#I wasn’t sure but one of the teenagers who was there also looking at kittens said ‘he really fits your vibe’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

esta-elavaris · 2 years

Text

Flufftober 2022 - Day 14 - Truth or dare // 20 questions

[James/Theodora] [James Norrington/Modern!OFC]

Another Tortuga era one ~ what can I say, it’s the one that lends itself to fluff most easily.

It seemed like it wouldn't be so upon first thought, but on the nights when Ada's tavern was busier, the atmosphere actually leant itself to cosying up together much more than it did on quieter nights. Sure, there was a bigger audience on such nights, but an audience necessitated people who cared enough to watch, and the novelty over their existence and their relationship both had long since waned. Given the overall chaos of Tortuga, a former soldier shacking up with a witch wasn't too ridiculously high on the list of strange shit. Plus, when that chaos infiltrated the bar, that meant there was just so much more to immerse oneself in without facing so much as a fleeting temptation to give a crap about what the couple in the corner was chatting about.

On quieter nights, it was fairly easy for whatever they discussed to be overheard or listened in on. There was less to look at, so the eye might wander to them. Sure, they were rarely discussing anything super top secret, but neither of them were the sort to want their business on display, so it was very much a hurdle - one usually solved by slinking off to the beach or their shared room.

Tonight, though, they faced no such hurdles. The place was packed, the atmosphere was brimming with cheer, and the only people who gave a damn about what was going on between Theodora Byrne and James Norrington were the couple themselves. And that was just how Theo liked it.

Sitting huddled together at one corner of the table, the proximity forced them to press their legs together but Theo wasn't going to complain about that, and James didn't seem to mind much either. The atmosphere between them was electric tonight - all prolonged eye contact, fleeting casual touches and an abject inability to stop bloody smiling. Sure, she could also blame the claret she'd sweet-talked out of Ada that they'd been steadily sipping at all evening, but she knew she'd be just the same stone cold sober.

Although the claret was to blame for her next suggestion.

"We should play truth or dare," she suggested with a grin.

"A game of daring? I'm not sure I've the stomach. Does it involve cards? I've no deck, either."

"No stomach and no cards? I'm rethinking this courtship, I must say," she teased.

"The cards I can find, the stomach may require surgery," he said drily.

"If James Norrington considers himself stomachless, there's no hope for us mere mortals."

"You mock me," he accused with little bite.

"Never," she replied sincerely "I laugh with you, never at you."

"Tell me of this daring game, then."

"It's simple enough. We take it in turns, with the choice between a truth or a dare. If you choose truth, you have to answer a question honestly."

"I always endeavour to be truthful when you ask me a question."

"Yeah, but you can't choose not to answer. And if you choose dare, you have to do what the other person tells you."

"I know of this game," he said "It's a parlor game - questions and orders."

"Trust your lot to make it sound like some sort of sinister interrogation."

"Is it not?"

"Depends on who you play it with, I suppose. I'm a kitten compared to some of the lads back home."

"There's a story in that, I sense," he smirked.

"Mm. When I was a teenager my dad and his pals had one of their frequent get togethers. All of us young folk snuck a few bottles of whatever we could get out hands on and went up to the attic and played it. One of the lads there was fairly new, and a right pain in the backside. His dad was a bit of a legend, and he thought that meant he was too - had a right strut about him, annoyed the hell out of all of us who were just trying to have a good time. So he goes on and on about how he'll take any dare we dole out to him, whatever it was, he didn't care, on and on. Then it got to his turn."

"Am I about to learn the full extent of Irish fury?"

"Oh, I wish I could take credit for it. I figured somebody'd make him chug more drink than he could handle to put him out of commission, give us peace for the rest of the night. But instead, Gav stops us all, raises a hand, and waits until he has silence. We could already see on his face it was going to be good."

"Gav?" He echoed, bemused "I care not how long in the future these events are, people are not naming their sons Gav."

"Gavin," she amended, and then smiled slightly when she saw the open intrigue on his face as he waited for her to continue "He was a good lad, but the sort where if you annoyed him he was just ruthless. Anyway, he waits just long enough to build up some real anticipation, this new lad standing there all puffed up and smug, certain he's about to make himself the hero of the night by taking on whatever he gets asked to do."

"And what dare did the legendary Gav dole out in the end?"

"He makes a show of considering it, then looks him in the eye and goes 'I dare you to go home'."

James snorted "And did he?"

"Mm. Considered it for a bit, but what option did he have? Refuse and deal with an awkward atmosphere for the rest of the night? Must've right pissed him off, though, because he never came back. Can't blame him - it was a bit mean of us."

"I've known fresh recruits like that," James said ruefully "Sons of war heroes who believe the achievement to be hereditary. They never learn without a bit of healthy embarrassment. You did him a favour in the long run."

"I appreciate your endeavouring to see the best in me," she teased.

"It's not difficult."

The sincerity and the warmth which with he said that had her cheeks blazing, and Theo ducked her head as she took a sip from her cup. When she looked up again, he had a soft smile on his face.

"Your father was a celebrated soldier - did it never go to your head?" She asked.

"Only in that I wanted to live up to his name," he said, and then his lips thinned before he added "Not that I succeeded much."

"You surpassed it."

"Now you truly are mocking me," he said sourly.

"I'm not," Theo's tone broached no room for argument, her hand seeking out his atop the table "You're a phenomenal soldier, James, and an even better man. I can't believe you don't see it."

"I appreciate your efforts to see the very best in me," he parroted her earlier words back to her, settling his other hand down atop hers.

His grip dwarfed her own - his hands bigger and rougher - and she loved it.

"It's not difficult," she returned.

In response, she was rewarded with a painfully handsome, downright rakish half-smile.

"Come, I've given you a truth. What shall I receive in return?"

"All right," she conceded "I choose dare."

He chuckled as if to say of course you do, nodding slowly. His hand remained atop hers as he glanced about the tavern, and then he turned his gaze back to her, green eyes glimmering with what could only be described as mischief.

"Very well, I dare you to kiss me."

Theo laughed, shaking her head "You do get that the point of a dare is to ask somebody to do something they don't usually want to do?"

"I would never presume to know your mind," he teased.

"On this particular matter, it's safe to say you can assume."

Although maybe she was giving him too much power by admitting that so openly.

"And yet I remain waiting - am I to take that as a forfeit?"

"Impatient, are we?"

"Not in general, but on this particular matter you can safely assume so."

"James Norrington!" She gasped her entirely false outrage, too delighted by the admission to keep it from her face "How ungentlemanly of you."

"You might safely assume that, too," she could have sworn that his voice lowered a good octave or more as he responded.

It was then that Theo knew that the moment James discovered just how mutual their attraction was, combined with their newfound relative freedom to act on that, had combined to become the absolute death of her. And she loved it - which was why, before he had a chance to second-guess his boldness, she rewarded him with that kiss. It was the easiest dare she'd ever seen through.

#flufftober2022 #james norrington/oc #pirates of the Caribbean fanic #caribbean no longer looks like a real word to me i've types it too many times

11 notes · View notes

heartsburstintofire13ghosts · 2 years

Text

II. Crazy For You

A/N: This chapter is very Royce centric. I wanted to delve more into Ellie’s ability to not age, Royce’s interactions with Sam (through his dreams when he’s alive).

Due to Royce’s tempestuous nature, this chapter has a heavy E rating. For explicit content (graphic descriptions of a penis, masturbation, as well as a horny teenager’s thoughts about his dream girl), language, and violence.

I know a lot of people can’t read the Russian alphabet, so I am going to write out the words with the regular alphabet. While Sam speaks several languages fluently, she does predominantly speak Russian with her Aunt and her mom. Dana was also taught how to speak Russian by Ellie.

Keep in mind, however, that our alphabet does not have letters for some of the sounds of the Russian language, therefore, you may have to use a translator to hear the actual beauty of the words.

I will run alone tonight Without you by my side I guess you had a place you had to get to I know your eyes I know inside The walls you hide behind And I saw the truth inside the real you Because I know you're lost when you run away Into the same black holes and black mistakes Taking all my will just to run alone When are you coming home?

April 3rd, 1957 Clayton Home

Royce Clayton’s icy blue eyes snapped open as he woke from his dream. Moonlight shone through his bedroom window as he reached up to swipe some of his hair off his forehead. A difficult task as it was matted to his sweat-soaked skin.

He could still smell the sweet scent of her red locks around his face as she leaned down to kiss him, tugging his lip between her teeth, her tongue soothing the ache of the sharp pinch.

Even though he could feel her, he knew he was alone.

The very thought of her had his cock hard. Pulsing painfully. The only girl in the world that had this fucking effect on him and he was not even sure she existed.

She had to, he told himself. Because he didn’t know what he would do if she didn’t.

He had never had a great temperament to begin with, he knew that. But as more time went on and she did not show up, the worse his impulse control got. He got into fights on the daily. At least once a week he ended up in Nurse Bishop’s office for ice or bandages. Recently, he had even taken up drag racing – a fact his mother did not enjoy. She even threatened to take his keys if she found out about it – the rush of the adrenaline the only thing that managed to wipe his fire haired goddess from his mind.

The ticking of the clock on his wall had him turning his head.

12:13 am.

He was officially seventeen.

Royce pushed his blanket off, his sweaty skin warm and uncomfortable under the heavy cotton. He stared down his firm chest and muscled abdomen to the hardness beneath his lounge pants. He heaved a sigh, realizing he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep unless he relieved his arousal.

He could go take a cold shower, of course, but that would risk waking up his little sister, Elizabeth, who inhabited the room right next to his.

MASTURBATION SCENE AHEAD

Royce pushed his pants down and kicked them off, not shy about being naked in his own room. As nights like this became a more regular occurrence, he had started sleeping with his door locked. He looked at his cock, wrapping his hand around it. It was rigid and throbbing, the veins swollen along the length. He was a solid eight inches, he thought. Circumcised. A common practice for newborn boys this day and age. He had some girth to him, as well. According to his friend Andrew, that was the part that mattered. Though, Royce was never sure if he should believe him or not.

He closed his eyes, rubbing his precum across the head of his cock with his thumb.

She was so tiny in his dreams. He would guess five foot one. His six-foot frame dwarfed his kitten completely. His. All his. He found himself liking that thought. Men could be jealous and possessive and he was no exception to that rule. In his dreams, she did not mind. She found it oddly endearing, cocking her head and stroking her thumb over his knuckles.

Even sweet things she did were sexy. Delicious. Made him want to bury himself so deep inside her that she could never get him out. She was entrenched in his heart. Bound to him at soul level.

He bit back a groan as he moved his hand up and down his length, applying pressure at every pass over the head, twisting his hand slightly.

Royce imagined how hot and tight she would be around him. He may not have experienced it before himself – no girl was her, which robbed him of any desire to even touch them – but his friends talked enough about it that he got the picture. He wondered if he would even fit fully. She was so small. He gave a sharp thrust into his hand at the thought of her riding him, her red hair waving around her shoulders, her pale skin soft under his hand.

He bet she smelled good, too. He had tried to picture a scent that was uniquely her, but nothing he considered worked.

“Fuck.”

The words were hissed out from beneath his teeth, barely audible. Fresh sweat broke out across the skin of his chest and abs, his stroking picking up speed and intensity, his free hand fisting the sheets beneath him.

Where was she? Why wasn’t she here? Why couldn’t he find her?

He took control in his vivid waking dream, flipping her underneath his body and beginning a harsh pace. Despite her small stature, he knew she could take it. She loved it, arching her body up to meet him, her legs wrapping firmly around his waist. He pressed his lips to hers, tongue sweeping into her mouth. She let out a small sound, returning his kiss with fervor. He pressed his hips hard against her, burying himself deep inside of her as he came.

He was forced back to reality by his very real orgasm. He looked down and lifted his hips. He stopped stroking and held his cock firmly at the base, frozen in that moment of ecstasy just before climax. He felt his balls tighten and watched himself explode. Royce felt the rapid sequence of familiar muscle contractions ripple up through his shaft under his motionless hand as a forceful pulse of thick cum exploded across his chest and over his collarbone. A grunt involuntarily escaped him as the breath he hadn’t known he had been holding burst from his lungs. His hand stroked over himself again as he ejaculated. He felt its heat as another streak of semen rushed across his sensitive nipple.

END OF MASTURBATION SCENE

The slugger went limp on his sheets, muscles weak and spongy, his lungs struggling to regain their normal breathing rhythm. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eyes before heaving himself up out of bed and walking silently to his adjoining bathroom. He wet a rag and washed himself off before opening his window to air out his room. He stretched before yanking his pants back on and burrowing beneath his comforter, suddenly too tired to keep his eyes open.

He surrendered to sleep and to his dream girls open arms.

One day the earth will open wide And I'll follow you inside Cause the only hell I know is without you Some day when galaxies collide We'll be lost on different skies I will send my rocket ship to find you Because I know you're lost when you run away Into the same black holes and black mistakes Taking all my will just to run alone Until I bring you home

April 10th, 1957 Marshall High School Madison, Ohio

Royce growled and gripped the front of Johnny’s jacket, shoving him hard against a locker. He slammed his fist across the greaser’s face, throwing him to the ground.

He could have walked away then. He could have. He should have.

Woulda. Coulda. Shoulda.

He was beginning to believe life was full of that.

“Off to have some more dreams of a little ginger bitch,” Royce’s jaw ticked at Johnny’s words and he turned to watch as the greasy fuck pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and opened it. Royce recognized the drawing. It had disappeared from his notebook. It was his. A picture of his dream girl. “I’ll tell you something, Clayton, she’s a looker - ”

His words were cut off when Royce’s fist made contact with his jaw. Panic took over when Royce’s fist came down again, pure rage in his ice blue eyes. He struggled, choking under the onslaught as he tried to get away from the enraged boy who was striking any part of his body he could reach.

“Enough!” A small hand seized Royce’s wrist and yanked him to his feet, pushing him backward away from Johnny. “Not one more move, Mr. Clayton.”

Nurse Eleanor Bishop was not physically imposing. Only five foot seven with doe eyes and curly dark hair. Her red lips were pressed together in a stern frown as she stared Royce down, daring him to try to get past her. She was a no nonsense woman and would not hesitate to drag him away by his ear if she had to. He had seen her do it before.

And somehow, she always got away with it.

“Scoop Mr. Sullivan off the floor and get him to the hospital,” her intense eyes were focused on the three Greasers around Johnny. “He is going to need stitches and I can’t do them here.”

She whirled on Royce then, eyeing his bloody knuckles.

“Nurses office,” she strolled past him. “Now.”

Royce followed her without a word, stopping for only a second to scoop up the picture that had dropped from Johnny’s limp fingers, and continued on. Nurse Bishop swung the door open and directed him inside, where he took a seat on the hospital bed.

Irritation colored her as she flitted around, grabbing cotton swabs, bandages, and antiseptic.

As she readied everything, Royce studied her. And certain things stood out to him then. He could see his wine haired mystery girl in certain features on her face. The shape of her eyes, the paleness of her skin, the curve of her lips.

The question leaped from his lips before he could stop it.

“Do you have a daughter?” she looked up from dabbing his knuckles, taken back by his question. “About my age, maybe?”

She studied him for a moment before shaking her head.

“If I did, she would go to school with you,” he sighed, trying to hide his disappointment. Why didn’t he think of that? “Why the sudden curiosity?”

He shook his head, his normal grumpiness returning. “No reason.”

She shook her head, beginning to wrap the broken skin of his knuckles with gauze. Lightly, so he could still use them at practice. Assuming the Coach even let him play after almost beating his schoolmate into a coma. He hated Johnny. But killing him had never crossed his mind. Not until he had meddled into Royce’s personal thoughts. His dream girl was just his. She was not meant to be shared. And the thought of anyone else basking in her existence infuriated him.

Especially a spineless little shitstick like Johnny Sullivan.

“You really should mind your temper, Mr. Clayton,” she cut the gauze and went and placed her supplies back where she got them from. “Mest' mozhet byt' bystroy i kholodnoy.”

He looked at her, confused.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Revenge can be swift and cold.”

Nurse Bishop stared at him for a moment, almost like she could see his future, before turning abruptly and sweeping out of the room.

Even if the sky does fall Even if they take it all There's no pain that I won't go through Even if I have to die for you And when all the fires burn When everything is overturning There's no thing that I won't go through Even if I have to die for you

October 14th, 1957 Marshall High Baseball Field

Dead.

He was dead.

Based upon the rising of moon and the setting of the sun, he would say it had been approximately three days since his death. He shoved that memory as far from the front of his mind as it would go. It was painful. Excruciating. Luckily, shock and blood loss had claimed his life before he even had a chance to feel the flames.

But not soon enough for him to be blinded to the people that ignored his cries for help and watched him die. He may have died anyway, but at least he wouldn’t have been alone, in pain, and scared out of his wits in his last moments.

Fresh rage burned through him and his fingers tightened on his bat as he remembered the feeling of being trapped under his car, his skin grating off against the concrete as it dragged him. He looked down at his mangled right hand and bit back a growl of anger.

He reached into the pocket of his letterman and brought out the folded piece of paper he had shoved in there before the race. The watercolor picture he had made in the middle of the night.

Royce huffed and stroked his fingers over the image.

Even in death, she was with him.

A/N: I hope this helps you see into my Royce’s mind a little. Poor boy was going a bit bonkers toward the end there.

Reviews are appreciated.

The song is “Die For You” by STARSET

#thir13en ghosts #thirteen ghosts #13 ghosts #fanfiction #original character #royce clayton #the torn prince

5 notes · View notes

folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

💌🧸 Brother's Best Friend

A/N: Got this request a while ago and now I'm wondering why I've never written this trope before bc this was so fun??? Lmk how you liked it! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, size/strength kink??, choking, dom!bias (it’s kinda playful tho), brother's best friend!au, sneaking around, play fighting, lowkey getting caught but not directly?

words: ~ 4.1 k

disclaimer: I don’t mean for the age gap to be gigantic…I’m talking about anything from 1-2 years maximum tbh!!! Anything else would be weird and I’m not about that! They’re also both obviously consenting adults!

[H/N means 'his (bias) name']

In youreyes, your first meeting had been a disaster. The new spider man movie had been released only days ago, and you were adamant on seeing it. And to your luck, your older brother and his best friend had already made plans to watch it together. As a little sister, you were treated like the baby of the family, and it didn’t matter that you were far from being an infant anymore. So naturally, your brother had been condemned by your parents to bring you along. He declared his distaste in your presence by attempting to ignore you, but you were used to that. Just like you were aware of his bad moods, you knew he could change within minutes and magically turn into the sweetest, most caring big brother you could wish for.

Whatever. You didn’t need his approval to enjoy the trip to the movie theater, you told yourself. Had it not been for his best friend, who you hadn’t seen in ages. H/N and you had never properly spoken before, and the last time you saw him he had been an awkward, prepubescent boy who had appeared at your door to pick up your brother for a playdate. There was no trace of immaturity now. Instead, it was you who had morphed into an awkward, shy mess at the sight of him.

His ‘hello’ had a warm and deep melody to it which swooped you up in his aura so suddenly, you had no time to prepare. Had his smile always been this stupidly charming? Hell, it was so bright, you had to meticulously inspect the ground every time he sent a grin your way. When before you hadn’t felt guilty for being a bother, you now sure did. What impression would you leave, trailing behind the older boys like a lost puppy? What would he take you for? The annoying little sister who didn’t have friends of her own? The mood-killer, who wouldn’t understand any of the boys’ inside jokes? The anti-social, weird girl who was obsessed with fictional men, like people loved to belittle teenage girls with normal interests?

As things turned out, his initial opinion of you was quite the opposite. If only you could have spied into his brain, it would have saved you a landslide of worry. Although your brother took up all of H/N’s attention before the movie started, he noticed you a good amount. To be precise, you blew him away at first sight. Your cute laugh won him over in a matter of seconds and he liked that your merch sweater could have been stolen straight out of his own closet. He didn’t want to feel too smug, but the way you diverted your eyes away from him whenever he looked in your direction only boosted his confidence further.

Your brother might have warned him. Stay away from her. She’s off limits for you. But not a thousand vicious, older brothers could have kept him from trying to get to you. It was up to you, after all, whether you wanted him around or not, and not to your brother. From that day on, H/N didn’t skip out on a chance to see you, even if it meant merely an exchange of a few words, or a simple greeting. And to his luck, you turned out to be equally as enraptured by him.

There was something about the untouchable, the forbidden, that attracted him to you even more. Plus, you were simply too precious to forget about. One morning, you dropped off a beanie at his place, which he had left at your house after meeting with your big brother the previous day. When he had asked if he could drive you to school as a thank you, you happily accepted. You had marked that day as the first day of your new life. First, it was harmless flirting. To be honest, you were under the impression he was merely messing with you. Because you were the cute little sister of his best friend. Because you would turn into an awkward shell of a person who had lost all ability to articulate, and your cheeks would burn as if they were on fire, whenever he charmed you.

But the flirting slowly reached newer levels, and before you knew it you were discussing your sexual fantasies over text messages and giving him bedroom eyes as you opened the front door for him. “H/N’s here!” you would then shout to your big brother. Then you would watch the two boys walk off to your brother’s room, pondering why life had to be this way for you. It wasn’t fair. Siblings were supposed to share, right? Why did you have to wait your turn until after midnight, when no one would notice, to spend time with H/N?

But to H/N, the sneaking around in the middle of the night and the secret messages you sent to each other, it all added to the excitement. Surely, there were days on which he wished he could just break the truth to your brother. The impact it could have on their friendship was enough intimidation for him to refrain, though. Things were better off this way, for now.

Today was no exception to your usual lies. When your brother asked if you would go out with him to do some shopping, you had played the victim and feigned a stomachache. Your parents wouldn’t be home all weekend. You’d have been stupid to waste a perfect opportunity like that. Who knew when you could have H/N in your bed the next time? Normally, you were restricted to his car, or to his bed in the dark of night. Yes, those places had something enticing at first glance. But the backseat of a car was only enjoyable for so many clandestine meetings. So today you notified him of your golden opportunity before your brother had even walked out the door.

The moment H/N texted you that he was outside your home, you opened the front door and dragged him to your room.

“Are you in control today, little one?” he asked, closing the bedroom door after you.

“Why are you asking that?” you replied, not wanting to talk at all but rather do so much more productive things.

“I don’t know…perhaps because you haven’t let me say a word since I came through the door,” he said.

“Right. Maybe I’m planning on tying you up, blindfolding you, and torturing you with ice and wax,” you joked in a casual tone, despite not usually requesting such graphic ideas.

“I don’t know if I’d let you do that,” he grinned with raised eyebrows. “Besides, I know you’d rather be at the receiving end of that. It’s a sweet idea, though. If we had some more time…”

“Think you could get away from me if I tied you up?” you said, but he was towering over you with the calmness of a king who knew he reigned over the situation.

“We both know I’m stronger than you, doll,” he said. You didn’t like it when boys called you weak. But you’d let it slide, knowing he was only joking and would never underestimate you outside of the bedroom. He put his lips right up to yours, so you felt his breath on them. His fingers came up to cup your face, but then slowly inched to your neck. When they closed around your neck, putting the slightest amount of pressure on your skin, you whimpered quietly.

“Need reminding?” he asked. As much pent-up frustration you had, and as much as your stomach was flipping upside down from how badly you needed him, you just had to play with him. You knew it would make for more fun.

“I think- “ you started, with a grin. Then you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed him backwards, until he was stumbling. Although caught off guard, he was quick to pull you along with him as he fell onto your bed. You landed on top of him with a small squeal.

“Go on, let’s see who can throw the other off the bed first,” he teased with a superiority that only spurred you on. Then again, you would always be in the mood for the oldest childhood game you had ever known. Only now it wasn’t your brother, but his best friend you were playing against. It added a layer of excitement, and after only seconds, giggles had overtaken you as you struggled in his grip.

“No tickling is allowed,” you said. He nodded obediently with a smirk that told you he might not abide by your rules.

At first, you had attempted to hold him down by his arms. But your legs tangled, and he pushed his chest up against yours, like he was about to flip you over. Your plan seemed to be working only momentarily. You groaned a little as he grabbed your wrists swiftly and held his stance against your attempt to pull his upper body to the side.

“Cute,” he said. That’s when you realized, he was barely struggling, barely trying, even. While you were giving your most, he smirked like he was watching a kitten trying to fight a lion. It was child’s play to him, keeping you in check. Literally. With an annoying expression of amusement on his face, he let you have the upper hand for a while. Then, as if you had never had an ounce of advantage, he turned it around and pulled you into him. His eyes suggested he might just send you tumbling down onto the floor any moment now. Nonetheless, you weren’t going to give up so easily. Taking your chances, you let go of his arms and moved sideways, so you could have your go at pushing him towards the edge of the mattress.

“I don’t think so,” he said. Suddenly, he bear-hugged your body and rolled you both over. Before you could protest or defend yourself, your arm was dangling off the side of your bed and if you had moved a tiny bit further, you would have slid off the bedsheets and right onto your carpet. It was his turn to straddle you now. As if his actions hadn’t been enough declarations of his strength, he pinned your wrists to the bed above your head and gave you a challenging smirk.

“I was going to let you win, doll. But you weren’t trying hard enough,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?”

What were you going to do? He had you completely immobilized. “Just let it go, then. We get it, you’re super strong and super big and the coolest,” you said.

He seemed to take an instant liking to your declaration. “Say it again. This time minus the eye-rolling, sugar.”

“You’re stronger than me,” you said, trying to avoid the laughter that was threatening to come out. Could he read in your gaze how badly you wanted him to kiss you already? If he could, he wasn’t acting on it. Instead, he bent to the crook of your neck and spoke.

“Does it turn you on that I can overpower you?” his breath fanned your ear and you had to close your eyes to control yourself.

“Yes. Because I trust you,” you answered truthfully. The corner of his lips curled into a cocky grin.

“You know what? I think I’d rather you stay in bed with me instead of throwing you on the floor. There’s so many things we can do up here, isn’t that right, little one?” His lips brushed over your cheek and then over your lips as he spoke. The nickname had always made you weak in the knees and he knew it. When he finally enveloped your lips in a kiss, you swore you could feel an electric spark jump between the two of you. The mellowness of it turned into hunger rapidly, and as soon as his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, you whimpered like you hadn’t seen him in a year.

“Needy, are we?” he asked, running his hand up your sides and underneath your shirt. He could say that again. “Let’s get these off, then.”

The seconds in which you pulled off your clothes and couldn’t hang on his lips and feel his skin on your body should have been considered a form of torture in itself. Then, time always went by so much slower than usually.

When you had both shed off your clothes, he climbed back on top of you. Instead of straddling your hips he was now resting between your legs. There was nothing separating you from him, and it was apparent not only through the body heat that radiated off him. He reached down and whilst peppering kisses on your chest, slid his fingers through your slick arousal that was pooling in your core.

“You’re so wet,” he said in surprise, but couldn’t hide his approval and self-confidence in his voice.

“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes but simultaneously fighting the urge to moan at the smallest of touches he was teasing your with. “I’m so horny. Can’t we skip foreplay?”

“Poor doll,” he said. “I should’ve come over earlier, huh?”

“You know that wasn’t possible,” you said. With a desperate look, you pleaded him silently.

“I wanna taste you,” he said, but your put your hand on his cheek softly.

“Maybe later?” you said. “Please, I need to have you inside of me. Now.”

“You’re extra cute when you’re this needy,” he smiled. “Are there still condoms in your nightstand?”

You nodded and had never moved so fast to open a drawer in your life. Pretending to have any patience left, you waited for him to roll on the rubber.

“I love the way you look at me,” he said. “When you’re waiting for me. Could watch you for hours.”

“God, I hope you won’t. Come here, please?” you replied, making him chuckle. He lined himself up with your core, but then made no inclination to move ahead. His dark eyes and little head tilt told you everything.

“Don’t mess with me anymore,” you whined, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him closer. “Do it. H/N.”

“Beg for it.” His words twisted something in the pit of your stomach. Although you were burning with hunger, you could never say no to him. Then again, you were curious to see what would happen if you did.

“What if I don’t? Don’t you want to fuck me as much as I want it?” you challenged him. Something glinted in his eyes, and you knew you shouldn’t have even brought it up.

“I can always do this,” he said, and you followed his eyes down his body and to where he had wrapped his hand around his cock. Slowly, he jerked himself off, and you weren’t sure he was biting his lip because of the feeling or to discompose you. His small sigh should’ve been caused by you. This wasn’t what you had wanted. His tip was right by your slit. He could’ve pushed his length in so easily, and yet he wasn’t. Debating what to say, you kept your eyes trained on his hard member that looked so delicious in his hands. His deep groans rang in your ears. It didn’t take long for you to cave.

“Fuck. That should be me around you,” you said. “That should be my pussy you’re fucking and not your hands. Please.”

“Isn’t that right?” he said.

“Yes. Please, fuck me. I would feel so much better than your hands, and you know it. Please,” you whined. “I need you right now H/N. Please.”

You added another ‘please’ – for good measure – because the way his tongue darted out and licked his smirking lips could make you say anything if it would get him to fuck you.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Think you can take me?”

“Yes, yes-, I can! Please, fuck me,” you said in a waterfall of words, and he chuckled handsomely.

“Good girl,” he said, running a gentle hand over your head. “If it’s too much you let me know.”

“As always.”

The tip of his cock gently pushed into your core, making you hold your breath as he entered you slowly. It caused you to feel every inch with every second. Your brain felt fuzzy, and you sighed gratefully at the relief.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he moaned. The carefulness in his thrusts paired with his moon eyes at you only remained that way for a few seconds. Then, he straightened up and grabbed your hips to drag you in closer. You moaned helplessly when he almost pulled out completely, so slowly it almost made you crazy, only to slam his length into you until his tip brushed against the deepest spot inside of you. It was an action he repeated over and over, until you were reduced to a puddle of desperate whimpers, and you clasped the bedsheets in your hands tightly.

“You like it this way, little one?” he asked. He was apparently finding enjoyment in your reaction. How you could barely keep your eyes open, and when you did, your eyeballs threatened to roll to the back of your head. How your fingers clenched around the closest plushie, and you cradled it against your chest in bliss.

“Yes- fuck,” you said. “Feels so good.”

Of course, right as you said this, he had to change things up. His thrusts turned lazy and messy as he leaned backwards slightly. With an equally lazy demeanor, his thumb flicked over your clit, rubbing circles on it.

“Let me hear you. Say my name,” he said, and you quietly moaned his name. You adored the way it sounded, voiced like this, with barely more than a breath underneath your soft tone. Now and then, his cock slipped out of you, making you clench around nothing and furthermore had you going completely out of your mind. When he would push himself into your opening again, it felt as if it was the first time he was entering you today. Except you felt it repeatedly, each time as incredible as the previous. Your mouth hung open, rendered speechless except for the little moans and whimpers sounding from your throat. There was a familiar knot beginning to form in your stomach, tying firmer with each passing minute.

As if he could read your mind, he decided then he was done with his sweet torture of teasing you to an orgasm. You couldn’t be mad at him, though, because what he had planned was just as perfect, if not better. His hands wandered to their original place on your sides, and he began to snap his hips into yours at a faster pace. A small cry of surprise left your lips, while he only smirked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. Impulsively, you lifted your legs a little, intensifying the feeling of his member roughly dragging through your velvet walls.

“H/N, I’m so close,” you whimpered.

“Me too,” he replied, not slowing down for a second.

His broad frame towering over your body was a sight you would never get enough of and his gazes at you were hot enough that they could have stopped your heart in its tracks. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead and there was a thin sheet of sweat on his neck. It all just made him more breathtaking to you. The slight pain from his nails digging into the skin on your waist was staggering, and you could barely wait to see the masterpiece of marks he would leave tonight.

You were a moaning mess, flying on cloud nine and simultaneously overwhelmed by his treatment of you. It clouded your mind at took over your whole body like you were made for him to fuck you. His length filled up your tight hole and he did it with such force that your whole body rocked into your mattress in a steady, fast-paced rhythm. He let go of your waist then and supported himself on his arm by the side of your head. When his other hand went to your neck you shuddered in anticipation.

“You should see yourself with my hand around your throat,” he said. “So pretty, little one.”

“We can do it in front of a mirror sometime- ,” you suggested, but were cut off at the end of the sentence as his fingers tightened on your neck. Instantly, the effect of it hit you. The lack of oxygen made your head swim in a sea of pleasure and the unrelenting desire to come. Through fluttering eyelids, you peeked up at him. The way he licked his lips and then clenched his jaw, the gorgeous shape of his collarbones and shoulders – you sometimes wondered if he was even real. Every so often he loosened his grip on you. When he did, you took gulps of air and then instantly whined for him to choke you again.

“Let go for me,” he said. “Show me your pretty face when I make you come. I’m fucking you well, aren’t I?”

You nodded as well as you could when he was gripping your throat and you couldn’t breathe properly at the moment. It didn’t matter you couldn’t talk. He was probably not expecting you to answer, either way. In a pleasure-induced trance, you closed your eyes and let it happen, like he had asked it from you. Your hazy consciousness barely registered that he was reaching his high with you. Too overcome were you, with your thighs trembling uncontrollably and your back arching off the mattress. He had let go of your neck and was riding out his own orgasm with sloppy thrusts that only sent you into another frenzy and had you whimpering his name softly. When he had finished too, he slowed down and pulled you into a gentle kiss, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly.

“That was amazing,” he said, and with a blissful hum you nodded. Your lips changed into a pout when he rolled off you and got up. You were tired of sending him back home so quickly. As he discarded the condom in the bin, you put on your most enchanting eyes, so he would have no other choice.

“Stay a little longer, please,” you asked. You knew he wanted to, as well. So although he was aware that your brother could return at any moment, he tumbled back into bed with you.

“Just for a little while,” he said. “Mhm…you’re so perfect to cuddle, baby.” His embrace was warm and his scent comforting, as he hummed a lovely melody. The soft touch of his fingers running through your hair lulled you right into a light sleep. You were awoken rather abruptly, and with half a heart attack.

“Hey Y/N, have you seen my charger- “ your brother’s voice suddenly broke through the silence and you wondered if you would have to pack up and leave the country after this sort of embarrassment.

“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, knowing well enough it was the dumbest thing you could have said. But who could blame you? You had only woken up two seconds ago.

“Really?” your brother asked. “Because I hear H/N sneak into our house so often lately, I’m starting to wonder if his parents threw him out.”

His tone was surprisingly calm.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you,” H/N said to your brother. “I thought you’d hate me and that we’d be over as friends.”

“I know I told you once to leave Y/N alone. But now…I guess it’s cool. She’s been in a great mood lately, and if that’s thanks to you, I think I can approve of you two. Although I’m not looking forward to being a third wheel, I think I can get used to it if I try hard enough,” your brother said. You couldn’t believe your ears, and involuntarily smiled like a fool. No more hiding. No more secrets.

“I stole your charger. I’m sorry,” you said then, making your brother roll his eyes. “It’s by the sofa in the living room.”

“Great. I needed a reason to leave anyway,” your brother said. “I might approve of you, but this situation is still too awkward. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, H/N?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy in your bed said.

“You’ll see me too!” you added as a joke, as your brother already walked away from the door.

“Unfortunately I will!” your brother shouted, with the unnerving tone only a big brother could possibly muster.

1K notes · View notes

pretoriafics · 3 years

Text

Teenage Dream

I think this one is the most fun thing I'd ever written. Maybe it can be a new series, I don't know. What do you think?

You were just reading smut fanfics about Derek Hale before sleep. When you woke up, you find that someway, you got into the Teen Wolf universe. Word count: 1.890 Pairings: Different Dimension!Reader x Derek; Different Dimension!Reader x Platonic!Scott; Different Dimension!Reader x Platonic!Stiles Contain: It's pretty fun; You dying of shame; AU Warnings: English is not my main language <3; Inappropriate language PART 2 ALTERNATIVE VERSION TEEN WOLF MASTERLIST

It was a calm night. You were lying on your bed with your bedroom in darkness. In your hand, you were with your cell phone. You had just read on Tumblr brand new smut fanfic with Derek Hale, one of your most-loved fictional characters. You found another one with Stiles - a platonic fluff fic this time -, and you will read it when you woke up. You were almost sleeping, and you are not capable of reading it now. You just have to sleep.

You put your cell phone on your bedside table and fell asleep quickly. But when you woke up, you found yourself in a different and familiar bedroom. You sit on the waitress and look around.

It was a sunny morning outside, and you were still in your cheesy kitten print pajamas. The bed, the walls... Everything sounds familiar to you: It was Scott McCall's bedroom. At first sight, you thought it was such a real dream. However, when you stood up from the waitress, you hit your little finger on the bed.

"Fuuuck!"

You sat on the waitress, holding your foot. Damn! That pain's too real for all of that to be a dream. While you grab your foot, you look around again. You could smell cologne and some low noises from outside the house. A little bit more confused right now, you stood up and walks around the bedroom. Getting close to the window, you could see a familiar jeep.

No, no, no. It was impossible. All of this is just a hyper-realistic dream.

You walk in wide steps to the bathroom and look at you through the mirror. Well, you are the one reflected there. What the hell? Should you go downstairs? Should you stay right here, waiting for something happens?

Hell no.

You take a deep breath and open the bedroom door, walking downstairs on tiptoes. Then, you heard two familiar voices.

"I don't know, Stiles! She just appeared in my bedroom!"

"How she is? Does she have scales? Fangs?"

"She's just a normal girl. We have to do something! If she is a psychopath creature?"

"Scott, I'm serious. We need to call Derek."

"No! We don't need another sociopath near us. We need to take care of it all by ourselves."

You heard Stiles let out a long sigh.

"You even know how to control yourself yet, Scott. Derek is used to dealing with strange things like this. We have to call him."

"Shh! She woke up!"

Well, you were exposed.

You finish getting downstairs and walk close to the living room frame. Scott and Stiles were in the middle of the room, and they look at you scared. Your eyes got widen, and the room dives into a weird silence for a few seconds. Yeah, you aren't crazy: Somehow, you got into the Teen Wolf series.

And when you realize it...

"Oh my gosh." You put your hands on your head, in shock and so excited at the same time. "Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh!"

Scott and Stiles look at each other with a 'what the hell?' in the eyes. You turn yourself to look around. Yeah, it was Scott's house! Your inner teenager was freaking out.

"Scott..." Stiles looks at his friend "Calls Derek."

Scott already was with his cell phone in his hands.

"I'm already calling."

Man, how did you get there?! Excited, you open the door and runs outside without care about being in pajamas in the middle of the street. Derek finally answers Scott's call.

"Derek?! Oh, thank god!"

Scott almost could hear Derek's muscles get tense.

"...What happened?"

"There's a girl who suddenly appeared on my bed, and she's freaking out!"

"What do you mean with 'suddenly appeared'?"

"Suddenly, Derek! She wasn't there in a second, and then she just was!"

And then, you saw Stiles' jeep. Oh, man, you loved that jeep so much!! Excited and freaking out, you ran to the jeep. Stiles almost had a heart attack.

"No, no, don't touch my jeep!!"

But it was too late.

"Oh my gosh!!" You touch Stiles' jeep just as if it was of gold.

Stiles run to you, and Derek starts to understand that something pretty wrong was happening.

"Scott, who's yelling? You know what? Forget it. I'm coming. Took this girl in your bedroom, don't let her escape."

Derek turns the call off, and Scott puts his cell phone in his pocket. Scott approaches you, and Stiles hasn't the courage to approach you yet. So, he was just staring at you, praying that you don't do anything with his precious jeep.

"Hey!" Scott calls you, and you look at him. His voice was hesitant, but he was trying to control things "I think you should get into the house. I mean, right now."

You blink your eyes repeatedly at Scott, frozen in your place. Yeah, you were inside your favorite series when you were a teenager, with all your favorite characters... But, you know about Beacon Hills. The city was full of secrets and dangers. Until yesterday, you could see Scott and his friends escaping from death numerous times. This time, you will be the one who does it.

And this is not good.

"...Oh my gosh."

This time, your words were not from excitement but fear. Man, you're so fucked up.

You swallowed hard and got into Scott's house. The boy looks at Stiles, confused.

"I thought that took the girl inside my house would be harder."

They got into the house, looking at your shape sit on the couch. Now, you look terrified.

"Uhh..." Stiles looks at you, trying to find out something "How did you-"

"You guys need to send me home! Something went wrong, and I came here."

Scott and Stiles look at each other. It was Scott's turn to say something to you.

"What exactly went wrong?"

"I don't know! Look, I was just trying to sleep on my bed, and when I woke up, I was here."

"What are you?"

"Nothing, I'm just human. Do you guys did something that could have brought me here?"

They denied with his heads, so confused as you. Scott and Stiles were relatively new to the supernatural world. So, they are completely lost. You bit your inner lip, thoughtful.

"Something big made it. I mean, I'm definitely not from here."

Scott and Stiles stare at you with a scared gaze. Then, you all hear a car noise: It was Derek's Camaro. He was parking in front of Scott's house. Your eyes got widened when you saw it. Oh, man, you absolutely haven't the maturity to deal with Derek. Well, first of all: You were reading smut fanfic about him last night. Worse: It was an imagine! And you even want to remember the fact that, when the show got to its end, you and your best friend made tattoos. She tattoed the McCall Pack symbol on her arm, and, well, you tattooed a small triskelion between your boobs.

Man, you were dying of shame. It is such an odd situation. Anyone would never know about your tattoo or the fanfics.

Derek got into the house, and his eyes run to you immediately, and then he looks at Scott and Stiles. You felt your cheeks burning. Such an odd situation!!

"What the hell did you do?"

"Nothing!" Scott said, too nervous "She just came out of nowhere."

Derek narrowed his green eyes to Scott and Stiles, and then he looks at you. You already knew what he could ask you, so you started to talk.

"Either do I! Look" You took a deep breath, trying to contain all that mess of feelings inside of you "I was in my bedroom sleeping, and then I woke up here. But there something pretty important you guys should know about me: I am definitely not from here. When I came from, anyone of you exists. You all are fictional characters from a tv series."

The room dives into a weird silence. Scott looks at Stiles.

"Uh... Stiles... She's not lying."

"Oh, man, I was born in the wrong dimension. Hey," Stiles looks at you "What the girls think about me? Do they like me? Do I have many fans?"

Stiles began to approach you, but Derek grabs him by his shirt, avoiding an approximation.

"We don't know about her yet, so stay right there."

"Oh, c'mon" Siles looks at him and gives a few steps close to Scott when Derek unleashes him "I'm pretty sure you're curious as well."

"I'm not. I just want to know what the hell is going on."

You narrowed your eyes to Derek. You know why he wasn't interested to know about him. So, you started to talk.

"Are you sure? I mean, everyone thinks you are the most wronged of all."

Derek stares at you, unmoved by your words. You should know he would be suspicious about you. He stares at Scott and Stiles.

"She will stay with me until we know she is not a problem. I'll investigate to know how she came here."

What?! No, no, you have no maturity for that. You felt your cheeks burning again. Man, it was just like on fanfics!

You objected.

"Hell no! I'll stay here."

Without a drop of patience and calm, Derek rolled his eyes.

"You'll stay here? With Scott and his mom? So what do you will tell her about your presence at her house?"

Okay. Your plan was stupid. Also, it was funnier when Derek was rude to Stiles. With you, it was just annoying. You cross your arms in front of your chest, not so sure about what to say. He let out a long sigh of annoyance and took your arm. You widen your eyes standing up from the couch. You look at his hand on you, and then you look at him.

"Hey!"

Derek drags you in the door's direction and looks at Scott.

"Something went too wrong for this girl to be here. Tell me if you find something else."

"Wait!" Scott gives a step forward into you and Derek's direction "She can't stay a little more? We need to, uh... Investigate."

"Let your stupid curiosity for another time, Scott."

You whine in annoyance while Derek drags you in his car's direction. A few minutes ago, you would be freaking out of getting into Derek's Camaro. Now, you are just too pissed off to care.

"Let me go! I know how to walk!"

He opened the passenger's seat door and released you. Derek didn't talk anything, just stares at you in a silent order. Pissed off, you cross your arms in front of your chest, stubborn.

"I'll not come in!"

Derek gets closer to you, giving you a deadly glare.

"Get in the car. Now."

You swallowed hard. Oh man, this part wasn't like the fanfics. It was not sexy at all. Actually, it's a bit scary.

Pissed off, you get in the car, and Derek closes the door, getting into the driver's seat. You look at Scott e Stiles through the window, thinking that maybe it would be better if you stay with them. However, you haven't a choice. All you have to do now is try not to be killed by the first supernatural threat that appears in Beacon Hills.

#teen wolf imagine #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf fanfics #teen wolf fics #teen wolf fanfic #derek hale imagine #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale fanfics #derek hale x you #derek hale x y/n #scott mccall imagines #scott mccall x you #scott mccall imagine #scott mccall x reader #stiles x y/n #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski imagine

607 notes · View notes

arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years

Text

Graveyard Siblings (3)

Some for revenge and some sibling bonding.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)

-------

Adrien was next to be visited. Plagg woke him up from his sleep.

-------

“Kit, wake up. I want camembert.”

“Plagg, silence. You are not getting any cheese if you do that.”

“Sorry, Adrien but you are not my ‘master’ anymore.”

“Plagg? Why are you here? Where’s the ring?”

“The ring is as far away as possible and kept safely away. I am here because someone wants to talk to you.”

“Who?”

A cloaked, hooded figure stepped out of the shadows to his room.

“Kitty. My Chaton. Did you miss me?” A sweet, familiar but yet so terrifying voice came from the figure.

She pulled down the hood to reveal Ladybug with a wicked-looking black mask with white lenses.

“What am I talking about? You do miss me. Your Bugaboo. Too bad I don’t feel the same, Adrien.”

Lightning flashed and it started to rain. The mask was gone, revealing his dead classmate, Marinette with chilling red eyes. The pigtails grew longer and curved upwards, giving the illusion of her having horns. Twin blades flashed and she leaped towards him. (Damian gave them to her with some lessons in exchange for spending time with, babysitting, the kwamis.)

Adrien scrambled away from the bed in the nick of time. A sword impaling the spot where he just was.

“Plagg, help. Where is the ring? I need to transform.”

“Sorry, kitten. I am not telling you. Even if you did have the ring, it’s not going to be much help.”

“Kitty, stay still. Then, we can be together. Just like you wanted.”

Adrien continued to dodge.

“What do you mean?” He all but screamed at Plagg.

“Pigtails, here, is a vengeful spirit. She’s not going to stop until she is satisfied. How about asking her what she wants?”

“Ladybug, what do you want?”

“What I wanted was a partner I could rely on, someone I can trust with my life, someone who wouldn’t stab me in the back for his own selfish gain. I wanted a friend who would have my back and not tell me to keep quiet at the price of my mental health and my relationships with people I care about. WAS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!”

She managed to get a cut on his left cheek.

Soon, he was on the ground, bleeding out on the round.

“Tell Hawkmoth that he better watch out. Because-” lightning struck and Plagg and Ladybug had disappeared, “his downfall is coming.” Her voice echoed through his room.

Adrien laid bleeding until Natalie opened the door after hearing a crash from the room and came to check on him. As she called an ambulance for Adrien, she wondered if it wasn’t too late to ask for redemption and be spared from Ladybug’s wrath for her part in her murder.

Adrien had the word ‘TRAITOR’ carved into his back. Forever reminding him of his crimes.

--------

He wasn’t in school for a week after the incident. They all were told that Adrien had an accident while fencing.

Gabriel was a little panicking now.

He hired an exorcist, (John Constantine got a hefty amount and did a few flashy magic tricks to appease Gabriel but he didn’t lift the curse Maria put on the place. She is not someone to be on the bad side of and he thinks that he can’t lift it even if he wanted to.)

Emilie gets a little sus at Gabriel when he brought this strange man with a British accent into their home after their son got attacked in his own room with security tighter than Fort Knox.

She doesn’t buy that ‘accident’ bullshit that her husband, son and even Natalie tries to sell her. She thinks it is connected to what happened while she was in a coma.

-----

Adrien has a curse too.

(Credit to @raeuberprinzessin for giving me an idea)

He couldn’t act like the ‘Perfect Adrien’ in public anymore. Acting more like Chat Noir at first then, later a spoiled brat. His friends thought that he was finally rebelling against his father and encouraged it a lot.

Adrien started criticizing other people, strangers at first then to the people working on the photoshoots to his fans to his other school mates, people in his class and his friends. (The curse planted ideas into his head about what he should say and he said them all without thinking about the effect it has on other people)

People started avoiding him not liking his attitude and his comments about how they should behave and change something about them because he doesn’t like it that way and guilt-tripping them when he doesn’t get his way. Even Nino started to distance himself after he saw how Adrien talked to a fan.

The public thought it was a phase but as he got progressively worse, people started despising him. Adrien doesn’t realize this of course so far, happy that his father let him get away with ‘ruining the Agreste image.’ (Gabriel was worried about a potential vengeful ghost and making sure his wife didn't know about his stint as a supervillain. There was also the fact that the Afterlife made more sales than him again and managed to get on the cover of Vogue when he should have, dammit.) He was finally able to say what he wanted to without repercussions. Until he realized when Nino and everyone else cancelled for a hangout for the third time that week that he was slowly losing his friends.

He panics and tries to fix the situation. He didn’t want to be alone again.

He talks to Nino about it and to his horror, he couldn’t stop himself from saying many things that were a little hurtful. (Second part. The moment he realizes he is going to be alone. He is going to find out that yes, lies can hurt people. He is going to see it happen firsthand.)

Nino moved seats and told Adrien that their friendship was on hold until he apologized.

Soon, nearly every time his mouth opened, lies and insults about his friends or their embarrassing secrets came spilling out. Everyone hated him now and Mme. Bustier tried to give him a reprimand about his behaviour, which when he tried to defend himself, he found himself unable to speak.

He managed to explain to his father what caused his unpopularity by writing what happened to him. Unfortunately due to his poor behaviour before the second part of the curse was activated, his fan base was dwindling and people didn’t like him anymore so there was a hit on the Gabriel brand.

He no longer has to do modeling, clearing his schedule. But no one would spend time with him.

The best solution he could do with his predicament was to keep quiet and endure the loneliness and the glares of his classmates at school. Adrien was relegated to the back and nearly everyone avoided him. He was now a social pariah.

Even Lila avoided him because of her own curse which made Adrien turn into one of her previous victims. (She also didn’t ponder why Marinette rarely appears compared to the others.)

If Adrien felt a tiny bit remorseful or guilty for making Marinette keep quiet or betraying Ladybug, he can gain a little control over what he says.

The curse can be broken if he apologizes to Maria herself or to her grave.

------

The first few months, while Marinette adapted to living with the Waynes, Jason stayed over at Wayne Manor because having Maria living with him at his apartment wasn’t a good idea and he had no clue how to take care of a teenage girl.

On paper she is adopted by Bruce because Jason can’t. (Some CPS reasons.)

Making Jason a little more salty towards Bruce. “I found her first. I called dibs.”

Brought Maria to meet the other Outlaws and they adopted her too. “Hey, guys. She’s my sister first.”

Jason was the one to teach her how to shoot a gun because he was ‘the most capable’ of teaching her.

The first few months were a little tense with Marinette not fully trusting them and the same with the rest of the Batfam.

Jason warmed her up a bit to him by telling a little of why he took her here.

He was also the one to book them flight to Paris with Bruce’s credit card so she can tell her friends that she wasn’t dead in person.

They bonded more after stopping some nefarious plot in Paris while they were there. Let’s say Gentleman Ghost and something involving the catacombs in Paris. (I watched some Batman: Brave and the Bold for childhood nostalgia.)

Kwamis were animal-shaped and they were interesting creatures to be around. And very very curious.

There was a stressful day for Maria when all the Kwamis decided to play hide and seek. Damian somehow got roped into helping her as the only available person in the Manor and he will deny that he enjoyed it.

Damian is the little brother she always wanted and she is more tolerable compared to his brothers. There is also the fact that she trusts him with the kwamis and deep down, he feels super-honoured. (I just love older sister!Mari)

Tim and her being insomniac/coffee buddies. There has been many many interventions to stop this.

I get that Marinette is this selfless person and loves making people happy but she has siblings now and them eating the stuff she made for herself to enjoy, should get on her nerves after a while.

She makes a box with booby-traps in which she puts in her cookies and food.

There are many different layers of traps because this is the Batfam and each of them is non-lethal and more ridiculous.

Okay, I once read a fic about Marinette making a bear-trap style box to hide the Miracle Box so this box is also like that but kept for food. (Traps and Sneaks by quicksilversquared)

Someone (I vote a hungry Dick or Jason, maybe a suspicious Bruce) made a mistake of putting their hand into the box and the first trap activated.

Screams filled the house.

Everyone came down including Marinette.

Bruce asked, “Who did this?”

“It was me.”

“Why?”

“They kept eating the cookies.”

“There are other ways to stop them from doing that you know like a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign not a death trap box.”

“They are non-lethal.”

Bruce locked it away but Tim later stole it to tweak it and store his coffee. ------ (Part 4)

#graveyard siblings #maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #adrien salt #adrien bashing #platonic jasonette #platonic daminette

554 notes · View notes

poisonedapples · 3 years

Text

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids

Chapter One: The New Kid

Story Summary: Roman has to have a completely new start. New school, new town, new home and a new family. As a kid in his first foster home, Roman isn’t prepared to trust these people and get hurt again, but he’s not the only kid in the house recovering from past issues. Regardless, their foster father Patton is ready to be the dad they’ve always needed, and traumatized kids learn to lean on each other for support.

Story Warnings: Past abuse of all types, trauma, and anxiety

Pairings: Familial LAMP

Chapter Summary: Roman moves into his new foster home. He is not having a good time.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, panic, implied past abuse, food, one vomiting mention, and talk of hidden cameras

Word Count: 6778

Notes: First chapter of a story I’ve wanted to make for my foster au! Thanks to Cornybird on Ao3 for beta-ing this one <3

“Logan, Virgil?” Patton called out from downstairs. “Can you come down here? I wanna talk about something with you!”

Virgil and Logan gave each other curious looks from their sitting places on the same bed. Virgil placed his phone on the nightstand beside him as Logan set his book down at the foot of the bed, both standing up to exit Virgil’s bedroom and head downstairs. At the dining room table was their foster father, Patton, smiling wide with a laptop and notepad in front of him.

“What’s up?” Virgil asked after he and Logan glanced at each other.

Patton giggled to himself, “Sit down for a second and I’ll tell you! Nothing bad, promise. I think it’s very exciting.”

They quickly sat at the table on the other side of Patton. “So,” Patton joked, “I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today!”

Logan and Virgil spoke in unison. “You’re getting another foster kid.”

Patton blinked. “…How’d you guess it?”

“You’ve been really happy recently, but also very quiet about why you were so happy. You only get like this when you’re bringing another foster kid into the mix. You did the same thing when Logan came along.” Virgil said.

Logan nodded. “Virgil told me about his suspicions due to your behavior, and I agreed with him. I think we both expected you’d make the announcement soon.”

“Oh.” Patton rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t think it was that easy to tell. Well, you guessed right! The new kiddo is moving in on Sunday!”

Logan leaned closer. “What’s their name?”

“His name is Roman Goldsberry. He’s fifteen, and he’s only been in the system for about five months. Though, before this, he was in kinship care with his aunt, so living here is going to be very strange for him. So just be patient with him at first, okay?”

“Yeah yeah, we will be.” Virgil smirked. “But you said he was fifteen?”

“Yup! He’ll be a sophomore in high school this year.”

“Aw, that means Logan’s still the baby in the family.”

Logan blushed. “I’m a teenager. I am not the so-called ‘baby’ of the family.”

“Sounds like something the baby of the family would say.”

“Falsehood!”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Patton tried not to laugh. He knew how much Logan hated being the youngest, but it was hard to act like his reaction wasn’t funny. “Remember, Roman will be here Sunday, so be on your best behavior when he gets here. No spooking him.”

“Got it, got it.” Virgil slouched in his chair and thought. “One more question though. How fucked up is he?”

“Virgil, language.” Patton warned.

“Sorry! It’s just a question. We know you have a soft spot for the most effed up kids you can find.”

“I would have to say I’m curious as well.” Logan agreed. “It’s become a pattern.”

Patton sighed. “He’s not messed up, he’s a kid who’s struggling and needs support. If he wants to tell you two about his past, then he will.”

Virgil groaned. “Fine, fine. Can we go back upstairs now?”

Patton smiled. “Yes, you can go.”

“Great! I’m stealing your book, Logan.”

“Wait, you can’t do that!”

Virgil darted back upstairs with a maniacal laugh as Logan chased him, the sound of bickering teenagers traveling back up the stairs. Patton shook his head in amusement, still listening to the ruckus in case it got out of hand and he needed to step in, but Patton knew his kids. They may tease, but they’re not mean.

Patton continued working on his laptop once the noise quieted down again.

***

“I hate this.”

“I know you do, Roman, but I’m certain you can persevere and find happiness in this new home!” Roman’s social worker, Mr. Picani, smiled hopefully as he continued to drive him to his foster home. Roman was scooted as close to the window as he could possibly get, his legs crossed and clamped together so tight his thighs were getting sore. He didn’t trust Picani, and he sure as hell didn’t trust this new house. No matter what anyone told him.

“I already had a home! Living with my aunt was so much better than whatever could happen here.” Roman’s hands shook just thinking about it. He didn’t know anything about this new person, and the idea of being in a house full of strangers was enabling the more gruesome side of his imagination. He trusted his aunt, at least, but now he was going to a family who could be anyone.

Roman didn’t like the idea of that.

Picani frowned. “You know why your aunt couldn’t house you anymore, Roman. I know it’s not easy, but I think you’ll like this new place! It’s more up north in Foley County, and the area is nice. He also has two other foster children if that helps.”

“How old are the other kids?”

“Fourteen and sixteen, I think. You’ll get to know them more during your time there.”

Roman hummed, looking out the window and digging his nails into his shirt sleeve. He really hoped this foster dad hadn’t touched them before. Even forgetting about himself, a fourteen year old kid having to deal with abuse? Even after getting away from bad parents? He didn’t wish that on anyone.

“And if you ever feel unsafe,” Picani added, “you can always contact me, ‘kay?”

I already feel unsafe. “Okay. How much longer until we’re there?”

“About twenty more minutes. Just enough time to finish the rest of the Tangled movie soundtrack!”

Roman didn’t respond. Normally, he’d love to have a Disney soundtrack he could burst into song with, but he wasn’t feeling it today. And probably wouldn’t be feeling it for a long time.

He just wanted to feel safe. He felt safe with his aunt, but she couldn’t afford to keep him long after the trial since she gave birth to the twins. His aunt was always one of his favorite relatives, one of the few adults he genuinely trusted, now he was going to the house of some random guy named Patton, who he’d only heard of yesterday, and expected to be okay near him. Well, he wasn’t okay. And he wasn’t going to be, ever.

Roman leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes. His hands still shook a little and his chest felt weird, but fighting it now was pointless. Roman just hoped that if this guardian did try something, he’d do it quickly. The sooner Roman told on him to save himself and the other kids, the better.

Though, Roman still felt his hands tingle at the thought. The idea of “getting it over with” made him want to scream and cry. He wrapped his legs tighter together.

After a long time of trying to fight against his own anxious thoughts, Picani pulled into a driveway and stopped the car and Roman opened his eyes to take a look at where they were. He didn’t know the neighborhood, but it seemed like Picani was telling the truth when he said the neighborhood was nice. The house seemed huge, big bushes and flower patches in the front yard and a nice outside paint job. It looked like a house that a functional nuclear family would have, where the dad is a doctor and the mom stays at home with the kids.

Well, looks can be deceiving. Roman thought. Don’t get your hopes up.

“Here we are!” Picani unbuckled his seatbelt with a wide smile. “Grab your suitcases in the back, I’ll knock on the door.”

Roman nodded and got out of the car as Picani popped the trunk. He grabbed two red suitcases and a backpack, closing the car and wheeling it all up to the front door. Picani was there talking to a guy who Roman assumed must be Patton Sanders, and by taking just one look at him…Roman had never seen a person look so much like a dad.

He was wearing khaki shorts and a light blue polo with tennis shoes and knee socks, thick-rimmed glasses sitting on his face to finish off the dorky look. Patton managed to pull it off, sure, but Roman felt a primal urge from binge-watching Queer Eye to fix that mess of an outfit.

Before Roman could truly take in the fact that Patton’s knee socks also had kittens on them, Patton smiled wide once he saw Roman in the corner of his eye. “Hello, Roman! It’s so nice to have you, come on in you two!”

Patton stepped aside to hold out the door as Picani and Roman both walked in. Roman scraped his arm on the door frame trying to keep a reasonable distance from Patton, but neither of the adults seemed to notice how Roman was acting. Patton kept smiling away, and Roman tried to see how real that smile truly was. “So, Mr. Picani, I know I have some things to go over with you, so how would you feel if the other kiddos showed you around the house, Roman?”

…Kiddos? “That sounds fine to me.”

“Perfect!” Patton walked over to the staircase and called upstairs. “Logan, Virgil! Can you come down here please?”

Patton’s request was quickly followed by the sound of doors opening and closing. Two kids walked down the stairs; a boy in a black and purple hoodie, and another boy with thick glasses almost the same as Patton’s. They both stared at Roman curiously, and Roman wanted to sink into the floor.

Patton placed an arm over Logan and Virgil’s shoulders and Roman winced at the sight. “So, kiddos, this is Roman! And Roman, this is Logan,” Patton pointed to the kid in glasses. “And Virgil!” He pointed to the kid with the hoodie. The boys didn’t react much besides an awkward half smile directed Roman’s way. “How about you both show him around while I talk to Mr. Picani?”

Virgil shrugged. “Come upstairs, dude.”

Patton let go of both of the boys and walked off into the kitchen with Picani. Roman watched them from the living room for a moment, but he could feel two pairs of eyes staring at him from behind, so he turned around and followed the kids upstairs, bringing his luggage with him.

At the top of the stairs, a long hallway connected six doors on the second floor. Four of the doors were plain, brown doors, but two of them had very distinct personalities shown on the outside. One was covered in stars and planets, the door covered in a starry piece of wallpaper with a metal planet popping out of the background. The other was covered in caution tape saying keep out, with emo band posters poking out from under the tape. Two very different personalities.

“Your room will be this one at the very end of the hallway.” Logan opened the door to the room, turning on the light as Roman peeked inside. “You can place your luggage in here in the meantime.”

Roman nodded and walked inside to throw his luggage onto the floor. The room was very bare, with brown sheets on a twin bed and not much other furniture besides a desk and a dresser. There was a lamp on the desk and a floor lamp next to a door, and one of the opened closet doors showed that the top was covered in random boxes. Some newer-looking stuffed animals were also sitting on the bed; a soft bear and one of those squishy stuffed chickens Roman always saw in stores. It looked like an attempt at a welcoming gift, but new stuffed animals always put Roman on edge. He looked around the room, and the idea of sleeping here made Roman’s heart start to pound. He needed to check this place before he went to sleep that night.

Virgil smirked, taking Roman away from his anxious thoughts. “Damn, you’ve got suitcases? Living the fancy life I see.”

“…What?” Roman reeled.

Logan adjusted his glasses and crossed his arms. “Most foster children move their things using garbage bags. It’s rare we use actual suitcases.”

Roman looked down at his luggage. Suddenly, he felt guilty. “Oh, well…my aunt gave them to me before I moved out, so…”

Virgil shrugged. “What do you wanna see up here first?”

“We could show him our rooms. Or possibly the attic?”

“The attic is cooler.”

“What’s in the attic?” Roman asked.

“It essentially acts as a playroom.” Logan explained. “Board games and a…random assortment of items are all piled up there. It’s quite entertaining to search through, actually.”

“And it’s in the best place ever, come here.” Virgil motioned for Roman and Logan to follow him. He stopped at one of the doors, opening it and letting Roman peek over his shoulder to look inside. It looked like a normal walk-in closet, first aid and toilet paper on one side with batteries and rows of shampoo on the other. Virgil walked in with a smirk, “Now, check this shit out.”

Virgil jumped and pulled on a string dangling from the roof, unraveling a steep staircase through the closet leading up to a hole in the roof. Virgil started to climb the stairs as Logan followed suit, so Roman climbed right after them.

When Roman made it to the top, his eyes widened with wonder. Granted, it wasn’t anything too spectacular, surely not like something in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, but the fact that this hidden space existed made Roman feel excited. At his old house, he barely even had his own room to himself, so a place like this was paradise.

The walls were painted white with a giant window above a sitting area on the other side of the room. Shelves of items scattered the walls, and the rug on the floor was so clean Roman wondered how they even got a vacuum up here. It wasn’t anything like his old attic, stuffed with random items from over the years and covered in spiderwebs. Roman felt like he could spend most of his day here.

“We have a lot of various toys up here.” Logan said. He gestured to the boxes on one of the shelves. “Pokémon cards, a chess set, Magic the Gathering, lots of Lego sets, craft supplies, most of our toys make their way up here.”

Roman’s head perked up. “…Craft supplies?”

Logan nodded. “I believe we have paints and drawing utensils.”

Roman looked at the bottom of the shelf Logan gestured toward. There was a box of small painting canvases with paints and brushes, and though they definitely looked cheap, Roman saw them and grew excited as he took out a canvas and the paints in wonder.

“Kiddos!” A voice yelled from the staircase. Logan and Roman walked over to the stairs to look down, but Virgil stayed in his place on a beanbag near the window. Patton and Picani stood at the bottom, and Patton smiled. “Now, what are you all doing up there?”

“We’re showing him around the house.” Logan said matter-of-factly.

“You are, huh?” Patton crossed his arms. “Does he know where the bathroom is?”

Logan blinked. Virgil called out from behind both of them. “He knows where the important things are!”

Patton tried not to smile, but he lost that battle quickly. “Well, Mr. Picani is leaving right now, Roman.”

“How ‘bout you come down here and I talk to you in private for a sec?” Picani asked.

“Uh, alright!” Roman climbed down the stairs and followed Picani out of the closet, while Patton climbed up the stairs into the attic. They both stepped away to the other side of the hallway, and suddenly Picani’s face became very serious.

“Do you feel safe in this house, Roman?” He asked.

Roman clenched his fist and bit his cheek. No, he didn’t, actually. He didn’t know what Patton would do once the coast was clear from guests, and the idea of what could happen was freezing him from the inside out. The only place Roman would feel truly safe was if he was back in the hospital.

But Roman knew that wasn’t possible, and he couldn’t keep bothering Picani all the time for fears that couldn't be helped. He had to be on his own. Alone.

“I think I do. They…seem like good people.” Roman lied. He’d have to find another way to survive.

Picani smiled, not noticing Roman’s unease. He always was a great actor. “Amazing! Let me know if anything comes up, bucko, and I’ll talk to ya again soon! But until then…so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen goodnight!”

Picani walked downstairs and waved behind him, laughing at his own reference as he walked out the door. Roman watched him from the staircase until he could see the car leaving the driveway through the window, and Roman felt truly hopeless. This was a nightmare.

He stood frozen on the staircase for a while, staring through the window with a hope of Picani turning back and saving him. But no car came into the driveway, and Roman didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. What do you even do when living in a house full of strangers?

“Heya, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the voice coming from behind him, jerking his head back and pushing his back up against the wall. It was Patton, smiling wide with a concerned look in his eyes at Roman’s reaction. “I’m sorry, Roman, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to give you the rest of the tour. I’ll show you everything you need this time!”

Patton laughed at himself, but Roman felt the need to vomit. Patton was close, way too close, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to be roaming around the house with him, vulnerable and nowhere to hide. He needed to be somewhere safe.

“Uh, no, I’m fine! I’ll figure it out myself!” Patton raised an eyebrow at him, but Roman didn’t care. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Patton’s voice became softer. He pointed to the left of him, down the opposite direction of Roman’s room. “It’s over there. Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine!” Roman darted past Patton quickly and out of reach, rushing into the bathroom and locking it behind him. He pressed his back against the door and sat down, pressing his feet against the sink, ready to fight against the door if someone tried to open it. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, trying to even out his scattered breathing. He knew Patton was outside of the door, he could feel it. He just needed to be somewhere safe.

Roman didn’t move from his spot on the floor, eventually curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. He was so tired, the whole day his heart had been pounding with anxiety and he was sick of it. What did it take to feel safe? Was it even possible for Roman to feel safe anymore?

He didn’t want an answer to that. He was just so tired.

Roman closed his eyes and leaned his body against the bathroom wall, ignoring all his aches from the strange position and trying to give himself some comfort. His body was exhausted but his mind kept racing, thinking of all the things that could go wrong while living here. He tried to fight the anxious thoughts, but Roman figured it wasn’t that big of a deal. If he threw up in the toilet maybe they’d leave him alone for the day.

But Roman never got to that point. He rested on the floor and let his body shake, taking some deep breaths at times to feel less like he was suffocating. Eventually, a knock came to the bathroom door, and it took everything in Roman not to yelp.

“Are you still in there, Roman?” Roman could tell the voice was Logan, and that helped him relax a little more. He took in a big breath and tried to act normal.

“Yes, sorry. Do you need it?” He asked.

“I’m alright. I simply wanted to ask if you wanted to come downstairs and use the paints you seemed so interested in.”

Roman’s ears perked up at that. He forgot all about the paints, and it would be something that could ease his mind a little. But Roman wasn’t that dumb. He knew this was a plan to get him out of the bathroom. Though…he might not mind that much if he wasn’t alone.

“…Would you sit with me?” Roman asked. He doubted Patton would try anything so long as they weren’t alone together, and if he pleased them enough, maybe they’d leave him alone.

Logan was slow to respond. “I suppose I can if you wish for me to.”

Roman rolled his eyes at that sentence. What a nerd, he thought, standing up and slowly unlocking the door to the bathroom before opening it. He looked through the crack to check if Patton was standing behind Logan, but no one else was there. Logan stood there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back, and Roman fully exited the bathroom.

“I set the box on the dining room table. However, Patton is also there making a pizza for dinner.”

Roman froze. The same room as Patton? “… I’ll go, but you have to stay near me.”

Logan nodded. He led the way down the stairs while Roman followed, entering the dining room through the connected area in the living room. On the table was the box of painting supplies, and Roman ran toward them to start taking them out, trying to ignore the fact that he could see Patton in the corner of his eye. He grabbed a canvas and the cheap paints, as well as a plastic pallet and all the brushes. All that he needed was a cup of water, but…the sink was right next to where Patton was.

Roman drummed his fingers on the table. “…Logan, can you get me a cup of water?”

“Alright.” Logan stood up and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, filling it with water and handing it to Roman. Roman murmured a thank you, and Logan sat back down at his seat. He was grateful that Logan didn’t ask why Roman couldn’t get it himself.

“So, Roman,” Roman stiffened at the sound of Patton’s voice. “Are you an artsy kid?”

Roman gripped hard onto his paints, squirting out a lot more orange than he meant to. “I guess, yeah. I like art.”

“Do you like to paint, or are you more of a sketchy kinda guy?”

“Uh…all of it. Painting, drawing, coloring, I used to make a lot of stuffed animals too.”

“Awww, that sounds adorable!” The oven beeped and Patton put on his oven gloves and pulled out the pizza. “It’s probably best I don’t know how to make stuffed animals though. If I did, this house would be full of little stuffed puppies!”

Roman didn’t respond. He focused completely on mixing red and orange for a perfect sunset color, attempting to get a good gradient with the lack of shade variety. Once he filled in his sunset and blended it with a dark night sky, he mixed his white with a dot of gray and made darker clouds, dotting them above his rough-looking hill. He wanted to add more texture to the bottom of the canvas, maybe some trees, but he didn’t know how to make good ones without a fan brush. Maybe he could add some grass…

“Alright, the pizza is cooled down and ready!” Roman noticed Patton put a plate next to his painting, so he pushed all his supplies out of the way so he could eat. Patton set down more plates around the table as Virgil walked in. “It was a real pizza work if I do say so myself!”

Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil held back a snort, but Roman didn’t quite know how to react. He might have found the dad joke more amusing if he wasn’t so on edge.

Roman took a bite of the pizza. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a store-bought one that you heat up in the oven and serve, but Roman didn’t realize he was so hungry until now. He had skipped lunch because his nerves about coming here were making his stomach churn, but finally having food near him was bringing back that hunger. Roman’s foot was still tapping violently under the table, but it was progress.

Everyone ate their pizza in silence. It was incredibly awkward on Roman’s end, no stories to tell as this table full of strangers kept making glances at him. Patton was the worst with it. He seemed to want to say something to Roman, continuously making eye contact with him until Roman looked away, but still not saying a word. He couldn’t take it. He hated it, but he hated this silence even more. Roman swallowed the pizza bite he was chewing and opened his mouth.

“So,” Roman started, “what do I…call you anyway?”

“Me?” Patton asked, his eyes lighting up. Why would his eyes light up at that?

“Yeah. Do I say Mr. Sanders, or…?”

“Oh, Patton works just fine! I hear Mr. Sanders way too often at work to wanna hear it at home too!”

“Oh, where- where do you work?” At least it wasn’t so quiet anymore.

“I’m a nurse practitioner for a clinic. It’s a lot of fun, just a lot of work. At least my hours aren’t as crazy as most nurses.”

“Oh that’s…cool.” Roman didn’t know how to continue off of that.

“It is! Is there anything else you wanna ask me, though? Maybe about the house, routines, anything?”

“Well…what are the rules here?” That seemed like a very safe question to have. It could save Roman a lot of trouble, and it could give him more of a read on the kind of parent Patton was.

“Oh, it’s not that much. You’re old enough to clean up after yourself, so make it a habit to pick up your own things and not put that stuff on other people. Be kind to everyone else, and the only rule I’m very strict about is no yelling. You can be loud sometimes, but no angry yelling at anybody here. The last one is to respect others’ privacy. Always knock on someone’s bedroom door before entering. But that’s really it, I think!”

How often do you break that last rule? “That seems reasonable, I suppose.”

Patton smiled. “I think you’ll do just fine here, kiddo. I know it’s hard to start over, but you won’t be alone during it!”

“…Thank you.”

“And I’m sure Virgil and Logan could help out a little bit, since they’ve been in the same situation! Right, you two?”

Virgil was halfway through trying to stick a whole piece of crust in his mouth. “…Uh huh.”

“…Virgil, chew your food.”

“Lo’an ‘old me I cou’ do it!”

“Do not drag me into this.”

Virgil hid his mouth behind his hand as he chewed for a long period of time. “You’re just avoiding your responsibility.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m finished, so try not to choke now.”

“Now I’m gonna choke just to spite you.”

“Please do not start a choking contest, Virge.”

Virgil groaned before swallowing the last of his crust. He followed Logan to the dishwasher and put his plate in, closing it and scurrying away back upstairs. Logan hesitated leaving the dining room, looking between Patton and Roman. Roman couldn’t tell if Patton noticed Logan’s hesitation or if it was just perfect timing, because he also got up and put his plate in the dishwasher.

“When you finish, Roman, just put your dishes away.”

“I can do that.”

Patton smiled and walked off into the living room, sitting on the couch to watch some TV show seemingly about cute puppies and kittens. Logan glanced at Roman again.

“Do you still want me to stay?” Logan asked.

Roman ate the last of his pizza and pushed his plate to the side, grabbing his painting again to put in front of him. It was the most effective thing at calming him down. “…No, I should be okay.”

Logan nodded and walked upstairs. Roman tried to fully immerse himself in his painting, focusing on every last detail and how he could make it better without over-detailing it. Roman put more green on his brush and started to dot at his hill on the bottom, trying to add little blades of textured grass. It was a long process, just enough to take the majority of his focus and calm his hands.

…Roman felt really weird here. It didn’t feel like he lived in this house, now. It felt like he was spending the day with some friends, and his aunt would come pick him up before the sun went down. But no, these new kids were his foster brothers and the adult he was terrified of was expected to act as his new dad. There was no one coming to save him, he was expected to sleep here and eat here and live here. This was supposed to be his safe space.

Roman rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. Don’t focus on that now, he thought. Focus on the painting.

So he did focus. He focused on monotonous texture additions and watching the paint dry on his canvas as he went along, letting the repetitive action calm his mind just a little bit. His calming method seemed to be working too well, actually, as the more details he added and stared at the paint, Roman realized that his constant panic today had completely exhausted him. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet and Roman could feel his eyelids get heavier. He rubbed at his eyes again and tried to focus.

Roman yawned once. He yawned twice and rubbed his eyes as he kept adding minor details to his painting. Then, after a while, Roman scooted his painting to the side and laid his head down on the table.

***

“…Roman, wake up, please.”

Roman buried his head deeper in his arms. “Come on Roman, it’s late.”

Roman groggily lifted his head up. Patton was sitting in the chair across from him, the lights were all off except for the one light above the dining table. Roman looked around him, and noticed that it was dark outside now. Shit.

“You fell asleep, but that’s okay. It’s bedtime now, and the other two are already in bed, so how about you go get ready and sleep in your bed? I bet it’s comfier than the table.”

Roman dug his palm into his eye. “…What time is it…?”

“About 10:20. You all have bedtime at ten.”

“…But I’m fifteen?” Roman gave Patton a confused and sleepy look. He hasn’t had a bedtime since he was twelve, especially one that was so early. His mom only told him to be in bed by midnight.

Patton smiled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Logan is the only one who needs a bedtime, but I don’t want him to feel left out because he’s the only one asleep. So, how about you get ready for bed?”

Roman nodded and got out of his chair. The more he walked, the more he woke up, and he could tell by the time he went back upstairs that he wasn’t going to go back to sleep for a while since he could feel his heartbeat in his chest again. Patton followed him upstairs, turning off the dining room light as they went. Roman got his bathroom bag out from his smaller suitcase and a cotton shirt with sweatpants for pajamas, bringing it all with him to the bathroom. He closed the door as he brushed his teeth for the night, placing his bag in the bottom drawer after he did. He changed into his pajamas carefully, taking the towel on one of the racks to hide his lower half under as he switched pants, taking his other clothes and throwing them into a laundry basket.

When Roman stepped out of the bathroom, Patton was leaning against a wall waiting for him. He smiled at Roman, but Roman still ran past him to get as far away as he could get. Patton didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. Roman shifted on his feet awkwardly before closing his door.

“Um…goodnight.” He finally said. Patton seemed satisfied with this.

“Goodnight, Roman.”

Roman finally closed the door to his bedroom, waiting until he heard the door on the other end of the hallway open and close. Almost immediately after, as if another force was controlling him, Roman started to tear the place apart.

He checked the charging ports in the walls, the lamp, under the bed’s covers and behind every piece of furniture. He stood on top of his suitcase to check the vents and took out all the drawers in the dresser. He punched the stuffed animals to see if he could feel wires, but he still couldn’t find it. He couldn’t find it.

Roman felt himself start to pant. He refused to go to bed until he found it. No matter how well hidden it was, Roman knew there was a camera in here. He couldn’t stop until he found it.

Roman grabbed the boxes at the top of the closet and tossed everything out of them, checking every spare blanket and binder before throwing them across the room when he found nothing. He took the hangers out of the closet and threw them on the floor, shining his phone light on the wall of the closet to find a hole. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Tears sprung into Roman’s eyes as he choked on his own breath. “Where the hell is it!?” He whispered, slamming the closet door closed and moving to check the bed. He tore the bedsheets off and checked the mattress, lifting it up as well to check the bed frame for anything that could be used to record. Nothing.

“Come on, please-” Roman took out the drawer from the bedside table. Nothing. He unscrewed the lightbulb from the lamp, almost shattering it from his tight grip. Nothing. He threw the lamp onto the bed and kicked the nightstand over. Nothing.

Roman choked out a sob as his whole body started to shake. This wasn’t fair, he spent all that time trying to get away from his dad only to end up in a place that hid cameras better than him. Roman gripped the covers he’d thrown and punched the floor next to them, the ache being an almost pleasant distraction from his own head. But his mind continued to race and his crying didn’t let up. The only thing Roman could manage to get out of his mouth was “No, no!”

Then, between Roman’s sobbing, he heard a knock at the door.

Roman froze in place. A feeling of dread spread through his chest and made his fingers go numb. For a second, Roman forgot to breathe as he remembered he forgot to lock the door.

Roman’s body was stiff, but his mind was going a mile a minute in a desperate attempt to save himself. He could hide in the closet, but since he tore everything out of there, if someone opened the door they’d immediately find him. He could hide under the bed, but without the covers to reach the floor it was easy to see he was under there. Roman choked on his own breath when he realized there was nowhere to hide-

“Roman?” The knock came back to the door, gentler than the first time. It wasn’t Patton’s voice like Roman feared, it was Virgil. Raspy and tired-sounding, but without a doubt Virgil.

“Y-yeah?” Roman squeaked out.

“Uh, can I…can I come in?”

Roman’s death grip on the covers loosened up slightly. “Yes…”

Virgil slowly turned the doorknob and opened it, slipping in through the smallest crack and closing the door slowly so it wouldn’t click. Once he was inside, Virgil’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the destroyed room. “…Holy shit dude.”

Roman tried to dodge the situation, “What do you want?”

“I was gonna come in here and make a joke, like, ‘quiet down it sounds like a tornado is going through here’, but now I think I predicted the fucking future.” Roman put his head down as Virgil looked around in shock. “What the fuck happened?”

Roman wiped away his tears with the palm of his hands, digging into his eyes so hard he saw stars for a moment. “…There’s a camera in here.”

Virgil backed up more towards the door. “Wait, there is?” He darted his eyes around the room looking for what Roman was talking about. Roman let out a shaky breath.

“I haven’t found it yet, but I know it’s in here somewhere!” More tears went down Roman’s face as he hugged himself. Virgil seemed to realize what Roman was babbling on about. “I know Patton put a camera in here for me and I’m freaking out because I can’t find it!”

Virgil looked around at the mess again. He sighed. “I’m not good at this shit…you’re certain it’s in here?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, hey, don’t yell.” Virgil warned. “Pat and Logan are still asleep and I don’t think you’d like all that extra attention right now.”

He was right. If Logan and Patton came in here, Roman didn’t know what he’d do about it. It was the last thing he wanted, so Roman obeyed. “I just…I don’t know what to do…I can’t sleep until I find it.”

Virgil seemed to be thinking. He tugged on the neck of his pajama shirt before speaking. “How about we both make a deal?”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “…Deal?”

“We’ll trade rooms for the night. There wouldn’t be a camera in my room if he’s trying to watch you, right?”

Roman paused. “…What if he’s watching you too?”

“I’ve lived here for two years. You think I wouldn’t have noticed a camera in my room by now?”

Roman thought about it. He did have a point, it was hard to go that long without finding the camera. Or at least, have your guardian have it slip that they’ve been watching you. And anything was better than staying in this place.

“…We can trade. Thanks.”

Virgil shrugged. “You know where my room is. Just slip in and don’t wreck all my shit.”

Roman laughed a little bit at that one. Virgil grabbed the sheets and covers off the floor and began to remake the bed as Roman grabbed his backpack and started to slowly open the door. But before he left, Roman had to say one more thing for his own piece of mind. “…Don’t touch my suitcases. I-I’ll know if you do.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “…I won’t.”

Roman opened the door and softly closed it behind him, slipping into the room next door covered in caution tape. He turned on the light and set his backpack down on the floor, looking around him at all the things that showed Virgil’s personality. Emo band posters covered the walls that were painted a dark purple, with dark wood furniture and Hot Topic decorations all over the place. Just looking at this room told him how angsty this kid was.

Roman shook it off and unzipped his backpack. He could deal with angsty decorations for the night, so long as this place could be safe from creeps. He took out his secret weapon from his backpack, something he secretly bought behind his aunt’s back with his babysitting money, the one item that made him feel secure in a home. He pulled out the security bar, locked Virgil’s door, and placed it under the door handle. Even if someone undid the lock, they wouldn’t be able to sneak inside while he was sleeping.

Roman’s heart calmed down a little for the first time in weeks. Even if it wasn’t much, he felt safe, maybe even safe enough to get some rest for once. Roman crawled into Virgil’s bed, covering himself in his very tasteful Jack Skellington covers, and tried to rest.

Roman’s hands still shook, and his head felt funny, but he eventually drifted off into a light sleep full of anxiety and nightmares.

303 notes · View notes

kkusuka · 4 years

Note

can i request s/o going up to kuroo, iwa, semi, sakusa and osamu after the match which their respective teams have won and they lifted s/o up for a cute hug but s/o accidentally gets too carried away and starts kissing them in front of their team members? lmao and bonus for nsfw ending please! thank you!

they get a kiss kiss

this reminded me of the i love u *muah* *muah* *muah* tiktok

(i have no idea why this was so hard to write, and it’s kinda bad, sorry)

Kuroo Tetsurou

Kuroo wasn't afraid of showing you off by any means

Especially when that snake was watching, so he was open arms when you ran up to him after the game

just a regular hug? After that?

No that won’t do at all

Regular hugs were for practice games and games they were a shoo-in to win, this game was fit for something more…….

He picked you up (groped your ass for good measure, and spun you like a superhero.

That’s what this game called for

According to you this game also called for a kiss, a deep one in fact

Then after, multiple little kisses in between the compliments and praises about how “amazingly amazing” he was

He was vaguely aware of kenma gag motion and lev’s disappointed sigh, but he wasn’t really too focused on that right now.

He was in-fact focused on how you were subconsciously grinding on him

And the way that when you put your arms around his neck and played with the hairs on the back of his neck

(bonus if you grope him back)

He could also feel his dick straining against his boxers

He liked where this was going

“You’re playing a dangerous game kitten-”

“What? I don't recall doing anything bad at all!”

Oh, you were playing that game?

Let’s see how that one holds up later.

Iwaizumi Hajime

Iwa just gets carried away when he’s excited

Who could really blame him though?

They were going to the finals, that was something worthy of excitement.

And apparently, you thought so too, considering the way you jumped into his arms as soon as he got close enough

He lifted you up, hands under your ass keeping you stable

And you just couldn't help yourself, you were so happy and he was all smiley

Which meant his cheeks god all round, and all-round cheeks deserve a squish and a kiss

Maybe more than one kiss

Maybe more than a few

At that point it was too far gone, cheek kisses turn into little pecks on the lips, which then became a slight make-out session

I mean he wasn't complaining, Oikawa was, but he was not

But apparently making out in the middle of a hallway with other teenagers and some children, was not ideal

Specifically when the mothers of said children tell you not to be inappropriate.

This kiss might have been cut off, but the kiss he gave you as he ripped off your shorts was much longer

So was the goodnight kiss after he had fucked you out of reality.

Semi Eita

Semi is an impulse kind of guy

He asked you out on impulse

(in the middle of the hallway after you helped him pick up some papers that he let fall)

You had your first kiss on impulse

(at a festival fireworks show, he just looked at you and you looked back and he smashed his lips to yours)

And you seemed to be picking up on his impulsive nature, and to say the least, he was proud.

But impulse meeting even worse simple plus excitement

Equals a head-but

But that didn't even stop him, other than the slight whip-lash, he yanked you off the ground and into his arms

And spinning the both of you round and round until he was dizzy

And just like your first kiss, you grabbed his cheeks and kissed the hell out of your happy boyfriend

He'd be crazy not to kiss back, and that’s when poor goshiki tapped out

Surprise surprise, he spun you around again, then lack of air pulled the two of you apart

“We won”

“Haha I know eita, and I’m happy. But let's get back to our previous activities”

And you did, for the rest of the night

And into the morning

Hen when you woke back up <3

Sakusa Kiyoomi

honestly, PDA is a no go

Like ever

But on certain occasions he’s just…… shocked

In these subtle moments, he just forgets the world

So when they advanced to the national finals, he became slug-like just looking around like it was his first day on earth

And you have this amazing talent of taking him out of this trance

You are also the only person that he will hug, take that with a grain of salt

He loves you but he doesn't love the five people sitting around you who didn't wash their hands within the last ten minutes

(but as I said before after wins like that he doesn't even think about how gross everyone is)

He’s too busy thinking about how you're running up to him and pressing your face in his chest and making the smiling face that he loves looking at

He barely feels you tapping his arm for him to pick you up, but when you jump up he catches you like always

And before he can say anything you're eating his lips

And hell they just won, might as well indulge in it

(and he can practically hear Miya yelling about how girls always go for the assholes, yeah he’s busy thinking about how nice your ass feels against his hand)

He can already see Komori doing the eyebrow wiggle at him but he’ll just have to do it tomorrow

He’s gonna be busy tonight

Osamu Miya

Surprisingly PDA was a common thing between the two of you

Honestly with a brother like atsumu he wanted to drown as much as the real world out as he possibly could

And if that meant having his tongue down your throat half the day, he sure wasn't complaining

So an after the game kiss was pretty normal for you two

To be specific- a KISS

What was happening right now was definitely not a simple kiss

It had started with a simple kiss in your defense, but now you were being lifted onto his hips

This was more like a middle of a party full-blown make-out session

And maybe if the two of you were more tuned into your surrounding area you would hear Atsumu yelling at you to stop sucking each other faces

Or you would see that suna was taking pictures-

(suna can shove those up his ass- Osamu Miya, 2021. About him and his s/o eating each other faces)

Maybe he’ll send Suna a picture of you sucking his dick later

(he didn’t but he was really thinking about it, if he wanted a picture he should have just asked)

But since he can't just take off all; your clothes right now, he’ll settle for later

And tomorrow morning

Maybe the afternoon

Then back to tomorrow night

772 notes · View notes

chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫

pairing: leo valdez x child of iris!reader

requested?: yes!

translation: full of color

warnings: uhh, mentions of mental health and ?? maybe some typos lmao

category: headcanons, fluff, best friends to lovers

pre-relationship

though, leo saw you around camp often, you caught interest in him before he caught interest in you

i mean, he literally couldn't miss you because your outfits were always bright, whether it was a combination of colors or monochromatic

you and your siblings actually look like a rainbow threw up on you guys, and it's honestly iconic

no one at camp can not notice the children of iris, especially when they're in a herd

one day, you were sitting alone at a picnic table near the lake, and you found yourself drawing him in your sketchbook

you sketched a portrait of him while he spoke to piper at a table nearby

you've always found the floppy curls and how his brightest smiles always look a little manic to be adorable

when you sketched his portrait in your notebook, you didn’t intend for him ever to see it

until a couple of weeks later in the arts and crafts center, leo passed by and caught sight of a new project you were working on

he stopped in his tracks to compliment your drawing

since you were nowhere near done with it, you couldn’t admire the piece as much as he was

but his enthusiasm was so endearing

he politely asked if he could see more, and you didn’t hesitate to slide over your sketchbook

he noticed a lot of your drawings were scenery and people at camp; especially your siblings

he stumbled across a detailed sketch of a woman and her child sitting in a bus

“wow… who’s this?”

“oh, I don’t know. It was just a little girl I saw on the train with her mother.”

“so you just drew her?”

you never realized how weird your habit of drawing random people was until he had asked

you giggled nervously, quick to explain yourself, “I tend to draw people or things that I find beautiful. I wanted to capture how calm and happy she was with her child ‘cause at the time, I was stressed and angry. Watching and drawing her made me calm.”

leo nodded, a faint smile on his lips before looking back down at the drawing. “that’s really cool,” he complimented, and you shifted in your seat, suddenly shy.

And then it hit you

you were so willing to show leo all your works that you had completely forgotten that his portrait was in that book

your pulse thumped loud in your ears, mind racing to figure out a way to take away your sketchbook before he could see it

you ended up spending so long thinking of what to do that he arrived on the page in no time

right before he could see the drawing in its entirety, you slammed the book closed and snatched it

leo’s startled expression turned into a mischievous smirk

“was that me?”

you froze in your place; a squeaky sound escaped your throat in your embarrassment

leo’s brown eyes sparkled as he leaned into you, your gaze fixed on his, “y/n, you think I’m beautiful?”

AHHHH!

^^ that was you in your head btw

leo laughed, amused at your attempt to deny it

“then why did you snatch it away?” he raises an eyebrow before reaching over quickly to grab the sketchbook back

you didn't pull it out of his reach fast enough, leo getting a grip on one side

the two of you pull it back and forth, leo laughing at you as you continued to deny what he saw

though you were incredibly embarrassed, you couldn't contain the laughter bubbling in your chest

gods, of course, this would happen to me, you thought

he got it out of your grip, and you sighed in defeat, watching him flip to the page of him and piper

he was quiet, studying the picture for a second before giving you that playful smirk

“you think I’m beautiful?” he asked again

you playfully rolled your eyes, “it was more piper than you.”

your tone was sarcastic, only fueling leo’s banter with you

“oh really?” he chuckled to himself, “but i’m the only one colored in.”

you were silent at his observation before scoffing, “whatever.”

leo only laughed as you take the book away from him

“don’t you have somewhere to be, fire boy?” you asked and nudged his shoulder

the glint in your eyes made him smile, and he shrugged, “i guess i do. i'll see you around."

you nodded, too shy to do anything else, and he walked off

after that, leo took it upon himself to talk to you every day

leo teased you about the drawing all the time, and he found the way you would play along to be funny

before you both fell in love, you were close friends

you had such an optimistic point of view about life, and it was pretty contagious

somehow when leo was in the dumps about something, you always knew what to say

you were just so easy to talk to, and because of this, your friendship just grew naturally

your first kiss was towards the end of summer

leo invited you to hang out with him in bunker nine at, specifically, 6 pm

you teasingly asked if it was a date, and you remember the way he tensed up a bit

with a mumble, he asked, "what if it is?"

from the tone in his voice, you knew he wasn’t joking

in fact, his tone was hesitant, a part of him was expecting you to reject him

then the heavy pit in his stomach turned light when you smiled and said, "then I'm down."

the grin leo gave you made your heart flutter like crazy

your first date consisted of eating snacks and watching a movie on one of those portable DVD players

You picked up on the tension between you and him, and noticed the opportunities for a kiss kept passing

it was until Leo walked you to your cabin that night did you have a moment of boldness and asked, "so are you going to kiss me or?"

leo's eyes widen in surprise before his face broke out in the familiar smirk he gives when he flirts with you

you rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into you

your first kiss was sweet and soft; a little awkward

his hands hovered over your sides for a second, not sure what to do with them until he decided to rest them on your waist

it was the perfect way to mark the beginning of your relationship

relationship

since you guys are both broke teenagers, you got creative with date nights

you came up with the idea of paint splattering with him

you guys got canvases, covered the walls and floors with plastic to make sure you didn't dirty them

then you filled water balloons with paint and just threw them

despite you guys singing and dancing around in the midst of it, the canvases came out so good

and to commemorate the beginning of your relationship, you hung them up side by side in bunker nine, and when you guys get a place together, you hang them up in the hallway of your apartment

leo is a huge gift giver; as i’ve said before in my “how he shows he loves you” headcanons

he’s made you a lot of things; canvases, jewelry, little trinkets with scrap metal

one of your favorite gifts from him is a suncatcher with rainbow quartz

you fell in love with it and when you move in together, you make sure to hang it up in the kitchen with the bunch of other suncatchers that he’s made you

i love the idea that you would attempt to bring more color in his wardrobe

a lot of his clothes are muted in color; you don’t mind it but you were interested to see what he’d look like in a colorful outfit like yours

To say the least, he was not that enthusiastic and maybe, you shouldn’t have put him in a monochromatic orange outfit but… you still thought he looked cute

leo thought he looked like a traffic cone though so it didn’t stick

it’s okay because you like him the way he is anyways

another thing is that you guys are super supportive of each other and leo loves just how you manage to lift his mood

once leo was having a bad mental health week

you guys were sitting under a tree, looking out at the water

his head laid on your shoulder and small sniffles came from the other

it hurt to see him like this and you wished you could do more to make him feel better

then you had the greatest idea to make a rainbow for him

so you did

leo was so stunned when he saw the rainbow form over the lake

he looked at you surprised and when you admitted to making the rainbow for him, the emotion on his face was indescribable

and then you laughed and held him when he started crying because he said it was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for him

another time, you insisted that meditation would be good for him

he literally sat down for like 3 minutes with his eyes closed before he was itching to get up and do something

even when he was sitting down, he was still bouncing his legs and fidgeting

so that fell through too but you still helped him in other ways and he’s so grateful for your optimism and bubbly personality

leo always says that you bring color to everything; literally and figuratively

one of the things you bring color to is his life

and he’s constantly reminding you of this; that his world just feels brighter now that you’re around

and it’s literal too

since you painted the walls of bunker nine a bright orange

he asked you why orange, and you told him because orange encourages productivity, creativity, and most importantly, optimism

it may have also reminded you of the orange outfit you put him into

anyways, you told him that it hurt you to see him get down in the dumps, and you insisted there was no way he could be sad in a bright orange room

needless to say, you were kinda right

masterlists taglist: @nct127bee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @cartocns @slytherclaw-kitten @idk-bye-no @percysbluehairbrush @Hermioneswifeee @quteez @drayshadow @ashookykooky @anything-forourmoony @loverstyless @yelenabel0vaswife @ohmydamgods @jordannfields @amy-writes-blog @muted-mayham @dreamerball @earthtokace @thehighladyofday @lala-llama123 @tootsdoll @slytherindaughterofposeidon0 @black-rose-29 @somekidnamedkai @possiblylostchasecousin @hamdehlesmis @cami05sworld @does-anyone-hear-me @sol-the-salmon

if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on!

#leo x reader #leo valdez fanfiction #leo valdez one shot #leo valdez imagine #leo valdez #leo valdez timestamp #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez headcanon #my writing

180 notes · View notes

restapesta · 3 years

Text

If somebody had ever told Mickey that, one day, he'd be chilling at the beach with two girls, one a whiny toddler, the other one a whiny tween, he wouldn't have believed them.

Especially if one happened to be his daughter and the other one his niece.

Franny was sitting cross-legged on one of the towels, earbuds stuck deep into her ears, some heavy-metal shit busting through her skull, loud enough for the entire beach to hear.

She was being prissy the whole day, the puberty thing hitting her like a truck, destroying the sweet, innocent Franny and leaving a monster in its wake.

A very temperamental monster that Mickey had offered to take off of Debbie's hands as a favor to Sandy who was planning on using up the day for sex Mickey did not need to know about. She had spewed some shit about her and Debbie not spending enough time together due to the—as she so nicely put it—needy brat, and, Franny actually likes you Mickey, please!.

And well, he actually liked Franny too, so he said yes.

It would've been a great day at the beach, it really would have, had Franny not said upon seeing Ian getting ready to go with them, "Uh, no, just me and uncle Mick."

Ian had given Franny the most surprised/slightly-wounded look and simply nodded.

But then he turned to Mickey and thrust the sleepy baby he had been holding into his hands, saying, with a slightly indigent look, "Father-daughter day too, yeah? Wanna grab some beers with my brothers."

And with a begrudging glare sent towards Ian, followed by the same Ian smiling and pressing a kiss to both Mickey's and their daughter's head, Mickey was off with two girls to the loud, obnoxious beach where he would be playing caretaker all day.

Mickey also didn't miss the daggers Franny was shooting towards them all, a scowl etched on her face.

Alas, they were at the fucking beach.

His little girl was bouncing on his knee as he shook the car keys in front of her, tiny hands reaching out to grasp them like a kitten. Mickey was smiling softly as he watched his daughter purse her tiny lips in concentration and try and catch the jingling metal that Mickey was pulling out of her reach each time she got too close.

A small red baseball hat was perched up on her head, and they were in the shade, making sure the one-year-old wasn't in the Sun's way at any given moment.

"Come on, baby," Mickey cooed in a voice he had never, in his life, imagined he would use. "You're a Milkovich, you can do it."

The little girl giggled and then with a newfound determination, lunged for the keys, tearing them out of her dad's grip.

She looked up at him expectantly.

Mickey raised his hand in a high-five and bounced their hands softly together, noting how tiny hers looked compared to his. "Good job girl, making dad proud."

He sported a wide smile on his face as he watched his daughter play with the keys, seemingly forgetting about him altogether.

Mickey was, in fact, so lost in thought of how fucking lucky he was—with Ian, his kid, his family—that he didn't even notice Franny huffing, tearing the earbuds out of her ears violently, getting up from where she was sitting, and stomping away.

When he did though, he was not too happy about having to get up and chase a hormonal teenager down the beach with a baby in his hands.

But, alas, he did.

"Franny!" He said once he was close enough, the toddler in his hands making whimpering sounds as she chewed on the keys.

He moved them away from her mouth once he noticed, sending her a warning glare, muttering slowly so she would understand, "Eating keys is a no-no."

She simply blinked.

She was so fucking cute.

"Ugh!" Mickey snapped his head towards Franny who was grasping strands of her long, red hair in her hands, tugging at them in exasperation. "This is what I'm talking about! This!"

Mickey had no fucking clue what was going on. In fact, all he wanted was for Ian to be there alongside him, guiding Mickey through this like he did through a lot of things. He would know what the fuck was going on in the first place.

He wondered if his own little girl would end up blowing up on him some day over something on a public beach with a bunch of people staring.

He hoped so—it'd make him proud.

He turned his attention back to his niece.

"Franny, look, I have no clue what you're so pissy about."

She snorted, eyes rolling. "Of course you don't. If you weren't staring at that goddamn baby every two seconds maybe you would notice!"

Staring at that goddamn baby? He shot Franny a look. "You mean my kid?"

She screamed, making Mickey cringe, "Ugh!"—right before stomping away back to their towels.

Mickey watched his niece go, lips parted.

What the fuck just happened?

---

The car ride back home was spent in silence.

In fact, the entire day had been spent in silence, the only thing filling the void being the chatter from the beach and the toddler's giggles.

When Mickey dropped Franny off back at the Gallagher house, she shut the door with all the strength Mickey didn't know she possessed, making the car shudder, and subsequently making the little girl in the back whimper in what was the beginning of a cry.

Needless to say, the day had gone to shit.

He drove back home in what should have been silence, but was instead the wailing of a Milkovich baby.

She calmed down by the time they were at the door to their home.

Fuck, Mickey was fucking exhausted.

As soon as the two came into Ian's view—the same Ian who was sipping on a lemonade with a gay-ass straw—his face split into a wide grin. He grabbed their daughter from Mickey's arms, hugging her close.

"Hello my little tomato." He kissed the top of her tiny head, making her smile and laugh.

He then glanced at Mickey, a sly smirk replacing the sweet smile.

"Hello my big tomato."

Mickey rolled his eyes, but let himself be pulled in towards his husband, careful not to squish their child. They kissed slowly, Mickey forgetting the turmoils of the day and Franny's outburst.

Just as he was about to deepen the kiss, Mickey felt tiny arms pushing his face, making him pull away from Ian.

He glanced down at the pouting, angry child. Her cheeks were chubbier than usual, eyes squinting as she tried to pry her dads apart.

Mickey stared. "What's she doing?"

In response, Ian chuckled and replied, again kissing her cheeks, "Somebody's jealous, aren't you, little one?"

And that was when it clicked.

Franny. Her outburst. The way she glared at Ian. The way she glared at their baby girl.

Franny was jealous.

She was fucking jealous.

"Hey man, you alright?"

Mickey sighed, meeting Ian's eyes. The baby was falling asleep in his arms.

"I gotta go do something real quick, I'll be back."

Ian's brows furrowed. "What is that something, exactly?"

Just as Mickey grabbed his keys again, pressing a kiss to Ian's cheek, he said, "I need to apologize to Franny," Then he headed back towards the Gallagher house where she was probably still seething.

---

When Franny saw Mickey at the door of her room, she shut the door in his face.

"Oh, come on, kid!" He knocked again, feeling slightly irritated. "Open the fuck up!"

The door shimmied open slowly, a frowning Franny appearing before him. As soon as she let go of the knob, she crossed her arms indignantly across her chest, staring Mickey down.

Mickey took notice of the RED-HEAD tattooed across her knuckles with a red sharpie, an imitation of Mickey's tats. He smiled at them, seeing how she must've done it as soon as she came back home.

"I like them," He pointed at her hands making her twist the hand with the HEAD on it, inspecting it.

She didn't reply.

Mickey sighed, crossing his own arms. And before he knew he was doing it, he said, "I'm sorry."

Franny raised an eyebrow.

"For not spending the day with you like you deserved." He continued.

Franny scoffed, the first animate thing she did since he arrived. "You mean for staring at that tiny monster the entire time?"

Yup, Mickey thought, jealous.

"Cute tiny monster," He corrected making her scowl deepen and fists visibly clench. Then he quickly added, "Yeah, I'm sorry."

Franny gnawed in her lip for a few moments before letting out a loud sigh. She eyed Mickey once, from head to toe, before relenting.

"Fine," The redhead huffed. "But you're taking me out tomorrow. No Ian, no baby, just you and me, uncle-niece bonding time."

Mickey smiled at the girl, so little, yet so grown up, and he wondered how he truly wanted his own daughter to grow up to be like Franny, taking nobody's shit.

"Deal," He extended his hand for her to shake, which she took. The girl had a firm grasp. "I'll take you on a proper date, my lady. Dinner at McDonald's and paintball so we can shoot some shit. That good?"

Franny smiled widely, remanding Mickey so much of Ian, running towards him swiftly, and wrapping her arms around his torso.

"I love you uncle Mickey," She murmured against his shirt, the sound muffled.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her orange head.

"Love you too, baby carrots."

He really did.

#gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless us #fanfic #fic rec #ian x mickey #Franny gallagher #post series finale #parents ian and mickey #btw #wrote the beginning of this this morning went to the beach had such bad cramps had my dad drive me back home wrote the rest of this is pain #(:#*ficlet

165 notes · View notes

orionwhispers · 4 years

Text

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals.

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby oneshot

695 notes · View notes

goggles-mcgee · 4 years

Note

i’m really loving the Wish me Away au idea! Would you be up to writing about what the batfam does after seeing mari’s reaction to emilie and adrien?

Like an actually little drabble? Yeah sure! It'll be based off the headcanons from this post -> 👶

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♤♡◇♧▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Bruce couldn't remember having so much fun, he always loved to brag about his kids and show them off at work, but it was a little hard when it was 'Bring Your Kid To Work Day' and most of your kids worked with you. That's why he was so happy bringing little Marietta with him to Wayne Enterprises, he also brought Damian but Damian had wandered off to see what Dick did since, and he quotes, "I know everything about you father. If I am to be your successor it is only natural I familiarize myself with your work. I believe it would be beneficial for me to oversee Grayson's work ethic."

Honestly, Damian could have just said he wanted to see what Dick did but that was just part of Damian's charm. Before he had left, Damian had let Marietta grab his finger and give it a little shake which delighted her, if Bruce was not mistaken, Damian had even smiled before he said bye to the both of them. The boy had really grown to love Mari and Bruce could not be more proud of his son. Though, he had to admit, all of his children were absolutely enamored with the baby, not to say he wasn't, but Lord have mercy on anyone who dared mess with his baby girl. She would have an army behind her of overprotective brothers and sisters, and father and mother, and grandfather, and cow...and turkey...and dogs...and cats...and dragon bat....and semi-god things that called themselves kwamis...and two very very powerful almost godlike godparents (Diana and Clark.) Now Bruce didn't like to think about it but he did also have to add Mari's....friends to that list... i.e. some of his rogues, which yes was fucking bizarre beyond all reason, but some had even cut back on crime because of their friendship with his little mini-hero so that was a plus. Right?

Well that was a thought for another day, now he got to take his little girl around and take her into meetings, which was certainly going to be interesting, but Marietta always seemed interested in watching him work so he wasn't too worried. He packed her plenty of snacks along with her lunch that Alfred made, he made sure to pack her favorite toys and a variety of coloring books and markers and crayons. And of course he remembered to pack cookies for Tikki who was riding in the hood of Marietta's dress. Plus he made sure to pack a little first aid kid just in case, also another sweater for Marietta in case she got cold.

He liked to be prepared. Sue him.

First meeting of the day was with a Ms. Graham de Vanily. If his memory served right this was Emilie and not Amelie who he had spoken with in the past. Not for the first time he had to wonder what possessed their parents to name the identical twin sisters Emilie and Amelie, but apparently she had brought along her son as well so that made this meeting a little less awkward. He adjusted his hold on Marietta before he continued on his walk to his office where he would be meeting Ms. Emilie, he had hoped to show his daughter around more when they had arrived but he had actually forgotten about this particular meeting and so hadn't rescheduled it to a time when he would hand over Marietta to one of her brother's since they deemed it "unfair" that only he got to show her his work.

Honestly his boys. They were wonderful but boy did they get jealous of one another if Marietta gave one more attention than the other. He fondly remembered one family game night where all the boys were asking who Mari's favorite brother is and she had just been laughing at all the attention not really understanding and it was the first time Bruce had witnessed Damian giving someone a smile and opening his arms for a hug. Of course he had done it behind all his siblings backs and only Alfred and Bruce himself had seen it. It was a sight to see everyone's face when Mari giggled out a, "Dami!", and ran over to him. When everyone turned around he was back to his stoic face but he was hugging Marietta and she was snuggling herself against him but as he looked at everyone he gave them a small smirk. There was an uproar, a demand for a retest, but Damian wouldn’t have it and it had been one of the most chaotic nights in the Manor. Selina had been very entertained especially when Marietta somehow made her way out of the gaggle of children and waddled over to her and had climbed in her lap very clumsily before plopping herself down and making herself comfortable, almost like a cat Bruce had thought, before smiling up at Selina. Selina had just turned to Bruce and said in a complete monotone voice, “I would die for this child.”

Him and Selina hadn't tied the knot yet so to say, nor had he proposed. They were trying their hand at dating again but he couldn't help the way his heart skipped and his mind conjured up images of tuxedos, lace, friends and family, cakes and kisses, and rings and vows exchanged, when his baby girl, his little Marietta looked up at Selina and called her Maman. Bruce wondered if she ever shared his thoughts, he almost convinced himself she did whenever he saw her melt and practically purr when Mari, or as Selina liked to call her, Kitten, would call her Maman. He could see the love in the older woman's eyes and he had no doubt in his heart that this time, they would work out, this time they would get their 'happily ever after' or whatever came close to it.

He was ripped from his thought when he heard his baby girl giggle at something Lucius said.

"Morning Lucius."

"And good morning to you Mr. Wayne. I see you brought the little one."

"Yes. I promised I would bring her but I must admit, the meeting with Ms. Graham de Vanily slipped my mind." Bruce sighed out.

"I guessed as much. Well if you want, I can watch the Little Wayne while you have your meeting." Lucius offered, of course Bruce trusted him to watch Marietta seeing as the older man also practically adopted Mari at first sight. He was basically another grandfather to her.

"Gampa Fox!" Marietta began before dissolving into her baby babble. She was getting very good at speaking. Honestly she was very smart for a two year old.

"That's okay Lucius, I want to bring her in. Besides if her brothers spot her with you they wouldn't hesitate to snatch her up before their scheduled times. If Ms. Graham de Vanily has a problem with it I will insist on a reschedule. It's not everyday I get some one on one time with Marietta." Bruce admitted.

"You know one day someone is going to say no to you despite your good looks, money and reputation. Fine. Head on in, our guest is already here, which by the way, I don't think she will mind Mari seeing as she brought her own son to this meeting." Lucius sighed but he gave Mari a little wave and pointed Bruce to one of the smaller meeting rooms they had in Wayne Enterprises.

"Aww Lucius you think I'm good looking?"

"Go."

"Yes sir." Bruce chuckled out with a brief wave before he made his way over to the meeting room Lucius had pointed to and gently rapped his knuckled on the outside door despite the room being visible from outside because of the large windows. He heard a feminine voice call out from inside so he entered,

“Remember your manners Marietta and if you need anything don’t be shy.” Bruce told his daughter softly as they walked in, he chuckled when she nodded enthusiastically. As soon as he caught sight of the blonde woman he put on his best business smile. “Ah, Ms. Graham de Vanily, so sorry to keep you waiting. I must admit that this meeting slipped my mind.”

“No worries Mr. Wayne, I don’t believe this will be long. I see you brought your daughter. I brought my son! Adrien say hi.” Ms. Graham de Vanily light-heartedly scolded her son and tapped his shoulder. When Bruce took his seat and placed Marietta on his lap he finally got a good look at them both. Both mother and son were blond, her son, Adrien was a teenager, from the looks of it he was 16 maybe even 17. When his mother tapped him on the shoulder he sat up straighter than when he was slouching so obviously he didn’t want to come. So why bring him then?

“Hello Mr. Wayne, it’s an honor to meet you.” Adrien greeted him with a model smile, he had seen enough to spot them from the real deal.

“Likewise. Marietta, can you say ‘hello’ to our guests?” Bruce asked gently down to his daughter who was being uncharacteristically quiet. Usually she would already saying ‘hi’ and waving, maybe even trying to get a high five or hand shake. Though now she was hiding her face in his chest and hugging her backpack to her, she made a small noise like a whimper and Bruce was absolutely dumbfounded. His daughter had never acted like this before, not even with Joker for crying out loud yet here she was trembling and trying to hide herself in his arms. He didn’t know what was going on but his daughter was scared so he scooped her up and held her closer to him but she still tried to pull herself closer. Finally Bruce caught sight of Tikki inside Marietta’s open backpack and saw her antennae-like things pulled back and her eyes narrowed as the kwami glared at Ms. Graham de Vanily and her son, if he wasn’t mistaken she was even glowing a faint red especially as she stared at Adrien. Bruce didn’t understand what was causing these reactions but he did know one thing, he wasn’t going to make Marietta sit there.

“I apologize. She’s not normally like this, I think it would be best if I take her to one of her brothers if you don’t mind.”

“Oh...no worries at all. I’m sorry if we scared her somehow.” The woman actually sounded genuine but Bruce wasn’t going to risk anything, especially with how her son actually looked at his daughter for the first time that they walked in there.

“I’m sure that’s not the case, but it will probably be best to take her to one of her brothers that way we can get through this meeting. I will be fast.” With that he was out the room and speedwalking down the hall over to Lucius’s office. “I don’t have time to explain but Marietta was acting strange around Ms. Graham de Vanily and her son and Tikki as well. Can you take her to one of her brothers please? Just inform me who and I will go pick her up after the meeting.”

Lucius on his part did his best not to ask questions knowing Bruce didn’t have the time but he did raise a brow that told Bruce he would be answering those unasked questions later. “Of course. I’ll go see what Dick and Damian are up to.”

“Thank you Lucius.” Bruce said sincerely before he made his way back to his meeting. He had questions too and they were all for Tikki, but there would be time for that later, now it was time for business.

__________________________________________

The meeting passed and all Bruce could think about was getting to Marietta. He checked his texts from Lucius that informed him that he did indeed leave Mari with Dick and Damian so he made his way over to the central security room knowing that’s where Dick would most likely be. When he got there he was relieved to see his baby girl laughing and playing with Dick while Damian sat on a chair watching, as he walked in the two boys stood up swiftly with Dick scooping up Marietta and angling her away from the door but when they saw it was him they relaxed. “Father, Lucius told us nothing, what happened?” Damian demanded.

“I’m not sure myself. Marietta started acting scared when we got in the meeting room with Ms. Graham de Vanily and her son Adrien.” Bruce answered.

“NO!” They all stared at Marietta in shock when she screamed and tried to hide herself in Dick’s chest, then they all stared at each other with wide eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Etta what’s wrong?” Dick asked softly.

“No Adrien! No!” Marietta cried out.

The air grew cold. Bruce could hear his son’s gasp and he wouldn’t be surprised if he did as well. “ طفل الخفافيش (tifl alkhafafish), you’re safe. This Adrien won’t harm you I promise.” Damian cooed to Marietta.

“الأخ الأكبر (al'akhu al'akbar).” Mari cried out wetly as she reached her hands out for him and he of course took her out of Dick’s arms and held her.

“Tikki. Explain...please.” Bruce pleaded.

Tikki flew out of Mari’s backpack and sadly looked over at the girl before flying over to her and kissing the top of her head before flying and landing on Dick’s desk. “It’s...They are from her old life. Ad- He was her former partner...the one who wished her away. That woman shouldn’t be alive.”

“He was the one to betray her?” Damian asked, his voice full of ice and steel. “Father I will be needing my swords. All of them.”

“Damian. No.”

“What do you mean no?” His son asked indignantly.

“Yeah what do you mean no?” Tikki asked with a tilt of her head, Bruce glared at her, she knew what she was doing.

“Tikki what do you mean that woman shouldn’t be alive?” Dick asked.

“Simply that. She was a corpse. No soul. Haw-Gab- The villain Mari had to face before, she was his wife. He wished for her life.” Tikki explained as though it made total sense to all of them.

“Yeaaaaah, you’re going to need to expand on that.” Dick said which made Tikki frown in confusion.

“While I do agree with that, maybe we should wait until we are at home to continue this conversation. You boys know how Tim and Jason will be if they aren’t informed about what happened. You boys tell them and I’ll take Marietta. We will continue on with our day, but if you see either of them lingering here alert me. I don’t want Marietta to have to interact with them at all if we can help it.” Bruce said as he gently took Marietta from Damian who looked like he wanted to do anything but give his little sister to his father.

“If I see them I have a right to defend Marietta.” Damian stated. “You can’t stop me.”

“Damian.”

“Don’t worry Bruce, at least he doesn’t have a sword on him.” Dick chuckled.

“Who said I didn’t? Was it Todd?”

Bruce needed a break. Bruce questioned why he had so many kids not for the first time in his life. Bruce decided to ignore the fact his child admitted to having a sword somewhere on him and just did as he said he was going to do, continue his day with his daughter and if he held her a little closer to him than usual? Well it couldn’t be helped.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎♧◇♡♤▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

I know it’s not like the reactions yet but I am in the process of writing Wish Me Away so take this! XD

طفل الخفافيش (tifl alkhafafish): Baby Bat

“الأخ الأكبر (al'akhu al'akbar): Big Brother

#wish me away #wish me away au #wish me away drabble #maribat #mldccrossover #mldccrossover Damian Wayne | Robin #mldccrossover Bruce Wayne | Batman #mldccrossover Dick Grayson | Nightwing #mldccrossover Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir #mldccrossover emilie agreste #mldccrossover marinette dupain cheng | ladybug #MLDC #mldc crossover #goggles ask #goggles answer #goggles answers #mldccrossover Lucius Fox

434 notes · View notes