#Superman’s trying to pick it up but it’s not budging | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chaibewriting · 2 years ago

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HANDS OFF! ft. street rat! shota aizawa (aladdin au) x feisty! noble! dom! fem! afab! reader

-> NOTES: street rat! shota aizawa pickpockets the wrong noblewoman and pays the price in more ways than one. i wrote this without much thought or brain meats so im sorry if its not my best work 🙇🏾

-> WARNINGS: hypnosis, dubcon, gagging, unprotected sex, virigin aizawa (bc i said so), dry humping, unedited and unbeta read cause i’m lazy

THE human body needed a few basic things in order to survive, even at the bare minimal, one of those necessities happened to be food. And unfortunately, mainly due to his lack of social ranking in the hierarchy, a young scoundrel by the name of Shota was forced to heavily rely on his abilities to get his next meal. And no, they’re not any kind of special ability— unless you consider pickpocketing and pawning to be something special, then fuck just call him Superman.

Interrupted from his thoughts, the shaggy dark-haired man pressed a hand onto his stomach, grunting at the rumble that was embarrassingly loud. A few passerbys in the streets had walked past him with rather weary looks, shuffling away from him while clinging onto their belongings. He barely spared them a glance, knowing that there was a much more interesting target just up ahead.

This woman was wearing something custom made, something he’d never seen before, which brought him to the justified assumption that she was rich. And if he played his cards correctly, he could swipe a couple things from her that he could pawn off and have enough to not only feed himself for the next couple of nights but also enough to buy some food for the stray cats he’s ‘adopted’ that he often finds lingering around in alleys. He had plenty of experience with pickpocketing, it didn’t matter who his target was he always landed his mark and got away without a scratch.

So… how exactly did he end up in this predicament?

That was his first mistake.

Shota had picked up the speed of his stride, soon closing in on you from behind without trying to look too suspicious, making it seem as if he was simply trying to pass you to get to his next destination as quickly as possible. It should have been easy. It was always easy for him, but you apparently decided to rip the rug from right under his feet, catching him redhanded when he attempted to dig his hand into your pocket after brushing past you. You grabbed onto his wrist and pulled it up towards the sky, eyeing your wallet that was encased between his fingers. The lazy street rat was stunned, staring at you in shock and a tad bit of fear of what was going to happen next. He had been doing quite a decent job at evading the authorities but if he were to be turned in right now they would no doubt execute him. He had to get away, but how were you so fucking strong?

“My, my, my… Who do we have here? I think I’ve seen you before… On the wanted posters in the little nooks and crannies I go to get my liquor.” You hummed, continuing to grasp his wrist without budging, even with him constantly trying to pry your hand away or jerk back. “Listen, lady, I’ll give you your damn wallet back, just let me go already.” Shota hissed, suddenly feeling you squeeze at his wrist while narrowing your eyes at him, causing him to unconsciously shudder under your harsh and calculated gaze. “I don’t think so. You caught me at the perfect time, i’ve been looking for a young little thing like you for me to release my frustration. Perhaps we should speak more privately, hm?” You offer, though you give no room for arguments or even agreement as you’re suddenly tugging him towards a nearby alley. The people on the street have taken notice of the two of you but shrugged it off, figuring that you were probably just going to teach the scoundrel a much needed lesson, which you technically were.

Shoving the youngster up against the wall after releasing his wrist, a hum came from your throat as you caged him in, leaving no room for him to slip away from you. He was forced to feel your body press up against his, causing his face to redden ever so slightly as he glanced at you, attempting to intimidate you even though he was the one being intimidated.

Leaning back slightly, you reached into one of your dress pockets and pulled out a solid gold pocket watch that was worth a pretty penny or two. Immediately, his eyes left from your face and went to the pocket watch that was enough to keep him fed for months on end, maybe even years.

That was his second mistake.

“Watch the watch, and repeat after me, darling.” You demanded, though your voice was laced in honey and danger, unfortunately for Shota he was unable to break his gaze from the swinging watch and slowly felt himself slipping into some kind of unconscious yet /conscious/ state, causing him to fully let down his guard as he listened to the words that came from your glossed lips.

“‘I am now Lady Y/N’s property. I give all my rights to her. I was made to please her and only her.”

His mouth moved without his permission as he parroted the words back to her, causing a triumphant grin to spread across her lips. “That’s enough. What’s your name, boy?”

“Aizawa Shota.”

…

After performing some basic-level hypnosis on the unsuspecting street rat, getting him back to your place was as easy as leading a dog on a leash. You never expected that it would be so easy to get him to follow after you, most would have put up more of a fight, but now he was just following you around like a lovesick puppy.

Once you’d entered your home, you instructed him to take off his shoes and leave them at the door, doing the same for yourself before venturing further into the house.

Afterwards, you promptly led him to your bedroom, beckoning him with a finger to continue following behind you, which he did. As soon as he entered the bedroom behind you, you pointed towards the luxurious-looking bed and spoke.

“Sit, and wait, Shota.”

He did just that, watching you with those same loveisck puppy eyes that followed after you every step of the way, waiting for your next command. Simultaneously, you shrugged off your coat and placed it onto a nearby table, humming a random tune you’d heard in a tavern some nights ago, thinking through what you wanted to do next. You were interested in trying out your usual approach, wondering how he’d look starfishing and gagged.

Slipping into your closet, you found the medium-sized chest that sat on the floor and pulled it out, opening it up to remove a few specially made silk wraps from inside of it. With your new findings, you turned towards the bed where Shota still sat, he was awake, but he held no hint of emotion in his face, still heavily under the influence of your hypnosis which seemed to please you quite a bit.

“Stand up and strip for me.”

With ease, the unfortunate prey you’d sunk your claws into stood onto his feet and began to remove his tattered clothing (you’d have to burn those later), your eager eyes taking note of every inch of his exposed body. Even though he looked a bit malnourished and lanky, no doubt from not eating an adequate amount of food each day, he didn’t exactly look fragile. So, that meant you wouldn’t have to worry about breaking him just yet. You eyed the excessive amount of body hair that he had spread all over his body, it wasn’t unwelcome of course, you did enjoy the look of a rugged man crumbling at your feet, after all.

Walking towards him, you placed hand onto his chest and pushed him back onto the bed, watching in interest as his flaccid cock slapped back against his stomach with the sudden movement. You were eager to toy with him and you couldn’t do that if he was still mindlessly under your control, however, you still had to remain in control of him. And you always had the perfect solution. Balling the silk wraps up until you got the perfect sphere of fabric, you instructed him to open his mouth, shoving the fabric into it as soon as his lips parted. You heard him instinctively gag around it and grinned afterwards. Now, here was where the real fun began. With a hum, you snapped you fingers and watched as the cloudy mist in his dark eyes began to clear up. He looked around in confusion for a moment before his gaze landed on you and where you stood, over him at the very edge of the bed. And then he spoke. Or tried to at least.

“Whah eer wuu zoo…” He tried, mumbling against the silk in his mouth, after hearing himself struggle to speak his brows furrowed and he began reaching to take the foreign fabric from his mouth. You stopped him, clicking your tongue in dissatisfaction. “Oh no no, Shota. Don’t you remember what we discussed in the alley? You’re my property now, and you can’t just go around making decisions on your own, darling. You’ll keep that in your mouth until I say so.”

You sighed afterwards and began to undo your blouse, already eyeing his body with glee and interest. “Now, if you’re good and help me release my stress from this week… maybe I’ll take the gag out. Think you can do that for me? Ah, actually, I know you can.” You purred, a small smile revealing itself on your face as you peeled off your blouse and slid your skirt off as well, stepping out of it so that you were left in only your undergarments.

With slightly desperate movements and the speed of a huntress in heat, you crawled on top of Shota, watching as his eyes widened in surprise and his face burned crimson. This caused a thought to come to mind as you planted yourself right on his cock, sandwiching it between your clothed cunt and his own hollowing belly.

“Oh dear… Are you a virgin, Shota?”

The blush on his face only increased tenfold at your question and he quickly shook his head, attempting to dissuade you from such a suggestion. It didn’t matter to you anyways, but it would have been all the more entertaining if he was.

…

Getting Shota hard was not a difficult feat, especially not with you constantly rutting against his cock at a steady pace, effectively making your own pool of arousal start to drench your panties, mingling with the beads of precum that dribbled from his tip and landed onto his stomach. The sounds of his sweet muffled moans had urged you to move faster and rougher with your movements, the friction on resulting in your own moans as well. After you’d done your job, you rolled off of him, making him whine in need for you as you laid onto your back and stretched out your limbs, laughing at him.

“Don’t get all pissy now, I’ve done my job so its only fair that you do yours now.” You mused, laying comfortably on your back while pushing your bra up over your breast, letting them fall free from the contraption. “C’mon and put it in, I know you’re a good boy, aren’t you? Show me how good you are.” You urged, shifting around a bit to slide your underwear down until they were tossed away, exposing your soaked core and throbbing notch of nerves.

Many things came into play, a mix of hormones and hypnosis caused the pick pocketer to quickly sit up, gag still in his mouth, and get between your legs, mot even trying to hide his eager as he stared at your inviting entrance, his angry tip getting even angrier. With interest and clear amusement, you watched him closely as he grabbed the base of his cock and began to line himself up with your entrance, prodding at your folds with the tip, almost as if he was uncertain about where he was supposed to put it. It was almost cute, but you were getting a tad bit impatient, hooking your legs around his hips to bring him forcibly towards you, making him sink into you with ease and with little to no resistance.

While your moans were a bit more restrained and shaky, his moans were still muffled but were exceptionally whinier. He had fallen forward but quickly caught himself before he could crash on top of you, holding himself up by pressing his hands in the bed on either sides of your body. You’d pulled him closer until he completely bottomed out, his balls flush against your ass as he was fully inside you, kissing your cervix with his bulbous tip. You could have sworn you felt him throbbing inside of you. You probably did.

Shota, on the other hand, was on the verge of trembling and crying from pleasure, the sudden warmth and wetness closing around him and effectively trapping him in place, his eyes closed as his face only doubled with heat. He was sure he was going to cum if he moved even an inch. This felt even better than fucking his fist. A man could become addicted to this.

Simultaneously, you enjoyed the feeling of fullness but were waiting for him to move, watching him intently. When he made no effort or showed no signs of movement, you huffed, unhooking your legs from his hips and grunting at him. “What are you waiting for? The sun to set? Hurry up and move already, I’m growing impa- oh!” You were cut off by the feeling of him pulling out and slamming back into you, which was soon followed by a series of amateur jabs at your womb, repeatedly filling you with his thick veiny cock over and over again, the bird’s nest of his pubes consistently brushing over your clit with him bottoming out each and every time.

Even if he was an amateur with his thrusts, his dick was big enough to hit some delicious spots inside of your gummy walls that made you a bit delirious. You weren’t the only one, however, with the way he was still groaning and muttering praises that made no sense thanks to the gag in his mouth. As he fucked into you like an obedient and needy whore, you rubbed at your clit in rough circular motions, a string of curses leaving your lips as you enjoyed every second of the snap of his needy hips.

“Veels zooo gooo…” He complimented, though you didn’t know what he was saying exactly as he continued his speedy pace, the bed singing and creaking from the intensity of his assault on your drooling pussy.

This continued for a tad bit longer, as long as he could manage at least, before he mewled aloud, leaning over to bury his face into the crook of your neck. “Mm hmm gmm…!” Suddenly, you felt heat shoot up into your awaiting walls that had been milking him since the moment you forced him to sink his cock in you, painting you sloppily with white. He’d slammed all the way into you to release his seed in you, not letting a drop escape as he laid out on top of you in exhaustion, forcing you to stop rubbing your clit.

You allowed him a second to collect himself, feeling the cold sweat on his body sink into yours as he remained laying on top of you, still buried inside of you. Lightly, you patted his back in an affectionate manner and spoke up. “We’re not done yet darling, I still haven’t cum yet.” That, made him stiffen up, and you almost felt his cock harden again inside of you like the command was enough to spur him on for another round.

“ineeding…. foooo… ooo.” Was the last thing he tiredly panted through the gag before he lifted his hips just a tad bit, burying his knees into the bed before he began lazily pounding into you yet again, the harsh slap of skin on skin being heard well into the night.

Well… he’d never be pickpocketing again, that’s for sure.

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tilbageidanmark · 1 year ago

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Movies I watched this Week # 145 (Year 3/Week 41):

The Axe, a French thriller by Costa-Gavras, about a laid-off executive at a large paper manufacturing firm, who fruitlessly tries for 2 years to find another new job. Eventually he becomes desperate enough that he starts killing his job competitors. A bit like Walter White, it's a roundabout critique of turbo-capitalism and corporate greed, served under a facade of black humor. 6/10.

🍿

Javier Barden x2:

🍿 Another biting anti-corporate comedy, the Spanish The good boss, a week in the life of Anton Chigurh as a charismatic factory owner. Like a benevolent father to his employees, he seems helpful and understanding - as long as it suits his very self-centered needs. Manipulative and Machiavellian, it's hard to take your eyes off him. 9/10.

🍿 Only my 4th Michael Mann movie, the King of LA crime city at night, the terrific thriller Collateral. A west-coast 'Taxi Driver' action thriller, with Tom Cruise as a killing Terminator, that like a bunny, dosen't stop. It starts with a quiet, beautiful prelude at the cab, and ends, after a long action-adventure, with the same couple who survived a long, bloody adventure, walking the streets at dawn, and [like the end of 'Midnight Run'] can't find a cab to take them home. 8/10.

🍿

Bekas ("Up and away"), my first Kurdish film from Iraq [actually, it’s a Swedish production, directed by an Iraqi-born Swedish director]. Beautifully set in yellow tint in bare desert landscapes, it's about 2 young brothers, orphans with nobody to care for them. After seeing a Superman movie in the poor village where they live, they decide to travel to America and meet their hero. (Photo Above).

The trailer doesn’t represent its simple mood. 7/10.

🍿

The mirror, my 4th unique meta-film by prosecuted Iranian director Jafar Panahi, about a little girl trying to find her way home. Mina is a second grader whose mom didn't pick her up from school, so she takes off on a scary journey through the dangerous, chaotic streets of Tehran (3 accidents are seen in the background).

But in the exact middle of this sweet, empathetic kid-film, the little girl is heard saying 'I don't want to to be in this movie any more', and the second half follows her clandestinely from across the streets, as she's supposedly no longer play-acting. The distinction between reality and make-belief is blurred and kept unexplained.

100% on Rotten Tomatoes.

🍿

"Haider, that burrito wouldn't budge"

Haider, an interesting 3 hours Indian adaptation of 'Hamlet', the director's 3rd part of a Shakespeare trilogy (After Macbeth and Othello). Set on the background of the modern day conflict in Kashmir, it's filled with cinematic anachronisms like Kalashnikov battles in snowy graveyards, and queen Gertrude strapping a belt of hand granades and suicide kills herself. Poetic and rich, it uses dozens of beautiful locations to tell the Oedipal story of murder and revenge.

Unfortunately, there are only a couple of song/dance numbers, the gravediggers scene, and the Nightingale Bismil dance.

🍿

2 with Adèle Exarchopoulos:

🍿 My 4th gay drama by Ira Sachs, Passages, his latest and the least enjoyable of them. A love triangle between a married male couple in Paris, one of whom falls in love with Adèle Exarchopoulos. But this small 'unconventional wrinkle' didn't elevate the flat narrative. Especially when the main character was such a flawed, vain and unsympathetic man. 3/10.

🍿 In Zero Fucks Given she brilliantly plays a young stewardess at a low-fare carrier based in the Canary Island. After the death of her mother in a car accident, her life is rudderless, emotionally stunted, hard. Like the cinematic style of the story, episodic, sporadic, without relief. 8/10.

🍿

“...Love is a most reckless thing…”

Another subversive Douglas Sirk melodrama, There's always tomorrow. Gender roles at the heart of American conformism of the 1950's. A toy manufacturer who feels unloved and un-appreciated by his middle-class family, meets a woman from his past. But no impropriety must disturb society's natural order; Even his children know that. 7/10.

🍿

2 Danish thrillers+ 2 delightful bonuses:

🍿 The Keeper of Lost Causes, my second of the Danish detective series about 'Department 'Q', which deals with "cold" homicide cases (after 'A conspiracy of faith'). Nikolaj Lie Kaas and Fares Fares are the detectives demoted to work out of the basement in the typically-engaging Nordic Noir. Unfortunately, the story turns into horror when a sadistic psychopath kidnaps a woman and keeps her locked in a pressure chamber. 5/10.

🍿 Hærværk ("Vandalism"), a faithful adaptation of Tom Kristensen's classic novel about a 1920's newspaperman who self-destruct. Like 'Druk', and 'Under the volcano', 'Days of wine and roses', etc. it's a senseless and tedious descent into the depth of desperation and self-loathing.

🍿 Dexter Gordon playing in Montmartre Copenhagen and Oscar Peterson Trio with Guest Dexter Gordon, both from 1969. Montmarte was the heart of European jazz world at that time. Perfections!

🍿

The Trotsky, a very thin Canadian comedy about a 17-year-old student who believes that he’s the reincarnation of Leon Trotsky, so he starts agitating for a Russian-style revolution at his Jewish Montreal high-school. This joke premise is quickly exhausted, and the class struggle aspect is played for laughs. Small roles for 'Lee Donowitz' Saul Rubinek and 'Megan Draper' Jessica Paré. One plus for a dream sequence that replays the baby carriage scene from 'Battleship Potemkin'.

🍿

The Burial, a David and Goliath legal drama about a flamboyant Johnnie Cochran-style lawyer who takes a case from small-time funeral home director Tommy Lee Jones, and - Surprise, motherfuckers! - wins big against an evil corporation. Old cliches of black identity, southern graciousness and old racism tropes makes this a shallow and forgettable effort. That that's even before they get into the second half of the movie, which they spend in trial; I can't stand fake courtroom dramatizations. 2/10.

🍿

Chantilly Bridge is a chick-flick TV movie that is apparently a continuation of a previous story from 20-30 years ago. This ensemble piece of all-female older actresses cast about long-term friendship, an all-talking"Big chill" for women. It doesn't have a Wikipedia page yet, but glowing IMDb reviews. Unfortunately, I couldn't finish it.

🍿

(My complete movie list is here)

#movies

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gaddaboutgriffon · 5 months ago

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Ok trying to pick back where I left off.

Danny, Superboy 2, and the twins trouble toddlers are moving into Mount Justice and going through a name book trying to find a name for the new Superboy.

Danny realizes just how many social skills were not included in the download ask he is explaining to the newly named Connor why he needed a regular name at all.

Martian manhunter is on his way back from mars but it is going to be a couple weeks before he gets back to earth. And in the meantime time Superman is coming every other day to try and talk to Danny and get him to come home. Unfortunately neither are budging on their position, and it is making things worse. Connor can hear everything.

Danny is also using staying at mount justice as a way to practice getting control of his new intangibility power with out Superman finding out about it. It was impossible to keep it a secret from Connor, as he has seen Danny accidentally get stuck in a wall or floor or chair. Connor helps him out as best he can but sometimes thing break. Much to the amusement of Ellie and Jordan.

It isn’t long before Robin, Kid Flash and Aqualad come to visit and witness one of those accidents too. And the bombardment of questions about his new superpower begins. At this point Danny then tells them that he knows he was adopted by Superman and the letter but he doesn’t actually know What he is. And after Superman didn’t accept Connor and the twins like Danny expected he is unsure how big blue will react to this very non kryptonian power.

Wally wanting to dispel the somber mood asks, “Wait, if you’re not kryptonian then why does kryptonite affect you?”

“It actually doesn’t.”Danny answered with a mischievous smile. “I just ham it up pretending like it does and the when the bad guy of the week looks away I’ll throw it as far away from Dad as possible. Plus I was getting free candy from other league members in the feel better cards.”

“That’s actually a brilliant strategy.” Dick smiled wishing he could have done something like that.

A week later and Martian Manhunter arrives on earth with his stow away niece. Superman is quick to greet him and explain the situation asking for j’on to do the mind scan for any hidden programming so he can get this conflict with Danny resolved.

After the mind scan confirmed there isn’t anything to worry about Superman tries to apologize for over reacting. However after spending too weeks hearing Danny and Clark argue and feeling like it is fault Connor says he is going to stay at mount justice anyway. Thinking that Danny is better off with his Superman if he is out of the way. Danny and Clark both realize the messed up but don’t know what to do about it.

Meanwhile Batman and Martian manhunter, is off in another room talking over video call with Green arrow and Wonder Woman about their new protégés joining this new team.

Time skip another week and M’Gan/Megan is now living at the mountain. Danny is going back and forth. But until they come up with a cover story where the twins came from they are staying at mount justice too. Superman thinks the godfather story would only work once.

To tired to do more now.

Super Phantom

Writing prompt #3

Danny reveals his ghost half to his parents and they took it well accepting him. As a result the doctors Fenton then backed out of the weapons deal they had with the GIW and are actively protecting Phantom from them.

The GIW don’t give up even after the anti ecto acts are being repealed and sabotaged the gas tank for Nasty Burger’s grill. This causes the explosion that would Kill Danny’s family and friends there for Jazz’s graduation celebration. Clockwork foresaw of a Dan event happening and froze time to take and de-age Danny, Jazz, Sam, Tucker and Vallarta. (Clockwork is a jerk and frankly blames Jack and Maddie for making the he portals that caused both Vlad and Danny’s halfa status and a lot more work for him. He is letting those two die.)

Clockwork then sends the Deaged to babies/toddler to different places in the Yong Justice cartoon DC universe. All the kids are liminal and have powers.

Jazz now a 3 year old is sent to Hippallita on Themescira. (Excuse my spelling) liminal powers make her strength on par with Amazons.

Sam, age 1 as well and sent to Giovanni Zattarra. Three year old Zatana gets a younger sister that also has the gift of magic. Especially nature/plant magic.

Tucker I had a hard time deciding but eventually chose Lucius Fox. (If you can think of someone better go ahead and make suggestions.)

Vallarie was Supposed to be sent to Ted Kord, but Lex Luthor was trying to tap into the watchtower’s zeta tubs but accidentally got clockwork’s portal instead. It cased he basket to be dropped instead of gently set down. Startled, two year old Vallarie instinctively activates her ghost tech armor. Now that is a curious unexpected asset Lex will find a way to utilize.

And finally deaged to one year old Danny is sent in a in a basket with a solar system print blanket with a envelope sitting on top. The portal opens and the basket is carefully set on the table with the note. Then clockwork places a folder thick with other papers of to the side. He retreats into the portal closing it behind him just as the apartment door is opening.

Clark Kent has just finished his third week of work at the Daily Planet, the evening patrol and even grocery shopping. Thoughts of the paper he needs to write and turn in the morning are on his mind as he enters his apartment in time to notice a Green glow wink out of existence from his kitchen door. He drops the now forgotten grocery bags when he hears the tiny heartbeat and rushes over to the basket on the table.

A sleeping baby. A baby! Wha- how had anyone. When his brain stops stalling he notices the letter. It reads:

Superman,

The boy’s name is Danny. You are the most likely to survive him learning to use his powers as they emerge. His parents died trying to protect him. It is not safe for him here.

I have already forged the legal documents naming you as his godfather and a cover story in the attached folder. Also three gold coins will be sent to you each month as child support. If anyone else looks at this letter the text will change to simply read that you are the godfather of this recently orphaned boy.

Clockwork.

Clark stood in shock rereading the letter in shock a dozen times. Before Lois snapped him out of it.

“Hey Smallville, it may not be Gotham but even in Metropolis you shouldn’t just leave your door open.” She called as she entered from the hall. Then she noticed the spilled bags of groceries on the floor. And came in. “Are you ok? You may be a klutz but you always pick u- Oh My God, That’s a Baby!”

Well that is enough for tonight. I will add on more later. Wonder how quickly this would grow if I don’t tag anyone? Eh just a few. @bloggerspam @confusedshades @hypewinter @zylev-blog @kizzer55555

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny phantom #batman #story prompt #batfam #danny fenton #dc comics

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eliemo · 2 years ago

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A Match Into Water

Summary: He could hold out for a few minutes. Just a few more minutes. The team would track them down and Flash would be there in seconds to pull Batman out of the water and get Superman out of his chains. Any minute now.

TW for kidnapping, drowning, poison, implied character death, watching someone die, fake death, and Lex Luthor. This one's kinda heavy gang so just be safe

The rattling of chains came to an abrupt halt, the fight leaving Clark in an instant, frozen in place as soon as the back door slid open in a blur of motion.

His heart stopped, the next heaving breath caught in his throat as Lex Luthor stepped aside to reveal what his men had gone to retrieve, a sickening glint of excitement in his eyes.

“Luthor,” he warned, wishing his voice came out stronger, anything but the rapidly weakening plea. “Don’t do this. This is between you and me. Let him go.”

He gave his restraints another tug, a bit more frantic than he’d been for the last hour, but the chains held steady, securely bolted to the ceiling. He could practically feel the Kryptonite seeping into his veins, slowly sapping him of his powers and strength, leaving him strung up and helpless.

They weren’t budging, and Clark was coming to the sickening realization that Lex had set them up like this deliberately, Superman alone on one end of the room, watching the others move across from him.

A spectator’s seat.

This had been intentional, leaving him just strong enough to keep himself upright, to stay awake and aware. Lex had known he’d refuse to give up the codes to the Watchtower, refuse to put the League and countless innocent civilians in danger.

And now he had Batman presented at the other end of the room, dumped unceremoniously onto the floor, well out of Superman’s reach.

This had all been planned. He’d captured Batman long before he’d captured Superman. Trying to bargain had only been for show, to lure Clark into a false sense of control, and Clark had fallen for it, unshakably confident in the knowledge that he would be the only one in danger, the only one hurt. He could hold out for his team, he always could.

Lex was always smarter than they gave him credit for.

“Luthor-”

“I don’t need Kryptonite to break you, Superman,” Lex said, a sickly calm to his tone. “I’m only going to ask you one more time. I need those Watchtower security codes, and we both know our friend here won’t give them up.”

He tore his gaze away as Lex jerked his chin to the struggle happening at his feet, lips curling in disgust. Clark was going to be sick.

It took four men to hold Batman down, even with his hands cuffed behind his back and his ankles tied tight together with rope. Bruce thrashed and bucked under their weight pressing him into the cold hard floor, snarling and glaring under his battered cowl, the black leather of the mask stained with dark red blood. Clark doubted it was his own.

“Hold him still,” Lex snapped, and Clark could do nothing but watch as Luthor’s metal boot collided with Bruce’s skull with an awful clunk, the Bat’s fight momentarily coming to a stop before weakly picking back up. “Don’t fight, Batman. Or I’ll fill this room with so much Kryptonite our friend here won’t be alive to see what I have planned for you.”

And just like that Bruce went perfectly still, only lifting his head just enough to meet Clark’s eyes across the room, his gaze hard and unwavering.

He wished he shared his friend’s talent for staying so perfectly composed and unreadable under pressure. Clark felt like he was being held underwater, throat tight, pressure wrapped tight around his chest.

Maybe it was just the Kryptonite eating away at his powers, slow and steady.

But Lex was rounding on him again, leaving Batman pinned to the ground with blood dribbling down his chin, and Clark took a steadying breath. He was still the Man of Steel. Even in a room laced with Kryptonite, he was still Superman. He was going to get them both out of this.

Before Clark could find his voice one of Luthor’s thugs struck at the back of Bruce’s head and another swung a boot at his ribs, the attack sudden enough that it managed to pull a pained grunt from Batman’s lips, his bared teeth stained red like a wounded animal.

“Hey!” Clark’s voice sounded small to his own ears, nowhere near his usual bravado, and the outburst got him an amused eyebrow raise from Lex. “Leave him alone! He was cooperating!”

“Hardly,” Lex sneered, but he raised a hand to signal a stop to the beating regardless. “These gentlemen I’ve hired happen to be from Gotham. Old Arkham inmates, actually. You can imagine they have a… personal vendetta against your friend here.”

“He has nothing to do with this,” Clark said, heart leaping into his throat. They hadn’t gone to remove Bruce’s cowl, either a show of good faith from Luthor or- more likely- someone had tried and quickly become acquainted with the suit’s new security system. Clark had seen that electric shock knock a grown man off his feet. “You have me, Luthor. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Let him go.”

“Call it insurance,” Lex said, pacing the distance between Bruce and Clark, hands clasped behind his back. “I’m making this very simple for you. Give me the Watchtower codes, or I’ll kill your friend.”

“Superman,” Batman barked, sharp voice ringing clear across the empty laboratory. “Don’t you dare.”

Clark turned to him, helpless, swallowing against the dread rising in his throat. He was losing his composure, falling apart at the seams, but Bruce just blinked at him, piercing blue gaze steady and cold, always enough to hold them both together.

And Clark had known Bruce long enough to hear the unspoken words in his glare. Don’t do this. Don’t give them up for me. Do not put their blood on my hands. Please.

Bruce would never forgive him for giving up. And, Clark reminded himself, he was still Batman. He always had a plan. Lex Luthor would not be what got in between Bruce and his mission.

He nodded, chest tightening at the way Bruce visibly relaxed, and turned back to Lex, fighting to keep his face impassive. Controlled and unbothered. He knew it was useless. “You know I can’t do that.”

Luthor didn’t look surprised, matching Superman’s response with equal nonchalance. “Fine. Have it your way.”

The next moment happened in a horrifying blur, Clark feeling almost disconnected from his own body as he watched everything happen around him in what felt like slow motion, distantly aware of Bruce’s eyes locked onto his, a weak tether to keep him grounded.

Lex snapped his fingers and the back door opened again, two more of Lex’s henchmen stepping into the room carrying… something in between them. It looked like a metal container, barely a few feet in length and width. The container was set down in front of Batman, the metal meeting the cement floors with a heavy thud, and Clark could see the gears turning in Bruce’s head, eyes glazing over with something he couldn’t quite get a read on.

The henchmen started moving, pacing the room for supplies under Lex’s watchful eye, and the anticipation left Clark restless, weakly pulling at his chains again.

It wasn’t until the sound of rushing water filled the room, a long green hose now hooked up to the far wall, that ice cold realization began to settle in Clark’s gut.

“Luthor,” he called, hating the uneasiness seeping into his tone so easily. “What are you doing? Luthor!”

Lex didn’t respond, but Clark had a pretty good idea of where this was going when the billionaire stepped aside, allowing his men to drape the hose over the side of the container, filling it to the brim.

Bruce, to his credit, didn’t react to the commotion around him. Not in a way that would be visible to anyone who didn’t know him, anyway. But Clark had known Batman for years now. Bruce was a heartbeat Superman could pick out in a crowd without any effort, the steady rhythm as familiar to him as his own. Clark could see the way he held himself tense, jaw clenched, something like uncertainty flickering in blue eyes.

And Clark couldn’t even move an inch closer.

The container was filled, the room still and quiet as the henchmen hurried back out of the room like they’d never been there in the first place, leaving Batman to be manhandled to his knees by the Gotham thugs, Lex taking a careful step back when Bruce bared his teeth again.

Everything moved with a synchronized precision, like this was just another experiment, something they were trained to carry out without a hint of remorse.

Like the room didn’t carry the air of watching a man being led to the gallows.

Nobody spared Clark another glance, no matter how much he struggled or how loud he screamed. It was like he wasn’t even here. Like Lex knew he wouldn’t look away. Batman kept trying to look in his direction, his glances almost frantic, but it was impossible to hold his gaze for long with the way he was being yanked around.

Luthor waited until Batman was thoroughly pinned, the men keeping him hovered over the water, before striding dangerously close, and something fierce and protective sparked to life in Clark’s chest.

“I’m sure you think you have something up your sleeve, Batman.” He reached out a hand, and Clark felt sick from something far more than just the Kryptonite chains when Lex delicately traced the ears of the cowl, fingers eventually moving to rest almost gently on the top of the mask. He didn’t miss the way Bruce twitched, unable to move away. “So I’ll reiterate. Try anything, and I flood this room with enough Kryptonite to kill Superman in seconds.”

And then, before Clark could so much as scream, Lex grabbed the back of Bruce’s neck and plunged his head underwater.

“No!”

Bruce didn’t even fight, motionless under the hands holding him down, and Clark realized that it didn’t matter whether Lex had been bluffing or not. Bruce wouldn’t take that chance, not when Clark’s life was on the line. Any escape plan was off the table.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. This was not how Bruce was going down, Clark knew him better than that. He had a backup plan, a way out, an idea forming in that brilliant head, he always did. He always did.

Where the hell was the League?

It wasn’t until Bruce started to thrash, bound hands curling into fists behind his back, that the reality began to fully settle in, panic rising to something suffocating.

There was no backup plan. There was no one coming. There was no escape. And Batman was drowning- Bruce was drowning just a few yards away, and there wasn’t a damn thing Clark could do about it.

With nothing else to do but pull thrash desperately in his restraints and fight to see through his blurry vision, Superman found himself spiraling, frantically trying to piece together a solution, an idea, anything.

How long can Batman hold his breath? Longer than a normal human, Clark was sure of that. Bruce prepared for every possible scenario, trained his body to go past its limits, pushing himself to the brink night after night.

He could hold out for a few minutes. Just a few more minutes. The team would track them down and Flash would be there in seconds to pull Batman out of the water and get Superman out of his chains.

Any minute now.

Batman’s thrashing was growing desperate, armor crashing against the side of the metal tub with his flailing, and the goons were clearly struggling to hold him down as the Bat’s body fought on instinct alone, his will for survival always his greatest weapon. They were sitting on his legs now, leaning all their weight into his back, forcing him deeper into the water.

Clark had lost his super hearing long ago, the chains sapping him of his powers one by one. He couldn’t hear Bruce’s heartbeat anymore, but he could still hear the muffled, garbled noises coming from his friend, Batman fighting for every last bit of oxygen being ripped away from him.

It couldn’t have even been three minutes before the water started to bubble, Bruce’s mouth forced open in a desperate breath for air he couldn’t have, and Clark just barely heard the choking, painful scream from underwater.

“Luthor!” Any resolve he might have had, any act of defiance or honor or pride or loyalty to anything other than the man being killed right in front of him was gone. Superman might have held on, for the greater good. But right now, all that was left was Clark Kent. “Luthor, let him go! I’ll give you anything you want, just leave him alone! Please!”

Luthor had removed his hand, stepping back to let the thugs have their way after the first few seconds, and he hadn’t once turned to watch the scene unfolding beside him, his eyes now only for Superman, a dangerous glow of triumph on his face. “You had your chance.”

“Lex please.” He didn’t care that he was begging. It didn’t matter. “You’re killing him! Luthor!”

“I did warn you, Superman.”

“Lex!”

There was an awful ringing in his ears, the world going gray and eerily silent as he pried his gaze away from Luthor and refocused on the scene in front of him.

If he made it out of this alive, no matter the outcome, Clark knew that image would be scarred in his head forever, replaying every time he shut his eyes. Bruce, roughly draped over the edge of the metal tub, head forced under the water, his desperate fight for life slowly dying down.

“Batman!” he screamed again, like it would make a difference. Like Bruce could hear him. Like Clark could still save him. “Let him go! Please. Please, just let him breathe, please! Get off of him!”

But no one was paying him any attention. The goons hadn’t glanced up once, sadistic grins never faltering as they held the Bat under, cackling excitedly amongst themselves as his struggles finally came to a stop. Lex just kept staring, smiling in the face of Superman’s desperation like he couldn’t even hear his pleads.

Bruce went limp, but still nobody moved to pull him back to the surface. One of them shoved him in further, a hand fisted in the back of his cowl, and Clark saw red.

It felt like an eternity before Batman was finally yanked out of the water, time moving in slow motion, the goons discarding his soaking wet form on the ground like a pile of trash.

Get up, Clark thought, bile rising in his throat, the world spinning dangerously out of control. Get up, Bruce. Get up. You always get up.

But Bruce didn’t get up, didn’t open his mouth to breathe, didn’t even move, and everything was still spinning.

“What did you do?” Clark demanded, but his voice sounded weak to his own ears. “What did you do?”

“Sending a message,” Lex said, uncaring, like he was talking about something as meager as the weather. Like Batman wasn’t lying still just a few paces away. Like that wasn’t Clark’s best friend unmoving and ghostly pale on the floor. “Maybe now you’ll be inclined to listen to my demands.”

“Listen to your demands,” Superman echoed, hollow. Empty. The emotions were there, anger and sorrow and grief waiting just below the surface, but something in Clark was keeping him disconnected. Reality just out of his reach. “Listen to your demands? I- that… that was my best friend, Luthor. You… I’m going to kill you!”

“Are you?” Lex asked with an infuriatingly smug raise of his eyebrow. “You should have done that earlier. It might have saved your friend’s life.”

Clark thought he heard himself yell, wordless and furious and entirely pointless, his fight against the kryptonite chains still getting him nowhere, his struggles weaker than they’d been when Bruce was still breathing.

Bruce wasn’t breathing. His chest wasn’t rising, his lips were tinged blue, parted slightly, eyes behind the mask slipped shut.

Get up, Clark thought again, more desperate by the moment. Get up. Please, Bruce. Please.

Lex was moving, wandering over to where Bruce lay, nudging the lifeless body with the toe of his boot like he was observing an animal carcass. Making sure the Bat was dead.

He sure as hell looked dead to Clark.

He’s not dead. He’s not dead, he isn’t dead. He’s fine. He’ll be fine. He’s always fine.

He was The Batman. He wasn’t going to go out like this, silent and helpless at the hands of a few Gotham thugs Lex had paid to prove a point.

But he wasn’t breathing. Bruce wasn’t breathing and he’d been under so long and Clark couldn’t… he couldn’t…

He thought Lex might have been saying something. Luthor was moving towards him again, his lips moving, but for the life of him Clark couldn’t make anything out, everything suddenly far away, silent. Like he was the one being held underwater.

It proved not to matter, in the end.

The metal door flew off its hinges, slamming into the concrete with what Clark was sure would have been a deafening thud if his ears were working, a glowing green light flooding into the dingy room.

The goons were reaching for weapons, Lex was scrambling back in alarm, but Clark couldn’t bring himself to care. The cavalry was here, minutes too late. Superman only had eyes for the body on the floor, the ghostly pallor of Bruce’s lifeless face now illuminated by Green Lantern’s ring, his armor like a puddle of shadows bleeding into the soaked floor.

There was a gust of wing, a flash of color, and suddenly a red and yellow suit was standing in front of him, blocking his view.

And that… that was the last straw. Not being able to see Bruce anymore broke something in him, everything rushing back with horrible clarity all at once.

“Flash,” he croaked, meeting the younger man’s wide eyes. “Flash-”

“I gotcha,” Barry said, like they weren’t already too late. “I’m getting you down, Supes. Just hang tight.”

“Batman’s down,” Clark said, like they couldn’t see that. Like anything he did or said could make a difference. “He’s… I- I need-”

“It’s okay,” Flash said, sounding for all the world like nothing more than a terrified kid. Clark couldn��t find it in himself to be the one comforting him this time. “It’s… Jesus, where did he even get this much Kryptonite.”

Flash was already working on the cuffs, hands moving faster than Clark could possibly keep up with even when he had his powers. A part of him wanted to snap at Flash to hurry, that the Kryptonite wasn’t the issue right now. Nothing else mattered except getting to Bruce, making him breathe again.

But he didn’t. He kept his mouth shut, too scared and exhausted to waste it on something as futile as anger towards his terrified teammate.

The chains came undone without warning, falling away like something useless, and Clark dropped to the ground like a stone. Or he would have, if Barry hadn’t been back at his side in the blink of an eye, arms wrapped around him, scrambling back in an effort to keep Superman’s weight upright.

“Whoa, it’s okay,” Flash said again, breathless. “You’re okay, just breathe. We’re-”

His words, a misguided attempt just to be helpful, spurred Superman back into action despite his body’s traitorous fatigue. He twisted out of Barry’s hold, grateful that the Flash willingly let him go without a fight, stumbling across the room in blind desperation.

He had to get to Bruce. He had to.

The battle had clearly been finished quickly, everything still a blur of indistinguishable movement, Lex and his bloodthirsty goons somewhere out of Clark’s sight. It didn’t matter.

J’onn was kneeling beside Batman, making no move to help- to do anything. The Martian was just staring, expressionless, and deep down Clark knew… he knew…

He knew it was because there was nothing left to do.

But he couldn’t just give up so easily. Not on Batman. Bruce deserved better than that.

“Move!” Any authority in his voice was lost by the way it trembled, the way his legs gave out as soon as he reached his teammates and he crashed to his knees, agony shooting through his battered body. “Get out of my way. Please.”

“Superman-”

He ignored whatever J’onn had been about to say, pushing past him with all the desperation of a dying man, unsteady hands finding Bruce’s face before he could think better of it, framing his jaw.

He was so cold. His head lolled when Clark jostled him, his body completely limp, the cowl soaked through. Superman dropped his hand, yanking off Bruce’s glove and gauntlet as fast as he possibly could and pressing two fingers to his wrist.

He’d never had to take a pulse before. He’d learned, of course, Bruce had been the one to insist on making sure he knew how in case of an emergency. In case of something like this.

Clark had never thought he’d have to live through the reality of not being able to hear Bruce’s heartbeat.

But here he was, just as lost as he would be if he still had his powers. Because Bruce didn’t have a pulse.

“No.” He didn’t know who he was talking to. Maybe himself. Maybe Bruce. It still didn’t matter. “No, no no, B, no!”

He fisted his hands into the edges of Bruce’s cape, clutching at him, stomach roiling when Batman remained unresponsive. He should be pushing himself up on his elbows, scowling at Clark for getting too close, shoving Superman away with a lecture about carelessness already falling from his lips. (Lips now tinged a horrible, deathly blue.)

Because he had to be okay. He was always okay.

Superman was running on autopilot now, every survival instinct kicking into overdrive. His hands found Batman’s chest, numb hands digging into the armor, frantically starting the compressions he never would have dared to do if he was at full strength. Why hadn’t anyone bothered to do CPR yet? Why were they giving up so easily?

Why wasn’t anyone helping him?

Clark’s movements were frantic, the compressions a poor imitation of the proper rhythm, Superman slamming his crossed hands against Batman’s chest over and over again, his breaths coming faster and faster, the world drowned out by his own hyperventilating and panicked, pleading thoughts.

If he’d been at full strength, he would have left Bruce’s chest caved in, in his misguided attempt to help, all control lost to his desperation. He wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t breaking a few ribs as it was.

It doesn’t matter if he’s already dead, a traitorous, grieving voice whispered in the back of his head. It doesn’t matter what’s broken as long as he opens his eyes again.

“Superman!” He knew someone was calling his name but it was all background noise, the voice indistinguishable. Nothing mattered except getting the water out of Bruce’s lungs. Nothing mattered except getting his heart to beat again. “Superman!”

Bruce’s head lolled when Clark pushed harder, face still blank and body limp, water pooling out the side of his mouth. He made no move to cough it up, to struggle for air, to move to breathe.

“Superman, you need to get off him!” There were hands on his shoulders, firm but steady, and Clark tensed when they started to gently tug him back. In the back of his mind, through the panicked haze, he could just barely register Diana’s presence, the tightness to her words, her voice in his ear. “Kal, listen to me!”

Clark’s hands were being pried from Batman’s chest, an arm around his shoulders tugging him back, and Superman saw red.

“No!” They were trying to take him away from Bruce. They were trying to tear him away, abandon Batman’s side, leave his best friend hurting and vulnerable and alone. He thrashed against the hold, fighting despite his growing weakness, giving everything he had left to get back to Bruce. “Let go of me! Let go, let me- he’s not breathing! He isn’t breathing!”

“We know,” Diana said in his ear, tone unreadable. Clark didn’t stop struggling, didn’t let his movements slow for a second. Bruce needed him. “We know. You need to let us help him.”

Nobody else was helping Bruce. Nobody was even trying. They’d just left him laying there, left to die in Lex’s warehouse, the life sucked out of him right before Clark’s eyes and nobody cared-

“J’onn!” he heard Wonder Woman bark. “Help me with him!”

No. No no no, they couldn’t… they couldn’t take him away. Bruce was dying, laying there defenseless and still (not dead, not dead he couldn’t be dead) and Clark needed to… he needed…

There was the cold touch of something against his forehead, a pinching in his neck, and suddenly the world spiraled into darkness.

There was no gradual rise to awareness, no reality slowly filtering in, no realization dawning as clarity came back to his hazy mind. It didn’t happen slow. He didn’t get a chance to brace himself for the truth to hit.

Clark woke, and he knew Bruce was dead.

He didn’t open his eyes, didn’t move a muscle, because he knew the second he did the grief would be unbearable. It was already settled heavy on his chest, looming over him, mocking him, waiting to strike as soon as he came back fully to the waking world.

Clark’s head still felt fuzzy, his limbs stiff and sore. He could hear the beeping and whirring of machinery, felt the familiar cot under his back, and knew he was in the Watchtower’s medical bay.

They’d brought him here after dragging Superman off Batman’s lifeless body.

His powers were back, that much he could tell, though not quite at full power. His head was sluggish, throbbing in time to his beating heart, and he hadn’t even risked opening his eyes against the light yet.

Clark could hear a second heartbeat in the room, muffled and a little disorientating, the sound nowhere near as clear as it would have been if his powers were at full capacity.

It took him another moment to register the feeling, but as the world filtered back into focus, Clark latched onto the feeling of a warm hand tangled in his own, the hold firm and grounding, waiting at his bedside for Superman to wake.

Diana, most likely. They’d… they’d both lost a close friend tonight. Neither one of them would be able to handle the weight of that grief alone.

Not when it was Bruce. Not when it had been Clark’s fault. Not when they’d been minutes too late.

He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to come back to reality, didn’t want to face that grief head on, didn’t want to let the crushing weight of mourning his best friend wash over him. He didn’t want to feel the guilt, feel the pitying stares of the team, the resenting glares of Batman’s family.

But he couldn’t hide forever.

Peeling his eyes opened felt like the strain of lifting a building from the ground (a feat he knew all too well) and a breathy wheeze escaped his lips as he forced himself to raise his head, white hot pain shooting through his skull. Clearly his powers weren’t anywhere near fully recovered. There was shuffling at his side, the hand in his own squeezing, and Clark stubbornly blinked against the blinding pain as the world came back into focus.

Only to be met with familiar, tired blue eyes.

It was nothing short of a miracle that he had the strength to shoot up as suddenly as he did, the world spinning dangerously for a moment while he gripped the cot’s flimsy sheets, struggling to balance his weight on weakened arms.

Because Bruce was at his bedside, slumped against one of the notoriously uncomfortable plastic chairs, eyes bright with concern as he straightened at Clark’s sudden movement.

He looked exhausted, face paler than usual, cheeks sunken, eyebags darker than Clark thought he’d ever seen them. He was in wrinkled civilian clothes that looked about two sizes too big, his hair was a mess, but he was alive. Bruce was awake and alive, just inches away from him, and Clark didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

Bruce cleared his throat, the sound still wet and ragged, and Clark was immediately thrown back to the warehouse, to Batman choking underwater, to his fight slowing down before dying out completely.

Clammy, cold skin against Clark’s shaking hands. No pulse. Lifeless.

He flinched back before Bruce could so much as blink, his weakened body protesting the movement, squeezing his eyes shut like he could somehow dispel whatever nightmare he was still trapped in. “No.”

“Clark-”

“No, you’re dead.” He needed to wake up. Clinging to the impossible, torturing himself with his dead friend would only hurt worse than letting go. “You-”

“I’m alright, Clark.”

“No you’re not.” His voice was far away. Fading. Like a dream. It wasn’t real. “You… your heart stopped, you weren’t breathing, I… I couldn’t…”

“Clark-”

“I couldn’t save you,” Clark whispered, small and helpless, unable to do anything but repeat it. “I couldn’t save you. There wasn’t… there wasn’t anything I could do.”

Because it was true. Bruce had been under too long, unmoving for too long, left discarded without rescue breaths for too long. Even Batman couldn’t come back from that. Even Bruce’s heart couldn’t start beating again once it stopped for good.

“Please just… please-”

“Clark.” A hand on his face, another around his wrist, and Clark went perfectly still. The touch was warm, and so achingly familiar. “Clark, it’s me. It’s me. I’m here, I’m alright. I’m alright, Clark.”

Clark shook his head, but he squeezed the dream’s hand despite every instinct screaming at him to pull away. “You… I watched you die. I watched you die.”

“I didn’t die,” Bruce corrected, like this wasn’t impossible, like this was just another argument in the meeting room. “I’m not dead, Kal. Look at me. Look at me. I’m right here next to you. Open your eyes, Clark. Look at me, please.”

And even if this was a dream, a horrible twisted nightmare to spark false hope before it all came crashing down as some sort of penance, he’d never been able to deny Bruce anything. Not when he asked like that.

He didn’t disappear right before Clark’s eyes when he finally risked a glance in the direction of Bruce’s voice. The warmth from his hand didn’t dissipate, and Superman blinked, tilting his head as he cautiously drank in the sight of his friend’s pale face.

Bruce looked right back at him, awake and breathing, blue eyes undeniably exhausted and cloudy, but still bright and aware. Alive.

“I… how did-”��

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, and if he wanted to convince Clark this wasn’t a dream that certainly wasn’t the way to do it. “There was no way to… they got to you before I could warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“I wasn’t dead, Clark,” Bruce said plainly, mouth twitching when Clark just stared blankly. “Dick and I worked on a failsafe a few years ago. It’s a combination of toxins, it binds and blocks sodium channels. Keeps them from entering the cells.”

“Bruce,” Clark choked, because his head was spinning, and there was no way he’d be able to keep up with this even at full strength. “Please.”

“I poisoned myself,” Bruce said slowly, and for once Clark appreciated the drawn out tone. “Tetrodotoxin. It sent my body into paralysis, essentially. It lowered my heart rate and slowed my breathing enough to make me look dead to the human eye. I put it in a capsule in my tooth when I found out Lex was coming for me. Like a cyanide pill. You would have been able to pick up my heart rate, but-”

“You poisoned yourself,” Clark breathed. “While they were torturing you.”

“They were going to kill me either way. I knew he was coming for me, and I knew that he would use my life as a bargaining chip. They already had you, all I could do was get a message to J’onn about an antidote so he’d know what to do when the League came for us.”

“You… Bruce-”

“I can hold my breath for over seven minutes,” Bruce continued, like this was fine, like Clark needed a damn mission report. “If Lex thought I was dead before that, he’d pull me out of the water, and it would give the League enough time to track our location.”

“And what if he’d left you underwater?”

“He didn’t,” Bruce said, and it might have been more convincing if the words weren’t followed by a wet, ragged cough. “And it worked. I’m fine, Clark. We got out.”

“I… B, I thought…” And suddenly none of this mattered. It didn’t matter that Bruce was alive, that all of it had been fake, that they were safe in the Watchtower infirmary, Bruce already prepared to put all of this behind him, chuck it over his shoulders like every other horror he lived through every night, trauma no human man should ever shrug off so easily.

It didn’t matter that this was Batman, that physical touch was something to be approached like disarming an active bomb, that there was every possibility he’d be shoved away so hard he’d fall right over the edge of the bed.

Clark practically threw himself forward, wrapping his arms tight around his best friend and pulling him as close as he could, holding the man who had been nothing more than a corpse just hours ago and pressing his face into his shoulder.

Bruce froze, stiff and unmoving for a terrifying heartbeat before forcing himself to relax, tension seeping from his muscles as his arms slowly moved to return the embrace, holding on just as tight.

“You’re okay,” Clark said, more to himself than anything, barely a whisper into Bruce’s shirt. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Bruce’s hand moved to cup the back of Clark’s head, trembling slightly when he ran his fingers through his hair. Something told Clark they’d both needed this. “I’m okay. I’m okay, Clark.”

There was so much more Clark wanted to say, a million emotions rushing to the surface that he so desperately wanted to let spill out, the weight of their meaning sitting heavy on his chest like they had been for months now.

But Bruce was leaning into his touch, heavy and exhausted with his breaths still far too ragged and labored, and Clark decided it could wait. Right now, he was more than happy to hold Bruce close like this, like he never planned on letting go.

149 notes · View notes

bts-reveries · 3 years ago

Text

three little monsters

characters: Jin x family (OC!Mae, Minseok, Soojin, Haneul, and Taeyang)

genre: family and fluff

request: [@tan-dulset] Please have a drabble with jin where he was left to take care of soojin, haneul and taeyang. This time no minseok around to help him and the 3 little ones are being a trouble maker and not giving him a break. Like this ep fron return of the superman 👉🏻 here and here

It's up to you if you want one of the boys to be called and help him or just leave him to suffer alone 😂

And a part like this please lol

a/n: this wasn’t as intense, but just a quick small part including the photos you sent~ i’ll make another one in the future where they’re being more troublemakerish

just imagine naeun, gunho, and jinwoo from rots in the second part lol

➳➳➳➳➳➳➳

“Where are you going?” Jin asks, watching his wife put on a jacket. Mae walks over to the coffee table, grabbing her keys that she left there.

“Minseok has a dentist appointment, remember?” Mae answers. Just in time, Minseok comes out of the hallway, already dressed and ready to go.

Mae laughs, looking at the expression her husband was making as he quickly realized that he was going to be home alone with the three youngest.

Sounds familiar doesn’t it?

“We shouldn’t be gone for too long, so don’t worry,” Mae says, walking out the door. She waves at Jin.

“No good luck kiss?” Jin calls out as soon as she’s gone from his sight.

“Good luck kiss for what?” Soojin asks, walking to the couch and standing in front of her dad.

“Mommy left me to take care of you three little monsters,” Jin replies, standing up and sighing.

“What’s wrong with that?” Soojin says, following Jin as he walks to the youngests’ room.

Both Haneul and Taeyang were peacefully sleeping in their bed. Mae had put them down for a nap next to each other an hour ago. Haneul woke up super early today for some reason, so he ended up napping with his little brother.

“Let’s hope they stay asleep until mommy gets back,” Jin says in a whisper, peeking into the room.

“Why?” Soojin says loudly, accidentally pushing the door wide open, and falling on the floor. “OoHg!”

“Aish!” Jin reacts, quickly bending down and picking his daughter up.

“Daddy,” Haneul mumbles, slowly sitting up. He rubs his eyes, blinking up at his dad and sister. Jin’s eyes widens and he puts a finger to his mouth.

“Shh,” he says, mouthing to his second youngest. “Don’t wake up your brother.”

Haneul looked down at Taeyang, who was stirring a bit.

“Taeto,” Haneul mumbles, a yawn escaping his mouth. He doesn’t usually call Taeyang by his actual name but instead the name they gave him before he was born. “Daddy says wake up.” He misunderstands.

“N-no,” Jin says, dropping his head back as Haneul shakes his younger brother awake.

You’d think having an eight year old, a five year old, and a two year old wouldn’t be too bad. Just because two of them are old enough to listen.

But with these three…

It’s a different story.

“Carry me too!” Haneul says, reaching up to his dad.

“Me too me too!” Taeyang calls, already trying to climb up Jin’s legs. Right now Jin had Soojin in his arms. He carried her like a baby.

“Not now,” Jin says, trying to shake the little ones off. “Now what was I saying…” Jin says, turning to his daughter.

Soojin sighs. “Boys.” Again, the topic comes up a lot, just because Huimang and Hana apparently had boyfriends now.

“Right,” Jin says. “You’re not allowed. Okay? If you get a boyfriend, daddy will be sad. You have three brothers and daddy, you don’t need any other men in your life, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Soojin says. “I don’t know if I want one anyways. Boys are icky. Look.” Soojin says, looking down at Taeyang and Haneul picking their noses.

“So gross,” she grimaces. Jin laughs at her. Quite proud surprisingly.

“Daddy cawwey us!!” Taeyang yells in frustration, reaching up at Jin.

“I can’t carry all of you at the same time. Are you kidding?”

“Try it! Try it!” Haneul says excitedly, pulling Jin down by his shirt. Jin gives in, bending down and the two little ones immediately go behind him, climbing his back.

“Now stand up,” Haneul says. Him and his brother are clinging tightly to his neck and shoulders. Jin laughs, dropping his head down.

“How am I going to do that, you guys are so heavy.”

“Don’t you workout with uncle JK and uncle Joonie,” Soojin reminds him. “You three always argue on who has more muscles. Show us what you got!” She taps his shoulders.

“Yeah, show us!” Haneul yells.

“Yeah!” Taeyang agrees, bouncing up and down.

“Okay okay okay,” Jin agrees, fixing his legs. “But if I can get up, you three have to tell uncle JK and uncle Joonie that I’m better at them.”

“Only if you’re able to hold us up,” Soojin tells him, a smirk on her face.

“Yah, I’ll be able to okay,” Jin says, suddenly up for the challenge.

“Okay, hurry up then,” Haneul says, losing his patience. Jin takes a deep breath before standing up.

“UGH,” he groans, as if he was lifting heavy weights. “YAH.” He yelled, as soon as he was able to stand up straight. Soojin's eyes grew wide, her jaw dropping.

“AH!” Haneul laughs, hanging onto his dad’s back.

“Hold on tight,” Jin says, feeling Taeyang starting to slip off.

“AH!” He then yells, feeling his youngest grabbing his neck and pulling, making his dad choke.

“Y-yah,” Jin says, struggling to hold them all as Taeyang blocked his airways, by hugging his dad’s neck instead.

“Taeyang-ah! Not his neck!” Soojin yells, trying to break her brother’s hold on their dad. Jin was turning a light shade of red already.

“D-don’t drop him,” Jin chokes out. He starts to crumble onto the floor, putting Soojin down. Haneul lets go as he starts to worry about his dad. Jin immediately goes for his neck, undoing Taeyang’s tight hold.

“Yah,” he breathes out, turning around and facing his youngest. Jin tries to catch his breath. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Taeyang looks at his sister, then at his brother before looking at Jin. His lip started to quiver.

“Yah, don’t cry now, I’m the one who should be crying,” Jin says. “I almost died!”

“You’re making him feel bad,” Soojin says, going up to hug her brother.

“Who’s making who feel bad?” Mae says, stepping into the living room. Minseok comes out from behind her.

“How was the dentist?” Jin asks. Minseok gave him a thumbs up as he had cotton in his mouth and couldn’t speak.

“Taeyang’s crying because he almost killed daddy,” Haneul says, pointing at his brother.

“Taeyang almost what?” Mae asks, walking up to the four.

“You almost lost a husband today,” Jin says, dropping onto the floor and playing dead. “I need CPR.” He says, puckering his lips, eyes closed.

Mae laughs, walking over to Jin and pressing a quick kiss on his lips. He didn’t budge.

“Oh no, Taeyang, what do we do? Daddy won’t wake up!” She acted, turning to her son. Taeyang looks up at his mom with his big brown eyes, lips starting to quiver once again as he walks over to his dad, dropping onto his knees.

“Daddy,” he whispers, shaking his dad. Jin didn’t budge. Taeyang drops his head onto Jin’s stomach and begins to cry hysterically, making his older siblings laugh. Which only made him cry even more.

Can you guess where he got his dramatic-ness from?

Jin sits up, laughing. He pulls Taeyang in for a hug. “I’m just kidding, daddy’s okay.”

113 notes · View notes

embrassemoi · 3 years ago

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 20

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors A/N: Some ppl asked for a playlist... so ofc I made one!

Series Playlist or Chap 20 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 20: Little Lion Man

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When Regulus was younger, his aunt Andromeda and Sirius were obsessed with Muggle stories. Andromeda would send them loads of books every month to the local Muggle post office to prevent their parents from confiscating them. He remembers the ten minute walks there and back, Sirius holding his hand tight, even stopping to buy ice cream during the warmer seasons. They would greet the delivery men and women, picking up a heavy stack of wrapped books before waddling out, each boy mirroring a large grin.

Every night at twilight, when their parents were asleep, Sirius would crawl into his bed and read to Regulus in a hushed voice. He would read a different story every night, lulling him to sleep. Sirius spent hours gushing about the fantastical tales Muggles wrote; how magical and mystical their minds were despite not having an ounce of magical blood. From Superman to Batman, the Joker to Daleks, Prince Caspian to King Miraz; Regulus quickly learned that they all had one common theme: the good guys and the bad guys.

Regulus often spent his time grappling with the notion; what made someone good? Because the definition changes depending on the person.

Were the good guys good because they were selfless — passionate? Those deemed good never let themselves be seen as selfish. The heroes would sacrifice themselves for the greater good, even going as far as giving up their loved ones. Or maybe it was because they went against the odds. But villains did that too.

So he re-worded the question; what made someone bad? Was it their selfishness or greed? Was it putting themselves above others? Did they know they were on the wrong side of history? Make a mistake, once, twice — but surely, that didn’t make someone bad. Did it?

If virtue is understood by both sides, then the bad guys would immediately cross that line time and time again. They lacked wisdom and truthfulness, filled with too much pride and vanity.

But now as he began to grow up far too quickly for a fourteen-year-old boy, he realized that there was more to people than just being good or evil, a saviour or tormentor, light versus darkness.

The definition of good and bad depended on who told the story and Regulus didn’t know who controlled his; him or his parents. The line was so blurred that he couldn’t objectively make the decision himself anymore. Was he more bad than good?

Laughter — rich and inviting beckoned throughout the library, snapping him out of his thoughts again; but it did nothing but chip away at his heart. Regulus got up, shoving his books and parchment into his bag, making sure to hide his face before they saw him. Today, the Marauders had come earlier than expected and he was caught off guard. He’d been doing everything to avoid them out of pure shame.

Before he went to turn, he eyed Sirius from the shadows. He smiled, carefree and happy, clinging onto Pettigrew, ruffling his hair like he once did to him.

What made them so special, so loved and cherished by Sirius? How were they able to make him laugh so effortlessly, able to brighten his day with a mere glance? What made them more of a family than he ever was to him?

But he knew, it was their family’s values and it had been taunting him every waking moment.

It’s not like he didn’t want to escape that night, but he wasn’t Sirius. He was never as bright or strong or as good as him. Sirius was bold and courageous and certainly had more bravery than he would ever have. Regulus was far too weak, a puppet for his parents to control. Sirius was everything Regulus was too afraid to be — a reminder of what he could have turned into.

Besides, there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that his parents would have killed Kreacher had he left. And this way with Sirius gone, it left Regulus to be the sole heir. Sirius was free, not being hunted down by his parents now that he bore the title. That was his gift to him, freeing Sirius of all the responsibilities, pain and grief. He owed him that much. Besides, Regulus had already mourned the childhood he never had; that made everything easier.

The day Sirius left was the day before they were set to leave for Hogwarts again and the impact of his absence was massive. He no longer heard the thumping of loud Muggle music nor the clanking of piano keys or doors slamming shut. There wasn’t any screaming aside from his parents shrieking at him for taking his father's wand. The stairs creaked; he could even hear Kreacher padding his way to his room.

It was eerily quiet and lifeless in that damned house, and he was only gone for a day.

Regulus hadn’t been taking it well. Nearly every night, his face was pressed into a pillow muffling his sobs. Sirius had kept his promise, he hadn’t talked to him since.

If only he had a scarlet tie…

Ha! He could laugh; he’d been trying to get his attention in little ways. He’d even gone as far as growing out his hair to match his — coping by writing letters every night with words he wished he could’ve said before storing them in a box under his bed. Forever unsent. Hell, Regulus was a coward, every bit as pathetic as Sirius deemed.

Ever the winter break, his parents were relentless, dumping everything that was meant for Sirius onto him. Letters were sent daily; there were talks about an arranged marriage, lumps of money now being transferred under his name, getting the dark mark… and he was being watched. Every interaction he had, his parents always knew. Especially with Muggleborns; he had to limit his interactions with them to almost nothing, or it wouldn’t end well for either.

His mind reeled back to that night, where his parents and extended family toyed with that blonde Muggle, leaving her half-dead on the dining table, the image branded in his head. It made him sick just thinking about it, he never knew what happened to her, he was too busy trying to muffle out her screams.

Regulus had been questioning everything he was taught. Sirius’ words echoed in his head; was he willing to kill Muggleborns solely because of their blood status? He's a believer in old values and traditions: yes, blood should be kept pure, but to kill Muggles… that was completely different. He’d seen how his dearly beloved aunt was burned off the tapestry, threatened and almost killed for marrying a Muggleborn — a Muggleborn who he’s met and liked and respected. His family tortured them for the sake of it and more. That wasn’t the move of someone good, those were the actions of someone evil; filled with greed, spite and selfishness. But how was he going to stop a whole bloodline from their mania?

Some may call it obedience, the way he’s listened to his parents all these years blindly, but to him, it’s respect. But did he believe that? Did they deserve to be respected? He was miserable and this wasn’t a healthy way to show filial piety.

What did he believe in?

Perhaps there wasn’t such a thing, good or evil, maybe there was only power.

Regulus was lost and confused and most of all, lonely. He remembered Sirius promised him once, before the day he was set to leave for Hogwarts for the first time, that he would never be alone. What a funny thing, promises.

Tears were forming fast and if he didn’t leave then, they would fall any second now. He needed to get out of the library.

Regulus asked himself again; what made someone good or bad — or rather, was he good or bad? He’s veering towards bad.

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After catching word from Mary that Remus’ birthday was approaching, Y/N had been knitting him a sweater in her spare time (or trying to). It was sweet, simple and showed that she’d put effort into it, especially since he taught her. Although, the sweater was lopsided and she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of a certain stitch or how to close sections. Perhaps she should use magic.

Her fingers fiddled with the needle, looping the yarn over the other side. Without looking up, she made a sharp turn into the library before crashing into a hunched-over figure; sniffling and a complete mess.

An apology dangled from her lips before recognizing the figure as Regulus. It had been two months since she’d last seen him and in short, he looked like shit. His skin was grey and lost all sense of a youthful dewy glow. If Sirius had dark eye circles or Remus looked tired, Regulus beat them by miles.

Y/N stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do before gently patting his shoulder. “Regulus?” She asked softly, nothing more than a whisper.

There was a flash of pure terror as he looked up, his eyes nervous as his head spun around to look around the place like he always did. He looked mad, almost unhinged as his hands gently pushed her away, signalling for her to leave. “I — I can’t be seen around you.”

“Can’t? What are you going on abo —” She cut herself off, ignoring the matter entirely. He clearly wasn’t in the right mindset.

His voice was strained, quiet as he kept on murmuring, he almost sounded angry. “You can’t — we’ll both get in trouble. Y/N, go — please… ”

At this, Y/N felt her skin rise in small goosebumps. She looked back to the library, just making out her friend’s figures before looking down at Regulus again. She wasn’t going to leave him like this: crying and delusional.

She took a deep inhale before bending down, picking up her needles and yarn off the ground and slipped them into her bag. She placed a cautious arm around Regulus to keep him upright. “Come with me.” But Regulus wouldn’t budge, not until she flicked down her hood, obscuring her face.

She led him up to the astronomy tower, walking and twisting around before setting him down on a nearby bench, making sure to lock any entrances. They sat in silence, aside from Regulus attempting to regulate his breathing. The cold whipping wind tossed his hair and sank into her bones. With a few charms, they were both warm again, but still able to breathe in the crisp air.

He remained quiet. Y/N didn’t push. Instead, she began babbling softly about random things to distract him. When she heard a sharp exhale of air, mimicking a half-hearted chuckle was when she knew he had calmed down.

“Thank you,” he muttered. It’s quiet, barely above a whisper. Regulus’ cheeks were pink, colour finally returning to him from either embarrassment or the cold.

“Any time,” she smiled warmly. Her hand reaches into her bag, fishing out the snacks that were meant for the study group: blackberries that were for Remus, a muffin for Marlene, were now shared between them. She tried to encourage him to eat, to regain any sort of energy.

He listened without complaint, a tense yet thankful air engulfed them. It was only until he finished the food, about an hour gone by, was when he spoke again. “Why are you being so nice to me.” It’s not even a question, just an odd accusation.

She thinks for a while, searching for the best answer. “I wished someone was there for me when I was going through a hard time.”

“But you don’t know me.”

Her eyebrows raised, “Well, let’s get to know each other then. I’ll tell you something about myself and then you can go?”

Regulus looked up at her with a calculated expression, cautious and looked uncomfortable but he nodded.

“Let’s start simple. I have an owl named Celeste.”

He gulped, looking back to the entrance. His answer came delayed, strained and she wondered if she had pushed him too far. “I play the violin.”

Y/N smiled largely. “The violin is beautiful! Hmm… I can’t ride a broomstick to save my life, unlike you.”

At this, he smiles — a real genuine smile that causes his eyes to crinkle and sparkle. “Really?” His eyes burned with curiosity before he looked down, “I can’t swim.”

“Swim?” She repeats, chuckling to herself, “Who doesn’t know how to swim?”

“You’re making me feel grand. Terribly uncalled for.”

Her eyes rolled, “You should learn. It can save your life one day. Who wants to drown?”

“Maybe I’ll ask McGonagall — I heard for tougher punishments she’ll throw you into the black lake.”

“You’re the perfect candidate then.”

After a while, way past curfew, Regulus seemed cheerier; his tear-stained cheeks now replaced with a smile and relaxation. That day, Y/N unaware, was a day Regulus would never forget.

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March 8th, 1976

“Sirius, shut up.”

“You’re the one yelling!”

“... Right.”

Excused from their afternoon classes because their Puffskein was about to hatch, the Marauder’s dorm was bustling with panic and bickering. When Y/N partnered with Sirius for their project, she expected fighting (which happened every day) but not for Sirius to be like this. He’d been running around the dorm, grabbing warm towels, bowls of water and taking out his panic on her. He gripped his textbook, flicking through notes to see if they had everything. It was as if he was preparing for the birth of an actual baby.

She silently watched him, her mind thinking about Regulus rather than their project. This was the only time she and Sirius were alone and wondered if she should mention his freakout the other day but stopped — it didn’t take a genius to know they weren’t on friendly terms.

Since that night, she’d seen Regulus almost daily, but only at night before their study group. She would spend an hour or so with him before the Marauder or girls came barraging in; Regulus left before they appeared. The entire situation left her deeply confused, worried and most of all, suspicious.

“We need Kettleburn —”

Annoyance began nipping at her. “Calm down.”

“I’m not going to calm down!”

Sirius paced, both firing snide jabs. Too preoccupied in his panicked state, he didn’t hear the quiet cracking of the white shell, forming the shape of a lightning bolt before cascading over.

“Um, Black?”

“Let’s not start. How are you so —”

“Get your ass over here now!”

Sirius pressed his lips together immediately and rushed over, both huddled side by side near the roaring fireplace. The shell twitched, cracking more and they both gasped in amazement. The process was faster than either expected as they saw the small tuft of cream fur peek out along with a pair of black eyes. Its long pink tongue slipped out, already looking for its first meal. Y/N scrambled to grab a nearby dish of dried spiders to feed it while Sirius cradled it in his hand. His smile was wide, buzzing with excitement as he observed it. His hands gently glided over the soft fur as it emitted a low humming sound.

A deep chuckle erupts from Sirius and she could feel the vibrations from how close they were. His laugh, which once made her cringe, now made her skin feel fuzzy and heart flutter. But, it wasn’t like that, she thinks. Of course not! She still wants to jinx him, maybe even throw him into the fireplace. Yes, that’s it.

She snaps out of her violent thoughts when she finds Sirius already looking at her, a pretty flush to his skin as he observes her softly. Her brows crinkled; instead of a frown or on the cusp on an insult, he smiles.

“Do you want to hold it?” Y/N nods eagerly. Sirius shifts his body, placing the Puffskein in the palms of her hands. It’s incredibly soft, adorable and when it leans into her, falling asleep, she swore she fell in love.

“What do you want to name it?” She mumbled, afraid that if she were any louder it might wake it up. Sirius takes a long time to ponder and Y/N braces herself for an insult, already thinking of a plethora of her own.

“It looks like porridge… Oatmeal!”

“Are you serious?”

“I’d be worried if I wasn’t.”

Y/N tries to suppress her smile but fails. The Puffskein did look like a grain of oatmeal. Plain and simple, she liked it.

“Hello, Oats! You’re so cute — I could just eat you up!”

“Morbid much.”

Hours went by before they ultimately decided to head down to Kettleburn’s office for an examination of Oats’ health. Sirius cradled it in a small blanket, shielding it from the rest of the world. Marlene and Dorcas were standing by the sidelines, joining them as they walked past.

“Yours hatched already? Aw, it looks so cute!” Dorcas squealed. Her hands reached out, giddy as Sirius gently placed it into her arms but not without fretting. Marlene only looked down at her with a soft gaze, her face becoming pink as she wrapped an arm around her.

“Give it a rest. She’s not going to drop it.”

“Now you, McKinnon?! I’m a father now! Our kid deserves the best care! Right, L/N?”

It catches her off guard. Sirius trying to include her in a conversation? That’s a new milestone. “Of course; the proudest parents.”

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Once done with Kettleburn, Sirius went to bring Oats back to his dorm, parting as Y/N went to find Lily who took her notes for her afternoon classes.

Out in the courtyard, walking around in the snow, both Lily and Snape wandered around before she picked up a snowball, throwing it at him. Snape sent her a deadpanned look as Lily kept hurling snowballs. Most missed him, others hit him before he retaliated and threw some back.

Y/N halted, watching the scene play out and debated whether or not to approach them. But decided to, shouting while striding up to them.

“Petals!”

Lily’s smile grew before her head whipped to her. She stopped her snowball fight, getting up to bounce her way over to her. Snape followed in suit, but as Lily began to babble on and on about what she missed, Snape’s eyes bore into her, vice versa.

“I’ll see you later, Sevy! We need to go,” said Lily, already turning to walk away. Y/N lingered back a pause, just enough to see Snape draw his wand and shoot a spell at her. She had just enough time to block it. Whatever spell it was, it sparkled like a firecracker. If Snape could easily send a hex or jinx her way inboard daylight with Lily just a little ahead, what was he willing to do had they been alone.

His angel persona around her was dropping quickly.

“Whiskers!” Shouted Lily. Her arms raised in question. “Get over here!”

A flurry of thoughts bombarded her before she could process them. She was about to cause a scene, yell and scream until that nasty sneer fell off his face until she felt a tug on her arm. Lily hooked her arm around Y/N, pulling her away. But she still had her wand drawn, ready to block another spell. She tossed one last look at him; he smiled wickedly.

“Are you okay?”

She had enough tip-toeing around Snape. She remained tranquil, gave him the benefit of the doubt and respected their friendship but that was enough.

“No, I’m not actually,” keeping her tone as soft as possible, trying not to sound defensive, “Why do you waste your time around him?”

Lily paused, her eyes going wide. An offended expression crossed her face as she took a moment to digest the remark. “Sev? What are you getting at?” Her tone was guarded which had Y/N debating whether or not to drop the conversation entirely. A fight with Lily was not on her to-do list.

“I just think you should be careful around him.”

“I can look out for myself,” she grumbled, “Severus has been there for me for years. I know how to separate myself from the wrong sorts.”

“I’m only saying this to look out for —”

“I know, but he isn’t like what you’re thinking.” Lily didn’t look mad, just tired as she nodded sharply. Taking a stack of parchment from her bag, Lily handed it to her and walked faster. “You’re around Potter too much. He isn’t like what he says he is.”

Y/N felt annoyance blossom in her chest at the accusation of James but bit her tongue to avoid more conflict. Right now, they trod on dangerous waters.

Neither spoke to each other for the rest of the day.

94 notes · View notes

heresathreebee · 3 years ago

Text

Wearing THAT

[Dewey Finn X Female Reader]

Summary: Reader teases Dewey in a Poison Ivy costume. You have a really hard time saying exactly what you want... Masterlist Next

Word count: 3.1k words (no beta)

Warning(s): 17+ | teasing, lots of teasing and boners, lap sitting, near nudity, touching

AN: only Thots here, thots about Dewey Finn also is Ned British? He's British in my head

This was some sort of test. It had to be. God was testing him through you and you were not playing fair. It’s a costume party not a competition, you pompous little sycophant. And yet he can’t help but tug at the collar of his shirt. It’s not even anywhere near his throat but why else would he feel so constricted? It’s certainly not because of you…

You walked into his shared apartment wearing that and you had no idea the effect it had on him.

Dewey watches you sling an arm around Ned and kiss Patty’s cheek in greeting. “Hi guys! Thanks for inviting me, I’ve been dying to put this on.”

“Oh you look lovely,” Patty coos. She plucks at one of the plastic leaves on your corset. “Did you make this?! It’s so intricate.”

You bark out a laugh. “Oh hell no! I have this cousin, right? And him and his fiancé own this shop where they make costumes for movies and theatre and if you pay ‘em right, ‘personal use.’ And they don’t ask questions what ain’t their business either.”

“Well, I’m sold.” Ned raises his beer for a toast and Patty clinks it with her bottle of mysterious green juice. “Prost! What’s the name of the shop? Wanna see if they’re online– you know, for... support.”

“Ned,” Patty swatted his empty hand (no need to be shy, we already know they’re freaky).

You pat your friends on their backs and take a step towards the kitchen. “Gonna get myself a beer.”

“Oh honey you don’t have to do that. Dewey!” The man in question nearly covered himself in his own drink when he heard his name. “Be a good host and get this lady her beer!”

“Yes captain,” Dewey salutes and Patty can do nothing but glare in her Star Trek yellow shirt costume. Original series, of course, nothing but the best for Patricia Di Marco.

Dewey takes a hold of the moment he has his back to you to take deep, calming breaths. He will not let this be the end of him. Your friendship means so much more to him than that and a little fancy green corset was not going to make him fuck things up with you.

He’s ready for you when he hands you your beer. Your one arm hug is appreciated because he’s sporting a bit of wood and he’d hate to find out your corset isn’t thick enough to hide it– or god forbid you feel him on your thigh. And god, your thighs… those sheer green nylon tights were doing unspeakable things to him. Maybe if he kept you close and kept your legs out of his peripherals he could make it through the night without embarrassing himself.

Or maybe not.

“Are yoooouuu a college student?,” you ask and point at his inconspicuous clothes.

“Actually– ” he opens the buttons of his shirt to reveal another shirt with a superman logo on it and buttons it back up clumsily as you laugh. “Ssshhh! Don’t tell anybody. Protect my secret.”

“Of course,” you giggle. God you feel good hanging off him– usually he loves how physical you are but he has to figure out a way to keep his distance without offending you and quickly. “You like mine?”

The way you pick up a thick swirling red lock and direct his attention to the very thing he’s trying not to look at is killing him. Of course you look even better up close. The leaves of your corset give the thing depth and texture, your gloves are fingerless and go over your elbows, and your heels are high, like make- him- feel- his- below- average- height high.

“I like these.” Dewey plucks at the ring of leaves at the top of your gloves. It’s a way to keep his mind off your everything else. “Did you dye your hair?”

“It’s a wig.” You tug on the top and then the bottom, wincing a little. “Sew in, so don’t go snatch it.”

“I would never!”

“Poison Ivy, eh? Think that’s one of Dewey’s favorites,” Ned blabs.

Dewey sends him a death glare so powerful Ned chokes on his beer but you’re looking at your Spock-dressed friend so you can’t see it.

“Oh, really?” You return your gaze to Dewey and say, “well you must be loving this, then.”

Dewey swallows. No words come to him and there is nothing to stop the awkward silence that follows. You appear unbothered by it, maintaining eye contact as you smile almost knowingly…

“We should play twister,” he says with the most unsure voice ever.

“We don’t even have twister,” Patty mumbled. “Come on, there are like twenty other games setup, let’s play!”

Dewey gives it a minute and when he’s free from you, he catches Ned by his pointy green ear and drags him into the hall. “Hey? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Whah– what are you talking about?” Ned slaps at the hand fisted in his shirt but Dewey doesn’t budge.

“You can’t just go telling people I’m into them, dude! Do you know how close you came to giving me away?!”

Ned scoffed. “Her? I hardly think she’s ignorant to your feelings, you’re not like that Steven from Austin fellow.”

“– Are you talking about stone cold Steve Austin?"Dewey buries his face in his hands- "It’s his last name, not his birthplace–”

“And besides…” Ned peeks around the corner to see you in the middle of some sort of posing game. Everybody's trying to take the form of some sort of vehicle, and you've got Chloe in a headlock and Vance's leg in the other hand. Ned never got to finish his thought because someone dropped a huge bowl of popcorn and that too became a game of ‘how many can you eat off the floor before Patty cleans it up.’ Ned’s got to help and he’s got to help now.

Dewey finds himself on the couch with his fifth beer of the evening. Vance, Jeremiah, and Chloe are talking baseball stats when suddenly Dewey’s vision is filled with green and red just before you sit down. Right between his legs. He unconsciously scoots up to make room for you and before he catches on to your game, you nestle into his space by the arm of the couch and sling your legs across his like you belong there.

Ok, something is definitely up with you.

Would he describe you as cuddly? A little. Perhaps a more appropriate word would be… hands on. Long before he started wanting more than friendship with you, you two were always just touching. Your presence and your love language was physical. Dewey never felt like you were invading his personal space or overstepping his boundaries because he simply had none with you and the feeling was mutual. But this was something else. Something that wasn’t there before.

Was it him? Was he fucking up his perfectly in sync companionship with you because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants or (his heart for that matter)? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drag you closer or push you flat on your ass right now.

You were listening to Chloe chew Vance out for hating Gritty the mascot when you felt Dewey plant a hand on your forehead. “Hey, are you feeling ok?”

You gently shake him off and raise a single eyebrow. He seems serious, his voice gone all soft and making you feel gooey inside.

“You just seem… I dunno,” he fumbles, “do you want me to take you home after this?”

Hellooooo opening! “Actually, can I stay here tonight?”

“Yeah, of course.” Fuck, who said that? Dewey? Ah, shit…

“Thanks,” oh oh you should not be rubbing his thigh right now… “I think I’ll go change here in a minute.”

Oh please do, please please puh-leeaaase–

After a brilliant movie drinking game (which Dewey tapped out of), the crowd began to disband. 24 became 20, then 18, then 12. You went out to your car to grab your overnight stuff and Dewey was hoping for a brief reprieve from the assault of your visage. He just needed a few more people to leave so he can sequester himself and rub one out– you know, get his head straight. Ever since you left his lap he’s been rock hard, there’s not enough blood flowing to his brain. The guest count is down to 3– 2 with you in your car, and he can’t wait anymore.

Dewey slipped into the only bathroom in the house and prayed to god nobody noticed him. He barely got his hand wrapped around his shaft when Patty’s fist banged on the door demanding he help clean up. Sulking and agitated, Dewey managed to calm down while cleaning up red solo cups, glass beer bottles, cans, and small pocket sized objects that would need to be returned to the guests after their hangovers subsided (no keys, thankfully, everybody’s got a DD). His “predicament’ is nearly forgotten when you finally return with a bundle of clothes, disappear into the bathroom and reemerge in loose sleepwear with your makeup wiped clean and uh… braless.

You catch him looking. Dewey– surprisingly sober after he gave up drinking half way through his sixth beer– does nothing short of raise a slightly irritated eyebrow at you. “Cold in here, huh?”

“Shut up. You know how uncomfortable it is to sleep in a bra?”

You help him collect a couple bottles that rolled under the couch and walk with him down to Ned’s car. Patty would sort the recyclables from the trash in the morning (late morning, she did a couple rounds of tequila shots thanks to you). It’s almost like the party never happened; you’re shooting the shit again and everything is right in the world. He’s got no ulterior reaction to putting a hand on your hip– that’s just a normal thing in your perfectly platonic relationship. God, he really must have been imagining things, he was beginning to think you were actually trying to flirt with him!

Ned’s bent over the kitchen sink with Patty and holding her hair back. He looks up as you enter the apartment and shakes his head. You and Dewey make yourself scarce by slipping into the shared bathroom to hide. You try to giggle quietly as Dewey surveys the skincare products you covered the counter with. He points to your head and asks, “you wearing that to bed?”

“It’s sewed in, I’m not taking this off for three weeks at least,” you answer. “Get my money’s worth. I can work it like my natural hair.”

Dewey nods. You rub your arm nervously and look for something to say, something to circle back to the whole point of showing up looking like a sexed up goddess. What do guys like? Girls wearing their clothes, right? But you need to phrase it perfectly…

“Dewey?” He looks up from the scrubby lip balm in his hands. “I’m not quite ready to go to sleep yet and it… it is a little chilly in your place. Can I wear your jacket?”

Just to bring your meaning home, you tug on his sleeve– the very jacket on his back. You don’t want just any jacket, you want that one, already warm and scented by him. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance past you like he was reluctant to comply. And yet…

“Yeah, here.” He slips out of it with ease and drapes it over your shoulders. You miss the sigh of relief he makes when you pull the zipper closed and obscure your pebbling nipples. “Think I’m gonna go help Ned put Patty to bed.”

Ned was a scrawny little thing and couldn’t carry her by himself, and she needed to be carried. Competitive by nature, it’s easy to talk her into virtually anything, especially if it feels like girl time. You need Patty in a deep sleep for your plans tonight (sorry not sorry). Dewey’s very sexy as he bears most of Patty’s weight. She’s clinging to Ned, arms around his neck and babbling incoherently while Dewey’s got an arm around her waist and legs, keeping Ned on his feet. You skirt ahead of them and open the bedroom door, help pull her shoes off, her captain insignia, her earrings, you even wipe the spit from her lips and the eyeliner smeared on her cheek.

“You’re my favorite ever,” she whimpers, “I love you so much, you’re like my best friend ever…”

You shush her gently. “You say that about everybody when you’re drunk, baby. I promise I’ll make you a fat breakfast in the morning but you gotta go to sleep now, OK?”

Patty nods. She snuggles into her pillow just as Ned is taking up position as the big spoon when she looks back up at you and asks, “can we go for a run together?”

You blink evenly. “Yes.” You already regret it as she smiles big and wide. It would be just your luck this is the one thing she doesn't forget in the morning.

Finally it's just you and Dewey in the hallway. It feels like you're standing between two choices: his open bedroom door and the living room. But it seems like only you can feel the weight of it.

"Are you sure you want to stay over?," Dewey asks, "you can use my bed."

You perk up out of your heavy mood. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'll take the couch tonight."

He can't possibly miss the way you instantly deflate but he's still not putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "Dewey. I'm not going to kick you out of your own room."

He shrugs. "Suit yourself. I'll grab a few blankets."

There's a storage closet in the main building with this one extra soft blanket that Dewey knows you'll love. You on the other hand have got no more patience left. Once the man leaves, you stomp your foot and decide to try one final act.

Dewey returns to the apartment to find an empty, quiet living room. Ned and Patty are in bed, but where are you? He wanders past the bathroom door because it's dark inside and checks his room. There you are reclining on his bed. He could have sworn you were wearing pants before but your legs are bare and his jacket hugs the tops of your thighs. He also could have sworn you were wearing a shirt. He finds both items folded neatly beside you with your underwear right on top.

Oh…

This cannot be happening right now. He just survived tonight by the skin of his teeth and now you were doing this to him. He’s going to pull his hair out, going to scream, it’s so frustrating because he can’t just ask you what you want– you’ll turn the question back on him and he’ll fuck it up. He lets the blanket fall from his grip and with a heavy sigh he whispers in a weak voice, “straight answers only. What are you doing to me? Why you doin’ this?”

You cock your head and answer leisurely, your eye drifting across the items in his room. “You know that’s not how I roll, but if you want me to address the elephant in the room: I'm naked in your bed right now."

Against his better judgement, Dewey moves closer. "I can see that."

One step closer and your eyes find him again. Like an invitation you lean back more, even uncross your legs but go no further. Dewey swallows his tongue and waits for you to elaborate and every second is agonizingly slow.

"You think you can just walk around here with your pretty face and cocky little attitude like it’s nothing,” you said accusingly.

Dewey glared at you. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Well we're in agreement then,” you’re almost sneering at him, but he knows it’s because you’re really frustrated with yourself, “I look and I touch and I feel but I don’t know, you know?”

“Not a clue,” he sighs and sits himself beside you. He’s done trying to keep his distance. “Let’s go back to you being naked in my bed.”

“Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?,” he repeats incredulously. Dewey leans back on his elbow to look you over from top to bottom. You look damn good in nothing but his jacket. You’ve got the long ends of your red hair in braids that sweep down to your navel. The zipper rests tantalizingly right below your ribcage. Dewey dares to reach out a mollifying hand and give a tiny stroke to that silver keeper. He cannot bring himself to speak above a whisper as he nods, “yeah, I… I like it.”

The tension leaves your shoulders and you wear a small grin. “It’s not too late to take it back. Say no, and I’ll put my clothes back on and sleep on the couch like none of this ever happened. This,” you point between the two of you, “doesn’t change unless we want it to.”

… this was real. In answer, Dewey’s chin wrinkles and he watches his finger travel upwards, drawing a light line up the expanse of your chest between your breasts to feel you shiver at his touch. Thing is he doesn’t want to say no, but wouldn’t it be better? Safer? He asks the question he’s been dying to know all night. “What do you want from me?”

“Whatever I can get,” you answer truthfully. “Whatever you’ll allow. Don’t trouble yourself with labels and things ‘cause what we have has always been so much more than that.”

Dewey feels a weight lift off of his chest. His hand works around your waist and drags you closer, halfway under him and he rests his perspiring forehead on your breastbone. Whatever happens next happens, for better or for worse.

You’re not troubled when Dewey moves the jacket to expose one of your breasts, however you are taken aback when he bites you. You barely manage to stifle your yelp when you feel him growl against your flesh and the sound vibrates straight to your core. Dewey drags his head up and stares you dead in the eye as he kneads your savaged breast.

“All night,” he growls, “all fucking night for this? We could have done this ages ago. The salon, the drive in, Chloe’s cat’s birthday– grocery shopping last week. But no, instead you pick a party full of people and you’ve had me riled up for hours.”

Dewey pinches your hardened peak and you keen. “‘m sorry…”

“No you’re not, but don’t worry: you will be.”

AN: Check Out Part 2 @hoodoo12 @go-commander-kim @escape-your-grape @softbeej @imma-fucking-nerd @werwulfy

#Dewey Finn #Dewey Finn x reader #three bees writing #🐝🐝🐝✒#black reader insert #🖤❤💛#dewey finn x female reader

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blueknightdg · 4 years ago

Text

Drop In

----

MLB: Pegasus, Ladybug, Cat Noir, Queen Bee, Ryuko, Viperion

DC: Robin, Batman, Wonder Woman, Superman

------------

Although it was a normal day with noticeable about it, the lives people live are not always so.

Like for instance, a group of super hero teens falling into a pile during a Justice League meeting.

There were only five members in the room and two were actually from the Young Justice League.

They got in position as the portal closed. The dizzy teens started sitting.

"Owe.... What happen?"

"Ugh, whoever is sitting on me, get off! So heavy..."

The young lady hero in pigtails cleared her head enough to see the room and saw the window. She panicked and rushed to the window, screaming.

"Guys, get up! We're in space!"

The rest widened their eyes and scrambled to the window as well.

"What!?"

"Impossible!"

One of the young Justice members got annoyed that they weren't notice and called the groups attention.

"Hey trespassers! I don't know how or why you're here, but it doesn't matter! Now put your hands where I can see them!"

blah blah blah They have a confrontation and the Miraculous crew goes to fight in Paris. The Justice leaguers try to find them again.

-------------------------------

Eventually they do see them again when a portal opens up and the see sleep deprived, crying teen heroes at night with a giant baby.

Ladybug unable to speak properly ask a giant woman to feed the baby a warm bottle of milk they have. She throws them a bone and feeds the baby as Cat Noir Cataclysms the bracelet. Ladybug takes the now smaller baby to the worried mom. Ladybug thanks the giant woman.

Ryuko tried to get Ladybug to drink some coffee Viperion brought. Ladybug cried as she tried to move her head a way. Ryuko sighs and reminded her that they have to drink coffee.

“No! No want coffee, no want coffee!”

Cat Noir is crying and rocking back and forth.

“I want to sleep, I want to sleep, I want to sleep”, he murmurs out loud.

Queen Bee rubbing his should in comfort. Ryuko and Viperion have a dead look on their faces as they try to keep everyone awake.

The portal starts closing as they watch the teens break down. They get worried.

------------------------------

“Those are the trespassers I told you about, they look even worst than last time.”

“They speak in French, so logically, we monitor France and see if they pop up.”

Batman sends an invitation for them to come to a meeting in Mount Justice. When they show up, they still look terrible. They are nervous, scared, and seriously needs sleep.

Batman and a few others approach them gently with warm food and blankets.

“Oh, no! No! I’m fine.”

“My Lady, when was the last time you ate?”

“It was.....uh....I don’t remember...Oh! I know! It’s been two weeks! Oh, it’s been two weeks.”

Queen Bee looks at the soup in front of her and true to her self, refuses to eat it.

“Queen Bee, you haven’t eaten long than I have. I might not have the right to say anything, but that doesn’t mean I won’t use the last bit of my strength to feed you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

They glare at each other. Before a fight broke out, Viperion got between them.

“Girls, now is not the time-”

Viperion dodged a well aimed yo-yo to the gut. He glares at Ladybug.

“That wasn’t very nice, Leader.”

“Co-leader.”

“Leader.”

“Team mate.”

“You make the plans.”

“You are older.”

“You tell me what to do.”

“We work together.”

They glare. Ladybug looks at Queen Bee.

“If you don’t want to soup, ask for something else.”

“Fine.”

----------------

They talk about how the Villain has been keeping them up with night Akumas for the past two months.

“How would you like us to help?”

“Well... I would love it if you helped us find Hawkmoth.”

“And take turns patrolling.”

“We can’t ask that! They have cities of their own!”

“I haven’t had proper beauty sleep in two month, I am not budging.”

-----------------

The two teams eventually came to the conclusion Ladybug had a long time ago.

“No! No way, he can’t be it’s impossible!”

“But Cat-”

“No! I refuse to believe! He is not Hawkmoth!”

“Why do you keep denying this!?”

“BECAUSE HE’S MY DAD! He might not be there for me most of the time, but I don’t think he would to do that! He’s been Akumatized before! Doesn’t that count for something?”

“...Adrian?”

Cat Noir holds still and starts to panic. He curls in on himself and cries.

“....He’s all I have left, My Lady. I can’t lose him too. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

“You’re not alone Chat, you have us. Are we not enough?”, Queen Bee asks.

“No, you are. You are more than enough, I’m sorry. It just... When my mom disappeared, I only had my dad in that big old house. He didn’t show up or let me do things most of the time, but that’s because he wants to protect me. I don’t want to be stuck in a room again. I don’t want to be caged.”

“Chat...”

------------------

They find out that under the Agreste Mansion was an unidentified space with a series of tubing as well as a vital signature.

“Cat Noir... it comes to our attention that....your mother may still be alive.”

“W-What? You mean... she was there the whole time? She was near by? But... But I thought....”

------------------

During all this, Robin and Ladybug get a long with each other. It’s mostly silence as doing sperate things in the same room. Tolerating each other like that is really good considering Damian doesn’t like to talk to people.

He would comment once in a while about the clothes she sews up for the American heroes.

“They can just make new ones.”

“I know....but I want to help while not being in the way. I love sewing so this is the only thing I could think of.”

He looks at her for a moment.

“Tt. It’s a pain to translate my third or so language, I will teach you English.”

He said it in an annoyed manner, but Ladybug felt that he was being nice for his personality. She wouldn’t normally interact with a stoic person like him, but it’s nice not having to talk sometimes. Though, they do end up having little problems that boil over or resolve. Mostly because Ladybug is forgiving enough and patient.

--------

Ladybug finds Robin attractive, but liking three guys is overwhelming. So she has to choose one guy to stop liking romantically. However, since you can’t just stop liking someone like that way, she has to reinforce who has been pushed to the back of her mind as only a friend that she cares about.

“They are people, not objects. But feelings are hard to control. It might seem mean, but it’s best for me in the long run.”

“What are you murmuring about?”

“Oh! Hi, Robin. Uh... I uh....well...it’s not something you would be interested in.”

“Likely, but I am superior to in critical thinking, therefore, my input would be invaluable.” (Does this come off as arrogant yet a clear attempt to help?)

“Well....”, Knowing that he would get mad if she stuttered to much, she tried to think a little before speaking.

“I am...it’s about my feelings. Romantic feelings.”

“Tt. And?”

“I like three guys. But uh... they aren’t options and I can’t pick one like they are, because it would be demeaning or something like that...so...well...wavering feeling for three guys is a little...”

“Then obviously your ‘feelings’ aren’t as strong as you thought they were.”

“...That might be true...”

“Of course! I’m always right.”

------------

Something like that! There’s more but I forgot while writing and might remember later.

#daminette #marinette #au #maribat #damian #crossover

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monsoonblooms12 · 4 years ago

Text

Bittersweet (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: OH Book 1 Chapter 4 written from Dolores Hudson's POV

A/N: I really wanted to do this because Dolores is such an amazing person and this chapter is one of my favourites in the entire OH series. This picks up from the office fire and ends at Dolores's death.

A/N 2: The flashback portions are indented

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🤍

Characters: Dolores Hudson, Ethan Ramsey, f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Pooja Sharma (f!MC)

Word Count: around 2.8 K

Rating: General

Category: Fluff then Angst

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters and some of the dialogues. I only own my MC.

Triggers: Complications in pregnancy, Few Curse Words, Character Death

Prompts: @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 23: Classic/Classical

Other Works

Clickety-clack!

Dolores's fingers danced on the keyboards in a swift motion as she strived to complete this last email and get home and have a sleep that she missed yesterday due to late-night cravings.

Around her, a chaos of whispers spread as her colleagues engaged in mindless chitter-chatter of the last hour before the end of the office day.

A few nudges of Hey, Dolores! and its variants reached her, but she steered past them, focusing completely on her work.

Just one more line anndd,

Done!

She hit the send and the ping of the 'sent' notification calmed her overworked nerves.

Come on, Lil tadpole, let's file these papers, get ice cream and go home.

She fondly rubbed her belly. 26 weeks in and yet the fact that she was going to become Mamma Froggy was overwhelming and exciting.

She got the prints and in a hurry, nearly got a paper cut.

Careful there! She cajoled herself and started filing those messy sheets of her hard work of the day.

She was almost done just as-

Waaahhh!

The blazing sound, very much like a siren's, reached all of them, leading to the eruption of panicked commotion between all of them.

They had been run through the fire drill so many times that they didn't need to be told that it was a fire alarm.

Dolores left all her possessions, carrying only her bag with the stuffed froggy she had bought for her baby and tried to run.

But being pregnant doesn't make it very easy. Even more, if there was a fucking fire at the place.

People went haywire. Very few cared about the fact that she was carrying a baby, and they should have the minimum decency to help. Most would selfishly try to save themselves, not giving a damn about anyone.

Dolores tried to pave a way for reaching the elevator. It was nearly impossible for her to get down the stairwell in time to save herself from the hazardous situation. She could see that most of the people had already evacuated.

Why was the fire department not here yet?

The fire was ablaze, surroundings hot, and amidst all, Dolores walked slowly, worried only about her little tadpole and not herself.

She pressed the buttons of the elevator. Waited. But nothing budged.

Fuck it!

Smoke engulfed her and she felt suffocated. All through the light-headedness, she could faintly hear, the siren of the ambulance. She hoped someone would save her from this fiery hell.

But there was no one to help her. No one around. The building burnt and if she did not think of something quickly, she would burn with it as well.

Not viewing any other options, she screamed with as much strength she could garner. Once, Twice, Thrice.

The next actions happened quicker than the blink of an eye. She saw a handsome EMT rush towards her. Even though she was already in a blazing environment, she couldn't stop the he's hot reflex of her brain cells. He came to her and reassured her that he would be able to save her and her baby, picked her up, and slowly, yet swiftly, got out of there.

Just like a superhero.

She thought of telling this story of Super-Man coming to save him and his Mama to her baby and the thought made her giggle.

Her head was light, and she felt choked, but her mind would keep going to the little angel of her womb, worrying only for him.

The last she remembers was reaching the ambulance and coughing vigorously. She couldn't breathe normally. She tried and failed miserably. A slow sensation of blacking out and after that, everything blank.

After who knows how long, Dolores feels the glare of white lights around her giving her eyes a painful competition to open up. She squints, tiredness spreading through her body. From office work or the life-threatening experience? She does not know.

She slowly, very slowly, tries to sit up, her hand on her belly, tenderly stroking it, as if to let the child know that his Mamma would not let any harm come to him. Nurses check in on her, one of them replacing the oxygen mask with a nose tube, and she felt a bit more relaxed.

As she was taking in the surroundings, she realized,

Edenbrook!

Coming back here after so many years brought back many memories. The first time she came here. Oh, how panicked she was! She was getting jitters but that calm and brilliant doctor took care of her, not only inside the hospital but also outside it.

Dr Ethan Ramsey.

He still worked here, he had told her in his last email. I need to meet him! She thought.

When was the last time they had met? In that coffee shop last year, right? It had been long.

She traced the name she had thought for her tadpole over and over again on her belly as if to make him memorize it before coming here to her, and looked around.

There was a minimum difference between the room she had been kept in the first time and the one in which she was now, but the time gap made her feel everything was new.

All of a sudden the door swayed, letting in a young doctor and,

Ethan!

She was genuinely excited about seeing him. Of all the possibilities, she hadn't really considered the fact that he would be coming to treat her. He has important cases to take care of than petty smoke inhalation, right?

A frown appears on his forehead. "What did you get yourself into this time, Dolores?"

His stern tone is the tough layer of a walnut, which hid his soft corner, the concerned heart. She smiled at the realization.

She quickly filled him in with all the details. The fire. The hot superman. The baby. Everything.

She finds the young doctor's surprise about Ethan having friends amusing. The look of surprise she had on her face was priceless.

But when the doctor asked her,

"Was Dr Ramsey always so mean?" she guards her mouth using her hand, "And so handsome?"

It was Dolores's turn to be shocked. She knew just how much Ethan hated interns. He used to whine about how stupid they were all the time to her, online & offline. And here was this intern, having enough courage to ask her such a question in front of him.

Impressive!

"This man's definitely got grouchier than before, but even then he had an edge"

"And as for handsome, I think he has aged like a fine wine" Dolores winked and Ethan fumbled for words.

When he got his tone back, it was strict.

No matter what anyone else thought, Dolores knew the real Ethan. The one without his rough and tough exterior and mean demeanour.

And that Ethan, if he ever came out, would make everyone fall in love with him.

As the doctors mumbled between themselves, she looked around, searching for something.

Umm Hmm. She couldn't see it.

"Excuse me Doctor Sharma" Both of them turned to look at her. "I remember having my bad when the hunk brought me out. Did they bring it here?" She asks, anxiety on its borderline, ready to burst out.

She needed it. Very Much.

Dr Sharma looks around for a bit, carefully conscious eyes trained to spot abnormalities. Her eyes, soon enough, fall on the side table of the bed and she picks the purse up and hands it over to Dolores.

Another frantic search follows. She turns all the contents up and down, her happy demeanour replaced with a visible frown.

It's not here, she says, evidently panicked.

A sadness spreads on her face.

"I must have dropped it in the office" She is on the verge of crying.

Dr Sharma places a kind hand on her shoulder. What Happened? Her questioning eyes wordlessly ask.

Dolores sighs, "It probably sounds stupid but I saw this adorable little frog on my lunch break and had to get it for my little tadpole."

"My parents are gone and the father's not in the picture." She adoringly places a hand on her swollen belly, "I just want everything to be perfect for him."

Dr Sharma gives her shoulder a gentle push of reassurance, and adds, "It's not stupid Dolores, absolutely not. I feel like you're going to be a great mom."

Her words make Dolores smile despite the upsetting circumstances, "Thank You. I- I just wished I hadn't lost it."

She stays lost in the thoughts and daydreams of her little tadpole playing with his first gift, growing ever more upset with every passing second.

"I and Dr Ramsey will find it for you!" Dr Sharma's excited tone jolts her out of her thoughts.

She is surprised first and slowly a smile appears, "Really Ethan? You would do that for me?"

He hesitates.

"Erm- Yes, sure." He fumbles.

"Dr Sharma, let's get this urine sample to the lab first. I will meet you in the lot in ten minutes."

Relieved and Happy, Dolores exclaims, "I am 26 weeks pregnant, Ethan. Not gonna take 10 minutes to make me pee!"

And in 15 minutes, they take her urine sample away and bid adieu with a promise of bringing her token of love for her tadpole back.

She was extremely grateful for Dr Sharma. She doubted if Ethan had given in the first time if it had not been her taking initiative.

Wait a Minute.

Ethan Ramsey listened to an intern? That too, in the first time itself? The observation blew her mind.

She recounted the time he had called her to his home to give a dinner treat. Lovely memories of a different face of the man came to her mind like the waves reaching the shore, one after the other.

"Mmm... Ethan, this is delicious!" Dolores found herself falling deeply in love with this masterpiece of Georgian stuffed chicken.

"Thank You, but it wouldn't have got done without your help" Ethan was never the type to take credit. Boast, Huh? What's that?

That's what she liked the most about him. A fine, handsome man, talented without bounds, a successful doctor having shitloads of money and a chef. He was a complete package and yet seemed to be subtly unaware of it.

They chatted about everything from opera to music to their first meet. It was a jolly time.

That is, until, the conversation landed on romance.

"So, seeing anyone?"

"No, not currently." He blushes a bit.

"Imagine" Dolores leans back on her chair, stretching her legs, "if, I said if, you fell in love with," she pauses to look at his curious face, "an intern?"

"Impossible."

It came even before she had finished the word. Dolores was amused.

"Just imagine!"

"I don't want to waste time imagining something as implausible as that. Can we talk about something else please?"

And here he was today, listening to an intern, a different demeanour than usual. Not that it was love, yet, but there was something.

Was he impressed by her?

He talked differently, listened patiently to the young doctor. That Ethan Ramsey who would not stand with an intern for 5 minutes, listened to one?

Anyone who knew him would laugh off the fact and say it was a joke.

Dolores made sure that if it happens, the falling in love with an intern, she will not let Ethan see the end of it. Teasing him to annoyance, yes that's what she would do.

She turned on some soft classical music on her phone, spreading an instant calm and dozed off for a while...

She gets up with a start on the sound of the door opening. She rubs her eyes to get a better view of the people in front of her.

It was Ethan and Dr Sharma!

She looked at them and yes! there it was, her tadpole's froggy.

She was overjoyed.

"You got it!" Dolores breaks into a grin as the sterilized frog is given to her.

"Happy now?" Ethan asks, the faintest glimmer of happiness in his eyes.

"Yes, very, very, much! Thank you so much, Ethan."

She pulls Dr Sharma into a small hug, "You too Dr Sharma, thank you!"

"Of course, Dolores." The young woman's beautiful face gleams at her, "and you can call me Pooja."

After few minutes of chit chat, Pooja leaves to get Dolores's reports.

"Switch on the TV Ethan, it's boring to sit here and do nothing."

"You know you can do better things than watching stupid TV shows?"

"I am doing it because I want to. The least who can do is help me." She shrugs.

"Fine, fine."

After going on a roundabout tour of the various broadcasted shows, they settled to watch a comedy.

Soon Ethan's stoicism got lost in the wilds and he started laughing along with her.

All the while Dolores held the Froggy affectionately to her tummy, to her little tadpole, as if to show it to him and ask if he likes it.

Amidst all the laughs, the medical reports are completely forgotten until there's a soft knock on the door and Ethan looks at someone from the corner of his eye and go out to meet them.

Still, she remains blissfully unaware of her health conditions and basks in the moments of delight she gets alone with her tadpole.

Her eyes remain glued to the TV screen until the doctors come in and from the morbid faces they wore, she knew that the reports were anything but good.

She switches off the TV.

"What is it? Ethan?"

Pooja steps forward, "I want you not to worry, Dolores."

She feels a mild panic attack bursting inside her, "T-That's what people say when there is something to be worried about. Is my tadpole okay?"

Pooja sighs, "Have you heard of preeclampsia? It's a disease affecting one out of ten pregnant women. In most cases, it is manageable, if monitored properly. But in your case-"

She pauses. And Dolores knows that whatever's coming will not be hopeful.

"It's serious."

Dolores quickly asks, "How serious?"

Not too much. Not too much. Please, god, not too much. She crosses her fingers.

"The blood flow to the placenta is slowing. It could deprive your baby of vital nutrients and oxygen."

With his morbid mask matching his melancholy tone, Ethan says, "Your baby is at risk."

Shit.

"B-But I can still feel the baby kicking!" She urges them to come and feel for themselves.

"Dolores it just means the delivery needs to be done early."

"Impossible." Dolores remarks with a deadly determination. "It's too soon."

"Babies delivered at 26 weeks have a good chance of survival." Dr Sharma tries to convince her.

"A-A chance?"

She is not going to play a game of chances with her beloved tadpole, her little jewel.

They keep convincing her.

"Yes he'll have to spend some time in the N.I.C.U and there are chances of post-birth complications-"

"And some don't make it at all. Is my baby is in danger now?" She asks with a motherly force.

"No, not immediately. But-" Ethan is on his tracks to convince her again.

"Then my little tadpole is staying put."

"Dolores—"

"No, Ethan! Just...give me some time! As long as you can give me. Please" It is a request from her heart, and she is on the verge of tears.

"I give you tonight. To come back to your senses."

When they leave, Dolores cries, caressing her belly, her little tadpole in there. She cannot take a risk with his goddamn life, never ever.

Tears roll down her cheeks and she holds the stuffed frog even tighter to herself, praying to god for his magical abilities and to save her baby.

Please.

She fell asleep while crying. When she wakes up, she finds a few unknown nurses and doctors standing there.

She tries to speak but cannot form words. Her head feels light, just like it did in the office building. She could not sense anything, swallowing was trouble.

She makes random sounds and the people come rushing to her, just as her body breaks into violent convulsions.

"We need to take her to the surgery, QUICK!"

They call for a code blue and everything that happens following that is a haze to her.

They are rushing her to the surgery. Her body shakes vigorously, and she can feel that she doesn't have much time left.

She holds the doctor's hand who was rushing her to the O.R.

"N-nam-me him-m E-Ethan."

And with that, she slowly spirals down the realm of unconsciousness, the last thought to ever strike her mind was,

Little tadpole, mamma loves you. You will be okay. Mamma will always be there with you, for you.

And with that her breath leaves her body, the last tear dropping on the O.R. bed.

As Ethan Hudson sees the light of his new life, Dolores passes away into the darkness.

I love you little tadpole.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🤍.

Tags (Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed!): @bbrandy2002 @whimsicallywayward15 @ohramsey @natureblooms24 @nervoussaladsludgeopera @trrfanaddict @hopelessromanticmonie @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019 @starrystarrytrouble @3riche @chetachisblog @zoehanji @withbeautyandrage @drariellevalentine @mvalentine @aestheticartsx @angela8754 @schnitzelbutterfingers @ao719 @choicesstan1 @neotericthemis @nikki-2406 @anotherbeingsworld @maurine07 @sophxwithers @twinkleallnight @choicesaddict5 @gardeningourmet @mysticaurathings @jessiembruno @stygianflood @aleynareads @mercury84choices @udishaman @jamespotterthefirst

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesbookclub

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years ago

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Really gone...

Warning: Again, super angsty, I believe that you will cry or at least will wanna cry. Sorry already Word count: ~1.5k Summary: Bruce was gone, not leaving a body or any way to bring him back, and you are left to pick up the pieces Pairing: Batman x Batmom

Requested by a rosey Anon: Okay, here’s my super sad request... okay so Batman dies while in Gotham (so the league doesn’t know) and the bat fam has covered it up so no one knows. And so at the next league meeting, one of the kids shows up (cause they are the new Batman you can pick who) and their all like what the heck who is this dude and they question him and he’s like ‘you don’t know? He’s dead’ and if you want you can add in a funeral part where all the kids are theRe edit: the reader would be the batmom

It felt wrong. So incredibly wrong. To see his suit filled by someone who’s not him..made the entire thing too real. He was gone. Really gone. It had happened before, but never like this, never without a corpse to bury. It had a certain feel of finality to it. At first, when after a week - that you had spent trying to keep the family together and help them grief, barely eating, and the nights crying for hours at pictures and memoried of Bruce, before sleeping for one or two hours - the league had notified you of a mission for your late husband you had wanted to just ignore it, but Dick had convinced you that that wasn’t what Bruce had wanted and that he’d go instead of him. You had agreed and even said that you would come along, thinking that it could take your mind off thing, but as soon as you saw your oldest son standing there in the suit you couldn’t go on anymore and broke down. You were more than glad that none of your other children were in the cave, you didn’t want them to see how broken you were, how his loss affected you. You wanted to be strong for them, but at the realization of the situation, you couldn’t be strong in front of Dick. But he understood, for a few minutes he held you as you sobbed at the feeling of emptiness in your heart and your life while soothing you before he told you to take the day off from everything and stay home. He told you that he’d take care of the mission on his own and be back in time for the public funeral the next day. The funeral. You had forgotten about that. Or did you just not want to be aware of it? It was unimportant as you knew that it had to be done. Even if the casket would be empty and public would never know that his end was in no way caused by a surprising stroke, it still had to be done. It would explain why the family would keep out of the media for a while until you were ready to fully take over Wayne inc. with help of Tim and things would change into a state that was supposed to be normal again. Even if it never truly would be normal again. Your heart would never heal. No one would ever fill the empty space that was left in your soul. While you went back upstairs to drown yourself in the sheets of your bed that you hadn’t changed since he had died - the smell making you feel like he’d come back any minute take you in his arms and tell you that it was all just a nightmare - before you had to put your brave mask back on and console your other children, Dick went to the Cave’s own Zeta-tube and took a deep breath, trying to bury his own grief not only over the loss of his adopted father but also over his mother who was so visibly suffering. He had to go through with this now, he’d get this mission over with and then he’d come back and help you through the funeral. It wouldn’t be okay, but it would be manageable. “Justice league headquarters,” he gave the voice command before the blinding light enveloped him. “Batman, there you-” a voice that he immediately recognized as Clark’s echoed through the room, but immediately stopped as soon as the transport was finished. He guessed that Clark realized that he wasn’t Bruce. A quick look around the room showed that it was only the inner circle of the league: Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Green Arrow and of course Superman. “What are you doing here? Where’s Bruce?” Superman asked immediately and narrowed his brows. The others also inspected him with wary eyes. Luckily for all of them, they all knew about Bruce’s real identity and his family. Dick had to swallow the lump in his throat. He wasn’t ready for this, but he should’ve guessed that it would happen. He had to tell the truth. Clark would know if he’d lie and to be quiet honest, he didn’t have the energy to lie right now. “He-” he tried to start but stopped himself with a sigh and the suit felt incredibly heavy all of the sudden. The way that Dick avoided their eyes and looked down at the floor was enough for the others to realize what exactly he was going at. “No,” Green Arrow - Oliver - breathed out and his shoulders fell, the look of shock and agony mirroring on all the other faces too. “What- What happened?” Diana asked and Dick noticed the way her hands were clenched together so tight that her knuckles were completely white. “I-I don’t know-” Dick sat down at the desk on the chair that was usually his dad’s and rubbed his eyes over the mask, “-I wasn’t there, none of us where. Only Y/H/N… They were on a mission, but she came back alone, she wasn’t able to tell us what exactly happened yet. We just know that he’s gone… and that it seems like he won’t come back.” A silence filled the room. They all knew how in love you and Bruce had always been, you were always the picture-perfect example that a relationship between two vigilantes could work. No matter what, you stuck together and supported each other. They couldn’t even imagine how much it must have affected you. “We’re so sorry,” Hal muttered and the others nodded in agreeance, they all knew how it felt like to lose someone so important and they all felt the stinging in they hearts themselves. “I think you should go back home, they need you right now, this mission isn’t as important, we can handle it,” Clark mumbled and lais his hand comfortingly onto Dick’s shoulder.

Dick had come home just as you finally made your way out of your bedroom to have lunch with your family. He caught you in the hallway and told you that it was okay, that you didn’t have to force yourself to put up a facade, that all your children were old enough to realize that you needed some time too. He said that he’d take care of his siblings as the oldest brother and that you could try to just concentrate on yourself for the night. The next time you came out of your room was the next noon when you had to get ready for the funeral. You gave yourself a last once over in the mirror. To be honest, you couldn’t care less what you looked like. It was your husbands funeral for god’s sake, but the media would be in the area - like they always were - and the last thing you needed right now was to be on every drama-channel in existence. You just wanted to get through with it. Once you were sure that there was nothing about you that could provoke a reason for the paparazzi to rip you apart, you made your way to the foyer where your family was already waiting. Normally you would be delighted to see all of your children, Alfred and Kate on one spot, but the occasion made it tear at your already fragile heartstrings. They were all dressed in black suits and in Babara, Cass and Stephanie’s case dresses. “Miss Wayne-” Alfred focused the attention of the room on you and you were happy that the black veil that was accessorizing your head hid your eyes well enough for them to not immediately see the despair in your eyes, “- Are you ready?” You took a deep breath and nodded your head as you arrived at the bottom of the stairs, a small trace of something similar to happiness filled you when Damian immediately hurried over to you and took your hand in his, clutching it like you could fade away any seconds. “Very well, if you’d follow me,” Alfred’s voice was so void of emotions. It was unusual. The way to the cemetery that was attached to the grounds of Wayne Manor, the place was Bruce’s parents were buried and where he’d soon join them, was silent and if it would have started to rain you wouldn’t have budged an eye. This was Gotham for you. Behind the fence, you could see the flashes of cameras and news-trucks, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was a small group of people standing off-side. You immediately recognized them. The tall woman dressed in a dark-red pants-suit, the man with his wife and son and all the other people. They were your friends, his friends. They were there to pay their respects and let you know that they were there for you. And at that point, you realized it, with your family beside you and your team near you, just because you were lonely, didn’t mean you were alone. And just because he wasn’t there anymore, didn’t mean that Bruce was truly gone. He was still in your heart, he was still in the hearts of the people who loved him. And that had to be enough because you knew that you would never get more than that again.

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heathuswrites · 3 years ago

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I Do Not Think We’re Invincible

Whumptober Day 1: “You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

Fandom: The Hollow

Ship: Adam/Reeve

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34212718

Full fic under the cut

Out in the middle of the desert stood four large wooden pillars. And that was about it. Nothing else to be seen. You might think that you notice a palm tree in the distance. An oasis with enough drops of water to keep you going for just a few more days. But if you squint closely and look carefully, the edges start to blur. And if you start walking towards it, you begin to realise that it won’t get any closer.

Three of the figures who were at the base of each pillar kept staring out into that distance. Convinced one moment that there was something there. Something akin to safe. Something that might be able to bring them even just a tiny inch closer to home. But that moment would pass, and they would be drowning once again in the hopelessness they had been living in for all too long. The fourth and final figure was still slumped over, still stuck in a brief escape from the rest of the world.

Adam had woken up slowly.

He groaned his way back into consciousness to hear the muffled sound of his friends yelling his name. He tried to respond. Tried to tell them to shut the hell up because his head was throbbing and maybe if he had some silence, the world wouldn’t look quite so blurry through his eyelashes. He just tried to block out the noises. Focus on waking up more. Focus on getting out.

There was something scratching at his hands and with a slight pull, he realised that the scratch was coming from the very thing keeping his hands back there. That there were spikes digging into his skin. With only a few tugs, he had drawn blood. He tried to tug harder. He tried to break free. He had his powers. He was the strongest. They were relying on him.

But the world kept on spinning. And the background noise kept blaring with no distinction of words. And his the spikes kept on digging further in.

So he kept his head down and he just focused on breathing. Breathing and focusing. Breathing in. Breathing out. Letting the world slowly come back to him. Shuffling his hands behind the pole. Breathing in. Breathing out.

“Adam!”

The voice was a shrill, sharp screech bursting its way through his eardrums, pulling Adam back one step further into consciousness.

With one last shake of his head, Adam was almost brought back into reality. Almost.

Mira was stood to his right; he could tell that much now. And Reeve was behind her. Both tied to poles in much the same way that Adam himself was. And, judging by the desperate yells coming from the other side of him, Kai was here too. Not that he wasn’t expecting them all to be. They’d been suffering together for lord only knows how long. It wasn’t going to be ending, was it? They wouldn’t get that lucky.

“’wake. ‘m, ‘m ‘wake.” Adam managed to slur out, though he didn’t feel as though he fully was yet. He didn’t feel as if he ever could be. The world may have been more in focus, but it was still spinning.

“Are you okay?” Mira sounded… concerned? That was what concerned sounded like, right?

“mfine. Mkay.”

“He doesn’t sound fine.” Reeves cut in, finally stopping his efforts of trying to tug himself free for a second.

“Why is he the worst? Would’ve thought those super-ninja powers of his would give him superstrength against being freakin’ drugged?” Kai sounded genuinely curious.

“Except they gave him, like, quadruple what they gave us.”

“They did?”

“Course they did. He’s the one with the powers that could actually help right about now.” Reeve grit his teeth as blood started dripping down his wrists from the movement of his hands.

“Well maybe if you stopped just trying to pull apart metal, you could use your brain for once and figure another way out.”

“My ‘other way out’ was hoping that this dude would wake up with enough braincells to free us all, but guess that’s not gonna FUCKING HAPPEN!”

Adam was trying to breathe. In and out. In and out. But the world warped in and out with his breath and it all just became harder and harder to do. The sounds were getting louder and louder around him. His friends. Their voices. He just had to concentrate.

Concentrate.

Breathe.

Silence fell around them all.

All that could be heard was four sets of ragged breaths and all that they could feel was the heat on their backs and the steady stream of blood dripping from their fingers.

Adam was slumped over forwards, uncaring of the barbs piercing into his wrists. Mira and Kai may have been stood up straight, but their knees were close to giving in from supporting them in the heat of the desert.

Reeve had his head leant back against his pole.

He sobbed silently to himself, looking over at the others. He couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep living his life like this. Terrified. Constantly. Looking off into the distance for even the slightest chance at some sort of respite.

They were supposed to be superheroes.

He had never felt less super.

He looked over at Adam, still struggling to get himself fully back together again. He looked at Kai and Mira, felt the same despair they did with the knowledge that this torture they were going through wouldn’t stop. He felt the blood on his wrists, the biting metal that was putting it there. He sat in his helplessness. The same helplessness that had been sinking through his bones until it had found a home.

He had never felt less like a hero.

Use your brain.

There should be a way out of it. If they weren’t the good guys, then who was? They were kids. So why couldn’t the universe give them a break. Every film he’d ever seen had taught him that there was some other way out. Some way to escape this.

Use your brain.

Reeve was a superhero. He would be. If that’s what he needed to be. Because he was done waiting for the worst to happen. He was just plain sick of experiencing the worst as it happened. He wouldn’t let it. Not anymore.

He was a superhero. He had a superpower.

Reeve opened his glowing eyes and stared straight off at the horizon.

Moving things that he couldn’t see was hard. A lot harder than moving what he could. And a tangled mess of wire wasn’t easy to untangle even if you could see it and even if your hands weren’t the thing the wires were keeping in place. But slowly, piece by piece, each wire slid through the next until the only thing keeping Reeve’s hands in place were the barbs digging into his hands connected to the barbs digging into the wood. Pulling his wrists off the wires was painful, but the adrenaline of being free was enough to keep him going.

Reeve couldn’t hold back the laugh building up in his throat. He was free.

The others looked at him like he was crazy up until he fell forwards into the sand and then they looked at him like he was superman. He felt like superman.

Reeve let himself bask in the feeling for a count of ten before staggering up onto his feet.

Mira was released. And then she picked her way through Kai’s wire. Reeve concentrated on Adam.

It wouldn’t budge.

This close, Reeve could hear just how uneven Adam’s breathing was. How much he was struggling.

Then he heard a rumble.

Engines. And tires. And of course they couldn’t catch a break because they never could and now They were coming back and They were going to hurt them. They might even kill them. And maybe there was time to get away. But Adam was still bound and tied, and the wire just wouldn’t budge. And now Reeve’s eyes were blurring with the water in them. And that wasn’t helping anything. And none of this was fair.

“We need to go!” Kai was already tripping over his own feet in the opposite direction of the noises.

“Reeve, hurry it up!” Mira wasn’t moving yet, but she was hopping from one foot to the other, itching to get after Kai.

Reeve was working at the knot with his hands and with his powers, but everything he tried only seemed to make it tighter.

Adam was awake enough to struggle on his own. But his strength was far from back and all he was achieved was bloodying himself up.

Reeve struggled even harder, but it just wouldn’t give.

“Go.”

“Adam?”

Adam had stopped pulling and was instead leaning around the pole, his half-lidded eyes staring into Reeves.

“Go. Be safe. Go. Please.” It was quiet. And slurred. But at least he was making full words now.

“I’m not leaving.” Reeve kept desperately pulling.

His efforts were not rewarded.

“Reeve.”

Reeve was shaking his head. Refusing. But he could barely see anymore from the water coating his eyes.

“They could still be miles off. It’s the desert. Sound travels. We don’t know.”

“Reeve.”

“You’re gonna get out.”

“Reeve. Go.”

“No.”

“You have to.”

“No.”

“Reeve. You have to let go.”

“No.”

“Go.”

“I love you.”

Their foreheads are resting against each other. Their eyes are pleading with each other.

“I know. I love you too.”

The growl of the engines was getting ever louder as they got ever closer. Kai and Mira were stood a little way off, hoping against hope. It was now or never.

Adam shrugged Reeve off as much as he could from his position.

“Go.”

Reeve ran, disappearing into the haze of the horizon.

Of course the universe couldn’t let them have anything good. After all, this universe didn’t belong to them.

The engines got louder until they stopped. Until the roaring was replaced with solid, neat footsteps. Until the heat that had been crushing Adam was replaced with a cool shadow that filled him with dread.

A hand reached under his chin, pulling it up until he was looking into a face silhouetted by the sun.

“Hello Adam,” it said, “So where have your little friends run off to?”

#whumptober #whumptober2021 #no.1 #all trussed up and still nowhere to go #bound #barbed wire #you need to let go #the hollow #adam x reeve #kai #mira #fic #blood #title from juggernauts by enter shikari #idea from that music video

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cryptids-and-muses · 4 years ago

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Birds of a Feather Flock Together: Chapter 1

Ao3

Dick always found it exciting when Bruce brought him along for justice league missions, especially since it didn’t happen very often. Sure, he tagged along for plenty of meetings and it was always nice to see the other heroes, but missions were so much more interesting.

This mission itself was fairly simple. One of the museums Diana worked with had recently gotten a new artifact, a tablet with the scene of Demeter taking Kronos’s scythe carved in. It was rumored to have magical properties, something about showing how you grow. It was also rumored to be of extremely high interest to one Vandal Savage, so much so that he was going to attempt to steal it. If Savage was able to use the tablet to learn about the future it would be disastrous, and Diana only trusted the league to transfer and guard the artifact until these rumors were properly investigated. The league didn’t need to do anything more than protect the artifact as it was transferred to the watchtower and do a once over of the museum. Dick suspected this was why he was allowed to come.

Bruce had been cracking down ever since Dick got grazed by a bullet three weeks ago. Since then he’d barely been allowed out as Robin and multiple lectures about ‘not being so reckless’. This mission provided the unique opportunity of placating Dick’s desire to get out without letting him actually do anything.

Dick shook his head, it wasn’t useful to think like that. Bruce was trying, otherwise he would have just left Dick at the manor. Besides, he loved working with the league, the lack of action didn’t change that, and neither did Bruce’s convoluted motives. Maybe he should go find someone to talk to, that would cheer him up and be leagues better than moping in the crammed security room.

His mind made, Dick turned towards the door, “I’m going to check in with Superman.”

Batman hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t look up from the monitors where he continued his security diagnostic, “Make sure to stay-“

”I know.” Dick interrupted, “I’ll be careful.” And walked out before Bruce could respond.

As Dick made his way to the Greco-Roman showcase, where Clark should be talking to the owner of the museum, he noticed something was off. It was quiet, there was no chatter from the heroes checking the halls, no footsteps, nothing. Bruce hadn’t seen anything on the cameras. Dick froze when the realization hit him. Bruce wouldn’t be able to see anything, not while running a diagnostic on the system.

He pressed his com, “This is Robin, I think something is wrong, what’s everyone’s status?”

No response.

He tried again, “I repeat, is anyone there?”

Nothing.

Panic began to rise in Dick’s chest, “B?”

The line stayed silent.

Dick turned and ran back the way he came. Picking up speed as the sounds of a fight became clear. Rounding the last corner Dick froze. Batman was fighting six men, all dressed in black robes with their faces covered, a dark green sash around each of their waists. League of Shadows.

Bruce tried to deflect of their punches but there was something wrong. His movements were jerky and awkward. That was when Dick noticed the dart in the side of Bruce’s neck. One of the assassins kicked out and Bruce fell to his knees, finally noticing Dick.

“Robin Run!” His voice was all command and before Dick knew what was happening he started running towards the exit, two of the assassins following him.

He managed to make it to a stairwell but the door was locked. A knife embedded itself in the wood next to him and Dick jumped back. He’d need to find another way down. As he kept going, he quickly came to the balcony overlooking the sculpture gallery. Dick leapt over the railing, a few more knives barely missing his cape. He hit the ground below with a roll. Wasting no time, Dick ran for cover behind a sculpture. He only had seconds to catch his breath.

There was another stairwell across the room from him. Taking a deep breath, Dick grabbed some batarangs from his utility belt. When he heard the assassins touch down behind him, Dick threw them then ran for the stairwell door. It didn’t budge.

Fear began to hollow out his stomach as he continued to run. The white walls of the museum began to blend together and Dick wasn’t sure where he was going. Until he reached a room he recognized, the Greco-Roman showcase.

The large windows showed off the New York skyline as bright lights illuminated the exhibits. It would have been pretty if not for the heroes littering the ground. Flash lay unconscious in the corner, a power dampener around his neck. Green lantern was next to him, handcuffed and gaged. He didn’t have his ring and his leg was bleeding badly. Aquaman and Wonder Woman were in the same situation as Flash, although Diana’s restraints seemed to glow. Superman was on the floor and struggling to stay conscious. A chunk of kryptonite embedded in his arm. Three more assassins were in the process of dragging an out cold Martian Manhunter somewhere. Only to drop him and take up a fighting stance when they saw Robin. The last thing Dick noticed was the tablet by the window, it’s display case still open.

Thinking fast, Dick ran to the other side of the room. Grabbing the tablet and raising it above his head.

”Stop!” A voice called out before he could smash the thing, just like he thought would happen. The five assassins froze, and turned to see Lex Luthor and Ra’s Al Ghul enter the room.

“Do not be foolish child,” Ra’s scolded, “You know not what you meddle with.”

”I think I know plenty.” Dick shot back, not lowering the tablet, “I know this is what you're after, and I know it’s keeping you from hurting me. What I don’t get is why you’re working with Savage.”

Lex scoffed, “As if I’d be caught dead working with that madman.”

Dick bit back his comment about pots and kettles as the pieces fell into place, “It was a set up.”

A predatory smile formed on Luther’s face, “Next time you try to work with a museum, check the major donors of the charity that funds it.”

”Enough of this,” interjected Ra’s as he took a step towards Robin, “Hand over the artifact, and you may walk free. We have no need to take you as well.”

”As much as I appreciate your generosity, I think I’ll pass.” Dick threw the tablet as hard as he could then slammed himself into the glass window, shattering it.

As Dick fell through the opening into a three story drop, he heard the villains’ shouts of protest followed by the tablet smashing against the floor.

Suddenly, a wave of energy washed over him. It was so overwhelming it made him stumble with his grapple, but he was able to focus enough to fire it and swing to safety. As Dick kept going, moving from rooftop to rooftop, he could sense the energy building, like it was crackling under his skin. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore and collapsed on one of the roofs.

Leaning against an AC unit, Dick saw white light begin to stream off him, gathering in five masses. It got brighter and brighter until Dick had to close his eyes. When the light finally cleared, he heard a groan. Opening his eyes, Dick saw five other teens where the masses had been. All of them were dressed in the same red, green, and yellow as him, the letter R emblazoned on their chests.

#birds of a feather #dick grayson #robin!dick #bruce wayne #dc comic #batman #batfamily #BatFam #my writing #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #chapter 1 #dc comics

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datleggy · 5 years ago

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short buddie fic about the first time christopher calls buck dad bc i cant help myself

It’s father’s day.

Buck used to hate father’s day as a kid. His father had abandoned the family a long time ago, and he’d been miserable watching the other kids do pottery or make cards for their dads when he didn’t have anyone to do anything for.

Now though, he’s looking forward to seeing Eddie’s face light up when Christopher gets home from school with his father’s day gift.

It’s Buck’s turn to pick Christopher up today, while Eddie’s finishing up some errands downtown. He pulls up in his truck and waits in the lane with the other parents until it’s time.

Buck thinks back to how a year ago, before he started dating Eddie, before he moved in, he would have spent his day off sleeping in--instead of waking up extra early to get Christopher ready for drop off--and finding some hot new conquest to go out to the bars with--instead of trying to find all the matching socks in the laundry bin to make sure they all went in the right drawers at home.

On occasion Buck does miss sleeping in, but he doesn’t miss his old lifestyle. He loves spending his time with his boys, he loves coming home and watching Christopher stop whatever it is he’s doing to come hug him hello, he loves when Eddie burns his pancakes, because he gets too distracted by Buck’s bedhead early in the morning.

Buck has always been a very glass half full type of guy. But there’s something so precarious and new about the situation he’s in--he wants it to last forever, but he knows that’s not really up to him. Christopher could wake up one day and decide he wants a mom, and Eddie would do anything for that kid, which Buck completely understands.

It’s been a year since they started dating, and a little over three months since they started living together, but none of Eddie’s family--besides his abuela, who found out by accident one day--know about them being together.

They’re very old fashioned, Eddie had said, he would spill the beans eventually, just not now. He hadn’t said anything at the time, but it makes Buck anxious to know he’s being kept a secret from those who matter most in his boyfriends’ life.

“Bucky!”

Buck jumps up, startled from his thoughts, and gets out of the car, “Hey Superman!” he waves hi to his teacher and she gives him a big grin.

“Happy Father's day.” she says.

“Oh, well, I’m not--uh, thanks.” he nods his head at her and takes Christopher to the car before he can put his whole foot in his mouth in front of her. It’d definitely be weird explaining to Miss Simian and a group of 4th graders that he’s not a dad, just Christopher’s dad’s live in boyfriend who also happens to be a coworker.

After Christopher’s buckled into the front seat securely Buck asks him how his day was.

“Good! I have a surprise in my bag.” he replies, clearly up the wall with excitement.

“Ooh,” Buck grins. “Can I see?”

Christopher shakes his head adamantly. “Nuh uh. Not til we get home.”

“Stingy.” Buck sticks his tongue out playfully.

Christopher giggles, but doesn’t budge, keeping his backpack close to him, on his lap.

There’s a lot of traffic, so they don’t get home until past three thirty. Eddie’s home before them, packing away the groceries. “Hey guys!” he kisses Buck on the lips chastely, and then bends down to give Christopher a hug. “How was school?”

Christopher starts unzipping his backpack. “I made stuff!”

Eddie laughs at the unfiltered enthusiasm in his kids voice and leans his hip against the kitchen counter. “Oh yeah?” It’s only Friday, Father's Day isn’t until Sunday, but he’s not about to be the one to burst Christopher’s bubble, so he waits patiently.

“This is for you!” He takes out a ceramic project--Eddie thinks maybe it was supposed to be a bowl?--it’s deep and thin with grooves and twists and the words I love you daddy are carved inside, at the very bottom.

Eddie loves it. And tells him as much, picking it up like he’s admiring a stunning artifact, oohing and aahing and wrapping Christopher up in a big warm hug. “Aww buddy, this is the greatest gift I have ever gotten! Thank you!”

Christopher grins. “You say that every year!”

“Well you somehow manage to top yourself every year.” Eddie says, grinning back.

Christopher reaches back into his bag. “Bucky, this one’s for you!” he says, taking out another ceramic creation--a round mug this time.

On the outside it reads: Best Daddy with a big heart drawn next to the words. “I made it for you. I couldn’t fit a lot of words because it’s not as big as a bowl but the heart means I love you.” he explains.

Buck stands there in a stupor for a good five seconds before reaching out for the cup. His fingers trace the carved words slowly.

“Buck?” Eddie calls out, concern in his voice.

Christopher bites his lip. “You don’t like it?”

Buck shakes his head immediately. “No, I love it.”

“Then how come you’re crying?” he asks, tilting his head in confusion.

Buck blinks, realizing Christopher is right, there are tears spilling down his cheeks and right onto the ceramic mug. “Sorry, I just--” the more he tries to talk, the more choked up he gets. “This is really nice. Like, the nicest thing I’ve gotten, ever.” Buck swipes at the tears that just keep on coming. He’s so happy he’s overwhelmed with emotion.

Christopher leans into his leg and wraps his arms around his waist. “Really?”

Buck nods, “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” he gently places the mug on top of the counter and bends down to pick Christopher up, engulfing him in a big embrace. “Thank you, Chris, I love it. And I love you.”

Christopher smiles, wide, “Love you too Daddy.”

Buck thinks his heart might actually burst.

#buddie #fic #9-1-1 fox #dad buck #buck eddie and christopher are a FAMILY UNIT AND NO ONE CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

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starryseo · 5 years ago

Text

purify. [3/3] | seo changbin

the gif has absolutely no relevance but holy shit it’s beautiful

pairing ↠ changbin x gn!reader genre ↠ humour, fluff, the boys are Bad Bros wc ↠ 2550 summary ↠ the gang comes to your rescue. naturally, chaos ensues. warnings ↠ swearing, a lot of dirty jokes (this is peak dumbassery for the boys) a/n ↠ please don’t do any of this at home. but if you do, let me know how it goes!

read: mess (part one) | mayhem (part two) | PURIFY

series masterlist

Fact: Seo Changbin was not a tall man, by any means.

And yet taming this wild beast of a boy was no easy feat - especially after Woojin, Taekwondo maestro and Kendo wizard, took a knee to his nethers and was out of the game.

Changbin had headlocked Jisung who, in turn, had kicked out reflexively at Hyunjin which had Hyunjin toppling over onto Seungmin. And now, Seungmin was sitting on Hyunjin’s back (as he screamed about how he can’t fucking breathe with this bitch on me), punching his ass and Jisung was turning redder than a hot chili. Jeongin was, thankfully, recording this from a safe distance, so when the day was over and done with, none of you ever forgot the beautiful memories that transpired on this fine evening.

You were nursing Woojin back to health, but Changbin had landed a solid kick to his nuts and he was still whimpering in pain as you held an ice pack to his unfairly-thick thighs - the poor, poor man - and you made sure to add kick bin’s tic tac to your to-do list. Nobody hurts Woojin and gets away with it.

Chan, who had been underneath Changbin this entire time, has stopped screaming - you’re pretty sure he’s unconscious now - and it takes Minho and Felix both pouring water over Changbin for the chaos in front of you to stop.

Jisung’s wheezing filled the room and Changbin was heavily panting out his frustration. “I’m not," he huffed, “a demon. Now- fuck off.”

“You’re an-” a loud, shuddering inhale from Jisung, “an asshole.”

“Holy shit,” - holy shit, Chan was alive! - “your bony ass was stabbing me.”

“Serves you right,” Changbin gloated, finally moving off of Chan to slump against the sofa.

“We’re adding squats to your workout,” Chan continued, rolling over before wincing and rolling back, “Someone massage me, please, I think I’m dying.”

“Stop being a baby,” Seungmin replied, and it was only then that you all noticed he was covering Hyunjin’s mouth with one hand and pummelling Hyunjin with the other.

“Oh, fuckin’ hell, get off him,” Minho laughed, making no move to actually help Hyunjin out.

You pulled Seungmin back by his shoulder and he easily fell off of Hyunjin, giving the other boy a blissful reprieve from a brutal spanking.

“I need a massage, too,” Hyunjin groaned, tenderly rubbing his ass and recoiling, “holy shit, this burns, what the fuck, man?”

Seungmin shrugged, “You hit me first, man. War is fair shit, y’know?”

“That’s not how the saying goes, you prick.” Hyunjin’s pout had you aww’ing, sitting down cross-legged in front of him so he could rest his head on your lap.

He sighed and nuzzled in further, placing your hands atop his head, urging you to massage him. You snorted but acquiesced, running your fingers through the strands, “Want me to kiss it better, too?”

“Yes please, babe,” Hyunjin replied, eyes closed and mindless tracing shapes onto your leg.

Changbin kicked Hyunjin’s ass after that which had the latter gripping your thigh reflexively and growling, “What the fuck?”

Your mind couldn’t even begin to process how hot that sounded - seriously, you’d seen Hyunjin proudly burp the alphabet, yet this one moment had you weak in the knees?

Pathetic.

“Y/n’s my babe, duh,” Changbin shrugged and you rolled your eyes when he shot you a wink.

“Bastard,” Hyunjin grumbled, sighing out and closing his eyes once more.

“I hate to interrupt this cute-as-shit moment between you all, but are we forgetting why we came here?” Felix questioned, hands on his hips, looking like a disappointed Superman because everyone was relaxing instead of un-demonising Changbin.

A second outbreak ensued after Felix’s announcement - his words had somehow enlivened them all, Woojin leaped up, Hyunjin and Seungmin tag-teamed and took down Changbin, Chan’s back pain was still there, sadly - but this was much more successful than their first takedown attempt.

You stayed on the safe side once more, massaging Chan’s shoulders - holy shit, the man was broad - and maybe your hands slipped to feel his biceps but neither of you were complaining; you’re pretty sure Chan was flexing, just to show off, too, and damn, was that a great life experience. You prayed to God that nothing would ever make you forget the feeling of his muscles beneath your hands.

Hyunjin and Seungmin were now sitting on each of Changbin’s arms; Minho was shirtless - what a sight that was - as he’d used his top to tie Changbin’s legs together; Felix was cooing, gently brushing Changbin’s head as he muttered, “It’s all gonna be okay, baby, I’m here for you, we’ll get through this, yeah?”

Woojin was slumped on the sofa, holding the wet ice pack to his face because Changbin had managed to headbutt him near the start of this fiasco. It was just not his day.

After hauling Changbin into his room and ever-so-gently dropping him onto his bed, the boys took a breather.

“Damn,” Chan whistled, looking around Changbin’s room, “you cleaned this up nicely, y/n.”

“It was me, asshole!” Changbin exclaimed, a proud grin on his face, “I tidied up.”

“Sure you did, Bin,” Seungmin rolled his eyes, “We believe you.”

“Y/n,” Changbin whined in response, “Tell ‘em the truth.”

“Of course it was all me,” you smirked, “Changbin just supervised all my hard work.”

“Sweet, wanna help me and Lix out, too, then?” Jisung popped in, sending an overly-sweet smile your way.

“Nope, nevermind, it was all Bin, he’s your man.”

“He is my man,” Felix sighed dreamily, laying beside Changbin in bed.

“Alright, let’s get him ready,” Minho said, dragging in a duffel bag - when did that get here? - as he entered.

From his position, Felix easily rolled on top of Changbin as the others held down whatever flying limbs they could.

Just as they all managed to pin him down, Minho whipped out handcuffs, the fiery red cuffs immediately drawing everyone’s attention.

“Why…” Chan started, loosening his grip on Changbin’s leg, but he was too shocked to move anyway, “Why on Earth do you have handcuffs?”

“Do you see me questioning your kinks?” Minho drawls, walking over to Changbin who just stares in wonder at Minho.

“Right,” Chan coughed, grabbing onto Changbin’s leg once more, “forget I asked.”

“That’s what I thought, daddy,” Minho teased, shooting a wink over his shoulder to Chan who had a pretty pink blush tainting his cheeks.

The sound of the cuffs clicking seemed to break everyone out of their stupor; you viewed Changbin laying down on bed like that - arms restrained above his head - in a whole new light, and the sight had you snickering.

“You like being tied up, Bin?” you teased, pinching his cheek and, despite having his wrists tethered to his headboard, he tried reaching out for you anyway.

The cuffs pulled him back, clinking against the board as he growled, “Watch your ass when I’m outta these, y/n, you’re so dead.”

You pouted. “Don’t they feel good, though, Binnie?”

You trailed your finger around his wrist, feeling the fluffy material of the cuffs and, you definitely should have expected this - but whatever brain cells you had probably died when you were feeling up Chan - because the next thing you knew was that your own wrist was being grabbed by Changbin’s hand, and damn was his grip strong.

“Let go,” you groaned, trying to pull your hand away, but Changbin was mighty and relentless. “Help me!” You pleaded to the other boys who stood there and watched - Jeongin was still filming (pay respects to his phone storage) as the others just laughed at the turn of events.

“Stay there,” Minho replied, returning to the bag, “Keep him occupied while we do this.”

“Keep him occu- What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Well, he is tied up, you could… you know...” Minho trailed off and you stared at him dully as he kept raising his brows suggestively.

“Nope, no, you do not have my consent, y/n,” Changbin shook his head, grip on your wrist tightening.

“Oh my God, ew, I would never,” you scoffed.

“Why the hell not, what’s wrong with me?” Was Changbin being serious right now?

“Holy shit, where do I start?”

“Maybe y/n’s just jealous?” Jisung interrupted. He continued when you and Changbin raised your brows in question. “Maybe they wanna be tied up instead?”

Changbin turned to you with a smirk, raising his eyebrows teasingly and you rolled your eyes, facepalming with your free hand.

“Being on top is great,” Felix randomly interjected, leaning his chin on Changbin’s chest.

“Yeah, I can really feel your happiness,” Changbin snickered, and that remark had you all shrieking in disgust.

“Gross, Lix, what the hell, dude?” Jisung exclaimed, punching Felix’s shoulder.

“You popped a- a- Ew, fuck dude!” Hyunjin sputtered, jumping off the bed and away from his perch beside Felix.

“No!” Felix yelled, instantly sitting up and straddling Changbin, “Look, I haven’t!”

“Oh fuck- No one’s gonna look!” Chan said, immediately turning his face to the ceiling.

“I’m looking,” Minho smirked, “And so is y/n-”

“No, I’m not-”

“He’s safe, don’t worry. Woojin you can open your eyes again.” Minho dumped the contents of the bag onto Changbin’s bed, a wide variety of objects and food tumbling out. “Onto more… pressing matters.”

(He smirked when Felix muttered Fuck you.)

“Grab some shit, ladies, let’s get to work.” Minho stated, grabbing a blindfold.

Jisung jumped to pick something up first, but he groaned when he couldn’t open up the cheesy nacho sauce jar. His hands were red from trying to twist the top off, and he whined when it still wouldn’t budge. “It’s so hard!”

You snorted, “That’s what Felix said!”

Felix shot a nasty glare your way. Tough crowd.

“Give it here,” Chan said, holding his hand, “you just need to grip it right before you twist.”

From the lewd smirk he shot your way, you knew exactly what was going through Changbin’s mind. You rolled your eyes because of course his mind jumps to the gutter, how typical.

You haven’t ever taken part in an exorcism - at least you could tick that off your bucket list now - but you were pretty sure whipped cream and feather dusters weren’t usually part of the ritual.

Seungmin had pulled out a bluetooth speaker and was playing some Latin chants out loud as they all began to work on Changbin.

This was more revenge for all of the times Changbin had played you all and you wondered why none of you had thought to do this sooner. Five years of torture and you only got your revenge now? You were slacking.

Changbin’s grip on your wrist didn’t cease - really, it only got tighter when the others began their tormenting - but he loosened up whenever it was too tight.

With your restricted movement, you resorted to just pinching whatever parts of Changbin you could reach. You started with his cheeks, squishing them together until he pouted and you moved on to pulling his ears then flicking his neck.

Eventually, you got tired. You nudged his shoulder and he shuffled along his bed as best as he could. You sat down, mindlessly tracing his red cheeks, booping his nose which he promptly scrunched to look like a bunny. Your hand found its way into his hair and you messed around with the strands, twirling them around your fingers as you leaned your head against the headboard.

You gave up on focussing on what the others were doing.

Chan had spread jam on Changbin’s hands, Seungmin had poured water on Changbin’s socks - Woojin had even signed his forehead. God, this was a disaster.

You stopped watching when Minho began taking off Changbin’s belt.

After some time - about ten minutes, but the boys had done some seriously-traumatic damage - they all stopped, dropping whatever was in their hands and slumping on the floor.

“By the power vested in me,” Minho started, voice half-muffled as he spoke into the floor, “I condemn your demon ass back home.”

“S’it finally over?” Changbin groaned, nudging you with his shoulder. He had long since let go of your wrist but you had made no move away from him, finding comfort in just resting beside him. You had, however, removed the blindfold a while ago, so he was mentally preparing everyone’s (except yours, of course) cruel demise.

“Alrighty,” Jisung said, jumping up from the ground and clapping loudly to invigorate everyone, “Let’s haul ass, boys!”

“Yep, have fun cleaning this shit up!” Hyunjin said, and the rest of the boys followed him out of the room.

Were they seriously just leaving you with this mess?

Holy shit, there was ketchup on the ceiling, and mayo on the lamp? What the hell had they been doing?

You were too stunned to stop them because there was no way they were leaving you to clear this shit up, but the slam of the front door informed you that yes, that was exactly what they had done.

Assholes.

“Can you please untie me now?”

After releasing the cuffs, Changbin had eased into his bed, despite all the questionable substances on his sheets. The man went through a fate worse than Hell for ten whole minutes, and you felt kind of bad.

So, you got up despite your aching neck - slouching on the headboard was not your smartest idea - and headed to the bathroom. You turned the tap on, filling the tub up before you pulled out some new sheets from the cupboard and headed back into his warzone of a room.

His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping. “What’re you doin’?” He slurred, shuffling on his bed and groaning when some orange sauce trickled down his neck.

“Cleaning up,” you laughed, moving to help him sit up, “I started a bath for you, go.”

He trudged out of the room and you groaned, staring at the disaster in front of you.

Just yesterday, his room was sparkling brighter than Edward Cullen, and now? His socks were hanging off the lights.

You stripped away his bed sheets, dumping them on the floor, but the room was still a shitshow and it was way too late - holy shit, it was past 3am, so too early - to try cleaning the room. You quickly put on the new bedsheets and decided that, after this hellish day, he could sleep in your bed. The man deserved something nice after having Felix straddle his thighs.

“Yo, y/n!” Changbin called out from the bathroom, “Mind bringing me some clothes?”

You grabbed some fresh nightwear out of his cupboard and some Pokemon boxers because obviously he had those filling his drawer. After passing those to him through the door’s opening, making sure not to peek because you didn’t want to be scarred for life with a naked Changbin, you waited for him to come out.

He wordlessly followed you back to your bedroom, turning the lights off and taking your offer to share the bed.

“I could’ve slept on the sofa, y’know,” he mumbled, voice drifting into a yawn.

“S’not that comfy,” you murmur, “just sleep.”

“Night, babe.”

“G’night, Bin.”

And if either of you woke up cuddling the other, not a word was mentioned to the other boys.

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