#thinking about how he risked it all early on to send his brother a message not to give up. that they'll save him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

another-lost-mc · 4 months

Note

Okay but what if, before MC is taken to the future by nightbringer, they had a big fight with the brothers?

Like, they fought about something and said something along the lines 'go away' ' I don't want to see you', but then, when you don't return they start feeling guilty.

At first they'll think you're angry and don't want to talk with them, but when time passes and you don't return they start to get so worried, looking everywhere for you, regretting that the, possibly, last words they said to you were harsh confrontation.

The angst potential 😭😭 how do you think each of the bros would react?

😈🍬 anon

a/n: well, nightbringer sure is a blessing for angst fans.

the worst goodbye | the demon brothers

2.8k words | gn!reader | sfw | angst

cw: mentions of lesson 16 in belphie's part.

Lucifer goes to his office and pretends that he's not angry. He attempts to distract himself with paperwork, but all he does is read the same paragraph a few times over and over again before he throws the page down with a huff. He taps his pen against his desk while he sifts through the emotions clouding his mind. All he felt earlier was wounded pride—that's why he scolded you with more force than necessary, speaking with his cruel, barbed tongue but regretting it just as quickly. He admires and loathes your feisty temper. You're his stubborn, brave little human that stands up to him when most demons wouldn't dare to try.

He plans his apology like a mantra and goes to your room; he knows if he's sincere, you'll give him a chance to make things right. You don't answer your door when he knocks, and he peeks his head inside to confirm that you're not there. He sends you a message with his D.D.D. and shuffles awkwardly in the hallway while he waits for a reply. He asks in the family group chat, but no one's seen you recently and he ignores the initial tendrils of icy fear that make his chest feel tight. Surely you wouldn't have stormed off in a sulk? But he checks the rest of the house and his brothers realize slowly that something is wrong—you wouldn't just leave. Lucifer searches for you himself, around the House of Lamentation and all around the Devildom, searching for anyone that might've seen you, or any hint of where you've gone. But in the early twilight hours, he pours a glass of Demonus that remains untouched while he stares absently into the fire of his private study. His heart freezes over in your absence. Your warmth thawed his icy demeanor, and the roaring fire crackling nearby can't stop the chills that wrack through him when he tells himself that you're gone and he has no one to blame but himself.

You rarely fight with Mammon these days, but when you do, it spirals out of control. He spits out scathing remarks about how he's sick of you trying to pry your nose into his business because he hates admitting that you're right. You try so desperately not to yell (or cry, or both) when you plead with him to forget about whatever risky scheme he's got planned. It's not worth risking Lucifer's wrath and whatever punishment lies in store when Mammon's plan inevitably fails to his own detriment. He stalks away and ignores the sound of your voice cracking in pain when you call his name one last time—and maybe if he were less incensed, he would stop and turn around and apologize. But today he feels particularly stubborn and he doesn't look back. He fully intends on leaping in his car and driving off into the night to burn off some steam, but he slumps against his bedroom door with his head in his hands and tries to remember why he was so angry with you to begin with. He can't pinpoint the reason and he knows you only have his best intentions at heart.

It feels like hours later when he ends up outside your door, head down and tail tucked firmly between his legs. He shouts through the wood when you don't answer and he swears he didn't mean it, that he'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. You're too patient and kind and loving for your own good, and he tempts fate every time he takes your forgiveness for granted. He opens the door and scratches his head in confusion when he realizes you're not there. He spots one of his brothers at the end of the hall, and his confusion sours into something ashy on his tongue when he asks him where you are. I haven't seen them—we all thought they were with you!

Leviathan plays his game, tapping the buttons on his handheld with more force than necessary, as simmering anger from your fight earlier darkens his mood. He didn't mean to forget about your lunch date, so why did you get so mad? Maybe calling you a worse nag than Lucifer was over the top, but he planned on making it up to you later! He gets lost in his thoughts and plays his game until he realizes it's been a couple hours and his D.D.D. has been surprisingly silent. Sometimes you message him and invite him to talk things out in your room once you've both had time to calm down. He has no idea what it means that you've ignored him all this time and when he tries to message you first, they go unanswered. He shuffles to your room guiltily and hopes you'll be willing to talk face-to-face. It's almost dinner time, and maybe if you're feeling up to it, he can take you out for dinner. He even canceled his raid tonight so he can spend the evening curled with you on the sofa watching movies instead.

He doesn't expect to hear a commotion as he walks down the stairs to the first floor, and his brothers are crowded outside your room in various states of panic. Lucifer sees him and rushes to explain what's going on, but the words turn to radio static in Levi's head. He doesn't even notice that he drops his D.D.D. and it clatters to the ground, cracking the corner of the plastic case you gave him as a present not too long ago. Instead of cuddling with you on the sofa that night, he curls around his body pillow in the tub, his tail twitching noisily against the porcelain while he buries his head and deafens his whimpers in the tear-stained cotton. Come back, come back, please come back—

When the rage subsides, Satan glances wearily around his room and the terrible mess he's made. Some of his favourite books are ripped and torn to shreds across the floor, but the sight hurts less than the memory of your heartbroken face crumpling in pain as you fought back tears. He's done many terrible things in his life he's not proud of, but insinuating you don't care about him might be the lowest blow he could use during a fight. You've only wanted what's best for him, and you try so hard to show the world that he's more than the violent, angry creature that lurks deep inside him.

If only the world could see you the way I do.

Regret quickens his steps and he leaves the broken chaos in his room to find you because he shouldn't have even let you go. Why did it take him so long to apologize? He doesn't deserve it, but if you'll only give him a chance, he swears to himself he'll make it up to you. He hastily wipes away the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes when he notices his brothers lingering outside your room. They're too distraught to notice the sharp bite in his words when he demands to know what's going on and where you are. Nothing they say makes any sense—you wouldn't just leave, right? He’s the first to tear through the house in a panic to find you, ignoring his brothers’ nervous pleas for him to calm down. You're nowhere to be found and eventually he returns to his room in a trance. No one knows how long he stands there, trembling with regret and shame and fury that someone or something dared take you away from him. All his brothers know, judging by the noise echoing through the halls, is that his room is nearly destroyed as he unleashed his heartbreak in a maelstrom of destructive rage.

Asmodeus takes another selfie and posts it on Devilgram. He hopes the notification will pop up on your D.D.D. and you'll see him having the time of his life at The Fall. He wants you to see it—he hopes it fills you with regret for arguing with him earlier. He doesn't fight with you often, but your tongues are both sharp and laced with venom when you do face off against each other. He enjoyed the anxious gleam in your eye when he backed you into a wall and leaned down so you were nearly nose-to-nose, the sweet scent of his lip gloss lingering in the gap between you while he cooed about how pathetic you looked. But that was almost an hour ago, and he can only pretend for so long that he doesn't regret leaving you stunned and hurt in the front hall when he waltzed out the door and slammed it behind him. The pounding music can't drown out the wicked things he said to you, and the crowd can't distract him from your absence that weighs heavily in his heart. There are many demons nearby who'd kill for his attention, but he knows deep down that the only hands he wants roaming over his body are yours.

It's not long after that he pushes his way out of the club and into the cool night air, but he still hasn't heard from you. Surely you've seen his Devilgram posts by now? You're smart enough to recognize his desperate ploys for attention. Your attention. Are you ignoring him on purpose? Maybe he deserves it, but he's anxious to talk to you and sends you a message on his walk home anyway. Message could not be delivered. The red text pops up on his screen, and he frowns and tries again. Message could not be delivered. He quickens his pace as he taps your contact name and calls you instead. Is there something wrong with your D.D.D.? "The number you have dialed is not in service."

He breaks into a run until the House of Lamentation peeks into view ahead. He bursts through the door and ignores Lucifer's angry shouts behind him as he rushes down the hall to your room, but all he sees is one of your favourite club outfits laid out on your bed, as if you were getting ready to come see him after all. Where are you? His brothers hover behind him and he borrows one of their phones so he can try calling you again. He tells himself that it must be a problem with his D.D.D. because no other explanation makes sense. "The number you have dialed is—" Asmo whimpers pitifully while he listens to the robotic voice drone on speaker for everyone to hear, and his brothers finally realize that something is wrong and split up to search for you. He chokes out your name and slumps onto your bed, inhaling your familiar scent when he holds your shirt, one that he bought you, to his face and sobs. He can hear his brothers' heavy footfalls throughout the house while they look for you, but deep down, he already knows you're gone.

Beel glances at the stands and wipes sweat and dirt from his brow. He can spot his brothers easily enough—it's hard to miss them, with the way Asmo's waving the glittery handmade sign with his name in bold pink lettering—but he doesn't see you. There's an empty space between Mammon and Levi where you normally sit, and they've kept it free for when—if—you show up. You've never missed one of his games, not ever. Maybe the argument earlier upset you more than he realized. He knows you don't normally eat his food on purpose. He knows you meant it when you sputtered apologies when you realized your mistake. He knows how hurt you were when he shouted at you in a hungry rage. The rest of the game passes by in a blur. He moves on autopilot, his mood growing more and more despondent each time he checks the crowd and realizes you're still not there. He barely recognizes his team's happy cheers when the game ends in victory. He has a quick shower and makes his excuses to his teammates because he already has plans for dinner tonight, with you, hopefully. He stops by Hell's Kitchen and picks up your favourite takeaway order and heads home. It's a peace offering, one of many apologies he owes you.

By the time he knocks on your door, he's eager to see you. Silence. He knocks again and waits, and he hesitantly pushes the door open when his greeting goes unanswered. You're not in your room, and after a quick search of the house, he realizes you're not anywhere. He visits your room over and over again as if you'll finally pop out and tell him you were just teasing him, because you wouldn't ever leave him on purpose, right? His name on a handmade sign on your bed, and one of his old jerseys he gave you, are all that you left behind and he wonders if he would've been able to stop you leaving had he come home to you sooner. (Your takeaway dinner remains uneaten in the fridge in case you come back, and Beel refuses to eat it himself or let anyone else eat it either. One of his brothers has to throw it away when it eventually turns rancid—Beel can't bring himself to do it, because it means admitting you may never come back.)

Belphie doesn't like sleeping alone. Most nights if he sleeps alone, it's by choice—his choice. Tonight should've ended like most nights do: with the both of you sharing the bed in the attic. He sleeps better when you're close. You're a warm weight curled against him, and the smell of your shampoo and your minty breath are small comforts when he has bad dreams. Sometimes he wakes up in a panic, his shirt damp with cold sweat, and he listens for your quiet snores, proof that you're alive, that the nightmare of your windpipe crushed in his deadly grip isn't real. Belphie sleeps in the attic alone tonight because you decided you needed space. It's petty revenge for earlier when he woke up from a nap in a foul mood and snapped at you in his frustration. He fluffs his pillow and his bottom lip juts out in a pout. He can't get comfortable and it's your fault. The house grows quiet as his brothers retire to their rooms and fall asleep, and Belphie senses when you finally drift off to sleep too. If he wakes up before you tomorrow, he'll crawl into your bed and hope that you'll be more receptive to his apology when you wake up.

It takes longer than usual but he finally falls asleep and feels content. Even when he's unconscious, he instinctively reaches for your presence and it calms him. Your dreamscape is like a little pond, and he watches from his own nearby shore as your thoughts pass by in a blur, like slick oil paintings skimming over a watery surface. He doesn't like to intrude on your dreams if he can help it—he only interferes when he senses them slipping into nightmares instead. He tells himself it's not selfish to erase them for you, but the truth is that he's not sure he can stomach seeing his own face reflected in your dreams anymore, not with its wicked sneer and bloodstained teeth. He's not sure he forgives himself for what he did to you, and he wonders if you've truly forgiven him too.

Something odd in your dreamscape shifts suddenly and it catches Belphie's attention. The images in your subconscious grow murky and twisted, like they're being sucked down into some unseen void. Your presence is like sand falling through his fingertips, and it's harder and harder for him to feel you. He reaches out to your mind to wake you up because he doesn't know what's wrong, but something about this scares him. He jolts awake in the attic, chest heaving with the final memory of something snapping in his mind, like the cord that tethered you to him was suddenly cut. Eventually his brothers get up too and he can hear the commotion coming from down the stairs. He makes his way to your room in a trance before they can come find him. He already knows what his brothers are struggling to understand, the truth that no one can explain. You're gone somewhere far away, impossibly out of his reach, and he dreads falling asleep and feeling the void your absence left behind.

Sleep evades him until he forces himself to try and rest, and he finds himself in your bed instead of his own. He curls himself around your pillow underneath your sheets, clinging to the last whiffs of your scent, and he hopes you'll wake him up and tell him this was nothing but a bad dream. (Your scent fades away long before the nightmare ends, and he stops sleeping in your room after that.)

read more: obey me masterlist

2K notes · View notes

storiesforallfandoms · 2 months

Text

freedom ~ oberyn martell;game of thrones

part one

word count: 2608

request?: a single person asked if there would be a part two so yes?

description: in which she finally gets to enjoy her freedom with the man she loves

pairing: oberyn martell x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n, lil bit of dirty talk from oberyn teehee

masterlist (one, two, three)

The sun shining in through the open window stirred her from her sleep. She wasn't sure what time it was, but judging by how groggy she felt, she had definitely been asleep for a very long time. It was the first night since the evening before Joffrey's wedding that she had slept in an actual bed.

(Y/N) and Oberyn's plan had gone way better than she was expecting. She did as Oberyn told her and packed one bag of her most essential things. Oberyn had one of his men take it to the carriage so that non of Cersei's servants would catch (Y/N) doing it. She sat through the ceremony with the best fake smile pained on her face the entire time. The second the ceremony ended, (Y/N) slipped away while Cersei was distracted and they started their journey back to Dorne immediately.

It was a long journey spanning a number of days. They only stopped to rest a handful of times as Oberyn insisted on going for as long as the horses could stand so the risk of being caught by the Lannister men that Cersei was undoubtably going to send after them. (Y/N) was tense the entire time and wasn't able to relax until they reached Dorne.

Oberyn's brother, Prince Doran, was waiting for them when their carriage arrived. Oberyn had just stepped out when Doran said, "We received a message from King's Landing about the kidnapped Lannister girl."

"I kidnapped no one," Oberyn said. "She came with me willingly because she was being terribly abused by the Queen."

"The former Queen," (Y/N) corrected as she stepped out beside Oberyn. "Now that Joffrey is wed, Cersei is no longer Queen." She turned to Doran and curtsied. "My Lord."

Doran nodded in response. "Lady (Y/N). We hoped my brother wasn't so stupid as to kidnap a Lannister the day of the young kind's wedding."

"What Oberyn says is true. I have come with him of my own free will to escape my sister. She is claiming my capture so that y ou will send me back to her and will punish Oberyn so he cannot come for me again. I do not wish to go back, not ever. I will attest to this myself to my family back in King's Landing if you wish."

Doran looked between the two of them. He took a deep breath and said, "They will come."

"I will speak to them," (Y/N) insisted. "They cannot take me by force."

"They will not take her by force," Oberyn interjected.

Doran nodded. "I pledge my full support to you. I just hope you know what you are doing, brother."

Oberyn had brought her to a room that would be her own for the time being. He had promised her they would share a bed in due time, but he would not do so until they were properly courted. She would have argued further, but she was so tired and her body was aching from the long carriage ride, so all she wanted was to lay down in a soft bed.

Now that she was waking up from such a long slumber, it took a few moment for her to remember where she was. When she did remember, she smiled to herself. She was so giddy with happiness to finally be free and not feel so stuck and trapped in Westeros anymore.

A knock came at the door. She beckoned for them to come in, thinking (or rather hoping) that it was Oberyn. she was surprised when a lady she did not recognize stepped into her room.

"I am sorry for the intrusion, my lady," the woman said, bowing to (Y/N). "My name is Kenziah. I will be your handmaiden. I was told to come prepare you for a meeting in the Prince's throne room."

"Has something happened?" (Y/N) asked.

"Your father arrived early this morning, my lady. He requested a meeting with you and both Princes."

(Y/N) was quick to get out of bed and allow Kenziah to dress her. She tried to keep a brave face as she was led to Prince Doran's throne room. Doran was sat on his own throne while Oberyn was stood next to him. A tall figure was back on to (Y/N) as she walked in, but she didn't need him to turn around to recognize who it was.

Tywin Lannister looked down at his daughter as she entered the room. "My daughter, you have caused quite a disturbance."

"So I have heard," (Y/N) said. "I apologize if I disrupted Joffrey's wedding day. That was not my plan. Truthfully, I did not think Cersei would even notice my absence."

"You severely underestimate your sister then."

(Y/N) brushed past her father to stand next to Oberyn. She held her head high as she addressed Tywin, "I know what Cersei has tried to say about my disappearance. I am saying to you, father, that I willingly left with Oberyn to come to Dorne. I am not under any sort of duress, and I will not be returning to King's Landing with you."

Tywin raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" (Y/N) nodded. "King Joffrey could order for your return."

"He would have to come take her himself," Doran cut in. "But he would have to go through the Dorne army."

"Are you threatening the king?" Tywin asked.

"No, I am protecting one of my own."

(Y/N) glanced between Tywin and Doran. Oberyn was silent beside her, but he had moved closer, protectively. For the first time in her life, (Y/N) actually felt cared for and safe.

Tywin's gaze moved to his daughter. "Is this truly your wish, my child? To stay in Dorne with the young prince?"

"I cannot go back to that palace, father. It was my prison, and I have finally escaped from it. I will not return to King's Landing willingly, and if you try to force me, I will fight back to the best of my abilities."

Tywin nodded. "I cannot force you to do anything against your will, (Y/N)."

"Will you tell Cersei that?"

To her surprise, Tywin nodded again. "If this is what you truly want, then no one else shall bother you while you're here."

(Y/N) bowed her head. "Thank you father."

Tywin paused a moment as he started to leave. (Y/N) wondered if he would say anything more. But he merely nodded to Doran and Oberyn before turning to leave the room. When he was gone, (Y/N) finally allowed her body to relax. Oberyn took her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

"You are officially free, little lion."

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was sat in front of a mirror as Kenziah braided her hair. It had been a full day since she had arrived and she was already feeling more at home than she ever had in King's Landing. Oberyn had sent Dornish clothes for her to wear, and she was currently wearing one that was a similar color to the robe Oberyn had been wearing when they first met.

Now that she had been able to properly settle in after their long journey and Twyin's visit, Oberyn had called for (Y/N) to meet him outside of Water Gardens, their palace. She had a feeling she knew what this meeting was about, and the thought alone made her very giddy.

"You are trembling, my lady," Kenziah said. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, Kenziah, thank you," (Y/N) said. "I am just feeling nervous to see Oberyn is all."

"Nervous? But you seemed very fond of him before."

"I am fond of him! I guess nervous may be the wrong word. I feel a number of things about seeing him, because I know he will likely ask me to be his wife today. He said when we returned to Dorne that he would court me and make me his wife."

Kenziah smiled. "He does seem to feel very strongly for you, my lady. I see the way he looks at you."

(Y/N) smiled to herself as well. She had noticed the ways in which Oberyn looked at her, and every time it made her melt a little. She had never felt so infatuated with anyone before. The thought of being so close to him asking her to marry him made her insides feel fuzzy and warm.

When Kenziah finished braiding her hair, she placed a few flowers in the braids. "There, all finished."

(Y/N) moved to look at her hair in the mirror. She was almost surprised by the reflection looking back at her. She looked so beautiful, and she felt it, too. It was almost as if she was meant to be in Dorne, she just had to find a way to get there.

"Thank you, Kenziah," she said.

"You're welcome, my lady."

When she was sure she was ready, Kenziah brought (Y/N) to where Oberyn was waiting for her. He looked just as handsome as ever, almost glowing under the Dornish sun as he looked out at a pond below them. When she approached, he turned to her and smiled.

"You look beautiful, my little lion," he said. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips, pressing a light kiss on her knuckles. It sent a spark through her entire body and made her hand feel like it was tingling.

"Thank you," she said. "I really love the clothes you sent for me. Dorian wear is so much nicer than what I had back in the palace."

"It suits you better, too. Like you were meant to wear it."

(Y/N) was smiling so much her cheeks were hurting. Oberyn beckoned for her to come closer. She did, moving as close to him as she could dare. She gasped when he put his hands on her hips and moved her so that she was stood right in front of him. His body was pressing against her backside, and she felt like she was weak in the knees from the feeling.

"I wanted to show you what I was looking at," he told her, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. He pointed towards the pond. "Just down there."

She was having a hard time concentrating on what it was he was trying to show her. His closeness was making her very dizzy. But she tried her best and managed to make her eyes focus on the pond. It was full of children, splashing around and laughing. She wasn't quite sure what he was trying to show her, until she spotted a familiar young girl with a head full of blonde hair.

She gasped. "Myrcella."

Myrcella was Cersei's middle child, and only daughter. Cersei adored Myrcella more than (Y/N) had seen her adore anyone in her life. When she had been sent away to Dorne to be a bride to Doran's son, Trystane, Cersei was practically inconsolable. It was the only time (Y/N) had ever seen weakness from her sister.

But Myrcella was also much different than her mother, or her older brother for that matter. She had a heart of gold and she cared very much for the people around her. That included (Y/N), much to Cersei's displeasure. (Y/N) loved her niece dearly. She had almost abandoned hope of ever seeing her again.

"She has been taken care of here," Oberyn assured (Y/N). "We will wait until she and my nephew come of age before they wed. Until then, she gets to live the life of a child."

"Why are you telling me this?" (Y/N) asked. While she was definitely glad to see her niece, this was not where she expected this conversation to go.

"She spoke very highly of you. Ever since she arrived, she has voiced how much she has missed her mother and her aunt. I can tell she is not like her mother, so I figured seeing her would be a welcome surprise."

With his hands still on her waist, Oberyn spun (Y/N) around so that she was facing him. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their bodies were still pressed so close together. (Y/N) found herself feeling something she had never felt before; a tingling sensation between her legs. Looking up into Oberyn's eyes, she wanted nothing more than to start kissing him, and to beg for him to touch her and make the feeling go away.

She had a feeling that he would know exactly how to pleasure her, and that thought made her feel even more weak.

"I want you to be happy here," he told her.

"I am happy," she assured him. "As long as I am with you, I can't be happier. You have saved me, Oberyn. Truly."

He smiled. "And I am glad that I have."

When he lowered his head towards her, (Y/N) wasted no time in closing the space between them. She kissed him so deeply that she made herself dizzy by doing it. His hands had moved from her waist to the small of her back, holding her to him. She could've stayed like this forever if that were possible.

When he broke away, she inadvertently let out a whine. He chuckled at her desperate sound. "I will kiss you as much as you wish, my little lion. But first, I do have a promise to keep."

He stepped away from her. Her body suddenly felt cold without him so close. He held her hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes as he spoke, "I told you that when we arrived to Dorne, I would properly court you and wed you. I believe I have successfully courted you already, so that just leaves us with one last step."

"Yes," (Y/N) blurted. Oberyn was amused by her outburst. "If it was not obvious, I very much want to marry you, Oberyn."

"I had a feeling," he teased. "I spoke with my brother already to get his blessing as well. We will have the wedding in a few days time."

"Can we do it now instead?"

Oberyn shook his head, an amused smile on his face. "My dear, sweet little lion. You must have patience. You must know what it takes to put a wedding together, especially one for people of royal blood such as us. Besides, I do not think you should wish to rush into marriage this quickly."

(Y/N) furrowed her brows at him. "Why?"

He stepped closer to her again. He leaned into her ear and dropped his voice to say, "Because once we are wed, I no longer have to worry about defiling your innocence. I may keep you in my bed for many days and nights before I decide to let you have a break from me, and even then I may only decide that because you are carrying my child."

(Y/N) stumbled a little and Oberyn was quick to catch her.

"You are mistaken, my love," she told him. "That only makes me wish for us to be married much sooner."

Oberyn cupped her face and pulled her for a kiss.

"I promise, my little lion, I will make the wait worth it," he said. "For now, you will just have to settle for stolen kisses."

"I will take anything as long as it is from you."

They kissed once more, and (Y/N) finally got to revel in the fact that she was finally getting her own happy ending.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #part two #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

184 notes · View notes

lunaekalenda · 3 years

Note

HII ANTII 🥺💕💕 I hope you are doing well!! I have seen that u are open for Tokyo revengers requests so could I please request for headcanons of Mikey’s big brother, Shinichiro (like before he died 😭😭AHDSJFJF cuz I have a huge crush on him rn-) and his girlfriend? Like how would he treat her, what would he do to cheer her up, is he a text or phone call person? And anything that u can think of! But just cute fluff of shinichiro and his gf (I feel like he is the type that would maybe be serious in a relationship?? IDK THO-) if you can do this request ofc and have a great day ahead 🥺💕✨ LOVE U!

sure! i hope you like it honey! thanks for requesting mina 💖 love u too! <3

••••

shinichiro x fem!reader

••••

- he likes when you visit him on his store.

- "oh, you came?" he asks, while looking the pedals of the motorcycle he's arranging.

- he also tries to escape as fast as possible from work and go see you.

- doesn't like to but asked you to take care of mikey and emma a couple times while he was on the gang.

- he didn't want you to be on risk because of him, that's why he left the gang.

- calls you every morning when you're on your way to work or uni, even if he slept with you.

- he needs to know how his girl is since he left really early.

- also like to send you pics while you're busy, so you can see them later, on your breaks.

- your wallpaper is a pic he sent you while he was sucking a lollipop.

- you found that his hair has a beautiful natural form when you slept together for the first time.

- "you look good like that." you said, caressing his hair, a messy bang covering his forehead.

- he never styled it up again.

- if he thinks you're sad -from how you talk on the phone, how you answer his messages.- he will appear home with some mangas, ice cream and a big blanket.

- his tall body is perfect to cuddle.

- loves the way your snuggled body feels against his.

- likes to put his hands on your lower back, and if you give him permission, he would grab a little bit lower.

- man craves love and you're happy to give it to him.

- though he gets turned on on the worst places.

- once, baji and mikey found him kissing your neck on the back part of the store. now they ring the bell every time they want to enter and shinichiro doesn't know why.

- likes to take you on night rides in his motorcycle.

- feeling the air moving your hair, your grip on his waist, he loves it. how free you two feel.

- kisses you a lot of times.

- he isn't clingy, but he would be sround you all the time if he could.

- "mikey asks if you're coming to have dinner tomorrow."

- "sure it is mikey who asks?"

- emma loves to be around you, since she's the only girl on the house. mikey does enjoy your company as well.

- shinichiro stoles you from them to have a little more privacy on his room.

- "ah, mikey wants this room so bad. cool for him that he's gonna get it when we move together, hm?"

- talks about future plans and family a lot of times.

- "we could move to a little house near the city." he says, his bare arm under your head, resting on his chest. "With a little garden. mikey and emma could go there to play."

- insists on you to learn how to drive so that way you can be more independient.

- fixes a motorcycle for you.

- he always smiles to you, and that makes your day.

- has a lot of love and cuddles for you whenever you're feeling down.

- gives you his clothes if you're cold.

- likes to watch movies with you but ends sleeping on the crook of your neck.

- he works a lot and, even when you told him to take little breaks, he insists on keep working to save enough money to make you happy.

- "i don't need money. you make me happy, shin."

- "but we have to live somewhere, sweetie."

- you two have a little case with the words "our house" where you save money to move together.

- talks about the future a lot.

- "i only want a future where you're still by my side."

#mikey tokyo revengers #tokyorev #tokyorev headcanons #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers fanfic #tokyo manji #tokrev #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers fic #shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #shinichiro x you #shinichiro x y/n #shinichiro tokyo revengers

262 notes · View notes

imatechbummerliketomholland · 3 years

Text

You are my world. you three are my world now - h.h

hello there! I'm back ! Sorry if it tooks so long, i have a lot of work during these holiday. I hope you like this little request. I didn't have time to be proofread (but a big thank you to@petersasteria who is always there to support me!). Remember that my native language is French, so don't be so mean if i made mistakes!

Feel free to like, share, comment and tell me what you think. Send me a message if you want to be added to the taglist for my next work!

Word count: 2300 Warning: angst, mention of pregnancy, small mention of blood, mention of placental abruption Pairing : harry holland Request: yes!

ღღღ

You didn't expect to be pregnant with twins at your age. The announcement of your pregnancy had also surprised more than one. Despite her support, Nikki Holland had still given the discourse on the importance of safe sex to her son. But Harry had given a more than mature speech in defense of both of you. He was able to prove to his family and to yours that you were ready and that the decision to continue the pregnancy was not rash.

You were now at the half of your eighth month and nothing could stand in the way of your happiness.

Nothing except maybe this.

Nikki had offered to have lunch with her this afternoon. Despite his work as a photographer, no longer having the company of his four children - since three of them left the family cocoon to live their own life as grown-up adults- weighed heavily on her. You accepted with pleasure. Harry, who was editing his third short film, had left you this morning to go to the edit suite, not without checking that you were okay. So, you joined Nikki at the restaurant. You shine in your long floral maternity dress. In the middle of the meal, you felt a violent contraction.

At almost eight months pregnant, it was no surprise that you could feel twins’ movements. You winced a little at the pain and your mother-in-law put a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Are you alright, darling?" she asking, a little bit worried.

"Yeah, yeah. They've just been in great shape for a few days now."

You apologized and went to the bathroom, struggling to cope with the pain of your contractions. When you noticed that your underwear was soaked with blood, your heart rate increased. You suddenly realized that a series of symptoms corresponded to what you had dreaded early in your pregnancy: the nausea that had occurred last night, the violent contractions since this morning and now the blood. Rather alerting signals that suggested a placental abruption. The obstetrician told you that this was a possible risk since you were having a twin pregnancy. You started to cry and panic for several minutes that Nikki ended up knocking on the bathroom door.

"Darling, is everything good in there?" she asked you with her sweet and worried voice.

"Could you come in please" you sobbed.

"Sure, darling. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

She stepped carefully into the disabled cabin that you had used for space reasons. Nikki immediately noticed your state of stress. And you just told her everything in strangled sobs. She put a hand behind your back and gave you a very serious look.

"We have to go to the ER. We're going right away."

"I want Harry"

"Don't worry, I'll call him on the way"

And you haven't wasted a minute. Nikki simply left her phone number and table number at the counter before you got into your car. Dom will retrieve Nikki one's later. Holland family been known from the restaurant, the staff were comprehensive about your leaving without paid the bill. When you arrived at the hospital, the nurses greeted you directly and wasted no time either. You were taken to the operating room without being able to get your boyfriend's support.

☙♥❧

Harry arrived within fifteen minutes of receiving the call from his mother. No doubt he would receive a speeding penalty ticket later. He looked like a madman, mortified by worry. He was a bundle of nerves and sarcasm. Her mother was standing by the reception desk, waiting for her. She looked anxious. Tom was there too, trying to contact their father on his phone. When Dom finally picked up, the oldest Holland brother announced the urgency. Harry was shaking with worry.

"What happened mom?"

"I don't really know, baby. We were at the restaurant and the babies kicked. She went to the bathroom and when she didn't come back, I went after her. That's where she asked me to come into the bathroom and you know the rest. I called you straight after that. " Nikki explained, trying to get the stress out of her.

"Oh my god… where is she now?"

"The medical staff took her for surgery. I had to wait here. I couldn't go with her, baby. I’m so sorry."

"Ok ... Ok, I guess I have to wait here. Hope she's okay. God, please make her be alright."

They all made their way to the operating theater hallway for the public to wait for more information. Tom was still on the phone with his father, explaining that it would be better if he stayed at home with Paddy so as not to overcrowd the waiting room. He promised his father that they would all give news as soon as possible. A nurse in a surgical gown entered ten minutes later.

“Who's the father of miss y/l/n's babies?”

“I am. Harry Holland, I’m the father!” he almost screamed and cried at the same time.

“Come with me”

Nikki stood up cautiously and walked over to the nurse. Harry was ready to follow the nurse without giving any further information to his family.

"Excuse me. Can you give us more information on her condition?" Nikki asked

"Sure. We had an emergency caesarean. The babies are fine but there seem to be some complications with the mother. The surgeon is taking care of her."

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked hastily.

"She's losing a lot of blood but we're doing our best. Now please follow me." She said to curly one.

☙♥❧

Harry followed her to the nursery. His heart was pounding in mixed emotions. He was so impatient to meet his babies but at the same time he was worried about you. What if you don't survive from the complications? What was to become of him? Would he be able to live without you? Would he be a good father?

His last question vanished when he saw his two little babies in the incubator. Your twins had arrived about fifteen, almost a month earlier than expected, it was normal that they were in an incubator. Harry was going to have to make sure they put on weight. After filling out a few papers, one of the nurses offered to do some skin-to-skin contact with the twins so that they could get to know the three of them. Harry could not but be impatient with this and once prepared he settled into a seat. He was overcome with emotion, understanding how his parents had felt when Sam and him were born. He completely forgets the time, spending several minutes with his sons, one after the other. Harry knew he would place all his love in the two little beings he had taken turns holding in his arms. He was ready to lift mountains, cross the tides. Part of his mind was on you and he truly hoped he could go through life's trials with you. May your family experience all the times they deserve.

The nurse who had brought him to the nursery go up to him with a half-smile. She was sorry to disturb him during this privileged father-son moment.

"Your ... hm ... miss (y/l/n) is in the recovery room. You can go see her now"

Harry's heart burst with relief. He let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding back. The very new father nodded before placing his son in the nurse's arms so that she could put him back in the incubator. He decided to go find his family who had been waiting too long now. When he entered the waiting room, his mother and brother were still seated. Tom had his elbows on his knees, the phone in his hand. He seemed to be talking to someone. When the actor noticed his brother's presence, he spoke to him.

"Hey mate, Sam's here. Wanna talk to him? What's up? Does y/n's alright? And the twins?"

"Too much question. Give me Sam first!"

But the result was exactly the same. Sam asked the same questions as Tom and Harry winced as he tried to answer consensually.

"Hello to you too, brother. The twins are fine. I swear to God Sam, they look like a mini version of us. Two sons by the way ... y/n is fine, she's in the recovery room, I'm going see her right after that. I wanted to talk to mom and Tom first. "

"Glad to know I'm the last to know." Sam informed sarcastically.

"Hey, I was going to call you but I had to, you know ... go meet my sons. Father's job, it seems."

Sam chuckled behind his phone screen as Harry smirked in a mischievous and petty manner. He ended the call with his twin and turned to his mother and Tom. Nikki made her understand that she had heard, she seemed relieved that you were okay.

"Hey, before I go see y/n ... you want to see your grandsons ... and you, your nephew and godson, asshole."

"Harry, language" said Nikki.

"Of course I want to see my godson, stupid"

"Tom!"

The two brothers smile at each other. Just because one became a father and the other was a movie star, didn't mean they were going to change their ways. It was also their way, both of them, to decompress events. Nikki sighed in annoyance but kept quiet, too happy to meet, even only through a window, her first grandchildren. After a brief walk in front of the nursery, Harry announced that he was going to find you, leaving his family to admire your twins. They seemed so impatient to meet them in person but knew they were going to have to wait while you woke up.

☙♥❧

Harry entered the recovery room and walked over to your bed. You seemed to have already woken up from your artificial sleep. He grabbed your hand to give you the support you needed. A feeling of emptiness was felt in you, your gaze landed on your stomach, flatter than you had seen in recent months. Your eyes widened in panic but the reassuring pressure of Harry's hand drew your attention to him.

"They are fine, my love. They are fine. They are in an incubator in the nursery."

You burst into tears. The emotions being so strong.

"I'm so sorry Harry. I'm sorry ..."

“Hey… hey… you don't have to. You're okay… the twins are okay. And I still love you, I love you more than ever."

"Have you seen them?"

"Yes ... ugly like their father" he joked

You chuckled with a few more tears in your voice. You knew he didn't mean it, but humor was Harry's best way to decompress, and it worked on you too.

"My family is here. You scared the hell out of them. I think Sam was about to order a flight to kick your ass."

You chuckled again. It was so impressive to see the love that reigned in this family. You could never have asked for a better way to build your own family. Harry leaned over to kiss you.

"I love you, y/n. You are my world. you three are my world now"

"I love you more, Harry."

You stayed a few more days before you could get out of the hospital. You had decided to introduce the twins after their own discharge from the hospital. That's why, after almost a month of going back and forth to the nursery, you could finally bring your twins home. So you organized a little visit to Harry's parents.

☙♥❧

The sun was shining on London and you squeezed the doorknob of one of the maxi-cozy, Harry carrying your second son as you opened the door to the Holland family home. You were amazed at the ease with which Harry assumed his role as father. He was doing so well that you fell in love with him again.

"Is there anyone here?" He asked

"We're all in the garden, buddy!" Tom said

"You are obviously in the kitchen, dummy"

"For god's sake, Harry. Come into this fucking garden and let us see the twins!"

You let out a frank laugh as you mentally noted that you were going to have to have a conversation with Harry and his brothers about the vocabulary they were using.

You are therefore entering the garden. You noticed right away that Sam had come all the way from Scotland. Harry must have organized this with him too. You smiled, Nikki rushed over to help you with the change bags and you thanked him.

"So where is my godson?" Tom asked in the same way he did at the FFH premiere when he was looking for Jake Gyllenhal.

"Where's mine?" Sam asked too.

You approached Sam, putting the maxycosy on the table to unbuckle the seat belt and take your son in your arms. Harry was doing the same with your second baby.

"I'm happy to introduce you y/s/n"

"And there's y/s/n(2)." Harry added, so proud.

Everyone raved about the twins as you wipe away a tear, happy and proud. You were so moved by the love that reigned. Harry came to kiss you on the forehead, you closed your eyes, appeased by his gesture. The world could only turn better in his company.

"It's family portrait time!" Nikki said, her camera in her hands. "Tom, please get closer to your brother. Sam, stand next to y / n"

You all followed Nikki's instructions, who couldn't be more than happy to capture this important moment, bringing her work and family life together. You all smiled as you and Harry were in the center of the photo, carrying your twins in your arms. And at that moment, you were sure that your life could not be more beautiful than at this moment.

#harry holland #harry holland blurb #harry holland x reader #harry holland request #harry holland x y/n #holland family x reader

166 notes · View notes

floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up.

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years. But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning.

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course.

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.”

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said.

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.

Unknown (9:32am) Hi Y/N, It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up. Regards, Seokjin

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed.

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him.

You (9:43am) Of course, send the details. I trust your taste!

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself. Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly…

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you.

Seokjin (9:50am) The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30. Seokjin

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother).

You (9:52am) I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later!

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it.

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely. He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back.

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to.

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again.

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious.

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form.

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea…

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing.

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man.

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately.

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly.

“Hey,” you greeted back.

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment.

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that."

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway.

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.”

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous.

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #mls:drabbles #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

144 notes · View notes

shit-scfandom-did · 3 years

Note

so i have a few questions

1)i cannot understand how you ship k*ramel. their relationship was FILLED with toxicity. from mon-el failing over and over again to listen to what kara had to say to him basically telling her to give up being kara danvers. convincing her that "being supergirl and having you is enough” was absolutely horrible. karamel had their moments but overall it was toxic. then in s3 mon el was married and the whole point of season 3 was allowing them to move on. accepting the toxicity from s2 and pushing past that romanticized time. mon el was a better person by 3b but he was still married. even if mon el and imra did break up in the finale there’s no future for karamel. even during 5x13 kara went to ask on advice about lena. and when winn came to visit from the future not a word about him. she’s moved on and it just wouldn’t make sense for kara to end up with him.

2) how can you hate lena so so so much?? it’s been said over and over again that all she’s ever wanted to do is good. though she’s designed to be this morally grey character. she has FLAWS but that’s what makes her so good. she’s a victim of abuse and you can see her struggle with that especially in seasons 4 and 5. in 5 she definitely goes down a questionable path but how can you expect her not too? after being emotionally abused by her brother, betrayed by her family, andrea (this did happen before kara), and then eve. finding out that kara and EVERYONE she loves has betrayed her as well. I mean how could you not go mad?? and even when she “went mad” she was trying to rid humanity of PAIN. something she later realized was a necessary part of life. her hurt blinded her from reality and lex’s manipulation pushed her down further. she’s been hurt and broken so many times and while that’s not an excuse for what she’s done you have no sympathy for her and that I find appalling. lena has realized what she’s done is wrong, that she’s made mistakes, what she did to kara, and she will have to live with that isn’t that punishment enough? she’s apologized and is trying to make up for everything she’s done by saving the world (again). your unnecessary hate towards her infuriates me. cant you take a step back and see the whole picture?

3) why DONT you ship supercorp or accept the queerbaiting? (watch this: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=C2w2GBXd_Pg) They are the core relationship of the show while the danvers sisters are the heart. they’ve gone through so so much together and practically dated in early season 2. they love each other it’s just oh so apparent. i like to believe one of the reasons lena reacted so strongly in s5 is because she was in love with kara and she couldn’t handle the person she was in love with lying to her. and kara flew around the world to get lena’s favorite food!! if that’s not romantic idk what is. I feel like you’ve developed such a clouded view of supercorp that you need to take a step back and understand what lena is the love of kara’s life.

wow what a long message. im not here to hate. im here to inform & undertand. i get it. karamel had their moments and even MY perception of them might be a little cloudy. im not going to hate you for liking them. hell I even shipped them for a little! my brother thinks 3b mon el and kara would’ve been perfect but he understands that supercorp is just where the show is leading and he wants them to be endgame. but what I will hate is your hate. what’s the point of all this? this thread, this account is going to do NOTHING. so why bother? I debated sending this and I hope I’m not too harsh at times but I really wanna see what you say. I hope you can open your eyes to lena and supercorp. maybe even become a supercorp shipper yourself!

- thanks and supercorp endgame 💙❤️

First of all, if you want to discuss ships in the future send this type of anons to facepalming-since-chernobyl, this blog is not for this, but for gathering receipts.

1.I just ship it, I don’t get why you have to understand it. It’s shipping. But if you insist:

No, it was not filled with toxicity. Count me when he failed to listen to her when they were in a relationship. Secondly, he is not a dog, he has his brain, he is his own person. People don’t always do what others asked them to do. It’s not slavery.

He has NEVER said to her to give up being Kara Danvers. How did he exactly convince her? How can you read the scene that he convinced her that being supergirl and having him is erasing Kara Danvers? In this scene he supports anything SHE WANTS to do. Also, Kara Danvers doesn’t equal Kara being a reporter in CatCo. On that moment she had her blog. She change people’s live with it like a real reporter. She took the risk and met consequences of her actions aka being fired by Snapper. Also, remind me who told her to create a blog? With your logic Lena was erasing Kara Danvers too.

Friendly reminder that he was forced to the marriage to keep peace. Also, friendly reminder Imra and the Legion out him in this situation without telling him about her plans. She and Brainiac put him there, knowing exactly how much he loved Kara and how much she meant to him. Imra knew that, that’s why she asked him to stay and solve his feelings. She said if he had come back, she would have known he had no doubts. But he wanted to stay, that’s why they broke up. He came back because once again he sacrificed himself for the greater good, like a real hero. Maybe watch the Argo eps because they clearly show that no, it was no about moving on.

It was not accepting about so called toxicity. First of all, she already forgave him that he lied. Secondly, all of she was screaming in that scene, when she was infected with M’rynn’s powers, happened before they got together and it was already approached in the musical ep. Aka, this scene had no point.

There is no future for karamel because you say so?

Kara went to asked him, because she truly believed and trusted him and his judgment. And yes, she asked about Lena and what did he said? That Kara deserved the same compassion she gives others, something Lena never gave her. And sorry, I know all scs scream the 100 ep was about sc, but it was about Kara fully realizing she is not responsible for Lena’s horrible choices. That’s it. And friendly reminder she called her a villain in the last scene. Also, the ep showed than no matter what, Lena always ends screwing something, because she has too big ego, always knows better, doesn’t stand criticism and doesn’t trust anyone.

It doesn’t make sense for you. Suit yourself.

2.Her fans made me hate her :) Thanks to them and how they excuse her every horrible action, how they treat her as a victim, while she abuse everyone etc. I started to watch her more carefully. And well, she is a horrible, white, privileged capitalist, who plays god, judge, jury, has mommy issues and acts like typical Luthor while crying she is not one, while still using Luthors money and resources.

Yeah, many people want to make good and end doing evil things. Common people pay for their sins, she has never. Since allowing hostile Daxamite army to invade the Earth (also, her portal affected the other aliens who destroyed the NC), producing a device that could recofnize aliens without their consent (and it was used by Children of Liberty,)producing and lying about Kryptonite, trying to make people superpowered without any supervision, killing Adam during illegal experiment, supporting openly alienphobic president and in a way Agent Liberty, killing Lex and then blaming Kara and finally manipulating Kara for months, lying, gaslighting, yelling, making her steal Lex journal, trying to lobotomize her and tortured with kryptonite, hurting every way possible, physically and mentally. Working with mass murderer, enslaving 3 people (kidnapping Eve, without her consent putting AI into her mind, basically RAPING her brain and making her a puppet in her own body; enslaving end experimenting on Malefic and Russel – threatening to kill him to steal Andrea’s necklace) – none of it are flaws. It was horrible abuse and violating every human right and the fact some people excuse it is disgusting.

First of all, being victim of abuse doesn’t give you the rights to HURT other people. The fact I have to explain pains me. Secondly, what abuse exactly? Lillian didn’t love her? Lex kidnapped her? Said he was going to kill her? You know what? Winn HAD HORRIBLE past and he didn’t turn into a murderer. Mon-El was abused by his mother and never tortured Kara with Kryptonite. J’onn killed a lot of white martians but last time I checked he doesn’t feel good about it. Also, never said the things he has done were GOOD. See a difference?

Yeah, and all of it, still doesn’t give her the rights to torture people. Also, friendly reminder she lied to Supergirl about Kryptonite in s3, much before the whole drama. Remember how she destroyed the life of a girl that stole boyfriend in middle school? It clearly shows she always had THAT in her. Plus, sorry not sorry, if she wanted different life, outside her family she could have easily done that. She was in Star City, with Jack, doing her researches, making her career. And she threw it all away, because she WANTED to be a Luthor.

Plus, sorry not sorry, if you feel betrayed and hurt because your friend didn’t tell you something she didn’t OWE you, you go to therapy, not trying to lobotomize entire planet.

Mate, she wanted to lobotomizer entire humanity, without ANYONE’S consent, because SHE, one single Lena, felt hurt. This is playing a GOD. Nothing explains it.

Planning a cold ass revenge for months is not being blinded by feelings.

Once again, even if could argue about how many times she was broken, most of that was a white privileged life she chose herself but whatever, it still doesn’t excuse her. All of she has done should meet consequences. Paying for shit you have done, accepting it, fully realizing what you have done is a part of redemption. Still in s5 she didn’t even apologize to Kara. Because she still didn’t understand what she has done and doesn’t feel sorry about it.

Feel appalled as much as you want, because I’m not going to feel sorry for a white, privileged woman who has never paid for her actions and is basically a living avatar of the worst Karen you can imagine.

She realized Lex was using her horrible experiments (remember? She experimented on puppies too) to his own agenda, that’s why she went to Kara. That’s not grasping a thing. Mhm, if you call that an apology then suit yourself. She is not saving the world, she is helping once again other people fixing the shit she created.

Feel infuriated as much as you want, because I don’t care? Especially when it comes from a person who tells others to take a step back while being totally narrow minded about Mon-El and karamel.

3.Because actors, prodcuers, writers call SC a female friendship. Mel did that in her last interview. See whatever you want but maybe stop forcing people to ship a horribly abusive ship.

Well… no. Kara is the heart and soul of the Supergirl. Alex is her most important relationship. Lena is an important friend, who doesn’t deserve it yet, but we all know Kara is the Paragon of Hope so of course she is going to forgive her.

I know you people think sc dated because they breathed in one room, but in s2 Kara dated, had sex, kissed, cuddled and enjoyed her time with Mon-El.

Yeah, they love each other as friends. It was said more than once.

That’s your delusion, you are free to do it.

Kara done that to Alex too, so you are saying she is romantically in love with her sister or something? If bringing people food is romantic and damn, most of the people I know loves me, god.

No, lena is not Kara’s love of her life.

Cool, you are not going to hate me because I ship karamel, I’m touched.

Sorry that you are going to be super disappointed in the end of the show I guess.

You will hate my hate – what’s the point of it?

Once again, because I don’t think you understand the point of this blog or read the description – it’s gathering receipts of assholes who cross tag and hate on the actors. Maybe go and search #gross hate or #cast hate on this blog so you can see how amazing your fandom is. Have fun.

I would rather eat my own shit than starting shipping the victim of abuse with her abuser.

Thanks and no :)

#anons

165 notes · View notes

preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

Out of Sight

Guys! Here it is is!! Dick and Damian week! I am obviously super excited. I’m loving all the content you all are posting, and I’m here to share a fic of my own.

Day 2: Dami’s First Birthday with Dick / Comfort / “He’s my son!”

Summary:

“I’m looking for my little brother, he’s ten, this high with black hair and has a green bowtie.” Dick held his hand out to Damian’s approximate height.

“If I see him I’ll send him your way, now please.” the man waved Dick towards the rest of the crowd.

He shook his head, “You don’t understand, I think he’s still inside. He was supposed to meet me if we got separated and he hasn’t yet I need--”

The man’s face fell, and with it Dick’s heart.

“What?” he almost growled, “What’s going on?”

Ao3 Link

“So there Bruce is, standing in front of the most gorgeous lady I’d ever seen laughing like she’s not just stunning and--”

There was a tug at his elbow. Dick ignored it and continued with his story.

“And I’m 16, slack jawed, and carrying a blue raspberry slurpee. So of course I’m going to trip over my own two feet.”

This time it was an elbow in his side. Dick shifted a bit. The two women he was talking to didn’t seem to notice.

“One foot catches another and down I go. I thought for sure I was going to faceplant, but someone caught me. When I looked up, I saw Bruce, absolutely coated in my drink! He was-- Damian please .”

His little brother had closed the distance between them and dug his heel into Dick’s foot. When Dick looked down at him, the boy was all innocence, foot already snapping into place beside the other. A trick he was regretting teaching Damian right now.

“I do not mean to interrupt, but our tickets to The Pirates of Penzance say we are to arrive ten minutes early and if we do not leave soon we will be late.”

Damian was laying on the innocent act really well. They had no plans to see the musical. In fact, Damian had vehemently rejected Dick when he’d asked him a few weeks ago if he’d wanted to attend. So this act, for that’s what it had to be, must have been a ploy to go home early. Most days, Dick wouldn’t mind the kid giving him an out from social affairs, but this wasn’t something he wanted to miss. Lucius had specifically asked him to come.

They were in the middle of a special party thrown for Wayne Enterprise’s new hires. Everyone, from full time staff to interns, who’d been added to the staff in the last six months had flooded into the building’s first floor ballroom, they’d brought family along with them and friends. Dick was pretty sure there were people here who had nothing to do with the staff, but had shown up for the open bar alone. Lucius had stressed how important it was for them to meet at least one of the Waynes, and of how inspiring it’d be for Dick to give a stirring speech.

Dick made a show of checking his watch and beamed down at his brother, “We’ve still got some time, I promise I won’t let us be late, alright?”

His brother puffed out his cheeks and pressed his lips together, obviously trying to decide if it was worth it to keep the eager child routine up. At last he nodded, a single sharp nod.

“Fine. Then I will amuse myself elsewhere.”

With that, the kid spun on his heel and stomped away.

Dick shot the ladies an apologetic smile, “One second, I want to make sure he’s not upset. Then I’ll be back to regale you with the story’s thrilling conclusion.”

“Of course.” one of the women smiled.

He darted after Damian, and ahead of the boy to walk backwards until Damian stopped with a huff. They were in a crowded room, but somehow Damian had already made his way to one of the few quiet bubbles.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Dick asked.

Damian crossed his arms, “I simply do not wish to waste any more time with these plebeians.”

“Aaand?” Dick pressed.

The boy glared at him, “And it should be obvious.”

Okay, he was not expecting that. Dick wracked his brain for what he could have missed. Any signs Damian was upset? Any people who’d bothered him? Had he forgotten an important date or something?

“Remember what we talked about with using our words. Misunderstandings are made and broken by stating clear intentions.” Dick said.

“Tt. If you cannot remember, then apparently I am the one who misunderstood.” Damian snapped, and pushed past him.

By the time Dick turned around, his brother had melted into the crowd of unfamiliar faces. He swore. He wished he could remember what it was that had Damian in such a grumpy mood.

He thought back on the immediate. On Damian’s mood and actions over the course of the day. The kid had been happy enough when Dick had suggested they go to the meet and greet together. He hadn’t wanted to go alone, and he figured after they could do something after like go to the arcade or-- Oh .

“Crap.” Dick muttered.

They really were supposed to see that musical tonight. Days after Damian had told Dick in no uncertain terms what he thought of people who watched musical’s he’d barged into the Penthouse with three tickets to a showing of it at Gotham’s Summer Musicals in the Park event.

“It is something you enjoy doing, correct?” Damian had asked, “You and Pennyworth used to go?”

How Damian had figured that out Dick would never know. He didn’t think Alfred would have told him, not outright. It had been their thing, and Dick was hoping to advance the tradition.

And, well, lately Dick wanted to share everything with Damian. The kid had wiggled his way into Dick’s heart in a way that made him feel warm to think about.

“Damian!” he called, not too loud as to make a scene, but loud enough he hoped his brother heard him.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Well, he could. He hadn’t known about this event until yesterday, and in the flurry of scheduling it and figuring out patrol in case it went really late all thoughts of fun had gone out of Dick’s head.

A short tuft of dark hair made for one of the hallways and Dick moved towards it. The next moment, someone was shouting.

“He’s got a gun!”

The words were followed seconds later by two unmistakable gunshots.

The crowd around him swarmed. Like a pack of terrified gazelle being chased by a lion, the room exploded into movement as the people all around him began running, pushing, and shoving in an attempt to get out of the building.

Dick was caught in the swell of people, his body being pushed towards the door before he could stop and find his brother.

“Damian!” he yelled this time, “Dames!”

He stopped, doing his best to plant his feet as a stone against the tide. His gaze ripped across the flood of people. Dick only had a moment before someone shoved him from behind and he was moving again, stumbling along with the crowd, jostled from position to position until he burst through the doors and the remaining rays of sunlight hit his face.

Dick tumbled out of the crowd as soon as he could, and went back to his search. He moved along the edges, knowing Damian would do the same. They’d drilled this time and again. Damian knew the rules, if they got separated in a crowd, get out and find the other along the edge.

His heart was racing. He could hear sirens coming closer. The police detail for the party must have already called for backup. Dick could hear them now too, corralling the crowd, moving everyone to a designated safe zone, but doing their best not to let them disperse.

Dick was still moving, prowling in his search for his little brother.

He took a few seconds to pause and shoot off a quick text to Damian, asking where he was, and telling him to follow procedure, and that he was looking for him.

“Damian!” he called again, hoping his voice could be heard above the din.

Where was he? They should have met up by now. Dick should be dragging his kid into his side and holding him close, apologizing for forgetting, and the fact that they were sure to miss the play. His heart should be slowing down.

But he couldn’t find Damian. What if? What if he was still inside?

Dick rushed back towards the door only to be stopped by one of the officers moving to stand in front of him.

“Sir, please, I need you to move over there.”

“I’m looking for my little brother, he’s ten, this high with black hair and has a green bowtie.” Dick held his hand out to Damian’s approximate height.

“If I see him I’ll send him your way, now please.” the man waved Dick towards the rest of the crowd.

He shook his head, “You don’t understand, I think he’s still inside. He was supposed to meet me if we got separated and he hasn’t yet I need--”

The man’s face fell, and with it Dick’s heart.

“What?” he almost growled, “What’s going on?”

“There’s still some people inside, but--” the officer trailed off.

“Tell me.” Dick did growl now.

The officer straightened against Dick’s anger, but his face was pitying, “The gunman’s locked himself up in the ballroom with hostages. We don’t have much information right now, but when we do we will let you know.”

The phone in Dick’s palm buzzed two short quick bursts that were Damian’s signature. He checked it, and saw one word: inside.

Dick’s head flooded with white static. His thumb hovered above the phone, wanting to send a message, to beg for more information. He couldn’t, couldn’t risk alerting anyone to Damian’s presence or the presence of a phone. If Damian was safe enough to text, Dick wasn’t going to put him in danger by messaging again.

The officer turned his head and seemed to catch someone else’s attention, waving them over while Dick stood frozen, “Jerry! This guy’s kid is inside, talk to him for me?”

Dick didn’t bother correcting the man, his mouth had gone dry. His heart once racing, now felt like it had all but disappeared.

Jerry, took Dick by the shoulders and moved him away from the other officer. They didn’t head towards the main crowd, but to the police cars that had rolled up to the scene. Vaguely Dick noted that police tape had been drawn up, pulled across barriers, and officers were working to soothe worried nerves.

As they moved to a group of officers, a familiar tan coat stood out from the crowd. Salt and pepper hair that was more salt than pepper at this point shifted around uniformed officers until Jim Gordon stepped towards Dick, his face a look of relief.

“Dick, I heard you were inside, thank goodness you’re alright.” he said, before glancing at Jerry, “I’ve got him.”

The officer nodded, and moved away, the absence of his hand leaving Dick’s shoulder cold.

“Dick?” the Commissioner asked.

“Damian’s inside.” Dick said, still not quite believing it.

Jim swore.

“I brought him with me because I thought it’d be a nice night. He always wants to see more of his dad’s company.” Dick rambled, head still lost.

Lost. He’d lost his kid. He’d let Damian slip away and now he was stuck inside with someone who’d brought a gun to a party. With a kidnapper . All of a sudden the shock that had been freezing him cracked, and he came back to himself. He was Batman, he could deal with this. He had to, for Damian.

“What do we know?” he asked, “How can I help?”

Jim looked him over for a moment, as if considering the possible consequences to telling Dick to let them handle things. Dick squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

“He’s got them in the ballroom. From our officer inside it’s just the one guy, but he’s claimed to have planted a bomb inside. We have no real way of knowing if that’s true or not, so we’re treating the whole thing as if he’s telling the truth.”

Dick nodded, it was a safe play to make, “Any demands?”

“Money.” Jim crossed his arms, eyeing Dick, “I get the feeling he came in looking to grab one person, not a whole room full.”

Dick swallowed. Lucius had said he’d sent out an email letting everyone know Dick would be there and be giving a speech, as a way to get them excited and convince more people to come. The lure of snatching a Wayne at a busy party was obvious.

“I’ll pay. How much does he want?” Dick said It was the safest way to get Damian out of there.

Jim shook his head, “I can’t let you do that. We’ll find a way to neutralize him.”

Heat flared up in Dick’s head, his hands tightened to fists at his side, “This is the best way to get him to let everyone go.” he argued, “And if need be, you can lure him out so you guys can grab him.”

“You know Wayne Enterprises doesn’t give into ransom demands.” Jim countered, “They won’t authorize the payout.”

“Then I’ll pay.” Dick said, “Tell me how much, I promise I can get it.”

He was frantic now. His earlier worry doubled into panic and fueled by frustration. If only he wasn’t outside. If only he weren’t in this crowd. He could take care of things in the building as Dick Grayson, or even as Batman. But no. He was stuck arguing with the one man who should understand his predicament.

“Dick--”

“He’s got Damian,” Dick snapped, “He’s my son! I won’t let him die because you won’t let me pave the way to get this guy!”

Jim’s eyes widened, then his face softened, “Alright. We’ll try it. It’s going to take some time though. He wants cash, not a wire transfer.”

“I can do that.” Dick nodded.

Moving released some of the tension built up within Dick. Not all of it. His chest felt tight, like a vice had been wrapped around it and was squeezing. He knew it wouldn’t let go until Damian was in his arms again.

He checked his phone frequently for texts. Hoping that Damian would update him, and praying he didn’t risk it.

At some point Alfred arrived to help. Together they put in phone calls to banks, tallied up how much cash was hanging around the manor for just such an occasion --Bruce really had been prepared for everything-- and worked to collect the rest of the cash as quickly as possible.

Dick kept one eye on the building, and the police. Hours passed as they waited on money to transfer and banks to make this one time exception. Pizza was sent into the building, the scent making Dick’s stomach twist. The sight, like something out of a tv show.

His only comfort was that the kidnapper was keeping in contact with the police and promised no one had been hurt yet. He seemed mollified that his requests was being taken seriously.

At least, he had been at first.

In order to collect everything, Dick had needed to leave the scene and get the final part of the cash from a bank personally. When he returned from his last stop it was to a Jim Gordon wearing a very concerned face.

“What happened?” Dick asked, the vice across his chest tightening further.

Jim shook his head, “He’s afraid it’s all a trap. Thinks we won’t let him leave. He stopped responding right after you left.”

He wasn’t wrong. The last thing the police really wanted to do was let the kidnapper walk free. But they shouldn’t have let onto that. Dick didn’t think they would have.

“Good thing I’ve got the money together then.” Dick said, hefting the briefcase, “Let’s see if he answers to that.”

Dick insisted on being there for the call, and was rejected.

“I can’t let you do that. It’d be a new voice when we’ve established communication already.” Jim told him, “Besides, Dick, you’re too invested. You yell at him like you yelled at me and things get a whole lot more complicated.”

He didn’t have a good argument against that. So, Dick moved back, not into the crowd still piled up at police barriers, but to stand along with some other officers. They were watching him closely, probably warned by Jim already to keep him from doing anything stupid. For all the perks of personally knowing the police commissioner, this was not one of them.

Tension shifted in the group as Dick watched Jim on the phone. The call went on too long. Dick knew these kinds of calls, it should have been faster. And the way the Commissioner's jaw tensed wasn’t a good sign.

He wanted to push out of the crowd and snatch the phone. Demand Damian be given back to him.

All Dick could do was worry. Worry and wonder how his brother was doing. Worry that he was safe. He’d been drilled in this too. They’d spent hours going over the procedure for what to do if one of them was ever stuck in a multiple hostage situation. It was, unfortunately, a common enough occurrence in Gotham and Dick had wanted Damian prepared for anything.

He hated that it was coming in handy.

If only he’d just kept Damian close. If he’d remembered their plans, then his brother wouldn’t have felt rejected and walked away from him.

Jim was moving. Handing Dick’s briefcase over to a plainclothes officer they’d picked just for this. Just in case the guy demanded a civilian do the hand off. How Dick wished he could be that guy.

He shifted so he could keep an eye on the front doors of the building. The men and women around him shifted to match his stance. Dick didn’t care, his eyes were locked onto the scene in front of him.

It took forever, but at last the doors creaked open and out came two figures. A man in a long trench coat with dark messy hair and a wild look on his face Dick could read from back where he was. And Damian.

Dick was afraid his chest might crack open.

His brother was pressed close to the man’s chest, the barrel of the gun flush against his skull. Before Dick could get a good look at his expression or see if he was hurt at all, people closed in around him. Towards the front, the officers beside him, everywhere police were preparing for the worst.

When Dick went to step forward a hand shot out. He looked over and found Jerry. The man shook his head. He knew it was better if he stayed still and let things play out, but all Dick wanted to do was shove through the crowd and slam his fist into the kidnapper’s face.

All he could do now was listen.

There was a low murmuring across the crowd. Then the kidnapper’s voice, high and panicked.

“Slide the briefcase over!”

A quieter response Dick couldn’t make out.

“I said do it! Want me to blow the kid’s brains out?!”

Dick stepped forward, heart in his throat. He was stopped by Jerry, his hand now holding him by the arm.

A beat of silence. Another. Dick felt like a speedster, ready to vibrate out of Jerry’s grip he was so tense.

“I told you to stand back! I’m warning you! I--”

Two shots rang out.

Dick bolted. Ripping free from Jerry’s hand he shoved his way through the crowd. They were buzzing with activity, but not the absolute flood he’d fought earlier. Dick cut through them like a warm knife in butter.

He burst forward to see three of the bomb squad officers swarming to the front doors. They were already entering moving in to start clearing the place. But that’s not what had Dick’s attention. No, his eyes were glued on the prone forms a few feet in front of the doors.

A pool of blood was already spreading on the ground, stark and red against the grey concrete. There was an officer hunched over them. Dick couldn’t even see Damian, just the kidnapper and that trenchcoat, flared out as he’d fallen.

“Damian!” Dick yelled, sprinting now that no one was in his way.

He slid to a stop, dropping to his knees so fast and hard they cracked against the ground painfully. He ignored it, and the admonition from the officer beside him, as he shoved the other man up, and off his brother, ignoring the man’s grunt as he did so. Nothing but Damian mattered.

Curled tightly on the ground lay Damian. Blood soaked a shoulder and some of his hair, but even in his frenzied state, Dick could see it wasn’t Damian’s.

“Dames.” Dick breathed, and reached out for his brother.

Slowly he put a hand on Damian’s shoulder, away from the blood, and squeezed, “Hey there, Kiddo, it’s me, it’s Dick.”

It took a moment, but Damian uncoiled, head lifting from where he’d buried it in his arms, body ever so gradually loosening from how he’d wrapped in on himself as they’d fallen.

“Richard?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m here. You’re safe.”

At those words Damian launched himself, up from the ground and into Dick’s arms. Heedless of the people around them or the buzz of the crowd. Dick wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, breathing freely at last as he felt Damian’s warmth in his arms, weight against his chest, breath on his neck.

“I’m sorry.” Damian murmured.

“Me too.” Dick said, pressing a kiss against the crown of Damian’s head, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He wanted to apologize for forgetting. For letting Damian out of his sight. For not being there every moment his kid was in danger. But there would be time for that. For now, he relished in the fact that Damian was back, he was here. He was clutching Dick like a lifeline and hadn't let go yet.

Beside them, someone else had moved forward. Jerry knelt down and looked them over, a small smile slipping across his face.

“I’m glad you found your son.” he said.

Damian made to wiggle out of Dick’s arms, but Dick just tugged him a bit closer, “Me too.” he said, “Me too.”

#dickanddamiweek2021 #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #hostage situations #guns #gunshots #gun #gunshot #canon typical violence #panicked crowds #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #precious posts

195 notes · View notes

hopelesshawks · 3 years

Text

Ash and Dust Part 7- Opportunities

18+ Dabi x fem!reader

Summary: You first meet Dabi on the worst night of your life after unwittingly walking into the very bar the League of Villains made infamous. That should probably be the end of the story. You stumble on the remnants of one of the most infamous terrorist groups in the history of Japan, get viciously murdered or call the cops and get them arrested, the end. Except that’s not the end of the story. It’s only the beginning.

Masterlist Help Lulu (Kofi)

Waking up the morning after reclaiming your bedroom (at least in part) is jarring for two reasons.

The first is that you’re waking up next to Dabi.

For some reason you thought he might wake up before you, even though he’s pretty routinely demonstrated that he’s not an early riser. Perhaps you expected the knowledge that he was sleeping in the same bed as you to perturb him enough to get him up early. Instead your eyelashes had fluttered open to find him still deeply asleep with his face only a few inches from yours.

You fully intended on simply rolling over to either fall back asleep or get on with your day but you’d found yourself enthralled with his sleeping face instead. You know Dabi’s smirks, sneers, and scowls like the back of your hand after a little over a month of living with him. His resting face, however, is entirely foreign to you. You’ve never had a moment alone with him where he wasn’t antagonizing you and it’s odd to see him so peaceful. Your eyes trace over his face, taking in the extent of the scarring on his jaw and beneath his eyes, but also appreciating the unmarred expanses of skin as well. It strikes you that Dabi is pretty. It shouldn’t be surprising considering what you’ve seen of the youngest Todoroki in the press but even still. In another world where he’d never become the wanted criminal he is today, you wonder if he’d be a heartbreaker or a sweet, gentle type. Would he be as quiet and polite as his brother seems to be or would he still get a thrill from bantering with someone who isn’t afraid to banter right back? Would he be in the tabloids with a different girl every week or settle down early with his high school sweetheart? You’re fascinated by the idea of what the scarred man before you would be without the tragedy and the trauma. You might’ve sat there just taking him in until he woke up if not for the second reason waking up that morning was so jarring.

Your phone has been pinging literally non-stop.

You’ve never resented your notification sound more as its shrill tone continues to echo in your room, putting the fragile peace at risk. Even before you found yourself as alone as you are now your phone was never this busy. As much as you try to ignore it and wait for the tidal wave of what you assume are spam notifications to end, the sound finally drives you to turn over and grab it. Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer amount of Twitter notifications you have. As you unlock your phone and navigate over to the app your mentions are literally flooded with Deku fans screaming about your talent and how lucky you are. It’s a confusing litany of fangirling that you try to weed through until you get to one mention in particular that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You got a mention from the rising hero himself.

Holy shit.

You’ve never clicked a tweet so quickly in your entire life. Not only are you stunned to find he’s seen and loved your work but he also mentions wanting to talk if you’re interested. Sure enough, when you navigate over to the messages section of the app, a feature you’ve never bothered to use, you notice a message request from Midoriya ‘Deku’ Izuku waiting for you. It takes everything in you not to scream as you read the message there over and over before finally hopping out of bed and moving to the kitchen to call the number he’d left you. It’s a little endearing that he’d been so quick to hand out his number to a complete stranger on the internet but you also can’t help but wonder how someone so naive could be the same man drawing headlines over his heroics and combat skill. You’re not exactly a Deku fangirl but it’s still wild to be dialing a celebrity’s number as you punch in the numbers and then wait for it to ring.

On literally the second ring the phone is answered. “Pro Hero Deku at your service! Who’s calling?” the young man answers chirpily. “Uhh, this is (y/l/n)? You messaged me on twitter?” “Oh! Right! Yes! Hello! One second!”

You can hear Deku excusing himself from whatever room he’s in, a disgruntled voice mumbling something you can’t hear, causing Deku to reply with a hushed “Sorry Kacchan! I’ll be right back!” before there’s more shuffling and finally the sound of a heavy door closing.

“Ok I’m back! Thanks for reaching out to me so quickly!” he finally says now that he’s, apparently, in a better place to talk.

“Yea, of course I guess I’m just shocked you liked my art so much and really appreciate you drawing so much attention to it,” you explain, feeling short of breath at how surreal the situation is.

“Of course! You’re really talented! Your work deserves to get attention!”

“Thank you but, uh, why exactly did you want me to call you?”

“Right! It’s about your artwork.”

“Ok?”

“I want to sell it!”

“What?”

“Wait well no not sell it. Or not sell that particular piece although it is a nice piece and if you wanted to theoretically you could probably sell it although I guess it’s available for free online already so maybe people wouldn’t want to pay for it. Although it’s a painting right? And people buy or pay to go see paintings you can see online all the time so maybe it wouldn’t be too bad but if it’s for your own enjoyment you may not want to give it up which would be totally understandable and also how would that work logistically? If the painting is rather large it may be unwieldy to try and ship it to whoever purchases it, in which case would you have to meet up to try and give it to them by hand? But then that necessitates meeting up with a complete stranger on the internet and what if the person who buys it doesn’t live near you or, since it is the internet, doesn’t even live in Japan? Then you have to contend with international shipping and-”

“Uhh, Deku?” you ask cautiously, barely able to process the mumbling of the young man on the phone.

“Ah! Sorry! I can kinda end up on tangents sometimes... What I mean to say is that I’m not trying to sell the painting you posted or anything but I think you’re really talented as an artist and one of my friends is looking for someone to design a new merch collection.”

One of his friends? Your mind instantly starts running through his impressive list of ex classmates. Your first thought is Dynamight and immediately you shudder at the idea. He may be years younger than you but the aggressive pro hero still scares the shit out of you. Uravity could be an interesting hero to work with although you’re not quite sure you vibe with her aesthetic. Or maybe he’s talking about the new Ingenium?

“You’re real fucking loud in the mornings, you know that Doll?” Dabi asks with a groan as he comes walking into the room with a stretch.

You hurry to shush him, not wanting to lose the opportunity being presented to you, which earns you a curious look. Before you can react Dabi is snatching your phone out of your hand and putting it on speaker. You don’t dare protest verbally and risk alerting Deku of the situation so you have to settle for glaring at Dabi as he smirks at you.

“Yea so, anyway, Shouto really needs new merch but wanted something a little more sophisticated on the designs and I feel like you’d be perfect for that you know? Making all his stuff mini works of art. So what do you say?” Deku asks, his voice still brimming with that same enthusiasm while your blood runs cold. You’re genuinely scared to look up at Dabi’s face to see what he thinks about the idea of you working with his little brother. You hold your breath, Deku’s chipper voice going nervous as he asks “Hello? You still there?”

To your immense surprise, when you finally have the courage to bring your eyes up to meet Dabi’s, he’s got an almost feral grin. “You better take the fucking job,” he hisses delightedly, sending a chill down your spine as you stutter out a response to Deku, your eyes never leaving Dabi’s.

“Yea, sorry just processing. I’d, uh, I’d be happy to help out.”

“Great! I’ll pass your number on to Shouto and you two can meet up and figure out details!”

“Ok.”

“Cool, thanks (y/l/n)! Hopefully I’ll see you around!”

You hum noncommittally before hanging up the phone, still waiting for the other shoe to drop as you practically watch the gears turning in Dabi’s head.

“You’re…. Not mad I’m going to be working with your brother?” you ask cautiously.

“Oh no, I’m fucking delighted Doll. You know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna help me have a little fun.”

A/N: We are finally starting to get to the meat of the story omg. I’m sorry this fic has been so slow going, especially compared to my others, but if you stick with I’m pretty sure it’ll be worth it. I appreciate each and every one of y’all that’s been reading this fic because main motivation to write it has been hard

Taglist: @thechroniclesofawriter @simpsfortodoroki @ahtsuwu @oliviasslut @larkspyrr @oikawaandkuroostan @tina-98 @vibesdontlie @clubfairy

#hopelessad #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x fem!reader #touya todoroki #touya x y/n #touya x fem!reader

50 notes · View notes

chaoticminhos · 3 years

Text

swim captain (chapter three)

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst

warnings: mentions of possible sexual assault, mentions of slight violence

word count: 3.2k

a/n: look at me posting kinda consistently and shit

chan watched as you left the building with jaemin and his friends, head flooding with thoughts of you and his realization.

since when did he like you like that? he’s known you for years, why now was he falling for you? why not last year when he didn’t know who to ask to the dance or earlier this year when he needed a plus one to an important swim meet? you ended up going as minho’s date to both of those things, and chan had ended up taking some random girl.

but it didn’t matter, he couldn’t have asked you to those things as anything more than a friend anyway. whether he fell for you now or a year ago or any time, he needed to cut it out.

it felt inappropriate to have feelings for you. you were the manager of a team that he was captain of and there was a feeling of responsibility that came along with both of those positions. and even if that didn’t matter, how was he supposed to know if you thought of him any different than you thought of the rest of the boys? if anything, you seemed less interested in him than any of the other boys. he probably got one hug for every five the others got, ten if it was hyunjin or minho.

he was sure you saw him as a brother. a good friend, and that was all. you obviously didn’t see him as anything else, or you wouldn’t have left with jaemin. but that was fine, because it would be inappropriate if you did. it was inappropriate that he did.

he tried to think back and figure out when his feelings changed. he couldn’t pinpoint anything specific that would have changed the way he feels towards you, but it made sense of things. like why he had been extra focused on you the past weeks and why minho’s actions were bugging him now, even though they were the same as always. he was forced out of his train of thought when someone called his name.

“chan, you coming?” changbin called from a few feet away, the boys already heading for the door, which chan failed to realize as he was caught up in his own thoughts.

“yeah,” he began, “uh, yeah, sorry.”

he figured it best to go with the boys. they would offer some sort of distraction from the fact that you were with jaemin at that moment, and a bunch of his friends. plus, he had made a point of expressing that he was going out in his attempt to get you to stay with your team and not leave with NCT, so it would look weird if he didn’t go now.

the boys piled into felix’s car. his family had came to the meet and drove his car along with another one, leaving his since they knew the boys would want to hang out after the meet. all of the boys fit in the large crossover, but it was definitely not legal to have that many people packed into one vehicle.

finally deciding on a small ice cream shop, felix pulled into the small parking lot and shut off the car. the boys immediately stormed out of the car and into the diner.

after ordering their ice cream and sitting down, the 8 of them began to chat about the days events. chan didn’t bother to tune in much. that is, until he heard a certain subject being discussed.

“he seemed pretty nice,” seungmin joked, “you know, for someone from NCT.”

“no joke. and he’s pretty, too.” added changbin.

“hey,” felix began, “you trying to steal y/n’s man?”

chan interrupted the bantering, “what about that guy came off as nice to you guys? he was creepy! like, who walks up to a stranger and asks them to leave late at night with them and their friends? that’s weird!” he paused, “and he didn’t even acknowledge that we were there! isn’t he supposed to get, like, permission or something?”

“permission? yeah, from her dad, not her 8 annoying best friends, dumbass.” hyunjin responded.

“seriously, how are you guys so chill about this? we don’t know the kid or anyone on his team.”

“y/n’s a big girl, chan, she can handle herself.”

“against a group of that many guys?” chan scoffed, “yeah right.”

“chan, why are you automatically assuming they’re going to hurt her?”

“why are you assuming they’re not?”

“i don’t know, maybe because there’s no history of NCT being a bad school? maybe because none of those boys have a record?”

“they’re top athletes, hyunjin, you really fucking think the school would let that type of shit on a public record if anything happened? and risk their reputation?”

hyunjin let out an unamused laugh, “we’re top athletes too, chan.” he gestured to everyone around the table, “we have clean records.”

“yeah, clean as long as minho’s assault charge stays expunged.”

he mumbled, pushing his chair back and standing up, headed for the door.

minho stood up with him, moving to grab his arm and stop him from leaving, “are you forgetting i caught that charge defending y/n?”

chan shrugged his shoulders, pulling his arm from minho’s grip and continuing his path to the door, “it’s just an example, minho.”

“how are you gonna get home?” felix called before he could leave.

without turning around, chan responded, “i’ll figure it out.”

and the door shut behind him.

the 7 boys looked at each other, felix practically pulling minho back to his seat to stop him from following chan out the door. that was expected, minho was a hothead, but chan was usually calm and practical, even when upset. and he knew better than to make a scene in public.

“jesus,” jisung laughed, “he flops one race and he turns into a 2 year old having a tantrum.”

“yeah,” minho let out a scoff that the rest of the boys played off as a laugh, “because it’s race he’s pissy about.”

meanwhile, you were sat inside of a fast food restaurant surrounded by a group of curious boys.

“stray kids, huh? aren’t you going to get, like, guillotined for conversing with your enemies?” a boy, who jaemin had identified as lucas, joked.

you laughed, “nah, we keep the competition in the water.”

“tell that to that one guy, he seemed like he didn’t get that memo.” spoke another one of jaemin’s teammates, one you couldn’t remember the name of.

you cocked your head to the side in confusion, and he continued.

“blonde, curly hair. bang, maybe?”

“oh, chan!” he’s just upset about his race, i think.”

“whatever his name is, he’s scary.” spoke the boy you think introduced himself as jeno.

“yeah,” jaemin chuckled, “honestly, i thought i was gonna get my shit rocked. like maybe i’d asked his girlfriend out or something.”

you blushed, letting out a surprised laugh “girlfriend?”

did it really seem like you and chan might be a couple? did chan really seem jealous that jaemin asked you to hang out? you felt butterflies in your stomach at the idea. despite being out on a ‘date’ with jaemin and surrounded by his attractive friends, you still found yourself feeling weaker at the thought of chan than any of the boys around you at that moment.

“yeah, he did not look like he liked the idea of me asking you out, to be honest.”

you didn’t think it was possible, but your face reddened even more. before you could respond that chan was just always super protective of his team, your phone went off, signaling that you’d gotten a text message.

you held your phone up, “speak of the devil.”

channie: hey, let me know when you get home safe, yeah??

you smiled at the message, typing a quick reply.

y/n: gotcha

chan’s message reminded you that it was indeed a school night, and that you should probably head home. you slid your phone back in your pocket and turned to jaemin.

“hey, i should get going, there’s school tomorrow. see you around?”

jaemin shot you a big smile, pulling his phone from his pocket and holding it out for you.

“i would love to see you around. i’ll text you?” he questioned, to which you responded with a smile, taking the device from his hand.

you typed your number into jaemin’s phone, sending yourself a message from it so you would have his number, too.

“need a ride home?”

“no, thank you,” you replied, “i’ll call a cab or something, you stay and have fun. thanks, though!”

you called for a taxi and send a quick message to chan.

y/n: just called a taxi. on my way home.

channie: he isn’t giving you a ride?

y/n: i didn’t want one

chan, sitting in the backseat of his own cab, felt his stomach drop.

channie: did something happen? are you okay?

y/n: i’m fine, just didn’t wanna make them leave just because i wanted to head home.

chan relaxed into his seat.

y/n: how about you guys? headed home soon?

channie: i am. i’m not sure about the others.

y/n: ?

channie: i left early

y/n: still upset about the race?

chan sighed just as the taxi pulled into his driveway. he stepped out, handing a wad of cash to the driver and telling him to keep the change.

he stepped into his house and headed straight to his bedroom, falling onto his mattress. he stared at your message for a few seconds before replying.

channie: something like that.

y/n: it was probably just an off day, don’t beat yourself up about it!

chan looked at your message and tossed his phone on the bed beside him, pulling an arm over his face and groaning in frustration. he was worn out from the day, not even having the energy to shower the chlorine off of himself, he decided he was just going to go to sleep as soon as possible. just as he was nearly dozed off, his phone let out a ding.

y/n: home safe and sound! night, chan

he didn’t bother typing a reply, letting himself fall into a restless sleep.

chan woke the next morning sporting the same outfit as the day before. he grabbed for his phone to check the time, having a mini heart attack when realizing he only had 40 minutes to shower, get ready, eat, and drive to school.

he jumped up, grabbing a random assortment of clothes and headed to the bathroom. he hissed when he got into the shower and felt his skin burn, it was cracking from not having the chlorine washed off of it from the night before.

he and the rest of the boys always had cracked knuckles and chapped lips from being in chlorine so much, but it got significantly worse when the chlorine didn’t get washed off as soon as possible.

he hurried to ready himself before jumping into his car without eating anything. if he wanted to get to school on time, he’d have to skip breakfast.

chan arrived in the school with five minutes to spare, which wasn’t a completely unusual amount of time, just a bit less than he would usually like. heading to his locker, he caught sight of you standing in front of your own, staring down at your phone. he offered a small “hey” as he walked past you and opened his locker.

upon noticing him, you shut your phone off and shoved it into your back pocket.

he looked from you to his locker, speaking as he focused on putting what he needed for the day in his bag.

“have fun last night?”

“yeah! the NCT boys are super nice. you guys would love them!”

“yeah,” chan mumbled, “i’m sure i would.”

with that, you walked past him and towards your first hour class, playfully shoving him as you passed him. it earned you a small smile, and that was enough to make you think his mood from the night before had improved, but he still felt the same cloud of confusion and frustration as he watched you walk down the hallway. he hated himself for thinking it, but just for a small second, he wondered if maybe it would be easier if something had happened and you didn’t like jaemin and his friends.

you and chan didn’t share any morning classes, so he wasn’t able to see you again until lunch, and that was probably good. he decided it would be best to attempt to shove his emotions as far down as possible and act as normal around you as he could, hoping maybe the feelings would go away as quickly as they had came.

because of this, he made no attempt to sit by you at lunch, but tried to converse with you normally, just as the other boys did. just like he did before he realized his feelings towards you. the boys were making it very difficult for him to keep his calm, though, when they wouldn’t leave the topic of you and jaemin alone.

“so, y/n,” jisung teased, “you gonna leave us for NCT and your hot new boy toy?”

you threw a fry from your plate at him with a laugh, “he is not my ‘boy toy’ jisung, he’s my friend. plus, i’d never leave you guys.”

“even if NCT beats us in competition again?” minho pouted.

you smiled at the boy sat across from you on the table, leaning down to rest your elbows on the table as you spoke, “even if they beat us in comp this year.”

minho smiled at you from across the table, eyes glancing over to chan seated beside him for a moment before focusing back on you.

it was obvious to minho that chan had feelings for you, and vice versa. how no one else had caught on he had no clue.

minho thought of himself as a good friend. good friends help their friends out, and even though maybe the idea of pissing chan off after the shot he’d thrown at minho the night before could have been enough for minho to pull a stunt, it did help that good could come out of it. after all, maybe a little jealousy was the shove chan needed to finally ask you out.

minho decided that since chan wasn’t even looking at you, choosing to stare down at his food instead, he would make him look at you.

he reached cross the table and ruffled your hair, “that’s my girl.”

he snuck another glance at chan. it was apparent that although he hadn’t been looking at you, he was listening to what was happening. his head had slightly raised and his eyes were locked onto minho.

deciding to push his friends buttons a bit more, minho locked eyes with chan and cocked his head, pulling a painfully obvious fake look of concern, “you look grumpy, bud, what’s up?”

chan forced an equally fake smile back, sitting up straight and dropping his fork onto his lunch tray with a loud clang.

“just tired.”

minho hummed in response, barely acknowledging chan’s response before turning back to you.

“y/n, i gotta go to the library before lunch ends. come with?”

you nodded, not having caught on to the tension between minho and chan. it wasn’t hard to miss, especially when no one else at the table was paying it any attention either.

“actually, minho.” chan stood from his seat and placed a hand on minho’s shoulder, “coach wanted to see you. you know, about your race yesterday.”

minho raised an eyebrow, “can’t he talk to me at practice?”

“nope,” chan offered no further explanation before grabbing his tray and heading to dump it in the trash. he motioned minho to follow him, “let’s go.”

minho jogged to catch up with chan as he lead them both to an empty hallway.

“isn’t coaches office that way?” minho gestured in the opposite direction.

chan scoffed, “you know damn well that was an excuse. come on dude, stop fucking with me.”

minho raised his eyebrows, feigning innocence, “what do you mean?”

“oh my god minho, you know what i mean.”

minho shrugged, “clearly not. why else would i be asking?”

“because you’re a fucking prick.” chan muttered.

he sighed, running a hand down his face and taking a deep breath, “i know you know i like her, okay? i mean,” he put his hands up and mimicked quotation marks, “‘i would never do that to you.’” he let his hands fall to his side, “you knew before i did. so stop being an asshole. i can’t make the stupid crush go away if i’m pissed off 24-fucking-7 because you’re hitting on her.”

chan ran his hands through his hair. he’d never even admitted it to himself out loud before. this was the first time he’d heard himself say it out loud. he didn’t know if saying it out loud or telling someone would help, but minho obviously already knew. there was no harm in admitting something to someone who knew before you did.

“chan, this is how me and the rest of the boys have always been around her. like yeah, i’ve amped it up a bit recently so you’d finally get it through your thick fucking skull that you’re in love with her and i’ll calm it down again when you’ve stopped being a pussy, but it’s not something that’s going completely away. not from me, not from any of the boys, and honestly dude, probably not from jaemin. you can’t expect her to stop having fun with her friends simply because you’re crushing on her. not even when you’re dating her.” he paused before continuing, “if you end up dating her. jaemin seems to have more balls than you.”

chan groaned, “i know, minho.”

“then make a move.”

“i’m not making a move.”

minho frowned, “what? why not?”

“i’m just not, minho.” his words came out harsher than he’d intended, “but can you please just stop? just until i can shake these stupid fucking feelings, then you can go back to trying to get into her pants.”

minho shoved him, “if i wanted into y/n’s pants, i’d be in them.” he nudged chan again, “but seriously dude, why shake reciprocated feelings?”

chan finally brought his eyes to meet minho’s again, “what?”

minho feigned confusion, “what?”

“repeat that.”

“repeat what?”

“the thing you said about feelings.”

“oh,” minho began, “i said why shake the feelings?”

“that’s not what you said.”

minho frowned, “i’m pretty sure that’s what i said.”

“no,” chan pressed, “you added another word. what did you say?”

minho shook his head, pretending to think about it. “no, i think that’s like word for word what i said.”

chan shoved him, “minho, seriously, what did you say?”

instead of a proper response, minho looked towards the ceiling of the school. he’d given chan enough advice for the day.

“i think that was the bell. i gotta go. see you at practice!”

“minho!” chan yelled as minho jogged down the hallway. the bell had most definitely not sounded, “asshole.”

163 notes · View notes

ggukkiedae · 3 years

Text

❝𝕞𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕣❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ yoonmi decides to take risks, live in the present, and act on her feelings

⇢ set in early february 2018

𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜:

⇢ conversations written in italics are spoken in english. requests and feedback are highly appreciated!

Yoonmi knew she had been afraid of being left behind.

The countless visits to therapists as well as discussion with her brothers and members proved it. Not to mention how badly she reacted to… recent events. It never really hit her how bad it was until she processed the way she acted out on the older members.

She wanted to change that.

She realized that there is an end to everything and everyone and that, inevitably, people would one day be gone. But that didn’t mean she’d be left behind. She would have the memories to live by as well as everything she’d learnt. Sure, the fear of losing the people she held dear to her heart was still terrifying, but she wanted to push that fear away and make the most of her time with the people she loves.

She made that unspoken promise, and she intended to keep it. And she had been doing well.

Slowly but surely, she had patched up her relationships with the older members. There was still some slight tension left from the months of not speaking to each other outside of work, but they were comfortable enough. Everything was almost back to usual.

“It feels kinda nice,” she spoke aloud, catching Jimin’s attention. “Not being so worried about anyone leaving. Living in the moment.”

“Kinda?” Jimin raised an eyebrow at her before going over to her chair and smothering her in a hug, making her giggle. “I’m sure it feels way better now. Look! You’re finally working on a solo project again!”

“It’s not solo,” she reasoned, “it’s a collab with Hannah unnie. Besides, we were working on it before the whole issue happened. I feel bad for pushing it back, though.”

Yoonmi looked back at her computer screen. Hannah had asked her for help in songwriting with the hopes of being able to help in future songs. It ended up in her writing to something Yoonmi produced and SM offering to turn it into an SM Station. But then the tension rose in the band, and Yoonmi had asked for the release to be postponed indefinitely. Now, she was finalizing her own parts before sending the final version to Hannah then to SM.

“I’m sure Hannah doesn’t mind,” Jimin ruffled her hair. “You were in a rough situation. Speaking of NCT, don’t you think someone else deserves to feel the joys of your ending of your fear of being left behind?”

“I don’t know,” she reached up to pull at the ends of her hair, “should I tell him? It’s just that we haven’t properly talked about it since January last year. My main point still stands. It’s possible he doesn’t like me that way anymore.”

She knew Jimin was talking about Mark. He was one of the three people who knew what they had talked about regarding their feelings over a year ago (the other two being Chan and Jungkook). Her feelings hadn’t changed at all. She still liked him, maybe a little more. She couldn’t say the same for him, though. But Jimin begged to disagree.

“Aegi, please,” he lightly pinched the tip of her nose, “if he says he’ll wait for you, then he will. I don’t think he’d tell you that if he didn’t mean it.”

“Feelings change, oppa.”

Jimin facepalmed. “He messages you a lot. He takes you out on “non-official” dates. He sends you really meaningful gifts on days like your birthday, Christmas, and White Day. A lot of these he did even before he confessed to you. And have you seen the way he looks at you? He looks at you like you put the stars in the sky!”

“You sound like a fan on twitter,” she giggled at his mini spiel.

“Point is,” he gave her a look, “there is no way his feelings for you have changed. And I’m pretty sure they aren’t going away anytime soon.”

She chewed on her bottom lip while weighing her options. If she tells Mark that she was finally ready for a relationship, one of two things could happen. He could either be happy and ask her officially, or he could reject her leaving things awkward between them and ruining a friendship she absolutely adored.

Then again, she did say she’d try harder to live in the moment.

“We’ll see,” she gave Jimin a smile.

“Aigoo,” he cooed and cradled her face in his hands, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head, “our makdungie is growing up and dealing with love.”

“Shhh,” she laughed and wriggled out of his grip, “I want this to be a secret first, okay? While I figure out how to tell him.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks, oppa,” she gave him a kiss on the cheek before lightly pushing him in the direction of the door, “now go! I have a song to finish!”

She shook her head fondly while Jimin left her studio with a laugh. She had almost forgotten what it was like to have him around teasing her about things like boys or just her growing up. It was pretty nice.

She pulled out her phone, fingers automatically typing on her keypad as if they went on autopilot. She read the message she had typed down in her drafts.

Remember when you said whenever I’m ready? I am.

She shook her head before shutting her phone and tossing it into her bag. Telling him over text would be weird. She should save it for when they actually see each other in person.

For now, she shook the thought put of her head and turned back to her work.

She definitely wasn’t expecting Mark to call her over the next day.

She found herself commuting to the Lee siblings dorm after school because Mark had called her that morning to hang out for a bit. The timing was impeccable. Maybe it was the universe telling her to actually tell Mark as soon as possible?

“Hey, Little Star,” Mark greeted her the moment he opened the door.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Little Star?”

“I thought it was appropriate,” he smiled as he took her backpack from her, “with you being a tiny international superstar and your second name meaning star in Latin. It’s still so strange to me how you and Hannah have second names.”

“Been doing research on me, I see,” she laughed as she took off her shoes and followed him into the living room. “Are those cookies I smell?”

“Hannah made some before she left for practice,” he placed a plate of cookies on the coffee table. “I set these aside for you. The rest went to, well, the seventeen other members. That is if Taeyong hyung and Ten hyung don’t eat it all during Baby Don’t Stop polishing.”

She smiled at him in thanks and quickly took one. She could feel his eyes watching her while his leg bounced a little bit. Her mind was working fast trying to seem casual while trying to figure out the right timing to tell him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he began, “how have you been? Last you told me, everything was resolved, yeah?”

“Everything’s good.” she nodded. “To be honest, it’s still a little tense sometimes, but we’re working through it. I’m just happy now that it’s all been talked out properly.”

“If you eat all the cookies I saved for you then maybe you’d be even happier,” Mark smiled at her from where he was sitting down by her feet. Yoonmi sat up and smiled at him. She took the cookie that Mark handed her, noting how he looked a little bit nervous.

“Oppa, you’re being more awkward than you usually are,” Yoonmi noted as she plopped down next to him on the floor instead of the couch.

“No I’m not,” Mark retorted before processing the whole of her statement, “wait, hey! I’m not awkward.”

“Okay,” she laughed while taking a bite of a cookie. “Oh my God, these are amazing.”

“Hannah’s been working on her recipe,” Mark said.

“It’s so nice of her to bake you guys these so early in the morning” Yoonmi said as she took another bite.

“Please, she was just excited about me officially asking you to be my girlfriend.”

They both froze at the statement. Yoonmi turned to look at Mark whose eyes had grown wide in shock at his own statement. Did she hear him right? He was asking her to be his girlfriend? Did he read her mind?

“Oh shit umm,” Mark fumbled with the plate of cookies, “I mean— uhhh— This really isn’t turning out the way I wanted it to. I just saw your message yesterday and got her help to plan this out...”

Wait, message?

“My message?” she asked him and pulled put her phone, checking the messages. “I didn’t send you a message— oh.”

She had indeed messaged him. She must have accidentally hit send when she shut off her phone. It died before she got to the dorms, so she must have not noticed she sent it.

“Sorry,” she apologized, “I didn’t mean to. No! I did mean it! I just— I meant to say it in person rather than through text.”

“No, it’s fine,” Mark shook his hands. “It gave me time to kinda just put this together.”

She watched as he reached into the pile of cookies and pulled out possibly one of the smallest boxes she had ever seen. Or maybe it was just small compared to Hannah’s giant cookies. He handed it to her, and, on autopilot, her hand accepted the box. Yoonmi pulled the box’s cover off to find the smallest ziplock bag she had ever seen with a slip of paper and what looks like a small necklace. She looked at Mark even more confused.

“Open it,” Mark quietly instructed while rubbing at the back of his neck, shyer at her lack of verbal response.

Yoonmi gently placed the box down on the coffee table after pulling out the box’s contents. She took a little while to admire the necklace. It was a small “m” with little pale pink gems encrusted on it hanging on a thin silver chain. She unfolded the paper, eyes widening at what it said.

I told you I’d wait. I still like you a lot. Will you be my girlfriend? Officially?

“So?” Mark shyly asked her, “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought I should ask you this since we’ve already told each other about how we feel last year, and we’ve been going out a lot, just the two of us. I mean, I’m more sure of my feelings now, and I thought maybe we could go up the ladder and actually become boyfriend and girlfriend now. It’s okay if you changed your mind and wanna stay friends, I mean—“

Yoonmi cut off Mark’s rambling by pressing a kiss to his cheek. Mark stopped and looked at Yoonmi while raising a hand to his cheek.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend,” she giggled at him. Mark grinned and pulled Yoonmi into a hug. This, of course, somehow resulted in the spilling of cookies all over the carpet.

“Oh, sorry,” Mark laughed, “I’ll clean this up. But first.”

She watched as he took the necklace from her hand and placed it around her neck.

“My heart is beating too fast right now,” Yoonmi laughed as Mark leaned back to admire the necklace he got her. She watched him hold his arm up and saw a little sparkle on his wrist. He, of course, had a bracelet with a similar charm except with white gems instead of pale pink.

“Mine, too,” Mark agreed. His face turned a little worried. “Now we just have to tell your members.”

“What about the rest of NCT?”

“They don’t need to know just yet, unless you want to be ambushed by 17 boys.”

She laughed a little then smiled at him. His feelings never changed, and neither did hers. Despite them deciding not to be official yet, the feelings never left even after over a whole year. There was a short moment of comfortable silence before the two looked down at the carpet then at each other.

“We should really clean this up,” she laughed.

Mark just shook his head and pulled her into another hug. “Let me bask in the fact that you’re my Little Star now.”

Yoonmi laughed but hugged him back. “I knew something was up when you made me a new nickname.”

#yoonmi.markmi #bts 8th member #bts female member #bts female addition #miya #yoonmi #kim yoonmi #yoonmi.lyher

100 notes · View notes

melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Because I was following him

I rewrote the CoI scene where Alastair comes to Thomas’ rescue from Alastair’s POV a while back.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31310876

Alastair cursed underneath his breath when he witnessed what happened at the Golden Square. Of course Thomas had to let himself get caught by Inquisitor Bridgestock. Now everyone thought he was the killer, and Alastair was the only one who could testify on his behalf.

He quietly followed the Inquisitor and his patrol, who were dragging Thomas along with him. None of them had any idea he was there and Alastair intended for it to stay that way. Bridgestock did not like him much and might even use his presence as an excuse to accuse Alastair of the murders. Better to wait until the Consul was there, and then testify.

He had never intended for anyone to know about him following Thomas. He knew it wouldn’t change anything, he knew Thomas would not forgive him. Nor did he deserve that. But he would still do the best he could to keep Thomas safe, to make sure his recklessness wouldn’t get him killed. He could live with Thomas hating him, but he could not live with the idea of him dying. How any of those fools were still alive, Alastair had no idea.

He followed Bridgestock’s party into the Institute. None of them noticed he was there as they dragged Thomas to the sanctuary to lock him up there while Alastair stayed behind, and that gave him the time to think. He couldn’t go in like this, his hair was a mess and he looked very distraught. He would need to compose himself, to put on the mask from the academy, otherwise everyone would be able to tell that he loved Thomas.

He needed a good reason why he’d been following Thomas too, no one would believe him being there was just a coincidence and he couldn’t tell anyone the real reason he’d followed Thomas. As far as anyone else knew, he disliked Thomas as much as the Merry Thieves disliked him. Of course, Cordelia did like those boys. And he figured that was a good enough excuse. Cordelia was fond of Thomas, he was one of her husband’s closest friends after all. He’d made sure to keep Thomas safe because he didn’t want his sister to lose a friend.

Alastair slipped into a nearby bathroom, trying to fix his hair and his clothes, but no matter what he did his hair wouldn’t lie flat. Some of the black dye had faded and left a few patches of blonde is his predominantly black hair. He sighed. He guessed it didn’t matter, he looked like he had been on the streets all night, sleep deprived and messy. Some day soon he’d fix his hair but right now he had other priorities.

He took in a deep breath and made his way to the Sanctuary. Thomas’ friends had made it there already, and his older sister Eugenia was standing outside the door. She eyed him suspiciously.

‘What are you doing here, Carstairs?’

‘I’m here to get your brother out of prison,’ Alastair said.

‘How?’ Eugenia let go of her hostility.

‘I saw what happened. I’ve been following him ever since he started going out on these patrols alone. He didn’t kill Lillian Highsmith.’

‘You realize Bridgestock might try to pin suspicion on you instead, or claim that you’re lying on his behalf. He’s in quite a state and refuses to admit he’s wrong about having found the killer.’

Alastair shrugged. ‘That’s a risk I’m willing to take.’

‘Why were you there anyway? Thomas was caught very early in the morning, why would you be out at such an hour?’

Alastair sighed, letting go of the mask. ‘Because I was following him.’

‘You were… why would you do that?’

Alastair hesitated. He couldn’t exactly explain why he had been following Thomas to his sister. Nor to the Consul and Inquisitor. Good time to try his excuse. If Eugenia didn’t believe it, he’d know he’d have to think of something better.

‘Cordelia is fond of him and his friends, someone had to keep him safe. I figured it was the least I could do.’

Eugenia didn’t seem suspicious, at least. ‘Thank you. Alright, go in.’

Alastair put on the mask again and walked in. Chin up, posture straight, making sure he looked every bit the arrogant bastard he used to be. He hated that person, hated that mask, but it was a necessary evil. Everything so they wouldn’t realize he loved Thomas.

‘Dear God,’ said Matthew Fairchild with obvious loathing. ‘Could this day get any worse? What the hell are you doing here, Carstairs?’

Alastair glared at him. Even now Matthew Fairchild always managed to get under his skin.

‘Alastair,’ said the consul, ‘I’m afraid I must ask you to go, these are private.’ She frowned at Thomas’ father, who looked angry. At him, or because his son was wrongfully imprisoned? Alastair hoped it was the latter. ‘Has the front door become unlocked?’

Alastair glanced at Thomas for only a moment, he was absolutely terrified and Alastair suspected that was because of him. It stung, but Alastair kept his chin up. They wouldn’t see.

‘No, the door was not unlocked,’ he said, ‘at least not when I came in. Which was some time ago. You see, I followed Thomas here and came in with the Inquisitor and his patrol. I witnessed miss Highsmith’s death, the entire incident.’

Matthew Fairchild sprang to his feet. ‘Alastair, if you’re lying, I swear on the angel-‘ His mother didn’t let him finish that sentence.

‘Stop!’ the consul yelled, her hand up. ‘Alastair, say what you mean. Now.’

‘As I said, I was in the Golden Square when Thomas was passing through. I also heard Lillian Highsmith scream. I saw Thomas run to help her. She was already dying when he got there. He never harmed her. I’ll swear to it.’

Matthew sat back down. Alastair dared once more to look at Thomas, he seemed confused but at least he was no longer scared. Thomas’ father seemed rather pleased, which only made Alastair feel ashamed. Gideon Lightwood likely had no clue of the past between him and his son, and ought to hate him as much as the Merry Thieves did.

‘Er – what?’ Christopher asked.

The Inquisitor sneered at him. ‘So it’s a coincidence on top of coincidence, then. Tell me, Carstairs, what possible reason could you have had to be in Golden Square at the same time as Thomas Lightwood.’

Alastair looked disdainful at the Inquisitor, making no effort to conceal his hatred for the man. ‘Because I was following him. I’ve been following Thomas for days. I knew he was going out on these insane night patrols by himself, and I wanted to make sure that he was safe. Cordelia is fond of him.’

Thomas looked as him as if he was watching water as it burnt. ‘You’re the one who’s been following me?’

‘You knew someone was following you?’ Matthew shouted. ‘And you didn’t say anything? Thomas!’

As much as Alastair hated to admit it, Fairchild had a point. But Thomas was bloody stubborn, and of course he’d continued his patrols even knowing someone was following him. It might just as well have been the killer. How any of these Thieves were still alive today, Alastair had no idea.

‘Everyone be quiet,’ Charlotte said, calm but determined.

She reminded him of Charles right now, a thought that made him nauseous as he always was when he thought of his former lover. Determined not to show any emotion, Alastair studied his nails.

‘This is preposterous, Charlotte. Carstairs is lying to cover up for his friend,’ Bridgestock said.

‘They’re not friends,’ said James. ‘One of us might lie for Thomas. Not Alastair.’

That wasn’t quite true, Alastair would certainly lie for Thomas if it would save his life. Fortunately, he didn’t have to.

‘Then he’s probably mad with grief over his father’s death. Either way he’s not credible,’ Bridgestock snarled, looking at him with a rage that made Alastair suspect this was personal to him somehow.

‘And yet we are going to hear him out, and Thomas as well, because that is the task that is appointed to us,’ Charlotte Fairchild said, her tone cold as ice. Again she sounded just like her oldest son. ‘Thomas and Alastair both will be held here in the Sanctuary until they can be tried by the Mortal Sword.’

Alastair suspected something like this might happen, but did not look forward to the prospect of being locked up with Thomas Lightwood. He wasn’t sure he could take Thomas’ anger, even if it was completely justified. He would have to wear the mask until the consul came back.

‘You cannot make that decision without me,’ Bridgestock said. ‘I would try them right now, if not for the fact that the Mortal Sword is currently in Paris.’ Alastair couldn’t place the loathing in the Inquisitor’s voice when he said Paris.

‘Fortunately, Will and Tessa will be here tomorrow morning with the sword,’ said Charlotte. ‘Now, Maurice, I fear your eagerness to make your arrest known has only stoked panic. You had best come with me to the courtyard, to communicate that the Enclave has the matter well in hand. The identity of the accused will not be released until the Mortal Sword is employed tomorrow.’

Bridgestock gave one last furious look at the consul and then stalked out of the room. Alastair wondered, if someone did manage to break in here and take matters into his own hand, would they come for him first? Certainly, he looked a lot more murderous than Thomas.

Cordelia slipped through the entrance before the Inquisitor closed the door. Had she been here all this time? Alastair hadn’t seen her.

‘I heard,’ she said, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. ‘I was outside with Eugenia. I heard everything.’

‘Ghoseh nakhor, hamechi dorost mishe,’ Alastair said, stroking Cordelia’s back. Everything will be alright.

He lowered his voice. ‘Listen to me, Layla. I haven’t wanted to fret you, but Maman has been told by the Silent Brothers to keep to her bed, for the sake of her health and the baby’s. I do not think we should worry her more. Tell her I’m spending the night at the Institute to keep Christopher company.’

Cordelia blinked, Alastair could tell she was trying to hold back tears. ‘Yes, I’ll send a runner with a message, but will she believe that? You hardly know Christopher.’

He kissed his sister’s forehead, closing his eyes, letting go of the mask for a moment. ‘She’ll just be glad to think I have a friend, I suspect.’

His mother was always so concerned about his lack of friends, and Christopher was at least believable, he liked anyone who was willing to listen to his ramblings about science. Thomas had told him as much when they’d made the antidote together all those months ago.

‘Alastair,’ Layla said.

The consul didn’t let her finish. ‘This room has become entirely too crowded. All of you, save Alastair and Thomas, clear out. You too, Gideon. We must be seen to be cooperating, you do understand that.’

‘Indeed,’ Gideon Lightwood said, but Alastair wasn’t so sure he understood.

He smiled at Thomas, and it hurt to see the way they exchanged looks. What was it like, to have a father like that? Someone who cared enough to defend his son when he was accused of murder, who was offended at the idea of Thomas being locked in here.

“But it’s ridiculous just leaving them here, they need blankets, food, they’re not being tortured, Charlotte.’

‘Indeed not. They’ll have everything they need. Now Gideon, Christopher, Matthew, James, and you too, Cordelia, you must go.’

Reluctantly, all of them left, stopping next to Thomas for some encouraging words. Cordelia released him reluctantly and left with the boys. She turned around one last time. ‘If they don’t have the Mortal Sword here by tomorrow morning, I’ll break you out with Cortana.’

Alastair guessed that was something to look forward to.

‘I heard that!’ the consul scolded, but Alastair could see a faint smile on her face that was very much unlike Charles.

Everyone left, with ultimately the consul locking the door behind them, leaving him behind with Thomas. Good thing he’d brought a book, as he’d need to avoid Thomas’ anger for some time.

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #Eugenia Lightwood #Charlotte Fairchild #Gideon Lightwood #Matthew Fairchild #James Herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #The Last Hours #tlh #Chain of Gold #Chain of Iron

33 notes · View notes

solomonish · 4 years

Text

From the Mouths of Fools

Belphegor has a habit of forcing his brothers into trouble, mostly with you. There’s nothing more satisfying than the look of horror on their face when they think they must have dashed their chances with you and that they’re digging the hole deeper. Each time, you reach out a hand and ease their worries, and Belphegor’s stomach twists as you tell them with kind eyes not to worry, that they’re very sweet. Why did you have to be such a spoilsport?

(also posted on ao3 @ treetunkdaddy)

Poems: A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns, I Carry Your Heart With Me by E. E. Cummings, I Love You by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda

Leviathan: I love you. Leviathan: I love you more than anyone else in this world. You: Thanks! Leviathan: Happy now? Leviathan: As I thought, this was the right thing to say.

You stared at your phone screen for a moment longer with one eyebrow raised. Something here wasn’t right. Though you weren’t some grand detective, you could tell that the texts didn’t sound like Levi at all Even beyond the sudden boldness, if you pictured Levi texting those messages you could only imagine him with a rain cloud over his head as he hunched over his phone in sorrow. The somber tone didn’t match his usual excitement. Maybe he was trying to get into character for some sort of cosplay…? Biting the inside of your cheek, you tried to figure out if he had mentioned getting into character for something. Still, there was no way he wouldn’t know all the lines of a character he was trying to embody, and it seemed far-fetched that he’d choose something so...overt, let alone practice it with you.

Before you could distract yourself too much from the tasks you were supposed to be working on, a solid oof a few feet away from your door caught your attention. You could just barely hear a half-hearted grumble barely covering the low boyish giggles of a scheming Belphegor as Levi freaked out in a jumble of words that sounded more like a keysmash than an argument. A moment later, you got another slew of texts that seemed much more like the demon you knew.

Leviathan: AAAEWAGVNAFBPEABD Leviathan: WAAAAAIT! Leviathan: I take that back! Leviathan: AARGH, no, that’s not what I meant! Leviathan: I left my D.D.D. on the couch and Belphie ran off with it!

Ah. That made sense. It also explained the nervous energy you could practically feel radiating from where the two demons undoubtedly still lay in a heap. With a devious look on your face, you tapped away at your phone.

You: I took a screenshot of it!

You were right about one of them being outside your door. You could hear Levi’s startled yelp, followed shortly by frantic footsteps running down the hall to his door. The three dots danced on your screen as the sound got quieter, the message reaching you just as the door to Levi’s room slammed shut.

Leviathan: No, you can’t! Delete that ASAP! DELETEIIIITTTTT!

Snickering to yourself, you hefted yourself out of your seat and opened your door to peer out into the hallway. A little ways to your left, Belphie lay sprawled out on the carpet with a half-dazed expression on his face. Taking care to keep your footsteps quiet in case he actually was asleep, you bent over his face to look at his half-lidded eyes. After a moment of shifting into focus, Belphie gave you a lazy smile and patted the floor next to him.

“You should join me,” He offered. “The carpet is surprisingly soft.”

“Yeah, and surprisingly dirty,” You added, gently toeing at his shoulder as if that would spur him to move.

“If you stare at the pattern on the ceiling and let your eyes get unfocused, it’s real easy to fall asleep,” He suggested. You turned your head to look at the ceiling, seeing nothing but a boring, dark texture above you. If you squinted, you could almost make out swirls in the paint. Maybe demons had a better time seeing details in the dark.

Beneath you, Belphie hummed contentedly, folding his hands at his stomach. He almost looked like he was sunbathing in a meadow, surrounded by fragrant flowers - the image made your heart jump the slightest bit. Maybe, if that was the case, you would have joined him. Lying next to him as a gentle breeze danced over your skin and the tall grass kissed your skin...that didn’t seem like a bad way to spend an afternoon.

“Hey,” Belphie asked suddenly, holding you in a serious stare. It was one he didn’t bother to give you often, saving it only for when you trespassed him so greatly he needed to make it known (more often than not when he told you how lame Lucifer was if you mentioned how he’s helped you with some administrative details for the exchange program). “What did you feel when Levi sent you that message?”

“What?” You asked, shaken by the jarring change in his voice. He sounded much more stern, and though it was hard to tell while looking at him upside down, you were pretty sure he was holding you in a glare, albeit a very gentle one.

“Did it make you happy?” He asked. “That he might love you?”

Your face flushed at the personal question and you averted your gaze, missing the way Belphie’s gaze hardened at your reaction. “I-I knew they weren’t from Levi,” You answered, shaking your head and looking back at Belphie. “They sounded way too suave for him. I thought maybe he was playing a character, or something. I didn’t think they meant anything.”

“You thought they didn’t mean anything…” Nodding, Belphie’s mouth twisted in thought as he looked just past your shoulder blankly. Suddenly his arms shot up and he grabbed at the air a few times, shutting off any gateway to questions you might have. “Help me up. I wanna nap somewhere softer than this where I won’t get trampled.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned the idea of leaving him there around once before shifting to his side and pulling him up. He took the chance to stumble into you, jamming his chin into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your neck. Instead of feeling his breath tickle your skin, however, you felt his hair brush against you as he adjusted, eventually stopping once he was satisfied. You realized for a moment he was listening for your pulse, and your breathing shallowed on instinct, as if you wanted him to hear it. He didn’t tell you what he was listening for, only groaning when you started to ask him to let go so you could resume your day.

“Mmmm….maybe I should nap here? So comfy….” He murmured. Though he made no move to let go, he also didn’t fight you when you finally separated him from your body. Giving him a farewell smile, you turned your back to leave, not seeing his face fall in displeasure.

---

A few days later, there was a book on your bed that you were positive wasn’t there when you left that morning.

Dropping your backpack unceremoniously by your door, you peered at the worn cover to see it was an old collection of romantic poems. There was no suspicious Latin on the cover, now jewels (or missing jewels) to indicate it was a spellbook or otherwise enchanted, so you picked it up. Upon closer inspection, you saw it was a collection of human poems, many of which you read in your early school days. There were a few multicolored tabs stuck in it, no apparent rhyme or reason to their placement. Though it looked to be Satan’s book, you couldn’t imagine him risking getting adhesive on the worn pages. Curious, you flipped to the first marked page and scanned it, face flushing almost immediately.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune.

Flipping to the next marked page, your face turned an even deeper red as they scanned the page.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Each page you turned to gave you smooth velvet words that someone very clearly wanted to direct at you, each getting more intimate than the last. Every poem you read sent more blush to your face until you were positive another word would have you passing out.

I love your lips when they’re wet with wine And red with a wild desire; I love your eyes when the lovelight lies Lit with a passionate fire. I love your arms when the warm white flesh Touches mine in a fond embrace; I love your hair when the strands enmesh Your kisses against my face.

Honeyed words of Shakespeare and Dickinson forced your heart to pump faster in your chest than you ever thought possible. Though your body really did feel like it might collapse under the affection the poems held, you couldn’t stop yourself from flipping through. Even though it was clear these poems weren’t written for you, the slightest implication that someone could think so highly of you had your head spinning. Before long, you were skimming the last marked page, barely able to catch your breath.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

A loud roar of Belphegor’s name shook you out of your love-stricken trance. Slamming the book shut as if you’d been caught doing something wrong, you listened to the hasty, angry footsteps of Satan right outside your door. The closer he got, you could hear his heavy breathing as he fought to contain his anger. “Where is that book? I know you were the last person in my room!”

Though the thought of being on the receiving end of Satan’s anger was enough to send you running, you slowly cracked open your door and peered out. Satan immediately whipped his head around to look at you, softening just a bit in an effort to let you know that you weren’t what he was after.

In a timid voice, you asked, “Which book would you happen to be looking for?”

“It was a collection of poems. You wouldn’t have happened to see it, would you?”

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door all the way and held the book out to him. Snatching it out of your hands, Satan widened his eyes at the tabs. “Did you-”

“It was like that!” You defended. Satan realized you were jumpy and slowly inhaled, willing himself to calm down before you continued. “It was on my bed when I came home.”

With a gruff hum, Satan nodded at your explanation before flipping through the marked pages. “It’s alright, (Y/n). It’s not your fault. I’m positive Belphie was the one who took it since he was-”

Stopping mid-sentence, Satan flushed a deep red once he read which poems were marked to be read. “O-oh,” He murmured, pulling at his sweater collar and clearing his throat. “This is...these are pretty romantic, huh?”

“Well, it is a love poem collection,” You offered helpfully with a shrug. As if he didn’t believe you, Satan looked at the cover himself.

“I hope you didn’t mistake my intent. I didn’t mean for this book to end up in your care.”

“Ouch,” You hissed through your teeth. “Aren’t you a heartbreaker?”

Satan’s eyes widened before he furrowed his brows and backed a few steps away. “No, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that.” Heaving a sigh, he placed a hand on his chest and shut his eyes as he scowled. “Thank you for returning it to me. Have a good day.”

Satan turned on his heel and walked briskly away, leaving you to chuckle at the empty space before retreating back to your room. On your bed, beneath where the book was, lay a green sticky note you had missed in the excitement. Picking it up, you saw a note scrawled in messy handwriting that made you question just how genuine these advances were.

I’m not the best at expressing myself with words. Maybe if I borrow the words of others, you can finally know how I feel.

---

The pattern continued for a few days, with each brother falling victim to one of Belphie’s tricks. Each time, they managed to fluster themselves to impossible standards, aside from Asmo who insisted he never sent you that love letter and don’t you know how beautiful his handwriting is like the rest of him? Oh, but if a love letter was what you were after, he’d send mountains and mountains until you just couldn’t resist him anymore-

By that time, you had gently shut the door in his face and jogged back to your room, just as red as the rest of the brothers were when it was their time to be the victim. Belphegor even managed to send you an email with a fake account with a name so similar to Lucifer’s you almost didn’t catch the differences. By that time, you saw through his jokes and simply asked:

You: Really? An email? [email protected]: What? He’s such a loser that I wouldn’t put it past him.

Even now, over a week since the last incident, Mammon was shouting in the hall as he kept running circles around himself, demanding Belphie to stop making advances on his human and to stop making him look like a fool. Without fail, Belphie always asked, “Oh? Is it foolish to think highly of the human?” Mammon was sent into a new frenzy every time.

By the time they were finished, you were exhausted just from listening to their incessant bickering. Mammon had scurried off, desperate to hide his embarrassment, while Belphie slumped down on the couch next to you and gave you a lazy grin. This time, you couldn’t bring yourself to return it. The antics had to stop.

“I think you should stop using me as a tool to mess with your brothers,” You said, not yet unpausing the show you were watching before the fighting started. Belphie scrunched his face and looked at you without moving his head.

“No can do. It’s too fun to see how desperately they try to save your honor from themselves. Idiots.”

Cringing at the insult, you continued, “Okay, but can you stop with the love advances? It’s a bit...much.”

Finally moving, Belphie turned his head to give you a scrutinizing look you didn’t understand before relaxing back into the couch. “Sure,” He answered humorlessly, tone dry and brittle with what was, to you, misplaced disgust. “It was losing its charm anyway.”

Now he was sulking, and you had half a mind to press play and just ignore his bitter mood. Still, you didn’t mean to make him pout, even if you had no idea where it came from and therefore weren’t exactly responsible for the shift. Sighing, you turned your back on him and leaned back, moving so your head was resting on his slumped chest. Without sparing you a look, Belphie reached his slim finger up and slowly carded them through your hair, making no effort to comb any tangles and deciding to ruffle it instead.

“I would like to know what’s got you in such a sour mood,” You said bluntly, turning your head to watch Belphegor stare at the ceiling blankly. Other than the occasional slow blink, you would have thought he had fallen asleep with how long it took him to respond. You knew better than to think he was ignoring you - he was either thinking of an answer he was satisfied to give or teasing you, seeing how long you’d wait for him and then pointing out how much you must value what he has to say if you’d wait that long.

“You enjoyed it too much,” He finally said, keeping his gaze from yours.

“I enjoyed it?” You repeated, narrowing your eyes. “I can assure you, I enjoyed none of what happened.”

“The fighting, maybe,” He agreed. “But I heard you tell Levi you thought it’d be sweet if he had texted you. I saw your face when you thought the poems were from Satan.”

“You were there?” Trying to remember the scene with Satan, you ran a hand partially through your hair and rested your palm on your forehead.

“The love letter, the gift basket, everything- you enjoyed it before you realized it was fake.”

“Belphegor, where were you?” You asked, knowing he would ignore your question. How many other times had he been secretly watching you without your knowledge? The thought made you shiver.

Clearly disgruntled, Belphegor growled at your questions before rolling his eyes. “At first I was just messing with you, but I never would have guessed you would sooner take sweet nothings from the mouths of fools before you’d ever take the real deal from me when I offer it out to you.”

Blinking rapidly, you felt your face warm and your heartbeat stutter for the thousandth time this week. “You...you never offered me anything,” you answered dumbly. Displeasure flickered across Belphie’s face before he sighed again and slumped further down, forcing your head down with him.

“Of course I didn’t. The others did, but not me,” He replied in such a way that barely hid the frustration in his tone, but the irony he was lamenting was lost on you. Sitting up, you shifted to sit on your knees and bent over Belphie to look at him.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. Belphie turned his head away, but you grabbed his cheeks and gently pulled them towards you so he could face you directly. “Belphie, tell me what you were trying to do.”

For a moment, Belphie wondered if he could just slump out of your grasp and lock himself back in the attic, clear by the pondering expression he wore on his face. You squished his face a little tighter, just enough to keep him in place and speak up. “I guess...I was hoping you would think the love letters and everything were from them and you’d reject them.” He looked to the side to avoid the pity you couldn’t hide on your face, his gaze unintentionally hardening. “Why didn’t you reject them? You should have rejected them.”

“I knew it wasn’t real! I was just trying to make them feel better,” You defended. Swiping your hand away from him, Belphie lifted himself up so he was sitting straight and crossed his arms, the image of a petulant child. “Is this...is this your version of a confession?”

Though he did his best to maintain his glare, Belphie couldn’t fight the light pink that tinted his cheeks. “So what if it is?”

Thoroughly pleased with yourself, you sat back on your heels and pretended you needed to mull things over. His hair was covering his eye and he kept his head turned away from you, but you could feel Belphie’s pensive gaze on you as you made your decision. Grinning and leaning closer, you asked, “Is this another prank?”

You felt his cold hands on either side of your face before you even saw him move. He glowered at you with no heat, putting on an upset show. If anything, he was more upset that you insisted on teasing him when you were so nice to the others. “If you can look at me and say you think I’m pranking you right now, you really are just a stupid human.”

Your grin widened. “A stupid human you’d have no qualms about kissing, though, right?”

There was no need to answer you with words when showing you was much more enjoyable.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me belphegor #swd belphegor #obey me swd #belphegor #belphegor x reader #belphegor x mc #belphegor fluff #obey me imagines #long post #my fics #belphegor writing #satan writing #mine

148 notes · View notes

sprnklersplashes · 3 years

Text

theo/robin- “we broke up but I was in an accident and you're still my emergency and you dropped everything to come to the hospital”

also on ao3

He grabs the phone at what he suspects is a second before it stops ringing. After pushing himself off the couch and throwing about five hundred things off the coffee table in search of it. He can feel Moth’s stink eye on him even as he turns and heads into the hall, half-closing the living room door. Not just because he disrupted the organised chaos of their coffee table, but because he violated their ‘no answering the phone during the movie’ rule. He’ll make it up to her, he tells himself. He’ll do the coffee run tomorrow. Even she can’t remain mad after an iced latte.

He hears her pause the movie and thinks maybe he’ll throw in a cupcake too.

“Hello?” he asks.

“Robin Goodfellow?”

“Yep.” He’s just a little suspicious, because the voice definitely isn’t one he recognises, and hardly anyone has his number, just Moth and a few close friends. It’s a little unusual, but not too much, and certainly not enough to scare him or anything.

“This is Greendale hospital.We’re calling you because you’re the emergency contact for Theo Putnam.”

Apparently, he spoke too soon.

The first part is enough to send a shiver running up his spine. He thankfully doesn’t have too much experience in hospitals, but the word still puts him on edge. His experiences might be few and far between, but he’s smart enough to know that calls from hospitals mean bad news, 99% of the time.

And yet, that’s not even the part he’s focussing on. Instead he’s focussing on the name uttered on the other line. A name that makes him feel like he’s drowning, and flying, and dying all at once, just at the mention of it.

“Theo?” he asks. Slowly, the information begins to come together, clicking like a jigsaw puzzle. Theo. Hospital. Hospital. Theo. Emergency contact. Him. Emergency. Theo in hospital for an emergency. He breathes out steadily, one hand flat against the wall, and swallows past the lump in his throat. “Theo Putnam?”

“Yes.” The operator’s voice is soft, careful, coaxing him to stay calm, and it would work were it not clearly rehearsed. They’re trained to stay calm in any kind of crisis. Robin is yet to learn that. “He was in a motorbike accident. We’ve tried to get ahold of his father, but we’ve been unable to reach him.”

Robin looks down at his watch. Of course, he thinks. Thursday night. 8pm. If nothing has changed, then Mr Putnam is out in the fields right now, his phone left on the kitchen table because, in his words, ‘it’s too expensive to take out and get lost’. Theo had tried, and failed, to explain to him that the point of a cellphone is for people to reach him whenever they need to. Briefly, he hopes that the hospital doesn’t see Mr Putnam as some neglectful asshole for this.

But there’s more pressing things than Mr Putnam’s reputation.

“Is-is he okay?” He pushes his hair away from his face and pretends not to notice the trembling hand, or how the warmth has fled his skin entirely.

“Yes. We believe there’s nothing fatal. Like I said, he crashed his motorbike and was badly hurt. And since he’s a minor, we need someone to come in and fill out some paperwork for him, and take him home. He’s in no state to drive himself.”

I bet he isn’t. Robin lets out a soft curse and leans against the wall. Now that the worst-case scenario is over, he lets himself think about how much bullshit this all is, and how much of an asshole Theo is because, seriously dude, you didn’t update your emergency contact info? Why was I even there to begin with?

His heart flutters though, just a little, when he thinks about it, and he tries not to hate himself for it.

“Mr Goodfellow?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I-I’ll be right there. Thanks. Bye.” He hangs up before they can say anything else, and lets the dial tone ring in his ear, flood his mind and leave it blank, before springing into action.

And of course, Moth is standing in the doorway when he turns, her grin only growing wider when he jumps.

“Jesus, Moth.”

“Where you off to, hot shot?” she teases, like she doesn’t know. Like she paused the movie so they could watch it together. Like that name didn’t set alarm bells off for her as much as it did for him.

Moth never liked Theo, and never made an attempt to hide it. Not even when he brought him around, or when Theo tried to get on her good side. He gets it, to some extent, given that they;re brother and sister in all but blood, and protecting him was a job she began early on. But even he soon got bored of her speeches about how Theo isn’t good enough for him, how he’s risking too much for a small town farm boy. He reminded her that he was hardly high class himself-an ex foster care brat who only just got a full-time job as a tattoo artist. Her rants didn’t stop bringing Theo round though, and towards the end he just started tuning her out. He assumed, hoped, that one day she’d get tired, or bored, and then finally see the good in Theo, and they’d all live happily ever after.

So much for that.

She wasn’t necessarily happy when Robin came home that night, eyes full of tears and heart freshly broken. She made him some tea, turned on Taylor Swift and let him cry his sad little heart out. So no, she wasn’t happy. But still.

Now he pushes past her into the living room, grabs his jacket from the coffee table, and prepares himself for some more of her bullshit.

“I guess I owe Mer ten bucks,” she sighs. Her response is so far from what he expected-which was something closer to a rant about how he’s better than this-that he freezes in place, his eyes narrowing in a silent demand for the answer. She just shrugs, her lips pursed like it all makes perfect sense. “She bet me you wouldn’t last six months without him. I thought you were stronger than that, but that’s what I get for believing in you.”

“Okay, first off, can you and your girlfriend stop making bets on my love life,” he says. “And second, he was in an accident, for your information.” He pulls his jacket on and turns down the collar. “He’s in the hospital. I'm his emergency contact.”

“Oh,” is all she says. She’s not one for admitting when she’s wrong, not out loud, so she just steps aside and tosses the keys into his open hand. It’s enough for him though, and he taps her shoulder as he passes her in thanks. “Text me when you’re coming home,” she says just as he opens the door. “And if you need anything. And… if he’s okay.”

He nods, the gesture minute, and jogs outside. He throws himself into the car and peels out of the driveway, shaking fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. He picks the first radio station he can and turns it almost all the way up, letting it drown out his thoughts.

It doesn’t work, but no-one can say he didn’t try.

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

He’s not in the waiting room five minutes before he puts his headphones in. It’s the same logic as the music in the car; drown out the sounds, forget where he is. The paperwork sits on his lap, supported by a wooden clipboard that’s seen better days and a receptionist with tired, sympathetic eyes sporting dark shadows. She tells him she’ll come and get him whenever he can see him, and less than a minute later, appears with a paper cup of coffee. ‘You look like you could use it,’ she said before leaving him to the paperwork.

The coffee sucks, but the gesture is appreciated.

He texts the Midsummer Night's group chat, updating them on what little has happened so far. Moth is surprisingly sympathetic, messaging him privately saying she hopes he’s okay, Merry offering words of comfort and the others piling on with the love and support. It’s beautiful, and it’s sweet, but it’s suffocating. He mutes the chat before he can see someone else asking if there’s anything they can do and puts on a podcast that has yet to let him down. From there he reads through the paperwork and mindlessly puts his signature wherever he needs to. He tenses at the sight of the word ‘surgery’, even if the word ‘minor’ is before it and shudders at the word ‘accident’. He turns the volume up on his podcast every time his thoughts start going down a road he doesn’t like, as if Theo will be okay if he doesn’t let himself think about it.

By the time the nurse taps him on the shoulder, he’s getting dirty looks from the lady two seats down that tells him everything she thinks about his podcast choices.

“Hey,” the nurse quietly, like he might bolt if she scares him. “The surgery went well, and we moved him to the recovery room. He’s awake, if you want to go see him.”

She leads him down a perfectly-polished corridor, neon lights distorted in the shiny reflection, and quickly up in a too-small elevator before stopping outside what must be Theo’s room. Room 203, with the word RECOVERY printed on the wood in grubby white letters. The nurse tells him something in a soft, polite voice and he thanks her before leaving, because he wasn’t raised in a barn, and then it’s just him and the door. And Theo, on the other side of it.

It takes more effort than it should just to put his hand on the handle.

It’s been four months now. Four months, two weeks, five days, because yeah, he counted. Four months since Theo’s insecurities got the better of him and he told Robin to leave, since Robin got tired of trying to work it out and told him that he’d come back whenever he’s ready. A week later, Roz appeared on Robin’s doorstep with most of his things in a box-a mixtape he’d made for Theo’s birthday, one of his shirts, his cap, a book he’d forgotten about. Four months of waiting beside the phone, of not-so-subtly checking out his social medias.

Four months without waking up next to him, or meeting him for coffee, or sharing milkshakes, or having his face pressed into the crook of his neck.

Four months had never felt so long, and now here they are.

He doesn’t feel himself turning the handle, only sees the door slowly opening before him, a cold wash spreading over his body. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Stony silence. A potted plant being thrown at his head. A colourful array of curse words telling Robin exactly where to go. Or maybe, in his wildest dreams, Theo bursting into tears and begging him to take him back.

He doesn’t know what he expects, but what he gets is Theo blinking at him, surprise slowly trickling through the medication-induced haze.

“Hi,” he says slowly. That’s the first word Theo has said to him in four months. Hi. His response is ‘hey’, so it’s not like he’s much better, but still.

He closes the door and moves closer, stopping a good few feet from Theo’s bed. He isn’t an asshole, and so he lets the fog clear a good bit before he starts saying anything. He had planned on going straight into a lecture, but state he’s in, he now feels bad doing so. His skin is almost as pale as the sheets he’s lying on, his right cheek sporting a nasty looking purple bruise, smaller marks and cuts trailing along his neck and jaw. The arm facing Robin is wrapped in layers of white bandage, while the opposite leg sits atop the sheets and wrapped in a cast. He moves, little by little, until he can see that side of his body, which seems to be more bruises than skin. He winces on instinct, and then remembers that he still can’t see what’s beneath the blanket and hospital gown.

“What are you doing here?” Theo asks after a while.

“I’m still your emergency contact,” he replies, and he tries not to laugh when Theo curses under his breath. He chuckles humorlessly. “Seriously, you need to get that changed.”

“Yeah, I’ll make that a priority.”

“Well, you should. I changed my contact info two months ago. When-” The words catch in his throat. When it became clear to him that Theo didn’t want him back. When he texted him and waited around for two days for a reply. When it was obvious that Theo had moved on and he should do the same. “Well, I did.”

“Oh well good for y-” He gasps sharply, the word turning into a strained cry as he clearly pulls on something he shouldn't have. Robin’s at his side in less than a moment, his hands on his shoulders because he’s unsure where else to put them. They stay there, sitting in that half-embrace, as the seconds pass and the tension fades from Theo’s face. Robin watches and resists the urge to run his thumb along Theo’s jaw.

“You okay?”

“Peachy keen,” he replies in a voice that implies anything but. Now that he’s closer, Theo somehow looks worse than he did when he came in. He can see the bruises poking out from beneath the hospital-issued gown, along with freshly-covered cuts. He remembers the nurse telling him something about needing stitches and he tries not to shudder.

Theo’s eyes follow his and, because Theo is a bastard, he smiles.

“I look pretty badass huh?”

“Not the word I would use.” Theo pouts and damn it, Robin can’t help it. He laughs; he’s not made of stone. Theo laughs too, as much as his beaten-up body will allow, and raises an eyebrow at him. “So is this the part where you tell me ‘I told you so’?”

“No. Because I am not an asshole.”

But in complete fairness, he did tell him so. Several times, in fact. He told him over and over again that that bike was a death trap and would it kill him to wear a helmet for the love of God and there’s no way he should be on that thing when he doesn’t even have a permit and does he know the reason motorbike insurance is so much cheaper than car insurance? He had told him all of that, over and over again, and Theo had just laughed and kissed his cheek and told him he’s cute when he’s protective.

Well now he’s cute and right.

“No,” Theo says after a pause. “You’re not an asshole.” He tilts his chin slightly and looks at him, his eyes still slightly dazed, probably from the pain meds. “You came all the way out here because you heard I got hurt. That’s not an asshole thing to do.”

“Yeah, well… You’d have done the same for me.” He doesn’t deny it. Instead he just huffs a soft laugh and looks down at his sheets, his free hand toying with the fabric. Maybe it’s just him, he hopes it’s just him, but it feels too bold, what he said. Like he had just asked, or at least implied, something about them not being entirely over. His heart skips a beat, and so he quickly changes the subject. “They said they’re trying to reach your dad. I know he’s usually busy these nights. They said they’ll keep trying to reach him.”

“Oh God.” Theo’s head hits the pillow, a low groan escaping him. “My dad.”

“Yeah.” Theo opens one eye and looks at him and sighs heavily, grunting slightly with his sore chest. “You may not tell me you told me so, but my dad definitely will.”

“Well, to be fair… he told you so.” He chuckles when Theo flips him off, a scowl on his bruised face. Robin feels braver, and moves closer again.

“Do you know what happened to the bike?” he asks.

“Nope,” he sighs. “I haven’t seen that bike since I crashed it. And I kind of forgot to ask the paramedics what they were going to do with it.” He picks at the sheet. “But given how I ended up, she’s probably scrap metal by now.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I know how much you loved that bike.”

“No you’re not,” he replies dryly. “You hated it.”

“No, I hated the risk attached to it. That’s different.” He finds himself, somehow, standing at the foot of Theo’s bed, his hands shoved into his pockets. He opens his mouth to say something else, but he doesn’t know what, and it feels weird. Words always came easy with Theo. That happens when you have someone you can be yourself around. When there’s no need to hide anything because you’re not afraid of what they’ll do. There was never any need for hesitation or hint of discomfort between them. Not until right now.

He doesn’t know what to say, but he doesn’t want to go either. He’ll stay until his dad comes, he decides. Until he knows Theo’s going to be okay.

And it’s probably a good thing he does, given that his ever-restless ex boyfriend grows bored of laying down and tries to push himself up, despite his beaten-up body’s protests. He gasps sharply, a short, stifled grunt escapes him, but he keeps acting as though it didn’t happen. Robin rolls his eyes and moves over to him; one hand on his arm and the other adjusting his pillows. Theo scowls again, because he would walk on broken legs before asking for help, but he doesn’t push him away.

“Here, careful… there you go.” Theo sits up against the wall, his back supported by pillows. Robin settles next to him on the mattress, watching his face for any indication that he should go. He doesn’t get one. Instead, he gets a smile, and the ghosting of fingertips along his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. “For… for coming here.”

“It’s fine,” he replies. His mouth runs dry, his heart beating louder and louder being so close to him. He’s missed him. Holy crap, he’s missed him. He’s missed him for months and it all slams into him now, like a speeding train hitting him. Theo doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t say anything, just keeps tracing patterns on his hand, his finger getting faster and faster by the minute. He knows him well enough to know what that means. He doesn’t push though, because finally being this close to him is something he doesn’t want to risk losing.

“Robin,” he begins after a long while. “About what I said to you-”

“It’s fine,” he says again, a little too quickly this time.

“It’s not,” he says firmly, shaking his head slightly. “It wasn’t. What I said, the way I said it…” He closes his eyes briefly, probably reliving the night they broke up. He’s recalled it countless times since then. “You didn’t deserve it. And don’t-” He holds up his finger to silence him before Robin can even say anything. “Tell me that it’s okay, you Canadian asshole. Because it wasn’t.”

He laughs at that, even if it’s short-lived. He felt bad for thinking it sometimes, but it never felt right, what Theo had said to him. Half-sentences about not wanting to hold him back, how he can’t stay and give up everything just for him. How he ended it with “I don’t want you anymore” and told him to go. Aside from maybe cheating on him, he doesn’t know how it could have been worse. Leaving him with a broken heart and so many unanswered questions.

“Okay, it was,” he says. “Thank you for apologising.” Theo smiles, barely, and his fingers move quicker against his hand. He doesn’t say anything, not out loud, but he does rest his free hand on Theo’s knee. A brave move, maybe, but also a silent signal that it’s okay. That whatever he has to say, he can say it. God knows when they’ll see each other again, so they might as well.

He must hear it, but even so it takes a lifetime for him to say “I got scared.” He leans back on the pillows, the three words having drained him, and Robin processes it.

“You got scared?” he asks. “Scared of what?”

“Of us,” he sighs. “Of you and me and… how serious it was all getting. And… and your family, and my family, and school. And it was all getting so serious and I-I freaked out.” He swallows thickly and pulls his good knee close to his chest, a small whimper escaping him. He doesn’t know if it’s from the pain or something else. “I’m sorry.”

They fall silent, and Robin digests what he said. For the past few months, he’s lived with constant confusion over their break-up, and it was just over the past week that it was slowly morphing into acceptance that Theo had just outgrown him. Now there’s this, and his view is shaken up again.

“Oh,” he replies. That might be the only thing he’s capable of saying, given how tight his throat is. He tries to clear it, only to find tears blurring his vision. “Theo… what happened?” Something comes back to him, one night near the end, with Theo over at his place. Him arguing quietly with Moth in the kitchen, her whispering that Theo will ‘ruin his life’. It hadn’t occurred to him how thin the walls in their house actually are. “Did you hear me and Moth?”

“Some of it,” he mumbles. Robin opens his mouth, a fire against Moth ready, but Theo holds up his hand, his pained expression grinding him to a halt. “It’s not just Moth though. It’s everyone else. You heard it too right?” He laughs bitterly. “When people said how weird it was that we were getting so serious so fast.”

Robin doesn’t say anything. Theo’s right; people did talk. It wasn’t because it was two boys, which for Greenedale, is saying something. It was the fact that they’d only been together a few weeks before they were staying at each other’s houses. It was that just two months into their relationship, Robin gave Theo his father’s ring. They talked even more when Robin let it slip they were looking at apartments to share for when Theo went off to college. So yes, people talked, but they weren’t listening. Or apparently, he wasn’t.

“Since when do you care what other people think?” he asks after a while.

“I don’t. But I care about you,” he says. “I care because what if they were right? Robin, you were planning on moving out of Greenedale for me.”

“Yeah, and I said I was okay with it.”

“Well what if I wasn’t?” His voice is tight, shaking, and when tears run down his red cheeks, Robin doesn’t hesitate in wiping them away. Theo leans into his touch, shivering slightly at his skin against his. His hand comes up and wraps around his wrist, his thumb rubbing against the back of Robin’s as he tries to compose himself. “What if I wasn’t okay with dragging you across the country?”

“Is that what you think you were doing?” he asks. “Theo… you weren’t dragging me anywhere. I wanted to go with you.” He swallows thickly before adding, “I still do.” Theo closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair, his fingers catching on knots.

“Yeah I know,” he whispers, and Robin isn’t sure if he’s talking to him or to himself. “I know that now.” Theo hesitates for a moment, uncertainty in his eyes, but then he wriggles closer, despite his beaten-up body, and Robin does the same until they’re just a breath apart. Close enough for Robin to count the freckles on Theo’s cheeks. Holy crap, he loves those freckles. He loves him, every part of him.

Moth was wrong; he wasn’t lasting six months without him.

“Why did you come here?” Theo asks.

“Because I’m your emergency contact,” he reminds him.

“Mm-mm.” He shakes his head. “Roz is third on the list. You know that. You could have left it to her. Why did you come?”

“Because you were hurt,” he says, and he means it. It’s the truth, but not the whole truth, and they both know it. “Because I miss you.”

Theo laughs, and kisses the inside of his wrist.

“I miss you too,” he says, and the tears running down Robin’s face aren’t from heartbreak this time.

The kiss starts slowly, their foreheads pressed together before their lips touch. Robin moves to hold the back of Theo’s head, his free hand on his hip, still mindful of the condition his ex(?) boyfriend is in. Theo’s hand curls into Robin’s shirt, his other tangled in his hair. He feels Theo’s grin against his mouth, feels his own heart finally being put back together. Feels the weight of the past four months finally slipping away, leaving a new future open for them. Together.

But he also feels Theo’s hand shaking, his short, pained gasp against his mouth, and so he pulls away, leaving a small frown on his boyfriend’s face.

“I’m not going to make out with you on a hospital bed,” he tells him. “No matter how badly I want to.” Theo huffs a laugh and nods.

“Fair enough,” he says. He doesn’t let go of Robin’s hand though, instead linking their fingers together. “What about when I get out of here, we can maybe talk about this? About you and me and…. Everything. And I can try not to freak out this time.”

Robin pushes Theo’s hair away from his face, mindful of the bruises, and smiles.

“I’d like that.” He moves in to kiss him again, fully intending to keep it small this time, but they’re interrupted by the door opening, and a familiar, frantic voice cutting through the air.

“Theo? Oh my God, I left my phone in the house and I just got the call from the hospital, are you-”

He stops his rant just as Robin turns around, his and Theo’s faces a matching shade of red. He feels flashed back to when Mr Putnam caught them in Theo’s room, his mouth hanging open and his eyes darting between them just like he did then, waiting for an explanation. Except they’re not in Theo’s bedroom this time around, and this is the first time Joe has seen him in months, so he sympathises for him this time around.

“So…” he begins. “You two got back together?”

Theo just laughs and buries his face in Robin’s shoulder.

support me on ko-fi

#goodnam #theo x robin #theo putnam #robin goodfellow #caos #chilling adventures of sabrina #caos ff #i did a writing!!#look at me!!

16 notes · View notes

sokkascroptop · 4 years

Text

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 3

A/N: Finally we get to see Azula’s true nature! Also, the first time we get to see Zuko!! To be clear, Azula is in this fic a lot, but this is far from a redemption fic.

part 1 | part 2 | part 4

Zuko caught Y/N’s eyes like he wanted to ask her a million questions. But she was too embarrassed about everything to hold his gaze. She looked away hoping she didn’t look too guilty or shameful. She joined Azula in staring out the window. The cherry blossom trees were in bloom. They covered every square inch of sky as she looked out. It filled the room with a sweet scent that Y/N knew was going to permeate their clothes when they left. If she let her eyes go unfocused it looked like there was a raging fire in front of her.

Y/N found herself outside in the palace gardens. She was running from something, but it wasn’t scary. She was laughing and she heard other girls laughing around her. She began to climb a tree, stifling her giggles the entire time. For some reason, she had to be quiet.

“You’re going to get in trouble for being up there,” Someone said from below.

Y/N looked down between the branches to see a boy her age. He was wearing a high ponytail held with a small fire pin.

“Why?” she asked. She jumped down to the lowest branch and sat there hanging her legs over the side. She didn’t want to get down just yet.

He arched one eyebrow. “Just ‘cause. If the palace gardener sees you climbing the trees, he’ll yell at you.”

“Well I’ll just tell him that my new friend is Princess Azula and that’ll shut him up.” Y/N laughed again and made a start to go back up the tree.

“Well, I’m her older brother Prince Zuko and I’m telling you, you’re gonna get in trouble.” He looked like he wanted to emphasize his sentence by sticking his tongue out at her.

“Why aren’t you playing hide-and-explode with us?” Y/N asked. She jumped down and landed lightly in front of Zuko. They were the same height, which made her feel oddly proud.

“I don’t like playing games with Azula,” Zuko said. “I’m ten–”

“–well I’m nine and a half and I can still have fun,” Y/N interrupted.

“You’re almost my age and you’re friends with Azula? What happened? Did you get held back?” Zuko taunted.

“No!” Y/N made a face. Suddenly she felt very self conscious. She didn’t know what ‘held back’ meant but it didn’t sound good, not when he was laughing at her. “This is the first time I’ve ever gone to real school. I just got put in her grade.”

Suddenly a fireball landed at Y/N’s feet; sparks flew up and singed her pants and burnt her legs. She squealed, a mix between surprise and pain.

“Azula!” Zuko snarled. He half stepped in front of Y/N, all hints of the earlier teasing gone. Zuko produced a similar fireball and threw it at Azula’s feet but she kicked it away, making it land in a nearby bush.

“You’re it, Y/N,” Azula ordered.

“It’s not fair, Azula. She’s not a bender,” Zuko argued.

“Neither are Mai and Ty Lee. And they don’t whine like babies.” The last part she directed at Y/N with a sneer.

“I’m not whining!” Y/N protested. She pushed Zuko out of the way and covered her eyes, beginning to count to twenty. She peeked at Zuko at fifteen. All the girls had already scattered but he just stood there watching her. “I’m faster than Azula anyways. I can catch her.”

She paused and looked at Zuko who stood there awkwardly. “Are you going to hide or what?” She asked. When she covered her eyes again she heard him run away, looking for a hiding place. She waited a beat before counting again, “–SIXTEEN, SEVENTEEN..”

Y/N woke to darkness. But it was always dark below deck. The only light came from candles and lanterns hung in the hallways. Her own candle was only an inch high and fading fast from the accumulation of wax. She could feel the familiar rock of the ship lulling her back to sleep… Y/N sat up quickly. She could tell that it was morning, possibly very early but she couldn’t risk going back to sleep. She tucked the covers under her neck and over her shoulders to snuggle down to ask the important questions. Why was she dreaming of Zuko?

The day they met was probably one of their most innocent and least notable moments. At least that’s what she thought. Or it was possible her brain was trying to make her feel guilty about what she and Azula were going to do today. That day wasn’t the last that Zuko had tried to protect her from his sister, it actually set the stage for years of him standing up to Azula in her place. Not that she needed it, she could hold her own plenty, but it felt nice to be protected.

Sometimes she wondered if they had more time together, if they’d have become better friends than her and Azula. Even though he was a fire-bender too, he spent a lot of training with his dual swords. Time that was spent with her on the training grounds. They sparred daily until his banishment; spirits, Y/N was sure they’d even sparred the day of the war meeting that started everything. Now she was going to find him, and lie to him, knowing that what awaited him at home was not a crown but a prison cell. Y/N shook her head to clear it and slid out of the bed and into her clothes. No use in thinking of the past when her future was all that was necessary. Honor and glory and all.

Y/N could hear Iroh and Zuko arguing a mile away. Azula and her had gotten there an hour before and broke inside the little cabin they were living in. They’d not so inconspicuously gone through all their stuff and upon not finding anything worth while, sat around just waiting.

“We don’t need any more useless things. You forget we have to carry everything for ourselves now!” Zuko lamented as Iroh dumped a bag of seashells on the table by the door, that looked suspiciously like the same seashells next to Azula on their dining table. Neither one had looked up to see them inside.

“Hello, brother,” Azula said. “Uncle.” Both of the men jumped.

“What are you doing here?” Zuko asked as he stepped his body in front of Iroh’s. He looked from Azula to where Y/N was sitting in the window sill behind Azula. Her stomach dropped. This was the first time she’d seen his scarred face. Pink and red scars circled his left eye and wrapped far back enough to cover his ear. His hair was no longer long, but shaved around his ponytail. He looked so much older even though it had only been three years. Y/N wasn’t sure what made him look so different, whether it was a scar that marred his face or the anger that seeped deep beneath his pores.

“In my country we exchange a pleasant hello before asking questions.” Azula picked up a seashell and inspected it. She glided across the room to stand in front of him. She was so much shorter than Zuko and Y/N but she carried so much power. “Have you become uncivilized so soon, Zuzu?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“To what do we owe this honor?” Iroh spoke up, breaking up the fight between the siblings before it started. Y/N moved to stand behind Azula.

“Hmm, must be a family trait. Both of you are so quick to get to the point.” Azula was still playing with the men like they were rabbit-mice. She snapped the shell she was holding in her hands. “I’ve come with a message from home. Father has changed his mind. Family is suddenly very important to him. He’s heard rumors of plans to overthrow him–treacherous plots.” Y/N looked to Zuko to gauge his reaction. His face had softened at hearing the news from his Father.

“Family are the only ones you can really trust,” Azula told him earnestly. “Father regrets your banishment. He wants you home.” Azula paused to look out the window.

When no one said anything, Azula whipped her head back around to stare at her brother. “Did you hear me? You should be happy, excited, grateful. I just gave you great news.”

“I’m sure your brother simply needs a moment–”

“Don’t interrupt, Uncle!” Her voice changed from sickeningly sweet as she plied Zuko with the words he wanted to hear to savage as she screamed at Iroh. Azula had never learned to be patient, and she wanted them on the ship now. “I still haven’t heard my thank you,” She growled at Zuko. “I’m not a messenger. I didn’t have to come all this way. I could have sent Y/N for this.”

Y/N tensed at her words. She bit her tongue so hard that she tasted blood. How dare Azula think she was her messenger hawk?

“Father regrets? He wants me back?” Zuko muttered. Y/N felt like this was a conversation with himself that they were all intruding on. Y/N had to admit that the words that Azula used to trick them were sweet as honey, but also not very believable.

Y/N touched the back of Azula’s arm. “I think that he needs time to take this in. It’s all very sudden for him.” She sent a smile in Zuko’s direction that he did not return.

“I’ll send Y/N to call on you tomorrow.” Azula concluded and she and Y/N took their leave.

“Why are you sending me tomorrow?” Y/N asked once they were out of range of the house.

“Zuko trusts you more than he does me,” Azula admitted. “I figure even if he decided he doesn’t want to come, you’ll be able to sweet talk him down the hill to our little ship.”

“Zuko and I were–”

“Oh shut up, Y/N. You two always had an eye for one another.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. “I–”

“Besides that’s the reason my Father wanted you to come anyways.” They had reached the wooden dock that the ramp to their ship rested on.

Y/N stopped dead in her tracks. “What?”

Azula cocked her head. “Well, I figured you’d caught on to that already the way you were making moony eyes at my brother up there.”

“I wasn’t–How was I supposed to know I was only brought here to flirt Zuko’s ass all the way back to the Fire Nation?!”

“Just back to the ship. Once he gets here we’ll put him in a jail cell.”

“AZULA!”

“Look,” she snarled. “You’re good with a sword but what the hell is that going to do against a fire bender? It’s a fact that you being a non bender means you’re a liability in a fight.” Azula turned and marched up the ramp. That was the end of the discussion even if Y/N had more to say.

She looked down at her toes at the blue-green water between the slats. She could feel her eyes burning with unshed tears. She blinked them away and followed Azula onto the ship.

Y/N fisted her hands in her tunic and stalked to her room. Control your anger, control your anger she repeated over and over in her head. She wasn’t like Azula or Zuko, she couldn’t make something with the anger that grew and festered in her chest. She couldn’t throw a fireball at the nearest wall and hope that her anger dissipated like the sparks that fell to the floor. She shut her door and immediately balled up her fist and let it slam home against the wall. The thin metal crumpled easily under her hand. It stung, but that was good. Y/N let out a breath she thought she’d been holding since the dock. She collapsed onto her bed and pulled her knees to her chest.

It wasn’t a secret that she was a non-bender. But it’s not like it didn’t hurt to be reminded that she wasn’t as worthy because she was one.

Please like/reblog!!

#sokka x reader #avatar sokka #sokka #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #zuko #azula #aang #katara #toph beifong #iroh #atla #a:tla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #avatar #avatar resurgence

429 notes · View notes

crazy-loca-blog · 3 years

Text

Spicy Newlywed Questions

A/N: Thanks a lot to the lovely @jamespotterthefirst for sending this weekly self-indulgence challenge. Please be advised that this is a 18+ edition of The Newlywed Game, so there might be some triggers if NS*FW topics make you feel uncomfortable. This time, all the answers will be below the cut.

Rating: 18+ (Mature)

Masterlist

~~*~~*~~*~~

Mild

Do you kiss and tell? Have you told your friends about your…"adventures"?

Ethan: I like to think that's where we set the limit on what we share about our relationship with our friends. So no.

Casey: Agreed... and yet, here we are publicly talking about our sex life... the hypocrisy...

*Laughs*

Casey: I'd say the closest we are to kiss and tell is when my brother guesses some of our "adventures" and he teases us about them... but we like to keep the mystery and we never confirm or deny anything.

My spouse looks the hottest in ____________.

Both, in unison: Naked!

*Laughs*

Ethan: No, for real. Seeing my wife naked every day is a blessing, but she's also the biggest teaser. Every time we attend some formal event, she makes her purpose to find the perfect dress to make me feel the luckiest man on the planet...

Casey: ...especially because you're the one taking those clothes off as soon as we get home...

Ethan: Exactly *smirks*

Casey: I have to admit there is something about Ethan when he's wearing his workout clothes... or when he's working out... he's lucky that Bryce and Raf are at the gym with him...

Ethan: How can you say something like that and then say that I'm lucky because Lahela and Aveiro are there with me?

Casey: You can always kick them out of the gym and tell them you're going to be busy with me... I'm sure they'll get the message.

What song best describes that night after the country club (1.15)? You know which one…

Casey: Fallin' For You by Colbie Caillat.

Ethan: *surprised* That was fast!

Casey: Yeah... the fact that I never pushed you away doesn't mean that I wasn't a mess about my feelings for you, and you know it. I think that was the moment where I realized that we were no joke and I stopped lying to myself and I just began to admit I was falling for you. What about you?

Ethan: I think Just A Kiss by Lady A summarizes very well how I felt about us at that moment.

Casey: Now... if you really, really want to make this question spicy... I'd say You're Makin' Me High by Toni Braxton *smirks*

Ethan: Should I listen to it?

Casey: At your own risk...

*Ethan listens to the song... Is he blushing?*

Casey: I told you so... *smirks*

Hottest thing my spouse has ever done is ___________. (Doesn’t have to be dirty)

Both, in unison: Existing!

*Laughs*

Ethan: *looking at Casey* Should I tell a dirty one or should I keep it PG?

Casey: *smiles* Whatever you want, babe... I'm fine with it.

Ethan: She made a professional photoshoot not so long ago... nothing explicit, but very suggestive... and whenever she wants to tease me, she sends me just one picture to my phone... all I can say is that I can't wait to find her to go home... or to an on call room... or to a supply closet... or to any of our offices... whatever is closest at the moment.

Casey: You really enjoy those, don't you? *smirks*

Ethan: I like to think we both enjoy them *smirks*

Casey: Oh, believe me, I do! Well, to keep a balance, I'll go with a PG one. Ethan fighting for what he believes in is one of the hottest things he'll do in public. Then in private, only a few people are lucky to see the real him. He goes full protective mode for those he care about, and that's irresistible to me.

Who said “Let’s make out” first? Where was it?

*Casey points at Ethan*

Casey: He didn't say it, but...

Ethan: I couldn't help it, she always looks beautiful, but that day... *sighs*

Casey: He surprised me... I mean, I wanted it to happen, but I didn't expect him to feel the same way about me.

On a scale of 1-10, what would you rate their seduction skills?

Casey: He is a solid 12... he knows exactly what to do... he has never failed, not even once... and it's frustrating...

Ethan: *laughing* Why?

Casey: Because I can't play hard to get...

Ethan: Casey is... *looks at her*

Casey: I know I'm awful at it, so be honest, I won't get mad...

Ethan: She is a 10...

Casey: *surprised* What? I expected like a 5 or a 6...

Ethan: That's exactly why you're a 10... you're not even aware of your power over me... when I tell you I'm not rational when I'm around you... I'm not joking, dear...

What bathing suit does your spouse look the best in?

Ethan: There is this white and brown that she wore during our honeymoon that fits her so well. But she has two that she literally calls the "RIP Ethan" bathing suits. She wears a trikini when we're at the pool with our friends and a very tiny red bikini when she's waiting for me at home by the pool after her shift... because yeah, she's such a teaser...

Casey: Does it work?

Ethan: We tend to disappear for a while when our friends are visiting, so what do you think? *smirks*

Casey: I'm picking this one at random because honestly, when you're wearing a bathing suit I don't care much about what you cover, but more about what you can't cover with it *winks*

~~*~~*~~*~~

XTRA HOT

What’s a surefire way to turn on your spouse?

*Ethan whispers something on Casey's ear*

Casey: *very uncomfortable* This... what he just did... he just knows I'm weak and I can't resist him when he talks to me like that...

*Ethan gives her a knowing look and smirks*

Casey: *even more uncomfortable* And that... that look... can I have some water?

Ethan: When she gives me a very seductive look and bites her lip... I just can't...

Casey: Like this? *She gives him a knowing look while she bites her lip*

Ethan: *very uncomfortable* Next question, please?

Who makes the most noise?

Ethan: *pointing at Casey* She does...

Casey: Guilty as charged... you should feel okay about it, it means you're doing your job perfectly

Ethan: I would never dare to complain... I actually love the effect of your moans on me... *winks*

Who loves foreplay the most?

Both, in unison: Both!

*Laughs*

Ethan: Really... we both love a good foreplay... not only we like trying new and different things, we really like taking our time...

Casey: And when we say "taking our time", it may even mean teasing each other all day... messages, kisses, some subtle touching, you name it...

Ethan: And it only gets better if the other part doesn't expect it... I really enjoy it when you can cut the sexual tension with a knife...

One round or multiple– Which do you prefer?

Both, in unison: Multiple!

*Laughs*

Ethan: Come on... again?

Casey: I think it actually depends... and I know Ethan will agree with me on this, so I think I'm speaking for both of us... it's more about quality than about quantity... we are lucky to have both, but if we must choose one, we'd definitely choose quality.

*Ethan just nods in agreement*

Best night/sex you’ve ever had with your spouse?

*They look at each other for a while*

Casey: I don't know actually... it's not like I have a list of our best times...

Ethan: Me neither... but I can think of a few times...

Casey: Yeah, me too... like our first time...

Ethan: ...after the attack...

Casey: ...that night by the river...

Ethan: ...when we disappeared for two full weeks, and no one knew we were together...

Casey: ...the diagnostics team office...

Ethan: ...the on call room...

Casey: ...that quickie at the museum...

Ethan: ...when we got engaged...

Casey: ...our wedding night...

Ethan: ...when we moved in to our new home...

Casey: ...pool sex... all the time...

Ethan: ...I think we could go on forever...

Casey: Agreed... next question?

Morning or night? What’s your favorite place to have sex in?

Both, in unison: Both!

*Laughs*

Casey:*laughing* Ethan, stop! We can't keep giving the same answers half of the time! This is supposed to be sexy and hot, not funny!

Ethan: *laughing* Don't blame me! Maybe we're just discovering why we work so well... *smiles*

Casey: Well... even though we both like to try different places, I think nothing beats our bed, at night, after our shifts, and when we can have all the time to enjoy ourselves...

Ethan: Agreed... but the early morning shower is a close second...

Casey: It has taken you a while, but I have to admit you're finally beginning to convince me of all the perks of morning sex... especially when it's you who wakes me up. *winks*

Ethan: It's been a real challenge, you're a heavy sleeper, so I feel honored...

Casey: You should...

Who dominates in the bedroom?

Casey: He does, 99% of the time. And who am I kidding, it takes me to cloud nine, so I really enjoy it. But I like to think I dominate the teasing that leads to him to dominate in the bedroom.

Ethan: I had never thought about it that way... that's actually a good answer, dear.

Casey: Thank you, babe.

Casey, what’s your favorite outfit to wear for him? Ethan, what’s your favorite Casey wears?

Casey: What I'm wearing right now... it's both my favorite and Ethan's.

Ethan: Your working clothes? No offense dear, you look really sexy, but I don't think that's my favorite outfit...

Casey: I don't mean this outfit, but actually the one that's under it...

Ethan: Are you wearing the...

Casey: Nope...

Ethan: Then, it's the...

Casey: Not really...

Ethan: You bought a new one that I haven't seen yet...

*Casey gives him a knowing look while she bites her lip*

Ethan: *very uncomfortable* How many questions are left?

What’s your favorite thing your spouse does in bed?

Both, in unison: Oral!

*Laughs*

Casey: *laughing* Shut... up! I can't be serious if we keep doing this! Well, I can proudly say that my husband knows how to use his tongue for more than just talking... and I wonder if he ever thought about becoming a surgeon because his hands are a close second...

Ethan: I can say the same... she's give me the best handjobs and blowjobs of my life, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. But when she is on top, things go to a whole new level for me.

Casey: I do enjoy when he is the one on top, so that I can look him in the eyes... and when he takes me against the wall... or against the window... or in the pool... *she begins to blush*

Ethan: *very uncomfortable* Are we done?

Casey: *very uncomfortable* I think so...

Ethan: *whispers on her ear* Your office or mine?

#newlyweds game with your host bree #newlyweds ask game #newlyweds game #ethan ramsey #casey valentine #ethan x casey #casey x ethan #ns*fw

17 notes · View notes