#i think they should xxxx

[sillsif]

oops someone is dropping his tea

[spoonsandsporks]

HI <3 polite invitation to talk about your godtier and land thoughts for your characters if you want to!! i am sitting and listening intently :3 <3

Oh my god asfdgdgifgdb you don't know what you've done,,,,,

Long post incoming!!

So quick plug of an old blog that established a lot of my HS godtier opinions early on dahniwitchoflight so you can see a lot of where my context originates (esp. the godtier aspect masterpost) but with that out the way here we go

In terms of godtier opinions, I don't believe in gendered classes. I think that, socially, there may be a bias certain genders may have to certain classes (Muse and Lord, for example). But I don't believe that's an absolute. For one, there are more genders than the binary and people don't always identify as one forever. Secondly, I think to say that, for example, Lord is always aggressive and therefore only men can be Lords is uhhhhhhh,,, very stereotypical and simply doesn't encapsulate the range of human expression. Besides, isn't it more fun for the classes to be non-gendered using gendered human words? Who's to say the game mechanics of SBURB/sgrub are in english? There's gotta be some kind of translation errors or approximations going on in lore lmao

Related to this is that a godtier is meant to be a culmination of a character arc, the end reward of the 'ideal self' a character can be. This is not referring to 'ultimate' selves (i sincerely don't want to touch that concept at all) or even 'morally correct' selves - merely the best kind of self a character would want to be. The best you that you wanna be! Whether that means embracing your flaws or overcoming them, the godtier is the symbol of your growth as a person. Hence why to 'go godtier' you have to fuse your dreamself and awake self together, finally bringing together the two separate experiences you've lived as a player before this; your 'normal' life and your SBURB life. This also follows why death is a consistent theme and in fact needed for godtier ascension. You are killing or accepting the death of your former self in order to ascend into your new self, via combining everything you've learned into everything you'll be. It's supposed to be a positive, if traumatic, experience. Like changing and growing in life already is! Just faster lol

On a brief design point, I do think godtier outfits should also therefore change to fit the wearer and what they're comfortable with. I don't necessarily think that it should be like, witch skirt for girls but trousers for boys, I think that if a godtier outfit is your ideal self it should automatically change into whatever you'd be comfortable wearing. So if someone is a Witch, but doesn't mind wearing a skirt, then they'd ascend into the default Witch outfit. If they then wanted to change it they could through a thought. But if a Witch ascends and they hate skirts or maybe just cannot imagine wearing one then maybe it changes into shorts or something lol. I've actually done some alternate designs of godtiers along this line as it happens which you'll see in this post.

I also like the Aspect counterparts, that each one has an opposite, and while in canon that doesn't have much of an effect on the godtier design beyond the kids, I actually like the accessories and shoes on godtiers taking on the colours of their opposite Aspect. I like that it symbolises that even their opposite has an affect on the Aspect in question.

Now, this is all some lovely prose but what am I going on about? So, like all great and real scientists, I'll use myself as an example first.

...

Me - Sylph of Heart

So I've gone through many, many iterations of godtier introspection (started in Hope, have moved to Heart, Sylph has stayed pretty consistent but I still have doubts) and, of course, being a real life person this is the one that's evolved and changed the most as I have evolved and changed throughout my teens and adult life. But for the sake of analysis, I'll give my 'sona' or 'self-insert' the godtier to separate myself from the analysis and come at this more honestly.

Heart as an Aspect is all about Emotion and the Soul. As the opposite counterpart to the Aspect Mind (which is concerned with the brain, reason and, y'know, the mind lol), Heart players are more impulsive and driven by personal goals. It's all about the Inner Self, the Individual, what makes You Unique as opposed to everyone else in the world. It's Passion, it's Empathy, it's Understanding - about people, mostly. It's about Knowing Yourself and what you like or dislike. Your Heart, in a lot of ways, is the emotional centre and Heart players follow it to a T - and often to the detriment of everything else. It's not inaccurate to say Heart players come across as self-obsessed b/c they are concerned with discovering themselves and their own identity. None of these things come without drawbacks of course and none of this means Heart players don't care about others. They simply assume everyone else is just as obsessed with Finding themselves as they are. I mean, at their best, Heart players are compassionate, imaginative and a steady presence in life. But, uh, at their worst they can come across as dismissive, rigid or nosy lol Personally, as someone very driven by emotion and with a tendancy for introspection, to the point of contantly overthinking my feelings and second guessing my impulses, I feel comfortable in the Heart Aspect.

So Sylphs are talkers. Chatterboxes you could say. They're also one of two 'healer' classes and the active counterpart to Maid. Which yeah I'm aware I have a tendency to ramble. Sylphs are known to love talking about their interests to an audience, whether the audience is interested or not lmao. For a Sylph of Heart, that's mostly concentrated into the subject of Love and Relationships. Sylphs are also nosy little meddlers and so one interpretation of Heart could be a cupid-like matchmaker of sorts. I don't personally see that for myself but it's a valid interpretation.

Personally, I see myself as a person obsessed with Connection and the Relationships that make these connections stable. Friendship, romantic, QPR, you name it, I'm interested in the dynamics. In fiction and in fandom, this makes me a prolific shipper yes haha but most of all I love character interactions. I love filler episodes! And beach episodes! And regency romance! And slice of life isekai anime! B/c all those things prioritise character interaction and personal character arcs over plot or action or whatever haha. I love gentle drama and harmless gossip, I love watching two people get to know each other and be forever changed for having met one another and! I!! Love!!! My!!!! Friends!!!!!!!

Also the sylph outfit is cool af actually. In this image I've actually redesigned it to be a little more gender neutral hence the billowing trousers but I love the no sleeves and the curled shoes and the ribbon-y capelet thing lol. And the bangles!!

I have some ideas for godtier powers but they're not fleshed out yet, but for Sylph of Heart I imagine they'd have to power to 'heal the soul/heart' so to speak. To keep emotions steady in the heat of battle and to help heal mental or emotional wounds. They sound like a support class, like a buffer or healer.

Oh god this got long, I have some ideas for lands but I'll be honest it's almost entirely based on this post from dahni years ago (literally 10 years ago oh gods how long have I been here) b/c i really vibe with it so I have nothing new to really add lol. Maybe there'd be like pink lakes or maybe i'd have a coastal type planet with rough seas that symbolise riding the waves of emotion or something lmao

Hope you enjoyed this brief foray! I'll probably reblog this with a breakdown of the godtiers I've assigned to 4 of my dnd characters I did for fun so you can see my opinions on the Space, Time, Mind and Heart (again) aspects as well as the Maid, Page, Mage and Knight classes too. But for now I need to cook dinner lol

[schumigrace]

this is objectively funny icl

[carebearcody]

litchrally WHAT is southgates beef with trent 😭😭

ok but i wanna explore this….. maybe southgate thinks the way trent plays at liverpool would have england lacking defensively; maybe he can’t figure out how to utilise trent’s skills fully; maybe (like literally every other pundit in the world) he’s decided trent isn’t good enough as a rb as he won’t play him; maybe he likes playing negative football….

it could be any number of reasons. personally i don’t think we should be so faithful in the judgment of a man who got sacked from middlesborough but hey . that’s just me

[mesaprotector]

voting third party is fine, especially if you live in a us state that isn't remotely competitive and will almost certainly go to trump/biden anyway.

[autism-corner]

cant believe that the delusions i had at 16-18 y/o were just autism again.

[infictionalwonderland]

. . . fred weasley with it girl veela girlfriend (you, bitch!)

babe.

he is your biggest fucking fan

drooling and wide eyes when he even HEARS the click of ur cunty shoes xxx

genuinely stand by the fact he has shirts with ur face on

to him, you’re everything & more

no1 advocate for anything you do

‘yeah, love, you should do that. definitely’

‘mhmm, anything you want darling’

GRRRRRRRR 🐱🐱🐱🐱

eats up every single one of ur cunty fits

you look so damn good babe and he makes sure you know it

‘you’re the most beautiful girl i have ever seen, love. seriously’

‘if you don’t stop smiling like that, im gonna be forced to take you against this fucking wall love’

OOPSIES

HOW DID THAT GET THEERRREEEE

knows the whole school and literally the whole world is obsessed with you and is here for it

(but is also not)

he loves that people know how special you are bc you fckn are

but like

when he sees whores staring at you with gaping mouths and starry eyes he’s like

she’s MINE.

doesn’t enjoy people staring at his girl

10000% the type to wrap his arms around you and pull you back into him, genuinely acting as a shield for the stares

pd(bloody)a!!!

he’s a big big fan

obvs if it makes you uncomfy, he’ll understand and back off! your comfort is his main concern

HOWEVER

if you like it just like he does…

arm wrapped around you waist while you’re walking around

HANDDD HOLDING

he loves cuddling you

ur like his squishmallow 😘😘😘

he really enjoys showing you, all the time, how much you mean to him. how obsessed he is with you. bc he wants you to know

will readily admit to the fact he is very much on ur pink bedazzled leash xxxxx

he’s ur mf bitch ❤️❤️❤️

if ppl try and take the mick out of him for it he literally could not care less

and what???? it’s true

he would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked

if he notices you getting uncomfortable w ppl staring at you, he’s not afraid to confront them (if you want that)

‘yeah, mind looking anywhere bloody else mate?’

‘if you done leering at my girl you wanker, feel free to piss off’

if people happen to not heed his warning, he’s not afraid to fight someone for you

(one time he did and arthur got called in to ‘deal’ with his son—he gave him an approving hug and a chocolate frog)

you & the weasels are like this 🤞

ginny does not resent you bc ur a veela, IN FACCTTTT she actually really looks up to you and admires you, knowing you’re so much more than ur beauty

she’s wants to BE you

(apart from the dating her brother part, gag)

george calls you ‘little legend’ he thinks you’re great for making his brother so starstruck and mushy-goey all the soft things.

genuinely cannot wait for the day you become his sister in law 🤧

after ron got over his creepy little crush, he’s grown to see you as someone he adores (even if he would never admit it) and someone he really feels safe with

you make him feel wanted in his family and actually loved—for that, he loves you more

charlie thinks ur an absolute riot 😭😭

the first time you met you had pulled a prank on the twins, turning their skin lilac and giving them unicorn horns with fuzzy purple fur everywhere (human unicorns)

he’s adored you ever since

bill loves you like a little sister and fleur and you are legit best mates!!!

arthur holds you very dear to him as he sees how good you are for his son and how much of a good individual you are in general

molly was slightly hesitant initially

BUTTT then you knitted her and arthur winter hats for christmas, sent them with a cutesy note and some sweets and she knew she’d love you

(she really, truly does)

#fredweasleyisurseximinion

he wrote that himself xxxx

[ghost-bxrd]

okay so this is an idea I’ve seen brought up maybe once before, but maybe Jason (before the Bats find out who he is) accidentally lets something slip that makes them realize that he’s literally, like, a child (seventeen, sixteen, I’m not sure how old he is at that point exactly, but either works)

and Bruce “adoption addiction” Wayne promptly looks at this obviously traumatized teenager and decides that he should adopt Red Hood.

I just think Jason would be so confused (maybe a little pissed too)

I’ve touched on that a little bit in What you’re longing for (you claim to abhor)!

I think this trope is wayyy underrated. Like, Jason is still so, so young. Basically a child. Even if he died at sixteen and then spent two years with the league (even if we’re counting the time he spent dead as aging). He’s barely even legal when he returns to Gotham. Or if we’re being generous let’s say he’s nineteen.

Doesn’t matter, he’s barely out of his teens (maybe he’s still IN his teens if you bend the timeline of your fic a little) and he’s experienced horrors that would have most people become utterly unable to function. But Jason? That boy takes his trauma and channels it into anger. Which, not exactly healthy, but well.

Anyway, getting off topic:

YES. Jason is still basically a kid when he debuts as the Red Hood, and you know what else he is? A good boy who’s not gonna touch any alcohol until he’s officially 21.

“But why would he do that? He grew up in Crime Alley! Ain’t nobody got time for age limitations!”

Hear me out! Let’s assume he grew up in a household where his father, Willis Todd, drank quite a lot on the regular in addition to his mom’s addiction. Jason experienced the aftermath of this (perhaps domestic violence?) every time his dad returned from a job/jail and he grew to loathe any and all substances, including alcohol. Knowing Jason and his convictions it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume he’d never touch a single drop of alcohol at all.

So that’s one way he could slip up while taking to his goons (and having the bats overhear) or even straight up talking to one of them where maybe Dick banters a bit and goes “Hey, perhaps you should chill out a bit. Have a drink maybe” and Jason just instinctively goes “Fuck you Dickwing, I’m seventeen/eighteen/nineteen! I’m not allowed to drink!”

And Dick just— bluescreens. And immediately goes to tell Bruce, obviously.

OR

The Bats assume Jason is this old guy (Bruce’s or Drathstroke’s age maybe) and consequently they keep alluding to things that happened way before Jason was ever even born and at first he’s so? Confused??? But eventually it just gets really annoying and eventually he just— snaps.

“How the fuck would I know which Nokia gen hit the market that year? I was born in fuckin’ XXXX, I’m an iPhone kid!”

“Stop referencing the Cold War dipshit, I’m fucking seventeen! I’m glad I remember my own damn birthday!”

“I don’t know, I was like— two back then.”

Bruce, obviously, would take .1 seconds to realize:

“Omg. That’s- that’s a whole child. That’s a whole damn TRAUMATIZED child, killing people and sawing off heads. Omg someone must have hurt him so bad. Don’t worry tho, son, Batman’s got you. You won’t have to hurt anybody ever again. We’re here for you. Would you like the room next to Tim’s or Dick’s?”

Meanwhile Jason: “what the fuck”

[barbies1shots]

frennn do toxic ex husband or boyfriend sukuna😍😩

i gotchu girl , lemme try my best . jus kno that this will be triggering for some people . also , if you kno anyone who is in any type of this relationship , get them some help . this is lowkey long too :/

☆ - TOXIC themes , mentions of murder , mentions of cannibalism , mentions of suicide , mentions of stalking , abuse , NON-CON , attempting at manipulation , idc how big you are sukuna is bigger , dacryphilia , exhibitionism , overstimulation , somnophilia , reader tries her best to stick up for herself , pet names , ruining of careers , doggy , chokehold , (please lmk if theres stuff i should add .)

read at your own risk .

exboyfriend!sukuna who sees you hang with a another man. sees you smile when he makes a bitch ass joke.

exboyfriend!sukuna who seethes in complete anger after he followed the both of you home. he rembered the address and noticed it was yours. he lost it once you moved and changed states.

exboyfriend!sukuna who sees the man leans down and give you a kiss. and that kiss soon turns into a heated kissing session.

exboyfriend!sukuna who palms himself behind his trousers as he saw the man squeeze your ass.

exboyfriend!sukuna who follows you home and pins you against the door with his massive frame as you were putting your keys in the door.

exboyfriend!sukuna who slaps you after you screamed at him that you'll call the cops.

"We broke up for a damn reason! Get the hell away from me you psycho! Get off me- get your hands off me!"

exboyfriend!sukuna who immediately apologizes with little to no regret in his small red eyes.

exboyfriend!sukuna who forces his lips against yours to shut your screaming up. he has your eyes rolls into the back of your head and making it drowsy from the lack of air.

exboyfriend!sukuna who sneaks a hand into yours and takes the keys from you and unlocks your door. he shoves you into your own apartment and presses you against the door.

"you understand why im here, right?"

exboyfriend!sukuna whispered into your ear as he said hes always love you despite the arguments and the abuse.

exboyfriend!sukuna who says hes incredibly sorry and that hell never do it again.

exboyfriend!sukuna who says that you are the only woman for him, who presses his large head into your neck to kiss you. he marks you up as his hands wander under your shirt, into your waistband of your pants.

exboyfriend!sukuna who strips you out of your clothes with little to no care if you want to be naked infront of him or not.

exboyfriend!sukuna who smirks widly once you came to your senses and slapped him before screaming in his face again.

"Didnt I fucking tell you to leave me the hell alone?! I dont want anything to do with you, Ryomen! you keep hurting me and i want something happy!

"i want xxxx"

exboyfriend!sukuna who immediately slaps a hand over your mouth once you said that mans name.

exboyfriend!sukuna who threatens to chop the mans head off and feed you his remains.

exboyfriend!sukuna who smiles once he knows that you wont try anything.

exboyfriend!sukuna who then resumes taking the rest of your clothes off, leaving you in just your socks.

"you want this right, baby? you dont want your little boy toy to die, do you mama?"

exboyfriend!sukuna murmured into your ear as he picked you up and and sat you gently on your own bed.

exboyfriend!sukuna who catches your ankle in a searing grip once you tried to crawl away from him. your ankle immediately flammed and became swollen.

exboyfriend!sukuna who pressed his crotch into your ass once he flipped you around and ran his large hands up and down your back, thinking of where to put the tattoo of his name.

exboyfriend!sukuna who picks up your legs and bends you into a mean arch, ignoring your pleas at it hurting.

exboyfriend!sukuna who eats it from the back, rough tongue setting pace on everything on there.

exboyfriend!sukuna who laughs widly as you came on his tongue, making everything 10x dirtier, messy and wet. just how he likes it

exboyfriend!sukuna who continues to tongue fuck you and adds his 3 thick fingers to your hole to plunge them in, smirking when hes met with little to no resistance.

exboyfriend!sukuna who watches your thick thighs tremble as you are overcome by immense pleasure.

"you know how i like it, baby- weve been doing it for years. Remember, ma? remember we would come home and be all over each other? and you went and fucking throw it all the fuck away!"

exboyfriend!sukuna who pins your arms behind your back as you tried to run from him pressing his dick into your hole.

"you cant run from it."

exboyfriend!sukuna who slams himself in you without any mercy. he groans out with a smile as he feels you whine, cry and drip all over him.

exboyfriend!sukuna who makes you cum once again on his thick dick, making a mess on his thighs and your bed and throws an arm around your neck, tightening untill your put into a headlock against his chest.

exboyfriend!sukuna who doesnt give up on your cunt and doesnt respond to your attempts to tap out.

exboyfriend!sukuna who only stops once he sees your phone ringing, seeing its a FaceTime request from that.. man.

exboyfriend!sukuna who smiles widely at this and pushes your head back into the pillows, pulling your back into that deep, mean arch and accepts the call.

exboyfriend!sukuna who turns the camera around and points it at your gushing cunt and sweat ridden back.

"who are you?! (name)?! (name) what is this!?"

exboyfriend!sukuna he begins to pound into you extra hard this time. he breathes out heavy moans and small whimpers. he makes sure the phone mic picks up on his and your moans and whimpers.

exboyfriend!sukuna who cums deeply into your sloppy cunt, pulling out and showing the camera the mess hes made. showing the man on the other side, who his bitch is.

exboyfriend!sukuna who grips your hair, only to see you passed the fuck out and laughs crudely at that, he pulls your head back and shows the camera your tear ridden and wet face.

exboyfriend!sukuna who tells the man on the other side that (y/n) is his whether she likes it or not. that no one will want her once hes done with her but him.

exboyfriend!sukuna who runs his hands over your ass and pulling the cheeks apart and takes a picture to post online, immediately getting views and shattering whatever career you had.

exboyfriend!sukuna who shatters your phone after and sits back on his haunches, watching the way your body twitches and skin bubbles up with goosebumbs from the sudden cold.

exboyfriend!sukuna who continues to stare, even as you scream and throw things at him once you woke up and figured what he did.

exboyfriend!sukuna who tackles you and chokes you out against the floor after he pushed you off the bed.

"leave me again, i dare you, baby."

- Aizawas BARB !

toxic sukuna will always have a small place in my heart , though- once again- please know that this is NOT healthy and to help yourself/others if you/they are in any type of toxic relationship .

prt2 toxic!sukuna

prt3 toxic!sukuna

revenge on toxic!sukuna

[bunniehrtz]

parents!abby & reader having to go to a mommy and me class n abby has insane beef with one of the dads :3 - 🪰

f that guy all my homies hate that guy

cw: douchebag alert !!!!!!, arguing, MEN 😢, abby’s hot when she’s angry xxxx

“i don’t know why we’re going to these classes. we’re already good mothers,” abby says, closing the car door, and coming around to the passenger side, opening the door for you. you scoff, holding your belly as you begin to waddle to the building. “so cocky. this’ll be good for us. this class was recommended to me by, like, five people,” you say, holding onto abby’s arm. abby sighs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you sit down in a circle with the other expecting couples. you and abby were the only gay couple, but you didn’t feel uncomfortable. the instructor mainly focuses on the “fathers” in the couples, this obviously being abby, too. abby answered every question, even helping other parents in the class, which seemed to rub this specific father the wrong way. every answer abby said would end in a scoff coming from the other side of the room. you noticed abby’s jaw clench, her biceps tense as she glances over him. “hey, don’t let that dick get to you. ignore him,” you whisper, planting a kiss on her freckled shoulder. she nods, getting back to putting a diaper on a baby doll.

“done!” abby exclaims, like a child in class. she holds the doll up, showing the instructor. she receives praise, from the instructor and other parents. and one scoff. this time, abby stands up, making her way over to him before you could stop her. “what the hell is your problem?” she says loudly, your legs standing you up before you could think. “abby! leave it,” you say, standing behind her. “i mean, who are you? shouldn’t the dad of the kid be here?” he spits, causing you to scoff at him. “excuse me? you have no idea what you’re talking about,” you slightly push abby behind you, pointing up at the man. he laughs, looking at his partner, who looks mortified. the class is silent, uncomfortably so. the instructor walks over, pointing at the door. the mother awkwardly packing her stuff up, out of the door first.

“why are we being kicked out? we didn’t do anything wrong!” he mutters. abby gets a second wind. “are you fucking kidding me? you’ve been giving us these fuckin’ dirty looks, you’ve been scoffing and laughing at everything we say. who the fuck do you think you are?” abby gets in his face, he has to look up at her. you go to step in, but your cheeks feel hot, and you’re smirking up at her. “i think you should leave. don’t come back,” the instructor says from behind you. he rolls his eyes and leaves.

abby turns around, laughing with her face in her hands. “i’m sorry for making a scene,” she says.

“don’t apologise! it’s all good! he’s been getting on my nerves for a while actually, but that’ll stay between us,” the instructor says, smiling at you apologetically, rubbing your shoulder, quickly nodding at abby. she walks back to the front of the class, trying to pick up from where she left off.

“get that smirk off your face. i see it,” abby whispers into your neck. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

taglist: @queenofmistresses @abigails-gf @bambishaven @abbysprettygiiirl @dykeanderson @aouiaa <3

[23and05]

Whaaaaaaaaat !?????????

frans grand motogp follow rec list part 2 (part 1 here)

a little bit of everything (can't put them in a special category, just good vibes and a lot of different stuff!) and very beloved!

@raulfernandez @racingmuppett @eneasbastianini @topnotchquark @babygirlgp @thedevilwearsyamaha @bezzplaining @23and05 @motogpnewbie @collecting--stardust @aprilias (supporter of beloved aprilia ofc!!) @bezwhore @hxvphaestion @comradejoanmir @marquez-quartararo20 (marc and fabio duh) @petitprince16 @nyehhh-hh @vettelsbitch (also a writer!!) @formula-red @merlesrandomstuff @motocorsas @racing-twinks @suzuki-ecstar @its-always-silly-season @im-a-ghost666 @horribletasteinanything (lots of marc and alex though) @imagine-imi @bbglewis @piastrieds @speedtrapped @freewheelinfox @twowheelsfaaast

[lvis44]

Senna or Superman // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Talk of this seasons difficulties, Suggestive dialogue, (Felipe Massa jump scare mention), Not Edited

Word Count: 4.3k+

Summary: Brazil 2024 was unforgiving, but amidst it all some greatness can still be achieved.

Notes: Hey y'all, like I said, I was feeling like typing and needed to work on something different for a second and I think I can speak for all of us that today had me feeling all of the emotions. There's definitely some angst in here but a lot of it is just absolute fluff and reader being an absolute Stan of her boyfriend, bc who wouldn't be if they were dating Lewis Hamilton, lets be real. Also, I've said it once I will say it again, I cannot follow a tense to save my life to ignore that. Kisses xxxx!!!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

You hadn’t gotten much sleep and you were feeling it as you sat in the back of the Mercedes garage. Lewis had been hyper and full of anxious energy when he returned to the hotel last night. He had spent most of the previous day bobbing around the paddock like an energetic child, complaining about the delay in qualifying and trying to convince anyone that would listen to him that they should be sent out to try and put a lap together. He’s in Brazil, he wants to put on a show, but he’d been forced to wait much to his dismay and that had left you having to deal with him. He had been hyper after being so ready to go but never getting the release from his adrenaline and also annoyed that the sport had changed so much, yapping on about how when he first got to F1 they would have sent them out and that danger and adrenaline is a key part of the sport. You tried incessantly to get him to chill but you really had to just let him wear himself out, much like an actual child. It wasn’t until later in the evening, laying against his chest after finally convincing him to try to get some sleep, that you really got the answer to his emotions.

~

“I’m so excited and honored that I’m driving the MP4 tomorrow, but I’m also nervous. I was so prepared to do it today but having to wait, delaying the gratification, it’s really getting to me.” Lewis whispered into the comfortable silence, surprising you with the unprompted admission.

“It’s even more iconic to do it on race day.” You told him softly, rubbing your hand against his warm chest hoping to lighten the weight of whatever way playing in his mind.

He just hummed in response, evidently deep in his thoughts, his arm tightening around you ever so slightly.

“It’s understandable that you’re nervous Lew, you’re driving a piece of history, not just history to the sport but to your own personal journey and career. You’ve been asked to drive your idols car, the man is the reason you found your calling. Superman or Senna, right?” You kept your voice quiet, realizing that he needed to talk this through a bit more but not wanting to disrupt the peace that had settled around the two of you.

He smiled down at you as he heard the last part of your statement, chuckling lightly,  “Superman or Senna, yes indeed.” He trailed off for a moment, the soft smile lingering on his lips as he stared at the ceiling, almost as if reminiscing over those years when those were his two goals in life, back as a young boy in Stevenage. “What’s kinda funny is that it’s not that I’m really nervous about driving the car itself, like I feel confident in that part, I feel like I’m more than capable. It’s that I’m nervous that I don’t deserve this or something, this is a big deal and I would never want anyone to regret this decision or something. I honestly don’t even really know, like I don’t know why they would regret it I just, I don’t know. Just not really sure I’m worthy of this.” He finished his rant, letting out a deep sigh.

Hearing his thoughts caused you to sit up, no longer caring if you broke the peace in the room. You stared directly at him, eyes locked with his that were evidently startled at your abrupt departure from your cuddle.

“Lewis, I need you to listen to me. They chose you, Senna's family specifically chose you and asked you.” You started, poking him in the chest for emphasis before putting the same finger over his lips to shush him when he tried to argue. “They could have asked any of the other drivers on the grid, they could have asked a retired driver, they could honestly have asked whoever the hell they wanted, but no they asked for you. Not the current reigning champion, not the owner of the car, not even a Mclaren driver. They asked you, not only because they recognize your talent but because they see him in you. They see the love and respect that the people of Brazil have for you and they see you return that tenfold. This beautiful country made you a citizen for a reason, they see you carry that flag with the same pride as your own. Lew even Felipe Massa said that you deserve to be the one to drive that car and isn’t he like literally suing you right now?”

You finally let out a huff before the both of you erupt in a fit of giggles, Lewis forcefully pulling you back down to him to wrap you tightly in his arms. 

“I didn’t know he said that, honestly rather shocking because yeah, pretty sure he is. But ya know, I heard he’s running out of money.” His lips hold a smirk as he looks down at you before you’re both consumed by another fit of giggles. “Thank you,” He whispers once you’ve both calmed down, his lips against your forehead, “I needed to hear that. You know I get too much in my own head sometimes. Still have a hard time believing that all of this is real after everything I’ve been through, where I came from, ya know?”

“I do,” You say, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss to his lips, “you’re allowed to still revel in it, even after all this time. It truly is mental, even if it’s been this way for a while now. And by the way, I’m pretty sure the only reason they would ever regret letting you drive that car is if you crash it into a wall and break it, so just don’t do that and I’m pretty sure everything will be just fine.” You giggle, giving him another kiss.

“Well damn woman, no pressure or anything.” He fakes offence before splitting into a grin with you.

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer again, “I know I’m biassed and all, but know that I can’t think of anyone more deserving of this honor and I am so incredibly proud of you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back the tears when I see you in that Mclaren tomorrow. You are an incredibly blessed man but you do not take it for granted and I am honoured that I get to see how incredible you are every single day, as a driver, as a partner, but most importantly as a human. Let yourself enjoy this Lew, you deserve it and I will be there watching in awe.”

“I love you so so much.” He says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you impossibly closer to him.

“I love you too,” You tell him softly, placing a kiss on his chest where he has squished your face into him, “now get some sleep, you have to be up in a few hours for that stupid early morning quali.”

~

Lewis had left early in the morning, sneaking out of bed around 3:30 to get ready. Only waking you accidentally when he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as he was leaving. He was apologetic, telling you to go back to sleep and that he would see you at the track. Not that you were able to get much more sleep, needing to get up and get ready yourself if you wanted any chance of making it there on time. When you had finally arrived to the garage, you made sure to perch yourself in the back, trying to stay out of the way of all the busy people rushing around you.You only got to see Lewis for a brief moment, only having enough time to give him a quick kiss and send him off with a final good luck encouragement. It was pointless though, you both knew the car wasn’t going to perform to Lewis’ liking. If anything it had somehow gotten worse for this weekend. 

As you sat in the garage watching on you couldn’t help but cringe. Lewis was battling with the car, not even making it out of Q1. You knew his mood wouldn’t be amazing when he finally made his way back to you after going to be weighed and speak to the media. You watched the next session, baffled by the sheer chaos unfolding and you couldn’t help but pray that the race would end up being better. The grid was out of position and red flags were being thrown left and right. You let out a sigh when you saw your man finally enter the garage, his helmet still on. He stopped momentarily to speak with some of his engineers, shaking peoples hands and thanking them for their hard work. He finally locked onto you, gesturing for you to follow him as he made his way to his drivers room. When you walked in behind him you could see how heavy his shoulders were. His helmet had been discarded on the bench beside him but he still hadn’t turned around.

“Hey, we knew it was gonna be shit, right?” You said quietly, putting your hand on his damp back.

“Yeah, we did. I’m just so ready for this season to be over.” He finally said, letting out a deep breath as he turned to face you.

“We’re so close babe, so so close. And for now we get to take a little time away from this devil of a car.” You told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist. Not caring one bit that he was soggy from the rain and the sweat, just content to be with your guy.

“Still got a race to do hun.” He reminded you, kissing his teeth.

“Oh I know, but let’s not think about that right now. I was talking about you getting behind the wheel of a Mclaren MP4 for a little while instead.” You smirk, leaning up towards his now smiling face.

“A proper race car.” He says, his smile threatening to split his face.

This is what you wanted, you wanted him to revel in the joy, revel in the honor of driving such an incredible car. Enjoy being behind the wheel of a Championship winning car once again even if it was only for a few laps and unlike the cars he was used to winning in. 

“A legacy meant for a hometown hero to carry on, and a race car meant for a World Champion. It’s been waiting for another great to stretch its legs and they found just the right Brazilian for the job.” You whispered to him, your faces incredibly close now. 

“If you keep talking like that I might end up locking you in here.” His voice is teasing as he wraps his arms around you.

“As much as I desperately want to say yes to that, I do believe you have something to get ready for.” You sigh, pulling back and patting his chest.

“I do, but we’ll use it for motivation later, I might need it.” He says as he peels himself off of you, his voice is playful but you both know he’s dead serious.

“The second we leave this track, I am all yours for as long as you want or need.” You promise, watching as he starts to change and prepare to go meet the Mclaren mechanics that have been looking after the historical car.

You sit in a comfortable peace for a while, occasionally exchanging words about little things that don’t really matter that much, just enjoying being in his space. You know that when the day is over you will have a full debrief, all of the frustration that he’s setting aside for this moment will inevitably bubble up once he’s in the safe privacy of the two of you alone, but for now you entertain his small talk and let him start to get excited about his incredible moment as he gets himself ready. When he’s ready he turns to  you with childlike excitement bubbling at the surface and you can feel your heart swell.

“This is a good look for you.” You tell him, eyeing the all white suit with the Brazilian flag at his waist.

“I’m still mad I can’t wear his actual helmet.” Lewis grumbles with a shake of his head.

“I hate to say, I actually agree with them on that one babe, let’s keep your head safe, yeah?” You laugh.

“I know I know, don’t think it would even fit on my head anyway.” He playfully groans, making his way over to you.

“I like the special helmet for this weekend though, it’s still a tribute.” You remind him, knowing he’s half joking but wanting him to be fully confident when he steps out.

He nods, taking a moment to admire you before he’s pulling you close and landing his lips on yours in a kiss that takes you by surprise with its force.

“Thank you, for everything,” He starts when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting on yours, “for reminding me that I’m allowed to revel in this, for keeping me grounded,for letting me be excited, just for everything.”

“Hey, that’s why I’m here. You do the exact same for me when I need it, it’s why we work so well.” You say quietly, your hand coming to stroke his beard gently.

“If I don’t get to see you before I get in the car, just know your words from last night are gonna be in my head the entire time. I’m gonna let myself enjoy this, let myself feel this. Nothing else about today matters other than honouring and paying tribute to my childhood hero and getting to live out my childhood dreams of driving the car that made me want to start racing around the circuit that introduced me to another home.” His voice holds excitement and certainty as he speaks that makes you want to cry and kiss him all at once.

You’ve never been quite so proud of the man in front of you. Yes, you’ve cheered for him since the beginning, before you even met him. You’ve wept when he’s broken records and won each and every championship. Yet nothing quite compares to seeing this amazing moment and knowing just how much he deserves it, knowing that there is no one better to hold this responsibility and honor. There is no one like Aryton Senna and truly there never will be, and there is no one like Lewis Hamilton and there truly never will be. 

“You know you’re doing for millions what he did for you, right?” You whisper, hoping he knows just the level of inspiration he gives to everyone watching him, young and old alike.

“I know, and it’s amazing to be able to do that.” He says, his smile warm.

You don’t say another word, giving him a long kiss, feeling connected to him in a way you both need in the moment, albeit for much different reasons. You are pouring every ounce of pride and amazement into the kiss, hoping he can feel it, while he is absorbing the love and reassurance that comes with your touch, letting himself feel his greatness and humble himself all at once. Finally there is a knock at the door, signalling that he really needs to get going, causing you to part from each other reluctantly. 

“Okay, I gotta go do the most amazing thing of my entire career.” He says with a smile, “Be here when I get back?”

“I can’t promise I won’t be sobbing out near the pit wall but I will definitely find you, promise.” You laugh, giving him one last kiss before he grabs his helmet and makes his way over to the media garage where the incredible car is being stored for him.

It takes you a little while to get out to the pit lane that is already lined with people. You wish you could be closer, see the car up close but this isn’t your moment. Today is for Senna's family and the people of Brazil, you are just lucky enough to be able to witness the incredible moment in person.You know Lewis is somewhere down the pitlane, most likely trying to stay calm as he geeks out over the amazing machine he is about to drive. He has driven one of Senna’s cars before, but not in a long time, and not in this setting, not with this honor and audience. You also know that no matter how many times he may have had the privilege of being around and driving incredible race cars, he is a racing driver through and through and the excitement will never change. While you’re standing there smiling to yourself, thinking about how excited Lewis must be and taking in the incredible aura of the crowd, you catch sight of the live stream playing on the jumbotron. There he is, getting in his idols car, you watch as he takes a moment to really take it in just before he’s being strapped in. It’s funny to you to see him surrounded by Mclaren mechanics again, to see the goodyear tires you remember from your first ever F1 races. Then they’re rolling him out and the crowd gets their first in person glimpse of the car over the wall and the cheers echo through your soul. It takes a few more minutes for them to be ready and the atmosphere is building with anticipation but then they start the engine. The first rumble sends a chill down your spine and silences the track. The sound of the V10 roaring to life evoked a visceral feeling from you, bringing back memories of why you fell in love with the sport as a child in the first place and you could only imagine what the emotions coursing through Lewis in that moment were. You saw him shake his head in disbelief as he revved the engine and you could just picture the boyish grin that would be covering his face at that moment. Then it cut, he stalled, and you heard the boos and wanted to run and protect him. You knew it wasn’t his fault, and realistically you knew the crowd wasn’t booing him, they were booing the disruption of the soundtrack that was the incredible V10 engine and you also knew Lewis was smart enough to know that as well. The mechanics were quick, getting the engine back up rapidly and soon enough Lewis was headed out toward the track. He took a moment, the mechanics meeting him again and you prayed that everything would go to plan, this moment was too important to everyone for anything not to be perfect. And then you saw him, speeding past you in Senna’s Mclaren down the pit straight. The spray of water adding to the moment as he waved at the fans who were evidently stunned at the spectacle in front of them. Their recently adopted hero bringing them back to a moment with their lifelong hero. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you watched him complete lap after flawless lap, handling the car like he’d been driving it for years. You could only imagine what the emotions flowing through his body must be, so incredibly grateful to be able to witness the moment. When you saw him stop to grab the flag your tears picked up, watching the beauty of the moment as he completed his dream of waving his new country's flag as he drove his idol's car with no hands around the wet track. Everything about the moment was pure poetry. 

By the time he parked the car on the grid, you were sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the entirety of Sao Paulo. You watched through teary eyes as Viviane went and spoke to him as he collected himself in the cockpit. You could see her thanking him and you knew that he was thanking her just as profusely. You tried to dry your eyes as you watched them pose with Senna's helmet while Lewis sat in the car, but they came back quickly. You finally managed to pull yourself together just a little bit as you watched him pose with flag but the second he knelt down next to the car as if to thank it for everything it had done for him and his idol, you lost it again, You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself just a bit, your emotions were definitely getting the best of you. You could see the emotion on Lewis’ face as he too pulled himself together to get ready for the interview. He was beaming, eternally grateful for the opportunity. You listened as he described his love for Brazil and the love he has received from the fans, you could hear the emotion thick in his voice the entire time, even through the incredible joy that was paired with it. You knew he meant it when he said it was the ‘honor of his career’ and you were certain this would be a moment that neither of you ever forgot. Everything about it was purely beautiful, seeing everyone pause for something so meaningful, you weren’t sure you had ever seen the sport so at one in your entire life.

When you saw him finally making his way to the pit lane you scramble to try to pull yourself together, hoping to be somewhat emotionally sound when you went to meet him in his drivers room, but he found you first, a strong arm slinking around your waist before you were being crushed in a tight hug. When he finally let you go you took a moment to take him in. The emotions were written all over his face, the weight of the profound moment sinking in for him as the joy was palpable. He took in your state, his eyes softening, knowing that every emotion on your face came from your love for him and your love for the sport.

“C’mon, lets go be alone for a second.” He said softly, guiding you toward the garage.

When you were safely inside his drivers room you turned to him, your words dying on your tongue as they didn’t feel enough to express just how proud of him you were. Instead you opted to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him, hard, tears falling down your cheeks as you did. When you finally parted from him you saw that the smile had never left his face.

“I think you’re more emotional about that entire thing than I am.” He teased you softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Stop it,” You laughed, swatting at him pathetically, “I’m just so proud of you and so happy for you. I can only imagine what that meant to you.”

“Yeah, it was surreal, never had so many emotions at once. It felt incredible, it truly felt like a dream come true.” He said as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you toward him.

“I was right you know, there was no one more suited for that than you.” You tell him softly.

“You were absolutely right, that felt perfect, Viviane was so kind and so grateful, I will never forget this.” He sighs and you can tell the weight of the weekend is leaving his body with it.

“Nothing else that happens this weekend matters, okay? This was what it was all for.” You assure him, placing your hand on the side of his neck.

“Thank you, you’re right, that was truly the only reason I am here this weekend, none of the rest matters in the slightest.” His eyes are soft as he melts into your touch.

“I know you said you wanted to be Senna or Superman but I think you may have achieved both just now. You are more than a hero to just about everyone here, me included.” You tell him softly, staring deep into his eyes as you do.

“That means a lot, I felt it while I was out there. It was a crazy feeling, getting to be that for everyone.” He says earnestly.

“You do it way more frequently than you think, even if you haven’t been feeling it lately.” You assure him, wanting him to know just how much you mean it.

He doesn’t respond but you can tell he’s just taking it in as he lets out a breath and traces circles on your hip. He’s a confident man, cocky at times, but even the strongest of soldiers can be weak in the face of defeat.

“I know you are a natural born competitor, but let's make a deal that your only objective today is just to come back to me in one piece. That’s all I ask of you.” You say after a moment, listening to the rain pickup against the roof.

“I will absolutely come back to you, but I ain’t making any promise about not also trying to pull that tractor as far forward as I can.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay fair enough, just need you in tiptop shape to be my superman when we get back to the hotel tonight.” You smirk, pinching his bicep.

“Well when you put it like that why don’t we just leave on a high note and head back right now?” He asks playfully, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m down, but you’ve gotta go keep being both Senna and Superman.” You giggle.

“Okay, I’ll do my best, but I’m still holding you to that even if this race is shit.” He says, pinching your bum.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 4 ]

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A/N: This is all angst and fluff because I'm working on two other smut fics. Please accept this impromptu filler chapter for now (I'm sorry ❤️). I hope you enjoy it anyway.

WARNINGS: [ SFW ] + [ SLIGHTLY MATURE THEMES ] + [ FLUFF ] + [ ANGST ]

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You waited patiently for Alastor, standing at the window, admiring the fading moon as the sun's rays gradually inked the sky. It’d been a longer night than you imagined, but you felt energized rather than overtly exhausted.

You supposed that's what having a child felt like: tiring but never lacking excitement. A smile crept onto your face at the thought, heart racing at the image of a small hand wrapping around your finger and the possible jingle of childish laughter following the gesture. It was all you could think about.

Would they resemble you or Alastor more?

A boy or maybe a girl?

Twins?… Oh, twins would be so extraordinary but troublesome!

Oh, who am I to complain… they'd be just as lovely as Alastor.

You jumped from one thought to the next, unable to keep track of your puzzling emotions but deciding your only concern should be the present. With a steadying breath, you gazed around the room, searching for something to do or a task to occupy yourself with since sleep failed you. The room was spotless besides your belongings, which you'd already reorganized after stealing one of Alastors dress shirts to replace your blood-stained nightgown. There was a bookshelf full of various stories tucked into a corner near an old rocking chair, and the idea of reading to relax didn't seem terrible.

“A good story can be grand entertainment…”

Your father coined the phrase and always followed it with an unbelievable bedtime reading. Those nights filled with his storytelling were your fondest childhood memories, and you considered passing the sentiment onto your child. You imagined Alastor more prone to telling bedtime stories; he had the charisma, the soothing voice for it, and you had no doubt they'd become attached to him doing so.

Your smile grew wider, getting ahead of itself as you waltzed over to the tall mahogany bookshelf. “Hm…what shall we read, little one?” you placed a hand on your stomach, gently rubbing circles against it as your other grazed the worn book spines. Each title caught your eye, all ranging in subject but consistent with what Alastor told you about his mother's efforts to advance his literacy.

“Some might say she willed proper speech out of me, but I wouldn't be where I am now without such vigorous practice…”

He was far from wrong; your father had educated you similarly, claiming that despite young women of the time being expected to rely on their beauty, you'd advance farther with brains.

“Let's see..” you mumbled aloud, reading a few titles to narrow your decision, “…perhaps Penny Dreadful? No, The Grim Brothers Tales’?..” A soft giggle left your lips as you considered how ridiculous you sounded speaking aloud, but it couldn't be helped. You were longing to talk, to shout with joy, but resisted the urge in fear of causing a minor disturbance.

Finally, a book held your attention, not as worn as the others but fairly withered. “Alice in Wonderland shall do.” You pricked it from the shelf, sitting in the rocking chair while opening its front cover. The words on each page were familiar, immersive as intended, and for a few quiet moments, you thought of nothing but its premise as you whispered nonsensical sentences in their written order.

Time passed quicker than you thought; by the third chapter, you heard the bedroom door creak open, and in stepped a refreshed Alastor. You beamed a coy smile his way as he shut the door behind him, returning your smile with tired eyes while walking over to you, “Mornin’ darlin��..”

“Good morning, mon cher. You look much better.” you muse as he leans down to kiss your head, “Thank you, sweetheart. Once I get some rest, I might feel better as well.” He doesn't stand up fully, content with being at eye level with you to converse, and you unconsciously blush from the intensity of his gaze. Strands of his hair were curled into its natural waves, dripping with tiny water droplets, slithering down his mocha skin with every breath he took. It was a miracle his glasses didn't fog up, resting neatly on his face and doing nothing but accentuating his piercing brown eyes.

You could get lost in his stare; that ocean of amber took your breath away effortlessly, and you wondered if the trait would pass on to your child.

Indeed, it would… surely he'd love it.

A lump formed in your throat as anxious excitement built in your chest. You needed to tell him calmly, but the longer you waited, the more you wanted to hide away.

Did he want this?

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…”

He'd said it himself, but it was hard for you to deny that Alastor was very vague with his genuine emotions. Even as his wife, you found him hard to read

There was only one way for you to find out, and stalling wouldn't solve anything. Alastor studied your expression as you thought, perceptive to the minor changes in your mood, “My dear, are you alright?” he asked firmly. You perk up, nodding slowly while clutching the book to your chest, “I-Im, I'm fine... It's just that I have to tell you something rather delicate..”

Alastor raised a brow, watching as you bit your lip and stared at your lap, “The news you alluded to earlier this evening?” His eyes narrow, glinting with prowess as he ponders the possibilities of your announcement.

With a heavy sigh, you nod again, shutting the book before placing it in your lap, gripping it tight with one hand as the other instinctively rests on your stomach. You feel his gaze shift from your face, fixated on your abdomen, as you stumble out an explanation.

“I. Well, I'm… “ you cut yourself off when words fail, reaching for his hand gently, placing it over your own as a nervous smile adorns your face.

Oh…does she mean to say?…

Alastor froze as the warmth of your skin settled against his palm, rising and falling in a gentle pattern as you willed yourself to breathe normally while gauging his reaction. His shadows quivered in the darkness of the room, able to hear two faint heartbeats underneath the drum of your own, and the definitive sound brought a grin to his face.

It seems she's given us exactly what we hoped for. Twice the yield as well.

How delightful.

Alastor knelt before you, placing both hands on your stomach, eyes soft with affection as he finally voiced his thoughts.

“My darling wife is going to be a mother..” pride laced his tone as he averted his gaze to yours, grin ever present as you nodded excitedly with a bright smile, “And you're going to be father..” you whisper.

Your words drifted quietly in the air, sinking into Alastor’s consciousness and stirring his specters into a giddy frenzy.

My wife is having my children…

Mine and only mine.

A laugh rippled in his chest as the possessive thought invaded his mind, growing stronger as he heard your delighted giggles join his. “Come here, darlin’…” Alastor lifted you with one gentle tug on your wrists, catching you in his arms as your feet hovered off the ground. “Alastor!” you yelped excitedly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt and laughing more as he pecked your lips tenderly. You hummed into the passionate kiss, arms locking around his neck as you kicked a foot up gingerly. He tasted like mint, calm, and refreshing. A welcomed contrast to the waning heat you felt as your nerves winded down.

He was pleased to know, which filled your heart with relief.

——- ——- ———

“Oh, my stars! Al! Y/n! I'm overjoyed for you both!” Rosie shot up from her seat, dress flowing as she glided around the coffee table to squeeze you in a tight hug as you set out the platter of sweets you'd finished baking moments ago. “Thank you, Rosie. I still can't believe it myself,” you blushed as she squealed, drawing back a bit to cup your face with both hands; her eyes sparkled with admiration as she looked between you and Alastor -who sat comfortably in an armchair. He hadn't stopped grinning since your return home from the countryside, rambling on and on to his mother about the news until the last minute, and he insisted on telling Rosie as soon as you stepped foot in New Orleans again. She was his long-time friend, after all, yours as well, by extension, and so you didn't mind revealing the news to her. Just as his mother felt like your own, Rosie filled the space of an older sister for you. She was energetic, fashionable, and constantly aware of everyone's lives.

She was a true gossip girl, but you enjoyed her company more than others.

“Al, you devil! You could've waited another year to knock my dearest friend up! Now, who will I take out on the town?..” She huffed dramatically but couldn't hold her frown as you giggled softly while he waved a hand dismissively. “I'm sure you'll survive, my dear.” he quips. Rosie rolls her eyes, returning his nonchalant gesture with an equally smug smirk, “I suppose you're right. Although, my nights out won't be as thrilling anymore with you gone being a new father and such, Al.”

He sat straighter. You happened to catch the slightest frown on his face at Rosie’s comment, but it vanished when he felt your eyes on him. “I'll accompany you on occasion when time allows it.” His response is politely chaste, and one might deem it disappointing.

Was he bothered by the notion of having less time with Rosie?

You knew they ventured to socialite parties together regularly, something they'd done long before you married him, but you never questioned it since Rosie assured you it was their fun hobby. Still, you felt concerned that Alastor could regret the idea of children if it meant a less spontaneous party going with his oldest friend.

You opened your mouth to say something, stepping towards where he sat, but Rosie grabbed your hands and whisked you away to sit on the plush sofa with her. “We must discuss everything Y/n. Having a child is no small feat, and I know Al won't spare any expense.” She grinned, squeezing your hands gently, and you smiled back at her before sparing your husband a curious glance. “He spoils me too much already, so I think he'll naturally do the same for the baby,” a soft laugh floated from you, and he tipped his head reassuringly while pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. “Whatever their little heart desires, I shall give,” he replies calmly, standing to his feet and gazing between you and Rosie. “It's about time I head on over to the station. I don't suppose you’ll be leaving anytime soon, Rosie?”

You checked the grandfather clock that stood against the adjacent wall, noticing it was nearly time for his broadcast to begin, “Seems we lost track of time.” you smiled apologetically at Alastor. He shook his head while chuckling, “It's not your fault, darling. I got caught up listening to this one ramble,” he gestured to Rosie before walking over to the parlor room coat stand. He pricked his preferred overcoat, slipping it on quickly as she glared at his back. “Is that any way to speak of your child’s future honorary aunt and godmother!” she faked a skeptical look to which you feigned concern, “Oh, my dear Rosie, he didn't mean it, I swear!”

Alastor turned on his heel, biting back a more comprehensive smile as he admired the two of you carrying on, “I will not apologize for telling the truth, ma chère, but Rosie does have the privilege of godmother so that for I will ask for her forgiveness.” he stood behind the sofa, leaning down a bit to kiss you once then twice before pulling away with a content hum.

Rosie watched the sweet exchange, able to separate the manic version of Alastor she killed from the doting husband he was in your presence, proud to see him so controlled and happy. He pulled away from you, adoring the glimmer in your eyes as you reached a hand up to adjust his glasses, “I love you,” you whisper, and he blanks for a moment, hearing the endearing phrase.

Love…is that what this is?…

Would it be so wrong to say it back?…

A flash of vulnerability crosses Alastor’s face, and you're tempted to take your words back, but he beats you to speak. “Je t'aime aussi..” he mutters back, stepping away to bid Rosie a proper goodbye, “Take good care of her while I'm gone.” he kisses her cheek, and she swats his arm, “Oh, you know I will. Now run along before you're late!” He heads to her, scolding her out the door in seconds, leaving you in her company.

“I thought he'd never leave,” Rosie chirps, glad to have some privacy to speak with you and eager to get down to the details you had to tell. “Tell me, how do you feel, honey? I know this all might be terrifying you…” she spoke softly, pricking a freshly baked cookie from the platter you set out, and you nodded timidly in agreement while fidgeting with your hands.

“I'm scared, yes, but not of being a mother. You know I've always wanted to be one. It was my biggest dream when I came of age, and I'm glad it's coming true with Al..” You rested a hand on your stomach, feeling it flip at the mention of him, and luckily, no urge to throw up followed.

Thank goodness for Angelique and her tonics!

She'd given you a case of vials to take home, all containing a special brew made by her hand, and she'd given you a strict regimen for consuming them.

“Drink two of these twice daily, morning and evening, but only take it after you've eaten. Have Alastor phone me when you need more..”

Whatever was given had a wonderous effect on your mood, reduced your fatigue, and calmed your nerves. You were grateful for her assistance, but not everything you felt could be cured with medicine.

You hoped Rosie would understand, could help calm what the tonics couldn't, so as she peered at you curiously and asked, “What's the matter, dearest?” you inevitably blurted out your worst and only fear.

“I'm afraid of how Alastor will be as a father..”

She blinked, taken aback by your confession, but it didn't show on her face. “May I ask why?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with your hands again as you thought of what to say, but Rosie rested a hand on yours to still them in a gentle grip. “Y/n, it's alright, be honest. He may have been my closest companion initially, but you are my truest friend in this moment. I'm here to listen, not to criticize. He won't hear a word of it, I swear.”

You glanced between your conjoined hands and her kind smile, and after debating whether or not to spill your heart out, you decided it wouldn't hurt to express your doubts.

You could trust Rosie. Right?…

“Well, I know he wants children. He recently told me so, but it's how he'll receive them. Alastor is a complex man, we both know that, but I fear that complexity will make it hard for him to…to..” you tried to phrase the last of your concerns gently, unsure if what you said made any sense to her, but Rosie merely smiled before finishing the thought for you.

“You're afraid he won't show them love?..”

You nod, heart clenching at the thought, “Yes. I know how his childhood went; I was there through it all, so I know his father wasn't the best man. I know what he put his mother through and Alastor hates the idea of becoming like him..”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, beginning to tear up as memories of Alastor coming to you in the dead of night, bruised and battered but stoic as ever as he asked to sleep next to you in your bed. He'd never tell you what happened, where his father was, or if he'd been majorly injured. You'd have to coax information out of him, promise him that you'd never betray his safety, or tell your father what went on in his family. Then and only then would he relax, let you mend his scars before huddling under the thick covers with you, and though you were both exhausted, you'd whisper stories aloud to each other until the sun peeked through the trees.

It felt odd to wish for times like that to return; they all resorted from darker places, but it brought you two closer. You were able to understand Alastor to an extent most speculated of. With all the insight into his life, you hoped the irrational fears you felt would wither away, but after the incident at his mother's, they just worsened.

It felt as if he were hiding something from you.

At first, the notion piqued your curiosity, but now it ate away at your conscience.

What was he withholding from you, and did you need or want to know more?

Logic voted ‘yes,’ but your trusting nature leaned towards ‘no.’

“He won't ever be like him. I'm sure, but he's only recently expressed he cares for me. Truly loves me, so I suppose I'm afraid of that same affection not being openly expressed to our little one as well.”

Rosie nodded, scooting closer and giving you a tight side hug to calm your frazzled state. “My dear, you have every right to fear such a thing. However, if I may vouch for Alastor, I do believe his softer side will show itself for your child.” You peered at her, hope in your eyes, “Really? You think so?..”

She grins, “I am certain of it! He cherishes you like no other! Unlike my husband, yours is a dime and a man who'd kill for you if necessary.”

You blush, surprised by her claim, “I don't think he'd kill for me, Rosie, but I understand the sentiment.” She scoffs, hand rubbing your shoulders, and retorts, “Yes, he would, and he'd show the same devotion to your bundle of joy.”

Her statement soothed your worries, but the seriousness in her tone made your heart skip a beat.

It felt as though she did know he'd kill for you…kill for your child.

A shiver racked your body at the thought.

I hope it never comes to that…

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

What do you guys think of the story so far? I'm just curious to hear your thoughts and theories.❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He may be a monster, but at least he's dedicated to it; morally grey, but honest to his silly little murderous behaviors ❤️ credits to the creator

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Dear Damian Wayne, Dec. 19, 2011

There really isn’t a good way to say any of this, especially via a letter. If I’m being completely honest, which I am, I would much rather be saying this to you in person. For both our safety, though, this was the best way I found to contact you.

First off, congratulations on being brought into the Wayne household! I never would’ve considered imagining that Bruce Wayne would be our father, but, here we are. Unless you’re there undercover? I doubt that, though.

Now, I should probably cut to the chase, no matter how much I want to stall. You might not remember me, but I’m your brother. Don’t freak out! Please, just finish reading this, at least. If you don’t believe me or you don’t want to ever talk to or see me again, then that’s fine. I completely understand.

You probably hate me, and I don’t blame you, but I couldn’t stay there. When we got separated on that mission, I ended up nearly killed. Some civilians found me and took me to a hospital to get my injuries treated. I realized, after I woke up, that this was the life I wanted. Leaving you hurt me so much more than I could ever describe in any language, but going back to Grandfather and Mother was a death sentence. I hated doing that to you, but I couldn’t do that to myself.

God, I suck at this.

I love you, Dami, I really do. I’ve wanted, for years, to come back to you, but I didn’t because I’m a coward. A selfish coward who can’t even face his own brother properly.

Forgiveness is a luxury I have no right to ask you of, but I’m going to anyway. So, can you? Can you ever forgive me for leaving you alone? Can you ever forgive me for leaving you  to think I died? Can you ever forgive me for making you go back to that place alone? Can you forgive me for being so selfish?

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you then, and I don’t mean to hurt you now. I’m beyond ecstatic that you made it out. I’m so happy that you’re with father now. I hope you never have to go back to Nanda Parbat ever again.

شكراً لكونك أخي

          Danyal ‘Danny’ Fenton

              (xxx) xxx-xxxx

***

There was a time that Danny only ever referred to as Before. Before he’d come to America; Before he’d been taken in by the Fenton Family; Before he’d lost himself to the life he’d never envisioned. He could remember it well.

*

He’d grown up in Nanda Parbat , high in the Himalayan Mountains. Beautiful buildings made of golden sandstone bricks, roofs made of the redist clay shingles, untouched snow for as far as the eye could see, and mountain peaks stretching high above the little valley.

There were greenhouses, too, filled with plants of all kinds from everywhere! Food, poisons, antidotes, it was all grown in Nanda Parbat. Clean water was pulled from the wells and the snow as though nature herself was giving her best to this one place. Truly a heaven on earth. The Garden of Eden, some people called it.

The residents were known to very few, only ever coming down when they found themselves with visitors. The towns at the base of the mountain ranges had plenty of legends about the People of the Mountains, but even fewer still knew their real secrets.

The League of Assassins, founded by Ra’s al Ghul himself, had made Nanda Parbat their home base, though neither Ra’s nor his daughter, Talia, made a habit of staying for too long or visiting often. No, Nanda Parbat had been claimed to raise the heirs and guard the Lazarus Pits.

Danny had been born in those very halls, buried deep within the protective embrace of the mountains, mere minutes after his brother. He knew nothing but Nanda Parbat, half convinced that his instructors were lying about the outside world. After all, could it really exist if he’d never seen it?

Grandfather and Mother came by thrice a year. Once to check on or use the Lazarus Pits, once to check on the Demon Heirs, and once to instruct lessons of their own. It was how it had always been done, so Danyal and Damian knew nothing else.

Grandfather would tell tales of conquest, instructing them on how to mold their very surroundings to their wills. Mother shared her missions, warning against how others would try and use them to get to her and Grandfather, seeing them as the weakest link. Damian and Danyal taught each other, on the nights when they could escape prying eyes, the importance of secrets. No one to trust but yourself, both Grandfather and Mother had pushed, anyone will betray you when given the right incentive.

The day came when Mother and Grandfather came to check on the Pits. The week-long stay had been the same every year, but their instructors had announced a change. Danyal would be going with Mother while Damian would be going with Grandfather. They would return to continue their studies in Nanda Parbat by the next full moon.

Danny had been excited. He was going to the outside world! He’d never been there before! He’d only ever seen pictures of it! Such fun! The only disappointment he held was that he was not going to share the moments with Damian. Yes, they would be leaving together, but they wouldn’t be together. Mother and Grandfather stayed at separate bases, after all.

The night before they were set to depart their Himalayan Paradise, Danyal had snuck to the roof with his brother.

“I’m scared, ahki,” he whispered, the wind hiding his voice from all but his brother.

“Don’t be, ahki,” Damian had assured, “You will be with Mother. She will keep you safe.”

“But the instructors say that we will be on our own!” Danyal said, “Besides, I do not know Mother.”

Damian did not pause. “Of course you know Mother. She gave us life. She teaches us.”

“Yes, but I don’t know her. I know you, and I know the birds, but I do not know Mother nor Grandfather.”

“Perhaps,” Damian had suggested, “we do not need to know them as we know each other? Perhaps, we only need to know that Grandfather is Ra’s al Ghul and the Mother is Talia al Ghul.”

“Then that means you’re Damian al Ghul!” Danny smiled, emotion his instructors had tirelessly trained out of him bleeding into the privacy shared between him and his brother.

Damian nodded, “And you are Danyal al Ghul.” A beat. “We will be fine tomorrow and the day after and the days to follow. When we return to Nanda Parbat, we will sit in this very spot and share our adventures.”

“Tales of conquest?” Danyal asked.

“Warnings of fools.” Damian responded.

*

A tale as old as the dirt beneath his feet. Before had been five years ago. So long in the past, but only a few pages back. Sometimes, it was as though he’d never left Before behind him. His training, for all that it was minimal in his limited time within the snow valley, was carved into his very soul. Not even the wear of time could pull him away from a weapon or the scan for immediate exit points or the caution when dealing with new people and places.

Jazz had explained to him that his responses to certain situations should not be that cautious or violent. She’d tried again and again to tell him that he was safe; that he wasn’t where he had been Before.

He knew that, obviously. Nanda Parbat was free of the disgusting urbanization of the modern world. This place was free of the untouched beauty of the hidden gems. He could see the beauty in the contradictions and in what he had been taught to scorn, he was not an idiot, but he could not appreciate it the way people born there could.

*

The Doctors Fenton, only Masters in their fields at the time, had picked him up at the base of the Italian Appalachian Mountains. They’d treated his wounds, introduced him to their daughter Jazz, and given him the opportunity to escape where he had been.

The Fentons had taken his hesitation as confusion for the situation; amnesia. They told him, as gently as they could, that all signs pointed to an abusive home. They wanted to help him get out as soon as they could.

But, that wasn’t right. Danny, in all his six years, knew exactly what an abusive relationship was. It was one of the things his Mother had taught him about when he’d first left Nanda Parbat with her when he was four! He didn’t come from an abusive home or an abusive relationship! Damian would never put him through that, and the ninja all knew better than to do anything untoward to him and Damian.

“And what about your parents?” Jazz, being only eight years old, had not held her tongue as Danny had been taught to. “Or any other adults?”

Now that, that was definitely a thought. But, no. No one within the confines of Nanda Parbat or within the League of Shadows as a whole had ever hurt him outside of training. The injuries they had treated were from a mission, not from his Grandfather or Mother or brother hurting him!

*

His attempts at clearing the misunderstanding had been brushed off as his imagination trying to protect him. Repressing and changing trauma, Jazz had translated.

He had thought, at the time, that everyone was wrong. He had come from a perfectly normal place! Though, the week he spent in the hospital had him second guessing. He was the only one looking for every possible exit in case of any possible situation at any given time. He was the only one prepared to slit the throats of everyone in the room if they got in the way of his escape. He was the only one to actively check for weapons to use or be used against him.

During his stay in the hospital, because they wouldn’t let him leave before he was cleared by the doctors who worked there, the Fentons had exposed him to many things that made him question his upbringing. But, now that he knew the truth, he’d never be able to go back.

The Fentons had promised him, the night before he was cleared to go, that they would help him stay away from the people who had hurt him, so long as he allowed them to. And how could he not accept? Too many questions had invaded his mind. The only way to answer them was to do as his Mother had taught him: learn from experience. So, he relented, leaning into the ‘trauma induced amnesia’ everyone had assumed he had, and went along with the Fenton Family.

But what about Damian? Surely, he was safe. Surely, he’d gotten back to Nanda Parbat and reported to Grandfather and Mother that Danyla had been killed! He could not go back, not yet. And maybe, a tiny, selfish part  of him that he hid in the darkest corners of his brain, was glad he wouldn’t be going back for any reason. To make himself feel better, he’d told himself that he’d go back for Damian once he was sure he wouldn’t be caught and killed for treason.

The plans laid within the floorboards under his bed with the katana and daggers the Fentons had let him keep.

Exactly four months after turning ten, Danny had turned on the TV. It was just to provide white noise while his adoptive parents were out, so he didn’t really care about the channel. Jazz hadn’t cared, either. If she had, she hadn’t said anything.

The channel had been one for national news. The covered story was in Gotham, New Jersey. Not unusual, but concerning until none of the names of the city’s rogues had been named. Bruce Wayne was holding a gala to officially introduce his youngest son to the world. That is what dragged Danny to sit and watch attentively.

Danny knew the name Bruce Wayne very well. His Mother had told him, no less than six times, that he was to go to Bruce Wayne if he ever found himself in a situation where the League of Shadows couldn’t help him. Bruce Wayne was his go-to if he ever needed because he is his father.

When Danny first met the Fentons, something had kept him from escaping. He could have, but he didn't. Something had compelled him to stay. That same something had told him to avoid Bruce Wayne when he was ten. That same something was now telling him to go to his father.

Danny didn’t listen to that something. Instead, he watched his brother stand beside their father and his other children. He followed his brother’s public persona studiously. When he pieced together Damian being Robin, meaning that Bruce Wayne was likely Batman, he followed his vigilante life, too. All the while, he was too much of a coward to actually reach out to them.

After all, what would they get out of having a relationship with him? He was a traitor to the Shadows, dead by all accounts that mattered. They already had an established family, so why would they want Danny? So, he stayed away.

It wasn’t until the week before his and Damian’s eleventh birthday that he finally managed to write a letter to his older brother. He timed it so that the letter would arrive the day of their birthday. A part of him hoped that Damian would get, read, and respond to the letter. A bigger part of him hoped that it would be lost amongst the birthday cards that were surely being sent to Damian now that he was living with their father.

Damian’s father. Danny already had a father. Well, a dad. He also had a mom and a sister. He even had an aunt! Not to mention the friend he made. He’s never had a friend before! So, yeah. Danny had a mom, a dad, a sister, and a friend. He wanted Damian, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up. If Damian didn’t want him, then that meant that he wouldn’t have a brother or Grandfather or Mother or a father. Or three more brothers, apparently. He couldn’t really find it in himself to be upset about any potential loss that wasn’t Damian.

*

“Please respond, please respond, please respond!” Danny chanted under his breath as he opened the mailbox. There were four letters inside, three for his parents and one for his sister. “La naiba!” he swore.

“What’s wrong?” Jazz asked as she came up behind him. She’d learned early on that it was near impossible to sneak up on him.

Danny shoved the three envelopes into her hands. “There’s nothing there for me.”

“Why would there be anything in there for you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Did you order something without telling mom or dad?”

He scoffed. “No. I sent a letter and I’m waiting for a response.”

Her head tilted to the left slightly. “When’d you send it?”

“Three days ago.”

“There’s no way you’re ever gonna get a response in three days.” She scolded lightly, leading the way into the house, “Just be patient.”

He followed her. “Easy for you to say!”

“Who’d you send it to anyway?”

“None of your business.”

Jazz turned on him, her expression as unimpressed as a twelve year old could be. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, she raised her right eyebrow and tilted her head to the left again and slightly forward. When that didn’t get her what she wanted, she crossed her arms, her feet planted firmly in place. She’d picked up several things since Danny was brought into the family. This was one of them.

Danny hated it when Jazz did this. She reminded him so much of Damian that he had nearly cried the first few times she’d taken this exact stance to get what she wanted. Was it an older sibling thing? Regardless, it wasn’t very long before he cracked. “Okay, fine! But we talk in my room, okay?”

She smiled, losing the pose and opening the front door. “I can work with that. Do you want a snack?”

“Sure,” he huffed. He’d meet her in his room. If she wanted answers, she was going to have to bribe him. It was a subtle tactic, one that didn’t work because it wasn’t really bribery if he was already going to do what she wanted, but he needed to make himself feel better about it somehow.

It took exactly five minutes and thirteen seconds for Jazz to enter Danny’s room with some chips, crackers, and bottled waters from the pantry. Not that he was counting. They set up camp in the middle of the floor, the snacks on the floor between them and their homework set out to work on. Whether either of them would use the paper distraction was yet to be determined, but it had become common practice to have a distraction when a conversation seemed like it would take more than a few minutes. And this was definitely one of those conversations.

As soon as they were both settled, Danny took a deep and obvious breath. “I didn’t ever have amnesia.”

Jazz blinked. “What?”

What a way to start, Danny. Another breath. “When you guys first found me, the doctors said I had amnesia; that my brain locked away the memories of Before because I couldn’t handle the stress of it. I went along with it because that seemed like the best course of action at the time. But, I didn’t lose my memories. I still had them. I still have them.” He didn’t look up from the floor.

Jazz leaned forward and took a chip out from the bowl and popped it in her mouth, the crunch of her chewing doing nothing to cut the tension in the room. She swallowed. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? We could’ve had the people who hurt you arrested!”

Danny shook his head. “No. I…I thought, when I was growing up with Grandfather and Mother, that everyone was raised like that. It was all I knew. But then you guys found me and took me to the hospital and suddenly, things weren’t adding up. I decided to go with you guys because I knew I couldn’t return to Grandfather and Mother with my thoughts all messed up like that.”

To her credit, Jazz was taking this all in stride. She took another chip. “Why didn’t you leave when you got your thoughts all sorted out?”

“Honestly?” he huffed, “I realized that I didn’t want to live that life anymore.”

“Then why keep the weapons?”

“Would you believe me if I said ‘sentimental value’?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They let silence reign over them again for a bit, focusing on their homework and eating the food set out between them. Finally, after they were both finished, Jazz put her things back in her backpack and leaned against the wall behind her, taking the bowl of chips and a water bottle with her. “What was it like, your home Before?”

Danny smiled and slipped his own things away, leaning against his bed with the bowl of crackers and his own bottle of water. This was a topic he could talk about for hours. “I was born in Pakistan, in the Himalayan Mountains, specifically. Very secluded. My brother and I were the only two kids there.”

“Brother?”

“Yeah, his name’s Damian. He’s older than me by a few minutes.”

“Why wasn’t he with you when we found you?”

“Because we got separated.”

“Do we need to go find him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s with our father now.”

“Is he the one you sent the letter to?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Tell me more about where you were born?”

“Sure,” he smiled, “It’s a valley of snow, nestled between peaks in the Pakistanian end of the Himalayan Mountain Range. The buildings were all connected by roofed gravel walkways, yellow sandstone bricks and red clay shingles and dark wood pillars and floors and doors. The green houses were always my favorite. Any plant you could possibly think of was probably grown there! Damian always preferred the stables and pasture, though. He got along better with animals than actual people, I was the exception. When the weather was good, we’d take our lessons outside. If the weather was bad, then we’d study in the arena or the library.

“Sometimes, whenever Grandfather or Mother came to visit, they’d tell us stories about their adventures. My favorite stories, though, were of how Mother met my father and their adventures together. Grandfather doesn’t like those stories, though. He doesn’t like my father much.

“Me and Damian were the only kids there, so we had to play with each other. There weren’t any games we could play because adults are boring, so we made stuff up as we went along. Sometimes, we’d sneak into the stables and pet the horses! Other times, we’d sneak out of our rooms and climb to the roof to watch the stars.

“The stars were so pretty there! They’re the same stars that we see here, but they were so much brighter in Pakistan; more visible, y’know? The sky was so clear and it was so quiet- One of the people staying there gave me a book about the stars before he left.”

“Is that what started your fascination with space?” Jazz asked.

Danny nodded, “Yeah, it was. Damian would listen to me retell the same stories for hours whenever we climbed to the roof, but he never asked me to stop. I don’t think he ever looked at them and saw what I saw, though.”

“What did you see when you looked at the stars?”

“I saw something just barely out of my reach that I know I could grab if I was just a little bit taller, a little bit stronger, a little bit better.”

“Is that what you see now?”

“No.”

“Oh, then what do you see now?”

“I see the past, and I see a hope for the future.” He paused. “It was a competition between me and Dami, trying to be better than each other because whoever was the best was Grandfather’s and Mother’s favorite.”

She frowned. “You guys were kids! You shouldn’t’ve had to compete for attention like that!”

“I know that now,” he shot back, “But we didn’t then. We were raised to compete with everyone to hold Grandfather’s and Mother’s attention and favor. If we lost it, if we did anything that Grandfather deemed unworthy of the family name, then we were punished.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I know, but it’s what we knew.” A beat. “It was a big family, so not everyone stayed at the one compound.” The League was very far from being a family, but it’s the best way to describe it without exposing it to anyone. “Me and Damian were born and raised in the main compound in Pakistan. Grandfather, the head of the family, stayed and led from a compound in China. Mother stayed at a compound in Bangladesh. When we were four, I went and spent a month with Mother and Damian went and spent a month with Grandfather before we were sent back to Pakistan. When we turned five, I went with Grandfather and Damian went with Mother. When we turned six, we were both sent to spend time with family here in the states. I got separated from Damian and-”

“-me and mom and dad found you.” Jazz finished for him.

“Yep.”

“But, how did you get so hurt?”

Before he could answer, the front door burst open, their parents announcing their arrival carrying through the house. “A story for another time, I guess,” he shrugged.

Jazz wasn’t happy to have been interrupted, but she didn’t push. Instead, she took the empty bowls and went downstairs to greet their parents.

Danny leaned his head back against his bed, lost in the memories of his time with his brother. He wishes that Damian would send a reply already. He had remembered to put a return address, right? Maybe he should’ve just used the house’s address instead of setting up that PO box in the next town over! It’s not like anyone ever claimed to be reliable delivery persons!

Waiting was always the worst part of anything. Waiting for Grandfather to speak when he’d called an audience; waiting for Mother to tell them the end of her story; waiting for the guards to show any weak point to sneak past; waiting for a mission to start. It was always agonizing.

*

The morning was cold. Colder than it had been, but not as cold as it could be. Unfortunately, the cold meant snow. Snow meant that it was way too bright outside. And, despite it not being the morning of a school day, Jazz had elected to wake Danny up at the horrible time of six-thirty in the morning. Later than the normal five-forty-five, but still way too early to reasonably be awake. Honestly, Danny had thought he was done with getting up with the sun, but Jazz had proved him wrong time and time again for nearly five years now.

She pulled the curtains open, letting in the light from the sun that reflected off the white embodiment of cold. When that only caused him to burrow deeper into his three blankets and two pillows and his dog plush, Jazz decided to pull all three layers off of him.

“Hey!” he yelped, falling off the bed with a thud. “What the heck!”

Jaz dropped the blankets with a smile. “Rise and shine sleeping beauty! Mom and dad are in the lab again-”

“Another ‘breakthrough’?”

“-so I’m making breakfast! What do you want?”

Danny groaned and pulled himself off the floor, resetting the blankets on his bed in a mock of making it look neat. “Something warm.”

“How does hot chocolate and pancakes sound?”

“Can I have coffee instead?”

“No.”

“Dang.”

Jazz shook her head and left the room. “Don’t go back to sleep, okay? I wanna go to the library today.” She didn’t close the door behind her.

“Isn’t it closed today?” he called into the hall.

“Tomorrow!”

“Ah.” He closed the door himself, letting out a small puff of air. Turning to the room at large with his hands on his hips, Danny sighed. It was gonna be a long day. The first thing he did was straighten out his bed so it looked properly not slept in. Just as Mother had taught him. Then, he changed from his pajamas and into some jeans and a long sleeve shirt. Leaving his room, he made his way to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, only really bothering to push a hand through his hair. Not at all like Mother had taught him, but he really didn’t care right now.

Danny made his way down the stairs sluggishly. He’d never been a morning person, much preferring to stay awake until the early hours of the morning watching stars, but he’d had to hide that little quirk when he was with Grandfather and Mother. He’d realized, about half a year after the Fentons picked him up, that he didn’t need to hide his preference for night over day. Infact, his mom encouraged it! She let him sit up on the roof and stargaze until one or two in the morning before forcing him to bed. And then Jazz got into the habit of waking him at six in the morning for school. He’s definitely run on less sleep than four-ish hours, but he’d rather get as much as he can, which is what breaks are for! Unfortunately, Jazz has it in her head that he has to get up at the same time every day without fail, lest he irreparably mess up his sleeping schedule.

With a groan, he plopped down on his chair - in a bout of pettiness a year and a half after arriving, he carved his name into the wood of the backrest - at the table and laid his head down. His sister worked efficiently on the pancakes as the water for their hot chocolate boiled in the electric kettle.

The two sat and worked in a quiet peace. Jazz’s bustling around the kitchen faded into the background as white noise with the constant hum of electricity throughout the house and the occasional controlled explosion from the basement lab. It was well fortified, so the house wasn’t in danger.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of laying on the table with his eyes closed, Jazz put a plate by Danny’s head, a mug of hot chocolate with a candy cane beside it. Then, she sat opposite him with her own food.

“Thanks,” he mumbled groggily, pulling the food and drink towards him.

“You’re welcome.” Jazz said around a bite.

Danny would be the first to admit that Jazz wasn’t the best cook, but he was also the first to praise her cooking. Jack Fenton couldn’t make anything, that wasn’t fudge, for the life of him. Any food he tries to make, somehow turns to fudge. Kind of like King Midas’ Golden Touch. Maddie Fenton was a pretty good cook, when she remembered to actually feed herself and her family. She could make cookies worthy of the gods, though. Whenever the Fenton parents weren’t in their basement lab for one reason or another, they ordered takeout to eat with their kids. Those times were, unfortunately, few and far between.

Finishing his meal, Danny was wide awake, the food doing wonders for waking him. And, while the caffeine in chocolate was nothing compared to the coffee his dad would sometimes let him drink, there was just enough to wake him up just a bit more. Don’t tell Jazz, though, or she might take away chocolate, too.

“Do you,” he hesitated, the words caught in his throat for a moment, “Do you think mom and dad will be up to celebrating this year?”

When he was seven, he learned that the Fentons didn’t celebrate any holiday, no matter what it was. They had up until Jazz was five, but then work became more important. Jack and Maddie had claimed breakthroughs in their research, pushing everything and everyone aside if it or they didn’t directly help their life’s work.

That same year, he’d been trying to acclimate himself better. One of the biggest things in American culture is holidays, so he decided to ask to celebrate Christmas. It was mainstream and was derived from one of the only holidays he was allowed to celebrate back in Nanda Parbat.

Jack and Maddie had agreed, of course, and he and Jazz had pulled out all the old decorations to dress the house. When December twenty-fourth came around, though, their parents had gotten into a huge fight about whether to tell Danny and Jazz that Santa wasn’t real. Jack had said it was a right of passage for little kids to figure it out all on their lonesome, while Maddie had argued that she wasn’t going to let her children believe in fairy tales that parents tell to get their kids to sleep faster. They were loud enough that Jazz and Danny had both heard every word.

The two tried, every holiday, to get their parents to spend time with them, at least, but it failed every time. Something or other aways came up.

“I don’t know, Danny,” she sighed, putting her fork on her now empty plate, “You can try, but I doubt it.” She’d given up last year, right around the time that she’d picked up on reading parenting books.

Danny didn’t say anything. He simply stood and gathered the dishes, taking them to the sink to be washed before putting them away. The dishwasher had been ripped apart and repurposed for parts in the lab.

“I know that you want to celebrate like the other kids in town,” Jazz said from the table, “but mom and dad are way too focused right now. Mom mentioned something about working on the portal some more.”

Danny put the cup down carefully, a loud click sounding through the kitchen. With a controlled breath, he closed his eyes and turned off the tap. “There were exactly two holidays that me and my brother were allowed to celebrate when we were children. Christmas is taken from one of those holidays. Forgive me for just wanting to share a piece of that with them.”

He could feel Jazz’s sad gaze on his back. “What holidays?”

“Forget it,” he shook his head, “Let’s just go to the library.”

She let it drop. “It doesn’t open for a few more hours.”

He started up the stairs. “Then come get me when it’s time to go.” Danny ignored Jazz’s responding sigh as he walked up to his room. Closing the door behind him, he grabbed some paper and a pencil.

In Nanda Parbat, one of the instructors was set to teach Danny and his brother the Fine Arts. From writing to painting to instruments to acting. All so that they could adapt to any mold for any mission. Because they were the heirs, the Demon Twins of the monster that was the organization, they were expected to be perfect. Anything less was punished.

Damian had always excelled at the Arts, especially drawing and its counterparts. He could work with any median, but charcoal had always been his favorite. Danny, too, had excelled with the Arts, but anything that happened on a stage had been his specialty.

Whenever he missed his brother, or any aspect of Before, too much, Danny would sit down and draw. He’d thought about asking his parents for an instrument of some kind, the cello always having been his favorite, but he decided against it. So, he drew. He didn’t have a dedicated sketch book, and no one but himself would ever see anything he made, but it was a nice outlet.

He wondered if Damian did something similar, now that he was with father. Did he play instruments or read plays when he thought of Danny? Did he allow his new siblings to see what he made or listen to his voice?

Three hours passed by in a blink, only one page being covered. It was a nice memory he’d drawn of the blacksmith’s hut away from the main base. In the picture, he and Damian were learning to forge their own daggers. Damian’s had turned out unbalanced and two inches too short. Danny’s had been only half an inch too long with a slightly too short grip.

Jazz knocked on the door as she cracked it open. “Hey,” she greeted quietly.

Danny covered tha paper. “Hey.”

“Are you ready to head out? We can stop by Tasty Burger for lunch?”

“Sure,” he nodded, moving to stand in a way that prevented the paper from showing to Jazz. He hid it in his nightstand to be moved to the box with the others later. “Let’s go.”

Nodding, she led the way.

It was a quick walk, only twenty minutes from their house to the library, but it was cold and bright. The snow only made the area brighter, but it was comfortable to him; familiar. What was really irritating was the cars and the people and the buildings. Danny had been raised very far from all of these things, only ever going near them when on a mission, and it was only a few hours at a time in those instances. No matter how long he lived in a city or town, whatever it was called, though, he would never get used to the noise.

The sidewalks were crowded with holiday shoppers not insane enough to go out on the twenty-fourth, but crazy enough to go out on the twenty-third. The streets were slick and traffic was slow, especially for a morning. Christmas decorations lined every window and tree and building face, holiday music carried on the wind four or five different songs mixing into one over and under the voices of the people on the sidewalks.

“C’mon,” Jazz tugged him into the public library by his hand. She had four books tucked under her arm, two on psychology, one on parenting, and one on dragons.

Danny followed after her, not quite dragging his feet, but making it apparent that he would rather not be there.

“Good morning, you two!” the librarian smiled when they made their way to her desk. She was a cheerful woman, always wearing a smile, though she had never once worn a nametag or introduced herself.

“Good morning!” Jazz matched the woman’s energy with a smile, dropping Danny’s hand and putting the four books up on the counter.

The woman took the books to scan them back into the system. “Are you looking to check out more books today?”

“Yep! Just so I have something to do over Winter Break.”

“You’re a kid, there’s lots for you to do!”

“I know, but I like reading.”

“I get it. Let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“Okay, we will!” Jazz took Danny’s hand again and pulled him off into the forest of shelves, straight to the parenting section.

Danny hid his scowl as he watched Jazz search through the parenting books. “You’re twelve, Jazz-”

“Almost thirteen.”

“-you’re not supposed to be looking at these kinds of books until eighteen at the earliest.”

She didn’t stop her search. “You’re eleven, Danny, you should be acting like a kid.”

“But I wasn’t raised as a kid.”

“Exactly why you should take the opportunity now!”

He groaned. It was an ongoing argument between the two. “I don’t need you to look after me, Jazz. We’re both kids, so we should be reading books that kids do! Leave the parenting up to our parents.”

“Our parents who don’t even celebrate holidays?”

“Jazz-”

“Look, Danny, I know you’re worried about me growing up too fast or whatever, but I like these books.” She pulled one off the shelf before turning to look at him. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll only get one parenting book.”

It didn’t. He’d rather her get none. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna get some psychology books, though, and you can’t stop me.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said. She ignored him.

“The human mind is really interesting. Did you know that the size of a human brain has decreased since the time when we were hunters and gatherers?”

“Has it?” He loved when she got like this, talking about things that interest her.

She nodded rapidly. “Mhmm! By a whole ten percent!”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And most artists like working at night because humans are more creative during the night rather than during the day.”

“What?” He raised his eyebrow in good humor to tell her that he was joking, “There’s no way that’s true.”

“It is!” she insisted, leading the way over to the tables in the middle of the large room with two psychology books and a parenting book under her arm. “And, look!” she grabbed a paper and pencil and wrote down ‘Yuo cna’t sotp me form radenig prnatneig bokos.’ in big letters. “Because we read words instead of individual letters, as long as the first and last letters are in the proper spots, and all the letters are there, it doesn’t matter what the rest of the word looks like, especially if you’ve been reading for a while or if you’re reading fast. You’re still able to read the word as though it were completely correct.”

“That’s actually really cool.”

“Right?” Her grin was so worth it. Her grin would always be worth it. “C’mon, let’s go get yo some books now.”

Danny grabbed Jazz’s hand and led the way this time. He took them over to the books about space and started to look through them. He’d always loved space as a whole, but stars had always held a special place for him.

He picked a book about astrology. “I heard some of the girls at school talking about magic and stuff and how people’s personalities are affected by what star sign they were born under.”

Jazz scrunched her nose a bit. “I’ve heard some people at school talk about that stuff, too. Do you think it’s true?”

“I think it’d be worth a look.” He took another book off the shelf, this one talking about both ancient and modern witchcraft. “The psychological implications are interesting, too.” That would get her to show a bit more interest.

“Really?”

“Really.”

She paused. “Mind if I take a look when you’re done?”

“I’d be happy to have a whole conversation about it when we’ve both finished reading our books.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The last stop before checking out their chosen books was in the fairy tail section of the library. Their dad loved fairy tales, but their mom refused to let them have any of the books in the house. She claimed that there was no such thing as magic and that any ‘magic’ was done by ghosts. Danny had to hide his amusement whenever that particular argument was bright up because he knew for a fact that the supernatural and magic go hand in hand more often than not. He wasn’t about to tell her that, though.

The book they chose was one they both wanted to read, not wanting to risk mom finding one fairy tale in the house, let alone two. It was a compilation of the Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales. Dark stories, they both knew, but that just made them all the more enticing.

Checking out went much the same as checking in, with the added bonus of the librarian giving them a cloth tote bag to carry their six books in. She also gave them the name of a small magic shop on the other side of town that had some tarot cards in stock if Danny was interested.

As promised, Jazz had taken some money from their mom’s purse to stop by the Tasty Burger for lunch. They both ordered the chicken nuggets and a milkshake, Jazz getting chocolate and Danny getting strawberry. Then, when they were done eating, they walked hand in hand back to their home.

Danny stopped at the mailbox, not moving to follow Jazz or to open the thing. Did he dare check? He didn’t want to get his hopes up. What if Damian hadn’t gotten the letter like he both feared and hoped? What if he had? Would there be a response? Would Damian ever want a relationship with him?

“Hey,” Jazz tugged his hand, “What’s wrong?”

He bit his lip, a show of nervousness that would’ve been punished in Nanda Parbat. He inhaled. “What if there’s no response? What if he doesn’t want to talk to me? It’s been almost five years.”

It took a moment before Jazz clocked what he was talking about. She let go of his hand to hold his shoulders. “How about this; You go inside and wait and I’ll get the mail, okay?”

Danny nodded and slowly trudged into the house. Why had he even sent that stupid letter? He flopped onto the couch. Damian probably hates him for not returning to his side.

He didn’t have time to mope any longer because Jaz threw the front door open with a shout. “Danny!” She was suddenly right beside him, shoving a letter into his hands. “There’s a letter for you!”

After a moment to process, Danny’s shaky hands ripped the envelope open and pulled out the paper inside. The single sheet was folded into three perfect rectangles, the black ink of a pen unsmudged and perfectly spaced. Just as Mother had taught.

***

Danyal ‘Danny’ Fenton,                         Dec. 21, 2011

You have a very extravagant story. Whatever made you believe that exchanging letters was the most secure way of contact? An idiotic move that my brother would, unfortunately, absolutely make. Either you are him, or you are a clone. Either way, I’m not likely to believe you, so do not mistake this as such. Your admitted honesty is welcomed, though not believed.

My welcome into the Wayne Family was quite a public affair and aired all over the country, so I guess I should thank you for the congratulations, as is socially acceptable in this situation as well as others like it. Bruce Wayne being my father is not a surprise, given his public image and his tendency to take any stray whelp he sees into his home. Though I will have you know that I am the only blood child in the household.

Announcing your stalling while writing a letter is completely unnecessary, especially as that was your first correspondence. Had you simply left that out, I would never have been the wiser. Another mistake you’ve made in accordance with my brother.

Having read over your letter several times, I have come to several conclusions. With the resources I have at my disposal, I have determined that there is a good chance you are who you say you are. Understanding who I am, and who my brother is, the rest of this response is written under the foolish  ̶h̶o̶p̶e̶ assumption that you are who you claim to be.

I could never hate you, Danyal, nor could I ever ignore this chance I have been presented with. Getting out was the best thing you could’ve done for yourself. Coming back from that mission, having failed and lost you, broke something in Mother. She was both harsher and more clingy, hovering whenever she could and pushing more than ever. Grandfather was even less pleased that you hadn’t returned, though he only ever acknowledged you as a failure and a mistake. He made it known that he would’ve killed you, had you ever miraculously returned to Nanda Parbat.

I am glad that you got help. I am glad that you are living safely and that you have found a place to be at peace.

You are a coward, but you are more deserving of praise and forgiveness than you seem to believe. I thought you had died on that mission, Danyal. For that, I can’t ever forgive you, but I could never hate you. I can forgive you for making me return on my own. I can forgive you for being selfish and leaving me alone, but I will never forgive you for making me mourn you. You hurt me in ways that I never thought I could ever be hurt, in ways that I may never be hurt again.

Grandfather and Mother never allowed a grave to be made. They didn’t let me keep anything of yours either. They erased you. It was like you had never been there. I was never allowed to properly mourn you. That alone almost ended me.

Father knows nothing of you. Mother did not tell him, nor will I. I did not wish to make him or our siblings mourn a child they would never meet. If you so choose to tell him, then you may. I, however, will not be playing the messenger.

أرجو أن تسامحني على اعتقادي بأنك ميت. أرجوك سامحني لأنني لم أحزن عليك كما ينبغي. أرجوك سامحني لأنني لم أبحث عنك، فالعودة لم تكن خياراً متاحاً. كان يجب أن أجعله خياراً                     Damian Wayne

Translation 1 - Arabic :: Thank you for being my brother.

Translation 2 - Romanian :: Damn it!

Translation 3 - Arabic :: Please forgive me for thinking you were dead. Please forgive me for not mourning you properly. Please forgive me for not looking for you, coming back was not an option. I should have made it an option

Storyboard Part 2 Artwork

[bokunokamijirou]

Quirkless Computer Science Major!Tomura Shigaraki x f!implied reader

fluff!

“What a pain” Tomura Shigaraki quietly groans when his Professor directs the class to turn to a partner and compare answers.

He looks to the right, noting the empty seat beside him, before slowly turning to face you, sitting a seat away from him.

He had noticed you before, you always sat in the same seat, right in the second row, center. You chewed your pencil when you were nervous. He thought that was annoying. It distracted him, that pencil pressed between your lips.

So, when you turn to meet his gaze, his eyes are already resting on your lips before he can realize it.

“Uh, here are my answers,” he gestures to his notebook for you to read, before their professor interrupts the class again.

“Now students, make sure you discuss how you got these answers too. I don’t want you to just show each other your notes”

‘This is hell,’ Tomura thinks to himself before meeting your eyes for the first time that day.

“Do you wanna talk through it or should I?” You ask, pushing your hair behind your ear as you speak.

Your voice is smooth and gentle, exactly what Tomura thought you would sound like. He almost forgets to respond, he’s too busy focusing on you, and that soft sparkle in your eyes.

Eventually, he does respond, clearing his throat, “I-I can talk through it”

As he explains how he reached his conclusion, he has difficulty finishing his sentences without stuttering. He figures you’ll probably laugh at him, mock him for it.

But all you do is nod and smile, as if you want him to continue.

“Thanks for explaining that. I got the same answers but I always like to hear from other people too” you smile when he finishes speaking.

Tomura is shocked. A pretty person who’s being kind to him? Who isn’t calling him a loser? This has to be a trick.

“It’s easy work anyways.” He mutters.

“It is easy, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t like hearing you talk about it. You’re like the smartest guy here.” Your eyes soften as you look at him, noticing the way he picks at his nail beds nervously while you speak.

As the professor requests their attention back, you take a minute to slip Tomura a sheet of paper.

“xxx xxx xxxx

text me if you wanna study or talk (:”

His eyes widen as he reads the note. A small smirk falls on his lips. Maybe Dabi was wrong, maybe he does have game.

[kissoulie]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒

𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

— NSFW, MDNI. being in love with jongseob ♡

warnings: idol!seob, fem terms (princess, good girl), not proofread, i finally use y/n 💔 i caved at the texting bit

nsfw: fem-bodied reader, very mild daddy kink, degrading (whore, slut), exhibitionism (with verbal participation), some grinding, lmk if i missed anything

a/n: jongseob u will always be my first love 😭😭😭 idk how happy i am w this but i wrote it while listening to my playlist of songs that are so Jongseob, so there is clearly some Influence here i hope u all enjoy the appetizer, entree, & dessert 🫶 dedicated to @kisseobie rosa u are my inspiration

1. encounters

jongseob is the type of person who can get along with anyone. he'll find a topic, and he'll engage. it's like a routine to him. but with you, he was genuinely so, so excited to talk to you. maybe it was a little creepy he'd peered over your shoulder, but he immediately recognized the orange from plastic beach, and wanted to know which song you were listening to.

"that's a good one, do you listen to a lot of gorillaz?" he smiles at you, watching your expression go from taken aback to relaxed. "yeah, they're one of my top artists every month."

"kim jongseob, nice to meet you." you smile back at him, and jongseob suddenly believes in love at first sight. his stop is soon. "what's your favorite song by them?"

"definitely rhinestone eyes. i know it's super popular, but it's for good reason." your gums show when you smile, your body fully turning towards him so you can offer him one of your earbuds. "what other kind of music do you listen to?"

jongseob misses his stop. he gets lost in your proximity, swapping recommendations and adding each other on spotify. you two have been chatting for what feels like forever. he never wants this moment to end, "oh, this is my stop.."

the disappointment in your voice breaks his heart just a tad. you frown at him, bumping his head with yours on accident, "i was going to listen to it with you, but i really think you'll enjoy afraid by the neighborhood. and here's my number, i wanna know if you like it or not."

jongseob doesn't just like it, he loves it. he lives it, too. he doesn't have the courage to text you that same night, but the next morning, he adds your number to his contacts.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

hey, it's jongseob, i loved afraid it rly captured how i feel sometimes lol. text me when u get the chance, i wanna see u again

jongseob types and deletes that last part many times before ultimately deciding he should be honest with you.

y/n

morning jongseob! you're up super early haha i would love to see you after work today :) <3

2. enamored

jongseob falls fast, but you fall harder. he's aware he has many faults and flaws, and he works hard to be the best he can be for you. he is the type of boyfriend to make you many playlists, for every difference occasion. he's a date saver. he will celebrate one month, two months, three months... every month. he loves you. where soul's love is subtle, calming, and attentive; jongseob's love is energetic, warming, intense.

jongseob's love is an inferno. he assimilates you into his life seamlessly. the first step is introducing you to the rest of piwon, which goes well considering he talks about you all the time. then he's inviting you to shows, his studio, dance practice (which the members love since you always bring them snacks), rehearsals. he even wants to bring you on tour with him. he knows he can't, but he wants to share his life with you. all of it.

he sends you sooooooo many pics while he's on tour. pictures of where he is, what he's seeing, him. he misses you so much while he's away, he's calling you as often as he can.

he definitely sleeps on call with you while he's gone. and begs keeho to let you sleep over when he gets back. it's not like you'll be able to do anything with soul in the room... but, you know, bribary works in mysterious ways.

3. erotic

jongseob was never above bribing soul to leave for a while so you two could be alone. it's not like he's a kid anymore, but with you not living alone, between the two places the dorm was the better one.

over the course of their tour, you've both been teasing each other like crazy. you, sending him pictures of you in his tshirts, your body, texting him late at night.

y/n

seob i can't wait until you're home :( i'm desperate to have you inside me

seobie 🤍

baby i'm about to go on. you can't be making me hard like this

y/n

it's not like you're here to punish me though :(

[attachment]

seobie 🤍

god i'm gonna fuck you so good when i get back

y/n

but i need you now daddy

seobie

2 more weeks baby, i'll be home before you know it ❤️

he was indeed home before you knew it. by then you were so desperate for him, you jumped him the moment he closed the door to his shared room. you let him pull you onto the bed with him, whining into his mouth the whole way. "patience, baby, sho's still here."

"i don't care! i need you," you started kissing down his neck as an incentive, knowing he could never resist once your hands pressed against his abs. "besides, it's nothing he hasn't seen before."

ah, yes, shota's only incentive to not rat you out to keeho and get you kicked from the dorms: sometimes he gets to watch (and sometimes he gets to join).

jongseob sighs as you slide up onto his stomach, grinding yourself against him desperately. "let's get these shorts off you first, princess."

he pushes you up by your thighs, taking off your shorts and panties in one go. "alright, baby, set yourself back down."

you push his tank top up. god, how that drove you crazy. he squeezes your hips in reassurance while he slowly slides you across his abs. "fuck, seob-"

your moan is caught with a breathy sigh. relief washes over the both of you, "that's it, pretty girl, ride me. get yourself nice and wet."

the rasp in his voice soaks you even more. you start grinding on your own, picking up the pace. he flexes, and you tense, "so close, fuck"

jongseob stops you with a hand on your thigh, getting out of his own shorts, and pulling his tank top over his head. "think you can take me without prep?"

you nod, pulling your own shirt off. he carefully lines himself up, then sets you down. the moment he slips in is pure bliss for you, "such a good girl for me."

"seems like she's a desperate little whore for you, actually." you whine hearing shota's voice, involuntarily clenching around seob at the degrading words.

"you don't know what you're talking about, sho. she feels heavenly." jongseob nuzzles into your neck, hands pawing at you desperately.

sex with jongseob is oftentimes desperate. he gets pussydrunk very easily. he'll spend hours between your thighs, eating you out with purpose, until his dick is so hard it hurts, and he can't wait another moment to be inside you.

he'll make you beg for it. not for long, but just enough for you to get teary eyed. he has a small thing for you crying for him. he was already a bit of a perv before he met you, but ever since you first had sex he's been... corrupted, almost.

taglist: @tkooooop, @haolovre ♡