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horseshoegirl · 3 months

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Set Me Alight - Part 3: You're So Vain

📜Back to our regularly scheduled broadcasting of these two in the present day, trying to 'not' kill each other. Maybe...

❗️+18, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character, Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, camping, injury, pranks, and angry/snarky Midge.

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Part 2 | Masterlist | Part 4

*Present Day*

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!"

Metal banging. Metal fucking banging. That was the noise you heard outside your tent as you woke up, groaning and hiding your face into your tiny pillow.

Somebody was clanging the ever-livin' shit out of a metal pot outside your tent. You had a pretty good feeling who, and it only made you reach for the edges of your sleeping bag to pull it tighter over your head.

Grace in the tent next to you whined out, "Somebody, please turn it off!"

"It's fucking six in the morning, Jake!" Bradley called out hoarsely from somewhere across the campsite.

The banging stopped, followed by Jake calling out, "We have to get a move on if we want to get a good campsite for tonight!"

It wasn't even past lunch, past breakfast, and he was more worried about where he was going to sleep tonight.

It's a hiking trip, not navigating the fucking airport.

You moaned, rolling onto your back and calling out, "Who made you the alarm cock?" before faking a loud cough and following up with, "Oops, I mean clock."

There was a pause. Then, all of a sudden, you could hear the sound of leaves being crunched under a pair of boots approaching your tent. Within two seconds, the person grabbed the fabric at the top of your tent and started to pull. Your entire tent shook, and you screeched as the flimsy plastic bars holding it up appeared as if they would snap at any second.

Covering your eyes with your forearm, you shouted out, "Jake, stop it! You asshole! You're going to break my tent!"

He didn't. At least not right away. Jake pulled at least another five times before he decided to stop, laughing loudly and obnoxiously.

"You could always share with me! Come on, you don't think that would be fun? We could tell ghost stories and all the gossip. Maybe even share a sleeping bag and keep each other warm."

Clearly, he had already forgotten about the little fight and agreement, if you could call it such, yesterday.

"Over my fucking dead body," you deadpanned, throwing your arm back to the ground with a thump.

"It's too early for your guy's shit!"

That could have been Javy, you thought, but it also could have been Mickey. Either one could have been just as equally pissed off at waking up at any time before ten.

"Tell that to him," you called back. "I was asleep!"

Collective groans sounded off around the campsite, singling Jake had succeeded in waking everyone else up with his antics. You don't know whether to laugh or cry. If he wanted to start shit this early, there was no telling what else he was going to pull as the day went on. Because if this was anything to go by, Jake had no intentions of staying out of your

That didn't mean you would, though.

You weren't going to pull anything. At least, not until this trip was over.

There were some shuffling noises in the dirt before Jake finally called out to you from a distance, "Time to get up, Midge! We aren't going to wait for you!"

Maybe you could find Poison Ivy somewhere out in the bush and stuff it into his bag on the last day.

Sighing once, you stretched against the bed roll, deciding you probably should get up. You were hankering for a cup of coffee, and you knew without a doubt you'd need the caffeine to get through the day.

It took you a few minutes to get dressed and organize your sling bag so your paints and brushes would be within easy reach. To make up for the half day yesterday because Nat was about fairness, Jake would take charge of the compass for one more day. If he could manage to follow the instructions on the back of the map, ones you and Nat had laid out, you should be stopping at a cliffside for an incredible view of Mount Rainer at a distance for lunch.

Just as you stepped outside of your tent, you were greeted by the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned your head, spying Veronica making her way to the entrance of your tent.

“Ah, Morning, Midge.”

You want to either hide or hurl. Maybe even both.

Your interactions with her had been limited at best. She and Javy had only started dating two years ago, and even then, encounters with her were limited to larger social gatherings. You often suspected she preferred it that way. Between going to school and being a social media influencer, there was not a time when you saw her without her phone, capturing moments with Jessica or Javy, even Nat, only to turn them into content for her TikToks.

There was not a time when you didn’t see her with Jessica either. The two of them seemed inseparable, the dynamic so ingrained into your mind that it was difficult to separate the two. Wherever one went, the other was guaranteed close behind.

“Painting in the wild, I see?” she said, gesturing to her bag. “Never thought you’d get out of the studio.”

That was the thing about Veronica. She was as hot and cold towards you as they come. What you ever did to her, you will never know.

You huffed a laugh. “Surprised you even knew I have a studio.”

“I keep tabs on everyone,” she declared, bringing her hand up to flick at a bright pink manicured nail. With her hand still raised, she eyed you with a narrow stare. "Sold any of your paintings yet?"

You would never admit it aloud, but her comment hit a nerve. As it probably was meant to. It was common knowledge throughout the friend group you were trying to gain more recognition as an artist. While it was true you probably didn’t hit the ‘big wig’ level Veronica believed to be the pinnacle of success, you had indeed sold some of your paintings to a small but dedicated following. Playing the long game was better than producing something with no quality.

But it had been a few months with no success. Something Veronica, being who she was, would have latched on to without remorse.

Why she had decided to be a bitch to you this morning, you weren’t sure why.

“And what’s your point of asking me that? Cause I know for a fact it's not cause you care about what I paint.”

"I just thought I'd check in on your little hobby and see if it's going anywhere," Veronica said, her tone evidently laced with condescension. "But clearly, you're too sensitive to take a bit of friendly interest."

You laughed. Hard.

“Is this just your way of feeling important this morning? Because, honestly, you could try something new, like minding your own business for a change. I don't ask you why you don't have brands jumping into your DM's to collaborate with you."

Veronica’s face started to flush a bright shade of red, her shoulders stiffening. You watched it happen, not before your eyesight shifted to the group of people standing next to the firepit. Jessica was watching the two of you interact with wide eyes and a smug smile stretching across her face.

You knew right away why Veronica had approached you. Clearly, she woke up deciding to be that attack dog on the other side of a very, very tight leash.

You barely registered Veronica as she brushed past in a fury. Her elbow made a swift, seemingly accidental contact with the bend of your arm and your bag. In an instant, the bag’s flap came undone, and your paintbrushes, their case, and your tin case of watercolour paints clattered to the ground, scattering in all directions.

Your heart sank fast, a sense of panic twisting a knife in your stomach at the thought of any damage being wrought.

"Oops, how clumsy of me," Veronica said, her tone dripping with feigned innocence. She didn't stop or look back, continuing her path as if nothing had happened, already seeking out Jessica standing by the firepit with everyone else.

Your heart sank fast, a sense of panic twisting a knife in your stomach at the thought of any damage being wrought.

You knelt as you heard slight giggles in the distance as you reached for the first brush, wanting to inspect it for damages. Watercolour brushes were expensive, if not delicate. You wouldn’t have risked bringing them on such a journey if not for how easy it was to use watercolours for this type of thing. Not to mention eco-friendly.

Luckily, no damage had been done from what you could see on the one, and the tin case of paints had landed in a soft spot of mud. The tin had mud gracing its surface, but you knew the tiny pucks within wouldn’t have split with such a soft landing. The thought makes you sigh with relief.

"Here, Maeve, I'll help you out."

You looked up to see Bob kneeling down next to you, reaching for your paints. Despite the knot in your stomach, a soft smile graced your face, and you thanked him quietly, reaching for the farthest brush away from you.

"Don't let him get to you. Or Veronica. They are just being shit disturbers."

You scoffed, adding the brush to the pile Bob had created. "I didn't know we'd be encountering more than one ignoranus on this trip."

Bob paused for a second, raising his eyebrow thoughtfully before he let out a snort and reached for your brush case. "You know that's not actually in the dictionary."

"One can dream."

Bob shook his head, beginning the process of sliding each brush back into their individual slots.

“Can I help with anything?” Nat asked as she walked by with a smile on her face.

She did not see any of that, you realize. You shook your head, managing a tight grin as you titled your head towards Bob. “I think we have it covered. Thanks though. Could you maybe snag me a cup of coffee?”

Nat nodded, making her way over to the drip pot someone had brought. You watched her go, feeling a small sense of relief at the thought of a hot cup of coffee. It was a minor consolation but welcome, nonetheless. However, when Nat returned, her hands were empty, and her expression was apologetic.

“Jake packed it all away,” she said.

Of. Course .

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your voice had risen more than you intended, causing Jake to glance over at you from his chair. You narrowed your eyes at him as Nat left you to join Bradley.

“So, I can’t even have a cup of coffee before we set off on the hike?” Your tone was sharp, your annoyance with the situation, with Jake, with the entire morning, everything.

“We need to hit the road, Midge. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

“A big deal?” You couldn’t believe his nonchalance. “Silly of me for expecting a bit of normalcy on this trip.”

"You can’t always get what you want, Midge," he shrugged from his chair, a grin on his face. "There's some hot water left, though."

Jake turned his head back in the direction of Ruben, who was standing over the grill covering the fire, stirring some oatmeal, and you couldn't help but hang your mouth open.

The sheer audacity of his remark makes you fall back on your heels, glaring at him. You're pretty sure you're breathing fire. And if they could, your eyes would be turning a pretty shade of bright ruby red, directed at him. You want to stand between his spread legs as he sits in that fold-up chair. You want to grab the hair at the back of his head and yank. Maybe even knee him in the groin when he wasn't looking and make him grunt with pain.

"Ah, you alright there, Midge?"

"Just dandy," you gruffed out to Bob, not taking your eyes off Jake as he slipped his coffee, the red 295 ml YETI rambler encompassed solely by the palm of his hand.

He probably just got it, along with all his other camping gear. It would totally be something only he would do, rich kid prick.

He looked like it, too. Lounging in that Green and brown Patagonia sweater that probably cost more than anything you owned. And his watch - vintage, clearly expensive, and limited edition. That one accessory on his wrist probably held more monetary value than any piece you'd ever or would create. It was infuriating how good he looked, how effortlessly everything seemed to come to him. Even you couldn't deny that frustrating fact.

So did Jessica, it would seem, waltzing over to where he was sitting with a certain gleam in her eyes, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, your fingers clumsily searching for your brushes without success. Your eyes, however, never strayed from Jake. Your hand closed around one, and you brought it towards your lap, fully intending to place it with the others. But watching them converse, you only gripped that single paintbrush tighter in your hand.

And Jake, damn him, just soaked it all up. He was basking in her attention like it was the most natural thing in the world. He lounged back in his seat, practically radiating confidence as he gleamed up at her, letting her stroke at his shoulder.

She had no shame ogling at him, even flirting with Jake when her boyfriend was literally right there, making her breakfast for her. The thin piece of wood of your painter's brush nearly snapped under the pressure of your tightening grip.

Bob placed his hand on your shoulder, lightly squeezing it once, then twice, bringing you out of your heated glare. You shook your head, eyes meeting Bob's friendly face. "I know it doesn't compare, but I have some tea in my bag instead. I can make you a cup?"

Your anger calmed under Bob's kindness, and you loosened your grip on the thin piece of wood, letting your thumb stroke absentmindedly over the spot where you had pressed into it. There was an indent from your nail, and you cursed to yourself.

These were brand new, too.

You nodded at him with a swallow. "That's kind of you, Bob. Only if you are making one for yourself."

He returned your nod with a smile, getting up to find his bag. You however, turned your gaze back to Jake, though less intense.

How you would get through the day, you had no idea.

Poison ivy, yes. In his underwear? Definitely.

----

Barely.

Just. Fucking. Barely.

That was your answer to your question. You're pretty sure your tongue has permanent bite marks scarred into it from how many times you resisted the overwhelming urge to call Jake out on his bullshit.

Why did you decide to be the bigger person? You honestly can't say why. But the urge was there in everything Jake did, whether it was opening his mouth or simply standing still.

It was the exact same as yesterday. You're at the back again with Cora and Grace. You attempt to add to the conversation where you can, but being the last person, your position puts you in the prime spot to people-watch.

It's difficult not to keep your eyes off Jake. He's drawing attention even when he's not doing anything noteworthy. It was even worse when every time Jessica or Veronica seemed to complement his skills flirtatiously, he flirted back. No doubt enjoying the attention and making it all about him.

Not to mention how he selectively listened to certain members of the group more than others. Like Bob, who pointed out the tracks of a deer in the mud along the trail. And how the deeper indent on one of the tracks indicated it sensed you guys were coming, for it to twist and take off into the bush.

Jake spoke over him, talking to Bradley about dinner, who was seemingly genuinely interested in what Bob had to say.

That one bothered you the most. Even when the group finally reached the outlook for lunch, it still played on your mind. So much so you had sat there for the better half of the lunch break, your sketchbook thrown across your lap and a brush in hand, staring up at the famous volcano, not once putting paint to the page.

Why did he always have to make everything about him?

And yet, you still had said nothing. Not then, and not even when you all packed up and left. Not one thing. You weren't going to do it.

So, what, exactly, was your tipping point?

When Jake suggested the entire group deviate off the trail and up the side of a small steep hill, though it looked more like a cliff face.

"No fuckin way."

Mickey grimaced. Bob stepped away from you. Cora and Grace huddled together, and Nat dropped her head only to wince, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. Bradley even held his arm out in front of Jake.

"Midge..."

"That's too steep for all of us with the stuff we are carrying!"

"We'll save an hour and a half going this way!"

"And risking everyone's safety for the sake of 'practicality' is just reckless. We're not all expert climbers, Seresin! One hour and a bit is nothing!"

You stepped forward, making a swipe for the map. Jake lifted it out of your way before you could grab it; however, the compass fell, and you reached down to collect it before he forgot about it.

In the midst of this, Veronica and Jessica watched from the sidelines. Jessica's face was alight with a mix of excitement at the unfolding drama and irritation that Jake's attention was so fixated on Midge.

"Guys, let's just think this through," Nat said, trying to mediate, while Bradley echoed, "There's no need to turn this into a bigger issue."

"Yes, Jake," you said pointedly. "There is no need to turn this into an issue when there was none in the first place." Your voice rose with each word, not quite angry but not civilized either.

"I'm not suggesting anything we can't handle, Midge."

"Really? Are you forgetting Mickey and Javy are carrying the food, which already weighs a shit ton? How are we going to manage to get it all the way up that?" you asked, gesturing to where they were standing, packs resting at their feet. "Or how Cora and Veronica are carrying their tents, on top of their own things? How can they climb something with that much weight on their backs?"

"Less time to be carrying everything, don't you think?"

"If you look at the map, the route we've planned out is smoother and easier on all of us. And predictable! We could lose our way by taking a different path."

Cora piped up from the back. "I agree with Maeve."

Grace nodded with her, as did Bob and Mickey. Bradley turned, placing his hand on Jake's shoulder. "Jake, I think we should listen..."

But Jake shrugged him off, stepping towards you.

"Midge, I've no doubt about your talent in leading a brush on canvas. But navigating in the wild? That's a whole different kind of art form, one you're clearly not as proficient at."

"Jake," Nat shouted. "That was very uncalled for!"

Something dropped in your stomach, and your eyes started to burn.

"Fine," you stated firmly. "You know what, I'm out. I. Am. Out."

Truly, you meant to gently toss the compass to him in the hopes he'd see it coming and reach out to catch it. You wanted to be rid of it and the conversation as quickly as you could. You were done. Done arguing, done caring and offering your opinion when it was dead-set clear Jake didn't care about it anyway.

But as you threw it, your anxiety took over. What should have been a simple toss turned into a frustrated, heavy-handed fling, like you were skipping a stone across a large lake. The compass flew faster, harder, and higher up than you intended, striking Jake squarely on the forehead.

Collective gasps shot around the group, yours included.

My bad doesn't even begin to cover it.

You don't know what's worse. The feeling of guilt settling in your stomach over it hitting his head, or for having felt that feeling of said guilt.

The silence throughout the group was just as bad, too.

"Enough!" Nat is the one to break it first, coming to stand between the two of you, her arms stretched out. Jake has a hand on his forehead, rubbing the skin through the back of his baseball cap. Your mouth is closed, and your nostrils are flaring hard with each rapid breath you take, purposely averting your eyes to stare at the ground.

"Given we have all this stuff we have to carry, we are sticking with Midge and I's original plan. We didn't spend all that time 'mathing' the hell out of those trails for nothing."

Not that you saw it, but Jake raised his eyebrows at Nat's words, his eyes then shooting to your body, taking in how you were looking at the ground.

"You and Midge planned the whole thing out?"

You lifted your head, squinting your eyes. "I know my way around more than just a paintbrush, Seresin."

"Midge..."

"Just save it, Jake," you snap, your voice on the verge of breaking. "You don't need to add to the damage that's already been done."

Without another word, you turn on your heel, holding yourself by your elbows across your chest as you go to hide behind Cora and Grace. Cora offered you a sad smile as you passed her, offering you her hand from behind her back as you came to a stop. She pulled you directly behind her so she might shield you from the looks of the rest of the group.

You didn't say a word to anyone else for the rest of the hike.

---

It was no lakeside or real private area, but the campfire Bob put up was a welcome companion. It's soft crackling, popping, and heat made you feel comfortable against the eerie feeling of being surrounded by the woods this late into the evening.

You were deeper into the park than yesterday, this campsite slightly bigger than yesterday. Despite Jake's instance that none of you would find a campsite for tonight, there are no other hikers around. It's simply just your group, so you have this place all to yourselves.

It doesn't feel like it. Out beyond the treeline, you are sure something is watching you. Stalking you. There are hidden shapes in the dark, moving and transforming with every searching look. Each rustle of the bushes or sweep of wind makes you hold yourself tighter, the concept that anything can happen in the woods was becoming real with each passing second.

Last night seemed to be okay. But now? You have no idea how you were going to manage to fall asleep tonight.

Nat and Bradley took off the second they got their tent up and ate dinner. You're not sure where, but you were positive it had something to do with getting some 'alone time.' Everyone else seemed to go off and do their own thing as well. You couldn't say you blamed them.

You wanted to escape, too.

You try to focus on the flames roaring out of the pit. Each orange twists as they reach towards the sky. Each colour changed as each flame tracked higher and higher. You think about how you would paint them, how each stroke would form the flame.

Until you aren't because the colour of the stone pit, the dull grey, reminds you of the compass. And everything from today comes rushing back in, accompanied by intense feelings of shame.

You had let your anger get the best of you. You knew that. You knew you shouldn't have thrown that compass directly at Jake's head. It wasn’t one of your prouder moments; the yelling and insults were as far as you’d ever want your dislike for Jake to go. Even after how he talked shit behind your back, he still didn’t deserve that happening to him.

You remembered the weight of the compass in your hand, the moment it left your fingers, and then the instant regret as it struck Jake. You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

It happened before it was too late.

So was the nature of these things with you, too. Even with your own family. A comment made here, voicing an opinion there. Then, the bitter feeling of wanting to be right and only to be right because that opinion should be recognized as fact.

And after every time, you always left regretting having ever opened your mouth in the first place.

Besides Cora and Grace, nobody seemed to want to talk to you either. Everyone avoided you, and you understood why.

Maybe you did deserve the silent treatment after all. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense, feeling the same feeling you fought to bury in the years after leaving school. You had been too much. Or not enough.

Maybe you were difficult to be around. Maybe it was you, not Jake. Maybe it was your presence that was the burden, more than you had ever realized. Maybe you had no right to feel hurt for what Jake said to that girl about you that night on Halloween.

You sniffed hard, wiping at your eyes.

Maybe I might be the problem after all.

Something covered in plastic landed directly on your lap with a dull thump.

"Tag, you're it."

Speak of the devil, he shall appear.

You looked down, the compass and the map carefully placed into a clear plastic bag. You didn't bother lifting your head, mocking a two-finger salute against your forehead as you set your eyes back on the flames.

"Thanks, Seresin."

It was wishful thinking on your part to think he'd leave you alone. You fully expected him to after you caught a glimpse of the small welt on his forehead while he was putting up his tent. The visual image made you wince.

Jake didn't move. Rather, he stood over you, staring down as if he was waiting for you to say something else. Looking for an apology, perhaps.

As fucking if. You weren’t going to offer jack shit, not when he thought of you as he did.

"Can I help you?" you huffed, purposely keeping your eyes off him. You knew full well he'd be pissed you weren't giving him your full attention. Maybe deep down, seeing the evidence of your outburst marring his forehead would have been too much for you.

Him seeing you crying would be but another victory he had over you, too.

"You know we have the waterfall on the list tomorrow, right?"

You scoffed, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. You didn't miss a beat when you causally threw out behind a tired smirk, "You plotting to push me off the ledge? Tell everyone I tripped and get rid of me for once and for all?"

"Temping, but no." Jake's response was quick. "I was thinking about us not getting lost. Don't be admiring the scenery too much to pay attention to the map."

Oh. This fucking asshole. No shit, that was for the compass.

"What? The treeline? The mountains? In a National Park? Or are you implying you're the thing I couldn't keep my eyes off?" you scoffed. "You wish, Seresin. I don't spend my time staring at assholes all day. I would rather admire the scenery that's actually worth it."

You could feel the tension radiating off him as he stood next to you. Probably clenching his fists, gritting his teeth. His jaw was clenched, and you could picture his jugular vein pulsing in his neck.

"Why? Admiring the view you're never going to paint?"

You bit your tongue.

Big. Fucking. Ouch.

But then the realization struck you. He was watching you at lunch today. Why?

"You seem quite invested in what I paint. Care to explain why? Or are cheap shots your new favourite thing? You seem to be doing a lot of that lately."

Jake remained silent, not bothering to answer what seemed like a very legitimate question.

He lets out a tuff of air, crossing his arms across his chest. You can feel the retort coming on the tip of his tongue, ready to lash out. It never comes. Instead, he swiftly turns the conversation back to the reason he approached you in the first place.

You almost wish he didn't. Almost.

"The waterfall, Midge. Bradley's thinking about using it as his chance to purpose."

You rolled your eyes. "You don't say? I wonder whoever gave him that idea, hmm?"

"I'm just saying, don't mess it up for them."

"I'm not going to be the one to mess it up," you argued. "I'm not the one that nearly got us killed today or the one that started shit first thing in the morning."

Jake huffed, his shoulders dropping hard. "You know what I mean."

"Do I? Do I really?" you call out sarcastically. "A man, whose every interaction I've had with him since I can remember, always ending up in a fight, is telling me I know what he means. I wonder how you got to that conclusion."

There is a pause.

"It didn't mean it like that."

"Mhm."

"Midge, I didn't mean it like that."

"It doesn't matter. You made your point, Jake. Don't mess it up. I got it."

The bitter sting of his words makes itself known in the quiver of your bottom lip. You shake your head once, finally allowing yourself to look up at him, attempting to pin him with a stare.

"If that's all, Seresin."

Your eyes land on the chair bag slung over his shoulder instead.

"Please tell me you're not thinking about sitting here," you blurt out.

What does the fucker do but suddenly light up and grin like it's the best idea in the world?

"It's a free country, Midge," he says, letting the chair fall from his shoulder.

"Yeah, no fucking thank you."

You went to stand, clutching the plastic bag to your thighs as your chair rocked slightly under the movement. Jake's voice, sharp and loud, made you stop.

"Come on now, Maeve. You're the one who didn't want to talk unless we were passing off the compass."

The use of your name, not Midge, makes you sit back down.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world to try and actually have a conversation with each other that doesn't have any insults being thrown around? Or objects?"

You grimaced.

Yes, is your immediate answer. Yes, it would be because it’s impossible.

You ignore the mention of the compass and the fact he's guilt-tripping you into staying because of it.

“Seriously? Civil is not even a word I would use to describe us. You bark, I bite.”

Jake dramatically pulled his chair apart, dropping it to the ground with the plastic legs clacking. Plopping himself down into the chair, he puts his feet up on the edge of the pit, crossing his legs at his ankles.

“Oh, so there is an us now? When did that happen?”

That five-second clip of that white cat yacking you’ve seen online comes to mind, and you are pretty sure whatever noise just came out of your mouth resembles that sound.

“Wow, nice one, Midge.”

You shot Jake a withering look. “If I had a dime for every time you’ve made me gag…”

Jake’s eyebrows shot high on his forehead. He licked his lips, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth only to bite down, the corners of his mouth turning up words.

You know right away what he’s thinking.

“Don’t…” you caution.

“Pun intended?” he huffs through a laugh.

You roll your eyes, turning your attention back to the firepit. “Why do men always think with their dicks.”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Shut up, Seresin.”

There's a moment of silence between the two of you after that. The sky turned even darker, and the warm, bright light of the firepit seemed to span out to flood the entire campsite. The wood crackled, crickets chirped, and the wind gently rustled the leaves on the trees overhead. You had stopped crying a few minutes ago, more surprised Jake was letting this much time pass between the two of you without saying anything.

You'd dare say you found yourself content, even if he was sitting somewhat next to you.

But when Jake decides to try again, this time on easier ground.

"Bradley's nervous," he said aloud. "Keeps wondering if he picked the right moment to do it. All he does is stare at that damn ring and ask if it’s going to go okay."

You still said nothing. Jake presses on.

"I didn't mean that you were going to mess up tomorrow. I didn't mean what I said about you and a paintbrush, either. I just.. want it to be perfect for them. It needs to be perfect for them. Bradley's done a lot for me. He deserves this going the way he wants."

"You don't think I want the same for Nat?" You suddenly challenged. "She's my best friend. Practically one of my only friends. If I can help make her happy, then you'd be damn sure I'll be doing everything I can to ensure she is."

A ball forms in the back of your throat at the words you just said aloud, wondering why the hell you said that to him, of all people. You do your best to swallow it down, even if you feel like choking.

You clear your throat, digging your nails into the space between your collarbone through your vest. "Bradley, too."

Jake nods to himself. "I remember when he came bursting through our dorm room, raving on about how Nat finally said yes." He smiles to himself. "He couldn't stop grinning until the day of. And then, I think he has a certain smile reserved just for her."

Nat had told you the story. She had only been dating Bradley for about a month when she moved in with you. He had spied her at one of his football games, approaching her afterwards and flirting. Nat kept him guessing, not saying no but not saying yes either.

She wanted to be sure Bradley wanted her for the right reasons, not as a jersey bunny, waiting on the sidelines in case he might decide to 'tap it.'

Even after all these years, the same smile she wore every time she came home from a date or was in Bradley's presence never left her face. The thought of it makes the edges of your mouth turn upwards.

"She has one for Bradley, too," you offer hesitantly, more out loud to yourself. "It's soft like she doesn't realize she's doing it until a small patch of skin crinkles around her eyes."

"Bradley twitches his moustache. The god-awful thing."

You sputter a laugh. "I remember the day he started growing it. What was he thinking?"

"That he wanted to star in a 70s cop show?" Jake remarked, a playful smirk on his face.

You chuckled. "Or a very ambitious caterpillar found a new home and hasn't left for the past two years."

Jake snorted. "I think he lost a bet with someone."

"It's a cry for help."

Jake nodded in agreement before he cocked his eyebrow at you, mischief in his eyes. "You hold him down; I'll shave it off?"

A squeak of laughter escaped through your closed mouth, your body jolting. There was a small smile too, despite your best efforts to hold your reaction back. But you couldn’t help it. Soon, with your eyes slammed shut and dimples forming on your face, your body rocked back and forth with open laughter.

You glanced once, then twice back at Jake, who was fighting his own reaction. He couldn’t resist the pull of it, letting his own laughter join yours. It made you laugh harder. Because it was a sound, you had never heard from him. It was hearty, deep, and it was genuine. Not laced in disdain or condensation.

You laughed harder because Jake Seresin was laughing with you. Not at you. And for the fact, there's a kinder warmth instead of a fire spreading across your chest.

As the laughter subsided, you both paused, a little surprised by the ease of the moment. Caught off guard, your eyes locked on to Jake’s, a soft gaze forming on his face. The one side of your mouth crooked upwards into a one-sided grin.

Maybe I shouldn’t have judged him so harshly for something he said in his youth? Maybe I have a part to play in this game of ours, too? Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought after all?

It didn't last long. Your smile was the one to fade first into a look of discomfort as you saw Jessica and Veronica approach the campfire. Jessica’s smile was wide, but her eyes didn't quite match the warmth of her expression, and like always, Veronica followed a step behind.

A chill shot up your spine, and you hugged yourself tighter, watching Jake look up at the pair with an adoring smile. It is only then you realize the shame you once felt before Jake arrived has returned with full force.

Ah, hello, you fine-flicked bastard.

"Having fun, are we?" Jessica chirped, her gaze flicking between Jake and Midge. "It seems you two have 'made up.'"

You had a pretty good idea of where this was going.

"I never took you for the outdoorsy type, Midge," she offered behind a sadistic grin.

You narrowed your eyes, a knowing smirk on your face.

Karma can be a bitch, and so can I.

“We can’t all be experts in social climbing, Jessica. But then again, I guess it’s hard to pay attention to anyone’s hobbies when you’re only around for the photo ops and the popularity points. The outdoors doesn’t really offer the kind of attention you’re usually after, does it?”

Her smile faltered, winding back into a tight grin. The whites of her knuckles shun as she balled her hand into a fist at her side. It took her a second, but she regained her composure, tossing her hair back and sporting a new sly smile.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of dabbling in things like painting. Unlike some people, I have to adapt. It’s about being relevant and knowing how to appeal to a crowd.” She leaned forward slightly in your direction, voice dripping with faux concern. “Not everyone can seem to grasp that concept.”

Veronica smiled, narrowing her eyes at you.

“Oh, you mean how you jump on every trend?” You unwrap your arm from around your stomach, placing your elbow on the armrest and letting your chin rest on the back of your fingers. “I’ve seen your posts. Tell me something, honestly, do you ever stick with one long enough actually to see it through?”

You raised your eyebrows, expecting her to answer. Her face, even in this light, seemed to blend with the glow of the fire. To your surprise, Jake was even holding back a chuckle.

You can see the imaginary foot stomp she wanted to give from her facial expression alone.

“I can’t believe you’d say that, Midge. It’s like you’re always waiting to criticize me and everyone.”

You chuckle softly at the childish display. "If you're going to dish it out, be prepared to get it back. At least Jake understands that fact."

Jessica ignored you, stepping closer to Jake. "Why is she always like this? At least you know how to handle Midge's... let's say, 'artistic temperament.'"

"It's a nice game we have going."

Veronica quickly joined in, "Yeah, not everyone can keep up with her. But you've got a way of handling things. And her."

Oh, I'm going to be sick.

You tried to tune them out, dropping your chin to your chest. The red marker lines you made on the map through the bag seemed more interesting than listening to whatever bullshit those three were spurting.

You should get up. Leave. You didn’t want nor need to hear this. Hear them flirt yet again and fawn over Jake. You didn’t want to hear him reply in kind, either.

That was until Jake’s shout suddenly punched the air.

“Bear!”

Shrieking, you shot out of your chair, trying to turn around to spot the animal. But the action must have been too fast as the chair, never designed for such sudden shifts, as it wobbled, buckled and finally collapsed beneath you. And down you went with a sickenly loud and heavy thud.

"Oh, bless her heart, she fell for that," Veronica snickered through her laughter.

It takes you a second to realize you are on the ground. All you can think about, all you can feel, is the pain shooting up your arm from the base of your wrist. You want to curl into yourself against the dirt and cradle your injured hand to your chest. You want to make yourself as small as possible and blindly hope even if you knew they did, they didn't see you fall.

You just wanted them to leave you alone.

They wouldn't. Not for the right reasons. Even though there is buzzing in your ears, you can hear Jessica's and Veronica's laughter stretch out to the boundaries of the camp. Who wouldn't? Even the crickets and the subtle chirps of birds are no longer letting themselves be heard, probably scared off by the noises they are making.

Between the two of them and Jake, they probably plotted to scare the shit out of you anyway.

The thought alone urges you to stand, tears unknowingly trailing down your cheeks as you hoist yourself up against the stones of the firepit. Jake was closer to you than he was before, hands swaying slightly like he was fighting the urge to help you.

You felt a wave of nausea as you gingerly tested your wrist, a sharp jolt of pain shooting up your arm with even the smallest movement. You couldn't even move it beyond the slight, bitter flex of your hand.

"Midge, I'm..."

Jake never got to finish his sentence. Jessica's sickly, sweet voice interrupted him. It was anything but - each word oozing out like molasses, but with a sharp, nasal edge that made the same damn shiver go up your spine as before.

“Bless your heart, Midge. You really ought to be more careful. Anything can happen in the woods.”

Veronica nodded in agreement, quickly adding, "If I had that much riding on my hand to make a living for myself, I wouldn't be going anywhere. Especially if your art is as delicate as your balance."

You felt blindsided, wrapping your good arm around your waist as if to shield yourself. More tears bit at the corners of your eyes as the spite of their words hit you, no courageous or witty retort coming to save you. You fought with yourself to make sure they didn't fall. It was a battle you lost almost instantly.

They had no idea what it was truly like. Nor would they. Standing behind Jake on either side, their faces shadowed by the light of the fire. The sight was menacing, and you couldn't help but feel like one of those small cartoon mice trapped in the corner of the room, a cat waiting to pounce on its prey.

You couldn't let them, let him, see you like this.

Suddenly, Jake was reaching for you, for your injured wrist. You shied from him, fighting tears as you pulled your arm to your chest. Fighting tears, you willed your shaky legs to carry you away from the campsite. You were deaf to the shouts of your annoying nickname from Jake's lips and deaf to the words of Jessica and Veronica telling him to give it up and let you go.

Nothing you could have said or could have come up with for some smart-ass quip would have made a difference anyway.

"Maeve, wait!"

Through the blood rushing in your ears, you manage to hear Nat's voice. The sound makes you stop in your tracks, though you don't turn to face her. She's running to you from wherever she had been with Bradley, feet heavy on the dirt behind you. She reaches for the back of your arm, pulling herself around and in front of you.

You didn't look up from the ground, but you did throw your injured wrist behind your back, trying to hide the wince at the snap of pain shooting up your arm.

As she took in your face, wiping a smudge of dirt from your cheek, you could hear Bradley's voice from a distance snapping at Jake.

"What the hell, man! You were supposed to talk to her, not..."

"Are you okay?"

Nat's voice cuts off Bradley's, and you lift your eyes to meet hers.

You finally nodded, trying to keep the pain from your voice. "I'm okay. I'm just a little shaken he'd do something like that."

How much she saw, you didn't know. Nor would you let on, like this morning. The last thing you wanted was something else ruining this trip for her. You didn't want to elaborate either. You just wanted to be alone.

Nat took her teeth between her bottom lip, registering the tears on your face and your shaky breath. "Do you want me to tell him off? Cause I'll do it. I'll throw his ass straight into the firepit."

You shook your head, mumbling under your breath, "I'm just going to turn in for the night."

Her eyes tracked your body anxiously. She wanted to press you further, but she didn't know if she really could. You were already on the run from the others when she approached you, and you didn't even laugh when she mentioned Jake, literally on fire.

That would have made you light up in an instant.

"If that's what you want to do. Just... Just get me or Bradley if you need anything, okay? We're here for you."

You nodded quickly, biting down on the edges of your tongue. Nat's eyes lit up in concern before she mouthed an 'okay' and squeezed your shoulder once before letting you go. You didn't say anything else as you turned on your heel and practically ran from her and everyone else, hoping they would leave you be for the rest of the night.

The second you reached your tent, you dove head-first into the small space, desperately trying to hold in the sob crawling its way up the back of your throat. Reaching for the zipper with your good hand, you pressed your wrist to your chest, the slight contact making you hiss sharply. Your entire arm seemed to shake as you managed to pull the tab down to the ground, and you were surprised the teeth managed to connect with the zipper on each wobbly tug.

The second the tent plunged into darkness, you rocked back, landing hard on your butt and finally allowed those tears and haunting cries to escape.

The first one was muffled, the sound just passing through your clenched teeth and closed mouth. You were trying to stifle the surge of anger and helplessness you felt, unable to do anything but hope there wouldn't be any lasting damage from his little 'joke.'

Holding your hand out, you gripped your pulsing wrist with the other, pressing your forehead into your sleeve. Rocking with the waves of pain, your hand was permanently locked into a claw, trying to flex under the surmounting pain and tendons straining under the throbbing ache.

How dare he?! How dare he pull something like that when he knew there was a chance something could have happened to you? He knows damn well how much your career as a paint rode on your wrist, your entire hand?!

A million thoughts surfaced, fighting against one another in your head.

Years of studying, refining your natural talent as your teachers told you, could be gone just like that. All because Jake couldn't help himself. He just had to rile you up. To piss you off. Because any attempt for him to play nice and to come with the other shoulder being dropped.

He would never listen to you. He would never 'like' you. He made that abundantly clear. And suddenly, you felt stupid for thinking a mere few minutes ago that there was a small sliver of hope Jake was capable of change.

Why you even thought he could, even for a second, you'd never know.

There was a slight rustle of leaves outside, and you lifted your head, biting your lip, a slight jolt of anxiousness and fear running through you. It could have been anything outside your tent: an animal, the wind, another person. But as quickly as you heard it, it was gone, and the following silence stretched on, making you believe whatever you had heard was a trick on your ears.

You turned toward your backpack, single-handedly searching for the tiny first aid box inside. In the darkness of your tent, your fingers finally wrapped around its edges, and you pulled it free from being buried under the rest of your things. Another cry rolled its way up your throat as you pinned the lid with your elbow against the ground, working to free the clasps on the box.

The lid popped free, and you dove for the tensor bandage wedged up in the corner, flicking the metal holders loose and bringing the stretchy material up to your mouth. Setting your teeth into the end of the bandage, you spun it out, then took the end that was in your mouth and wrapped it around the bend of your thumb.

You had seen your brother do it enough times, either to yourself or other people. The Doctor in the family who always seemed eager to showcase his talents, the steps seemed to be permanently etched into your mind without your permission. Bunch it here, pull there, and remember to watch the tendon around your thumb.

You'd no sooner seek out Cora or Mickey to help you out, but you doubted anyone would want to put up with your sorry excuse of an ass after today. Or risk the chance of something else happening.

Besides, even you can't fuck this up, your brother would say each time you hurt yourself as a kid, looking down at you and pulling the bandage with a cocky smile.

He would have done it better. He would have done it right. Nobody would have questioned him about it, either.

But your brother faded from your mind as you painstakingly wrapped your hand, hot tears streaming down your face. Each shout at each twitch and stab of pain only seemed to break down your resolve.

Because the one thought going through your mind was clear as day...

Boundary be gone, Seresin. I'm not holding back any longer.

This. Meant. War.

Are we out of the woods yet? 👀

Tag List:

@desert-fern @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @fanficfandomlove @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hookslove1592 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @lynnevanss

@dempy@shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @keyrani @atarmychick007 @buckysteveloki-me @trickphotography2 @stargazer-88 @tinytotontheoversizedpony @alldaysdreamers @The-dark-and-the-mystery

@formulafun @djs8891 @bookchik15 @wretchedmo @redbarn1995 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yuckosworld @mrsevans90 @wren5650 @eli2447 @bellaireland1981

Taglist Form for those who are interested!

-Lucky/Wickett/Em

Part 4 - One Way or Another - coming soon!

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blithesharem · 5 months

Text

9 Days of Solomon

Day 1: Stars

Wahoo! I'm so excited to be participating with fic for the 9 Days of Solomon event dreamt up by @impish-ivy !

My first entry is a SFW fic that takes place early on in Nightbringer. I wanted to write Solomon being worried and frantic (in his own way) since he's always so chill and collected. I think a truly angry/worried Solomon would be a very frightening sight indeed...

There is no North Star in the Devildom.

At least, not one that you know. If you were home, you may have been able to sort yourself out, pick a constellation that looked familiar and point your toes toward it. But even though Belphegor and Satan have started to teach you about their constellations, the sky still appears alien to you, like a face you know you should recognize but don’t.

Which means you are still very very lost.

“Explain to me exactly what happened.”

Solomon is smiling but his eyes are cold, and there is a tension in the air that carries a threat not quite spoken aloud. Though he’s standing casually, leaning a hip against the table in the House of Lamentation, his knuckles are white where he grips his lower arms.

There is a stretch of silence when no one answers him, and his smile widens tightly.

“Let’s just all take a deep breath!” Asmo bursts out with forced cheeriness and a sharp clap of his hands, flicking his gaze from Solomon to his brothers and back again.

“Oh, rest assured Asmodeus, I am very calm,” Solomon replies quickly, “I am just a bit curious as to how seven demons managed to lose my apprentice.” Lucifer clears his throat and stands, taking a protective step forward though Solomon’s smile never slips. He’s not afraid of the sorcerer’s wrath, but his brothers are foolish and worried and he doesn’t see the sense in letting one of them provoke Solomon.

“It was a mistake,” he says firmly, “Obviously. Mammon and Satan are already looking and will find them soon, I’m sure. The rest of us will begin searching as well. Diavolo has already been alerted –“

“Oh good!” Solomon says brightly, volume growing as he pushes off from the table and a crackle of electricity makes the room charge with static, “Diavolo has been alerted. Well then, I’m sure all is right as rain. After all, it’s not as though there’s anything at risk here-”

“You know very well I didn’t mean to imply that,” Lucifer snaps, but Solomon ignores him and snaps his gaze back to Belphegor who recoils slightly.

“Since we have all the time in the world, let’s return to my question, shall we?” he hums, leaning forward to force the demon to look at him, “What happened to my apprentice?”

It was supposed to have been just a silly prank.

You sigh, rubbing your hands up your arms and jumping in place in an effort to warm yourself. You seem to have been dropped into an arid landscape, cracked clay stretching as far as your eye can see, with occasional scraggly foliage breaking up the horizon. Despite the desert-like appearance, it’s freezing, and a cool wind has picked up at your back.

It would have been no problem for Lucifer, who’d been the original target of the curse. Because of course he had. The newly formed Anti-Lucifer league had been so confident. And, to be fair, so had you. In general, you’d taken sort of a neutral stance with Satan and Belphie’s antics. Lucifer seemed to almost enjoy the attention, and the boys were clearly bonding over it. You’d tried to dissuade them from anything that might cause physical damage to the house but beyond that let them go pretty wild.

This was the first time doing so had bitten you in the ass.

In the distance, something howled. You give a soft curse, turning to try and decipher how far away it might be. Everyone was always going on and on about how dangerous the Devildom could be for a human, but you never really took it all that seriously until now. Then again, you’d always had your pacts to rely on. Sure, you weren’t completely helpless. You had your own magic. But you didn’t want to push your limits when you didn’t know how long you might be stuck out here. That was part of the reason you’d resisted making a fire to warm yourself. But if the temp kept dropping…

Once more, you turn in a circle, trying to find something, anything that you could use as a landmark to ground yourself. Finally, in the light of the quartered moon, you thought you see a dark ripple of what might have been forest in the distance. If you could find some trees, maybe you could climb one to get a view from above. At the very least, it should give you some shelter from the wind.

Huffing air on your fingers, you begin to walk, choosing a brisk pace to try and warm yourself.

It had been a very long time since Solomon had felt true fear.

What did an immortal have to fear? He’d been able to look after himself for a long time now. Even after he’d met you his confidence in his abilities meant that when things had gotten dicey, he’d known he’d do whatever it took to look after you. Because you’d always been there. The one time you weren’t, he’d even managed to follow you, chasing your footprint through time to make sure he’d always be by your side to protect your fragile mortal life. So now, having you gone, not knowing how much danger you might be in, how badly you might already be hurt…

Well, it was making Solomon feel a bit insane. A part of him that stayed detached could almost observe it calmly: how hard it was for him to follow a thought or form a theory, the racing of his heart, and the tightness in his stomach that was only growing more rotten as the hours without a trace of you stretched on. This detached part was a bit in awe over how human these feelings felt, and how long it had been since he’d suffered them. The insane part was certain he’d slaughter any demon he could get his hands on if anything had happened to you.

He pulled back from his scrying pool, where he’d been searching every location he could think of for you. Rubbing his fists over his strained eyes he let out a deep, frustrated exhale. Beside him, Barbatos remained silent. He knew better than to try to offer words of encouragement or admonishment. Besides, he was equally frustrated. He couldn’t use his sight to find you if he didn’t have a trail to follow, and so far it appeared you were restraining from using your magic.

Neither of them wanted to think about what that might mean.

“Finally…” you groan, skidding down a dry embankment to see you were just yards out from the tree line. It wasn’t exactly the most welcoming of forests, the trees old and dark, all jagged edges and sharp needles. But it was better than the desolation you’d come from, and you eagerly jog the final distance into their shelter.

Despite being sheltered from the wind, it felt almost colder now that you were under cover. The light of the stars couldn’t penetrate, and the darkness was absolute. You slow your pace, trying to get a handle on the fear that began to take root. Your humanity knew this wasn’t a place you belonged.

Walking a bit further, you focus on trying to find a tree with low enough branches for you to climb. Finally, you find one that seems well suited, several snapped limbs offering short footholds that allow you to awkwardly heave yourself up.

The labor from there is long and hard. The bark is sharp, and soon you’ve rubbed the palms of your hands raw. You fear the scent of blood is being caught on the wind, because it seems now that the howls are drawing closer. In your chest your little human heart is pounding, as if it could urge you with its pace to abandon your efforts and flee back into the open. You knew though that you needed this vantage point or you’d be truly lost in the darkness, and there was no way you were going to be wandering deeper into the forest without knowing which direction you were heading in.

Finally, breathing labored and sweat trickling down your spine, you crest the tops of your neighboring trees. Your chosen sentinel was thinning too, but you feel sturdy enough to pause and get your bearings.

One more, the stars greet you, all the more brilliant after adjusting your eyes to the darkness of the woods. You twist, trying to see in all directions. The desert from which you came seemed to stretch forever, and your hopes of finding salvation through the forest were dashed as well, a black and infinite ocean of trees all you could see. To your right, you weren’t sure, but you thought it seemed to get hilly, and to the left…

Possibly? You squint, wondering if you were imagining the distant glow that might indicate a collection of lights. Lights meant people. Or demons. Whatever. It was something. And you were willing to take your chances on a demon that might eat you over whatever that howling thing was that certainly wanted to eat you. Besides, your signal wasn’t for either of them. There was only one whose attention you wanted.

Closing your eyes, you draw your time weakened magic to you, gathering heat in your belly and envisioning your desired spell. Murmuring under your breath, you stretch a palm to the stars. With a rushing release of energy that leaves you almost too weak to keep clinging, a brilliant shock of sparks blasts over your head. It lights up the area in a beacon, shooting into the sky like a firework.

And somewhere, many miles away, a sorcerer begins to laugh with relief.

#9 Days of Solomon #obey me solomon

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warrior-cats-rewritten · 21 hours

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Sol

You just had your birthday!

Sol is a HUGE tortoiseshell tom with thick fur around his neck like a mane, long tufted ears, a long tail with fluff on the tip like a lion's, and brilliant amber eyes.

Sol, originally known as Harry, was born near a junkyard to Cinders and Whispers. Whispers hated his mate, who only ever asked him to hunt for her and their oopsie litter. He belittled her constantly, and resented his children. They had a massive fight one day, he never had a new mate, or kits. When he left, he walked across a very busy road....

Cinders was left full of grief. She still loved her mate, despite everything he put her and her kids through. After a major depressive spell, she gathered up her children, and took them all towards INSERT, meowing at doors, begging an Upwalker to let her and her children in.

Finally, a woman opened her door, and immediately let the tiny family inside. All together. Cinders's old name was Flame, and she is a sunshine torbie with bright golden colors and a white mark on her head. At least, before things got bad. Her coat has dulled, and living alone with her kits for a while left her murky and stained. She looked more gray than anything, hence the woman renaming her Cinders. Cinders took to the name immediately, even after her pelt began to brighten again. Her kits are given names as well; Harry, Sunny, Foggy and Ivy.

Harry became lazy, and whiny, and spoiled from their new owner. He became bossy with his siblings, and when they stopped wanting to take it, Harry cried to his mother that they were bullying him.

Eventually, Cinders catches him snapping at one of them, swiping at his sister Ivy and connecting his claws with his meek sister's muzzle. Cinders snapped at Harry, and chased him out...

Harry would soon find himself on Skyclan's borders, where he would cause problems with Leafstar and Billystorm's children, making an already bad situation much worse.

Leafstar finds out about him more through his mother, and finds just how dangerous he can be. She boots him out of Skyclan for it, permanently.

He wanders through the land, forcing others to occasionally catch food for him, coasting on the kindness of Twolegs. He wanders into White Hart Woods, or rather, what is left of it. A storm drives Harry into an old cave system, where, at its deepest point, lies an ancient chamber with the broken remains of The Moonstone. It calls to Harry, and, in what will be a horrible turn of events for the Clans, he finds himself resting on the Shattered Moonstone.

I cannot reiterate enough, readers, that you Should Not Do That.

His head is filled with knowledge, things he shouldn't know. Blackstar's Trial and his leadership ceremonies, and how to charm him. Firestar's sacred Prophecy about his Kin, and who their parents are. He knows that Russetfur will be mauled by a Windclan cat and that the Moon will cover the Sun. Harry has been overexposed to a much more raw, archaic place than any Starclan spirit can get to.

He had found The Sky Beyond The Stars.

When he wakes up, he renames himself Sol, after an old, dead god that has now been reborn. And he knows about The Moonpool, too. It's like a beacon to him. He heads down, bullying groups he comes across like Jingo and her friends, but when he reaches Thunderclan territory and tries to climb a tree, he falls... There's a horrible crunch, and Sol falls limp for just a moment...

His father Whispers has been haunting him, and he decides to finally put that spirit to use.

Sol gets up, shakes himself off, and feels just a little lighter before continuing his walk, deciding to stay off of trees. Eventually, he hears a small group of young cats nearby...

He recognizes Hollypaw, Jaypaw and Lionpaw. He is taken to camp, where he makes his infamous prediction. Squilf is nearly killed in the battle against Windclan, and, to be fair, it looks like Sol caused the whole thing. He had forgotten about the WindThunder battle, genuinely.

Firestar exiles him, his heart broken over his Terribly injured daughter, along with his friendship with Onestar having shattered. Russetfur was mauled, his grandson Jaypaw was nearly killed, and Blackstar is almost definitely going to lose a life over this.

Not to mention Lionpaw has just killed someone.

So... Yeah. Bye Sol. Go find a new home.

And Sol does. He knew that Blackstar would be vulnerable. He charms him, speaks to him in that new hypnotic way he has learned to do, like staring at a small mirage created by the sun's heat on the road.

He had been able to get Russetfur out of her comatose state, he said exactly what Blackstar had wanted to hear in a way he knew would get to him...

It is to let Sol help him. Guide him. When was the last time Starclan spoke to you? Gee, it's been a while. If they don't trust you anymore, what's the point of trusting them? Your deputy has been mauled by a Windclan cat who has seen no punishment over it... Seems despite your trials and tribulations... Starclan has abandoned you.

Perhaps it's time to put your faith in a new god.

The next stage is so fast, Lionblaze desperately works with the young new Shadowclan warriors, Owlclaw and Redwillow, to create a fake sign, and while it becomes real, Jay is off fighting with Sol. But now, Jay's got some warrior skills under his belt.

He is about to seriously wound Sol, when the slippery tom speaks once more.

"You look so much like your father. Well, your real one, anyway."

The shock of that statement is too much, and when Jayfeather tries to gauge how Sol is feeling (because, well... He could be full of crap) his mind is filled with the Sun god's horrible blinding light, physically painting him.

"Interesting power you've got there. Mine came from the same place. There's another Sky out there. Beyond Starclan. There is more out there than you can imagine. Spirits, places, power... Did you know you I've died before?"

Poor Jay is left dumbstruck as Sol darts away, not to be seen again until OOTS.

From there, he meets a different fate. Hollyleaf's mind has changed about the code. It's important, sure, but also stupid in places. And it doesn’t account for this.

She kills him, the two fighting in a dusty clearing outside of Thunderclan land, his head smashed onto a stone. She gives him a burial, as a kind thing to do for a body no longer housing a soul.

The Sun God has had its vessel destroyed, and will have to seek out a new one.

Sol enters the Dark Forest. Most cats dislike him, but he doesn't involve himself with Tigerstar's plans. He keeps to himself in a corrupted version of the dump/Skyclan's camp, an amalgamation fused together horribly that he calls his Sun Kingdom. It randomly grows dark, and cold, and laughter is heard from countless cats until it suddenly becomes blindingly bright, then back to normal. The whole thing is sun bleached and the place stinks of wet cardboard box.

A king sits alone upon his cold, sun bleached throne, decreeing his royalty to a crowd that doesn't exist, and only laughs.

The Sun's Rage is brewing.

#warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats rewrite #wcr #character page #harry WC #wc sol #Sol #wc cinders #jayfeather #lionblaze #hollyleaf #the dark forest #the sky beyond the stars

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aurore-parle-de-ses-idees · 9 months

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36 for an oc of your choice? >:)

(it was Going to be isena & isedd, but isena only ever wants to respond Fuck This and begin stabbing, so. the scene was like two lines long. lendrain does I.9.5: Amarthiel's Hope instead):

“We must know what Amarthiel is planning,” Calenglad says. “A large party of Angmarim was sighted near the docks; you should start there. Tadan, are you prepared?”

“We’re ready,” Tadan says. “Lendrain?”

“I’ll be right there,” Lendrain calls, tightening his shield across his back. Calenglad watches him go, hopping into the small rowboat with the others and pushing off for Annúminas.

“Watch over them,” Calenglad murmurs to the lake. "They will need it." The clouds gather over Tinnudir.

---

“They were ready for us,” Hallas growls, throwing himself behind a pile of rubble beside Lendrain. “She is here, but at this rate we'll never reach her.” Lendrain curses, weighing another javelin in his hand.

“I have an idea,” he says reluctantly, and wishes Hallas’s look was more skeptical than hopeful. “When the way is clear, find Amarthiel.” His old friend frowns.

“Lendrain-” But he is already away, hurling his javelin straight for the Angmarim captain on the slope above them. Crossbows snap over the man's cry of pain, but Lendrain is already gone, throwing himself into a roll beneath the hail of bolts.

“Is that all the better your aim is?” Lendrain shouts as the crossbowmen throw aside their heavy weapons in favor of spears and swords. “It’s no wonder Múra was nearly unguarded- you must have put half your bolts in each other instead of the targets!”

“You!” Many of them turn on him, then, and ah, they really are still sore about that one. He hadn’t thought one sorceress was so much more beloved than any other, but they seem to have taken her death even more personally than that of the False King. Or whatever passes for death for one such as him, anyway.

Lendrain runs into the city and the Angmarim pursue him. He wanted to think he knew the broken streets well enough to lead them away, but fifteen years have come and gone since he last set foot in Annúminas himself, and it was not half so deadly, then. He can only hope enough of them pursue him that Hallas and Tadan and the others can find Amarthiel.

He bursts into an open court, the arches overgrown with ivy and stagnant water in the fountain. Another party of Angmarim turn at his entrance and he skids to a stop, but the others are hot on his heels and loud with rage and soon he is surrounded entirely. He hefts his axe, and slips his shield onto his arm, and prepares to stand until he can’t.

The ones he had led away from the docks are plenty eager to fall on him, and if he has forgotten the streets of the city he has never forgotten how to fight. He swings and swings and swings, and hopes this will be enough for- for everything. For the others to find what they need, for those he abandoned, for the peace of those he hasn’t saved since he came back to this.

He makes a fair accounting of himself, all things considered. Better than he has any right to, certainly, but eventually his foot lands on a stiff, lifeless arm and he falls, and his shield is torn from him and a heavy boot stomps hard on his axe-hand and he screams.

And then arrows fall among them and his enemies fall back, ducking for cover until they realize there are only two bowmen among the Rangers. Even when they realize how greatly they outnumber the five Dúnedain who rush into the courtyard, though, they keep their distance, watching the ruins about them as if they still spawn more Rangers at a moment's notice. Lendrain gasps for breath on the ground amid the bodies he made, every bruise and small scrape crying out at once as the rush of battle leaves him.

“Lendrain?” Hallas calls, voice tight and worried. Lendrain waves a weak acknowledgement but doesn’t rise. Distantly, he wonders how many other Rangers survive within the walls of the sunken city. There hasn’t been word from Daerdan or any of his people in days.

“Have you found-” he wheezes from his back, and chokes back the rest of the question when she arrives.

Amarthiel enters the courtyard in a rush of red, grabbing Hallas by the front of his armor as she passes and dragging him behind her. The others cry out, but she is attended by new lieutenants Lendrain has not seen before, their armor unlike that of the Angmarim champions- unlike any Lendrain has seen in his travels.

The Champion of Angmar seems less terrible by daylight, if only just. Her silver mask gleams in the sunlight and the red of her dress is nearer the color of roses than of blood. Lendrain feels again the touch of her hand on his face, the single point of incandescent heat like she wore a burning ring or else held a coal to his cheek.

“You have come a long way to see me again, Lendrain,” she says, ignoring Hallas as he grasps at her wrist. “I am glad to see you returned to Gath Forthnír alive.” His blood runs cold, and every word she says only worsens his dread. “It was useful while it lasted, but all things end one day. But you should rejoice! You and all your kin here, for I have brought a palantír to Annúminas once more, and with it I shall look out over my lands as the kings of old.” Hallas draws a dagger from his belt and strikes at her, but Amarthiel catches his wrist and looks at him with disdain, and in panic Lendrain struggles upright, making it no farther than his knees.

“Let him go!” he cries, raising empty hands. “Please-”

“Let him go?” Amarthiel laughs. “As he holds a blade to my chest? You are a bold one. What would you offer in exchange, if I were to grant such a request? You had best make it good.”

Anything, he wants to say, even with Hallas glaring at him upside-down in Amarthiel’s grasp. Anything. Just let him go. Because this is what he always feared, what he knew even as a child he couldn’t face. This is why he ran, and why he hardly dared return, even to see his dearest kin again. He thinks of Helegdir, holding back the raids from the north with the people of Aughaire, and of the nightmares of the Halls of Night, and he says nothing, only watching Hallas desperately, but Amarthiel smiles as she looks upon him, finding something in his face to her liking. She laughs, and throws Hallas aside, and strides away, her new entourage falling in behind her and the Angmarim in the court bowing as she passes.

“Morguldur,” she says over her shoulder, “deal with them.”

“Yes, Mistress,” one of the men says, stepping out of line. Fire dances around his hands, but Tadan’s bow-hand is true, and Morguldur is dead on the ground almost before his allies are out of sight.

“Lendrain,” Hallas says into the terrible, deathly quiet that follows, “what did you do? What did you offer her?”

Nothing, he wants to say, and wants it to be true, but her touch had burned and there is a blankness his memory will not fill and he doesn’t know why she turned away here. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I don’t know.”

#lotro #ask games #my stories #lendrain #local blue warden: i've got an idea :) [screaming]#is lendrain having a good time? no absolutely not <3 #this is somewhere in his nebulous solo au #where he Doesn't get dragged into ost dunhoth things with silear #thanks friend :D #i. should put some of these on ao3. both for reasons of it's not a perfect overlap between ppl who read things there and here #and for reasons of it's good to have copies of things in multiple places #amarthiel #vibing in evendim tag

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litgwritersroom · 2 years

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Good Luck, Hun

Part Seven of All's Fair in Casa Amor

read it on AO3 | chapter written by @i-boop-you

The original girls are back in the Villa and the air is rife with tension.

| Part One | Part Six |

All heads turned to watch the return of the original girls. Astrid was sweating, clinging onto Bobby like he was the only thing that could anchor her. That or the pit of dread in her stomach, though she couldn’t work out why that dread had nestled inside her so.

Bobby had no romantic ties to any of the girls. His partner before Astrid entered was Marisol, and she had clearly made mad moves of her own, so just what was it that was casting such a cloud over her?

Her eyes flickered away from the approaching sound of heels, over to Ali. She had gone white as a sheet; her head bowed like she was trying to make herself smaller, but still her eyes were stuck on the spot they would see the girls coming back. There was no question that of all the new couples, confirmed or potential, Ali was set to have the least welcoming reception.

Astrid’s heart pounded for her friend. Bobby squeezed her hand. It worked to ease some of her tension, knowing that Bobby would be there. She would need him if she needed to stick up for Ali. He held a lot of sway within the Villa, and was everyone’s good friend. His voice held weight, and she would need that if things were to stay grounded.

“Hello-ooh.” Marisol’s voice rounded the corner a second before she appeared, with a broad and incredibly ginger chap by her side. He was pretty pale for someone who’d been on holiday in the tropics for nearly a week. She scanned the crowd waiting, new and old faces, taking the briefest moment to take everyone in before she settled on Bobby, and by extension, Astrid.

At once, the look of pleasant realisation turned just plain pleasant. A smile broke over her face, and even her new guy looked relieved to see Bobby and Astrid.

“Look at you,” Marisol said, going straight to Bobby.

He got to his feet, meeting her half way. They engulfed one another in a hug. Bobby nodded to the new guy. “You’ve been busy,” he winked to her.

Marisol nodded at Astrid. “Could say the same to you.”

As Marisol greeted the other boys, Bobby swept up to Marisol’s new partner and introduced himself. Astrid was sure to greet Marisol as warmly as she could, knowing how important it was for Bobby that Astrid got on with his friends without him ever needing to ask it.

Marisol sat next to Bobby, with her new flame, introduced as fisherman Graham, sat on her other side, to watch the next original girl enter. Astrid felt far more relaxed this time around. Sure this was a sign of things to come; if only all the reunions could be as happy as Marisol’s had been. If only.

Few Islander’s are ever heard before they were seen, but Chelsea really was something else.

“Hello, hello, hello!” Her high-pitched voice broke through to them, cascading down from behind the wall of plastic ivy. Despite her due greeting, her voice warmed the group, bringing the smiles back onto all their faces.

Lucas stood, clutching Blake’s hand, taking a deep breath which swelled up his chest and made him stand taller. Chelsea jumped out from behind the wall, index finger already pointed and poised. It landed on Graham, so she quickly swivelled to Lucas, her mouth making a perfect ‘O’ shape.

Just as Lucas grimaced for the drama, a dark and handsome guy with glasses appeared on Chelsea’s other side.

“SNAP!” Chelsea screamed down at Lucas, the sound piercing. He looked taken aback, but that could have been from just how shrill she was. She clapped her hands together with the force of a sonic boom in her excitement, then grabbed the arm of her new beau and ran down to the fire pit where everyone was waiting. She practically jumped on Lucas in an attempt to hug him.

“So, there are no hard feelings, then, Chels?” Lucas asked, a wily grin cocking onto his face.

“Not at all, babe! We’re all going to be best friends! This is Elijah, everyone! Babe,” she turned to Blake, taking her in for a hug already, “tell me your name! I already feel like we’re going to get on so well!”

Once they were all seated, Blake and Astrid exchanged relieved looks. That was now two out of the three of them down … somehow Astrid couldn’t believe that the third reveal would go as smoothly.

“Hey, everyone!” Hannah’s voice snapped Astrid back into what was happening. She looked up, blinking once, twice, four, seven, times to take in the guy Hannah had by her side. She was holding his hand, taking him in behind her a step, but her eyes were only on Henrik. “Oh!” She said, seeing him alone. “I didn’t expect that!”

Henrik stood, going over to greet her. She let go of her new man’s hand to give Henrik a hug. “If anything,” he said, “I’m more sure of how I felt now than I was when you were here last.”

Hannah stepped back. Awkwardly, she put a hand on her new guy’s arm, avoiding Henrik’s eye as she said, “This is Arjun, everyone.”

Astrid caught Bobby’s eye and they both grimaced at her lack of acknowledgement over what Henrik said.

Henrik sat next to Hannah, the first, and most likely not the last, of the single Islander’s.

It was clear that the other girls had been very busy as Priya made her way into the fold with a new guy as well.

Despite Ibrahim and Priya both switching, they eyed one another with flames in their eyes, a smouldering, burning heat that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with being replaced.

“Oh,” Priya said, her gaze flickering over Shannon. “I see I was right. I thought you would switch.”

She said it with a sweet smile, but it was nothing but sour.

Her tone wasn’t lost on Rahim. He furrowed his brows and nodded at Priya’s new guy. “Yeah, I had the same feeling.”

Shannon squeezed his hand. “Looks like it worked out best for us all, then.”

The degree of fakeness in Priya’s returning smile was laughable. Astrid had to cover her mouth with her hand to disguise the twitches of her own mouth.

“Come on, Carl,” Priya said, slinking her arm in his, acting far more warmly to him than she had the entire conversation. They sat far enough away from Rahim and Shannon that Rahim could not avoid seeing them. They would be directly in his line of sight as the girls kept coming back from Casa Amor. Astrid admired the gall.

Only two girls were left to come back. Hope and Lottie.

Noah and Gary shared a wary look before Noah’s face was wiped clean of all emotion, going steadily back to stoic. Gary was the opposite, with the worry lining every crease of his face.

They could hear heels. They were coming fast, and unaccompanied by the heavy gait of a man.

Then Hope came into view, as alone as Astrid suspected. Hope threw her hand over her mouth upon seeing Noah waiting for her alone. She hurried over, her hand muffling whatever words she was struggling to get out.

Noah leapt up when he saw it was her, and before she could get into the fold properly, he swept her up in a hug that swung her off her feet. Hope sank her face into his neck and wrapped her arms around him in return. The others began a clap.

Astrid joined in, for the obligation if nothing else. She had to suck in her smile of disbelief, and said everything that she couldn’t say out loud through the look she gave Ali and Blake. They clearly shared the same sentiment.

“You’ve got no idea how much I missed you,” Noah said, putting Hope back down on her feet.

She looked at him with stars in her eyes. “I was so nervous, babe. They sent me a video of you … you didn’t look like you missed me, so I had to keep reminding myself you would never do that to me. I’m so glad I trusted you.”

Noah was still smiling, but there was a distinct strain to it now. They sat down in one another’s embrace still, like now that they had each other again, they didn’t want to risk losing it all over again. Astrid threw a long, barely concealed eyeroll over at Ali.

It worked to make her smile, but Astrid saw the dawning of realisation over her face. With Hope’s return, that left only one. Lottie.

If there were to be a reckoning, this would be it. Gary and Ali were both pale, with a twitchy look about them. Their hands were locked so tightly that Astrid was at a loss for how they weren’t in pain.

It was plain on the faces of the original girls, too; they were throwing side eyes and looks of derision a-plenty at Ali and Gary. Despite Astrid’s earlier feeling of warmth for Priya, she did not appreciate the up and down sweep Priya was currently encasing Ali with, like Ali had done her dirty.

Of course, Astrid understood. She knew where these girls would have to lay their loyalties, but she still did not like it. Lottie would have every right to be upset, but that did not diminish that Ali and Gary had every right to make something work.

With every flicker and fleck of the near indiscernible uncomfortableness thrown towards Astrid and her friends, she found herself edging further to Bobby. She wasn’t sure if he could tell she was nervous or if she just wanted to be closer to him, but he opened up to her, laying his arm behind her back and along the headboard of the bench. He cuddled her in close, his lips finding their way to her forehead for the briefest and softest of caressing kisses, reminding her: I’m still here, Astrid, and I’m not going anywhere.

And then they could hear it; the heels against the hard flooring; the final reveal of the night; the big one; the shocker. For the last time, the echo of the stilettos hit sharply along the ground, each sharp thunk like a dagger in wood.

Gary stood, nudging Ali, tugging her by their fingers, laced together like their grasp was set in stone. He held his head up high, maybe mirroring the way Lucas had stood earlier, showing it had made an impression on Gary. And then Lottie rounded the corner.

She was craning her neck already, clearly on the lookout. Astrid felt dizzy in an instance, so she couldn’t imagine how Ali was feeling. Instead of hardening, or looking pissed, what Lottie did instead made Astrid’s blood run cold.

She laughed.

A cackle that made her head throw back, Lottie laughed all the way down to the spot before the fire pit, standing centre stage for the show of the night. Gary’s cheeks flushed a hot red, but he looked more resolved than before, his brows knitting together haughtily.

There was dead silence from everyone else. Astrid burrowed closer into Bobby. He cuddling her into him even more.

Lottie had eyes only for Gary, her tongue running salaciously over her teeth. Astrid thought of her like a lioness, checking over the sharpness of her fangs before laying into the carcress prepared for her.

With one look, it was evident that she had come to demolish him. He’d prepared her a feast of lies and Lottie eyed it like a starved beast.

“Well, if I don’t know how to pick them…” she said. She let out a short and derisive laugh. “I fucking knew it. Didn’t I fucking say to you girls?” She looked around her friends with the most hostile derision Astrid had ever seen, before she rounded back on Ali, taking her in with one menacing look up and down. “Good luck with him … hun. Maybe you'll have better luck keeping his attention for more than next five minutes."

Gary bristled. “I’m sorry, Lottie, it’s just how it is,” he said. His tone was hitched with a defensiveness, making his pitch go a little higher. He coughed, clearing his throat. Astrid felt that it was nothing more than nerves, and giving himself an extra second or two to regain his thoughts. No doubt every word and all his speeches he’d been mulling in his mind to reason and relax Lottie had slipped from this thoughts now that he had her standing before him. “If I could have spoken to you before now, I would have. But I couldn’t. So it is just how it is.”

Her eyes narrowed as she screwed her face up like she’d trod in dog shit. “That’s all you’ve got, huh? That’s what you’re going with? Just … ‘It is what it is’.” Her head was craned forwards, snapping lowly, her expression a straight sneer, shoulders hunched in mockery. “I suppose I shouldn’t expect originality from a meat head like you. What would have been original, hun, is if you managed to keep it in your pants. How long was I gone? Like, two days? Three?” She scoffed. “Well, alls I know is that four days ago you were telling me how you thought this was it, that you thought that you’d found someone to take home to your nan… and I come back to this.”

She waved dismissively in Ali’s direction, turning away with another sneer.

Hope unstuck herself from Noah, hurrying over to Lottie. “Come on, hun, it isn’t worth it, let’s go…”

There was a futile attempt from Hope to usher Lottie away, but she was glued to the spot, set to become as much of a fixture as the fire pit.

Her fiery gaze was set directly on Ali as she said, "I'll try not to be too smug when he dumps you for the next bleached blonde bombshell who walks in."

With that last piece said and done, Lottie was much more pliable. With the help of Marisol and Hannah, Hope managed to cart her off, leaving a stunned crowd in her wake.

Gary turned to Ali. “That could have been worse,” he said. He quickly sat them down again, his body turned into her so much that it was clear these words were just meant for Ali. “Could have been a lot better, too, but I didn’t expect much different. Anyway, how are you feeling? Are you okay?”

As they got into it, Astrid and Bobby turned to one another almost automatically. She entwined her hands in his, paying no mind to those who were getting up and moving around.

“Hey,” he said. “How are you feeling after all that?”

She shrugged. “Thankful I’m not Ali. I don’t fancy having to deal with Lottie … even though, I suppose we all will? She’s very vocal with her opinions…”

Lottie’s voice broke over the hubbub of the other’s, all the way down from the kitchen. “...More snakes here than the fucking outback!”

Bobby looked her dead on. “I don’t know what you mean.”

They both laughed, before getting up to integrate into the new lay of the land.

“I’m gonna go check on Ali, speak to you later,” Astrid said, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

He leant into it. “All righty, I’ll take Gary for a chat with the lads. Speak to you later.”

Blake had the same idea, arriving at Ali’s other side as Gary slinked off to go join the original boys. Both Blake and Astrid gave Ali their hands in solidarity. To Astrid’s surprise, Shannon was there with them, too.

“That went about how I expected it to,” Shannon said.

“Yeah,” Astrid said, trying not to be awkward about her presence. Though, it made sense when she thought about it. Who else was Shannon to turn to now that her two buddies were gone? She didn’t seem to be carrying any sympathy for her fallen comrades, however, and Astrid suspected Shannon was keen to now integrate herself into their circle so she wasn’t thrown to the wolves (the original girls) alone.

“Shall we just go up there and bite the bullet?” Ali asked, eyes wavering over the girls in the kitchen.

That’s when Chelsea came hopping over. “Oh my gosh, you guys!” She said, sounding breathless and exhilarated from all the drama. “You must all be feeling such a shamble! I think it’s time we go and get a drink! The champers is on me!”

She laughed at her own joke before leading the trio - or, er - quad up to the kitchen. The five girls already crowded in were talking in whispers, all huddled in close. At the approach of the new group, all the talk died down at once. Lottie’s icy stare was boring into Ali.

Chelsea did her best to act like nothing was amiss, or maybe she really thought that everything was cool, but regardless, it did nothing to warm Lottie up.

“Hey!” Hope said, taking a cue from Chelsea. She went up to Astrid and wrapped her arms around her like they were old friends. “Sorry I haven’t introduced myself yet! It’s so good to see Bobby with someone. We were all hoping he’d find someone decent.”

Lottie hissed at the mention of ‘decent’. Astrid’s heart was hammering. This was a lot different to duelling with Emily. She felt Ali stepping behind her, like she was now putting as many people between her and Lottie as she could without making it obvious.

Facing the lions was always a scarier task in the lion’s den than it was perched from a safe distance.

Unfortunately for Ali, Lottie was paying her particular attention, and decided to call her on her tactics.

She reared her head out from the crowd of girls, shooting a look directly at Ali. "Don't look so hard done by,” she snapped. “After all, what right do I have to be mad at you, hun? You don’t know me, and I’ve long since learnt that just because we’re all girls, that I shouldn’t expect us all to act within girl code.”

A strike of daring ripped through Astrid, and the words were tumbling from her mouth before she had time to really think it through. “If Hannah can get past that kiss between you and Gary, then surely you can learn to forgive a girl who doesn’t know you from Adam.”

The look Lottie gave her in return was as cold as the ones directed at Ali. It took a moment for it to sink in, and Lottie turned away, a mild look of shame settling subtly across her face. She sipped her champagne and stared ahead as Chelsea whispered, “Who’s Adam?”

“It’s just an expression, hun,” Hope told her.

“And you,” Lottie said, now peering at Shannon, who looked coolly removed from the drama. Her expression quickly turned alert now that the heat was catching up to her. “I suppose Ibrahim showed you his nine iron.”

Shannon visibly soured. Her brows knitted together. “Is there any need for that?”

“What do you mean?” Lottie snapped back, this response prickling her sensitive mood.

“It’s a pretty loaded question, considering we just met.”

Lottie was poised to snap again, but this time Priya intervened, putting on hand on Lottie’s shoulder like she was tapping Lottie out, saying it was now Priya’s turn to enter the ring.

“That’s just her humour, babe,” Priya said, no hint or suggestion of any underlying aggression, but Astrid - and she imagined none of the other’s too - were forgetting Priya’s own bristly attitude when she returned. “If you’re planning on sticking around, I would get used to it.”

Shannon broke into a fresh smile. “I think that’ll be up to Ibrahim, but I’m not worried about that. He was saying just this morning that he’s happier now than he has been the whole time he’s been here.”

From the way Shannon refused to break eye contact with Priya, Astrid knew that every single word was chosen carefully and purposefully.

Marisol blew out a deep breath. “Anyway,” she said, clearly hoping everyone would be up for just plain old moving in, “I can’t believe how many of us switched! Only one couple stayed loyal! Hope, you must be feeling over the moon right now.”

Basking in the moment, a suddenly glowing Hope put her hands to her heart. “You have no idea, guys.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “I really thought it would be too good to be true. That video we got sent really had me doubting everything, but I’m so glad I stuck to my guns with him.”

“What video?” Shannon asked, eyes flickering to Astrid. “What did it show?”

“With Noah?” Hope asked, waiting for Shannon’s nod.

Astrid angled herself away from the other girls, turning to Ali and Blake, dreading her name being dragged up to merely drag someone else down.

“He was in it twice,” Hope told them. “Once, he was just talking, saying stuff about one of you guys, and there was also the kiss … but, like, I told myself it was just for the challenge, so it doesn’t matter. I kissed a few toads over at Casa Amor, too.”

“I told you there was nothing to worry about with Noah,” Lottie said. “Even with the weather girls throwing themselves at him, he’s the one I trusted the most to stay loyal. I never doubted him for a moment. And it looks like I was right.”

“Henrik really surprised me,” Hannah said. “Like, why did he stick? We’ve known each other for the same amount of days we were in Casa Amor … it’s making me feel weird, like, do I like him more now?”

This pulled the other girls into a new drama that Astrid felt severely on the other side of, so she squeezed Ali’s hand and said, “I fancy a little walk if you guys do, too.”

Blake and Ali nodded, and they went to the swing while Shannon engaged Hope in conversation.

“How are we all feeling?” Blake asked.

Astrid had assumed she had been in a safe position with the other girls coming back from Casa, but it was becoming clear that Noah had jeopardised that with his thoughts of picking her. This had the potential to alienate her far more than her sticking up for Ali.

Astrid and Ali let out a non-committal whine at the same time.

“I thought as much,” Blake replied.

Astrid caught sight of Hannah making her way down to the beanbags, and when she turned to check who was there, she saw her settling down next to Gary, Bobby, and Ibrahim. Bobby got up to give her a hug, but the other lads stayed seated.

Noah, Lucas, and Carl were off on the far sofas that used to be the designated smoking area. Astrid’s eyes fell on Noah, though.

“Guys, I’m going to take Noah for a chat, find out what all that stuff earlier was,” she said, giving her friends one last squeeze of the hand.

“Good luck,” Blake said.

“And don’t keep anything from us again! I want to know everything you guys chat about!” Ali added, looking like she meant it.

Astrid had to laugh, and it followed her all the way down to the lads. Noah was facing them, so he saw her coming, his eyes directly on her, his mind clearly out of the conversation before she’d arrived.

“Hey, Noah,” she said as she got into the decking, her heels making dull clunks across the wood, “we couldn’t go for a quick chat, could we?”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” he replied, reaching to pick his drink up off the ground.

Astrid waited for him to come up by her side before she made her way off. Just enough time to catch the confused look on Carl’s face and Lucas leaning in to no doubt whisper the drama that had unfolded during the recoupling on their end.

The nerves niggled in her stomach.

“Where to?” He asked.

Astrid had a quick look for somewhere quiet, and the fire pit was the only one that would afford them that luxury. Which meant they’d have to cross over in front of Bobby. She waved to him as they passed, and he waved back, looking happy enough, but it did not escape her notice that his eyes were trailing them all the way up to the cushioned bench.

“All right,” Noah said, sitting down with ease. He didn’t appear nervous or put out in the slightest. “What did you want to chat about?”

“I just kind of wanted to check in after all that drama earlier…” She said, hoping he would use this as a way to explain himself.

Noah shrugged. “Never really had a whole lot to do with me,” he said. “Hope and I are good.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “I didn’t mean that … like, I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t hear that you were set to pick me if you got the chance before Bobby.”

For the first time, he looked away from her. His arms folded over his chest. “I said that I was thinking about it, not that I was going to. I don’t know what was said to you…”

“I was told you were going to pick me.”

“I can see why this has gotten confused,” he said, shaking his head. Despite having an explanation, Noah still took his time to breathe in deeply and readjust himself before he told her, almost like he was buying himself more time. Astrid could have rolled her eyes. “What I said was that if I had to recouple with one of you Casa girls, it probably would have been you, A. I mean … we get on better than I do even with some of the original girls. I can’t pretend that you’re anything other than …” he looked at her again, a breathy pause interjecting the moment, “beautiful … but … let’s not pretend this hasn’t worked out for the best, that this isn’t the best ending for the both of us.”

“I’m not denying that.”

“Then what’s this about?” He shrugged again. “What are you expecting me to say?”

That’s when they were interrupted. Hope came over, with a decidedly pointed march in her step. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” She asked, her tone loaded with more than curiosity.

Noah and Astrid both blinked up at her, taken aback by this sudden shift.

She stood, hands on her hips, and added, “You see, several little birdies have just come up to tell me everything that’s been going on between the pair of you while I’ve been away.”

Noah shook his head. “It’s not like that -”

“Do you know how stupid I feel now?” Hope jabbed, her voice shaking. “If I’d known you were snogging the face off of her the whole time, I’d have never - never, Noah - reacted the way I did when I first came back. How could you let me cry over you like that?”

Noah held his hands up to face her, like he was already surrendering. “It was never like that -”

Hope scoffed. “Save it, Noah. You’ve made us both look like fools. I thought you were better than this. I thought you had more respect.”

She held a silencing hand up, already walking away before her last words left her mouth. Noah stared after her, open-mouthed. He regained himself with a shake of his head, and turned back to Astrid. “What just happened?”

Astrid eyed the varying scenes; her own friends were in the kitchen, watching on wide-eyed, with half of the other girls now scurrying to comfort Hope as she fled to the now abandoned swing; Carl and Lucas were with Priya, who was frowning disapprovingly over at Noah and Astrid, and then there was Shannon with Hannah, leaning in like she was whispering secrets, gaze held Astrid’s way to hammer in who the secrets subject was.

Astrid huffed. There were a dozen different versions of what went on during Casa Amor floating about, so who knew which one Hope had?

Before Astrid could gather her thoughts enough to answer him, Noah was on his feet. “I better go check on her, get this sorted out. Talk to you later, A.”

“Yeah, have fun,” she replied, trying not to forge any bitterness into her tone.

Forging friendships was such a huge part of the Love Island experience. Astrid was feeling put out that her chance to do that with the original girls was now in jeopardy.

Astrid left her spot, going straight to Bobby without even thinking about it.

She had wrongly thought that once Casa Amor officially ended, that it would begin to feel like the real experience; that as soon as the competition between her and Emily was over, things would get easier.

Now, Emily was gone, and the two Villa’s were back to being one, yet Astrid was feeling more than ever that the games were just beginning.

Still, if there was one person she got to have by her side as she played, one person she could rely on to get through this … well, she’d found a good one.

Bobby was waiting for her, a smile on his face, his arms outstretched to embrace her. She let him engulf her, and breathed him in, feeling so much better already … all the drama and the falling out and the hype … none of it mattered here. Not if she had Bobby.

All’s fair in Casa Amor, but the real love and war was still to come.

And when it does, Astrid knew she would weather it all with Bobby by her side.

Epilogue release the 31st.

#litg #litg season 2 #litg casa amor #litg writers room #writers room #litg fanfic #love island the game #litg bobby #afica #alls fair in casa amor

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burnt-toast-life · 2 years

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Anyway here’s some fun Gotham stuff and like recap and rant on where I am. If you plan on watching the show this is a lot of spoilers for season 3 lmao. I forgot what episode I’m on but yeahg anyway:

GCPD plotline:

Cop stuff is boring actually um. The captain or whatever is infected by some virus from Alice so he’s a villain now. I guess the virus is spreading so a few others do this also ?? I don’t know it’s stupid I don’t care

Penguin + The Riddler:

Penguin murdered Ed (Riddler)‘s girlfriend, Ed went into a depressive state because of this and Penguin is acting innocent and he did this to have Ed all to himself so. Gay rights I guess?? 😭

Ed also snapped and tortured Butch and Tabitha bc he THOUGHT they may have killed the girl. They did not. He realized this later on. He still doesn’t know who DID though.

Barbara figured out who killed the girl after talking w Butch because she already figured out Penguin has romantic feelings for Ed and put two and two together. Is planning to team up with Butch to start a war against Penguin. So now there’s a war bc of the gays I guess lmfao

Side note, what Penguin did is obviously screwed up but the girl wasn’t exactly innocent either. She manipulated Ed by dressing as his dead ex and constantly used that against him until she died. So yeah she was p toxic tee bee ache. Don’t think she really deserved to be murdered and I’m not twisting things in favor of a gay pairing either like this show is insane. She and Penguin are insane. Ed I’m sorry for your love life it’s fucked.

Bruce, Selina, + Ivy:

Ivy came back!!! She is a really good thief now which to be fair Selina is also and iirc they robbed stuff together before Ivy was kidnapped and fell in a Sewage system BUT Ivy is a lil more insane and reckless with it. Stole a necklace from some mobster. Bruce discovered it had a key in it later on. Necklace owner is now dead, and there are a ton of guys trying to murder the trio (namely Ivy) right now. Insane behavior.

Ivy used her weird like. Some kind of spell thing?? To basically mind control Alfred so she’s also on an evil agenda. Dunno what she’s doing exactly tho

#liveblog tag

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jupiternames · 3 years

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Y’all, these ladies are both wearing clothes with snaps! Please ignore the smaller lady in the background who is still waiting for a proper closure on her skirt.

#to be fair Ivy already had snaps #but it’s good she’s not alone anymore #and I managed to sew those gold buttons on before I lost them

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kingfakey · 2 years

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THE PINK SERIES - CHAPTER 1, PART 2

Trigger warnings for: family arguments, mentions of family death. Reader discretion advised. Wordcount: 1200.

“Am I right or not?”

“Well–”

“Ivan.”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right…”

“I can’t believe–” Edgar pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut to taper off a glare. “Y’know what? Yeah, actually, I can believe it, that’s the sad part. Do you have any idea what an asshole you are?”

It’s the brashness and the source, that causes the wine to catch in Ivan’s throat. Sputtering, he manages to swallow, wiping away any drops on the back of a black sleeve. It’s not like he hasn’t been called an asshole before, but hearing it from little Eddy was obscene. They had their problems, but Edgar was a quiet kid that kept to himself. “There’ll be other birthdays, Edgar. What’s the big deal–”

“You’re going to do it on other birthdays, too! You’ve done it before, you’re doing it now, you’ll do it again. So,” Edgar scoffs, getting to his feet. “Stop forcing it; stop punishing me, Ivy.”

Ivy isn’t a name Ivan’s heard come out of Edgar’s mouth in years. He can’t help but think it seems exceptionally childish this time around. Desperate, even. It’s a subtle, passive aggressive jab. “Punishing you for what?” He may be petite, but somehow Ivan’s managing to make himself even smaller as he slouches into the sofa.

Edgar stops to flash his brother a look, his arms loaded with bowls, chopsticks, and takeout boxes. He gives a wag of his head, brown hair tossing. “You know what. When are you gonna stop blaming me and let it go?”

Now, it seems, Edgar’s hit a button. Ivan clambers to his feet, fighting gravity and a hungry sofa. “You let it go– I’ll blame you as much as I want, screw you.” Always quick to act, this one. Ivan’s never been good at getting a grip on his emotions, especially not where family’s concerned.

“She was my mum too–”

“Fuck off, she was not– you don’t get to say that.” Pint-sized fists clench at Ivan’s side. He stands his ground, as Edgar goes about his business.

His brother is calm by comparison, picking up the mess they made. Soon, it’s all piled into the garbage, except for the birthday card. “You can go now.”

There’s anger welling in Ivan’s chest, ready to boil over. Is he going to scream, or cry? Neither of them can tell. A moment passes before he realizes he’s holding his breath, like he used to do when he was a child. (He'd kill himself if their father didn’t come home that second.) “You asshole...” But Ivan trails off, eyes squeezing shut.

No, he won’t cry.

Ivan swallows down the lump in his throat as he grabs everything he can. He hastily shoves his phone into a pocket, wallet already safe in his jacket. There are more things he needs, but in his frenzy, Ivan can’t bother to remember them. All he can think to do is throw his arms out and shriek. “Fuck you, Edgar!”

Edgar may be calm, and far less dramatic than Ivan, but he feels himself bordering on hysterics. If he had it in him, he might fight to keep his brother there, but he doesn’t. They’ll put up an argument another day, but he’s tired, and his shoulders feel heavy. Can’t they table it? “Just go see G, Ivy. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah? I’m tired– you’re drunk, anyway.”

“I’m not drunk,” Ivan snaps, but he's clumsy as he pushes his way past Edgar and to the door. He leans his weight into the wall for support. “But whatever, you’re right, I don’t want to be here. It’s sick– she died and you’re making me celebrate it. It’s not fucking fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Ivan.”

“You’re right, Edgar. Life’s a bitch, then you’re fucking dead.”

The door flies open and slams shut behind him. Ivan storms into the hall, barreling down a single flight of stairs. There’s an elevator, but he doesn’t have the patience to wait. Stomping down the stairs and out the building feels right. Bursting into the night air, Ivan finds that the rain hasn’t let up.

The fog is heavier than ever, swirling at his feet and leaving steamy breath to fall from his lips. Black hood up, hands shoved into pockets, and he marches.

Where? In no time, he finds that he’s left his cigarettes and lighter at home, but there’s no way in hell he’s going back now. It calls for a quick stop at the liquor store for a pack of cigarettes and the first lighter his hand finds. Then, he let the wandering begin.

G's apartment was the destination, eventually, but for now he’s aimless. He keeps his eyes ahead and focuses on nothing more than the pavement under his boots and the wind on his face. The wind has Ivan pulling his hood back up to right it again, securing it over the tangle of curls. He feels raw without it, and far too vulnerable for comfort.

He’s always been like this. Ivan was stubborn, flighty, and keen on running away whenever the pressure got to be a little too much. He could be a diamond under all that pressure, but he fights to fly and avoid every problem. Ivan does it almost as diligently as he avoids having to spend time with Edgar.

They could get along if he’d let them; Edgar’s the sort to get along with anybody.

After nineteen years, keeping his brother at arms length has worked for him. That, and everyone else he knew.

But what of the rest of it?

The sniff is audible, wet, and sloppy as he tries to clear his sinuses of signs of distress. Sleeve balled over his fist, Ivan scrubs away at his eyes to wash away tears. He fights back the urge to throw himself onto the pavement and sob. That’s ridiculous and dramatic, and the sort of thing best saved for the bathroom floor. The shower running and the music blaring would drown him out and keep Edgar from listening. The walls of their apartment leave nothing to the imagination.

Edgar was right about one thing.

He is drunk, Ivan admits to himself when he stops to lean heavy into a brick wall, looking down the length of the alley.

This isn’t familiar territory, and if Ivan were smarter, he’d be more wary of dark alleys on darker nights.

If he were sober, he'd pay attention.

If he were smarter, or sober, he’d have noticed the soft sound of boots falling against wet pavement. Something is stalking and creeping, with lips curved into a sneer.

A predator lurks, ready to snap.

Ivan pushes himself from the wall to right himself, swaying when he stands. The hood slips back over his head and falls down. Eyes shut in time for hot tears to boil over. It doesn’t count if they never reach his cheeks. Still, he’s not stopping them or wiping them away.

Not until the sound of gravel underfoot catches his attention. He rounds on his heel to turn and face whatever is in the alley with him. In a whirl of fog and alcoholic haze, of loose curls and tears in his eyes, Ivan can hardly make anything out, save for a looming figure.

Before he can process a single thing, everything gets cut by the flick of a wrist, a tug, a scream, and the last desperate whimpers of a heart still kicking.

#thepinksrs #ts4story

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raineydays411 · 3 years

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So warm and tender

Tony Stark x Daughter!reader

A/n: Hello! finally the last part of Ember. I hope you guys like it and sorry for making y’all wait so long for the confrontation lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s POV

“Aunt Pam?!” you say in shock as you stop struggling against the vine wrapped around your body.

“Y/n, is it really you?” your aunt said as the vine loosened its grip and gently lowered you on the ground. “ Where have you been? Everyone has been going crazy looking for you”

You don’t answer as you look at your aunt. You didn’t realise you missed her as much as you did but now all you want to do is throw yourself in her arms. So you did.Pam, sensing you needed comfort rather than an interrogation, wrapped her arms around you. “I missed so much my Petal.”

With those five words, all the hurt and pain you bottled up came out. and you cried.

As you cried, your aunt looked at the girl she hasn’t seen in eight years, and wondered what she’s been going through and if she did the right thing by giving you to your father all those years ago.

“Petal, I think you need to explain what’s going on”

You look up and sniff, “ Yeah, i think an explanation is well in order.” and you tell her everything. From the years of being ignored by your father, your last argument, the two weeks you spent in captivity, and your new powers.

“ And that’s when I found you.” You finish looking at the grim faces of Pam and the other woman, who now that you think about it looks really familiar.

“Oh, you poor puddin’!” you found your face being squished between two ands and then you were comically pressed against a body in a tight hug.

“Don’tcha worry bout a thing, me and Pammy will take care of everything, you just sit here and---” This seems familiar...

“ Harley, I don’t think she can breathe.” “Oh right, now you remember, it the blonde woman who used to sneak into the apartment”. You think to yourself as you struggle to get loose from her grip. You hear someone snicker and see Danny looking at the commotion.

“ Shut up Danny, where have you been?” You say, forgetting that you’re the only one who can see him.

“Exploring, do you thing she could hug me like that too?”

“ If you weren’t already dead, I’m sure they would kill you for that comment”

Pam and Harley look at each other in concern as it seems like you’re talking to yourself.

“ Hey kid, if you’re gonna talk to yourself, try an’ do it when other people can’t see you, like me.” The blonde says as if someone talking to themselves was a daily occurrence for her. You explain that with your powers, you were basically dead and can speak and see other dead people. Hearing that, Pam’s expression darkened

“He let you die?” she said in a grim tone. All the vines and plants in the room started whipping around angrily as if they were looking for the person who wronged you. It was then when you realized it wasn’t your Auntie Pam who taught you how to plant petunias you were looking at, this was Poison Ivy.

“ Men, you can never trust em’. Well, whadda say little flower, ya up for a little premeditated murder?” and that was the infamous Harley Quinn.

“ It would’ve been nice to know that you’re related to scary criminals y/n....” Danny said in a fearful voice. And if you were being honest you just found out that your aunt Pam was also the Poison Ivy but to be fair you haven’t seen her since you were like eight.

“I don’t want to kill him” you finally say. “ I don’t want anything to do with him. Nor his precious Spiderling.” The plants calm down as Ivy calmed down and was your aunt Pam again. “ What do you want to do?” she asks.

You think to yourself and say,” I want him to know how he made me feel, and then I want to stay with you.” Your aunt and Harley froze when you said that.

“Petal, there is nothing I want more than for you to stay with me again,” She started, “ But it isn’t safe for you to stay.” Your eyes started to water

“But I-I have powers now, I can defend myself! I won’t be any trouble, it’ll be like I’m not even here” At this point, anything was better than going back to being invisible. “Please...I don’t want to go back...”

Hearing the desperation in your voice broke Pams, Harleys, and Danny's heart. Pam because this was the daughter of her closest friend. She vowed to protect you from anything the day you came to her after losing your mother. Seeing you like this just reminded her how she, in her mind, has failed you. Seeing you so desperate to get away from the man who broke your heart reminded Harley of herself. The nights she would sneak into the tiny apartment you shared with Pammy, in hopes of escape only to get drawn back with empty promises. So yeah, she had a small soft spot for you. And Danny, you were the only person who saw him after months of being invisible. He felt like he needed to help you in your mission to get your father regret ignoring you.

“Hey Pammy...maybe we should call him...” Harley started to suggest.

“NO, I’d rather drink weed killer than go to that...orphan collector for help.” the red head spat. “ No. We’ll figure it out but she can stay here for now.”

Hearing that you had a place to call home now, gave you the motivation to go and confront your father. Not only for ignoring you, but for leaving you in that..cell for two weeks. He didn’t even attempt to look for you as far as you knew. You’d have thought at least one of the other Avengers would have came to save you. But no one came. After all those years, no one came.

“Y/n.. your eyes” Danny whispered, his cold hand touching your arm snapped you out of your mind. The neon glow of your eyes faded to your normal e/c.

“ Aunt Pam, Harley is there any way you guys can get me to New York and back?” You ask, finally ready to confront your father.

“ Well....” Harley say as with a smirk

~~~~~~~~~one terrifying ride on a stolen batplane later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon arriving to New York you made Pam and Harley wait a few blocks away from the tower, as you really didn’t want the Avengers to find out your aunt was a wanted criminal. You “went ghost” as Danny like to call it and snuck into the Tower with ease. You then snuck into your room, seeing everything covered in a layer of dust as no one has been in there for over two weeks. You packed a bag and filled it with some clothes, books and a picture of you and your mother. You took that bag and walked to the door, looking around at the room that was both you prison and safe space. It was decorated with multiple trophies, medals, and ribbons all from the multiple sports and clubs you joined to impress your father. Not like that ever happened. Danny wander around looking at the multiple teams photos you had hung up.

“ You’re a volleyball girl?” he said, “ Huh. I’d never have had guessed.”

You rolled your eyes as you finished packing. “ Hey I have a job for you.” you say turning to him. “ I need you to go to the control room and turn off the power for thirty minutes. Then turn it back on and come find me in the common room.”

“ Yes ma’am” Danny says, saluting and disappearing through the wall before he comes back. “Ummm, wheres the control room?”

You roll your eyes and explain how to get to the control room and wait. When the lights go out and you’ll make your move. Your father would have to pass through the common room to get to the control room from his lab, which you assume he’ll be. There you’ll be waiting for him.

The lights go out. It’s showtime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony's POV

The team spent three more days searching for you. They followed every lead and half of the team even flew out to the building that collapsed an hour ago. Tony, Steve, and Natasha stood behind to look at more clues. It was a little past midnight, and both Steve and Natasha went to bed leaving Tony to tinker in his lab. Tony was making improvements to a certain spider suit as he thought about what his daughter said to him before she went missing.

“Sir, there seems to be someone in Y/--” FRIDAY started to say when the power cut out.

“FRIDAY??” Tony questioned as he walked out to check the control room, making sure to get his nano bracelet just incase. As he walked down the hallway he thought about waking up Steve and if he was brave enough to wake Natasha when he heard it.

“Hi daddy.”

Tony stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up in disbelief. The lights turned back on to reveal his daughter. Wearing a black halter top, spandex leggings, grey boots with elbow length gloves. She looked skinny, as if she hadn’t had a proper meal in the weeks she was gone. And for some reason the air was cold in the room. But there she stood.

‘Y/n” Tony said breathlessly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n pov

As you wait for Tony to walk in,you look around the common room and reminisce. You think about the time when you first moved in, and you got lost trying to find the bathroom and accidently walked into Natashas room. YOu thought she was going to kill you but ended up walking you to the restroom and back to your room. Or when you made the volleyball team way back in eighth grade, and you ran home to tell your dad but ended up telling the whole team, who were rarely all together, and they all took you out to get ice cream, minus Tony. You had to admit, even though your dad didn’t pay attention to you, Nat and Steve did. As well as the whole team, but those two really became the parental figures in your life. That’s why it hurt when not even they came for you. Even they had forgotten you.

“Hi daddy” you said in a mocking voice. Your father stopped dead in his tracks, as he looked you over in disbelief.

“Y/n”, he said in a breathless voice.

“Oh, you remember my name?” You say in an sarcastic tone. “ Didn’t seem like you did when you left me in a hydra cell for two weeks.”

Hearing that you were a prisoner of Hydra made Tony’s blood freeze.

“Hydra? Oh Y/N are you okay? What did they do to you?” He asked frantically as he walk towards you with the intent of checking if you were injured. You jerk away from him, avoiding his touch and say

“ Oh, I’m wonderful. Just so fucking fantastic. I was just experimented on and injected with various liquids that caused excruciating pain. No big deal”

“ Y/n..we spent days trying to look for you. Me and the team--”

“You and the team what Tony? I was there for two weeks. TWO WEEKS I WAS POKED AND PRODDED. I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.” You scream, anger filling your heart as you remember the agony you went through. You think about the scratches on the wall of the cells, the taunts from the guards, and screams of the undead.

“ You have no idea what I went through. What I’m going through.” You say, feeling your body grow colder as you lose control and start to shift. “ You don’t care about me. If I were Parker, you would have saved mem within SECONDS.”

“That's not true. Y/N you have no idea how much I love you.” Tony tries to say. He’s filled with the need to tell you everything he didn’t tell you before. “I know I haven’t always been the best father. Trust me I know that now. But if you give me a chance, I want to make everything right. Please.”

You didn’t think it would go like this. In fact you were not at all prepared for Tony to say this. You expected to walk in on him continuing his life as normal, tinkering in his lab and such. You had always yearned to hear him say those words to you. But now, they just fill you with anger.

“You think you could just tell me what I want to hear and what? I’ll just act like nothing happened?? I know you’re not that stupid.” You spit, the room growing colder as you get angrier. “ It’s too late for all that Tony. I’m not the same girl i was two weeks ago.i won;t take it any longer.”

“Y/n..your eyes” Tony says as he slowly starts to put his gauntlet bracelet on, realising that you are becoming a threat.

“ Oh do you like them?”, You ask “ This is what happened when they injected me. I can also do this.” You shift, shades of blue taking over brown skin. Tony stared at you in awe and a bit of fear.

“ Y/n this isn’t you. I know you’re angry but--” “ Isn’t me?” You interrupt.” You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m like. And even if you did the old me died in that cell. Literally I died” You and Tony stared at each other. and that's when you heard the doors open. Two sets of footsteps started rushing to the commotion.

“Y/N some red head and beefy blonde are on their way” You hear Danny say as you realize you had to wrap it up. If anyone can convince you to stay, it’s Steve and Nat.

“ It doesn’t matter anymore Tony.” you say as you start walking to the window. “ I can’t stay here anymore. There’s nothing for me. You win. Peter can be the child you always wanted cause from now on, consider me dead.” and with that, you phase threw the window and let yourself fall, knowing that you won’t actually fall as you can fly.

Tony freaks out and calls for his suit, only to see a blue blur shoot up and across the sky. Then he just sits there and stares. The footsteps reach the common room and he hears someone ask

“ Stark..what was all the yelling. What's going on?”

“she's gone” He says, and that's when he truly realizes his mistake. He became what he never wanted to become. He became his father. And now you were gone.

Taglist: @vxidsti1es @big-galaxy-chaos

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jackie-shitposts · 3 years

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I Thought Thieves Love Jules!

Carmen strolled out of the elevator, feeling pretty beat after her workout with Shadowsan. Not that she would ever admit that- she had wanted to keep going, but it had only been two days since she got electrocuted in Egypt, so Shadowsan made her cut her workout short while he continued. Carmen sauntered over to the counter, taking a long drink from her water bottle, just as Player’s image appeared on her laptop screen. “Check it out, Red. Julia just posted a new entry on her blog, about a recent find in Columbia.” Player said, ”But it totally digresses into fun facts about fair trade coffee, including a “Red Blend.” Carmen leaned onto the counter. “Could be another riddle to solve?” “Good thing I learned a thing or two about code-breaking from Julia.” Player smirked, clearly excited to show off his new skills. “Every paragraph ends with a number. If you line ‘em up like they're a date and time, it’s tomorrow at 8am.” “Seems Chief wants an opportunity to thank me over coffee.” Carmen quirked an eyebrow. Seems as though she’d be seeing her favorite agent-turned-historian-turned-agent-again in the field, per Chief’s request. “How can you be sure it’s not a trap?” Player asked apprehensively. “If it were, Jules would’ve worded it differently.”

“OoOoO, are we talking about Jules?” Zack asked, peeking his head out from the doorway.

“That ACME gal Carm has a crush on?” Ivy chimed in, peeking her own head out from under her brother.

Carmen rolled her eyes at the sibling’s cartoonish antics. “Jules and I are just friends, you two.”

Ivy scoffed, entering the room and flopping onto the couch. “Yeah right- then why did you specifically go to her when you needed help decoding the relics?”

Carmen casually took a sip of her water before answering. “Jules was already familiar with VILE- getting a stranger involved would’ve only made things more complicated and dangerous than it already was.” Zack hopped onto the couch opposite of Ivy, resting his feet up on her knees. He pointedly ignored Ivy’s protests of, “Zack, gross!” and smirked at Carmen. “Oh? Then why did you ask Devineaux where she was in Louisiana?” “Hey, you never told me about that one!” Ivy gasped, feigning betrayal. “I was just surprised ACME let that driving disaster use a car,” Carmen quipped. Player laughed on his side of the screen. “Don’t act like you’re any better, Red. Don’t you remember your first caper?”

Carmen gasped, pretending to be insulted. “Says the 17 year old without a learners permit.”

“Not like I have anywhere to go.” Player laughed, before refocusing on Carmen’s interrogation. “Speaking of firsts, how about when you first met Julia? I listened in, and it totally sounded like you were flirting with her. You called her “Jules” on your first meeting!” Carmen narrowed her eyes at Player in defiance. “I was just sitting across from Jules so I could blend in while keeping an eye on Paper Star. And what’s wrong with nicknames? I called Crackle “Gray” and Ivy “Ives”. I don’t see what the difference is.” “The difference is that you and Cracker used to be best friends, and now we are best friends. However, you and Jules were not friends at the time.” Ivy said, emphasizing the nickname. “His name is Crackle now.” “He went and rejoined VILE, I think I get to call Gary whatever I want.” Player chimed back into the conversation. “Why did you leave the Magna Cartas with Julia, anyway? You had one conversation with her, what made you think leaving them with her meant they were in “good hands?” “While sitting next to her, I noticed Devineaux’s briefcase, and she said they were travel partners on business. I figured that meant they were law enforcement also trying to recover the documents. Leaving them with Jules simply saved me the hassle of returning the documents myself.” Carmen explained casually. “What about the fashion show in Milan, Carm? Why’d you have Julia help us then?” Zack asked, a shit-eating grin plastered onto his face. Carmen sighed in annoyance. Why won’t they just get off her back about this already? “Jules was the only ACME agent around, and I knew that ACME would be able to get the gowns to safety. And before you ask,” Carmen pointed at Ivy, whose mouth was already open with some smug retort, “I put her in charge instead of you because she would know where the gowns could be put for ACME to return.” At that, Ivy simply leaned back onto the couch and mirrored her brother’s smug grin. “Yeah, that was a fun night.” She smirked, and Zack tried to hold back his laugh that came out as more of a snort. Carmen raised her brow at the untold story, but she decided not to press. For the sake of her sanity.

“Well, what about Stockholm?” Zack blurted. Ivy and Player’s eyes snapped to Carmen, looking for any hint of discomfort, and Zack immediately tried to rectify the situation. “I-I mean, yknow, you just were gonna go try to get her help before-”

Carmen cut off his anxious rambling, smiling warmly. “Don’t worry about it Zack, I know what you mean. I wanted to talk to Jules to see if she could get ACME to back off. While that obviously didn’t happen, I know Jules didn’t try to betray me.” Carmen glanced out the window for a moment, whispering quietly to herself. “I don’t think I could be angry at her if I tried.” Carmen turned back to her friends and smiled. “Plus, she helped me out in Monaco and Ile De L'oleron afterwards, so-” Player practically leapt up from his chair, causing a loud crash as he knocked the fidget spinners off his desk and dropped the rubix cute he was playing with. “Yeah, let's talk about Monaco! You can’t tell me you guys weren’t flirting at the party. She was so confident you were going to deliver the goods to her door, and you trusted her not to stop you when you stole the eggs. Come on, Red, you know she was flirting with you!” Carmen felt Zack and Ivy’s eyes on her expectantly, and she chuckled at Player’s exasperation. “Player, I’m pretty good at reading people, and I’m fairly certain she wasn’t flirting with me. Even if she was, I was not flirting ba-” “Then what about the roses?”

Carmen’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. How did Zack, of all people, know about the roses?

“Oh my god, the roses! Carm, why the fuck didn’t you tell us about the roses?” Ivy exclaimed, springing up from her relaxed position on the couch.

Carmen bit her lip before answering. “They were just flowers, as a thank you gift for the help. How do you know about them, anyway? I didn’t buy them until after you guys left.”

At that, Player piped up once again. “So Red, you know how at the end of each month, I look through our funds and see how much we spend on capers, to set our budget for the next month? Well, it was pretty interesting for me to see that you used our encrypted card to buy a bouquet of red roses from the flower shop across the street from Julia’s apartment, on the same day we left her the goods.”

Fuck. Carmen needed to shut this down, now. “They were just a thank you gift guys, nothing more. Just something Jules could keep for herself. And red is my color, so the roses seemed like a good gift. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Carmen glared at the redheads sternly, daring them to stop her, before looking down at Player with the same forbidding look. ”I’m going to take a shower. Player, let me know when you’ve got a red eye to Seattle ready.” Carmen closed the laptop, tucked it under her arm and walked out of the room without looking back. ~~~

The video call flickered to black, and Player leaned back into his chair, sighing. Red can be so thick-headed sometimes. As he booked her flight, he thought back to their teasing and banter from moments before.

Red seemed pretty genuine- maybe we were wrong after all.

Player took a deep breath- he didn’t want to call Carmen back so soon, especially when she seemed pretty pissed at the end of their last call- but he had booked her flight for a short two hours from now. So, Player reconnected to Carmen’s laptop, still looking at the red eye information on his other monitor, before hearing a loud, exasperated groan coming from his speakers.

“Holy fuck that was such a mess!”

Player’s head snapped towards his other monitor. The laptop had been set on the dresser across from Carmen’s bed, where she was laying sprawled out in agony. Player quickly hit his mute button and sat back to watch.

Carmen’s arms raised up to cover her face- though Player couldn’t see it, he was sure her face was covered in her signature color. “God, and the roses- why did I use the card for the roses? That’s a basic credit card slip, how am I so stupid!”

Carmen sat up, hands still over her flushed face. “I’m so fucking lucky they didn’t hear us on the ferry or at her office, there’s no way they would’ve ever let that go- I thought I wasn’t being obvious about this stupid crush-

That was all the confirmation Player needed. He clicked unmute and nearly shouted, “So you do have a crush on Julia! I knew it!”

Carmen’s head snapped up to the source of the sound, her face as red as her coat hanging on the wall’s hook. “Player! What the fuck are you-” Carmen froze as she watched Player pick up his cell phone. “Player, if you do what I think you’re about to-”

“Then what? You’re two thousand miles away Red, I'm practically untouchable.” He laughed and grinned smugly at the webcam as he dialed a number.

“Player, you are so dead next time I visit Ontario!” Carmen yelled before she threw her door open, barrelling down the hall to the stairway.

~~~

Zack and Ivy watched in silence as Carmen walked out of the room. When they heard the door to the stairway close, they looked at each other, before they couldn’t take it anymore and burst into laughter.

“Holy shit she looked so mad!” Ivy wheezed through her laughing fit.

“I know! Do you think that means she was telling the truth?” Zack questioned as he tried (and failed) to calm his giggles.

“No way.”

“But she seemed pretty-”

“What are you two laughing about?” Shadowsan’s stern voice stopped the twin’s giggling dead in its tracks. Just as Ivy opened her mouth to make an excuse, since she doubted Carmen wanted Shadowsan involved in her love life, (he is like her father, isnt he?) Zack spoke up.

“We tried to get Carm to confess that she likes Julia, but she kept on telling us she just likes Julia as a friend. Maybe she wasn’t lying, most of her reasons were pretty solid.” Ivy would’ve smacked him then and there if Shadowsan hadn’t interrupted her train of thought with a small chuckle. Since when did Shadowsan chuckle? “On VILE Island, Carmen was trained to be a master of deception. Do you not realize that she was also trained to survive any interrogation?” Shadowsan said, with…humor in his voice? Zack and Ivy were silent for a moment. “Wait, does that mean she actually does like Ju-” The moment was interrupted with a call on Ivy’s phone. When she looked at the caller ID, her eyes widened as she answered it and put the device on speaker. “Carmen does have a crush on Julia!” Player shouted from the phone, just as the Crimson Gay Ghost herself burst into the room and crashed into Ivy. “Dammit!” Carmen yelled, taking the phone from Ivy who was now on the floor with Carmen and laughing. “Player, I’m going to fly to Ontario and kick your ass!” Player’s laughing from the phone was almost drowned out by Zack and Ivy’s. “Oh no you’re not, you’ve got a flight to catch in two hours!” “OoOh where to? To go see your “favorite ACME agent”?” Ivy teased through her laughter. “Yeah Carm, I thought thieves love Jules!” Zack said as he laughed. Carmen jumped off of Ivy, her voice a noticeably higher pitch and her face extremely red as she shouted, “No! I mean- well, that is- I just-” As Zack, Ivy and Player continued to tease an extremely red-faced and stammering Carmen, Shadowsan smiled and quietly walked out of the room. It seems the war may be coming to a close with ACME on their side, but that doesn’t mean Carmen has to stop chasing someone.

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ereawrites · 4 years

Text

Dick Grayson x Reader - Mania

this was requested by: anon

word count: 10.5k / rating explicit

a/n: sex pollen so auto dubcon (?), but both reader and dick are affected so idk

taglist: @daddyissuesmademe @idkmanicantenglish

It's your fault, really. You should never have got involved in the first place, but the temptation was just too great to resist. How could you pass up the opportunity to investigate Poison Ivy's pollen? This was the first decent sample any of you had ever managed to get - even Bruce, though you suspect there have been a few times he's managed to get up close and personal with the pollen - and normally Tim would handle it, but he's away on business with Bruce, and Damian's too young to deal with intensive research, and Jason just can't bring himself to care. So, that left Dick, and you could've left it at that. You should have. Then again, Tim did text you to recommend that you helped Dick: actually, you would never have left your room if it hadn't been for his intervention. It's Tim's fault.

The thing is, everything was fine at first; you've, perhaps, been harbouring the slightest crush on Dick for a while now, and it's always nice to spend time with him. He's fun to be around, even if his classic charm sometimes borders on teasing flirtation, and he's got such an incredible mind. You forget that, at times - he has a bad habit of putting himself down as the 'kind one' of the family, the emotional support or the comic relief, and he forgets to let himself be brilliant, too. He doesn't realise you've noticed that. Or maybe he does, but he doesn't say anything, and you've happily spent the past two hours studying Ivy's pollen together.

"It's definitely pheromonal, but I've never seen a chemical composition like this before-", you say, eyes glued to the computer screen. Dick is leaning over the back of your chair, one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the desk beside you, and you shouldn't feel as tense as you do. "-look, this section doesn't occur naturally in any species we've seen. She's synthesising these pheromones somehow, it's not like she's injecting them, but I just - I don't get how."

He pushes off from the desk, grabs the back of your chair, and spins you to face him with a half-smile. "I hate to break your train of thought, but I think we need a biochem specialist.", he says, and you suddenly notice how tired he looks: his eyes are still vibrant, warm, but exhausted. "We've done as much as we can on this, right? No shame in calling in the big guns."

"Tim?", you reply, knowingly, relishing in the way Dick's smile grows into a full grin. He's still gripping the edges of your chair, effectively caging you in: you are not looking at his arms, and you can be certain of this because you are looking very, very intently at his face.

"Having a genius brother has its perks, I know. I'll call him now. It's late in Tokyo - he won't be in a meeting, he'll probably just be awake in his hotel room, tapping away at his laptop.", Dick says, finally moving away to fetch his phone, and his voice trails off into a mumble that he clearly doesn't mean for you to hear. "God, he worries me. He really does."

It's much too warm in here: you sigh, and shrug off your jacket, slinging it over the back of the computer chair before calling out,"You're such a mother hen sometimes, Dick."

"I care. Sue me.", he replies with a faux scowl. "You don't complain when you're ill and I bring you hot soup."

"You're a good cook, what can I say?"

"Husband material!", he chirps. You feel your stomach leap and your cheeks heat up at his words. He's only teasing, but the truth of it is, it has more effect on you than you would like to admit. Thankfully, he's quickly distracted by the crackle of Tim picking up the phone. "Timmy! How's things?"

Tim's voice is dry, as always, but with a noticeable undercurrent of frustration. "Shit. I hate it here."

"Hey, Tim. Bad day?", you say with sympathy. You feel a little bad for bothering him, now; as hard as everyone in the family works, Tim definitely pushes himself the hardest.

"I'm the youngest person here by at least twenty years, and my stomach can't handle sushi. Plus, Bruce gets separation anxiety from the rest of you. The one upside is that I've been able to practice my Japanese.", Tim replies. You feel bad for him, of course, but the image of him having to comfort a homesick Bruce has you suppressing a snicker.

Dick shoots an amused smile at you - he's too beautiful when he smiles, it isn't fair - that starkly contrasts the comforting tone he uses to respond to Tim. "Don't worry, darling brother - I've got something exciting for you! Check your emails - wait, only the most recent one, though, I sent you a link to a Red Hood fanpage-"

You interject with an accusatory wave of your finger. "Why the fuck didn't you send me that? Red Hood is sexy." If Jason were here, he would probably threaten to shoot you, but as it is, Dick's amusement only grows. His smile is so infectious, like it spirals out into the air and right into your chest, and you can't help but smile back at him. You don't know if it's the warmth of the room or simply from Dick himself, but you feel as though you're going to need to step outside for some fresh air soon.

"Because of your raging crush on Nightwing, probably." Tim cuts in, and you could fucking kill him. Dick gives you a pleased wink. "I'm looking at a pheromonal compound, right? Ivy's special formula?"

You muster as much venom into your voice as you can, without pissing Tim off so much that he leaves you to deal with this on your own. "Fuck you, Tim - and yeah. It's a newer version, though - I think she's evolving, if that makes sense? Her physiology is definitely changing." Tim gives a thoughtful hum in response to your words: you imagine it's in agreement.

Dick continues your train of thought. "We think she's working with someone else, or she's been experimenting on herself, maybe. Do you have any ideas about how she's making the new chemicals?"

"I'll need a few hours. Send me all the data over. You're right about it evolving, though - it's definitely airborne. Shit, this is actually really interesting - the molecules are more compact, smaller, so she doesn't need to rely on physical touch through her plants anymore-"

The rest of Tim's words are lost to a wave of horror. Airborne, he said - you'd doubt it if it wasn't for the similar shock that's written over Dick's face - and you have not been treating this sample as airborne. Ivy has always relied on physical, tangible contact to use her chemicals: you couldn't have known, there was no way you could've known, neither of you are experts on this kind of thing - you've fucked up.

"Airborne? How... airborne are we talking? Like, don't-sniff-the-test-tube?", Dick asks, cautiously, maintaining eye contact with you all the while. *Please, God, let it be don't-sniff-the-test-tube and nothing more than that. Please.*

"Shit, you haven't been wearing respirators - have you?". Tim sounds positively horrified. It does nothing to allay your fears, the worries that you've both been infected with Ivy's pollen; in fact, he all but confirms it. Everything is beginning to fall into place now. The tension around Dick - more so than usual, at least -, how warm you're feeling, the mental sluggishness that had you calling Tim in the first place.

You're angry at yourself, for your own stupidity - not Tim, but you're panicked, you're so unbelievably freaked out, and so you can't help but snap at the phone. "How were we meant to know, man? Ivy's never even hinted at having something of this level before!"

"You're working with chemicals, unknown chemicals, I hate-"

Dick cuts in before this can turn into a full-on confrontation. You've got no idea how he's managing to keep a level head. Perhaps the pheromones are already taking a more severe effect, or maybe it's a placebo effect, and you pray that it is, but you can already feel your heart beginning to pound against the confines of your chest. "It's just pheromones, right? We know it's not toxic, at least - Ivy's victims only take a few days to come around, at most. They're just kinda fucked up for a few days."

You admire Dick so, so much. He's right, he's always right, he always manages to keep you calm and make you feel safe: you'll just have to stay with him, and you'll be okay. If you stay here, he can comfort you, and maybe the impacts of the pollen won't even be that bad. And, if they are, well, there's no one else in the manor tonight, and Dick's so handsome and kind and strong, and maybe he'll - fuck.

Tim snickers. "Fucked, indeed. Only when Ivy's in a good mood, though. You guys better get ready for a tough night. I've heard it can get really bad, especially if you're deprived of - oh, fuck, I can't talk about this, this is too funny but it's so weird, oh my god-", and he dissolves into a fit of awkward, stunted laughter. Dick fixes you with an apologetic look, but you swear his golden cheeks are tinged with red.

"How long until it kicks in?", he asks. It's a stupid, stupid question, because you feel like you're close to dying already. You know what he means, though: when will it get bad? You've seen Ivy's victims before. They're entirely without dignity, practically begging to be touched, sobbing from the pain of it all - and you've only heard rumours about the depraved things they let Ivy do to them. What they ask her to do to them.

The huff of Tim's breath crackles through the phone. "Uh - I don't know, maybe an hour? A little less, since Bruce never opens the windows in there. Just seal the sample up, drink plenty of water, and try not to freak out. It'll pass. You won't die."

///

You thought you could do it - stay in your room, deal with this alone, avoid any potential awkwardness with Dick -but you can't. It's barely been an hour. Sixty-seven minutes since you left the cave, to be exact. Sixty-seven minutes since Dick grabbed you by the waist to halt your speedy departure, touch light but insistent, and said if you need anything, come to me. His eyes were dark when he said it. Deep, dark blue, an ocean that you could get lost swimming in; but pupils already dilating, breath already speeding up. He meant it as nothing more than a kindness. Still, though, that hasn't been enough to stop you from coming onto your fingers with the image of those eyes burned onto the backs of your eyelids.

Ivy's pollen is designed to induce lust, yes, but only for the first person you see after you're infected with it. This means two things: firstly, that you need Dick more than anything right now. Your head is pounding, your lungs feel like they're on fire - the sensation between your legs isn't aching, it's agony, and you've spent fifty-two of the past sixty-seven minutes trying, and failing, to fool your body into believing that your fingers are his. The first thing you know, is that you need him, because you saw him right after you were infected. The second thing you know - there was no one else in that room. You were the only person Dick could have seen.

So, stupidly, you seek him out. You go back down to the cave, without even taking the time to wash your hands, because that's what your body is telling you to do, and you're acting more and more on instinct. Potential awkwardness be damned. He'll fix this.

Dick's facing away from you, reclined in the computer chair: his posture seems almost relaxed, just almost, legs sprawled out and left elbow visibly sticking out from around the back of the chair, like he's got one hand close to his head. You'd assume he was still looking at the computer, if you weren't so hyperaware of everything right now, but you are, and you notice more. From what you can see of his body - it's low-blue-lit from the computer screen, enough that you can make out the muscle of his legs through his sweatpants if you squint, but it's not enough, you need to see more - he seems tense. Too tense. Normally, you'd sneak closer, but your head is practically spinning now and Dick will help you. He'll make this better. Your voice is hoarse and dry when you manage to call his name.

He immediately jolts in his seat, spinning to face you, and now that he's backlit by the computer, you can barely see more than the outline of his body. God, he looks so lean, so tall - "Are you okay?", he asks, and he sounds almost as bad as you feel. You swallow thickly before responding - and, through the fog in your head, you realise that your jacket is clutched in his left hand.

You, miraculously, manage a weak smile. "I just - I thought maybe it would, you know, be better to... be together, during this. In case - if one of us needs help, or something. I don't know.". You sound stupid. Dumb. You feel it, too, and you can't even bring yourself to care. The mere sight of him is helping: it doesn't remove the pain, or any of the physical sensations, really, but at least the panic of not being near him is being soothed.

"That's - yeah, okay. How are you feeling?", Dick replies. His voice is barely more than a whisper, but you hear it as clear as if he were right up against you. Chest pressed to your back, lips on the curve of your jaw, that voice going right through you and into the pits of your stomach.

It's wrong, to think of him like this, when all he's doing is trying to check that you're alright. He knows you aren't, but he's trying.

The best thing you can think to do is make a weak attempt at a joke. "I've got a newfound fear of Ivy." Dick even huffs out a laugh, but it's just as half-hearted as your words. "I didn't think it was going to be this bad at first, Jesus - but it keeps getting worse, and, it just-"

"-it hurts. I know.". Dick nods. As you take a step closer to him, you realise that your eyes have finally adjusted to the relative darkness of the cave, and you realise that you can see his cock straining against his sweatpants. He's hard. What's more, there's a distinct wet patch leaking through the material.

When you entered the cave, you couldn't see one of his hands; the chair wasn't moving enough for him to be stroking himself, and you're not sure whether you're glad he wasn't, but now that you think of it, there was definite movement. Like he was palming himself through his sweatpants, maybe. And the hand that was close to his head, it's clutching your jacket, he was holding your jacket close to his face while he-

"Dick - were you...?"

He sighs, halfway between embarrassed and resigned, and sinks back down into the computer chair. He keeps your jacket clenched in a white-knuckle grip. "I had to take the edge off somehow, right? I'm sorry, I didn't think you would be coming back down here, I never meant to make you uncomfortable or anything-"

"I'm not uncomfortable.", you blurt out before you know what you're saying. Dick's expression visibly shifts - you don't have the mental clarity to figure out into what, exactly - but you can feel your own eyes widen as you process the implications of what you just said. "Oh, fuck - I didn't mean it like that, I - sorry."

Dick just shakes his head. He must mean for you not to worry. You stand in silence for a while, not exactly awkward but certainly thick with tension, before he pats a hand onto the desk beside him. "God, this is worse than I thought. Do you wanna come sit down?"

Do you? Although being closer to Dick sounds like the only thing you want in the world right now - god, you can't help but think about how good he would look, if you were close enough to really study him, now that you're beyond giving a fuck about etiquette - you're also acutely aware of how difficult it'll be to control yourself. Undeniably, you want him. You've wanted him for months, really - but the pollen has taken that desire and multiplied it tenfold, made it so that it's all-consuming and painful. In your room, nothing more than imagining him, it was bad enough. Now, now that you can see his fucking cock, now that the image of him rubbing himself with a blissed-out look on his face, it's almost impossible to control.

You move to sit next to him. You can't help yourself. Once you start moving, you feel like it's all in slow-motion: Dick's watching you, dark eyes trained so closely on your form, and you're wearing nothing more than a tight-fitting pair of leggings and a thin t-shirt. After what feels like an age - too long to be apart from him - you reach the desk, and upon clumsily perching yourself on it, you see Dick looking as though he's about to pass out.

"Fuck, did I - did I do something wrong? I'm sorry-", you say hastily, but he instantly shakes his head and trains his eyes on yours. The blue is nearly gone. It's all blown-out pupils now, so much that his eyes are nearly black.

He licks his lips as if to wet them. "-no, no, but - when you were in your room - when you were alone - did you do anything to take the edge off? Did you touch yourself?"

You could say no, if you wanted to. You could lie. He would know, but he wouldn't press it, and you could save yourself the shame. For all that Dick must be struggling just as much as you are, he's exceedingly kind, so much that no amount of fucked-up drugs could change that: he's still your Dick, underneath all of this.

"Yeah.", you admit after a heartbeat, and your stomach lurches when you see his cock twitch through the sweatpants. Still, you're embarrassed, and you feel the need to explain yourself just a little. "It felt like my skin was on fire unless I did. It still feels like that, though - like it just wasn't enough, I guess."

"I can smell it on you.", Dick says lowly. Oh, God. That's hot. That's so, unbelievably hot - especially when you see his cock twitch again - but absolutely mortifying. You're torn between wanting to jump on him, right here and now, and retreating back to your room. You compromise by burying your face in your hands, and letting out a pathetic whine to signal how fucked-up you are right now. Maybe you can calm down, now that you don't feel on the verge of a panic attack from being away from him, if you take a few deep breaths.

Naturally, Dick hardly gives you the chance. You feel his hand come to rest on your knee out of nowhere; it's a gentle touch, but you can feel him trembling, and the touch sends a bolt of electricity through you that's strong enough to make you jolt. "I want to help you. The whole point of these pheromones is to make it so that you need touch - it only hurts because we're not getting that. So, I can-", he says raspily, punctuating the pause with a reassuring squeeze to your lower thigh, "-touch you, just... platonically, if that's what you want. What you need."

His voice drops down an octave with the last sentence - you whine again, involuntarily, but you just about manage to turn the sound into words.

"Dick, you don't have to - we can just push through this, I know it'll be uncomfortable for you - I mean, I know it's not like we haven't hugged and stuff before, but this is different, I don't want you to feel forced because you feel bad for me."

Dick must lean forward, closer to you, because his palm slides further up your thigh. The pain that prickles insistently under your skin is beginning to turn into fiery heat: not unpleasant, but desperate, hot, and you're starting to feel like you're not going to be able to stop if he asks you to touch him. "I don't feel bad for you.", he insists, reaching up with his free hand to peel your hands away from your eyes. He curls his fingers around yours as he continues. "I just want to make you feel better - both of us feel better. See, it's already helping, right? Just relax. This is bad enough as it is."

His thumb starts to trace circles on the inside of your thigh. It's nowhere near high enough to be considered sexual, but the movement has your legs almost trembling. You wonder if he can feel the tension of your muscles. "It's... it doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you.". And, technically, you're not lying: it doesn't hurt, in fact it feels fucking incredible. You spent fifty-two minutes trying to replicate this sensation. He's only touching your thigh, it has no business feeling this good, but each little beat of his thumb has waves of pleasure crashing through you. God, how good would it feel to fuck him like this? You're shaking, and you know it, and it only makes him tug you by the hand to stand up.

Even the loss of his touch on your thigh feels devastating, but Dick's next words are more comfort than you could have imagined possible. "Here. Come sit, if you want.", he says - whispering again, voice so low and so deep, but it's just the effects of the pollen, you tell yourself - and gestures to his thigh. "You can lean back into me, don't worry, it'll be better for your back."

This has to feel as good for him as it does for you. Logically, it has to. You've both breathed in the same pollen, his skin has the same sheen of sweat that you can feel on your own skin, you're both trembling in every part of your body, and he's still rock hard. You can feel yourself leaking, god, enough that it might have dampened your leggings and left a wet spot on the desk. What would Dick do, if he saw that? He's clearly turned on, but maybe he still has the good sense to avoid fucking: maybe his view of you as 'just platonic' is so deeply ingrained, he would never touch you down there to feel how wet he's made you. Or, maybe he wants you like you want him.

"Are - are you sure?", you stammer. You can't stop looking at his lap. His cock, painfully obvious (and he mustn't care, because he blatantly drew your attention to it), and the corded muscle of his thighs, spread out straight to form you a perch.

"Mhmm...", he hums from somewhere deep in his chest, and suddenly you're grateful that he's still holding your hand, because the sound almost makes your knees buckle. He tugs gently. "Only if you want to be close to me, though."

He says that like an afterthought - like he knows exactly what you want, and like he's hungry for your touch and doesn't want to consider the idea that you don't want to give him it. You can't bring yourself to look at him before you move to sit in his lap, because you know he'll see the desire, and for now, you're still pretending that you don't want to push him down in that chair and ride him for hours. He'd like that, you think. He'd like it if you pulled his hair while you did it.

Dick lets go of your hand so he can take your waist in both hands, guiding you down onto his lap and gripping harder when your ass inadvertently brushes over his cock. You don't mean to do it, of course, and you jump like you've been shocked: you shuffle further down his thigh to avoid another mishap, but the movement causes your pussy to just barely drag against the hard muscle - you hardly manage to control your moan, forced to sink your teeth into your lip. Thankfully, Dick doesn't seem to notice, and he helps you lean back so his chest is pressed to your back, before lifting his arms to rest on the armrests. From here, he begins to rub soothing lines up and down your arms, and he tips his cheek down to rest against your shoulder with a relieved sigh.

"Fuck, that... yeah, that feels better.", you practically gasp. Feeling him pressed up against the entire length of your body, as torturous as it is, is the most relief you've gained all evening; his legs are shaking just enough that you can feel it in your core, though, and you're forced to tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder. You'll lose your fucking mind if you don't start to relax, he's right.

With your neck exposed, though, you can feel Dick's hot breath tickling your skin when he speaks. "Good, right? It feels good?". For the first time, you really hear the tension in his voice. So much so that you can't pass it off as your own projections, or a trick of his tone - he's just as desperate as you are, holy shit, he sounds halfway to begging, he sounds like he's dying to know that his touch is making you feel good. Your hips twitch of their own accord.

"Yeah... Dick?", you whisper after a few moments. He nods in response against your shoulder, a slow, dragging movement that feels like honey dripping through your veins from the point of contact. "Are you really warm, too, or like - is that just me? I - I feel like I'm burning up... Do you mind if I..." - you trail off, instead opting to tug cautiously at the hem of your shirt.

He sucks in a deep, rapid breath that you feel press against your back. For a moment, you worry that you've gone too far - it feels so good, but it's too weird, too strange for him even now - but then he slowly curls his fingers around the hem, replacing your own hands, and starts to pull upwards at a torturous pace. His knuckles drag over your lower abdomen for just a second and your hips twitch again, and he definitely felt it this time but he says nothing, and his breathing is warm and fast against the skin of your neck; with the shirt discarded, you're left in nothing more than a thin bra. Although the room feels warm, furnace-hot, you're all too aware of the blatant hardness of your nipples, and you tell yourself it's okay, he won't notice, because you're facing away and he won't - his palm drags against your breast on the way back down and it feels so good, too good, and you can't help but whimper, "Fuck, yes-"

Three things happen in quick succession. Dick freezes, you realise what you've done and move to jump up and run for the hills, and then Dick grabs your hips and pulls you back into him, right over his cock, this time. The friction makes both of you let out a breathy sigh, but where you clap a hand over your mouth, Dick follows it up with a hoarse proposition. "I can touch you properly, if you want. It'll make all this go away, I promise - do you want me to?", he rasps, pressing one, quick kiss to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. "Do you want me to touch you?"

His grasp on your hips is tight, wanting, but gentle enough that you know he wouldn't stop you if you tried to leave again. When you make no move to do so - you're frozen, you can't believe he's just offered to do what your body is screaming for - Dick pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your ass over his cock and then pushing you back down. He repeats the motion a few times, rolling his own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto him. Dick rewards you with a quiet moan - oh, you want him to do that again, you're going to make him do that again, louder and louder - and then, with a touch so light you could cry, he traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

One finger traces your slit through your leggings, and you hear yourself moan, but you're hardly aware of making the noise - just this simple touch feels almost as good as the orgasm you had earlier, even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once. This is what you needed, more than anything, for Dick to touch you and drag you down onto his cock, and you're so overwhelmed that every muscle in your body goes lax, leaving you to collapse into his chest.

Dick rubs gently at your pussy a few more times, like he's exploring you, and then suddenly he taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and he sighs against your neck. "God, I can feel how wet you are already. You should have told me, I would've done something sooner, you know that - fuck, you're so wet, let me - let me finger you, huh? Please?"

"Yeah - please, Dick.", you whine, and when you say his name, he moans and shoves his cock up against you again. He mumbles something into your skin that you don't quite make out, and then his hand is fumbling with your waistband, clumsily slipping into your underwear and then he's there, his fingers are brushing right against your clit, you sob out a broken cry - you're so wet that his fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time he reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Your pussy instantly clenches down, hard, and you feel more full than you thought could be possible. Dick moans into the skin of your neck and gives you a moment to calm down, to soothe the desperate jolting of your hips, before he starts to pump his fingers; slowly, at first, but soon picking up into a faster and more urgent pace. With each movement, he scissors his fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and he starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? Is this what you need?"

You fling an arm behind you to grasp at his hair, and when you tug after a particularly delicious curl of his fingers, he bites down hard onto your shoulder. "Fuck, yes, yes - please don't stop, please, Dick, don't stop-"

"I'm not going to stop, don't worry, I've got you - I'm here, I'm not gonna stop, you sound too pretty for me to stop, fuck - I knew you would sound pretty, keep making those noises for me."

Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that he's given up on pumping his fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach - "I think I'm close, Dick, - oh, oh, oh my god, I don't - it's never felt like this before, I don't - fuck-"

"I know, I know, baby-", he croons, and the pet name has you tugging at his hair again, the other hand white-knuckled on the armrest, "-it's okay, it's gonna feel different - it's gonna feel better, I promise, it's going to be so good, I'm going to get you there, baby, come on."

"Fuck - fucking - Jesus, Dick, keep going, just like that-!", you all but shout, and Dick continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of his hand means the heel of his palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into his hand - god, you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you, you feel the contractions start a few seconds before it actually hits you and it's going to be earth-shattering, you know it, every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Dick whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming-

Distantly, you can feel his fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting - and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto his lap - but other than that, all you know is the white-flash across your vision and the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once: this is better than anything you've ever felt, better than every orgasm put together, and it feels feels for a moment like you're actually going to black out from the sheer intensity of the pleasure.

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Dick is heaving for breath against your shoulder, but it's nothing compared to the way your own lungs are screaming for air - god, you think you were screaming, given the scratching sensation in your throat - and his fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. It hurts, a little, but this one orgasm has done nothing to sate your desperate hunger: in fact, it's only made it worse, only increased your desire for him, and you swear his cock is impossibly harder against your ass now.

"You - you're dripping onto my hand, baby, oh my god...", Dick pants, and there's a heartbeat where neither of you move - then, you feel his breath hitch, and suddenly his other hand is shoving unceremoniously under your waistband and going straight for your clit. He picks up the pace with the two fingers still inside you, matching each curl with a flick over your clit, and the motions are all so frenzied, those of a man possessed with some ravenous desire, like his one purpose is to have you writhing in his lap, and you give a wordless cry - too overcome with blinding pleasure to actually make a sound - that allows you to hear his ragged words. "Please, give me another one, one more - I want to make you squirt this time, it's going to be so good, I promise, just give me one more, pretty girl-"

This time, it's not just one wave of pleasure, spreading from your core and emanating outwards; no, it's wave after wave after wave, violently crashing over you and completely overcoming every part of your body, unrelenting and constant - this one lasts at least twice as long as the last, but you're hardly in the right state of mind to keep track of time, and every wave of pleasure that rushes through you is tenfold stronger than the last. You hear yourself shriek his name in the most pathetic, broken tone, and Dick cages you in against his body as best as he can as he keeps both hands working at your pussy, and you realise you're sobbing when he finally, finally stops.

When his fingers slip out of your pussy and exit your leggings, they're dripping wet. Dick audibly gasps, and then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes you can see the most fucked-out look on his face just at the taste of your cum. He licks his fingers clean - you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight - before opening his eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "You taste so fucking good - baby, I'm not going to be able to stop, I'm sorry, I need this, I need to fuck you - please."

He's asking permission, you realise. Neither of you are in control of what you're doing anymore, and he's still asking, as best as he can, if he's allowed to fuck you. There's a terrified look in his eyes, behind the frenzy and the lust - you clumsily crash your lips against his. He tastes of your juices, but it's one of the hottest things you've ever experienced, and he moans openly into your mouth, eagerly meeting your tongue with his own. You're exhausted, but kissing him renews your energy tenfold. You're suddenly overcome with the urge to feel his cock - inside you, yes, but you want to see it first, you want to make him cry out and moan and gasp for you - so you manoeuvre in his lap, keeping your mouth against his, to straddle his narrow hips and face him.

"Ah - ah, god, that feels amazing.", Dick moans, broken up between sloppy kisses, saliva starting to drip down both of your chins - but it's hot, so hot - as you frantically reach down to palm at him. The instant you finally touch his cock, you're gone: there's no stopping now that you can feel how achingly hard he is, now that you feel how he twitches under your hand each time you kiss him, and it takes much longer than you would like to undo the drawstring of his sweatpants, pull them down, and wrap your hand around the exposed length of him. He hisses as his whole body jerks.

Instantly, you set a frenzied pace of stroking him, relishing in each ragged moan that you rip from his throat; he's leaking into your palm, you realise, dripping over your fingers as you pull him back by the hair and attach your lips to his neck. When you suck a bruise into the softest part of his skin - the salty-sweat-tangy hollow beneath his Adam's apple - he shouts out your name, loud, followed by, "-fuck, fu- let me fuck you, baby, please, I - I'm close, you have to stop-"

"Come on my hand, Dickie.", you plead, and you're granted a thick spurt of precum when you lick a stripe up the column of his throat: he tastes so good, his skin so hot under your mouth, you can't stop, and you croon right into his ear, "It's - it's gonna last for hours, still, you're still gonna be hard - I'm still so needy for you, Dickie, look - come on my hand, let me see it, please. You can fuck me after, just come for me where I can watch it, oh - oh, please." His moans start to pick up in volume and frequency, coming from a place deeper in his throat. He's close, you know.

You've started to grind onto his thigh somewhere along the way. It feels amazing, it feels even better because you know he's twitching and aching for you just inches away - once you finally drag yourself out of the crook of his neck, you see that you've left a damp streak on his sweatpants in the wake of your hips, and the steady stream of precum leaking from his cock has soaked the material higher up. "Come on, Dickie, come on, let me see you come, I wanna see it, I - I'll, fuck, I'll lick it clean after, Jesus-", you blurt out, too far gone to be horrified at the ease with which the words spill from your lips.

"Oh, baby, shit-” he cries, and then his voice dissolves into a broken jumble of incoherent mumbles and whines. His cock twitches hard in your palm, once, twice, three times against the rapid pace you maintain on him, and then Dick bucks his hips up into your hand, back arched, perfectly still and tense; he comes hard, almost whimpering, head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, looking so, so perfect as you stroke him through it and grind feverishly onto his thigh. It's the image of his cock that has the breath snatched from your chest, though. Several thick ropes of cum spurt from him as you work him through it, some hitting the skin of your abdomen and some dripping down the length, and it just keeps going, no sign of stopping until Dick completely collapses, after almost a minute of moaning and coming - your hand is drenched with him.

The sight of his cum dripping from your palm makes something in your stomach clench hard, painfully, and suddenly you need to taste him, you have to, it hurts so much and it'll go away as soon as you get your mouth on him. You scramble off the chair, almost falling to your knees in front of him - he rushes to steady you, even with weak and shaky arms - but you don't care about how graceful you look right now. As soon as you manage to nestle yourself between thighs, you lick flat up the underside of his cock. The taste of it makes your eyes roll back in your head. Dick spits, "Holy shit!", and it trails off into a deep gasp as you wrap your lips around him and sink down as far as you can go. You'd take your time, usually, but everything in your body is screaming for you to taste him, let him fill you, and you're in no position for argument.

With each dip of your head - punctuated with a moan from the man above you, each one becoming closer to a growl, animalistic, and you think the pollen is beginning to send your bodies into total overdrive now - you take him as deeply as you can. You're nearly gagging, but that's what you need. His hands tangle into your hair; at first, you can tell he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but that's soon overcome with a tight, guiding grip that pushes you further down onto his cock with each bob of your mouth. The burning heat under your skin is killing you now, too much to ignore, so you manage to shuffle out of your leggings and underwear and kick them away: Dick groans roughly, maybe because he can smell you more clearly now-

"Come here, pretty girl-", Dick says, sliding his hands from your hair to lift you up by the jaw. You mean to whine, perhaps beg him to let you back down, because he feels so good in your mouth - then you see the look on his face. He looks totally gone. Nothing like the Dick you know, warm and gentle and relaxed: his eyes are completely clouded over, lips parted and slick with saliva, brow furrowed with something between pain and carnal desire. You imagine you look much the same, with spit dripping from your chin, the heat you can feel burning your cheeks, and the wetness you feel running down the insides of your thighs. He meets your eyes, and there's a moment of stillness. One thumb slips from your cheek to trace over your lower lip.

Then, both of you move at once - you surge forward to kiss him again, those perfect, pink lips - you fumble with the hem of his shirt, ripping it up and over his head while barely leaving his mouth for a second - Dick's hands slide down your body to your waist. He pulls you into him as he leans forward, half-supporting your weight, and suddenly your back is against the floor and he's on top of you, kissing you hard and bruising, the chair long since kicked away and forgotten about. Every inch of freshly exposed skin feels like molten silk under your touch: you slide greedy hands over his torso as he licks into your mouth, feeling the network of ridged scars and each ridge of muscle. Thankfully, Dick grants you a few precious, savoured moments to feel his skin, while he alternates between rolling his hips against your bare pussy and kicking off his sweatpants.

It's all ungraceful and clumsy - wet kisses stolen between your movements, each of you moaning against the other's lips - and it takes much, much too long for both of you to finally shed yourself of all your clothes. Dick's hands grab greedily at your breasts as he ruts his hips against you a few times, and you can feel how your wetness spreads over his cock. Then, his hands fly down to find your knees, and he drags them to fit around his waist, pulling up until your hips are fully tilted, the stretch of your muscles verging on uncomfortable. "Oh, fuck, that's it, baby. Keep your legs there for me, won't you? Come on, wrap your legs around me - I want to get as deep as I can, it's gonna feel amazing, I promise.", Dick says, bordering on a growl now that his voice is so deep and strained, and you do as he says immediately. You need him inside of you, now; you hook your ankles behind his back, kiss him, and desperately grind your hips into his.

And then, with one deep roll of his hips, he's inside of you. One quick thrust and he's buried to the hilt, and, God, he fits inside you so perfectly: your body all but melts at the feeling of finally being filled, and you keen as you instinctively use your ankles to press his hips further into you. Dick's just large enough to stretch you out, even with how wet and ready you are, without becoming painful, and the pollen means it only takes you a short moment to adjust to his size before your body is pleading to be fucked. He's shaking and panting with restraint above you whimper, "Ho-holy fuck, Dickie, please... please move, oh my god."

"I know, baby, I know.", he says, breathlessly, voice tight with pleasure but still sympathetic. Even with him motionless inside you, it already feels so good, better than anyone you've ever fucked, and you can hardly stop yourself from grabbing him by the shoulders, pushing him down, and riding him. "It just feels so good, you feel so good - I don't want to rush it, I want to make it last. Jesus, my body feels like it's on fire while I'm touching you, I - oh, fuck, I want to take it slow, make you feel so good you cry-"

"-We have all night to be slow, Dick, you can do whatever you want to me, just fuck me-"

Dick's hips roll into yours and a drawled curse falls from his parted lips. He pulls out, almost completely, enough that you panic and squeeze him tighter with your thighs, but then he pushes back into you, slowly, letting you savour the way each nerve ending inside your pussy is set ablaze; he repeats the motion, faster, his curses morphing into sweet mumbles of your name each time he bottoms out. You can hardly breathe - it feels so good, and each thrust of his hips is met with a pollen-driven roll of your own, so it's half-grinding, half-fucking - the slight curve of his cock has him dragging deliciously against your g-spot every time. His movements are picking up in intensity now, and you can tell the pollen is taking him over completely. The same is happening to you: fuck it, you don't want to think about the pollen anymore, you just want him.

"Ah, yes! Yes, right there-right- keep going-", you cry out after a particularly hard slam of his hips. Dick is propped up on one elbow, hair clinging to his forehead with sweat, and the other hand slips down to grab at your ass and pull you up into him. He's deep enough that it hurts, but it's the best pain you've ever experienced. "Fuck, faster, please!"

He obeys, mercifully, and you think you can see sweat starting to bead on his temples. "Is this what you need, pretty girl? Come on, tell me what you want - tell me I'm making you feel good, because you're making me feel so fucking good, I swear, better than I ever even imagined - fuck, you're so wet, are you going to come again? Please, please let me make you come on my cock."

The combination of his cock inside you, and his pelvis bumping against your clit, and the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body: it's all too much to bear, your body is going into total overdrive, and it's so embarrassing that he's got you like this. You never normally beg, you never normally come so fast, but this is different and addictive and incredible - you cry out an affirmation to his words, and suddenly his hand is gripping your chin. He's fully collapsed onto you now, and his movements are more frantic rutting than anything else.

"Look at me-", he pleads, using his hand to guide your face so you're staring right into those glassy eyes. "-look at me while you come, and it'll make me come."

You can feel your muscles beginning to tense up as your orgasm starts to grow. Already, your world is spinning, and you feel halfway to blacking out from the sheer intensity, so you tangle your hands into his hair as a way to ground yourself. "Please come inside me!", you whine - the idea of being filled with his cum, letting it drip out while he fucks another load into you, it's fucking mind-blowing and you can't imagine anything better than feeling him shoot into you while you come on his cock.

Dick's jaw clenches tightly. "Are - are you sure, baby? Is that what you want?"

The next thrust hits you perfectly, and you can't help but pull him tighter into you, so his head drops to the crook of your neck. "I need it, Dickie, you know - you know that - you need me too, right? Fuck, fuck - it's gonna feel so good, I'm so close-". He spends a few moments sucking a bruise into the most tender skin of your neck before moving to press his forehead to yours. Each rough movement of his hips has you jostling against the floor; your nipples are dragging against his chest every time, making you keen, and your swollen clit is being hit so perfectly by his hips, and he's making the most perfect and breathy noises against you - he looks so fucked-out, so gone, so completely absorbed in the feeling of his cock inside you, and your vision is starting to blur at the edges as the spark in your stomach finally bursts into flames-

"That's it, baby, come for me just like that.", Dick gasps, just as your orgasm rips through you. You've got no choice but to clutch at him desperately and ride out each devastating wave as a scream tears itself from your lungs: it feels like your body is tearing itself apart with each ripple of pleasure emanating from your core. Like your body is folding in on itself like a black hole does, when everything becomes too much to bear. You actually feel like you've died, you must have, this is too good and too much and too overwhelming - you hang on to Dick through it all, and your pussy clenches down so hard he can barely move inside you, and he chokes out your name before his own orgasm hits him.

You've come down just enough to process the way he looks and sounds as he comes. Your eyes are still hazy - you kept them on him, you must have - but you nearly come again at the mere sight of him. He's too far gone to even make sounds, and instead he stutters out broken breaths through wet lips, cheeks flushed and eyebrows furrowed hard, and his eyes stay fixed on you the whole time. Even as the rest of his body spasms and rocks into you uncontrollably, even as the hand on your chin slips down to your neck and squeezes, he keeps staring at you with all the lust in the world. The best part of it all, though, is how you feel his cum spilling out into you; even more than he shot onto your hand, somehow, and you realise you're crying from how relieved your body is. Fully, fully, crying, and Dick kisses away your tears as he collapses against you.

Despite how both of you are wincing at the overstimulation, neither of you ever stop moving through it all, and you keep grinding gingerly, carefully but sloppily, against each other even while you gasp for breath against each others' lips. It can't be more than ten seconds from when you come down, before you can't control the urge to whisper, "Give me another one, Dick, please. Keep fucking me." It hurts - it hurts because he's not fucking you, he's not moving enough - you need more.

Dick keeps rolling his hips against yours in shallow movements for a few seconds. His mouth is occupied with sucking more bruises into your neck, up your throat and across your jaw: he's mumbling something incoherent, slurring his words. Each fresh bruise has you gasping his name. You're going to be covered in marks after this - not just your neck, his grip on your ass and hips has been tight enough to leave bruises there, too - and you're entirely certain you've left scratch marks down his back. You nearly come again just at the thought of that; Dick, walking around for days with your marks left on him. Scratch marks under his dress shirts when he's on business, or under the tight material of his Nightwing suit, or blatantly visible through the obscenely sheer shirts he wears out clubbing. He's going to be marked as yours.

"You look so pretty like this, holy shit-", he says, pulling his head from your neck to admire his work. "You're so gorgeous - you always are, you always fucking are - but you look even better when you're mine, fuck-"

“-make me yours, then, please-"

You gasp in shock and disappointment as Dick suddenly pulls out, and his own face crumples at the loss of touch, but his palms are firm and insistent on your waist - he kisses you once, firmly, before he's manoeuvring your body like putty in his hands. You're flipped onto your stomach with another whisper of how pretty you are, and then Dick runs calloused palms down the soaked flesh of your thighs, up over your ass, over the curve of your spine and all the way up to gently, gently, press your cheek flat against the floor. He follows his hand with hot tongue, and when he reaches your ear, he murmurs, "You taste so good, pretty girl. Stay there for me. It's okay, let go. I've got you."

Uncontrollably, your ass jerks up and backwards against where his cock is pressing into you. He chuckles. He fucking laughs with his lips pressed to your cheek - maybe having came inside you has cleared his head enough that he can think straight enough to find your desperation funny - and one of his hands slides back down your body, spreading your pussy open for him to look at. You sense his body tense as he gazes at you. "...My cum is dripping out of you, oh my god."

Fuck it back into me, you think, but you're too far gone to string together a coherent sentence anymore. Your body can do the talking. You keep your cheek pressed to the floor, maybe because your muscles are too exhausted to lift your head, or maybe because it was so fucking hot how Dick pressed your head down, but you manage to meet his eyes. You plead with him as well as you can.

Dick's piercing blue eyes roll right back into his skull when he pushes into you again. From this angle, he feels even deeper than before: with one of his hands running lines up your spine, and his lips wet against the backs of your shoulders, and the steady, strong pace he sets fucking you, you're brought to the verge of tears again within minutes. You can hardly move your body to work with him in this position: he uses the weight of his body to press you into the floor, and each thrust of his hips has you moaning loud against the floor.

He brings a string of kisses and nips up your nape, so he can kiss your cheek again. It's sweet, a gentle gesture, only amplifying the pleasure that each deep snap of his hips brings. "I - I'm not hurting you, am I? I know it must be sensitive, baby, I understand if it's too much, I know - you can tell me if it's too much-"

"-no, please-", you whimper, terrified he's going to stop, "-it's so good, please, Dickie, you're exactly what I need-", and then your voice cuts out into a broken sob as one of his hand snakes between your body and the floor to find your clit. The rough pad of his finger brushes over it a few times, eliciting whimpers from you, before he settles for simply resting his finger on your clit. With each thrust, your hips are jostled against his finger just enough to send sparks of electricity shooting through your veins - every time, it feels like flames licking through each limb, and he's fucking into you so perfectly, claiming you with teeth at your neck, rasping your name against your skin - there's wetness against your cheek, like you're drooling, and you're almost certain you can feel the wetness of your pussy dripping onto his hand.

You're so swollen with desire, you can feel how tightly you're clenching down onto his cock. The mind-blowing pressure Dick's applying to your clit is only making it stronger. "You feel so good, baby. So, so, fucking good - holy shit, you're taking me so well." Then, there's a savage thrust of his hips, one that has both of you crying out in surprise and pleasure: he freezes buried to the hilt inside you. "You're going to make me come again soon, sweetie."

That means more of his cum inside you, more of his delicious moans and groans as he comes, and you say, "God, please-"

"-not yet, I want to make you come for me again. You feel so tight and hot when you do - I need it again, I want nothing more than that, please - you think you can give me another one, huh? One more for me?"

"I - I - yeah.", you stammer. You can, you know you can - your body is practically vibrating from how hard you're trembling on the edge of another orgasm - but you don't know when it's going to stop, you don't know it ever will - maybe this will go on all night, maybe he'll fuck you for hours on end and make you cry and let you lick your mess of his cock. But maybe it won't. Maybe your body will give out, or the pollen will leave his system: this will end and nothing will ever compare. You don't want to come again if it means the end of this pleasure. "...Promise you'll keep going after, Dickie."

Dick starts rubbing rapid circles on your clit with his ring and index finger, and kisses your hairline to soothe you as you sob again. "I'm only going to stop if you ask me to, baby, I promise. You feel too good to stop, I swear - I never thought you would be so fucking perfect, but now I know, I can't stop - I'm right here, I've got you, I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your name if that's what you want."

God, you're going to come again, holy shit-

He hardly gives you the chance to come back around before he's crooning, "-one more, one more for me, right on my cock like that-"

You can't even breathe. Your lungs are on fire, your vision is completely blacked out even once the second orgasm ends, your muscles and bones have turned into mush and you can't feel anything other than the sensation of flying. You're weightless, Dick is the only thing grounding you - he coaxes you down from the aftershocks with soft kisses to your cheek, and his hand tracing circles onto your aching hip, and the muscles of his abdomen are flexing with restraint against your back. "I'm gonna come, baby-", he hisses, and you manage the barest nod and then he sinks his teeth right into your shoulder as he starts pounding into you like a whore, fuck, it's sending you spiralling out of control again-

"Fuck, yes, take my cum like that, that's it, keep coming for me, holy shit-"

You're both boneless and drenched in sweat by the end of it. You're collapsed against the floor, Dick's collapsed against you, and he's still hard inside of you. You can feel his cum - it must have spilled out onto the insides of your thighs, judging by the wetness you feel there. His cock twitches inside of you with every ragged breath he takes. You're so exhausted; this is destroying your body, it's ripping you apart from the inside out, and you're terrified that if you come again it'll split you into pieces. And you want that. You twist your body, wincing against the waves of pleasure that crash over you at even the slightest movement of his cock inside you, and kiss him.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #dc #dcu #batman #batfam #kinktober #smut #dick grayson smut #sex pollen

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sasaparilla · 2 years

Text

Salecrow headcannons.

(These are too long, sorry. Probably have a few mistakes)

-His fingers are constantly snapped. It's a small habit he has, slowly pressing them with his thumb whenever he has the chance. The snap sound is loud, almost as if he really had broken his fingers, although for him the sensation is satisfying.

-No regret or mercy for his nails. He uses them to scratch any surface, even harsh ones just to drive his victims' anxiety higher than it already might be. The gutural repulsiveness it sends them in just seeing him leaving claw marks in the walls so effortlessly is similar to when someone scratches the school's green board.

-Still talking about the one above: No, that doesn't hurt him.

-Besides his bones, his hands are the second toughest thing he has. It's hard for something to actually make him flinch in pain when it comes to his palms (heat, cold, cuts, etc). His touch is roughly resistant.

-A big fan of natural lighting from candles, he likes to see the shadows of the items dancing on the wall when the fire slightly trembles after a breeze.

-His psychopathic behaviour doesn't extend to animals. His objectives are strictly towards humans only and so is his cruelty. Animal fears are instinctive, yes, just like mankind's primitive ones. However the second bears numeral meanings, sources, philosophy and so much charm with their screams. Animals on the other hand, just don't seem interesting at all and their irrational innocence appears to hold an admirable take for him. Where's the fun in hurting them? None.

-The fabric of his costume is thick with a texture similar to veludo at the exposed side, plus it's waterproof too, mainly because that helps him keep his body temperature decent since cold weathers are his worst enemy - third to Batman and fire, but that's the wonder of being so skinny, barely any meat in those bones to keep him warm.

-His sleep position depends a lot on the environment he is in. When on Arkham Asylum, he slept like a freaking corpse, facing the ceiling and not moving an inch, always leaving an arm resting on his chest, ready to attack anything that could snap him from his sleep (his sleep was short during these times). When he is in a more "private" environment, he allows himself to sleep more comfortably, curling in a ball like a cat. Being all stretched like a tree kinda tires his joints.

-He slightly bends to make an entrance - similar to Lady Dimitrescu for example - except he doesn't tip and touch his hat. Man is so freaking tall.

-Extremely silent, like a killer in a slasher movie. He is dead quiet 99% of the time.

-Likes to gently pull Poison Ivy's plant hair and see how it forms a weird shape in her head (of course, when she allows him.) This habit of him when both of them are close has led her to give him a little sprout from her hair. The sprout is now a healthy plant resting in his hideout as he waters it a lot.

-Amazed by gifts. The Ivy event left him so speechless when she did that. Turns out, below that creepy mask lies a man that is easily impressed when it comes to gifts of any sort. He has never got anything from anyone besides screams and even threats, so a gift for him is extremely special. He will literally treasure it. Dare I even say that's the very first step someone can do in order to approach him.

-He doesn't wear glasses. This Crane has an excellent vision both for reading tiny letters and stalking someone from a long distance without being caught.

-His calligraphy is absurdly cursive and a mess because he writes fast so that it leaves his words in an unintelligible doctor's writing, although he will feel offended if an ally doesn't understand what it says in the paper.

-I feel like the Long Halloween animation gave us a fair idea of how he is beneath the mask so I stick to that a lot except I don't think he would ever care to take the hair away from his face. The tangled long hair could often let strandes hide Crane's face.

-He has a deadpan face when not wearing the mask. No smiles. No frowns. Just his eyes staring at anyone's souls dared to get close to him.

-Not only cite nursery rhymes but will also hum them when working.

-During his childhood, he used to bury dolls somewhere in his path back from school to home, so he could always return to them for a moment without having the danger of it being taken away from him.

#jonathan crane #salecrow #my hcs

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lokifantasies · 3 years

Text

Daughter of Mischief PART 1 (Loki/Jade/Reader)

Jade is in a lot of trouble, and now she must face the consequences.

Read the Mischievous Life series here!

Jade is Loki's daughter. She is the child of the God of Mischief, and if either one of you thought you'd avoid a troublemaker, you were very wrong.

Again: Jade is Loki's daughter.

At around one o'clock, you and Loki get a phone call from the twelve-year-old's school. On the other line is the principal, and he refuses to discuss the incident – as he keeps referring to it as – over the phone. Neither you nor Loki knows what's going on, but the fact that both of you are summoned to Jade's middle school is enough to get the blood boiling.

"Okay, Thor said he'd pick up Ivy and Emmy," Loki announces as he climbs into the passenger seat of your SUV.

You hum in response – your anxiety starting to rise as you back out of the driveway. Loki tries to calm you down during the drive, but he knows there's no point – you're going to be anxious until you find out what's going on. After the thirty-minute drive is over, the two of you get out of the SUV and quickly make your way to the front office.

An Hour Earlier

Jade was eating lunch with her friends, and they were all talking about the normal things pre-teens talk about. One of Jade's closest friends, Ashely, asked what it was like to have Loki as a father. All the kids at her table were jealous, and then Gavin, another one of Jade's friends, made a giant mistake.

He dared the daughter of the God of Mischief to pull a prank.

Jade accepted the dare, and when her class went back to the classroom, she stealthily made her way to her teacher's desk – looking for the coffee cup that Ms. Peterson always drank out of. The mischievous grin on Jade's face was a carbon copy of the one her father gives when he's up to something. Jade quickly looked around and grabbed a handful of items from the little organizer on the desk – running back to her seat after she had put whatever it was she grabbed in the cup. Ten minutes later, Jade's teacher took a sip of her coffee, and she let out a scream when she felt the thumbtacks stab her mouth – causing her to bleed everywhere.

Present

"I'm afraid Jade will be expelled for her actions, and she'll need to be placed into a different school," Principal Booker breaks the news to you and Loki as Jade sits in the corner of the office – trying to hide her face and look tough at the same time. "Ms. Peterson won't be pressing charges, so I would consider yourself lucky, young lady," he says toward Jade.

"Thank you for contacting us," you shake the principal's hand before standing up and walking towards your daughter – Loki following close behind. "Jade...get up." Jade looks up to see you and Loki glaring down at her, and she quickly shoots up from the chair and storms out of the office – forgetting to grab her backpack. Loki shoots the principal a warm smirk and picks up Jade's purple bag – throwing it over his shoulder. "Don't try to run from me!" you yell out as Jade tries to avoid getting into the car.

Loki hands over the backpack and easily catches up with the twelve-year-old. "Go," he angrily demands through his clenched jaw. "Get in the fucking car, Jade." Jade crosses her arms and storms past her father – jerking the door open and slamming it closed. Before she can get out again, you and Loki get in the car and head home – letting the tension grow to throw Jade off a bit. Feeling brave, Jade takes her phone out and begins to text her friends, but unfortunately for her, Loki catches it. "Nuh-uh," he scolds her, reaching his hand back to grab the phone from her hands. "Get used to life without this," he says – holding her phone up for her to see one last time.

"That's not fair!" Jade exclaims as she tries to reach for her phone, but Loki easily conceals it from her – a sly smirk on his face. "Okay, look, I'm sorry," Jade half-assedly apologizes. "Now, give me my phone back."

Loki turns in his seat to see what his ears are hearing. "I'm not giving it to you...you're gonna have to try better than that."

Jade's face was red, but you and Loki both knew that she was trying not to cry – covering her real feelings with anger. "This is stupid," she mumbles under her breath.

You and Loki quit responding to her – letting her just sit in the silence. Finally, you arrive back home, and Jade flees from the car and goes into the house – slamming the door behind her. Loki carries in her backpack, and the two of you calmly walk inside. By the time the two of you are inside, Jade has gone to her room, locked her door, and turned her music all the way up – a pathetic attempt, really. Without much force, Loki breaks her door open and turns her computer off with a snap of his fingers before taking it and concealing it as well.

"Stop!" Jade screams at her father and tries to push both of you out of her room. "Just leave me the fuck alone!"

Loki roughly grabs his daughter's chin and forces her to see his rage-filled eyes. "You will not talk to your mother and me like that."

"Fuck...you," Jade hisses through her gritted teeth – taking Loki's words as a challenge.

Loki lets go of her chin, and you go to sit down on the twelve-year-old's bed. "Jade, please talk to us," you beg her, but Jade just stands in front of her dad with her arms crossed. "What's going on?"

Jade shrugs her shoulders. "I dunno," she mumbles. "Nothing."

Loki gave her a look of disbelief. "Don't lie to us," he warns. "You're already in enough trouble."

"Why?" Jade scoffs. "Why am I even in trouble?"

You look towards her with a confused expression. "Jade, you put thumbtacks in your teacher's drink and cut her mouth up."

Jade doesn't even try to hide the small giggle that escapes her lips – looking up to Loki and being disappointed when she realizes he's not laughing.

"Y/N," Loki gets your attention. "I think I can handle this one."

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added!)

@radicallyred @holdmytesseract @vicmc624 @mm2305 @nms224 @clockblobber @lokifangirl2004

#loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki x jade #loki x you #jade is rebellious #teenage jade #jade is a daddy's girl #jade lokisdottir #loki reader jade #mischievous teenager #mischievous life #god of mischief #send requests #requests open

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j-amespotter · 3 years

Text

★ exile - s. b.

“you’re not my homeland anymore.”

Pairings: Sirius Black x Reader, Reader x Male!OC

x. x. x.

Summary: Sirius is caught in the middle of a quarrel between two lovers; AU where Harry is raised by his godmother.

Genre/Warnings: angst, language, mentions of death & war, dumbledore-bashing

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: this can be read as a stand-alone, but i plan on writing a part 2 based on the song ivy (for those who would like a semi-happier ending). let me know if you want to be on my general/a character-specific taglist.

masterlist

Sirius probably should not have stayed behind. All context clues pointed to the fact that he probably should leave the dining room. However, it was his dining room. It wasn’t his fault you were having a full-fledged argument with someone that was a complete stranger to him in his house.

To be fair, he was still processing. Twelve years in Azkaban had him always prepared for the worst, but with Remus’s forgiveness and Harry’s acceptance of him, he was on a high. A high that, unfortunately, came crashing down the minute he discovered his girlfriend (Ex-girlfriend? There wasn’t ever actually a break-up, but Sirius got the hint pretty fast) had married in the fourteen years they spent apart.

He supposed he should be thankful. Thanks to you and your husband, Harry grew up in a loving household. Harry had a family.

John. His name was John. The name itself disgusted him. As he got to know John, it comforted him to find out that he was every bit a square as his name suggested. He was nice, though. Sirius couldn’t deny that. Stable. Perfect. Blonde.

It was thrilling, actually. Watching his perfection deteriorate right there, in Sirius’s dining room. And besides the personal delight it brought to see you frown at John, Sirius had a right to be there. You were fighting about matters that concerned his godson, and he had already failed Harry for twelve years.

“I’m telling you, (Y/N). We need to trust Dumbledore,” John argued with his wife. He sounded tired. Sirius hoped he wasn’t smirking, but at the same time, he didn’t really care. As perfect as this man seemed to be, he very obviously lacked the stamina to keep up with you. This fact satisfied him immensely.

Sirius watched as you scoffed. “Dumbledore has got nothing to do with this. He’s my godson. I’m the one that raised him. Dumbledore stepped in when it was convenient for him – now when Harry’s grown up and useful.”

John looked at you with an odd, doubtful expression on his face. “You weren’t the only one that raised him,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” you trailed off nervously. Sirius found it strange to see you back down so easily. He dared to hope that there was some trouble in paradise but was too well-acquainted with disappointment to let it flourish.

The three of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Sirius, having remained uncharacteristically quiet in the encounter thus far, wondered if he should intervene. Before he could form a coherent thought, John broke the silence. “I don’t see why we should tell Harry the prophecy if you haven’t even told me yet.”

For the first time all night, and quite involuntarily, you met Sirius’s eye. Out of the five people who knew of the prophecy’s full contents, only three survived. Fortunately for you, your husband did not notice the interaction – Sirius gathered that John remained blissfully unaware of your romantic history. “Nobody in the Order knows,” you said, “and nobody is supposed to know. I don’t want to tell Harry the prophecy. I just want him to know what to expect. There is danger in the Department of Mysteries, and if Dumbledore thinks Voldemort will try to lure him there, he should know it. You know how Harry is, John. If we don’t give him answers, he’ll go looking for them himself.”

John winced at the invocation of the Dark Lord’s name. “But Dumbledore…”

“I agree with (Y/N),” interrupted Sirius finally. “It is not Dumbledore’s decision; it is ours. (Y/N)’s and mine. We are his godparents.”

John, who had no reason to dislike Sirius, stared at him in irritation. “Fine, if that’s what you think. You reap what you sow, I suppose.” With a firm glance, he turned to you. “I have sacrificed so much for you and Harry, yet you always keep me at arm’s length. Let me know when you’re ready to be a family.” With that, he got up and left the dining room.

You flushed. Sirius felt a wave of fury at the man. How dare he throw that in your face? Selfish bastard. He waited for John’s footsteps to fade away. “Some guy you’ve got there,” he remarked sarcastically.

Your eyes snapped in his direction. “He’s not ‘some guy.’ He’s my husband. And what business did you have, stepping in like that? I can handle myself.”

“You didn’t ask me to leave,” Sirius pointed out without missing a beat.

“I let you stay out of courtesy, Black. You are Harry’s godfather. I can’t change that.”

“Good. Merlin knows you tried,” he said, glancing in the general direction of the door John just walked out. “See, we even argue better.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t love him,” said Sirius matter-of-factly.

Anger flared in your eyes. “Yes, I do.”

“Bullshit,” said Sirius, invigorated by your blazing look. “You're forgetting that I’ve seen it when you’re in love. Was on the receiving end, in fact. If you love him, you absolutely worshipped me.”

You looked at him, scandalized by the insinuation. “You’re an arse.”

“Maybe, but one that speaks cold, hard facts.” He watched you, his pale eyes attempting to memorize your features.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you snapped.

“Can’t help it, love,” he said casually. It felt like fitting into an old rhythm. Sirius refused to believe you couldn’t feel the same way.

You sat in silence for a while, but not like the awkward silence that enveloped the room when John occupied the space. You stared at your glass, lost in thought. “At least he didn’t leave.”

Sirius swallowed heavily. “You didn’t stop me.”

You looked indignant. “You must be joking.”

“You’re freaking me out, Sirius. What the hell happened?” You clutched his arm, shaking him for answers.

Sirius was inconsolable. “J-James and Lily… d-dead.” His voice cracked.

Tears spilled out of your eyes. “N-No, that’s not possible. You said they were safe, that everything was fine!”

He was trembling. You could barely make out his words. “The little rat…”

“W-Who?” You were crying. Lily… your best friend… She couldn’t be dead. Bright, bubbly, perfect Lily Potter could not be dead.

Suddenly, Sirius was standing up, wiping his eyes. “I have to go.”

Your eyes widened. “What? Where? Where’s Harry?”

“With Dumbledore. I have to go.”

“Wait, don’t leave me here–” But with a crack, he was gone.

Sirius sighed, rubbing his unkempt beard. “You didn’t come after me. You didn’t stop them from taking me. You didn’t get me out.”

“How the hell was I supposed to do that? You didn’t tell me about switching the Secret-Keepers. You didn’t have an orphaned baby in your lap. And I saw your picture in the paper. Do you even know how deranged you looked? What was I supposed to do?”

“Goddamnit, I don’t know! Everything went wrong…” Sirius said, raising his voice slightly. “I lost my best friend.”

“So did I,” you whispered. “Harry lost his parents. We both needed you.”

“But I wasn’t there…”

You shook your head. “No, you weren’t.”

“And John was?”

“Yes.”

“I’m here now,” said Sirius in a resigned voice.

“I can see that,” you joked with a sad smile. “I’m glad. We both are – Harry and me.”

“You raised him well,” said Sirius sincerely. “James and Lily would’ve been proud of him.”

You smiled at him like never before. His heart thudded against his chest. “I hope so. Thank you.”

“Does he make you happy?”

You stared at a spot over his shoulder, refusing to make eye contact. “It’s none of your concern, Sirius.”

“It always will be, you know that.” You deserve better, he wanted to say. Better than him and me.

You deserved someone who completed you, not just someone who fits the mold. As you bid him goodnight, Sirius couldn’t help the twinge of envy brewing in his chest. Beyond his jealousy and hatred of John, he felt sad. Sirius recognized the unhappiness in your eyes, and he felt helpless. There was nothing he could do for you anymore.

Taglist: @iwritesiriusly @lunalovecroft

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intercoursefluids · 3 years

Text

The Impromptu Sleepover Part 1

“Alright! The adults are asleep what do you guys want to do?”

Alya being Alya, decided to take over the sleepover to celebrate Marinette’s friends finally realizing (or in most cases finally speaking up) about Lila’s lies.

“Swordfight!”

“Movie Marathon!”

“Let’s play truth or dare!”

Different ideas all resound from the girls currently huddled in Marinette’s room, all the boys trying to pretend they didn’t exist.

Only nine people were there, Adrien had wanted to come to the sleepover, but his dad wouldn’t let him.

These 10 were the only ones from her class to come back to her and apologize once they realized who the real victim was.

Marinette almost couldn’t believe her eyes when Alix, Alya, Kagami, Chloe, Nino, Kim, Max, Nathaniel, and Marc came up to her asking for her back.

The only ones who had actually believed Lila’s lies were Alya, Max, and Nathaniel but the others still apologized for not speaking out for her.

This group apology and cry session that immediately followed ended up with them holding a sleepover to celebrate their reconnection.

One thing Marinette forgot about though. Was the fact that Chat Noir would come to hang out with her on Fridays.

Which is why, when pebbles started hitting her window. She damn near had a heart attack when everyone else noticed immediately stopping their conversations.

“Mari, Love, Darling dearest. Who, might I ask, is throwing pebbles at your window?”

Every single one of her friends look at her with shit-eating grins as Kim blinks up innocently at her like he didn't just confirm for everyone there was in fact someone outside throwing a rock at her window.

Persistently.

With a deep sigh, Marinette grabs a lightsaber and spray bottle from the back of her closet.

"Alya, I am giving you permission to film this. I am NOT, however, to post this to any social media, and no one except for those in this room are to ever see the footage unless I give explicit permission otherwise. Understand?"

Alya nods frantically pulling out her phone as she and Marinette climb up to the balcony.

"Oh, Romeo Oh Romeo. Where art tho Romeo?"

Chat Noirs sarcastic call sounds from below with a bouquet of Alstroemeria, Amaryllis, and Blue Irises.

Alya hides behind the railing, just out of Chat Noir's sight as she films the interaction.

With a deep sigh, Marinette turns to Chat with regret and sorrow written all across her face, making Chat pause.

"Princess? What's the matter-"

"I'm sorry Chat Noir. But it's over."

The stricken look on his face almost makes Marinette feel sorry for him.

Almost.

"I don't understand? Did I do something wrong?"

With another deep sigh, Marinette runs a hand over her face.

"It's over Chat."

Faking tears, Marinette ever so slowly pulls the lightsaber from behind her back turning it on making the red illuminate half her face.

"I have the high ground."

Marinette sniffles for good measure as Alya finally catches on. Turning her phone back to Chat to see him looking like he was about to cry before it finally clicks.

His face goes blank as he stares up at one of his best friends.

"I hate you so much."

Marinette cackles as he pulls out his baton, stretching up to her balcony to be face to face with her.

"I can't believe that guy calls you 'Angel'. Your halo hides your horns too well and- Ladyblogger? What are you doi- Eep!"

He cuts off abruptly as Marinette squirts him in the face with the spray bottle making him reel back with a yowl.

In his haste to get away, he knocks himself off balance starting to fall over backward until Marinette grabs his bell yanking him forward.

"Okay, that is it! I'm going home and I'm telling Ladybug you're picking on me."

Marinette wheezes, trying to get her breath back and just giving up. Climbing down her skylight to collapse in a pile of giggles.

Chat and Alya both follow her down. Alya pushing her off her bed so Kim has to catch her before she hits the floor.

"Please Alya. PLEASE, tell me you got his reaction on film."

Alya smirks showing the video currently saving to her phone.

"Of course I did. Now we have a new guest here now assuming that Chat wants to stay for the sleepover."

Chat's eyes widen, looking every part the excited kitten.

"Can I?! I've never been to a sleepover before!"

All of the girls gasp in horror, surrounding Chat as they search through drawers and Marinette's closet.

Marinette, always one step ahead, runs to chat.

"Go in the bathroom, detransform put these on, and come back out. I'm assuming your Kwami eats camembert cheese since you constantly smell like it. I swear no one here is going to find out your identity or even try if they don't want me to put them on blast with all of the dirt I have on them. Now go!"

Chat is shoved into the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind him. Doing as he is told in fear of Marinette, Chat detransforms catching Plagg as he cackles in the air.

"Oh, I like her! She'd make a great kitten, with how easy it is for her to cause chaos, just how I like it!."

Shaking his head at his cackling Kwami as he got dressed. Putting the mask Marinette made him on trying it securely around his head. Stepping out to find Marinette coming back with a LARGE tray of food and everyone else huddled around Alya's phone.

Chat can't help the startled yelp he lets out when Alix pulls him down to her, gently petting his hair as she glares at Marinette.

"You're a monster Marinette. How could you do that to him?! Look at his face! His little baby face! He looked heartbroken!"

Marinette snorts at the playful scolding.

"Let him go, Alix. Go find your own stray."

Alix snorts as Marinette pulls a blushing Chat to her hugging him close. Marinette sits down dragging him with her as he buries his face in her hair. Too embarrassed to speak.

He doesn't have a babyface. Does he?

"Awe come on Mari, you found the cutest one the least you could do is share him!"

Everyone laughs as Kim makes a grab for Chat just for Marinette to pull him closer to her.

"Noooooo, this is MY alley cat! Go find your own!"

Chat Noir would never admit how hard he had to fight down his purr when Marinette started petting his hair.

You know. Before he lost that battle and a purr sounded loudly through his chest.

"Please stop. It's not fair and you're embarrassing me. Mariiiiii! Stooooooop."

Everyone laughs when Chat complains for Marinette to stop, even as he starts to melt into a puddle on her lap.

"One of these days I'm going to tell M'lady on you and she's gonna dangle you from the Eiffel Tower."

Now, under normal circumstances, everyone would be worried, but it's hard to be serious when one of Paris's superheroes is melted in a puddle in your friend's lap with a purr so loud it's hard to understand him.

"I'm pretty sure Ladybug would dangle YOU from the Eiffel Tower for being in a girls room this late, without letting her parents know. Even more, so that you detransformed in front of us. Still want to tell Ladybug on Marinette?"

Everyone turns to Marc, Nathaniel's adorable spouse as they radiate badassery.

Chat's purr stutters before starting up just as loudly again.

"I will no longer be telling M'lady."

Marinette snorts leaning back on her chaise as Chat adjusts himself so he's laying between her legs with his head on her stomach. Facing the rest of the class as Marinette plays with his hair.

"Are you guys dating?"

"Of course they are Cesaire. Ridiculous-!"

"Utterly ridiculous!" "Ew! No!"

Are the two different responses that cut Chloe off. The group finishing Chloe's catchphrase as Marinette and Chat Noir look at the rest of the class in disgust.

"Okay, first of all. Chat what the HELL do you mean 'ew'? Marinette is a babe, and everyone in this room has had a crush on her at least once before. How dare you say 'ew' like you would never date her you would be incredibly lucky if she even considered you."

Alya states with a finger in Chat's face.

Alix, Alya, Kagami, Chloe, Max, Kim, Nathaniel, Marc, and Nino all looking incredibly offended for Marinette even as she blushes and tries to hide her face.

"Guys, stop! And what do you mean all of you? Half of you are dating each other!"

Chat snickers at her distress, pulling out his burner phone and snapping a picture of her face.

"Okay, there may or may not be a literal 'Queen Marinette Club" or 'QMC' for short. We even have several social media accounts dedicated to giving you the credit you deserve. Before you ask this started that one time we went to Gotham and you answered all of the Riddler's riddles and yelled at Nightwing and Robin for their poor fashion choices and called Batman a furry when he tried to stop you."

Surprisingly Nathaniel is the one who answers instead of Alya as she pulls out her phone.

"We didn't even start the club! It was some people in Gotham who did. Max is the one who found out about it."

Sweet Marc, sweet sweet Marc never knowing when to stop before Marinette popped a blood vessel from blushing so hard.

"Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Cat Woman, The Riddler, the entire Batfamily (Batman included), and even some of the Waynes follow the accounts. Not to mention the other celebrities you've befriended like Mr. Stone and Ms. Nightingale."

Max reads off of his phone, seemingly proud of Marinette's followers.

"Even my mom follows you, Mari. That says something."

Chat looks up cackling as Marinette tries to suffocate herself with a pillow, Plagg rolling around on her hair as he clutches his stomach.

"Dang! Pigtails has some, what's it called? Clout! You're famous, kitten!"

Marinette whimpers from behind the pillow, her face practically radiating heat.

Chat snorts before turning back to the group.

"Number one I am well aware that Marinette is awesome and that I would be the luckiest man in the world to have her as my girlfriend. However, she's basically my little sister, same as Ladybug. Sorry to burst your bubble, Alya. Number two, she already has a boyfriend, has for a little over a year now, and he scares me. I am not testing if I really have nine lives cause he would take all of them. Number three, can you show me the 'QMC' accounts I want to follow them."

The room is silent as Marinette glares at Chat.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that? Princess? It's not like this is new informa-! They didn't know did they?"

Marinette reaches under her, pulling out a very nice-looking dagger from under the cushions of her chaise.

"Say goodbye to eight of your lives Chat. I need a new black fur hat."

Chat yelps scampering away from Marinette on all fours as she lunges for him with Plagg chasing after them laughing.

They keep running around the room until they pass Kim and he reaches out and grabs Marinette, trapping her in his arms.

"Okay, nice knife. Not sure where you got it nor do I want to know. Second of all, what's this about a boyfriend?"

Everyone surrounds her as Alix pulls the dagger from her hands putting it back under the cushions.

"Why haven't we heard of any boyfriend? Are you out of your mind?"

Alya's calm tone is very misleading as Chat hides behind her.

"He didn't want anyone to know just in case people claim for me to be a gold digger. Scratch that, I didn't want anyone to know so he didn't get sued for assault if anyone called me a gold digger and he found out."

Chat snorts.

"Yeah, you, definitely a gold digger. You know, since you didn't even realize who he was for the first 5 or 6 months of your relationship."

Marinette's glare does nothing as a blush covers her face.

"We don't speak of it Chat. I can and will still skin you."

Everyone looks at Marinette in shock.

"Okay, so all we know is that they are a he. He is rich enough to make people assume Marinette, Marinette of all people, is a gold digger and they are in a secret relationship. Who is it?"

Max looks up from his phone, where he is no doubt taking notes.

Marinette looks at the ground mumbling something that no one but Chat can make out thanks to his super hearing. He laughs and walks over to her phone unlocking it as Marinette finally answers.

"Damian Wayne."

Everyone looks at Marinette in a mix of shock and confusion before Chloe bursts out laughing.

"Only you Marinette. Only you would get over your crush on a millionaire heir to fall for a literal billionaire heir without even realizing it."

She breaks off into hysterical laughter as everyone turns to chat who is now on Marinette's computer connected to her phone as a facetime call takes place.

It answers on the second ring to someone who is most definitely NOT Damian Wayne.

"Hey Pixie Pop! Sorry, but I had to steal the phone from demon spawn. He was trying to kill me and Dick with a spoon and lunged for his phone as soon as it started ringing. Me and Dick were closer so we grabbed it and are now trying to find somewhere to hide so he doesn't actually kill us. Dick wanna say 'Hi'?"

Everyone hears a shout of 'sure' from someone out of the frame before the phone is passed over to someone who looks much like the first, except they are older and have no white streak in their hair.

"Hey, nettie! How's school?"

Chat smirks, covering Marinette's mouth as she tries to reply. A door slams shut as the two guys hunker in the near darkness, a lock clicking into place.

"School is great thanks for asking. Could be better but we are all getting by."

Two faces appear on screen looking a mix between worried and angry.

"I swear to god if you are holding Pixie Pop for ransom you will have the rage of all of Gotham fall upon you."

Chat just looks confused before remembering that he's wearing a mask and is holding Marinette's mouth shut.

"Oh! No, I'm not holding her hostage, we're friends. Chat Noir, Parisian superhero at your service. I just wanted to prank her boyfriend, she's having a sleepover and I was invited."

Their expressions immediately relax.

"Oh good. I was worried about what would happen when everyone else found out. Especially Damian."

Both boys shudder and smile as everyone else in the room comes into the frame.

One of them opens their mouth to speak before a loud bang comes from the door. Two equal looks of fear take over their faces.

A second later a loud bang fills the air as the door basically explodes open, high-pitched screams of terror fill the air before all is silent a new face filling to screen.

"Sorry Habibti, my brothers are imbeciles with death wishes. What do you need?"

"Wow, Habibti? I didn't know you felt that way about me Damian, or should I give you a pet name too?"

Chat's grin SCREAMS mischief, as Damian looks down an ice-cold glare in place.

"Let go of my girlfriend before I fly down there and skin you alive regardless of her wishes."

Everyone shivers at the pure venom in Damian's voice as Chat lets go holding his hands up in the air as he grins.

"Sorry, sorry. Letting go."

Marinette and Damian both glare at him before turning to each other, both looks immediately softening.

"Sorry, Shaytan. I'm having a sleepover and Chat outed our relationship and decided it would be funny to call you."

His smile is so gentle it shocks the rest of Marinette's friends.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault the Cat is a moron. I miss you. When do you think you can come back?"

Both of them choose to ignore Chats highly offended 'Hey!' as well as everyone else in the room with Marinette.

"That depends on when you want me there and when I can catch a flight."

Damian sits down at a table pulling a laptop to him as he sets up his phone so she can still see him.

"Well I want you here now, and I can have you a flight soon enough if I ask Father to get the family jet ready. If I work fast I can have you here by tomorrow morning, if not sooner."

Marinette looks shocked.

"You can't just ask your Father to get a plane ready just for me Damian!"

He glances back at the phone before going back to his computer.

"Why not? Everyone here loves you and if you're worried about the cost of it I can assure you a single minute of your time is worth far more than a measly plane ride."

Kim and Alya make cooing noises at the two from the sweetness of it all as Kagami steps up wrapping her arms protectively around her.

"Before you make any more trip plans you are going to tell me what you plan to do with Marinette in the future. I will not allow her to be some temporary girlfriend if you aren't serious about her."

Damian turns back to the phone looking past Marinette to acknowledge the others for the first time since the call started.

"I can assure you I don't want Marinette to be temporary. I plan to marry her and I truly couldn't care less if any of you have a problem with it."

Marinette's face invents a new shade of red as everyone coos over how cute that is. After getting over their initial shock of course.

"Habibti, do you want them to be able to come with you next time you come over? I can have father speak to their parents if they don't agree right away."

"Are you sure that would be okay?"

Marinette's timid voice makes Damian look away from his computer.

"Why wouldn't it be? If you don't want them to come with you then they don't have to, I know that you have some trouble with a few of your classmates. Seeing how late it is there I would have thought these were the ones who didn't turn on you or came back once they realized how idiotic they were to leave in the first place."

"Rude, but true."

Damian chooses to ignore Alya.

"No I would like for them to come, it could be fun! I'm just worried about space and where everyone would sleep."

Damian snorts.

"You have nothing to worry about, if you don't want them to stay in a hotel they can stay with us in the manor, there's plenty of space. And if there isn't enough space you can just sleep with me in my room."

He finishes off with a cheeky grin as Marinette sputters.

"You can't just say stuff like that Damian! It was bad enough that you said you planned to marry me, you don't need to add sharing a bed to the pile!"

Damian has the audacity to look confused.

"What do you mean? I never hid my plans to marry you nor my feelings, I don't get what the big deal is about sharing a bed anyway. It's not like Alfred would let us do anything and we wouldn't even have the chance with the circus monkeys I call brothers."

Several offended voices with 'I heard that!' 'Excuse me?' and 'You love us and you know it!'s all sound from his end.

Alix and Kim are basically collapsed onto each other as they wheeze at his bluntness.

Marinette sighs resting her head on her hands with a 'why do I even bother?' before looking up again.

"Fine, how is next weekend for everyone. I know Adrien will want to be included and I don't think he has anything going then. It will give me enough time to convince everyone's parents if need be and pack."

Everyone agrees and they end the call. Damian and Marinette saying their respective I love yous and Goodnight/Good mornings.

"I'm going to duel him."

"Kagami NO!"

Kagami looks Marinette dead in the eyes before smiling.

"Kagami yes."

#maridami #daminette #marinette x batfam #dc x mlb #Fluff interactions

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