writing w o n d e r s

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[fullofmyths]

Criss Cross Apple Sauce

Title: Criss Cross Apple Sauce

Characters: Byakuya Togami, Touko Fukawa, Makoto Naegi.

Pairings: TogaFuka.

Summary: Matchmaking isn’t easy. FOR DAY. FUCKING. SEVEN. thank u 2 mark n coco for ur suggestions, even if i only used one!

Word Count: 366

He stared at the disgusting creature before him, one leg crossed over the other as he regarded his new companion. She jumped up and down excitedly at his presence. "And what is this?" He questioned, one eyebrow delicately raised as the Trubbish ran towards him excitedly, rubbing him in her stench. He'd have to name her soon to avoid just calling her "Trubbish," as the very name instilled disgust in most of the training community for some reason. "She's your new companion! She doesn't have a nickname yet. I saw her and thought of you." Makoto froze up as Byakuya gave him a look, eyebrow still raised. "Well I mean. She reminded me of you. I mean. Well. Um. I'm gonna go! You two get to know each other." Makoto turned quickly, fleeing from the mess he had created by not thinking before opening his mouth. Byakuya scoffed at the cowardice of his... associate, and looked down at the excited Trubbish before him. "Tokiko." He decided on. He would just stuff her into a pokeball later. (He did not do that.)

Tokiko seemed overly fond of Touko, which may be because they smelt similar. Byakuya snorted as he followed after this small, horrid smelling beast Makoto had gifted to him. "This is ridiculous, Tokiko." Touko looked over, smile forming on her face the second he saw him, horrendous giggles falling from her mouth as Tokiko hurried over towards her, excitedly garbling at her. "Ah, By-Byakua-Sama, she's adorable!" "Sure." There, perfect response. He watched Touko bend down to pick up his new constant companion, happy to be coated in her stench. "I-I miss when mine w-was this small." Figures. "I'm sure you do." He walked over, pretending it wasn't out of an instinctive concern for something he had sadly gotten attached to. "Wha-What's her name?" "Tokiko." "Ah! She's so-- so sweet. You-- You take good care of-- of her." "Thank you." He wasn't sure why he was responding with thanks to something so obvious. He let Touko continue holding Tokiko, perhaps because the smile she had was... a little endearing. For some reason, he swore Makoto was laughing like some evil mastermind in the distance, watching this unfold...

[fullofmyths]

Best of You

Title: Best of You

Characters: Byakuya Togami, Touko Fukawa, mentions of others.

Pairings: TogaFuka.

Summary: He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers again, softer than before. "Only with you." WRITTEN FOR DAY 6. SO CLOSE. SO CLOSE. SO CLOSE.

Word count: 534.

The door was shut, and he entered the living room, dragging a hand down his face as he threw his keys to the coffee table which was hysterically cluttered with various things, from television remotes to newspapers and books, so many books that it as almost as comical as how cluttered their coffee table was and the fact he expect himself to not lose his keys in the mess. Working a simple temp job was exhausting and infuriating, but it paid the bills for the dingy excuse for an apartment and his fiancee shared, so why worry so much? He would work his way up from the bottom and destroy his father financially in vengeance for the disinheriting he suffered. (He couldn't blame Touko, especially not as much as she blamed herself for the whole ordeal. He chose to be with her, he chose to propose to her, and he chose her over the Conglomerate.) "Touko." He had moved to her first name exactly three weeks before buying the ring, therefore half a month before he proposed to her, and even now it felt strange and pleasant to hear rolling off of his tongue as she scurried in, smile wide. "D-Dinner is almost ready, Bya-Byakuya-Sama!" Something seemed off, not normal. There was the obvious signs of nervousness she had, biting her thumb, regarding him with that doe-like anxiety she was failing at hiding. "Touko. What's the matter?" And he could only guess, their apartment was in such an unsafe neighborhood, with six locks, his siblings had probably heard of his fall from grace and were waiting for a time to strike for revenge, her parents probably wanted to know why she chose to live in such a horrid home when she could come back to them, maybe the hole in the ceiling came back after their landlord "fixed" it, maybe she really was unhappy with their living conditions regardless of the fact he was there and was trying to find a way to word the fact she was going to go back home. He was prepared for all of these, had prepared himself for them when he packed his things to move into this cesspool for the two of them. He was not prepared for what she actually said, face in her hands, muffling her words as if in hopes he would not hear her answer. "I'm pregnant." And the way she said it, like it was dooming them, like it was the worst thing. "I'm pregnant, and I know we can't have a baby right now but I-- I can't--" And what kind of fiance would he be to let her continue on that way? He moved over, gently grasping her hands in his, and shaking his head. "Touko." He let his hands move from hers, holding her biceps, leaning down to press his lips to her softly, and was proud of the immediate calming effect it had on her. "Why are you so concerned? We're having a child. I've always wanted a child." She stared up at him, biting her bottom lip, eyes watering. "Even with me?" He leaned down, pressing his lips against hers again, softer than before. "Only with you."

[fullofmyths]

SnipSnip

Title: SnipSnip

Characters: Byakuya Togami, Genocider Syo, Touko Fukawa.

Pairings: Syogami, TogaFuka.

Summary: "Whoa, really?" She threw the scissors, threw them, at the wall, laughing as they embedded themselves in the white plaster. "Hell yeah! Take me, prince charming!" Written for the day 5 prompt of togafuka week, genocider syo. HAHA BET U EXPECTED ANGST.

Word count: 349.

She laughed, holding one braid in place, scissors threatening the dark plaits, eyes watching him in that playful predatory way of hers. "Syo. Don't you dare." He seethed out through his grinding teeth, fists clenched at his sides, brow furrowed and eyes squinting at her. "What do I get if I listen to you?" She teased, scissors so close to snipping off that long lock, and he was going to scream. He was honestly going to lose all his composure and scream over this, because not only was he overtly and overly fond of Touko's hair, but Touko herself was unbelievably proud of her long, flowing locks, and given how insecure she was of everything else, he would not stand by to watch someone, let alone Syo, take that away from her. He walked over slowly. "What do you want?" This was not a thing he could risk, the last time Touko had something she was proud of taken from her, she had cried for three weeks straight, and it was heartbreaking gut wrenching stomach churning as annoying as humanly possible, and he did not want to see what would happen if what she believed to be her best feature was taken from her. "Hmmmm. If I put the scissors down, you have to put me down." She waggled her eyebrows at him, and he sighed. Of course that would be the bargain, that was what every bargain between Syo and he was. "Fine." "Whoa, really?" She threw the scissors, threw them, at the wall, laughing as they embedded themselves in the white plaster. "Hell yeah! Take me, prince charming!"

Touko woke up, her hair unbraided and all over the pillow as Byakuya's face was buried in her shoulder, soft sounds of sleep coming from him as she looked around the room, hopelessly confused. She didn't remember coming to bed, or getting undressed, and then she cried out in surprise at the realization at the fact Syo must have been in control of her body at some point, startling Byakuya to wakefulness as he fell off of the bed.

[fullofmyths]

Guilt

Title: Guilt

Characters: Byakuya Togami, Touko Fukawa, mentions of others.

Pairings: TogaFuka.

Summary: That morning she brought him breakfast and coffee, and kissed him until he had no option but to get dressed for work. Written for day 4 prompt of togafuka week, comfort.

Word count: 409.

She never asked him about his siblings, what the competition was, how many were alive, or if he even knew the status of any of them beyond disowned and abandoned. She did know of the guilt, how at times he would look at alleys with unease, how he was uncomfortable being in a room without a window, how at times he'd wash his hands for hours, until they were raw and red and he would deny care from her for them. She did know of the nightmares, how some nights he would wake up in a cold sweat, apologies falling off his lips at a rapid pace, heart pounding in his chest where her hand rested, and she would pull him against her as he choked out more apologies, and she never bothered to check if he was crying, because it didn't matter. He muttered another apology against her breast, silken sheets over them. She had grown quite used to this, after dating for most of high school and being married for almost two years. She knew to run her fingers through his hair, to hum to him and rock him until he fell asleep against her, and she knew to not ask the next morning as she brought in coffee for him. (He had recently been banned from the kitchen after nearly burning down the entire household.)

It wasn't often he had the nightmares, and it was even rarer to have him tell her anything about them. "I avoided killing as much as I could." He whispered against her skin, and she held him tightly to her, as if by doing so she could protect him from all the harm his father forced his family through. She knew she couldn't, but at times she would fantasize, and maybe a few books were inspired by the idea of the queen saving her prince consort. (That one was a big sell in Novoselic, and she knew who from her high school friendships to thank for it. Kazuichi had always bought all of her novels once they bonded over blondes who didn't treat them as good as they could.) She whispered to him, reminding him he had no choice, it wasn't his fault, and ignoring the pain as his girp on her tightened until he fell back to sleep. That morning she brought him breakfast and coffee, and kissed him until he had no option but to get dressed for work.

[fullofmyths]

Regretful

Title: Regretful

Characters: Byakuya Togami, Genocider Syo, mentions of others.

Pairings: Syogami

Summary: Slimy and roaming, long and uncomfortable, yet strangely pleasant. Written for day 3 of togafuka week, prompt was “guilty pleasures” and i could not resist.

Word count: 377

It was disgusting, horrible and sickening, it made him want to vomit, nausea curdling his stomach. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to be uncomfortable or unhappy enough to protest as her tongue slid down his throat, scissors held to his throat in a jokeful threat, empty as his hands, pinned down by the scissors cutting into his sleeves. Slimy and roaming, long and uncomfortable, yet strangely pleasant. He could feel her tongue literally sliding inside of his throat, and he wanted to gag and move closer, fists clenched as she laughed into his mouth, eyes staring down at him like a predator preparing to rip apart the flesh of its prey, willing to spill his blood at any given moment, and he felt his stomach lurch at that thought, yet didn't see it as a reason to shy away, to be unhappy with this arrangement. Fukawa would be distressed at this, he thought, shutting his eyes to avoid that look, that look that practically whispered to him that he was merely another animal at the butcher's shop, waiting for the hatchet to come down his neck, separating his brain from his body to suspend him in an endless void as his flesh is eaten by the ungrateful and vile bipedal creatures above him on their man made food chain. At the thought, and the hands coming towards his throat, panic took root and sanity and common sense snapped back to him, reminding him while Fukawa was not dangerous, Syo was, Syo would do things Fukawa never would. And he jerked back, shuddering as her tongue pulled from his throat and mouth, leaving him feeling an odd sense of yearning he didn't want to think about, still tasting her in his mouth. "Enough." He managed out, voice breathless and breath heavy. She laughed, pulling the scissors from his sleeves and rolling off his lap to the floor, eyes peering at him, smile wide and dangerous. "Second strike, White Knight." He didn't look at her, and her laugh came again, rude and boisterous, attention grasping. "Soon, my prince. I can share." "Go home." "Hmm, home is where the heart is." And he would try to cleanse himself from the memories of how disgusting and yet pleasant the exchange was.

[fullofmyths]

Bubbly

Title: Bubbly

Characters: Byakuya Togami, Touko Fukawa, idle possible mention of others.

Pairings: TogaFuka

Summary: Her hair was so long, easy to run his fingers through, comforting to bury his face in during the early mornings he lacked motivation to face, greasy or not. Written for day 2 prompt of togafuka week, bathing. It’s late. as usual.

Word count: 711.

Once they were in a relationship, he found it easier to convince her to clean herself up if he bathed with her, seated behind in the overly large tub at the Togami estate, gently unbraiding her hair, wet about halfway down. (Her hair was so long, easy to run his fingers through, comforting to bury his face in during the early mornings he lacked motivation to face, greasy or not.) And so, today was one of the days he was doing such, having even added bath salts for the added "romance" effect she so desired. (After much badgering he reluctantly added the rose petals she brought for the occasion. He wasn't sure how, where, or when she had gotten them, though he knew why.) He was behind her, her hair unbraided and flowing, covering her back with its waves caused by the tight, ritualistic entwining of dark locks, and he indulged himself by pressing his lips to her shoulder, arms wrapped around her from behind as she relaxed in the water, giggles escaping her at the gratuitous amounts of physical affection he was blessing her with. He kissed her neck, her cheek, and moved back a bit, arms removing themselves from her small, nonexistent excuse for a waist. (She needed to eat more. He'd never say it out loud but he consistently worried about that. He'd have to get Aloysius make her some lunch after they were out of the bath.) She giggled again as he moved her hair aside, separating the sections that would soon be combed and braided, leaving it in front to cover her humble breasts as he took her washcloth aside, soaping and wetting it and beginning to clean her back off, kissing spots before covering them in small suds, smiling to himself with the comfort no one would see when she let out a bubbly laugh each time, hands splashing as she flailed them downwards in her excitement. Once he had her torso properly covered in bubbles, he stood, gently coaxing her to stand so he could get rest of her body. (He had realized a while ago that them bathing together was more or less him bathing her, but he let that be. It wasn't a hindrance to him.) Once he deemed her properly covered in soap, he gently led her back down, watching the water turn murky with bubbles and lather as he cleaned her, kissing the back of her neck as he reached around her petite form to clean the front of her body, and even with the candles she insisted he light, the scene felt more of innocence and childishness than passionate, with her laughter and his carefulness with the scarred thigh. Once all soap had left her body, he began to lather her greasy hair, listening to her hum to herself, and possibly him, as he continue to watch the blue, translucent soap turn to a white foam in the brown hair with its purple hues. Once her hair was properly covered in soap, he turned on the faucet, carefully adjusting it to the showerhead once it was detached, using it to clean the soap from her hair without using the water already soiled by their bodies and petals. "Done." He stated, moving to unplug the drain, and raising an eyebrow as Touko grasped his arm. "Bya-Byakuya-Sama. I haven't re-returned the fa-favor." And he watched her for a moment, both eyebrows raised. "I showered this morning, however." was his delicate response, so aware of how easy it was to upset her, so careful of that nowadays, now that he felt some form of care for her. His care for himself was rather small, on the days he was disgusted and risked Syo's wrath, and had remained small. (But he was all too aware how upset Touko would be if something happened between them.) She shook her head at him, grip on his arm tightening, and her gaze was near begging. "I want to wa-wash your hair." Well, how could he say no? Settling back, he closed his eyes, relaxing. "Well, go ahead and switch positions with me, then." When he opened his eyes, that smile was well worth the fact he'd have to use conditioner to avoid drying out his hair.

[fullofmyths]

Firsts

Title: Firsts

Characters: Byakuya Togami, Touko Fukawa, mentions of others.

Pairings: Togafuka

Summary: All was the golden when the day met the night. Written for Togafuka week day 1: PDA, bc im a snercy, snail mercy. ignore the generic ass lyric summary i didnt know how to describe my problematic fav.

Word count: 919.

Their relationship started off slow, full of anxiety and hiding it from their respective guardians for different reasons. (Touko did not want to have her parents aware of her happy liaison, and Byakuya had to protect his inheritance.) And while she expected public displays of affection to be rare, if they happened at all, she wasn't aware of how flustered and anxious he would be about physical contact whatsoever, even in private. Even hand holding made him shy away. So, she practiced, prepared herself for her plans. So, she would rest her hand on top of his in private sanctuaries they both felt safe at, ranging from the library, to Byakuya's bedroom. (She claimed hers wasn't safe, and he never questioned it, merely nodded, and complied with studying at his own home in the weekends.) At first he had jerked, looking at her in surprise, and they were seated across from each other in the library, her eyes peering at his, nervous smile starting to fall. It happened in such a quick, nervous mannerism, that it took a second to click in her brain. His hand slowly shifted, holding onto hers, book set down so he could flip pages with a free hand, and he read the same sentence multiple times. (His eyes moved back and forth the same way various times, showing his lack of focus.) At first mistaking it for disgust, she went to move her hand away, and his grip tightened just barely. She smiled, and realized that it wasn't disgust making him freeze, but nerves. Her White Knight was nervous to hold her hand!

She knew to start slow, moving from holding hands over a table to sitting next to each other while doing it, to leaning on him. After a while, hugs and even cuddles were allowed, and if at times his lips almost ghosted over hers, breath mingling as she closed her eyes in preparation only to feel him pull away, anxiousness obvious in body language, neither said anything about it. Their first kiss was in the privacy of his room, studying history. (A class she was shocked to hear him failing, as he shied away from any failures, and it warmed her heart he was able to tell her.) He set down his pencil, and said her name, it rolling off of his tongue softly, and she looked up, still in that pink sweater he had bought her after she eyed it for three days straight at the boutique she went too for clothes to wear to book signings, frozen to the bones by the winter she was so named for. He had hesitated, teeth digging into his nails for a second before he jerked them away. (As if afraid his father was there to say something about what a disgusting habit it was the second he did it. It ached her heart.) "Fukawa." He repeated, voice not as solid as it normally was, and she nodded eagerly, braids flailing around her head. (Tighter than usual, as he had moved over and braided them when she came over, as if to avoid reading books on war and death, and children forced to battle.) He moved aside books and pencils, a few supplies falling to the floor and rolling under his bed as he sat next to her, showing no sign of the nervousness his trembling hand revealed as it rested upon her shoulder. "Fukawa." It was said again, the nervousness pouring into the name in a way disgust once had, and she stared up at him in wonder, enamored with his very existence, watching the way his eyes flitted along her face, as if to soak up as much of her appearance as he could. And he leaned in, her eyes closing instantly, mouth ghosting over hers. She didn't expect his lips to be chapped. (She realized how silly that was, he never used any chapstick and he licked his lips occasionally when nervous.) She gripped his shoulders, the back of his shirt, even daring to dig fingers into his thigh through his pants leg. His fingers sank into her hips, hands spread along her small stature, mouth on hers, and their eyes were closed, hands not straying from their favorite spots, the kiss almost chaste but dripping with all the emotion he had scared out of him that she was pulling back in, filling him up with it until he was overflowing and uncertain of his own beliefs and confidences in himself.

Public affection was refused, him shying away in a way meant to look like disgust, but she knew it was him worried of his father hearing. (Togami men didn't take one single wife, but she had a feeling Byakuya would be the first.) But it was New Year's, and it was a party, and they were counting down, and she was holding onto him, and perhaps someone had spiked the punch at Kuwata's party, because he wasn't protesting, even gripping her hips, and no one was even noticing or looking, too focused on their own partners. And happy new year was yelled, and their lips met, and there were fireworks going off in the background, in her heart, and she knew from the way he held onto her like his life depended on it that he felt them, too. It was better than any romance she could pray to write, and it was better than any of her stories he read in the lonely privacy of his home's library.

[fullofmyths]

Le Chateau: Part One

Title: Le Chateau

Parts: One

Summary: It was only a matter of time.

Characters: Maddie Masters, Vlad Masters, mentions of others.

Pairings: One sided Vlad Masters/Maddie Fenton.

Word count: Seven hundred and eighty seven.

It wasn't as if he planned to do this, that this was part of his intention. But when he passed by the petshop and saw the orange tabby looking at him with piercing green eyes, how could he refuse to go in there? The poor ball of fluff was practically begging him for a home. She was a female, fresh kitten, and he was given rights to her name. Jasmine sounded nice.

He held the carrier in one hand, opening the door to his large large large too large too lonely mansion and entered it. He set the carrier down, opening it as the curious Maddie came over, white fur fluffed and making her seem larger than she truly was. "I brought home a new addition to our family, Maddie." He cooed, scratching under her chin before beckoning out the kitten. "Her name is Jasmine." Jasmine came out, a nervous, shy thing at first, and complied to the collar attached to her neck in a matter of seconds. "Now, you'll have to share with her, I hope you understand."

Over the course of three days, he found that two cats felt better than one, especially when one was a kitten. Jasmine jumped up onto his bathroom counter as he brushed his teeth, mewing for attention. After about a whole thirty seconds of continuous pawing and mewing, he caved in, scratching behind her ears with one hand as he continued to brush his teeth. He looked like a lonely, badgered old fool. It was accurate, and it was his own fault he was so lonely, after all, who could want him? Definitely not the woman of his dreams. Jasmine mewled again, and he continued petting her, feeling Maddie purr and rub against his legs affectionately. At least they cared about him, in some fashion.

He had still failed to train Maddie out of bringing home half dead prey, and he could only stare in exasperation at the dead bird on his porch steps. "Jasmine! Take that out." She stared at him defiantly and pushed it towards him with her nose, as if to say "it's yours, take it". Damned cats, he grumbled, as he put on gloves to pick up the most likely disease ridden avian.

He had grown so used to sleeping alone, that he was thrilled that his cats wanted to sleep on the bed with him, covering the comforter and sheets in their white and orange furs, Jasime on his chest, Maddie on his legs. His eyes fell closed, and his dreams were tainted with memories of being turned to a beast, but his companions were there upon his distressed awakening.

"This," He stated, holding up the chew toy filled with catnip, mirth in his eyes as Jasmine and Maddie watched the toy move in is hands. "This has catnip, a very good drug for your species. Now, if you want it, you'll have to stop bringing home dead animals. Understood?" He pretended they said yes, and handed it over.

"Oh, Jasmine. It's so cruel." He sighed, head resting on his desk as he rubbed her head. "To know that such a beautiful woman is stuck with that buffoon of a man and I am here, alone." She meowed, in seeming offense. "Well, not alone. I have you and Maddie, but you know what I mean." He cooed, pressing his lips to her furry little head. "You two are much better company than Jack had ever been. But that doesn't mean I don't want company of humans as well, you know."

Father's day, no children. On these days he would lay in bed, hair spilled over his pillows as he daydreamed on various what ifs that could have happened if it weren't for Jack. He and Madeline would have fallen in love, Jasmine and Daniel their children, and he'd be the happiest father everyday, every second he breathed, having the family he always desired, ever since he was a child. While it was normally a miserable day, he derived some comfort from the feel of Maddie and Jasmine pressed against his torso for warmth, as he always kept it ice cold on these days, as if it were some sort of punishment to himself for having been damaged by Jack's idiocy. He hated father's day.

Mother's day! Today he would send a card to Madeline, to congratulate her on having been mother and being so happy and wonderful. He could only imagine the gifts that Daniel and Jasmine bestowed on her every year, cakes and equipment, cards and hugs. Family. And if he laughed so hard he cried when his call wasn't answered, it wasn't from hurt, it was from amusement at the obvious, honestly.

[fullofmyths]

Best Safety Lies in Fear

Title: Best Safety Lies in Fear

Summary: Perhaps he loves you now. - Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Act I, Scene III

Characters: Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne, mentions of others.

Pairings: Colin Wilkes/Damian Wayne

Word Count: A thousand and fifty eight.

Act one, age thirteen.

Damian and Colin had become friends at the age of ten, and that had, quite obviously, been three years ago. Now the two had hit the lovely ages of thirteen, and Damian was still reeling from the horrifying double team version Jason and Bruce had given him of "the Talk," which Colin laughed at more and more each time Damian spoke on it, until Damian lightly slapped him on the arm, and then stopped speaking of it altogether, leaving them in the comfortable silence of friendship, until Colin asked a question. "Do you like girls?" "I don't know." "Do you like boys?" "I don't know." "Me neither." And just like that, Colin went back to playing fetch with Titus, and Damian went back to sketching.

Act two, age fourteen.

Damian laughed, and it was an airy,  breathy noise that caught Colin by surprise, watching as the dark hand covered Damian's mouth, eyes squinted in amusement, grin obvious even as it was covered and that soft, breathy laugh escaped him again, sugary sweet and warm enough to melt ice. Colin watched as Damian's hand moved away, grin still in place. "You're ridiculous." He said, the accent dripping off of his tongue as it always had, but his voice richer, sweeter, as if it'd been dipped in sugar water and coated in caramel before presented to a candy shop. And all Colin could do was nod.

Act three, age fifteen.

Her name was Alexis Luthor, and Damian adored her to bits, which was fine and dandy, even as Colin was certain she wasn't in the least bit healthy for Damian. Colin kept his eyes on them at the gala, as he had always attended them, because Damian always asked, even with Alexis there. (Perhaps more, with Alexis there.) While all seemed fine, it didn't leave Colin's eyes how Damian's smile was tight, uncomfortable, eyes leaving her face, as they danced together. It was eerily familiar to Colin, like the broken dolls of sex workers he'd seen forced to dance with their abusers. And maybe that was what made him impede, steal Damian away for a "friendly dance". He didn't ask of any marks, even when Damian said he was leaving her. Words could do more harm, but physical assault he would not tolerate.

Act four, age sixteen.

Colin was pressed to his bed, arms wrapped tight around him as he whined and thrashed in his sleep, nightmares picking back up, as expected when surviving a fear toxin injection, panicked screams in Arabic filling the room, choked sobs echoing off of the walls, making Colin ache in ways he wasn't aware he could. He did not let go of Damian throughout the night, even when the fear toxin had finally worn off and his companion could sleep without fear.

Act five, age seventeen.

He wasn't sure what spurred the thought, what made him lean forward and press his lips to Damian's bloodied ones, to let green gloved hands tangle in red locks and pull, strong legs wrapping around his waist, big hands bruising dark hips through black spandex. But there they were, kissing with Damian pressed against the wall by Colin's larger body. (Damian was lithe and lean, like Talia. He would never bulk out like his brother Jason, or his father. Damian was beautiful, while Colin's muscle mass grew over the years to better accommodate the venom finally leaving his body and the natural need to continue his duty, his crusade. He had to be able to do that.) (And maybe it was even more enjoyable to be big enough to hold Damian in place.)

Act six, age eighteen.

Damian's major, he had picked already, so quickly to work. "Veterinary science? Really?" "I like animals." "Shouldn't you be going in for business, y'know, for when you run and own Wayne Enterprises?" Damian snorted at that, dark blue eyes rolling so hard Colin was certain it had given him a minor headache. "Please. Father's probably already left all of that to Drake. Let the bastard have it. What are you going in for?" "Forensics and law." "I'm not surprised." Colin laughed at that response, leaning in to press his lips against Damian's again, so used to the feeling by now of soft lips against his, blue eyes sliding shut. Colin always kept his eyes open for a second, just to watch the beautiful, barely noticeable flush that would spread over Damian's cheeks, to see his eyes slide shut. Colin wasn't entirely sure when he had found himself at this young man's mercy, heart in his hand and soul connected to his, but here he was, kissing him like his life depended on it. Soon, they'd be in college, separated. "I'll miss you." It was shocking, to have Damian be the one to say it first, clinging to Colin's larger frame, body pressed against his, cheek against Colin's collarbone. "I'll miss you, too." And Colin felt Damian's grip tighten, reminded of the incidents with Alexis, the window incident, specifically, and of all the times everyone had supposedly died on Damian, and Colin was sourly reminded he wasn't the only one afraid of being forgotten, and that despite all his phobias and illnesses, Damian was a hundred times more fragile than he could ever imagine. "I love you." "I love you, too. Ya'aburnee." And that was that, Colin's lips once again pressed against Damian's.

Final act, age 19.

Damian and Colin had met nine years ago, and now here they were, laying in bed during summer break, noses pressed together in some mock form of an Eskimo kiss, smiling at one another like the lovesick fools they felt like. "I'm never leaving this bed." Damian slurred out, eyes closing, nestling closer to Colin for the warmth he didn't need in the summer heat. "Ever." Affectionate as he was when tired and stuck in the afterglow, he pressed a quick series of soft kisses to all the pale, freckled skin of Colin's he could reach, as Colin pleased himself with running his fingers through Damian's dark locks, grinning a bit. "Me either. Go to sleep." "Beloved. Ya'aburnee. I love you." "I love you, too, go to sleep." "Beloved." "I'll be here when you wake up, and I'll protect you. I'll stay with you all night, beloved." And Damian complied there.

[fullofmyths]

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