Both of his sisters were messed up with something sick and unnatural like this, and one reason for it stood right in front of him. But before he could even get past Y/N, she struck him straight into the face with her fist.

“Keep away from him.” she growled as Thomas held his face for a moment in complete shock. “Isn’t it bad enough that you already almost killed him?”

“Y/N, calm down. It’s not good for-” Jason tried to say, but Y/N cut him off.

“He tried to kill you, he could have made- you’re a monster, Tommy! This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you, I knew you wouldn't give him a chance, just like our father didn't!” she screamed and pushed Thomas backwards again. But suddenly, she staggered back herself, clutching her stomach.

“Angel,” Jason took Y/N’s hand and laid his other hand on Y/N’s stomach protectively, while laying another smirk Thomas’s way. Y/N immediately cast a worried glance towards her brother and then nodded, laying her own hand on top of Jason’s, seemingly finally calming down. It took Thomas a moment of him to catch up with what he had just witnessed, and he suddenly realized why Y/N had that dress with so many ruffles - Martha had been right with that too. Thomas had been stupid when he hadn't believed her, too much in belief that he'd know her own sister after she had grown up without any contact to him.

“I… I think that was a kick.” Y/N said after a moment of silence, even a small hint of a smile on her face as she looked at Jason, and Jason rubbed her stomach, a smile appearing on his face too. That was the confirmation, and Thomas’s eyes widened in terror.

“No. No, you aren’t… you’re not having-” he began, but Y/N glared at him again, shutting him up.

“We should go to our room.” Jason said, removing his hand from Y/N’s stomach and moving it to grasp her other hand instead. Y/N turned to Thomas once more, venom dripping from her words, her hand clutching her stomach again, flattening the fabric so Thomas could see the bump more clearly to make a point.

“Do you realize you could have made this child fatherless?” she spat. “You're not my brother anymore. Don’t you dare come near me or my family ever again.”

Then she left the basement, holding Jason’s hand, not sparing another glance at her brother. Thomas had to pull together all his willpower not to charge after them. Y/N was already tied to Jason forever, even if he would try to pull them apart.

“Y/N and Patricia… both messed up with something like this.” Crowley suddenly said from behind him. Thomas turned to look at him, the horror finally setting in with its full force. “I told you, there’s a beast inside of you. You can take your sisters with you if you want because you kept the deal, but I doubt that Y/N will leave with you after what you did. But I’ll talk to Patricia, she’ll be leaving with you today voluntarily.”

---

“We’re leaving. C’mon, Patricia.” Thomas said immediately when he marched to the lounge and saw her, grabbing her hand and starting to drag her out by force. They had to get out immediately.

“No, no! Aleister!” Patricia screamed, and Aleister raised his hand.

“Peace, peace, be at peace, Patricia. Your brother and I understand each other now. You must do what he wants. I command it.” he told her, and she looked at him, not believing what he was saying.

“What about Y/N? She is part of the deal too.” Martha turned to Crowley, and he raised his tea cup to his lips before he nodded.

“Yes, she is. And you’re free to drag her along if you want. We made a deal, and she’s part of it. But I would advise you to consider it very carefully.”

“No. We won't take Y/N. We have to... we have to leave her.” Thomas stated immediately, running his shaky hand through his hair, and Martha frowned.

“What? Why?”

Thomas looked over at Martha. “It doesn’t matter. Her place is here now. She... we’re leaving, we got Patricia.”

And so they left, Thomas walking in front of the two women as they exited the manor.

“What happened down there? What do you mean we have to leave Y/N?” Martha stalled as they stepped out from the gate, and Thomas stopped, glancing at Patricia before he tilted his head towards Martha. “We have to get Y/N out too. That environment can’t be good for her child either. I know you don't believe me-”

"I do believe you. I saw it myself." Thomas muttered, so quietly that Martha barely heard him.

"What?" She blinked, but composed herself again. "Well, now you know why we have to get her out. That boy has manipulated her, together with Crowley. She isn't safe up there."

Thomas shook his head sharply. "She hasn't been manipulated. She's really in love."

"How do you know that?" she asked, and Thomas swallowed, turning to her. Martha gasped when she saw Thomas's black eye.

"She was protecting her boyfriend," Thomas let out a long breath, before he slowly looked up to the window which faced the street. Martha's gaze followed his, and they saw Y/N standing there, glaring down at him. She had changed her dress to a leaner one, and her bump was clearly visible with this dress. Jason came behind her, resting his hands on her bump and he pressed a kiss on her bare shoulder. He said something to her, causing Y/N to smile and look at Jason over her shoulder before they shared a brief kiss. Then she left from the window, and Jason glanced down at Thomas, sending a smirk at him before he disappeared from the window too. Thomas only now realized that he was indeed going to be an uncle, but he didn't know if he was going to see Y/N ever again, let alone her child.

"I don't think she would come with us even if we forced her, she'd just run away again. Her life is here now, she has grown out from the person she was before." Thomas finally answered, stepping into the taxi. Martha sighed, and Patricia was quiet for once. They sat there in total silence after Thomas had told the driver the hotel's address, with Thomas's head whirring with fear. Did he really meet the Devil? And if Y/N hadn't come to the scene in time, would Thomas have killed Jason? Would he have made Y/N's child fatherless? Even though he wasn't so sure if Jason would be a good father for his niece or nephew, he knew that killing him could have driven Y/N crazy - she really seemed like she's in love. And she most definitely wasn’t that teenage girl who one day had a fight with her father about her new boyfriend and ran away. She had grown up and out of that person. And today sealed it, she had disowned herself from the Wayne family.

But still… Thomas hoped that they would see each other again one day if the storm would pass. Y/N was family to him and always would be, even when she didn’t think so anymore. Maybe someday, he'd be able to apologize. Maybe he'd even be able to accept Jason to the family. Family dinners would be strained, but as long as Y/N would be happy and safe... he'd be willing to endure an unpleasant person.

He couldn't do much more anymore than hope. Hope that it would be alright, in one way or another.

---

Forever tags: @bookfrog242 @katherinepetrovawife // I don't officially write for Pennyworth, so you can't really ask to be added to the list for the fandom. This idea just happened to inspire me, though I might be open for ideas for Jason x readers in the future too. Freddy does wonders I guess. I should probably open a Freddy's characters taglist of its own for completely random fandoms I haven't watched entirely but where I only write for his character XD

#jason ripper #jason ripper x reader #jason ripper imagine #pennyworth #pennyworth x reader #freddy carter #female reader #my works #oneshot #jenfaves #my gif

70 notes · View notes

formidxble · 3 years

Text

summary: you and chan follow a routine every night. tonight’s different.

pairing: bang chan x female reader

word count: 3.1k

genre: angst, like Extreme Angst™️, college!au, established relationship

warnings: a lot of swearing, toxic relationship, mentions of sex ( oh and btw, this is not beta read. we die like men)

note: omg? finally? i got to write something and now i’m posting it on here? confidently??? who is she, we don’t know her! enough jokes though, this is my first fic ever that’s going to be posted on this platform, so i’m excited! constructive criticism and feedback are welcome 👉🏻👈🏻.

tagged ❤️: @popisdead @hanflix

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

it’s become routine at this point.

when chan sees your room’s light turn off, it’s a signal that your roommates are now headed to bed and that you’re ready to come out and meet him. it’s been a busy few months for the both of you and the nights were the only time you two could meet. he’s a business major working on his business proposals for the semester and you’re a performing arts student, preparing for this semester’s art production. saying it was hard to make time to see each other was an understatement. nevertheless, you two made sure you still met, may it be only for a few minutes. some nights you were lucky, being able to meet for an hour or so. nights were reserved for chan and for chan only.

after putting on your coat, you reached out for the door knob as you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. “are you coming or not? i’m freezing” you sigh softly.

the first few nights were fun, you have to admit. impromptu grocery shopping for the both of your food supplies for rest of the week, a few make out sessions here and there, and sometimes, leading to even more if you both were lucky enough. it gave you a high you never thought you would ever come down from. whenever he kissed you after a long day, you felt as if the weight on your shoulders fell off, even for just a moment. whenever chan held you in his arms and told you it was going to be okay, your chest loosened, even for just a moment. chan was the calm in the chaos and when you were in his car, holding his hand and feeling his lips lingering on yours, he provided the needed break you longed for during the day.

but, as the days and weeks passed by, the nights became shorter and quieter. rides became quicker and the good conversations slowly turned into mere small talk. no longer would he give you soft touches, no longer would he ask how your day went, and no longer would chan look at you the way he did before. no more i love you’s, no more second glances when he dropped you off at your dorm during the early hours of the morning. you excused the change of behavior as the result of your fatigue in school. the change was expected, you always told yourself.

it’s become a mantra now, something you repeated to yourself as you lied in bed at night, a routine. a routine.

you close your eyes for a moment as you twist the doorknob to open the door. you focus on your phone again as soon as you got out of your dorm. “coming."

you spotted chan’s car a mile away. before, he would put the window down to greet you, a soft smile spreading across his face. now, you were faced with the car’s tinted windows, your reflection staring back at you as you wrapped your fingers around the handle of the car door. you heard the lock click.

“hey,” you mumbled. you heard a soft hum in response. you quietly put the seatbelt on, relaxing your back on the seat as you stared ahead. chan was on his phone, seatbelt off. light from his phone illuminated his features. the bags under his eyes were a little bit more prominent than the last time you noticed. you wonder if he’s been eating, getting enough sleep, but you weren’t in the position to ask now. not when frustration is starting to boil in your chest.

you didn’t know if you should call him out. it was his way to unwind as well, but then again, he was there to pick you up for a short date. this was the only time you both had for yourselves, yet here he was, texting away on his phone. this shouldn’t annoy you as much as it does now because chan does this whenever he was waiting.

“hey,” you repeat louder. chan looks up from his phone, an eyebrow raised.

“yes?” he asks, turning his phone off. the two of you are surrounded in darkness, with only the light from the lamp posts outside lighting the interior of the car.

“what do you mean, ‘yes?’ are you serious?” chan furrows his eyebrows at your words as he straps himself in. he turns to you, blinking. you suck in a breath.

“this is the only time we get to spend together and you’re on your phone? are you ser—“

“i’m sorry. there,” he breathes, “can we move past this? i’m not in the mood to fight.” he interrupts. you open your mouth to say something back, but you’re cut off by the movement of the car.

the air inside the car was heavy, heavier than usual. sure, you and chan had a couple of unresolved fights the other nights and sure, you spent you early mornings crying over him, but it should have been resolved with the few kisses he gives you, right? then why are you so upset now? chan makes amends, tells you he’s sorry for raising his voice, for ignoring you the whole day. he was busy, right? of course he’ll end up not texting you. he kisses the pain away, even though he’s the reason for said pain. he talks his way out and if he avoids the topic of the fight, you wouldn’t mind. that was the routine. but not tonight, apparently.

“you’re always not in the mood.” you whisper, crossing your arms in front of your chest. you watch the trees outside of the car starting to blur as chan’s driving sped up. this night will end as quick as it started, you thought. you hear a sigh beside you.

“i just—“ chan starts, “i can’t fight anymore, y/n. i’m tired.”

“and you think i’m not?” you answer back, looking at the man beside you, “god, we never talk anymore, chan. all we ever do is fuck the pain away and—“

you’re cut off by the sight of chan’s knuckles slowly turning white on the steering wheel. you almost don’t see the way he clenches his jaw. he pulls the car over at the side of the road and for a second, you think you two will be able to finally talk about your issues, the problems that were never muttered, but still plagued your relationship. god knows you wanted to hear from him, anything— fuck, just anything to finally resolve it, fix it. to finally end the routine you both had. but that hope shatters as soon as his mouth opens.

“what do you want me to say? we’ve been okay, we’ve been fin—“

you let out an exasperated sigh, eyes meeting his, “we aren’t fine, chan, we haven’t bee—“

“what do you mean?” chan questions. he removes his seatbelt to turn to you. a gentleman he still was, even though you knew he was avoiding the topic. again. “fuck, what do you want me to say? i was on the phone. how does that merit a full blown argu—“

“it’s not about the damn phone!” you exclaim, finally feeling the frustration in your chest blow over.

were you going crazy? why didn’t he see the changes? doesn’t he feel the frustration? were you the only one feeling this way, then? does he feel that everything was okay or were you that good at acting that everything was okay, that nothing was wrong? you run a hand down your face as you try to collect yourself. the car became quiet, as always. chan was never really vocal about things like this and let you do the talking. maybe this is why issues were never resolved.

“then, what is it about?” chan mumbles, eyes never leaving your form. you let out a soft scoff.

"what is it abou—are you kidding me? are you fucking with me?”chan raises an eyebrow in response, furrowing it afterwards. he lets out a sarcastic laugh after a few beats of silence. he shook his head as he turned to face the road again.

“is this fight going to last all night? if so, i’d rather just drop you off,” he starts to put his seatbelt on, "we can continue our date when you’re not this moody."

and at that moment, your world nearly stops. the silence in the car was loud and the tension, if you could see it, could be cut with a knife. his words echo in your mind as the car starts moving again, chan preparing to make a u-turn to go back in the direction of your dorm.

“not...this...moody?” you repeat to yourself. chan nonchalantly hums in response.

you couldn’t even look at this man anymore. it was as if you didn’t know him anymore. he carried the name of your boyfriend, but was he really the chan you knew? the chan you knew won’t be able to say these things to you, let alone treat you like this. you feel like a deer in headlights, shocked at how everything led up to this moment. and to think that the turning point of your relationship was something as simple as chan being on his phone. you closed your eyes as you tried to fight the lump forming in your throat.

“so, what am i supposed to do?” you ask. "just go home and think about what i did? what i said?”

chan shrugs. he shrugs. you couldn’t believe how he didn’t take this conversation seriously. was it because you’ve been in this exact same situation before? sure, fights have been frequent, but were they frequent to the point that chan just straight up ignored them? to the point that he never brought the topics up again? no effort to try and fix it?

was he that tired that he was willing to let everything pass? let you suffer in silence?

“stop the car,” you whisper shakily. chan doesn’t listen, though. he never does, he rarely does. he never listens anymore.

“chan, please stop the car,” you feel stupid begging, but that does it. he stops the car again, your dorm building in sight. his knuckles start to turn white again, but he closes his eyes this time. you hear him take a sharp inhale through his nose.

“i can’t fight anymore, y/n, please, just...we can fix it tomorrow, whatever it is.”

you let out a soft sob at his words. “chan, you always say that, god, you always say that.”

chan grips his steering wheel tighter. “yes, i do, but we always fix it. we always end up fixing it.”

“no, we fucking don’t!” you scream now, releasing the frustration that has been clawing to come out, “no, we don’t fix things, we fuck it away and we pray that things magically turn okay in the morning, but it never does! it never fucking does!”

chan stays quiet, eyes drifting to the car floor. you wish you could know what he was thinking. you wish he would talk to you, tell you what he really felt instead of just sitting there. god, were you tired. you were tired of pretending things were okay when they aren’t. you were tired of telling yourself it would be fixed, that the relationship would go back to normal, but it never does. and you just somehow have to live with it because that’s how it is with you and him. that’s the routine, right? and even though you hated it, you tolerated it because you loved him. but people will reach an end point, one way or the other. you can’t help but feel that this was yours.

“loving you is so exhausting, chan, i—“ your voice cracks, “i’m supposed to be content with this treatment? you and i not talking the whole day and then meeting at night just to make up for lost time, have sex, and pretend that everything’s okay, that the fights have not gotten out of hand, that we’re going to be ok—“

“we are going to be okay, fuck, it’s not that easy,” chan mumbles, “i’m trying, y/n, but i can’t give you everything you need, not anymore.”

silence fills the car and it engulfs the two of you.

"what changed?" you sob softly, tears now slowly flowing down your cheeks. it was okay, a few weeks ago. days became busier, tasks became heavier, but did that mean that your relationship had to deteriorate the way it has been?

“nothing changed, please, y/n,”chan breathes, not turning to look at you, “we just got busier and—"

“we weren’t like this, chan, we used to talk about things. w-we used to...talk. we can’t even do that now? am i asking for too much? i shouldn’t be begging for your time, chan, please—“you cry out softly. “why am i always second to you, chan? i try to be the best for you, chan, please.”

chan lets out a shaky breath as he tries to find the words to respond with. “y/n, it’s not y—“

“spare me the bullshit. spare me the "it’s not you, it’s me”. at least, be honest with me.” you say firmly, wiping away the tears on your cheeks harshly.

“i...i just don’t feel like i’m ready for this yet, okay? i want to fo—"

your feel something in your chest. a pain you’ve never felt before. chan’s words become a blur as you feel your back hit the seat.

you’re taken back to a time in your childhood when you were trying out the jump rope your friends had. being the idiot you were, you jumped in time with the rope and it tangled on your feet. you ended up falling on your chin, scraping it in the process. the pain rang through your skull and for a while, you couldn’t move, tears merely streaming down your cheeks. and to that that one time during one of the art productions in university, you ended up falling off of the stage. of course, it wasn’t anyone’s fault, but maybe if they turned on the lights before lowering the stage, you wouldn’t have broken your ankle. you remember how worried chan was, but most importantly, you remember how much it hurt. you couldn’t walk and if you tried, it would shoot pain up your leg.

adding all the pain you’ve felt in all those moments, it wouldn’t amount to the pain you feel now.

not ready? not ready after 3 years? how could he say that? this was the man you saw your future with, someone who was supposed to be your soulmate. that was him, that was chan. the nights you shared, the words you uttered, were all those fake? were all those just to make everything feel okay?

not ready?

not ready.

the words echo in your mind like a broken record. were you supposed to beg him to stay? beg him to be ready when he just admitted that he wasn’t? as you turned to look at him, you didn’t see the chan who loved you. instead, it was the shell of the man who used to love you, care for you. fuck, was love supposed to hurt this bad? you feel your heart starting to crack even more.

if this was love, you didn’t want it. not anymore.

“drop me off,”you mumble after a deafening silence, voice shaking as a sob threatens to come out of your mouth. chan turns to look at you, finally. you don’t meet his eyes anymore. you, instead, just look straight ahead. if he wasn’t ready for a commitment, even after 3 long years, then you were not about to beg him to stay. chan opens his mouth to say something, but you notice that he just swallows his words. he turns to look in front of him as he pushes on the gas again to drive back to your dorm. if he wasn’t ready, then he wasn’t ready. there’s no point in trying to convince him he is. the next best thing is to leave and let him figure out what he needed to figure out. if he needed space, he could have told you. what bothered you the most is the fact that chan’s always been about communication, but somehow and somewhere along the journey, he changed. maybe that’s just how it goes.

when he pulls up in front of your dorm building, chan turns to look at you again, eyes scanning your features. “i’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

you shake your head, eyes closing as you tried to fight the urge to cry again. the question he asked has always confused you. it was always like this, that even after a fight, he expects to see you again, the same time, the same place. you were tired and it didn’t help that you now knew why he wasn’t acting the same— he wasn’t ready to commit to you, even after all this time.

“i’m ending it here, chan."

“ending what?”

ending the routine, ending the cycle, ending us. these words rang through your head and you didn’t know which to answer. was he acting aloof so that he could get off easily? that maybe you’ll let him off again because he somehow can’t understand what was happening? you swallowed.

“us, chan, i—i can’t go on like this anymore,” you pause. was this what you really wanted or were you doing this to prove a point? you weren’t sure, but one thing’s clear, you had to do this, not only for him, but for you. you can’t subject yourself to this cycle anymore. you had to break it sooner or later. “when i get out of this car, we’re over."

chan’s car became a place of love and security in a world full of uncertainty and chaos. it was where you both spent time together when you needed a break, when you needed to be together. now, it was a place of loneliness and despair. it became a place full of resentment and unresolved issues and you can’t help but wonder how chan will be able to sit in his car again without thinking of this moment. before he could respond, you were out of the car.

in the back of your mind, you hoped that he would call you, run after you. beg you to stay, tell you that everything will be fixed if you just gave him time. you prayed in your head desperately. if he did so, you know you’ll come crawling back to him. if he showed some sort of care, some sort of longing, some sort of initiative that he wanted things to work out, that he wanted this as much as you do, then maybe you’ll come back to him again. that’s how it always was, right?

right?

behind you, you hear the car drive away.

#stray kids #bang chan au #bang chan x reader #skz #college!au #bang chan #the way i sobbed while writing this is criminal #kpop scenarios #kpop #skz imagines #bang chan angst #skz chan #skz angst #thanks for reading!!#kim tries to write #archive #stray kids imagines #skzstorynet

451 notes · View notes

saudade-mayari · 3 years

Note

💜 hi luna! may i request service 2, room 17, with madara uchiha? nsfw, of course! congrats on 1.1k, btw :)

Come on in, check and join us at Hēdonē!

💳—Hēdonē VIP [2] || Marking You

⇥ Madara Uchiha x fem!reader || wc: 0.8k

⇥ warnings: 18+ content, Markings and possessiveness, fingering, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, shameless smut, minors please dni

Your peers had invited you for some night out, and finally deciding to have your friends meet your long-term boyfriend, you asked Madara if he could make it because you knew how busy he is with all the Konoha’s affairs and whatnot, but to your surprise he said yes.

He looked so fine. Not on his usual maroon armour, but dressed in a neatly classic Uchiha high cut turtle neck, trousers and a large haori proudly showing the Uchiha insignia along with his long raven hair that every Uchiha is proud of. He was communicating and socializing well not until one of your male friends started to flirt with you.

He started not to care with Madara being around and even kissed your cheeks. If it only weren’t because of your hands landing down and pressing his thighs to calm down, that man wouldn’t really hold back. Etiher way, Madara is never the type to hold back. At all.

It was rare for Madara to lose his cool. Not even once in your relationship with him you had found him losing his own control. You could actually feel his dark aura growing wider the longer the time passed.

“Perhaps you can come visit my house some other time, y/n.” He said. You finally flinched. Glancing to your boyfriend who really did try his best to maintain all his remaining composure.

You were about to answer when Madara’s hand held yours, his eyes glowing in red, spinning aggressively as he stared at your friend. Your friend was stunned, actually everyone in the table are. They had no slightest idea on what is happening and your friend was left blankly staring at the hall.

“Excuse us.” Madara said, as politely as possible. He dragged you out of the premises, kicking and slamming the door hard of the rest room. You knew exactly he wasn’t mad you but you knew as well how much he held back to avoid unnecessary gossips about him and his clan.

“Madara dear, what did you do?”

“Put him to genjutsu. Don’t worry it’ll be back shortly. I didn’t do anything.” He said. Firm and stoic. The man opened the faucet and allowed his hand to run through the cold water.

His wet hands delicately wiped your cheeks. The one that your friend kissed which made you chuckle. Somehow his jealousy turned him to a soft one within the small corners of the restroom.

“Must remove that filthy man’s touch.”

You held his calloused hands, taking advantage of it while he held your face. You stared at his black orbs while your other hand tugged of the hair covering his other eye. The familiar heat slowly building up in your system as you stared at Madara this close. You pulled yourself closer to him, lightly giving him a peck.

“I love you.”

His hands finally took control you, pulled you closer to his body, lifting you up to sit on the sink. His chapped lips wandered in yours, his tongue slowly entering your lips which you gladly let him. You were pushed by the mirror as the kiss turned aggressive and hard.

“Dear… not here..” You whispered but Madara just answered with a grunt, yanking off your kimono’s obi. His large hands wandered around your exposed body, giving small circles on your inner thigh as he slowly spread your legs.

“I’m showing them who owns you.” He nibbled on your ear, trembling as you felt his hot breath sliding down on your neck, giving it a hard bite that made you moan in response. His kisses slowly drifted you away from reality that both of you are still in a public restroom.

He pulled your underwear down your ankle as he used his other hand to enter your folds. Loud moans escaped when he pushed two of his fingers aggressively, not even giving a warning. Madara smirked as he watched you suppress your moan.

“You know you can’t stop that. It’s futile.” He said, huskily as his lips once again reached the upper part of your neck, intentionally leaving a mark visible for everyone. Once satisfied on the deep red to maroon mark, he slowly went down on your navel then down to your femininity.

Madara pushed his fingers, ravaging you more, making you completely insane. His thrusts were as violent as if he was trying to split you in half. Moans bounced off the walls, and he definitely knew that people will be hearing around the premises. Madara wanted you to scream loudly so everyone knew his name, so everyone knew who you belonged to.

“Madara.. fuck I-“ you pant. Barely constructing your words as your climax approached. However his pace turned faster, not stopping as your sex continued to drip down your thighs, licking you slick and clean while your legs constrict from his touch.

A smirk formed on his lips while he picked up your kimono’s obi. His hands roamed your body as his lips attached to your neck, he’s almost hugging you as he tied the obi around your kimono.

Barely able to maintain your balance, he held you for support. An evident smirk still plastered on his face as Madara stared on the visible red marks around your neck.

“Are you that happy?” You said, giggling at his side as you both stealthily exited the restroom. The raven-haired Uchiha intertwined his fingers around yours while walking back at the table, a small smile forming under those high turtleneck.

“As a clan head, I’m just making sure no one would mess with my future wife.”

#💳—luna.hedone #madara #uchiha madara #naruto #naruto x reader #madara x reader #madara x you #madara x y/n #uchiha madara x reader #uchiha madara smut #madara smut #madara uchiha #naruto smut #naruto fandom #madara x reader smut #uchiha #uchiha x reader smut #madarami imagine #naruto imagine

379 notes · View notes

beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

Take Me Away

Relationship: Wanda Maximoff x Reader Warnings: slight angst, eventual fluff Summary: Royalty!AU - You and your lady-in-waiting Wanda have been in a secret, forbidden relationship but everything gets tested when your father, the King, announces you are to be wed to a prince from a neighboring country. A/N: i’ve been loving royalty!au stuff lately and wanted to take my own stab at it. it’s not the most complicated, spectacular piece but i enjoyed writing it!

Masterlist

Wanda always arrived to your chambers right at the crack of dawn. Ever the punctual one, your lady-in-waiting never wasted a second once that bright light of a new day came through the windows. Sometimes she was even tasked with waking you up, ranting and raving about how your gown was going to take forever to lace up or that your hair wasn’t going to be dry enough to meet your family for breakfast.

Her frantic attitude always made you laugh. You thought her worrying heart was so silly and to show for it, you’d sometimes make it a point to shut her up with a kiss. One thing would lead to another until you two were lost among the silk sheets.

That all, though, had come to a stop today. Wanda was late this morning and you sadly knew why. Her heart must’ve been breaking, taking all her energy to pick up the pieces one by one this morning. You didn’t blame her, really, you felt the same break within you.

It had all fallen out last night. Your father, the usually benevolent King, had held a feast for your court and the royal family of a neighboring country. This wasn’t unusual for him as he very much loved to entertain. Everything had been going smooth. You were lost in the dancing and laughing with the patron, eagerly showing off the brand new dress your tailor had delivered that morning. You even got to sneak some cheeky glances at Wanda who stood off with the other servants, ready when needed.

Everything came to a screeching halt the second dinner had concluded. In between the refills of wine and arrival of dessert, your father had a surprise announcement to. It was as if a million bombs were going off. He revealed you were set to be married to the bordering country’s Prince. No one had told you, not even a hint from your mother, just this public declaration. You looked towards the king and his son — your soon-to-be-husband — and they were just beaming with joy. All plans and politics were falling into place for them while your world was crumbling.

You had excused yourself to the bathroom where you vomited profusely. Wanda, though, didn’t arrive to help. In fact, she didn’t arrive to your room for the rest of the night, sending one of the temporary servants instead.

You fell asleep feeling the loneliest you had felt in a long time. And those feelings certainly weren’t subsiding as you sat at your vanity the next morning, still waiting for Wanda.

You had been sitting alone for so long you thought she had abandoned her duties — or maybe she had just straight up retired last night and you were waiting on nothing — but then there was the unmistakable sound of your heavy door creaking open followed the gentle clicking of it closing. You peered into your looking glass, shifting it so slightly to show you the presence behind you.

"Wanda," you sighed, her naming falling from your lips as if it was the sweetest honey.

"Your Highness." While unsurprising, her cold and stoic response cut you. Your body tensed. Last time she had called you that was upon your very first meeting. Before she was the lover you kept in the shadows. Before there was ever a chance of losing her. The royal title felt like a death sentence now.

After a deep breath, you slowly placed the looking glass back on the table. You felt Wanda approach you from behind with caution. You didn’t know whether to turn around or ask her to begin her morning duties. If you were to be really honest with yourself, you just wanted to grab her and hold one another.

But Wanda seemed to have decided for the both of you. Hesitantly, she reached for the brush on the vanity and gently began on your hair. You wanted to cry.

"Wanda, please," you mumbled. "Talk to me."

"Talk to you?" She repeated, her fingers now running through your hair giving slight pulls as she fixed the curls. The actions reminded you of when she would… "And what would you like me to say?"

"Something, anything!" You were nearly crying, your words coming out in weak begs. "I didn’t know anything about it, you have to trust me on that. I—I don’t want… I could never—,"

"Never, what?" Wanda cut you off, the brushing motions in your hair suddenly halted. "You couldn’t possibly think we could ever be together fully. I’ll admit, I indulged in this fantasies but I’ve stopped. We weren’t meant to be and you sure weren’t meant to be a single princess forever." She cleared her throat. "This was bound to happen, I fear."

"No, no," you fought back, shaking your head insistently. Wanda placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to calm you down, but you only jumped at the touch, feeling that burning connection between you two. You couldn’t believe how much hold she had over you. How much you had over one another.

"Your Highness, I’m afraid—,"

"We can run away." The words slipped out of you so fast you never had a chance to bite your tongue. It felt like the world stopped, like you had created your own bomb to set off. Wanda’s grip on your shoulder got tighter. You straightened your posture, meaning business now despite the tears still flowing. You placed your hand atop of hers and continued, "I really think we could do it, dear. I can access the family funds, we could pack a few things, then be off in the night. Wouldn’t that just be nice? We could go wherever, start whatever life we want. You’re not wrong to say this was bound to happen but that doesn’t mean we can’t escape it."

"My Lady… There must be some consideration for the prince, the kingdoms, your subjects—,"

"They’re better to have no ruler than one who lives in constant agony."

The declaration was bold but it was the farthest from a lie. You decided to finally turn and face Wanda, your hand now holding hers with the greatest, most loving strength. The first thing you noticed were her eyes. They were so red and heavy, no doubt from hours of crying. Her hair was a mess as well, complimented by the worn down servants gown she wore. She hadn’t put any effort in today, probably dragging herself about as you predicted.

Slowly, you pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. Wanda let out a breathy gasp. When you met her eyes again, it appeared the deal had been sealed. But you needed her to say it.

"We can really do this, can’t we?" She asked shyly.

You nodded, a little grin playing at your lips. "I think we could go anywhere," you confirmed. "Maybe we can start a farm, raise some chickens or cows. Or — Oh! We could start a nice garden. I loved the one here but father wouldn’t let me learn how to care for it."

Wanda sighed as she watched you get lost in a new fantasy, one way beyond just being together but having a life. "Speaking of your father, he will send people after us, won’t he? The palace guards will die trying to find us if they have to."

You simply shrugged. Sure, she wasn’t wrong, but this was a big place and who knew what bigger places were out there. "Let them," you finally said. "We’ll be so far long gone before they realize it they won’t know what hit them."

Silence fell between you two.

"You’re going to give up all this for a chance for us to be together?" Wanda finally asked, motioning towards the gloriousness of the castle chamber. She was a very thorough one, extremely detailed-oriented, which made her the best partner-in-crime you had decided before ever engaging romantically. Eventually, it was one of the things that made you fall head over heals. She noticed everything, always the sweet and cool observer. You didn’t blame her for using the skill now.

"Wanda, dear," you sighed as your hand crept its way to her neck. "I’d give it all up a million times over to be with you."

Your sweet lover looked like she was now going to cry so you took the leap to lean up, catching her lips with yours. After a stunned moment, she returned the kiss, your lips moving in a familiar sync. It was electrifying knowing you hadn’t lost her. Knowing she was most likely going to be it for you, forever. Completely devoted to one another, comfortably and freely.

Wanda’s hand begin caressing your cheek when she pulled away slightly. Your foreheads were touching now but it still wasn’t close enough for you.

"Let’s do it," she whispered. "Take me away."

Words seemed so hard, something only the presence of Wanda could do to you. Unable to figure what was right to say now, of all times, you nodded and wrapped one arm around her waist. You pulled her into you, hugging her with all your might. She didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, soaking each other in.

"Of course, dear," you eventually said. Such small words they held the mysterious beginning and marked the glorious end.

178 notes · View notes

nctsworld · 3 years

Text

in a king-size, say i’m your queen

✩‌ renjun ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ prince!renjun | fluff | smut | ‌3.4k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you’re drawn to the kingdom’s prince staying at your family’s inn. on the night before he leaves, you exchange good-byes in the form of a kiss and more. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (near the end), unprotected s*x, f*ngering, oral s*x (m receiving), mentions of alcohol/drinking, commoner!reader, dash of angst RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature PROMPT ⇾‌ prince/royalty au // fluff + smut REQ BY ⇾‌ anonymous ‌

⇾‌ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

“Prince Huang, this is my family, who will be looking after you during your stay.”

Your father awoke everyone from deep slumber in the middle of the night, hollering at everyone to put on their work clothes in a hurry. Little did anyone expect the actual prince himself to be taking a rest at your family’s inn, for several days apparently.

As the youngest and only daughter among your kin, your father introduces you last in line to greet the prince and his companions. With sleep still in your eyes, you curtsy as gracefully as you can, once towards the prince and another towards his followers.

The sleep in your eyes disappears as your eyelids suddenly bloom at your first clear look at the man standing a few steps across from you.

Everyone within the kingdom obviously knew of the royal family, but being this far from the mainland never granted you the chance to see them in-person. There were rumours far and wide of how captivating and beautiful the family was, especially the prince, but you assumed they were exaggerating, fueling the propaganda mill that all royalty were gorgeous, godly beings.

Oh, to be absolutely wrong.

Air’s snatched from your lungs when his warm smile burgeons, warming the room more than the fireplace ever could.

He holds his gaze on you, placing a palm on his chest and saying, “My dearest apologies for disturbing your dreams. It was a must though; we haven’t stopped anywhere in days and finally found your inn.”

Your father replies to his words, while you blink observantly at the royal figure. You wonder if it’s due to the lack of sleep or simply all in your head, but you swear his glances waver over at you more than your other family members.

“Well, I will retire to bed now and won’t be requiring your services until morning. Please resume your slumbers, and I wish you all the sweetest of dreams.”

Puffing his cheeks cutely, he bends his head slightly towards your family, while all of you dip and bow to him. When you two jointly look up, your gaze surely connects with his.

Funny enough, his wish comes true as his beauty rules over your dreams, molding them into sweet ones, for the rest of the night.

On the second morning of his stay, you watch him relaxing at the back of the inn among the luscious greenery. In a loose white-button up, he’s sitting by himself, save for a guard nearby, and lounging in a chair under the spring sun.

Prior to starting on your tasks for the day, you stroll towards him with a jug in hand. Smiling freely, his eyes are shut as you approach him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Your Royal Highness—”

His eyes flutter open at your divine voice and his smile deepens.

“But would you care for some lemon juice?”

The boyish man hums in acceptance and he’s glued to how you carefully pour the liquid into his chalice. His eyes track the path of your departure after you leave the jug on the table and head towards a group of trees in the farther end of the garden.

Though he delights in the picturesque image of you skillfully picking the yellow fruit, which he assumes are lemons, off the tree from your wooden ladder and dropping them into the bucket hanging from your hand, a desire simmers in his stomach to be in your presence. The prince's guard follows behind him discreetly as the handsome individual makes his way over and speaks to you from below.

“May I assist you?” he offers.

His appearance startles you for a moment, then your stare unintentionally drops over the exposed skin of his upper frame. You ponder over the smoothness of his skin and imagine yourself leaving kisses upon his clavicle, on his chest, going downward further and further...

Clearing your throat and shaking your head to focus, you airily laugh at his question. The highness’s eyebrows crease, perplexed by your response.

“Prince Huang—”

“Call me Renjun, please,” he interrupts, laying a palm against his chest. “I insist.”

“Prince Huang,” you reiterate, not wanting to breach the formalities. “It’s my duty—and an honor if I may add—to pick these lemons for you, not yours.”

“Well, as prince,” Renjun gently seizes the bucket away from your grasp. “I order you to allow me to assist you.”

Incredulously, you stare at him for a lingering moment and he engages equally, delving into your glowing aura.

Since you can’t reject his order, you yield and continue to pick the lemons off the tree, now plopping them into the bucket held by Renjun. Throughout the comfortable silence, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you for one second, admiring how elegant you are with the light breeze blowing through your hair.

He wonders to himself if you’re aware of your devastating beauty.

A couple of nights pass and during one evening, in the shared resting area, you find Renjun situated adjacent to the fireplace, reading a book alone (with a guard lurking close by, of course).

The prince’s features are already so soft, but he seems ethereal with the fire’s glow against his face. You’re reminded of the first night he arrived.

As you usually do, you query if he needs anything before you retire to your room.

He replies negatively, but then adds, “Would you like to hear some of the story I’m reading before bed?”

Shaking your head, you tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“Not at all,” Renjun beams. He gestures for you to sit in the seat beside him, and you do so with prickling cheeks.

His fingers flip a few pages back and he tells the short story from the beginning. Your cheek tips into your palm as you listen intently. Yes, the story is intriguing, but you’re also focused on Renjun’s voice. It’s soothing, yet lively with the specific parts in which he modulates his tone to flow perfectly with the storytelling.

And then you drift over his plush, kissable lips. You will yourself to focus on the story, rather than the reader.

In between his reading, he peers up from the pages to see if you’re still interested to hear the rest of the story, not wanting to waste your time nor bore you to death. He reads the dazzling expression on your face as a signal to finish until the very end.

When it’s over, Renjun asks if you enjoyed it. You hum positively and stand up, excusing yourself to formally leave for the night. You exchange pleasant good-nights and sweet dreams. While you shuffle off, before you’re past the doorway, he pipes up—

“Perhaps I can read you another story tomorrow evening?”

You turn around by the end of his sentence, grasping onto the doorframe.

Renjun continues, his grip tightening around the closed book. “If you wish.”

Your lips press together, in hopes to suppress a grin. It doesn’t work too well.

“I’d like that very much.”

Time flies, and it’s already the second to last day before Renjun’s departure. Your family decides to arrange a party at the inn, inviting the fellow townspeople to join as well.

Fittingly, Renjun sits in the middle of the long table alongside his associates and is entertained by the spectacle of the event. After the townspeople grant him gifts and dinner is served, the dancing commences. Throughout the evening, he keeps a constant eye out for you.

All night, you serve the guests and barely have time to properly eat your own meal. However, as the night lengthens, your parents urge you to live a little. In the middle of the hall, you rush to unite with your close friends, clasping onto their hands and dancing around in circles to the merry music.

The royal figure radiates, enticed from the scene of you laughing and jumping in joy, having never seen this side of you before. His heart flops at the endearing sight and an itch overcomes him. Taking a sip of his wine, Renjun anxiously wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and heads towards you onto the dance floor.

Gasps trail behind his steps as he floats through the domino effect of bowing people. He casually says his thank you’s to everyone in passing and as the domino effect finally reaches a stop within the middle of the room, you’re the last one to formally greet him.

“Your Royal Highness,” you curtsy with a small smile.

He acknowledges with a bow of his head and shocks you by holding his palm out.

“May I share a dance with you?”

Your heart pounds in your ears as you glance around the room to ensure he’s talking to you and not mistakenly someone else. Additionally, you’re surveying the prospects because you are definitely not the most worthy to dance with royalty; the mayor’s daughter should be owed this dance, not you. You also shamefully touch your work outfit, wishing you were wearing something cleaner and more extravagant.

“Prince Huang, are you sure you want to dance with me?” you murmur, despite how everyone quieted down and can hear what you’re saying.

“Of course,” he stretches out for your hand and possesses it in his.

“Who else would I want to share a dance with?”

Your friends and all other parties now disperse and surround the two of you, dancing to their own fulfillment as you’re left in an imaginary bubble with just Renjun. Every twirl, spin, and bounce generates endless vivacious laughter from the both of you. You dance deeper into the night until your faces and feet soon ache, until it was almost only the two of you on the dance floor.

Because of the aching, you stumble at one point, crashing into Renjun’s body.

He catches you in his arms. You look up into his eyes, then at his lips merely fingertips away from yours. Renjun’s liquored panting fans your face and you drown in it without reservation.

His eyes flicker to your lips too, and he gulps. Bravely, he raises his palm to caress your cheek, but as his skin touches yours, it jolts you to your core, popping you out of your secluded bubble and dragging you into reality.

Pulling apart from him, the prince asks if you’re okay.

You nod thoughtlessly, quickly thank him for the dance, and spew that you should begin to clean-up the hall, leaving him on the dance floor.

Renjun brings a finger to his lips and watches you run off.

The last evening of his stay finally arrives. In your nightgown before bedtime, forgetting to ask if he needed anything before you changed out of your work clothes, you knock on his room’s door with the guard on-duty beside it.

His muffled voice beckons you to come in, and you open the door ajar to creep your head through the space. Noticing it’s you, he immediately drops the book he was reading onto his bedside table.

“Prince Huang, did you need anything else before you leave tomorrow?”

Legs dangling off the largest bed at the inn, he thinks to himself for a few moments. He twists his mouth to one side, tapping a finger on his chin.

“I think I have everything in order...”

Then, he tilts his head to one side and puckers his lips. He darts onto his feet and adds, “Can you come in for a moment though? And please shut the door behind you.”

You’re taken aback by his request. Nevertheless, you fulfill it and close the door behind you as you walk in. Renjun’s eyes widen at the sight of you in your nightgown, clicking together why you didn’t fully come into his room in the first place.

You rub one of your arms. “Sorry for my indecent clothing—”

“No, I’m sorry, uhm,” he palms the back of his neck nervously. “I just wanted to say a few words, so I’ll be quick.”

He steps closer to you. Both of you stand in the middle of the room and he continues.

“Before I leave, I want to make sure you know that I quite enjoyed my stay here because of you and your family’s fine service, but I enjoyed it even more because of your cordial company.”

At his earnest appraisal and personal compliment, your cheeks flare and your jaw dangles. You bow with your head. “Thank you, Prince Huang.”

Renjun then faces the floor and picks at his fingers, trying to formulate his thoughts.

“I don’t normally do this and I’m about to ask the following not as a prince, but as a normal man. And let me preface it by saying that, as a man of my word, you are not obligated or pressured to agree to what I’m about to ask; you have every right to say no.”

He sputters everything so fast, it takes a bit for you to process his words. When it sinks in, you’re still unsure exactly what he’s talking about. Worried, you raise your eyebrows, anticipating his inquiry.

Noting your confusion, he exhales a lengthy breath and goes straight to the point.

“As a send-off and to demonstrate my gratitude…”

He meets your gaze.

“May I kiss you?”

Your jaw, along with your eyes, hangs this time. Awestruck, you blink rapidly and inhale sharply as you stay frozen in place.

“I know it may be one-sided, but at yesterday’s gathering, I thought we shared a special moment and perhaps it’s my fault I acted upon it since we were among people, so I apologize for that—”

“You may kiss me,” you cut him off, relieved to hear his thoughts, and close the space between yourselves.

It’s his turn to don the rapid blinking.

“Are-are you sure?”

Cautiously, his palm cups your cheek, mirroring the memory of last night, then he adds his other.

“Yes, Pr-”

“Renjun, please.”

“Yes, Renjun—”

You collide as he captures your lips. He exudes innocence and it shows in his kissing; he starts off gently and barely expands his mouth. Each movement is lovely and oozes affection. Your fingers tug lightly at his nightwear, body humming emphatically in response.

However, as he tests the water, his kissing is soon stripped of innocence and is replaced by a sinful hunger. While his tongue slips into your mouth, grazing against your teeth, his hands traverse your body and confront your waist and neck, squeezing them upon arrival. You eagerly reciprocate his change of pace, desperately running your fingers through his hair and angling your neck to better the searing, open-mouthed kisses.

Since there aren’t many layers covering either of you, you’re blatantly aware of Renjun’s growing desire against your body.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he pants, “May I take you to bed?”

You bob your head fervently and croak, “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

You grin into the next kiss at his playfulness.

“Yes, Renjun.”

In retrospect, being taken in a guest room at your family’s inn was strange, but you couldn’t think much of it within the moment.

At the moment, all you yearn for is Renjun’s weight on you, locking your body into the bed with his. Lip-locked as he lays you down, he satisfies your yearning hastily.

While he dominates your neck, one of his hands is rashly underneath your nightgown and ascends to the haven of your breasts. You gasp at the initial contact, your fingers tightening in his hair and over his shoulder blade.

He kneads the meat of your tits momentarily, but he’s more fixated on attending to your nipples. Renjun’s thumb tenderly rubs over them prior to his loving pinches. At this point, his mouth zones in and nibbles on your earlobe, so he listens to your rising panting and erotic moans crystal clear.

Following his massaging and playing of your other breast, he withdraws from you to disrobe your layer in one-go and you return the favour to peel away his.

Renjun’s purity ignites once more as he reveres your bare body, lovingly scanning all your curves and lines.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispers.

Fluttering your eyelids, you lightly bite your bottom lip between your teeth. Truly, it was too easy for him to make your cheeks spark this often. He converges with your mouth sweetly before he wraps his pretty lips around your nub.

“Oh, my God, Renjun—”

Because your eyes snap in gratification, you can’t see the smirk on his face. He indulges in you calling him by his first name, especially so melodiously and within this context. A hand finds purchase upon the neighbouring breast, and another hovers under your warmth. Your hips buck heedlessly, begging for his fingers to dive further.

They do so when he switches his embrace upon your breasts. Although you know he must feel it, the obscene, loud sounds of him fingering your sex confirm how wet you are for him. Renjun peeks an eye open to your wanton self. He adores the view in addition to your dripping pleasure contracting and spilling over his digits.

Moving ahead, he retreats from you and mounts himself on the bed on his knees, stroking himself to harden himself for what’s to come. Despite still being breathless from your high, you rise onto your knees to match his stance in front of him.

Your dominant hand grasps his possession, taking over for him. Simultaneously, your mouth finally has the chance to reign over the smoothness of his frame—his neck, his carved clavicle, the expanse area of his chest, and his soft abdomen. He sighs blissfully, eyes batting.

Your mouth proceeds lower to where your hand is located and aids to the swelling of Renjun’s desire. He gawks, mouth hanging, at the beautiful arching of your back and your enthusiasm as you engulf him.

Gripping him by the base, you stroke to the measure of your bobbing. To keep him enraptured, you occasionally focus on his tip, such as with the swirling and flicking of your tongue and initiating vigorous, targeted sucking. Not wanting him to reach climax yet, you pull away from him with a pop, but not before you leave a delicate kiss upon the glossy apex.

Once again, you recline downward onto the bed, except now with spread legs. Renjun pumps his wet length and lines it up with your glistening crevice. You stare at his cock upon penetration, and the flood of sensations from the impact causes you to crane your head into the pillow.

Hands encompassing your waist, the lover thrusts gradually at first, allowing you to acclimatize to his girth. After some time, he surrenders to his carnal urges and plunges deeper with speed. Your chest heaves as your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moons on his skin. Lowering himself, he secures your lips for a fleeting, sentimental moment.

To your surprise, Renjun picks up the rhythm even further, leading you to wail his name and incoherent noises repeatedly. In hopes to quell yourself, you lightly bite down on the meat of your index finger. It only partially helps since whimpers still trickle out from you.

Both of you are nearing. Aching to be even more intimate with you, his hand flees from the flank of your body and over your head to lace his fingers with yours. His intertwining compresses alongside the pinching of his face. With your finger in pain, you release it and let loose. As one, you moan in sync with Renjun and you break together. He extracts himself, painting your stomach in white ribbons.

Inhaling much needed air, you settle upon Renjun’s chest with his arm around you. He trifles with your fingers in his before he kisses the back of your hand.

“If you ever have the chance to come by the kingdom, I implore you to find me.”

Peering up at him, you agree enthusiastically. “Of course, Renjun.”

With pink tinting over his face, he cups you by your chin.

“Promise?”

Hesitancy pumps through your blood. You know the chances of you ever leaving your home town would be very unlikely, and even if you could, you two could never be together for he is of royal blood, and you of none.

Nevertheless, you dare not to break the twinkling, awaited expression upon his face, so you reply—

“I promise.”

Sharing another kiss, you stay with him in the bed for a little while longer, savoring the brief amour as much as possible.

943 notes · View notes

wildlyglittering · 3 years

Text

The Perils of Being Mr. Nesta Archeron

It’s important you understand this is my incredibly poor attempt at comedy and I just wanted to write some nonsense.

This popped into my brain after seeing all the posts about how awesome Nesta is and how she had a ridiculous amount of marriage proposals and interest from human men, fae males and demons alike.

I just kind of took it from there...

***

“I still like what Nesta’s done to the place.”

Feyre looked around the grand drawing room of the House of Wind, her dozing son on her lap and her bored mate at her side who murmured something which could be taken as an agreement while pulling off imaginary pieces of lint from his sleeve.

The House was now Nesta’s, in as much as anything sentient could truly belong to anyone, and as such was rarely used for official Night Court business. Its predominant function was as home to Nesta, Cassian and a reluctant Azriel, who’d been gifted the responsibility of ‘supervisor’ – a gift which Feyre suspected he’d like to return.

The Inner Circle still held Starfall at the House and, like now, the High Lord and High Lady of Night, would visit. When she visited alone, Feyre visited in the capacity of sister and friend but when with Rhys, it was all work.

Nesta and Cassian had embraced their titles as the Lord of Bloodshed and Lady Death and their combined reputations proceeded them sending them into every corner of Prythian and the many dark outer reaches was a tactic Rhys now employed.

The aim was to achieve negotiations and encourage peaceful surrenders where necessary but if there was resulting collateral damage, it was of little consequence to Rhys.

The other reason that the House was seldom used for official Night Court business was the unnerving issue of the House itself. Whilst the majority of the architecture remained unchanged there was the occasional surprise addition. Or subtraction.

Amren discovered the House’s penchant for the latter when, on one uninvited call, she opened a door which should have led to private chambers only to find herself plummeting through the air onto the ground. She swore blind the House foundations quivered like it was laughing.

Feyre wondered how independently the House acted from Nesta and how much it carried out her wishes. She suspected that this room, the grand drawing room, had been one of Nesta’s heart fulfilments or, at least, something for Cassian.

The room was sizable, entered from the hallway via a series of doorway arches wide enough for splayed Illyrian wings. Oversized plush furniture filled the room and the floors were strewn with thick sable rugs.

The most spectacular draw to the room was the window which stretched from ceiling to floor and from wall to wall on the side opposite the doorways. The view, one across Velaris’ golden rooftops and shining turquoise waters of the Sidra, filled the space like a painting.

Feyre sighed, at least this current visit was expected and so they weren’t risking the windows opening of their own accord to fling them out. The occupants of the House had been gone for longer than anticipated on this task and so Rhys sent ahead a message that he wanted a full debrief when they returned.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak again but stopped when she heard the thud of boots and flutter of wings.

“Finally,” Rhys said with a glance towards Nyx whose eyes flickered open.

“He’ll be happy see Aunt Nesta,” Feyre said in a sing-song voice to her now awake baby, turning him so he could view the entrance. “He loves Aunt Nesta.” She wasn’t above using her infant son as a tactic to avoid her eldest sister’s potential irritation at the intrusion into her home.

Rhys eyed up the shaking walls, “Yes, as does the House.”

Nesta entered first and Feyre breathed a sigh of relief that the floor remained solid underneath where she sat.

“Hello,” Nesta said, her voice soft and cooing. Her welcome wasn’t to her sister or brother-in-law but to the now beaming baby in Feyre’s lap whose legs and arms flailed in the air as he wriggled.

Nesta stepped further into the room, treading over the rugs, arms outstretched, “Come to Aunty Nesta.”

The vast windows let in the bright sunlight, sunlight which illuminated the state of the Illyrian leathers Nesta had clad herself in.

Feyre shrieked, twisting in the chair and blocked Nyx from Nesta’s grasp, pointing at her sister’s waist. “What is that?””

Nesta paused and frowned, looking down.

Aside from the interesting splotches of red across the leathers, the utility belt tightened around Nesta’s waist contained the usual items Feyre expected; knife, pouch, knife, another knife and then... another item she hadn’t.

A leather strap was wound in multiple knots around the thick band and tied to an uneven, lumpy dome the other end. The lumpy dome ended in a stump clotted with congealed blood.

“Oh,” Nesta said with a shrug, “I forgot.” She untied the leather strap and pulled the lump away. “Just another one for the collection.” With a graceful arm movement, Nesta threw what Feyre realised was a decapitated head onto the floor where it landed with a thud, a dribble of blood oozing fresh from the neck wound.

“Well, you can’t hold the baby until you’ve washed your hands. Thoroughly.”

Nesta frowned at her, an ice-cold glare fixed on her face. “Fine,” she snapped, as though Feyre’s request was unreasonable.

Cassian, unlike her sister, had taken some time to remove his blood encrusted leathers before greeting his guests, and he wandered in through the arch with a nod of his head towards Feyre and Rhys.

His hazel eyes noted the bloodied head by the door and he released a sigh.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“The House doesn’t mind.”

The shutters covering the windows in the other rooms started to clatter up and down.

“See?”

“Yes, but I mind and besides,” he gestured across to Feyre, “an infant is present.”

Nyx, now bouncing on Feyre’s lap, slapped his hands together as hard as he could in time with the House. He gazed at Nesta as though she’d sliced her way through necks especially for him.

“He doesn’t care,” Nesta said in a sing-song voice eerily similar to the tone Feyre herself used earlier. She beamed at her nephew, “He’s clapping with the House.”

Rhys’ face turned white, “The House is applauding you?”

“Oh yes,” Az said, arriving at last and pushing his way through where Cassian and Nesta stood to flop down onto the armchair next to Feyre. “Nesta always gets rapturous applause when she brings home a kill.”

Feyre glanced from Azriel, legs sloping over one armrest while his head flopped across the other, to Nesta and then onto Cassian who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“As much as I am ecstatic to see you all,” he said, “I’ll leave Az to deal with the debrief. I need to go lie down for a while.”

Cassian exited as swift as he entered, Az not bothering to open his now closed eyes. The concerned glances of the other room occupants followed Cassian’s retreating back.

Nesta turned back to Feyre, the ice-cold glare melted away. “Excuse me while I disappear.” Then, in a heartbeat, her expression was one of joy, “Bye-bye baby, I’ll see you in a little bit for snuggles.”

Nyx let out a small sob as Nesta left and Feyre quickly turned him towards her, readying him for a feed, knowing that the small sob would turn into a loud shriek.

“Well,” she said, “she obviously prefers Nyx to me.”

“Feyre, darling – you got spoken to,” Rhys said. “I think it’s safe to say Nesta didn’t acknowledge my existence. Which I’m fine with,” he added, nervously eyeing up the House’s stone walls, “whatever makes her happy.”

Nyx, thankfully, latched onto Feyre’s bared breast and for a moment no noise sounded in the room other than his greedy milk-hungry gulps.

A thought played over and over in her mind though; Nesta’s look of concern, Cassian’s uncharacteristic broodiness. “Are they ok?” she asked Az, at the same time Rhys enquired as to how the recent mission went.

Az’s eyes fluttered open and he gestured to the head on the floor. “As you can tell – we won.” Then, his voice gentler, he turned to Feyre, “They’re fine.”

“Is Cassian upset at the violence? At Nesta doing the um...,” and using her free hand Feyre motioned across her throat with a finger.

Az laughed, such a rare sound it reminded Feyre of the bells on Solstice evening. “Not at all. He likes that she does those things it’s just-”

He paused.

Rhys, satisfied that the mission went well and not caring about anyone’s romantic woes, settled back into the loveseat while Feyre leaned forward, careful to not disrupt her feeding son.

Azriel nodded towards the head, “Before the Anguis went the way of Hybern and the Kelpie, he managed to propose.”

“Not another one!”

“Don’t worry,” Azriel said, “I’m sure Nesta is reassuring Cassian of her love as we speak.”

As though cued up with expert timing, or, as Feyre suspected, the House lifting a self-imposed sound barrier to prove a point, the thumping drifted down to the grand room from several floors up.

“That was...fast.”

Suddenly Azriel appeared just as exhausted as Cassian had. “Nesta reassures Cassian of her love at least twice a night anyway, and when she’s done reassuring him, he feels the need to thank her back.”

Feyre winced, her face contorting into one of displeasure while Rhys didn’t try to hide his smirk. “This is what – the fourth proposal? Fifth?”

Az closed his eyes and dropped his head backwards once more. “Ninth. This isn’t the worst we’ve had.”

Nyx snuffled and Feyre moved him to her other breast. “Wasn’t the first in the Winter Court?”

They’d been in Winter for the naming ritual of Kallias and Viviane’s baby and once the ceremony was done, all guests mingled in the palace hall. The High Lord and Lady of Winter stood on the dais, draped in silver and grey, Viv beaming as she held her pink cheeked daughter.

The music, food and wine flowed freely but Feyre could barely hear the former over the laughter of the high fae and the chime of glasses as toast after toast was declared. The Inner Circle members had dispersed throughout the crowds earlier, all intent on seeking their delight in various forms.

Feyre had seen Nesta on the dance floor for the opening songs but she’d long since gone and Feyre wondered if Nesta and Cassian had snuck away to take advantage of the Winter palace’s numerous private bedrooms.

She had done her duty as High Lady of Night, walking around the hall, ice blue gown sashaying around her legs as revellers congratulated her on the arrival of her own child.

Feyre had smiled and thanked them but she tired easily after Nyx’s traumatic birth and it wasn’t long before she sought out the fur-decked chaise longue tucked in one of enclaves on the far wall.

As Feyre made her way towards it, movement from the corner on her right drew her attention.

Nesta was standing by another enclave, glass in hand, virulently shaking her head. Nesta’s golden-brown hair had been braided into a complex knot adorned with diamonds which caught the fae lights and casted shapes on the ceiling. It had been this that captured Feyre’s eye.

“No,” Nesta said, “I don’t think so.” She smoothed down a non-existent crease on her dress, a pale grey-blue that shimmered like mist over ice, ever changing.

The male she was speaking to was some high-ranking courtier from Winter who Feyre had been introduced to earlier that evening but whose name escaped her. He was tall and handsome enough, gazing at her sister with sapphire blue eyes, but Nesta’s demeanour suggested nothing other than sheer boredom.

Cassian emerged from the crowds, seemingly drawn to what was happening in the corner of the room like a moth towards a flame, his body screaming nothing but fury. Still, he interjected himself between Nesta and the Winter male with a decorum Feyre felt he should be proud of. His fists were clenched and his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth but there was no violence. Yet.

Feyre moved quickly to them.

Side by side there was no contest that Cassian was the larger, broader and less refined male. He wore scuffed Illyrian leathers and the most he’d done for the event was clean his hair and tie it back.

The courtier wore ivory silk brocade strewn with pearls and viewed Cassian up and down with a sneer.

“And who, exactly, are you?”

Cassian spat out his answer, “Her mate and husband and your executioner – you are?”

“Ah yes,” Rhys said. “The naming ball. Was it just the one dance Nesta performed before she had the males panting over her?”

“Still,” Feyre said, “that one was the easiest to smooth over. No one was killed. Or maimed.”

“I think the proposal with Chrysos was when Cassian was aware this was going to be a repeat issue,” Az said.

Chrysos stood before them, undulating between the visage of a male and of something else, something other – possibly human but not quite. His skin was translucent and his gold blood ran through his veins, clear to their eyes, like streaks in white marble.

He was horrifying and beautiful and Feyre struggled to tear her eyes away.

“I must marry you,” he said, directing his words to Nesta. Chrysos’ voice echoed around the cave chamber, strangely melodic, a harmony of angels singing in chorus, one voice on top of another. “I shall make you my Queen and take you into the darkness where we shall make the sweetest music and-”

Nesta’s shoulders sagged, energy sapped from her as she gave a frustrated sigh.

“What the fuck?!”

Feyre jumped at Cassian’s yell, the noise bouncing from the tops of the cave to the bottom, deep into the darkest part and back again.

“Seriously! For fucks sake, I am standing right here!”

Rhys chuckled. “That ended quick enough if I remember?”

“We were on a recruitment mission though, we wanted him on our side,” Az said, “not dead.”

“Cassian maintains he slipped.”

“From six feet away?”

“Yes.”

“With his sword aloft?”

“I didn’t think the proposal in Summer was too bad,” interrupted Feyre, now with Nyx resting against her shoulder so she could pat his back with soothing circles.

The party on Tarquin’s barge was held at the height of the season the Court was most famous for.

The weather was idyllic; sunshine beating down on Feyre’s skin, endless blue skies stretching ahead while a cool ocean breeze drifted from the teal waters teaming with coral. Dolphins pranced in the frothy waves around them, shimmering and shining, their scales a rosy pink.

“Look, Nyx, look!” Feyre held her cooing baby high, pointing the dolphins out to his curious violet eyes.

The barge moved at a comfortable pace and again, like all parties the High Lords arranged, the music, food and wine flowed. Guests streamed from the top desk to the lower one and lower still when they felt like taking to the private cabins, the heat in the air turning into heat in the blood.

The decks were vast enough to not see the same individuals constantly but small enough to see them often and Feyre had smiled every time she walked past a relaxed Cassian and Nesta.

On their first stroll about the deck, Nyx had been awake and grinning, Nesta peppering his small face with a flood of kisses that had him squealing and his limbs flailing with joy. Cassian had joked about knowing his place in the pecking order and Nesta smiled at him in turn.

Cassian’s hair was tied back into a loose bun, strands of black hair falling past his jaw. It was too hot for leathers and, with his white linen shirt with sleeves rolled up to expose the black tattoos on his arms, he was the most casual Feyre had ever seen him.

Nesta stunned in a dress of blue which started ice blue at her shoulders before blending into a shade so dark at the hem it was almost black. The front was a demure and delicately scalloped neckline but Nesta’s back was entirely bare, held up by invisible straps.

Multiple pairs of eyes glanced their way but Nesta’s hand never left Cassian’s and his free one travelled the length of her spine dipping beyond the fabric at her lower back.

You’re borderline indecent, Feyre told them with pretend outrage and continued to walk the deck.

The second time Feyre passed them, they had been talking to Tarquin and Feyre only caught a brief snippet of their conversation, trying to settle a now restless Nyx against her shoulder.

“One apology,” Tarquin had said, “that was my mother’s favourite building.”

On Feyre’s third pass, Nyx now in Rhys’ arms, Tarquin had gone. In his place stood a fae Feyre didn’t recognise.

“I had turned away for a couple of seconds,” Cassian said, his hands in fists, “and you thought this was your opportunity to sneak in here like a panting-”

“Cassian,” Nesta warned, “we don’t want another incident in this Court.”

“Well, there will be one if this prick doesn’t move out of here. We’ll see how he fares with my foot up his as-”

“Cassian!”

“She’s married and mated. Can’t you see the matching rings? Can’t you smell the mate bond?”

The high fae nodded his head, “Yes, but...”

“But? But what?! That’s it,” Cassian said, “we’re leaving this fucking party.”

Rhys and Az stared at Feyre as she burped Nyx, their mouths open.

“What?” she asked.

“You didn’t think it was too bad?” Rhys said, his voice incredulous.

Feyre shrugged, “No one died and no wars were started.”

“They’d only just removed the ban on Cassian to have to enforce it again.”

“I don’t think the second ban was fair though.”

“Feyre, darling. He destroyed the barge.”

“We spent hours fishing everyone out of the sea,” Az said. “Then we had to work out where Nesta’s unfortunate suitor had landed after Cassian threw him towards the cliff.”

“Wasn’t he clinging onto the side of the rockface?”

“Yes.”

“And didn’t Cassian destroy another building in his haste to get away?”

“Yes.”

“Alright,” Feyre said, frowning. “So maybe it was bad.”

“I quite liked the proposal from Locuples,” Az said, “that was the best for all involved. No one died and we ended up with a pretty good trade agreement.”

“Oh, I remember that,” said Feyre, “I was here when Nesta and Cassian came back.”

Feyre and Az had been in the grand room, as they were now, sitting opposite each other in companiable silence. Steam from their tea cups swirled in the air and Feyre gazed out the windows at the white clouds over the city.

“What the-?”

Feyre’s head snapped round, surprised at the uncharacteristic shock in Az’s voice. He stared towards the door archways and Feyre followed his eyeline.

Cassian and Nesta had returned, surprisingly quietly, as she hadn’t heard them land on the roof. Or perhaps, looking at the display in front of her, they’d travelled by some other means.

Nesta sat on a throne on an open topped litter, carried by two lithe creatures who were more shadow and smoke than real and whose feet never touched the ground. Nesta herself, bedecked with jewels, a tiara and clutching a sceptre, wore an expression of confusion.

Cassian followed on foot, wings tersely tucked in, heaving a trunk filled with gold, jewellery, silks, furs and bottles which wafted exotic scents.

Cassian glanced at them from the corner of his eye, “Don’t ask.”

“I thought we expected this to be a hostile negotiation?”

“I said don’t ask.”

“We still receive gifts on a monthly basis,” Feyre said and slid to the floor to lay a barely awake Nyx on the soft furs - one of those aforementioned gifts. She traced a thumb on the arch of his foot and watched it curl, his lips smacking in contentment.

Feyre swore the floorboards underneath him adjusted to accommodate his shape.

“Don’t you receive monthly gifts from Helion as well?” Rhys asked. “Or did Cassian put a stop to that?”

“Cassian put a stop to that one,” Az said.

“Doesn’t Nesta still have the first gift though?”

Az groaned and placed his scarred hands over his eyes. “Yes, and I cannot express how much upkeep it takes.”

Feyre smiled, “Oh, I remember that one too.”

The shriek took Feyre by surprise and she leapt from her chair, readying herself for action. It was only seconds before she realised it wasn’t a shriek of pain but one of sheer, childlike joy.

Once again, her and Az were in the House and, once again, she hadn’t heard the arrival of the House’s other permanent occupants.

“In the name of the Mother,” Az breathed and, in what was a familiar pattern, Feyre turned to where he was looking. This time, instead of Az looking towards the doorway, he was staring outwards at the windows.

Nesta, clad in her leathers and with windswept hair was sat astride a glorious white winged horse, her black leather a stark contrast to the white of the creature she sat upon.

“Someone find Gwen and Emerie! They need to know about this; they need to come here!”

With another shriek of joy and a gentle nudge to the horse’s sides Nesta rose higher, the wings of the horse flapping with enthusiasm, happy to appease its new owner.

There was a sigh from behind them and Feyre and Az turned. Cassian leant against the doorframe, fingers rubbing his temples.

“Cass... isn’t that Helion’s last and most prized flying horse?”

“Please – do not ask.”

“That thing is a nightmare,” Az said, “it eats everything, likes very few fae and can somehow find its way into the House in the dead of night. Do you know how terrifying it is to wake to find a winged horse hovering over you demanding sugar cubes while stealing your blanket? I can’t live like this.”

Feyre shot him a sympathetic smile while Rhys laughed. In the brief silence which followed, Feyre could hear the rhythmic banging echoing its way through the house.

“Aren’t they done yet?”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“At least it will be over soon.”

“Nope.”

“Oh.”

“You think this is bad?” Az said, “You weren’t here after the proposal with the Peregryn.”

To Feyre, the Dawn Court was one of the most beautiful. Its shades of gold and red weren’t bright or ostentatious but were the softer golds found in the rising sun, the reds not vermillion or scarlet but something akin to a dusky rose.

Every town held a thousand clock-towers, every hand matching perfectly, the chimes on the hour synching in a glorious song, calling to the skies in praise of a new day, of promises to be made, of joy to come.

The peace of that particular morning had been broken by the shouts of males, all raised in the ecstatic spirit of competition. Nothing violent or aggressive but it spoke to Feyre of knuckles and bone crunching all the same.

She’d pushed her way to the front of a crowd, the fae recognising her and making room for her to pass. A fighting circle had broken out in a section of the town square, cheers raising into the air as one of the fighters scored a blow.

In the circle stood two males, both tall and broad, barefooted and bare-chested. One had wings similar to the Pegasus which Nesta now owned, white and gold-feathered, and the other had wings as black as night, the rising sun highlighting veins and patches of amber.

A female was eagerly watching them, a female Feyre shoved past fae to move next to.

“Nesta! Why is Cassian sparring with a Peregryn?”

Nesta didn’t tear her eyes from the males. “Some old nonsense about fighting for the right to take my hand.”

Cassian landed a punch to his opponent’s jaw, the crack reverberating through the air as the crowd cheered on.

Sweat trickled down Cassian’s own jaw and onto his neck. His muscles were strained, his abdomen contracting. As the fighters turned positions, his back faced Feyre, black tattoos against dark skin, his shoulder blades gleaming with oil.

Feyre glanced at Nesta who was dressed in a pale peach dress adorned with pearls, her hair up but with soft stands framing her face. She would have looked a wholesome picture of innocence if not for her darkening eyes.

“Shouldn’t you stop this?”

“Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

Nesta’s eyes flickered from the top of Cassian’s head down his back and then, as the fighter’s moved again, to his stomach where they lingered on the trail of hair leading down to the waistband of his trousers. She sighed.

“A few more minutes.”

Feyre blinked as if she could rid herself of the memory. “I can only imagine.”

“If I didn’t visit the river house for dinner I would have starved. The House had to perform a deep clean.”

The walls shook in what was akin to a shudder.

“The bard was wholesome enough,” Rhys said.

Az groaned, “And yet ridiculous.”

In a concerted effort to apologise to the Courts on behalf of the behaviour of some Inner Circle members during previous gatherings, Feyre and Rhys had invited the High Lords and their significant others to Starfall.

The House remained still, either curious as to who all the guests were or silently sulking that there were guests at all.

The tang of a rich red wine was on Feyre’s tongue, not from anything she had drunk, but from a stolen kiss from Rhys, under the night sky, in a moment solely theirs before it became everyone else’s.

The night was filled with laughter and talking and Feyre slid into the embrace of her mate, content in the knowledge that Nyx slumbered underneath the watchful eye of the House’s nursery, a room which hadn’t existed before this very evening.

Her heart hurt, but in a good way, as though each chamber was bursting with a joy they couldn’t contain and her happiness spilled out into every corner of the rooftop.

Azriel was intently speaking with Nesta’s red-haired friend while Elain watched on from a distance, either not aware of, or ignoring, her own red-haired watcher.

Amren and Mor stood amongst another group, Mor’s golden hair cascading down her back like a waterfall and near the balcony was Cassian and Nesta, pressed side by side, hand in hand as they gazed upwards, Cassian pointing to a constellation.

Nesta glanced at him as he spoke, her face softening in a way Feyre never thought possible, a smile on her lips. When Cassian looked back at her, to check her understanding of what he was saying, he brought their intertwined hands up to his mouth, to kiss her fingertips.

Feyre smiled, all was well and all would continue to be well. That was until a voice, clear and resolute, spoke out into the crowd.

“My High Lords and Ladies and Paramor’s, I am a bard from the Spring Court – famed as the best in all the Courts!”

Chatter drifted into murmurs as heads turned expectedly to the fae now standing in the centre. Feyre noted his lute fixed upon his waistband but the bard made no attempt to reach for it.

“I have travelled across the land, coming to the Court of the High Lord and High Lady of Night with one purpose and one purpose only – to serenade with tales of fortune and love!”

A ripple of anticipation broke out amongst the crowd to hear such songs and Feyre turned to Rhys. “Did you arrange this?” but his face was twisted in confusion.

“I dedicate my melodies to one female, one who understands music as though her very bones were formed by the notes. My song to you, Lady Nesta and also my hand in marri-”

“FUCKS SAKE!”

Feyre let out a sigh. “I felt so sorry for the bard. He must have seen Nesta on one of her visits. To think, he spent all those weeks travelling on foot to arrive to the House and then Cassian threatens to dangle him from the roof.”

“Cassian did dangle him from the roof.”

“No one’s going to invite us to any more parties,” said Rhys with a sorrowful sigh.

“I think we can handle an overly amorous high fae or two,” Az said, “it’s the demons which worry me.”

“They’re no cause for concern,” Rhys said with a wave of his hand. “In fact, we have a valuable asset on our side. Drag Nesta in front of them and it tends to shut them up.”

Feyre frowned. “That is my sister you’re deciding to use as romantic bait. Besides, the issue we had with the Caligo demon was that it didn’t stop talking. There was such a mess.”

Screams filled Feyre’s ears as terrified Night Court citizens ran past her, almost a blur.

Tears streaked down terror-stricken faces as they grabbed the arms of their loved ones and scooped up children too small or young to so anything other than shiver and cry.

Cracks appeared in the ground beneath their feet, the cobbles of the street twisting and turning before jutting upwards like the jagged, sharpened edges of broken bone. The air was thick with acrid smoke which stung Feyre’s eyes causing them to stream with the tears she saw running down her people’s faces.

Rhys was to her right. Or that’s what she hoped. He had been standing but he’d gasped in pain and then she no longer saw him through the gaps in the cloud. When she managed to glimpse him, he was on his knees, thick red blood pouring down his face from a cut on his scalp.

Feyre choked back a sob and clambered over the rips in the earth to reach him.

Steel clashed with steel in the darkness, the shouts of Cassian and Azriel tearing through the blackness as they pressed forward. A shimmer of magic absorbed as much of the darkness away as it could and created a halo around the members of the Inner Circle.

Hands, strong and steady, circled Feyre’s waist and Nesta held her up, helped her over the torn earth.

“I am destroyer,” the thing hissed. “I am consumer, I am flesh ripper and soul tearer and I-”

It turned, watching them all, gloating in their misery and gorging itself fat on their pain. One of its bulbous eyes slid to where they stood, Feyre leaning into Nesta’s side. Her sister’s hair was dishevelled, her arms smeared with blood but Nesta’s eyes remained cold and hard upon the demon.

“And I – oh, oh, you are spectacular.”

A roar ripped through the darkness; a bellowing from powerful lungs as the words of the creature reached the ears of all present.

“Absolutely fucking not!”

Cassian advanced from the void, red siphons blazing as though he were shrouded in flame. “I am her mate; I am her husband and I suggest you put those sloping tongues back into your mouth or Mother help me...”

Feyre swallowed the rising bile. She tried not to think about the events of that night, though she didn’t know what was worse – that night or now, with the thumping above their heads gaining momentum.

“He got the job done,” Rhys said and then smirked, “and he’s doing the same now from the sounds of it.”

“Rhys!” Feyre admonished and placed her hand on Nyx’s stomach to calm herself. “Why do you think he puts up with it?” she asked Az.

“What choice does he have? Besides, he loves and trusts her. There’s no one for him but her and no one for her but him.”

“Disgusting,” Rhys said with slight mockery to his tone.

“No,” Feyre said, “what’s disgusting is the head in the corner.” She eyed up the lump that had once been somethings head; the glassy eyes, the bloodied stump. She wouldn’t relish touching the thing but she would happily remove herself out of earshot of Nesta and Cassian’s post proposal love affirmation. “Where do I take it?”

“The House created a trophy room three doors down,” Az said.

Anguis’ mouth hung open, razor sharp rotted teeth all lined up on display. Feyre felt a slither of pity. “I’ll take it there.”

“No, Feyre darling, I’ll do it.”

Feyre breathed a sigh of relief and nodded before turning to Az. “Shall we wait for them to be done? We need to discuss the next mission which is rather sensitive.”

Az shook his head, “No, you may as well go home. It was a proposal so they’re not stopping until – what day is it now, Thursday? – they’re not going to be fit for purpose until Monday.”

Rhys, still lounging, stretched out into the space Feyre previously occupied. “We can’t wait that long.”

“Do you want to volunteer to interrupt them?

“No.”

Feyre glanced between them both. “Cassian did look rather sad.”

Azriel laughed again, the sound echoing throughout the room, his head thrown back. “Don’t pity Cassian, he knows what he’s doing.”

“And Nesta falls for it?”

“No, she definitely doesn’t fall for it.”

“But isn’t she in their chambers um...reassuring him?”

“Yes.”

Feyre bit her lip, “So surely...”

“Oh Mother,” Az rubbed his hand across his face. “It’s their form of twisted foreplay. When Nesta received a proposal from – well, I can’t remember which one, I came home early and almost went blind. Have none of you questioned the indoor swing?”

Feyre’s voice was quiet when she spoke, scooping up her son into her arms with haste. “I thought they were creating an inside playground.”

“Ah,” Az said, his voice soft, “not quite.”

The thumping reached its crescendo and blessedly, stilled.

“Oh, thank the Mother,” Rhys said, “they’re done after all. Az, go retrieve them. We need to discuss the next mission.”

“Why me?”

“You live here.”

“You’re the High Lord.”

Feyre looked around her, Nyx clutched in her arms. “I think the floor is sloping us out towards the door.”

“I don’t think so Feyre, darling.”

“No really, the head - which you said you’d deal with by the way - is rolling away.”

Feyre wasn’t imagining what was happening, she’d passed under the entrance to the room, Rhys and Az’s chairs beginning to follow.

“This happens,” Az said with a calmness Feyre didn’t feel. “Usually when they don’t want anyone to overhear the next part of their ‘Nesta got proposed to again’ sex marathon.”

“Why? What could they now be planning that’s so much worse?”

“I don’t know,” Az replied, “the House always shuffles me out at this point. One time I was trying to prep my knives and almost stabbed myself in the eye.”

“Right,” said Rhys, “I think we can walk out of here without a sentient lump of stone forcing us to. Which,” he said with an eye to the steepness of the floor angle, “is completely within its’ right.”

Feyre nestled a snoring Nyx into one arm as Rhys helped her up. Az was already on his feet, out the door and into the hallway before he got flattened by an oversized, burgundy armchair.

He turned to them both.

“So, where’s the next mission to anyway? Where are you sending our glorious Lady Death and Lord of Bloodshed and can I sit it out?”

Feyre and Rhys exchanged glances. “I think we might need you in attendance,” Feyre said.

Az raised an eyebrow. “Well, I know King Lascivus is causing some problems with his tithe but as long as you weren’t planning on sending us to his palace, it will be fine. He’s famous for his side hobby of trying to find a muse to depict as the Mother in his artworks. Borderline obsessed.”

Feyre cleared her throat, “Sounds like he’s fervently religiously devout.”

“Hardly. The issue isn’t him trying to depict the Mother but that he’s spent centuries convincing everyone that she needs to be represented in her naked glory and I quote ‘with the petals of her flower fully opened.’”

Rhys coughed and moved fast down the hallway towards the roof entrance his wings already forming.

“Rhys!” Feyre called out. “You know I can’t run when I’m holding the baby!”

Az’s voice was quiet. “Feyre?”

“You know we love you,” she said, not meeting his hazel eyes, “and you’re always welcome at the river house. For as long as you want, whether that’s weeks or months.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I swear on the Cauldron, if you need to you can stay for centuries.”

“Feyre?”

She turned and didn’t look back, picking up her own speed to follow Rhys, ignoring the quiver in Az’s tone.

“We love you Az,” she shouted over her shoulder, propping Nyx into a position ready for flight as the House opened its doors to hasten her exit. “Always remember that.”

TAGGING

@live-the-fangirl-life

@champanheandluxxury

@dontgetsalmonella

@purpleglitterypinecone

#nessian #fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #i wrote something #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fan fiction #nessianfic #nesta archeron x cassian #nessian fan fic #the perils of being mr nesta archeron

236 notes · View notes