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sugawara-sweetheart · 4 years

Text

𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔢𝔰𝔢 (𝔪)

(n.) contextually is a response to a photographer asking for the subject to smile at the camera

Tinder hookup!Terushima x camgirl!reader | 30/08

Warnings: sex toys, orgasm denial, overstimulation, face riding, titty-fucking, cum-eating

Word count: 5.6k

Part 3/12 of aphrodisia series

terushima smells faintly of cinnamon as you sidle up beside him on the couch, draping your arm over the back. he looks beautiful, you think, admiring the way your lamp paints him in a glow, his brown eyes honey and his silver tongue piercing flashing when he clicks it between his teeth. out of everyone you’d swiped right on and who’d responded with interest over your offer, you’re glad it’s terushima.

your eyes drape down to admire his broad shoulders, his strong arms with green veins lacing up them, muscles rippling as he sips his lemonade, little droplets trickling down and glistening off his chin and the way his shirt hugs his muscular body. you know he’s perfect for the job, smiling as you meet his brown eyes. he returns it just as warmly.

“so, when do we get started then?” he asks. terushima’s excited, you can tell by the way his eyes gleam and he keeps looking at you with a bright smile, something close to a smirk. but he’s nervous too- he’s bound to be with the way his glass trembles in his hand and his knee jostles.

“the stream starts at 8.” you reply. “and you are okay with this, right? i know it’s an unusual date…” terushima swallows as you reach for the tie loosely knotted around the collar of his shirt, playing with the fabric between your fingers. “but we can stop at any time.” he gazes at you for a moment but his reply is physical; one gentle hand sliding up your bare thigh whilst other presses into your jaw, bringing your face close to his. he tastes so sweet when he captures your lips in a kiss, your mutual desire so evident as you pull him closer by his tie and his coarse fingers graze the soft skin of your thigh, snaking up higher underneath your skirt. you’re breathless when you pull away, matching terushima’s smirk as you sweep his blond locks out of his brown eyes.

“come on now.”

terushima follows you into your bedroom, your hands entwined and there’s a sharp intake of breath audible from him as he sees your set-up. it’s sophisticated: an expensive laptop with a microphone, a camera, a ring light and a few sex toys sat on the desk alongside a black leather collar.

“what do you think then?” you turn around with a gentle smile, your stomach lurching with pride when you see how wide he’s grinning.

“damn, this is so cool!” he gasps. “how did you pay for all this? is the money really that good?” you blush a little, chuckling awkwardly.

“the money is decent and definitely helps with college much more than another part time job does, but some of this stuff are gifts from followers.” you gesture to the toys on the desk, smirking at the way terushima’s brown orbs widen at them, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips and his silver tongue piercing flashing in the light. you can’t help staring at it- it captivated you from the moment you saw his picture on tinder, the little silver ball embedded into his tongue immediately making you imagine all the dirty ways you could use him, how it would feel sliding against your tongue, your skin, down between your legs.

“are they for you?” terushima questions, nodding towards the collar and sex toys. you chuckle.

“be a good boy and wait and see, yūji. you don’t want to ruin all the fun, do you? now take off your clothes, but give me the tie.”

terushima’s eyes brighten at your drawl and he smirks as he begins to loosen the tie. you sit by the laptop, setting up the stream and ensuring the camera is connected whilst you hear terushima’s clothes rustle as he removes them. you glance around at him, smiling when he stands in your bedroom, naked except for the underwear he still wears. you’re almost distracted by the beautiful tanned abs, his thick, hard thighs, the silver bar running through his nipple but all of that is washed away quickly as you can’t help but giggle at his bright yellow boxer-briefs, adorned with a pattern of bright red chilli peppers that has terushima blushing.

“i think my viewers will enjoy that.” you smile through your little laughs.

“i’m a spicy boy, okay, y/n? our viewers will love me and my underwear.” you smile with amusement at terushima’s sardonic sigh before standing, pulling off your sweater and skirt.

you smirk at the way terushima gasps, feeling so beautiful in your lacy lingerie that has him staring at you hungrily, mouth hanging wide open.

“it was another gift from one of my viewers- the one who specifically asked to see someone else involved.” you smile, stroking over the lacy cups that held up your tits. “are you ready now, yūji?”

terushima swallows and nods, returning your reassuring smile. then you click.

the stream begins, the viewer count rising rapidly and comments flooding the screen as you smile and wriggle your fingers in a wave before opting to blow kisses at the camera. the comments are a variety of lewd words and lustful compliments which you giggle at, thanking the viewers with their sinful usernames. terushima is stunned as he watches you- when he first spoke to you over tinder, you were friendly and kind. but your camgirl persona was someone else- you were seductive with darkened, hooded eyes and your posture completely different to the usual y/n with your back arched enough now for your pretty tits to be in view and your voice a sexy drawl. terushima isn’t sure whether it’s the depravity of being watched by hundreds of strangers or the way you look so utterly fuckable in your lacy lingerie but he can feel the arousal start to build, his cock hardening in his boxers.

“today i’ll be doing something a little different.” you say after your usual introductions, tilting your head to smirk at the camera. “one of my lovely viewers suggested seeing my pretty pussy get fucked and you know how much i can’t say no to you. so here i have our guest today.”

you turn and beckon terushima towards you with a curl of your finger and he walks slowly to you, suddenly swallowing hard with the excitement and nerves buzzing in his veins. you let him sit down first on the end of the bed, playing with his tufts of blond hair before making him look up at the monitor. his eyes widen as he watches himself, his body looking so good on the screen and the ring light making his tongue piercing gleam. the comments flooding the screen made his heart beat against his rib cage but you only laugh, stroking his hair before you sit on his thigh.

“yūji, they like you.” you smile, tilting your head with interest as your eyes scanned the comments. “that’s right, he is my baby boy today and i’m going to treat him so well.” you look at him darkly, making his stomach churn and his cock strain harder against the fabric of his pants. “look at him, he’s so excited.” you giggle when you stroke over his erection, making him groan at the slight pressure. he’s aware of how the camera and microphone capture his lust with his heavy-lidded eyes and the little breathy moans.

“come on, y/n.” he says with a cheeky grin. “when are you going to make me feel good?” you tut, shaking your head but an amused smirk pulls at your lips.

“don’t be such an impatient brat, baby.” you whisper, leaning into the crook of his neck. terushima swallows when your teeth close around his ear lobe, sucking at the flesh to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he shudders. “remember, i own you for today so you’re going to be a good boy for me, understand?”

you release terushima’s ear lobe with a smirk, the cooling sensation only making his mouth drier as he craved nothing more than for his painfully hard cock to be soothed. but you’re slow as you draw out picking up the black leather collar, admiring it before you’re unbuckling it and drawing it around his neck.

“you think i’m yours?” he smirks, feeling that warmth of satisfaction to see your eyes flash with a sudden darkness.

“i know you’re mine.” is all you say before you’re threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him into a kiss.

it starts off slow but passionate, you tugging at terushima’s blond locks to tilt his head back, allowing your viewers a clear view of your tongue swiping at his lips. he’s messy though, his tongue licking into your mouth with the silver ball of his tongue piercing so foreign in your mouth it makes you moan into his lips. it encourages him to grope you closer, one hand squeezing your ass and the other sliding up your bare skin to palm your tits but suddenly he stops with a gasp when you tug at his collar. you pull away from his lips with a smirk, a thin string of spit connecting you both.

“did i say you could touch me like that, baby?” terushima doesn’t reply verbally, instead scoffing as he licks up your mixed saliva off his lips, causing you to laugh mirthlessly as you face the camera. “if he wants to be such a little brat and think he can touch me however he wants, i'll just teah him a lesson.” the comments are coming in faster as you reach for terushima’s tie on the desk, stroking the fabric slowly between your fingers as you turn back to him. “hands out, yūji.”

“and if i don’t?” he teases, causing you to quirk an eyebrow. his stomach jolts as his eyes flicker to the screen, glimpsing the filthy words flashing on the screen that only makes his cock twitch.

“punish the brat by making him cum and cum again till he’s a whiny twitchy mess.”

“want to see him fill up y/n’s pretty pussy with all his cum.”

terushima’s attention is stolen away when you grip his wrists and place them together, binding the tie around him before you’re leaning in to capture his lips in a kiss.

“much better. keep being good for me and maybe i’ll let you cum.”

terushima shudders and groans as you begin to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck. he jerks when you lathe over the reddened skin, his head falling back and a deep, throaty moan escaping him with drool trickling from the corners of his lips.

“so sensitive, yūji.” you tease with a giggle, sitting back to admire the purple bruises that are slowly forming on his skin. “you look so handsome like this, but we’re just getting started. i wonder where else is so fun to play with.”

“you sound a bit needy for me, y/n.” terushima grins at the thrill when you exhale heavily, reaching out to trail a gentle, feather-light finger along his collar bones, down his chest, around his pec, leaving a blazing trace of tingling lingering behind.

“don’t get cheeky with me, baby boy,” your voice is so sickly sweet but the lustful darkness in your eyes is so cold. “or else i’ll leave you all tied up to watch me fuck myself on one of my toys instead and make you wish it was your cock instead.” terushima doesn’t even get a chance to reply before only a deep moan is ripped from him when you kneel down between his legs and slide your tongue over his pierced nipple.

whines are drawn from him and his hands pull at the tight restraint of his tie as the wet sensation of your tongue sends pleasure running through him, the metal bar only heightening his sensitivity. he can’t help but hiss out a swear when you graze your teeth along the piercing, tugging slightly at it to send jolts of pain mixed with pleasure running through him.

“fuck, please, y/n, do something to me.” terushima groans, his high, breathless voice sounded so foreignly desperate with the blood rushing in his ears. he’s so needy as he bucks up into nothing and you smile as you sit back, letting yourself run your fingertips along the rippled skin of his toned abdomen.

“my, my, you’re so desperate for me to use your cock, aren’t you?” you giggle, sitting up on his leg to allow the camera to have full access to the whole of terushima’s body. “look at how much you need me.” you graze a finger along the outline of his cock and it’s so humiliating how obvious the wet patch of precum staining his yellow and red boxers is.

“please just do something.” terushima whines as you press a soothing kiss to his cheek, letting one of your hands snake around his bare shoulders whilst the other wraps around his jaw, stroking his smooth skin. then you turn to the camera, tilting your head with mocking intrigue.

“should i help him? or should i leave him here all needy and desperate to cum?” the comments go crazy, lewd words popping up on the screen but some only seem to make terushima needier, his mind immediately painting the sinful fantasies in his head of you fucking him till he cums all over you, you treathing him with your mouth so they can see your face stained with his cum or-

“‘pleasure him but don’t let him cum till he’s pathetic and begging you to let him cum like a stupid baby boy.’” you read aloud. terushima whines at the crude words, his cock so painfully hard he can’t even think about anything other than his need for stimulation. “do you like the sound of that, baby?”

“god, yes please, y/n, just do it- something- anything, for fuck’s sake!”

he sounds so exasperated, so needy you can’t help but laugh as you reached for one of the sex toys.

“my baby boy is already so pathetic and needy, i bet you can’t think of anything except cumming, huh?” terushima’s eyes widen when he hears the sound of a low buzzing fill the room. you’ve chosen the vibrator, looking so pleased as you set it to the lowest intensity. “but let’s see how long you’ll last. remember, you can’t cum till i tell you to.” terushima can’t help a grin tugging at his lips.

“or what?” you seem amused at his boldness, flicking his pierced nipple with your other hand to send a wave of bittersweet pain entwined with pleasure.

“i’ll punish you.” you drawl, snaking the hand up from his chest to his throat where you wrap your fingers around him, making him groan even if you don’t apply any pressure. “so be good for me.”

you place the vibrator down on the sensitive, leaking head of terushima’s clothed cock, pulling a loud moan from him as he jerks suddenly, hissing when you dig your nails into his firm shoulder to anchor yourself. it feels heavenly to him, his eyes drooping shut and mouth hanging open, spit trickling from the corners of his open mouth.

“does it feel good, baby?” you ask, pushing his head onto your shoulder as you press the vibrator harder against him, the pressure only adding to the pleasure.

“so good- but i need more, please.” strings of whines fall freely from his lips when you increase the intensity. his hands curl into fists, head falling back onto your shoulder so pathetically with his eyes clenched shut. you can see his toes curling into your carpet, feel his thigh quiver below you as you pepper kisses over his face.

“you’re not going to cum before i let you, are you?” terushima shakes his head, swallowing through his moans as his nails dig into the fabric of the tie, binding his hands. he looks so desperate.

“no, no, no- it just- ah- feels so good.”

“that’s a good boy.” you whisper, tongue darting to lick at his pierced nipple, making him groan as his body jerks from the sensitivity. “you’re not going to mind if i just increase the intensity a bit more? maybe tell you all the dirty things everyone wants to do to you?” terushima nods desperately, eyes opening just halfway and he almost moans at the sight of himself.

sweat glistens off his body and he looks so fucked out with his pupils blown out and his face flushed with arousal. and you look so pretty sat on his thigh, smiling at the monitor whilst you increase the intensity of the vibrator, the buzzing loud as it blends with terushima’s moans.

“you sound so pretty, baby, let me tell you all the dirty things our audience thinks of you.” you smile as you begin to scan your eyes over the words flashing across the screen. “‘fuck, he’s so hot i’d fuck myself on his pretty cock any day.’” terushima groans. “‘want to use the little boy so bad just to hear all those pretty moans.’” he whines. “can’t wait to see y/n use his dick. they’ll look so sexy when she creams all over it.’” the pleasure is so sweet, it’s too much. he’s almost choking on his moans now, moving his restrained hands to the thigh you’re not sat on, digging his nails in his muscular flesh till it stings. “‘he looks so sinful, what a dirty boy. i can’t wait to see him cum.’”

terushima can’t hold back any longer. body and cock twitching and head thrown back, his sinful moans grow loud over the buzzing of the vibrator as his orgasm shakes his body. you scoff at the dark, wet patch over his length that grows till he’s reduced to a panting, twitching, sweating mess.

“did you just cum?” terushima doesn't detect the hardness in your voice.

“t-too much, y/n- it’s- it’s too much!” but you don’t move the vibrator away, instead continuing to press the toy against his softening cock. “y/n-” he hisses, the pain beginning to run through his nerves.

“i told you not to cum.” you snarl, wrapping your fingers around his locks and tugging at it to hear his masochistic whines. “so take your punishment like a good boy.” terushima shudders but you don’t stop, watching the pain on his face as you overstimulate him with your lips stretched into a sadistic smirk. “if you could’ve stopped yourself from being so pathetic and cumming all over yourself in your own underwear like a dirty boy, i wouldn’t have had to do this. look at what everyone’s saying about you.” terushima swallows, trying to breathe through the stinging pain as he turns to the monitor.

“such a dirty boy.”

“i want to see y/n being a nasty slut and lick up his cum.”

it doesn’t take long before terushima’s winces turn into pants of pleasure as the pain fades. but his punishment isn’t over yet and he whines when you move the vibrator away, stealing away the sweet pleasure that was about to build.

“y/n!” he pouts. you give a mirthless laugh as you stroke along his jawline before reaching for his chest.

“you don’t seriously think i'm done punishing you for being such a greedy boy and cumming when i told you not to?” he winces when you tug at his nipple piercing slightly. “go lie down, baby.” terushima feels his heart warmth at the momentary softness of your eyes when you reach to untie the tie around his wrists. “let me cum all over your tongue and cock and then i’ll reward you for taking your punishment so well.”

terushima’s stomach tightens with the excitement, the blood rushing to his cock already despite the horrible stickiness in his wet boxers.

“i’ll be good just for you, y/n.” he drawls, making a show of clicking his tongue piercing between his teeth before he lies down, head in clear view of the camera. he watches you with hungry eyes when you make a show of removing your lingerie. you look so beautiful, so seductive when you unclasp and peel off your bra, arching your back when you slip it off and slide your hands over your chest, palming your pretty tits momentarily before moving to peel off your panties. terushima swallows, his eyes glued to the way strings of slick cling to your soaked panties. then you spread your legs in full view of the camera, your wet, glistening cunt visible to each and every one of your audience.

“you’re going to make me feel so good, aren’t you, pretty boy?” you tease as you move to kneel over terushima’s face, smiling down at him. “going to make me cum all over your face and tongue till you’re all messy, right?” terushima smiles, letting his hands come rest on your tensed thighs, dancing his fingertips over the sensitive skin to hear you sigh.

“i’ll make you feel the best you’ve ever felt.” he says before he grasps your hips, pulling you down onto him.

you gasp sharply, your body jolting and hands coming to grip terushima’s hair at the first moment of his wet tongue sliding across your slick folds, the silver ball impaling his tongue only adding pressure and filling you with more pleasure. but terushima’s good at this- he’s messy and fast, sucking at your clit before his tongue is dipping between your folds to lick at your walls messily, moaning into your wet cunt when you scratch at his scalp. the pleasure is so good, so sweet and electrifying you can’t help but grind your sloppy cunny into his face, shuddering when the tip of his nose rubs against your swollen clit.

“fuck, your mouth feels so good.” you groan, almost crying out when his tongue laps at your wetness with fervour. “fuck, fuck, fuck-” you break off with a loud shriek when the coil in your stomach suddenly snaps and you’re cumming, your walls convulsing around terushima’s tongue with the ball of his piercing feeling so good. pleasure wracks through you, your eyes clenching shut and toes curling as you moan out wantonly, feeling the wetness gush out from you as he groans into your cunt, his vibrations only adding to your climax so that you’re breathless when the pleasure fades away and you peel yourself away from his face.

“wow, y/n, i really made you feel that good.” terushima smirks as he sits up, making you choke. your wetness and his saliva are a glistening mess that drips down his chin and is smeared across his cheeks, making your core throb with need. “i really made you squirt, huh?” he looks so pleased with himself and you chuckle, glancing at the monitor to see all the lewd comments your audience are posting- lewd words of how hot you are, how you’re such a pretty slut when you squirt all over terushima’s face, how they’d do anything to be him and fuck your pretty cunny with their tongue.

“you’re a good baby boy.” you praise terushima, stroking your slick off his cheeks before you’re pulling him into a hungry kiss. you can taste yourself on his tongue, making you moan as you pull at his boxers, tugging them down. his hard cock springs up, slapping against his stomach, the skin slick with his cum and fresh beads of precum leaking from the red tip. terushima grunts into your mouth when you wrap your fingers around his length, stroking it and letting the lewd sounds fill the room before you pull away from his lips to address the camera.

“my yūji will look so good when i’m using his cock.” you mewl, tugging at his collar to elicit a little whine. “you’ll be good and won’t cum without permission, won’t you?”

“and if i do?” he teases, grinning when you tighten your hold around his collar even if it presses into his throat and makes him gasp. you smile mirthlessly as you straddle him, certain the camera has a good view judging by the long stream of comments.

“you’re making me think you enjoyed your punishment, yuji.” you whisper, leaning in to nip at his bottom lip. “don’t make me punish you even more.”

you and terushima moan together when you sink down on his length, wet enough to offer little resistance as he fills you up. you let out a choked whine when you’re fully seated, the stretch stinging a little but so delicious as you feel so full.

“fuck, fuck.” terushima pants, groaning at the way your wet walls clench around his cock. “you’re so tight.”

“i don’t care- don’t you dare cum.” you warn through your breathy pants. “i’m going to use your cock, do you understand?” you grip terushima’s jaw when he whines, making sure he locks his brown eyes with yours before he reluctantly nods. “that’s a good boy. i’ll make sure to reward you.”

then you’re lifting yourself off his cock till only the tip remains before slamming yourself down, crying out at the utter pleasure that runs through you. terushima is just as loud, holding your hips tightly with his nails digging into your flesh as you bounce on his cock, your tits right in front of his pleading face so that you let him wrap his lips around it. you moan at the added pleasure before you’re reaching for the vibrator, making terushima’s eyes widen when he hears that buzzing again.

“going to make myself cream all over your pretty cock, baby.” you smile at him as you lower the vibrator to your clit, not stopping the way you’re riding his cock.

as soon as the buzzing rounded tip presses against your swollen bundle of nerves you can’t help but almost scream at the pleasure, tears springing to your eyes over how fucking good it feels. terushima’s thick length rubs at your spongy walls in all the right places and the vibrations shooting through your clit makes you moan so loudly as you clench around him, feeling that long prominent vein press against your soaking walls.

“y/n,” terushima whimpers, gasping as you start to grind yourself faster, your wetness starting to coat his whole lap and the sound of squelching so loud with your shared wanton moans and the buzzing of the vibrator. “i can feel it- it feels good! b-but more- i want more.” terushima moves his hands to grasp the bedsheets, choking out moans as you continue to fuck yourself on his cock, circling your swollen nub with the toy.

“i don’t care, you don’t get to cum yet-” you break off with a gasp, feeling the coil tighten in your stomach. “this is for me.” the coil snaps and you shake with the pleasure, thighs quivering as you clench around terushima’s cock, moaning as your vision goes white. it feels good, so good, nothing but pure electrifying euphoria running through you.

you almost feel dizzy as you come down from your high, blood rushing in your ears and the vibrator still pressed to your clit making your nerves sting as you pull it away, switching it off. terushima looks so needy still, staring at you with wide, craving eyes as you laugh breathlessly, feeling that warm high of your climax.

“so good for me,” you smile, stroking his cheek and placing a chaste kiss to his lips. “let me treat you now for being such a good boy.” terushima grins, he looks excited as he tries to resist the urge to buck his hips up into you. “i’m sure everyone wants to see you finally cum all over me.”

you both look over at the monitor, smiling at the lewd words that appear across the screen, the words sounding even more sinful as you read them out in a husky drawl.

“‘i want to see yūji cum all over y/n and make her look like the little slut she is.’” you giggle at the filthy words, cheekily popping your finger into your mouth as you wink at the camera. “you’ll be in for a treat.”

terushima is buzzing with anticipation as you lift yourself off his cock, wincing at the sensitivity of his still hard cock brushing against your walls.

“how are you treating me then for being such a good boy, y/n?” he asks and his eyes widen when you’re lowering yourself below him. you smile as you grope your own tits, moaning lewdly at the camera.

“use me like this, baby boy. get yourself off on my body like a sweet little pup.”

terushima swallows, his length twitching at how sinfully beautifully you look. you look so coy, biting your swollen lip between your teeth with your tits pressed together, legs spread out to reveal your puffy, glistening cunt and he can’t wait any longer, scrambling towards you as he strokes his cock with heavy pants.

“y/n, baby, you look so fucking hot.” he grunts, reaching out with his free hand for your chest. he rubs your left pebbled nipple, licking at his lips with the arousal pumping through him. “you treat me so good.” he groans at the friction when he slides his cock between your two breasts, your wetness coating his skin allowing him to rut against you with ease. his eyes roll to the back of his head at the sweet friction, moans falling from his lips as you smile so prettily up at him. “fuck, y/n-” he chokes out, groaning as his thrusts grow quicker. “you look so fucking hot.”

“does it feel good?” you smirk and terushima nods with his heavy pants. it’s so messy, his cock thrusting in between your pretty tits, your skin becoming sticky with his leaking precum whilst you just smile up at him, little gasps and sighs falling from your lips as you rub your hardened nipples.

“so good, so so good.” he grunts, fucking your chest faster. he shudders when you remove one hand from your own chest, sliding your fingers slowly up his body before your fingertips graze his pierced nipple, the gentle touches only adding to the sweet, euphoric pleasure washing through him. with his loud moans, it doesn’t take long for terushima’s hips to stutter, resulting in him rutting himself desperately against you, his fingernails digging deep into your hips.

“i’m gonna cum, y/n. i’m gonna c-cum-” he breaks off with a loud whine as you tug at the silver jewellery running through his nipple.

“go on, baby, you’ve been so good for me.” you encourage him, batting your pretty eyes at him in a way that only makes him thrust harder, chasing his orgasm. “let go, baby boy. make a mess all over me.” with your lewd words ringing in his ear, terushima groans as his cock twitches. hot ropes of cum release from his reddened tip, coating your chest and collarbones, the two of you moaning at the sensation. terushima’s whole body twitches when he pulls away from you, his cock softening as the electrifying waves of his climax wash away.

“such a good boy, you’ve made me look so pretty.” you giggle, sitting up to show yourself to the camera. terushima’s panting, his eyes widening over how beautiful you look, your hands palming your tits that’s covered in his cum. “what do you say to me?” he feels weak, exhausted now as he can only gulp down air, blood pounding in his ear and his body so warm with his high.

“thank you for making me cum.” you smirk.

“that’s a good pup.” it’s so lewd, so messy, terushima’s stomach jolting as you stick out your tongue and you’re sliding it along your chest, coating it with his sticky, wet release. it’s filthy and nasty when you bring the finger to your pretty lips and lap your wet tongue at your digit, winking and giggling as you lick up his cum like a dirty, little slut. your finger is clean and wet with your saliva when you wave at the camera.

“thank you, everyone! i’ll see you all next time!” the livestream ends and the monitor goes blank.

your facade falls immediately, your eyes softening and body slouching with exhaustion. you sigh as you turn to terushima, lips curving upwards into a gentle smile.

“hey, you okay? how was that?” terushima smiles at the warmth he feels when you sidle up to him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling his naked body close to yours. it’s comforting when you graze your fingertips through his blonde locks that are matted with sweat, the scraping against his skull making his eyes feel heavy.

“so good, y/n.” he chuckles, his voice deep with tiredness. “i could do this again but maybe we’ll switch things up, huh? let me take the lead, yeah?” you giggle, smiling with affection as you brush his wet locks away from his forehead.

“if you can handle it, yuji, you’re almost falling asleep. come on, let’s go shower.” terushima grins as you take his hand, leading him towards the bathroom.

“good idea. maybe we can have a round two in there, let me practise for my own. watch your back, y/n; you might be having some competition soon.”

taglist: @crushingonsuga @redflannel @nekomas-biggest-fangirl @euniche95 @heyhinata @strawhatshepard @karasu-hoes @thatgoth-bitch @haikyuuhotline

to be added to the aphrodisia taglist, please send an ask to myself or @super-noya

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coffee-without-caffeine · 3 years

Text

Childe x reader ~ “Why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

Details: Modern AU!, Soulmate AU!, F!reader (if anyone would like a male reader I can rewrite it to be with a male reader instead and post that too) Character: Childe/Tartaglia (Genshin Impact) Trigger Warnings: A very toxic relationship in the beginning (not with Childe), mentions of the mafia, mentions of attempted kidnapping, childe literally breaking into your house(?). A/N: I love Kaeya but I couldn’t think of a better name so I just used his name for the ex. In now way shape or for is this how I see Kaeya or want others to see Kaeya so please keep this in mind when he is mentioned. Thank you <3

“The mirror’s image tells me it’s home time,”

The music blared from you phone as you curled into a tighter ball, pulling the polyester material closer to your face as it soaked up the stray tears. Why were you crying over him again, Kaeya, he wasn’t even your soulmate... Where was your soulmate? You’d been on this earth for twenty-two years yet you hadn’t heard a peep. Not a single word, tattoo, flare of pain. There was no red string tied around your finger like so many others had. Did you have a soulmate? Surely he would have shown up by now, or at least made his presence known.

“But I’m not finished ‘cause you’re not by my side.”

The song was little more than background noise now as you found yourself stuck in your own head. After coming to the conclusion you were one of the unfortunate people born without a soulmate, you had turned to meaningless relationships. You had thought they were meaningless, until you had began a relationship with Kaeya.

“And as I arrived, I thought I saw you leaving,”

It had started off beautifully, everything perfect and as it should be. You weren’t sure what had changed within the time you had been dating but at one point the magic of a new relationship had faded and the curtain had dropped. Not once has Kaeya made an effort to show he cared about you, all of the effort had stemmed from you. You were the one who woke up each day and texted him good morning, you were the one who would listen to him rant only to be shut down when you were crying and in pain. Every phone call revolved around him and what he had to say while you could do nothing more than offer up how you agreed with him.

“Carrying your shoes, decided that once again I was just dreaming of bumping into you.”

You had thought it was normal at first, you were both in a happy and loving relationship so why should it matter if he listened to you or not. He didn’t have a soulmate just like you, so why did it matter? You were meant to be together, this was the universe’s way of giving you a soulmate. Right?

“Now it’s three in the morning, and I’m tryna change your mind.”

It took you longer than you’d like to admit to come to terms with the fact you didn’t have a soulmate. Having someone else who shared the pain with you, the feeling of losing something you never had to begin with, was the best feeling. It had filled what you thought to be the gap of your soulmate, like fitting a piece into a puzzle that wasn’t from the same set. It wasn’t supposed to work but it did. You were so happy to have someone like you, or so you had thought.

“Left you multiple missed calls, and to my message you reply”

He had a soulmate. That piece of information had snapped the last thread holding your relationship together. You had clung to the hope that there was someone else like you, but there wasn’t. You two had been arguing, over what you couldn’t remember, but things had gotten heated and he had screamed that he should have never dated someone who wasn’t his soulmate. “You don’t have a soulmate though, you’re just like me! We’re meant to be together because of what we lack!” He had laughed cruelly, “You really think we were meant to be together? What are you stupid?” You watched in horror as he pushed his long sleeve up his arm to reveal a gorgeous tattoo of a bundle of yellow carnations. You couldn’t hear him anymore, you couldn’t see anything except for that bundle of carnations inked onto his arm. There was no doubt that it was the mark of his soulmate. “Get out of my apartment.” That’s when the tears had started falling.

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” Childe muttered as he walked down the bustling city street. “She’s listening to that song again? What is it now, the third time this week?” He thought, pushing his way through the crowd that blocked the entrance to the subway. Childe had ignored his soulmate for as long as he remembered. He refused to communicate in any way, never drawing on his skin, never singing to a song no matter how catchy (ahaha for ✨plot✨); not once had he tried to reach out. It wasn’t because he didn’t care about them, oh how he longed to hold you in his arms and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, it was the exact opposite. Childe cared deeply for his soulmate and, in his mind, being the soulmate of someone deeply rooted in the mafia was more of a blessing than a curse. The Fatui were feared in most towns, known mainly for their debt collection tactics and their deep roots in politics at a national level. Childe had been taken in at a young age, handed over by his father in hopes to pay off his debt to the Fatui (yes I know in his actual backstory his father sent him to the Fatui in hopes to change is attitude, sorry I couldn’t find a way to fit that in properly). Childe had grown up, and soon rose up the ladder that was the Fatui, eventually becoming a so called “Harbinger,” one of the highest ranks within the Fatui. So, deciding that living life constantly worrying about his soulmate was not one he wished to live, Childe had decided to ignore his universe given other-half. That is until the universe had other plans.

It was supposed to be a simple job, to give someone in debt a little bit of incentive to pay the Fatui back. They had found that Kaeya was close to a woman named Y/N. After a little bit of digging they had found out that Kaeya was in a relationship with Y/N, and that he had constantly been in and out of her apartment until a few days ago. Despite his recent break in the pattern of visits, his calls to Y/N’s number had remained more or less the same. Stepping out of the subway car Childe found himself running through the job once more. Break into the apartment, kidnap Y/N (yes, I know it’s cliche), leave a note for Kaeya and leave with you until he payed back his debt. It’d be quite a bit easier than most of his previous jobs, shouldn’t take him longer than two hours; the majority of it being the drive. What Childe hadn’t been expecting when he picked the lock and opened your door, was to see the very person he was supposed to kidnap cocooned in blankets, sobbing, and listening to the exact song that had been playing in his head the entire way here. Raising your tear stained face the two of you made eye contact, your red and puffy eyes meeting his wide and terrified ones. There was no denying it for either of you, the syncing of your breathing, the song that was now playing through both of your heads, you two were soulmates. Childe wasn’t sure how to react, halfway through the door and unsure if he was supposed to come any closer, he just stood there, unmoving. A pure mixture of fear and joy was pounding through this veins as he stared back.

You on the other hand, had no idea how to feel. You had spent your entire life believing you didn’t have a soulmate, and yet here he was half way through your door and a very bewildered look on his face. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that but you couldn’t say that your first impression of him was the best- seeing as that he had picked your lock and broken into your apartment while you were crying your eyes out. The circumstances of you meeting him had been less than ideal, as was the history of your relationship with him. You were so happy to have finally met him, that gap in your chest finally filled... but that wasn’t the only thing that filled your chest at the current moment; pure, burning, unbridled rage pooled in your chest and spread through out your body. You had a soulmate, but not once had you heard from him. Not a single sung lyric, not a single doodle on your arm, no tattoo or shared pain, nothing from the man who now stood fully in your apartment. Before you could process what exactly you were doing a harsh smack echoed through the space of your apartment.

Childe wasn’t sure how to feel now. After finally walking all the way into your apartment he had watched as you sprung from your bundle of blankets and stormed towards him. Apparently your way of greeting your soulmate wasn’t a hug or a handshake, it was to slap him straight across the face with surprising force. Childe was now looking at your wall with a stinging cheek and a blank mind. He found himself speaking to you before he could think about what he was about to say “Well that’s one way to greet your soulmate.” Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say to you. “Greet your soulmate? Greet your soulmate! ‘Greet your soulmate’ my ass I think I have every right to greet you like that when I didn’t know you existed until a couple of minutes ago! Keep in mind I have lived a soulmate less life for twenty-two years and here you are waltzing into my apartment after you picked the damned lock!” “At least I know you aren’t younger than me...?” And that’s how Childe found himself with not only a hand shaped mark on his right cheek, but a large goose egg on his forehead from the book you had unceremoniously flung at his face.

The two of you now sat on your couch, you with a freshly poured glass of wine and Childe with a bag of ice pressed to his forehead. “So you mean to tell me that I have spent twenty-two years believing I didn’t have a soulmate, because you were part of the mafia and didn’t want to put my life at risk.” “That’s exactly what I’m saying, I’m so glad you under-” “God nobody told me that if I had a soulmate he was going to be such an idiot.” “-stand... I’m sorry what was that just now?” Of all the responses Childe had expected, yours wasn’t one of them. “I know you heard me perfectly fine.” You snapped back, reaching for the book that now sat on the coffee table. The look of pure fear on Childe’s face was one you wouldn’t forget as he raised the hand that wasn’t holding the ice pack in surrender. Letting out a small huff you instead opted to grab your wine glass and drink the rest of the nearly full cup. “Look I could care less that you’re part of the fatui. While I don’t appreciate the fact you were going to kidnap me in order to get my ex to pay back his debt, I do understand why didn’t make yourself known all these years.” A guilty look overtook Childe’s face, one that made your heart ache, but you kept going. “We could have worked things out, I could have learned to protect myself better and you could continue to do your job. I understand you wanted to protect me physically, but you gravely miscalculated when it came to mentally protecting me.” There was a beat of silence before Childe spoke, his words carrying an emotion you weren’t sure you could identify. Three words that carried so much meaning and heart, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he didn’t mean them. “I’m truly sorry.”

Silence overtook your apartment once more, yet it was somehow lighter than the last wave. A mutual understanding, and forgiveness. Sure your soulmate was an idiot for not contacting you, and sure you could have not thrown a book at his head, but he was there. And so no words were exchanged as you rose from your chair and sat down next to Childe, leaning against his chest as he wrapped his free arm around your waist. You would figure the rest out later, but for now it was just the two of you- and you were perfectly fine with that.

“So would it be too much to ask for a kiss?” “Don’t push your luck pretty boy.”

#genshin impact #childe #tartagalia #genshin impact x reader #mango writes #genshin impact fatui #fatui #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #fanfiction #genshin impact fanfiction #modern au #genshin impact imagines

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tryingmyves · 3 years

Text

Sober

DENKI KAMINARI x Y/N

part two

A/N: A fic inspired by Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray (I swear they put crack in this song). You’ve been in love with Denki Kaminari for as long as you can remember and he only seems to think of you as more than a friend when he’s inebriated. Simple, right?

sorry this chapter got a bit long but things are getting ~spicy~

c/w: alcohol mention, smut (soon)

chapter 1

[FOUR MONTHS AGO]

Technically, classes wouldn’t start for three more days, so you weren’t quite a college student. But you and Kaminari came to the city early because the lease on his apartment was starting and you needed to meet someone from Craig’s List about the car you plan to buy. To be honest, the car was what you expected: a piece of shit. But it would get you to your part time job and back to campus, so what more could you ask for? You couldn’t move into your dorm until tomorrow, but Kaminari said you could stay with him for the night. His roommate Kirishima hadn't moved in yet, so he had extra space.

Aside from the brief meeting with the stranger you bought your car from, you and Kaminari spent the day hauling cheap furniture up four flights of stairs into his apartment. Both of you were utterly exhausted. You were both covered in the grime of your own sweat; countless trips up and down the stairs had left your legs burning and heavy. When you agreed to help Kaminari move in you didn’t expect that he'd have so much shit, or that his apartment would be on the top floor of a building with no elevator. But at the current juncture you were too fatigued to complain. The two of you are laying on your backs, sprawled out on the cold wooden floor of the living room, unpacked boxes surrounding you.

“I feel disgusting,” you complain, raising your head slightly off the ground and unsticking the mat of sweaty hair from the back of your neck. You push it upwards so it fans out above your head.

“Yeah, you smell kind of disgusting too,” Kaminari replies with a laugh that becomes a cough when your arm swings down to connect with his stomach.

“I think you mean, “gee Y/N, thanks so much for helping me move into my apartment! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Kaminari raises himself up on his elbows, still recovering from your blow. “Hey - I have your thank you, it’s just in one of these boxes. Alcohol tends to be the universal thank you for helping a friend move - plus I don’t have wifi until tomorrow, so tonight we’re getting drunk and celebrating as college students!” he smiles.

You let out a sigh, “Well I hope you have ice. Find my thank you gift - I’m going to go break in your shower,” you say rising from the floor, “but not because you said I smell. Only because I want to!”

Kaminari laughs as you make your way to the bathroom, pulling himself off the floor as well to start rooting through the cardboard boxes full of his belongings. You lock the bathroom door behind you and spend a few moments deciphering how to use the unfamiliar shower. You start the water, a bit cooler than usual, still feeling balmy from all of today’s physical activity. After moving all of Denki’s belongings into the apartment you didn’t remember to grab anything of your own, so you would be using his toiletries to wash up. You throw a thin towel on the back of the toilet before stepping into the refreshing stream of water. The water cascades down your face, snaking down the curves of your body before disappearing down the drain. A sigh escapes your lips, thankful for a small moment of relaxation after a long day. You get to work washing your hair and scrubbing the day's sweat off of yourself, wrapped in the scent of cedarwood and lemon, something you’ve long associated with Kaminari. After roughly fifteen minutes you feel sufficiently clean and turn off the shower, stepping out to towel yourself off.

Not wanting to put your dirty clothes back on, you sneak out of the bathroom with your towel wrapped around you and down the hall to Kaminari’s room. You snatch a t-shirt and pair of sweats out of an opened box and creep back to the bathroom to get dressed and brush out your hair. You pull the over-sized shirt on, relishing the traces of Denki’s cologne that linger on the fabric and step into the sweats. You rake a comb through your wet tresses before re-emerging from the bathroom. You find Kaminari in his kitchen, haphazardly unpacking a box of cutlery with a mixed drink in his hand.

“Did you break into my thank you present without me, Denki?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, “Well maybe if you hadn’t taken so long -” He stops, registering you’re now in his clothes instead of your own. “Hah, nice threads,” he laughs.

You grab the hem of the shirt, holding it out from you a bit as if you're presenting it. “Yeah, well my shower wasn’t going to do much good if I got back into my sweaty clothes, so I helped myself.”

“Seems to be a recurring theme tonight. I don’t mind, you look cuter in it than I do anyway,” he winks at you. “Now,” he slides a second cup across the counter towards you, “thanks for helping me move in. Let’s get drunk!”`

You smile as you place the cup to your lips for a drink, your mind buzzing even without the alcohol. You’ve been friends with Denki long enough to know that he is always flirting, even if he doesn’t mean anything by it. Usually you just brush off his comments or turn the tables with a line of your own, hoping to get him flustered. But lately you haven’t been able to ignore the flutters in your chest at his words. The pair of you have been friends since middle school and you’ve grown accustomed to people assuming you’re more than that. But in reality, things between you and Denki have always been platonic, despite the incessant flirting. However, you want there to be more. His golden eyes draw you into him and he can so effortlessly make you laugh. For you, home isn’t a static location but wherever Denki happens to be.

“Woah Y/N, I didn’t mean you had to chug it!”

Denki’s comment snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve drunk nearly half of your drink while lost in silent longing. You lower the cup, “Well you have a headstart on me!” you reason, not wanting to tell Denki he’s the reason you got lost in your cups.

“Fair enough, but head start or not, I’m drinking you under the table tonight,” he challenges. “Let’s play some Mario Kart! I set up the switch while you were in the shower.”

“Fine, but if you’re wanting to get drunk we’re playing Beer-i-o Kart.”

Kaminari huffs, “well, obviously.” He grabs a bottle of whiskey in addition to his own cup and heads to the couch, you following close behind.

The rules of the game are simple: you win if you’re the first person to cross the finish line but you have to finish your drink before the end of the race. Even in the world of Mario Kart, drinking and driving is a no go, so there’s a few different options on how to play. You can either chug your drink at the start, put your controller down mid race to slam your drink, or stop just before the finish line on lap three to empty your cup. You can also drink while you’re put back on the track if you somehow manage to drive off the course. Both you and Denki are highly competitive, and while he might think he has the monopoly on video games, your skills rival his.

Unsurprisingly, Denki picks the Lightning Cup as it’s both a nod to his quirk and he’s a sadist who actually enjoys rainbow road. He beats you handily in the first two races, able to finish his drink slightly quicker than you, but you manage to win the Grumble Volcano race. He hits pause before the final race can start so he can mix two more drinks. You laugh as he nearly drops his own cup, his cheeks pink from all the liquor.

“Oh shut it, Y/N, or you can make your own drink.”

“Aw, don’t be bitter just because you lost that one Denki!” you tease.

He hands your now full cup back to you, “Yeah well this next one’s all mine. You’re going down!”

You just stick your tongue out in response and ready yourself for the last race. Once you’ve both situated yourself, Denki unpauses the game and the countdown begins. He immediately starts chugging his drink but you peel out from the starting line. You know you’ll fall off the map several times, so you might as well use that time effectively by drinking then. Denki finishes the freshly poured drink in under 30 seconds and is already in hot pursuit. He manages to pass you on the first lap and despite the multiple red shells you send his way, you can’t catch up. You’re not sure if it’s your competitive nature or the copious amounts of alcohol that influence your next move, but you shift from your seat on the couch and plant yourself directly in Denki's lap, blocking his view of the screen and making him drive off the road.

“Y/N, you cheater!!” Denki squirms beneath you, trying to dislodge you from your new position.

You laugh, “We never said this was against the rules!”

You zip past his character as he’s being lowered back onto the track, a triumphant hah! announcing you’ve overtaken him.

“Well in that case, neither is this!” Denki’s hands grip at your sides, his fingers poking at all your most ticklish spots. You shriek in surprise and jump from his lap, desperate to get away from the sudden assault. You land on the couch, laying on your back, but Denki doesn’t relent. He crawls between your legs and bares over you with a wicked grin on his face before bringing his hands to your sides once more.

Now you’re squirming beneath him, a breathless ball of laughter, your game forgotten in the background. When Denki finally stops tickling you his face is no more than a foot from your own. Your better judgement goes out the window, forced out by the haze of your laughter and half a bottle of alcohol. You wrap an arm around the back of Denki’s neck and pull his lips to yours. You can feel the smile on his face as he opens his mouth, tracing at your lips with the tip of his tongue. You part your lips, allowing him inside. His lips are soft and you're not sure whether or not he activated his quirk but you’re feeling sparks.

He separates from you, nipping at your bottom lip as he does. His forehead resting on your own he whispers, “I’ve always wondered what that would be like. It’s better than I thought.”

The low hush in his voice makes your breath catch. “What else have you wondered about?”

“Well if kissing you is this good, I can only wonder what you’re like in bed.”

You press your lips to his again, “one way to find out,” you say through the kiss.

At that, Kaminari grabs your thighs and stands from the couch, hoisting you to his waist. He carries you down the hallway towards his bedroom, kissing you the whole way. As you cross the threshold of his room he separates from you, “say less.”

#denki kaminari x y/n #denki kaminari x reader #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #denki kaminari #by ves #fan fic writing #fan fic blog

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kasha-formerlydrabbletastic · 3 years

Text

Ranking

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1,967

Warnings: Food mention. Possible secondhand embarrassment trigger.

Author’s Note: Fluffy stuff.

You had never been one for rag mags - celebrity gossip is simply uninteresting at best and horribly cruel at worst - but the bold headline this week on People Magazine catches your eye as you absentmindedly place your groceries on the belt at the supermarket.

“Seriously?” you mutter incredulously, your fingers wrapped around a bottle of orange juice.

Is it worthy of a chuckle? Should you keep moving, pretend you didn’t see it? Or... and you can’t believe this thought has even occurred to you... would it be worth the six bucks to bring it back to the compound and share with the rest of the team? The options occupy too much of your brain space as the cashier tells your total, distracting you from the inane tug-of-war in your head.

“How much?” you say, shaking away the silly predicament for a moment.

The cashier, hardly older than 16 it seems, points at the screen instead of answering. Before you pay, however, you glance back at the magazine, finally coming to a decision.

The magazine slaps the counter top, its glossy front page gleaming as you unload the rest of the groceries; it gets lost in the vegetables and fruits, the cereals, the junk food... and for a while you forget it.

"Back with the grub, eh, Y/N?" Tony says, swiping up a bag of Doritos and popping it open. "I gotta say, you've done shopping trips quicker than that."

You laugh, gathering all the reusable bags into one and putting them away and say, "Maybe you should don your supersuit and fly over all the New York City traffic if you want it quicker.”

"I believe that would be an unnecessary trip," Bruce mentions from the kitchen table, sipping his tea.

“Hey, I offered to send someone out to do it,” he replies. “You insisted on doing it yourself, remember? If I recall correctly,” he continues, feigning concentration as he puts on a teasing mocking tone, “you said that you didn’t want to let the fact that you’re an Avenger now make you too... what was the word.... bougie.”

“At least one of us needs to be grounded, Tony.”

Your gaze shifts to Steve as he passes, a subtle smile on his face when he meets your eye; your tummy flutters, having nothing to do with the hunger pang you’re feeling and everything to do with the way Steve’s eyes sparkle in the soothing lighting of the kitchen. You smile back, hoping the burn in your cheeks is obvious to no one but yourself.

One by one, the team trickles into the kitchen, looking for a lazy Sunday lunch or ingredients for a post-workout smoothie. Your voices mingle together, a pleasant hum in the early afternoon of a rare mission-free, drama-free weekend.

Or so you thought.

"I'm not number one?!"

The incredulous shout draws every eye in the room; Tony sits on the counter, eyes wide as he stares into the open magazine in his hand. You giggle, turning back to your lunch, relieved to know you don't have to live with his over-inflated ego for the next century.

"What are you on about?” Thor says, looking up almost mid-bite.

“This,” Tony replies, shaking the magazine; he flips through the pages, apparently intent on finding his ranking. “It’s the Top 10 Sexiest Male Superheroes, and I’m... not even second... I’m... how am I fifth?”

At this point, you bite your knuckle to keep from bursting aloud with laughter. You lock eyes with Steve, who mirrors your amusement.

“Lang is ahead of me? Are you serious? He’s a goddamn ant! An actual bug!”

“Who’s number one?” Natasha inquires after swallowing a bite of her sandwich.

Tony looks up, annoyed or crestfallen, you can’t tell.

“Thor, of course,” he answers with a shrug. “Can’t beat a demigod, I guess.”

Thor jumps up from his chair, his arms raised in victory, Clint giving him a congratulatory high five. The kitchen descends into loud chatter, and after many demands to know the full list, Tony gives the magazine up to Natasha, who reads off the ranking.

“Cap,” she says with a nod to him. “Good job, you’re second.”

“What?” he laughs; if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear it was humility that makes him say it. There’s no chance that his ranking would go to his head.

“It’s gotta be the beard,” Clint laughs. “Otherwise you would’ve been eighth or worse.”

“It’s definitely more than the beard,” you answer.

Biting your tongue might have been the better option, as now you find yourself the center of some very intrigued attention. Perhaps your tone was a little too defensive, or the blush that certainly feels infinitely hotter now has finally caught flame on your cheeks. Whatever it was that garnered such smirks from around the table, whatever your intentions, your immediate wish is for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Care to elaborate on that, Y/N?” Tony asks, seeming to forget his fifth place ranking for a moment in favor of someone else’s total humiliation.

You clear your throat, glancing down at your food, bereft of your hunger.

“Well,” you begin. “Maybe it has a lot to do with the way he carries himself, you know? There’s a lot of dignity there, a lot of virtue. He’s respectful and honest, stands up for what he believes in. He’s definitely not hideous, either. You know... he’s a - ”

“Y/N,” Steve says, leaning forward in his chair. “You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s really sweet of you, of course, and I do appreciate it, but - “

“No, Cap,” Tony interrupts. “I think we should let Y/N keep going.”

Your throat closes in panic and you clear it again, getting to your feet as you say, “I’m actually just gonna go.... uh... make a phone call. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Steve chastises Tony as the rest of the team breaks into discussion, but you don’t hear any of it. Soon, you’re in the elevator, bumping your head against the wall over and over, wondering if it’s too soon to pack your bags and leave the team with no notice as to where you’ve gone. You barely register your surroundings until you enter your room, locking the door behind you and requesting that FRIDAY ensures that you remain undisturbed until further notice.

---

Each time your knuckles meet the leather of the punching bag, your mind gets a little clearer. It’s almost as if all the big and little things plaguing your thoughts settle on the surface of your fists, only to be smashed to pieces when you punch. The nervous energy that settled in you at lunch drives your fists forward, burning off into nothing with every movement you make.

Midnight was the perfect time to sneak into the gym, to get a workout in without anyone bothering you; everyone usually slinks off to do their own things a little earlier in the evening. Perhaps some have fallen asleep by this time. It didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing as long as they weren’t around to say anything to you about Steve.

“Y/N?”

Then again... sometimes you’re wrong.

You halt in your activity, breathing heavily and dreading turning to look at Steve. Your hands drop to your sides as you pluck up your courage, facing the man with a deep breath.

“Hey,” you reply as nonchalant as possible.

“Hi,” he says softly, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants; his eyes fix on yours, drawing you into their depths as usual as he slowly approaches you. “Can we talk?”

The pit in your stomach grows exponentially, making you regret ever leaving your room in the first place.

“We don’t have to,” you answer quietly. “It’s just a silly magazine. It’s not like it’s about anything important, right?”

Facing the bag once more, you resume your activity, hoping against hope that Steve just leaves it there, that he doesn’t press the matter. The very last thing you want to do is spill your guts about what you thought was just a casual crush to the very man you’re crushing on. You hadn’t expected to become so flustered in such a situation, but with the spotlight on you at lunch, it had really sunk in just how much you feel for him.

“Y/N,” he continues, but you evade him.

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, deciding to give up your workout for the night and hit the showers; he’d never follow you there.

Before you can get too far, though, he says, “That’s why you’re running away from me, right?”

The anger is a surprise, bubbling up as you turn on your heel; perhaps it’s your shield in this moment, a veil to wear to save face.

“Don’t push it, Cap,” you insist, making one more attempt at escape. Again, however, you’re stayed by his response.

“You’re definitely not hideous, either,’ he says, and you turn to face him once more; he stands there, wringing his hands, an earnest expression on his face. “You’re funny, and whip smart, and you don’t take anyone’s shit. There’s compassion and a goodness that I haven’t seen in anyone in a long time.”

Perhaps you’ve hit your head and you’re dreaming this. Maybe there’s a chance you inadvertently ingested some kind of hallucinogen at an enemy’s lair. Whatever it is, there is no way that Steve Rogers is standing in front of you, singing your praises like this. Not in the real world. Never once had you imagined the feelings reciprocated, so this must be a figment of your deepest desires.

“What?” is all you manage to say.

Steve’s brows knit over the bridge of his nose, desperation threading through every feature on his face.

“You can’t possibly think I wouldn’t fall for you, can you?” he asks gently. “That I haven’t noticed you? Y/N, you’re almost the only thing I notice anymore.”

"Well, that's a good way to get yourself killed during a mission."

You didn't mean to say it, and the moment solidifies around you, even the molecules in the air coming to a stand still. Steve’s eyes sparkle, blinking in slow motion as he moves forward. The corner of his mouth twitches upward in a sweet smirk.

“What a way to go, then,” he says, within reaching distance of your hand.

“So much for our selfless leader,” you giggle.

He hesitates for a moment, but when you move to offer your hand, he reaches out with his, his fingers curling around yours. The blue in his eyes glints in the low light of the gym, hinting not a single bit of insincerity.

“There is something wrong with your ranking, though,” you say after a moment, amused at the almost-surprise in his expression as he straightens his posture.

“What do you mean?”

You grin before replying, “You should definitely have taken the number one spot.”

Steve relaxes, chuckling as he glances away. His free hand combs through his hair.

“Over Thor?” he says. “No way that’s happening.”

“Please,” you answer, finding your gumption and pulling him closer; the two of you are close enough to feel each other’s breaths on your faces, “There’s no contest.”

One more tug on his hand and his lips meet yours, hesitant at first, but with a sigh, the pair of you relax into each other. Lips parting, you taste his breath, minty and clean, as his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against his front.

“If you say so,” he says as he pulls away, gazing into your eyes as he smiles, his expression a little dazed, a little satisfied.

“Oh, Cap,” you reply, your hand above his wildly beating heart. “I do say so.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #steve rogers fluff #avengers fluff #captain america fluff

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dimensiontripperhibiki · 3 years

Text

Deliverance (1/?)

My take on what could happen in season 2. Post-shark. Mainly focused on Shelby and Toni but the others will be in it plenty too.

“We have to do something.” Dot was the first to speak, breathless with horror as she stared out at the open expanse of water in front of them. Her wide eyes flicked toward the group at her side before returning back to the water. “What are we going to do, there’s a fucking shark out there.” Toni snapped back in response despite being knee deep in the sea herself. “There, look!” Fatin exclaimed loudly, pointing past Toni. She hurried forward with the others, wading into the sea herself toward the girl swimming frantically toward them. “Rachel, swim! Fucking SWIM!” Leah, whose knees had given out on her just minutes ago dragged herself to her feet, stumbling forward as well despite her legs and arms aching in protest.

Shelby found herself rooted to the ground. She wanted to dash forward and help but as if she were standing in quicksand, incapable of moving her legs. All she could do was watch helplessly. “Shelby!” Toni sounded angry as she slugged through the water to reach Rachel. She had been a few good metres to the left of her, not to mention Rachel was still desperately trying to get as close to short as Toni was. “Aren’t you going to HELP?!” Shelby opened and closed her mouth a couple of times but nothing came out. Only her feet were covered by the cold water but ice crawled it’s way down her spine when she saw what Martha had seen earlier. A fin swimming toward the group. A little to the left though, toward where Toni was. Suddenly the fiery brunette went under, dragged beneath the waves. “Toni...Toni! TONI!” Shelby jolted awake to the same chill that had gripped her a moment ago. Her head spun and she quickly pushed herself up, disorientated for a moment before she realised where she was. She was on the beach, with everyone else. Most of them anyway. Someone was missing. She put her head in her hands, taking a couple of long, deep breaths through her fingers as she waited for her racing heart to slow. Feeling herself slowly calm, she stood on shaky legs and walked away from the camp. The sun was just rising, casting a gentle golden hue over the sand as she walked but there was still a chill in the air from the night. She clambered up the small hill which had become all too familiar to her and perched herself on the edge of the rock overlooking the beach. Her gaze flittered over the horizon, slightly squinted against the looming light. The water shimmered peacefully, no sign of the struggle that had taken place there a few days ago. There was no frantic splashing, no screaming, no blood in the water. Any sign that it had ever happened had been washed away. Shelby drew her knees to her chest, resting her chin atop them as she continued to watch the rising sun. “Hey.” Shelby flinched at the sound of a voice behind her and quickly turned her head. She felt herself relax when she saw Toni standing behind her. “You scared me. How long have you been there?” “Sorry.” Toni said with a slight smile. “A couple of minutes. Not long, I thought you might be praying and I didn’t want to interrupt your alone time with the big guy.” “Praying.” Shelby mumbled, her brow furrowing slightly for a moment. “No. I just needed some air.” Toni appeared next to Shelby, plopping down onto the hard ground next to her. “We’re on a beach, how much more air do you need?” “Space then.” “Right, got i-” Toni was just about to push herself back into a standing position when a hand closed around her wrist. “Can you just stay for a minute?” Shelby asked, her voice trembling slightly. She looked to Toni to see her respond with a subtle nod. A sigh of relief left her lips and she slowly relaxed her grip on Toni’s hand. She didn’t let go completely though. The wrist in her hand shifted and she assumed that Toni was going to draw away from her. She prepared herself for it, aware that it would sting regardless, but suddenly a hand gripped her own, fingers threading between her own. Her eyes prickled, her lower lip trembling as a lump formed in her throat. She swallowed it back, hearing Fatin yelling at Dot from the beach. Something about her toothbrush. “Do you think she’s out there somewhere?” “I don’t know.” Toni answered hesitantly without looking toward the ocean. She kept her gaze fixed on Shelby instead, on the angelic glow the sunlight cast around her. “I guess...maybe. No. I really don’t know, Shelb.” Shelby closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the sweetness of the nickname to wash over her. “You always have an opinion.” She said after a moment, her eyes opening to lock with Toni’s as she tilted her head to the side. She noticed a frown settle upon Toni’s face. It was a wrenchingly familiar look that Shelby wanted nothing more than to get rid of. “I love that about you, it’s...not a bad thing to know your own mind. Just tell me what you think. Please.” “I think she’s gone. I don’t think she’s coming back.” Toni grimaced as the words left her lips and Shelby’s hand gripped her own back, tighter. “I think that Rachel should be focused on healing instead of spending all day every day combing the beach. It’s not that I don’t want her to come back. I liked Nora. Shit, I like all of you. A lot more than I thought I would but...it was a fucking shark, Shelby. How could she get out of that? How could anyone?” Shelby nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t want it to be true. But I think you’re right.” She lifted their joined hands, pressing a light kiss to the back of Toni’s. “I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Ever.” “Nothing’s going to…” Toni was cut off by the sound of hurried footsteps behind then and she quickly tugged her hand from Shelby’s, getting to her feet just as Dot crashed through the shrubbery with Leah behind her. “Here you are!” Dot exclaimed in relief at the sight of them. “I thought we agreed not to wander off without saying something first. How are the rest of us going to know where to look if there’s an accident?!” “Relax, Dorothy. We’re good.” Toni said stoically, shrugging her shoulders. “We were just heading back.” “What are you doing up here?” Leah asked suspiciously, her brow furrowing as she looked between Toni and Shelby. “Shelby here decided to wander off to enjoy the view.” Toni answered, rolling her eyes. “I woke up and she wasn’t there so I figured I should look for her. You know, to make sure she hadn’t gotten lost or fallen into a pit.” Leah gritted her teeth. “How was I supposed to know someone had dug a pit in the middle of the forest, Toni?!” “Alright, alright!” Dot quickly interjected. “Let’s just get back to camp. We have jobs to do. Come on, Leah.” She began to walk away but when Leah just stood there glaring, she walked back and took hold of Leah’s wrist. “Come on, Leah.” Toni waited until the two had disappeared before she offered her hand to Shelby. “You shouldn’t antagonise her so much.” Shelby took the offered hand and let Toni help her to her feet. A small smile tugged at her lips as Toni responded with a shrug. “So you were saying you like me?” “Maybe I do.” Toni replied, smirking. “What about it?” “Good think I like you too then.” Shelby leaned in, pressing her lips to Toni’s. She felt hands go to her hips, carefully drawing her closer. As if she were fragile. Like she would break at any second. “Are you two COMING?!” Dot yelled back at them. “Fat chance of that.” Toni muttered as she drew away, the comment causing a blush to form on Shelby’s cheeks. “Best get back before she comes over and tosses us over her shoulders.” They shared a soft smile before they parted to a respectable distance and began to trek back. TBC (Maybe)

#Shoni #Shelby and Toni #The Wilds #Fanfiction

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elldell1204 · 4 years

Text

Tented - Matt Casey x Reader

Anonymous: yesterday’s fic was amazing! may I request casey x fem reader on going on a trip together? maybe you could include some smut? thanks xx

Thanks so much for the request! I am getting them all and am working my way through. 🥰 So, I started writing this and then realised that I had read a fic with a similar concept to mine by @shelswrites so definitely go check out their’s here! ❤️ I don’t know whether to apologise or not for the smut that is in this, but there is definitely a lack of hot Casey smut on the internet, so I’m here to do my bit to fix that, even if that does mean I’m going to hell 😊😜 Enjoy! 😉

Warning: VERY NSFW, pure smut and swearing ;)

wc - 2,787

(Also, 😍😍😍 ⬇️⬇️)

“Easy, Matt.” You scolded, throwing your arms out to grab onto anything you could find, hoping and praying that whatever you did wouldn’t get in the way of his driving, not that you cared when he was going fifty round a bend.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, I know what I’m doing. I drove the truck for three years before I became lieutenant, so a car is like that with training wheels.” He chuckled, a sound that twinkled in your ears to calm the racing of your heart. It was only semi-successful.

“I’ll remind you of that when we end up at the bottom of a cliff.” You huffed, trying to stop a smile spreading across your face to prove a point.

You had absolutely no idea where you were going. When you and Matt had gotten home from shift last night, he said that he had sorted out a surprise holiday for you both and shoved you in the car. He hadn’t even let you pack your own suitcase or look in the trunk. You sat for approximately a half hour before he re-emerged from your apartment building, the only thing in his hand being the blindfold you preferred to use in the bedroom, only it was now being used to keep you in the dark about where you were driving. ‘Yep, definitely prefer it in the bedroom.’ You thought.

Now, around forty-five minutes and several wrong guesses later, you were slightly frustrated, mildly travel sick and pulling up to your destination.

“We’re here.” Matt smiled, which you couldn’t see but could hear in his voice, which automatically brightened you up and returned you to the cheery and excited state you were in when you first started on your journey.

“Am I taking this off?” You gestured to the blindfold.

“Mmm…not yet.” He hesitated, and the next time he spoke he was close enough that his breath fanned over your ear and his hand was gently brushing your thigh. “You do look really hot in it right now. Reminds me of the other night.”

You visibly shivered, a heat flowing to your core at the thoughts that now flooded your mind. You released a shaky breath as Matt pulled back, opening the car door and stepping out.

“Jesus Christ.” You breathed to yourself. The things that man could do to you.

The sound of your door opening startled you, but the warmth of the hand that grasped yours calmed you immensely, and you chuckled. The warmth of the air hit your skin as you stepped out, a change from the air-conditioned interior of the car. Matt guided you along what felt like grass under your toes, stopping after about twenty feet.

“Surprise, baby.” He whispered in your ear as he carefully untied the blindfold. It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the light, but as soon as they did, you were astounded by the view. A glistening lake stretched before you, cut off by an emerald forest on the other side as the golden streams of light from the sun cascaded over the tops as it set. Different layers overlapped where the ground was higher in places, offering endless opportunities for long walks and hikes. To your right was a clearing with picnic benches and spots for tents to be set up, only one of them currently in use.

You turned your head to the side to face Matt, a smile brightly illuminating your features and he couldn’t be happier at the sight.

“Oh Matt…” You sighed happily, reaching up a hand to cup his face. “This is gorgeous.”

“I’m happy you like it.” He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder and peppering sweet kisses up your neck. You hummed in content, fluttering your eyes closed to savour the moment.

“Is this because I told you I had never been camping before the other night?” You murmured.

“Mhmm.” He confirmed. “My dad used to bring me and Christie here when we were little, and I loved it, so I wanted to share it with you.”

“Well thank you.”

“We should probably get set up before the sun sets fully.” He said, and you nodded, turning and walking beside him back to the car to help out.

Matt practically put up the tent himself, since you just felt you were getting in the way as you didn’t have much experience, not that he minded; he was in his element. You instead decided to get acquainted with your temporary neighbours. They were on the opposite side of the row to you, about ten yards down, with you being at the closest to the water and them being the furthest. They were sat in a couple of camping chairs in front of their campfire, smiling and waving as you made your way over. Mr and Mrs Miller were a lovely couple, a couple of generations older than you but still very lively. You got to know them relatively well in the fifteen minutes you spoke to them, telling them about your jobs as firefighters and how it was your first camping trip. They told you about their grandkids, how they liked to travel to different campsites around the country now that they were both retired, and even offered for you and Matt to join them if you so wished. Matt came over once he was done with the tent, joining in the conversation before you bid farewell to go and unpack what was left from the car and get something to eat.

“So, do we have to piss in a circle around the tent now?” You asked Matt half-jokingly after swallowing the last bite of your sandwich that he had packed for you both. You were sat beside each other on the grass, looking out to the lake, the sun very low behind the trees. The Millers had gone to bed an hour ago, so you were the only people in sight for at least a mile.

“What?” He burst out laughing at your unexpected question, as you had previously been sat in comfortable silence.

“You know, to keep the bears away.” You shrugged, chuckling along.

Matt placed a hand on your knee as he came down from his laughing fit. “No, Y/N, there aren’t any bears around here, so we’re good. Although, be my guest if you really want to.”

“Oh, shut up.” You playfully shoved his shoulder as you smiled. “Do you have anything planned for tonight then?”

“Not really. We made it here quicker than I thought we would so I don’t have anything pre-planned. However,” Matt began to draw circles on your thigh with his thumb, leaning in closer to you, beginning to trail kisses down your neck, stopping at the junction of it to suck a hickey into your skin, painting it a sultry red that would shift hues as the days pass. “Christening the tent doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”

You let out a breathy moan, melting into his touch like a candle to a flame, his skin leaving tingles wherever it touched yours. He moved a hand to your shoulder blade and gently lowered you down on the grass so that he was hovering over you, his hands roaming your body like yours were roaming his.

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” You managed to get out as Matt coaxed your t-shirt halfway up your torso. “I have a better idea.”

He stopped his ministrations and lifted his head to look at you quizzically. All you did in reply was give him a mischievous smile before sitting up, taking him with you, and standing. You began walking backwards towards the lake, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt to tease him before pulling it fully over your head and throwing it to the side. Matt’s eyes were glued to your body, seductively walking backwards with a heat in your step, as he stood, doing nothing but watching you, transfixed. By now you had begun unbuttoning your jeans, unzipping the fly and pushing them off your legs, leaving you in just your underwear. It wasn’t anything overly risqué (comfortable lilac cotton with lace trim on both of the matching pieces) but it practically had him drooling.

“Ever been skinny dipping, Matt?” You said, voice dripping with lust like nectar from a flower, your teasing head tilt making his pants become uncomfortably tight.

“Someone’s feeling daring.” He pointed out, his voice seemingly deeper than before.

You winked in reply, turning around before pulling down your panties, stepping out of them then unclasping your bra, pulling it off your shoulders and throwing it to the floor. Your nipples were already fully erect, and because it was a humid summer’s day, you knew it wasn’t due to any cold air. Now fully nude, you looked back over your shoulder to see Matt getting undressed himself, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his bare chest in the dim light that shone through the trees. You couldn’t help but turn around and enjoy the show, him pushing down his pants and boxers in one, allowing his cock to spring free against his stomach, granting it its much-awaited freedom. He lifted his eyes to see you watching him, biting your lip, and suddenly all your thoughts of running to the water’s edge dissipated, being replaced with him taking you right there and then on the grass.

“I don’t know about you,” He said as he walked the ten feet distance to you. “But I don’t think I can wait till we’re in the water.”

He was right in front of you now, his skin just begging for your touch. All you could do was nod, your bottom lip still trapped by your teeth until he reached up his hand to your face, his thumb tugging your lip free. He then threaded the same hand into your hair, the other one wandering down to grab your ass as he leaned in. You slid one hand up his chest and the other down to wrap around his cock, then you met him halfway, locking your lips in a devilishly hot kiss. You were both heavily aroused already, your nipples pressing hard against his chest, his dick twitching as you ran your hand up and down it.

In seconds you were laid down on the floor, Matt hovering over the top of you as he his lips began to drift over your jaw, down your neck, and to your left breast. His breath was hot and the occasional moan left his lips, but he stayed on his quest. He sucked at your nipple harshly, eliciting a moan from you. He peered up from his spot on your chest, quirking an eyebrow.

“You need to stay quiet, babygirl.” He smirked.

You sighed in frustration. You loved letting him know vocally what he did to you, even though he could tell by the way you writhed and squirmed beneath him. He went back to your nipple, licking a stripe up it as his left hand rolled your other between his fingers, pinching harshly every now and then to make your blood rush to your centre. He lightly bit the one he had in his mouth, and you had to clamp your teeth down onto your bottom lip to stop yourself from groaning. He soothed it by swirling his tongue before moving onto your other breast, his right hand dancing down your side softly, caressing your hip, trailing further and further down until it met your hot, wet lips.

You gasped out as his finger drew circles around your clit, his lips tracing patterns with kisses down your torso on their way to meet his fingers. You bucked your hips into his hand, grinding your wetness against him, telling him that this was all for him, that he had done this to you. You felt his lips turn upwards into a smile against your hip, letting you know he understood, as his teeth nipped gently at the skin there.

He finally arrived at his destination, drawing back his fingers, leaving you whimpering at the loss of contact. He pushed your legs further apart, his warm breath fanning over your glistening lips as you began to squirm in anticipation of what was to come. He knew he was damn good at giving oral, as did you, and he loved to hear you and see you work yourself up before the act.

“Please, Matt, please, I-I need-“ You started to plead, only to be interrupted by his tongue flattening against your aching nub, running back and forth in long, slow strokes that caused your muscles to tense at each one, however hard you tried to relax.

“Holy fucking shit…” You breathed out, bringing a hand to your mouth to muffle the moans that were bound to come. His mouth vibrated against you as he chuckled at your response, but he didn’t stop. He sealed his lips around your clit, making your head spin, swirling his tongue around and around. You reached out your free hand to entangle your fingers into his golden strands, tugging gently at them, just how he liked it. He moaned against you, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He continued to suck and lap at different spots to make to writhe beneath him, using his hands to pin your thighs down on either side of his head.

You felt your orgasm beginning to coil tighter and tighter in your stomach, and he seemed in no rush to get out of there, lavishing attention over every part of you, leaving nothing untouched. Sliding his hands underneath your ass, he pulled you further into him, filling his mouth with you as if he could never get enough.

“Matt, I’m…I’m close.” You panted, and he got the hint, removing his mouth with one last lick and moving back up to meet your lips once again. You could feel his hard on pressing against your core, teasing you whether it was intentional or not, as his tongue danced with yours and your lips fought in a battle to devour each other’s.

He was grinding against you now, just enough friction to make you beg for more but not enough to reach your high. He knew what he was doing, and he was enjoying it. Time for a taste of his own medicine.

You took his moment of weakness (in the form of a groan) to flip your bodies over, you now straddling him, lips still connected as you grinded down onto him. He was craving his release, as were you, and as much as you were relishing the moment, you gave in. You lifted your hips, wrapping a hand around his throbbing cock to line it up with your entrance before sinking down onto it, both of you releasing a guttural moan in unison, attempting to be as quiet as possible but failing pretty miserably. His hands were gripping your hips so hard they would probably leave bruises that would linger for days, reminding you of this night every time you looked in the mirror.

You tried to hold on, continue teasing him, but pure carnal pleasure took over, and soon you were raising your hips and slamming them back down, each motion causing a delicious bliss to flood your veins. Your movements quickened, both of you panting with how close you were to the brink of an orgasm, when Matt drove his hips up in time with you, the force at which he did making you lift a hand from where you were bracing yourself on his shoulder to your mouth, clamping it over it to muffle the scream you let free.

“Come with me, baby, I want to feel you clench around my cock.” Matt groaned, and you flew over the edge, hurtling into the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced, Matt joining you as you felt him release into you. You could’ve sworn you saw a galaxy of stars behind your eyelids as your legs shuddered with the force of your high, and as you lifted yourself off of Matt and collapsed next to him in a post-orgasmic daze, you took deep breaths of the fresh night air that enveloped you.

With some sense of reality restored, Matt placed an arm under your head, wrapping it around you to draw soothing circles on your shoulder as you both watch the real stars above your heads. You turned towards him to nuzzle into his neck, pressing lazy kissing along his pulse point as you enjoyed each other’s company, blind to the rest of the world, at least for a few minutes.

#chicago fire #chicago fire fic #matt casey #matt casey imagine #matt casey x reader #matt casey fluff #matthew casey #matthew casey imagine #matthew casey x reader #matt casey smut #matthew casey smut

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miss-scientia · 4 years

Text

Unrequited Love

Hi all, (everyone who is still here that is!) just a random post by me! Not totally random actually. I was just going through my old documents and I found a FFXV one shot I had completely finished but never posted for some reason. I re-read it and actually quite liked it, so I thought I’d stop by and post it for anyone still around! It’s a bit of slight Noctis angst, I hope you enjoy if you read!

(Also, I stop by from time to time and see notifications still popping up. You are all still so lovely!)

Prompto x Reader x Noctis (kind of!) SFW This is a long one!

She had confessed her feelings to him at the beginning of their journey, but he’d rejected them to stick to his duty. After a while she moved on and started dating Prom, which is... great! Fantastic really! Then why did he feel so shitty...?

Noctis was sure, he thought to himself as he shuffled around in his sleeping bag, that the six had a pretty sick sense of humour. They had to have, judging by his current predicament. Either that, or he had done something really, really, really bad in a past life to deserve this.

Gods above it wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that he was the one chosen to be the king of kings, having his future laid out and already planned for him. It wasn’t fair that he had to marry Luna, an area in life where he ought to have control, yet had none. And it certainly wasn’t fair that the actual girl he was in love with, was with someone else.

And that someone was his best friend.

To make matters worse, she had previously admitted feelings for Noctis too, early on in their journey. But he’d had to say no, that he was already betrothed to another, that he couldn’t do that to Luna or his family. A familiar sinking feeling clawed at Noctis’ gut as he recalled that day, the regret of his words churning in his stomach.

What an idiot.

How different life could’ve been if he’d only told her how he felt that day. Instead, he had kept his lips sealed and she had moved on. Unfortunately, to a certain blond haired sharp shooter.

Although he had his back to them, Noctis could hear them both now, whispering to each other in a shared sleeping bag. Did they have to be so... so affectionate? Constantly touching, constantly giggling. It was like they lived to torture him.

Noctis stifled a groan, the pit in his stomach growing ever deeper. The whispering of the two finally ceased, and Noctis was about to send a silent thanks to the gods, before an odd sound stopped him.

Are they...?

A sharp wet sound emanated from behind him, confirming his suspicions. They were making out, completely unaware of the wide awake prince laid only mere inches away from them.

I must’ve done something absolutely awful in a previous life.

Before he could prevent it, a perfect picture of the scene behind him had appeared in his mind; her wrapped tightly against Prompto’s body, his arms tight against her, pulling her to his frame. Their lips locked in a heated kiss, eyes communicating their sheer desperation for each other.

It was like a knife had impaled his stomach. The mental image paired with the the all too real sounds behind him was enough to make him queasy. The thing was though, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry at either of them. He had rejected her, and she had ended up with Prom - why shouldn’t they have got together? It was neither of their fault, no. Could he even blame himself however? Was it his own fault, even though he’d been born into this life with all of his future, all of his destiny already set out for him? Was it his fault for following his duty? He wasn’t certain, but he was damn sure that it sucked.

Curling his fingertips into the soft material of his pillow, Noctis attempted to block out the almost heavenly sighs that fell from her lips. Slowly he drifted off, plagued with thoughts of how if only he had the chance, he could make her sigh like that...

The ever delicious scent of Ignis’ cooking drifted to your nose as the evening meal was presented to you and your camp mates. Your stomach grumbled in anticipation, desperate for fuel after the exhausting day you’d all had. “I dunno if it’s because I’m ravenous, or if you’ve done an extra special job of it tonight Iggy, but this is the best meal I’ve ever laid my eyes upon!” Your boyfriend Prompto sighed dramatically from beside you, eyes lighting up as he was handed his food.

“Kid’s right Iggy, this is good stuff.” Gladio nodded, already digging into his larger than average portion.

“Mmmmph...” came your almost orgasmic sigh of agreement.

“Well, thank you everyone, but I dare say that I haven’t done anything extra special tonight. Perhaps we were all ready for a meal after our rather busy day.” Ignis modestly brushed aside the compliments, but you could tell he was pleased by the corners of his mouth rising, fighting to hide the beam threatening to reveal itself.

You were halfway through your food before you realised that Noctis hadn’t said a word since sitting down. Casting your eyes over to the prince, you saw his figure sitting rather slumped over on the floor opposite you. One hand gripped a fork rather loosely as he stabbed the utensil repeatedly into the same carrot, in and out, over and over. His brow line puckered slightly, the hints of a frown forming over his dull looking eyes. It struck you that he sort of looked like... he was sulking. And now you thought about it, he’d been really grumpy all day, unresponsive and quiet.

Wonder what’s up with him? You thought, glancing once more. Strands of his jet black hair fell into his eyes, causing him to blink those long lashes and sweep his head slightly to clear his vision.

Your heart stuttered.

As much as you didn’t want it, he was still able to get you like that. One little move of his head or gesture of his hands, and it shook you again just how pretty he was.

It truly was hard to forget about your first love.

Drawing your eyes away you searched for another familiar pair, gaze landing on the ever smiling, ever warm face of your boyfriend and immediately you felt better. As much as Noctis could sometimes catch you off guard, you knew for certain you loved Prompto. There was no doubt there.

“You okay [Name]?” His kind face and genuine smile had you smiling back instantly.

“Sure am Prom.” You replied, resting a hand on his knee. Naturally, his hand rested on top of yours, warm and safe.

“What’s the matter with you prince sulks?” Gladio voiced your earlier question, albeit a little more teasingly. Everyone stopped eating to glance over at the Prince in question.

Noctis shot Gladio a glare, his eyes clearly saying ‘don’t even start’.

“Is there something on your mind that you wish to share?” Ignis asked this time, much more accommodatingly.

“No. Why, does it look like it?” His voice was gruff, annoyed. There was definitely something up.

“Well, you’ve not really said much since coming back, and you’ve barely touched your food.” You offered.

“Yeah pal, is there anything we can help with?” Prompto offered his best friend, leaning forward so he could pat his leg.

Finally Noctis looked up, but as you caught his expression your heart sank. He looked mighty pissed.

“I said there isn’t anything. Why do you guys have to push me all the time?”

Prompto blinked, taken aback by his friend’s blunt tone.

“I just wanted to see if there’s anything I could do to-”

“Well there isn’t Prompto. There’s nothing that anyone can do, okay?” The prince snapped, rising to his feet.

Prompto’s face fell, and that was like someone had pressed the anger button on inside you. You were suddenly furious. How could he talk like that to his best friend?

“What the hell is up with you?” Standing to your feet, you walked over to the sulky prince.

“Nothing, [Name].”

“Nothing? So you think you can talk to people like that because... because nothing?”

Noctis looked at you, fully frowning now, agitation apparent in his ocean blue eyes.

“Guys, I think we should just cool it...” Prompto’s quiet voice attempted to cut the tension which was now crackling in the air.

“I agree, Noctis I’m not sure what’s wrong, but we must-”

“I’d have been fine if people had just left me alone.” Noctis cut over Ignis.

“Sorry that people care about you.” You retorted, anger still clouding your better judgement.

“Yeah well, I never asked for people to. I never asked for any of this.”

“You ungrateful little-”

“Noctis.” Gladio’s voice stopped you from finishing your sentence. He hadn’t shouted, hadn’t raised his voice, but his deep rumbling tone halted you. “I think you should go and take a walk. Cool down. Come back when you have a better head on, cause this is going no where.”

“Tch, fine.” Noctis grumbled, but turned on his heel and stalked off into the night, leaving the four of you hurt, annoyed and confused.

The campsite seemed overly quiet now that the prince was gone, suffocatingly so. Every cough and every shuffle was heard, adding to the already tense atmosphere.

“I just don’t understand. It’s not like him.” Prompto said for the fifth time. He was anxiously picking at the hem of his shirt, pulling at a loose thread. Every so often you had to lay your hand atop his to remind him to stop before it became threadbare.

“I know what you mean, I don’t get what’s up with him.” Gladio sighed and stretched.

“Perhaps his last comment gave us some insight? He said he never asked for any of this. He has never been overly fond on what his future holds in store for him...” Ignis offered a solution in a quiet speculative tone. You almost scoffed however.

“It still doesn’t give him the right to talk to his best friend like dirt.” Prompto squeezed your hand in silent thanks, but you knew that the blond wasn’t even angry. In fact, you correctly assumed that he was more worried for Noctis’ safety right now.

Pure person through and through.

“I do wish we could know where he went.” Ignis sighed, guardian-like instincts kicking in.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine specs, he’ll come back when he’s ready.” Gladio attempted to appease Ignis, to no avail.

You had a pretty good idea of where Noctis might have headed to, thinking back to the car journey earlier on that day. The only time when the prince had shown remotely any interest in what was going on around him is when you had driven past a very large lake. It was highly plausible that he’d gone to check it out. The more you thought about it, the more that you were certain this is where he’d have headed. And the more you thought about it, the more you realised you could remember the way there. And the more you thought about that, the more you realised this was a good a chance as any to have a proper conversation with him. And to possibly lecture him on how to actually talk to his best friend.

I can go there, yank him back here and make him apologise.

Looking over at Prompto’s anxious face, his top front teeth gently nibbling on his lower lip, you knew this was the right thing to do. You stood up quite forcefully, drawing the attention of the other three boys.

“[Name]...?”

“I’m going to go find him, and bring him back. Then I’m going to get him to apologise.”

Ignis sighed, Gladio nodded, and Prom...

“Are you sure you want to do that [Name]?” He stammered, looking torn between some inner dilemma.

“I’m sure. I think I know where to look, but I’ll be fine. I can’t have him talking to you like that Prom. I can’t.”

“He was just angry, he didn’t mean it.”

“Well then, he can just say sorry when I drag him back here.” You told Prompto with a reassuring smile. The blond boy finally smiled back, standing up to face you.

“Thank you [Name]. Be safe.” He told you, and with a quick kiss you set off in search of one sulky prince to bring home.

Just as you’d expected, Noctis had made his way over to the lake that your group had passed earlier. You could see his silhouette from where you stood; his shadowed figure sat crossed legged on the wooden pier which stretched out into the middle of the lake. The perfect fishing spot, yet he wasn’t fishing.

Well shit, there’s gotta be something really wrong with him then.

It hadn’t taken you all too long to get there since you knew which paths to take, however it was still a rather long way away from where your group had pitched the tent. It had been a miracle that no daemons had attacked you, dark as it was out. You wondered how long the prince had been sat there, not fishing, just sitting and watching the lake.

Taking a deep breath, you walked out from your hiding spot and marched all the way down to the lake, stopping to stand a few feet away from Noctis. He didn’t move upon your arrival, showed no sign that he was even aware of your presence.

You cleared your throat.

“Noctis?”

“[Name]?” Was his reply, quiet but with a hint of sullen sarcasm you knew well. Swallowing the biting response you wanted to give, you instead replied;

“What are you doing out here?”

He didn’t answer straight away, still looking down at his hands. In fact, he took so long to answer that you weren’t sure if he’d even heard you. But then finally;

“It’s peaceful out here. When it’s night like this, lakes always seem that much more... tranquil. Kinda makes me feel like time has stopped, at least in this little area, y’know?” His reply startled you a little, it hadn’t been what you were expecting. And looking around the lake, you could kind of see what he meant. But as lovely as the lake was, you weren’t here to discuss that. You had a purpose in mind for travelling all the way out here, and feeling sorry for the prince wasn’t it.

“Noctis, I don’t really understand your train of thought right now, but what I do know, is that you snapped at everyone and left your best friend feeling highly confused and rather hurt.” He could probably hear the accusatory edge to your voice.

Well, good.

“Look, I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I just hate it when everyone is pushing me.”

“Yeah, well y’did.”

“I know that [Name].” He finally turned to look at you, those ocean blues flashing with a hint of frustration. “Don’t think I don’t know that, cause I do. It makes me feel worse than I already do, alright?”

You folded your arms. “Then come back and apologise.”

“Tch, I’m not going back there yet.” He mumbled, his eyes dropping once more. This only annoyed you further.

“So, it makes you feel bad, and yet... you’re not gonna apologise for what you’ve done? Is that it?”

“N-n... that’s not what I said.” The prince suddenly sprang to his feet, his body towering over you. He was getting worked up at your words, the biting remarks nibbling away at his ability to think clearly enough to explain himself coherently.

“You aren’t the only one going through some tough shit, okay?” You snapped, unaware at his inner turmoil.

“Obviously! I never once said- it’s really hard for me to- just stop pushing me, alright?”

“No. If you won’t apologise then we at least get to know what’s got that stick so far up your butt!” You drew yourself up to try and make yourself look taller. There was no way he was worming out of this one, and you could tell he knew. He could sense your determination, his eyes betraying the slightest hint of panic within the frustration.

“[Name], seriously, you-”

“No Noctis! We’re sick of it! We can’t even help you if you don’t explain.”

“You can’t help me.”

“Why not? What is it Noctis?” Your voice was sharp but your eyes were gentle. Underneath all of your annoyance, you really did just want to help your friend.

“[Name], really, you don’t-”

“What is it?”

“I’m telling you, you’re not-”

“What is it?”

“[Name]-!”

“Just tell me what it is!”

“It’s you!”

You paused, the words you were about to say dying in your throat. It was... you? You were the reason he was acting this way? Unease swirled in your stomach.

I’ve been making him feel like this...?

Noctis was almost panting, seeming out of breath from your shouting match. Although he seemed weary, he did not look as if he regretted saying so.

“It’s...me?” You whispered, his answer throwing you completely. Noctis sighed heavily, one hand rising to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. Suddenly he almost seemed... tired.

“Look... that came out wrong, okay? It’s not... it’s not just you.”

“But I... I’ve done something to hurt you?” The crack in her voice at the end of the sentence physically pained him to hear, made him want to take back everything he’d just said. He’d suffer with it all internally if he never had to hear her sound pained again.

“[Name], it’s not something you’ve done. Please, just let it go.” Noctis pleaded, knowing his efforts would more than likely be futile. Slowly he turned away from her, walking once again to the edge of the wooden beams to sit down, dangling his legs only centimeters above the calm lake. Not looking at her made this easier. Her crumpled expression only further pained his heart, and it was getting hard to quell the need to comfort her as it was.

Gentle padding sounds as she walked to sit next to him told him she wasn’t going to give up that easily. Frustrated, he repressed a groan.

Not. Fucking. Fair.

“Noctis...whatever I’ve done, I want to know. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Of course it wasn’t, pure soul that she was.

Her quiet tone caused him to sneak a peek at her from the corner of his eye. She was sat close to him, legs dangling, an almost mirror of his pose. All traces of previous anger had been washed from her face, instead, confusion and remorse took its place.

He hated that he was responsible for it.

“Honestly, there really isn’t anything you could have done about it. I’m not sure there’s anything anyone could have done about it. My future has been set since day one, I don’t have a say in this stuff... and I sure as hell don’t have a say in who I fall in love with either.”

A quick intake of breath from his immediate right caused him to realise what he’d just said out loud.

Shit!

His head snapped to look at her fully now. She was turned to him, eyes wide in shock as the realisation of what he’d just admitted sunk in. Quickly he began to try and explain.

“[Name], I-”

“That’s not fucking fair.” Her voice was dull as she cut over him. To his surprise, tears quickly gathered in the corner of her eyes which were rapidly becoming tinted with red. She was... really upset. He had been expecting anger. Not sadness.

“That’s really un-fucking-fair of you Noctis. You know... you know how I felt about you. It took a while to get over that rejection.”

“I’m sorr-”

“You don’t get to say that to me now Noctis! I’m with Prompto, I’ve moved on! I picked myself up and carried on living, you can’t just, just waltz back in and say that. It’s not fair!”

“I know.” He uttered, so softly it was as if he was speaking to himself. It was your turn to be surprised at the sadness of his tone. A few moments of silence passed between the both of you, your eyes trained on the almost black waters beneath you. It was hard to really believe what he’d admitted... he loved you?

Noctis broke the silence first with a soft sigh. Well, if the cat was out of the bag, he may as well try and explain himself.

“I tried so hard to stop it. Y’know? I knew it wasn’t fair, believe me, that’s all I’ve been saying these past few months. Not fair on you, Prom, or me. But, [Name],” He took a deep breath; “you’ve no idea how fucking hard it is when I see you cuddled up to him every night.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut as he spoke, a little pucker forming between her brows as she frowned slightly. There it was again, that look of pain. But he couldn’t stop explaining now he’d started, it would be better to get to the bottom of it.

“It’s not like I resent either of you. Honestly, I was happy for the both of you. But I also felt like absolute shit. Took me a while to realise why, guess I’ve never been one to be clued up about their emotions.”

That earned him a slight snort.

“Yeah, guess that’s no secret either, right?” His words were tinged with regret.

Chancing a glance her way he saw that her eyes were still closed. However, she made no move to stop him explaining, so he continued, eager to finally get it out in the open.

“So when I finally realised how I felt about you... well, the fact that it was far too late sucked. And it just got me thinking, if my life wasn’t so predestined, if I had even a little bit of control over areas of my life where I really should, then we’d be together. We’d be together right now [Name]. No pre-arranged wedding duties. And it’s just been eating at me how little of a choice I get over pretty much everything in my life. Then listening to you and Prom giggling and enjoying each other every night... I just wanted that.”

Finally he petered off, letting the weight of what he’d said hang in the air. It was like the burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders - she knew how he felt. He’d told her, in probably the longest speech he’d ever given in his life, and it just felt good to not have it burning him from the inside.

Although that may all go to shit the next time her and Prom start sucking face again. He almost grimaced at the thought.

The seconds ticked by in what felt like hours, she didn’t breath a word. Shyly Noctis turned to face her again, noticing her eyes were finally open, wide and [e/c], staring right back at him. The whites of her eyes were tinged a deeper red, and fresh tears had collected in her lids. His heart almost broke. He wanted to stop the crying, comfort her, take it all back, anything to stop her tears.

Undecidedly, he lifted his hand, fingers outstretched to rest on her shoulder, but froze in mid air.

“[Name], you don’t know how sorry I am.” He whispered, and she replied with a quiet sob from deep in her throat.

Before he knew what he was doing, the one sound caused him to finally reach out to her, close the distance between them. In no time at all, his strong arms were wrapped around her shoulders, her waist. Her head buried in the crook of his neck, holding her close as she sobbed. His fingers rubbed soothing circles into her back as he held her, noticing with a sick, ironic pleasure that they fit together so well. Like his arms had been made to fit her body exactly.

Could this get any worse? He was comforting her.

But she’s not yours.

They fit together perfectly, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle together at last.

But she’s not yours.

She was all he wanted. But she wasn’t his to have.

Fuck, this sucks.

Noctis wasn’t sure how long he sat there, holding her. Time truly seemed at a stand still; they were lost in this little hidden part of nature. He wasn’t sure when her tears finally stopped, but he could feel her breathing return to normal, her silent sobs no longer racking her chest. Still, he couldn’t let her go. Didn’t dare move for fear of breaking this moment with her, her face gently buried into the side of his neck, wrapped in his embrace. He knew it would never happen again, despite how much he wanted it.

It couldn’t.

“Noctis?” Her voice was soft, thick from the tears she’d shed.

“Yes?” They were almost whispering, but in the tranquil quiet of the night, the sound seemed to echo in his skull.

“I’m in love with Prompto.”

“I know.” His reply was gentle, but the feeling in his heart was anything but. The admission shouldn’t have been a surprise to him, he’d known it for a while. He could tell just by how she looked at him, the pure adoration for Prom in her heart. It still hurt. He wished she’d look at him like that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He uttered, one hand absentmindedly reaching up to tuck a stray hair back behind her ear.

“It’s me who should be apologising. To everyone back at camp, but mostly to you. It wasn’t fair for me to dump all of my baggage on you like that. I just... felt I had to.”

“No... I’m glad you did.” She had lowered her voice, and it came out slightly mumbled into his shoulder, but it meant the world to him anyway. It felt like she’d accepted what he said, and that was the best he could hope for right now.

“Thank you [Name].” He whispered, his voice trailing off, leaving what he wished he could say hanging in the air between them both.

I love you.

#hope this was okay for such a random post!#I just felt like there was no sense in deleting it #I also kind of thought about making two branches off where maybe you could choose who to be with?#Anyway #what would you do dear reader?#final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy fic #final fantasy fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #Noctis Lucis Caelum #prince noctis #noctis x reader #noctis lucis caelum x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto x reader x noctis

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lloydskywalkers · 4 years

Text

skywalker syndrome, pt. III

so!! in honor of being shut up inside under pseudo-quarantine in this wonderful day and age, here is an extra-long fic for you guys just because :D

(fiNE it would’ve been this long either way but i have somewhat of an excuse now)

anyways here’s the final part of skywalker syndrome, featuring things actually Getting Better for once! (and on that note i hope you’re all doing alright and keeping safe <3)

So, Lloyd decides later. He probably could’ve handled that better.

But you know what, everyone’s been telling him to open up about stuff. It’s not his fault all that stuff is ugly, and maybe explodes half the power lines on the block.

Lloyd bites his lip harder, and squeezes his eyes shut tight enough to force the welling moisture back. His eyes are sore and puffy enough already, and his head feels like it’s over-stuffed with cotton and ready to explode. More tears are the last thing he needs.

On top of like, everything else. Because not only does Sensei Wu now know that the person who chopped Lloyd’s arm off was, in fact, Lloyd himself, but he’s probably going to tell everyone else that little detail too, and then all of them are going to think Lloyd’s head is — is out of place, except for maybe Nya, until she hears from Sensei Wu about his complete meltdown, and then Lloyd’s going to lose everyone.

Lloyd’s chest hitches. He forces back the wave of nausea, and makes himself look at this analytically. On one hand, it’s a total betrayal that stings maybe a little more than it might have any other time, because he’s been getting hit with a lot of betrayals lately. And while it isn’t exactly unusual in their line of work, it does feel like a little more than usual this month in particular.

On the other hand — which is metal ‘cause it’s Lloyd’s, heh — there’s absolutely nothing left of Lloyd’s respect in the world to stop him from blaring N-pop as loud as his headphones will go while lying at the edge of the roof of their apartment, staring blankly into the nothingness of the night sky as he ignores the drying damp streaks all over his face, instead of going to evening practice like he’s supposed to. So at least that’s a plus.

But on — well, he guesses he needs someone else’s hand, now — he really should have known better than to assume he’d get away with that.

He manages to hear Kai before he sees him, but it’s a near thing. Kai’s footsteps are quiet even when he’s not trying to be, like the rest of them, and even now that Lloyd’s playlist has mellowed off into something quieter and instrumental, he almost misses him closing the rooftop door.

But then Kai comes and sits next to him, right near where Lloyd’s head is lying, and that’s impossible to miss. So Lloyd sucks in a bracing breath and tugs his headphones off, dully figuring that the only way he’s escaping this confrontation is to throw himself off the roof. Which, while admittedly kind of tempting, will probably only make Kai more concerned, and Lloyd’s been doing that enough lately.

He tilts his head, peaking at Kai from the corner of his eyes. Kai’s expression is unreadable, his eyes far away where they fix on the city vista. Lloyd bites his lip. He wants to hold out, to let Kai do the talking — but the anxiety churning in his gut becomes unbearable, so he ends up cracking first.

“Hi,” he croaks, painfully aware of how water-logged his voice still sounds. “I guess you saw the lights go nuclear, then.”

Kai gives a quiet snort. “Kinda hard to miss, bud.”

Lloyd winces, then sneaks another tentative glance at him. He doesn’t look like he thinks Lloyd’s crazy, but Lloyd also has zero luck whatsoever, so he’s not quite letting his guard down yet. “Yeah,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t need to apologize. S’fine with me,” Kai shrugs, like Lloyd didn’t just knock out all the power in their apartment. “Makes things exciting every once in a while, you know?”

“Ha,” Lloyd breathes. “Exciting.”

“Mm-hm,” Kai says, swinging a leg over the edge of the roof, his eyes still on the horizon. Lloyd shifts his head on the paved rooftop, watching as Kai’s leg sways back and forth over the dim city streets below.

“Not as exciting as your conversation with Sensei must’ve been, though.”

Lloyd’s stomach bottoms out, and he goes rigid, before swiftly sitting up. “Y-you heard that?” he manages to squeak out.

Kai shakes his head. “Not all of it. Mostly just raised voices. No one wanted to eavesdrop, or anything.”

Lloyd worries his lip more, feeling sick. That’s not the answer he’s looking for. “But you heard some of it.”

Kai exhales slowly, his shoulders slumping. He finally tears his gaze from the horizon, and faces him. Lloyd wants to duck away, but there’s no recrimination in Kai’s eyes. Just a whole lot of empathy, and doesn’t that make Lloyd want to start crying again.

“Yeah,” he finally sighs. “I heard enough.”

Lloyd bites his lip harder, and turns back to stare across the city, his eyes watering. “Oh,” he breathes.

Because — what else is he supposed to say? Kai, his big brother, who’s always been solid and steady, who’s always followed (well, mostly, but that one time was also Lloyd’s fault) him faithfully — Kai, who works so hard to keep them safe, and has literally bled for this job, got to hear Lloyd screaming about how much he hates being the Green Ninja, the team leader, like a selfish, ungrateful brat.

Kai, who wanted to be the Green Ninja enough to risk his life for it — who probably still wants to be the Green Ninja, somewhere in him, if Lloyd hasn’t totally soured the taste of it by now.

“I didn’t — I didn’t mean—” Lloyd stutters over the words, almost frantically. He’s breathing too fast, talking too fast, but he’s got to — he needs to make Kai understand. “I didn’t really — I love this team, Kai, I do, I love being the Green Ninja, it just — sometimes — and he — he went and—”

“Lloyd — Lloyd, breathe. C’mon, breathe with me.”

Kai’s hands are steady and grounding on his shoulders, even as Lloyd gasps desperately for air, desperately forcing his nerves back under control before the city gets another unexpected power outage.

Finally, Lloyd manages to match his breathing to Kai’s, slow and steady, until the world stops spinning quite as much. He gives a shuddering exhale, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

“T-thanks,” he mutters.

Kai stares at him in concern, his eyes darker than usual in the night around them. He draws back a bit, blowing his breath out. Then, laying a hand on Lloyd’s good shoulder, he jerks his head back toward the rooftop exit. “Wanna make hot chocolate?”

Kai, as usual, always knows exactly what to say.

Lloyd nods fervently, following him back down inside with little hesitation. Their apartment’s quiet by now, mostly dark save for the moonlight, as everyone’s probably gone to bed. Lloyd can’t help but be overwhelmingly thankful for this.

The hallway floor they walk across is clean, too, even if the light sockets above are all empty. Someone must’ve swept the glass up, Lloyd thinks with a hot flash of guilt. Kai jabs at the kitchen switch as they leave the hall, and the lights flicker on, leaving Lloyd to blink in confusion.

“Emergency lightbulbs,” Kai says in explanation, with a faint, wry smile. “Zane’s been prepared. We’ve got a backup generator, too.”

“Oh,” Lloyd breathes, his face heating as he lets himself sink into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Well, it’s not like Zane was wrong. Having spare lightbulbs around is probably something Lloyd should start considering anyways, but he’s been thinking he wouldn’t need to worry about that anymore, since his powers were—

Well. ‘Were’ is the key word here. His powers were under control. They’re pretty glaringly not now.

The microwave goes off with a sharp ding, and Lloyd almost jumps from his skin before placing the sound. Kai is pulling two mugs from the microwave, before dumping the little hot chocolate packets in them. Despite himself, Lloyd wrinkles his nose.

“You make hot chocolate like a heathen.”

Kai scoffs quietly. “I make hot chocolate fast. No one’s got time to wait on a kettle. Besides,” he adds. “You’re one to talk. I know this is how you make tea when Sensei’s not around.”

Kai immediately winces at the mention, clearly regretting having brought Wu up. Lloyd’s shoulders tighten, but he forces himself to relax, exhaling slowly through his nose. It’s been long enough since the…argument…that most of his fiery anger has cooled into an aching ball of hurt instead. Which is typical, Lloyd’s garbage at staying that angry for very long, and normally he wishes he was better at it, but now…

There’s a fine thread of shame creeping in there as well, and maybe a little bit of guilt. And Lloyd’s already seen what his anger does. Maybe he can just hold a quiet grudge for a bit, and that’ll make his point.

“Peppermint tea tastes better in the microwave,” Lloyd finally replies, a little sullenly.

Kai snorts. “Zane would be horrified with you.”

“I’m sure he would,” Lloyd says, but the words are too heavy for it to come off like he wanted. Zane would be horrified at him, but not for his tea crimes. Lloyd’s still surprised Kai isn’t horrified at him. Maybe he is, and he’s just biding his time to accuse him, and any minute now—

“Is your arm hurting?”

Lloyd blinks, reorienting himself. “Huh?”

Kai nods his head toward him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Belatedly, Lloyd realizes that he’s been digging his fingers into the groove where the prosthetic connects to his arm, clinging tightly enough that the scarring around it twists. Oh, he thinks blankly. So that’s why it’s starting to ache worse.

Lloyd gingerly peels his fingers from here they’re locked around his arm, wincing as he does. “A-a bit,” he admits. “I probably just made it worse. But uh, hey, I know it definitely works with my powers, now…?”

Kai doesn’t look amused. Lloyd lets his head hang, staring at the ground. He hates this. Normally he’s completely in synch with Kai, to the point where he knows exactly what’s going through his big brother’s head. But right now, uncharacteristically quiet and subdued as Kai is, Lloyd has no idea what the emotion brewing in his eyes might be.

There’s a quiet screech of wood across the floor, and Lloyd looks up to Kai dragging his chair closer, before setting both mugs of hot chocolate on the table in front of them.

“Can I see?” Kai asks, hesitantly. Lloyd pauses for a beat as the question registers, and Kai wrings the edge of one hand with the other. “I just, y’know…heat? It helps, sometimes, with other stuff, so maybe…”

“Oh,” Lloyd blinks. “Oh! Y-yeah, of course.”

Relief flashes across Kai’s face, which Lloyd vaguely notes as weird, before he adjusts his chair again, fingers carefully skirting the raised area of Lloyd’s t-shirt, where the metal edge of his prosthetic is. Lloyd suddenly wants to make another pun, because the silence is a tad too thick, and Kai’s so awfully subdued about everything. And whether he thinks Lloyd’s just an ungrateful brat who’s lost the last of his sanity and should never, ever lead them again or not, Lloyd needs to see something in his expression other than this — this sad kind of hesitance, because it’s not Kai. If he was even yelling at him, that would at least be—

“Let me know if it hurts at all,” Kai murmurs, and Lloyd is vividly reminded of Jay, when he’d looked at his arm. It’s the same tone of voice, all quiet and hesitant like they’re afraid Lloyd’s going to break.

Lloyd doesn’t know if it makes it any better, them thinking he hasn’t already. He’s not sure he even wants to know.

Another beat passes with Kai still unmoving, and Lloyd’s about to grasp at the weakest of puns he’s got before his hands finally knead into the tight muscles of his shoulder, starting high then moving lower, drifting carefully toward the edge of the prosthetic.

Kai lays a gentle hand on the juncture where skin meets metal, and Lloyd feels the slow increase of heat before it settles on something that’s not too hot to burn, but definitely warm. The warmth spreads steadily through the rest of his arm and shoulder, heating the tense muscles in Lloyd’s shoulder, and he feels the rigidness there finally, truly relax, in a way it hasn’t in — well, since he’d lost his arm, probably.

It’s like his shoulders are getting heavier and lighter at the same time, and oh, Lloyd’s forgotten how good Kai was at this. He’s still painfully cautious around the prosthetic, though, and the silence isn’t — it isn’t uncomfortable, per say, but Lloyd knows there’s so much Kai’s thinking but not saying, and he wants to hear it. It’s almost stressing him out, actually. He wants to say something — but Kai’s hand on his shoulder is warm, and slowly but surely that warmth reaches the terrible ache that’s been lingering where the prosthetic connects for so long, and Lloyd almost weeps in relief as the pain ebbs.

“H—they really did a number on you, huh,” Kai hisses sympathetically, as his hand skims the raised, jagged lines of scarring.

Lloyd gives a boneless little shrug, trying to force back anxiety as Kai reminds him of the somewhat important fact that he doesn’t quite know who actually did a number on him. “It’s not that bad,” he mutters. “No need to get so up in arms about it.” There. Finally, a decent pun.

Kai seems to disagree, but the odd coughing noise he makes is close enough to a laugh. “Good to know your sense of humor died when we got yanked out of the realm.”

Against his will, Lloyd’s shoulders stiffen, and his breath hitches. He immediately curses himself, because it was a joke. Kai was just responding to Lloyd’s own horrible pun, and just because he used the word died doesn’t mean he has any idea why that might set Lloyd off, because he was gone before he saw Lloyd crumple to his knees on the sky tram, and he has no idea how loud Nya screamed when she’d heard the news, and he will never know how close Lloyd was to letting himself sink in the river instead and not coming back up, because Kai is tired and hollow-eyed and stressed enough, and Lloyd will not let himself become any more of a burden to him when—

“—Lloyd please, what did I say, come back—”

“Fine!” Lloyd gasps, jerking back from where Kai’s appeared in his face, his eyes wide and frightened. “Fine, I’m fine, I’m sorry, I just—”

Kai doesn’t even have to say anything. He just looks at him, and Lloyd’s words die in his throat. He buries his face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, staring at the floor through his fingers.

Kai is quiet for another minute, then— “You’re really not fooling anyone, you know.”

Lloyd closes his eyes. “Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Kai nods. “You’re giving it your best shot, I’ll give you that. But you’re really not okay, Lloyd.”

“I am,” he says, but it’s wavering.

“Lloyd.” Kai’s tone is just a little too serious, shot with the undercurrent of ‘you’re lying to me right now, and I know it, don’t make me call you out on it’. It makes Lloyd’s stomach twist, because he definitely does not want to talk about it, at all, but also—

Kai was dead. Maybe not for real dead, but Lloyd had thought he was, and that had done — that had done some really bad stuff to his overall emotional state. So hearing that familiar concern now, when he’d recently convinced himself that he’d never hear it again, is a clear sign that this particular conversation isn’t going to end well.

“It’s okay if you’re not alright,” Kai says gently, and oh no, Lloyd’s really going to cry again. “You don’t have to be.”

Cycling through his available role models for defense mechanisms, Lloyd settles on Jay for some reason, and responds with utterly unconvincing babbling. “Well, I mean, I kind of can’t be alright, because, you know, my right arm’s gone—”

Kai chokes, and Lloyd breathes out a laugh. He’s thinking he can just get all the building feelings out that way, but he’s wrong, because two seconds into the laugh it turns into crying instead.

“M’sorry,” he moans, digging the heels of his palms into his welling eyes. “I just — give me a m-minute, I’ll—” his voice cracks traitorously. “I’ll get it together, promise—”

Lloyd grabs for his mug in desperation, hiding his face as he gulps at it — only to choke on how cold the hot chocolate’s gotten.

Kai gives an aggrieved sigh, tugging the mug from Lloyd’s hands and wrapping his own around it where he holds it close to his chest, slowly re-heating it. He stares at the mug for a beat, then looks back to Lloyd, a dangerous kind of fire in his eyes.

“I told you I’d kill him for doing that to you,” he says, his voice deadly low. “I still mean it.”

Lloyd blinks. It takes him a minute, but then—

Oh. Oh, no. Lloyd feels sick. Kai’s given him a way out — he’s given him a perfect way out. But he can’t keep lying to his brother forever.

“I cut it off myself,” he blurts, rushed and out of breathe. “It-it wasn’t my dad. It was me. I cut it off.”

Kai drops the mug. He barely catches it in time, setting it down with a painful, halting slowness on the table. He stares at Lloyd, his mouth opening and closing.

“What?”

“There was a snake,” Lloyd says, and he’s talking too fast now, everything spilling out like a busted dam. “I don’t — I don’t know where from but it — it was like the one that bit my dad, you know? And I was — I was doing fine, I was fine, without my powers and everything, but I was so stupid, Kai, I wasn’t looking and it — it got me, and I—”

He sucks in breath almost desperately, forcing himself to calm down again. Kai is staring at him with wide eyes, his face terribly pale, but he isn’t running away yet. Lloyd still has a chance.

“I would’ve been like him. And I couldn’t,” he continues, fiercely. “I couldn’t turn into him, I wouldn’t. I’m not my dad, so I chose not to be, and I don’t — I don’t regret it.”

There’s really nothing more that he can say, to try and explain it to Kai, other than give him the whole rundown of depressing events, so he falls silent, his words echoing in the quiet of the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.”

Kai’s voice is ragged, cracking in the middle, and Lloyd is horrified to hear the wet, sniffled edge.

“What?” Lloyd blinks, taken aback. “No, Kai, this was definitely was my fault—”

“No,” Kai shakes his head, and Lloyd is even further horrified to see the sheen of water building at the edges of his eyes. Kai bites his lip hard enough to bleed, before continuing. “No, that’s not it. I’m sorry, Lloyd. I’m so sorry, I keep — I keep promising I’ll protect you, and I fail, every single time—”

“Kai, no,” Lloyd gapes at him. “No, you don’t. It’s not your fault this keeps happening, you try harder than anyone, and you — you always come through when it matters, you have no idea—”

“No!” Kai snaps, his head whipping up, his eyes wild. “You have no idea! You don’t know, Lloyd, you don’t even know how bad I messed up, when you needed — you don’t know—”

Kai hiccups on a sob, squeezing his eyes shut tight and tilting his head back, like he can physically stop himself from crying that way. “You don’t know. You— you’re what’s important, you and Nya and the guys, and I — Lloyd, I’m sorry—”

Lloyd stares at Kai, his mouth slightly agape. Kai’s trying, he’s trying so hard to stop it, but he’s doing about a good a job as Lloyd’s been at hiding his tears, which is…pretty terrible. And that’s — Kai is crying. Sure, Kai’s emotional, but he doesn’t — he doesn’t let himself cry, certainly not in front of Lloyd. He’s got this annoying thing about always seeming strong, but now he’s apparently run out of strength to keep it up, which kind of just feels like Lloyd’s shoved his heart into blender and hit go, and—

And Lloyd’s just staring at him, like a useless lump. FSM, he’s the worst little brother ever.

Lloyd snaps back into it, immediately crossing the distance that’s left between him and Kai, wrapping his arms around his brother’s middle and comforting him in the only way he’s got left — clinging to him as tightly as he can, like he can squeeze all the sadness out of him or absorb it like osmosis, or something, anything to help Kai like he always helps Lloyd, because—

Oh.

Lloyd speaks up quietly. “You’re really not okay either, Kai.”

Kai gives an awful, half-sobbing laugh. “You don’t say.” He digs his fingers tighter into his hair, eyes squeezing tight, and swears. “—so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall apart like — like—”

Lloyd gently tugs his hands away before he can tear his hair out, and wraps his metal arm around Kai’s shoulder, hoping it’s not painful. “It’s okay,” he tells him. “It’s okay, I promise. It’s okay if you’re not alright, either. It’s not fair to you. Stop holding yourself to some — some impossibly high level, Kai, it’s okay.”

“It’s not—”

“It is. I promise.” Then, exhaling shakily— “I’m sorry I scared you. Both back then, and now. I’m going to be better about that. I’m gonna be stronger.”

Kai gives a watery laugh. “Please. You’re the strongest person I know,” he says, thickly. “You cut off your own arm. How am I ever supposed to top that?”

Lloyd snorts wetly. “Please don’t ever try to,” he says, his voice clogged. “It sucks.”

Kai just gives a choking kind of laugh, before dropping his head onto Lloyd’s shoulder weakly, his breath shuddering out. Lloyd holds him best he can, trying to channel whatever Kai-ness he can into it, because that’s normally what works best on Lloyd.

When the…situations are reversed. Which is…a lot.

But Lloyd can do his part now, hugging Kai as tightly as he can, like it’ll put him back together and keep him there, all the pieces of his big brother that make up one of the strongest people on earth he knows. Like it’ll glue them both back together, somehow, like it’ll fix Lloyd’s arm and Kai’s heart and the whole team and the city and the now-icy cold hot chocolate Lloyd is going to wish he’d gotten to drink later.

Lloyd knows the chances are slim. But for now, at least they can pretend.

And who knows. Maybe it’ll — maybe this will help. Maybe they can duct tape themselves better after this. Who knows.

He got Kai back from the dead. Lloyd’s down for anything — anything — to make sure he stays fine the rest of his life.

************************

Lloyd never does find out exactly what Kai was trying to apologize for that night. But he’s got a fairly good idea he knows what it is already, and voicing it isn’t gonna help.

But even though they ended up staying up way too late, missed practice the next morning, and totally ruined the hot chocolate with how many times they tried to reheat it, Lloyd thinks it might have worked, a little bit.

He doesn’t feel great about the whole situation with his uncle — pretty awful, actually. Sensei’s been avoiding him now, which works out okay, because Lloyd’s avoiding him, and he’s not sure if this is a good sign or a bad one. But…he feels better, on the whole, than he did. A lot less like his head is coming unscrewed, because if he’s got Nya and Kai sticking by him now, even after everything, then it’s not as hard to believe the rest of the team will, too.

Lloyd’s aware that this is a bad mindset to keep, because it’s not like — it’s not like they’re choosing sides, or anything. He’s not about to start a one-man-war on Sensei Wu just ‘cause he went behind Lloyd’s back and yanked the choice right out of his hands like every other choice his family’s yanked from him, but — but Lloyd’s not Garmadon.

He’s Lloyd, and Lloyd doesn’t storm off to the Underworld or level half the city when things get rough. He sticks it out, because he’s not a venom-devoured drama queen. He made sure of that.

(He doesn’t blow up any palaces or terrorize villages either, or say, wake the dead, because while his coping methods might not be great, at least murder isn’t his go-to resort.)

He does, however, skip practice again, which is quickly becoming an awful habit. But his arm hurts this morning, a bit more than usual because he slept on it wrong, and the idea of getting his butt handed to him in practice over and over again because of it is almost enough to make Lloyd tear up in humiliation all over his cereal.

But he doesn’t, because he’s done crying. He’s done being pathetic and — and a dead weight, and a poor excuse of a leader.

He’s also, like, really done being this dehydrated all the time. It sucks. He’d forgotten the killer headaches it leaves you with.

So Lloyd ignores the alarm going off on his watch and shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth instead, flexing his grip around the pencil he’s doodling over the latest headlines with. He immediately wishes he’d taken the grocery run last evening instead of Zane, because the health cereal he’s picked for them is disgusting, where’s the chocolate—

“Hey, Lloyd.”

Cole’s voice shouldn’t be a surprise, because it’s Cole, non-threat — but it’s been quiet in the apartment this morning, and Lloyd almost has a heart attack on the spot. Instead, he promptly chokes on his cereal, and spends the next half-minute hacking it up and coughing milk from his nose.

“Are you dying?” Cole asks, now standing in front of him, sounding mildly concerned.

“I’m alive,” he wheezes, wiping at his face. “Mos’ly.”

Cole’s lips quirk up in amusement, but he quickly smooths the expression out, nodding at him.

“You busy?”

Lloyd glances at his half-eaten bowl of cereal, then at the half-completed dragon he’d been sketching on the edges of the newspaper, another idea for his arm. “Not really…?”

“Good,” Cole says briskly, tossing his green hoodie toward him. Lloyd yelps, barely managing to catch it with before the jacket meets a soggy fate in his cereal bowl. “Let’s go out, then.”

“Go out — what? Wait Cole, I don’t — Cole!”

Lloyd finally scrambles after his brother, catching him as he swings the door open, half-tangled in his jacket as the right sleeve catches on his prosthetic. “Where are we—” He tugs in frustration at the sleeve. “—going, you’re supposed to be—” Another vicious yank. “—at practice right now.”

“And you’re not?” Cole sounds amused, though, and Lloyd glares at him, one arm pinned behind him by a sleeve, his other arm twisted somewhere over his head, tangled hopelessly in the other sleeve.

Cole bites his lip, an obviously large grin threatening to break out across his face. “Do you need help?”

“Yes,” Lloyd grinds out, his cheeks flaming.

Cole fails at holding back the snicker this time, but Lloyd can forgive it for now, since he also takes pity, untangling Lloyd from his sweatshirt prison. Once Lloyd’s finally figured out how to get his sleeve over the prosthetic — and man, the temptation to hack all the right sleeves off of everything he owns is getting stronger by the day — he follows Cole out their apartment complex, heading off to…wherever, Cole is taking him.

“Out,” Cole shrugs, as they carefully step over another Colossi-sized hole in the street, maneuvering past the chunks of concrete the workers still haven’t cleaned up.

“Yeah, that’s specific,” Lloyd mutters, ducking his head and pulling his hood further over his face as they pass by other pedestrians.

Cole’s got his hood up as well, but he’s always stood out a little more than Lloyd. A little (lot) taller than Lloyd, too, so they still get a few curious looks. Not as many as he’s been used to, though, when he was running around in the blazoned green Resistance gi all the time, so Lloyd will take what he can get.

He’s had enough pitying looks to last him a lifetime, and that was before he showed up on primetime Ninjago City television.

“You’ve been cooped up too long,” Cole says, eyeing him. “You gotta stop hiding away, get back out in the world.”

Lloyd bristles. “I went to the gas station with Kai just the other night!”

“Yeah, at two a.m.” Cole sighs — then yelps as he nearly runs face-first into a broken street light, still dangling by the slimmest of twisted metal. Lloyd breaks into snickers at his expression, and Cole makes a face at him.

“My point is, the city’s not on fire anymore,” Cole continues, and Lloyd’s stomach drops as his voice turns soft. That means he’s probably about to say something like— “No one’s hunting you down anymore, Lloyd. You don’t have to keep hiding.”

Lloyd looks down, kicking at a loose chip of concrete. “Yeah,” he says, dully. “I know.”

He does, really, because no one’s jumped out and threatened to drag him off to his father lately, but it’s just — it’s hard to shake. It’s hard to shake the idea that someone’s out there, eyeing his every move, just waiting to rip his world to pieces. It’s hard to shake the idea that any one of these people could be hiding a knife behind their back, a vendetta behind a smile.

He swallows. “I’m working on it.”

“Yeah,” Cole says, and his voice is downcast now, too. “I guess we all kinda are.”

Lloyd bites his lip. There’s a whole lot of understanding in Cole’s voice, but it figures. They’ve all been hit hard by, well, everything that’s happened recently, but Cole’s always tended to see things the same way Lloyd does — with the eyes of a leader, always planning, always looking ahead, and always looking back on what went wrong. And the way he watches the people around them, with a look in his eyes that’s painfully familiar, says a lot more than anything else.

“But ah, to actually answer the question,” Cole speaks up, a bit hesitantly. “I thought, uh, maybe we could go to the hospital.”

Lloyd blinks rapidly. “The hosp— why?” A spark of irritation flares in his chest. If this is about his arm…he’s told them, many times, that he’d gotten it looked at. Many. Times. There’s nothing else any doctor could do about it that Pixal can’t, because all they can do at this point is prescribe him more pain meds, and Lloyd is getting sick of those, so—

“I was just thinking, maybe you could, uh…visit the kids. If you felt up to it.”

Lloyd pauses full-stop in the street, double-taking. “Why?” Cole turns to him, and he quickly continues. “That’s, I mean — not that I don’t want to visit kids, I-I’d be fine with that, no problem, but like — why would they want to see me? Now?”

Because sure, Lloyd’s always down for visiting kids, especially at the hospital — that’s where he met Nelson. But he also — he hasn’t really been showing up on TV in the….best light, lately. Sure, he gave that one speech, but other than that, the most his name has come up is in direct relation to his father, who very recently destroyed half the city, and probably put a whole lot of people in the hospital.

Besides, Lloyd thinks glumly, his left hand kneading reflexively at his shoulder, clutching the edge of the prosthetic. He’s not exactly an inspirational figure right now, much less a role model. More like a model of exactly how not to live your life—

“Because they’ll want to see you,” Cole shrugs, matter-of-factly. “And ‘cause I think some of them could learn something from you.”

“Learn what?” Lloyd breathes, almost laughing. “Cole, I can’t even teach you guys anything.”

“Okay, one, that’s a lie,” Cole says, firmly. “We learn a lot from you, give yourself some credit. You just have to be at practice for us to learn.”

Lloyd flushes, looking down, but Cole nudges him, forcing his gaze back up.

“And two, you’d be surprised.” A wry smile pulls at the edges of his mouth, before he sighs. “Also, I’m kinda hoping you’ll learn something, too.”

It’s Lloyd’s turn to make a face.“Oh, great. So it’s that kind of visit.”

Cole rolls his eyes. He pauses, his shoulders hunching up a bit, looking hesitant again. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Nah,” Lloyd sighs, heavily. “I’m not gonna turn down visiting kids in the hospital, what kind of monster do you think I am.”

“I don’t,” Cole says, and his eyes are a little too knowing. “But I do think you’re entitled to choose whether you’re up for it or not.”

And oof, there goes Lloyd’s breath whooshing out of his chest again. “How did you—”

“Also,” Cole says, before Lloyd can continue. “You’re entitled to a meltdown every once and a while, too.”

Lloyd goes scarlet. “I — the other night — it was an accident, I just—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cole steamrolls over his stuttering airily. Then, just as casually— “There are always spare lightbulbs in the lower left pantry shelf, by the way. Just in case you ever needed to know.”

“Got it,” Lloyd murmurs, ducking his head.

“And half the city’s transformers already got obliterated by the Colossi, so one patch job isn’t a whole lot. Just in case, you know, someone was thinking of beating themselves up for it. Which they shouldn’t.”

Lloyd’s cheeks are flaming. “I-I got it,” he stammers out. Trying to regain some semblance of composure, because he’s been feeling like a nine year-old again way too many times this week as it is, he clears his throat. “I do want to go. Thank you for — for asking, but I do.”

Cole’s expression lightens in relief. “Good,” he says, clapping him on his left shoulder. “Because I might have already told the hospital we were coming.”

“Of course you did,” Lloyd sighs, as they round another street corner, the hospital coming into view.

“Hey, I happen to know my teammates,” Cole shrugs, grinning. “You’re predictable.”

“Of course I am,” Lloyd groans. “You know, I really…”

Lloyd’s train of thought completely derails and plummets straight off a cliff right then, so he trails off in a strangled silence as his mouth goes bone-dry.

Oh. He’d forgotten the view the hospital gave you, of…certain areas…of the city.

“Lloyd?”

Cole’s voice is muffled, filtered weirdly like it’s underwater. Lloyd’s vision tunnels, seeing but not really seeing as he stares at the blank spot in the horizon. He remembers the building that used to be there, twenty-four stories high and just blocking the corner of the sunset in the evenings. He remembers the last time he saw it standing, from halfway across the city, Skylor unconscious in his arms and his father furious. He remembers watching it fall.

He wonders if they ever found—

“Lloyd?”

Cole’s voice is hesitant, laced with concern. Lloyd blinks wildly, tearing himself from the memory, and shudders.

“Let’s go,” he says, shaking his head, as if he can shake the past off. As if he can shake her off, and everything she’s left him with.

He doubts he ever will, but Cole’s hand on his shoulder as they climb the steps outside is warm and grounding, and a reminder that, at least, she didn’t take everything from him.

The front desk attendant at the hospital lets them through without batting an eye, which is a nice change, Lloyd thinks petulantly to himself. He’s quickly tugged from any more thoughts like that, because Cole drags him straight to the kids’ ward, and Lloyd’s suddenly left desperately trying to remember where, exactly, his everything-is-bright-and-happy expression decided to disappear to, because the kids all light up like fireworks when they see him, and Lloyd’s kind of just staring weakly back.

Cole saves him, stepping in front and greeting the kids with bright enthusiasm, which gives Lloyd enough time to pull himself back together. He manages to stutter out some decently happy stuff, but then the kids start talking about the Resistance, and how awesome he looked on TV, and did he totally kick his father’s butt, and was it so cool getting to fight like that, and they were all rooting for him during the prison fight—

Lloyd’s torn between running for the window, and asking them all who in the world let them watch the prison battle, because he’s pretty sure that was not a kid-friendly kind of thing. Instead, he stammers out that yeah, it was pretty cool, and sure, he kicked his — Garmadon’s butt, all while pulling his sweatshirt sleeve further over his arm as it throbs with the constant, painful reminder that he’s a total fraud.

Cole saves him, once again.

“Hey, guys, we’ve got time to talk to all of you, and — yeah, sure bud, we can sign that for you, but Lloyd wants to talk to a few of your friends in particular, okay?”

Lloyd blinks rapidly as Cole steers him away, his words registering. “Wait, what?” He tries to yank his arm from Cole’s hold. “Cole, wait, who do you want me to — wait, I don’t have anything prepared—”

“You won’t need to,” Cole says firmly, then nods at the kid he’s been dragging him over to. Lloyd glares at Cole, huffing out a sigh before craning around his shoulder.

“I don’t—” Lloyd freezes, his mouth open. He shuts it.

The kid Cole’s been dragging him to is sitting by himself toward the back of the common room. The look in his eyes is eerily familiar, hollow and empty-looking where he’s slumped on the couch. He’s leaning awkwardly to one side, and it takes Lloyd a minute — too long, really — before he spots it.

Oh, Lloyd thinks, his breath whooshing out from his chest. He gets it now.

He ducks out from behind Cole, his feet taking him forward almost unconsciously, and he carefully approaches the kid.

“Hey,” he says gently, going down on a knee in front of the kid. “I like your socks.” He nods at the Starfarer-emblazoned ones he’s got on, where his feet dangle over the couch edge.

The kid looks at him, his eyes widening, then back toward his socks. His eyebrows pull into a sad little glare. “I can’t wear my shoes,” he says, hollowly. “I can’t tie ‘em. Not with my…” He trails off, and turns the glare on the empty sleeve of the hospital gown that hangs from his left shoulder. “My arm,” he finishes, quietly.

Something in Lloyd’s heart twists with painful familiarity. “Yeah, I get that,” he says, ruefully. The kid squints at him, and Lloyd exhales, before tugging the sleeve of his hoodie off. The kid’s eyes go huge, and Lloyd swallows, before continuing, smiling shakily at him. “See? I couldn’t even buckle my armor on the first week, and that was after I got the prosthetic. It’s tough stuff.”

The kid continues to stare at the prosthetic, his eyes looking like they’re about to pop out of his head. “Your arm’s gone,” he whispers. “Just like mine.”

“Yeah,” Lloyd breathes out. He rolls up his sleeve, pointing to the edges of the prosthetic. “Lost it right about…here.”

The kid’s eyes rove over the metal arm, lingering on his and Nya’s designs, before zeroing in on where the scarring starts. “And you’re still a ninja?” The kid’s voice is still hushed, almost awestruck.

“Sure am,” Lloyd says, with a crooked smile. “Team leader and everything.” Even if he’s been a pretty awful one lately, his mind supplies.

The kid’s lips part, and he hesitates before speaking again. “A-and you can still…do all that stuff?” he asks, his voice painfully tentative. “Even with…even with your arm?”

Lloyd’s throat goes tight, but he nods. “Yeah,” he says, thickly. “Yeah, I can — I can still do ninja stuff. Took me a bit, but I can tie my shoes, too. And I can still do, uh, handsprings and everything.”

A myriad of expressions crosses the kid’s face, shock then joy then something a whole lot like hope, and Lloyd suddenly realizes why the empty emotion he’d seen in the kid’s eyes when he walked in looked so familiar. It’s the same hollow look Lloyd’s seen looking back at him in the mirror every stupid day since—

And now it’s gone, replaced by something bright and shining.

“Awesome,” the kid says, his voice hushed and reverent, like Lloyd’s just given him some untold kind of gift.

Lloyd has to swallow again, and blinks frantically. “My — my name’s Lloyd, by the way,” he says, holding his hand out — the left one, so it’s not awkward for the kid. The kid grins, in a way that clearly says, ‘I know, duh, moron’. “What’s yours?”

The kid beams. “Max,” he says, gripping Lloyd’s arm and shaking enthusiastically, wobbling a bit off-balance.

“Nice to meet you, Max,” Lloyd smiles back. Then he goes serious, meeting the kid’s eyes. “Listen. All that stuff — you can do it, too. Tie your shoes and everything. It’ll take a bit, but you can, I promise.”

Max stares at him, listening intently, his eyes bright, and Lloyd suddenly feels a terrible amount of pressure.

“But you—” he falters, then sucks a breath in before continuing. “Don’t do it by yourself, okay? You’ve got — you’ve got family, right?”

He immediately wants to kick himself, because what a stupid question, has Harumi taught him nothing—

The kid nods, and Lloyd exhales heavily in relief. “Okay. Good. Let them help you. Family and friends, and the doctors here — they care about you. So even — even if it feels annoying sometimes, or you start thinking that maybe they just think you’re too weak, you gotta let them help you.”

Lloyd pauses, and thinks of Nya, her snarky humor and unwavering strength, the long nights they’d stay up together as she redesigned his arm. He thinks of Jay, coming up with new puns for him and leaving the pain meds bottle on the lowest shelf. He thinks of Zane, of actually listening to him and adjusting his entire training schedule; of Kai, sitting up all night with him and never holding his outbursts against him. He thinks of Cole, sewing the team back together with infinite patience and dragging him out to the hospital because he knew exactly what Lloyd needed to see.

Lloyd thinks about how completely, utterly terrible his life would be without them.

“‘Cause they care about you, and you — you can do it, but you can’t do it without them. You need people who care about you in your corner, so don’t ever take them for granted.”

Max’s eyes have widened a bit, but he nods. “I won’t,” he says, solemnly.

“Good,” Lloyd says, then smiles wryly. “You’ll get the hang of it a lot faster than I did, at that rate.”

“No way, you’re the Green Ninja,” Max scoffs, and Lloyd snorts despite himself. He shakes his head, turning to exchange looks with Cole—

—only to pause, because Cole’s eyes are horribly shiny, all suspiciously watery as he sniffs a bit.

‘You sap’, Lloyd mouths at him, his eyebrows drawing together in accusation. Cole flashes him a gesture, neatly hidden from the other kids behind his hand, and Lloyd is about to descend on him for the audacity, because he always lectures Lloyd for doing that, when Max is suddenly tugging furiously at his hand.

“Wait, wait, you gotta meet my friend!” he says, bouncing from his seat in reckless energy. Lloyd steadies him as he wobbles, and the kid beams at him. “She lost her leg ‘cause she’s real sick, and she’s been pretty sad about it too, but wait until she sees you—! She’s gonna freak out, come on, come on—”

Lloyd gives a startled laugh, but he lets Max drag him forward, tiny fingers locked around his metal ones. Cole waves to him where he’s on the floor, letting kids climb over all him, and he’s got the worst of knowing smiles on his face as they pass.

Lloyd casts his eyes skyward. Cole’s gonna be so smug about this later, but watching the look on Max’s face as he introduces him to kid after kid, Lloyd really can’t bring himself to mind.

******************

They stay a whole three hours longer than they were supposed to, but Max falls asleep on Lloyd’s shoulder by the time they have to go, so the nurses can’t get too upset about them staying way past visiting hours.

“Because you two were adorable, seriously, it’d be like kicking a puppy. I can’t believe I didn’t get any pictures,” Cole shakes his head, looking disappointed in himself.

“Good,” Lloyd says fervently. “Kai would never let me live it down.”

“Aw, he’d frame it on our wall, though.”

“Yeah, and then I’d never live that down!”

Cole snorts loudly, and Lloyd huffs, bouncing down the steps as they exit the hospital. They fall into comfortable silence for a bit, and Lloyd spares a look at Cole from the corners of his eyes, biting his lip. His good mood is fading as they leave the hospital behind them, stepping out into the city evening, the streetlights just flickering on, bright and shiny as they’ve recently been repaired — reminding him.

“What you said, before we went in,” he finally asks headlong. “About…being entitled to choose, and stuff.” Lloyd swallows, then continues. “Was that, um. Did you happen to maybe, like, hear…”

“You and Sensei Wu’s talk?” Cole finishes with a wince, and uh oh, Lloyd can hear the capital ’T’ emphasis on talk. “Our apartment’s really small, Lloyd.”

Oh, no. “H-how much did you hear?” Lloyd asks, almost afraid of the answer.

Cole carefully avoids his eyes, his mouth titled downwards in guilt. “Kind of…everything?”

He definitely should’ve been afraid of the answer, Lloyd thinks numbly. “But Kai said you only—” he pauses, meeting Cole’s sympathetic gaze. His stomach turns. Oh. “Right. Okay. Kai was just trying to make me feel better.”

“He likes to do that, if you haven’t noticed.”

Lloyd grimaces, feeling a stab of his own guilt. “Yeah."

“He’s not the only one,” Cole says, pointedly. “I didn’t tell you that to make you feel bad. We’d all like you to feel better.”

“Yeah, well—” Lloyd freezes. A thought suddenly hits him, with a swooping kind of horror. If they heard everything, like everything everything—

“Cole, the part when I said — the part where I said I hated this family,” he stammers frantically. “I didn’t mean — I meant my blood one. Only my blood one, I didn’t — you guys are—”

“Lloyd.” Cole’s hand is gentle on his shoulder, halting them where they stand on the empty street that runs along the river. “I get it. And I know you didn’t mean it, about your family. Either of them.”

Lloyd’s mouth turns downward. “You guys are the only family that matters to me,” he says, stiffly.

Bitterly, his mind supplies, not without a sting, and would it shut up, he’s trying to — to emotionally distance himself here—

Cole’s eyes dart away briefly, something immeasurably sad flashing in them, and almost too empathetic.

“Lloyd, you — you have us. You’ll always have us. And I’m not — I’m not saying you should feel one way or another, ‘cause I know you’re hurt. And you have every right to be, that’s very justified.”

Lloyd looks down. “But,” he says, dully.

“But,” Cole exhales. “But lying to yourself can hurt, too. And I know — look, it was super uncool. That was low of him, and undoubtedly in the wrong. We’re all with you on that. But Lloyd, you know he — you know he cares about you, right? He didn’t… he didn’t do it to hurt you. That wasn’t his intention.”

“How do I know,” Lloyd snaps, bitterly. “How am I supposed to know, Cole. How many times am I supposed to tell myself my mom didn’t mean to leave me, my dad didn’t mean to hurt me, my uncle didn’t mean to — to—”

Lloyd breaks off, his stupid traitor eyes threatening to run as he sniffs. He blows his breath out, steadying himself. Cole, wonderful person that he is, does not comment on any of this.

“I’m just tired,” he finally whispers, staring out with hollow eyes on the river, the dark water glinting in the streetlights. Cole’s hand drops onto his shoulder again, and he squeezes once.

“I know, bud,” he says, sounding horribly young and yet so much older than he should, all at the same time. “I know. I am too.”

Lloyd doesn’t say anything to that, but he doesn’t really need to. The silence is enough, for them — it’s always been, with Cole. There are some things you can say, that you can talk out with words or powers or weapons, but there are some things that you just—

You don’t really get it, until you find it in you to call yourself leader. There aren’t exactly words for how it feels like, playing chicken with your friends’ lives and your family’s lives and the entire city and country on the line.

You just…feel tired.

Cole’s breath hitches, and his hand tightens on Lloyd’s shoulder, carefully around the edges of the prosthetic, but not in a way that grates. It’s normal Cole-careful, not the brittle kind scared-careful everyone’s been about it.

“Just…take it from someone who’s let a family argument fester,” he says quietly. “It doesn’t stop hurting. Not until you face it. However that ends is up to you, but. It helps.”

Lloyd swallows, and the river in front of him blurs, the streetlights turning hazy in his vision. He glances at Cole, then finally meets his eyes.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” Cole nods. He hesitates, then something in his expression steels.

“And if I’m wrong, I’ll help you sign the — the disownment papers, or whatever, myself,” he adds, suddenly fierce. “You can have my last name, instead. Or Kai and Nya’s, or — or we’ll all mash ours together into some garbled mess that’s yours, and you can have like, five or six whole step-parents, and it’ll be great.”

The laugh that startles out of Lloyd is so unexpected he almost makes himself jump, but it’s genuine. A little wet, maybe, but it’s the staggering feeling of relief Lloyd’s been looking for, been wanting, been needing, and—

“It’s worth it,” he blurts out. “It’s worth being the Green Ninja for you guys alone. I’d do it a hundred times if I just got to have you, because — because—”

“Aw, Lloyd,” Cole says, and he wraps him in a full hug this time. “It doesn’t work like that. You don’t need to be the Green Ninja to have us. You’d still have us if you weren’t. You’d still have us if you were just some bratty little kid we yanked from the street. You’d still have us if you only had one limb left and couldn’t even hold a sword, you’d still—”

“I get it,” Lloyd giggles wetly into Cole’s elbow.

Cole shakes his head, and squeezes Lloyd tightly. “And we’re not planning on quitting anytime soon,” he continues, his voice turning serious, and a little too knowing. “So don’t go selling us short, and think we’d die on one shattered ship. We knew what we were getting into, kiddo. We’ve always known.”

Lloyd sucks in a sharp breath, his heart stuttering. A whole bunch of questions are bubbling up in his chest, but they don’t quite make it through his throat, because it’s closing up again, so he just clings back to Cole and tries not to let his eyes water too much. Oh. Lloyd didn’t even have to tell him. Cole already knew.

That’s Cole for you though, Lloyd guesses.

************************

Lloyd has every intention of talking to Sensei Wu. Really, he does — because for one thing, it's caused a painfully obvious rift in their team dynamic which could get them into serious trouble if another threat breaks out, and going by their track record, that could happen like, tomorrow. And for another, they’re all living in an incredibly cramped apartment right now, and while Lloyd is perfectly fine avoiding his uncle by parkouring around the house like an extreme game of the floor is lava, Nya’s probably getting sick of having to get him unstuck from the air vents, so — confrontation it is.

Except if Lloyd’s going to force himself through the agony of that, he’s going to get it all out of the way at once. Besides, he owes his team an explanation, anyways. Probably…several explanations. A whole lot of words, that’s for sure.

So Lloyd sucks it up, finishes cutting off the sleeve on the right side of his pre-Resistance gi so it actually fits, and for the first time since the guys got back, feels somewhat like a shadow of the leader he’s supposed to be as he calls a team meeting. This brief burst of confidence is thoroughly shot through by Nya, who immediately dubs it the “aha, I see it’s time we all talked our issues out” meeting, but — well, it’s not like she’s wrong.

Besides, they needed it. And in hindsight, Lloyd realizes he’s been worrying about all the wrong things.

“I can’t believe you cut your own arm off and didn’t even like, take the opportunity to make a hundred Star Wars jokes. You realize there’s no escaping the Luke Skywalker jokes now, right?”

“For the last time, Luke didn’t cut his own arm off. I’m way more hard core than he is.”

“Yeah, for a maniac. You’re both on full-time babysitting. We leave for five minutes and you go around losing limbs and breaking arms, huh.”

“I can’t believe we ever mourned your deaths.”

“I can’t believe you thought we were dead and didn’t say anything!”

“He’s right, the psychological trauma stemming from such events could be—”

“If any of you say traumatizing again, I’m using the taser feature on my arm.”

“I can’t believe Nya built that in for you.”

“I can’t believe you let Uncle Wu flirt with some random lady in the First Realm.”

“He wasn’t flirting with her, would you let that drop—”

“Alright, alright! Don’t worry, I’ve hit my limb-it. Heh, get it—”

He’s met with a chorus of groans at that, and Jay chucks a couch cushion at his head. But it brightens the already-lightening mood more, weary sort of grins replacing the solemn expressions that everyone’s been wearing through most of this conversation, so Lloyd counts it as a total success. Even if none of them appreciate real humor, he thinks to himself, miffed.

“Okay, real talk, though,” Cole finally speaks up over the rest of them, as their scattered conversation dies down. He meets Lloyd’s eyes. “If you want us to come with you when you talk with your uncle, we’ll be happy to, you know.”

A tight kind of knot forms in Lloyd’s throat. Your uncle, not Sensei. He’d never dream of asking them to pick a side, but—

“Yeah, we’ve all got your back,” Jay nods, miming a punch at the air, before making a face. “You have like, this really awful habit of going all ‘oh no, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault Sensei Wu, ignore everything I said even though it was super valid’—”

Lloyd chucks the couch cushion back at him. “I do not do that,” he scowls.

Nya cuts him a pointed look. “Yes, you do.”

Lloyd glares back. “Do not.”

“She’s right, you do,” Cole echoes.

“Kinda do, bud,” Kai sighs.

Lloyd looks to Zane, pleading. Zane just shakes his head, pityingly. Lloyd sighs. “No faith in me at all,” he says, forlornly.

“We’ve got total faith in you,” Cole says. “You just need to have faith in yourself.”

Lloyd groans, leaning back so he’s fully sprawled across the living room floor. “You sound like Sensei Wu’s lesson book.”

Nya pokes him in the ribs, and Lloyd jerks away, yelping. “Listen to him, Lloyd. Not that I’m against sudden passionate outbursts, but…healthy talks. We need to work on healthy talks.” Her voice wavers, and Lloyd glances up at her. She looks down, then holds her head up, taking a deep breath.

“Which is why, when this blows over, I’d — I’d like to talk about Nadakhan,” she announces, a little unsteadily, but determined. “For — for real, this time.” She gives Lloyd a shaky smile, and he beams back, trying not to look too shiny-eyed about it. Going by her expression, he’s failed, but she spares him the embarrassment and turns her attention elsewhere. “Jay?”

Jay’s shoulders almost go boneless, and an expression of what could be relief flashes across his face. “I’m down if you are,” he exhales.

“Wait, what exactly are we talking about with Nadakhan, here?” Cole says, suddenly wildly concerned. Lloyd feels a brief spark of victory, and not a small amount of vengefulness at the look on Nya’s face — it’s about time someone else is on the chopping black.

“Nothing,” Jay says, waving his arms. He blinks, then suddenly backtracks. “Wait, I mean — it’s definitely something, but, uh — Nya said later! So we’ll talk later, haha?”

“Jay—”

“Hey,” Kai catches him off to the side, as the others dissolve into bickering. His eyes are serious, but the dark circles aren’t quite as bad. Not as awful as they’ve been, which is the best Lloyd can ask for right now, he guesses. “You’ve got this, no problem,” Kai continues, under his breath so the others can’t hear. “But on the off chance you want out, at any point? All you gotta do is yell for me and I’ll swoop in for you and run, just give the word. We can always work this out another day.”

Lloyd bites his lip, looking down. “I need to talk to him, Kai. I can’t leave it like this forever.”

“Well, yeah,” Kai says, evenly. “Maybe not. But as far as I’m concerned, you’re still Master Lloyd to us. We’ll follow your lead.”

Oh, now he’s done it. Lloyd’s throat goes painfully tight, and his eyes burn as he struggles to swallow back anymore embarrassing displays. “K-kai, you—”

“Please tell me I didn’t make you cry again,” Kai says hurriedly.

Lloyd shakes his head, elbowing him lightly in the side. “I wasn’t gonna cry,” he huffs. “I was just gonna say that I—” Lloyd swallows again, and murmurs, “I really missed you, Kai.”

Then, realizing he sounds entirely too vulnerable right now, he clears his throat and gives Kai a shaky grin. “Especially since now I really need you as my right hand man—”

Kai swats the back of his head, scuffing his hair down. “Lloyd, you’re my brother and I love you, but if you make another horrible arm pun, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Please,” Lloyd snorts. “You didn’t bring me a dragon back. If anyone should be never forgiving anyone, it’s me.”

************************

Lloyd’s not one to let fear get the best of him — for very long — but nothing’s really rooted him to the floor in terror like the sight of his uncle’s closed door has. Well, besides maybe his undead father dangling him off the floor in Kryptarium, or the sight of the Bounty getting crushed to pieces, or the way Skylor had collapsed in his arms, or the sensation of twin points of pain on the back of his hand—

Okay, so maybe fear’s been a pretty big player in his life lately, but still. Lloyd doesn’t let fear win out over him. He shouldn’t let fear win out over him.

Fear isn’t a word where I come from, Lloyd’s mind echoes half-hysterically at him.

Absolutely none of this helps the way his hands tremble violently as he knocks on Sensei’s door.

“Come in.”

Sensei Wu’s voice is quiet and level, no revealing trace of emotion in it. Nausea wells up in Lloyd’s throat, but he swallows it down. Kai’s “all you gotta do is yell for me” lingers in Lloyd’s mind, but he shrugs the thought off. As tempting as it is — Kai snatching him up from this conversation entirely and saving Lloyd a lot of awkward stuttering — he can’t just take the easy way out. Cole’s right — Lloyd needs to face this eventually. Letting things fester never helped anyone.

Harumi drove that one home pretty well.

Sucking in a breath, Lloyd finally pushes the door open, cursing his shaking fingers as they clack on the doorknob. His courage — if he can even call it that — falters, and he keeps his gaze rooted to the ground like it’s the most riveting thing in the room. The familiar smell of incense wafts over him, and Lloyd struggles not to throw up again.

There’s a measured intake of breath, before Sensei Wu exhales quietly. “Lloyd.”

Again, there’s little to no emotion in his voice, just that infuriatingly calm serenity, which is no help at all, because Lloyd has zero clue whether he’s furious with him or just — just disappointed, or something worse. And he’s sure as heck not going to look at his expression to figure it out, because that will require meeting his eyes, and Lloyd would rather combust on the spot.

He’s already faced one family member’s eyes burning in hatred on him. If he has to see Uncle Wu, too — Uncle Wu, who Lloyd’s always thought believed in him from the beginning—

“Sit, please.”

Lloyd shakes his head. He can’t. He’s already losing the battle to nerves, he can’t just — pretend this is another master-student talk. He needs to get it over with now, before he goes to pieces again.

“I…” Lloyd swallows. His mouth is painfully dry, and he still can’t get his hand to stop shaking. The metal one is finally listening to him, at least. He finally forces out a shuddery exhale, then curves his spine into a bow, his head hung low.

“Sensei,” he says, almost proud that his voice only wavers the slightest bit. “I’ve come to apologize for my actions earlier. And my words, I — I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

Sensei Wu is silent. The air is so thick Lloyd almost struggles to breath, and a part of him faintly wonders if the incense hasn’t grown a mind of its own and is actively trying to suffocate him.

“I just — it hurt, when you went behind my back, and I know — I know I’m a mess.” The admission stings, but it’s true. It’s way too true, but that still doesn’t give him the right—

“And I’m trying,” Lloyd continues, his voice cracking in all the worst places. “I’m trying so hard, Sensei Wu, I am, but I can’t — you were gone, and I tried so hard to be the-the leader you would want, I really did, but things just — everything went so wrong, and I—”

Lloyd cuts off, swallowing back a sob. “But I didn’t meant it,” he croaks out. “When I said I hated—”

He doesn’t get to finish that, because he’s suddenly being dragged out of the bow by Sensei Wu, and pulled arms-first into a tight embrace before he even realizes what’s happening. Lloyd’s poor brain short-circuits in surprise, and all he can really do is hang there like a dead fish while Uncle Wu clings to him like he hasn’t since Lloyd was nine.

He might also be crying, maybe, but he’s also in dead-fish-mode, so who knows—

“No, Lloyd,” his uncle says, and there’s an edge of a sob in his words, just like the one Lloyd was choking back earlier. “I am sorry. I am so, so very sorry, not only for going behind your back, but for everything—”

He cuts off, inhaling sharply, and Lloyd stares blankly into his shoulder as his eyes decide to run like a leaky faucet. This is — this is not going according to plan. He’s not prepared for this, he was ready for Uncle Wu to yell at him, to be angry, not—

“And you have every right to be angry with me,” Uncle Wu continues, his hold on Lloyd loosening, but not letting go. “But I must — please, Lloyd, you must know it was never you that I doubted, it was me.”

He takes a ragged breath. “I failed your father, Lloyd,” he says, his voice wet. “I failed him, and I lost him. I failed Morro, and I lost him as well. I’ve failed you too, Lloyd, and I’ve almost lost you far too many times, because of my failures, but I still — I still have you, Lloyd. The idea of losing you, for good, because I was not there when you needed me most—”

Uncle Wu’s holding him tighter again, and his word are finally starting to make sense through the haze that’s fogged up Lloyd’s brain, just in time for him to hear the next part clearly.

“You’re my family, Lloyd,” Uncle Wu rasps, suddenly sounding very old. “And I don’t tell you this as often I should, but you should know how very proud of you I am, and the person you’ve become.”

Lloyd sucks in a shuddering breath, his eyes welling over. Oh. His fingers fist into the fabric of his uncle’s robe, tentatively clutching back.

“You should also know,” Uncle Wu says, his voice wet but steady. “How very much I love you, regardless of what title you choose to bear. You will always be my nephew, no matter what color you wear.”

Oh. Oh, no, here he goes again. Lloyd clutches back tighter, drops his head onto his uncle’s shoulder, and tries very hard not to cry like a total baby.

He’s about five percent successful.

The scent of incense isn’t so suffocating anymore, even if Lloyd can’t breathe through his nose for crying right now. It smells a little more like he remembers, when he was younger.

Like home.

************************

“It can be very hard,” Uncle Wu tells him later, over the light tea he’s made them both. “To love the people in this family.”

“But you do,” Lloyd voices, watching him hesitantly.

“But I do.” Uncle Wu gives a wry breath of laughter. “Not as well as you do, though.”

Lloyd ducks his head, staring into his tea. “I don’t think it helped very much,” he whispers. “Not with…with my father.”

Uncle Wu’s hand is gentle where it rests on his shoulder.

“You have a big heart, Lloyd,” he says, his voice sad. “And that means there is only that much more to break.” He shakes his hand, and Lloyd sways the tiniest bit back and forth. “That does not mean you are any weaker for it, nor that you are wrong.”

Lloyd gives a snort that is definitely not an attempt to hide welling tears again. “Tell that to my father.”

“You should tell him yourself, if you want.”

Lloyd jerks his head up, his eyes widening. “Then…does that mean I’m off the blacklist?” he asks, tentatively. “For the prison?”

Uncle Wu sighs. “If you are certain it will not break your heart anymore,” he says. “Then you may go whenever you wish. I have already removed the block, but…I would ask that you be sure. For your sake, Lloyd.”

Lloyd stares at his hands, the metal one glinting in the dim lamplight. He thinks of cruel words echoing against prison walls, of how his heart had splintered into pieces long before his father had thrown him through that last prison wall, or he’d taken a sword to his own arm. He thinks of the TV broadcasts that Nya and Jay will never be able to wipe completely from the web, no matter how hard they try. He thinks of how his father will never know the pain of his heart splitting into pieces, certainly not for Lloyd, because it’ll never be the same heart Lloyd knew once.

And yet…

One of them is sitting in a cold cell, and one of them is drinking tea with their uncle, with the people they love most a mere room away (or right outside the door, Lloyd’s overbearing-sibling-radar has been acting up).

Lloyd shakes his head. “I don’t break,” he says, firmly.

He won’t. Not this time. Because his father — his real father, the father he loves, who he’d promised he’d live for, even in the depths of the Cursed Realm—

“I’m a Garmadon,” Lloyd says, his voice steady. “I don’t break.”

Uncle Wu is entirely unsuccessful at hiding the teary sort of smile he’s making in his teacup, but Lloyd will give him credit for trying.

************************

It’s easier walking into the prison again, the second time.

Is what Lloyd is going to say, when the others ask him how it went when he gets back. The reality is that Lloyd is every bit as mind-numbingly terrified walking through these stupid doors as he was the first time. Except this time might even be worse, actually, because he misses a step on the way in and almost trips flat on his face, which totally ruins the badass power walk he was trying to do.

It’s not like he’ll ever be able to stride around like his father, anyways, Lloyd thinks dully, even as his face burns. Not when Garmadon’s got about four entire feet and the malevolent energy of Darth Vader on him.

Lloyd spends the next three minutes cursing himself for giving in to the Star Wars references, enough that he almost forgets the growing sense of anxiety writhing in his gut as he hurries through the prison. He doesn’t spare the walls a second glance this time, making a beeline directly for the isolation cell.

He holds his breath, just a tiny bit, as the guard scans him in. He’s almost surprised as he immediately waves him through, but forces himself to shake it off.

He’s not going to walk out of this with crippling trust issues all around. He’s not. Uncle Wu said he’d told them Lloyd could go, so Lloyd trusts him. And Uncle Wu is trusting him not to break down over this, so Lloyd isn’t going to. He’s just gonna have a…a nice little chat, with his father, that’s all. Maybe ask about the impending doomsday stuff he was muttering about, and make sure he isn’t planning to break out. Definitely not going to bring up anything related to Lloyd’s emotional state, that’s for sure.

It’s going to be just fine, Lloyd assures himself, even as his metal fingers twitch, the occasional static of green buzzing between the joints. He needs to keep an eye on that. Nya’s started getting him to run actual tests on it, so he knows the green power works fine with his arm, but still.

It’s the fight that fuels his father, and Lloyd hasn’t needed a lot of encouragement to go off on someone lately.

He shoves those thoughts back as the guard takes him deeper into the prison, the hallways growing darker and narrow. Lloyd has to swallow back a growing sense of claustrophobia the farther they go, his skin crawling as unbidden memories of the fight flicker in the back of his mind.

His hands ball into fists. You’re fine, he tells himself again. This is different. It’s fine.

His power buzzes in the back of his head, as if attempting to voice that it disagrees. Lloyd studiously ignores it, because the guard’s letting him in now, and he’s got a lot more problems to worry about.

Or just one big one, he thinks faintly, staring at his father where he’s illuminated in the middle of the dark room, sitting calmly in his cell as he stares at the ceiling.

For a beat, Lloyd’s rooted to the spot — half from a dizzying sense of nausea, half because he can’t find the walkway they’ve built.

…mostly because he can’t find the walkway they’ve built. Lloyd spends an embarrassing ten seconds thinking that Garmadon’s cell is just floating there, and he’s going to have to holler this conversation back and forth across the dark expanse, before his eyes finally catch on the dim-lit walkway.

No railings, Lloyd notes, and half of him wonders how funny it’d be if, after everything, he accidentally slipped and fell on the way to visit his imprisoned father, and that’s what did him in. It’d be a real spite to Harumi, that’s what—

“I was wondering when you’d come to visit.”

Lloyd swallows at the voice, and forces himself to meet the crimson eyes staring at him, so much like his own.

“Father,” he says in greeting, as tonelessly as possible.

Garmadon scoffs, but he says nothing to refute him. The tiniest embers of hope light in Lloyd’s chest, before he violently smothers them. He’s not here to get hurt again.

His father’s eyes are moving down now, coming to a halt on Lloyd’s prosthetic. Lloyd shifts uncomfortably with the urge to hide it from view, forcing himself to stand steady.

“I never did like snakes,” Garmadon finally says, his voice even, then returns to staring at the ceiling.

Lloyd blinks. That’s it? That’s it. Lloyd’s lost an entire arm and — yeah, Garmadon already got a face-first introduction to the prosthetic back on Borg Tower, but he’d — he’d thought —

Lloyd doesn’t know what he’d thought, actually. He doesn’t have any footing with his father, anymore. He doesn’t know this person like he used to know the father who loved him.

“You said something to me, back on the tower,” Lloyd says, rallying himself. “About how they were coming. I wanted to ask you what you were talking about.”

Garmadon tilts his head, regarding him through slitted eyes. “Why don’t you ask your dear uncle?” he says, derisively. “I’m sure there’s plenty more he knows that he hasn’t told you.”

“Sensei Wu tells me enough,” Lloyd says, flatly. “If something’s coming, he’ll make sure we’re ready.”

“If you are the best he can offer, then you’re already doomed,” Garmadon scoffs.

Lloyd grits his teeth. “And yet,” he says, with forced calm. “I still beat you.”

“Watch yourself, boy,” Garmadon snarls, his teeth glinting. “You won on a technicality. Don’t be so quick to forget how easily I broke you before."

Pitching himself off the walkway is sounding like a better option by the second, which means Lloyd should probably get out of here soon.

“This threat,” he forces out, yanking them back on track. “You keep talking about. Want to share any more on that?”

Garmadon rolls his eyes. “The danger I spoke of has yet to pass,” he says, unconcerned. “I wouldn’t let it worry you and your pathetic friends’ little heads so soon. Like I said, I doubt you could handle it.”

Lloyd stares at him, incredulous. “So what, you’re just going to sit around until it’s here? And do nothing? That’s just going to make — make whatever it is worse.”

Garmadon snorts, his laugh caustic and bitter, but offers nothing else.

Lloyd’s lip curls. “Forget it, then,” he snaps. “If you’re not going to talk about anything useful, I’m not wasting my time on you. I can always come back.”

He means to storm off after that, but his feet falter, and he hesitates. He stares at his father, this hollowed-out version of him slumped in defeat in a prison cell. Something in his chest twists.

This is never what he wanted. He never wanted any of this. Is this what destiny does to them all, then? Chains them to each other until they’ve all brought each other down to their lowest point? Destroys everything thats good about them until there’s nothing but an empty shell left?

The edge of the walkway looms on either side of him, dropping into suffocating darkness. Lloyd balls his hands into fists, and remembers the crushing hopelessness he’d felt as Harumi had laughed at him on the train. It feels a lot like his grandfather’s laughing at him now, watching their stupid family drama play out like the worst kind of tragic soap opera.

Lloyd’s fists tighten. No, he tells himself. No. That’s not what destiny will do to him.

He’s the one that got away, isn’t he?

Garmadon finally seems to lose patience, his eyes flashing as he stands. “If you’re still here to gloat, boy—”

“I’m my own person, you know,” Lloyd speaks over him, cutting his father off. “I’ve got more than just you. I’m not just some fragment of your broken legacy.”

Garmadon stares back in surprise, but he says nothing.

“But I’m still your son, no matter what you say,” Lloyd continues, his voice steady. “And I’m keeping your name. So deal with it, or whatever.”

And with that, he turns around and paces steadily from the cell, back into the light. He doesn’t look back, not even once.

He can come back later, anyways. But right now, he’s gonna be late for practice.

************************

“—left, he’s on your left, Jay, are you blind?!”

“He’s fast! I don’t see you catching him!”

“That’s ‘cause you’re supposed to be guarding the left, we’re cornering him!”

“On the contrary, you are leaving your right side wide open for me. By my calculations, neither of you will ever corner me.”

“Oh, I’ll show you, tin can—”

Lloyd gives a breathless giggle as he listens in, confident in Zane’s ability to distract Cole and Jay for now. Nya’s still a possible threat, unless she’s going after their flag right now, but Lloyd’s pretty secure in the hiding place they’d picked.

“Head in the game, green machine!”

Lloyd shakes his head, jerking himself back the present at Kai’s whispered hiss. He wobbles precariously from where he’s standing on Kai’s shoulders, throwing his arms out for balance. He glares up at where Cole’s managed to hang their flag, dangling cheerfully from the tree branch far above the ground.

“Give me a sec,” Lloyd hisses back, right arm straining as his fingertips brush the air just below the flag. He scowls, biting back a curse.

“Do not tell me you’re too short to reach,” Kai whispers, before wavering a bit and tightening his hold around Lloyd’s ankles.

Lloyd scowls down at him. “I’m not,” he grumbles. “Just hold on.”

Kai makes an anxious sound. “Lloyd, Nya’s gonna catch on to us any second—”

“Hold on, hold on,” Lloyd mutters, reaching for the prosthetic port. With a click, he detaches the arm and steadies it in his other hand, then hoists it up and neatly catches the edge of their flag with it, knocking it into Kai’s waiting hands.

“Nice!” Kai crows in victory — only to turn to a yelp as Nya comes barreling around the corner, her expression borderline terrifying.

“You’re supposed to be watching our flag!” she roars at Cole and Jay, before diving for them. Lloyd shrieks as Kai launches him from his shoulders, giving a desperate cry of “Run, Lloyd!”

Lloyd flails wildly before managing to hit the ground in a roll, somersaulting once before scrambling to his feet. He spares a moment of memoriam for Kai as Jay tackles him, before being forced to break into a dead sprint as Nya comes in hot on his heels.

“Go, Lloyd!” Zane calls, from where he’s tussling with Cole. “They haven’t found our flag, we can win!”

“Not if I catch him,” Nya hisses, the hair on Lloyd’s neck standing up at how close she is. He puts on a burst of speed, streaking across the grassy field toward their base. Nya’s a blur in the back of his vision as he turns his head, but he might be able to outrun her if—

Lloyd yelps as he’s jerked backwards. “Gotcha!” Nya yells triumphantly as she locks a hand around Lloyd’s right wrist, firmly holding him back.

Lloyd doesn’t hesitate. Shoving the edge of the flag between his teeth, he reaches up and disconnects the prosthetic, shooting forward as Nya’s left stumbling, holding his arm.

“Lloyd Garmadon!” she cries indignantly. “That’s cheating!”

Lloyd cackles wildly as he runs, wavering a bit at he’s thrown off-balance from being one-armed, before quickly adjusting to the weight change and sprinting faster. Nya’s started chasing him again, but it’s too late — she’s lost valuable time, and Lloyd skids over their base line with a whoop.

Kai and Zane burst into cheers as Cole curses, finally letting Zane free from his grasp. Nya slides to a halt beside him where he’s doubled over panting, breathing heavily herself. She’s glaring at him through the sweaty hair that’s hanging in her face, and Lloyd gives her a sunny smile in return.

“You’re a dirty cheater,” she finally huffs.

“No rules in capture the flag against taking your arm off,” he replies, cheerily.

Nya rolls her eyes, but there’s a pull at the edge of her mouth like she’s trying not to smile as she thrusts his prosthetic at him.

“I don’t appreciate you treating my creation like that,” she sniffs.

“Aw, c’mon,” Kai grins, having caught up with them. “That was classic.”

“Yeah, if you’re a cheater,” Jay scowls. “I vote a rematch.”

“What, so you can lose a fifth time?”

“It has not been five times—”

“Yes it has, Zane’s been keeping count.”

“Zane’s a dirty cheater too!”

“How dare you—”

Lloyd snickers as they dissolve into arguing, carefully clicking his arm back into place. There’s still a flicker of pain as he does, but it’s getting easier. It’ll take time, he figures, just like everything else. You can’t fix all your problems in a day, no matter what Uncle Wu’s said before.

But for now, he can play dumb training games with his team. He can forget about whatever threat on the horizon, if only for a moment. Uncle Wu can amend his stance on what counts as training, because this is Lloyd’s turn to lead practice, and if he wants to play capture the flag, then that’s his call. And he can cheat with his arm if he wants to, because the universe can take his arm from him, but it’s not gonna take his ability to be a terrible little brother.

And it’s not going to take the fact that he’s Lloyd Garmadon, either, Lloyd thinks, as he straightens, his arm swinging into place. No one is. Not Harumi, not his own father, not an entire legal team from child protection services like Cole keeps joking (threatening) to call. Lloyd Garmadon is his name, and he’s keeping it.

...arguments could be made, though, for changing it to Lloyd Arm-Is-Gone.

“Lloyd, no.”

“That was awful.”

“You guys just have no taste!”

“We have plenty of taste, but the puns—”

“It’s my missing limb, I choose the coping mechanism.”

“You wanna miss another one, punk?”

“I’d like to see you try. At least I have an excuse for losing capture the flag. Oh wait, we won.”

“Oh, you’re on. Same teams as last time, you better watch your back—”

—yeah. They might not be perfectly fine just yet, but they’re going to be. And no one can take that from them, either.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #cole brookstone #nya smith #slight shift in focus but everyone's still there #also im saying its long but this is like #especially long even for me #oops T-T #my fic

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childrenofthesunny · 3 years

Text

Seek Him Who My Soul Loveth (2/2)

Part 1: link

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

Crowley somehow managed to keep his feet coordinated enough to carry him up the stairs without incident, eyes locked on the broad expanse of Aziraphale's back. Aziraphale glanced back over his shoulder as they reached the landing, as if making sure Crowley was still following.

With a smile, Aziraphale opened the door to his bedroom, gesturing for Crowley to go in ahead of him. Crowley had never been inside Aziraphale's bedroom before, but was entirely unsurprised to find the contents of the bookshelf overflowing, spilling out onto every stable flat surface in the room. Aziraphale kept the main light off and dimmed the reading light to the lowest setting possible, in deference to the sensitivity of Crowley's eyes.

The bed was the same as Crowley's, albeit with far paler sheets. Somehow, it looked so much more inviting than his own.

He should have taken the floor downstairs. He was going to get all sorts of ideas being laid out in Aziraphale's bed, and he wouldn't be able to act on any of them.

"So, we'll start with your neck and work our way down, how does that sound?"

"Nyeah, sounds good," Crowley said vaguely, trying very hard not to feel let down by the perfunctory, business-like clip of Aziraphale's words. The other man was doing him a kindness, he shouldn't be so ungrateful. It wasn't Aziraphale's fault that he didn't understand what having Aziraphale's hands touching him was going to do to Crowley.

"Excellent," Aziraphale replied, clapping his hands together briefly before gesturing towards the bed. "Please, won't you lie down?"

"Shouldn't I take off my shirt first? Make it easier for you?" Crowley asked, feeling both bold and stupid. It was a risky suggestion, he knew. In many ways, it would make things harder for him, place him further along the path of temptation. And perhaps that was why he'd done it to begin with – to give Aziraphale a chance to realise that it would be impossible for Crowley to experience something like this innocently. To give him the opportunity to firmly remind Crowley that he shouldn't be reading into things, or to retract his offer of assistance entirely, and tell Crowley to leave his room.

Wouldn't it be better, in the long run, for Aziraphale to reject him now? To leave Crowley to suffer this pain as a form of penance, without the guilt of having forced Aziraphale into doing things that he might only realise the significance of after the fact?

Aziraphale's breath hitched and he paused, staring wide-eyed, finally seeming to realise. Silence descended between them, heavy like a shroud, and for a moment, Crowley felt the first threads of panic beginning to curl around his heart, his lungs, threatening to tighten like a vice. Much as he knew it would be for the best, the prospect of putting Aziraphale in the position of having to let him down gently made Crowley want to bury himself alive.

"No," Aziraphale said, and the threads turned needle-sharp, piercing Crowley's organs and leaving him feeling like he was drowning. Then Aziraphale continued, shakily, the formal tone completely gone, "Please, allow me. I wouldn't want you to put any more strain on your back than you have already."

The words were hesitant, like Aziraphale couldn't quite admit, even to himself, that the two of them touching skin to skin might not feel entirely platonic.

He had to know. Surely, he knew, deep down, he wouldn't be behaving with such uncertainty if he didn't.

It was still a flimsy excuse, but Crowley was far too weak to resist. He stopped breathing entirely as Aziraphale reached for him with trembling fingers. He didn't dare move an inch as the other man approached him, terrified of frightening him off after all.

Aziraphale's fingers grazed the underside of Crowley's chin as they curled around his clerical tab, working it loose and setting it down gently on the bedside table – or, more accurately, setting it down atop the precarious pile of books stacked onto the bedside table. Crowley swallowed desperately, trying in vain to calm the goosebumps that had erupted over his skin all the way down to his wrists. The glancing path Aziraphale's fingers had travelled blazed with heat, like he'd been branded. Like anyone who looked at him, now, would instantly be able to see all the lustful thoughts that had immediately jumped to the fore of Crowley's mind. How he imagined those soft, steady fingers cupping his jaw and drawing him in close, solid arms curling around him in a protective embrace, pink lips pressing gently against his own–

Aziraphale turned back around and reached for the top button of Crowley's shirt, then paused, the heat of his palms bleeding through the thin black cotton as his hands hovered less than an inch from Crowley's chest. "All right?" he asked.

"Yup," Crowley replied, slowly dying.

Aziraphale worked the buttons of Crowley's shirt open a fraction slower than propriety demanded, forcing Crowley to finally gasp in a fresh breath of air or risk passing out. The shuddering of his chest made Aziraphale's fingers graze against him again, and Crowley all but keened at the sensation, knees close to buckling.

As a rule, Crowley avoided touch. He'd always felt that it was the better option, that any deviation would invariably set off a slow descent into sin. That by denying himself entirely, it would be easier to suppress his urges, as he wouldn't truly know what he was missing out on. He wondered, now, whether that had been a mistake – that by refusing to allow himself to receive a kind touch for all these years, he had only made himself that much more susceptible to the effects of a gentle hand against his bare skin. If this was how he was already reacting to an accidental touch, how was he going to survive Aziraphale's hands pressed against him with intention?

The bottom button of his shirt finally popped free, almost making Crowley sway into the motion as Aziraphale's hands began to pull away. Horrified, Crowley hastily forestalled the movement of his hips, very carefully keeping his eyes glued to the floor. Still, he saw Aziraphale's hands drift upwards to the parted front of Crowley's shirt. Instead of taking hold of the fabric to ease it off over Crowley's arms, however, Aziraphale's hands slipped beneath, warm palms brushing along Crowley's shoulders as he pushed the shirt down over his arms.

Crowley made a broken little sound and kept his face resolutely turned away, knowing that if he met Aziraphale's gaze now, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from kissing him, and ruining everything.

"Sorry," Aziraphale murmured.

It took Crowley a second or two to parse the fact that Aziraphale was giving him the excuse of his sore back for the sound he'd just made. "'S OK," he managed. "My own fault, anyway."

He dared to pray that Aziraphale wouldn't notice, or at the very least wouldn't comment on, the fact that his nipples were stiffly standing at attention.

Aziraphale caught the shirt before it could fall and stepped away, also avoiding eye contact as he rebuttoned the shirt. Crowley couldn't help but think of how it would still be warm from sitting against his skin, that Aziraphale would still be able to feel some of Crowley's heat beneath his fingertips.

"You can go lie down, now," Aziraphale said over his shoulder, voice only a little unsteady as he carefully folded the shirt and laid it out on top of a stack of books, next to the one beneath Crowley's collar. Crowley nodded jerkily, all but rushing for the bed, grateful for the opportunity to hide the shameful reaction his body was already having to Aziraphale's proximity.

He laid himself face-down on the bed, arms tucking in around Aziraphale's pillow. He settled in, breathing in Aziraphale's scent from the pillow as subtly as he could.

The mattress dipped beside him, presumably Aziraphale taking a seat. Only, Aziraphale then shifted further. Crowley realised he hadn't sat down at all, just put one knee up on the bed so that he could swing his other leg over the back of Crowley's thighs, all but straddling him.

"Wh– Aziraphale–"

"Is this all right?" Aziraphale asked, hands resting atop his own thighs. "I just wanted to be sure I had the best angle, but I can do it differently if you aren't comfortable."

"'S fine," Crowley managed, swallowing the quiet sound he wanted to make when Aziraphale took that as a cue to settle more firmly against his thighs. Crowley was still twisted part of the way around to look at him, and he was finding it difficult to not let his eyes linger on the thick barrel of Aziraphale's chest towering over him.

"Neck first, yes?"

"Mm," Crowley agreed, unable to summon words when he was trying so hard to distract himself from the coil of heat unfurling low in his abdomen.

"Face down, please."

Crowley shuffled the pillow down a bit, tucking it under his chin, so that he could press his forehead against the mattress and still breathe. Not that he seemed to be doing a particularly good job of that, air catching in his throat in near-inaudible little gasps.

One thick, warm hand curved gently around Crowley's shoulder, fingertips brushing along the inked lines of the snake coiled around his arm. It was the first time anyone had touched his arm since he'd had the tattoo done. He wanted so desperately for Aziraphale to trace along every curve and scale, to openly admire the artwork and the canvas beneath it.

He didn't, of course, hand instead pressing Crowley down onto the bed and keeping him still. The other curled around the juncture of Crowley's other shoulder and his neck, thumb digging into the tension that had built at the base of his skull.

"Mrghhh," Crowley groaned, unable to help but react to the touch. Just a slight change of motion, and Aziraphale could be running his fingers through Crowley's hair, tugging gently on it to make him gasp, slowly petting it and telling him how lovely it looked–

No. He had to stop thinking like that. Their duty was to the Church first and foremost, that sort of personal intimacy wasn't something either of them were destined for. This was the closest they were going to get to anything like that, and that was fine.

It would be fine.

The firm press of Aziraphale's fingers made their way to the nape of Crowley's neck, sending a shudder all the way down his spine.

Crowley bit down on the blasphemy that surged to the tip of his tongue. But would it even be taking the Lord's name in vain, when Aziraphale's hands on him made him feel closer to Heaven than any prayer that had ever crossed his lips?

Still. Better to not risk it.

Aziraphale's hands skimmed over his shoulder blades in a way that Crowley allowed himself to think felt almost reverential, and then his thumbs pressed into a particularly knotted muscle to the right of Crowley's spine.

"Hgnhhhk," Crowley garbled, back arching involuntarily away from the pressure of Aziraphale's touch, even as he quite literally ached for more. Dizzily, he wondered whether this was what divine ecstasy felt like, an overwhelming sweet agony that left his eyes watering and his lungs breathless.

"There's the culprit," Aziraphale said happily, thumb rolling in firm circles as he eased the muscle loose.

"Nghhhhn," Crowley grunted, turning his face to press it against the pillow, hiding his tears. Aziraphale's scent filled his nose and he trembled, the tension in his shoulders slowly giving way under the steady, sure pressure of Aziraphale's hands.

"How does that feel?" Aziraphale asked softly, fingers digging into flesh. "Not too hard?"

Crowley was, in fact, very hard at this point, but somehow he doubted that was what Aziraphale was asking. "No, no, 's perfect, more'n perfect," Crowley babbled, words slurring together in his haste. "So good, you feel so good, I–" Crowley promptly shut his mouth with an audible clacking of teeth, knowing that he was straying far too close to unacceptable territory. Instead, he let his words shift into a formless groan as Aziraphale found a new knot to press his thumbs into.

Aziraphale tsked at him. "Just look how knotted up you've gotten, you really must take better care of yourself."

Screw that. Crowley was going to toil in the gardens from dawn to dusk every day, if his reward would be the firm pressure of Aziraphale's hands against him.

Aziraphale moved down along Crowley's shoulders in inches, seemingly able to home in on every tight muscle with unerring accuracy. His hands didn't seem to tire at all, and Crowley bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to distract himself from the desire to turn around and watch the flex of Aziraphale's arms as he worked.

It was hard to remember just why he wouldn't be able to get away with that. The soft glow of the reading light lent the whole scene a dream-like quality, almost made him believe that if he turned around and reached out, that Aziraphale would reach back, draw him in and hold him close.

Crowley gripped the pillow beneath him tighter, and didn't turn.

Aziraphale's thumbs nestled into the valley of Crowley's spine, hands spread like wings as they pushed up along Crowley's back, forming perfectly to the contours of his shoulder blades. They slowly swept back down and fluttered over the divots of Crowley's ribs, making the breath he drew beneath them shudder in kind. His waist was slender enough that when Aziraphale's hands eventually travelled that low, his fingertips curled partway around Crowley's sides.

At this point, it seemed like it would actually be better for Crowley if he were to come to fruition, as it were. He knew how to keep himself quiet – teenage years spent living with paper-thin walls would do that to you – and at this point, it would take him so long to calm down after the massage was done that even Aziraphale would have no choice but to grow suspicious.

"That's the spot," Crowley croaked, hips jerking in a way that he hoped looked like an involuntary response to the pressure being placed against the base of his spine. Aziraphale obligingly shifted forward, driving down more force through his thumbs. Crowley felt something loosen and shift, and groaned in relief, hips rolling against the mattress in a slow, subtle grind.

When Aziraphale settled back down on the backs of Crowley's thighs, Crowley felt something hard pressing against the bottom curve of his arse.

They both froze.

Is that a Bible in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? Crowley's brain supplied, a little hysterically, and Crowley had to tamp down on the mad urge to start giggling.

Aziraphale's hands had gone rigid against Crowley's skin, like he wanted to pull away, but couldn't remember how. When he spoke, his voice was thick and strained. "Crowley," he rasped, sounding both shocked and horrified, like he hadn't noticed his own physical state until it had been pressed up against Crowley's rear. "I'm so sor–"

Crowley, struck by a flash of boldness that he couldn't quite place the origin of, shifted under Aziraphale's hands and pushed himself more firmly back against the other man's lap. Aziraphale let out an agonised sound, like he'd just been shot.

"Crowley," he said again, this time even more shakily. "This isn't, I don't– we can't. We can't."

"Can't what?" Crowley replied, only a touch sullen.

Aziraphale made an exasperated noise at him, voice sliding up the octave in his panic. "You know very well what!"

"You're just helping ease the pain of your fellow clergy member, that's all," Crowley told him. "We're both still dressed – well, mostly, in my case, but that's only to make it easier for you to ease my pain. Nothing untoward about that."

They could do that, couldn't they? Just pretend, both of them operating under a veneer of plausible deniability, and then…

And then, after, Crowley would leave the soft golden glow of Aziraphale's room behind like it was just a dream, and they would both keep pretending that's all it was.

"Crowley…" Aziraphale sighed once more, with an inflection that Crowley recognised from the theological debates they'd had where they took diametrically opposed positions on a topic.

His heart sank. So, they wouldn't even have that, then. Aziraphale could be so stubborn when he made up his mind on something. And there was true pain in his tone, a bone-deep regret that made Crowley's very marrow ache in sympathy. Would Aziraphale even be able to bear looking at him come morning? Would he have a quiet word to Gabriel whenever he next visited, tell him that Crowley wasn't a good fit for Tadfield after all, giving the bishop the excuse he needed to have Crowley shuffled off to another parish? One with more oversight, one with clergy members that would take a far dimmer view on his past, one that would make him repent more fervently for his sins–

"You were right, you know," Crowley said softly, letting all his desperation pour out of him. It wasn't as if he had anything else left to lose. "I've been pushing myself too hard, with the garden. It's just, I… I can see the potential that it has, the beauty it could hold if it's treated with the care it deserves. I want to nurture it, see it properly bloom and grow, if…" His breath hitched a little. "If only it will let me."

Crowley didn't push back against Aziraphale again, not wanting to force anything that wouldn't be welcome, knowing just how fragile this moment was. Tellingly, however, Aziraphale hadn't moved away at all, either, and Crowley dared to let his heart rise up in his chest once more.

Finally, Aziraphale murmured, "How is your back feeling now?"

Crowley swallowed hard, fingertips digging further into the mattress. "Not quite there yet." He took as deep a breath as he dared. "Would it be all right if you kept going, for a little bit longer?"

There was another long stretch of silence, then: "What kind of man would I be, if I left you when you were still in pain?" Aziraphale answered, quiet and trembling. "Where does it hurt most?"

His instinctive reaction was to sit up and take hold of Aziraphale's hand, then press it against the flesh and bone covering his heart. But there were any number of reasons why he couldn't do that, least of all because Aziraphale was still straddling him and pinning him down by the waist. Instead, Crowley reached back and traced a thumb alongside the dip of his spine. They both stifled a gasp when Crowley's fingers inadvertently grazed along the inside of Aziraphale's wrist as he pulled away. "Both sides," he croaked, returning his grip to the sheets next to his head to keep himself from reaching back and caressing Aziraphale's thigh.

Fingers dug into the muscle of his lower back once more, but what really made Crowley moan this time was the feeling of Aziraphale hesitantly, deliberately pressing himself against the cleft of Crowley's arse, only a few layers of cotton separating skin from skin. He whimpered at the thought of that final barrier being removed, even though he knew it wouldn't happen – he still couldn't quite believe what was already happening – and moved back slightly to meet the motion of Aziraphale's hips.

Did Aziraphale realise that this was Crowley's first time doing anything remotely like this? He knew the general shape of Crowley's past, would Aziraphale simply have assumed that he had at least some worldly experience?

Come to think of it, did Aziraphale have any experience himself? He was certainly hedonistic enough when he chose to be, with all his creature comforts, but that didn't necessarily mean he'd done anything like this before, either. The roll of his hips against Crowley's rear was certainly uncoordinated enough to suggest that he hadn't. Crowley tried very hard to not let that make him feel special, but it was hard not to when the belief system he'd been brought up under told him it was.

Aziraphale's scent filled his nose, weight heavy on his legs, hands steady against his back, surrounding Crowley completely, encapsulating him in his entirety–

Crowley groaned and buried his face in the pillow, breathing in deep as he shook himself apart. Dimly, he heard Aziraphale groan in kind behind him, hands tight around Crowley's waist as he pressed himself hard against Crowley's backside.

Stars danced in Crowley's vision, his entire body lax and warm. The frantic whirring of his mind was momentarily stilled, and he couldn't help but let his lips part in a smile, a soft sigh escaping them. He felt safe, and satisfied, and calm in a way that he hadn't expected. He had expected guilt, and for his stomach to curdle with horror, and his throat to close over in fear, as always happened after he took himself in hand to thoughts of Aziraphale.

Instead, he simply felt content.

They both stayed as they were, panting breath slowly steadying into regular rhythms. Aziraphale was the first to pull away – not that there was really an option for Crowley to be first, pinned as he was – and awkwardly clambered off of Crowley's thighs, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. He'd left ample space for Crowley to sit upright, so he did, swinging his legs out and grimacing slightly at the shift of the damp patch at the front of his pants.

At least the rectory had its own washing machine, and they didn't need to risk anyone else seeing their stained clothing.

"You feel better, I hope?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

"I… yeah, I do. Thank you." Crowley swallowed, trying for a little bit of laughter as he added, "Reckon I'll need another shower, now, though."

But Aziraphale didn't look at him, instead staring down at his own fingers as they twisted tightly together in his lap. Crowley could scarcely believe they'd been pressed so firmly against his own skin only mere moments prior.

"You should probably go do that," Aziraphale said, still staring at his tangled fingers.

A lump formed instantly in Crowley's throat, all the guilt he'd expected earlier suddenly slamming into him full force. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but the rising tide of shame within him drowned any words he might have spoken.

Aziraphale regretted it. He'd regretted what they'd done together.

Of course he did. What was Crowley, but a temptation? Aziraphale's life could only have become more complicated by Crowley's presence, bringing up questions he was far too frightened to find the answers to. All Crowley had done was push, and push, and now this.

He had no one but himself to blame. He had known already that this was how Aziraphale would react, deep down, but had allowed his own stupid naivety to convince him otherwise. What right did he have, to force his own feelings and doubts onto Aziraphale? Was Crowley so weak, that the moment someone showed him the barest kindness, all of his own faults came surging to the fore like a flood, drowning them both? How was it fair that Crowley had clung to Aziraphale like flotsam in a storm, only to drag them both under?

"I did mean now," Aziraphale whispered, like the words had pained him. His knuckles had gone white from how tightly he was clenching them.

Crowley shot up from the bed as if he'd suffered an electric shock. He wanted to say something, anything, but what words that he could offer would possibly have an effect on the turmoil Aziraphale was surely feeling? What comfort could he give, what apology could he make, for the violation of an oath that they'd both sworn to uphold?

Instead, Crowley fled the room like the coward he was, with the sinking certainty that he'd been right, earlier.

Come morning, Aziraphale was going to pretend that nothing had happened at all.

#good omens #good omens fic #crowley #Aziraphale #aziraphale/crowley #priest au #priest aziraphale #priest crowley #sunny writes

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danielslilangel · 4 years

Text

Behind the CEO's Door

I haven't seen too many smut stories/scenes in the fandom yet and got distracted by the idea of doing a scene for each batboy ship with Mari. So far, all I've had time to type out is Timari. It's my first attempt at writing a more mature scene that wasn't just thinly veiled smut and I'm always up for constructive criticism so let me know if you like it and think I should attempt the other shops or if it sucks and I should stay away from smut writing 🤷😅 Also doing this on mobile as I'm not able to get to my laptop right now so forgive any formating issues ❤️

Tim picked up his stainless steel tumbler to take a sip of his coffee only to put it back down with a deep sigh. Empty, great. His finger hovered over his call button, ready to summon his secretary to fetch him more caffeine to drink, but a loud buzz emitted from the machine before he could even push it.

"Yes?" He answered.

"Mr. Drake." Tracey's voice sounded through the intercom. "Mrs. Drake is here to see you."

Surprised, it took him a second to register her words and another second before he hastily replied, "send her in." Tim turned his chair towards the door as he waited for his wife to enter. His eyes shifted over to his phone's lock screen briefly, noting that he hadn't received any new messages from her. It wouldn't be the first time Marinette had visited him at Wayne Enterprise, but she had never shown up unannounced before.

He watched her walk past his office's open windows before entering through the opened doorway with her head turned to the right to thank Tracey. The click of her silver pumps was almost deafening in the sudden silence that came from her shutting the door behind her. He had made sure his office was sound proof so that he could eliminate the office chatter and street noise from outside whenever he needed to focus.

Click. His eyes grew wide as she locked the door. He opened his mouth to speak as she pulled the blinds down across the glass but the words never came out as a soft taptaptap came from her running a manicured finger down the length of the window blinds across his wall, completely shutting out the world beyond the room. She finally turned and looked him in the eyes and he knew that the dumbstruck expression on his face was just getting stupider looking as she slowly strutted towards him.

Undoing the black buttons on her faux fur trench coat from the bottom up with a practiced ease, she glared at him- two very different actions that both had him gulping. No one was more threatening than his wife- or mother-in-law.

“Timothy Jackson Drake." Marinette's use of his full name drew him from his stupor as he raised his gaze back to her face instead of watching the work her fingers were doing. "We have been home from our honeymoon for two weeks and in the past fourteen days, do you know how many hours I've actually had the chance to see you?" He didn't get to answer before she was slipping another button free from it's confinement and continued talking as if his mouth wasn't hanging wide open. "A total of thirty three hours- that's less than three days in case you were wondering. And I'm pretty sure at least 5 of those weren't even at home. I had to practically make an appointment to come here to visit my husband during those few hours. I understand your need to finish a project, but that is no reason to neglect your wife." She now stood directly in front of where he sat in his office chair behind his desk, fingers pulling the last button free. "I don't appreciate the lack of attention, so here's what's going to happen." Marinette shimmied and the coat fell from her shoulders to the floor, revealing her nearly naked pale skin.

Doing its job of leaving nothing to the imagination, Marinette's dark blue lingerie had Tim's gaze trailing up and down her body repeatedly. He took in the sight of her perfect breasts sitting out for him to see, pushed up by the underwire in her open cup bra, nipples standing proud, before lowering his gaze to the dark straps of her panties that crossed beneath well defined abs to a small patch of lace- embroidered with an intricate pattern of silver thread that fascinated him the more he looked- following the lacey lines that trailed their way down her toned thighs to reach a matching pair of navy stockings.

Suddenly, Marinette was sinking to her knees on the floor in front of him, one hand deftly working to undo his belt buckle while the other was raised to his face, a single finger pressed to his lips to keep him silent after a small "Marinette?" had fallen from his still open mouth. The bluenette gazed up at him through thick lashes, her blue eyes sparkling in his dimmed office lights, as she made quick work of his zipper.

"I'm going to stay down here, kissing, sucking, and licking until you forget about everything else in this world but me." She removed her hand from near his face and used it to help her yank his pants and boxers down to his ankles in one swift movement though he hadn't lifted himself up to help- no doubt her superheroine abilities helping her with a strength boost even out of the suit. "And once you are fully incapable of saying my name coherently, I am going to fuck some sense into you so you come home with me tonight like a good little boy."

She didn't give him a moment to process her words before her hands were pressed to his inner thighs, pushing them apart so she could kiss and nibble her way up his legs to get to her prize. She felt a swell of hot pride rush through her veins as she got a front row seat to his cock growing harder as she got closer to it, only to skip over it teasingly as she restarted her path, up his left leg this time.

Tim had never been more thankful than he was now that he had a meeting with a client earlier so he'd been forced to shower today. He honestly couldn't even remember when his last shower had been, which was absolutely not a good thing. He knew he needed to be better about his hygiene and about being home and attentive to Mari, but he still wasn't quite used to having to focus on something other than his work at WE and his vigilante stint as Red Robin and oh fuck!

Marinette flicked the head of his cock with her tongue, lapping up the small beads of precum gathered on the tip, as she dug her nails into his thighs, bringing him out of his thoughts as her actions ground him to the present. Grabbing the base lightly, Marinette looked up him again as she swirled her tongue around his tip once more and he swore he was about to combust just from her heated gaze alone.

Spurred on by his throaty moans, Marinette opened her mouth more and slowly slid down his shaft, mindful of her teeth, until she was nearly gagging from his full length- a lewd noise coming from her throat that had Tim's whole body shaking with need. She held his hips, effectively pinning him to his chair as she bobbed her head up and down his cock. Fire raced through his veins as she replaced her mouth with her hands so she could swirl her tongue around his balls, gently sucking them into her mouth one at a time as her hands twist in opposite directions on his cock, creating a wonderful friction that had him shaking with need.

"Fuck! God, Mari!" Unable to reign in his desire any longer, Tim reached down and grabbed a pigtail in each hand, using them to hold her head in place as he lifted his hips and fucked her mouth. He moved at a haphazard pace, rutting into her like his life depended on it. God, she is so warm and wet and...

Marinette's moan from having her hair pulled harder than normal had vibrations tingling up his shaft and he couldn't help but pick up the pace at which he thrusted into her open mouth, trying desperately, and failing, to set a consistent rhythm. Every time he pulled out, his wife's tongue was there to lave his head and slit, relishing in the soft noises that were readily falling from his throat. He was throbbing again, his hardened member pulsing from the desire she had built up in him so when her teeth gently scraped across his flaming skin as she once again took him fully inside to the back of her throat, Tim couldn't even warn her before he was silently shooting his hot load into her ready mouth, his body far too preoccupied with orgasming to allow him to even gasp. His hands dropped to his sides as his eyes rolled back into his head, Marinette sucking him hard to draw every last possible drop of cum that she could.

Once he was fully spent, she licked the runaway drops from her full lips and ran her hands up inside his shirt, marveling at the hardened planes of his stomach, as she pressed soft kisses up his inner thigh before following the path her fingers were tracing up the rest of his body as Tim came floating back down from his orgasmic high.

How he had managed to last so long was a mystery. They had spent a week on the warm beaches of Samana in the Dominican Republic for their honeymoon, playing in the sun all day and fucking all night thanks to their dual insomnia. Since coming back to Gotham, they hadn't been intimate once and it was entirely his fault. A fault that I am going to remedy immediately, he thought as he drew a ragged breath in.

Marinette rose and he wasted no time running his hands up and down the hard planes and soft mounds of her body. She leaned forward and groaned as he trailed kisses up her neck, biting marks into supple spots that she could easily cover up if she chose to. He groped her breasts, kneading the soft skin before his fingertips found her nipples. Lowering his face to her chest as she threaded her fingers through his hair, Tim blew a hot breath across her raised bud, pulling it into his mouth, sucking and gently biting as his hands moved down to cup her ass. He gave her cheeks a slight smack and buried his face into her neck once more to stifle a loud moan.

Their lips met and he couldn't help the whine that escaped as their tongues wrestled against one another, trying to take control. He felt his cock twitch as she bit his lower lip, pulling it slightly before moving to trail kisses along his shaven jawline. He's hungry for her, the need to have her screaming his name in ecstasy because of their time apart doubled from her entering his office all wrapped up like a present just for him.

"Tim." His name falls from her lips like a prayer and he slides his hands away from her breasts, one going up to wrap around the back of her neck, bringing her head back up to kiss him while the other goes down to grab ahold of her ass, his fingertips digging into the sensitive skin. They're a sloppy mess of tongues, saliva, and teeth as they kiss, but neither care much as lost as they now we’re in each other.

The noises that fell from her lips during each breath of air she took had his cock bobbing rock hard against his abdomen again. He scooted closer to her as she stood in front of him, moving his hand from her ass to her hip, then to her public bone, dipping lower, intending to tease her through the thin fabric.

Fuuucckkk! His eyes shot open and he shifted his gaze to her lower half as his fingers met warmth and wetness, noticing for the first time that a very important part of her panties were missing. They're crotchless? He heard her small giggle in his ear as she leaned forward, pressing her chest against his. He smiled wickedly as their gazes locked once more.

"I do believe that I was told that I would be getting fucked senseless."

#timari #timinette #mlb x dc crossover #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #timothy drake #maribat #smut #miraculust #My writing

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gothic-safari-clown · 3 years

Text

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 20: Home

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Part 19

Word count: 1827

El heard the front door unlock from the kitchen, and happily oblivious to the precarious status of her wellbeing, she waited quietly for Jonathan to come in and greet her. She had to make sure that the water didn't boil over anyway.

She only got an inkling that something might be wrong when the door slammed shut, and Jonathan rushed into view, looking slightly disheveled. He hadn't even put down his briefcase at the door.

Before she could inquire as to what was wrong, the briefcase was carelessly tossed onto the dining table, and Jonathan had locked her in a tight embrace, pressing a firm kiss into her hair.

"Woah, hi," she squeaked, hugging him back. "What happened? Is everything okay?" She felt the deep sigh as his body relaxed, and he stepped away again, smoothing down his tie as he regained his composure. Registering a few seconds later that she had asked a question, he nodded and raked his fingers through his hair to push it off of his forehead.

"Yeah, yeah, everything is fine." His heart was only just slowing to a regular rate.

She's safe.

Yeah, I told you. I can't believe how whipped you are, Jonny.

"Why didn't you answer your phone? I've been calling you for hours."

"Oh, I forgot to plug it in last night, so it died at work." She replied casually, still entirely unaware of the panic she had caused. "I had to go grocery shopping before I came home, and it's been charging in the bedroom since I got back; I must not have heard it." She turned back to the stove to give the boiling pasta a quick stir and check on the sauce on the other burner. "Are you sure everything is alright?"

Jonathan moved to stand against the counter next to her, needing to be near her still. "I had to see Falcone today."

"Oh? How was that?"

"Not good. He tried to threaten me into letting him into the operation, and when that didn't work, he...talked about you. I thought maybe he had already given orders, and I had to oversee the shipment as soon as possible to get it finished in time."

"Ah," El frowned, suddenly understanding the trouble. "So when I didn't answer the phone..." Jonathan nodded. Pasta still undercooked, El replaced the pot lid before turning back to the man next to her. "Well, I'm sorry for making you worry, love, but I'm okay." She smiled and stretched up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Besides, nobody is taking me away from you without a fight. Speaking of which," she plucked a stray burlap thread off of his shoulder, "what happened here?"

Jonathan kicked himself mentally. How had his run-in with the Batman already slipped his mind?

"Scarecrow and I have had an eventful day." He said, suddenly exhausted, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

"I'll tell you what, why don't you go change out of your work clothes while this is finishing up, and you can tell me about it while we eat." He nodded but hesitated to walk away, which made her chuckle. "Nothing is going to happen to me if you leave the room for a few minutes. Go on." She pushed on his arm gently, which finally coaxed his weight off the counter.

He was still hesitant to leave the room, but he knew that she was right and obeyed, ignoring Scarecrow's continued snickering. He redressed as quickly as he could, hell-bent on returning to the kitchen fast. Of course, she was still there at the stove when he came back, switching off the burner.

Unfamiliar with normal relationships, Jonathan didn't fully understand his impulses, but he was so exhausted from the events of the day that he didn't have the energy to fight them. Before El could pick up the pot to drain the water from the pasta, he locked his arms around her from behind and dropped his forehead to rest on her shoulder.

"Jonathan..." her voice was laced with soft concern, and she raised her hand to rest on the back of his head. "You were really worried about me, weren't you, love?" Her tone was actually serious now, upset that Jonathan was upset. He didn't answer, just staying where he was. "I'll leave my ringer on from now on; I remember what this feels like." He nodded slightly in acknowledgment. "Come on, sweet, let me finish this up, and we can go sit on the couch while we eat. Up, come on," she coaxed gently, and Jonathan finally straightened up, allowing El to drain the pasta and serve them each a plate.

"So you and Scarecrow had an eventful day," she recalled as they settled onto the couch. "Tell me about that."

Dinner was soon forgotten as Jonathan began to recount their run-in with Batman.

"You set him on fire?" She asked incredulously. When Jonathan looked at her, he expected to see shock, maybe horror, but no. What he saw instead was a genuine, thrilled amusement that he had tried to burn a man alive. "That's hilarious. You set Batman on fire."

See, she thinks I'm funny.

"Scarecrow thinks so too."

"Mm, that's probably a bad sign for me," she said casually, returning her attention to her food. It seemed she had finally given up on feigning morality. Took her long enough.

"Yeah, probably, but you've made it this far." She hummed in response.

"So," she started slowly, wanting to address the initial problem, "Falcone?" Jonathan frowned, disliking the reminder that he now had something that could be leveraged over him. Not that he would give it up for the world, but if people were going to use Elianna to threaten him, then something would have to be done about that. Perhaps Falcone could serve as a warning.

Then again, maybe that had been the wrong decision. The old man's sudden mental break could draw suspicion. While it was true that they had been dumping the toxin into the water mains for weeks, the job would be cleaner if they didn't draw too much attention to themselves. And in one moment of anger and weakness, Jonathan had thrown away that advantage.

"I may have overreacted to that. We'll have to be careful about the project until it's ready to go. It should only be another few days."

"Overreacted?" El asked quizzically. "What did you do, gas him?" She was answered with silence and knew that she had guessed correctly.

She was sure that she was supposed to be upset, maybe a little annoyed with him for endangering such a delicate operation, but she couldn't help but feel a little flattered instead. He had done all of that for her?

Done eating, she placed her empty bowl on the coffee table and scooted closer. "He must have said something pretty bad about me to set you off like that." Jonathan's brow furrowed, remembering what Falcone had implied.

"It was...gross." For lack of a better word. He looked at her to find her smiling at him. "And no, I'm not going to tell you, so don't ask."

"I wasn't going to. I just think it's sweet that you did that for me," she said matter-of-,factly and kissed Jonathan's cheek. "Mostly, I'm just curious, would that have been your normal reaction, or was that just because the nature of our relationship changed?" She grinned as he blushed lightly.

"Probably the second one." He closed his eyes in embarrassment and pinched the bridge of his nose again. "Either way, it was an overreaction. It's going to draw attention."

"Oh, who cares. There are only a few days left. Hey, that reminds me, I wanted to make a mask."

"We can just get you one from a hardware store; that should be easy-"

"No, I mean like," she sighed as she gathered her thoughts. "Like, you and Scarecrow have yours, and it's like a character almost. When people see it, they'll know who it is. It's your brand. I want something like that."

It was a fair point, Jonathan decided. And why shouldn't she get to have one like that? "Alright, what are you thinking?"

"Why, thank you for asking, love." She sat up straight as she began to present her idea. "When I was thinking about it, I asked myself, 'what are the most memorable silhouettes of all time?' There are so many to choose-"

"El, please, I've had such a long day." Jonathan almost felt bad interrupting. He knew how much she loved doing dramatic speeches, but he wasn't sure he had the patience for it this time.

"Alright, love, sorry." She raised his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "Anyway, I was thinking something like a plague doctor. I feel like it would match the scarecrow in energy; it's sort of mysterious and technically meant for good, but it's become a sort of a classic horror icon." Jonathan nodded, agreeing with her line of thinking.

"Yeah. It might be a little tricky to pull off in such a short amount of time, but I think that's a good idea." Her face lit up. "We'll need a gas mask to rig into it, a pattern, and a stiff enough material to keep the shape."

"No problem. You know me, I started making my own Halloween costumes at like, ten, I can take care of it. In fact, I kinda already got all of the materials." Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "I made a pit stop between work and the grocery store. I just need a sewing machine. I was going to ask Harley if-"

"No need, I have one." They sat in silence for a moment.

"What?"

"I mean, Scarecrow does. He insisted on making the mask himself. Apparently, I was making it too neat, so he commandeered it."

"Wow, that actually makes a lot of sense," El nodded. "I don't know where I thought the mask came from, but yeah, that sounds right."

"Why don't I go get it out of storage so you can start?" El nodded excitedly, and in just a few short minutes, they had her set up at the kitchen table to get to work. Jonathan's night quickly went from a prolonged panic attack to something warm and comforting. Watching El work and helping her take measurements, and teasing her theatrics slowly helped him feel normal.

Seeing her power ahead with her ideas and devotion to their future life, unimpeded by the threat against her, brought a sense of security in a way that he had never quite felt before. While she worked, he came up with and solidified a plan to provide them with protection for the next few days at least, but it would have to wait for tomorrow. In the meantime, he contented himself with wiling away the time in the kitchen with his paramour, letting the rest of the world fall away.

#the mind's power over the body #Attraction To The Insane #series #Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #batman begins #Nolanverse #jonathan crane x ofc #slight au #multi chapter fic #fic series #cillian murphy #cillian murphy scarecrow #tmpotb chapter 20

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copper-wasp · 4 years

Text

Jesse McCree x Reader: Bitch Slap

And to actually no one’s surprise, I wrote a McCree smut! I am in deep with alternate universe Dante.

Rating: E

Words: 2,829

Warning Tags: Tons of that drawl of his 🥴

“Goddamnit, you nearly got me shot! What the hell’s wrong with you, McCree?” He didn’t reply, just sighed loudly and let you continue. You started pacing, adrenaline still pumping through your body, all the way down to each finger and toe.

“Look at you, with your stupid hat, and your stupid face, and your stupid poncho, and that stupid fucking belt buckle!” you were shouting at him now, anger reaching a fever pitch, and when you’d finished, your heartbeat was thundering in your ears, face heated with red hot frustration, and Jesse McCree was smirking at you.

“Don’t hold nothin’ back now, darlin’,” he finally replied, and your vision nearly blurred in fury. You wanted to slap him. So you did. A wide, arching swing that cracked against his cheek, the leather of the gloves you were wearing helping to mitigate the sting on your own skin.

The slap did wipe the smirk off his face, his brows furrowed more in disbelief that you actually hit him rather than in pain.

You raised the hand that committed the crime to cover your mouth. You gulped, but your throat had gone dry. You couldn’t believe you’d let yourself lose control like that. Yeah, McCree had almost gotten you shot - but he also protected you from the next bullet, and your eyes found the red splotch on his sleeve where it had grazed him.

“Jess... Jesse, shit, I am... so sorry, I....” Words were useless, the syllables ash on your tongue as your lips fumbled around them. McCree didn’t reply, just rubbed his own hand over his cheek, and your eyes unfocused as you thought of him. He’d taken you in after you were left with nothing but broken bones and bruises following the years of abuse by your then-husband, initiated you into Deadlock barely knowing anything more than your name, let alone if you had any useful skills, always gave you a sip of whisky from his glass, and smoked outside when you were around so it wouldn’t irritate your eyes. He was your friend, and damn near your family, and you chose to repay him this way.

You swore you didn’t breathe until the lock clicked into place, a gasping breath racking your body. You pulled off your gear, dropping it unceremoniously on the cabinet you used as a makeshift dresser, shucking off your vest and leaving it on the floor for future you to deal with, along with your gloves and boots.

You should’ve known you wouldn’t be so lucky for McCree to leave you alone, and the steady knock at your door that you heard a few minutes later wasn’t a surprise.

“Come on doll, open up,” you heard him say, muffled a little from where he stood in the hallway. Slowly you made your way back to the door, opening it to Jesse’s softly smiling face. You stepped to the side to let him in, and he pushed the door closed behind him. He’d taken off most of his gear too, including his stupid hat, and stupid poncho, and even his stupid belt buckle.

“I’m sorry,” you said before he could speak. “I’m really sorry, Jesse.”

“It’s all right. Stings like a bitch, but I’ll be fine,” he said and you cringed. “Didn’t know you had that in you. Thought those tiny hands were only good for holding your rifle.”

“Are you sure? I feel... really awful, Jess....”

“You wanna make it up to me?” he asked and you shook your head. “Why don’t you kiss it better?”

Your eyes narrowed, watching as he dipped his head down just a little and presented his still red cheek. “Really?” you replied in an unimpressed tone.

He tapped his cheek with a single finger, trying to smother the smirk that was forcing its way onto his lips. “Plant one on me, sweet thing.” You sighed, it devolving into a little breathy giggle as you stepped closer to him.

“All right then,” you said, pressing your lips to his cheek. His skin was warm and his facial hair scratched at you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You placed a hand on his neck, fingertips on his soft beard, releasing your first kiss to place a second peck just a little higher up on his cheekbone.

“There,” you said, releasing him from your grasp, “A two-for-one special.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s the stuff. I can feel the pain just meltin’ away,” he replied, clapping his hands on your shoulders. You smiled despite yourself, and you felt him slide a finger under your chin to make you look at him. “Though I think there might be somethin’ that makes me feel even better....”

He trailed off, hazel eyes locking on your lips, and you gulped again, mouth dry as bone.

“Jess-“ You were interrupted by McCree drawing you into his arms, gently shushing you. Your lips parted in offense, palms pushing against his chest. “Did you just shush me? Who do you think you... are....?” you trailed off as you felt his lips on yours, and your hands turned from pushing him away to gripping onto him, tugging onto his shirt. You realized he had removed his usual gloves when you felt his calloused hands move to the sides of your neck, deepening your kiss.

You could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he pressed a hand against the small of your back, urging you to mold yourself against him. You’d hugged him a million times in comfort, took shelter beneath his broad body if a job went pear-shaped, but you’d never truly felt him before now. Felt the solid mass of muscle that was his chest and abdomen, firm and comforting, his arms a physical match as they held you to him.

You pushed a little moan into his mouth and you felt him smile before pulling away.

“Seems like that made you feel better, too,” he remarked and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up, Jesse,” you replied, pulling him back in for another kiss, hungry for more of him.

He could’ve easily taken control, but he let you have your way with his mouth, desire only overwhelming him when he felt your slick tongue press at the seam of his lips. His hands gripped desperately at your rear, pulling you as close to him as you could be, the swelling bulge in his pants not unnoticed.

When he met your tongue with his, warm and wet, you didn’t even mind the permanent menthol taste of it, just a needy whine escaping as he licked into your mouth. You felt his hand tug your shirt out from where it was tucked into your jeans, his fingers needing to skim over your warm flesh, falling into the dip at your spine to trace up and down the valley over and over again.

Pulling away to breathe, you said his name breathily, need written on your face. He looked in your eyes for a long moment, not going any further until a soft, desperate ‘please’ met his ears. He kissed you again, ferocity on his lips, and you slid your hands beneath his undershirt, making sure to feel him up as much as you could while you tugged the offending garment over his head.

Your eyebrows raised as you took him in; the man was built, chest covered in fine, dark hair, and you wanted to lick every inch of his skin. While you were distracted with his physique, he deftly unbuttoned your shirt, pushing it off your shoulders, his head dipping down to cover the swell of your breasts with kisses. Your fingers threaded into his hair, unconsciously tugging his locks when you felt him suck a bruise onto your skin. He grunted, a hot expel of breath on your skin, and you tried to make a note to remember to do that again later.

Your breasts were freed with ease, Jesse heaping affection on them while you tried to return his touch. You were slowly making your way over to your bed; it was small, but hopefully big enough to fit you and the cowboy.

Jesse’s fingers went to the button of your jeans and you helped to shuck them off as soon as he’d pulled down the zipper. His pants were next, hastily pushed over his bulging thighs, and you darted a hand out to steady him as he nearly tripped over them in the rush to get them off.

At last, the realization that you were nearly naked with McCree hit you and you gazed up at him, lips parting as you tried to find the right words.

“You all right?” he asked quietly, immediately noticing your hesitation. He’d always been able to read you like a book, so this time was not any different. “You wanna stop?”

You shook your head, linking your arms over his shoulders. “No, I’m just....”

“Thinkin’ too much?” he finished for you and you chuckled, absently caressing his upper back.

“Yeah, like always,” you replied and Jesse smiled down at you before his hands moved to push his boxers down off his hips. He pulled you flush against him once more, just the thin barrier of your underwear between you.

“All I’m thinkin’ about is what you do to me,” he said, voice dropping to a deliciously arousing tone, his hard length twitching against you. With a languid, parting kiss, he sat down on the edge of your bed, taking himself in hand and stroking lazily, entirely for your benefit.

Your panties practically disintegrated with how fast you pushed them down your legs, eyes glued to the thick, hot flesh being gently stroked by Jesse’s big hand. He offered you a smirk, adjusting himself so he was propped up against your pillows, groaning as he thumbed over his slit.

“Always a performer, aren’t you?” you teased, unable to stop yourself from cupping your mound, feeling the slick that had already spread onto your thighs.

“You seem to be enjoyin’ the show,” he replied with a nod, eyes drifting down to where your middle finger was parting your lips, skimming ever so lightly across your swelling nub.

You moved to the foot of the bed, reluctantly pulling your hand away from yourself, much preferring the thought of Jesse’s fingers rubbing you instead of your own.

Jesse watched with hungry eyes as you crawled up the bed towards him, continuing to tug at himself until you finally straddled his muscled thighs. He released his grip on his cock, letting it press forward against your lower belly, tip wet with precum that smeared hotly on your skin. His hands trailed fire down your sides, landing on your hips, and he gently rocked you back and forth, moving to grasp two healthy handfuls of your rear.

“You’re in control, darlin’,” he rasped out, the slight slide of his cock against your stomach already enough to stimulate him. “You do whatever you want with me.” It was exhilarating to hear him cede control so readily, but you had planned to ride him as soon as you saw his length spring out from his boxers whether he wanted you to or not.

You nuzzled your nose against his before pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, pushing up with your thighs to hover yourself over his cock. Moving a hand to help line himself up with your entrance, you were sure to look in his eyes as you slowly sunk down onto him, taking him in little by little, the stretch divine, straddling the border between pleasure and pain.

He tried to hide how you were affecting him, but lost the battle when you took the last couple inches of him at once, Jesse’s eyes squeezing shut as your hips met his. He let out a low groan, both of his hands finding purchase on your waist as you shifted ever so slightly on his lap.

Hooking your hands over his shoulders, you lifted yourself up, just enough to receive another lovely noise from him when you sunk back down.

You set a pace, lifting yourself up and grinding back down on him as hard as you could, his hands helping to support under your ass as you rode him. He was thick and hot as he slid inside you, sensitive walls getting no reprieve from his girth as it stroked every last nerve.

“Fuck, Jesse,” you hissed, thighs feeling the burn of riding him hard.

“That’s my girl, such a good girl,” he mumbled, lost in pleasure. Your nails dug into his shoulders, the feeling in your gut building with each slam down onto his lap. Moans getting more desperate, you felt his hand creep across your lower belly, thumb sliding in between your folds to press hard on your clit. “So good for me, aren’t ya?”

Your breath hitched, but your hips kept grinding smoothly against your lover, and you heard Jesse chuckle lowly.

“That’s it, gorgeous... almost there?” he asked and you nodded shakily, unable to spare the brain power to keep your eyes open when he started rubbing circles over your swollen bud. A loud moan answered his question and he repeated the motion, purposefully aiming for your release.

Thighs tensing, you bucked wildly against him as you came, bliss flooding your veins. He pulled you down against his chest, making sure you didn’t lose your balance. Jesse picked up where you left off, fucking up into you while your body was distracted with your climax. You found his lips with yours for a sloppy kiss, weaving your fingers into his soft chestnut-colored hair.

Jesse hummed when he felt your nails scratch against his scalp, and in your post-orgasm haze you somehow remembered to tug, just a little, on his locks. His reaction was immediate, a hitch of breath followed by a deep groan vibrating out from within his chest. He cursed when you pulled again, a little harder, and the grip he had on your hips became nearly vice-like.

With immense skill, Jesse pulled out and arranged you onto your back, sliding back home so quickly you didn’t even register the loss, setting a frantic pace. A mumbled request to pull his hair again, coupled with a few hard, uncoordinated thrusts, and he soon filled you with his release, his panting breaths hot on your neck.

Jesse’s hazy eyes finally focused on yours and he grinned before giving you a soft kiss. Rolling off of your spent, sweaty body, he threw an arm over your stomach as he lay next to you on his side.

You didn’t know what to say, but the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. You hummed lightly when Jesse nuzzled against your neck, lips planting soft little kisses down your pulse point. Turning to face him, he hooked your leg over his hip, running his palm up the back of your thigh, then very slowly over your ass, before putting gentle pressure on your lower back to bring your bodies back together.

“Thanks, Jess,” you all but whispered, and heard the man snort in reply.

“No need to thank me, sweet pea, it was my pleasure,” he said, not-so-subtly pressing his hips against you.

Sighing, you narrowed your eyes at him. “Not for... that,” you said, embarrassed flush creeping over your cheeks. “For every-“

“Like I said,” Jesse interrupts, “No need, darlin’.” He kisses you, hard and soft at the same time, and you run a hand down his side as the fire in your core roars back to life. You’d barely finished coming down from your climax and you already wanted another, wanted Jesse again, wanted him to fill you up and hold you close.

You breathed out his name, his mouth moving down to bite at the curve of your shoulder, just hard enough to leave a mark, soothing over the divots he left with his tongue.

“Already want more?” the cowboy asked, and you nodded shamelessly, unable to look at him in your embarrassment. Jesse rolled you onto your back, his knees pushing your legs apart to accommodate his large form. “Look at me, would ya?”

With great effort, you opened your eyes, mischievous brown meeting your gaze. “That’s it. You ain’t gonna want to miss this,” Jesse said, words full of heat as he slid down your body, licking his lips before licking your slit, with a sinful slowness. He didn’t break eye contact, smirking up at you from between your legs.

“That’s my girl,” he said, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. “You just keep lookin’ right here, okay?”

You could only reply with a moan as he found your clit, the cowboy’s acrobatic tongue quickly driving you to bliss.

-:- -:- -:-

Thank you for reading!

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eeveecrmchl · 4 years

Text

DISCORD THREAD | EEVEE X VULCAN:

feat: @eeveecrmchl & @ellisvulcan

mentions: landon’s apartment

summary: vulcan finds eevee at club echo and tries to take her home. she finally tries to get closure but is met with the truth as to why v left her in the first place. eevee is not convinced.

tw: alcohol, drugs mentioned, my girl being dum as hell

Eevee: Eevee isn’t drunk yet but that doesn’t stop her from straddling the man that’s been paying for her drinks the whole night and letting his lips make marks up and down the column of her neck. If she closes her eyes, she’s able to imagine a different set of arms, a familiar grasp on her waist, and the taste of someone she’d rather be with. Of course she can’t; V’s probably out with whoever takes his offer for the night. Losing herself in the sensation of someone actually wanting her, Eevee lets out a breathy sigh. It feels wrong — like her body is already ruined for everyone else but she forces herself to enjoy it. Bottle still in hand, she takes a gulp straight from it, the burn numbing everything. It’s practically routine at this point: go out, get drunk, and if she’s bored, get someone to finish her off. Most of the time, she finds herself in a backseat of a Lexus or the alley of some random bar, but it looks like she’s going for making out in public for tonight. The man says something but she ignores it, cups his face to kiss the words off of his mouth. He shouldn’t talk; it takes away the fantasy. If Eevee’s thinking about a particular person at this point, no one else needs to know.

Vulcan: The conversation he had with Evelyn has still been in the back of his mind. Truly he wished it was her that took his invitation that night. That text and the little moment he had with her at Landon’s place, Vulcan truly wished he was sober during those times, but alcohol seemed to be one of those things that makes him sleep lately. They haven’t talked in a while, until he was added to that group chat. Right after he did the job that was given to him by his boss, he’s found himself back at Club Echo again, as usual, to drink the night away. He was about to walk up to the bar when the very woman in his mind catches his eye, she was all over this stranger and he couldn’t help but acknowledge how it stings, seeing her like that. He comes up to the booth and stood there for a moment, then he clears his throat to catch her attention. “Eevee.”

Eevee: Eevee flinches when she hears her name, pulling back from whomever had her attention to look up at her ex boyfriend. In her inebriated state, she could only throw him a lopsided smile, keeping her arms around the stranger to steady herself. “Vulcan,” the name tastes sweet coming from her lips, a sudden wave of nostalgia hitting her at the memories of the many ways it left her before: “Vulcan, I want you to meet my parents.”, “Vulcan, I’d do anything for you.”, “Vulcan, I love you.” Now she’s only left with remnants of how she felt, the intensity of which she hasn’t been able to find in anyone else; Eevee doubts she ever will. Noting her current state, and remembering that he, himself was in a similar situation the night before, she tilts her head in curiosity, ignoring the way the man under her seems to feel the tension. “What are you doing here?” New York is a big enough city and she’d foolishly thought that just by avoiding him, she’d be able to move on quicker. “Where’s uh — what’s her name? The one you fucked last night?”

Vulcan: He could see in Eevee’s eyes and her smile how intoxicated she already was. The way she just said his name, it causes some pain is his chest, he wanted to be that one in that stranger’s position, part of him still wants to be with her. Yet whenever the thought crosses his mind, to pursue her once more, he would also be reminded of the warning of her parents, to stay out of her life, that she shouldn’t be with someone like him, that she…..she deserves better than him, better than the state she’s in right now. “Eevee, you’re wasted. You need to go home.” He gives the stranger a look, burning a hole through his head that makes him let the girl go. “Let me take you home. You’ve had more than you should have.”

Eevee: Eevee pouts when the stranger actually pushes her off of him, but it’s no surprise; he looked like the type that would rather avoid confrontation than to find himself in the wrong end of one. Placing the bottle on the nearest table, she huffs up at Vulcan, about to tell him off for scaring away the person that was supposed to make her feel good for the night, but is stopped short when his appearance finally registers. Hands reach out in shock as her eyes roam over the expanse of his entirety, trying to see just where all the cuts and bruises seem to form. “V, what happened,” her voice comes out in a whisper. “Fuck, who did this to you? Do you know who they are? We should go tell the police right now. I know dad has some connections down at the station.”

Vulcan: The mechanic closes his eyes when the younger girl walks up to him, bracing himself for the argument they were about to have. Instead, Vulcan felt Eevee’s hand on his check, worry noticeable in her voice as she asked him a bunch of questions. He almost forgot that he was in a match tonight. His opponent packed a lot of punches, and he wasn’t surprised that they left marks and bruises on his face and the rest of his upper body. He’s been doing this for years, and he’s always attempted to hide it for Eevee not to notice, well not until now. “It’s from work—And no, you’re not going to tell your dad. I’m going to get in trouble if you do.”

Eevee: There are questions that whir through her alcohol addled brain — especially about that comment concerning her father —, but Eevee bites her tongue. She no longer has the right to ask or to even have the privilege of knowing in the first place. Still, in her drunken haze she can’t help but wrap her arms around the man’s neck, burrowing her face in his chest. She’s always been an affectionate drunk and while the more rational part of her mind screams that she should stop, she lets herself indulge in the feeling. “Please try to be safer,” she mumbles against his shirt, refusing to look up at him lest she does something more foolish. “I don’t like you getting hurt.”

Vulcan: Vulcan instinctively wraps his arms around her waist, holding her close as she nuzzles her face against his chest. “I’m always safe.” He takes a deep breath, gently combing his fingers through her hair. “I need you to stay safe, Eevee.” He whispers to the other, making sure that she’s the only one who could hear. “Let me just—let me take you home, at least.” He draws himself away from her slightly to look into those eyes.

Eevee: “I’m safe,” is her automatic reply but Eevee doesn’t mention nights when she roams the city, unaware of her surroundings with drugs in her system and alcohol in her breath. Gaze locked onto his, she leans in instinctively before catching herself. “Okay,” her voice comes out resigned, knowing that she’ll probably be too embarrassed to go over this in the morning, Hopefully in her hungover state, it’d be easy to forget how she practically threw herself at the man who broke her heart. “You remember where my apartment is?”

Vulcan: “That’s all I need, Eevee.” Vulcan gives her that look before she eventually pulls away. Which something that he silently thanked it happened. They cannot do this, especially not in front of so many people. Her dad cannot know that he violated their deal, that he’s violated their deal that one morning at Landon’s apartment. He never wanted to end things between them, but he couldn’t risk losing the things his family’s left for him. “Always.” He takes her hand to hold as he leads the both of them out of the club. “Do you want something to eat? Gatorade?” She probably needed something for the hangover in the morning, too. Vulcan just couldn’t help but still care.

Eevee: There’s a moment when Eevee feels her heart flutter at his look, but she ignores it for the sake of interlocking their fingers together when he grabs her hand. Out of the club, she’s able to breathe freely, the night air cooling her down and sobering her a little, but not enough that rational thinking has come into play which is how she finds herself tugging him towards the back alley. One night. She can give herself one night and it’ll be just like the rest of her flings; Eevee doesn’t need to care. Backing herself up against the side of the club they’re at, she lets go of his hand to let hers trail up his chest. “Don’t need Gatorade,” she exhales, feeling herself grow bolder and tugging him in close. “Just need you.”

Vulcan: Vulcan was about to speak again when Eevee dragged him by his hand and brought him to the back alley by the club. “Eevee—I can’t.” He feels series of shudders crawl down his spine as he felt her hand on his body again. He never heard those words from her in forever, if was in the same level of inebriated as her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to say no. But not this time. The mechanic takes a deep breath. “Food, Gatorade, and drive you home. That’s what you need, baby. Let me take care of you.” He cups her cheek with his hand, leaning close to plant a kiss on her forehead. “We can do anything that you want, just—just let me take care of you.” He repeats, tucking her loose hair behind her ear. “Trust me, I feel the same. I really do….”

Eevee: The rejection shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but Eevee can’t help but let it settle on her insecurities. “You didn’t say that back at Landon’s apartment,” she’s feeling bitter now and all she wants to do is crawl under her covers to rid herself of this embarrassment. “I can take care of myself,” she throws back. There’s an urge to just walk away, call up Tee, and just forget this whole night ever happened, but it’s the way that he calls her baby that stops her. There’s a hand on her cheek then, eyes fluttering close at the feel of his lips against her forehead. “I’m fine. I’ve done this before.” It’s a miracle that nothing too bad has happened to her considering how much her self destructive tendencies have put her through, so her words do have some truth behind it. “Don’t,” and with this, she uses the hands on Vulcan’s chest to gently push him away. “You don’t have to lie. I can get home by myself. Thanks.”

Vulcan: His eyes widened at her words, what does she mean that she’s done this before? No, he cannot let her leave, he cannot let her slip away like this, not this time, maybe just for tonight. Worry washed all over him, now knowing that this isn’t the first time, and the fact that she’s done this a lot…. “Eevee.” He whispers, pleading evident in his voice as he desperately stared into those eyes once more. “I didn’t—I’m not lying. Please don’t push me away, even just for tonight.” He sighed deeply, resting his forehead against hers. Perhaps her father wouldn’t know, even just this once.

Eevee: Vulcan’s so close and it’s like every dream she’s tried to ignore, every errant thought pushed aside to prove to herself that she’s moving on. The fact that she stays firmly in place, looking up at him with no plans on moving away, just shows how far she is from that. “What do you want from me, Vulcan,” her words come out as a whisper, breaking at the sound of his name. “I don’t know what you want from me.” Close enough to let her lips pass his, Eevee summons whatever self restraint she has left to pull back. “You can take me home but after that — I don’t know. You can crash on my couch if you want.”

Vulcan: Vulcan badly wanted to say that he wanted her, that he never stopped wanting her. Yet all he could do is stare into the eyes of the girl he never stopped on loving. He never thought that losing Eevee would kill him slowly, up to this day, it still does. He finds himself still longing for her sometimes, missing the feeling of having the girl in his arms. "All I want..." He takes a deep, shaky breath. "All I want is for you to have good things, what you truly deserve." He stares down to his feet as the other pulls herself away. "Okay. Let's go." He takes her hand once more and leads them to his car. He makes sure that the girl was settled in the passenger seat before getting in. "Just tell me if you need anything."

Eevee: Eevee can’t help the scoff that leaves her at his answer; the frustration at just how ironic it is that he’d want that for her when he can provide the same is what keeps her quiet. She lets him lead her to his car, the words she want to say trapped behind pride and shock from the audacity Vulcan seems to carry. The need to let him know what’s exactly on her mind wins out and while she knows she’ll probably regret it, she turns to him. “You want what’s best for me?” Her words are colored with the hurt he’s caused but she continues on. “You were what was best for me. You were the good thing I wanted to keep in my life.” Eevee ignores the telltale signs of tears, blinking any moisture away. She would be damned to let him see her cry. “You don’t get to leave me and then act like it was such a fucking sacrifice. It was so easy for you to let go like we meant nothing, like I meant nothing to you, so you don’t get to tell me some bullshit excuse on ‘wanting what’s good for me.’”

Vulcan: He could sense that Eevee was quite deep in her thoughts while he leads them to his car, and before he could even bring his engine to life, she spoke. He hated how much he's hurt her and be a huge part of the reason why she was like this. "Trust me, Eevee. I didn't--I never wanted to leave you. I didn't want to end things. You were the only one I ever wanted--scratch that--needed like this. But I didn't have a choice at the time." He takes a deep breath, resting his forehead on the steering wheel, before staring at the other. "You mean everything to me, more than the world, Eevee. It hurts not having you in my life ever since I left, though it was either you or the only reminders of my parents gets taken away from me. And what he said to me was true, we are both on different ends of tbe spectrum. What can I possibly offer you when I'm just a fucking mechanic who also fights every other night to earn money enough just for myself?"

Eevee: A roll of her eyes is thrown the man’s way with Eevee’s head shaking even before he could finish his sentence. “You say you didn’t want to end things and yet you still did. You say you didn’t have a choice but you could have chosen me. You could have chosen us but you didn’t.” It’s the heartbreak that she carries that has her finally voicing out what she couldn’t before — most of which only Tee has heard in her drunken rambles. Eevee’s kept herself in denial but there’s no way to turn this around with him now. Vulcan broke her heart and she intends to let him know. “Who the fuck was going to take away your parents’ things,” she snaps, confusion clearly etched on her features. “Who the fuck is telling you all these things? And why the fuck didn't you tell me?” Her eyes widen at his words when they process and if she didn’t hate her upbringing then, she sure does now. “I don’t care about that,” her words hold firm. “You know I’ve never cared about that. I just wanted you. I fucking loved you, Vulcan. That’s all that mattered to me. We could have been living in a small ass studio apartment, depending on paycheck to paycheck and I wouldn't have cared.”

Vulcan: "Your parents! Your parents wanted me out of your life!" He's broken another part of their deal. Everything that her parents talked to him about, one by one he was just breaking them, yet ge couldn't keep this to himsel anymore, not when Eevee was demanding answers from him. "Your father came to my place one night just after you left and talked me into breaking things off with you. Or else, he'll take everything I own away from me, everything that my parents passed on to me, the house, the car my stepdad and I worked on for years, the clothes on my back, everything, Eevee. And if I tell you, things could possibly get worse--well fuck, now you know." He runs his fingers frustatingly through his hair. "You're the one I wanted, for the rest of my life. But I can't let you let go of the life you're living because of me. I can't let you turn your back on your parents because of me. That's why I didn't tell you, that's why I broke it off and quickly left before I can't resist and just--I can't....Eevee...."

Eevee: Taken aback, Eevee settles on her seat, head spinning at his explanation. “That doesn’t make sense,” Eevee refuses to believe it; as much as she dislikes the way her parents seemingly control the way she presents herself, they’re still the most important people in the world to her — well, her dad is anyway. “My dad would never do that. He’s not that cruel. Why would you say something like that?” Even as the words leave her lips, she’s not sure of who she’s trying to convince but she holds on to the conviction that it’s not true because it can’t be true. “You don’t have to lie, V, Jesus fucking Christ. That’s not going to make it better. At least fucking man up and own up to the fact that you left me.” Eevee tries to calm herself down even if the confusion still grows and all she wants to do is run. “How many times do I have to tell you? I. Do. Not. Care. I don’t fucking care, V. I really don’t. About the money, about everything they’re willing to give me. I can live without that.” There’s a pause before she looks back at him. “Unlock the door. I can get home by myself. I really can’t be in the same space with you right now.”

Vulcan: "I'm not fucking lying, Eevee. I wish it wasn't true, I wish I wasn't threatened by him, wearing a suit in the middle of the night with fucking papers on how our deal should go. I wish that he didn't threaten me into signing those. You don't have to believe me now, but that's what's happened." He sighed deeply. He knew Eevee meant those words, he knew how she hated her lavish life. Yet, he couldn't bring her into the kind of life he was living. It might be her dad getting into his head, but there's just times he couldn't the fact that....maybe he was right. "Alright. At least let me wait for you Uber to pick you up." He sighs in defeat.

Eevee: Eevee lets his words wash over her but doesn’t let it settle in what she believes to be true. “V, just stop, okay? Please stop. My dad would never. Yeah he’s a fucking asshole sometimes but he loves me.” Her phone is out from her pockets, fingers quickly tapping on the screen to get a ride back home. There’s a car nearby and she waits in silence as it nears as per the app, her eyes trained out the window. She can practically feel her heart beat right out of her chest with the the excuse Vulcan threw at her, but like everything else that goes wrong in her life, she’s going to forget — running has never been a stranger to her. The moment she sees the Uber pull up, she’s out the door, muttering a quick thanks at her ex before practically rushing away from him. Eevee just needs to go home, sleep, and pretend none of this ever happened. // END.

#eevee * / discord threads .#eevee * / & vulcan .#alcohol tw #drugs mentioned tw

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