#no beta this is war

[nightlychaotic]

Rafter Revelations

“I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“I’m leaving. I can’t deal with this any longer. I am sick and tired of all the secrets, all the tiptoeing around each other.”

“I’m not the only one with secrets, Marinette.”

“I know. And that’s part of the problem.”

“Can’t we talk about this?”

She raised a brow at that. “Are you going to come clean about what you do that leaves you so exhausted and overworked? And don’t give me that workaholic excuse again. We both know that isn’t the whole truth.”

Tim glanced away, the two sitting there in silence for a minute before Marinette’s soft, broken laugh cut through the silence.

“I thought so.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Everything is Tim. Every gods damned thing is in my life,” she muttered bitterly.

“What about you? What about your secrets?”

“I’d love nothing more than to tell you. Share this burden with someone else….”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because you won’t share your secrets. And for all I know they could be the dangerous kind. I can’t share because I don’t know what you’ll do with them. As much as I want to fully trust you- I can’t. I can't because you have a big secret and for all I know you’ll take my secret and run with it and I can’t risk that happening. Not again.”

“Marinette-” he whispered, moving to place a hand on her arm, trying to comfort her or build a bridge, an olive branch, anything. He swallowed, trying to ignore the growing lump in his throat as she pulled out of his reach with a small head shake.

“I’m sorry, Tim. I just- I need a break,” she said softly, shouldering her bags. “You have my number. Call if you change your mind or- No. Just. Nevermind. You know how to reach me if things change. I- Goodbye Tim.”

She didn’t give him time to say anything, quickly opening the door and pulling it lightly as she walked away, leaving the door to swing close. She left, leaving behind silence. Silence that felt too loud. No scritching at the lock. Nothing. He could barely hear her footsteps walk away on the carpeted hallway floor. The lock hadn’t turned. She didn’t lock the door. Why didn't she lock the door? 

He took a deep breath as he glanced around their small apartment. She just forgot in the heat of the moment, right? Of course. She didn’t- She wouldn’t- 

Tim stopped, heart pounding as he stepped into the small kitchen. Sitting there, glaring at him, was her key. 

She did.

She left her key. 

She was gone.

Oh.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, turning away, grabbing his computer and logging in as he sat down on the couch, leaving the door unlocked, a small part of him hoping she would walk in. That this would all undo itself as he pulled up some cold cases, throwing himself into them. Anything to distract from the pain.

—---------------------------------

It was two months before Tim saw or heard anything from Marinette and the circumstances were less than ideal. He caught sight of her on patrol being smuggled from one building to a different one, her gag loose around her neck. She had to have worked it off, he guessed by the irritation of the gaggle of goons’ faces as she talked, the picture of pure innocence.

He followed behind, not making his presence known until they’d shoved her into the lone chair in the corner, two of them hovering next to her, while the rest sat at the folding table and chairs, dealing out cards and drinks. He made quick work of two before the rest caught on to what was happening. All of them quickly forgetting about Marinette as they moved to take on Red Robin.

Marinette glanced over, a small smile on her face at the lack of guards as she quickly began working her way out of the zip tie cuffs, using his sudden appearance as a distraction, frowning as she heard the clanging of his staff being knocked away.

“Hey!”

She grabbed his bo staff from where it had fallen, giving it a quick, experimental twirl before smiling slightly, glancing over at him. 

"I think you may have chosen the wrong priority," she called out, pulling the goons attention to her, tilting her head as they laughed.

"Put the stick down, girlie. Hate to see such a pretty little face hurt."

"Make me."

Red Robin tensed watching her take a few steps back, looking less confident as two of the goons broke off, heading towards her and she bumped into a stack of crates. Her demeanor changed as soon as she did though, quickly slamming the end of the staff into one of their insteps and snapping it promptly up into his face before swinging it around, landing a few several blows in quick succession. The first goon charged as she knocked his friend unconscious. She laughed as she jumped, pushing off the crates to flip over him, and ramming the staff into his back, pushing him through the crates. She turned back to the rest of the goons holding Red Robin as she planted the staff.

"Still think he's your biggest threat?"

The grin she got when more goons left him was almost feral as she shifted her weight to the balls of her feet before launching forward, sliding into one goon, taking him out as she dealt a painful blow to his partner, swiftly standing and locking eyes with him giving a small head shake very much telling him to ‘Get on with it’ as she turned back to the fight.

He felt his face heat up as he wrenched his arm out of the goon’s grip, ramming his head back into the other goon’s quickly stepping away before ducking beneath a punch, grabbing the extended arm and using their momentum to throw them into their coworker.

“Took you long enough.”

He paused, surprised to find the other four goons who’d moved after Marinette unconscious, littered across the floor as she leaned on his staff. Since when had she been able to do that? Nothing indicated she knew how to fight. No record of martial arts training or anything. She’d never seemed interested in them either when he offered to pay for some when they’d first started dating, laughing it off saying she was a fashion designer, who’d be interested in her, and even if someone was it’d be handled then. That he didn’t need to worry about her. He didn’t quite believe her then, but could see why she’d dismissed it now. This was a whole other side to her he had no clue existed. A side that his background check didn’t reveal any hints to.

“How strong are you?” she asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

“What?”

“The next shift will be here any moment. I want to get the drop on them. You’re going to give me a boost up. You’ve done some gymnastics training right?”

His eyes widened slightly as he realized what she was thinking. Gymnastics? Yeah. Sure. A small handful of times and only ever with Dick at his insistence.

“Do you mind if I hold onto this for a minute?” she asked, holding onto his staff.

“You really shouldn’t do this, Miss. I can get you out-”

“With eight more goons on our tail making a fuss? No, take them out now. Don’t have to deal with them. Their boss isn’t even in town right now. Easy Peasy.”

“You don’t have any equipment or training,” he protested.

“Now who said that? There’s a reason I’m holding onto this for a minute. Ready?” she barely gave him any time before running at him. He locked his hands together, giving her the boost she wanted, watching as she pressed off the top of a stack of crates to get the extra air she needed, bringing his staff up and over the rafter beam and catching the other end of it so she hung beneath. She swung, catching the beam with her legs and pulling herself to crouch on top of it as the door opened.

“Where’s the girl?”

“Where do ya think? Tha Bird hid her away.”

“Let’s get ‘im.”

Red Robin didn’t move from his spot underneath the beam where Marinette crouched, allowing the eight goons to form a loose circle around him, leering at him while he tensed, preparing for a fight before she made her move.

Marinette dropped down, landing on top of one of the goons’ shoulders for a second before pressing off, the force driving the goon to the ground with a grunt while she flipped, planting the staff on the ground and landing delicately on top of it, balancing in a way he didn’t think was possible. 

“I think you fellas are forgetting something,” she greeted them with an innocent smile, while Red Robin tried to restart his brain after witnessing that.

Marinette however had no qualms about leaping straight into the fray, a whirlwind of motion as she leapt off his staff, snapping him out of his stupor and into motion, keeping an eye on her as they fought.

"Marinette! Behind you!"

Her head snapped to him, confusion clear in her eyes for a moment before she shook her head, ramming the staff back into the gut of the goon sneaking up on her, before pulling away and throwing the staff to Red Robin.

"Keep it."

"You need it more than me," she shot back, turning away from him.

“Care to share why you need eight guards by the way?”

“What? Did you expect me to make it easy for them?”

He didn’t answer as he got pulled away, comforted by the familiar weight of his staff, the two of them quickly handling the goons, Marinette taking care of the last three as she yelled at him to duck, using one’s momentum to throw him into the other two, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

She led him through the warehouse, which was all fine with him as he was still trying to process what the hell was happening. And where the hell his girlfriend, ex-girlfriend?,had learned to fight. She led him up to the roof, the cold air hitting them like a wall.

“I assume you have a grapple or something?” He nodded, pulling her close. “Hang on tight,” he warned before pulling them up, swinging roof to roof for a minute as his brain caught up to the night’s events.

“What did you do to get on Penguin’s bad side anyways?”

“Fooled around with a Wayne. Apparently he didn’t get the memo we were on a break and his goons thought I’d make a nice ‘Welcome Home’ hostage. Put me down here,” she directed, easily taking the shock of the landing as she stepped away from him.

“I’m sorry.”

She frowned for a second looking at him, tilting her head to the side. “Why are you sorry? You had-” she broke off with a laugh, shaking her head as she turned away from him. "Of course. Of fucking course, you're Red Robin. That makes perfect sense. I'm just an idiot who couldn't see it sooner."

"Excuse me, Miss? Are you okay?"

"Drop the act, Tim. Gods. Of course you're a vigilante."

"How’d you figure it out?"

“You’re smart. Figure it out yourself.”

His heart leapt into his throat as she jumped, the soft clank of metal the only hint that she’d jumped onto the fire escape. He moved peering over the edge watching as she quickly made her way down and out onto the street, quickly heading in the direction of her apartment, the cheeky call of “No need to make sure I get home safe,” over her shoulder her only goodbye as she left him alone on the roof, desperate for answers.

—---------------------------------

Tim threw himself into research, trying to figure out what happened in Marinette’s past that gave her so much experience and confidence fighting like that, and how that allowed her to figure his identity out so easily from a small slip up. 

The most obvious place to look was Paris. At the Heroes and Hawkmoth, what went down for those ten years.

The Parisian Heroes were something he knew woefully little of, having been banned from going near it by several members of the Justice League, with special stress put on it from Wonder Woman, all news coming from inside of Paris had been stopped until two years ago when news detailing what happened in and the subsequent end of “Paris’ Emotional Reign of Terror” hit newstands. Bruce had even set up multiple firewalls to help keep the news segmented, as if it didn’t exist at Diana’s pleading. Tim was sure Bruce knew what was happening but kept it from the rest of them.

It was around this time the Parisian Heroes went dark around the same time Marinette moved to Gotham, he knew that much from conversations with her. Many posited they’d gone into retirement with the defeat of Hawkmoth, finally taking time to themselves after years of near nonstop battles with akumas. The already frequent attacks appeared to have picked up from once or twice a week to near daily at the end of his reign.

Looking closer at the timeline, Hawkmoth was defeated two weeks before Marinette moved to Gotham. Enough for her, had she been a hero, to settle her affairs and get out of there for a change of scenery. It would explain her comfort in fights and confidence if she’d been fighting magically powered Akumas everyday for years. Her certainty and calmness slid into place as well. 

She was calmer and more self assured in that fight with the goons than he thinks he’s ever seen her, handling herself with ease. She handled his staff as if it was second nature for her, as if it belonged, doing things he doesn’t even think he’d be able to. He was still trying to wrap his head around how she balanced, perched on the tip as if it was a fixed platform. It was almost cat-like.

That rang bells in his head. One of the heroes used a staff. 

Each hero had their own weapon, most very unconventional, but a staple, almost a signature for them. Some had instruments such as Viperion’s Lyre and Rena Rouge’s Flute. Many had everyday objects and toys like Multimouse’s Jump Rope, Queen Bee’s Top, and, most notably, Ladybug’s Yo-Yo. Only a couple weapons were found in the cases of Carapace’s Shield and Ryuko’s sword. The weapon of his interest fell into this last category as well. Chat Noir’s Baton.

The problem came when he could only find evidence of there only ever being one Cat. A decidedly male and blonde Cat at that. His weapon, perfect for the fighting and skills that Marinette showed, the baton extending to impossible lengths with him balancing on top of it like it was nothing, yet nothing to prove that there was a female Cat active in Paris for any length of time, outside of a speculated swap though surprisingly lacking images or videos to support it.

That was a dead end. 

Great.

—---------------------------------

One week later and he was struggling to come up with anything pointing him in any direction that might shed light on Marinette. It had gotten to the point where Dick had “lovingly” shoved him out onto an extra patrol saying the fresh air, did that even exist in Gotham?, would do him some good.

Which led him to now, tailing after glimpses of a cat thief. Last he’d heard Selina was in London, a new exhibit at the British Museum having caught her attention. Although it wasn’t unusual for her to show up out of the blue, eyes on a new prize closer to home.

Red Robin dropped down into the museum shortly after frowning slightly. They didn’t move with the same confident caution Selina did, seemingly not caring if they ran the risk of setting off an alarm or motion sensor.

He stopped.

That wasn't Selina standing in front of the display case. The biggest give away was the unnaturally long braid that trailed along the figure, almost seeming like it had a life of its own, the tip flicking unpredictably as the braid swung. Upon closer look, he could see that the suit was all wrong, toxic green accents along the suit and low slung belt out of place. Ears perched in her hair that appeared as if they were moving. Scratch that. They were moving, flicking back in his direction.

"You can come out," she called. "I know you're there, Little Birdy."

"You're not the cat I was expecting to see here."

"I'm sorry if I disappoint you. I don't plan to be around long though so no need to worry your pretty little head," she told him, turning to fix unnaturally green eyes on him, they seemed to glow as she took him in. “Of course you’re the bird that finds me,” she muttered, adding to his confusion.

"I thought there was only one Cat and that he was in Paris."

"Chat retired."

"Willingly or did you steal his Miraculous?"

"Are you calling me a thief?"

"Well-" he gave her a pointed look. “If the shoe fits.”

"By necessity not by choice. I’ll just take what I came for and we’ll never have to see each other again."

“What requires you to steal?”

“And here I thought you were smarter than this. SUrely You can figure it out,” she said, before extending her baton, hitting him and pushing him back before turning her attention back to the case, leaving him to move, catching his breath and close the distance between them.

She laughed, ducking around the batarangs thrown her way, eyes flicking over to him briefly before she began tracing a circle on the glass, batting his staff to the side while throwing a well aimed kick at him, the sound of her claw cutting the glass grating against his eardrums, throwing him slightly off balance as she pulled a book from the display, tossing it up before it seemed to disappear as she swung her baton at it, extending it into a staff, twirling it around as she finally faced him again.

“Now that that’s been taken care of,” she started with a Cheshire grin. “Care for a game of Cat and Mouse?” she asked before promptly taking off, quickly managing to disappear into the shadows, light laughter trailing behind.

He took off after her, trying to follow her through the shadows but the silence of her movements was uncanny. She could give Batman a run for his money with the complete and utter vanishing act, shadows swallowing her up as if she’d never even existed.

He slowed to a stop, looking around as he tried to figure out where she might have disappeared to, not expecting the sudden weight from above, knocking him to the ground.

She dropped down, springing off his shoulders before landing on the tip of her staff, balancing perfectly at ease as she laughed.

Tim smiled as the pieces clicked into place. He didn’t have the full story but he’d only ever seen one other person do what she just did with such ease. The revelation felt almost nostalgic back to the times when Dick was Robin and he made that discovery.

“Well this has been fun, but I have to run. Maybe I’ll see you around, Birdy,” she told him, giving a small salute as she started to leave, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Wait! Marinette!”

She stopped, turning to look back at him with a soft laugh.

“Took you long enough, Tim.”

“This is your secret, isn’t it? You hold the Cat Miraculous.”

“Close.”

“Close?”

“I’m the Guardian for all of the Miraculi.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah….” she trailed off glancing away, the bravado and confidence draining a bit, leaving the Marinette he was more used to dealing with. “There was a reason I was so set on not sharing mine until I knew what you were hiding. The books a grimoire attached to them which-”

“Which you want under your protection,” he finished. She nodded. 

“I can’t risk it or the Miraculi falling into the wrong hands. I don’t want to repeat another decade of fighting.”

He laughed. “I don’t blame you. I- I know you weren’t Chat Noir. Which hero were you?”

“I’d make you guess but the magic confuses things so I’ll spare you this time. I was Ladybug. I did moonlight as Multimouse every now and again though as well. You should see the things I can do with a little bit of weight on the end of a rope.”

“Is that an offer?”

The two stood in silence, both thankful for the darkness as their faces turned bright red.

“I-I am so sorry that just slipped out-” he sputtered, as Marinette let out a small laugh, placing a hand on his arm in reassurance.

“I take it you missed me then?”

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of cold cases I’ve solved hoping you’d walk back through the door.”

“I left my key.”

“Did you think I locked the door?”

“Tim-”

“I know. I locked it when I was out or asleep,” he offered.

“Have you slept?”

“Have you?”

“Touche.”

Marinette snatched her hand away with a small blush, realizing it was still resting on his arm, letting out a breath. “I missed you too, you know. You can’t believe how stupid I felt not noticing the signs you were a vigilante. I mean the long nights, the hidden injuries, the caffeine sustaining life. I did all the same things for ten years. I should have figured it out.”

“I’ve been hiding it for ages now.”

“It still should have been obvious,” she replied, shaking her head. “Regardless, no more secrets between us. Promise?”

“Promise. Does this mean you’ll come home now?”

“I don’t know if you’re ready for the chaos the kwamii will bring. They’re going to want to meet you now that you know.”

“I think I can handle it if it brings you home.”

“You’re going to regret those words soon enough.”

He reached out, pulling her in for a hug. “I doubt that.”

“You haven’t met Plagg and Trixx yet,” she warned, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I can handle it.”

“You say that now. Race you home?”

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never raced over the city skyline before.”

“Oh you're on, Mari. I have the home field advantage.”

“Let’s see how far that gets you then, hm?” she said, kissing his cheek before using her baton to carry her up through the skylight with a laugh, leaving him to kickstart his brain into motion before chasing after her, grinning.

#Maribat #Timari #timinette #MGI Bracker War 2022 #ROund 1 #No Beta this is war #Identity reveal

[squippy360]

Steve Rogers x Male Reader x Clint Barton

This is Part 1 Part 3 part 4

Cw:(Powerbottom!Steve, SubDom!M/n, Powerbottom!M/n, blowjobs, leash collars, outdoor sex, praise, facial, threesome, biting, marking. This takes place 3 months later from the last fic)For men only :)This is part 2

It was a nice summer's day, perfect for tanning outside and swimming at the beach. 

M/n, Steve, and Clint decided to go on vacation and they flew out to their private island beach house. 

After getting comfortable, M/n went to their private beach to do some sunbathing. He layed out a tanning bed and took all his clothes off, his tummy against the chair and his ass facing the sun. 

Clint and Steve were watching from their patio, talking secretly to themselves. 

"Look at him over there, his pretty little ass just hanging out for us to see." Steve said, already feeling a hard-on. 

"I know right. I just wanna fuck him riiight against that chair, make him scream our names so loud, that people will hear from miles away." Clint said, shifting in his seat from arousal. 

Both Steve and Clint get an idea to surprise their little twink and get naked, throwing their clothes on the seats and run out to M/n after grabbing a certain bag. 

They quietly got over to where M/n was and pulled some stuff out the bag. The bag contained lube, water, and 2 collars and leashes, both had M/n's name engraved on it. "Shhh!" Steve said quietly as Clint giggled a bit. 

Steve and Clint got on their knees, crawling in front of M/n, who now noticed them. "Hey Steve. Hi Clint…." He zoned out when he saw the collars and leashes attached. 

Steve and Clint turned around, flashing their pretty pink holes at M/n, who was now squirming as well. "Steve…Clint…" He whimpered, feeling his cock harden. 

Clint got up and walked back over to M/n, lifting him up bridal style and began to suck his cock. M/n yelped out of surprise and wrapped his arms around Clint's neck. M/n wanted to thrust so bad into Clint's pretty mouth. 

M/n let out desperate moans as Clint teased and edged him. He whimpered and got harder when he saw Steve on the chair, his legs spread for them as he pumped his fingers in and out of his hole. 

"Daddy wants to have his twinks cock in him~" Steve whined, curling his fingers in and out. 

M/n let out a desperate whine. "Daddy's~ I want your holes as well~ Please!" M/n begged out, nearing his climax. (1st person now)

Clint pulled away with a drunk smirk. "Not yet baby boy~" Clint said as Steve stood up. Steve took me from Clint and flipped me upside down and began to suck my cock. 

"Oh~ Please Daddy! Wanna cum on you Daddy!" I pleaded out. I gripped onto Steve's pretty thighs, holding myself up. 

Clint went behind Steve, wrapping his arms softly around the both of us and began to nibble and mark Steve's most sensitive spots. Steve moaned on my cock. "Such a good twink~ so pretty for us like this~" Clint purred.  

My legs began to twitch in the air, a sign I was close. Steve pulled away with a 'pop' off of my tip. "Tastes like candy." He groaned. 

I was laid on the ground as Steve lubed my cock and his hole. He smirked and lowered himself down on my cock letting out keens as my too brushed against his most sensitive nerves. His knees were digging into the floor under us. 

I threw my head back. "Daddy! Daddy! Your insides feel so good! So good Daddy~" I moaned loudly. 

The way Steve's insides twitched and clenched on my cock just made me wanna cum already. 

I whimpered when I saw Clint wrap his arms around Steve's waist, jerking him off slowly. Steve let out high pitched moans and bounced faster. "Ah~ So good~ Such good boys~" Steve moaned. 

Before me and Steve could cum, Clint made Steve stop. We both let out protests but Steve reluctantly got off. Clint lubed his hole and fucked himself on my cock. 

He arched his back and held my thighs, his own legs shaking with pleasure. Steve gave Clint the same pleasure that he gave him and began to let his hands wander. He pinched his nipples and rubbed his cock. "My good boys~ Steve rumbled and marked Clint's neck, leaving visible red and purple marks.

I gripped onto Clint's thighs, gasping loudly and moaning as Clint ran his hands along the sides of my tummy and toyed with my chest as well. 

I squirmed and cried out loudly as Clint suddenly clenched on the base of my cock. "Close Daddy!" I begged out loudly. 

Clint stopped and let himself rest a bit on the base of my cock. "C'mon little twink. You know what you have to do~" Clint purred. 

They helped me to my knees. I grabbed both of their cocks, sucking on their tips and pumping them fast. "Cum on me Daddy~ I want to feel it~" I begged. 

They both caressed my face and came on me with high pitched moans. I licked both their cocks until they pulled me away and stood me up. 

They both got on their knees and began to pleasure my cock. They both didn't use their hands and just sucked and licked my cock. "Scho good~" Steve moaned. 

I pressed my thighs together and let out loud gasps. "Steve! Clint! Please!" I begged, my legs shaking and pleasure tears streaming down. 

They licked everywhere, moaning and sending vibrations on my cock. I held onto their shoulders for support as I let my load all over their faces. 

I was a shaking and crying mess from all the pleasure. I fell back onto the tanning chair, me and my cock now super sensitive. "You did such a good job cumming so pretty like that~" They praised. I let out a whine of affection. 

Steve cleaned us up and we cuddled until it turned night, when we all ate Ice Cream and cuddled under the stars. 

#@lovefanfiction01 #avengers x male reader #x male reader #steve rogers smut #marvel fic #marvel #marvel x male reader #clint barton #clint barton x male reader #avengers fic #male reader #for men #no beta this is war #no beta we die like men

[elevenharbor]

midnight bribe, moonlight bride - ch 3

3. The Session (Sesshomaru) (scroll down for the accompanying art for this chapter [: )

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

“Here we are, Mr. Taisho.”

My masseuse, Kagome, announced as we arrived at our destination. I was only half-focused as I trailed behind her to the spa room, which was highly uncharacteristic of me. I would’ve collided with her had I not stopped in time, just a hair’s breath away.

My attention was occupied with the day’s events. My migraine had managed to not ravage me completely, leaving some of my sanity intact. Being away from my own home, away from the source of my quandary, and taking refuge here at this spa with the just the right person I was looking for has also lessened the strain, somewhat.

It’s quite perplexing the lengths I was willing to going through to avoid the issue. Again, not the usual response I was known to take. I tackled on problems, not ran away from them. Running away was for cowards.

And I was being a coward right now, which annoyed me to no end.

Kagome handed me a white robe to change into, the soft cotton’s weight barely registering in my hand. I didn’t even notice her step out of the room to give me privacy as I divested my clothing and footwear, not bothering to do so in the changing rooms a few steps away.

My mother’s words replayed in my mind. Find a suitable partner and get married in 365 days, starting today, or risk losing everything I have worked hard for. What a ludicrous demand. She knew I was picky with my partners, much to her delight. Unlike most mothers, Kimi Taisho relished in my plight, much to my irritation. The glint in her eyes right before she left told me she would get her way.

I would stop at nothing to prove her otherwise, which is how I found myself here.

“This feels rather different than usual,” I said, disregarding the robe. Dressed in only tailored trunks, I inspected the space, taking note of all the little details that added to the calming mood. The sweet aroma of the houjicha tea Kagome had generously prepared for me became stronger. That’s when I noticed that it was the only smell I could make out. The usual overpowering scent of lavender, eucalyptus, or whatever concoction of bath salts and hair treatments that blanketed the space was missing, or barely detectable. The faint sound of running water from small indoor bamboo water fountain to the right of the tub was the only ambient noise that served as the accompanying soundtrack. It was pleasant to my senses.

The steaming tea cup was laid out neatly next to a row of glowing candles, illuminating the space just enough and adding to the tranquil environment. The candles that stood vigil on the foot of the warm water bath gave an ethereal feel to the usual dismal space. Kagome had transformed it into an oasis of sorts.

“I wanted to create a relaxing space for you, Mr. Taisho,” she replied, making herself comfortable on the seat next to where my head would lay. “Mr. Jaken’s phone call made it seem like you had a rough day. You also seem a little…preoccupied, more so than usual.”

She was perceptive, I’d give her credit for that. Or was I that easy to read? I made a mental note to check the latter when I was done here. I couldn’t have my adversaries, nor my mother, see through me. I was an impenetrable wall of emotion. Leaving me vulnerable was out of the question. It would be bad for my image and my business.

“Hn.”

I stepped in the bath. The water was the perfect temperature. I felt the muscles on my neck and shoulder release its tension as I submerged most my body. Soon after, Kagome’s soft hands made its way to my tresses and I immediately relaxed. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh I didn’t know I was holding as I melted under her touch. We sat in comfortable silence as she repeatedly massaged my temples while the water gently cascaded over my head, washing my troubles away with it.

“You are quite skilled with your hands. A magician at work.”

Kagome’s ministrations paused for a moment, prompting me to crack an eye open. A faint pink glow caught my periphery. Curious, I opened both eyes and was met with wide cerulean orbs staring back at me ghastly. The pink glow subsided instantly as she retracted her hands. I almost winced at the miss of her touch. Almost.

“I see.”

“S-see what, Mr. Taisho?”

“You are a sorceress of sorts.” I watched her visibly flinch at my comment.

“I-I’m not!” She stammered, her voice shaky.

“I see why your clients keep coming back. Why I keep coming back for you.” I motioned for her hands with a sideways nod, implying I was well aware of their glowing effect.

“I now know your secret. You’re in trouble.” I attempted to lighten the mood with a joke, but her impregnable silence told me otherwise.

“Do not fret,” I attempted again, more seriously this time. ”We all have skeletons in the closet.”

The silence continued. Her shifty glances gave away her predicament. This was a sore topic for her.

“Um…”

I tilted my head down again and closed my eyes, relaxing once more. I had to put up the effort that her kind, whatever it may be, was of no consequence to me. “Your secret is safe with me, Kagome. Shall we continue?”

This finally elicited a response. Her hands were on me again, to my relief.

“I’m…I’m a miko. Not a powerful one, but I come from a family of priests and priestesses. I lived on a shrine in my younger years.” She began, as her fingers slowly sifted through my hair. “I was made aware of my…gift…when I was in high school. No one could formally train me since none of my other family members inherited the same ability, so I took it upon myself after school to hone in on my skills.”

I could sense she still had more to say, so I let her.

“I-I haven’t had much practice with exercising my powers since were no entities that needed purification.” She continued with more conviction, whether it was to convince me that she wasn’t a threat, or to convince herself that she wasn’t about to lose another client because of her slip-up. “I’ve focused on its healing properties instead. I’ve only used it sparingly, since.”

“By sparingly, I take you mean here, with your clients?” I asked, curious.

“Yes.” She replied meekly.

So she was a priestess with holy power. Healing and purification, to be exact. The latter could be dangerous for me given my station as a demon, if I was any ordinary demon.

But I was no ordinary demon. Far from it.

Perhaps tonight would be a night to trade secrets to ease her worry.

“As I mentioned earlier, we all have skeletons in the closet.” I lifted my hand from under the water to unclasp the small earring on my right lobe. A glow emitted from my person, signaling my transformation. “This is one of mine.”

Her audible gasp told me she was surprised or was it fear, but I couldn’t smell her fright. I sensed her gaze on my markings while she ran a soapy hand on the crescent moon on my forehead, which slowly trailed down to the magenta stripes on my cheek. I grasped her wrist reflexively to stop her motions, startling her. She didn’t have to know yet another secret tonight; my stripes were sensitive to touch.

“I-I’m so sorry, Mr. Taisho!” She retreated her hand, but my grip was stronger. I had to be careful with my pointed claws to not puncture her skin.

“Please forgive me. It’s just that…I’ve never seen or met a demon in person, and I did not expect you, of all people, to be one.” She continued to repent for her sins. “I didn’t think demons still existed in this day and age. I grew up thinking they were folklore—a thing of past—as my grandfather reminded me constantly.”

“It’s fine,” I replied, letting her wrist go. “Sesshomaru is my name. You can drop the formalities and address me as such.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ta—I mean, Sesshomaru…sama.”

I shot her a pointed look. “You can drop that, too. I don’t need you to sound like Jaken.”

“Yes, Sesshomaru.”

“I’m pleased that we finally addressed the elephant in the room.” I said in passing, not expecting the chuckle that emitted from her. Hearing her laugh and say my given name was…pleasing. I made yet another one of many mental notes tonight.

“I trust that what’s revealed in this room will remain strictly confidential.”

“Yes, of course.” She replied promptly. “Now it makes sense why you were able to pick out the smell of houjicha from so far away. If I may ask, what kind of demon are you?”

It was my turn to be surprised. Most people, human or demon, cowered in fear or disgust when they learned of my demonic heritage. Kagome was intrigued.

Tonight was already proving that this last-minute and much needed visit to be worthwhile. I was entertained by her curiosity. Perhaps I could learn more about her and her powers in return. I decided to indulge her some more.

“I am a full-blooded dog demon. Both my mother and my late father are powerful dog demons of high standing. We have been around for quite some time.”

“I see. But why do you need to conceal yourself?” She asked, eyeing the spot where my earring was.

“As you now know, demons exist, and for a long time. Some even have a lifespan of centuries. This fact would betray the natural laws of aging, according to human terms. As humans grew in number and power, demons did the opposite. Many have suffered traumatic deaths throughout history, forcing us to go into hiding.” I said matter-of-factly. I found it was easy to divulge this information to her, a human—no, a priestess of all things. Holy men and women were known to contribute to demonic downfall. I had no doubt she has had a few ancestors who participated in such ‘events.’ Whether she knew this or not, however, was beyond me.

My instincts told me to refrain from saying more, but my tongue had a mind of its own.

“Many of the history books decided to gloss over or completely eliminate this gruesome fact, yet another means to erase our existence. It was deplorable, but fortunately I was able to adapt.”

“So…you mean to tell me, there are far more demons in disguise walking and living amongst us now, even though they are far superior than humans in almost every way?” Kagome asked, though I wasn’t sure if that was meant as an internal thought or if she was talking to me. I gave her the benefit of the doubt and decided to address her query.

“Correct. We needed a way to preserve our lineage and dwindling numbers. We do what we can to survive the test of time and the hunt to exterminate our kind, hence the enhancements. We had to blend in with humans or suffer the consequences, mainly death.” The last tidbit left a foul taste in my mouth.

I had personally seen many great demons' demise, whether it was in the name of wars or racial extermination. Some were unfortunately not strong enough to withstand humanoid transformations, and they were executed in their full form. It had been my, and my family’s mission, to take back our glory by reclaiming power in ways that humans understood—through money and business takeovers.

“Well, for what it’s worth, your disguise is impeccable. It’s unfortunate to hear that others weren’t given the chance to live all because of what they are, as if it was their choice. I’m sorry.” Kagome piped in, empathy laced in her tone. Yet another surprise.

“Your sympathy is noted. But it was not your doing, so you do not need to apologize on others’ behalf.”

“If there are still demons around, then why don’t they just…get married to each other and make more demons to replenish the demon race?”

An astute point, which brought me back to my current situation.

“It is not so easy. The number of full demons are few and far between. There are also other…constraints.” Social constraints, financial constraints, even the kind of demon was a constraint, if my mother had it her way, I wanted to say out loud.

“What about humans and demons uniting? Couldn’t that solve the whole…humanoid conundrum?” Kagome pressed on, moving a strand of hair that had escaped her bonnet back with her forearm. I wanted to tuck it away behind her ear or back in the bonnet for her, but I kept my hand glued to the rim of the tub. The gesture would’ve startled her, and it seemed a bit too…intimate. I’m not wont to encroach personal space, nor did I want to get her wet.

She was asking the right questions, and I was perplexed at my willingness to respond.

“There have been human-demon couplings. Most of the time, their offspring retain some of the features that give away their demon heritage, like dog ears or an elongated snout, for instance. Those are harder to conceal.”

I shifted myself higher on the tub to give her access to my torso as she adjusted herself on the chair above me. Being hunched above me for as long as she had must’ve been straining for her posture.

“How so? Isn’t that what the enhancements are for? Unless these enhancements aren’t a one-size-fits-all, which is a big problem.”

She was sharp. This was something I had also pondered since the advent of these ‘enhancements.’ It had been my mission to further advance the effectiveness of the dainty accessories as a side project to my already full schedule, but progress had been lacking. I wished my staff had half her common sense instead of settling for the current “technology” and accepting its many faults.

“The features, or deformity, as humans like to call it, depend on the demonic parent’s innate power. But as you pointed out, enhancements have limits. They only apply to those who have a near-perfect humanoid form and whose features can be concealed easily. These hanyous, or half-demons, are also considered pariahs in both human and demon circles, so their demise is inevitable.” I thought of my younger brother and his upbringing at the mention of half-demons. Had it not been for my mother’s influence, he surely would’ve been long dead. It was astonishing what money and power could provide. A definite advantage, in every sense.

Several minutes passed by in silence as she continued to assault my shoulders, her hands slowly making their descent. Peeking a glance, I saw her brows furrow, possibly trying to figure out how to word her next questions without sounding offensive. I braced myself for the next barrage of inquiries.

“Are you expected to marry a full demon, then, Sesshomaru? To uh…To keep your lineage alive. If you aren’t already…” Kagome finally asked, her grip on the junction between my neck and shoulders strengthening as she worked the taut muscles of my trapezius. I felt a spark of electricity as the sinews of my tight flesh relented, probably with a little help from her powers. A wave of relief washed over me as the tight knots unfurled like an unwound roll of ribbon.

She was getting bolder and less formal with her questions, to my delight. It also opened a door for opportunity—an opportunity to seek her counsel and consent. She was already proving to comprehend our plight as a race with the little information I provided. I’m curious to see what she would say about my own personal predicament.

“Therein lies my current…dilemma.” I reached for the tea nearby to soothe my strained vocal cords. I had been conversing a lot today. Bringing it to my lips, the room-temperature tea had lost its warmth and allure. While it was still a fine blend, I still preferred it hot.

Kagome must’ve sensed my distaste when she abruptly retreated from my back. She apologized profusely for getting carried away with our conversation, before excusing herself to discard the liquid and heat a new batch. I wasn’t given a chance to reprimand her for her excessive apologies since it wasn’t warranted. I was also engrossed in our exchange, forgetting about the tea altogether.

I took the opportunity to stretch my arms and neck in her absence. Noting how loose they felt, I was pleased with the meticulousness of her work. Unlike the other massage therapists at this establishment, Kagome had been the most thorough, and the most tolerable in conversation. The others had simply been superfluous, whether for the sake of tips or whether they found my company delightful. I mostly gave them the could shoulder until I had been serviced by Kagome due to an emergency with one of their staff. Her conversations were refreshing.

Though I knew that I had been carrying our dialogue this time around, I did not mind in the slightest. I made the right decision to only book my future appointments with her.

I glanced at the clock on the far wall. There was still about 20 minutes left until our session ended. I did not like having time constraints that were outside my terms, but in this case, time was of the essence. I needed to get to my point with the given time we had left.

I could deal with her misgivings, as few as they were. I just hoped that after presenting her with my dilemma upon her return, she would still be willing to take me on as her client. Under no circumstance was I down to grovel or plead, but if I must do so to keep her in my employ for the hour that I was here, then I was willing to reconsider.

When she emerged a few minutes later, a steaming hot teacup in one hand and a new pot in another, Kagome halted her movements at the sight of my wet, bare chest. Turning her head askew, she offered the cup with an extended hand as I settled back in the water. I nodded my thanks and gestured for her to take her seat, sensing her discomfort at seeing my unclothed form.

I initially made no mention of it out loud, but her reaction to such trivial things was…cute, and I was in a playful mood.

“I didn’t realize seeing your clients bare made you shy, Kagome, even though I have been unclothed in your presence over the past half hour.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tai—Sesshomaru. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just…my clients are usually submerged in the tub for the duration of our session, and I’m too focused on my task to notice much else.” She replied curtly as she settled down, still avoiding my gaze.

She had a point. I could only chuckle in response. While most clients would regard her answer unfavorably, I didn’t mind. I was pleased with the progress we were making and how she was warming up to me.

“Very well. I know I am a sight to behold. You get a pass.”

Kagome narrowed her eyes at me as she sipped her cold tea. Grimacing, I took the cup from her hold before she could take another sip and discarded the offending liquid. Cold tea was a disgrace, and I wouldn’t let my excellent masseuse indulge in anything but fresh. She took the time to make it, so she should also savor it.

Before she could protest, I took the liberty of pouring her a new cup from the teapot.

“That tea is cold. You should also enjoy this batch with me. Don’t let it go to waste.”

“But that one was—“

I held my palm up, silencing her. “This is my request. Please oblige.”

“As you wish.”

I settled back on the tub as she blew on her cup and took a gulp of the tea. I continued on once I heard her place the cup back on the coaster.

“To answer your question from earlier, no. I am not married. I have to wed in the next year.”

The proverbial cat was out of the bag. I felt like a weight was lifted off my chest.

Shocked, her eyes raised to my own. “You have to? Like a forced, arranged marriage?” She shook her head in disapproval. “I thought that kind of practice was being phased out nowadays. It’s outdated.”

I couldn’t agree more.

“There are reasons, to put it lightly.” I treaded carefully. As much as I wanted to, I wasn’t about to throw my mother to the wolves, much less a stranger, though Kagome had already breached that distinction as far as I was concerned. She was…familiar, and a confidante to some extent. Despite the secrets that we exchanged earlier, I could’t ascertain whether she felt the same sentiment toward me. Not wanting to impose much, I kept that last bit to myself.

Kagome let out a laugh that sounded like a sigh. “Well, that sucks for you. Don’t you have a girlfriend that you can settle down with? Or is being a demon a hard requirement?”

I shook my head. Though I’m sure being a demon, a full blooded one at that, would elate my mother to the heavens, our agreement had no such terms.

“It’s hard to believe that you have absolutely no one that you would consider given your…popularity and status. I saw the recent headline about you in the tabloids.” Kagome stated warily. I could almost see her internal struggle she was having as she proceeded with caution. “I guess I wouldn’t trust a living soul if I had doubts they were after my fame and money, but I’m sure there’s someone out there. I mean…to put it frankly, you trusted me with your rather big secret, and yet you barely know me other than being your masseuse.”

“What would you do, if you were caught in my predicament?”

“Hmm…” Her head snapped back up. “Well, there are companies that specialize in these kinds of circumstances. Contractual marriages and fake relationships to keep up appearances, for a fee.”

“I am aware.” I’ve considered that route, but I still had my reservations. I needed someone I can trust, and who could understand that this was strictly business. No strings attached, but still maintained a believable appearance.

“I need someone with substance. Someone who can hold a conversation and who won’t fold under pressure. It takes blinding patience to deal with me.”

“T-They are trained professionals, with award-worthy acting skills. They could pull it off, I’m sure.” I sat back and watched her wrestle with her words. Considering she hadn’t purified me or ran out of the room up until now, I watched the display of emotion across her covered face as her eyes grew round. “You’re not suggesting…”

I studied her up and down once more as an idea materialized in my head at her indirect suggestion, even though this had been the main purpose for my visit, and why I requested her specifically, moving forward.

I sat up and turned to face her square on. “They also need to be privy to my…heritage and not cower in fear. ” I said, emphasizing my words. “Most importantly, I need someone I can talk to and tolerate. Money is not an issue.”

Kagome’s expression hardened, giving me the impression that she caught on to my insinuation. This was a shot in the dark. If I were being honest, she was the only contender. She had a basic foundation of me as a person, what I do for a living, and my temperament. Getting to know her on a more personal level would be no issue, or so I thought. She already had my trust, or at least some of it. I would keep coming back here for more sessions to extract the information I needed to make this work.

“Sesshomaru, I don’t think—“

The alarm on the timer blared loudly, stunting her train of thought and cutting her answer short. I was nettled, but also relieved; annoyed at the interruption, relieved at not vocalizing her refusal.

What perfect timing. I scowled at the offending time piece.

Kagome shuffled from her seat to shut off the alarm. “Well, would you look at that, our session is over.” She hammered all too quickly as she busied herself with cleaning up. “Thank you for coming and I hope my services were satisfactory.”

“Kagome,” I regarded her sternly. “Please sit back down.” I motioned for her to take a seat on the futon as I stood from the tub and dried myself off with a towel. She stopped her musings and followed, as ordered.

Once seated, she removed her face mask, fidgeting with the elastic. Her breathing quickened as she processed what I had just said without actually saying it. I was finally able to get a full view of her face. She was more than adequate from a physical standpoint, especially for a human. But the crease lines that marred her brows and her pressed lips concerned me. A mixture of panic and confusion graced her features.

“Before you refuse,” I cut her off before she could open her mouth with a reply. “Think about it carefully.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, suspicious.

“I am aware of your situation. I ordered Jaken to look into your background prior to me coming here. You would gain immeasurably if you oblige. We both could benefit from this.”

She grimaced at my statement. If I had to guess, she did not appreciate the preliminary background check. In addition to her fiscal troubles, she was in this country under an asylum of sorts, and the terms of her stay were nearing its end. She also had some messy family affairs that she was entangled with back home, namely a fugitive father on the run and a troubled younger brother in juvenile detention. It was a lot on her plate for someone her age.

“You’re asking a lot from me, Sessh—Mr. Taisho. I can’t just say yes to you when I’ve been put in a spot.”

Ah. We were back to the formalities.

I frowned. She was withdrawing without even considering the magnitude of what I had to offer, which was more than gracious for her financial gain, stability, and overall peace of mind.

She pressed a palm to her cheek and looked away from me as I passed her on the way to the changing quarters. “It’s my life too, and as much as I sympathize with your…situation, I can’t say the same about mine. I’d have to give up so much.”

I emerged shortly after, fully clothed and refreshed. I kneeled in front of her to look her in the eye, hoping my sincerity, or the appearance of it, would get through to her. I took her hand and placed a white envelope with my business card and her tip inside.

“I would not subject you to the actual expectations of…being with me. Once everything is settled, you are free to do as you please, save for discussing the terms of this arrangement with the media.” I leaned in toward her a bit, a tactic I used to appeal to someone. “I will do my best to not be so…overbearing…during the process.”

“I never imagined I’d get proposed this way, let alone get married. This also goes against company policy, and I can’t afford to get fired.” Kagome muttered, but I heard every word.

“You will be taken care of, in all aspects. I will see to it personally.”

I stood up and retrieved the rest of my things on my way to the exit, stopping at the door. Although I approached this for my own selfish gains, particularly to retain my freedom, I might as well add a romantic facet to it if it would help secure my proposition.

“I too, do not intend to marry, let alone someone I don’t love. But I am not opposed to this developing into something more,” I lied. I was a businessman with my own tactics, ruthless or otherwise.

“Give me a call when you change your mind.” I added, breaking the tense atmosphere.

Kagome motioned to stand up and follow suit, but I held my hand up. “I will see myself out.” She protested as I expected, but I kept my gaze firm with hers. “One more thing.”

She raised her head, willing me to continue.

“Thank you, for sharing something personal with me. I look forward to our next meeting.” This time, I meant it.

I walked through the corridors that led to the front of the store. Jaken stood by the vestibule with my coat in hand, the door propped open on the other. I exited the spa without a second glance. The rain abated but left a cool atmosphere at its wake. It dissipated the smog and foul smells of the city a little, allowing me to take a full breath in.

“Did the meeting go as planned?” Jaken inquired, his bulging eyes hopeful and curious as he opened the car door for me.

I slanted him a look before settling in the backseat, cueing the toad that I didn’t want to talk about the details. I just wanted to get back to my home, to my bed. I’ve done enough talking over the past 24 hours. No more questions, and no small talk. I was not in the mood for it.

“Did you get the refills for my medication?”

“Yes, Sesshomaru-sama. The refills are in the brown bag.” The toad replied as he drove away. Jaken was nosy and insufferable at times, but he was reliable. It was why I kept him as my vassal and promoted him as my assistant all these years.

Grabbing the translucent orange bottle from the bag, I opened it with a flick of my finger. The capsules spilled out on my palm with ease. I swallowed two pills dry. I didn’t want my migraine to come back in the middle of the night as I tossed and turned, yet again. No doubt I would be replaying our conversation throughout the night, analyzing each reaction, each gesture, and each response, subtle or otherwise.

The offer was made. The ball was now in her court. Now I would sit and wait for her to come around.

It was going to be a long night. Tonight, and for the foreseeable nights ahead.

................................................................. words: 5,162

#sesskag #eleven drabbles #eleven's doodles #midnight bribe moonlight bride #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesshome #sesskag fanfiction #alternate universe #fan fiction #first person narrative #writing exercise #i swear these chapters keep getting longer and longer #sorry not sorry #no beta this is war

[poormeowmeowcollector]

No One Will Hurt You Again

Relationship: Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: implied smut, trauma, smoking, alcohol, antisemitism, language, canon typical violence

Summary: Charles finds a mutant wrecking havoc at Miami because he's thirsty for revenge. So, he adopts him. (X-Men: First Class retelling but with Maneskin lyrics)

Notes: part of Lu Creative Time Challenge, song of choice is Coraline by Maneskin. Regarding Loki and Two Kings And One Guard, I don't know when I will finish it and go back to writing Loki, but I will see what I can do.

read on AO3

After Erik's interrogation was done, the CIA agreed with Charles' wish to keep him on the mutant team with a ground total of 3 people. The director told them they'd stay in a motel for the night. Moira and the others still distrust Erik, so Charles offered to take a room with him, insisting that he can keep a close eye on him. He didn't lie, but he didn't clarify what eye he'd be keeping.

Italian: Coraline bella come il sole / Guerriera dal cuore zelante / Capelli come rose rosse / Preziosi quei fili di rame, amore, portali da me

English: Coraline beautiful like the sun / A warrior with a zealous heart / Hair like red roses / Those copper-like wires, love, give them to me

The cheap motel room (possibly to avoid suspicion) only has one king-sized bed and no couch or even armchair. Charles freezes, taking turns staring at the bed and at Erik.

“Should I ask if we can get another room? One with two beds?” he asks. He might know basically all about Erik, but that's not mutual, there's no guarantee he'll be comfortable sleeping with a stranger. Instead, Erik glares at him like the suggestion was the worst of insults.

“Why are you asking?” he growls, like he's expecting disgust but is still willing to fight it. Charles needs a second to decode why Erik would snap, and his eyes widen when he realizes.

“No, no, no issue with you. But, we don't know each other…” he trails off, trying to save something. Erik's stance relaxes slightly, the furious fire in his steel cold eyes toning down but not disappearing.

“One night won't kill us, and I trust you are not stupid enough to attempt anything,” he shrugs, kicking off his boots and claiming one side of the bed. Charles sits on the edge, focused on untying his shoes, peeling off his clothes until he's left with a shirt and pants, and hesitantly gets in the bed.

Of course, Erik just lies on his back, head turned away from Charles and to the door, his breathing slow and steady as he sleeps. Unaware that Charles can't take his eyes off him, his lean yet firm body, the soft curls of his auburn hair that the moonlight allows Charles to see.

Erik's not like Charles. He's not a telepath. How could he know? How could he know that he's not the only gay man in the motel room, that Charles's dreams that night were filled with that skilled body, that soft voice, that beautiful copper hair? And how could Charles tell him?

Charles is famished, so he just drags Erik to the closest restaurant and sits down. Erik doesn't even bat an eye, it's not the first time since they started recruiting, and he knows that Charles' telepathy is making him need more calories than a baseline human. And, to be honest, Charles is not the only one who requires a bit more to manifest his powers properly.

Italian: Se senti campane cantare / Vedrai Coraline che piange / Che prende il dolore degli altri / E poi lo porta dentro lei

English: if you hear bells singing / You'll see Coraline crying / Taking the pain of others / Carrying it inside of her

When they receive the menu, Charles smirks slightly at Erik's surprise.

“You will let me order for you,” Erik orders, his voice having that tone that's excluding no from the acceptable answers. Charles nods and watches Erik inspect the menu and then order what sounds like enough food for five people, not a single word familiar to Charles' ears.

“Please don't poison me,” Charles mumbles after the waiter leaves with the menus. Erik shakes his head, a playful smile on his lips as he takes off the leather jacket that has become an extension of his skin despite the heatwave.

“Why would I poison the only tolerable person on the planet?” he snorts and watches Charles laugh at the reaction. Then, they sit in silence, both enjoying Erik's ease with the place, like he finally found where he can breathe. Just because he happened to be dragged to a Jewish owned restaurant during Charles' crusade for food.

“Can I ask you something?” Charles hesitates, he doesn't want to spoil Erik's mood. It's the first time he sees him so unguarded, and it'd be a shame to ruin it. Erik shrugs, waiting. “How long has it been since you last ate what you ordered?” he watches carefully for a negative reaction, but it never comes.

Charles knows that Erik has stopped believing. It's something he found out when he searched his mind that night with the submarine. And, by his refusal to cook anything other than fried eggs and pasta, he knows that his cooking skills are barely existent. Yet, he asks.

“Oh, well…” Erik mutters, trying to remember. His memory is usually better than most, so that's not a good indicator. “Since I was… 8-ish? It was harder for my mother to find ingredients after we fled after Kristallnacht, and I never really learned how to cook on my own,” he doesn't sound upset, not really. But Charles knows that the low hum of his mind is the same grief as every time he mentions his mother, his life before Shaw or the camp.

Erik keeps that hum as private as he can, letting it slip only whenever he thinks Charles is asleep, well after midnight. And Charles knows how to identify that hum only because he searched Erik's mind. But Erik is now letting that hum play, in a public place. Charles doesn't see the angry man everyone sees right now, just someone deprived of comfort, and he's willing to deliver.

“Then, I am sure you'll enjoy them,” he smiles, his eyes gleaming when he notices Erik's smirk, the hum getting more quiet. They're quick to fall into a familiar trance, sharing a comfortable silence that's interrupted only by judging the bystanders.

All until the food arrives.

Erik likes to present himself as a cynical man, someone untouched by whatever happened to him and whatever happens to people around him. He's exceptionally good at this, so good that even he believes it to be true. But after that night in the dock in Miami, Charles knows that he's the exact opposite. If he hadn't been in his mind, he'd also believe what everyone else does, that Erik is cold and emotionless.

And if he did, watching him stay frozen at the sight of the full of food dishes would be completely unexpected. But he knows better.

“Erik?” he asks, his voice low as he tries to not startle him. Erik still tenses for a split second, the dull knife on his right turning towards Charles. He shakes his head, tries to speak, but stays with his mouth agape before forcing it shut. One hand goes to his face, tries to rub off something from his eyes, Charles needs time to realize he’s wiping tears.

“Pardon me…” Erik's voice is barely audible as he gets up and escapes to the bathroom. Everything inside Charles screams at him to follow, to make sure Erik's okay, not alone, anything. But he knows that Erik doesn't exactly welcome emotional support, that he'll just go elsewhere until he recomposes himself.

The food is cold when Erik returns, untouched, even though Charles' body begs for food. He still manages to eat most of the table, Erik nibbling from here and there between taunts at how nothing will disappear if Charles breathes between bites. But Erik's voice is deeper, tinted with that sadness the low hum indicates, and his mood won't lift until the next morning.

“You can read me whenever you feel like it, you're always welcome,” Erik says, still coming down from the high, pressing Charles' naked back against his bare chest. His voice is a murmur, easier to feel than to listen. Charles's head isn't in a better state, he doesn't question. And even if he did, Erik would be asleep before he could answer.

Italian: Però lei sa la verità / Non è per tutti andare avanti / Con il cuore che è diviso in due metà, / È freddo già. / È una bambina però sente come un peso / E prima o poi si spezzerà

English: But she knows the truth / Not everyone can carry on / With their heart split in two / And it's cold already / She's a child, but she feels a weight / And sooner or later she'll break

He still meant it. Never offended or scared as Charles brushes through his thoughts. They would stay silent together, their minds mixed into one, like colors during a sunrise. One would use the link instead of speaking, either for privacy or because he didn't dare break the silence.

And Charles loves Erik's mind. It shines among the others like a diamond among gravel, attracting his telepathy like the most powerful magnet. He doesn't know if it's part of Erik's mutation or just the way he is, but there's no complaint. There's a pleasant mix of everything in Erik's mind, like a busy but cozy room. A harmony of languages, memories, ideas, and emotions, all one intertwining with the other as if threads of a luxurious piece of fabric.

But Erik's mind is not always the best place to be.

Charles's telepathy can sense trauma, spot it with ease. In most minds, it's like a flood of memories and feelings, threatening to tear apart everything with the most simple tap. Erik's mind is unique even in that way. It's not a flood, never a flood. Not even when he is overwhelmed or upset. It's like a pipe with a small leak, drop after drop hitting his mind, the erosion slowly doing its work but never stopping.

Charles is welcome in Erik's mind, but Erik still has areas that are restricted, protected by walls, areas the erosion has affected. Charles doesn't mess with the walls, averts his attention whenever he gets close, and he knows that Erik avoids these places as well.

Only a few times they touched these areas, when Charles was keeping the link while they were both tired and drunk in their motel room. At that moment, the walls were thin, and Charles's presence in Erik's mind was the tap to break them down.

Within moments, both men were reduced to hyperventilating messes, clenching onto one another like their lives depend on it. They tried to soothe each other, Charles apologizing for messing with his mind and Erik insisting that it's just a memory, that he knows how to handle it, but it's something new for Charles. They'll need almost two hours and five packs of cigarettes to manage to calm down relatively, but sleep is long forgotten.

Charles is still invited in Erik's mind, but he knows to keep the walls at arm's length.

Charles is reading in the leisure area on the base, enjoying the few moments of privacy. Until Moira comes in.

Italian: E la gente dirà: "Non vale niente / Non riesce neanche a uscire da una misera porta" / Ma un giorno, una volta, lei ci riuscirà

English: And people will say: “she's worth nothing / She can't even walk out of one stupid door” / But one day, some day, she'll do it

“We need to talk about Erik,” she drags a chair right in front of Charles, stubbornly sitting in.

“If it's about the leftover incident, he said your food is, and I quote, so unseasoned she could be eating paper and never know unless she started farting confetti, so I doubt he'll steal from you again,” Charles tilts his head, book closed on his lap.

“He is a liability, he won't hesitate to go rogue upon seeing Shaw,” she informs Charles, her eyes scanning him. “And we don't know if he's in position to help,” she adds, hesitant. Charles needs just one glance in her mind to find what made her suddenly so unsure about Erik.

The CIA has files on everyone, Erik Included. She opened it, found out about Erik's history with Shaw.

“I assure you, Moira. Erik is dedicated to stopping Shaw, powerful enough to do so and in his right mind,” he smiles, trying to brush off her concern without using his power. She doesn't seem to listen.

“Charles, he was in a camp! He met Shaw there! You can't possibly think it's a good idea to have him involved,” she insists, more upset about the information she received than about the strategy. Charles pauses for a bit, tries to think of his next move.

“I hope that you understand that this means that Erik is the one insisting on this, not that he is not in the state to confront Shaw,” Charles leans forward, smiling as Moira's mouth is agape.

“You can't possibly trust him! He's…” she trails off, and everything clicks.

“I think, if you have any argument about Erik's presence, he should be present to listen to your criticism,” he points out, watching Moira's blood leave her face. “Unless, of course, you know he'll be angry at your ideas, and for a good reason,” he smirks as the woman stays speechless.

“Listen to me well, Moira. You could drop the Shaw case, and so could I. Erik will either kill Shaw or die trying. On this mission, he is the most rigid of us, the most likely to take this to the end. And, if your bigotry gets in our way, I'll have him informed, and I assure you, he has no mercy for people like you and I have no reason to put some on his head. So, either you keep those words to yourself and assist us in stopping Shaw, or we continue without you, and I leave you unprotected to Erik's will. Do we have an understanding?” he watches satisfied as Moira struggles to find words, as she glances at the door, waiting for Erik to storm in.

“He will die trying,” she whispers, her confidence gone. At this, Charles chuckles.

“It's more possible for the sun to rise from the West,” he knows very well that his smile as he forms the words isn't because he won the argument.

No one is up at that hour. Moira and the rest of the kids have long fallen asleep. But Charles still feels the buzz of a mind keeping him up. When he realizes that the mind will just not shut up, he takes matters into his own hands.

Italian: E ho detto a Coraline che può crescere / Prendere le sue cose e poi partire / Ma sente un mostro che la tiene in gabbia / Che le ricopre la strada di mine

English: And I tell Coraline she can grow up / Take her things and then leave / But she feels a monster caging her / And covering her path with mine

He doesn't need to wander around, but he does have to look up at the roof to spot Erik sitting on the roof tiles and gazing at the woods.

«I suppose you are not looking for company, right?» Charles asks, his eyes on Erik as he drifts his gaze from the horizon to the balcony, to Charles.

«This doesn't mean you should go,» he pushes the thought away, a faint smile barely visible in the dark. Charles smiles back, swiftly climbs up until he's sitting by Erik's side.

“I didn't have you for such a good climber,” Erik smirks, eyes back to the forest.

“I grew up here, Erik. I know how to go anywhere in this house. The question is, how did you get up here?” he asks back, his eyebrow raised instinctively as he watches Erik.

“You have your tricks, I have mine…” he sighs, his fingers tapping the metal ashtray he somehow managed to get up here. Charles takes a deep breath, hugs one leg without thinking about it.

“You know, I have been thinking…” he trails off, testing the waters. He knows Erik won't like it, but he can present it lightly.

“You do that quite often,” Erik hums, one hand holding Charles's, tracing lines. He looks calm, that's a good sign.

“Are you sure you need to take down Shaw? You don't owe it to anyone. I understand it's what you built your life on, and it's definitely within your abilities. But Shaw's death won't lessen your pain, won't bring you peace,” Charles is careful, scanning Erik. He doesn't tense, doesn't emit rage like whenever Moira tries to discourage him from continuing. He just stays silent, then slowly brings his cigarette to his lips for a long drag.

“Peace was never an option,” he turns around, his gaze locking with Charles's. “And even if it is, it's not available to me. It's not an option I can follow. This… it's all I know, Charles. All I am. Whatever light you say is in me, you brought back to the surface, it's just there to push me forward, to… help me form an idea of what I want to create,” Erik speaks about a time after Shaw for the first time. Charles didn't even know that he had a plan for after Shaw. He can't help but smile, despite the promise that Erik will kill Shaw.

“And… I want you to be part of it, Charles. That monster may have made our paths cross, but we can make something great out of it,” Erik cups Charles's hand, his eyes moving all around Charles's face. An alliance, a common goal beyond Shaw. A life with Erik.

How can Charles say no?

They don't know how long they've been on that roof, just enjoying the silence, but Charles can see the sun rising between the trees. He turns, watches as the morning light illustrates Erik, makes his hair slowly get back its reddening tint, his eyes claiming that odd color, not quite blue but not quite green. He's never been so glad that his telepathy gives him an incredible memory, that he'll never forget that image.

Italian: Sarò il fuoco ed il freddo / Riparo d'inverno / Sarò ciò che respiri / Capirò cosa hai dentro / E sarò l'acqua da bere / Il significato del bene / Sarò anche un soldato / O la luce di sera / E in cambio non chiedo niente / Soltanto un sorriso / Ogni tua piccola lacrima è oceano sopra al mio viso / E in cambio non chiedo niente / Solo un po' di tempo / Sarò vessillo, scudo / O la tua spada d'argento

English: I'll be your fire and your cold / Your winter shelter / I'll be what you breathe / I'll understand what you have inside you / I'll be the water you drink / The meaning of good / I'll even be a soldier / Or your light in the evening / And in return I ask for nothing / Just a smile / Every little tear of yours is an ocean to my face / And in return I ask nothing / Just a little time / I'll be your banner, your shield / Or your silver sword

“You know, you don't have to do it all alone. I am here for you,” Charles doesn't think before he speaks, holding his breath in case Erik doesn't take it lightly.

Maybe it's the warmth of the moment, or the sleeplessness, but Erik laughs. His shoulders are shaking, his feet closer to his chest as he wipes tears.

“I thought that this was already established,” he breathes out eventually, leaning back until he's laying on the roof. There's something in that glint behind his eyes, that toothy smile. Charles can't help but find himself just as relaxed.

“No, I mean… you can talk to me about things… you can… I won't be just an ally to your fight. I want to be more. Your… your support… your serenity. Erik, if you let me, I'll be anything you need,” he pierces Erik with his eyes, watching as he rubs his face, lazily stretches his legs.

“Can you be just Charles? That's all I'll ever ask you to be…” Erik manages to hide a yawn perfectly, but his sleepiness is loud to Charles's mind. Charles chuckles, offering a small nod as an answer.

“Sure, but can we get down before you fall asleep on the roof?” he playfully nudges Erik, who in return rolls his eyes.

“I'm not tired, you're tired. You just… throw your tiredness into my mind,” the half-baked claim is accompanied by a series of vague gestures on the space between Erik's and Charles's head. It just makes Charles laugh more.

“Whatever, say that when you start snoring,” Charles slowly moves to the edge, watching Erik follow.

He doesn't say a word, just carefully goes down to the balcony and drags Charles with him to their bedroom. Neither bother to change clothes, just to kick off their shoes and collapse on the bed. Charles feels his eyes heavier, maybe Erik wasn't wrong about him being tired as well.

“Charles?” Erik mumbles, face plastered in the pillow, but he doesn't care enough to turn around. Charles gives him a small hum, eyes closing. “You really mean it? You'll be there?” he asks, not alert enough to have that conversation.

“Of course, I love you,” Charles doesn't think before he answers, and doesn't care if Erik reacts negatively.

“Mmm, I love you too,” Erik's words are barely there, he falls asleep before he could see Charles smiling.

They had found comfort in sleeping side by side, on the same bed. Charles feels less lonely with Erik's warm (always warm, always buzzing with life, always beautiful) body at arm's reach and Erik feels safe with Charles's power protecting him, for the first time since he was a kid.

Italian: E Coraline piange / Coraline ha l'ansia / Coraline vuole il mare ma ha paura dell'acqua / E forse il mare è dentro di lei / E ogni parola è un'ascia / Un taglio sulla schiena / Come una zattera che naviga in un fiume in piena / E forse il fiume è dentro di lei, di leip

English: And Coraline cries / Coraline's anxious / Coraline wants the sea but is afraid of water / And maybe the water is inside her / And every words is an axe / A cut on the back / Like a raft sailing on a raging river / And maybe the river is inside her, inside her.

But Erik still can't sleep, can't even close his eyes.

Tomorrow's the day they'll fight Shaw, when he'll kill him or die trying. He feels the coin burning in his jacket's pocket, he doesn't know if it's his imagination or his powers.

Killing Shaw will not bring you peace, Charles had said to him some time ago. Charles, who's now sleeping by his side, blissfully unaware. But can Erik have peace? After everything he's seen, he's gone through, and he's done, is he worthy of peace. Does he even know how to live a peaceful life, when he barely remembers his life before the camp?

He knows very well that his mother wouldn't want to see him get drowned in violence, and he knows Charles expects more, knows that Erik is more. But no matter how hard Erik wants to be that more, he doesn't know how. He has no clue how to be something other than his anger, and then his guilt. He's trapped in the life of vengeance that he formed, a cage of his own creation.

He doesn't know when he started crying, he wasn't even aware of it until Charles is awake, his huge blue eyes filled with worry. “Erik? Come here, please,” Charles raises one hand, laid on his side. Without a second or even a first thought, Erik sinks into the embrace.

He doesn't like people watching him cry, or show any type of vulnerability. And he's sure that Charles has only seen him tear up, shed a tear or two. But tonight, he lets it all out. He lets himself sob, weep, dig his hands on Charles's bare skin as his body and the metal bed frame are shaking. Charles stays there, traces flowers on Erik's back, mutters sweet nonsense with his soft posh voice until Erik can breathe again.

Erik doesn't push Charles away, but Charles lies on his back, makes Erik put his head on his chest, feel the telepath's heartbeat as his feet from ankle down are hanging over the bed. He closes his eyes, focuses on the air going in and out.

“You know, you don't have to know how to live a peaceful life. You can learn and adapt. And I'm sure you'll do great,” Charles muses. Others would be offended by Charles's snooping around, but Erik knows it's his natural state, and he would never kick Charles out. He doesn't have the words, but he does his best to send a wave of gratitude to Charles. By his smile, Erik assumes it's a success.

Son? Son?!

Italian: Coraline, bella come il sole / Ha perso il frutto del suo ventre / Non ha conosciuto l'amore / Ma un padre che di padre ha niente / Le han detto in città c'è un castello / Con mura talmente potenti / Che se ci vai a vivere dentro / Non potrà colpirti più niente

English: Coraline beautiful like the sun / She lost the fruit of her womb / She never knew love / She has a father that's nothing like a father / They told her there's a castle in town / With such strong walls / That if you live in there / Nothing will hurt you again

The asshole had the audacity to call Erik his son?! After he killed his mother? After he experimented on him?

Erik feels his blood boiling with rage, every fiber of his being ready to kill Shaw. Charles, still in his mind, screams at Erik that he's better, that he doesn't have to.

Charles says he's been in Erik's mind, that he knows. He doesn't know shit.

Shaw is frozen in place, holding the helmet. A helmet against telepaths, against Charles.

A helmet that will keep Erik intact, that will never allow anyone else inside.

A helmet that will keep him safe from harm.

His hands are slow as he puts it on, as Charles fades with a scream. Now it's just him and Shaw, as Erik pushes the coin inside the fucker's skull.

It's all done. He took his revenge, he's free. And with his helmet, he's free from everyone.

Italian: Non potrà colpirti più niente

English: Nothing will hurt you again

~~~~~

Taglist: @lucywrites02 @electroma89 @wrenhyperfixates @rorybutnotgilmore @hybrid-in-progress @weirdfangirl2416 @darkacademicfrom2021 @nicoistrying @twhiddlestonsstuff @kozkalovesloki @thewindandthewolves @gaitwae @leucoratia

#lucreatives02 #xmen fic #cherik fic #xmen fanfiction #xmen first class #cherik fanfic #xmen fanfic #implied smut #trauma tw #tw smoking #mention of alcohol #tw antisemitism #tw language #canon typical violence #angst #no beta we get sucked into turbohell like men #no beta we saunter vaguely downwards like crowley #no beta we go to superhell like gay angels #no beta this is war

[stubz]

I started listening to Epic the musical, the one about the trojan horse and 20 year journey and battle. And one of the songs, The Horse and the Infant, gave me an idea. it’s a bit long by the way and there are some changes to canon which are explained at the end.

dialogue in italics are lyrics from song

********

Jushtin was not a fighter, he was a mathematician, a celebrity, and someone  who was far out of their comfort zone. Solaria should be here, she should be the one rallying the troops, leading the charge...but alas she was not. And it’s because of them that she was not here. Its because of them that he must act as temporal ruler until Festivia is old enough. Its because of them that his grandniece will have no mother nor father. Its because of those vile and despicable monsters that his sister and niece are dead.

So here he is. Giving out orders to a plan that he very much did not make, simply acting out the role the Magic High Commission gave him. 

The attack goes well. Though he is not a fighter he can still hold his own long enough for Hekapoo or Rhombulus to come aid him. So when a monster the size of the house comes to attack him, he looks for them to aid him once again. But they don’t. They don’t even see her! And how could they not?! She was far larger than most monsters, with bright white hair, glowing green eyes, and clover marks on her cheeks. She strikes...but passes right through him.

Gasping for breath he falls to the ground.

“Who was that?” he murmurs, wondering what kind of monster has markings like those of the Butterfly family.

“A vision of what is to come, can not be outrun, can only be dealt with right here and now” he turns and sees Omnitraxus Prime, who confirms that he too saw the female monster.

“Tell me how.” he urges not wanting anymore harm to come to his family.

“I don’t think your ready,” the large being turns to leave for the battle but is blocked by the Butterfly.

“A mission to kill someone's daughter, a foe who won't run, unlike anyone you have faced before.”

“Say no more, I know that I'm ready” he is not but he will not let anyone harm his niece, his last living family.

“I don't think you're ready.” despite saying this he leads him inside the temple. They walk in silence until Jushtin realizes where they are. A nursery with a crib. He creeps towards it and nearly gasps at what he sees.

“It's just an infant, it's just a girl, what sort of imminent threat does she pose that I can not avoid?” its strange seeing a monster infant. She has fangs, claws, a tail, everything that those they fight outside have...and yet she smiles so sweetly at him. Reaching out, wanting to be held. So he does as she reminds him of his niece strangely.

“This is the daughter of none other than Darkness’s very own prince Globgor.”

“...what?” he catches himself loosening his hold on the babe, nearly dropping her.

“Are you really that surprised that a monster, that the Prince of Darkness, wouldn’t be a loyal gentleman to your niece?” without even turning he can see his mocking face

“Well I- not necessarily but...I mean...I had hoped with how she had...described him that he would the very bare minimum.” Eclipsa had spoken so fondly of Globgor. She had admitted his vices and evil deeds but insisted that he had changed, and still was. She voiced her love and devotion for him with the same passion and furiosity as Solaris when on the battlefield. While this didn’t make him trust or approve Globgor it had made him have some expectations of him. 

 Being faithful was one of them.

“Know that she will grow from a girl to an avenger. One fueled with rage as you're consumed by age. If you don't end her now you'll have no one left to save. You can say goodbye to Festivia, you can say goodbye to her.”

For a moment he does not say anything to the being. He thinks. He thinks because thinking is what he is good at. He’s good at solving problems, and this is a problem that he must solve. On one hand she is the daughter of the Prince of Darkness, Globgor, who would surely attack his family when she’s grown. But on the other hand...she’s just a wee babe, no older than Festivia. She shouldn’t have to pay for her father’s crimes.

“I could raise her as my own.” he could raise her as a lady, kind, gentle, caring-

“She will burn your house and throne” he thinks back to her father wrecking havoc on the Spiderbite lands

“Or send her far away from home” there are countless dimensions, surely he could send her to the farthest one

“She'll find you wherever you go” just like her father who found Shastacan

“Make sure her past is never known” he will find a spell to mask her features, destroy all records of her existence, destroy her home even

“The gods will make it known” He knows what the counsel member is going to tell him. To do something even his sister would not do

“You wouldn’t even need to be present. Simply give her to me and let the Magic High Commission deal with her.”

“I'd rather bleed for ya, down on my knees for ya” he cradles the babe to his chest as he does so. Hoping that if he, prince Jushtin of Mewni, brother of the late Solaris, nephew of Queen Eclipsa, begs for the infant’s life that maybe, just maybe she shall live a life outside of a crystal.

“She's bringing you down on your knees for ya” disgust and contempt cover his would be savior’s face. Of course he would be disgusted. A Butterfly begging for the life of the daughter of Globgor? He should be hanged for treason. 

But to crystalize a child, one who hasn’t even taken her first steps...he could never look at his grandniece again if he were to allow this.  “I'm begging you...please...” “...whatever happens next is on your head Boy-Queen. Go. And make sure you cover her less you want to be beheaded by your own army.”

“Thank you, I promise on my sister’s name that no one shall ever find her nor shall she ever learn of who she is.”

He watches the fool leave the nursery, devil spawn still cradled in his arms, covered by his cape.

...he shall have Rhombulus crystalize the scouts who swore that she was not here. Why did the Prince of Darkness’s one good trait be his love for his family? And why did the Boy-Queen have to share that trait?

*****

so for this drabble there are some changes to canon and by changes I mean me creating the order of when each event took place with some tweaks to the actual canon. Like the lie that Eclipsa and Shastacan where eaten by monsters was told to everyone. Including Jushtin who is Eclipsa’s uncle.

So Eclipsa was crystalized and soon after the swap happened. Before the MHC could think of a lie to tell Jushtin of what happened, Globgor finds out what's happened, eats Shastacan and takes back Meteora. So MHC tell Jushtin this with the added lie that Eclipsa too died. Jushtin meets his “niece” Festivia and swears to protect and leads the attack when they find the monster temple. what happens next is shown in the drabble. It’s after the drabble that Jushtin arranges for Meteora to be “adopted” by St. Olga who is later informed by the MHC what’s really happening

#you should really listen to the song #I don't own the song or lyrics or nothing #svtfoe #svtfoe globgor #svtfoe meteora #svtfoe jushtin #svtfoe festivia #svtfoe eclipsa #butterfly family #drabble #epic: the troy saga #no beta this is war

[clouds-in-the-ground]

Coffee Shop AU 1

I need some work with prompts so I'm going to be working my way through these coffee shop AUs by @writingraven

➵ ‘oh my gosh we close soon and this person won’t leave’ // ‘oh my gosh they close soon and I don’t know how to ask for their number’

Barista glanced up from the table they had been wiping down, eyes flitting to the customer that had been sitting there since about 5 minutes after Barista had started their shift at noon. They shook their head and looked back down at the stain they had been scrubbing for the past couple of minutes, taking out the frustration that was internally directed at that frustratingly sweet customer that had not understood any of Barista's subtle attempts to make them leave. This specific customer had been in the café a couple of times before, never anything memorable. They usually just place their order, and then grab their coffee and leave quickly, but that was obviously not the case today.

So far, they had ordered at least 5 different coffees, and a countless number of pastries, seemingly so that they wouldn’t violate the company’s no loitering rule. The customer had nothing to keep them entertained, they just kept nervously wringing their hands and glancing around. Barista would have called the cops at this point if, during their few interactions, the customer hadn’t radiated a single harmful bone in their body.

Barista shook their head, and glanced at their watch, only 3 minutes left until closing, they had to get this customer out of here. They walked back over to the main counter to drop off their cleaning supplies before they took a deep breath and walked back over to the customer’s table.

As Barista approached the table, they cleared their throat to announce their presence to Customer. Customer looked up, blush creeping up on their cheeks as they noticed who had walked up to their table. “I’m sorry,” Barista began, “But we close in three minutes, so I really do need you to leave now.” Customer stared at Barista, almost in shock, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” they started, “I hadn’t realized how late it was, I’ll get out of your hair now.” After that, Customer sighed and stood up to start walking out the door. As they slowly walked away, Barista began to turn back to the counter before hesitating, looking back at Customers retreating figure.

“Hey, are you okay, like is everything alright at home?” They asked Customer, “It’s just, you’ve been here for almost seven hours now, do you need somewhere to stay?”

Customer stood in shock, staring at Barista, which made them start to worry. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, and honestly I probably just assumed something totally out of range, it’s just you’ve been here all day staring at me and I know that if I ignored someone who needed help my conscience would never forgive me, not to mention you are kind of cute so then I would always be that one barista who ignored the cute customer who needed help and then—”

“Can I have your number?”

Both Barista and Customer were frozen, staring at each other from other sides of the café holding their breaths, neither wanting to break the silence. Barista’s jaw dropped, the slight movement knocking Customer out of their trance.

“I’m such an idiot, it’s just, I’ve been here a couple of times, and we actually have a class together, Econ 102, and I’ve just been staring at you from afar, but then I lost a bet to my roommate which led to me having to ask you for your number by the end of the day”

As Customer continued rambling on Barista slowly started inching toward their companion.

“I couldn’t chicken out and leave, but then I just ended up sitting in this café awkwardly all day, and then it just got weird, so I was about to leave, but your rambling just makes me so damn soft I had to ask.”

“So…” they continued,

“Can I have your number?”

Post that this prompt is from :))

Creator of prompt :))) (@writingraven)

Songs that played while I wrote (some of them inspired parts of this, others just happened to play):

Title – Singer (Album)

Meant to be Yours – Jamie Muscato (Heathers the Musical – Original West End Cast)

Tell Me Why (Taylors Version) – Taylor Swift (Fearless (Taylor’s Version))

Be Gay, Do Drugs, Hail Satan – Super Cassette (Be Gay, Do Drugs, Hail Satan)

Love Of My Life – Harry Styles (Harry’s House)

Confident – Demi Lovato (Confident)

About Damn Time – Lizzo (About Damn Time)

Meticulous Bird – Thao, Thao & The Get Down Stay Down (A Man Alive)

She – Harry Styles (Fine Line)

SOS – Pierce Brosnan, Meryl Streep (Mamma Mia! The Movie Soundtrack)

Wildflower – 5 Seconds of Summer (CALM)

#writing #au #coffee #coffee shop #coffee shop au #writers of tumblr #writers of ao3 #write #writers #no beta this is war #ill edit if i wake up

[aburningconstellation]

i’m gonna go absolutely feral when i find the first “they didn’t think to build a brig on the eye of sion so sabine has to stay in shin’s quarters & there’s only one bed” fic on ao3

#i will simply write it myself if i have to but it will take a million years because i’m the slowest writer ever #but i will gladly beta for anyone else who wants to take a stab at it first hahah #THEY WERE LITERALLY HOLDING HANDS #sabine x shin #sabine #sabine wren #shin hati #wolfwren #ahsoka #ahsoka series #ahsoka show #star wars ahsoka spoilers #star wars #ahsoka spoilers #ahsoka series spoilers #ahsoka show spoilers #one bed trope #star wars fan fiction

[nightlychaotic]

Fallen Angel

TW: Major Character Death, Onscreen Death, Death via Fall

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

The air was uncomfortably still as he ran, the only breeze coming from him pushing himself to move as fast as he could without missing anything that could potentially lead him to where she went. 

Everything was taking too long.

Every step a second too long. Each leap from rooftop to rooftop an ever stretching moment.

The voices in his ear a steady reminder of how fast time was passing.

Robin had half a mind to rip the comm unit from his ear as he searched. The incessant chattering of Oracle and the rest of his family as they searched for her, spread across Gotham, on rooftops, in the sewers, on the street. Working it in precise gridlike methods. 

They didn’t seem to feel the frantic urgency he did.

He came to a stop. Eyes scanning over the rooftops for anything. Any sign of her. Any sign of the League, the Court, anybody. Anywhere they could have taken her.

A small flash of light in his periphery drew his attention.

He turned, quickly scanning for where it came from, blood freezing as he saw someone- Marinette- get thrown off the roof.

—----------------------------

The two of them had barely managed to make it three blocks from the Le Grand Paris, before a thin rope managed to wrap around both of them. Tightening and pulling them up, so they were hanging upside down. 

“Don’t bother trying to cut through the string. You won’t get anywhere,” a bright voice chimed.

As the duo slowly spinned around, Robin caught sight of the two Parisian heroes they'd come to talk to.

“Ladybug. Chat Noir.”

“Batman and Robin. To what do we owe the pleasure?” She asked, recalling her yo-yo, leaving the two vigilantes to catch themselves.

“Your situation has recently come to our attention. We came to offer you our assistance. Training, help, mentorship, and back up.”

“We don’t need your help. Thank you. But we’d prefer you stay out of Paris. Any of the Justice League to stay out. We have it handled-”

“Tt. You’re two children fighting a battle you can’t win.”

“You did not just call us children when you can not possibly be any older than either of us.”

“Bugaboo, calm down.”

“We have been doing this for three years now, and he is calling us incompetent.”

“It’s not my fault you two are inferior to me.”

“Robin,” Batman warned.

“It’s been a long week,” Chat Noir apologized for her. “While we appreciate your offer of assistance, it is unneeded and unwanted.”

“Consider it at least. We’ll be in Paris for the next 24 hours. Commissioner Gordan at Gotham PD can also get a hold of us if you can’t.”

Ladybug gave a smile and nodded. “Thank you. We’ll keep it in mind. Safe Travels. Batman. Robin.”

Robin scowled as he watched her leave, flinging her yo-yo out and using it to pull her across the city, her partner following behind rooftop to rooftop.

—----------------------------

He shot his grapple as he extended the line as far as it could go as he launched himself into the air, falling fast before the line when taught, pulling him towards her. 

He strained reaching, stretching, extending his arm as far as he could. Desperate. She reached out for him with a soft smile, fingertips brushing just barely as he swung.

No.

Nononono.

No.

Everything seemed to freeze around him as her smile turned bittersweet, drawing her hand back in, accepting her fate.

He hung, suspended in the air by his grapple as he watched her descent. It was almost beautiful. The way the colors painted themselves in an ever shifting pattern, dancing across her arms

She looked like an angel.

An angel without her wings.

She seemed to glow against the city lights, colors streaming by, trailing behind as she fell, before vanishing, a harsh white light left to illuminate where she lay.

—----------------------------

The soft zip of her yo-yo spinning, deflecting his birdarang, as she spun, coming to face him.

“Robin.”

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I live here now. And before you say anything I had a nice chat with Batman last night. Gotham needs some good luck. We both decided that it’s best if I work my magic here.”

“And he gave you free reign?”

“I don’t plan on being babysat for my time in Gotham. Right now I’m just getting the lay of the land. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like. Since you don’t seem too keen on letting me go on my own.”

“Tt. I will.”

“I hope you can keep up,” she said before throwing her yo-yo, pulling herself up and over the Gotham skyline, Robin trailing close behind.

—-

Damian barely glanced up as the door opened, he noted the unfamiliar face coming in, before turning back to his painting. A soft, hurried conversation happening at the front of the classroom, before soft footsteps hurried across the room, slowing down at his table.

“Hi. I’m Marinette.”

He glanced over, not expecting the cheerful smile directed at him as she pulled out her sketchbook and pencils, flipping open to a new page. Catching glimpses of her sketches flipping by, mainly clothing designs. He would admit they were good.

“Damian.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Tt.”

—----------------------------

It was cruel how beautiful she looked, hair splayed out, a dark halo framing her as she lay against concrete, silent tears falling from her eyes as she looked up at him. 

"Why? Why didn't you transform? Why didn't you catch yourself?" he demanded as he knelt next to her, brushing a stray strand out of her face.

"I couldn't. They took Tikki."

She coughed weakly looking up at him. 

"Damian-"

"Shhh. It'll be alright. You'll be fine. It's okay, Marinette."

She shook her head giving him a pained smile. "We both know that's a lie."

"Mari-"

“Damian," her breath was shaky as she winced in pain. "I love you, Damian. I want you to know that."

He swallowed, ignoring the stinging behind his eyes as he tried to say something, anything, in reply , but she continued before he could find the words.

"I- Marinette Dupain-Cheng, hereby relinquish the Miracle Box and name- Damian al Ghul the new Guardian.” 

"No!"

The bright light that flashed as she said that was blinding, the tears finally beginning to flow as he held her.

—----------------------------

“No. Nonono. Merde,” she cursed under her breath glancing around.

“What?”

“I’m about to transform back.”

“Can you make it to the top of Wayne Tower in time?”

“I should.”

“You’ll be fine to detransform there. I’ll cover you. Go.”

“You sure you’ll be fine?”

“Tt. Of course. Now go.”

She threw her yo-yo one last time, nailing one of the thugs in the head, knocking them out before throwing it once more, pulling her up as she swung through and pulled herself up and over, disappearing over the lip of the Tower.

Robin dealt with the rest of the thugs as fast as he could, tying them up and leaving them in the alley before grappling up to Wayne Towers. He landed, nearly silent as he landed, looking around, pausing at the sight of a familiar figure, sitting against the bulkhead as she dug around in her purse.

“Marinette?”

She stood, turning around with a soft yelp. Holding her purse close as she looked at him, before relaxing, making sure her purse was shut before letting it drop to her side.

“Robin.”

“You’re Ladybug.”

“You know me,” she narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied him, before giving a small smile, recognition clear in her eyes. “Damian?”

He didn’t say anything, turning away slightly as she continued.

“I should have figured it out before.”

“How?”

“The way you subtly hide injuries, for one. Another, you speak and act almost the same exact way.”

“Tt.”

“Like that.”

He huffed, eliciting a bright laugh from her.

“Does this mean we can be friends on both sides of the mask now?” she asked.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“We should get back to patrol.”

“Let’s go then,” she replied, smiling before she moved, running towards the edge of the roof.

He lunged after her, catching her wrist as she passed him, pulling her to a stop.

“Are you insane?” he hissed. She simply laughed, yanking her hand free from his grip.

“Not at all. Trust me,” she backed away before he could stop her, sending herself off over the edge before calling her transformation, swinging away in a bright light, leaving him to catch up.

—----------------------------

"Marinette, why?"

The look she gave him felt like a burning knife to the heart. Pain. Confusion. Fear. Her eyes searching for anything she could recognize as he held her.

"What-" she cut off as a round of coughs wracked her body. "What happened? Who are you?"

"You fell. You fell but you'll be okay. I promise. I'll make sure of it."

“I- I can’t feel my legs. Why can’t I feel them? I- I- i-” Panic leaked into her voice as her breath stuttered. Her heartbeat raced, skipping and jumping as she started hyperventilating.

“Breathe with me,” he said, trying to take deep slow breaths, pressing her hand to his heart. The two sat there in silence like that for a minute as he tried to get her breathing to slow. Hyperventilating would only make things worse. Shock. She was going to shock. No nonono.

"Thank you," she muttered, between stilted breaths.

"Rest, It'll be better when you wake up. Just close your eyes.:

Her breath rattled as she nodded, eyes drifting shut. Her heartbeat growing weaker as he held her.

In. Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Weaker each time. Slower. Shallow.

In. 

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Nothing.

She was gone.

He felt it the moment her pulse stopped, the way her body relaxed, the rhythm of her heart coming to an end.

The sob that tore itself from his throat, the capstone on her life.

—----------------------------

"Are you sure it's okay for us to be on here outside of class?"

"Of course. I often spend my free time outside of class here. Mrs. Dellebar has never had anything to say against the matter," he reassured her. 

"If that's the case, I'll grab my watercolors."

He nodded, heading up to their table while Marinette grabbed a clean cup to fill with water before joining him. 

The two worked in a comfortable silence,  content with the others company, for an long while before Marinette placed her brush down, giving the paint time to dry before laying on shadows and highlights.

She slid her stool closer, watching him work for a few minutes before finally speaking up.

"Is that me?"

He stopped at her sudden question, putting his paintbrush down as he took a quick breath to collect himself before looking at her. 

The tips of their noses nearly brushed against each other as they turned towards the other. 

Time seemed to freeze as neither one of them moved. A faint blush colored her cheeks as his heart raced.

“Dami-”

“I will see you tomorrow, Marinette,” he said, quickly standing up, turning away to hide how red his face felt.

He didn’t look back as he left the room, closing the door behind him before finally feeling as if he could breathe again. He leaned back, sliding down the door slightly as he ran a hand through his hair.

That was…. new. He was unaware when he had gained such feelings for Marinette. Surprised at how flustered he felt by that small interaction, kicking himself for running. 

“Tt,” he scoffed at himself as he picked himself up. He may have blown it today but tomorrow was a different matter. He would remedy his mistakes then.

—----------------------------

Tomorrow never came.

—----------------------------

"-obin? Robin what's happening?"

"She's gone," he said, voice threatening to crack. “She's gone, and I didn't tell her that I loved her."

He recognized the sudden clamor of voices, plans and tasks being made and assigned but he wasn't listening. It was all static. A loud ringing in his ears drowning out everything around him. Time felt like it was moving through water. Slow and heavy. Pushing against him. Barely keeping from overflowing and coming crashing around him. It felt like the breath of anticipation right before the surface tension broke.

And broke it did.

The world that had shrunk down to just encompass him and her suddenly expanded, filling with the ever present sirens and city noises from blocks over. Not near them. No. They were in a construction zone. They wouldn’t be here, he noted in the back of his mind.

He barely registered whose arms were wrapped around him, gently pulling him away from her. Their grip tightening as he fought against them, pulling and twisting as tears fell, blurring the world around him into bright color and hazy images.

"Robin. D. Damian, shhh. It hurts. I know it does. It's okay, let it out."

He could barely make out the words Richard was telling him, soft reassurances and comforts as he held him.

He wanted to scream. It wasn't okay. How could it be? Richard didn't know. He didn't know his pain. How could he? He could only guess from his own experience. He didn’t know. 

“Come on, just a short walk. A step away. Just to the end of the block and back. Just for a moment. Please,” Richard’s pleading voice broke through his thoughts. Damian shook his head, wrenching himself from the embrace.

“I’m not leaving her. Not unless it is to find who did this.”

“B and Hood are already going after them. Spoiler and Black Bat should be joining them soon. And Red's coming with the Batmobile so we can take her home. He should be here any minute. Just to the corner there. We won’t go far. She’ll be right there when we get back."

He relented, letting Richard guide him away reluctantly as a wave of heaviness seemed to finally sink in. Weariness hitting him. Grief and guilt etching themselves in his bones, as he spoke.

“I was so close,” he whispered.

“What?”

“I was so close. We touched. I was just too slow.”

“Damian-”

“If I hadn’t stood there trying to locate where she was exactly- If I had moved sooner- Left sooner- She was right there- I almost caught her- I-” his words caught in his throat as his mind raced, going over every little detail of the day. If he’d moved in the direction of the light instead of looking for it. If he’d left to look for her just a minute sooner. If he’d never left her alone in the art room.

It was his fault.

If he’d just done one tiny thing different she’d still be there.

It was all his fault

She was gone and it was all his fault.

“Don’t say that?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it isn’t true. You did the best you could. That’s all you could have done.”

No. He could have done something different. Made a different choice. Not hesitated.

“It wasn’t good enough.”

“Yes. It was,” he said softly. “Damian. Don’t beat yourself up over her death. It’s not your fault.”

“Tt.”

“Damian-”

“You won’t sway me, Richard.”

His brother gave a soft sigh, tucking Damian under his arm in a small embrace. Like he was trying to protect him from the world. Far too late.

“I know I won’t. But it kills me seeing you like this.”

Damian didn’t say anything, simply turning back, Richard turning with him and began the short trek back. The Batmobile was waiting for them when they got there. Red Robin, leaning against its side as he waited for the pair.

“Hey,” Red Robin greeted the two of them, the one word was soft, heavy, bearing some of the weight of the event. “So, where is she?”

Damian’s blood ran cold at the question.

“What do you mean, ‘where is she’?” Richard asked as he pulled away from the side hug, darting to the other side of the Batmobile, the quick words flying back and forth between his brothers quickly disappearing, a deafening silence wrapping itself around him.

The sidewalk was empty.

The only sign of where she’d lain were the almost dry spots where his tears had landed.

Richard had promised she would be right there.

Another mistake of his.

He never should have left her. Not at the art studio, not at Richard’s pleading.

It was his fault.

She was gone.

He’d lost her again.

He hadn’t even finished saying goodbye.

The tears that fell were fast and hot and overwhelming as everything felt like too much. Pushing, shoving, forcing him down with the unbearable weight. Everything he’d done had been wrong. Every choice, every moment, every move. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

He crumpled, gently laying a hand where she had been, squeezing his eyes shut.

‘I’m sorry, Marinette. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I should have been there. I should have been here. I love you. And I’m sorry I never told you. I will find who did this to you. I will get Tikki back for you. I will find you and give you the final rest you deserve.

I will make up for my failures.

I am sorry I was too late.

I will right my wrongs.

If only you were still here to see it.

I will make those who did this pay.

I’m sorry, Love.

I will fix this.

All of it.’

She was gone.

It was all his fault.

She was gone.

And he would fix everything.

#Maribat #Daminette #MGI Bracket War 2022 #Round 3 #No Beta this is War #I somehow managed to win #everyone did such a good job #major character death

[lightasthesun]

Imagine surviving the war only to lose most of the people closest to you.

The Woman that once upon a time held your heart in her hands.

The Girl that you loved like a daughter and whose death would ultimately lead to you losing your only brother.

•

In this universe, the river of time flows differently. Each step, each choice, and each poignant moment in its stream drift slightly off course.

It starts like this:

When Ahsoka and Bo-Katan ask the Jedi Order for aid in freeing Mandalore from Darth Maul's grasp and finally putting an end to the former Sith's reign, Obi-Wan does not ignore their call for help. Satine's ghost still haunts his nightmares, and it's the look on her sister's face, along with the redheads snarling accusations and Ahsoka's distant demeanor, that cause his typically composed exterior to splinter.

Through the cracks in his shields, a presence slips in – wild and tumultuous, yet practically radiant in its brilliance.

Days, months, weeks and even years later Obi-Wan will wish he'd taken a little longer to cradle her presence close.

It ends like this:

Anakin with Windu on the Invisible Hand. A incapacitated Sith in custody and another, more vile, more cunning, more sinister, choosing the wrong moment to reveal himself. A twist of fate. A long lost friend showing signs of old loyalty. Lightning. Screams. Hurt and Betrayal. The Chosen One as he was meant to be without terrors of the night influencing his most damning decision. Red clashing with purple, with blue. Red, blue, purple, blue, red, purple— A head rolls. The cackling stops.

For a moment, Peace.

A bond, frail at the edges but oh so resilient, crafted amidst blaster fire and silly nicknames and bets made on the battlefield, breaks—

Anakin screams.

•

On Mandalore the last chess piece falls with a Padawans last sacrifice.

First, Maul taunts. Maul laughs. Maul feeds on rage, on grief and hurt and terror, terror, terror. He's stronger here. Less controlled too, but while his greed costs him his head, his strength costs Obi-Wan the centerpiece of his lineage.

Obi-Wan holds his daughter as she bleeds out in his arms. His shoulders shake but he does not cry. His eyes burn but he does not weep. His lips twitch but he does not sob. He holds Ahsoka much the same way he held Satine only months before.

“No, not you too.”

Something flickers inside his mind, once, twice. It grows ever dimmer and Ahsoka's grip on his shoulder, ever weaker. A feeble voice inside his mind, It's okay. It doesn't hurt. I'll be okay, Master.

But this time no reassurance, no hand to his cheek, no last confession, nothing, will temper the anger slowly rising in tandem with his grief. He needs a medic. He needs a medic, now. Where's —

Cody!

Obi-Wan doesn't like the expression on the face of his slowly approaching Commander. The furrow of his brow, the emotion in his eyes. He doesn't like that Cody has taken off his helmet and reaches out to hold Obi-Wan by his shoulder as if he knows Obi-Wan needs the physical support, as if Ahsoka is going to —

“Master—”

Obi-Wan turns his eyes back on his Grandpadawan. Hers are barely open, her lips smeared with blood. Obi-Wans eyes catch on the red trailing down her chin and the length of her throat.

Ahsoka catches his eyes and smiles. She tugs on their bond the way she had always done before a battle, up until her last assignment on Caito Neimodia.

She tugs once, twice, three times. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest. He tugs back three times.

He does cry then. For the life she will never have. For the peace she will never experience. For the war she fought and whose final victory she will never reap. For the girl he learned to love as his own.

And even in her last moment, even in pain, even after Hurt and Miscommunication, and Betrayal born out of insecurity and misjudgment, she still worries for others first. For him.

You're safe. You're all sa—

He shushes her. Tired amusement tingles across their bond.

Then,

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

You are forgiven, Obi-Wan.

Exhale. The light winks out and as their bond shatters his last remaining one pulls tight with white hot agony.

Cody is all that keeps Obi-Wan upright right then and there.

•

The war is over. They won. So many dead. His lineage torn asunder.

Ahsoka is dead. Anakin won't speak to him. Qui-Gon is dead. Dooku is imprisoned.

Here the river of time finds a stream parallel to the one we know.

Obi-Wan and Yoda at the end of things.

#obi wan kenobi #codywan #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #commander cody #idk what came over me #no betaed obvsl #i wrote this just now #it was meant to be a prompt for someone else welp #couldn't let go of it but hey if somebody wants to write the entire thing you're welcome to #just mention where you got the idea lol #writing #the clone wars #tw death #death fic #my writing #text post

[elevenharbor]

midnight bribe, moonlight bride

1. Sesshōmaru

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … .

Five.

Four.

Three.

I began to count down the seconds in my head as the sound of high heels clicking against the marble floors became louder with each step.

Two.

One.

The double doors to my study burst open suddenly, as if on cue. At the center of the threshold stood my mother, a disapproving look on her face. If looks could kill, my mother’s glare would have massacred, which almost made me flinch. Almost.

“Sesshōmaru Taisho,” she began, her talon-sharp nails tapping steadily against the heavy wooden doors.

I glanced up from the book I was reading, annoyed at being interrupted for something so asinine as this. It was the same argument each week. If it didn’t start with the topic of marriage, it would almost always end with it. “Hello, mother. To what do I owe this visit?”

My answer came in the form of a magazine being hurled at me. Reflexively, I caught it before it made contact with my face. Unfurling the tabloid, it didn’t take long for me to scan it; big, white letters were superimposed on a badly photoshopped photo of me with four scantily dressed women gracing the front page. It wasn’t hard to miss.

“’ Billionaire Bachelor on the prowl: KML exec Sesshōmaru Taisho spotted at a nightclub with a harem of blondes!’ Huh.” I read out loud. “Interesting. I do not fancy blondes.”

“Stop gallivanting around town like a rabid dog on heat!” She scolded, as if I had been caught stealing from the cookie jar. “It’s time for you to end this charade and settle down.”

“You test my patience with this trivial matter, mother,” I replied, venom laced in my tone, warning her to drop the subject. “I am simply not ready for matrimony.”

“You? Not ready? You are nearing forty!” My mother retorted, crossing her arms as she entered my study without permission. “I need to retire soon.”

Dressed in her customary black pencil skirt, pristine white blazer, and black Christian Louboutin stiletto pumps, my mother was the epitome of class, her appearance never giving away her chronological age. She was a trailblazer in the fashion industry and has been for the past few decades, even though her line of work was far from it. She was a venture capitalist, through and through. An alumna of Harvard and Wharton Business School with distinction, Kimi Taisho was a tycoon in every sense, ever since she learned how to balance operating budgets at age thirteen and established her company, KML Enterprise, at nineteen.

Unfortunately, much of my childhood, my formative years, and my adulthood mimicked hers, with little wiggle room. She made sure of it.

She was relentless in everything she set her mind to, which contributed to her success. She was a driven woman with steel focus when she set her mind on something. Right now, however, her focus was solely on marrying her eldest son off as soon as yesterday. It’s all she ever talked about, as of late.

“I am not suited for married life, mother.” I still reasoned, despite knowing it fell on deaf ears.

“Nonsense! Your father and I married when I was twenty. I had you at twenty-three. You are almost twice my age when I gave birth, and yet you still choose to play games.”

“I am thirty-three. Unless you forget how to count, that is nowhere near forty, or forty-six.” I corrected, trying to keep my cool and not lose control. I folded my glasses and placed them on top of the now-abandoned book. “No one is holding you back from resigning. I am perfectly capable of taking over the company in your stead.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed, walking over until she hovered above me. “You know my condition. You want the company? Then get married. Stop making me, and our family, look terrible. It’s bad press.”

“Quite frankly, I do not care.”

“Sesshōmaru—“

Balling my fists in anger, I stood up and glared down at the woman who birthed me, towering over her by a good six inches. “I have established myself as the CEO of KML Enterprise since I received my master’s degree from Wharton, just as you requested. I have spearheaded the rapid growth of our international branch, which has elevated your status and influence to greater heights. I get weekly offers to merge with our competitors, who are clearly being left in the dust and want a slice of the pie that you currently hold.”

I was ignited, and I couldn’t stop. “So tell me again, mother. How do I make our family look bad?”

Arguing with her was causing my migraine to bloom. I needed to get away from her. Fast.

“This conversation is done,” I said sternly, getting up from my seat and grabbing my jacket from the coat rack. I quickly patted my breast pocket, ensuring that I still had my medication with me, just in case.

“This conversation is over when I say it’s over,” she barked at my retreating form. “Take one more step, and I am taking away your car!”

“I own my car. Same goes for this house that you are currently trespassing on.” I spat back, turning around so she could see just how unaffected I was, or at least I thought.

“Say that again.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Your threats are meaningless. It might work on my brother, but it bears no consequence for me.”

“At least your brother has the sense to listen to me,” she replied cooly, studying her red lacquered nails. “Perhaps I should take more than your petty house and your cheap car. You know as well as I do that I get what I want.” A devilish smile formed across cherry-painted lips. “I have my ways, Sesshomaru. Do not cross me.”

The room was deathly silent as I contemplated her counter-threat. I knew she had the capability to strip me of my position and my shares in the company, regardless of whether the board of directors agreed or not. I have seen her do this to a fellow board member with no remorse or recourse. I may be her son by blood, but I didn’t want to risk finding out if familial ties held any weight when it came to protecting her business, just to prove a point.

Hardening my gaze, I finally relented. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll get married.”

“That’s my boy,” my mother cooed sweetly, her ire gone in an instant. It was disturbing how easily she flipped, like a switch. “See? That wasn’t so hard!”

I wasn’t convinced. “But I need a year. And I’m doing this on my terms. With who I want.”

“Fine, but I get the final say,” my mother countered. “She better meet my standards, otherwise you will marry who I choose for you, on my terms.”

Leave it to her to throw my offer back in my face and set terms. Of course, there would be conditions. Kimi Taisho did not embark on any deals, personal or otherwise, unless there were conditions—mostly to her benefit. It’s how she operated and how she maneuvered the cut-throat business world with such finesse.

She was an assassin with her tongue. Every word held weight.

“One year, Sesshōmaru. Starting today, and not a day more. Do not disappoint me.” She hammered once more before turning her heel and walking away, ascending the stairs and disappearing from my sight altogether.

As soon as the sound of her clicking heels faded, I released a long sigh that I didn’t realize I had been holding.

Contrary to what my mother believed, I’ve wracked my brain on how to go about this whole marriage fiasco more times than I would like to admit. Though I have had my share of dating women, none of them had met my standards, regardless of their social status. They were either after my money or my looks, and I found them all to be a bore even after bedding them. In my defense, they threw themselves at me, despite my best efforts to thwart their advances. I’m no fool, however. I’m a man with carnal needs, after all.

I had even explored the idea of paying someone I’d contractually hire to be my pretend partner, but after careful consideration and going through each scenario, I decided it was more trouble than what it was worth. I didn’t know how I could fool my mother, who had a keen eye for discerning deception from the truth. I also didn’t want to put myself in a position to be further ridiculed by her, or anyone else, if word got out.

My list of options was dwindling, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet. Not that I believed in marriage as a sacred thing or marrying for love, but above all, I’ve been rebelling for as long as I have to keep my freedom. Marriage was a hindrance, and it signified the end of my life when I commit myself to another person for the rest of my waking days.

As my mother reminded me earlier and on numerous past arguments, she and my father wed when they were barely adults. Whether their marriage was out of convenience or commitment, or maybe even love, their so-called marriage still failed in the end. My father had conceived my brother with another woman out of wedlock. My mother ended up adopting my half-brother, in part due to my father repenting for his mistakes and how his mistress had died shortly after childbirth, leaving the child mother-less at such a young age.

However, all that groveling was for naught since my father died in a car accident not long after— leaving my mother widowed with a newly adopted toddler and a school-aged, tantrum-prone child.

I was resentful at first, but as my brother and I grew up, both suffering under our mother’s totalitarian ways, we bonded over our shared misery. My mother never re-married, instead choosing to raise us with the help of countless nannies. Sheltered for most of my life until college, I only had my parents’ shining example to go by. Clutching my head, I felt like I was floating as the migraine cascaded down in full force. I was thinking too much again, and not in a good way. Immediately seizing the bottle from my breast pocket, I swallowed the pill dry, hoping the medication would take effect before I was left incapacitated.

“I need to relax,” I said to no one, as I pulled out my phone and dialed my assistant’s number to fetch me. Perhaps driving during rush hour with a jackhammer pounding my skull wasn’t the greatest idea...nor was operating any machinery in the next hour, driving a car included, since I had taken my medication not even five minutes ago. I was sure it would hinder not just my hand-eye coordination, but my level of consciousness as well.

“Sesshōmaru-sama!” My assistant squawked eagerly on the other line. “How can I be of service to you at this hour?”

“Drop the honorifics, Jaken. Take me to Yura’s. Call them for a walk-in appointment on your way to me.” I commanded in rapid succession. It was getting harder to think and speak coherently. “Book Kagome specifically. No one else.”

“It shall be done. I take it Mrs. Taisho paid you a visit?”

“Not now, Jaken.” I didn’t intend to sound blunt, but right now was really not the time for small talk. I needed to get to Yura’s first and get my ‘unconventional’ treatment to keep this blasted migraine at bay.

“I will be there in thirty minutes,” I heard Jaken say before I hung up. I closed my eyes and willed the headache to go away, at least until Kagome performed her magic or whatever she did as she massaged my head and pulled at my strands. It was the only thing that halted my perseverating thoughts, relaxing me altogether. Her conversations were not unpleasant either, and as my migraines increased in frequency, I found myself becoming a regular patron.

Although I couldn’t see her features due to her face mask and head covering, her expressive blue eyes told me enough. She was a keen listener, and she did not ridicule me nor made me feel like I was going insane from the typical chaos that is my daily life. Over the past few months, I felt like she had been my confidante during our sessions, and she responded appropriately. I knew she was intelligent when she was able to keep up with the financial jargon that spewed out of my mouth after a long day at the office. She even made suggestions that made sense, some of which I had applied to one of my bidding meetings successfully, much to my delight.

I wondered what she would say if I brought up this whole marriage conundrum. Maybe she could offer a solution that I have yet to discover.

“Perhaps I should pay her instead of my therapist,” I said aloud to see if it sounded absurd. While Dr. Bokuseno was revered as the best in town, Kagome did a better job than that overpriced, old geezer. Unproductive therapy sessions aside, I still kept him because he was, technically, my legal drug dealer.

Taking the orange bottle out of my pocket once more, I looked inside and frowned. I only had three pills left. I’ve been taking them at a faster rate than usual.

Twirling the bottle between my thumb and forefinger, I grimaced at the three pills that rolled around. “Pathetic.”

I set a reminder on my phone to get another refill soon.

Glancing at the time, I groaned in frustration. Only five minutes had passed since I last spoke to Jaken.

I closed my eyes and meditated, but to no avail. Instead, I sat back down on my ottoman and grabbed the nearest thing within reach, which happened to be the tabloid of my scandalous rendezvous on the front page. Whoever wrote up this piece was going to be hearing from my lawyer in the morning.

Thirty minutes felt like thirty years. What was taking that toad so long?

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … .

prompts: Count, Patience, Control, Ignite, Embark, Float, Cast, List, Ascend, Begin/Halt

words: 2,363 (wtf..o_0)

#sesskag #eleven drabbles #sesskag ddn #drabble series #Sesshomaru x Kagome #modern au #WHAT IS THIS NOW #no beta this is war #fanfiction #midnight bribe moonlight bride

[scuffedclang]

#my beta necro #gw2 asura #gw2 #guild wars 2

[saber-slutt]

It Just Makes Sense (Cad Bane x F!reader) 18+

Hey gang! A fic with smut! Who cheered!

Anyways, 18+. I’ve decided that my whole blog will be 18+, so please block me if you’re a minor, thanks!

≽^•⩊•^≼ Warnings: Smut, m receiving (f receiving in next chapter), female reader, dirty talk, mating cycles, Cad Bane

≽^•⩊•^≼ Please leave criticism! I’ll take anything, I just want to improve at writing

Cad Bane liked to consider himself above the primal instincts that resided in the core of every being. He was a hunter, of course, but a sophisticated one. That’s why this time of year, in the weeks leading up to his mating period, he was rather irritable. Quick to snap at Todo, reserved towards you, and overall angrier. It sucked. For you, specifically. You had only known Bane for a few rotations. You met him as you held a lot of information on one of his bounties, and you helped him catch the guy (rather gleefully, too, that man had stolen many credits from you). Bane took some pity on you, as your life resembled a lot of his youth, and invited you to work aboard his ship for a while. Your smarts and beauty would surely come in handy in trapping and luring potential bounties. And it had. But maker, you were wishing you could go back in time and not take this job. Credits be damned. Looking at his beautiful face be damned. Bane was being a dick. And he was getting worse everyday.

You had sympathy at first. You knew Duros mating periods were rough. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not feel like yourself, and giving into something that wasn’t you, but still, somehow was. But right now, Bane was taking it too far. He acted as if you couldn’t do anything right. Ship maintenance, cleaning, cooking, it was all wrong to him. And he brutally vocalized his displeasure. Your patience was wearing thin. Just one more week, you thought as you bit back your tongue from his recent snap, (“I don’t know why ah’ took you aboard, you can’t even clean a damn window right!”) just one more week until he’ll be down for a week in a pheromone crazed episode. Then I’ll be free from him, and he’ll come back normal.

You sighed as you sat back in the copilots seat, hesitantly turning to Bane. “Listen, your mating period is coming soon. Do you have any plans? Where are we gonna stop and wait, while you, y’know?” you began.

“Shuddup. Ah don’t wanna talk bout it with you.”

“Come on, please? It’s getting close now. You’re not the only one this affects. I really know nothing, and I need to make some plans. Do you need help with arrangements?”

“Ah don’t need your damn help! Jus’ stay out of the way and stop bein’ an idiot,” he shouted, before stalking out of the cockpit to his quarters.

You turned to Todo, whispering, “Is he always this much of an asshole before his mating period?”

Loud footsteps charged back into the cockpit. Oops. Not whispering quietly enough. You couldn’t even react before long fingers wrapped around your throat and lifted you from the copilots chair to standing on your tip-toes.

You gasped, while he growled, “You have no idea what this is like. I’ve handled it for almost thirty years before you, and I will handle it after you. Unless you want me to fuck you for a week straight, I suggest you be silent and stay out of the way.”

You only stared back with wide eyes.

He dropped you back into the seat and stalked off again. You didn’t dare to breathe.

Four days had passed since that incident. You hadn’t spoken to him. You knew he would never force you into anything, but he had also never been physical with you. He had scared you, plain and simple. You sighed as you sat on your bed in your quarters, fiddling with a sweater you were knitting, feeling rather bored. One of your favorite pastimes was annoying Cad Bane. But now, you were confined to isolation. Worse yet, you still had no idea what his plans were to take care of his mating period. Which was a problem, considering it was three days away. He was also becoming antsy (sexually). You had never heard him take care of himself before; he once joked that jacking off requires more effort than just walking into the nearest bar and finding someone to suck him off. You had heard him a few times at night in the past week, groaning and growling through the walls. You felt a wetness between your thighs at the memory. Maker, you wished you could hear him groan and growl in your ear, hands wrapping around your thighs as he spread you wider, pounding into you at a merciless pace as you could only whimper-

“Hey, lil’ lady,” Cad Bane interrupted your thoughts, standing in your doorway. You jumped out of your skin. “There’s a brothel on Nar Shaddaa that caters to species mating periods. We’re going there soon. You can just lay low on the ship for the week.”

You didn’t say anything, a look of fear etched on your face. You prayed that he didn’t suspect what was just running through your mind. Hopefully, he would leave soon, before his olfactory organs could pick up on your pooling wetness.

He sat down on the edge of your bed.

Shit.

He raised his head to the air, eyes closing, and basking in the scent of the room for a moment. “Doll, you can’t do this so close to. . . it’s unfair.”

You stayed quiet and wide-eyed, truly not knowing what to say next.

“Ah’ could really go for a lil’ taste, right now.”

You sucked in a breath, “Bane.”

He moves closer, taking your face in his fingers and forcing you took look at him, “It’s takin’ everything in me not to jump you right now, and pin you down while I fuck you so hard you can’t stop screaming,” he growls, before backing off as quickly as he had started toward you, “Course, then I wouldn’t let you leave, and you’d be stuck with me for a week.”

You were breathing heavy now. Lust clouded eyes meeting Banes’ own. His self control was truly impeccable. Three days, give or take, before he would enter a pheromone-filled, sex-crazed episode, and he was restraining himself.

“I’m setting a course for Nar Shaddaa,” he growled, standing, leaving your room and slamming your door.

Maybe a few months earlier, you would’ve left it at that. But you had grown closer to Bane, and you trusted him. And truth was, you were worried about him. Unlike Cad Bane himself, you were open with your emotions, and you wanted him in good hands during what you knew was a difficult time for him (also, the prospect of him undressed and wrapped up with someone else send jealous pangs through you). You maybe, possibly, had a tiny, itsy-bitsy crush on the Duros. The moment you laid eyes on him, you were down bad. And spending a few months in close proximity with him did not alleviate these feelings. You decided that you would proposition him for his cycle. It just makes sense.

You walked nervously into the cockpit. Cad Bane was sitting straight as a board in the captains chair, staring out at the hyperspace blue illuminating the front windows.

“Cad,” you started, the name foreign on your tongue. You didn’t call him by his given name, out of an unspoken sort of respect, but now you needed to truly, truly, speak with him.

“Go to your room. Now.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Listen-“

“If ya stay here any longer I can’t be held responsible for what happens to ya. It’s here earlier than I thought,” he drawled. “I want ya to go to your room and lock the door. Don’t let me in no matter what I say. We won’t make it to Nar Shaddaa in time, because I’ll be fully under in a few hours.”

“And what? You’ll go through it alone?”

“Yep. Grab some food and water for the week.”

“Wait, just wait, what if I do it?” you questioned, a bit frantically.

He said nothing, scoffing at your hasty proposition.

“I’m serious! Everyone knows how bad Duros breeding cycles can be. If you don’t have someone, you’ll be in hell. I don’t want that,” you pouted.

Internally, Cad Bane didn’t want to argue. The image of you under him, face twisted up in pleasure and completely at his mercy was difficult to pass up. But it’s a lot to ask of someone. You’d be exhausted by the end of it, bruised and busted. He’d get to reap all the benefits from it; a week of pleasure with a pretty person. Not to mention the possibility you could get pregnant, which neither of you could handle. But still, you were offering, and he’d be in hell otherwise.

“You understand what that entails?” he queried.

“Yes, sir,” you spoke softly. He shifted.

“Still, der are some things you gotta be clear with.”

You were feeling brave now. “Okay, but, what if we take the edge off first? Before we go through the details” you questioned, eyes gesturing to the bulge in his pants. He straightened up again, silent as all hell but letting out a curt nod, signaling his approval.

You lowered yourself to your knees. He watched you intensely, but remained unmoving and stiff. Gingerly, you undid his fly and pulled him out, already hard. You looked up at him with doe eyes, before kitten-licking his tip. He shifted and lightly hissed at the contact, bucking slightly. You licked again, and again, gradually licking longer stripes, as Bane’s resolve dissipated.

He growled, “Put me in your mouth. Stop teasin’ me.”

You complied. You were unfamiliar with Duros anatomy. His cock was long and ridged, and almost indigo in color. Maker, was he long. You felt a gush of liquid between your thighs at the fact. Surely, you’d see the bulge in your stomach when he split you open.

You worked Bane’s cock like your life depended on it. You bobbed your head up and down, hollowing out your cheeks and applying slick pressure with your hands where you just couldn’t reach. Filthy, wet sounds filled the room as you occasionally let him hit the back of your throat, tears welling in your eyes. You let out a couple of whimpers, which based on the way he growled and bucked in return, he greatly appreciated.

“It’s gettin’ close doll,” he let out in a strained voice, “swallow all of it.”

You whimpered in response. Cad Bane’s self-control snapped. He grabbed the back of your head, fingers wrapped up in strands of your hair, and forcefully guided you up and down his cock, moving you so fast you didn’t have time to breathe. Tears fell from your eyes. With barely a grunt as warning, he came, spilling past your tongue and down your throat. He held your head on his cock and didn’t allow you to move, forcing you to drink every last drop, moaning before each time you swallowed. And maker, was there a lot of his cum, and you knew it would definitely spill out of you in the future. Finally, your mouth slid off Bane’s cock, a strand of spit connecting your lip to his to his tip. Panting, you look up at him. Expecting to see a sated Bane, instead you were met with an even more lustful stare. You felt heat rise in your cheeks.

“Not bad, lil’ lady,” he began. “But I’m still hoping for that taste I was talkin’ about earlier.”

#cad bane smut #cad bane #star wars #tawni chokes out some writing #mating #cad bane x reader #no beta we die like clones

[quarra]

Commander Fox deserves to kill Palpatine, as a treat.

So here is a fic all about Fox trying his best to stab a bitch... and finally reaching his goal :D

#my fic #commander fox #star wars #i cackled writing this #thank goodness for my betas who chilled in the doc with me while i slammed this out in 3h #the clone wars #crack treated seriously