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belphies-cuhm-sluht · 3 years ago

Note

I enjoyed your dad!Lucifer and dad!Asmo stories! May I please request one of dad!Belphie where Satan takes over? 💜💚

Welcome Home (Dad!Belphie Pt. 2)

A/N : I live for this kind of angst, I love it. Although this hurt my Belphie loving heart, these fics are so much fun. (Part 1) Word Count : 3.1K Warnings : children; babies; maternity; mentions of MC's death; mentions of childbirth; dad!character; angst

Belphie stiffened when he heard his son say it, but he didn’t have time to react before the knock came. He groaned as he got up off the floor, picking his son up and walking to the door to throw it open, expecting another Akuzon delivery for Leviathan, or maybe Mammon had just forgotten his keys. “See, it’s not Ma…” He hadn’t even been looking when he opened the door, he was still on edge from his son uttering the word, but the way the child was reaching out towards the door made him look up. “Y/N…” Your name was whispered from his lips, he felt like he was dreaming, this was all just some sick dream that his mind had come up with out of guilt and self hatred. He must have fallen asleep on the floor, that’s what this is. You couldn’t actually be there, could you? “You would not believe how hard it is to get out of heaven. You all made it seem easy, but that guy is a real stickler.” You joked, grabbing your son from Belphie’s arms and holding him against your chest. “It’s been so long… You’ve grown so much. I’ve missed so much… How long was I gone?” You looked away from your son's purple eyes to meet Belphies, but he was still silent. It was like he had gone into shock, which, you wouldn’t blame him. Nobody probably expected for you to come back, but you weren’t going to spend your eternal life up in the Celestial Realm when your entire life was down in the Devildom. “Belphie… Can you atleast breathe? Please? You’re worrying me.” His mouth fell open, but the sound that escaped him was like a mixture between a squeal and gasp, and you didn’t really know what the sound meant, but his eyes were wide and his hands were holding his hair away from his face as if he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You can’t… You can’t be here… I watched you die.” He shook his head, quickly grabbing his son back and walking into the living room, shaking his head in disbelief. “That was one of the worst days of my life… I never thought you’d come back… I never thought I’d see you again.” He turned back around to face you as you walked into the house, shutting the door behind you. “How are you back?” You giggled lightly, trying to remember what happened in the Celestial Realm, but the memories were fading faster than you thought they would. “Well… First of all the line was so long, you would not believe it. They need to make the gates more like an amusement park entrance, maybe like five gates instead of one. It’ll really speed things up.” He didn’t seem to see the humor in it, not right now at least. It probably was the fact that he still didn’t understand how you got back and you were making jokes about the waiting time in heaven, it probably wasn’t a good time to do it. “It took forever to get through those gates, and the entire time I was waiting, I was thinking of you, and I was thinking of him. I don’t even know how I got sent up there in the first place, but as soon as I got through, I went straight to the guy who’s name shall not be said, and I told him I wanted to go back, to be back with you.” You rolled your eyes as little bits and pieces of memories came back to you, the hell that you went through just to get out of there. “I caused so much trouble, and I think I finally just annoyed everyone to the point where they didn’t care and they just gave me the boot… and here I am!” You gave him two thumbs up which your son mimicked back to you, but Belphie was still standing there, blinking rapidly as he tried to process everything that you just said. “So you ditched heaven essentially, to come back to your demon boyfriend and your demon kid who both killed you?” He said it as if it were a weird thing, and to most it probably would be, but to you it just seemed like the only thing to do. It was a pretty quick summary of everything that happened, and you probably could have summed it all up to that, but then there would have been no humor to break the ice and… you kind of felt like the situation needed a little comedy to lighten things up. “You’re such a dork…” He mumbled, but you saw the small smile tugging at his lips. You were

finally back, something that he never thought would happen, something that he never thought would be possible, but it did happen, and it was possible, and you were standing in front of him right now and he didn’t know how he actually felt about it.

“So how long have I been gone?” You asked, your head in Belphie’s lap as you laid on the floor, watching as your son tottered across the floor over to the toys that had been stacked in the corner of the living room. “He’s gotten so big…” As much as you had joked about the wait, it hadn’t felt like it was that long. The events that had taken place to get you up there in the first place were fresh in your mind still, it felt like it had just happened, but how big your son had grown said differently. Belphie pouted slightly as he thought of just how long he had gone without you, how long he had gone through this alone. “A year… and a half.” He ran his hand over your hair, watching your reaction. Your eyes gave away how you were really feeling, he could see how his words upset you, and that wasn’t what he was trying to do, not at all. “I never forgot you. I never got over what happened. I relived that day over and over in my mind… I’m so sorry Y/N…” His head dropped, resting his forehead against yours as he cradled your face in his hands. It was the first time you had ever heard him apologize for anything, and for once, he didn’t have a reason. There was no need for apologizing, not for this. “Hey… Don’t…” You reached up to cup his cheek, craning your neck just enough to kiss him before dropping your head back down into his lap. “I’m here now. You don’t have to apologize. Plus…” You held his chin between your thumb and pointer finger, turning his face to look at his son who was now sitting in the corner playing with his plush farm animals. “It was worth it to me. I have you, and I have him, and I can stay here with you forever. What is there to be sorry for?” You let your hand drop down against your stomach, smiling as you continued to watch your son, but your happiness was short lived as Belphie groaned, pushing himself up off the floor, causing you to roll off his lap. “You’re such an idiot! You think it was worth it? Dying for that thing?! You’re not the human I fell in love with anymore, you’ve changed.” His breathing was heavy as his nostrils flared, his hands shoved into the pockets of his cardigan. “And you may not notice it, but I do. And now… now you’re saying you want to live out the rest of eternity down here with me and the demon spawn.” He sighed loudly, shaking his head, but you didn’t understand why he was acting like this, speaking this way. “I said before all of that happened that I wanted to spend the rest of my human life down here with you, and that once I did die I would come back. I guess the process was a little sped up, but I don’t mind that.” You sat up, eyeing him suspiciously. You didn’t know where all of this was coming from, you thought that he was happy to have you back, and now he was basically saying that he didn’t love you anymore? “You didn’t have a problem with the plan before… And now that I’m here you don’t want me? That’s not fair, Belphie.” You swallowed thickly, digging your nails into your lap as you sat on your knees looking up at him. He looked indifferent , like he didn’t even care that what he was saying was hurting you. What had changed? “You didn’t come back for me. You came back for that, and you can have it. I don’t care. I wasted a year and a half of my life on the thing that took you away from me, and you come back and try to sweep it all under the rug, like it never happened.” You could hear in his voice that he was getting choked up, the lump in his throat causing his voice to crack. “You didn’t see your face… You didn’t see what I saw. I watched it hurt you, I watched it rip through you, and I watched it kill you. You don’t know how hard that was… And you don’t even care. You want to just walk back in where things left off and start playing house and… I’m just… I’m not ready for that.” Your teeth were sinking into your bottom lip as you listened to him, fighting back the urge to cry. He was wrong, he was so wrong. You might now have been able to see yourself, but you felt everything, but that didn’t change the fact that it was your child, that it was his child, and you

loved your son just as much as you loved his father. “What so… So you want me to leave again? You’d rather me just be completely dead and never have come back? What’s the reason? So you can suffer with the memories? So you can hate him forever for taking me away even though I’m right here?” You walked over to your son, lifting him off the floor and holding him on your hip, glaring at Belphie. “You’re utterly ridiculous… I… I don’t even… You’ll have what you want, but I’m not going to let you fill him with guilt for the rest of his life for something he couldn’t help.”

Belphie watched as you left again, walking out of the house with a luggage in one hand and his son’s hand in your other. “Well, that was stupid.” Satan said, appearing from seemingly nowhere beside Belphie, watching you walk down the pathway to the gate. “You finally got her back and… you let her leave again. You make no sense. Weren’t you the one crying every night because you missed her?” Satan’s eyes never left you, watching until you were too far off in the distance to even make out. “Shut up, Satan. You sound like Lucifer.” Bephie grumbled, slamming the door shut as he turned his back to his older brother and headed back up the stairs to the attic. It was supposed to be a low blow, but Satan knew that Lucifer wouldn’t have butted into his brother's business like he did. He waited to hear the attic stairs before walking out the door, sprinting down the walkway and out of the gates until he caught up with you. What Belphie… What none of his brothers knew was that he was infatuated with you. You were graceful, beautiful, funny, smart, sweet, and so much more. His heart had been torn as he watched your stomach swell with his brother’s child, and it had completely shattered when he watched that child rip through you, rip you away from Belphie, away from him. “Hey, you look like you need some help.” He said breathlessly, running his hand through his hair as he smiled sheepishly down at you. You were just as beautiful as you were before, even with the tear streaks that stained your cheeks. Your eyes glistened as you looked up at him, but it was only from the tears, tears that someone as wonderful as you shouldn’t have spilled for someone as shitty as Belphegor. “Oh… Satan… I uhm…” You sniffled loudly, dropping the luggage to the ground as your eyes overflowed with more tears. Satan did the only thing he knew to do, what he really wanted to do for so long, pulling you into his arms and holding you close as you cried against his chest, your words mumbled as you spoke into the fabric of his sweater. “I don’t know where to go… I don’t know what to do… I thought he’d be happy… He…” Your voice broke off into quiet sobs as his hand rubbed soothing circles into your back. Of course he knew that the only reason you were holding onto him like this was because you were broken, and you felt helpless, but he hoped that in due time you’d hold onto him like this for other reasons, because you wanted to, because you wanted him. He pulled back, sliding his finger under your chin to tilt your head up, using his other hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Shh, it’s alright. I’ll help you. And if it makes things any better… I’m happy that you’re back. I’ve missed you, Y/N.” It felt good to finally get that off his chest, originally fearing the repercussions that those words would bring him if he said them anywhere around Belphie. It didn’t matter now though, Belphie had done the damage, and Satan was here to try to clean it up. He cleared his throat, kneeling down in front of your son who looked at him expectantly. “You’ve missed her too, haven’t you?” Your son nodded quickly as a child would, smiling wide up at you before looking back to Satan. “How about ice cream?” He looked up at you, waiting for your okay and how could you say no? Those two words had your son tugging at your hand, pulling you in the direction of the ice cream shop and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You asked, stopping right outside of the door that you had walked out not more than an hour ago. “He doesn’t want me here, I’m sure me and the baby can stay at a hotel until we find somewhere else to go.” You didn’t want to admit it, but you were scared to go back in, scared to face Belphie again. Would he be mad that you were back? You didn’t want to deal with that, and you shouldn’t have to. You were only doing what you thought was right, and in Belphie’s eyes it had been all wrong. How were you supposed to know that he wouldn’t be happy? “Nonsense. You’ll stay here until you find a place. I’m not letting you spend all your money on a hotel room and food when you could stay here and get both for free. Plus, your room is still open, it’s still yours.” It was his idea to keep it, not that he’d tell you that yet. There was a time for everything, and right now what you needed was for him to be your support system, a friend that you could turn to and a friend that would be there. He opened the door for you, having to practically push you in as your son ran back into the living room to find his toys. “What the hell…?” You heard Belphie’s voice, clearly confused as he rounded the corner, his eyes landing on his son first before glancing up at the door to see you and Satan standing there. “I thought she was leaving. I thought they both were leaving.” His words stung, but you tried not to let him see just how much it hurt you. He didn’t deserve to know he had that much hold on you and your emotions. “Why the hell did you bring them back?” He eyed Satan suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for answers. “I couldn’t just let her walk around the Devildom with a child that small by herself. I was doing the right thing.” He turned to face you, his eyes were soft as he read every emotion on your face. He could see the pain that Belphie’s words alone were causing you, and it irritated him more than he’d ever admit. “How about you go up to your room, get you and the baby situated. I’ll bring you both something to eat.” You nodded slowly, calling your son over and quickly carrying him up, glad to be away from the looming glare of Belphie. As soon as you were up the stairs and out of earshot Belphie let loose, coming at Satan and not holding back. “You’re a fucking liar. I know exactly why you went after her, you sick freak. You think that just because I needed a break to sort things out in my own head that you could rush in and try to take over?” He shoved Satan back, not even caring that his brother was the embodiment of wrath and pushing him like this was sure to have them both brawling. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” “What’s wrong with me? Shall I quote you? ‘You’re not the human I fell in love with.’ Do you remember, Belphegor?” He hissed the words, standing tall as Belphie shrunk away from him, backing up as his own words were repeated to him. “Or how about the fact that you won’t even call your son by his name, you only call him it or that. What’s wrong with you?” He scoffed, shaking his head at his youngest brother. “You know, I loathed you for what you did to her. You were the reason she died, you just couldn’t control yourself. You killed her… And you had no right to pity yourself, you should have only felt guilt. But then… she came back.” He chuckled loudly, stepping closer to Belphie to get in his face. “And you screwed up again… So tell me… What is wrong… With you?” He cleared his throat, standing up straight once more as he fixed his sweater. “Anyway, I have to go make her something to eat, she and the baby must be hungry. It’ll be a nice way to welcome her home, don’t you think?”

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sevlgi · 4 years ago

Text

opposites

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: rosé x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

contents: college!au, good girl!rosé, bad girl!reader

warnings: none

synopsis: They say opposites attract, and when the campus’s resident sweetheart falls for a bad girl, Rosé discovers just how true that statement is.

a/n: I’M SO SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME OMGGGG hope you enjoy, and I’m glad you like my blog ❤

word count: 3.6k

Chaeyoung has never quite believed that opposites attract.

To be fair, she doesn’t have much experience to go off of. Despite being attracted to basically every person she meets, she hasn’t actually dated much. (As her friend Jennie jokes, she’s not bisexual, she’s by herself.)

And obviously, she’s not only attracted to people soft and sweet like herself. Especially in college, it’s more likely to find people in sweats and ratty T-shirts than people in pink sweaters and cute dresses.

It’s no secret that Chaeyoung is a hopeless romantic, convinced that she’ll find someone who she just works with. It’s also no secret that she’s determined to find someone similar enough to her that a relationship would actually work out.

Imagine her surprise when her next crush is the complete opposite of her.

You’re utterly fascinating to Chaeyoung; every little detail about you absolutely contradicts her, and she thinks her parents would faint if they saw you. Unlike Chaeyoung’s usually well-styled hair, you look like you’ve just rolled out of bed to go to class. Your leather jackets and heavy denim look stiff to the touch, and your dark circles, tattoos, and piercings are enough to ward all your classmates away.

But somehow, all of it just draws Chaeyoung in more. She’d never dream of dying her hair as much as you do, or getting as many tattoos as you have, but for some reason, you intrigue her.

She still doesn’t believe opposites attract. You might be gorgeous, but Chaeyoung is sure that your personalities would clash, and a relationship, however imaginary it may be, would never work out.

Of course, she’s also not willing to admit that she’s wrong to her friends, all of whom insist that opposites do attract. She just knows Lisa would gloat, and Chaeyoung is never giving her friends that satisfaction.

“Who’re you staring at today?”

Chaeyoung pouts at Yeri, who slides into the seat beside her with a knowing smile. Joy, on the other side, is already following where Chaeyoung’s eyes were earlier. “Hey. I’m not always staring at people.”

“Yes, you are,” the two other girls chorus. “Come on, you’re always searching for ‘your other half’ or whatever,” Yeri rolls her eyes. “You barely focus in class because of it.”

Studiously ignoring where you sit in the lecture hall (3 rows ahead and 2 seats to the left), Chaeyoung scowls and twirls her pen. “Rude.”

“You know I am,” Yeri smiles, beginning to scan the room as well. “So, come on. Who’s your pick of the day?”

Joy narrows her eyes; Chaeyoung’s a bit panicked to see that her friend is already zeroing in on you. “Wait… it can’t be her, right?”

“Who?” Joy whispers in Yeri’s ear, and the youngest girl’s eyes widen. “Chaeng, it’s not her, right?”

The blonde attempts to play it cool, asking nonchalantly, “Who are you even talking about?”

Both girls point at your back, the dark leather of your jacket and the two empty seats on either side of you making it unmistakable that you’re the one they’re pointing at. “Y/N Y/L/N. It’s not her, right?”

Y/N Y/L/N. Chaeyoung tests it out on her tongue silently before realizing her friends are still waiting for an answer. “It… maybe, what’s it to you?”

Yeri groans, and Joy shakes her head in what seems to be disappointment. “You have the worst taste, Chaeyoung. I mean, she’s cute, but…”

To be honest, the most surprising part of the entire conversation is that her friends aren’t even teasing about the whole ‘opposites’ thing. “What’s wrong with Y/N?” Chaeyoung can’t help but feel a bit defensive; after all, it’s her taste in girls that was being attacked.

Joy leans in conspiratorially now, despite the professor clearing his throat at the front of the classroom. “Okay, so, she’s kind of the designated bad girl? I don’t really know, but I heard she’s killed someone.”

“What? No, she set a building on fire,” Yeri argues, rolling her eyes when Joy opens her mouth to disagree. “Whatever, whatever. Anyway, she’s bad news. She’s a serial dater, too, and she doesn’t like cats. Who doesn’t like cats?”

Chaeyoung’s eyebrows scrunch together as her friends argue. It’s probably not likely that you’ve killed anyone or set a building on fire, but still… a serial dater? None of it sounds good.

“Anyway, she’s the polar opposite of you,” Joy sighs, patting Chaeyoung sympathetically on the arm. “You know, you’re sweet and soft, and she’s… her.”

Suddenly, the professor clears his throat again and raises his eyebrow at where the three girls sit. “Ms. Park, Ms. Kim, the other Ms. Park? Anything important?”

“No, sorry, sir,” Chaeyoung blurts out, cheeks red. She’s not even blushing because she’s been put on the spot, though; it’s because you’ve finally turned around to look at her.

Maybe it’s the eyeliner, but something about your gaze feels like it sees right through her. With the tiniest quirk of the corner of your lips, you turn back around and leave Chaeyoung fully flustered.

Yeah, definitely a player.

Every day, Chaeyoung attempts to work up the courage to sit a little closer to you. She’s not making much progress; to be fair, you can’t blame her, when you’re usually given a 3 foot radius of empty space by everyone.

However, she discovers something new about you every day. She discovers that you drink black iced coffee (she drinks tea), and that you use mint flavored chapstick (she uses strawberry). You prefer cinnamon gum (which Chaeyoung thinks is a bit gross), and you only ever wear black socks (she wears white).

Joy really wasn’t kidding when she said you were Chaeyoung’s opposite.

Of course, it’s just the blonde’s luck when the professor announces a group project, and your name is the only one out of 40 that Chaeyoung knows.

It takes a lot of energy for Chaeyoung to approach you after class. “Hey,” she smiles; you don’t return it. “So, I was wondering if you have a partner for the project? If you don’t, I was thinking we could be partners…”

You look startled at first, though it settles behind a mask of calm indifference immediately. “You don’t have friends?” At the blonde’s wince, you roll your eyes, lips quirking into a smile. “Kidding. Sure. Let’s work together.”

“Great!” Chaeyoung beams, looping her arm through yours. You look even more surprised now, but it’s cute. Everything you do would probably look cute. “I’m Roseanne, but you should call me Chaeyoung or Chaeng.”

“I’m Y/N,” you offer. Your voice is quieter than Chaeyoung had imagined, but that’s probably her fault for thinking your voice was demon-like or something. “You’re a sophomore, right?”

“Right.” Chaeyoung has no idea how you know how old she is, but she can roll with it. “You?”

You nod, looking anywhere other than Chaeyoung face. “Yeah. Same. So, do you have any ideas for the project yet?”

“No, sorry.” She can’t help the smile on your face, still shocked that you’re holding a conversation with her and not murdering her already. “Let’s get coffee? We can talk about the project. If you’re free, of course.”

“I am.”

And that’s all it takes for Chaeyoung to grin again, grab your arm, and lead you to the nearest coffee shop.

Chaeyoung likes the way you’re honest about what you want. When she offers to order, despite knowing what you want, you quietly ask for the iced black coffee and hand her 10 dollars even when she tries to protest.

You don’t ask about what she ordered, and you make sure she tipped the extra before opening your laptop and asking for ideas.

As the afternoon goes on, you seem to grow more comfortable, and Chaeyoung can let go of some of her slightly forced enthusiasm. She actually finds herself enjoying your dry sense of humor and sarcastic comments, though she can’t really make any of her own.

By the time she has to go to her next class, Chaeyoung’s actually making jokes of her own, and she has your number stored in her phone.

All in all, a successful day.

“Hi.”

You look surprised (or as surprised as you deign to look) to see Chaeyoung sitting next to you in the lecture hall the day after the project was turned in. “Uh, hey.”

“How do you think we did on the project?” the blonde asks, taking out her laptop. She ignores the way you stare at her, hoping that you didn’t want to just forget her existence after the project or something.

“Pretty good. You’re smart, I just helped a little bit.”

Chaeyoung laughs softly, swatting at your arm. “No way, come on. You’re smarter than your leather jackets let on, too.”

“And you’re smarter than your overly sweetened tea lets on,” you tease, a smile twinkling in your eyes.

She scowls and swats at you again, but you dodge this time. “I thought we agreed never to mention that again!”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Chaeyoung misses the way you smile at her after she turns to the board.

It becomes sort of a routine to sit next to you during lectures and copy off your surprisingly comprehensive notes. Chaeyoung can’t help but fall deeper and deeper at your ever-tentative smile, at each offhand, yet sweet comment.

All the little details about you, the tiniest things you notice, only make Chaeyoung fall harder. You buy non-cinnamon gum especially for her and keep 2 packs in your bag in case she wants some. Sometimes, you show up with a cup of so-called ‘overly sweetened tea’ next to your own coffee.

You see everything about her, and you both make the most subtle changes so that the two of you complement each other absolutely perfectly. Chaeyoung starts carrying blue pens because you prefer them, while you carry black ones in case either of you forget. You even carry a strawberry chapstick just for her.

Even Chaeyoung starts unconsciously enjoying the smell of your sweet mint chapstick; she wears it sometimes, not because she likes it more, but because she’s curious how it’d taste on your lips.

It doesn’t need to be said that Chaeyoung doesn’t just want to be friends anymore.

At first, she just wanted to understand you a bit better, to relieve her own fascination with you, but the more she learns, the more Chaeyoung is pulled in. It’s more than just a crush now, more than simple butterflies in her stomach.

Now, it’s an unconscious smile always tugging at her lips when you’re not with her, laughing at a joke that wasn’t necessarily actually that funny. It’s adapting to fit with you, and it’s accepting that maybe opposites do attract after all.

The only thing left is to introduce you to her friends.

“Are you ready?”

You frown, tugging at the sleeves of your leather jacket. Chaeyoung’s heart warmed when you offered to tone down your look for her, but she didn’t want you to change anything about yourself, so you just went with your jacket. “Sure, I guess.”

“Great!” the blonde beams, waving at Yeri and Joy, who she sees a few yards away from the huge table the two of you occupy. Behind them, Jisoo, Jennie, and Lisa lag, though they’re too far away to clearly see you.

Yeri’s expression isn’t exactly favorable; she stops right in her tracks to talk furiously to the others, and Chaeyoung frowns at the unreadable expression on your face. “Um… don’t worry, Y/N-ah. They’re probably just… talking about what to eat?”

“Sure,” you mutter, looking down. As the other girl has discovered, despite all your bravado and sass, you’re quite self-conscious. “It’s not like pizza is the only food this place offers.”

There’s no time for the blonde to reply; Jisoo, ever the tactful one, sits first and offers a tight smile. “Chaeng, good to see you. And you are?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” If Chaeyoung didn’t know you well enough, she wouldn’t be able to see past the mask of bored confidence you put on. “Jisoo, right? I’ve heard of you.”

The oldest girl flushes and nods. “Um, these are Jennie, Lisa, Yeri, and Joy.” They raise their hands or nod when their names are called, though their expressions are hostile.

Just as Chaeyoung opens her mouth to try and break the awkward silence, Lisa leans forward with her eyes narrowed. “So. What do you want with Chaeyoung?”

“Lisa!” The younger girl is usually sweet and puppy-like, but she’s also notoriously protective of her friends. Chaeyoung doesn’t miss the way your eye twitches just the slightest bit, and she resists the urge to put her hand on your arm. “Stop it.”

“What? You can’t deny this feels an awful like you’re introducing your girlfriend to us, and she’s the worst girlfriend you could have,” Lisa scowls, crossing her arms.

You sigh, shaking your head and standing up. Joy actually lurches back in her chair, as if expecting you to beat her up, but you just toss a quick smile to Chaeyoung, picking up the leather jacket slung over the back of your chair. “I think we’re done here. For your information, I’m not dating Chaeyoung, even though it wouldn’t be any of your business if I was.”

All the other girls stare at you, including Chaeyoung, as you continue, “You don’t know anything about me, so don’t assume. I appreciate that you care for Chaeng, but this is not the way to show it.”

With that, you’re gone, a light brush of your fingers on Chaeyoung’s shoulder the only way for her to tell that you aren’t angry at her.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, though, she scowls at her friends, hissing, “What the hell, Lisa? It was not your place to say any of that.”

The younger girl looks sheepish now, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I… I’m sorry.”

Jennie, though, rolls her eyes. “Come on, Chaeyoung. It’s what’s best, you don’t want to be dating her. She’s only going to break your heart.”

“I’m not that fragile, are you serious?” It’s honestly pretty uncharacteristic for Chaeyoung to actually be mad, but she can’t seem to control her words when her relationship with you might’ve been ruined. “It’s not your business anyway.”

Jisoo bites her lip, reaching for Chaeyoung’s hand across the table. “Chaeng, please. We just want what’s best for you, and Y/N isn’t that. You understand, right?”

No, I don’t. I don’t understand any of it. “Sure. I understand,” Chaeyoung exhales, sitting back. Despite everything she wants to say to her friends, she knows that they have good intentions, however misguided.

She’ll talk to you tomorrow.

You don’t show up to class the next day, and Chaeyoung sits alone in her usual seat, feeling empty when you’re not quietly making snarky remarks beside her.

It’s odd, and it really shows how much you’ve ingrained yourself into her life.

After a day of thinking, Chaeyoung has come to realize that, despite all her friends’ warnings, she does have feelings for you. She wants to be with you, to enjoy the little things and the small moments together, and she thinks you might feel the same way.

Obviously, she’s still too cowardly to actually go to you and tell you.

After you don’t show up for the next 2 classes, Chaeyoung dials your phone. You don’t pick up there, either, and she’s left to frown at her phone in the middle of the road.

She’s not a passive person, so she fully intends to do anything she can to make you talk to her.

On Monday, she decides she’ll text your roommate Miyeon, but she gets caught up in classes. On Tuesday, Chaeyoung thinks she’ll bring you some notes, but she forgets to write an extra copy. On Wednesday, she catches a cold and Lisa refuses to let her go anywhere.

A week passes exactly like that.

Finally, 9 days after the disastrous lunch, she manages to get your dorm room number from the office lady she bribes with homemade cupcakes. You’re always home for lunch, probably because you don’t eat with anyone but Chaeyoung.

Her heart thuds in her chest as she rounds the corner to head into your hallway, the buzz of other students around her drowned out by the ringing in her ears. She knocks three times- one, two, three- on your door and she waits.

You look terrible when you open the door.

The permanent dark circles under your eyes are ten times darker than usual, and your lips are dry and chapped. You wear a rumpled Disney shirt that Chaeyoung would tease you about if she wasn’t so concerned. “Um… cupcakes?”

“Thanks for coming by.”

“No problem.” The blonde watches you pour out some cheap, college-student coffee at the tiny desk in the corner of the dorm. “I was just concerned. You haven’t been to class in a while, you know?”

You sigh and hand her a cup of piping hot tea, already sweetened just like Chaeyoung likes it. “Yeah. I know.”

“Hey.” Leaning over, Chaeyoung places her hand on yours, ignoring the way her heart skips a beat at the skin-to-skin contact. Judging by the blush on your face, you feel the same. “You can tell me anything, okay? We’re friends.”

You almost seem to wince, though Chaeyoung doesn’t know what for. “Yeah. I’m fine though.”

“Was it my friends?” the blonde persists, her eyes searching yours for an explanation. “I know that they were really rude, but I promise I don’t care about anything they say, okay?”

Scoffing, you stand up, seemingly to get more coffee, even though your mug is full. “I’m not that shallow, okay?”

“Then what is it?” Despite knowing she sounds desperate, Chaeyoung’s mind is racing for an explanation, anything that could tell her why you’re avoiding her. “Please talk to me.”

The beat of silence that passes only makes Chaeyoung feel more anxious, like her brain is spinning in circles inside her head, and she almost jumps when you speak again. “Do you… do you like me?”

“I… of course I do! You’re my friend, I like you very much.” The blonde is well aware that that isn’t what you meant, but she can’t help but avoid what she really wants to say as she babbles on, “Why? Do you want me to show my platonic love for you more often?”

“Chaeyoung.” You place your hand on hers and lean forward with a serious expression on your face that honestly scares Chaeyoung. “I know that you won’t tell me honestly any time soon, so I’m just going to say it first. I like you. A lot, and not as a friend.”

As the other girl’s jaw drops, you continue on, the overly quick speed of your speech letting Chaeyoung know just how nervous you are to say all of this. “I know that I have a reputation, and I know that I’m too closed down or boring, but you’re nothing like that. You’re so sweet and gorgeous, and I just… really like you. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” Chaeyoung reaches for you again, eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. She doesn’t find any. “You’re not boring, Y/N, not in the slightest. And I like you too, every little thing about you.”

“I don’t think you know enough about me to say that,” you try to deflect, but the blonde shakes her head.

“You’re so sweet to me, Y/N, and it’s not your fault that no one else can see it, but I do. I see all the little things you do for me, and I fall for you more every day. Maybe I don’t know enough about you, but I want to learn. If you’ll let me.”

A short pause occurs before you exhale quickly, swiping away tears Chaeyoung didn’t notice were about to fall. “Okay. I’d love that.”

“Great.” Chaeyoung sits back again, but just as you’re about to get up, presumably to busy yourself with a drink or something, she blurts out, “Can I kiss you?”

The surprised look on your face is so endearing that she’s already grinning when you smile softly. “Of course you can.”

The moment that you bend down and press your lips to hers, so soft and gentle, is the best of Chaeyoung’s life. She can finally taste the sweet mint of your chapstick, mixed with the unique taste of you, and feel the way your lips are slightly chapped against her own. When you pull away, Chaeyoung loves the flush to your cheeks that mirrors hers, and she can only grin when you move away to get your coffee.

Maybe opposites do attract after all.

“Hey, can I ask you something again?”

“You already did,” you joke, then laugh when the other girl pouts. “Sure, Chaeng. What?”

“Do you hate cats?”

An offended gasp escapes from you, matching your expression. “No, who hates cats? I think that’s the worst rumor about me yet.”

The blonde protests, “What about the one about you murdering someone?”

Sniffing and sitting with your coffee, you say, “I stand by my case.”

Cupping your face with her hands, the cuffs of her sweaters brushing up against your cheeks, Chaeyoung presses another kiss to your lips. The taste of mint and coffee, strawberry and tea, is the most perfect combination she could ever imagine.

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crowbarstodd · 5 years ago

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Adrien needs help. It doesn't matter how many times he insists he’s okay; Tim’s familiar with longing gazes at indifferent backs, and lonely dinners in too-big, too-cold houses. Adrien thinks he’s fine, Tim used to think he was fine too.

Nobody is surprised when Bruce Wayne seems to have adopted a new son.

Rating: G Pairings: None, this is all gen batbrothers stuff

The gala was a bore. Unsurprising, considering they were usually varying degrees of dry, unless of course, you were a hapless drunk like ‘Brucie’ was, stumbling ‘round the marble dance floor, laughing obnoxiously loud. Bruce was really laying is act on thick, though Tim supposed it was to be expected, considering he hadn’t been around in the past month to reinforce his civilian cover -- too busy fending off Queen Bee in Bialya with the League.

Damian had long since wandered off, though Tim was impressed that the demon spawn managed to last past the first hour of cheek-pinching without insulting an esteemed guest. Alfred’s allowance of his absence was likely a reward for Damian’s recent good behavior, lucky little shit, Tim thought, as he swirled his champagne flute absently.

He’d never been too fond of the taste of wine, but sipping on it gave him something to do, and made him look contemplative and busy enough not to be approached by the giggling gaggle that had been eyeing him up since the beginning of the gala. Tim wasn’t Dick, charming and sculpted, but he was still rich, and a young CEO, which meant that with every event came potential suitors that he did his best to ignore.

From the gaggle and Damian, everything seemed perfectly normal, except... Well except for the boy. He was blonde, and looked somewhere around Damian’s age, standing awkwardly at the corner of the room, between a copy of an antique vase (they hadn’t had any genuine versions displayed since Dick had been adopted, according to Alfred. Apparently, he’d broken four one-of-a-kind antiques while tumbling around, and Alfred had the sense to put all the fragile decorative pieces away) and an old family portrait from before Cass and Damian were adopted.

He was too stiff, his smiles forced, and his eyes tired. Even from his position on the other side of the room, Tim could see that the boy’s paleness was one of someone sick, rather than someone who hardly went out. The most peculiar (or rather, the most saddening) thing about the boy, however, was his nearly unwavering stare at a tall, lean man with rectangular glasses. Gabriel Agreste, a popular French designer. Which means, if Tim’s deductions were correct, which they usually were, that the boy was Gabriel’s model son; Adrien.

It was more of an impulse than a decision to approach the boy, but something about him reminded Tim of his younger, lonelier self, alone in the Drake mansion with nothing but his news cut-outs, and night-shots of Batman and his Robin(s).

“Tired?”

The boy -- Adrien -- startled, moving back a step. Interestingly, Tim noted that the boy’s right hand balled, while his left moved to the silver accessory on his right ring finger.

“Sorry?” Adrien asked with lightly accented English.

Up close, his green eyes almost looked animated, round, wide, and filled with earnestly Tim felt he couldn’t possibly deserve. “Are you tired?” Tim asked again, giving the blonde a small smile.

Adrien’s eyes widened, looking positively alarmed. “No, no!” He insisted, waving his arms wildly, “no, this gala is magnifique, it’s an honour--”

At the sound of Tim’s snort, Adrien’s frantic babble halted. “You can be honest, kid, I promise you, you’re not the only one here bored to death.”

Adrien’s shoulders relaxed, and the trench between his brows smoothed over. He let out a laugh that was too stilted to be natural, but he conceded with Tim’s comment. “Well I wouldn’t say I would die of boredom, but…”

Tim snickered, nudging Adrien with his elbow as the younger boy scratched the back of his head.

“Wanna get out of here?”

Tim let the question sink in, scoping the room for threats, more out of habit than actually believing a villain could have entered the Wayne household, not with the level of security Bruce insisted on.

Tentatively, Adrien spoke up. “Are we allowed to leave?”

Tim grinned, mischief leaking through his eyes. “Well I mean, I live here, so I guess I could give you permission to ditch my old man’s soiree. You play any video games?”

Adrien followed, slightly behind, as Tim began to stride out the grand hall, nodding politely to each guest he passed, and sending Alfred a wave. “I uhh, well there’s this game called Mecha Stri--”

“Strike III,” Tim finished for him, looking back to give Adrien an affirming smile. “My little brother’s friend got it for him like, two days ago. Guess you’re lucky, huh?”

Adrien let out a breath. “Yeah, guess I am.”

They filled the rest of the short walk to one of the more used sitting room’s of the manor with small talk. Without totally meaning to, Tim kept a close eye on Adrien, watching out for any signs of abuse, mental, physical, or otherwise.

He might have just been paranoid, but no good parent would leave their kid standing in a corner looking totally drained, and no good parent would let their high-profile child leave a party unattended in such a crime-ridden place like Gotham.

Adrien’s hesitance toward everything was alarming, as well as his general people-pleasing attitude. There was a time, years ago, when Tim would sit, stock still, in an itchy Givenchy suit, hoping his mother would tell him something along the lines of “good job,” for staying out of her way. Instead, he’d get forgotten at some neighbour’s ballroom, left to find his own way home in much too early hours in the morning for a young boy to be awake.

Adrien sat at the far end of the couch, his back straight and his legs pressed together, watching wordlessly as Tim set up the game station. Eventually, he let out a quiet ‘thank you,’ and Tim relished the warmth that settled in his chest. Maybe B wasn’t so crazy, adopting five kids (honestly, the number was closer to seven), because it was at that moment he decided he had to do absolutely everything in his power to help out this kid. For Adrien, but also for his younger self. To do for Adrien, what others hadn’t done for him.

He was grateful, for everything Bruce had done for him, given him. But at the end of the day, it was fact that Tim had dug his place into the family and into Bruce’s heart with his bare hands, and there was dirt under his nails to prove it. Restlessly, he worked to prove himself, because Tim Drake had everything and nothing all at once, and what he was now (love, trust, adoration, respect, reputation), he built on his own, with no saviour. And while he was proud of himself, there was a part of him that wished, wished, wished, that somebody had noticed and helped.

Tim Drake could and can do everything himself, and there was no doubt that Adrien could too, but Tim would make sure he didn’t have to.

Hours later, Dick would happen upon their slumped bodies, leaning against each other in peaceful slumber. He would take a quick shot, and regretfully wake the pair up. He’d wish he wouldn’t have to -- Tim had hardly slept that week, and he’d noticed the blonde boy dead on his feet earlier before he was stopped by Officer Jenkins and trapped into meaningless small talk. But he knew Gabriel Agreste was fiercely protective on the off day he remembered his son, so it’d be smarter to bring Adrien back to the party before it ended fully.

End Notes: Basically I decided I needed more wholesome maribat content without having Adrien a bad guy, bc at the end of the day, he IS a good boi.

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