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vettelsvee · 15 days

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I WANNA BE THERE, WITH YOU | Sebastian Vettel

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summary: seb returns home after finishing the 2008 formula 1 season. everything seems to be going well for him except for his relationship with his girlfriend, hanna, who thinks that, as it is more than obvious, he's hiding something related to a certain toro rosso intern whom seb is so eager for redbull to hire.

word count: 6237

warnings: brief smut (oral, male receiving) and let's say horny moment but not exactly having sex. toxic behavior.

taglist: [@theseerbetweenus @annewithaneofthegreengable @vincentvanshoe @formulaonebuff] if you wanna be tagged in each part just tell me in the comments <3

¡! you can read the fanfic as diana or y/n, but the faceclaim will always be my girl emma stone :)

feedback is truly appreciated!

2023

"Seb, this is the first time you sit alone in front of all these cameras. How does it feel not to have Diana by your side?"

The German didn't find it amusing at all. After spending an incredible day and an even better night with his wife, he felt nothing but helplessness when they called him around six-fifteen in the morning to inform him that Diana couldn't be present in the first part of the recording since it would focus solely on him. Despite finding it very strange, he didn't object. They had a contract to follow, and as much as it hurt, he couldn't do what he wanted.

His anger was such that he didn't greet anyone when he arrived on set. He simply reluctantly dropped his belongings and sat in the chair hastily placed in the middle of the room, hoping the whole affair would end quickly. He didn't even speak to his former colleagues, who remained impassive to Vettel's behavior that morning.

"It's a damn shit, honestly," he answer sincerely and aggressively. "If you didn't want Diana here today, you could have let us know earlier."

"Seb..." Webber began cautiously. "It's not that she's not here because we don't want her, but because from now on, it's going to be like this. At least until this part of the story is over."

Seeing the confusion on the blonde's face, Mark signaled the cameras to turn off for a bit more privacy.

Sebastian wasn't understanding anything, and it overwhelmed him.

"But..."

"We're going to start talking about everything related to your relationship with Hanna," Jenson Button said without hesitation. "We're aware of everything it meant for two or three years in your relationship with Diana, so we don't want you to be influenced when explaining what you experienced with Prater."

"We think that if your wife isn't present when we record part of what concerns your ex, you'll be more honest."

Sebastian nodded. He couldn't argue with them because he'd be lying to himself. Although it was true that Diana had significantly improved her insecurities and had stopped comparing herself to her ex-girlfriend a long time ago, and they even became close friends, Sebastian knew that there were certain things she was better off not finding out, if possible, never. Although that was impossible: Diana was so perfectionistic that she would probably watch the entire documentary as soon as it was released.

"Perfect," the blonde said briefly. "Of course, you're right. Where do you want to start?"

"We already know your whole story: you met in class, then fell in love so much that you started dating the moment you left school," the Australian listed, receiving approvals from his former teammate. "So... how about we start with the end of the 2008 season?"

[...]

2008 November 3rd

The flight back to Germany was becoming exhausting, especially since Sebastian had been answering questions for various media outlets throughout the entire journey that began in Sao Paulo as a proposal established by his new team, Red Bull Racing.

Facing a camera and several spotlights, the German driver, who had completed his first whole Formula 1 season, felt quite intimidated. Despite portraying in press conferences and other types of conferences that he enjoyed the presence of the media and liked the attention focused on him, it was quite the opposite.

"It amuses me that we're talking about the 2008 season as if ten years had passed when it ended just a few hours ago."

Despite being tired of the situation and eagerly wishing to get home to be with his family and girlfriend, his sense of humor was still there. The decision to take the first flight back immediately after the race was not his, but his younger sister Lara's. Lara was eager to hug and play with Sebastian, even go to therapy with him, everything she hadn't done for the past few months. A few pleas and some puppy-dog eyes were more than enough to convince the driver.

"Looking back, it's been an incredible year, no doubt," he commented sincerely. "Toro Rosso has been a great team that has supported me from the very beginning and, above all, has made me feel at home."

The twenty-year-old laughed before continuing, earning approval from his public relations, who at that moment seemed to be a teacher examining him orally.

"Winning a race for the first time, and in Monza, was incredible. And all thanks to Diana..." Oops, he had slipped up. "The team intern, a great friend of mine... well, colleague," he tried to correct himself, stumbling over his own words. "Let's see, not that either. She's just another team member, you know."

If this were a test, he would already be failing with honors. Britta's face in those moments only showed the desire to kill him, something she would gladly do if Sebastian Vettel weren't her main source of income, as well as a very nice guy who became a very important person for her.

"Can you tell us more about this Diana?" the accompanying journalist inquired, wanting to know more about the unknown figure.

"Of course!" he replied cheerfully, ignoring the pleading looks Roeske was throwing at him to avoid continuing the topic. "We're not best of friends, of course, but we have been a significant support for each other during the ups and downs of racing,nd perhaps also for personal reasons," he pointed out, recalling the numerous races he couldn't finish, "Wagner often has incredible ideas, but there are more than a few idiots on the team who only see her as a lapdog to do this or that," he explained. "Even I, myself, have doubted her, but who wouldn't! However, that doesn't mean I don't trust her. I actually trust her a quite a lot," he added.

Britta was looking at him with a very unfriendly face, even starting to wave her hands to get his attention and make him shut up. She knew that a great majority of her client's words were invented and wouldn't serve any purpose other than creating controversy and turning people against him.

"To be honest, there were times when I worried about her antics and the high chances of them sending me into the gravel," the blonde continued, disregarding the gestures from the woman in front of him, "but in Monza nothing happened, thankfully!"

The reporter remained immersed in the conversation, which again focused on Vettel's overall performance in the season. He tried to insert some more personal questions, but either the German was so absorbed in the wonderful professional year he had, or he skillfully avoided them, not panicking when hearing them.

"So, can we assume that the relationship between Diana Wagner and you goes beyond the professional?"

"Excuse me, but I believe we've already talked enough about certain aspects of my client's privacy," Britta intervened, seeing that the conversation might head in an unpleasant direction. "The agreement when this interview was arranged was to talk about Sebastian Vettel's performance at Toro Rosso before his move to Red Bull, not about his appearance on a gossip show, which is what this seems to have turned into," she stated rather abruptly.

Sebastian shrugged, unsure of what to say to the woman's remarks, simultaneously fearing that he might say something foolish and make matters worse.

"But, Sebastian, could you confirm, at least, the rumors about the hotel night you shared during the Italian Grand Prix with that girl?" the man continued, ignoring Britta's previous signals.

"This is going too far," Britta almost shouted. Having lost her patience, she leaned toward the journalist and spoke in a low but firm voice. "Your behavior with my client is unacceptable. You ither leave this area right now, or I'll have to call security and our lawyers. Your choice," she backed away, giving him a very fake smile.

He seemed surprised and somewhat reluctant to the threat. Eventually, he yielded to Roeske's authority, gathering his belongings with his team and immediately withdrawing from the VIP area of the plane while muttering some low protests or insults that the Germans didn't hear.

Britta looked at Sebastian disdainfully, who simply shrugged as if he had done nothing. Britta sighed.

"Seb, you have to be more careful about what you say out there," she explained as calmly as she could. "You can't speak so openly about certain topics if you want your relationship with Hanna to remain private."

"I know, Britta," he sighed, admitting he had made a mistake but, at the same time, not understanding what was wrong with talking about Diana. "Sometimes I don't think before I speak, and I mess up."

"You need to be careful when saying anything related to Diana," Roeske continued, ignoring Vettel's words. "If you don't want to mess up your relationship, of course. I understand that you two get along pretty well, but what you do or say about this girl can be misunderstood. Don't you remember the photos from Monza?" she inquired, making the driver lower his head, embarrassed. "How you called me immediately to say everyone it was me when clearly, it wasn't, and everyone knew it?"

The public relations' anger was increasing, while Sebastian tried to come up with excuses to stop her from lecturing him. He was too tired. He wanted to sleep and get home as soon as possible, eat something, say a few silly things to his younger sister, and go to sleep. Or do something more fun, alone, with his girlfriend.

"Just say she's just a good friend, nothing else," he said downplaying it and curling up in his seat. "You don't have to worry about it. It's nonsense."

Britta frowned and crossed her arms.

"Don't play smart with me, Vettel," she increased the seriousness of her voice. Now she had the boy's full attention. "I know you too well. I'm not telling you not to be friends, but I know there's something more than just a friendship, and you see it as something you'd like to have but, for one reason or another, you can't," Sebastian's face turned marble-colored. Roeske was right, but he was too proud to admit it. "I'm telling you all this for your own good, but if you want your relationship with Hanna to continue as it is, you need to set boundaries. Also," she added, "you know perfectly well that you're playing with Wagner, and I wouldn't want you to hurt her."

"Britta: Diana is an amazing person and very important in my life, but not in the way you're thinking," lie. "I see her as a little sister," another lie, "someone I trust and who, actually, understands me," that was true. "I have no intention of ruining my relationship with Hanna, really."

For now, that's what came to the German's mind, but as soon as he could, he tried to shake off that thought from his subconscious. Sometimes he hated himself to levels he never thought anyone could hate him, not even the guys who had been so envious of him throughout his short life.

The blonde sighed, trying to believe the boy given the conviction his words seemed to have.

"I hope so, Seb. I just want you to make smart decisions and think about the consequences of everything you say, not just for you but for those you care about. They're not to blame for anything you do or say," she commented, trying to reason with him and make sure he remembered the talk they were having.

He nodded sincerely, reclining again in search of a comfortable position to sleep for the remainder of the flight. Britta, mimicking him, leaned back in her seat. She closed her eyes, but she could hear Sebastian calling her again.

"What do you want now, Seb?"

"Thanks for everything," he said sincerely, his voice slightly drowsy from fatigue.

She settled back, and, accompanied by Sebastian's soft snores and the constant hum of the engine, fell asleep, just like her companion.

His sleep was interrupted after what seemed like a few minutes, although the reality was that about two hours had passed. A voice over the loudspeaker announcing that they had arrived in Cologne, their destination, startled Roeske, who opened her eyes abruptly and looked around for a few seconds, a bit confused and experiencing a sudden dizziness. Sebastian was still next to her, sound asleep. Without wasting a second, she approached him and began shaking him to wake him up. For security reasons, they needed to exit the plane before anyone else to avoid encounters with fans.

"Wake up!" Britta shouted in his ear. Seb just purred like a cat, turning around and holding onto the pillow he had in his grasp. "Come on, Sebastian. We've already arrived in Cologne."

Another unintelligible murmur emerged from the lips of the German, who seemed trapped in a dream he was enjoying. The woman realized he had reset his mind in just a few hours and already had it in vacation mode, and that was starting to test her patience again. She took a deep breath and tried to wake him up again.

"Sebastian Vettel, wake up!" she shouted more energetically, earning glances from some of the people present. "We've already landed in Cologne, so don't linger anymore and get up now," she urged, even shaking him to see if it had more effect.

The driver finally opened his eyes, although he was totally disoriented. He uttered some imperceptible words in his native language for Roeske and rubbed his eyes as he stretched, then looked at the woman totally bewildered.

"What's wrong with you?" he murmured sleepily. "Have you had a psychotic episode and need help?"

Britta turned her gaze, impassive to the what the boy said. She was relieved because at least he was awake, even if he was about to surrender to Morpheus again.

"We've landed in Cologne already," she repeated for the third time, now with a more relaxed tone. "We have to pick up what little we have here and get off now," she declared authoritatively. "You know the arrival of a celebrity, fans, and screams are not a good combination."

And she knew it very well. Both Germans began to tidy up the mess they had caused throughout the flight, folding the blankets provided by the airline and throwing away the remnants of food they had been offered. Shortly after, they made sure they didn't leave anything behind and left the cabin they were in.

As they exited the plane and waited for the relevant security members, the PR started explaining Seb's plans for the next few days. They discussed various prearranged interviews, promotional events he had to attend for some brands, and above all, she emphasized the meeting the young man would have with the team later that week to finalize the details of his contract. Even though the holiday period had begun, the schedule was full, and his responsibilities didn't end as soon as Vettel set foot out of the cockpit.

Shortly afterward, the security guards who would accompany them to the exit of the facility appeared. Britta and Sebastian introduced themselves, although they knew the latter perfectly, and received the corresponding professional greetings. One of them, a robust man with an attentive gaze, indicated that they would accompany them, for the time being, to the area for picking up checked baggage.

"I hope you had a good flight, Mr. Vettel, Mrs. Roeske," he announced as they walked quickly through the long corridors of the airport.

"Within the measure of what you can expect from a flight of almost fourteen hours, yes," Britta replied, still smiling.

Sebastian agreed with her, also adding his thanks for caring about his safety and being there with them at that moment to avoid any altercations.

"It's part of our job."

As they began to approach the conveyor belts with hundreds of suitcases from the just-landed international flights, Britta began to notice, in the distance, the presence of several fans who were beginning to gather to see Sebastian. They looked tired, and the blonde wondered how long they had been waiting for his arrival. The security guards also seemed to notice this, as a few more appeared within seconds, surrounding the celebrity in a somewhat alarming way.

Sebastian turned to his PR confused, and gave her a smile.

"Not many usually come," the German commented honestly, "but they never cease to amaze me... How can they always know what time we arrive? Is there someone leaking that information?"

"That's what being a rising star in Formula 1 is like," Britta chuckled softly. "Calm down: you deserve this more than anyone, even if sometimes you want to tell them to go to hell."

The noise of the crowd intensified as they advanced toward the arrivals area of the airport, now with their suitcases with them. The fans' shouts began to resonate loudly, filling the atmosphere with a very positive yet somewhat distressing energy. The security guards kept the more excited ones at bay, who might try to do something crazy; meanwhile, the pilot and PR greeted and smiled enthusiastically.

Sebastian didn't hesitate to drop his suitcase and start approaching the crowd, even though they were telling him otherwise. If the German was there, it was not only because of his effort but also because of the people in front of him at that moment who had decided to put their trust in him.

"Sebastian, I love you!"

"Can you sign my cap?"

"Next year, we want you to come back home with a championship!"

The cheers of excitement and flashes of cameras became increasingly present, all in an attempt to capture the attention of the German sensation. Seb smiled, waved, shook hands, took photos, and signed anything that anyone put in front of him, with gratitude and maintaining professionalism as much as possible, although it was a bit challenging for him.

"Guys, calm down!" the blonde raised his voice, trying to calm the crowd. "I'll be with you as long as they let me, so I'll try to make sure each of you get something from me!"

The young man spent a long time signing caps, shirts, and photographs while briefly chatting with some of those in the front rows. Britta could only smile as she kept an eye on the security guards, who seemed more than accustomed to that kind of massive gathering.

"Sorry, Mr. Vettel, but it's time to go. There are also two people waiting for you in the VIP lounge," commented the security man with whom they had exchanged words, who was already taking him by the elbow and moving him away from the crowd. Sebastian was a bit surprised: who could be waiting for him? "More people are coming, and we can't risk anything serious happening."

"Understood, thank you," the driver answered. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

After turning his back on the man and shaking off his grip, Vettel quickly apologized to the fans and said goodbye as best he could, promising them that the coming season would be much more promising. Roeske remained by his side despite the overwhelm she was starting to feel. The woman's relief was present as the security guards surrounded them and hurriedly led them to what seemed to be the other end of the airport.

"Feeling calmer?" Britta asked her client.

"Not really," Sebastian replied. "I'm a bit nervous because they told me someone was waiting for me," he explained, trying to calm his anxiety. "I don't know who could be in the VIP lounge they're taking us to."

The woman diverted her gaze from the boy and chuckled quietly. She had planned that little surprise for him a few days ago because he deserved it. She knew that fatigue and jet lag, combined with the boredom of the interviews during the long flight, had taken a toll on him. Still, she hoped that when his eyes landed on his father and his girlfriend, who had been waiting for them for quite some time, his spirits would lift.

As the room appeared before them, Sebastian could recognize two slightly blurry figures, which increased his nervousness. Britta just restrained her laughter and, why not, her excitement. After approaching a bit more leisurely, the first thing the blue-eyed pilot noticed was a message written in a font he recognized perfectly: "You're finally back, champion of my heart."

"Seb!"

Hanna, who was a few meters away but right in front of him, couldn't contain her excitement and ran to greet him, not caring who was watching them and letting the sign she had been preparing for days fall instead of studying. Seb, totally moved, opened his arms to receive his girlfriend, whom he lifted slightly when she reached him. Still above him, she kissed him calmly, as if there were only the two of them in the room, while Prater clung to his waist with her legs to avoid falling, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Laughter began to spread between the young lovers after finishing the kiss. Finally, they were living the moment they had longed for so much.

"My God, Hanna... I can't believe I'm finally here, with you."

The German, without taking his eyes off his girlfriend, lowered her to the ground, still hugging her. The blonde could only look at him with emotion, not believing that the love of her life was finally by her side. She took his face in her hands with affection and began to distribute short kisses all over his face.

"I've missed you so much..." Sebastian whispered, putting his forehead against hers and caressing her hair tenderly.

"I've missed you too," she revealed, "and you have no idea how much."

All the couple wanted at that moment was to give each other all the love they hadn't been able to profess for months. Still, the fear of being caught by paparazzi and fans, in addition to the presence of Norbert Vettel, Britta Roeske, and possibly the entire airport security team in Cologne, made them relax a bit.

And thankfully so, because Sebastian knew that, as tired as he was, if Hanna continued to throw him those looks that expressed something more than romance, he was going to end up in the bathrooms with her doing what he had wished to do to her for months.

"Well, well, young man, aren't you going to leave anything for the man who gave you life?"

Norbert interrupted the moment between the lovers, and quickly, they separated their hands, which were still intertwined. Sebastian ran with excitement to hug his father, whom he had missed more than he initially thought.

"For me, my wife comes first," the young man declared, focusing his gaze on the blonde. "That's what you taught me. Or am I wrong?"

His father nodded, crossing his arms.

"Whatever you say," the man said, proud of his son.

He picked up his son's suitcases and headed towards the exit door, where he had parked the family vehicle a bit haphazardly. His wife, Heike, had started calling him. She had been quite insistent in the past few days about their son's return home, so it wouldn't be wise to ignore her call if he wanted to avoid an argument with her.

"Seb, remember that in a week we have the meeting in Berlin with Horner, Marko, and the others," the PR reminded. Vettel began to snort and threw his head back in reproach. "Don't do that!" Britta scolded him, "you know we have to finalize the details of your contract for the next season."

"A meeting? Again? I thought we were on vacation!"

One day, that guy was going to test the woman's patience.

"Darling, calm down," Hanna intervened, taking his hand affectionately and squeezing him. "Don't make Britta angry, you know she's doing this for you. I'd like to know where you would be if it weren't for her!"

Norbert, who was with his son's luggage near the exit, listening to his wife urging him impatiently, let out an exclamation with a tone louder than he would have liked.

Sebastian raised his hands in surrender. He hated that they didn't understand his sarcasm despite boasting that they knew him well. Now he was alone, with the woman who had become his second mother, as his girlfriend had approached Norbert, and they were now engrossed in a suggestive conversation about who knows what.

"All right, all right! I was just joking," the young man directed his gaze directly at Roeske, and for once, she could see seriousness in his eyes. "I thought you knew."

"It's reached a point where I don't know if you're laughing with us or at us, Vettel," Britta replied, emphasizing the latter.

"It's serious, Britta," the blonde insisted, "I'll prepare what you asked for..."

The mentioned woman didn't give Sebastian a chance to finish the sentence. Making sure Hanna was still focused on her father-in-law's words, she looked at the pilot seriously, trying to make him listen carefully and remember her words before committing any madness he might regret in the coming months.

"Seb, I need you to take the decision about Wagner seriously," she articulated firmly. "I don't want you to include her in the team out of pity," she diverted her gaze towards the blonde before continuing, "or due to some personal feeling."

"I think she has what it takes to shine," the boy whispered. "I don't know how many times or to whom else I have to say it."

The older blonde nodded, not very convinced of the boy's words; she couldn't say anything else because Sebastian's family approached to inform him that Heike, the matriarch of the Vettel family, was eager for her son to arrive home, as well as his two younger siblings.

While he heard the farewells between his father and his girlfriend and Roeske, and as they approached the car, got in and headed towards their hometown, Sebastian Vettel thought again, before falling asleep on the way back home, about the last words he had shared with Britta. He promised himself that this person would not cross his mind again during the winter break of 2008, but it was inevitable for him to dream of Diana Wagner giving him orders on the track and celebrating his second victory with him, all while his head rested on his girlfriend's shoulders.

[...]

The first dinner back home with his parents, his girlfriend and his two younger siblings, Fabian and Lara, had gone better than he had imagined. Even Heike, the matriarch of the Vettel family, encouraged Hanna to stay overnight with her son, considering how much they had missed each other. After a somewhat rushed dessert due to the sleep consuming Sebastian, the couple decided to retire early with the intention of going to sleep. They would talk and do everything they wanted the next day.

The room where Sebastian had slept almost all his life was shrouded in darkness, with the only trickle of light coming from the full moon that adorned the sky that night. Hanna, before making sure the room's door was closed, felt Sebastian's lips starting to travel her neck. She sighed softly, feeling excitement starting to fill her, especially between her legs, as Sebastian's lips only left a trail of kisses all over her skin. The intensity of the moment increased when the driver's hands went towards the girl's breasts. Hanna moaned as subtly as she could and fiercely kissed the blonde, pulling him closer to her.

They both wanted more. The voracious hunger they felt for each other was evident. They had been in a sexless state, between Vettel's absences and Prater's studies, since the summer when they had decided to take a short trip to Berlin. No matter how hard they tried to control themselves, they couldn't stop kissing each other. The fabric that clothed them began to disappear, bringing them closer and making them lie on the bed with only their underwear, even rubbing desperately against each other.

However, the girl couldn't continue when she thought she heard, amid one of her boyfriend's moans, what seemed to be the fourth letter of the alphabet.

Hanna lifted herself slightly, looking directly at the blue-eyed man, still lying down, with a somewhat strange mix of passion and confusion.

"What did you just say?"

Sebastian blinked, sitting up as quickly as he could.

"Say?" he paled. "I didn't say anything, Hanna."

His girlfriend wore a displeased expression, still puzzled by the sound she thought she heard. At that moment, doubts began to invade her, and images of Sebastian with the intern, Diana, in Monza, along with rumors about the night they had spent together, flooded her mind. Desire, doubt, and concern were the three emotions that began to overwhelm her; she also felt fear and, above all, insecurity.

While Hanna knew that her boyfriend had a strictly professional relationship with the girl, she couldn't help but think that maybe something more had happened between them.

"Seb, I...," began the blonde, trying to keep her tears in check, "I need you to explain who Diana Wagner is and why everyone associates her with you."

Sebastian sighed, took a breath, and, as he had done several times before, explained who the blonde was:

"Diana is just a girl studying Mechanical Engineering at a university in Barcelona, doing an internship at Toro Rosso," the guy explained. "That's it. There's nothing more to it, Hanna."

The girl didn't seem convinced. Her boyfriend always ended up giving her the same speech, and he had said the same thing so many times that she had memorized those words, pauses included.

"I know you might worry about our relationship," Seb continued, soft but firm, "but there's nothing beyond a professional relationship." He left out the part about their friendship.

"Why did you arrive in the paddock with her, then?" Hanna asked again. "And why do all the journalists now ask you about her? And the hotel room...?"

"I'll repeat it, love: she's part of the team," he explained again, cutting her off and trying not to lose patience. "Everything gets taken out of context just to sell a bit. As for the hotel room," he added, "she was just helping me with some strategies that helped me win in Monza."

Hanna tried to believe him, but she couldn't. She knew it wasn't the German's fault, but hers for having so little trust in herself. Although the hatred she had for Diana Wagner was well deserved... Who did that girl think she was to be with her boyfriend like that?

No, she couldn't think like that. That was being a toxic person.

"She's a temporary worker," the girl suddenly exclaimed angrily, catching Sebastian completely off guard, "not a track engineer as such."

"She helps me, and I like her company. She's very pleasant," the blonde finally admitted. "I don't know why you're making a drama out of all this when I've literally explained a thousand times that she's not someone I care about."

Tension was escalating rapidly, and an uncomfortable silence enveloped the room suddenly. Sebastian knew he shouldn't have said that last part because he did care about his colleague; however, Hanna's incessant words and apparent lack of trust were confusing him.

"Hanna, I feel nothing but pity for Diana, okay? That's why I requested in my contract, and I'll keep insisting at Saturday's meeting, for her to accompany me at Red Bull," he explained desperately. "There's no other reason beyond that, I swear."

"I'm not making a scene or anything," she said, returning to the previous conversation and avoiding her boyfriend's latest revelation. "I'm just trying to vent with you."

Sebastian's patience was wearing thin. He no longer knew what else to do to make the girl beside him believe him.

"I love you, Hanna," Vettel said sincerely. "Why do you think, since those photos came out, that I'm hiding something from you?"

"I don't know, why have I never been to a race?" The girl looked at her boyfriend with sadness and frustration once again present in her mind.

Sebastian sighed, trying to find the right words. He knew she was having one of the many jealous episodes she'd been having since she found out about Wagner.

"You know as much as I do that you don't like races," he reminded her. "Plus, you wouldn't enjoy the paddock life. You even told me to keep this private!"

"Are you saying you want to hide me, don't you?"

"Stop twisting this and listen when I speak. You say whatever comes to your mind. This conversation makes no sense, Hanna," Sebastian imposed, a bit annoyed by the confusion his girlfriend was adding to the situation. "One thing is wanting to hide you, which I don't want to do," he clarified, "and another is wanting to protect our relationship, which is what you've been professing since I was called to be a reserve driver last season."

The room's atmosphere was tense, and neither of the twenty-year-olds knew how to proceed. Sebastian was tired not only of having to repeat the same story to Hanna a thousand times but also of her apparent lack of trust. On the other hand, Hanna had been trapped in a vicious circle of jealousy and envy for months, driven by the need to compete and prove herself better than a certain Diana, whom she didn't even know.

After a brief silence, Hanna finally spoke, trying to hide the idea that had come to her mind:

"I've thought about something..."

"What?" Sebastian looked at her with curiosity, a bit scared of what she might say.

Hanna faked a smile too well. Her eyes, however, betrayed her intentions, although Sebastian was too blinded and distracted to notice:

"Starting next season, I want to accompany you on some weekends, as long as the university allows it, of course," the driver was totally surprised by the girl's statement, who continued speaking. "I've been thinking that it would be nice to stop being so perfectionist in my studies to spend more time with you."

"Of course!" Seb exclaimed happily, giving her a hug, unaware that she was lying, despite knowing her so well. "Don't worry about anything. We can plan everything and find weeks when you don't have exams or any assignments to submit with Britta next week, okay? She already has the schedule for next year, and..."

Hanna nodded slightly, indifferent to the future damage she might cause to her, until then, boyfriend, who continued talking quite excitedly. She knew she wasn't behaving rationally, and envy was driving her actions, but why not? She had too often felt like the banished princess by her relatives, teachers, and people she had no relationship with, and the last thing she wanted was to relive that experience.

She loved Sebastian, and he loved her. Nothing and no one would stand in their way, and if she couldn't face the enemy with peace, she would try to do it with as little chaos as possible.

"I'm looking forward to you meeting Diana," Seb declared, causing a turmoil inside his girlfriend. "You'll get along well, I'm sure. You're more alike than you think."

"I'm also looking forward to meeting her, especially now that you told me she helped you win in Monza."

Hanna forced a smile, hiding her true feelings about the unknown woman. Sometimes, it was okay to be a little toxic to make your partner see reality, right?

Sebastian got closer to his girlfriend, placed his right hand on her face, caressing it gently, and kissed her on the lips. His eyes were fixed on hers, revealing nothing but sincerity.

"Hanna, you're the most important thing in my life, okay? There's nothing I haven't told you, and if something had happened, you'd know for sure," he clarified again. "You are my world and all I want is to be with you for as long as we allow ourselves to be together."

Hanna felt hurt and even guilty at that moment, regretting everything she had said without thinking, but it was too late to go back and repent. She tried, by all means, to set aside that kind of teenage game she had created consumed by wanting to prove to her boyfriend who she was, but she couldn't.

Now she had to try not to let herself be carried away and, above all, think before speaking and acting.

Without thinking, she pushed Sebastian as hard as she could, who raised himself a little above the surface to see what the blonde was going to do. She planted a rather aggressive kiss on her lips, and she lingered on it for a while before beginning to leave a trail of them from her mouth to her inguinal crease. She wanted to show the pilot many things, but in those moments she wanted to make him see that she was his.

Sebastian watched as Hanna began to take off his boxers and masturbate his member with her hand, taking it to her mouth a few seconds later. No matter how much pleasure he was feeling at that moment when he noticed how his girlfriend's tongue wrapped around his bud while she moved her hand incessantly, he couldn't help but feel bad when he wished, and even imagined, that Diana was the one doing that.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months

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(Riddle) Headmage, were you just snacking/sleeping in class?! You need to set a better example for the other students! Furthermore, is this truly the best use of your time to be attending lessons instead of running the school?

Crowley does, in fact, have magic history lesson lines in which he is falling asleep in class and/or sneaking some of his lunch during the lecture 🤡 A real inspiration to us all...

I chose to give Crowley some chicken here because some have pointed out that Sage's Island looks like a drumstick 🍗 and he’s in a different class because I have another Crowley-staff interaction coming up that is Trein-based. I want to give the other teachers some of the spotlight!

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

"Wh-What...?!"

At Riddle's stern accusation, Crowley's consciousness snapped back into place like a rubber band. He bolted up on his seat and swiveled to face the boy.

It was difficult to take him seriously when a piece of fried chicken was lodged in his mouth—the result of trying to snack while falling asleep mid-lecture. (Thankfully, Crowley removed it before he spoke. Not so thankfully, he waved the drumstick at Riddle as though it added to his rebuttal.)

“I will have you know that I am nothing short of being the exemplary pupil. You understand that a mage must look after their health to be at maximum spellcasting potential, correct? Therefore, it is imperative that we receive adequate nutrition and rest—of which I am demonstrating!"

Riddle openly grimaced, but kept his volume low. "Self-care activities are not meant to be carried out during classes, but outside of them."

"Oh, how little you know, Rosehearts-kun!" Crowley sighed. "The life of a headmaster is a demanding one, I'm afraid. My schedule is packed to the brim with meetings and administrative tasls, I can scarcely catch a wink or sleep or a reliable meal.”

Riddle stared hard at the uneaten chicken leg. Crowley slowly hid it inside of his cape.

“A-Anyway! Even now, I am hard at work observing you students so that we may utilize your experiences to improve school curriculum and facilities. If I wished for a small reprieve, could you truly hold that against me?!"

"Headmaster!”

The bark came from the front of the lecture hall, belonging to a man in a black and white striped fur coat. He thrusted his pointer in Crowley’s direction, the crimson dog’s collar and white gemstone affixed to it catching the classroom lights. His students followed where it led: to Crowley.

“Do you have something to share with the class,” Crewel inquired tightly, “since it seems you are preoccupied with chattering during my lesson?“

“Erm… N-No, not at all, Professor Crewel! I simply found myself so engrossed in your materials, I was overcome with a myriad of emotions!!”

His colleague arched a brow.

Crowley loudly cleared his throat. “Y-You may carry on as you were!”

“Contain yourself next time. My patience can only be worn so thin,” Crewel warned. “Now then, if you’ll turn to page 225 in your textbooks…”

When the teacher looked away, Crowley practically melted, becoming one with his chair.

“Whew…! Professor Crewel looked as though he was going to flay me and then turn my lovely feathers into a new jacket!!” he lamented. This time, softly. “Oooh, why must these tragedies and misunderstandings continue to plague me?”

Riddle shook his head. The smirk on his mouth made no attempts to be sad, only satisfactory. “I did try to caution you.”

He returned to following along with the lecture, leaving Crowley to his slacking.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Two Ravens at the Writing Desk #Dire Crowley #Divus Crewel

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outisgivingpac · 9 months

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PAC: Little things you can do to improve your everyday life

Because there are days when simply existing feels like an extreme sport, this PAC shall give you some mundane advice to make your day a little bit easier 🌱☔✨

Check out my pinned post for my masterlist and personal readings ❤️

🐸Pick a pile/image you feel most drawn to🐸

Pile 1. Pile 2. Pile 3.

Pile 1: Queen of Pentacles reversed, the Empress reversed, The High Priestess

Dear Pile 1, there're a lot to unpack here so I hope you would stay with me till the end. Firstly, I can feel your fatigue streaming through, as it seems like you're buried under all kind of house chores and errands. What you can really use right now is a helping hand, not just someone who would nod sympathically to your struggle. Many of you could just be living alone, but some might share the place with someone who have different living standards as yourself. Either case, you could cut yourself some slack by asking for help, or simply letting others help you. On a side note, you might not have been eating properly as of late. Either you eat too little, or only fuel yourself with the kind of food that has little nutritional value. Though, it appears you're fully aware of all these problems, and just have to listen to your body more. You know better than anyone when you need to take a break, when to take a sip of water, or what you crave. So, yes, you should trust yourself on that as often as possible, rather than deeming it evil whisper your inner goblin lol

Pile 2: 6 of Cups, 7 of Pentacles, 9 of Wands

As it seems, people of this pile need a lot of activities and/or stimulations during a day to feel good in general. At the same time, idleness will weight you down like a plague. Without busying yourself with something that can be considered productive throughout the day, you tend to spiral hard in your head and become restless at night. This is often the case on those days when you don't have to go out for school or work. Aren't you a workaholic high-achiever with reasonable expectations for anyone but yourself? You're much encouraged to not take your day-off for granted, spending it worrying about work. Maybe you can pick up a hobby like handcraft (f.e. knitting, origami ect.), playing an instrument or engaging in certain outdoor sports. I know it could be much when you're low on energy, so it's important to find out something you truly enjoy to keep you (or your mind) active (maybe something you can do even when lying on bed?). The progress you make with your personal project will keep you in a more positive mindset. Lastly, some of you totally should keep your daily caffeine intake in check 👀

Pile 3: 7 of Pentacles reversed, 2 of Cups, Temperance

For Pile 3, I can tell you guys are goal-oriented people, who could get impatient when your effort are not met with immediate results. The lack of progress or productivity, whether it comes from your side or other party, could frustrate you greatly and taint your day in a sullen mood. To make your life a little bit easier, it's important to turn a mental switch when you're off work. Set your priority and boundary clear, knowing that you have tried to do the most you can with the cards you're served. There's always another day to continue or try again. Besides, if you have the "all or nothing" mentality, having compromises and taking the middle road will cut you some slack. As the world is not black or white, and it's completely normal to have inconsistency in your energy level. If you have a significant other, a close friend or family member, spending quality time with them is like swallowing a health potion. Oftentimes, they act like your personally cheerleader, hyping you up and helping you feel like your effort is seen, waaayyy before it is recognized by practical results. But hey, you can start giving it to yourself, too! Start to talk about/to yourself more kindly, like you would for someone you love.

#tarot #tarot community #tarot reading #intuitive readings #pac #pick a card #pick a card reading

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mindfulstudyquest · 1 month

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❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗶 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗿𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗳𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲

𝟭. being consistent in journaling ( 🪻 )

i have recently started journaling more consistently and would like to maintain this line. i tried several times to start, failing miserably, because i couldn't find a method that would keep me motivated for a long time. then i purchased the famous five minutes gratitude journal, which is much easier to keep, and which i manage to update almost every day because by simply having to answer the pre-set questions my brain doesn't experience it as a commitment, unlike writing a diary page. alongside the fmj i have another diary with blank pages that i use as a proper diary, writing my reflections, talking about my day, complaining about negative things and stuff like that. i must say that it's therapeutic. i hope this is the right time i can maintain consistency in writing.

𝟮. having a more balanced diet ( 🍋‍🟩 )

i admit i've been eating like shit lately, a lot of sweets and processed foods alternated with periods of fasting due to guilt with the excuse of not having enough time to cook among the thousand things to do. i want to seriously commit to investing some of my time each week into preparing healthy, homemade meals (i could share some recipes here if you want, lmk) that keep me energized and don't ruin my hard work at the gym by adding empty calories to my diet.

𝟯. being consistent in the gym ( 🍄 )

and then obviously going to the gym at least 3 times a week, not really due to a matter of weight/aesthetics, but to cultivate discipline and focus. i believe that physically venting stress is the best and healthiest way to handle the crushing weight of life lately. sometimes i simply need to unload my energy without throwing a fit and risking venting it on someone who has nothing to do with it.

𝟰. reading at least 10 pages per day ( 📚 )

i love reading. i love reading madly, but i also know that i often find a thousand excuses not to do it. my brain fried by social media and zombie scrolling doesn't like the idea of concentrating on printed pages at all and i always put off reading all those books placed on my shelf gathering dust. i haven't read a book in months, so the time has come to break this bad habit and take back my greatest passion. i won't even mention all the benefits of reading, because only one book can give you so much in such a short time.

𝟱. sleep at least 8 hours ( ☕ )

i think my lack of sleep has a psychological component, but i'm no expert so what i say may not actually make any sense. i sleep little, much less than i need, when i was in high school i finished studying very late at night (past 3am) every day because i was so dependent on academic validation that the idea of getting a slightly lower grade than my usual could make me throw up. the thing is, i always delay going to sleep, even though my body is begging me to do so, and i think it's due to an inherent fear that the next day i'll have to go through it all over again. consequently in the morning i'm a wreck and i have to drag myself out of bed, being 30% as productive as i actually could be. i think it's time to work on my sleep schedule much more seriously, i think it could boost my health a lot.

𝟲. spend 15min in the sun every day ( ☀️ )

as a woman i know how important it is to be in the sun to produce vitamin D, unfortunately for me i'm some kind of goblin vampire who can't stay in the sun for more than five minutes without getting sunburned – on top of that my eyes start to water when the light too strong. i'll arm myself with sunscreen and give my body what it needs, hoping i won't get arthritis in my forties.

let me know in the comments what are YOU planning to improve in the near future <3

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animusxy · 2 years

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Aemond Targaryen x Blind! Reader Pt. 3.5

Summary: How you came to stay long term in the Red Keep and becoming closer friends with Aemond and Helaena.

Requested: I've had quite a few people comment and privately request for having the reader to feel Aemond's face to know what he looks like so that is also included.

Warnings: Nothing different from the previous ones. SOFT! Aemond.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 3.5 / Part 4 / Part 4.5 / Part 5

Aemond:

Now if anyone had asked you how you were able to get so close with these two in the coming years, you would respond with luck and timing.

After Aemond's maiming he became much colder, borderline psychotic some would go so far as to say. You disagreed but only to a degree.

Yes, Aemond did change. But you could understand why. He wanted to be the best swordsman in the seven kingdoms. A job that required two functioning eyes.

Due to his lack of eye, he suffered from differences in perception. It was much harder for him to gauge where an opponent was in comparison to him so blocking and striking was momentously harder.

Don't even get him started on his massive blind spot.

But regardless, you became friends with him before that change in personality had truly set in.

Had you met him a few years later, you were sure that your lives would've been much different.

Aemond knew that his would be more miserable which was likely why he acted more or less the same to you over the years. You didn't want anything in return for his time and care.

Honestly, you just wanted him to look after himself and not his family that he was so hellbent of keeping together. Even if he had a love-mostly hate relationship with his older brother.

It was absolutely safe to say that Aemond trusted you with thoughts that he did not with his mother. Now, he loved his mother a lot, but it did feel as though it would only be reciprocated if he sacrificed something to help her.

With you, it was easy. You only wanted him to be able to relax. That's what you wanted to spend his time doing and he would be lying if he said it didn't work.

It seemed that nowadays he was only able to be truly relaxed around you and maybe Helaena.

You asked him to read his favourite books to you in the Godswood. He had a wide range of literature knowledge, so you were never bored by the books he read to you.

Sometimes he asked if he could lay his head in your lap, you accepted of course.

I mean, who wouldn't?

You often jested about characters in the books and relating them to people that you knew of around the Red Keep, leading to multiple fits of laughter as you imagined different scenarios.

Further on in time, after he had turned 5 and 10 years (yourself being 4 and 10) you would ask him to take you down to the training yard.

He wasn't sure why and he knew you wouldn't be able to take part because of your condition.

Don't worry, he'd probably give you secret self-defence classes in the middle of the night when he thinks you're ready.

You just wanted to see how he was improving, or rather hear.

When you complimented him after his training, he would ask how you knew that he was improving.

You answered simply 'Your feet don't scruff as much when you move. You move more confidently; I can tell my how much weight you put into your steps. Plus, I can actually hear Cole struggling when your swords clash. You are indeed improving.'

You remembered when you first asked if you could touch his face, he was stunned for a second but knew why you were asking such a thing.

'Are you sure you would like to do that?' What if you felt his scar and realised that being see with someone as hideous as him wasn't worth your time.

He almost wanted to refuse but alas you would not stand down.

Aemond was finding it much harder to say no to you now anyways.

The first time you did it Aemond was only a few inches above you as both of you were only just in your teenage years (or whatever they call it in that period).

You had placed the palms of your hands on the crown of his head and gently ran them through his lengthening hair. Targaryen hair, as you had found when comparing with Helaena, was rather fine and sleek but they made more strands than other hair colours as you came to find.

You started at the top and then came down, feeling over each of his facial features.

You only ran your thumb over his scar and eye patch as you knew how self-conscious he was of it.

At the time he had softer features, the only thing that remain constant over the years was the shape of his scar.

You agreed to do this at the end of every month, just to see how his face changed over the years.

It was usually a few months at a time that you would recognise a change.

You were always anxious to feel someone's face as it was a very intimate thing for you to do. You hadn't even done it with all of your siblings because they thought it to be weird and unnatural.

Eventually you grew more comfortable, especially since you did it so often with Aemond.

Each time you noticed he would be a little bit taller, eventually you found yourself having to balance of the tips of your toes to reach the top of his face.

Eventually he just started leaning down further to do it and after a few back cramps you just decided to do it while sitting on two chairs facing each other.

The more you grew comfortable the bolder you became and the more excited you were to see how he had changed.

You can imagine his surprise that instead of going from finding the length of his hair to his forehead, you went from his hair to holding his cheeks and feeling along the cheek bones and his jaw line.

He could've sworn he felt his heart flutter

He was happier than he'd ever admit when the cheek holding part became part of the regular routine.

Extra:

Sometimes when Aemond's paranoia of his family got the best of him, an effect from how he was raised it's harder to surprise someone whose expecting all hell to break lose, he would find himself asking 'Would I really fight and die for these people?'

His mother? Most of the time, when she wasn't insulting you or scolding Helaena for her visions.

Aegon? Hard pass, nothing needs to be explained here. Well, he liked to think that but no matter what, Aegon was still his brother even if he hated him for everything he'd done and who he was.

Helaena? Yes, if he was fighting for her then he was fighting someone willing to harm someone so sweet and innocent.

When he would think about this question for you, he would silently turn to look at you.

Watch quietly as you made a small flower crown that you would place on your head before chuckling about how atrocious it must look because it would pretty much fall to pieces straight away.

He thought about how we would go to his sister later and ask her to teach him how to make one himself so that he could surprise you with one later.

He gave you a bright smile that, sadly, you or anyone else would never have the pleasure of seeing. He wouldn't smile like that around anyone but you.

'Yes, I would absolutely kill for you, and I would not apologise for ever doing so, anyone who is trying to harm you is clearly my enemy.'

Tag List:

@daddysfavoritesexkitten

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

@tachibubu

@discowizard88

@claudiajacobs

@ephemeralninon

@microwaved-timmies

@sagittariuswritings

@are-y0u-sirius

@random-human08

@icarusignite

@grippleback-galaxy

@liathelioness

@mingiholic

#prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd season 1 #queen alicent #aemond targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen #aemond imagine #aemond stannies #ewan mitchell's face deserves a tag of its own

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1d1195 · 10 months

Text

Sunday

This is an extra for Tuesday

It is all fluff (and maybe like some 18+ topics mentioned but not really described all that much) This anon was just asking about them as I was writing so I feel like it was fate that I posted about them next :) @fairytale07 sent me a beautiful long message about how much they'd like to see what happens next after their little front yard confession. @pumpkinspiceswift also inquired about an update at one point as well. So I hope all of you enjoy!

This is one of my favorites I’ve written, honestly. It's also one of my most popular works. I wanted to add more but I figured I could do another extra later on <3 It's a quick little check in that immediately follows the end of the original part. Just over 1.8K words.

(There's a flashback in the middle in italics.)

He loved her immediately. He loved her wholly. Completely. Harry was entranced. Simply put.

Because it really was love. She loved him. Actively. Maybe she never even stopped loving him. But she loved him with everything in her.

Harry wrapped his arms around her tightly. He couldn’t stop the chuckle that vibrated through him as he gently swayed the sweet girl as she clung to him. “Y’okay, love?” He asked.

She nodded against him silently. Gently, he kissed the side of her head, happy to have her in his arms. “D’you want to go inside?” He started to pull away, but her arms squeezed around him tighter.

“I don’t want to let go,” she admitted.

Harry felt a tug in his heart. God, she was lovely. Even after all this time. He chuckled. “I’ll grab y’right back once we’re inside,” he promised.

“Embarrassed for your neighbors to see me?” She asked.

He rolled his eyes, pinching her sides lightly to tickle her. “No, y’goose,” he muttered. “Jus’ don’t want t’subject them to the hot make out session m’about t’throw myself into,” he brushed his lips against her temple.

She released a nervous giggle. “Oh?”

“Only if y’want of course,” he said rubbing one of his hands up and down her spine while the other cupped the back of her head. As much as he loved holding her like this, he wanted to see her beautiful face and kiss her until his lips went numb. Her whole body had a reaction to his statement. His kind request, his promise of nothing more if she didn’t want it. It made her legs feel like jelly. Her heart reduced to a puddle.

“Oh, I very much want,” she nodded assuredly against him.

Harry propped his head up with one hand while the other slowly brushed her hair behind her ear. “Y’okay?” He asked as she sighed while running her index finger outlining the butterfly on his abdomen.

“I haven’t had good sex in a really long time it seems,” she murmured.

He snorted. As he chuckled, he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks at her assessment. He felt shy even after all this time. “Y’always know jus’ how to improve m’self-esteem, kitten.”

“You deserve it after that,” she sighed, smiling at his ribs. She placed a kiss on his chest, and he thought that maybe he would never leave this bed if she was going to be in it. It was as if the time apart didn’t mean anything. He loved her immediately—the second he set eyes on her in the dark coffee shop prepared to protect her with his body as a shield, if necessary, just under a week ago. He loved her wholly. Completely. Harry was entranced. Simply put. Nothing but love for the sweet girl kissing the butterfly on his stomach.

They were quiet for a few moments, just touching one another in post-love bliss. Because it really was love. She loved him. Actively. Maybe she never even stopped loving him. But she loved him with everything in her.

“Angel?” He asked quietly.

“Hmm...”

“What s’all this mean t’you?”

She paused briefly. “Can we just...wait a few more minutes?” She asked. “I’m nervous to have this conversation and I don’t think I’ve had an orgasm that good since before we broke up and I don’t want to lose that feeling just yet.”

He chuckled again shaking his head at her and leaned forward to kiss the spot of her hair where he was just brushing his fingers against. “I can give y’another one of those in a few minutes, love,” he sounded very seductive. It made her heart flutter, and she felt her cheeks warm at his voice.

“Think our little talk might ruin it,” she muttered.

He frowned. Did that mean this wasn’t...we’re they not...getting back together? The idea saddened him. But Harry had an arrangement with another woman for nearly the last six months. He wouldn’t love it, but he could have an arrangement with her. He would...well it seemed a bit crazy, but Harry would do anything to have her back. Just seeing her at the coffee shop over the last six days had been enough to refire the passion he felt for her. Sharing a bed with her the other night gave him a sense of calm and he didn’t even know upset. Even just being near her right now was a heaven he didn’t know still existed. “Why’s that?” He had to ask.

She sighed—they were doing this now. It made sense; you didn’t have a hot make out session that turned into leg-numbing sex with your ex of two years after not seeing him for another two years only for him to make sure you were okay while you worked for almost a week without having a serious talk. Rolling onto her back, Harry scooted closer to her. “Did anything change?” She wondered.

Harry kept his hand on her face. “Like what?”

“Well...we broke up because we were at two different places in our lives.”

Harry shrugged. “Our two separate lives also brought us back together anyway.”

She smiled and Harry couldn’t believe she was real. “Didn’t think of it like that,” she mumbled and kissed his chest. As worried as Harry felt, it was hard to not appease her. He wanted to have this talk as much as she did.

“Angel.”

“Hmm?”

“I would love t’get back together,” he whispered.

She looked up at him from the butterfly that she had been giving so much attention to. It wasn’t that she felt awkward around Harry. Actually, she felt far from it. But his gentle whisper made her swoon and she felt utterly shy. “Yeah?”

He nodded and gazed at her with the kindest smile she had ever had the pleasure of looking at. “Would y’want t’start over?”

She bit her lip and thought for a moment. Harry didn’t feel this nervous the first time he asked her out. Certainly, didn’t feel nervous while he was producing near pornographic moans just fifteen minutes ago. But the pause she gave right now; well, it made him terrified of her response. Maybe this was just sex. Maybe it was just a really wonderful thank you for his protection over the last week.

“Where were you this morning?” She asked instead.

Still nervous he blinked and tilted his head at her curiously at her question. “Mum’s,” he said. “Gemma and I have brunch with her every Sunday.”

Relief sighed through her, and she nodded. “I want nothing more than to be a couple again,” she promised and wiggled closer to his face and pressed her lips over his. Harry chuckled against her mouth causing tingles to flutter through her mouth and brain. “But,” she mumbled. “Could we pick up where we left off in a few spots?”

“Like what? Or where?” He kissed her again.

“Like,” she blushed, her lips attached to his between words and phrases. “Uh...” she said feeling a bit dizzy by his sweet breath and warm mouth.

She was transported to the fifth month of when they originally dated. Her mouth had been itching to say three words to Harry. Back when they were making cookies from scratch for Niall’s mom’s birthday the middle of university break between semesters. She had knelt to get the measuring spoon she dropped on the floor and bumped into Harry’s hand as she returned from the floor, his hand pressing firmly against the corner of the counter.

He didn’t seem to pay any attention to the motion, his eyes scanning the recipe on the back of the chocolate chip bag. “Y’okay?” He had asked turning toward her as she stood straight again, looking at Harry and wondering how this wasn’t an earth-shattering moment for him.

“Hmm?” She asked nervously.

“Bumped your head?” He said kissing her forehead as he paused his reading and then rubbed the back of her head. As if she didn’t injure his hand herself from hitting it against the counter. Or from the fact that he didn’t seem to pay any attention to protecting her.

She nodded mutely.

He smiled sweetly, kissing her gently and then cupping her face. She dropped the spoon again because she could see it on his face—he was going to say it. The chocolate chips spilling onto the counter, a few stray ones falling on the floor as well. Her heart nearly stopped. “I love you,” he said simply.

She felt like she might explode in the middle of the kitchen he shared with Niall. “God, I love you too,” she answered, and Harry laughed this gorgeous, perfect laugh that made all her organs mushy. It wasn’t that she wanted to say it before him, it was just that he deserved so much love because he was Harry.

“Like what, kitten?” He asked, his voice getting muffled by her lips. This was her chance. She could say it first for the second time and give Harry all the love he rightfully deserved. However, he was making it difficult by kissing her so much the air was thinning and making her brain foggy.

There was so much to figure out. How did it change their old relationship? How would it change this new one? She was starting a real job soon. Niall still lived with Harry. They've known each other for so long now. How did it change all of it?

But despite all the questions floating in her mind it really didn't matter to her. None of it. All that mattered was Harry and his beautiful dimples and his kind green eyes.

And the kisses he was distracting her with.

“Like...” she sighed and pressed her hands to his face to stop the kisses that were interrupting the neurons in her brain from behaving properly. He smirked at her as if he knew what he was doing to her—he probably did. She gazed at those perfect green eyes. “Like, I still love you, so much and I don’t want to pretend that I don’t, so we have to go through the whole first I love you again...because I love you. So much,” she told him her cheeks warming with blood in nervousness that maybe he didn’t feel the same way yet. She wouldn’t mind or blame him. It was early obviously. But he was there, and he deserved to know this was her and him and she loved him regardless of if he loved her back. "I don't even care if you say it back, I just need you to know...I love you so much." It had been four years since they first said it and it didn’t seem like she ever truly felt anything but love for him since she first said it. “I don’t know if I ever stopped.”

There wasn’t a second of hesitation from him. As if he had also been transported back to the very same moment she had been thinking about. “God, I love you too.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz

If you like this story, you can find the rest of my writing here: Masterlist

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microwave-core · 11 months

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Would You Still Love Me if I Was a Worm?

Zelda x Fem! Reader

Restoring Hyrule after the Great Calamity was seriously taking a toll on its princess. Thankfully, you have a plan to lift her spirits.

(hey this has a sequel now)

An incredibly important task has been dropped in your lap by none other than the princess’s personal guard: Distract Zelda from her work.

Both you and Link are well aware that, as the princess of the kingdom, it is Zelda’s responsibility to restore the land, a task that would obviously be immensely stressful. But a person can only endure so much stress before the quality of their work begins to falter.

Link, your trusty wingman who helped you get with Zelda in the first place, entrusted the role of taking her mind off of things to you, knowing that the princess would eventually cave to your whims if you were persistent enough.

You lean against the exterior wall of the Hateno School. Her love for both learning and children made her a natural teacher, one that the kids simply adored. It was only natural that she would lend a hand to Symin whenever possible.

The kids themselves were let out hours ago, as the sun had already begun to fall beneath the horizon, painting the sky with bright orange and blissful reds. The wait was worth it for the view, and it would make the little walk you had planned to take all the more scenic.

“Ah! There you are!” The second she steps out of the building, you approaching her, hand extended to take her own.

“Oh, I didn’t expect to see you here, love. What brings you out here so late?” She graciously takes your extended hand, laughing softly.

“You, obviously. Now come on, I’ve got somewhere I wanna take you.”

“I appreciate that but… I really should get going. There’s still work that I need to get done before the day is over. I need to brief details with Hudson, and organize a meeting with King Doraphan, and Purah want-” “And you need a break. And none of those people are going to be mad at you for taking a little time to decompress. Not when you do so much…”

“I don’t have time for a break. I understand your concern, but the sooner these things get done, the sooner Hyrule can be at peace.” “Nothing is going to get done if you throw yourself into work while already stressed out of your mind. It’s bad both for you and for progress.”

She looks you in the eyes, as you can see the fighting words on her tongue die. These little spats with her were nothing new. She was just so devoted to helping her kingdom that she barely spared any thought for herself.

“There’s no Calamity happening. There’s no impending time limit. Obviously, you have a responsibility to Hyrule and her people, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take care of yourself. Now, come on, while the sun is still setting.”

“... There’s no winning with you, is there?” Her laugh is gentle, sweet as she relents to your pleas. She gives your hand a light squeeze. “Now, where did you want to take me?”

“You’ll see when we get there, for now, let’s just walk.” You begin to lead her back to the main path of the village, passing through the shops and townsfolk on your way out of the small town, with idol conversation flowing throughout, both intricate and small.

As always, Zelda talks about all of the responsibilities on her plate, continuing off of the long list from before, while you bring up small, unimportant things to keep her mind off of them, about the town drama and new shop inventory.

You pass through the village entrance and through the woods, mindful to avoid the Bokoblins hunting for food and travelers, before veering off of the path towards Nirvata lake, settling at the edge of the water.

“You should have seen the kids the other day. The pictures they drew of me were wonderful. They even put you and Link in some of them!” She smiles brightly at you, leaning into your shoulder. Her mood, the tension in her shoulder, has seemingly improved dramatically, and all it took was stepping away from pen and paper for a short period of time.

“Aww, I’m sure their pictures of Ms. Zelda were simply darling.”

“They were! You need to come into the building some day to see them. I all but begged Symon to hang them up.” Laughter finally pours from her lips, as she was unable to hold it back for much longer.

The comfortable silence files between you as her laughter dies down, a smile still plastered on her face. You stare into the sky above, taking in the brilliance of the (now) night sky, the twinkling stars across a deep ocean canvas.

“...Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“What?” She snorts, both amused and taken aback, but ultimately confused.

“You know, like one of those dragons. Would you still love me if I were one of them?” You look down at her, playful smile etched onto your lips.

“I guess I would? Why wouldn’t I?”

“We would never be able to live together, for starters. I would be far too busy flying around Hyrule.”

“Then I would build a house in the sky, just for you. And we could travel all over the land without any issues.”

“But what if I wasn’t the same as I once was? I wouldn’t be able to talk to you at all.”

“I would love you even if you were a completely different person. You're too important to me to just let go like that.” She smiles brightly, looking up at you while leaning further into your shoulder. “And when Link inevitably shoots you for parts, I’d wipe away your tears with all the gentleness I can muster… You know, it seems like you don’t want me to love worm you.”

“Of course I would want you to love me still, but becoming a big old dragon would be a big commitment, a big change.” Your tone remains playful, but with an edge of seriousness. “I need you to be ready to accept worm me in spite of those changes, just as I would accept worm you.”

You bring her hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to each knuckle, before gracelessly flopping back into the grass, patting the open grass next to you for her to follow, which she does, albeit much more gracefully.

“What even brought this up?” Her voice is hushed, as if afraid to break the calm stillness of the night air now that all has gone quiet.

“Saw Naydra flying over the mountains on my way to wait for you, and thought about how weird it would be to, well, be like that. All long and worm like.”

She shakes her head at you, before snuggling into your side. In the moment, it was as if the entire world revolved around you two, sitting out away from a small village in the chill of the night. As if everything was right in the world for once.

Zelda knew that was not the case. She knew of the strange happenings beginning to plague the world, mainly the presence of a malice-like substance, which she would likely need to help investigate at some point.

But for now, she didn’t need to worry about that. All she needed to focus on was you, knowing that work would inevitably resume come daybreak.

#loz x reader #botw x reader #totk x reader #zelda x reader #fem reader #thats a lot of tags #not me pulling up the interactive map for this #link would be a great wingman #is it really one of my banners if it doesn't have a little crust on it?#im not fucking okay why did totk do this to me

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mangoisms · 10 months

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i don’t want you to the bone (i just need to lay down with soft skin close)

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ summary: The school year starts and with it, autumn days and sick kids. You’re fine but Tim keeps getting sick for a reason you can’t figure out. A fourth and final time reveals that reason — that is, his apparent lack of spleen.

━ word count: 3.1k

━ contains: established relationship, domestic fluff, sickfic, comfort no hurt

━ a/n: technically takes place as an extension of my other tim fic, i’ll be the dangerous ledge (you be the parachute), but prior reading is not required; all you need to know is reader is a teacher’s aide for sixth graders! title is also from this song

━ you can read this on ao3 as well (and find my end notes ^_^)

New school years are always a little nerve-wracking.

New faces, new personalities, new parents.

But each time you do it, the easier it gets.

A routine forms quickly and you fall into it like it’s nothing.

For the first part of it, August and September, you and Ms. C are getting adjusted to the new batch of kids. Seeing which ones are struggling and accommodating them accordingly. Autumn sets in. Mornings are colder, days are shorter, leaves start to brown. Then the sick days start rolling in.

The common cold and flu take out a couple kids at a time every couple weeks. But your immune system is nothing to scoff at, not after working at Gotham Elementary in Burnley with the third graders. Middle schoolers are better on that front but there is still some room to improve.

Last year, you took a hit, a small cold taking you out for a couple days. This year, your second here at Gotham Pointe, you’re perfectly fine.

You are still wary, though, too aware of your clothes and what you might carry back home. As a general rule, you don’t like sitting on the couch or the bed in your work clothes just because it feels a little gross but it is particularly exacerbated by your career choice.

And your boyfriend is an additional factor.

Not for anything particular, just that you want to be mindful for Tim. Especially since he spends ninety percent of his time at your place.

You see him as soon as you step through the door and you often linger, sharing a kiss, taking a while to talk about your respective days and discuss dinner. Only after you go and take a shower.

Sometimes, he takes you out for your lunch break, too. And of course you’re in your work clothes and can’t change or shower and you admittedly forget and let him get close.

You simply did not think you would ever need to get extreme about it.

This, you would reflect after everything, is wrong.

The first time, a couple weeks into the school year, it’s a cold.

You both surmise he got it somewhere outside. Gotham isn’t exactly the pinnacle of cleanliness, so it’s hardly a great mystery to ponder. You mostly focus your energy on getting him better.

Then it happens again in September. The flu this time. It prompts you two to go out and get your flu shots — after he gets better, anyway.

You think you’re in the clear after that.

But then it happens again in October. Another cold. Less severe. Or so he insists.

And then again in November.

And you start to worry.

“Why do you keep getting sick?”

A weak cough, then a sniffle. “Just want an excuse for you to take care of me.”

You shake your head, seating yourself on the edge of the bed, pressing the back of your hand to Tim’s flushed face. His fever still rages on, skin hot to the touch.

Despite that, he finds it within himself to be cheeky.

From the bed, dark hair mused from the pillow, a little sweaty from the fever, cheeks flushed, nose stuffy and eyes bleary, Tim gives you a dopey smile, one you can’t resist returning.

“I’ll take care of you anytime you want, handsome,” you laugh, running your fingers through his hair, not minding the dampness of it. “But this is the fourth time… What’s going on?”

“It’s fall,” he says. “People always get sick in the fall.”

“Not four separate times.”

“I’m just special like that.”

“All the jokes even with a fever of a hundred and one, hm?”

“Just for you, gorgeous.”

“Alright, cornball,” you chuckle, grabbing the CVS bag with the medicine you picked up on your way home. “I called Alfred on my way back. Just wanted to get his soup recipe but he insisted on coming down with a batch for you. He’ll be here in a little while.”

Tim hums an affirmative, sitting up with a small groan as you pour out a dose of medicine and hand it to him. He gets a comical look of disgust as it goes down, nose wrinkling.

You smile, taking the little cup and handing him a glass of water, which he quickly drains.

“I’ll go ahead and take a shower,” you say, picking up the bag and the medicine. “You need anything?”

“I’m good,” he says, dropping back onto the pillows and yawning.

“Alright.” You lean over to kiss his head, ignoring his groan of protest.

“Gonna get you sick —”

“You didn’t the last two times, so I don’t think you will this time,” you chuckle, squeezing his hand. “I seem to be the strongest immunity-wise. Which is odd since you grew up here and should be more prepared for it…”

“Well, you know,” he mumbles, noncommittal as he burrows under the sheets and closes his eyes for what you imagine is his hundredth cat nap of the day.

You don’t really know and you’re still… worried about this, so you just squeeze his shoulder and rise from the bed.

Every time you bring up going to the doctor, he shoots down the idea. Even when you point out you don’t need to go to the ER and you can just go and see Dr. Thompkins. But that makes him refuse even more. Says it’s just a cold or the flu and not an issue. But this is the fourth time. You’re rapidly approaching your threshold for concern.

Maybe you can bring it up again today.

You ponder ways to approach the conversation while in the shower. It’s not that he’ll fight you about it and you need to plan for that. It’s just you want to be prepared. Think it through. If anyone will appreciate having a plan of action, it’s definitely Tim.

You have something of an idea when you step out of the bathroom. But you find the bedroom empty and voices coming from the living room.

You quickly recognize Alfred’s posh accent and Tim’s soft tenor, thick from his stuffy nose.

You don’t intend to eavesdrop. But it happens anyway.

“… much too often,” Alfred is saying.

“I know,” Tim responds, sighing.

“Are the antibiotics not working?”

You frown. Antibiotics? What antibiotics?

“They do their job when I need them, it’s just that it’s been viruses, not bacteria.”

“I see. And this increase in viruses is because…?”

Silence.

You remain rooted in place near your bedroom door, the wood thin, conversation easy to hear, even with the fan whirring in your bathroom.

“It’s her,” Tim eventually sighs. “From the school. But she tries, Alf —”

“I understand,” he says gently, placating. “I am not placing blame on the young miss. But does she know?”

An even longer silence.

Your heart pounds fast in your chest and you feel dizzy and off-kilter all of a sudden. Do you know what? What are they talking about? What are you doing? You’re the reason he’s getting sick? That… makes sense, it does, but… why is he so susceptible to it?

You’re not blaming him. Of course not. But it’s just — it’s weird, right? And Alfred is talking about antibiotics that Tim has to take? As far as you know, he doesn’t take any medication. Tylenol sometimes. Daily multivitamins that you often have to remind him to take because he forgets. But that’s not medication.

“No,” Tim finally says. “She doesn’t. I haven’t told her. I just don’t want her to feel bad. Because she will. I should’ve said something sooner about it and we could’ve worked something out but I didn’t and now we’re here.”

“Master Tim…”

“I know,” he says. “I know.”

You’ve heard enough. You’ve done enough. Dammit. You’re going to have to tell him about this. It was wrong to listen behind his back. Even if you want to know what it is he’s hiding, mostly, you just feel guilty. You seem to be the common denominator here and it’s not a good thing.

You try so hard to respect his boundaries. Because there are things he does not want to talk about. Does not like to talk about. But you don’t like the thought of him not saying something to you because he doesn’t want to make you feel bad. You understand the intention! But you also don’t want him to feel scared to tell you stuff. Even if they hurt your feelings.

No doubt because of his love for you and you get it. But still.

You grab your dirty clothes and step back into the bathroom, then shut off the fan. Should announce your presence to them as you putter around the bedroom, tossing your clothes into the laundry and sliding your feet into your slippers.

You emerge a minute later, Tim sitting on the couch, bowl of chicken soup in his lap, Alfred perched near him, the TV on the evening news.

None of them give any indication of their prior conversation and neither do you, greeting Alfred as you usually do, serving yourself some soup, too, at his insistence. He sticks around for a little bit then bids goodbye, making you promise to give him updates and that if need be, I am perfectly willing to team up with you to get Master Tim to see Dr. Thompkins.

After, Tim takes a shower while you get your dishes washed up and everything else locked up for the night. Checking on the boys, checking the locks on your windows and doors, then the super expensive security system you had covertly installed by Tim that your landlord would probably kick up a fuss about if he knew. But needs must.

You pop into the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face, getting ready for bed, thinking about how to approach this.

Seems simple, in the end. Just say it.

It’s nothing, right? Easy-peasy.

But your nerves betray you. And he notices.

“You feeling okay?” he asks, sliding in next to you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. For you, of course. Always for you.

You sag into the pillows, sighing. “Tim… I, uh, heard your conversation with Alfred. I didn’t mean to! But I know that doesn’t mean much since it still happened… I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” he says, sitting up against the headboard like you. The look on his face is hard to read.

You wince. “I’m sorry again. And this will be the last I talk about it if you want but I just need you to know… you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable sharing, you know? But you can tell me anything. No matter what.”

A small shake of the head. “I know. I just — well, you know. I didn’t want you to feel bad. I should’ve said something first about it.”

“About what?”

He sits up, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

You watch him carefully.

It’s a familiar sight. The scars that litter his body. Amassed since he was fourteen-years-old.

Fourteen.

Just a kid.

You were doing jack shit at fourteen. As fourteen-year-olds should be allowed to do.

And you know the story, you know how Tim got involved with it but… sometimes on bad nights when he wakes up from a nightmare and can’t go back to sleep, either huddled in your arms for comfort or turned away from you, curled in on himself for subconscious protection, on the days where the injuries sustained bother him, body aching and in pain, stress pulling him apart at the seams, or the nights he gets called out and sometimes comes back in pieces for you to put him back together… you really, really loathe Bruce.

Maybe his initial introduction couldn’t be helped. Batman needed a Robin. That’s what he said. But everything else after that… how Bruce treated him sometimes, how Bruce treats all of them.

It pisses you off.

But you can’t do anything about that. You can’t change it. All you can do is be here. Go at his pace.

You’ve seen his scars. You’ve made sure not to make him uncomfortable. Tim is beautiful to you, a Michaelangelo painting come to life, the kind of beauty that haunts you, but those scars have harrowing stories attached to them and you understand that anyone might be uncomfortable with it.

You told him that. And that helped. And by now, you are intimately familiar with them. You don’t know all the stories. He doesn’t want to scare you. Like you could ever be scared by him. But nonetheless. You’ve seen them. Run your fingers over them, pressed kisses to them. Wondering about the pain he suffered. Still suffers. Wishing you could take it all away.

“I was seventeen,” he tells you, once his shirt is off, revealing pale skin, toned muscle, and so many scars. Bullet wounds, stab wounds, bullet grazes. You shift, knee pressed to his, your eyes on his face.

“Stabbed in my spleen,” he goes on, taking your hand and pressing it to the horizontal scar on his belly. Your thumb brushes the silvery, textured skin, heart clenching at the thought. “They had to take it out.”

“Your… spleen?”

You scramble to grasp your scant biology knowledge. You were required to take science labs when you were in college but you went for astronomy instead of biology or anatomy. Before that, your only experience with biology is your class from freshman year. A very long time ago.

So, you come up with nothing for what a spleen does. But you can infer. You just need him to confirm it. One look between you and he nods, sighing.

“It’s not very well-known,” he says, glancing down at your hand, fingers stroking the scar, his own wrapped loosely around your wrist. “But the spleen has a small part in fighting pathogens. More specifically bacterial infections. I’m —” his lips purse, displeased with what he is about to say “— particularly susceptible to those kind. And I’m supposed to take antibiotics at the first sign of some kind of infection. But the spleen is also for pathogens — viruses — in general and well, antibiotics don’t work on those.”

“You’re immunocompromised.”

He winces. “That’s… a very strong word.”

“But not untrue, Timmy.”

“No,” he mutters. “No, I guess not.”

You quickly understand your place in this. Even if you shower, you two still talk, still kiss, still linger before then. Then for those lunches…

“I’m sorry,” you sigh.

“No,” he groans, leaning forward to scoop you into your arms. He’s still hot to the touch, still feverish, but you don’t care, arms circling him as he buries his face in your neck.

“No?”

“No,” he grumbles. “I should’ve told you from the get-go. I just… honestly, honey, I forgot. And by the time I realized we might need to accommodate when you come home…”

“You didn’t want to make me feel bad.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You run your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes and leaning your head against his. The scent of his shampoo, eucalyptus, is fragrant and pleasant to your senses. “Don’t be. I know why you did it. Let’s just accommodate better from now on, okay?”

You feel him nod.

“You don’t need to go to the doctors, then?”

“Probably do,” he sighs. “I’ll call Leslie tomorrow. See if she or Jean-Paul have an open slot.”

That relieves some of your concern. You press a kiss to his hair. “Good. You worried me.”

“I know.”

No use in apologizing. He’ll always worry you. He might have stepped down from Red Robin but he still gets called away. For a Titans mission, for a favor to Conner or Cassie or Bart, then of course, for the way Bruce is perfectly able to guilt him into joining them for patrol.

“No detours when I get home,” you say next. “Try not to touch anything. Keep my jacket separate from yours. Dirty clothes, too. And lunch…”

“I still want to take you out for lunch,” he says a tad petulantly into the skin of your neck. “I’ll just… I don’t know. Take some of that Emergen-C stuff. Bulk up my immune system. We don’t have to do anything extreme.”

Which is an amusing statement, coming from him of all people.

But you get it. It pleases you, to know he still wants you very much. Your time. Your company. And that these indulgences are entirely feasible with your relationship. That he is willing to cut corners for it. But you’ll have to put your foot down on some of it. Just to make sure you don’t get him sick.

For now…

You kiss his head. “I love you, you know that?”

He kisses your neck, arms tightening around your waist. “I love you.”

You squeeze him. He sighs, sounding particularly put-out about something.

“What?”

“I want to kiss you,” he mutters.

“We’re on break next week. Kiss me.”

Probably not your best decision. But also not your fault that your boyfriend is very pretty and also a great kisser and also that you think you’d kiss him forever if you could. You’re like kiss deprived by this point, since he started feeling bad yesterday and developed a fever last night. Hopefully that breaks tonight.

“I can get you sick.”

“We’ve been sleeping in the same bed. And also you know I didn’t actually catch anything —”

“You and your immune system of steel,” he complains.

“Bet Conner’s jealous. Also, why the complaint? Do you want me to get sick, is that it —”

“Just bringing it up very frequently, while I can do nothing but suffer.”

“Oh, you’re suffering, are you? Suffering with a butler to make you dinner, with my excellent bedside manner and pretty face —”

He laughs, finally pulling his face from your neck, eyes crinkled. The smile that curls your lips is nothing less than lovesick but you don’t care. You cup his hot face in your hands, thumb rubbing the sensitive skin under his eye, feeling the way his cheeks curl with his smile.

“I’m bringing my continued immunity up to make a point, Timothy.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” he asks, teasingly latching on your last name like you’re at school.

You turn your head, starting to pull away. “Well, if you don’t want to kiss me —”

He groans. “Okay, fine. But if you get sick —”

“You’ll take care of me just like I took care of you,” you finish, smiling. “You love me too much to abandon me like that.”

A smile. “Yeah. Yeah, guess I do.”

You share a kiss to seal the deal.

(And yes, a week later, you do get sick.

And yes, he does take care of you.)

reblogs are appreciated!

#tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #dc comics imagine #dc comics x reader #tim drake imagine #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #red robin imagine

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impishjesters · 6 months

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Pomni x Reader who doesn't wanna leave

warning(s): implied panic/anxiety attacks, implied Reader's life prior to the Circus might've not been so great A/N: I'm not really good at words of comfort, so hopefully this isn't too bad... request: I have a request for actually pomni instead of jax- a reader x pomni sfw thing where the reader doesnt actually wanna leave the place but understands why pomni wants to leave so they just try to help her with anything and is very comforting to her. (basically a extremely sweet and calm reader with a nervous wreck pomni)

It’s easy to see why one would freak out about being permanently trapped in a digital hellscape in a body that doesn’t require sleep or food.

You feel for Pomni, you really do, but unlike her, you enjoy living here. There’s little to worry about compared to the struggles of living in the real world, the life you had before this was nothing but stress and exhaustion.

Though it’s easy to see why that might be the issue for some people, sure you lose out on all the things the real world can give you, but for every pro, there’s a con. Something you can accept, but not Pomni.

She’s such a sweet girl when she’s not on the verge of a panic attack, even if you don’t want to leave you continue to reassure her that there has to be an exit. “Can’t have an entrance without an exit.”

The best you can do is reassure her verbally and try to bring some sense of normalcy to the place. Just last week the two of you went for a walk outside the tent and did some nature gazing, it’s a little trippy how realistic the ambiance was. Though it seemed to do just the trick to help Pomni, the fake birds flew around and chirped, accompanied by the screams of obnoxious bugs.

Then there was just a few days ago when the two of you sat and listened to music while having a fake little tea date. The tea set was real—or as real as anything in this place could be—similar to a child’s play set it was just decoration as the two of you chatted over empty cups of tea.

It always seemed like talking and acting like everything was normal was a big help to her, you know if you get past the fact that the person across from you doesn’t look remotely normal.

Today, however, Pomni had been a wreck all day—the nature walk and tea time offers weren’t enough to distract her. Instead, you settled down nearby careful not to touch her, and simply took it one step at a time. Pomni disliked physical touch so you made do with talking her through it, through what was currently on her mind all while making sure to steer the mindset from sketchy abstraction territory.

“How are you so okay with this?” She looked over her knees in your general direction, not really looking at you or anything in particular.

“I mean to say I’m okay is an understatement. But it’s an improvement in some departments compared to my life before… I understand not everyone can see it that way though. But for me, I’m pretty okay with the whole situation.”

Nobody had really opened up about their lives prior, whether they could remember or not it just never came up. It felt almost taboo for some reason.

“Like I told you before, every entrance has an exit. And if I find one, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

It’s not an entire lie, you would tell her if you actually found one, but not every entrance had an exit. In some cases, the only “exit” so to speak would be death, but saying that would only make the situation worse.

“H-how do you know that though? Nobody’s seen one except for…well Kaufmo and me..” Pomni bit her lip, squeezing her legs tighter. “And i-it wasn’t even a real exist… Caine said—”

“Sweetie Caine’s about as smart as Jax is nice.” That gets a hesitant little giggle out of her, it’s rude but true. “There’s an exit I know it, that said there’s a chance Caine doesn’t know where it is or how to access it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“I…I guess you are right…”

Pomni relaxes the death grip on her legs, letting them dangle off the couch. She’s still stuck in her head but it’s progress, and you are patient to work with her.

“Wanna go down to the kitchen and make something?”

Her head snaps in your direction so fast you swear she’d get whiplash if she could. “What?”

“You heard me.” You give her a weak shrug and lean on the armrest of your chair. “We can’t eat but that doesn’t mean we can’t cook—it’s not the same but we can still do it, sorta.”

Her expression is pure confusion, did she not know you could still cook or that there was a kitchen? Have those idiots shown her nothing??

“Mhm, maybe we could bake something for everyone. Again, can’t eat it but it’s the thought that counts yeah? I’m sure the others would enjoy that, we can all sit down with a slice and maybe have a nice chat.”

That sounded nice, domestic, and more importantly, normal. She can’t remember the last time she cooked or baked something, and while it would suck to not be able to eat it, enjoying the company of the others would be nice. Well, mostly nice.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

The two of you stood and you gave her a warm smile before gesturing her to follow. Before you made it to the door she called your name, giving a weak smile as she approached. “Thank you.”

“Any time Pompom.”

#tadc #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader #pomni x reader #tadc pomni #pomni

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fanfoolishness · 28 days

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Blind Side (The Bad Batch)

Wrecker catches Crosshair for a heart-to-heart, and reminds him of something that happened long ago. Set between 3x05 and 3x06, ~ 1700 words, Crosshair's tremor, family feels, Wrecker being a good brother <3.

---

Dawnlight bathes the stone steps in florid pinks and golds. Crosshair’s boots slip down the steps quickly, softly. A few of the locals are up, fisherfolk down at the docks preparing for the day, but most of the island still slumbers. It’s as he prefers it.

His rifle rests securely in his arms as he makes his way across the beach. He presses it close to his chest as he makes his way to the little cove he’s started to think of as his training ground. Omega’s Kaminoan droid waits for him obediently, carrying a basket of fruit. Every rotation for the past week the little round droid has cheerfully met him here, a fact he is begrudgingly grateful for.

“Good morning, CT-9904!” the droid says cheerfully. Crosshair just nods. He grabs one of the fruits and takes a bite, then gestures out to the open water, giving the rest of the basket to the droid. The droid hovers out, targets in hand as Crosshair finishes the fruit. It’s extra sweet this morning, but with a sour edge that makes his mouth pucker. It tastes like nothing he’s ever eaten before. He thinks he likes it.

He wipes his hand on his side, and hefts the rifle.

It’ll be different today. Just have to concentrate. He checks his stance, his balance, his breathing, his posture, all of the things he has had drilled into him since he was a cadet. For a moment, it almost feels like it’s working.

Then he lowers his eye to the scope, and his hand jerks helplessly out to the side.

He growls, a muffled sound of frustration. He shakes out his hand, glaring at it. He tries again, this time sighting AZI and the target, and the shot goes wide.

He takes a deep breath.

Again.

---

It’s an hour later, and his success rate is sitting at 47.2%, and he doesn’t know what to do.

It doesn’t improve his mood any when he hears heavy footsteps in the sand. He turns, scowling up at the shadows cast by Wrecker and Batcher.

The hound leaps forward, wagging her tiny tail furiously, licking him on the cheek before he can stop her. He pats her on the neck and apologizes while she wiggles in delight. “I snuck out on you. I know, I know. I won’t do it again.” He glances up at Wrecker, who’s rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I suppose she led you down here?”

“Ahh, she was hungry,” says Wrecker. “I heard her looking for breakfast and figured I’d join her, ‘specially since the fruit’s been extra good lately. After she ate, she came looking for you.” He frowns, squinting out at AZI. “You’re supposed to eat it, not shoot it.”

“I’ve been told, yes,” says Crosshair. He lowers his rifle cautiously.

Do they realize? That I can’t --

He rests the rifle against the rock, and settles into a sitting position. If Hunter and Wrecker haven’t noticed his little problem, he’s not going to spell it out for them. He’ll simply need to find somewhere else to practice. Batcher curls up beside him, rolling on her back until she finds a good spot, and promptly falls asleep.

“It’s a nice place, isn’t it?” Wrecker asks, plopping down in the sand a few feet away. The loose sand sprays out in a fine shower beneath his weight. “We’re lucky here. Great place to clear your head.”

“Assuming one can find peace and quiet,” says Crosshair pointedly. Wrecker guffaws, clapping him on the shoulder and knocking him half a foot sideways.

“Just as chatty as you used to be,” Wrecker laughs, his wide face creasing into a smile. “We missed you, Crosshair.”

Crosshair blinks, surprised by the faint sense of warmth in his cheeks. “It didn’t seem that way,” he says, and the words sit heavy and awkward between them. His hand trembles against his leg, and he pins it down with the other one, hoping Wrecker hasn’t noticed.

The grin on Wrecker’s face slides away, replaced by an uncharacteristically serious expression. Crosshair wonders at it.

Wrecker says slowly, thoughtfully, “No, we did. I did.” He shrugs, looking down at his large, powerful hands. “Just wasn’t the same without you.”

Crosshair swallows, turning away to watch the surf’s edge. Little waves lap against the shore. When he speaks, the words are halting, difficult to get out. “It wasn’t the same for me, either.”

There’s so much more that he could -- should -- say, but can’t.

I’m sorry.

I was wrong.

I wish things had been different.

He chances a look back at his brother, and Wrecker’s sitting there with tears in his eyes, wiping them with the back of his hand.

Oh, hell.

“Wrecker --”

“No, it’s --” Wrecker draws his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. Like that, he looks like an oversized kid again, even more than he usually does. He sniffs. “So. Lemme ask you something.”

Crosshair hesitates. “Fine.”

“Remember when I got my shiner?” Wrecker gestures to the scarred side of his face, his blind eye. Shiner doesn’t begin to cover it, even now.

“Of course I do.”

“Wrecker’s down!” Tech’s voice calling on comms, more informative than anxious. Crosshair’s not concerned. Wrecker always gets back up, always ready to fight again, he’ll just need a minute --

But through his scope, Crosshair sees what the others haven’t yet. A helmet cracked in half, Wrecker curled on the ground, bloody burns webbing over the side of his face, blackened skin peeling around a ruined left eye --

“Medic, medic!” comes a strangled cry, and it’s ten seconds before Crosshair recognizes the sound of his own voice --

“Yeah, that’s a hard one to forget, isn’t it?” Wrecker asks, chuckling.

“I’m glad you can laugh about it,” Crosshair says, crossing his arms. “It was too close.”

“Gotta laugh about it sometimes, right?” says Wrecker, though his smile fades. “But remember what you told me, that night in the infirmary? After the others fell asleep?”

“Cross?”

He shifts in the seat beside the infirmary bed, looking over Wrecker’s good side. Hunter and Tech have fallen asleep against the far wall, Hunter’s head on Tech’s shoulder. They’d all been exhausted after the battle and its aftermath.

Soft beeps and noises come from the machines attached to Wrecker. He’s covered in bandages, and the eye is a lost cause, but he’s alive, and grinning up at Crosshair.

He’ll be okay.

“You’re awake,” says Crosshair in surprise. “They said you’d be out for hours.”

“You never can keep a good soldier down,” Wrecker says, coughing. “But I’m guessing this was a pretty bad one. You’re all in here. That’s never good.”

“It could be worse,” says Crosshair. “But not much worse. This was… close.” He reaches out, tucking Wrecker’s stuffed tooka doll more securely into the crook of his brother’s arm. It had been sitting at a funny angle. “Don’t do it again,” he says. “I mean it.”

“I’ll try, but you know me!”

“Yes, I do.”

They’re quiet for a moment, and Crosshair rests his hand on Wrecker’s shoulder, almost absently. The rise and fall of Wrecker’s shoulder with every breath is a welcome sensation. Breathe in, breathe out. It reassures him.

Wrecker pulls Lula closer with one bandaged arm. “Tell me something, Crosshair.”

“All right.”

“I… think I can only see out of one eye. Is that uh… is that permanent?”

No point in dragging it out. “That’s what the droid said. Sorry, Wrecker.”

Wrecker takes only a minute to digest something that would have destroyed Crosshair, had it happened to him. The man is indestructible, Crosshair has to grant him that. “But I can still fight?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes. They said you should be out of here in a few rotations.”

Wrecker leans back against his pillow with a sigh of relief. “All right then! Whew. We’ll just have to change things up, huh? You’ll watch my blind side?”

Crosshair squeezes his brother’s shoulder, and he feels Wrecker relax. Crosshair gives him a faint smile. “Obviously.”

The tremor is back, hand twisting in his lap. Crosshair closes it into an unsteady fist, grimacing. It shakes for several seconds, then stills again.

“Yes, I remember,” says Crosshair. “I said I’d watch your blind side.” He glances up and sees Wrecker staring at him. At his hand. He freezes.

“You wanna talk about it, Crosshair?”

He turns away, a muscle working in his throat. “No.”

“You wanna have AZI look at it?”

“No.”

Wrecker lets out a heavy huff through his mouth, leaning back in the sand. He shakes his head, scowling. “You always were stubborn.”

“It’s in my nature,” says Crosshair. One of their old jokes.

“Yeah, I know. Argh!”

They’re quiet again, the only sounds the water on the sand, Batcher’s steady snoring, seabirds on the wing.

Wrecker nudges Crosshair in the shoulder again. “Look. You know I got your blind side, too. That’s all I’m trying to say.”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak. There’s an ache in his chest that feels good, something he’d almost forgotten. It makes his eyes sting.

There’s a sudden flash of movement, and then he’s being crushed by a Wrecker classic, a massive crunching hug that his ribs struggle to move against. Crosshair lets out a choking sound, but his muscle memory remembers the only way to get it to stop: raising his hands to hug his brother back.

Wrecker lets him go and he sucks in a deep breath of air, hacking. Just like old times. “How touching,” he says, but he can feel the half smile on his face despite himself.

“Good talk,” says Wrecker, and winks at him. “Come on. Breakfast?” Batcher leaps up at the word, all sleep forgotten.

“We’ve already eaten,” Crosshair points out.

“You used half your fruit for target practice, and I’m hungry again. Talks are hard work! Come on.” Wrecker gets to his feet and reaches out a hand, beaming.

Crosshair sighs, and takes it.

#the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #wrecker tbb #crosshair tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #my batcher fic #star wars #season 3 spoilers #hahaha I came on here to post this fic and then got swept into the boop war #hopefully that doesn't affect people reading it lol

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itsclydebitches · 2 years

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How fucking funny would it be if post-reunion, after everyone has settled down on The Revenge and accepted their weird found family, Izzy still pulled out the “I’m resigning, Ed!” speech every few months, like a kid marching down the end of their driveway to “run away forever, I’m definitely leaving this time, Dad!” Because he’s a supremely repressed gremlin of a man who doesn’t know how to receive validation unless he’s made a dramatic production of it via this intricate ritual. So everyone just accepts that on occasion Izzy will throw a hissy fit, passive aggressively pack up the dinghy, and Ed’s gotta go down there all, “Nooo, mate, we totally need you, don’t leave, what the fuck am I gonna do without my fearsome First Mate?🙄” Really laying it on thick so Izzy can soak up enough Toxically Approved Praise to survive another couple of weeks. Meanwhile, the crew is just watching this sad production, exchanging knowing glances. They’ve TRIED to be nice to Izzy—the whole mutiny thing was so last year, dude!—but outside of The Ritual he will straight up bite off anyone’s head who so much as tries to smile at him.

“Oh, you think I’ve got a flight or bite response? Mr. Hands earned his last name for a reason, laddie,” Buttons says while staring pointedly at Lucius’ finger. That’s obviously bullshit, but Buttons likes fucking with them on occasion. It’s great fun.

Stede’s place in The Ritual varies depending on everyone’s mood. Usually, he treats it like another fuckery production, making a big ta-do about how if Izzy really insists on leaving them—and wouldn't that be terrible? Simply terrible... right, everyone?—then he must take plenty of supplies with him and a bottle of the good brandy and this warm coat because it can get quite chilly at night, don’t you know? This allows Izzy to fly into a very cathartic rage about real pirates vs. gentry twats, leading to him oh so magnanimously deciding to stick around, if only to continue saving Ed from this dithering fool. Sometimes though Izzy has legit pissed Stede off, just like in the old days, and the crew has to run damage control to keep another duel from starting, Izzy having entirely forgotten his desire to leave under the allure of skewering Stede. That too is cathartic, but Ed tends to get tetchy when Stede stabs or is stabbed by anyone other than him.

Every once in a while Izzy will dig his heels in and actually launch the dinghy, heading towards… nothing, because we’re nowhere near land, you idiot, are we really doing this today? So the crew has got to drop everything else they’ve got going on and just… follow him. Izzy spends a couple hours angrily trying to out-row a top of the line ship while the others watch from the deck, occasionally yelling out corrections to his form: “Keep your shoulders steady—you’ll get farther away if you improve your posture.” “I know that!” They let him wear himself out and then tow him in for dinner.

One time Lucius and Pete are ~distracted~ while on the night watch and Izzy is actually able to slip away unnoticed. He's so pissed about it that he leaves in a true huff, that anger taking him all the way to the Republic. Two days later Buttons gets a seagull from Spanish Jackie basically saying that their wayward First Mate is stinking up her bar, you’d better pick him up before I kill a bitch. Ed and Stede arrive like fussy dads whose darling sent the playdate into turmoil; come along, Israel, that’s enough fun for one weekend.

Sometimes Jim is already hiding in the dinghy when Izzy tries to “escape” and the two of them spend a day talking shit, The Revenge floating nearby. Sometimes other pirates will find Izzy in random places and sternly steer him back towards the ship: “Do your parents Captains know you’re out here?” Once Izzy made the mistake of loading his get-away bag with half the strawberries put aside for a new cake and Roach very nearly took a limb in vengeance. Frenchie has a couple tunes that he only plays during The Ritual, to set the mood and all. Lucius has immortalized a number of the attempts in sketch form and slips them underneath Izzy’s door when he’s sure he’s not there to retaliate.

Years later, when all the crew have a lot more gray in their hair, Izzy flips them off and starts packing his things, same old, same old. Ed sidles up to Pete on the quarterdeck, sighing down at the display.

“Can you believe he’s still doing this?” he asks, shaking his head. “I thought he got it out of his system back on the Queen Anne.”

“Remember that time the rope broke and he lost us that dinghy?”

“Ha! I was ready to flog the bastard.”

And that’s how the crew learns that yes, Black Pete really did serve under Blackbeard holy shit.

#OFMD #Our Flag Means Death #Izzy #Izzy Hands #OFMD Fic

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nottapossum · 3 months

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Ozzie the babysitter

Summary:Stolas has to attend some meeting with his father and leaves Blitzø with Asmodeus.Notes:Tw: Bratty behavior, diapers mentioned, biting, attempted scratching, hissing, feeling neglected, jealousy, hiding, feeling scared, and feeling overwhelmed. Lmk if I should add.Takes place sometime before father knows best? Idk lol.

Playdates have become a normal phenomenon for Blitzø and Fizz. The original plan was to visit every month or every other week. But lately they’ve been hanging out every week due to the littles begging their caregivers for a playdate.

Fizz tends to regress on Monday and Tuesday since he was exhausted from the weekend when he performs at Ozzie’s.

Blitzø used to regress on the weekend until they changed it to Sunday-Monday so he can play with Fizz.

Every Sunday Blitzø would ask Stolas when they were going to see Fizzarolli. Seeing Fizz is something he looked forward to every week.

Stolas loved to see how much Blitzø has improved; Going from being anxious about going to Asmodeus’s place, to being extremely excited about it and discussing almost nothing else.

Every week he’d ask: “When are we gonna see Fizz?”

And Stolas would simply answer: “Tomorrow.”

It was like clockwork.

But, Stolas had a meeting to attend this Monday, one that he couldn't miss.

With Blitzø’s regression, it was an adjustment in figuring out when Stolas had time to do his job; normally he could get it all done on Saturday before Blitzø came over, but there was no way to reschedule or miss this meeting. It was surely to be a bore and he'd much rather spend his time watching paint dry, but alas. He had this responsibility and needed to take it seriously.

Blitzø was happily playing with his horse figurines on the floor while Stolas was reading on the couch. It was rare when they got to have quiet moments like this, it was rather nice.

But the moment was over as quickly as it started when suddenly the little one crawled over to Stolas and peaked his head between the book and the owl: “When are we gonna see Fizz, Stolas?” Blitzø asks.

Full sentences; this must mean Blitzø is around 4 or 5 at the moment. This surprised Stolas since he's usually not so calm when he's this old, his calmer side is usually when he's really small.

Stolas set the book aside to pick up Blitzø and set him on his lap. “Well, I’m afraid we may not get to see Fizz this week, fireworm. I have some work to do tomorrow.” Stolas says.

“Aww! No fair! We can’t even see him for a little bit?” Blitzø asked.

“Well…I suppose we could. But we would need to leave by 3:00 and make sure you are big by then, otherwise I’ll have to get you a babysitter.”

Blitzø thinks about it. “A babysitter?”

“Yes, I could ask Asmodeus to watch you, or I could call Loona like last time. Does that sound okay?” Stolas asks.

“Yeah!” Blitzø says. “I just want to see Fizz!” He says.

“Then we will see Fizz tomorrow.” Stolas says.

“Ugh! Why is it always tomorrow?!” Blitzø complains.

Stolas chuckles and pets Blitzø's head. “Yes, I know it’s hard to wait, Spirit. But, tomorrow will be here before you know it.” He says.

“Mkay.” Blitzø says. “Can you play horses with me?” He asks.

“Of course, darling.” Stolas says. He completely abandons his book.

Spending time with Blitzø was far more interesting anyway.

~~~Tomorrow morning~~~

That morning Blitzø was big again, which was a relief to Stolas.

They said their good mornings and the two of them got themselves ready for the day.

Before Blitzø got dressed however, Stolas took his hand. “Wait, before you regress again, I want to ask you something.” Stolas says.

“Okay?” Blitzø stayed where he was. “What's up?”

Stolas gestured to the bed, so the two of them sat down. “Do you remember when I told you I have a meeting today at three?” Stolas asks.

Blitzø thinks about it, and he nods. “Yeah.”

“Good. I did suggest maybe letting Asmodeus watch you. But you have said before that you didn't want to be left with him.” Stolas explains. “I want to make sure I know how you feel about it before suggesting it again.”

“It’s fine.” Blitzø says, shrugging. “We're not friends exactly but I'm not uncomfortable with the idea.” Blitzø says. “He's…fine.”

“Are you saying that Blitzø Buckzo actually trusts someone?” Stolas teases him.

“I said I wasn't uncomfortable, it is not the same thing!” Blitzø says defensively. “It's only a couple hours at most right?”

“Right.”

“Then it's fine.” Blitzø says.

“So, Asmodeus could never be your caregiver?” Stolas asks.

Blitzø thought it was a weird question but he decided to answer. “Obviously not.”

“Because you don't trust him?” Stolas clarifies.

“Right.” Blitzø confirms.

“So, does that mean you trust me, Blitzy?” Stolas teased more.

Blitzø blushed and scoffed, pushing Stolas away for embarrassing him. “Shut up you fucking dinosaur.”

Stolas chuckles. “I'm only teasing, Darling.” He says.

Blitzø rolls his eyes, he actually doesn't mind Stolas teasing him though. But he'd never actually admit it.

“You sure you’ll be okay if Asmodeus has to watch you?” Stolas asks.

Blitzø nods. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. As long as it's okay with him, if he thinks he can handle it.”

“And if he can't?” Stolas asks.

“Call Loona?” Blitzø suggests. “She's been really good at pulling me out of my headspace lately.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me.” Stolas says happily. “Hey, how come I can't get you out of your headspace so easily?” He asks.

“Because you're my caregiver, when you watch me it makes my little self want to stick around.” Blitzø explains.

“Because you trust me!”~ Stolas teased, poking Blitzø's side.

“I will bite you!” Blitzø threatens.

Stolas hoots with laughter. “I'm sorry, you're just so fun to mess with.” Stolas says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Blitzø mumbles. “I’m still going to bite you.”

Stolas just laughs as Blitzø gets off the bed. “Without a doubt, you bratty little imp.” He teases, then boops the center of the imps face.

~~~Later:~~~

They show up at Ozzie's at 10:00 as always.

Fizz and Blitzø played in the playroom and Stolas and Ozzie conversed as usual.

When 3:00 was near, Blitzø and Fizz were deeply regressed. Fizz and Blitzø were both 3. (Apparently having Blitzø around has made Fizz more comfortable and he’s been regressing to younger ages recently. It’s amazing how littles work.)

“Asmodeus, I have somewhere very important to be at the moment. If Blitzø is okay with it, do you think you can watch him for a bit? A couple hours at the most?” Stolas asks. He wants to check with little Blitzø again, just in case.

Asmodeus nods. “Yeah, don’t worry about it, I can keep an eye on him.” He says.

“Are you sure? He can be a little…”

“No, Blitzø! No eats the table!” They hear Fizz jokingly yell as he laughs hysterically. “Nawww!!!”

“Spirited.” Stolas finished saying.

Asmodeus laughs. “Relax, Stolas. They’re only playing now, what could possibly go wrong?”

Stolas wonders. “Thank you, Asmodeus. If he’s any trouble, just give me a call and I will handle everything.”

“It'll be fine.” Ozzie says.

“If he’s being bratty or acts up, give him a warning first, but it’s alright if you have to put him in a time out for a few minutes. He loves chocolate milk with hot sauce in it, it’s a good reward or bribe if you need it, also he has everything he needs in my bag. Chew toys, snacks, videos, coloring books-“

“I know how to take care of littles, Stolas.” Asmodeus says annoyed. “I take care of Fizz 24/7 in case you forgot.”

“Ah, but you know how to take care of Fizz. Blitzø is different.” Stolas argues.

“Trust me, I know that, but I’ve observed you when taking care of him. Just relax, I promise I can handle the gremlin.” Asmodeus says.

Stolas nods. “Alright, just let me tell Blitzø what’s going on.” He says, walking over to the little imps.

Asmodeus nods. Then picks up his magazine again.

“Blitzy, can you come here, please?” Stolas asks him.

Blitzø stands up and walks over to Stolas. “I in trouble?” He asks.

Stolas smiles and shakes his head. “No, darling. Of course not. I just wanted to talk. Do you remember when I told you I had work to do at 3:00?”

Blitzø sticks two of his fingers in his mouth anxiously as he nods.

Stolas removes Blitzø's fingers from his mouth. “None of that, Blitzy. You'll get sick.” He clips a pacifier clip on Blitzø's shirt.

Blitzø whines. He just wants to go back to playing with Fizz! He looks away from Stolas and over to Fizz who was with Ozzie.

“Blitzø, listen please? You have some options. Asmodeus says it’s fine if I leave you here, but I can call Loona if you’d feel more comfortable with her.” Stolas says.

Blitzø shrugs. “Mkay.”

“You need to pick, Blitzy. Loona or Asmodeus?” Stolas asks.

“I want to stay here wif Fizz.” Blitzø says.

“So, you want to stay with Ozzie?” He asks clarifying.

Blitzø nods.

Stolas nods back. “Okay then. I want you on your best behavior then, alright? That means No biting, no bratting out, no climbing on things, no eating the furniture, no cursing, no throwing things, no throwing tantrums. I need you to listen to Asmodeus.”

“Mkay, Stowas.” Blitzø says.

“What did I say?” Stolas asks him.

“Be good an wisten to Ozzie.” Blitzø repeats.

“That’s my blitzy.” Stolas says, hugging the imp tightly and giving him a quick kiss. “I will miss you so much, darling. I know you’ll be very good for me.”

“Bye, Stowas.” Blitzø says.

“I'll be back soon, I promise.” Stolas says to Blitzø. He stands up and faces Asmodeus again. “Alright, I’ll be back as soon as possible, call me if there’s any problems at all.”

“Will do, Stolas.” Asmodeus says. “Have fun.”

“Not likely.” Stolas mumbles as he walks through a portal to his very boring destination.

~~~Later:~~~

Blitzø and Fizz were having fun and playing as usual, things were pretty calm and they were having a great time!

Blitzø missed Stolas and every now and then he would look at the door, hoping he'd be back soon! It was taking him forever to come back! But at least he had Fizz to keep him company until then…

But then…Fizzarolli regressed younger, now being only 2 years old.

He's never been that young before, so he really just wanted Ozzie to hold him and protect him. He was scared and didn't understand why it happened. He just cried into Asmodeus's shoulder.

“Shh, Fizzy. It's okay.” He whispered to the crying imp. “Everything's okay.” He gave Fizz a pacifier and rocked him back and forth slowly.

So, Ozzie took care of Fizz, he carried him everywhere and never left his side, while Blitzø was practically left alone to do nothing!

Blitzø was starting to get really bored…and then really lonely! He missed Stolas! He wanted Stolas to come back so he could have some attention!

Asmodeus was too busy taking care of Fizz to notice Blitzø at all. And Blitzø felt like he was invisible. The feeling was far too familiar to just ignore.

“Daddy?” Fizz whines. “M'sowy.” He says, crying and feeling guilty for being so little.

Blitzø rolls his eyes, two isn't even that little! At least he didn't have to wear diapers. Was Blitzø too little for Stolas to handle? Is that a thing?

“I love you so much, Fizz.” Asmodeus says. “No matter how little you are. You're never too little for me, baby.”

“Yeah?” Fizz asks.

“Of course. Besides, you're always such a good little. So well behaved, not bratty at all. You being a little younger just gives me an excuse to baby you some more.” Asmodeus teases, tickling little Fizz who giggles adorably.

Blitzø whines, where’s Stolas?! He should be here by now.

What if he left him for good? What if he was too much for him? What if Stolas is never ever coming back? What if he found a better little to take care of? One that wasn't too much work? Who was never bratty?

He probably did, that's why Stolas was gone, he doesn't want to come back…

Blitzø wanted to cry, but he didn’t want to upset Fizz or Asmodeus.

“Blitzø?”

Blitzø looks up at Ozzie who was holding Fizzarolli in his arms. “Are you doing okay, little one?”

Blitzø nods, he doesn’t know how to tell Ozzie that he felt alone. It wasn't Ozzie's problem.

He's just gonna have to figure this out by himself.

Asmodeus looked like he didn't fully believe him, but didn't know what else he could do. “Alright, if you need anything just let me know, okay?” He asks.

Blitzø nods, not taking the offer seriously as Asmodeus returns his attention back to Fizz.

Maybe a snack will help him feel better? Sometimes when he's upset Stolas will give him a cookie and it helps!

And since Stolas abandoned him and Asmodeus was too busy, he just walked into the kitchen and hopped on the counter to help himself to the cookie jar Ozzie had.

“Blitzø?” He must have made more noise than he thought because Asmodeus walked into the kitchen, still holding Fizzarolli in his arms. “What are you doing?” He asks.

Blitzø tried to get the jar opened, but it was impossible! He was so frustrated he didn't know what to do! But he was determined! He wasn't going to ask for help.

“Blitzø, get off the counter, please?” Asmodeus asks.

“No!” Blitzø answers, taking the jar and hitting it against the counter to try and open it.

Asmodeus took the jar, using magic to move it away from Blitzø's reach. “Blitzø, if you wanted a cookie, you could have just asked me. But since you decided to be a brat instead, you can forget it.” Asmodeus says.

Blitzø didn't want to talk to Ozzie! He wanted Stolas! Blitzø whines, it's so unfair! Why did Stolas leave him?

“Blitzø,” Asmodeus said in a low register as he approached the imp. “Stolas packed some snacks for you, how about you get down and we can see what he has?” He suggests.

“No!” Blitzø says.

“Blitzø…” Asmodeus warns.

Blitzø glared at Asmodeus and hissed at him loudly, attempting to scratch him with his hands.

“Blitzø, this behavior is not acceptable.” Asmodeus warns. “If this continues, you'll be getting a time out. And I know you don't want that.”

Blitzø growled as Ozzie who tried to reach for the imp to get him off the counter, the little one bit Asmodeus's hand hard.

“Son of a- Blitzø!” Asmodeus scolded loudly, he lost his concentration and the jar fell on the floor making a loud “CRASH” sound.

The loud noise startles little Fizz, and he starts crying hysterically against Asmodeus.

“Shh, Fizz. It's okay.” Asmodeus whispers to Fizzarolli to try and calm him down.

Blitzø hissed again and ran away fast on all fours, he was too fast for Ozzie to catch up, especially while also holding a distressed Fizz.

It was honestly for the best. Asmodeus didn't want to try and deal with Blitzø while feeling as riled up as he does. He didn't mean to scare Blitzø or yell at him like that, and he definitely doesn't want to mess up more by doing it again.

Stolas suddenly arrived back through the portal. “I'm back! How did it…go?” Stolas looked at Asmodeus who was holding a crying Fizz, the rooster had a look that clearly said it didn't go well. “Asmodeus, what happened?” Stolas asks.

“Blitzø was acting up.” Ozzie says. “He hissed at me after I told him he couldn’t have a cookie, then he bit me, ran off, and hid somewhere.” He explains.

Stolas sighs. “Oh. I am so very sorry, Asmodeus. I will talk to him. Do you know where he is?” Stolas asks.

Asmodeus awkwardly ran a hand through his feathers. “He ran upstairs, I was just about to look for him after I calmed Fizz down and cleaned this up.” Ozzie says, gesturing to the ceramic pieces on the floor that was once a jar.

Stolas nods. “I see, don't worry, Asmodeus. I will find him.” He says.

“Stolas?”

Stolas looks at Asmodeus.

“This was on me. I messed up big time. I yelled at him, didn't mean to, I just lost it, I thought I could handle this, but I-”

“I'm sure he's fine. Whatever happened, we'll figure it out.” Stolas promised.

Asmodeus nods, not seeming less guilty, but at least he was done trying to explain, so Stolas walks up the stairs to find Blitzø.

~~~Asmodeus and Fizz:~~~

“Daddy?” Fizzarolli asks.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Bitz?” Fizz asks.

“Blitzø will be okay, froggie. Stolas will take care of him.” Asmodeus promised.

“Loud.” Fizz complains.

“I know, baby. Daddy's sorry.” He says, rubbing Fizz's cheek.

Fizzarolli nods slowly then snuggles up with Asmodeus closer.

“How are you feeling?” Asmodeus asks.

“Mmgh, ‘ittle.” Fizz whines. “Too ‘itlle.”

Asmodeus kisses Fizz's head. “It'll be okay, froggie. Just relax. I won't let anything bad happen to you, I promise.”

Fizzarolli smiles. “Wov you.”

“I love you too, Fizzy.”

~~~Stolas and Blitzø:~~~

Stolas knew Blitzø pretty well, and his favorite places to hide were in closets, under beds, and in bathtubs.

Anywhere he can be cozy and feel safe, that’s where Blitzø had to be.

He searched six different rooms and he hadn’t found him yet. He could tell Blitzø didn’t want to be found, otherwise he’d pick the closest room…

Which means he’s either hurt or scared.

It took searching a few more rooms until he finally found Blitzø in a closet as expected, hidden under a blanket he had found.

“Blitzø…” Stolas crosses his arms.

“Stowes!” Blitzø shouted, happy to see Stolas was back at last!

“Blitzy. What did you do?” Stolas asks sternly, ready to scold and lecture the little one.

Blitzø dries his tears when he sees Stolas, the imp was quite obviously upset about something.

Stolas uncrosses his arms and looks at the imp with concern. “Blitzy-“

Blitzø climbs up Stolas, and hugs his neck tightly.

Stolas supports the young one. “What is it, Blitzy? What’s wrong?” He asks.

“Wan’ ed’ up.” Blitzø says.

Stolas can’t help it, a chuckle escapes him. “I can see that, darling. But why is Asmodeus saying you acted up today? What happened?”

Blitzø saddens more. “You wef me.” He mumbles.

Stolas smiles sympathetically. “Darling, I told you I’d come back. You knew I wasn’t going away forever. I need you to tell me what happened with Asmodeus.”

“I bi’ed hims.” Blitzø mumbles.

“You bit him.” Stolas nods. “Why did you bite him? We’ve discussed this countless times, Blitzy. You know biting is never okay. I told you very specifically not to bite Ozzie today. Didn't I?” He asks.

Blitzø tears up and nuzzled into Stolas’s feathers.. “Bu’ Fizz..”

“Fizz?” Stolas asks.

“Ozzie wovs Fizz, you wov Fizz.” Blitzø starts to say, tears start pouring out of him suddenly.

Stolas tilts his head, what could he possibly mean by that?

“He da cute one, he da be’ah one den me!” He says.

“No, Blitzy. He is not better than you are, do you understand me?” Stolas asks.

Blitzø shakes his head. “No, you wike Fizz.” Blitzø argues.

“I do like Fizzarolli.” Stolas admits. “But I adore you! You’re one of my most favorite people in the whole world, darling. Don't you know that?”

“No.” Blitzø says.

“Well, Blitzy. You are. You’re my special little one and I love you so much.” He says.

“No wov.” Blitzø whines. “No fo’ me.”

“Why do you say that, Blitzø?” Stolas asks.

“Da’ee saids. Fizz the best one. He wiked Fizz bet’ah, I twy, bu’ I no good, he da good one only!”

“Well, I don’t care what your father thinks, said, or did. Because I think you’re amazing just the way you are.” Stolas says.

“Why?” Blitzø asks.

“Well, because you are. You’re funny, adorable, you’re very clever, talented, so strong, you’re sweet when you want to be, and you care the most even whilst pretending you don’t care at all.” Stolas says. “I’ve seen the best parts of you, darling. And I adore who you are.”

“Bu’ Fizz do’s fips an…he good when I da bwat.”

“Fizz is Fizz. I don’t wish for you to behave like him. Be Blitzø only, I need you.” Stolas says, cupping his face gently in his hands. “I don’t want two Fizzarolli’s, I want my Blitzy. I need him.”

“Bu’ I bwat. Ozzie saids.” Blitzø says.

“Asmodeus said that?” Stolas asks.

Blitzø nods, as tears continue falling down his face. “You fink so too.”

Stolas held Blitzø close to his chest and rubbed the back of the Imp’s head. “Listen, I don’t care if you are a brat sometimes, My Spirit. You’re only expressing yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Stolas says. “If you need an outlet, being a little bratty or needy is okay with me. I can handle it…and frankly I find it rather adorable.” Stolas smiles.

“Re’lly?” Blitzø asked.

Stolas nods. “Yup. You’re my itty bitty Blitzy.” Stolas' baby talks to him. “And nothing will ever change that.”

Blitzø hugs Stolas tight and starts to dry his tears, he’s never been told something like that before.

“But-“

Blitzø whines, he knew what was coming…

“I won’t tolerate you biting Asmodeus, Blitzy. I know you were upset, but that’s not how we handle our big feelings, is it?”

Blitzø shakes his head.

“How do we handle them, Blitzy?”

“Taught’ dem ou’, ow’ ea’ ice cream.” Blitzø says.

‘Talk them out, or eat ice cream. That sounds reasonable.’ Stolas thought. “That’s right, darling. You’re going to sit in time out for a couple minutes, then you’ll apologize to Asmodeus, okay?”

Blitzø whines again and starts rubbing his eyes. He doesn’t want a time out! He’s not bad, he’s good! Stolas said so!

“None of that, you know biting hurts people, why did you bite him?”

Blitzø shrugs.

“Blitzø…”

“I wa’ mads, he wif Fizz an’ you was gone.”

“Were you feeling lonely?” Stolas asks.

Blitzø nods. “I wan��ed to be cluded, bu’ day’ was too busy fo me. So I goted a cookie.”

Stolas nods, understanding Blitzø’s reasoning.

“Den’ Ozzie says no, so’s I gots mads and bited him.” Blitzø finished explaining.

Stolas nods. “I see.”

Blitzø starts crying again. “I didn’ mean ta’ ba’, Stowes. I jus’ wan’ a’ cluded.”

Stolas nods. “I understand, Blitzø. But, you still need to understand that biting is not the solution. If it’s hard to talk, there are other ways to communicate.”

“How?” Blitzø asks.

“Well, we’re currently learning sign language.” Stolas says. “Fizzarolli knows sign language and he can normally help you. But I suppose that’ll take some more time to learn, hm? How about we make you some cards? You can hold them up and tell people exactly what you want without needing to speak?”

“Yeah!” Blitzø agrees.

“Then we’ll make them as soon as we get home.”

“Stowes?” Blitzø asks.

“Yes, darling?”

“I sowy I bite.” Blitzø says.

“I know, dear. It’s alright. Just remember to tell Asmodeus that.”

“Do I has to time out?” Blitzø asks.

Stolas thinks about it for a moment and nods. “Yes, I’m afraid so. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll sit with you and we can have a quiet time out together to think this over, okay?”

Blitzø nods. “Mtay.”

Stolas walked over to the bed and sat with Blitzø for a few minutes.

“Stowes?” Blitzø asks.

“Yes, darling?”

“Wha’ ifs, you fin’ed da goodest wittle who cute an’ bedda’ den me?” Blitzø asks.

“Well, that’s impossible, Blitzy. No one is gooder, better, or cuter than you.”

“Wha’ bout Fizz?” Blitzø asks.

“Fizz is the best for his caregiver, but you’re the best for me. Does that make sense?”

Blitzø nods.

Stolas kisses Blitzø’s head. “Good. I want you to understand that I love every part of you. Brat and all. I never meant to hurt your feelings with my words.”

“It otay.” Blitzø says, snuggling up to Stolas more. “Jus’ don’ ‘eave me.” He says.

“Never.” Stolas promises.

They were quiet for a few minutes, just calming down from everything that happened today.

Stolas would have to discuss some things with Asmodeus if he ever wanted to watch Blitzø again. He hopes Asmodeus won't think of Blitzø differently because of this one day…they were doing so well!

Well, if he did, Stolas would just be careful and do whatever he could to keep his little one safe. He didn't really care what Asmodeus thought.

Well…yes, he does actually. But Blitzø was his priority, not Asmodeus.

~~~Stolas and Asmodeus:~~~

Blitzø fell asleep in Stolas’s arms almost instantly, their conversation must have taken a lot out of him.

Stolas felt it would be a good idea to go talk to Asmodeus now before Blitzø woke up. He laid Blitzø down on the bed and quietly snuck out of the room.

Stolas walked downstairs and saw Fizzarolli asleep as well, being cradled by Asmodeus.

“Is he alright?” Asmodeus asks, sounding concerned.

Stolas nods. “Yes, He's fine. There's nothing to worry about. But..I think we should talk about what happened.”

Asmodeus nods. “Yeah, just let me put him in the nursery real quick first.”

Stolas nods.

Asmodeus left to put Fizz down in his crib, kissed his head gently, then he returned to discuss the issue.

“Blitzø was feeling a bit left out while I was gone, he felt abandoned. His actions had absolutely nothing to do with you.” Stolas explains.

Asmodeus sighs. “Of course that was the problem. I should have known, I was way too focused on Fizz that I completely neglected Blitzø.” He says. “Fizz regressed way younger than he normally does, he was really upset and I was trying to keep him calm.” Asmodeus explains.

“That does make sense.” Stolas says. “Poor Fizz.”

“Look, I understand if you're upset with me.” Asmodeus says.

“Asmodeus, I'm not upset, this was your first time watching Blitzø. I did not expect this to be easy. Do you have any idea how many people Blitzø has bitten?” Stolas asks.

Asmodeus shakes his head.

“Everyone he's ever interacted with while little. This is just how he is. Welcome to the reality of being Blitzø's friend.” Stolas laughs.

Asmodeus sighs. “I'm still responsible though.”

“No, not completely. Something I said earlier was also bothering him. He also has abandonment issues and was worried I may not come back. He was acting the way he was because he needed an outlet, it had very little to do with you. Of course I understand if you'd be uncomfortable watching him again.” Stolas says.

“I don’t feel uncomfortable, today was just chaos.” Asmodeus explains. “I never anticipated any of this would happen. Blitzø was just caught in the middle of it all. Besides, He didn't know that I don't let Fizzarolli on the counters when he's little, and I didn't know how to handle Blitzø or talk to him about any of this. It's a work in progress.”

Stolas hummed. “Perhaps there is something we can do. What if we sat down with Blitzø and Fizz to discuss rules and guidelines specifically for here?” He suggests. “That way Blitzø and Fizz know what's expected, and we have a better understanding of each other’s rules as well.” Stolas explains.

“That's not a bad idea.” Asmodeus says. “It may be better to wait until they're big again though.” Asmodeus says.

Stolas agrees.

~~~Later: Everyone~~~

Blitzø woke up feeling a lot better emotionally and physically…but he did feel bad about how he acted towards Asmodeus.

He got himself off the bed and slowly walked into the hallway. Then he crawls over to the staircase, waiting at the top, wondering if he should attempt to climb down on his own.

Suddenly the owl himself spots him at the bottom of the steps. “Blitzø, I was just about to check on you.” Stolas says, walking up the stairs and picking up Blitzø “How are you feeling?” He asks.

Blitzø buries his head into Stolas's neck and shrugs.

“Mm, feeling nervous?” Stolas asks, walking back downstairs with the imp in his arms.

Blitzø nods.

“It will be alright, I promise Asmodeus isn't angry with you.” Stolas says.

Blitzø looks up at him. “No?”

“No, he does feel bad though, so I think you should still apologize.” Stolas says.

“Mtay.” Blitzø agrees.

Stolas walks into the living room with Blitzø where Asmodeus was reading. “Ozzie, Blitzø has something he wants to say.” Stolas sits down and sets Blitzø on his lap.

“What is it, little one?” Asmodeus asks as kindly as he can in hope to ease Blitzø's nerves.

“M’sowy m’ bad, Ozzie.” Blitzø says.

“Oh. Well, it's alright, lightning bug. I know you were just having a bad day. I'm sorry I made you feel bad for that, you're a great little, Blitzø. I just didn't know what to do and I made the wrong choice.” Asmodeus says. “I'm sorry for yelling at you.”

“S'otay.” Blitzø says.

“You really are very good, Blitzø.” Asmodeus says.

“You are, and so adorable.” Stolas agrees.

Blitzø hides himself in Stolas's neck again, causing the owl to hoot in emusent.

Asmodeus chuckles, then leaves to go get Fizz.

“Good job, darling.” Stolas says to Blitzø.

Blitzø smiles at Stolas and hugs him for a bit.

After Fizzarolli was awake again, Asmodeus asks: “Well, what shall we do now?”

“How about we all play a game together? That could be fun.” Stolas suggests.

Asmodeus and Blitzø agree. And though Fizz was too little to really play the game, he sat with Ozzie and watched with childish glee.

Blitzø explained what was happening in the game to Fizz and even helped instruct him on what he should do in ways that were very easy for him to understand.

Stolas and Asmodeus smiled at each other.

They had some things to work out but…

Everything was gonna be okay in their little family.

Notes:Hope you all liked this one-shot! I've been writing this one since the beginning of FKB so I'm relieved to have it complete lol 😅Lmk what you think, I'd appreciate it!

Taglist: @todayimfour

#itty bitty imps #helluva boss age regression #helluva boss agere #little!blitzo #little!fizzarolli #Cg!Asmodeus #Cg!ozzie #Cg!Stolas

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siremasterlawrence · 3 months

Text

The Detoxification Of Bros

Friendship is boundless even though you are sharing a building, a company and the wind fall of finances because they are CO-CEOS of Bro Codes.Thomas Alex is the one who hired me when the company Bro Codes was established is about to fire me for not meeting his goals and that is simply never going to happen.

He closes the door, taking my hand in him as I smirk an and shake his hand tightly with a smile to his annoyance and curiosity but before he could react.I turn to two side I press the side of both of my cheeks causing my eyes to spiral out of control and activating my contacts as they glow red.

Tom catches my eyes he gets scared start to back up as I follow him carefully to his ass and then his back hit the desk behind him. His fear is heightened at the sight of my red eyes meeting his, our eyes connecting on an instant interface I begin to maneuver setting up a new code and login process.

He stops cold his mouth drops to its edge, his lips drip of spit down trickling down his neck and soon enough his eye look wide and in awe. As if he is a deer in headlights I begin my little journey with a massive amount of solo time with him and press my hands on to his chest.

They slide down leaving utterly in disbelief at how perfect his body is, I cannot hold my life back and starts to strip him naked for my many purposes. I reach for a chair quickly picking it up place it in front of him, happily I continue to smirk in love and my lust overflowing my cup of pure ecstasy.

Closing my eyes I begin to pulse a bit with little effort his senses go through the roof as he pumps up and I can sense his blood flow rise. In my sense both our energies are at an all time highs sending shills down my spine in to the air and all of it is ripping through my veins.

I feel the chair dropping from under me as k free fall in to his mind empty pit of darkness encircling meet and my feet hit the ground of his subconscious. My mind takes root burying so deep in to him any self defenses are easily override due to my power and I begin to formulate a plan.

I decide to go for a stroll walking down a long overdrawn corridor catching up with his reflection stuck inside a old fashion television set in black and white. “What? Why am I here? Who are you? Let me out at once.” He shouts banging on the hard glass and getting more intense by the second it to is really embarrassing.

“Submit to me completely! I have infected you boss with a simple mental connection way beyond your understanding so don’t even bother to comprehend.” I say kneeling to face the screen to push fiercely intent to him because I am in control of his life for all of eternity and simply put his nerves purely go red.

Charlie is never happy at the sound of his cell ringing in the morning while going over his to do for the day and he angrily picks up the phone. “What the hell do you want?” He howls. “Shut The Fuck Up!” A voice barrels back at him then the television flips on with a huge screen as I appear on it and he my eyes see in to his as we connect deeply in to his the nerves go on fire.

“Charlie you are such a burden”

“I am a burden”

“You need to release”

“Let go of the stress and worry “

“You are not a man”

“Your bitch a pussy”

“I am pussy “

“Mwahahahahaha “

“I am your boss “

“Like Tom your serve me”

“Take a dive “

“Relinquish control”

“Be a pussy”

“Yes a pussy”

“Some men are made to kneel”

“Nothing about you is of importance “

“Strong guys like you can be improved “

Ben always works from home since about ten years ago with no interaction with us he runs his day to day and expect us to have no issues with him or the job in a seamless fashion because he demands us to be it.I commanded all two guys to drive me to the blue yeah Ben and Ian share with each other and they do so sneaking me in to the gigantic mansion by way of the back door for me.

Unfortunately! Of course neither is home at the moment leaving me time to set up all my plans. It is exactly one o’clock precisely the specials Ben strolls in to his home and race up the staircase to his bathroom and he has no idea.He pops the cabinet to find a strange pair of contacts in his eyes, in him he questions it all why because they must be his and he just forgot about it picking them up in a half hearted attempt.

The jackass slips the box to reveal to small contact lenses, turning them over he begins to undo the packages and placing them in his eyes and he goes blank unaware of the door shutting after him. “Sorry buddy I am assuming absolute control of this body as of this second. You have no way of even beginning to accept or understand a word am saying not that it really matters at this point.

“You are entrapped be me Ben”

“You love my scent “

“Obsessed with my body “

“My mind”

“My life is all you care about “

“Your life is mine”

“No escape”

“No worry”

“No desire”

“Serving me is everything “

“To you I am god “

“To you I am life “

“I breath life in to you “

“You exist for me”

“You love me”

“I love you “

“Admit it”

“Yes! Master Lawrence !”

Ian is the last of the four CEO titans about to meet his new maker, I slip behind him as he walks in to the bathroom closing the door and then steps up and in unzips his pants prepped to urinate. I dig in to my bag as I am in step with him a wet rag in my hand, placing it on his mouth holding him tight as he struggles to fight me and yank him back as his eyes flutter close and submit to me.

I back up letting him fall backwards on to the ground, sitting next to him i place ear pods in to his ears and then rip his eyes open wide and put the contacts in to his eyes. My finger swings back to the side then they connect snapping in time the sound rings resonating deep in him. His eyes pop awake sitting he stares ahead blankly awaiting all the orders I shall command of her.

He rose to his feet standing tall across from me his eyes are darted grossly crossing a bit sometimes and he freaks out punching him with a gut and I kiss his cheeks telling him to move forward. I shove him forward letting my hand slips in to his pants, let’s begin by undoing his belt and bending him over, his underpants fall while my hand swaps his butt cheeks swap aside and my hand starts to fist.

“Ian you are the last of these toxicity”

“Command…prompt…start”

“Shut eyes”

“Contacts upload”

“Bbbbuuuuzzzz”

“Perfect we are sinking “

“Yes Master”

“You thought you were a god”

“A man among men”

“You are just a pussy”

“A simple bitch”

“A nobody “

“Kneel “

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Too easy”

the end

#tom hardy #charlie hunnam #ben affleck #ian bohen #best friends #Co-CEOS #Minds eye #hypnosis #mind control #reprogramming #hypno slave #hypno submission #mind control slaves #The Detoxification

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petalouda85 · 1 month

Text

Forever (in my Mind)

Fandom: Blades of Light and Shadow 2

Pairings: Tyril x f!human!MC (Kassandra)

Word count: 3.1k

Concept: the follow-up to Promise. TW: character death

Tags: @liviusofpella, @megas-choices, @starlight-starfury, @dutifullynuttywitch, @thosehallowedhalls, @choicesficwriterscreations

AO3 link: x

A/N: this was… an emotional rollercoaster. The amount of times I cried is unreal; this was harder and more heartbreaking to write than Promise despite an arguably happier ending. I swear, this is going to be the last sad fic I’ll write in a while. The song in this fic: “Forever (in my Mind)” by Malinda. Another song that played a large role in this fic: “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” from Hamilton.

When Tyril had asked for a doctor, Adrina knew the time had come.

The last year had been a slow and steady decline for him; he began the year standing upright but was soon reliant on a cane, his movement still getting slower by the day despite his restrained use of the Light. A few days ago, he’d retreated to his chambers and asked to be left alone so he could rest, abandoning his gilded cane for the comfort of his bed. But after days of rest, his energy never returned. He’d stubbornly denied requests for a doctor but after some pleading and no improvement, he’d finally asked for one.

The doctor had come quickly and shut the door behind him, leaving Adrina to pace in the hall, her daughter keeping her company. No words were exchanged between the two. They knew the end was near, but Adrina’s heart sank at the mere thought that her beloved brother was nearing that end.

After a long and painful wait, the door opened, and she immediately ran to the doctor as he exited the room. He simply looked at her and shook his head.

“There’s nothing more I can do. Best we can do is make him comfortable.” Her face broke only for a moment before she regained her composure, Lady Starfury speaking as she addressed the doctor.

“Thank you.” The elf bowed and left, Adrina and her daughter rushing into the room.

Her brother had always been a driven man. Serious and driven. Nothing could stop him the moment he set his mind to something. Every setback, once mourned, only served to spur him onward, a hunter slowly and steadily pursuing prey.

She had only ever seen him stagnate once, after the battle against the Ash Empress. But his grief, his promise had pushed him forward. Always forward.

Life threw much at him, but he continued, visiting libraries, traveling to the far reaches of Morella and beyond, coming back to Undermount with stories and scars. During his short intermittent stays in Undermount, he could often be found in his study, writing feverishly into thick book after thick book, writing like he was running out of time.

He kept going, even when everything he cared for began to disappear. His friends had been gone for a long time. Imtura went first, the sea reclaiming its warrior. Mal followed not long after; the shadow desired to claim him once more but he breathed his last in the light. Nia had held on for much longer, her work never done, but she too eventually returned to the Light. And Kade read his last book a decade later.

Tyril had kept going through it all, his unrelenting drive pushing him forward. Spurred by his grief, his promise or perhaps a death wish, Adrina did not know but now, 200 years later, he lay fragile in bed, a face and body worn down by quests and time.

Slowly, she approached the bed, sitting down in the chair that had been placed next to it as her daughter remained by the door, too overcome with emotion to approach. The siblings didn’t say anything to each other for some time, the atmosphere heavy enough to choke down all words. Slowly, Tyril reached for the side table and grabbed a thick piece of folded paper, sealed with wax.

“My will. It has instructions and my final wishes.” He said softly, holding the paper out. Slowly, Adrina took it, holding it tightly in her hand. “I’ve ensured that the funds for the orphanage will continue. Can you make sure they’re used properly? I do not wish the children to suffer because of greed. I want them to have a good life, even when I’m gone.” She nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I’ll make sure of it. They’ll want for nothing.” Briefly, he managed to smile, before letting out a long, exhausted breath, the silence permeating the room.

“200 years…” he muttered after some time, “it’s not enough. There’s so much I could still do.” He took a shallow breath, a tear escaping his eye. “But I’m so tired, Adrina.” Another tear rolled down her cheek and she reached for his hand; it felt cold in hers.

“Then sleep, Tyril.” She managed a weak smile despite the tears in her eyes. “You’ve pushed for so long, done so much. You kept your promise. It’s okay to rest now.”

“But you, Amara…”

“We’ll be fine.” Adrina beckoned her daughter closer, the young elf struggling to hold back her tears.

“Uncle.” He smiled lightly at her voice.

“Amara.” The young elf approached, settling herself next to her mother, the old elf turning to look at her. He simply stared at her before whispering, “the chest.” He pointed towards a small chest that stood unassumingly at the foot of the bed. Amara nodded and brought it closer. “Open it.” She did and pulled out one of several thick, leather-bound books, tied shut.

Carefully, she untied the leather laces and opened the thick tome, opening to a page showcasing a masterfully illustrated image of Tyril and his friends at the Ancestral Masquerade, facing Duchess Xenia, the page next to it filled with words. As the book fell fully open, magic beamed in the brush strokes and the image began to move slightly, bringing the painting further to life. “My adventures… my friends’ adventures, it’s all written in these books. Kade and I… we wanted the truth preserved somewhere before we were relegated to the myths we once chased. He helped me compile much of it and I kept going when he couldn’t anymore.” Adrina couldn’t help but stare at the pages in awe.

“This is incredible. We’ll keep them safe, brother.” She assured. Amara tried to shut the book, but Tyril stopped her. He stared at the image, a bittersweet tear running down his cheek. He continued staring, running his fingers tenderly over the painted images of his friends. When he eventually pulled his hand away, Amara shut the book and placed it back into the safe confines of the chest.

They fell silent, the seconds ticking by slowly, Adrina’s keen eyes watching her brother as he continued to fade, his eyes partially shut, wishing to sleep but a part of him still stubbornly hanging on.

She could hear him mumbling but it was hard to make out what he was saying. She leaned closer, her heart twisting when she heard that it was a name.

“Kassandra.” He muttered breathlessly. A tear rolled down her cheek, as she recalled something he told her a few years back, in one of the few conversations he ever mentioned her.

You want to know the horrible truth? I barely remember what she looked like. She was the only one I ever wanted. She was taken from me, and 200 years of living couldn’t fill the hole she left behind.

“Kassandra.” He muttered again. Adrina leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Go be with her, brother.” She whispered, her voice shaking. “Go fill the hole in your heart. We’ll be alright.” Briefly, she spied a smile on his face before a weak puff of air escaped his lips, his chest going still and his hand loosening under hers.

—

When Tyril opened his eyes, he was no longer in his bed. Rather, he stood next it. It was a strange sensation to see his own aged body still lying in it, his sister and niece weeping over it. He looked and examined his ghostly hands, finding them to be in a state of youth again. Examining his hair had similar results - gone were the grays and whites, the strands returned to their youthful black.

Carefully, he moved around the bed and tried to place his hand on Amara’s shoulder, only for it to go through her, his niece not reacting to his attempted touch. He felt a stab in his chest, but he shed no tears as it confirmed what he knew to be true.

He was dead.

He took a moment to mourn with them, though they mourned different things. As he knelt with his sister and niece, he tried to recall the final moments. His recollection had been hazy, his vision and mind unclear as he teetered between the realm of the living and the dead.

If he’d recalled correctly, a specter had come to him only moments before the darkness came. He focused on that vague memory, trying to push past the fog.

It had begun as a mysterious shape, no rhyme or reason in his failing eyes. It had eventually morphed into something, the shape becoming less and less transparent the longer it hovered above him. It had smiled at him as the shape became even clearer.

A woman. Human, dark skinned, dark braided hair, and brown eyes.

He had whispered her name and she had kissed his forehead.

Find me on the mountain.

“Mountain.” He whispered, looking above him, piercing his gaze beyond the limits of the ceiling.

He headed for the door, stopping in the frame to glance once more at his family. A tear rolled out as he looked; how he would miss them.

He wandered down the hallway in his ghostly form, servants unintentionally passing through him, whispering the news of his death among themselves; no doubt the rest of Undermount would know within the hour.

He continued to wander the halls, struck by a desire to see every nook and cranny of the vast estate before he would eventually say goodbye to it. He wandered through the library, the kitchen, the dining hall, even the servants’ quarters, trying to memorize every detail. Eventually, he found himself in the wide expanse of the ballroom, the curtains drawn but the magical orbs floating above providing just enough light to prevent total darkness in the room.

Many an evening he had spent here, helping his sister host masquerades. He’d been glad for the masks, if only to hide how much he didn’t want to be there. He mingled and chatted as expected but rarely danced, his sister and niece being the only dance partners he could bear to have; it was impossible to dance with the one he truly wished to.

The thought of her brought back the memory of the specter and the words she had whispered before the end.

“Find me on the mountain.” He whispered to himself once more, his sight falling onto a staircase, it hidden away in the far reaches of the room and partially hidden in the shadows. He knew it led up to the outside. He made his way to them, freezing when he heard a sound in the stairwell. It echoed yet it was beautiful, a gentle voice singing words he was too far away to understand. There was a pang of emotion when he listened more carefully, stepping further into the stairwell. The words he still couldn’t make out, even with his keen elven senses, but for a moment, the voice sounded familiar, dredging up painful memories of a time long ago.

In a burst, he began running up the stairs, two steps at a time, the words of the song becoming clearer as he climbed higher and higher, forcing tears down.

Like the moon, you pull me closer

Bathe my body in your lavender skies

Like a sound, you slip away

Leave a shadow of a day gone by

And I’ll love you forever in my mind.

And I’ll love you until the day I die.

He burst out of the stairwell onto the mountainside, quickly looking at his surroundings, trying to deduce the direction of the voice. The echoes of the words were carried in the breeze, guiding him in the right direction. He ran in pursuit but came to an abrupt stop when he noticed a ghostly figure ahead, standing near the edge of a sheer drop off the mountain, facing the sun. Her back was turned to him, but his stomach twisted in knots when he recognized her, disbelief and doubt overwhelming him.

And I’ll love you forever in my mind.

And I’ll love you until the day I die.

She sang softly, the wind carrying the melody of her voice to him. Slowly, she turned to face him.

It was her.

Tyril stood still as a statue, staring, emotion choking him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He tried to take a step forward, but his legs collapsed under him, his tears finally breaking past the dam of his own control. In seconds, he felt a touch and soon he was enveloped in an embrace, the touch of her hands a sensation he had forgotten long ago. He grasped onto her tightly, burying his face in her neck, weeping louder when he breathed in her scent, another thing he’d forgotten.

“You’re here.” Tyril said softly, his voice shaking. He felt her tighten her grip on him.

“I never left.” Kassandra responded, her voice shaking too. They held onto each other tightly, neither wishing to let go. Eventually, Tyril pulled away, desperate to see her face.

She looked exactly as he remembered. Still as beautiful and radiant as the day she was taken from him. He reached up to cup her face, his hand faltering for a moment. He choked back a sob when his hands didn’t go through her and immediately planted kiss after kiss on her lips, the taste so sweet but salty too. He kept planting more kisses, as if intent to give her every kiss he’d wished to give her over the last two centuries.

Far too soon, he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

“I missed you. So much. You have no idea…” The words were lost in his throat, drowned by another sob. “I kept my promise.”

“And you have no idea how thankful I am that you did.” She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands, brushing away his tears. “A man like you, wasting his life on tears, unable to dig himself out of the pits of grief, surviving but not living. What a tragedy that would’ve been.” Gently, he took her hands and held them tenderly, staring at them as more tears appeared. He lifted them and placed a kiss on each of her hands.

“It was not easy.” He admitted, his voice trembling. “Living a life with a fractured heart wears down even the most resolute of men. 200 years and somehow, I feel as though I’ve not done enough to live by my promise and your wish.” She smiled at him through her own tears and squeezed his hands.

“You did everything I asked and so much more. You’ve lived not only by my wish but by the wishes of our friends. Mal was so grateful for what you’ve done for the orphanage.”

“Mal? The others? They’re here?” He looked around them, seeing only the wide empty breadth of the mountainside.

“They’re in Elhalas.” Anger suddenly bubbled in him, already thinking of a few choice words for the gods.

“Did they deny you entry?” She quickly shook her head.

“I refused to enter Elhalas without you. I told the gods to go screw themselves and came back here, to wait for you.”

“You waited for me?” He asked in a small voice.

“I’d wait an eternity for you.” She leaned forward and gave him another kiss. “It hurt to wait so long, just watching and unable to touch you or help you. Years of the sweetest words you couldn’t hear. But the wait is over now. Now, we have an eternity.” Gently, she pulled away and rose to her feet, taking a few steps. She looked over the expanse of the mountainside, taking in the details. After a moment, she turned around and walked back to him, holding out her hand. “You ready?”

With a soft smile, he reached out and took her hand. Once standing, he intertwined his fingers with hers.

“Yes.” She lifted her hand and moved it in a familiar motion, a portal of ethereal light appearing before them. “Show off.” Kassandra chuckled and moved through the portal, pulling him through too.

In an instance, the mountain had disappeared. Instead, before them, was an open field, wide and expansive, the otherworldly beauty nearly causing a tear to roll down his cheek. A glistening city stood in the distance, the structures and the stones they were made of unlike anything he’d ever seen, even in the hall of visions in Undermount. It put the vast beauty of Valen to shame. A gentle wind blew around them, the air carrying with it a potent and divine energy.

“Welcome to Elhalas.”

“It’s beautiful.” He looked over the area once more, finding it hard to take in all the magnificence. His gaze fell to a hill in the distance, a single, stunning oak tree resting at the top. The leaves and branches swayed gently with the breeze when he noticed some figures sitting and standing around the trunk, the shade and the distance hiding their identities.

He could see four figures. Three seemed to be of similar stature, two seated by the trunk and the third leaning against it. The fourth was seated on the grass nearby. The leaning figure moved away from the trunk and moved to the one sitting in the grass; within in a moment, the standing figure dashed around the trunk, the sitting figure jumping up to give chase, revealing a much larger stature. As they came around the trunk, the hulking figure grabbed and tripped their assailant, Tyril seeing rather than hearing the laughter of the others as they tumbled to the grass, a wrestling match ensuing. He continued to watch them, his stomach churning with a whirlwind of emotions he found difficult to decipher.

Kassandra squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Come on.” He let her gently pull him along, moving closer towards the hill. As they began to walk up, the figures became so much clearer, and he choked back a gasp.

Kade and Nia sitting by the tree, Kade playing a gentle tune on his lute as Nia tapped her hand and seemed to hum along to the song. Nearby, their typical childish wrestling match over, were Imtura and Mal, also listening to the songs played.

Nia saw him first.

The priestess stood up as they made eye contact, the others following her gaze and standing up too as he and Kassandra reached the top of the hill. All stood frozen for some time, only staring as countless emotions and thoughts swirled between them all. Then, with a sob, Nia ran to him and embraced him tightly, Tyril’s own tears flowing once more as he embraced her back. Quickly, more arms embraced him, and more sniffles joined.

“Took your damn time.” Imtura scolded, making the elf and the others chuckle. He embraced his friends tighter, feeling the last heavy weights that lingered in his heart finally lift, leaving behind a sense of peace.

“My apologies. I had a promise to keep.”

#tyril starfury #tyril x mc #adrina starfury #tyril x kassandra #my writing #blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow 2 #bolas 2 #playchoices

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