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[Ikaris and his S/O reunite after millenia long long time. Very short and cute oneshot.]
Word count: 1k. No warnings that I can identify but I may be wrong?
Maybe it was the way the sunset didn’t quite feel the same, golden sun streaks enveloping your body to keep you warm before the night. Maybe it was the fire that rained from above, painting the inky night sky with embers from pained humans. Their conflict was their own and sometimes, most times, it was hard to watch from the sidelines.
You squeezed the hand enclosed in yours, refusing to turn your head and meet their gaze as Druig spoke, lost in his frustrations.
“Could our mission have been a mistake? Are we really helping these people build a better world?” He argues, turning away to watch over the war below. “We’re just like the soldiers down there. Pawns to their leaders, blinded by loyalty. It ends here.”
Suddenly, the humans halt their movements, weapons quickly being abandoned as they fall to the ground with damp metal clinks. It's not long till the warmth in your hand is ripped away, now throwing Druig to the wall.
“Let them go.” Druig dismisses the steely gaze of Ikaris along with his cooling demand. “Stop.” Druig’s gaze settles on Ajak as you come behind and peel Ikaris away. “If you want to stop me, you’re gonna have to make me. You’re gonna have to kill me.” An uneasy silence settled about the room as the people he once called family watched as Druig descended to the burning rubble below, becoming the first of the Eternals to leave.
Ikaris brings you to his side as Ajak confirms that your mission is done, that exploring the Earth to its many ends is now your wish if you so desire. And you did. You crane your head towards Ikaris, who looks down at you with a worrying look, squeezing your hip gently but seeing no change in your weak smile. The both of you leave them, seeking solace and sanctuary with one another.
“What’s the matter?” His voice soft and low as his chest brushes against yours when he gives you his full attention. You shake your head as his large, warm hand meets your cheek.
“I don’t know.” You lie, his thumb swiping a stray tear away. “Do you want to leave?” You nod, tears freely streaming down your cheeks. “It’s too much Ikaris, watching them fight and never learning from their mistakes.” You sigh, his hands holding your face to keep your gaze. “I want to be free of this guilt. Being as strong as I am and never allowed to help because it is supposed to be so.” He kisses you tenderly, leading your back to hit the stone wall behind. The kiss breaks and his arms circle your waist as he rests his head shoulder. “I want to live a life without a moment to think about what we had or hadn’t done.”
“You want to run away?” He accuse, pulling away at arm's length. :Its not running away, Ikaris. You heard Ajak. Our mission is over. We are free.” His blue iris’s keenly meet yours, his moment of denial and selfishness leaving him.
“I can’t force you to stay.” He whispers, voice on the verge of breaking. HIs forehead presses against yours for the last time. Now it's his turn to cry and yours to hold his cheek. “We will meet again... in our own time.” You eyes shut.
As you bring his face to yours, hands mapping out his features as you wipe him of his tears, Ikaris murmurs in his thick accent. “In another time.” He continues. You nod adamantly. “In another time soon, promise?.” You whisper on his lips before meeting them firmly. Ikaris eagerly accepts them and more. He holds you close, hands pressing every inch of you to his body, trying to make you one.
You reciprocate the feeling, squeezing his face gently before pulling his head closer, keeping his lips on yours. You barely register when Ikaris picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist. He holds you firmly against the wall as his kisses slip from your lips once or twice but always returns as his hands paw at your thighs and waist, solemnly squeezing your rear and hips in the process. A moan escapes you in the form of a sigh, softly lingering in the air between you two.
The last word leaving his lips before your legs squeeze his waist and pull him closer for the last time. “Promise.”
The salty air skims over your flushing flesh. The sounds of crystal waves crashing in the distance greeting you for the morning. The winter chill waning out and this first day of spring was already exceeding your delight in the change of season.
You’d lost count in how many mornings you’d awaken to the sight, only knowing it was much more than someone could count on their fingers, but not enough to forget the life and family you had known before. You feel your eyes well and your chest tightens, making you turn away from the sea.
As you turn over your shoulder, the light blinds you momentarily, prompting you to shield your eyes. In the sun's rays you see a tall figure invading the yellow halo and your breath hitches as you come to recognize the being in its totality.
Do you walk?
Or do you run?
You sprint.
Your bolting frame barely dents the figure, and when you finally take them in, it's only then is your intuition confirmed.
Ikaris, the same as you left him, welcomes you home in his arms, picking you up to hold you tight and securely to his person.
No words are spoken as you meet each other's lips for the first time in decades. Decades and more. Meeting his eyes when you part, he mimics the watery gaze you hold that breaks soon enough.
Your arms around his neck and shoulders tighten before they plant themselves firmly on his face, much like the last time you saw him. His stark brow line, cool blue eyes, and severely sharp jawline. Not a single change from when you left him. He relishes in the sensation, so long without your touch making him sigh.
“I can’t believe you’re here, I can’t believe you’re here...” You murmur in a trace, prepared for the cruel joke that someone has played on you to come to light before you begin to cry. Ikaris chuckles as your feet meet the ground once again. You both silently rejoice, meeting peace for the first time in decades, holding each other close keeping connected.
The moment sorely wavers as you relieve yourself from the embrace. “We made a promise, didn’t we?”
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subconsciously reaching for his hand under the table and intertwining your fingers
placing a small kiss to the bridge of his nose
stroking circles into his shoulder as you both drift off to sleep after struggling to for hours
squeezing eachother's hands after hours of comfortable silence
squeezing eachother's hands as a sign of support
kissing the top of eachother's heads when you both need to ground yourselves
suprising eachother with coffee // "how do you know my order??" "ive remembered it from our very first coffee date"
him seeing you shiver from across the room and inviting you over to snuggle under the blanket with him, minutes later your bodies are tangled together and his arms are protectively wrapped around you
keeping an old photo of the two of you in your wallets, it's always comforting to know that no matter where you are, you're both staring at the same picture when you think of eacbother
grinning at your phones when it lights up with a message from the other
the excitement he feels as you message him telling him how long ubtil you're home
has anyone ever written an S/O w Clark Kent or Ikaris or Homelander, really, any super being with laser eyes, and had the S/O cover their eyes when they're enraged, to stop them from harming someone?
I imagine something soft like them feeling guilty about the potential burns and taking care of them but then there's Homelander, so...
I kind of want to write something like this for Ikaris
[My writing for an idea I had a few weeks ago. Apologies for the absence, I totally over thought the entire piece, I really wanted it to be great, now its just really long, ha. Also yeah, lame title I know but I honestly had no idea what to call it. Anyway I hope you enjoy.]
Word Count: 3k (just over)
Warnings: Angst, one (1) swear word, spicy implications but nothing explicit. Druig is villainized-ish, nothing personal, I love the character too, it just worked out better to write him like that. Description of injury? Its not too overdone but I thought it might be worth mentioning.
In the first five months when you had met him Ikaris was gentle, never prying too much into your personal life but never once distant or uninterested. Ikaris was charming, able to light your face with an impressed grin or a rush of heat to flush your cheeks. Either one had him in a good light to you. As you progressed from a budding friendship to a blossoming relationship, he became open, bravely revealing secrets of an unknown time to you, but a clear story of the past to him. You remained silent about any personal thoughts that may have contradicted his stories, freely enjoying his baritone, accented voice as you became lost in his cerulean eyes.
“Now, you’re not even listening to me.” He accused, his lips fighting off a smirk. “I was listening.” You plead, turning away as his gaze intensified with Ikaris now leaning into your atmosphere. “Then what was I talking about, hmm?” He mocks, clearly teasing you with the knowledge that you’ll fail. You can’t help the burning in your face as you whip your head back to him, only to be met with his burning gaze that bores into your soul.
You gulp, silently you hope, as your noses bump against one another. In your hypnotised gaze, the coolness of your beverage starts slipping ever so slightly, that you barely register his fingertips brush against yours to place it securely on the coffee table. Or when those same fingertips come under your face, taking a gentle hold on your chin jaw. Your eyes flutter momentarily as you come to, breaking free from his captivating gaze. You wet your lips as you reevaluate yourself, a shuddering breath slipping out.
“I- I’m sorry; What was the question?” You murmur, now aware of the limited space between your lips meeting his.
“Can I kiss you?” That faint but alarming whisper of air fans over your face, more specifically your mouth. You can’t find any words as you bump his nose gently, affectionately, before bravely meeting his gaze and nodding.
“Yes.” You answer silently.
Ikrais’ lips meet yours in a slow and steady seal of affection, not wanting to push any boundaries of second thought that may arise. But when your hands press against his chest, sliding up to tangle around his neck to where your fingers knot in the locks of his hair, he pushes all doubt to the side, reciprocating the gesture the same as you. A calloused hand pulling you closer by the neck, gently cradling you in place. That moment would be the beginning of a beautiful union between the two of you, holding each other with pride and affection.
—timeskip—
As the two of you ventured down this path together, one of the many stones you would come to conquer would be his family. Before meeting them, a part of you thought them to be nothing more than an elderly couple with some estranged siblings on the side. For siblings, you weren’t wrong, but elderly couples? Certainly not what you had in mind anyway.
Ajak, a maternal figure of the Eternals, welcomed you with open arms, despite the threat that arose for the impromptu reunion.
“We have been waiting for you. For many millennia, in fact.” Her arms outstretched in an eager embrace, bringing you close to her bosom. “Me? I don’t understand.” You query, hoping not to offend. “That’s alright my dear. We have waited many years for the one who would come to bring harmony to our dear Ikaris.” Her hands, though weathered, gently hold and map out your being, caressing your face and shoulders, silently reassuring you of your anxieties.
Ikaris stood in the doorway leaning against the frame, previously gazing with frustration and distaste, a deep indent that was once prominent between his brows now softening and smoothed over as Ajak admired you. He’s soon joined by the pixie cut Eternal, who stares between Ajak, yourself and Ikaris then filtering between you and Ikaris. She shrugs off a thought before clearing her throat.
“So, do you think they’ll come with us?” Sprite asks.
“Well, what makes you think I’m going with you?” He scoffs, side eyeing her briefly. “Because Ajak asked you to. Not Druig, not Kingo, or Sersi- anyone else, not even me. But because of Ajak.” Ikaris clenched his jaw in defeat. She was right, Ajak was the all knowing of them all, even when Ajak had no clue what was next, she was, and still remains, a leader of the Eternals.
A mother of the Eternals.
—timeskip—
The cicadas were particularly enchanting in the Amazon, somewhere you had never thought in your life you would be spending the night, yet here you lay. You slipped out from the covers, leaving Ikaris to his soft snores as you stepped out into the dark of night. But as you had discovered, it wasn’t all dark but luminous with the stars above glowing an incredible rain of light that filtered through the trees. You ventured closer and the leaves were now painting their shadow upon you.
“My, my.” A voice breathes behind you. “It is quite a view, isn’t it?” Out of your sudden fright, you quickly realise it was only Druig. “It’s beautiful. All of it, this sanctuary you’ve made for these people. It’s incredible.” You praise, taking in the mystical breeze that had come ghosting over your skin. “Well, thank you. But if I had met you earlier, I can assure you, you would’ve made a beautiful blueprint.” Druig’s sly and flirty nature barely fazes you, even when the back of his hand brushes against your cheek softly.
“Well, aren’t I lucky that Ikaris found me first then?” You barely have time to register his shocked yet impressed expression when a bright blast of yellow shoots past him. The blast barely skims his sleepwear and imprints a blackened burn that scars a tree nearby.
You both look over in the beam's homing direction to find Ikaris with his arms crossed, shoulders squared and glaring daggers at Druig. “Spoil sport.” Druig mumbles to himself, smirking as he retreats his hand away from your face.
“Goodnight Y/N.” He smirks.
“Goodnight Druig.” You nod politely.
As you venture towards your lover, Ikaris still has his glare fixed on his brother, even long after his cabin’s door had been sealed shut. As you take his hand in yours, he’s quick to divert his gaze to you.
“Are you alright, sweetheart? He didn’t do anything to you, did he?” His hands clasped over yours, squeezing them tenderly while bringing you closer, eyes searching and scanning your own. “Of course not, silly. Why would you ask that?” You grin, eyes twinkling in the starlight. “I was just a little restless that's all. This place is enchanting, it's like it's singing to me.”
He sighs tiredly before pulling you to his chest, squeezing you tightly before stretching to arms length, a cheeky smirk adorning his lips now. “Ya’ know, if you’re still feeling restless, I can think of a couple ways to put you to bed.” He purrs, kissing your cheek and then along your jaw before nibbling at your bottom lip. “Is that so? Well I guess you'll have to show me some then.” You whisper, complying as he carries you back inside.
The morning arose and aside from the awkward side eye and then some, it was smooth as all could be. You were helping the locals along with Makkari, who had signed, asking about the new found tree burn.
“It’s a bit of a long story.” She smiles, handing a water basket to a small family. “<I’m sure it is>” She winks knowingly. Only Druig would be the one to rouse cause such a reaction.
You weren’t entirely sure of everyone's power. Ikaris seemed to harness the power of flight and energy dispersal through his eyes. Kingo somewhat the same in the latter, just with his hands. Ajak a healer, Gilgamesh harbours intense and pure strength, but for the most part, the rest remain unbeknownst to you. Not wanting to pry or come off rude, you observed these before, now it seemed you were boring Makkari.
“May I ask, what your power is?” You signed poorly, but spoke clearly in the hopes she could lip read all the same. She grinned, freeing her hands before pointing off into the distance. A red fruit hung stark against a green bushel far off into the distance, you could just make it out.
“<Do you see it?>” She signs and you nod. <“Keep your eyes on it.>” You obediently fix your eyes on the horizon and just as soon as you blink, a whoosh of wind brushes you back and forth and suddenly you can’t spot the object. “What the?” You breathe, heavy confusion dawning over you. Makkari, cheerful as ever, grins and displays the fruit before you. In your amazement you deduce her power to be that of incredible speed.
Most of the Eternals would agree that your mortal bewilderment of their abilities boosted some sense of pride in them and fed some egos. But not yet that of Druig, who watched from a distance Makkari’s demonstration for you. All you had heard about Druig was from Ikaris, and maybe some passing comment for Kingo, who heeded you to stay away from him; not that that was completely in your abilities, to avoid a person who actively would seek you out.
“Well, you two seemed to be making good friends with each other.” Druig stalks over, hands clasped idly behind his back. “<Hello, Druig.>” Makkari signs. “<Yes, I think so too, wouldn't you say?>” You grin cheerily, slowly deciphering her speech before nodding in agreement. “Yes, I would say so.”
“My, my, you sure are a quick learner, aren’t you?” Druig chimes, with you having spent less than a day with Makkari and knowing the very basics of sign language. “It helps to be patient yet quick to piece phrases together.” You shrug nonchalantly, admiring the fruit in your grasp. “Yes, you are quick, especially last night.” He teases, a massive blush blooming on your features as Makkari gawks, brows raised in surprise then suspicion.
“<What happened?>” She jumps in, half joking, half serious yet completely lighthearted. “Nothing happened.” You elbow his ribs, sending him sideways with a jaunty laugh. “I was just packing a bit more attitude than he expected, is all.” “<Right.>” Makkari signs, laughter and joy falling short between you. Druig’s gaze flickers through yours and a shadowing being behind you, but you don’t notice. His eyes narrow in on you.
“So, I saw Makkari showing you her powers. What’d you think?” He prys, curiosity lacing his voice. “What did I think? I thought it was incredible. Everyone has been incredible.” You swoon. “Oh, really, well what do you think of mine?” He asks, to his knowledge you hadn’t seen them in any way, shape or form. “Well,” You blush coyly. “I don’t think I’ve seen them active.”
“Would you like to?” At his proposition, Makkari puts her hand on his shoulder, pulling his attention. She sends him a knowing look while shaking her head, squeezing his jacket in her fist as he presses further with nothing but a raised eyebrow. You look over at Makkari, who now sends you the same message, No.
“I don’t understand; why not, Makkari?” As soon as the question leaves your lips, heavy, menacing steps trudge through the dirt, branches snapping at their mercy. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?!” You recognise the voice before the back of Ikaris wedges between you and Druig. “Aye, what the fuck do you think you’re doing, Druig?!” He seethes with a thickening accent, squaring his shoulders once again.
“Oh, woah, slow your roll there, Ikaris. I just asked if they’d like to see my powers, that’s all. Isn't that right?” He peeks over Ikaris’ shoulder to look at you, smirking at your confused nature. “Ikaris- '' You begin to plead but it falls short, much like Makkari trying to steer Druig away, but he shrugs her off with ease.
“You know what you’re doing, ya right prick!” Without hesitation, Ikaris shoves the Eternal, almost sending him to the ground, but Druig stumbles and regains his footing, fixing his jacket in one smooth motion. “They just wanted to see my powers.” Druig’s eyes start to mist with a golden glow slowly overtaking his blue iris’. “What’s the harm in showing her something she asked for?” Druig tilts his head, glowing eyes seeking and glaring your way over Ikaris’ shoulder before he starts levitating, hovering above the ground. At this, Makkari tries to pry, break Druig away, but he remains rooted to the ground, chastising Ikaris silently with nothing more than a smirk.
You try reaching for his hand but it's curled in a tight fist. “Ikaris, let's just go.” Your begging falls on deaf ears while a similar golden mist rises up from his cheekbones, now glowing from his eyes. A vein on his temple pulses against his skin. “Ikaris, stop!”
He suddenly tenses his back, preparing to shoot as Druig remains unfazed. You’re done with waiting when you make a rash decision. You leap up on his back, legs wrapping around his waist securely, then quickly covering his eyes with your hands. At the initial contact, his face feels warm but soon enough the heat burns and you feel the skin is searing.
Ikaris awakens from his daze at your action and drops to the ground with a heavy thud, yourself bouncing off and to the ground at the impact. “Y/N?!” He kneels beside your curled form. You cradle your hands to your chest watching an angry red marking blossom on the skin. You hiss as he tries to check over the injury. “What were you thinking?” He quietly scolds as you suck in a calming breath. Makkari and Druig stare in shock before she speeds off into the distance. “You were going to make a mistake.” You groan, coming into his side for comfort. “That’s not for you to decide.” Ikaris tsk’s before rising to his feet, charging towards Druig and pinning him against a tree.
“Look what you’ve done!” He snarls at him. “Look what I’ve done? Look what you’ve done.” Druig snarks just before a body rips Ikaris away from Druig. “Enough!” A voice calls. Ajak.
She marches towards the scene before kneeling beside you. “Let me see.” You look up at her with blurry vision, foreign tears streaming down your cheeks. “Please, let me see.” She offers her hand and patience. You gingerly pull them away and reveal the bloody, blistering sores fresh on your skin. She maps over them first before turning to the Druig and Ikaris, now separated by Gilgamesh. “Makkari, take Druig back to camp. Gilgamesh and Ikaris, go for a walk.” Ajak orders before immediately returning her attention to your hands. “I’m not leaving Y/N.” “And I’m not asking, Ikaris.” Ajak doesn’t bother to look hi9s way, now focused on healing your wounds. The foliage beneath them crunches in their absence and before he can turn away, Druig throws an apologetic gaze your way. ‘I’m sorry, Y/N.” And with nothing left to say, he and Makkari leave.
You sob, prompting Ajak to coo you in your pain, her hands once again running over your wounds lightly, but now the wounds are healing themselves, holes reattaching themselves with the glow from her hands. She repeats the process until she is satisfied with the healing. You look down at your palms again, the sting and sear dull and faded now, and see they are almost like new, holding only a dark bruise now.
“Thank you.” You bring your hand up and wipe your face clean but it seems futile as you begin berating yourself mentally. That was such a stupid, stupid idea.
“It was not a stupid idea, Y/N.” You look at her confused as she holds your face. “You did what you thought was right, you thought on your feet.” You nod along with her. “Give him some time. He will come to you, you bring his harmony after all.” And with that you both stand to your feet, she takes you under her arm as you both walk back to the camp.
Later that evening, you retired to bed alone, Ikaris absent from dinner with the family. Conversation was light, few and far between but ultimately, had left alone in bed, comforting yourself in the night. Hours had passed into the night when you finally felt the guidance of sleep lulling you into slumber that the cabin creaked open and heavy steps ventured in. You sat yourself up, taking in Ikaris’ form that crept towards the bed.
“Hi.” You mumble.
“Hi.” He replies, never meeting your eye line.
“I didn’t think you’d come back.” “Of course I’d come back to you.” He says earnestly, gingerly seating himself on the bed. You reach out, brushing your fingertips against his, petting his hand to hold. He takes it in his hands, squeezing it gently before turning it over and inspecting the bruise. “Ajak helped me. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be.” At this, he inspects the other hand before holding them tenderly in his.
“Why- why would you do that?” He mutters, shaking his head with his eyes squeezing tears away but to no avail. “I was scared you would do something you’d regret.” You answered solemnly. He scoffs, looking at you with tears pooling in his eyes. “That’s not a good enough answer, Y/N.” His voice croaks towards the end, making you reach over, placing your hands in his face, cradling him lovingly.
“Ikaris please, I-” “I could’ve killed you, I -” His words fall to growls as he presses his forehead to yours. He brushes his nose against yours, just like your first kiss. “I couldn’t live if I lost you.” He whispers, his lips ghosting over yours before you press yours against his. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He mumbles between pecks but you shake your head. “Please don’t be sorry.” You sigh. “I just didn’t want you to do something you would regret. It was wrong, what he did, how things were dealt with, but he’s your brother, in a sense.” Ikaris cringes as you continue. “And I believe, that if you had hurt anyone today, like how you wanted to hurt Druig, you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself.”
“I’ll never forgive myself now.” He cries, clinging to you desperately now, pulling you on his lap now. Tears wash over your skin, his head buried in your neck as he sobs. You rake your fingers against his scalp, in his hair, trying to soothe him. “Maybe we should get some sleep.” You offer, climbing off him and pulling him with you.
Soon enough you’re both under the covers, embracing each other tightly, his lips tracing your hairline tenderly. You inspect your hands one last time before putting in his chest, feeling the thrum of his steadying heartbeat. You think back to what Ajak said; you bring him harmony. It may have been more true than you thought.
[I hope you like it, I’m low key proud of it even if its horrendously long to read. No gifs are mine, just the writing]
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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has anyone ever written an S/O w Clark Kent or Ikaris or Homelander, really, any super being with laser eyes, and had the S/O cover their eyes when they're enraged, to stop them from harming someone?
I imagine something soft like them feeling guilty about the potential burns and taking care of them but then there's Homelander, so...
I kind of want to write something like this for Ikaris
[FWB to lovers. I wrote a few months back and just forgot about it I guess.]
It was like any other day working at Cloud9; Aimee fulfilling her managerial role, Dina stalking and stammering the progress of other workers, and Cheyenne and Mateo gossiping at the centre of the store. You moved from the break room, ready to begin your first shift of the day when you spot Marcus distracting Glenn across the way. You smile a lopsided grin at the sight of him; a just under six foot tall dummy of a man. Your dummy.
The "on again off again" rendezvous you had with Marcus was a little confusing. A part of you loved sneaking around the workplace, meeting up in one of the cozy corners of the warehouse for a heavy petting make out session. Oftentimes ending with a little fooling around. It was exciting, the adrenaline running through your veins at the mere idea of being exposed in such compromising positions with Marcus.
With Marcus, ugh. It pained you to admit it, but the other part of you wanted clear waters with your relationship with Marcus. What exactly were the two of you? Friends with benefits? Cuddle buddies? Were you on the verge of potential ground for labels like, boyfriend and girlfriend?
Whatever it was, you found yourself going from confused about the ordeal to wanting solid ground about where Marcus and yourself stood together. In short, you could say you were crushing on Marcus. He wasn’t a knight in shining armour, honestly he was far from it. But he was just right to you; attentive just enough, cute but in an unexceptional way that made him appear handsome, in some sort. Tall enough and kind enough, with original quirks that made him his own person, an incredible reminder that he was far from perfect, but... he was perfect to you.
And so you stood with a dreamy daze in your eyes and a goofy grin slapped on your face while sighing to yourself quietly. "Hey Y/N, I was wondering if you could help me move these toilet rolls to aisle 5?" Sandra bursts your thoughts as she hauls behind her a stack of white rolls. "Oh, hey Sandra. Sure thing." You take the top row off and follow Sandra to the fifth aisle. It's a mundane journey, you're not particularly close with Sandra, but you're far less dismissive of the woman than a majority of the Cloud9 employees.
"And so, my mom's friend's cousin, that I bumped into at the gas station-" Her ever increasing tangent is interrupted by Aimee, who seemed tense as all Hell while bickering with Jonah, who marches towards you with authority. "Hey Y/N, I need you to run some numbers on a late shipment in the warehouse."
At the mere mention of the word warehouse, Marcus is prompt to return himself to your field of vision, appearing behind Aimee, almost towering over her.
"Warehouse?" You furrow your brows. "Shouldn't that be reserved for someone like Marcus?" You gesture and Aimee whips her head behind. Her eyes lock onto her checklist. "Ah, yes, both you and Marcus, please run some numbers on the late shipment, thank you." She hands you a list from the bottom before she marches off. Your thoughts on her current attitude are cut short when Marcus makes himself visible with a wide grin as he cheekily wiggles his eyebrows. "Come on, warehouse buddy.”
"Warehouse buddies?" You question, walking alongside him to the double doors. "I just- I just thought it had a nice ring to it." He scratches the back of his neck, sputtering his words simultaneously. You grin at him. "We could definitely brainstorm on that." You tease, giggling with him, semi serious about the idea.
---timeskip---
"You know, when we started taking notes on the first few boxes, I didn't actually think we were going to do the whole lot of them." Marcus complains, setting the last load of boxes as you run your pen across the page, marking it off.
"Oh, and I suppose you thought we were here for other things?" You tease, pulling on your shirt collar to allow air to cool you down. It sure had been tiring watching Marcus move heavy boxes from A to B.
"Well, you know?" He shrugs, checking the coast is clear as he slyly slinks his way towards you, hands coming to your hips before pulling you towards him. "The usual things we do here." He whispers, coming close to your lips as he ducks his head down to meet yours. "And what kind of other things did you have in mind Marcus?" He only responds by connecting his lips to yours, the motion momentarily taking you by surprise before you reply all the same.
The two of you stumble backwards before you bump into a collection of boxes. Marcus takes initiative, hoisting you up and placing you on top. With your hands slipping around his neck, your fingers begin threading through his hair. Marcus’ hands trail along your body, fidgeting with the hem of your work shirt before bunching it upwards and slipping his hands beneath, fingertips spreading along your skin. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Soon enough, a familiar feeling arises, goosebumps trailing your skin as Marcus works on starting a fire in you, lips latching to your neck. You sigh at the contact, feeling yourself give into the feeling. And you think you will carry on with this bliss.
But your mind is intrusive and an outright buzzkill, poking at your insecurity about the situation. Try as you might, your mind wins and you push Marcus away.
"I'm sorry, I can't do this right now." You frown, releasing a frustrated sigh to yourself while casting your gaze to the floor before sliding off your makeshift seat. "What's the matter? Did I- Did I do something wrong?" His face filled with concern. You move past him with your hands tangled in one another. "I've just got a lot on my mind, Marcus. I'm sorry." You pick up the checklist, hiding behind the corkboard to wipe a stray tear. You think you’re hidden, but Marcus is a lot more attentive than most give him credit for. “Hey, if- if you just wanna talk or, like, need someone there or something-” You cut him short, snapping impatiently.
“What are you doing, Marcus?” He stutters. “What- what am I doing?” “Yes, what are you doing? Because… I just wanna know where we stand with each other? Where I stand with you?” You curse yourself, mentally annoyed with your emotions bursting to the surface so quickly. Why couldn’t you just enjoy the moment?
“Wait, I’m confused. What do you mean, “where do you stand?” You sigh, arms crossing in front of your chest as your brows furrow. “I just- we fool around in the warehouse, hook up even. And then, you want to talk about feelings! How am I supposed to tell you about my feelings, when my feelings are about you, Marcus?!” His signature dumbfounded expression doesn’t arrive when you expect it to. Instead, he’s much more of the same; concerned and empathetic.
“Y/N, are you saying you have feelings for me? Like, you like me?” “Yes, Marcus.” You wince, feeling desperately vulnerable having to admit it aloud. Everything’s falling into shambles just because of your feelings. “Yes, Marcus, I like you. And, I- I tried to ignore my feelings and to just go with the flow of things, but… I... I just loved being around you, and I thought you were the cutest and-” You suddenly halt your rambling, did you really say that out loud?! “I’m sorry.” You hiccup, sheltering your face, now conscious of your streaming tears. You hold yourself before Marcus steps forward, clearing his throat with his hands in his pockets.
“You know, I always thought you were the cutest in the store.” He chuckles nervously. “And I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I seriously wouldn’t have something like this going on with you if I didn’t.”
He’s closer than before when you look at him, his hands shaking as he fists them outside of his pockets. “Really?” You sniffle. “Really, really.” He pushes a stray lock behind your ear. “You know, if I’m really honest, I kind of thought you and me, like, going out or something, but I don’t know, I just thought you wouldn’t be into that kind of thing.”
A beat passes. You’ve suddenly become very conscious of the heat in your face. Embarrassed you may be, knowing what Marcus feels offers a lot more clarity than you first thought. You take a deep breath. “Well then, what does that make us, Marcus?” He shrugs sheepishly. “I’ve always thought we could be boyfriend and girlfriend, ya know?” And finally, a small grin breaks across your mouth, nodding before you come to take a step closer, taking his face in your hands before bringing his lips to meet yours. As soon as he reciprocates, you pull away too soon. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” You try to play it cool but ultimately fail, a big and bright smile bursting across your features. Now it’s his turn to hold your face, his calloused thumbs brushing and soothing your tear streaked face as he smiles his signature goofy grin. “Wow, this is.. so cool! Yes! I am so happy right now!” He plants his lips on yours once again.
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AN: A Battinson! Bruce Wayne fanfic where Bruce returns from Batmanning and the reader is there to comfort him and bring him back to reality, clearing his conscious and listening to his remote silences. Just a lot of comfort, I guess.
I am very intimidated to post this. Every single Battinson fic is so good, that mine is probably trash, but I want to get back into writing so better late than never and better something than nothing.
Bruce was always a broody being, ever since you had met him many years ago. And now, Bruce was still, everso, broody.
After the initial shock of discovering Bruce to be the nighttime vigilante, you vowed, as his friend, and now his significant other, that you would support him, with any needs he required. All he had to do was ask. But that was far easier said than done.
Broody as he was, when unmasked of the cowl and cleansed (sort of) of his makeup, Bruce was often silent. The city of Gotham wasn’t exactly synonymous with bright and joyful spaces but more so dark and grim, violent with injustice. Naturally Bruce bought that feeling home with him, as one would when dealing with the unfortunate who contaminated the streets of Gotham.
And when he returned to the manor, he often spent hours to hours digesting any events that had occurred. Old or new, some nights were more traumatic than some, and through it all he continued the labour. God forbid that any nights connect with others, or that suspects became more inclined to spread their tyranny in cults rather than act as a lone wolf, Bruce would be there for days, nights even, working to make everything make sense. This was one of those silent, brooding nights.
The tires of the batcycle screeched upon entrance down below. You had been awaiting his arrival since it was well past his usual return window. Alfred’s culinary hand awaits upstairs as you enter in with a spare change of clothes along with your complete patience and attention.
You slip from the entrance of the batcave and down towards the staircase, catching the attention of the night rider. He props the bike on its stand and unmounts with a heaviness. Steel-capped, leather boots trudge to the nearest workbench in sight. Your sigh releases a wave of relief over you, calming an anxiety you hadn’t registered.
“Would you like help with anything?” You ask, voice wavering at first before settling on a calm. His gaze is fixed on you with an incredible intensity that you've grown used to, his eyes boring into you before they shift to the space next to him. In the next moment, there is a sudden scraping sound against the concrete filling the air with an intrusive resonance. Two stools are produced in the space in reach of the workbench he had been leaning on. With a curt nod from him, you make your way towards Bruce, who's now taken a seat and holding the under edge of the stool opposite him. He pulls the stool towards him when you arrive to occupy the seat.
And now it begins.
The cowl is still adorned upon his head and you ponder a plan to take it off. You tentatively reach out to take Bruce’s hand. “I’m glad you decided to come back.” You start; “I can’t begin to imagine what you may have faced tonight but I’m very happy you’ve made it home.” You smile at him which garners his full attention, his eyes moving from your intertwined hands to catch your gaze. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips that fades in and out as you notice it. Your unoccupied hand comes up to meet the side of his face, thumb grazing over the covered cheekbone before travelling upwards to stroke the pointed ear of the bat mask where you play with the tip.
“Do you think we could take this off now? It doesn't seem very comfortable.” You wait patiently for his response, moments of silence pass as he seems to physically come down from donning the Batman and returning to Bruce. He returns your gaze shortly with another curt nod. You both reach to untuck the cowl from the suit, stopping for a brief moment to acknowledge the brief contact. You chuckle quietly to yourself. His fingers work on the back instead as you gently peel away the front. Carefully, and rather slowly, you both remove the cowl before placing it on the bench.
Bruce, now revealed for the night which usually signaled the end of his work shift, has his eyes fixed on the loose leather. You rise from your stool, placing the change of clothes in your place, and step to put yourself between his knees, your hands resting on his shoulders gently. Tenderly, you turn his head to face you with a finger curved under his chin, your thumb ghosting over his bottom lip to alert his senses. A kind and warming smile is in his view, one that he’s grown an incredible fondness towards. He tries to reciprocate the warmth that sparks in his chest at the sight but settles for finding solace in your embrace, head coming to rest on your décolletage. Your arms quickly come around him, barely meeting in the middle of his broad shoulders, as your lips meet his hairline at the same time.
You hum. No exact tune but he relishes in the vibrations resonating from you, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling you close. His mind was running amuck, thoughts everywhere and scattered in the subconscious, moving back and forth from integral duties to throwaway theories. But now it's slowing down and the darkness that once consumed him is being dawned on by a new day horizon. You, as his sun over the horizon, welcoming him towards the light.
You peel away from him and cast your gaze over your shoulder which he follows. Your thumbs come to stroke the stubble on his cheek before sweeping his hair out the way. “Do you think it's time we head back upstairs?” He looks back and forth between you and the clothes. Something about the gentle caress of your thumbs catches his attention. He needs a shave.
Dark oak doors timidly push open before you and Bruce as you both make it to the en suite of the bedroom. Bruce flinches at the light filling the room as you help him perch himself on the side of the tub. You fluff through the bottom cupboard and return to present a large dark grey towel and a miniature copycat. Before you speak he fists the taller twin and then raises to his full height, towering above you before turning around with his head craning forward.
Wordlessly, you reach for the collar of the suit and gently yank it down to you before pinching the zipper and releasing Bruce from the confines of the suit. The armor and gear stray to the fall, and as the shower begins to run, a thin steam starts to form as you sweep up the gear and pack it in the corner of the bedroom for the morning. You seal the bathroom door shut behind you. His shower is short lived, barely ten minutes before the door swings open, shower steam rolls out and down the muscles of his chest. Bruce grasps your wrist.
“Come in.” He grumbles with furrowed brows. “I, um… I need you.” You follow and patiently wait as he guides you inside. It’s still a long silence as Bruce pulls you to him by your waist, the hand on your wrist now firmly interlocked with your hand. “What is it Bruce?” You pry gently, hoping to encourage him through whatever his thoughts may be. He guides your hand that lays in his, to his cheek again where you instantly assume to caress him. But he stops you by pressing your palm flat against him, he nuzzles his face into your hand, scratching his stubble into your fingertips. He timidly makes eye contact only to find you grinning at him. “You know, I’m not too opposed to some facial hair. But I guess it goes against “The Bats” protocol.” You tease. A handsome grin breaks across his lips before you reach up and press yours firmly against his.
Bruce’s hands hold your waist steady and lifts you from the ground, placing you on top of the bathroom sink. Now it’s his turn to spread your knees as he reaches behind you, rummaging in the cabinet for a razor and gel. His skin is softened and relaxed from the shower as you begin to spread the gel turn to cream across his face. He stands with his head ducked forward, keeping the light on him for you as you bring the blade up to make contact with the skin before dragging- No, gliding it along the contours of his face.
Each movement is meticulous, from the cleansing of the blade, to the reangling of his face. Bruce holds no resistance to your touches and with complete trust, his eyes slide shut for a moment. He repositions his hands from gripping the basin to holding your waist, moving in closer between your thighs. You hiss at him. “Bruce! I was evening out your sideburns!” He only smirks, leaning in to meet the corner of your mouth. “I’m nearly finished, just a little while longer.” You promise, the last few swipes of the blade cleaning the remaining area of stubble. You rinse him clean and gently dab his skin dry before caressing the smooth skin with your thumb. “You know, I think I’m getting quite good at this, wouldn't you say?” You amuse him as he finally releases a laugh of some sort and meets your lips in a flurry.
A while longer passes by and now you're placed gently on Bruce’s bed, legs wrapped around his torso as his leaves butterflies kisses on your neck. It suddenly feels as if the darkness of the Bat he's been expelled. Not forever but just for the moment and that’s enough.
Tangled in each other's limbs you both settle under the covers, Bruce’s eyes feeling heavy and breathing now labored and evening out. His fingers brush a loose bits of hair behind your ear just as you settle in his arms. He doesn’t know how to convey his gratitude without seeming awkward or overthinking it, so he smashes your lips together one final time, mumbling a humble “thank you” into the kiss. You nod as he pulls away, kissing his forehead as you both fall asleep.
Asleep for you yes, but that didn’t stop the sun from rising over Gotham, another nightfall destined to come to awaken the Batman. But for Bruce Wayne, he would rest with you during the light.
a/n: this is old, I was (a few months ago) absolutely obsessed with Norman and the idea of cock warming. this is, needless to say, my first attempt at writing smut, so it's probably God awful. I hope you enjoy, none the less.
Your gaze fixes on the body ahead of you. Norman goes back and forth between the sweet treats plated on the table, the sight warming your heart by how wholesome he is. He finally settles on something pink when his eyes snap up to meet yours, a glint of curiosity shining through his gaze.
He smiles before he begins, "You've been staring at me for the last half hour, Y/N, is there something the matter?" You turn your head to the side while taking you lip between your teeth as a smirk tugs at your mouth. "No. It's nothing, really." You shrug.
He's not convinced and with an out stretched leg, he reaches across from under the table and gently taps his covered foot against your bare one. "Penny for your thoughts?" He tries, taking a nibble at his sweet, still tapping at your foot. "I don't know." You drawl with a burning blush creeping on your cheeks. "It's kind of embarrassing." You admit, suddenly becoming incredibly self conscious, with your hands coming up to shield your face. The tapping ceases and Norman let's out an amused scoff, placing his sweet treat down.
"I'm sure whatever it is you can tell me." There's a hint of worry in his voice, but your current state suggests something more wholesome...
"I want to try cock warming." You blurt.
Or perhaps not.
Suddenly thankful he hadn't the sweet in hand, Norman insists on an explanation. "I'm sorry, dear umm... what did you say?" He stutters with his own burning blush creeping upon his cheeks. "I want to try cock warming." You start slowly, a hand peeling away from your face and onto the table. "In the bedroom, of course." Your hand reaches over to his. "With you."
Still wide eyed, he cleans the last few crumbs off his sweater. "Ahem, that's what I thought you said." He says quietly under his breath. Norman's head is buzzing with the sudden change of topic, especially in the dining room. He's internally battling with lewd thoughts that conflict his current setting. Subjects like this should be discussed in the bedroom, he thought.
"I only want to try it, please." You plead before he can completely dismiss the idea. "Just a one time, please." You beg. Norman's lips pull together in uncertainty. "I don't know." He begins but you interrupt. "Just once, Norman, please. And if it doesn't work for either of us, then we don't have to do it again."
Your pouty lips and glossy eyes bore at his being. He takes your hand on the table in his, releasing a shaky sigh he didn't known he was holding. Norman looks at you with a small smile growing on his lips. "Okay, we can try it." Before he can even finish, your lips are on his the instant you have your answer.
Many sensual kisses had passed between you and Norman that led to him buried between your legs. The first few minuets saw short, uneven breaths and sighs between you. Norman had taken a while to settle down, panting desperately in your ear with the occasional whine of pleasure.
Barely settled yourself, but far more controlled, you kiss the sides of his temple while running your fingers through his soft locks, nails grazing at his scalp to calm him. You shush him gently. "You're doing great, Norman. Really, really, good." You sigh, long and breathy. There's an amused tone in your voice that only makes Norman's blush reach the very tips of his ears.
A short while passes by with Norman and yourself pressed chest to chest. You've long since distracted him with gentle, tickling kisses up his neck and along his jawline. Your foot wraps around his leg, and you trail your heel from the back of his ankle up the length of his leg. The motion causes you to spread further open with your leg now hiked to the side under the covers.
Unexpectedly, Norman feels himself slip further into you with an abrupt gasp. You moan at the movement, laughing a bit as Norman whines at your instinctual clench on his member. "Y/N, please, this is..." He moans longingly, almost throwing his head back. "This is torture(!)" He bites his lip before his forehead crashes against your shoulder and soon, his lips dance kisses across your collarbone.
You bask in the tense pressue building between you, your teasing leg settling wrapped around his hip bone. "Just a little longer, I promise." Your fingers tugging at the longer hairs on the back at the name of his neck. "Now you're just teasing." He moans, lifting his head from your shoulder, only to see you grinning from ear to ear.
Norman's brows furrow, and with all his willpower to steady himself, he dips his lead down to meet you chest. At first he trails delicate kiss across the skin, before propping himself steady with one arm, his other hands takes a gentle yet eager grasp on your breast. You gasp at the sudden sensation with his fingers rolling the bud teasingly.
"Wait, wait, that's not fair." Your head falls back as a you release a sharp gasp of ecstacy while trying to steady your hips from excessive movement, but they betray you with a sudden buck to meet Norman's hips when his mouth suddenly takes a latch on your other nipple. The warm and wet cavern of his mouth enclosing the bud securely to be tasted by his tongue.
A borderline pornographic moan erupts from your lips at the contact ending with a whine. Norman relishes in the reactions he's gained, you finally having a taste of your own medicine. His lips disconnect with a pop but his nimble fingers remain on your other bud.
Your scrap your nails down his scalp before your hands take place on either side of his face, pulling him towards you. Both of you indulging in a long-awaited passionate kiss that turns lewd when Norman unexpectedly pins you down into the bed with his hips. His length breaching a depth within you that was yet to be explored that night. Your hips betray you again and Norman moans into your mouth before pulling away, gapsing for air.
"Can we be done with this, please Y/N? I need to move." He begs, lips finding your neck once again. You moan at the contact that sends shockwaves through your tensing person, making you bite your lip. "I don't know, Norman. I'm kind of comfortable." You tease breathlessly and flustered, but Norman's kisses turn feral with a simple graze of his teeth against your skin that sends a blaze through your skin.
"Yes, dear God! Norman, you can move! Please move." You gasp.
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