#Though I do try and be nice in my response

[no-144444]

famous or not- c.sainz

summary: everything falls apart?

pairing: carlos sainz x fem! actor! reader

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It wasn’t the plan for everything to fall apart, but that’s just kind of what happened… 

For the first few months, everything between you two had been great. Carlos adored you, treated you like a princess, and you did the same to him. Your relationship was full of romantic dates, cozy nights in, and various trips to races to support. 

Then, he stopped returning your calls, stopped answering your messages, and really only came to you for one thing. He was stressed, you knew it. The new season had just started and he’d been struggling to out-pace Alex, let alone get in the points. You gave him grace. You gave him time. 

That was until Miami. He’d gotten in the points. He’d out-performed Alex. He’d done it. So you went out. And half way through the night you lost him, and just stayed with the other girls instead. When you woke up, you were not expecting to see photos of your boyfriend tonguing another girl. You called him, you texted him, you did everything. 

Still, no response. 

You didn’t go to the next 3 races. You left him alone, assuming you both knew you two weren’t together anymore (especially considering the fact that you explicitly told him you two were done), and you moved on with your life. Did it hurt? Yes. Were you going to let the world know that? No. 

It all kicked up again after a damn interview on the red carpet of your new film. 

“What about your alleged boyfriend Carlos Sainz? Is he here tonight?” 

You laughed. “Oh him? We were just fucking, nothing too interesting there.” 

It was meant to be a throw-away comment. He wasn’t even meant to care. 

But then he was standing in your hallway with a hardened look on his face, and you gulped. 

“Hi,” you smiled politely. “Nice to see you again.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a premiere,” he said, his voice low, warning. 

“We’re not together,” you shrugged, putting your coat away. “I didn’t think you’d need to know.”

He scoffed. “Who says we’re not together?”

“Me,” you answered plainly. 

“You don’t just get to-”

“Oh, I do though. You didn’t respond to me for weeks, Carlos. There’s photos of you kissing other girls, and guess what, I’m not just going to be your girlfriend for the weekends and let you off because you’re an F1 driver,” you scoffed. “You can go now. We’re done.” 

“Baby, what? They don’t matter, and even if they did, I only want you. Sometimes… things happen, and we don’t mean them to,” he shrugged, trying to get closer to you, but you just walked further into your home. 

“I’m not one of the girls that let those things ‘just happen’, Carlos. If you’re with me, you’re with me. Not some random groupie, not some girl you’ve just met, me. Now, please leave.”

He grabbed your arm. “Come on, you enjoyed being my WAG so much-”

“If you’re only doing this to get Williams more popularity, I suggest you fuck off,” You cursed, grabbing your arm out of his hand.

“You’re not famous enough for that anyway,” he mumbled. 

“Oh! So now I’m not famous enough for you? Pick one, you dick,” you laughed, your blood boiling as he continued insulting you. 

“Cariño, calm down,” he said, and there was silence. Mostly because your jaw was dropped at his fucking audacity. “You must admit, I did have a hand in making you more… popular.” 

You laughed in his face. Angrily and loud. “Go fuck yourself! Oh my god, the sun actually doesn’t shine out of your arsehole, though I know James has made you believe that! I am far more famous than you are, because you’ll always just be the guy that Lewis Hamilton replaced.”

You were both quiet. You’d hit a nerve. 

“Well that’s…” he trailed off. “I’ll see myself out.”

And that was that. He never bothered you again. 

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williams & merc masterlist (omfg it's so weird to write that ew)

navigation for my blog :)

[janeyseymour]

Second Chances

Summary: Melissa isn't so sure about you- until you convince her to give you a second chance.

WC: ~2.35k

“Just try it!” Jacob Hill is currently pestering Melissa Schemmenti. “You never know what you might find on there.”

“If I say I’ll give it a shot, will you leave me the hell alone?” the redhead rolls her eyes from the other side of the couch.

“Yes!” the social studies teacher exclaims. “All of the men and women that you bring here for a one night stand always end up eating my cereal…” he mumbles.

“Fine. But if I have to do this, then you have to help me set it up.”

“Gladly.”

So that’s how the two unconventional roommates end up spending that Thursday night- setting up a dating profile for Melissa on Hinge.

“You can’t say that!” Jacob cuts in when the second grade teacher wants to write ‘Fuck the Cowboys’.

“I am not using that picture,” Melissa refuses when the man wants her to put a picture of herself in a rather provocative position. “I have standards, Hill.”

“Do you really think that’s the best thing to say?” Jacob can be heard asking at yet another questionable response to one of the prompts.

But finally, a relatively agreed on account is made. And then the daunting task of swiping left and right is upon the two of them. They seem to agree on what is suitable for the bachelorette and what isn’t- for the most part.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Melissa mumbles at one point.

Jacob’s brows lift. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That’s my ex-husband,” the redhead mumbles. “Dumb ass.”

The social studies man thumbs through the profile. “Seriously, Mel Mel? You could’ve done so much better.”

“And that’s why we divorced.”

Eventually though, there are a few solid contenders. And you just so happen to be one of them.

On the other side of the screen, you come across Melissa’s profile. And wow- she’s- she’s gorgeous. You end up sending her a rose in hopes of your chances of her seeing you growing.

And she does see you. You can see that she ends up swiping right on you, and you take it upon yourself to attempt to start the conversation. You look through her account and see that one of her prompts leads her to admit that although she owns a guitar, she doesn’t really know how to play it. So, going off of that one little bit, you strike up conversation.

What if I told you that I’d teach you guitar? I’ve been playing for a while now.

“Jake,” Melissa sighs once he’s moved back to his spot.

“What? Did you get a match?”

“I got more than a match,” the redhead grins. “You know I still got it- Philly 11 and all. But… that one girl that we both agreed was beautiful swiped right and messaged.”

“What?!” the man gasps in his own trademarked way. “Well? What did she say?!”

The second grade teacher tosses her phone towards the social studies teacher. He just barely manages to catch it with a smile. And when he see the message, he begins to type.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Melissa’s eyes widen. “You gotta tell me what you’re typing before you se-” She hears the sent ringtone. “Jacob.”

“My finger slipped?” the man grins innocently as he tosses back the phone.

Green eyes look at the message, and Melissa has to admit that it isn’t nearly as bad as she was expecting. And with his witty remark, conversation between the two of you flows nicely.

It even carries into the next day, and then the day after that.

So, we’ve been talking for a few days now, you type out during your lunch break at work. And I usually suck at replying on this app.

Well, you’ve been doing a pretty good job with me, Melissa responds.

I’ve found that you’re the exception, you reply wittily. If you’d like, I can give you my number. But if you’re not ready for that, I respect it and can wait until I get to take you out to dinner to get your number.

Well, when and where are we going to dinner?

By the end of your lunch (and apparently her lunch period too, as you’ve learned she’s a teacher), you have a date planned for tomorrow for a happy hour.

I’m here, you text. Got us a table by the windows.

Just parked, Melissa tells you. Be there in a minute.

You clock her as soon as she comes into the restaurant. And she’s even more stunning in person than she was in the pictures. You didn’t think that was going to be possible.

“You made it,” you reply cheekily.

“You knew I was coming,” the redhead rolls those striking green eyes of her. It’s in this moment that you realize how sparkly her eyes are- how they’re filled with so many feelings, the golden speckles in her eyes appearing to shine brighter. Then she smiles brightly at you, and- wow. That smile could stop the world if it wanted to with the amount of charm it has to it.

The two of you end up talking for hours. She’s hilarious, and smart, and witty, and everything you could ever want in a partner. Not only is she absolutely beautiful, she has the brains to back it all up. And you let her know that.

“Well,” you chuckle as you’re getting ready to leave for the night. “I don’t know about you, but I had a really nice time tonight.”

“Same,” Melissa smiles at you.

“And if you would be up for it, I’d really like to see you again.”

When you think she’s about to agree with you, her lips quirk to the side a bit awkwardly. “I’m going to be upfront with you hun. I… I don’t know if I see this going anywhere romantically.”

“Oh.” You aren’t quite sure what to say.

“Don’t get me wrong hun. You’re great, and I really did have a nice time with you tonight. I just… I think I see you as more of a friend right now than a romantic partner.”

You take in a deep breath. You know you have to shoot your shot. “I respect that, but… hear me out?”

“Shoot.”

“I- I don’t make a lot of connections with people. And I think you’re… you’re really cool. You’re really pretty, and you have the brains to back it up. I haven’t met anyone like you in- in a really long time. So, give me one more chance- for you to realize that I’m the best date that you’re going to get off of Hinge,” you joke.

Green eyes look into your own. She holds her hands up. “Alright, you sold me on one more date.”

“Well, do you think I could get your number now? Or do I have to keep messaging you on Hinge?”

A perfectly manicured hand reaches for your phone and dials her number.

“Perfect,” you chuckle as you help her into her jacket and guide her out the door. “Where are you parked?”

“Down that way.” She points in the opposite direction of your car. “You?”

“Other side,” you laugh. “But I can walk you to your car if you want?”

Melissa shakes her head though. “I got it. Thanks though, hun.”

“Alright, Miss Independent,” you quip with a smirk. “Get home safe?”

“You do the same.”

And with that, the two of you part ways.

As you pull into your driveway, you text Melissa. Hey, I really did have a nice time tonight. That being said, if you really don’t want to go out a second time and were just saying okay to get me off your back, we don’t have to. I respect your decision.

No, I am a woman of my word, is the response you get back. I’ll give you one more chance- because I had a nice time tonight too.

Okay, you type. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t feeling pressured.

Trust me. If I didn’t want to go out with you again, I would’ve shot you down.

“So?” Jacob is eagerly waiting at the door to hear all about how her date with you went. “You were out with her for a while! That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” Melissa smiles. “She’s cool. I don’t know if I really seeing it going anywhere more than friends, but… she’s cool. And hot as hell.”

“Well, is there going to be a second date?” the social studies teacher prompts.

The woman laughs. “She practically begged for one.”

“And you said?” Jacob singsongs.

“I said I’d give it one more chance.”

You end up getting to see the redhead that you’ve been talking to about a week later. Meeting at the same restaurant makes you chuckle, but it’s nice. It’s a place that both of you are comfortable.

The date ends up being just as long as your first. And as things are winding down, you can’t stop yourself from asking the question that you’ve been wanting to ask since hour two. 

“So, do you still see me as ‘just a friend’, or have I convinced you?” you tease with a warm smile.

“Honestly?” Melissa sighs out, and you feel like you know where this is going. “I don’t know how you did it, but you convinced me.”

You have to stop your jaw from dropping. “Really?”

“Really,” the redhead chuckles. “Why? Does that surprise you?”

“It does,” you admit.

“I’ll be really honest, I wasn’t expecting to still be here. I expected to be here an hour at most before letting you down easily, but… I don’t know. There’s something about you, and I can’t quite place it, but: yes, you changed my mind.”

“I mean, hey… I’ll take what I can get,” you giggle.

The redhead rolls her eyes playfully as she smirks at you. “Yeah, you do that. Don’t let it get to your head.”

The two of you leave the restaurant, and this time she actually allows you to walk her back to her car.

When you go to walk away though, that low, gruff voice that you’ve become almost infatuated with calls back for you. You turn sharply.

“Did you seriously park on the other side of the strip?”

You shrug.

“Come here,” Melissa tells you. “Dumb ass.”

You jog your way back to her car.

“Get in.”

“What?”

“I’m not letting you walk three blocks in this freezing cold weather,” the redhead tells you. “So get in.”

You listen to her order- of course you do.You would be foolish not too. And besides, her ordering you around like this? It’s hot.

You direct her to your car, and before you can climb out you turn to face her. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” the teacher chuckles. “Maybe next time just park where you know I always park.”

“Noted,” you smile. And then in a bold move, you ask, “Can I- Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

Instead of answering your question, the redhead pulls you in herself. And… wow. When the two of you pull away, you can’t help the smile that washes over your face. You pull her in for yet another kiss, and it quickly turns into something a little more. Her hands begin to wander your body, and when you feel her fingers begin to play with the hem of your jeans, you know you have to put a stop to this.

“Mel,” you husk out as you pull away. “Mel.”

“What?”

“Not that I’m not enjoying this, but… I don’t want to be someone that you just hook up with on the second date,” you whisper.

Her hands retract themselves from your body immediately.

“I- I actually like and respect you,” you tell her. “I don’t want to- I mean, I do want to… but… uh…”

“I know what you’re trying to say,” Melissa chuckles. “I- I guess I just thought this was what you wanted, and I- I’m used to being used for my body.”

“No, no, no,” you rush out quickly. “I am not using you for your body. I meant what I said when I told you that yes, you’re beautiful, but you also have the brains to back it up, and I- I really like that.”

“I appreciate that,” the redhead tells you quietly. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you give her a sad smile back. “I’m sorry that you feel that people only use you for your body, but I promise you- that’s not me.”

“I believe you.”

“Good,” you reply shortly. “On that note-” you lean in and give her another quick kiss as you reach for the door. “Let me know when you get home? And when we can maybe see each other again?”

“I think I’d like that,” Melissa smiles. 

“You’re home late,” Jacob quips as he sits in the living room. “I thought you said you weren’t planning on staying out late with Y/N.”

“Well, plans change, Jacob,” the redhead mutters.

“So… you changed your mind about her?”

The second grade teacher smiles at the thought of what had taken place in her car about ten minutes ago. “Yeah.”

Melissa pulls out her phone to text you. Home. Thank you again for dinner tonight.

My pleasure, you reply. Glad you got home safe. Let me know when you can squeeze me into your schedule so I can see you again.

Will do.

“What’s got you smiling?” the history teacher inquires.

Green eyes go to glare at her roommate. “Nothin’. Just letting Y/N know I got back safely.” And when the man starts to ask another question, Melissa cuts him off. “No more questions. Goodnight.”

As the redhead prepares herself for bed that night, she can’t help but giggle with glee at how well the second date had went. She went from not being so sure about you, to almost being enamored with you and your charm and wit.

She sends one final text of the night. Without seeming too eager, I’m free next Tuesday.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead @schemmentits @morgananyx

[hockeyboysimagines]

Summer Heat

Pairings: Matt Rempe x Female reader

I know I said I’d never write for him, but I’m trying something new for the new year. He’s grown on me, and I wanted to shake up my blog a little bit. Please be nice. I’m treading unfamiliar waters here.

Let me know what you guys think!

Warnings: Drug consumption(weed), mentions of drinking, skinny dipping, nudity, kissing, sex, references to sex

The music was pounding so loud it was making your chest hurt as you made your way through the house, sidestepping a puddle of liquid you hoped was alcohol and left the kitchen. Sweaty bodies of people you’d known for years were laughing, dancing, toasting and doing keg stands in every corner of the room and you smiled a little as you watched it.

Summer was arguably the best time of the year here at home. Everyone was suddenly free of plans and responsibilities, and parties erupted at the drop of a hat. What had started as a casual hangout with just a few people had evolved into a rager and you were having a great fucking time.

“Hey!” You turned in time to receive a giant ass slap from Darcy, your best friend as she came up behind you “I’ve been looking for you for ages. Where were you?”

“In the bathroom…” you trailed off, reaching in your pocket and glancing over your shoulder as you pulled out a joint, twirling it between your fingers “Wanna take a walk.”

“Hell yeah I do come on.” She followed you out the back door and off the deck, weaving in and out of people and heading past the rows of cars till you reached your own and the two of you huddled behind it.

You gripped it between your fingers as she flicked the lighter and lit it. The embers glowed bright orange in the darkness as you took a drag, inhaling and handed it to her so she could do the same. As she took her own hit and blew out the cloud of smoke you heard a voice.

“DEA hands up.”

You both turned, joint still in her hand and came face to face with a waist, eyes moving up till they landed on a face. A familiar face.

Matt Rempe.

“Damn. I think you got taller.” You said with a small laugh and a cough.

“Nah that’s just the weed talking.” He said with a chuckle, stretching an arm out and tapping his fingers together at the blunt. Darcy passed it to him and let out a long exhale of smoke.

“I didn’t know you were back.” She said glancing over at you.

Your relationship with him was weird. While you were pretty good friends, it had always been on the verge of something else. It would become intensely flirtatious for several days and then fizzle out. Each time it happened it got flirtier and filthier than the last and Darcy swore this time was when it was going to blossom, and then nothing happened. When he returned home, and you saw him again, both of you acted like it never happened the next time you saw him. It wasn’t even a situationship. More like a flirtationship. You’d never even kissed the guy, though you wanted to, but at this point it had been going on since highschool and it was getting a little bit old. Either he liked you or he didn’t, but days of flirting and then nothing at 22 was just annoying. After the last time, in which several photos and vulgarities had been exchanged and then he faded out of your life, again, you swore to Darcy over a Vodka Cranberry, that you were done with him romantically, sexually and flirtatiously forever. Realistically though, the three of you had the same circle of friends so it wouldn’t be possible to avoid him forever. Sooner or later you would have to see him. You had just hoped it wouldn't be this soon.

“Yeah aren’t you supposed to be in jail or something?” You said with a snarky smile. You weren’t saying it to be funny. You were saying it to be rude and Darcy knew it based on the small giggle she let out. You weren’t about to tell him you’d been keeping tabs on his season, but you had. He’d made quite the impression when he hit the NHL and it was impossible to not see him all over the internet. You would be lying if you hadn’t watched him fighting online multiple times. Even if he lost, it was totally hot.

But you would never EVER tell him that.

“Nah they can’t catch me.” He mumbled, joint between his lips as he took a drag. He blew out the smoke glancing up at the sky and then at you “So what’s up with you? I haven’t heard from you in like 5 months.” He swatted an ash off the end of it before he handed it back to Darcy.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.” You said crossing your arms. Darcy glanced between you and cleared her throat, extinguishing the end of the joint and putting it in her pocket.

“I need to pee. I’ll be back…later.” She sent you a small smile and an arm squeeze as she walked past you “Good to see you Matt.” She called over her shoulder as she made her way up the front yard.

“So?” He asked again “What’s up?” He was looking at you expectantly and you weren’t really sure what he wanted. He knew why he hadn’t heard from you, he just wanted to hear you say it.

You shrugged “Nothing really. Just doing my own thing.”

He frowned “So that means we can’t talk?”

“No. It just means that I’m not waiting around for your week of flirting and dirty talk and then nothing anymore. I’m too old for that and it’s getting tiring.”

He looked clueless “I didn’t know it was a problem. And what dirty talk?” He said with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes “It’s not. But either you like me or you don’t at this point. And come on. How is “I’m going to bend you over and fuck you stupid” not dirty talk?”

Even in the darkness you could see his face turn red and he coughed “Do you think I would flirt with you if I didn’t like you? That’s dumb.” He said leaning down so he was almost at eye level with you.

“Nice aversion. Yeah? Then I guess I’m dumb.” You turned away, annoyed, but he caught you by the elbow, and turned you back around.

“Woah whoa whoa. Why didn’t you just like…ask me.” He was smiling a little “If you wanted to know that’s all you had to do. I thought we could talk about stuff like that.”

“I don’t know. I just felt like if you did you would have made it clearer than just random flirting now and again. You’ve been home. You never made a single attempt to get together while you were here and now you’ve just appeared at a party and I didn’t even know you were home.”

He nodded “Okay. That’s fair. Sorry I guess I just didn’t think you wanted anything out of it.”

“And if I did?” You said raising your chin “Want something?”

He glanced down at your feet and then all the way up, before his eyes landed back on your face and realization lit his eyes up like a lightbulb. Talk about dumb. You leaned forward a little bit, motioning for him to come closer. His lips were almost touching yours when you leaned your head back and stepped away from him, pulling your elbow from his grip.

“I think I’m going to go swimming.” You turned on your heel, making your way down to the lake as quickly as possible to beat him there, knowing he was following, but also forgetting he was a real life giraffe and would likely be right on your heels.

“Wait hey what-“ he called from behind you, but you weren’t waiting around for him to question you further.

You hurried down the crude rock steps, the only sound being the music as it grew more faint and the slap of your flip flops against the ground as you neared the water. It was probably terribly cold, and there was nothing sexy about lake water, but it would have to do for now. Your entire body felt hot and sweaty and you needed to cool down. Plus you had almost kissed him and then chickened out so you needed to actually go swimming now to cover it up and make it seems like you were being coy. The weed had kicked in by now and the edges of your brain felt fuzzy as you neared the water, a haze coming down over your eyes and in an instant your chi was centered and you felt relaxed enough to let your guard down.

As you reached the edge, and kicked your shoes off you turned to find him halfway down the bank.

“Hey how are we going to go swimming if-“ but the words died on his tongue as you looked him in the eye and pulled your shirt over your head and kicked your shorts off, leaving you completely naked. He stood open mouthed, frozen mid step as his eyes loved all the way down to your feet and back up.

“Answer your question?” You called as you hurried into the water, praying to every god imaginable that no one else had seen you besides him. You made it a point to only be naked in front of a limited number of people and as Darcy had seen you naked countless times, and now Matt, two people at one party was enough. The water was frigid and the only thing that kept you from screaming was the fact that your body was on fire from the near kiss and your strip show just seconds prior. What was in that joint. Whatever it was disappeared as the shock of the cold water had sent you straight back into sobriety.

You were already chest deep in the water by the time he reached the waters edge and you turned your back while he undressed, scrunching your eyes shut from the cold before turning around to find he’d paused, shirt half off.

“So you rip your clothing off and then don’t want to watch me do the same? What gives?”

“It’s not fair that you get a great view and I get an average one now is it?” You said turning away from him, legs kicking under the water.

He made a noise of indignation from the bank and then mumbled something too quiet for you to hear. You heard him wade into the water but didn’t turn around until the splashing quieted. When you did, he was waist deep watching as you swam around.

“I can’t figure you out.” He said after a moment, moving forward a little bit.

“What’s the figure out?” You tipped your head back and closed your eyes, gently moving your legs so you were almost floating. The water in your ears was drowning out the music from the party behind you, and the moon was shining down on the water, catching each ripple as it came off of your body moving gently in the water.

“Well I don’t know but you almost just kissed me up there, stripped, now you won’t even look at me. Is this a test?” He asked wading in deeper. He looked confused and for a second you almost felt bad but then you remembered your whole relationship with him was confusing and the pity went away.

“If it was you’d be failing.”

He was closer now, almost up to his shoulders in the water, circling around you like a shark “So you like me right?”

“What makes you think that?” You asked turning to watch him as he made his way in a circle. You stayed low in the water, the end of your ponytail just touching the surface, careful to keep all your vital parts covered.

He looked down at the water and then back up and smiled “I mean. You are naked under there so.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Your legs were burning from treading water and you were hopeful the slimy thing that had just touched your ankle was a fish. Playing coy naked and cold was no easy feat “Darcy’s seen me naked before. That doesn’t make you special.”

“Really?” He said appreciatively eyebrows raised “But you didn’t almost kiss her….wait. Did you?

You shrugged and made a face “I’ll never tell.” As you turned to swim away, you felt an arm slide around your waist and hold you in place. He wasp ressed against you from behind, and any chill you had was gone now. He slid a hand across your waist, and turned you to face him.

The kiss was slow, wet, sloppy and a little bit awkward as he pulled you closer, wet hands and limbs sliding against eachother as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself up to reach him. Kissing him was weird after the build up over the years. Though it was all your expected it to be, you felt like things just weren’t right.

After a moment he pulled away, and looked down at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“That was-“

“Yeah.” You answered, arms still around his shoulders. He had a large hand on either side of your waist and he chewed on his lip.

“Should we try again? You know. For science.”

You giggled and then shivered a little but nodded “Okay. For science.”

When he kissed you again, it was different. It was like you’d figured eachother out now, mouths fitting together perfectly. You gripped the hair that was wet and stuck to his neck, as he ran his tongue along your lower lip. You felt like the water was boiling as his hands moved lower down your back, moving beneath the water to slide under your legs and hoist you up.

Your heart was hammering but before you could do anything further, a sudden breeze reminded you that you were now half out of the water and completely naked.

“Uhm. I’m committing a crime here. It’s called indecent exposure.” You whispered against his mouth. He glanced down and smiled.

“I’d say that’s pretty decent.” He set you down and glanced around to make sure you were still alone.

“Let’s…get out of here. I’ll get your clothes.”

You sank lower in the water and took a large, deep breath eyes closing.

You knew what was coming, and the anticipation of it was making you shiver, or maybe that was the water, or even the weed which you had hoped would chill you out but it hadn’t. Either way you needed a towel, a blanket and a cold drink asap.

“Coast is clear.” He motioned for you to get out and held up his shirt so you could slip your bra and shorts back on and extended a hand to pull you up the bank.

The air still had a little chill in it in mid June as you followed along behind him silently, teeth chattering for a few moments before you asked ���Where are we going?”

“I’m not sure honestly” he said with a small chuckle and a glance over his shoulder “We could leave I guess. Go somewhere.”

“We can’t go to my house.” You said shaking your head “No boys allowed, and I’m not doing anything in there.” You pointed at the house behind you. You’d accidentally walked in on two hookups before he got there, once in a bedroom and one in the bathroom and while you hoped it had been great for both of them, you didn’t want to be on the other end of that.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes “We’re in our 20s. It’s supposed to be easier to find places to hook up not harder.” He turned to face you now, resting a hand on either shoulder and looked down, running his thumb across your collarbone “We can drive to my apartment, but it’s like 40 minutes from here.”

“Can you wait that long?” You asked arching an eyebrow.

He smiled slowly “No.” He said as he pinned you against the side of the car, hands everywhere as he kissed you heavily. You couldn’t breath, your skin was hot and your shorts were wet in a way that had nothing to do with the lake water you’d never dried off.

“My car. Let’s go to my car.” You gasped out pointing to it and giving him a nudge. You realized then that you were still wearing only a bra and your shorts were unbuttoned and you were standing way out in the open, making out against someone’s car. He leaned around you to look at it, a 4 door Honda and scoffed.

“There’s no way I’m fitting in that backseat.” He said shaking his head “No way.”

“Uhmmmmmm.” You looked around “What about that backseat?” You pointed at Darcy’s SUV that you knew was unlocked. She would let you use it if it meant you were getting laid and she wouldn’t get mad.

And even if she did, you’d get it detailed for her.

“Who’s car is that?” He asked as you pushed him towards it.

“Does it matter? Who cares just get inside.”

“Okay damn.” He said pulling the door open and holding it for you to leaned down and pull the seats down. You felt your shorts slipping down your legs, and you were sure the strap of your thong was hanging out the top of them, so you hoped he was enjoying the show. As you struggled with the lever, you felt him grab either side of your hips and pull you back a little so your ass was against his front. You gasped and jumped, bumping your head on the car door frame, as one of his hands splayed across your lower back.

“What is this?” You half turned to find him staring down at your lower back.

The tattoo

You’d forgotten all about the collection of little flowers that had been inked across the skin of your lower back, right above your thong line.

He glanced between it and you several times before he gave you a push “Get in the car.”

You crawled inside to pull the other one down, and he was on you before you had time to completely pull the lever. You went flying backwards as the lever released and he pushed you back at the same time. Lips moving feverishly against each others he moved over top of you as you backed yourself up to the trunk. The carpet was already giving you rug burn on your elbows. You felt something soft brush against your shoulder and pulled yourself away to glance over.

You giggled “Look at this. She even has a blanket.”

“She’s gonna be the best soccer mom like maybe ever.” He said pushing his hair out of his eyes as you quickly laid it out behind you and turned back to him. He pushed himself up, hissing in pain when he hit his elbow on the back tire casing, before heaving himself forward, foot hitting the seat. He looked annoyed as he finally got comfortable and focused his attention back on you.

He leaned forward, hand sliding over your shoulder to grip the back of your neck and pull you forward. He’s gained some confidence now and any awkwardness there was before was gone. His weight came down on you as he kissed you again, tongue pushing right into your mouth this time. He ground his pelvis into yours causing you to gasp against his mouth, and let out a tiny noise of surprise. He slid a bra strap down your shoulder, long fingers sliding pleasantly across your skin. As you leaned up to move your mouth across the underside of his jaw you were pulled immediately back down.

“Wait your on-my hair hang on-“ you said tapping his elbow.

He moved up and cracked the top of his head on the window with a loud smack “Ow Jesus CHRIST.” He growled frustratedly rubbing the spot as he fell forward, his weight collapsing on you and knocking the wind from your lungs.

You huffed in annoyance, eyes finding his in the darkness “This isn’t working.”

“Your right. We’re gonna have to find a bed.”

“If there’s one you can fit in. Move over, let’s try this.” You wiggled out from under him, taking the opportunity to kick your shorts completely off and pushed him backwards by the shoulders, swinging a leg over him so you straddled his midsection.

He leaned backward, hands coming up to rest on your thighs and glanced upwards. You raised yourself upwards a few times to ensure that your head wouldn’t hit the ceiling before your eyes moved down his torso.

“Take this off.” You breathed out, tugging at the hem of his shirt. He was bigger, broader than he had been since the last you’d seen him, and you needed to examine every inch. He had always been long and lanky, but over the course of his season away muscle had started to pad his frame.

He leaned upwards and pulled his shirt over the back of his head, tossing it to the side and leaning up to kiss the underside of your jaw, mouth leaving a wet trail down your neck to your collarbone. His body felt hot against yours and he slid both his hands up your legs to your waist. You fumbled, hands shaking, with the button and the zipper on his shorts, finally springing them open and yanking them down, tossing them playfully at him. He smiled and propped himself up on his elbows to watch you as you kissed the base of his throat, and made you way down his upper body. You glanced up and leaned down, leaving a wet open mouth kiss on his abdomen, never breaking eye contact as you pulled the waistband of his boxers down agonizingly slow.

“Jesus.” He said throwing his head back against the floor of the cargo hold with a soft thump. You pulled them off, over his legs and tossed them in the front seat, making a mental note of where they landed so Darcy didn’t find them later.

“My turn.” He said snapping the band of your thong. You glanced down.

“How are you gonna get those off? You can’t sit up.”

He looked around and frowned “Fuck.” He let his head fall backwards and his hands fell to his sides “I hate this car. You do it. But do it really slow.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up and slid them slowly down your legs till they were at your knees and looked up.

He was staring at them, lips pursed, eyes squinted for several seconds before he looked up at your face “Just you wait till I get us to a bed.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you wiggled them off and made your way back up.

The windows in Darcy’s SUV had started to fog up and you were glad she’d parked so far from the house because the amount of movement the car would be doing in a few minutes would be a dead giveaway as to what was happening inside.

A shiver went from your neck to your lady parts as you swung a leg over him, positioning yourself over him, You took a deep breath, pushing up on your knees before sinking down on him. The sensation of him inside you made your stomach flip sideways and stars explode across your vision for a split second. Your head fell backwards, hair spilling down your back as you braced a hand on the window. You let out a gasp, eyes closing and head falling forward as you lifted yourself up and did it again, going deeper this time. His eyes were closed, fingers gripping the skin on your hips tightly. You began to move up and down, the stretching sensation between your legs was almost overwhelming as you moved slowly. You placed a hand on his lower stomach to steady yourself and he opened his eyes to look up at you as you rocked your hips forward, the other hand braced on the window.

It was a long slow drag of friction that was almost overwhelming. The burn in your abdomen was unbearable, heat pooling in between your legs as you moved up and down. A thin sheen of sweat had appeared on his chest and your back as the air inside the car became thick and heavy, cold and hot, and your breath could be seen with every movement. Your legs and arms felt heavy, but you weren’t done yet.

“Tired?” He asked, sitting up slightly to palm your lower back.

You nodded and leaned forward on him, using the close proximity to thread your fingers through his hair and tip his head up to kiss you. He put a hand on either side of your waist and pulled you up and then back down, his own hips moving up to meet yours.

You let out a low moan as he did it again, hitting a new even deeper angle than before, digging your nails into the skin on the back of his neck. He moved his mouth across your chest, lips pressing lightly against your sternum as he helped you move up and down his length faster. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled your face down to his “Look at me.” He breathed as your orgasm hit you full force, you let out a strangled cry and your eyes slid closed, breath coming out in gasps.

You were spent, exhausted, and overheated, vision fuzzy as you leaned forward forehead resting on his shoulder. You could feel his heart beating and let out a long breath, looking up at him. He was smiling and reached a hand out to grip the side of your face, thumb stroking across your cheek.

“I told you I was gonna fuck you stupid.”

Your mouth fell open and you slapped his chest, kissing him on the cheek and easing off him. He reached into the front, grabbed the clothing and you both awkwardly got dressed in the small confines of the car without speaking. He got out first, glanced around and extended a hand for you to get out as well.

“I should find Darcy.” You said straightening your shorts out and smoothing your shirt.

He nodded and leaned against the side of Darcy’s car “What are you doing later?”

You pulled your phone out and checked the time “It’s 12:30.”

“And?” He said staring at you blankly.

“Nothing I guess. Why?”

“Come over.” He said with a smile.

“To do what?”

He just smiled and kissed your cheek before turning and making his way towards where his car was parked some feet away.

“Hey!” You called “Did you just come here to hook up with me and then leave.”

He smiled and shrugged “I’ll never tell. See you later.” He called as he disappeared into the darkness. You watched him leave, turning in time to see Darcy making her way over.

“There you are. Did you and him talk things out?”

“Oh. Yeah you could say that.” You trailed off.

“Have you been here at my car this whole time?” She was frowning as she watched his car pull out of the driveway and make its way down the street.

“Mhmm. So about your car…” you said clearing your throat, looking at her with a guilty expression.

Her frown disappeared and she looked at her suspiciously “You didn’t.”

“Oh we did.”

“Yeah right.” She said waving you off with a small laugh. When you didn’t say anything her smile faded “Your kidding. No? Not kidding.”

You shook your head and held back a giggle as her mouth fell open “Are you fucking kidding me? You climbed that tree? IN MY CAR?” She peered in the back to see the seats folded and her blanket spread across the cargo hold.

You blew out a long breath that ended in a laugh “After we skinny dipped.”

She gasped and clutched her heart, gripping your arm “This is the best day of my life. Is it everything I think it was? Did it live up to the dirty talk?”

“It did. Good call on that blanket by the way.”

“That’s my girl! Up top!” She grabbed your hand and slapped her own with it she grabbed your face and kissed you on the cheek. She swung an arm over your shoulder and reached in her pocket, pulling out the half smoked joint and waggled her eyebrows.

“Round two?”

[okasuka]

Damian wayne x Reader - safe in his arms.

tw: mention of scars, implied sh.

Gotham’s night sky glowed dimly through the expansive windows of Wayne Manor’s Batcave, the soft hum of the supercomputer the only sound filling the otherwise silent space. Y/N sat at the console, her eyes glued to the screens as she monitored various feeds.

“Wayne, you’re pushing it tonight,” she said, her voice firm but laced with concern.

Damian’s voice crackled over comms. “I can handle it.”

She rolled her eyes. He always said that, and yet she was the one piecing him together after every patrol. The sound of his cape rustling and faint grunts told her he was already climbing his way back to the cave.

Minutes later, the elevator dinged, and a bloodied Damian stumbled in. His face was set in a scowl, blood trailing from a cut above his eyebrow, his uniform torn in several places. Alfred stepped forward with his med kit, but Damian waved him off.

“I’m fine,” Damian muttered, his voice sharper than intended. He brushed past Bruce, who gave him a disapproving glare, and slumped into a nearby chair.

“You’re bleeding on my floor, Damian,” Bruce commented dryly.

“Y/N will handle it,” Damian said with finality, his emerald gaze flickering to her.

She sighed, pushing her chair back from the console. “You could try asking nicely, you know.”

Damian’s expression softened, though he didn’t reply. Y/N grabbed the med kit and walked over to him, ignoring Bruce’s quiet smirk as he retreated upstairs. Alfred followed with a shake of his head, leaving the two alone.

It wasn’t until Y/N crouched in front of Damian, sleeves of her t-shirt pushed up, that she felt the weight of his gaze. Her scars were exposed—the faint, silvery lines crisscrossing her tan skin like a map of battles long fought. She hesitated, her hands faltering over the kit.

Damian caught the flicker of insecurity in her expression. “You’re wearing short sleeves.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. “It’s warm.”

“You never wear short sleeves,” he countered, his voice softer this time.

“I do sometimes,” she muttered, focusing on cleaning the cut on his forehead. She felt his eyes on her, unwavering and intense.

“Why do you hide them?” he asked, his tone lacking its usual sharpness.

Y/N stiffened, her hands stilling. “They’re ugly, Damian. They’re… reminders.” She didn’t look at him, keeping her attention on his wound. “People stare. Or ask questions.”

“I don’t think they’re ugly,” he said matter-of-factly, as if his opinion was law.

She looked up at him, her brows furrowed. “You’re just saying that.”

“I never say things I don’t mean,” Damian replied, his voice steady. He reached out, his fingers brushing the back of her hand. “You’ve seen my scars, haven’t you?”

“That’s different,” she argued. “Yours… they’re from fights, missions. Mine are—”

“Yours are proof you survived,” Damian interrupted, his eyes locking onto hers. “You’re not defined by them. But if you think for one second that they make you less than perfect…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Y/N swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Damian didn’t give compliments lightly. The sincerity in his voice made her chest ache.

“You mean that?” she asked quietly.

“Of course I do,” he replied. He glanced at her arms again, his gaze lingering before returning to her face. “You shouldn’t feel the need to hide around me. Or Father. We’re your family.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “You’re getting soft, Wayne.”

His lips twitched in response. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

She laughed softly, resuming her work. As she dabbed antiseptic on a cut near his collarbone, Damian spoke again.

“Why do you always take care of me? Even when you’re busy.”

Y/N glanced at him, her brow arched. “Because someone has to keep you alive. And let’s face it, Bruce would probably just lecture you into next week.”

Damian let out a low chuckle, the sound rare but genuine. “You’re terrible at taking compliments, you know.”

“And you’re terrible at accepting help.”

“Touché,” he muttered.

When she finished wrapping his arm, she sat back on her heels, surveying her work. “All patched up. Try not to break anything else for at least twenty-four hours.”

“No promises,” he replied, though there was a hint of warmth in his smirk.

As she started packing up the med kit, Damian caught her wrist, his thumb brushing lightly over a scar on her forearm.

“Stop hiding,” he said quietly.

Her gaze softened. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Because I’m not going to stop reminding you.”

She chuckled, standing up. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here you are,” he quipped.

Y/N shook her head, smiling as she returned to the console. But for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the need to tug her sleeves down.

The soft glow of the Batcomputer’s screens illuminated the cavernous room as Y/N continued typing, her fingers flying across the keyboard. The digital clock in the corner ticked to 4:32 a.m., but she barely noticed. Her focus was razor-sharp as she sifted through surveillance footage, cross-referenced data points, and logged updates for tomorrow’s patrol briefing.

Her eyes burned, and her head felt heavy, but she ignored it. There was always more to do.

Footsteps echoed softly behind her, and she didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“You’re still at it,” Damian said, his voice low but carrying that familiar mix of concern and disapproval.

“I’m almost done,” Y/N replied without turning, her voice a touch groggy.

“You said that an hour ago,” he pointed out, stepping closer. He leaned against the side of her chair, arms crossed, his green eyes studying her profile. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though the dark circles under her eyes and the slight sway in her posture told a different story.

Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Y/N, you’re barely upright.”

She waved him off. “It’s not that bad. Just let me finish this last—”

“No,” Damian interrupted firmly. He leaned down, his hand lightly brushing hers to stop her from typing. “You’ve done enough for tonight.”

“But—”

“You’re not helping anyone by running yourself into the ground,” he said, his voice softer this time. “You need rest.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her temples. “I can’t just leave it unfinished, Damian. There’s too much—”

“You always think there’s too much,” he cut in. He crouched beside her, his intense gaze meeting hers. “You won’t stop unless someone makes you, so I’m making you. You’re going to sleep. Now.”

She blinked at him, taken aback by his determination. He was right, of course, but admitting it wasn’t easy. “You’re bossy, you know that?”

“Yes,” Damian said without hesitation. “And I’m right. So, are you going to listen, or do I have to carry you upstairs?”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He smirked. “Try me.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile fading into a sigh. She was too tired to argue. “Fine. I’ll sleep. But…” She hesitated, biting her lip. “Can I sleep with you?”

Damian’s expression softened, the hard edges of his demeanor melting away. “You didn’t even have to ask,” he said quietly.

He straightened, offering her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet. As they walked toward the elevator, her steps sluggish and unsteady, Damian kept a steadying hand on her lower back.

Once upstairs, they made their way to Damian’s room. She hesitated for a moment at the door, but he gently nudged her inside.

“You know the drill,” he said, grabbing an extra blanket from his closet.

Y/N settled onto his bed, the familiar scent of his room—clean, with a faint hint of sandalwood—immediately soothing her frayed nerves. Damian slipped out of his boots and joined her, his movements careful and deliberate.

As she curled up under the blanket, her head resting on his shoulder, she murmured, “Thanks, Damian.”

“For what?” he asked, his voice low as he adjusted the blanket over her.

“For taking care of me,” she said, her eyes fluttering closed.

He was quiet for a moment before replying, his voice barely above a whisper. “Always.”

Within minutes, Y/N was fast asleep, her even breaths the only sound in the room. Damian lay still beside her, his own exhaustion catching up to him. But before sleep took him, he glanced down at her peaceful face, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

In her presence, he found a kind of calm he couldn’t explain. And in moments like this, he didn’t need to.

The morning light seeped through the gaps in Damian’s blackout curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Y/N stirred, her body comfortably tangled with Damian’s beneath the warm covers. She felt his arm draped over her waist, his steady breath tickling the top of her head.

A sleepy smile crept onto her face as she nestled closer to him, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of his shirt sleeve. It wasn’t often she allowed herself to relax like this, but being in Damian’s arms made it feel safe.

“Are you going to keep poking at my arm or actually get up?” Damian’s voice broke through the peaceful silence, low and teasing.

Y/N glanced up to find his sharp green eyes already open, watching her with amusement. “You’re awake?”

“I’ve been awake for a while,” he replied. “You snore.”

“I do not!” she protested, swatting at his chest.

Damian smirked. “You absolutely do.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to pull away, but Damian’s arm tightened around her waist. “Not so fast,” he murmured. “I’m comfortable.”

She sighed, her cheeks heating. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he quipped, his lips twitching into a small smile.

Before she could fire back a retort, the door opened with a sharp knock, and Bruce strode in, dressed in a crisp black suit.

“Good morning,” Bruce said, his tone neutral, though his raised eyebrow suggested he wasn’t entirely surprised to find them curled up together.

Y/N immediately sat up, flustered. Damian, on the other hand, remained completely unfazed, leaning back against the headboard with a faint scowl.

“Do you ever knock?” Damian asked flatly.

Bruce ignored him, crossing his arms. “There’s a gala tonight. Wayne Enterprises is hosting, and your attendance is non-negotiable.”

Damian groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Bruce replied firmly. His gaze shifted to Y/N. “That includes you, Y/N. If either of you need a new suit or dress, now’s the time to get one.”

Y/N blinked. “Wait—me? Why do I have to go?”

Bruce gave her a pointed look. “You’re practically part of the family, and it wouldn’t hurt to remind Gotham of that.”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Damian. He shrugged. “You might as well come. Better than leaving me alone with the socialites.”

Bruce’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile before he turned and left the room, his voice trailing back to them. “Alfred will have the car ready in an hour.”

As the door clicked shut, Y/N flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “A gala? Really?”

Damian smirked, leaning over her. “Come on, it won’t be that bad. Besides, you’ll look amazing in whatever you wear.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Was that a compliment, Damian Wayne?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he replied, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

Y/N laughed softly, pulling the blanket over her face. “Fine. But you’re helping me pick a dress.”

Damian lay back down beside her, pulling the blanket down so he could see her face. “Deal. But if I have to suffer through this, so do you.”

She smiled, reaching over to lace her fingers with his. “Fair enough.”

The ride to the boutique had been uneventful, save for Damian begrudgingly trying on a basic black suit. He wasn’t one for frills or unnecessary embellishments, so the simple design suited him perfectly. Y/N, however, had been trapped in the dressing room for what felt like an eternity, torn between choices.

She stepped out for the umpteenth time in a sleek navy dress, the soft material hugging her figure but still modest by her standards. “What about this one?” she asked, her tone a mix of hope and frustration.

Damian, sitting cross-legged in a chair near the fitting rooms, didn’t even glance up from his phone. “It’s fine.”

Y/N groaned. “You’ve said that about all of them! You’re no help.”

Damian sighed, finally looking up. “They’re all fine. Just pick one, Y/N.”

She huffed, disappearing back into the dressing room. After a few moments, Damian stood, wandering over to the racks of dresses. His eyes scanned the options, none of them particularly standing out to him—until one caught his eye.

It was a deep emerald-green dress, sleek and elegant with a high slit on one side and a daringly low back. He plucked it off the rack and knocked on Y/N’s dressing room door.

“Try this,” he said, holding it out.

She opened the door, raising an eyebrow. “You picked something? That’s new.”

“Just put it on,” he replied, shoving it into her hands before stepping back.

When she stepped out wearing it, Damian’s breath hitched. The emerald fabric contrasted beautifully with her tan skin, the cut highlighting her figure in ways that had him swallowing hard. He hadn’t realized just how revealing it was until now—the open back, the slit that stopped just above her mid-thigh.

Y/N frowned, tugging at the hem. “It’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

Damian, still slightly stunned, managed to clear his throat. “It… suits you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she gave him a small smile. “You think so?”

He nodded, averting his eyes and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

Thirty minutes before the gala, Y/N was in the bathroom, curling her short brown hair and carefully arranging the red streak in her bangs. She had applied light makeup, her scars faintly visible under the bathroom’s harsh lighting.

She stared at her reflection, her smile faltering. The scars on her forearms were impossible to ignore in the sleeveless dress. Her chest tightened as she ran her fingers over the silvery lines.

A knock on the door startled her.

“Y/N, we need to leave soon,” Damian called from the hallway.

“Just a minute!” she replied.

Grabbing a roll of bandages from the first aid kit on the counter, she opened the door to find Damian waiting in his suit, looking more dashing than she’d ever admit out loud. His eyes immediately landed on the bandages in her hands.

“Are those for your arms?” he asked, frowning.

Y/N avoided his gaze. “Yeah. I just… I don’t want anyone staring.”

Damian stepped closer, his voice soft. “Y/N, you don’t need to hide them. You look incredible as you are.”

Her hands tightened around the bandages. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, his tone firm. “I’ve already told you—your scars don’t make you any less beautiful. You don’t have to cover them up for anyone.”

She bit her lip, her shoulders slumping. “I know you mean that, but… I just can’t. Not tonight.”

Damian studied her for a moment before nodding. “Alright. If it helps you feel more comfortable, I’ll help you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted.

Carefully, Damian took the bandages from her and guided her to sit on the bathroom counter. He unrolled the first strip, wrapping it gently around her forearm, his fingers light and precise.

As he worked, he glanced up at her. “You don’t have to hide from me, you know. Ever.”

Her chest tightened at his words, but she managed a small smile. “I know. Thanks, Damian.”

He finished the last wrap, securing it in place before stepping back to admire his work. “There. Happy?”

Y/N nodded, sliding off the counter. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Good,” he said, offering her his arm. “Now let’s get this over with.”

She laughed softly, looping her arm through his. “Lead the way, Wayne.”

The Wayne Enterprises gala was every bit as extravagant as Y/N had dreaded. The grand ballroom was filled with Gotham’s elite, chandeliers casting a warm golden glow over the crowd. Waiters glided through the sea of gowns and suits, carrying trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. A live orchestra played softly in the background, but none of it made Y/N feel any less out of place.

She clung tightly to Damian’s arm as they walked into the room behind Bruce, who was immediately intercepted by a group of businesspeople. The older Wayne exchanged pleasantries with ease, leaving Damian and Y/N standing awkwardly near the entrance.

“Well, he’s gone,” Damian muttered, glancing toward the throng of people crowding Bruce.

Y/N’s grip on Damian’s arm tightened. “Lucky him,” she whispered, glancing nervously at the crowd.

Damian smirked and glanced down at her. “You’re stuck with me. Try to look a little less like you’re about to bolt.”

She gave him a shaky smile. “Sorry, I’m not exactly used to this.”

“Neither am I,” Damian admitted, his voice low. He guided her toward a quiet corner of the room, away from prying eyes. “Let’s just stay out of the way.”

They found a small sofa tucked near the edge of the ballroom, far from the main event. Y/N sat down beside Damian, feeling a little more at ease with his arm draped protectively around her waist.

“Is it just me, or does everyone here look like they stepped out of a magazine?” Y/N murmured, her eyes scanning the impeccably dressed crowd.

Damian leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “They look like they stepped out of last month’s magazine.”

Y/N stifled a laugh, earning a raised eyebrow from an older woman walking by. She quickly turned her head, biting her lip to suppress her amusement.

“Did you see that guy by the champagne table?” Damian asked, nodding subtly toward a man in a glittering gold suit. “He looks like a walking trophy.”

Y/N finally let out a quiet giggle. “He does! And what about her?” She motioned discreetly toward a woman in a bright pink dress with an enormous bow on the back. “Is she cosplaying as a gift box?”

Damian’s lips quirked into a smirk. “I’m almost certain Alfred could tie a better bow blindfolded.”

Y/N’s laughter grew louder, and Damian’s smirk softened into a rare, genuine smile. He adjusted his arm around her waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her dress absentmindedly.

“You’re getting more comfortable,” he noted, his tone warm.

She looked up at him, her cheeks still slightly pink from laughing. “That’s because you’re here,” she admitted softly.

Damian’s green eyes softened. “I told you, you don’t need to be nervous. Most of these people are too self-absorbed to even notice us.”

“Still,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper, “it’s easier with you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but his arm tightened around her slightly, a silent acknowledgment of her words.

They fell into an easy rhythm, quietly mocking the ridiculous displays of wealth and the ostentatious fashion choices. Damian pointed out a man with an absurdly large fur coat (“Did he wrestle a bear for that?”), and Y/N teased him about a woman with an over-the-top feathered hat (“She’s clearly hiding birds in there”).

For the first time that evening, Y/N felt completely at ease.

“You know,” Damian said after a while, his voice quieter now, “this isn’t so bad. Sitting here with you.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart fluttering at his rare moment of openness. “I guess it’s not so bad either.”

They sat there, cocooned in their little corner of the gala, the bustling noise and flashing lights fading into the background as they shared soft laughs and quiet conversation. In that moment, the chaos of Gotham’s elite seemed a world away.

As the night wore on, Y/N leaned back on the sofa, watching Damian sip his water with his usual composed expression. Despite his flawless posture and impeccable suit, she couldn’t help but smirk.

“You look way too uptight,” she said suddenly, leaning closer.

Damian raised an eyebrow at her. “Excuse me?”

She grinned mischievously, reaching for his tie. “Just hold still.”

“What are you—” he began, but she cut him off by gently loosening the perfectly knotted tie.

“There,” she said, slipping it down a few inches. “Now these.” She deftly undid the top two buttons of his shirt, revealing just a hint of his collarbone.

Damian looked at her with mock indignation. “You’re ruining the suit.”

“I’m making you look less like you’re going to a board meeting,” she shot back, her hands moving up to his hair. “And now, this needs some work.”

He stiffened slightly as she ruffled his meticulously combed hair, making it fall messily over his forehead. She leaned back to inspect her work, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

“Perfect,” she said. “Now you look more like your playboy dad.”

Damian gave her a flat look, brushing a hand through his now tousled hair. “I look like a man-whore,” he deadpanned.

Y/N burst out laughing, the sound so genuine it drew a few curious glances from the nearby tables. She leaned into him, her forehead lightly bumping his shoulder as she tried to stifle her laughter.

“Maybe,” she teased, lifting her head to meet his gaze. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned in, her voice dropping to a soft whisper. “But only for me.”

Before he could respond, she pressed a kiss to his lips, her fingers brushing against the side of his face. Damian froze for a moment, but then his hand moved to her waist, pulling her just a little closer.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N grinned, her cheeks warm. “See? Much better.”

Damian huffed, though his faint blush betrayed his nonchalant expression. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love it,” she shot back, settling back into his side.

He shook his head, a small, rare smile tugging at his lips. “Unfortunately.”

Y/N laughed again, leaning into him as they returned to their playful banter. For the first time that evening, Damian didn’t mind the gala—it was worth it, as long as she was by his side.

As Y/N leaned into Damian’s side, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on the back of his hand, she noticed someone approaching from across the room. It was a tall woman, a model by the looks of her, with long legs and a glittering silver dress that sparkled under the chandelier lights. Her confident stride and knowing smile made it clear she had only one target in mind: Damian.

“Well, well, Damian Wayne,” the woman purred as she stopped in front of them. Her voice was smooth, dripping with charm. “I thought you didn’t attend these events unless absolutely necessary.”

Damian’s expression instantly turned cold, his usual stoicism returning in full force. “I don’t,” he replied curtly, his arm still firmly around Y/N’s waist.

The woman’s eyes flicked briefly to Y/N, but she didn’t seem fazed. Instead, she leaned slightly closer to Damian. “Then I must say, this is quite the treat. It’s not every day someone gets to see Gotham’s most eligible bachelor up close.”

Y/N felt a pang of discomfort as the woman’s attention seemed to focus solely on Damian, completely disregarding her. Still, she stayed quiet, not wanting to make a scene.

The woman tilted her head, her perfectly styled hair cascading over one shoulder. “So, who’s your lovely friend?”

“Y/N,” Damian said, his voice firm as he glanced at her. “And she’s not just my friend.”

The woman’s smile faltered slightly, but she recovered quickly. “Ah, I see. Well, aren’t you lucky, Y/N?” Her tone was overly sweet, almost condescending.

Y/N forced a tight-lipped smile, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

The woman’s gaze drifted down to Y/N’s bandaged arms, and her expression shifted to one of exaggerated curiosity. “Oh, what happened there?” she asked, gesturing toward the bandages. “That’s quite the… fashion statement.”

Y/N’s heart sank, her stomach twisting in knots. She instinctively pulled her arms closer to her body, trying to hide them, but the woman continued.

“Did you injure yourself, or is this some kind of edgy accessory thing?” she added with a laugh, clearly not realizing—or caring—how insensitive her words were.

Damian’s jaw tightened, his green eyes flashing with barely contained anger. He stood abruptly, taking Y/N’s hand in his. “We’re leaving,” he said sharply, glaring at the woman.

The model blinked, startled. “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

Damian didn’t wait for her to finish. He gently but firmly led Y/N through the crowd and out of the ballroom, his grip on her hand protective and steady.

When they finally reached the cool night air outside, Damian stopped and turned to face her. Y/N avoided his gaze, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she blinked back tears.

“Y/N,” Damian said softly, stepping closer.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “I look ridiculous. I don’t belong here.”

“Stop,” he said firmly, but his tone was gentle. He reached out, placing his hands on her shoulders. “None of that is true. You don’t look ridiculous, and you absolutely belong here—with me.”

Her eyes darted up to meet his, tears glistening in them. “But the way she looked at me… the way she talked about my arms…”

“She’s an idiot,” Damian interrupted, his voice filled with conviction. “She has no idea what she’s talking about. You are the strongest, most amazing person I know, Y/N. Those scars don’t define you, and anyone who thinks they do isn’t worth a second of your time.”

Y/N sniffled, her heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. “But they’re so ugly, Damian. I hate them.”

He shook his head, his hands moving down to hold hers. “They’re not ugly,” he said softly. “They’re part of you. They tell your story—everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve overcome. And I think that’s beautiful.”

Her lip quivered, and she looked down, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “I just… I don’t want people to stare.”

“Let them stare,” he said, his voice steady. “If they can’t see how incredible you are, that’s their loss.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. “You really mean that?”

“I’ve never meant anything more,” he replied, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

She smiled weakly, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you, Damian.”

“Always,” he murmured, holding her close as the city lights twinkled around them. “Now, let’s skip the rest of this stupid gala. I think we’ve earned some peace and quiet.”

Y/N nodded against his chest, finally feeling a sense of calm wash over her. With Damian by her side, she knew she could face anything.

The ride back to Wayne Manor was quiet but comforting, the hum of the car filling the silence as Y/N leaned against Damian’s shoulder. She felt a mixture of exhaustion and lingering self-doubt from the gala, but Damian’s steady presence soothed her nerves.

When they arrived at the empty manor, the quietness of the grand house felt almost overwhelming. Bruce was still at the gala, and Alfred had retired for the evening, leaving the two of them alone in the vast, echoing halls.

Damian led Y/N to the sitting room, his hand never leaving hers. He gestured for her to sit on the plush couch, and she did, sinking into the soft cushions with a tired sigh.

“Stay here,” Damian said softly before disappearing for a moment. He returned quickly with a glass of water and a blanket, draping it over her shoulders.

“Thanks,” Y/N murmured, smiling up at him.

He sat beside her, his sharp green eyes focused on her arms. His expression softened as he reached for her hands, gently pulling them into his lap. “Take these off,” he said, nodding to the bandages.

She hesitated, her fingers twitching nervously. “Damian, I—”

“You don’t need to hide from me,” he interrupted, his voice low and full of emotion. “Please, let me do this.”

After a long moment, Y/N nodded, letting out a shaky breath. Damian began to carefully unwrap the bandages from her forearms, his touch gentle and deliberate. With each layer that fell away, her scars became more visible under the warm glow of the room’s light.

When the last bandage was removed, Y/N instinctively tried to pull her arms away, but Damian held them firmly, his grip tender. He stared at her arms for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper.

Her eyes widened, and her breath hitched. “Damian…”

He looked up, his green eyes locking with hers. “I mean it, Y/N. Every part of you—everything you’ve been through—it makes you you. And I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but they weren’t from sadness this time. She leaned forward, her forehead resting against his. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

“It’s the truth,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Then, with infinite care, Damian began peppering her arms with kisses. He started at her wrists, his lips brushing over the scars as though they were delicate treasures, and moved upward, taking his time with each kiss.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she watched him, her heart swelling with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Damian, you don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he said firmly, lifting his head to meet her gaze. “I want you to know how much you mean to me, how much I care about every part of you.”

Before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft but full of unspoken emotions. His hands cupped her face, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had started to fall.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N smiled, her heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. “I love you, Damian.”

A rare, soft smile spread across his face. “I love you too.”

They sat there in the quiet of the manor, wrapped in each other’s arms. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt truly at peace, knowing she was loved and accepted exactly as she was.

After the tender moment in the sitting room, Y/N excused herself to change into something more comfortable. She wandered upstairs to Damian’s room, pulling open one of his drawers and grabbing a pair of his loose athletic shorts and a plain black t-shirt. They smelled faintly of him—clean and comforting.

When she came back downstairs, Damian was still in the sitting room, his tie discarded and his shirt halfway unbuttoned. He glanced up when she entered, his eyes briefly flicking over her before he cleared his throat and looked away.

“Those look better on you than they ever did on me,” he murmured, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

Y/N grinned as she padded over to him, the shorts hanging slightly loose on her hips. “Comfy and stylish? You’re spoiling me, Wayne.”

She sat beside him, tucking her legs underneath her, and reached for the rest of the buttons on his shirt. Damian stiffened slightly, his hand twitching on his knee.

“I can do that myself,” he said, his voice a little too steady, like he was trying to keep his composure.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her fingers already working on the next button. “Relax. You’re hurt, remember? I’m just helping.”

He didn’t protest further, though his sharp green eyes followed her hands as she worked her way down his shirt. His cheeks flushed faintly as she undid the last button, pushing the fabric aside to reveal his toned chest and defined abs.

Y/N bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re ridiculously fit, you know that?” she teased, her fingers lightly brushing over the smooth planes of his stomach.

Damian shifted slightly, his blush deepening. “It’s from training,” he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, leaning in closer. Without warning, she pressed a soft kiss just above his navel.

Damian’s breath hitched, and he froze, his hands gripping the couch cushion as if it might steady him. “Y/N…”

She looked up at him with a playful grin. “What? Can’t handle a little attention?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out, his face now bright red.

“Relax, Damian,” she said softly, pressing another kiss to his abs, just to tease him. “I’m just appreciating how lucky I am.”

He groaned softly, tipping his head back against the couch. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, though there was no heat in his voice.

“And you love it,” she teased, leaning back and giving him a wink.

He finally managed to compose himself, shaking his head as he reached for her hand. “You’re impossible,” he said, though the small, fond smile on his lips gave him away.

Y/N laughed, leaning into his side as he pulled her close. “Admit it, Damian. You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He glanced down at her, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “No,” he said quietly, his voice soft and genuine. “I wouldn’t.”

After their playful exchange, Damian stood up, brushing himself off. “I’m going to change,” he said, his tone calm but a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Sure,” Y/N said, settling back into the couch, already feeling more at ease.

When he returned a few minutes later, Y/N was scrolling idly through her phone, but the moment she glanced up, her breath caught. Damian had changed into a pair of dark gray joggers that sat low on his hips, his upper body completely bare. His toned muscles and sharp definition were on full display, the dim lighting accentuating every detail.

Y/N’s face heated instantly, and Damian caught the way her eyes widened slightly before she quickly looked away, pretending to be unbothered.

“Comfortable enough for you?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he sat back down beside her.

“I—yeah,” she stammered, suddenly very interested in the pattern on the couch.

Damian leaned closer, his smirk growing. “You’re staring,” he said, his tone teasing but low enough to make her heart race.

“Am not,” she mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

He chuckled softly, sitting back and grabbing a book from the coffee table. “If you say so.”

Y/N shifted awkwardly, trying to keep her focus on anything but him. Damian opened the book, flipping to the marked page, and began to read aloud. His voice was steady and soothing, the words flowing smoothly as he lost himself in the story.

But Y/N wasn’t paying attention. How could she, when he looked like that? Her eyes kept drifting to him—his strong arms, the curve of his jaw, the way his hair was still slightly messy from earlier. She was completely distracted, her cheeks warm as she tried and failed to focus.

Damian stopped mid-sentence, snapping the book shut and turning to her with a raised eyebrow. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What? I am!”

He tilted his head, smirking. “Really? What did I just read?”

Her mouth opened, then closed again. She let out a nervous laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Uh… something about… words?”

Damian’s smirk widened as he leaned closer. “You’re hopeless,” he said, his voice full of teasing amusement.

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Well, maybe it’s hard to concentrate when you’re sitting there looking like a Greek god,” she shot back, her words spilling out before she could stop them.

Damian froze for a split second, his cheeks faintly coloring, but he recovered quickly, his smirk returning. “So you were checking me out.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

He chuckled, gently tugging her hands away from her face. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said softly, his green eyes warm as he met her gaze. “I’m flattered, really.”

She glared at him half-heartedly. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, leaning back with a smug grin. “But I could say the same about you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Fine. You’re ridiculously handsome. Happy now?”

Damian’s smirk softened into a small, genuine smile. “Only because you’re here,” he said quietly.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she leaned into his side, letting his arm wrap around her. “You’re lucky you’re charming,” she murmured, closing her eyes as his warmth enveloped her.

“And you’re lucky I tolerate your terrible listening skills,” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

Y/N laughed softly, feeling utterly content in his arms.

The next morning at Wayne Manor was quiet and peaceful. Y/N woke up to the sound of faint birdsong outside the window, sunlight streaming through the curtains. Damian was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed reading. He glanced over when she stirred, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Good morning,” he said softly, placing the book on the nightstand.

“Morning,” she murmured, stretching and sitting up. “You’ve been up for a while, haven’t you?”

“Only a little,” he replied, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I was letting you sleep in.”

Y/N smiled sleepily, leaning into his touch. After a moment, she stood and wandered to the bathroom to freshen up, changing into one of Damian’s hoodies and her own leggings. When she returned, Damian was waiting for her by the door.

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand. “I’ll make us breakfast.”

Down in the massive kitchen, Y/N sat perched on a stool as Damian began pulling ingredients from the fridge. Despite his reputation as a fearsome vigilante, Damian was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen. He moved with precision, chopping vegetables with ease and setting up everything for a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast.

“Are you just going to sit there and watch, or do you want to help?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder with a faint smirk.

Y/N raised her hands defensively. “I don’t want to ruin your masterpiece.”

Damian rolled his eyes but gestured for her to come over. “I’ll guide you.”

She hesitated, but his reassuring expression convinced her to join him. He handed her a knife and a cutting board, placing a small pile of vegetables in front of her. “Just slice these. I’ll show you how.”

Standing behind her, Damian reached out to gently guide her hands. His touch was firm but careful as he adjusted her grip on the knife, his chest brushing against her back.

“Like this,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Use your fingers to guide the blade but keep them tucked under so you don’t cut yourself.”

Y/N followed his instructions, her hands moving awkwardly at first. Damian’s presence was both comforting and distracting, his warmth radiating through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“See? You’re doing fine,” he murmured, his breath brushing against her ear.

“Maybe,” she replied, glancing up at him with a small smile. “But I’m pretty sure you’re doing most of the work.”

He chuckled softly, his hands retreating as he let her take over. “You’ll get the hang of it. Just don’t let the knife intimidate you.”

She managed a few decent slices before turning to him triumphantly. “Not bad, right?”

“Not bad at all,” Damian said, taking the board from her and adding the vegetables to the pan.

Y/N leaned against the counter, watching him cook with a sense of quiet admiration. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“I had to learn,” he said simply, stirring the pan. “Father and Alfred can’t always be around to cook, and I prefer knowing what’s in my meals.”

“Practical as always,” she teased, earning a small smirk from him.

Once the food was ready, they sat together at the kitchen island, sharing a meal in comfortable silence. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a warmth settle in her chest as she watched Damian, his normally stoic expression softened in the calm of the morning.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly, her voice quiet.

He looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”

“For this,” she replied, gesturing to the food and the peaceful moment they were sharing. “For being… you.”

Damian’s expression softened further, and he reached across the counter to take her hand. “I could say the same to you,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing against her knuckles.

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand gently. Moments like these reminded her of just how much she loved him—and how lucky she was to have him in her life.

After breakfast, Y/N and Damian cleared the table together, falling into a comfortable rhythm as they washed and dried the dishes. Despite the mundane nature of the task, Y/N found herself smiling. It was the simplicity of it all—doing something normal with him, no danger, no pressure. Just the two of them.

Damian handed her a plate to dry, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Y/N couldn’t help but glance at his forearms. “You know,” she said, trying to suppress a grin, “you make doing dishes look annoyingly good.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Annoyingly good?”

“You heard me,” she teased, bumping her hip against his.

Damian shook his head, a faint chuckle escaping him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love it,” she countered with a grin, making him roll his eyes fondly.

After cleaning up, they wandered into the library, a massive room filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Damian selected a book he thought she’d enjoy and handed it to her, settling into one of the large armchairs. Y/N curled up beside him, her legs draped over his lap as she flipped through the pages.

For a while, the only sounds were the faint rustle of pages and the crackle of the fireplace Damian had lit. Y/N glanced up from her book occasionally, watching the way Damian’s brow furrowed slightly as he read, his focus intense.

“You’re staring again,” he said suddenly, not looking up from his book.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What? No, I’m not!”

He finally looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She huffed, closing her book and leaning her head against his shoulder. “Fine, I was staring. But can you blame me? You’re kind of distracting.”

Damian smirked, closing his own book and setting it aside. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

Y/N laughed, snuggling into his side. “And you’re lucky you’re tolerable,” she teased, earning a soft chuckle from him.

Later in the afternoon, Y/N decided to bake cookies, dragging Damian into the kitchen with her. He claimed he didn’t have much interest in sweets, but she caught him sneaking bites of the cookie dough when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“You do have a sweet tooth!” she exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I do not,” he said firmly, though the faint smear of dough on his lip betrayed him.

Y/N laughed, grabbing a towel to wipe his face. “You’re such a liar.”

Damian smirked, leaning down to steal a quick kiss. “And you’re nosy,” he shot back, his voice soft but teasing.

By the time the cookies were done, the kitchen was a mess, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to care. They sat together at the counter, eating warm cookies straight from the tray, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment.

“I like this,” she said softly, glancing at Damian.

He looked at her, his expression calm but warm. “Like what?”

“This. Us. Just… being together like this.”

A rare, soft smile crossed his face. “I like it too,” he admitted, reaching over to take her hand.

Y/N smiled, squeezing his hand gently. No matter how chaotic their lives could get, moments like these reminded her that they were worth every challenge.

Y/N was curled up on the couch, flipping through a book, when she heard Damian’s voice call from upstairs.

“Y/N! We’re out of shampoo!”

She sighed, closing her book and standing up. “How does someone who barely uses hair products run out of shampoo?” she muttered to herself as she made her way to the bathroom.

Pushing open the door, she stopped in her tracks. Damian was lounging in the large clawfoot tub, water up to his waist, his bare chest visible and lightly glistening with water droplets. His hair was damp, dark strands sticking to his forehead.

The sight made her cheeks warm instantly. “Damian!” she exclaimed, her voice rising slightly. “You’re in the bath!”

“Obviously,” he replied, smirking as he rested his arms on the edge of the tub, completely unbothered by her flustered reaction. “You came, so I assume you’re bringing me more shampoo.”

“I thought you needed shampoo!” she huffed, crossing her arms to try and cover her embarrassment.

“I do,” he said innocently, though the mischievous glint in his green eyes gave him away.

“You’re unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, stepping closer. “You’re not even out of shampoo, are you?”

“No,” he admitted, tilting his head slightly, his smirk growing. “But since you’re here…”

She raised an eyebrow. “Since I’m here what?”

He gestured to the small bottle of shampoo on the counter. “I thought you could put some in my hair and massage my scalp. It’s a relaxing experience, or so I’ve heard.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth falling open. “You called me all the way up here to be your personal shampoo assistant?”

“Precisely.” His tone was so matter-of-fact that she couldn’t tell if he was teasing or genuinely serious.

“You’re impossible, Damian Wayne,” she said with an exasperated sigh.

“And yet, you love me,” he replied smoothly, leaning back in the tub with a faint smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes but grabbed the bottle of shampoo anyway. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, kneeling by the side of the tub.

“I hear that a lot,” he teased, tilting his head back so she could reach his hair more easily.

Shaking her head, Y/N squirted a bit of shampoo into her hands and began to work it into his damp hair. Her fingers moved in slow, circular motions, massaging his scalp as the shampoo lathered.

Damian let out a soft hum of contentment, his eyes fluttering shut. “This is quite nice,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N replied, trying to suppress a smile. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Why not?” he murmured, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You’re very good at this.”

“Because I’m not your personal hairdresser, that’s why,” she said, though her tone lacked any real annoyance.

Damian chuckled softly, his hands resting on the edge of the tub. “You’re always so good to me, habibti.”

She paused for a moment, her fingers still in his hair, before continuing with a soft smile. “I do spoil you, don’t I?”

He cracked one eye open, glancing at her. “You do, but I’m not complaining.”

Y/N laughed, leaning over to rinse the suds from his hair with the handheld showerhead. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Only for you,” he replied smoothly, sitting up slightly so she could finish.

As she carefully rinsed out the last of the shampoo, she couldn’t help but shake her head, her smile widening. “You’re lucky you’re charming,” she said, setting the showerhead aside.

“And you’re lucky you tolerate me,” Damian shot back, his smirk softening into a rare, genuine smile.

Y/N sat back on her heels, her cheeks warm as she looked at him. Moments like these, filled with teasing banter and quiet affection, reminded her why she loved him so much.

After Damian finished his bath, he stood in the bedroom, a towel slung around his shoulders, as Y/N rummaged through his closet to pick out something for him to wear.

“Blouse or no blouse?” she asked teasingly, holding up one of his signature button-down shirts.

“Blouse,” he replied without hesitation, crossing his arms as he watched her. “And don’t take too long. I can’t walk around shirtless all day, as much as I’m sure you’d prefer it.”

Y/N shot him a playful glare but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re insufferable.”

She tossed him a plain white T-shirt, which he pulled on quickly, and then handed him the button-down. Damian slipped his arms through the sleeves but made no move to button it. Instead, he gave her a pointed look.

“You’re perfectly capable of doing this yourself,” Y/N said, raising an eyebrow.

“But you’re better at it,” he replied smoothly, stepping closer.

“Uh-huh, sure.” She sighed but stepped forward, her hands moving to the buttons of his shirt. “You’re so spoiled, Damian.”

As she worked her way up the shirt, fastening each button carefully, Damian’s gaze stayed fixed on her face, his expression unreadable. When she reached the top, she paused, leaving the top two buttons undone.

“There,” she said, smoothing the fabric over his shoulders. “That looks good.”

Damian glanced down at her handiwork before meeting her gaze again. “You have good taste, doll.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the nickname. “Doll?” she repeated, her cheeks heating.

He smirked, leaning in slightly. “Yes. Doll. It suits you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly looked away, fussing with the hem of his shirt. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” he asked innocently, stepping even closer. “Calling you doll? Why not?”

Her blush deepened as she tried to focus on straightening his collar. “Because it’s… it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?” His voice was soft now, teasing. “I think it’s fitting. Doll. Doll. Doll.”

Every time he said it, her blush grew, and Damian’s smirk only widened.

“Stop it,” she mumbled, though the small smile on her lips betrayed her.

“Why should I? You look adorable when you’re flustered,” he said, his tone gentle but amused.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Damian replied, leaning down so their faces were inches apart.

She smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek, her lips brushing against the faint warmth of his skin. “Only because it’s you,” she said softly.

Damian’s smirk softened into a rare, genuine smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

Y/N rested her hands against his chest, her smile widening as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth. Moments like this were all she needed to remind her just how much she adored him.

Y/N and Damian were trying their best to sneak down the hall unnoticed, their laughter muffled as they whispered to each other. Damian was leading the way, but Y/N tugged on his sleeve, holding him back when she thought she heard a noise.

“Relax,” he whispered, smirking at her. “Father’s probably holed up in the Batcave. He won’t—”

“Trying to go somewhere, are we?” Bruce’s deep voice suddenly cut through the air, making both of them freeze mid-step.

Slowly, they turned to find Bruce standing in the doorway of the study, arms crossed and his signature disapproving expression firmly in place.

Damian groaned softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Father.”

“Don’t ‘Father’ me,” Bruce said, raising an eyebrow. “Where exactly were the two of you sneaking off to?”

“We weren’t sneaking,” Y/N said quickly, though her guilty expression betrayed her.

Bruce sighed. “Right. Clearly, you need some discipline. Both of you—library. One hour. No electronics.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “You’re locking us in the library? Like we’re kids?”

Bruce gave her a pointed look. “You’re lucky it’s not the Batcave training simulator.”

Damian muttered something under his breath but didn’t argue. Grabbing Y/N’s hand, he led her toward the library with Bruce following close behind.

Once inside, Bruce locked the door, leaving them surrounded by towering shelves of books. Y/N flopped onto one of the plush armchairs, groaning dramatically.

“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled.

“Agreed,” Damian said, sitting beside her. Then, his lips curved into a smirk. “But he underestimated us.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as Damian pulled her MP3 player out of his pocket, holding it up triumphantly.

“You stole that from me!” she said, trying to snatch it back, but Damian held it out of her reach.

“Borrowed,” he corrected. “Now, are we sharing headphones, or are you going to pout?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but grabbed one of the earbuds he offered, placing it in her ear as Damian did the same. Scrolling through her playlist, he settled on a song and hit play.

The familiar opening chords of Scotty Doesn’t Know filled their ears, and Y/N immediately covered her face with her hands. “No. You did not just pick this song.”

Damian chuckled, leaning back casually in his seat. “What? It’s catchy.”

As the chorus began, Damian’s smirk deepened. He sang along softly, his voice low and teasing:

“Scotty doesn’t know that Fiona and me

Do it in my van every Sunday…”

Y/N’s face turned bright red. She shoved his shoulder lightly. “Damian!”

“She tells him she’s in church but she doesn’t go,” he continued, completely unbothered, his smirk widening as he watched her squirm. “Still she’s on her knees, and…”

“Stop it!” Y/N said, laughing despite herself as she buried her face in her hands.

Damian chuckled, pulling her hands away gently. “You’re so easy to fluster,” he said, leaning closer. “It’s adorable.”

“You’re insufferable,” she pouted, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed her mock annoyance.

“And yet, you’re smiling,” Damian pointed out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the warmth spreading through her chest. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“I know,” he replied smugly, leaning back with an air of satisfaction as the song continued to play.

Y/N shook her head, leaning her head on his shoulder as they shared the headphones. Even in moments like these—ridiculous and teasing—she wouldn’t trade their time together for anything.

The library had gone from a place of quiet punishment to their own little haven of playful chaos. After the impromptu duet with Scotty Doesn’t Know, Y/N and Damian had spent some time flipping through books and making up absurd backstories for the portraits hanging on the walls.

But it wasn’t long before Damian made a teasing remark about her flustered reaction to the song, and Y/N, determined to get the upper hand, decided to push back in the most Damian-annoying way possible.

She leaned casually against the edge of the long wooden table, arms folded and a sly smile playing on her lips. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

Damian smirked as he approached, his hands slipping into his pockets. “I don’t think. I know.”

“Do you, now?” she challenged, tilting her head slightly as he stopped in front of her.

Without another word, Y/N reached out, grabbing the front of his unbuttoned shirt to pull him closer. Before Damian could make a snarky remark, she closed the gap, her lips pressing against his in a kiss that was slow and teasing.

Damian’s sharp wit faltered as he instinctively placed his hands on her hips, steadying himself against the table. He kissed her back, but there was a slight hesitance, his usual confidence giving way to the softer side he only showed around her.

Y/N, emboldened, nipped at his bottom lip, then gently suckled on it before pulling back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She smirked at him knowingly, her voice low and teasing. “Speechless, Wayne? That’s a first.”

Damian’s breath hitched, and he immediately pulled away, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. He avoided her gaze, clearing his throat as he ran a hand through his already-messy hair. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his embarrassment.

Y/N leaned against the table, crossing her arms as she studied him, her grin widening. “You’re blushing,” she teased.

“I’m not,” Damian insisted, though the redness spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears said otherwise.

“You so are!” she laughed, stepping closer and poking his side playfully. “I’ve never seen the great Damian Wayne lose his cool like this.”

He finally glanced at her, his green eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re lucky I tolerate you.”

“Admit it,” she said, her voice softening as she cupped his cheek. “You love it.”

Damian sighed dramatically, though the smile on his face softened as he leaned into her touch. “Only because it’s you.”

Y/N smiled warmly, leaning up to press another soft kiss to his cheek. “Good answer.”

Damian shook his head, the embarrassment fading into fondness as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Even when she drove him crazy, he wouldn’t trade moments like this for anything.

Y/N stayed pressed against Damian’s chest, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders as she grinned up at him. “You know, for someone who’s so stoic all the time, you’re pretty easy to fluster.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk starting to return. “Only because you catch me off guard, doll.”

The nickname made her cheeks flush, but she quickly masked it with a playful roll of her eyes. “Don’t think calling me that is going to distract me from how red you were a second ago.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Damian replied smoothly, leaning down slightly so their faces were close again.

Y/N squinted at him suspiciously. “You’re plotting something.”

“Always,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Before she could fire back, Damian tightened his hold on her waist and spun her around, lifting her effortlessly so she was sitting on the edge of the table.

“Damian!” she exclaimed, gripping his arms for balance as she laughed.

He stepped between her legs, his hands resting on either side of her on the table. “You think you’re the only one who can tease?” he asked, a glint of mischief in his green eyes.

“Oh, is that what this is?” Y/N shot back, trying to sound unfazed even as her heart raced. “A challenge?”

“Maybe.” He leaned in closer, his nose brushing lightly against hers. “Though I think I’m already winning.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, determined not to let him have the upper hand. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back with a smug smile.

“Still think you’re winning?” she asked sweetly.

Damian blinked, caught off guard for a moment, before shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “You’re relentless.”

“And you love it,” she replied confidently.

“Unfortunately,” he said, his smirk returning.

Y/N poked his chest lightly. “You’re terrible at pretending to be annoyed.”

Damian sighed dramatically, straightening up but keeping one hand resting on her knee. “You’ve ruined me, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a cheeky grin.

Before they could continue their playful back-and-forth, the sound of the library door unlocking echoed through the room.

“Time’s up,” Bruce’s voice announced from the doorway.

Y/N and Damian quickly separated, though not before Damian helped her off the table with a steadiness that seemed far too natural.

Bruce raised an eyebrow as he stepped inside. “You two actually survived without electronics?”

“Barely,” Damian said, his tone dry as ever.

Bruce glanced between the two of them, clearly suspicious but choosing not to comment. “Dinner’s in an hour. Try not to cause any more trouble until then.”

Y/N couldn’t help but grin as Bruce walked away. She glanced at Damian, who rolled his eyes but smirked faintly.

“You heard the man,” she teased. “No trouble.”

Damian leaned in close, his voice low and amused. “Since when do we ever listen to him?”

Y/N laughed softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the door. “C’mon, let’s keep him guessing.”

[dufferpuffer]

The more I check and analyze this bloody chapter the more it cements for me how distant but NICE Dumbledore is shown to be. Remus Lupin level of being friendly and gentle but not wanting to make attachments.

The only way to make it seem otherwise, that he is being a prick to this 11yr old boy, is to misinterpret quotes out of context. Am I an incorrect silly? I don't think so, but It's not off the table. I'm gonna take points from all the previous posters here and give my reasoning's, so let me know:

1: Albus thinks Tom is unreasonable for saying he was 'special'.

“He believed it much quicker than I did — I mean, when you told him he was a wizard,” said Harry. “I didn’t believe Hagrid at first, when he told me.” "Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe he was - to use his word - 'special,' " said Dumbledore.

Wow. Suddenly, with context, Albus doesn't sound rude anymore! It's highlighting differences between Harry and Tom as people, neutrally - Harry didn't believe he could be special. Tom did. Nobody is giving him shit for that. Why would they? 'Wizard' and 'Special' are basically synonymous.

In fact, Albus called having Magic being 'Special' FIRST:

“I am not from the asylum,” said Dumbledore patiently. “I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you —” “I’d like to see them try,” sneered Riddle. “Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle’s last words, “is a school for people with special abilities —” “I’m not mad!” “I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic.”

Either Dumbledore was being a blatant hypocrite in a way Harry didn't pick up on... …Or he wasn't giving Tom shit for thinking himself 'special'.

To forcibly read a sarcastic, negative, judgemental and biting tone: keep in mind this is 60 years later. 60 years he feels partially responsible for, as Tom acted as a murderer under his nose and became Lord Voldemort. Surely he could be excused for being a little salty now.

But how did Albus act towards him when it happened...?

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.” His legs were trembling. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands, his head bowed as though in prayer. “I knew I was different,” he whispered to his own quivering fingers. “I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something.” “Well, you were quite right,” said Dumbledore, who was no longer smiling, but watching Riddle intently. “You are a wizard.”

Tom is excited his ability to move things, control animals, do bad things and hurt others makes him different, makes him 'special'. Albus AGREES with him. 'Yes, Tom - you ARE special. You were right to think those things make you a very special boy.'

As I will go through in more detail than this continuing on in the post - Albus was NOT judgemental towards Tom in the past at all. Even Harry is surprised at how trusting and generous he is to Tom.

2. Albus set the wardrobe on fire to punish and instill fear in Tom - a stupid idea, because that will only make Tom hate him.

Alright, lets see how much Tom hated and feared him for that:

The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged. Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. “Where can I get one of them?”

The picture of a traumatized child: Shocked by a magic trick then gleefully wanting his own wand to learn to do it himself.

But - it is true that Dumbledore frightened him:

“All in good time,” said Dumbledore. “I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe.” And sure enough, a faint rattling could be heard from inside it. For the first time, Riddle looked frightened. […] Riddle took down the quaking box. He looked unnerved. “Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?” asked Dumbledore. Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. “Yes, I suppose so, sir,” he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Oh dear. He is frightened - not of the flames but of consequences to his actions! Why is Albus doing this horrible, terrible thing...?

“You will return them to their owners with your apologies,” said Dumbledore calmly, putting his wand back into his jacket. “I shall know whether it has been done. And be warned: Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts.” […] “At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you. But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic — yes, there is a Ministry — will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws.”

Well look at that! It's all been a lesson from the man he has just accepted as a Professor on controlling one's magic! Magic Lesson 1: he has inadvertently been letting his Magic run away with him (like many do) in ways that Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic (both far more powerful than Albus) will punish him for.

Notice that he takes any guilt, shame and blame off of Tom's shoulders? Saying that his behavior is common! Understandable! He isn't accusing him of intentionally doing anything wrong, even when the Matron had suggested he was. He is assuming Tom's innocence - or at the very least giving him an easy way out of guilt into a new life: 'Give the Muggles back their trinkets and wipe your slate clean.'

Following the rules of this new world is a CHOICE - and he will be guided through learning all the rules at school. He is literally saying 'Hogwarts and the Ministry won't be as lenient with his behavior as I am, but it's okay - you will be taught.'

The flames were not meant to frighten - they were part of a lesson on the importance of learning to control ones destructive magic. Tom actually quite liked the flames - and was more worried about being found out and punished for his bad behavior.

Yet he wasn't punished for that, either. Unless you call being asked to give stolen things back punishment, in which case he got the lightest slap on the wrist with a little kiss better afterwards.

3. Albus dangles school attendance in the form of getting Tom to call him Sir - 'if you accept your place at my school you'll have to call me sir'

He doesn't dangle anything - and he doesn't phrase it like that.

“I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school — your new school, if you would like to come.” “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course — well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!” “I am not from the asylum,” said Dumbledore patiently. “I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you —” “I’d like to see them try,” sneered Riddle. […] “Are you a wizard too?" “Yes, I am.” “Prove it,” said Riddle at once, in the same commanding tone he had used when he had said, “Tell the truth.” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts —” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’

Tom has been yelling at Dumbledore. Sneering at him. Threatening him. Calling him a liar. Talking over him. Commanding him.

Things Albus never tells him off for, never even brings up - things he has simply withstood and been patient with, as Tom is upset. But now that Tom is calming down - now that he is choosing to listen, to believe and to be a student at Hogwarts - he will need to act like one and call him 'Professor' instead of 'Liar' and 'Doctor'.

And it is always phrased as a choice. The place at the school is offered. He can choose to come. If he would like to calm down a little, he can be told more about it - but nobody will force him to do anything. He says, from his own free will, that he would like to be a student. His attendance is accepted: Albus is, from now, his Professor.

4. Albus drops the reassuring facade the moment Tom says he is special.

Reassuring things Albus says/does after Tom says he is Special:

+ “At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you."

+ When he had finished, he turned to Dumbledore and said baldly, “I haven’t got any money.” “That is easily remedied,” said Dumbledore, drawing a leather money-pouch from his pocket.

+ “Where do you buy spellbooks?” interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon. “In Diagon Alley,” said Dumbledore. “I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything —” “You’re coming with me?” asked Riddle, looking up. “Certainly, if you —” “I don’t need you,” said Riddle. (doesn't tell him off for snatching, doesn't insist on politeness, doesn't ask him not to interrupt, offers to come with him…)

+ Harry thought that Dumbledore would insist upon accompanying Riddle, but once again he was surprised. Dumbledore handed Riddle the envelope containing his list of equipment, and after telling Riddle exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage, he said, “You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you — non-magical people, that is — will not. Ask for Tom the barman — easy enough to remember, as he shares your name —” (trusts Tom to go by himself, like he wants to do - a strange choice if he was worried about how evil he is. Harry thinks it's surprising.)

+ “Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they’ve told me.” “I’m afraid I don’t know,” said Dumbledore, his voice gentle.

+ “All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope,” said Dumbledore. “You will leave from King’s Cross Station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too.” Riddle nodded. Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand again. (Shakes his hand. The hand of an 11yr old 'worthless' orphan, a boy used to having every adult hate and distrust him.)

Definitely the actions of a man who thinks the worst of Tom.

5. Dumbledore shows Tom he is undesirable and will be treated like a future criminal even in the Wizarding World - he has already been catalogued as trouble.

Indeed. By calling him special twice, offering him a place at a special school for special people, being calm and patient when he was upset, casually waving away all his wrongdoings, warning that they are considered illegal actions in the Wizarding World but promising he will be taught how to act in accordance to his new laws, not once commenting on his rude actions, shaking his hand on greeting and goodbye, allowing him to act freely without supervision, trusting him with money when he has a past of theft - Albus is DEFINITELY making sure Tom knows that he is already considered undesirable and a future criminal.

6. Hagrid stood up for Harry against his abusers - Albus didn't do that for Tom.

He didn't do it as overtly as bashing down a door, taking over the room and scaring the shit out of some Muggles. But I would argue he did stand up for him - for his sense of self.

Tom was scared of two things:

Doctors coming to say he is mad.

Being punished for bad behavior.

Straight up: Albus gave him the option for a new life with a clean slate and also confirmed he was special, not mad. He was so SOFT. Understanding. He's had heard 100 horrible things and yet just waves them away, doesn't bring anything up. Traumatized little kids? Killed an animal? Whatever. You're a Wizard.

Tom says he will give back the stolen things, that he wants to go to Hogwarts... so Albus bends over backwards giving him all the forgiveness and freedom he hasn't had before. Trusting him. Albus is acting unlike any adult Tom has likely ever met - from the moment he walked in and shook his hand like a friend.

No, Albus didn't tell off the Matron. He drugged her and used magic on her to get what he wanted - but he didn't tell her off. Does he really need to, though, when the message of 'You will be leaving this awful place behind, Tom. Leave these childish, dull things behind and come be special.' is so clear…?

(Honestly I'm not sure what he would even say, as far as Orphanage Matrons go she was quite good. She cared about Tom's well being and privacy, gives the kids their own rooms, allowed them to have their own toys and books and even pets, knows the kids' names and preferences, cares for their well being enough to drive her ragged. She's hardly perfect, but for the 1930s when Workhouses were still around - she's alright. As all the kids aren't stuffed into big rooms filled with beds and made to work their asses off - her orphanage is far better than most. Harry liked her.)

In Summary:

Nobody thinks Tom was unreasonable for thinking he was special. Albus didn't try to scare him with magic tricks - and any 'punishment' Tom suffered was about as strong as a pat on the head. Rather than give Tom ultimatums or hold promises at arms length he constantly gave him patience and options. The most he asked of Tom was to give back stolen toys to their owners before he left - and to call him 'Professor'. He was friendly and reassuring the entire conversation - and freely gave trust and forgiveness for everything from criminal activities to simple impoliteness, like talking over him and not saying thankyou. While Albus didn't beat anyone up in-front of Tom, he did promise him everything he had ever dreamed of - and delivered.

He acted like a calm, understanding adult in the face of both Tom's defensiveness and his excitement - guiding him gently but understanding the importance of giving the boy what he needs: A bit of freedom from the constant scrutiny he has faced.

I went through in meticulous detail the entire scene here, though I might want to rewrite it sometime, idk.

"Yes, Riddle was perfectly ready to believe he was - to use his word - 'special,' " said Dumbledore.

-- Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

I know that he's trying to imply here that Riddle already had budding megalomaniacal tendencies. But come ON. His powers were highly developed. He could move things with his mind. It's not unreasonable for him to conclude that he is special and can do things others cannot; that's just the literal truth. Also, I'd like to point out that Riddle actually first says "I knew I was different." But I guess Dumbledore wants to skip over that bit.

And over the implications. Riddle is, as far as he knows, the only person who can do what he does. He knows nothing about the magical world or what he is. For all he knows he really is haunted or possessed by a demon or something. Part of him must have wondered if he really was mad and imagining it all. His initial, violently fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he's a doctor certainly is very telling and has a lot of implications about the treatment he's experienced during his first 11 years of life.

[thewertsearch]

The Doctor is in.

And they're a bit of a pattern-breaker, aren't they?

We've already used up every permutation of GCAT, to the point where the post-Scratch Players have been forced to share Persterchum initials with their predecessors. UranianUmbra has evidently decided they're not going to bother with all that nonsense, and has chosen a completely original handle.

That's not the only pattern they're breaking, either. Instead of pestering, trolling or bothering Jane, UU claims to be cheering her. To me, it reads as a little too saccharine for comfort - as though Umbra is trying a little too hard to seem non-threatening.

UU: good morning, lovely. ^u^ GG: Why, hellooooooo. UU: so i gUess today is finally the day yoU make everything better.

Also, they're aping Karkat's original Pesterlog, which does nothing to allay my suspicions.

Karkat originally portrayed himself as a huge asshole, but was slowly revealed to be a pretty nice guy - so, when someone uses his words, but places themselves on the opposite side of the coin, I'm obviously going to be primed for another inversion.

UU: it is the day whereafter the legendary octet of mUtUal progenitoriety will come together and heal a great breach in paradox space.

Mutual progenitoriety sounds like a phenomenon where two or more entities are responsible for each other's creation.

It's been explored extensively in art, science and philosophy, and the concept fits very well into a self-generating cosmology such as Homestuck's.

I don't think Umbra is referring to the Reacharound, though - if nothing else, the Reacharound had nothing to do with Jane. After all, her session is supposed to create an entirely new universe, and has nothing whatsoever to do with Alternia.

Unless...

...one of my oldest, most ambitious theories was right all along.

UU: a day delivered throUgh eighty billion years and foUr distinct Universal instances worth of Unfathomable tUrbUlence. UU: and while the emerald eye of this storm is fixed in the abyss forever

I assume the 'emerald eye' is the Green Sun. As one of Sburb's most critical components, it holds a place of extreme importance in the cosmos.

Which, let us remind ourselves, is a bad thing. The Sun was, after all, created on the orders of Doc Scratch, and its existence means that English can exert his influence over every session with a First Guardian - which, I'm pretty sure, is every single session.

The fact that the thing is apparently here forever is probably the worst news we've heard all Act - assuming, of course, that UU is telling the truth.

UU: today yoU are poised to escape its scowl once and for all.

Umbra seems to be implying that there's somewhere completely outside the Sun's domain - some part of reality where the mechanism of Skaia no longer applies.

That's certainly news to me - but hey, if that's an option, count me the fuck in.

UU: by skaias gUiding light, yoU may leave behind its tUrning arms of bright coloUrs and mayhem, and secUre peace for yoUr cosmic progeny for all dUration.

That said; even if you can escape into a Sburbless reality, Sburb will still exist. Skaia's mechanism will still be there, right behind you, and English will still be pulling it apart at the seams.

Like, sure. Escape the game, find a home, restore your species - but don't just abandon the multiverse to its fate. English is killing trillions, and it almost sounds like UranianUmbra is trying to convince you to let him.

[hansmic]

-when someone mistakes you for being a couple-

han jisung x gn! reader

*not proofread*

————————————————————————-

You and Jisung were on a walk when someone approaches you and says “You guys look like a nice couple”. Jisung stopped walking immediately. “I'm sorry what?” he asked to make sure he heard them correctly, as he slowly took a step closer to the person while also motioning for you to come closer too. 

“Uhh.. i said you guys look like a nice couple?”. The person responds again, more nervously this time.

He blinks as he takes in what they said. Then he turns to you. “What do you think babe?”

You can only nod, your face turning red. “Thank you”. He says finally, smiling at the person as I take your hand. “Come on babe, lets keep walking” he says, walking away slowly, dragging you along. You follow, dazed. He pulls you away just far enough to be out of earshot before he stops walking and turns to face you. “Im sorry,” he says, giving you a sheepish smile. “ i figured it would be fun to pretend we were actually dating.”

You can only nod at first, before finally clearing your throat and saying, “Its okay.”

He gives you a small smile before he glances at your hands, which are still intertwined and he blushes. “Did you want to hold hands to keep the illusion?” he asks

You shake your head , “No it's fine.” You say quickly, dropping his hand. Your heart pounding in your chest and your palms are already sweaty as you try to figure out what to do with them, finally settling for shoving them in your pockets.

“Oh.” he says a little sadly, letting his arms drop to his sides. He looks at the ground nervously. “You dont want to?” he asks, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice, but it still comes through. He wants to take out your hand but stops himself. “I know it was silly to pretend we were dating.” He says. “But i wasnt pretending that i wanted to hold your hand.” He adds shyly.

You freeze. “Wait what?” You ask, unsure of what he means. You were so ready for him to say it was just a joke, just asking that theres no way hes serious.

He shifts his weight nervously. “I like holding your hand.” he manages to speak out, embarrassed. Jisung’s cheeks turning bright red. He looks like he wants to say more but hold back.

You cant think, or speak. Youre pretty sure youll combust if you try. So instead, you just hold out your hand.

He glances up from the ground to see you holding out your hand. “Really” He asks. When you nod, he takes your hand and intertwines your fingers. “I really like you” he says , almost whispering. 

Your heart is racing as you take his hand. You think you should say something, but all you can think is “He likes me. He likes me ” over and over. Finally you manage to say “i really like you, too.”

He finally looks up at you, a smile on his face. I pull you close, wrapping his free arm around your waist. “Can i kiss you?” He asks, my heart fluttering nervously in my chest.

You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling. “I thought youd never ask.” You whisper, before leaning in to him for a kiss. He smiles wider at your response, and close the distance between both of you, pressing his lips against yours. Kissing you is even more amazing then he imagined it would be. His arms tighten around you, as he deepens the kiss. You kiss him back, pulling him closer, kissing back eagerly. You never want the kiss to end. You realize now that youve been waiting for this to happen, but didnt dare to hope that it actually would.

You eventually pull away, both smiling like idiots at each other. “That was Amazing.” You say breath. “Ive been waiting to do that for so long," he adds shyly.

“ i thought you'd never do it” The thought makes you a little sad, but happy that it finally happened to help balance it out. You lean in and kiss him on the cheek. “Im glad you did though”

He smiles at the kiss on the cheek. “I really wanted to, i just didnt know if you liked me as more than a friend.” He tightens his arms around you to pull you a bit closer. “But now i know you do, i would very much like to be your boyfriend”

You pull him even closer, snuggling as close as you can. “ i would like that very much.”

———————————————————————

I hope you liked it! make sure to read my others!

my masterlist is here

[secretlysimpash]

It was never just “one night” for Graves warning(s): gn reader, lil bit of smut, use of pet names (doll, baby, baby doll, darlin’), slight pulling of rank/power dynamics (reader is a Shadow under Graves’ command, making him their superior)

It started as one night together almost a year ago, after a successful mission. A one-night stand with your C.O, that’s what you called it. One night turned into another, and then into one evening in your Commander’s office, bent over his desk. But every private moment you spent with him was a secret, something to be hidden, and he seemed to be pretty good at keeping it a secret...Though every "last time" was never really the last time.

And now, here you are…Early morning, bare beneath the blankets beside him, trying and failing to remove yourself from his bed.

“I should really go–"

“Nonsense, doll…You have the day off.”

“But I gotta go to the gym–”

“No you don't.”

“I should at least go get some breakfast in the mess–”

“Nope. Lemme bring you something, you stay right here. Besides, I bet you’ll be walking funny, you'll get a lot of stares…”

“Graves.”

The shit-eating grin on your Commander's face is infuriating, and you'd be even angrier if he didn't make you see stars through some earth-shattering, life altering orgasms last night. Hell, the fact your in his bed, in his quarters is probably breaking some rules as it is. You've lost count of how many times you've been in this position before, but usually he was out before you got up or you were able to slip out while he was sleeping. Or you'd both have to dress quickly to make it to a meeting, your conversation going from pillow talk and aftercare to business in a matter of seconds.

You sit up and run a hand over your face, letting it slide down your neck. When your face screws up slightly from a dull ache in your neck, Graves lets out a low laugh.

“Sorry ‘bout that…Had to mark my territory somehow. Let the boys know you're spoken for.”

You exhale heavily, glancing over at Graves to meet his blue eyes. Ones that seem to hold a permanent glimmer of mischief.

“Spoken for…?” You ask, glancing over at him. “Spoken ffff–Fuck's sake. We shouldn't be doing this, we could get in trouble.”

“With who? The Commander?” Graves retorts, letting out an amused chuckle at your exasperated sigh.. “We ain't getting in any trouble by doing this, darlin’...” 

Before you could think of an argument, or any response, the words get caught in your throat when you feel Graves shifting impossibly closer to you. He rests a hand on your bare chest, trailing it down as he kisses at the bruises on your neck. His marks.

“Just stay with me, alright? Stay with your man…” He says against your skin, kissing a path down your neck, to your shoulder…

“My man?”

“Mmhm…” He hums in response as he slowly makes his way under the covers. “Yours…Been yours since we started this, baby…And you're mine.”

“Graves, we–”

“Graves…? Baby doll …Use the right name…”

It doesn't take long for him to descend under the blankets, settling between your legs. In no time, you're seeing stars again and moaning his name. 

Phillip, Phillip, Phil…

Like a prayer falling from your lips as his mouth and fingers bring you over the edge.

In between kisses and bites to your inner thighs, he mumbles something about giving you his last name along with a nice ring someday soon, taking you back home, making a proper spouse out of you...Making sure you never worry about your ranks again and that you won't have to do any more dangerous Shadow missions with the most you should worry about is what you should make for dinner for the two of you (and maybe your kids)…

But maybe you misheard him.

[coastershells]

S T C H R I S T O P H E R

IN WHICH — dallas stumbles through your window , searching for some help desperately.

⚠️ : sexual talk , dallas tries , but fails.

not proofread as usual! / requested? yes : no

꩜ ◞ — wc : 1.5k div creds : enchanthings-a

when dallas came stumbling through your window , you expected many things. maybe an apology , a smirk , a dirty joke , a pickup line , the casual dallas , the silly yet stupid boyfriend you know.

instead , you were met with a dallas that was on the floor , shivering covered in snow , and he looked pretty much beat up.

you didn’t know what to say for a few seconds ; you were fidgeting with your bracelet a second ago , wondering when the snow would stop so you could go outside and play with it , or just touch it. snow is random around your area , so whenever it falls people are either playing or fighting in it. you just hope that the gang is responsible enough to be the ones playing in it.

it makes you worry about johnny.

“ dal? “ you question with a shaky voice , and he lets out a painful grunt. your stomach does a swirl and you hop off your bed , your bracelet going to the way back of your mind. “ dallas! “

“ hey sweetheart. “ he hisses out. and you quickly run to shush him , the window being half open let’s some snow fall in , and he scrunches his nose. “ fuckin’ hurts. “ he exhales , and you panic , hands hovering over his body.

“ dal — what happened?! shit , where’s the first aid?! “ you dash off and leave dallas , which probably wasn’t nice , but you can tell without even taking off that leather jacket he’s injured somewhere. bad.

you scramble to your bathroom and quickly check under the sink , to which you find your old trusty first aid. when you return to your room , dallas has put himself up against the wall by the window , and he seems to be shivering even more.

you rush to the window and close it , feeling the cold air yourself. you have so many questions to ask him but you have a gut feeling you’ll only get snarky replies or silence. dallas hasn’t ever came to you this beaten up , not ever. you see cuts on his face , but what really scares you is his hand gripping his side.

“ fuck. dallas — what did you do? “

“ you callin’ me that , it ain’t helping. you make me feel like i’m in trouble. “ he says through pained gasps.

“ you are in trouble. what were you doing in the snow in just a leather jacket? move your hand. “ you nudged it out of the way and he looked to the side , preparing for the worst. you moved his jacket then his messed up shirt , and he lets out a dry laugh while you are looking wide eyed at all the cuts in one spot specifically. “ what happened? what did you do? “ you ask , and you aren’t sure if you’re mad at him or genuinely trying to figure him out.

“ got roughed up real bad. “ he jolts when you place your hand below all the cuts. he looks down at you. “ s’pretty , doll. lemme just.. “ his arm lazily finds its way to your collarbone and trails down , and it’s a little too close for comfort.

“ hands off. you’re hurt. we can do that tomorrow. “ you sniff , and he shifts uncomfortably. you expected him to push more , but the shaking shows he probably doesn’t have the energy.

“ you’re an idiot , dal. it’s snowing and you go out to fight? do you know it’s fucking freezing? “ you pull his necklace , and you groans. he looks irritated.

“ never said i fought. “

“ so what , who did this to you then? “

he went silent yet again.

you don’t know why you tried.

“ socs. heard em talkin’ about you. “ he says , giving in. he still has that irritated look on his face , though.

you sighed , out of frustration and you still try to reason with him. “ dal , they will always talk about me. it’s fine. “

“ it ain’t if you’re my girl. ran em all off. straight out of our territory. “ he says as you open the first aid.

“ after i patch you up , you’re showering and we are going straight to sleep. “ you state and he looks your way.

“ you gonna shower with me? “

“ nope. already showered bud. i’ll wash your hair. you’re scrubbing yourself though. “

“ aren’t you just so kind. “ he mumbles and you press onto one of his cuts.

“ ow — fuck. i’m sorry , alright? jeez. “

dallas puts up a small fight when you bandage up his wounds , and a larger fight when he has to get undressed but you don’t. he asks why you can’t just shower with him , but you barley want him in your bed. not because he’s nasty or anything , but you’re afraid the blood will bleed through onto your sheets like last time he got roughed up.

“ how many? “ you ask.

“ what? “

“ how many guys were there? did you win? “

“ ‘course i won. you think these cuts for show? “ he points to his side , and you grumble. “ about four or five. snow made it hard to stand. “ he says as he relaxes into you scrubbing his head. “ that’s the spot. “

he jokes and you tap the side of his head.

“ i’ll knock your skull right out. why were you out there in the first place? “

“ was heading here. had a feeling you wouldn’t be sleep. you can never sleep without me. “

you give up on questions , because he’s right. and it’s a first. so instead of responding to that , you tell him to close his eyes tight and you put the showerhead right over him. he shivers , but relaxes right back in.

“ jokes on you , that’s helping with the cold. “ he laughs and you curse under your breath. “ asshole. “ you say louder than the rest.

“ baby , not to be rude , but can we speed this up? i’m already fighting urges to not pull you in here with me. “ he turns to you , and you look down. fuck. you look back up , and he’s smiling at you now. “ come on , just come in , sweetheart. i promise i won’t bite you. “

“ dal , it’s a no. don’t make me change my mind about this in the morning. “

he groans. “ i protect you from some socs and i can’t even get a kiss? “

“ you aren’t asking for just a kiss. “

“ it’s the same thing , just some.. extra steps. “

you turn off the shower and throw a towel at him , to which he takes and wraps around him and your grateful. something for him to keep his dick in thats not you.

“ fortunately for you , i don’t have any shirts that’ll fit you well , so you’re gonna have to go shirtless. “

dallas smiles as he follows you into your room and goes to your closet in search of any pants that might fit him. “ you say that like it’s a problem for me. “

you roll your eyes and look at the area he was sitting in. luckily , there’s no blood on your carpet. so you don’t have to be on your knees tomorrow. you pick up the first aid and place it on your dresser , you don’t care enough to go back to the bathroom.

you sigh as you hear his footsteps , yet you don’t try to turn around. you know what he’s going to do , and you think it out as he does it. he presses against you , and puts his now warm hands under your stomach , yet it still gives you goosebumps. “ done , baby. we sleeping now? “ you can hear a low hiss , and it makes you realize that his side still hurts.

“ sleep on that side instead. i don’t want you sleeping on your bad side. “ he puts his hands up jokingly and walks around your bed , you take that opportunity to quickly turn off the light before he gets onto the bed and pulls you in. you giggle , but let it happen.

“ love you s’much.. would’ve been better if.. “

you look at him. “ dallas winston. “

“ alright , fine. i give up. i won’t ask anymore until tomorrow. damn , woman. “

you laugh , a little louder than you should. and he playfully pinches your shoulder.

he wraps his arms around you tight , and finally gives you a kiss.

“ see? that’s what just a kiss is. you’re finally learnin’ dal! “

“ shut up , now. i need tomorrow to come quicker. “

“ you’re way too excited. “ you whisper as you blink lazily , and look outside to the yellow streetlight spilling into your room , it highlights the snow falling , and you wonder how much of the ground it’ll cover.

you swear you see a blood trail , but you might be imagining it.

uuuugh i have to go back to school this sucks now i can’t think about matt dillon all day!!! fudge!! (teehee if u wanna be added to the list below lmk)

taglist : @every1hatesmayaa , @mrsdillonx , @r0seb100d !!

[gatheredfates]

I know you are exhausted and really can just delete this if you feel like you want to just drop the subject.

But it's nice to see someone speak up about these sort of concerns regarding mods. While I haven't suffered myself from saying no to download other people's aesthetic mods I share in the feeling that there is just too much expectation on mods being used. I always feel sad watching new blogs on tumblr express a discouragment because they don't use mods themselves, then end up using them anyways, only to leave the community on tumblr all together shortly after.

I have friends who tried to aesthetically shape MY OCs with mods they think are cool (but doesn't suit their OCs so they ask if I want them) even when they know what my character look like, and the mod they share is so far off it is almost upsetting. I'm an artist, who love to express their true looks through art rather than mods, I don't need help finding mods.

Heck I remember the first time I encountered Mare, just idling in Quicksand and someone expressed interest for walk up RP, asked if I had Mare and I asked what it was, never to even hear from them again. After that a few other encounters where people weren't interested because I did not use it.

What I mean to say in the end is that, you are not alone in finding mods tiring. But I think as long as we welcome newcomers and support vanilla players rather than... send them guides on how to mod, we can take down those gatekeepings.

Hi anon, there's no issue on my end! While I'm definitely burnt out by the whole thing, I'm of a mind I wouldn't have posted my thoughts if I wasn't up for discussion/critique, provided it's in good faith. You'll have to forgive the fact my response may be clunky, though! I saw this right as I was heading to bed, so I'm typing it on my tablet LMAO.

A lot of what you're saying are the exact things I echo when I express my exhaustion. I really feel for new players. It's hard enough to try and find a legitimate rp scene with the rise of the nightclub scene (which is not me knocking it, I'd just prefer an in-game nightclubs to a plug for a twitch DJ), but then to go and feel alienated because you don't have x, y and z add-ons? I'd want to quit too.

I'm no artist, so I can only imagine how painful the rise of AI must be in devaluing your work, but that plus people trying to push mods must be exhausting no matter how well meaning they're trying to be. You shouldn't need to use mods, especially when you have medium that works for you to express your character in the way you want. Mods aren't going to do the work justice unless you make and/or commission them yourself, and there's already precident for people alienating on account of people having free mods--to say nothing of people who choose to be vanilla. Not to mention there's not a lot of black/poc mods anyway, so those who want those kinds of things are at a disadvantage from the start.

I do fully believe that mods should be opt in and we should be side-eyeing people who demand their utilisation as part of a collaborative space. It should be enough for someone like you to send art. It should be enough that I can send a screenshot, a written description or even a completed doll maker if I want and still be taken seriously and sincerely.

[stubbornismymiddlename]

@onethatdoesthesaving

Yeah... Ghosting the chief... {I made a face as if to say "good luck" as I shook my head in amusement} Something tells me he's going to chew your ass out at some point today. Probably the first chance he gets to do so. {I added in amusement as a grin pulled at the corners of my lips} That said, you better eat up. Might as well have a full stomach before you get your ass handed to you by the chief. {I lightly teased. Then again, knowing Stella, she had already made up some sort of excuse to the chief on Carver's indefinite disappearance} Oh, but maybe talk to Stella before meeting with the chief. I'm sure she gave him an excuse for your absence in order to cover for you. {Wouldn't be a stretch since we were a family here, so naturally we always looked out for each other. Even if it meant the occasional "little white lie" in order to cover for someone else here in the house} Well, you know... Apparently I'm giving the whole, "fake it till you make it" thing a shot. {My response to me pretending that seeing Carver flirt with other women, or worse, to be dating someone else, wouldn't bother me. Of course it would bother me. I obviously had feelings for Sam. Thing is though, I knew I blew it, so he had every time to move on from me and date other people} Your ex? {My brows furrowed slightly. I knew Sam and I were never official, so although I wanted to think he was talking about me here, I knew I shouldn't get my hopes up on that since we weren't technically ever a couple, so the "ex" comment probably didn't apply to us} Does she live here in Chicago? {Asking in case I had to prepare myself to come face to face with her at some point and do that whole, "playing nice" attempt I was going to try out. Grant it, "playing nice" wasn't really my style, but for Carver, I figured I'd at least try once}

Bad Habits are hard to break

@stubbornismymiddlename

Bad habits are hard to break. 

Habits; the old ones you believe you blocked out, the ones you felt you had let go of. Sam Carver was the one that did the saving, the one that deep inside felt like he was drowning. He was the savior; his brother; the screw up that his life altered having to pick up the pieces. A shell of a back was who Sam was; he worked his ass off through the academy, and somehow it didn’t feel enough. He spent his first few years in the force, the CFD where he bounced around. He kept one duffle of clothing he never fully shopped to create a home in the apartment he lived in. Because why put in the effort when you knew it was only temporarily. 

That was until he landed at house 51. The vibe was different, you felt welcomed at home. Not to mention he recognized a familiar face; Stella Kidd now lieutenant. Was he envious of her? Yeah she worked her ass up and she become someone we all were proud of, but Sam knew the brief time period he had a little crush. Was it because she saved his ass? You know one of those hero moments where you life blinked before your eyes and she was the one that tugged me out of near death. She was married; and something told Sam he’d get a beat down if that husband of hers found out. But it was a crush, she wasn’t why he found himself running from the one place he felt like home. 

It was his fling with Violet which never quite felt like a fling it felt deep and intimate. It was easy; I didn’t want to be another guy she lost. A person she cared about that she now had to say goodbye to. Sam cared about her; may even be worth to say crazy in love. Our time together was special, I wanted to be the best version of myself with her. And for a while I felt like I was okay, I was on the firm and narrow, even repairing my current apartment, because I planned on staying. But that last call before I went on for low kept slipping through my head. The bad parent; the aggressively brother; I felt like my world came crashing down, the protective nature; the boy who was obviously terrified of his family was me. And I reacted; I put hands on a civilian, I went nuts; and looking back Sam knows he should’ve handled himself different, his bad habits are hard to break. But he felt powerless again, he left the firehouse in defeat; he said the words he harbored inside of him for weeks. I love you; when Violet wasn’t prepared remotely ready to hear it. But in the heat of the moment I felt i had to be clear. The shock, the slight hint of tears in her eyes was the last memory I had of her. 

The persistent aching that never left my chest now, and its been two months since I left Chicago. Sam had a countless number of missed phone calls from Stella, from Violet well Violet called once a week and when I would automatically send it to voicemail I think she got the hint I had no interest in being chewed out again. So she only sent messages that said “ Sam.. are  you okay?” And I fought the urges to reply, but I couldn’t not until I figured myself out. Those two months Carver found himself in Milwaukee. He wasn’t working as a firefighter; he was doing construction, repairs in houses; on the loadwork of construction sites. He knew why he reacted; he remembered the countless number of times his dad came at him, he was the only physical thing standing between his brother and dad; the scars that shattered his body. But owning up to his mistakes felt like a hurdle of its own. Sam wasn’t ready. He had his tool bag in hand, and he was just walking into his small apartment, when he felt the persistent vibrations from his phone, and brows pushed together as he dropped his bag and closed the front door. He didn’t even look at the chicago number; he just pressed green and answered. “ Hello Tom.” Assuming it was his boss he just left the jobsite now. “ Carver get your ass back here.” 

Stella? I asked myself before I could make a lame excuse now she went on and continued.. “ I know you’re a little messed up right now, we all are. And I know I went off that day, we had to look at the image of the CFD but the water is brushed under, I’m worried about you, come home.” A plead in her voice, I could hear movement in the back a whisper from Severide about “You got hold of him.” And I know I’d be dodging every call from Chicago, this was pure luck now. The male sighed as I uttered. “ I don’t know, I’m sure you filled my spot Kidd.” And she was quick to add “ No, it’s yours you never said you weren’t coming back, I held it for you. You messed up, but it shouldn’t define the future you have here. See you soon.” She aired out noting I probably wasn’t going to give a straight answer now. THe male let the line go dead, as he marched into his small living room. Dropping himself down to the couch; a little lumpy, as he thought about it. 

Home; the people the family I made, falling in love for real. A home I shattered; and now I was living under a rock of protection from myself; how many bad habits would follow me? Where is my heart and head?

[dykephan]

i know this is an extremely unpopular opinion but some of the stereo shows make me cringe because dan was still in his ironic "phil sucks am i right" phase and even knowing it's all a joke doesn't make it... a funny joke

[moeblob]

A succubus and a demon! (The succubi don't have names but the demon is Kronos and the succubus is one of his bosses in Hell and he's not /fond/ of the succubi for many reasons but they all adore picking on him)

Also because I love them and like to point it out, the succubi act more as pleasure dealers in the sense of they offer up whatever a human wants most in exchange for their soul. It's rarely of a sexual nature since it's what they want MOST in life. And most people's ambitions are outside of a bedroom. (happy pride, asexuals are able to get affected by a succubus now without discrimination)

[threnodians]

fellas is it normal to cry a lot when you “call out” of your job for the first time when you’ve only been working there for 4½ months

[nobodyignoresstellakidd]

@ofbecomingthebetterman

{I flashed Kelly a grin when I heard him clarify my last name with the addition of "Severide." I gave him a nod in response as the grin lingered across my lips} That's right. Don't forget the Severide part. I'm a married lady now and all that. {I aired out playfully as I gave a nod and took a seat on the hospital bed beside him} Oh, without a doubt. I wouldn't hesitate to kick someone's ass on your behalf. Especially when that person is the reason you're currently lying in a hospital bed. {I pointed out with no amusement. It was no secret that I was protective of Kelly. Just as he was over me, so I knew neither one of us would hesitate to fight someone else all in the name of looking out for the one we love. I gave Kelly a soft smile though in hearing him request that I come closer to him. Honestly, as much as I wanted to be close to him... To nestle up beside him here in this hospital bed, I was admittedly hesitant to do so. I mean, he was banged up and clearly in a lot of pain, so I didn't want to risk causing him addition pain or discomfort. Still, I knew how Kelly was, and it was either I move closer to him, or he'd be trying to move in order to get closer to me. Of the two, he definitely should be moving as little as possible given his injuries. With that thought in mind, I shifted carefully and slowly in the bed; avoiding any jostling to the bed or to him as I shifted in closer to his side. My lips pulled tightly together in concern as I heard him give me the doctor's report straight... Just like I had asked for it} Oh right, nice try, but that's not happening. Especially with a head injury. I love you, but I'm not pulling strings or charm to get you out of here until the doctor deems you well enough to be released. {I said as I leaned in to place a gentle kiss to a noticeable bruise on the side of your head} For now, just focus on resting and healing.

Times where you question where you belong.

@nobodyignoresstellakidd

Times where you question where we belong. 

Kelly’s heart never flattered when it came to how he felt about Stella, there’s times when he felt uncertain of himself; he still never quite felt worthy of her. Kelly Severide was never seen as the guy that settles down; the guy that falls in love. That wanted to set down roots. Just look at who his father was; Benny Severide; the guy that probably had a whole notebook of wrong doings, of secret kids that no one knew about. Or Kelly heard rumbles of through the years but left in the dark. Kelly Severide had vowed to never be like Benny. The type of man to abandon his life; to leave someone he loved for what? To take the next step in his career? To believe in more outside the bubble he made of his life.. 

But we all experience the moments; of self doubt, of a riding passion. In the back of the male’s head he found a passion for arson cases, it was deep boiled in his blood. His skin tingled each time he caught sight of a small infraction at a scene. Kelly was the guy who had that born drive and passion. And he was terrified of that love, because he knew Stella, she was scared he’d wake up one day and leave. The tether to move place to place was made in his skin; he was Benny’s son. But Kelly didn’t want a life to where he didn’t have Stella, the most important person to him was her; she was his anchor; he fell in love and never looked back. He had always been scared he was gonna be the one left behind; the messy trauma. People leave, but that day; when we stood on a moving boat in front of our friends; it stood with me. I vowed to be a guy who was worthy of her; to spend the rest of my life being the man she deserved. And for the last year; we’ve been solid, at time Kelly wore doubt not because of Stella but because of himself. 

Vanmenter asked me to go to Alabama for a few weeks; to help with an underground arson case; and it was in my blood, one week turned into two; and I got roped into the investigation. I knew I should’ve said no; this case had a instinct of power over me. Kelly should’ve broaden the flight back to Chicago his heart his gut telling him a lie wasn’t worth losing his wife. And each time she called, his fingers hinged onto the keys to write “ I’m okay, i’ll be home soon.” But that would be a lie. Because I was in Washington now. I was locked into the hug line of arson cases; attackers now wanting to throw caution to the wind and start up purposeful fires through the country. And if my keen eye helped I couldn’t say no. I hated lying; and it was that moment; my team was in the warehouse. The map of the mainline of the mountains of buildings that surrounded us, and Kelly was focused, he had his finger on the map to where the most locally explanation would’ve been, to where the next fire; arson would land. His phone went off; and thinking it was Matt he knew he was in Chicago currently working on his end of the attackers. Kelly knew he needed to be home; but a pull dragged his ass here. He was reaching for his phone; his eyes scanned over the two missed calls from Stella, and then a message. “ Kelly.. I know you lied, just come home and we can talk.” He decided not to answer; his heart pleading at him to reply quickly but he needed to come out in one piece first. 

A pit in his stomach formed, as the radio went off; and our team was told no sign of a ticking bomb about to explode. Kelly swallowed thickly as his face was covered in gear when he heard; and smelt the flames. Instantly; angling his head back he saw it the orange flared up flames, and the strong smoke forming. “ Get Out.” He called motioning towards the open exit doors. And he quickly moved towards the fire as if it was a calling to drag out the extra man that had fallen from the explosion. Leaning down on his needs he echoed out; “ Hold on.” His gloved palm landed on his arms as he used all the strength he had to move towards the exit before the flames would move filling the whole building. Was it a plant? Kelly formed his actions on instinct? And he was wrong? He avoided his wife lied and for what? 

Once he rounded outside; he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. Wobbly on his feet as he slowly leaned down attempting to get himself together. He’s done tower of flames before but this felt different. Kelly barely remembered speaking that day; he barely remembered falling to the ground, and uttering her name “ Stella. It had felt like days; that he had blacked out; it wasn’t until his eyes slowly opened now, did his eyes adjust to a hospital room. Head pounding, chest felt like it was racing, was it Med? He couldn’t move his head without feeling that pain a throbbing in the back of his head. He couldn’t recall bumping his head not once. And he had his eyes wide open now, and it wasn’t Stella had his bedside; it was Matt, who had his eyes closed which told him he had to have been transported to Chicago; how awful was the impact of that fire? It was only a minute; was the gear he wore flaunty? Doubts loomed in his head as his fingers curled against the white sheets. “ Stell..” He called as if she was in the hall. 

If I was at Med Stella had to be here right?

[garvalhaminho]

i have to admit i think about mark blackthorn in "tales from the shadowhunter academy" at least once a week