#it was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being a tiny fic sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vicious-vixxxen · 4 years ago

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Hi, first of all ur work is amazing and awesome, especially the Kiri fics they make me feel so warm inside :)) ANYWAYS I have a drabble idea: Katsuki with a flirty male reader from 1-B that likes to tease him and make him flustered and fired up as much as possible (kinda like Monoma but not as aggressive) and finally Katsuki decides that it’s reader’s turn to get all flustered and blushing and all that hehe :)

AH I absolutely LOVE this idea! Sorry it took me so long to get to it babes, but I hope you enjoy it :3 <3 Bakugou Katsuki X Flirty Male!Reader

“You think /you’re/ tired? I heard class A had to go through ten times the beasts we did yesterday, /and/ they didn’t get to camp until five.” TetsuTetsu huffed, rolling his eyes as he continued to rub at his sore biceps- falling behind as the class walked to their first official day of training. “They’re probably still struggling to work as an actual unit, how disappointing,” Monoma drawled, flinching as Kendo raised a hand at him in warning- her gaze cutting back to you with an apologetic smile, but you shrugged her off. “I’m just saying, if they were half as good as everyone assumes they are, then we wouldn’t have had to make dinner for everyone /alone/ yesterday. A bunch of unimpressive slackers, the fame is definitely getting to them.” “Oh give it a rest, Monoma! I swear if I have to keep listening to your incessant whining i’m going to roundhouse you so hard you slip into an alternate dimension,” You teased, though the sharpness of your tone, and the look you fixed the other boy with managed to reduce him to nothing more than some bitter grumbling, as you jogged ahead to follow directly behind Vlad-Sensei.

“Young Y/N is right! No use in comparing yourself to a separately tiered class, what you all should be doing is preparing yourselves for a day full of grueling training!” Vlad called out to the class behind him, as they came to their final stop. Looking out across the vast fields of the camp, where class 1A was already deep in training. All of them spread out to various areas of the site, some farther out than others, you assumed due to the volatile nature of their quirks. Some out of site all together, given the specificity needed to train their quirks. “The Wild Wild Pussycats have strict regimens for you all to follow, and I as well have critiques for you all regarding your fighting style, and quirk application. Check in with them across the field first, and regroup back to me so we can begin!” “Yes Sensei!” You all chanted back, before hurrying off across the field to do as you were told. Though once you caught sight of- and really, it was more his blood curdling death screams that you noticed first, music to your ears honestly- unruly blonde spikes off in the distance, you reasoned you had at least a few minutes to spare. Giving your classmates time to get their schedules and regimes before you could swoop in for yours last minute. The heat from Bakugou’s blasts was intense- your hair blowing back each time the other boy extended his palms to the sky, screamed, and released an explosion. The air felt thick, the scent of sweaty flesh, and deep, rich caramel wafting against your face, heady, and thick, with each blast. It was intoxicating. The closer you got, the more your cheeks flushed- though it had nothing to do with the heat anymore. Up close, or as close as you could get without being blown back entirely, that is- the more handsome Bakugou became. Pinched, angry expression and all. His front fringe of hair hanging low on his forehead, dripping sweat down onto his cheeks, and then onto the exposed upper half of his chest, bared due to his low rising tank top. When was Bakugou not absolutely breathtaking, you wondered idly, as you reached into your backpack for a bottle of water, and whistled loudly between blasts to catch the blonde's attention. Though the glare he fixed you with as your eyes met almost, almost deterred you from closing the distance between you both, it didn’t quite reach the innermost parts of your brain, meant for rational thought. “What the hell do you want!? Can’t you see i’m busy? Take your ass back to your class, extra!” Bakugou shouted, gaze falling to the bottle of water in your hand, before he focused back in on his task, baring his teeth in pain as the boiling water engulfed his hands. But you were too close now, it was too risky, and before you could think to back away on your own, Bakugou was crowding up against you. Spinning around on his heels and blasting in the opposite direction, back to you now. Shoving you backwards so hard with his own body you fell to the ground. Hissing as you landed on a particularly sharp rock. “See what you did?! I could’ve accidentally taken someone else out because of you! Fucking...gimme that,” Bakugou growled, shaking his hands of the smoke from his blast, before bending down to snatch the chilled bottle of water from your hand with one of his- his other reaching down to take hold of the front of your shirt, and tug you back up to stand next to him. “Always in my way!” Bakugou hissed, before throwing his head back and chugging down the entire bottle in a matter of seconds. Wiping at his mouth roughly, he turned to you slightly, noting the mischievous smile on your face, and the dirt on your shorts. “Tch...what?” He asked, knowing he was walking himself right into a trap. “Just admiring the view,” You sing-songed, skirting around his sudden extended fist easily, and dancing around the boy to get a good look at his training clothes. “It’s not everyday I get to see UA’s own Bakugou Katsuki in the midst of an intense training session. All sweaty, and bulking- muscles just….grr,” You laughed, holding your hands up in front of your face as you growled and made pawing motions at the other boy- bursting into a fit of laughter ass he reeled back, blush high on his cheeks, fingers twitching with the urge to blas your fucking face off. “You’re an insufferable piece of!-” “What I can’t seem to wrap my head around, is how you have such a big chest, such defined shoulders, and such a teeny, tiny waist,” You sighed, cutting Bakugou off with your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side curiously as you scanned him up and down. “Your tits are bigger than most of the girls in your class, ya know,” You added, as if an afterthought, waving a hand passively at the thought, though you couldn’t help but grin as Bakugou charged you- dragging you up by the front of your shirt again, and pinning you to the barrel of boiling water. One hand holding your head down near the bubbling surface, and one right next to your ear, sparking with unlit nitroglycerin. “I. Don’t. Have. Tits. You. Shitty. Extra.” Each word was laced with venom, husky and full of rage right next to your ear, and god. Was it fucked up you were kind of turned on? Probably. About as fucked up as it was to be genuinely attracted to Bakugou in the first place, you supposed. Oh well. Not much to be done about it now. “Say that to the mounds pressing up against my back right now, babe,” You teased, turning your head to face Bakugou, your noses barely brushing as you leaned in as best you could, given the hand in your hair- mouth curling into a knowing smirk as Bakugou’s face twisted back and forth- confusion, rage, annoyance, misunderstanding...want. “I’m sure your teacher would be thrilled to see you over here keeping one of my students from his training, instead of focusing on your own abilities,” Someone sighed from your right, and both you and Bakugou’s head whipped up to see Aizawa leaning against a tree, staring at the both of you with the most bored expression you could imagine someone having. “Tried to get the loser away from me, but he’s as persistent as the rest of his annoying class,” Bakugou huffed, letting you go, but not before pushing you in the direction of his teacher roughly- crackling his knuckles out in front of himself, and shaking his hands out. Prepared to continue his training. Though thoughts of your stupid face, so close to his- scent of your shampoo, and minty breath still searing his nose made him a trillion times more annoyed then he’d already been. The color of your eyes stuck with him the most though. So clear. So shiny. Full of authority, of mirth, and something so...gut wrenchingly /cute/, he couldn’t stand it. “Sorry, EraserHead. Didn’t mean to disturb your student. Was just being friendly is all,” You assured the older Hero, hands up in surrender as you walked alongside side him, and back to regroup with your class- smiling smugly to yourself when you noticed the barest hint of a smirk on Eraserheads face, just before he turned away and skulked off to whatever dark, cozy corner he had been observing his students from.

Training felt like it had lasted forever, and then some. The following days were no easier. Your bodies were pushed to their limits, and then thrown off the metaphorical cliff afterwards. Every day, class A and B were sore, tired, irritable. But even then, once lunch, and dinner came around, it offered you all a chance to get to know one another more intimately. You talked, and mingled with class 1A- flirting with Todoroki for fun, and picking Midoriya’s brain about his hero notebook- unaware of the red eyes following your every move amongst the classmates. Your flirting with Bakugou was at an all time high- given you could usually spare a handful of minutes each day teasing the young man, whether it be with words during training, lingering touches, or brushes of hands, and legs during dinner, or with outright winks, and kisses blown to the blonde as you all departed to your cabins for the night. It infuriated Bakugou to no end. Your presence. The way he acted out against you...his mother would suggest he needed an attitude adjustment, and that he should allow the fun part of camp to take precedent over his ultimate number one hero goal. As if he’d ever. But still, her frustrated words of encouragement never ceased to ease up as the days went by, and you became bolder with your flirting. Bakugou felt on edge constantly, like someone was going to crack a whip at him at any moment. Say something about it, say something about /him/, but no one ever did. Probably because they were scared. His only saving grace, he supposed. Being intimidating. Though he didn’t intimidate /you/, which was the part he hated the most. ...He’d just have to switch up his tactics, then. His mother would be proud. God, he hated that. After a particularly grueling day of training, everyone was running on fumes, more or less, as they shuffled around the outdoor kitchen, prepping dinner lazily. Monoma picking stupid fights with whoever he came across first, as though he were too tired to even do that. You’d been chatting quietly to Mina and Jirou about some of your favorite albums, when a whistle from across the counters had all three of you lifting your heads. Curiosity piqued to the fullest extent, as your gaze landed on Bakugou- pointing at you with a hard expression, before gesturing to the spot next to him at the cutting board station. His eyes downcast again before you could even register what was going on, before hurrying to head over before whatever demon that had possessed Bakugou, decided to get the fuck out of such a toxic human host. Beaming, you came to stand at Bakugou’s side, arms brushing against each other as you glanced down at the finely minced veggies the boy was working on. “You rang?” Brows raised in question, you ducked your head to try and catch the boy’s eyes again- stopping dead in your tracks as he grabbed a hold of your wrist tightly, and slid a knife between your fingers. Tugging you impossibly closer to his side, and reaching an arm around you to grab a stray carrot. Boxing you into the bench, and maneuvering your fingers carefully as he began to force you to chop the carrot below. His front was flush with your back, and suddenly you couldn’t breath. Breath hitched in your throat, flush high on your cheeks, as Bakugou bent down, face right next to yours, as he forced you to chop, knife always skirting a little /too/ close to your fingertips, but fuck it all if you weren’t willing to lose them for this encounter to continue. “All this time and you haven’t even learned to chop properly. Make yourself more useful, you shitty extra,” He grunted, right into your ear. A sharp shock of arousal shooting down your spine as he spoke, looking away suddenly as Bakugou turned to try and meet your gaze. “Eh? What’s the problem, extra? Cat got your fucking tongue?’ He teased, harshly, though his grasp on your hands lessened, and fuck you were gonna pass out if you didn’t start breathing soon. “Oh,” He huffed suddenly, snickering under his breath, as he crowded you in up against the bench entirely, completely flush with your back, before his lips ghosted the shelf of your ear, and he whispered “-probably because of my big tits, huh? Tch.” And then he was gone. Gone from your back, gone from the shell of your ear, gone from giving you a religious fucking experience, and thankfully gone from nearly making you jizz your jeans in front of the entireety of class A and B. Your hands shook where they now held the knife solo, and you glanced over your shoulder- watching Bakugou stuff his hands in his pockets, arch his shoulders, and stalk off to the cabins. Though not before you also caught the sharp, devilish smirk that twisted up on his face. What a fucking DICK. But a dick who was handsome as fuck, and knew exactly what he was doing. “Alright, Bakugou, you wanna play, big boy?” You whispered to yourself, voice shaky as you continued chopping vegetables. “I’ll bite. Show you how it’s done...right after I pass out, Jesus fucking Chri-”

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

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put it all on me - steve rogers smut

The one where, after Steve fucks you in a bar, he takes you back to his room.

Warnings: Cum eating, oral sex (f), A LOT OF dirty talk, light degradation?, I don’t think so, but just to be sure, it’s just ‘cause Steve likes to tease the reader for her sexual desires, captain kink, talks of threesome, smut, p in v, doggy, face down, ass up, plot twist, poly!Steve, really dominant!Steve

A/N: in theory, this is supposed to be a part ii to this fic, hence the same title. But it’s easily read as a one-shot, so if you don’t want to read that little drabble, just carry on.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The first thing Steve did when he managed to get me inside his room was strip me completely naked, and after a few minutes of forcing me to endure his burning gaze on my exposed body, fall to his knees and pull me to accept his body between my legs.

“St-Steve!” I admonished, trying to get out of the position, knowing the cum he had deposited inside of me was going to drip on his face any second now. But all I got was a harsh slap on my ass, Steve’s blunt nails carving half-moon indentations on my skin when he secured my hips, making sure to push my legs as far away as they could get before he sat me down on his mouth. “Shit, Captain! Sorry.”

“You think you can pretend to be all coy and shy now, sweetheart?” He mocked, perfect soft lips already prying my lower ones open and he used his tongue to scoop up his own cum from inside of me, catching me by surprise. I was so surprised, in fact, that I lost control of my own leg muscles, and would have fallen face-first on the floor if it weren’t for Steve still keeping me up by his grip on my hips.

“You can’t play that innocent act with me anymore, princess. Not when you let me fuck you in a bar’s bathroom. Not when you were so eager to milk me dry.” I moaned just from hearing the good old Captain America saying such nasty things from between my legs. It felt like a dream - a dirty, too-good-to-be-true dream, and I loved every second of it.

On the off chance that this whole thing had been just a figment of my imagination, I wanted to make the most out of it. I wasn’t one for lucid dreams, so I didn’t know when it would be the next time I’d get this sort of fun again.

If it was truly happening, then, that’s why I needed to cherish every single second of this experience. There was no part of me that believed I’d be able to lay with Steve freaking Rogers again after tonight. This was purely the result of hurt ego and adrenaline that was most likely still running through his body from the mission he’d been on for the last few weeks. He hadn’t had a release in a while and it was purely the combination of luck and being in the right place, at the right time, that had allowed me to cherish this opportunity. I wouldn’t fake myself into believing any differently.

Steve hummed as he tasted the combination of himself and my wetness. It felt downright depraved, and it only served to get me even wetter for him. “We taste so good together, honey. I don’t think I’ll ever want to eat my cum without yours.”

What the fuck was going on? Who was this person? I just couldn’t believe Steve was actually saying stuff like that. Through the gasps that revealed just how out of breath that situation had made me, I forced myself to let out a raspy, “You do that often?”

It made Steve laugh, still otherwise occupied with licking my wetness away, sometimes humming in a way that let me believe he truly was deeply appreciative of my taste. “You truly have no idea,” he mused, only making even more curious.

Steve’s P.O.V.

Shit, she was perfect. I was so glad her little slip up had given me the perfect opportunity to rail her in the bathroom of that bar because now that I had known how she felt and what she tasted like, there was no way I would ever let her go. And I knew just who would love this development.

“When Bucky gets home, I’m sure he’ll keep my face stuffed in your pussy, licking our remnants to clean you up before he fucks you.” This was a calculated move. I knew exactly what I was doing as I said those words and pried her lower lips open with two of my fingers, prepared to feel her clench around my tongue as she realized what I was implying.

“B-Bucky?” She repeated, and I could only chuckle against her wetness as she writhed over me. So sweet, both in taste and in personality. I can see why he had fallen for her. Such a pretty little thing, so unaware of her allure.

“Oh yeah, darling. You have no idea how badly he has wanted you.” Finally leaving her pussy to watch her face as she tried to get a grip over what I was telling, I pushed two of my fingers in her hole, listening for the sopping sounds my thrusts made as I continued my taunts.

“He’s been talking about fucking you ever since you started working at the tower, sweetheart. I was the one who originally opposed it because I didn’t think you’d be up for the things we’d like to do to you… But tonight, you’ve gone ahead and turned the tables on me, haven’t you? Thinking I was the innocent one, when you’re always walking around so cutely in dresses like the one I ripped from you,” tsking, I continued, “He would have loved you in that dress, such a shame you won’t be able to wear it anymore. But I’ll buy a new one, and then you’ll let him fuck you in it, won’t you, princess? You’ll be our good girl now, huh?” I watched her orgasm hit her right before my eyes, grinning from ear to ear as I kept my movements quick and harsh against the spot that made her try to escape me. Shame, I’d never let her go.

“You’re aching for it, aren’t you, darling? Desperate to feel both of our cocks in your tiny holes, filling you from both ends. Maybe you’ll even take two at once, huh? Can’t wait to play with you until you’re so used to our cocks we’ll just slide right in, princess.” Now my cock was throbbing, desperate to fill her up with more cum so I could just lick it all off again later. So, albeit reluctantly, I got up and grabbed her by the hips, throwing her on the bed before turning her around and raising her fantastic ass up.

“I think I’ll fuck you like this again. Keep grabbing this ass so I can leave my mark in it, just like I left my cum in you.” I slapped it once, watching it bounce as my handprint quickly appeared on her soft skin. Then, I yanked her up by her hair, just so I could whisper in her ear.

“Beg me for my cock, c’mon. Beg me to fill this pretty pussy.” I loved how every little thing I did left her whiny and out of breath, not to mention absolutely dripping on my bed. Perhaps she truly wasn’t prepared for all we’d do to her, but I could see now that leaving her completely mad with desire was more than half of the fun.

“Fuck me, Captain! Please! Please, I need your cock. I need it so bad.” The pure, unadulterated need in her voice had me groaning, and I finally stopped stroking myself to push her down again before finally spearing her with my cock. It felt like ages since our fuck in the bathroom, and feeling her tight walls struggle to adjust to my thickness was torture in the best possible way.

“I can’t wait to choke you with my cock later,” I warned as I began fucking her. It didn’t take long for her arms to falter, and she fell head first on the mattress, but I didn’t stop, simply adjusted myself so I’d be laying on top of her.

“You say that like you’ll still want me.” I snorted, biting her in warning. Although I did understand where her insecurity came from, the idea of her being nothing more than a one night stand felt so ludicrous, it was impossible to keep myself from laughing as I secured her arms by her head, slowing my movements but deepening them.

“Darling, I didn’t watch Bucky cum over and over again while screaming your name only to fuck you twice and ignore you the next day. Oh no. This is how you’re going to be now, every single day for the rest of your life: filled by me or Bucky or both of us at the same time. So you better get used to the idea, and soon.”

I rested my chin on her back, softly running my fingers through her hair so I could keep it away from her face before I pulled her back for a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. “You’re ours now, sweetheart.”

#my fics #steve rogers smut #smut #steve rogers #steve rogers reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers ff #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers oneshots #steve rogers insert #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines

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ellana-ravenwood · 4 years ago

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Sick Day - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : It’s never fun to be sick. Duh. But when you have loving parents there to take care of you, maybe it isn’t so bad ? Just short little snippets of the first time each Batkids fell ill in Wayne Manor, and how Bruce and his wife (you :D) dealt with it.

Another “burst of the moment inspiration” story, just a little drabble. Promise I’ll post something more elaborate soon :), hope you’ll like it :

My master list blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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(Thanks to that anon who mentioned the kids getting shots, that gave me with this an idea on how to start this fic :D. The original beginning was different, I think I like that one better hehe.)

"Mister Wayne, if you keep doing this, I'm not going to be able to give your son-Bruce for god's sake !"

Leslie Thompkins, for the first time in her long career, was about to lose her patience and give up on...giving a simple shot to a baby.

She has seen worried parents before, of course. The one that clung to their child’s hand, or those who would cry because their little one was in pain…

Babies that young, who had to get vaccinated for the first time, never really experienced this sort of quick pain before.

A lot of them would cry more out of surprise than because it really hurt. Oh and when the parents were extra worried, you could be sure the baby was even more likely to burst into tears, sensing his parents' distress.

Yes. doctor Thompkins gave shots to a LOT of babies, and saw a LOT of worried parents before…But never had she met someone quite like Bruce Wayne.

He always came to her when his kids were sick. He could go to a fancier office, or to one of those pricy fancy private hospitals. But no.

No because, when it came to his kids’ health, there was no one he trusted more than Doctor Leslie Thompkins.

So it was no surprise when he brought his youngest son, Thomas, to get his first shot ever. What was a surprise though, was his reaction.

"And now you know why I'm always the only one in the room when this happens."

You say, smiling apologetically to the doctor. But ah, at least your husband's reaction eased a little the tension in your body brought by the mere idea of your baby being hurt.

Every single time Leslie got the syringe close to your little one, Bruce would reflexively grab her wrist and stop her from giving the shot to his son.

Ridiculous, really.

But it seemed it was something he couldn't fight.

He apologized the first time he did it, as Dr Thompskins smiled and said it was ok, rather amused. But then the second time, it was getting clear he didn't seem to quite control himself. At the third time Bruce was visibly sweating. Dr Thompkins finally snapped as she tried for a fourth and fifth time to give a shot to little Thomas (who, at barely 2 months old, was much too young to even understand what was happening, but by his little smiles it was clear he was happy every time his father would come into his vision).

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just…I thought I could do it, but I can't."

And oh. Oh it's adorable the way he turns to you, his eyes saying "I'm sorry" as he takes his son back in his arms and holds him against his chest. You weren’t sure if it was to comfort little Tommy, or if he was comforting himself.

"I think I should just let you two handle this ?" He asks, unsure. He doesn’t want you to be mad or to think he’s abandoning you.

"I think this is a good idea Bruce, yes."

You smile at him reassuringly. It’s fine. It was always fine.

"I'm sorry, sorry I'm letting you do this alone once again. I just can't…"

"Oh it's ok my Broosh, I know you hate shots. I can handle it, and little buddy here sure can too."

Thomas coos happily as you pick him up delicately from his father's arms. Bruce resists a bit, before finally giving in and letting you take hold of the little one.

He lays a hand on his son's head, looking fondly at him (of this look he only gives his children, of this pure look full of unconditional love, and a hint of “what did I do to deserve this sort of happiness ?”) and then sighs, press a soft kiss to your forehead, murmuring a last “I’m sorry, my love” and leaves the room.

He feels a little ashamed to let you do this once again, but you've always been the strongest one out of the two. After all, you willingly decided to marry a man like him…

"Alright Mrs Wayne, ready ? And here we-oh not you too (Y/N) !"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry, I don't know what took over me, it was just a reflex too !"

You apologize, as you let go of the doctor's wrist…

Yeah, it was just a gut reaction to seeing a scary needle approaching your baby's thigh. In your line of um, nightly work, you came to be very wary, of syringes. You still remember vividly that time Tim got hit with one of Scarecrows’ needle, and how terrible this night had been...

"Ok ok, now is fine. Go. I'm ready. Go fast though, now. Now I’m not looking. Go. Go. Go."

Tears welling up in your eyes at the mere thought of this happening, you look away as you hold your son still (something he doesn't like as clearly shown by his little sound of protest, and as he starts to fuss about), and in one, two seconds…it's done.

And not a peep from your son.

He just stopped making any sound (he've always been rather vocal), his eyes went wide, and he made a face that looked like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to cry or not. Then there’s one more second, and Leslie had a soothing bandaid on his little leg, and you were holding him against your heart, and the pain was so fleeting and already gone, that he just gets over it quickly, feeling your love.

Calming down instantly, not noticing the tears in your eyes (thank god, or it’d be a sure way to make him weep too).

And so he doesn't cry. And everything is ok again.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it ?”

“Actually, it was.”

You say, barely holding your tears in, your son cooing in your arms

“Um...I was talking to Thomas.”

Leslie answers, amused. And just like that, you both burst into laughter.

After a few minutes of this uncontrollable fit of giggles, you thank Leslie for her help, and leave the room, joining your husband who had been walking back and forth in the waiting room, nervous.

He comes immediately to you and Thomas, and as soon as the boy sees his dad he smiles widely and giggles. Bruce gives him a soft smile, before turning to you :

“How was it ?”

“For me ? Not great. For Tommy ? He didn’t even utter a sound. Our little guy is brave !”

You kiss your son on his forehead, and he giggles and coos even more. There’s a short silence, before Bruce says :

“I’m sorry...”

And then he takes you in his arms, sandwiching little Thomas who’s protesting a bit. Damn, his parents could be so clingy !

“It’s ok my Broosh, I already told you. It’s ok.”

You sort of knew since you stepped into the doctor’s room that you’d end up being the one having to hold your boy anyway.

You knew oh too well how squeamish he was whenever HE had to get a shot done (and oh who would’ve thought the big bad bat hated getting shots so much uh ? You were pretty sure he would rather getting actually shot than take a tiny needle in his arm any day of the week...Alfred always had to fight with him to inject anesthesia when treating him for wounds). It was actually sort of a requirement, that you’d be next to him to give him your hand when he absolutely had to get a shot.

So understandably so, he always skipped on his children’s vaccins. He just couldn’t bear to see anyone he cared for to get that very things he hated so much, it just made him feel ill.

And you’ve always been fine with this. Since that very first day when you took Dick there...But Bruce always felt bad.

Because whenever you’d get out of the doctor’s office, you’d have fresh tears in your eyes, because you were just too pure for this world (is what Damian would say).

Dick always took advantage of this. He was never really scared of shots, and thought they didn’t really hurt...But oh, oh he would always cry a river of crocodile tears just so he’d get extra cuddles and ice cream.

And then, that cheeky little bugger passed that knowledge of “when we get shots, or we get sick, the parents literally let us do WHATEVER we want !” to his little siblings (you were actually pretty sure your kids would pass secret ways to manipulate you and Bruce along to their younger siblings and..you were oddly fine with it. You loved those kids too much to care, really).

This thought reminded you of that very first time Dick fell sick, shortly after you and Bruce officially adopted him.

And how much you guys freaked out.

It was both a pleasant, and terrible memory.

And oh. Oh you already dreaded the day Thomas would have his first real fever...You still remembered how it happened, with all your other children.

“What is it ?” Bruce asks, always knowing when something was on your mind. And so you say : “Nothing bad, this just reminds me of when Dick got sick for the first time while with us...”

A light of recognition ignited in Bruce’s eyes, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

Bruce only had fond memories of when he was sick and his mom and dad would take care of him.

He thought they were the best, wether they’d hold a “barf-bucket” for him, or stay up all night because he was too feverish...

What he never realized though, is that having a sick child was actually absolutely terrifying ! Bruce often felt sick himself, when the kids were ill.....ah, but nothing ever beats those first time each of them got sick.

DICK

Dick wasn't as young as Thomas, when he first came into your life. None of them were. But he was still a cute little bean, your baby.

Eight years old, and oh so sweet and nice and cute and you could just squish his little cheeks all day (albeit from the few outburst of anger at times, but hey, he was but a child, every kid throw tantrum from times to times).

He had been living with you and Bruce in the Manor for the past six months, when you had your first fright, and realized that being a parent meant being worried about your kid's well being for the rest of your days

Dick was definitely a tiny kid when he came in your life. He was rather short, only having a growth spurt when he was around 14/15. Barbara Gordon used to tease him to no end about this, up until he finally caught up with her and ended up being taller.

But yes, his small stature for his age, maybe made you baby him even more than the others, sometimes.

Ah. That first time little Dick Grayson was sick at Wayne Manor.

You. Freaked. The. Fuck. OUT.

You and Bruce, both.

Coincidentally, Dick became ill ON THE ONLY FEW DAYS OFF ALFRED WOULD TAKE A YEAR !!

Every year, for a theater festival, Alfred would take off to his homeland, to England, in London to be exact, for but a few days.

The three of you were in the batcave. Bruce was getting ready to go out, while you were on the bat computer and Dick was training on the side, doing some acrobatics on the trampoline Bruce installed.

And then he came to you, pulling on your sleeve, and he was so pale...

“I don’t feel too well.”

He said, right before throwing up for a few way too long seconds, as tears welled up in his eyes...it was never nice to throw up, and once again, no matter how mature he acted, you were reminded that Dick was but an eight year old child.

But he wasn’t only crying because throwing up fucking sucked. He was also crying because he thought you were going to be mad at him.

You reassured him, as you cleaned his little face up, and Bruce (who looked quite green himself...later on, you’d discover than when his kids or you were sick, he felt sick too...quite a strong reaction, really) carried him upstairs.

You were frantically googling how to take care of a sick child, as Bruce stayed with Dick, holding a bark bucket to his face, and drawing soothing circles on his back with his hand.

The panic dumbed the both of you down. It seemed like you couldn’t think, as you tried to make Dick as comfortable as he could.

You could feel your anxiety blowing through the roof, and knew that Bruce was close to have a panic attack himself (he was prone to them, although you and Alfred were the only one who knew).

You didn’t know what was worst, the fact he was sick and had no idea what you were supposed to do, or how much Dick was sobbing and apologizing.

“Should we call Dr. Thompkins ?”

“I don’t know her number, Alfred is the one that calls usually...”

“Should we take him there then ?”

“I don’t know, Alfred is-”

This went on for a little bit, as Dick was throwing up and crying. Saying “sorry !” every two seconds. But...Instinctively, Bruce was trying to soothe him with those warm pats on his back. And you were caressing his hair, empathetic. And...

You decided to not go to the doctor today, Dick was sick, but not sick enough to take him to an emergency. And in Gotham ? Leslie was needed for a lot, especially in evenings like this.

“Alfred um, gives me flat soda when I have a stomach ache ?”

“On it !”

You say, bolting on your feet and running to the kitchen, taking a cola and opening it up. Meanwhile, Dick’s fit calmed down, and he seemed to instantly feel better as he probably threw everything he needed to up...

He seemed content, cuddling against Bruce as the man was softly patting his back in small circles, and using his other hand to hold his head delicately.

You and Bruce were definitely not experienced parents yet, and it showed.

It showed by those first few minutes of utter panic, as your child got suddenly sick. And it showed as how you instantly just thought of calling Alfred...

That day, you both realized though, that you couldn’t always rely on the butler when it came to raising your son. For situations exactly like that one.

Both you and Bruce were still young, and scared to make mistakes but..You had to try. And you had to keep a cool head. Your motherly instinct kicked in.

It was so odd, seeing the big bad bat, wearing his costume without the cowl on (he didn’t have time to take it off as he rushed upstairs with the boy in his arms), looking so worried...

Bruce was so pale, and you could see that in a way, he felt his son’s pain too...Which just made your head click, and take action.

“Ok, ok we can do this. Keep the barf bucket close, let’s wait for the soda to get flat, and um...let’s try to distract him. A movie, perhaps ?”

Dick nodded, and although he wasn’t throwing up anymore, he seemed too weak to stand up (or maybe he was faking, could be, honestly, with that one...doesn’t matter) so Bruce carried him again.

And it was a sight. Bruce was a tall man. And Dick was a very small kid.

It was cute. and in that moment...In that moment it felt like you both suddenly realized what it meant, to be a parent.

Bruce, holding his son in his arms, feeling the little one’s heartbeat and slowed breath as he was kinda nodding off...was this how his own father felt, when holding him ? It was nice. It was a surge of pure love, and knowing that he would die for that kid if he had to. Hell, he would burn the whole world, for that kid.

It was so odd. The situation wasn’t that crazy, Dick probably just ate something bad, and with the trampoline and all the jumping around...he got sick.

As a child, you had those rapid sick moments of having a bad stomach ache, which would turn into throwing up, to then feel better. Those sudden moments when your own parents would take care of you...

Ah. You hadn’t realized how much worry being a parent would bring. Bruce didn’t either. You guys adopting Dick felt like an obvious thing to do. Felt like it was meant to be...

But it wasn’t just yet, that you felt like a mom. Or a dad.

It took some time to build. Just like it took time for Dick to call you “mom” and “dad”. And in that moment, as your kid (yes, your kid) was sick, that was it...

Finally. Yes. That was it.

You were a mom.

Bruce was a dad.

Dick was your son.

Of course you panicked as he suddenly got sick. But now, it was in your hand to properly take care of him. And thus started the first ritual you’d ever make with one of your children.

Dick, when sick, liked chicken noodle soups. Made by you. He liked cuddles, up until he turned 12 or 13, then he acted as if he was too grown up for them. This eventually stopped when he turned 19, not long after Jason’s death...He regressed back to a little boy in some ways, and needed you. And Bruce.

You’d often drive to Bludhaven just to give him chicken noodle soup and sprite, when he got sick. Even as he grew older and older...He loved it. No one could ever beat his mom babying him, when he felt under the weather.

JASON

"Hey buddy, are you ok ?”

“Yes, yes I’m ok mom.”

He smiles at you sweetly, his eyes half-closed, and clearly still relishing in the fact that he can finally call someone “mom”. But this happiness he felt whenever he realized he was finally safe, and had a home, was oddly dimmed, this morning.

“Are you su-OH MY GOD !”

Your hand is burning, as you lay it on his forehead.

He’s burning up !

“Hey wow hey, kiddo, come here, you’re not feeling well are you ?”

But Jason shakes his head, and says :

“No I’m good. Just tired, but I’ll wake up soon.”

He smiled again, but it felt all wrong.

Of course, you didn’t take his words for it, even if you knew Jason wasn’t a liar. But the fact spoke for themselves, your kid was NOT alright. No matter what he was saying.

Turned out, you were definitely right. He really wasn’t alright.

In fact, Jason had...pneumonia. A bad case of it. That he probably caught when he was playing earlier that day, in the snow, with Bruce, staying out up until his lips were blue and he was soaking wet !! Bruce could just never resist him, and didn’t have the heart to say “no” when the kid kept asking on playing more...

He dearly regretted it. But you reassured him, this wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t.

You rushed to the hospital, Bruce holding a tiny little Jason wrapped tight in a few warm blankets. And the doctor confirmed you made the right call, taking him to the ER.

It wasn’t like with Dick, where it was obvious the boy had a mild sickness. No. Jason really looked bad, and ready to drop.

You and Bruce let once again your parental instincts kick in and...It was the right call.

When Jason woke up, he let out a string of apologies and you realized...You realized the kid was terrified you wouldn’t want him anymore if he bothered you too much. Was scared to death that you’d want to take him back where you found him, that you’d give up on him.

His real life father bolted at the first signs of troubles. His mother was a drug addict for whom he was never good enough to try and get cleaned up.

He was abandoned, over and over again along his short life and...he was absolutely terrified that if he was too much of a nuisance to you two, you and Bruce would leave him as well. That you wouldn’t bother.

And it broke your hearts.

Softly, when Jason finally got better, after a few days of utter nightmare for you and Bruce, you took him home. He still needed some rest, as he was a little sick, so you tucked him comfortably in his bed and finally, you told him :

“From now on, you promise me to tell us when you don’t feel ok ? Wether you think it’ll bother us or not. You will never bother us, little buddy, ok ?”

“Ok”, Jason said, unsure.

“What do I have to say or do, to convince you you’ll never be a nuisance to us ?”

The question took Jason by surprise, and he wasn’t quite sure of what to say. In his feverish state anyway, he had a hard time thinking. He heard himself say :

“Stay with me ?”

“Of course. Always little one, always.”

And as he softly drifted to sleep, feeling the cold and soothing towel you would wet over and over again to put on his forehead, he heard you hum a song from your childhood, that would become a song always sure to put him to sleep.

He was out, when Bruce said : “I’ll stay home tonight.” A shame, really. Because maybe, maybe if he heard that the Batman was going to skip patrol just to keep an eye on him...Then he’d know he would never bother him. Ever.

That he would forever hold a dear, prime place in his heart.

Jason woke up the next morning, and found you and Bruce asleep on the floor, right next to his bed. You were still holding a towel that had long since dried up, and one of Bruce’s hand was clutched tightly on your shirt.

The basin full of cold water laying on his bed side table was almost empty. Jason smiled.

He felt better after a few hours of good sleep, and slowly got out of the blankets, pulling them with him, to then lay down next to you two, throwing the thick quilt over all of you.

Later that day, Alfred found the three of you all cuddled up. He snatched a picture. Picture that was framed, amongst some of your favorite of your children, in your office. And in Bruce’s.

The way you sung him to sleep when he was sick...When he died, it was the last thing he thought about. When he saw the bomb would explose before Bruce could save him.

He thought of how soothing it was, to be taken care of by you. And your humming voice rung in his ears, as he realized he was going to die. Right there.

Oh. Oh he wished he could be a little sick eight years old again, forget all his worries, and just fall asleep with the sound of your voice in his ears, while his dad would hold the both of you in his arms...

TIM

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, go back to bed this instant !”

Tim was the most difficult one, when he had a fever. He was a bit of a workaholic (like father like son ?), and always wanted to help. He hated being too sick because then he felt useless.

Your boy just wanted so much to be there for everyone, that he often forgot himself in the process and...yes.

His first real fever/sickness was punctuated by you constantly trying to get him back into bed.

You almost never even knew Tim was sick !

The boy was so used to taking care of himself, that he tried to handle everything on his own. He even took an appointment to the doctor himself ! But then, before having the chance to go there, he passed out in school, which resulted in a call from his principal that ended in Bruce almost having a heart attack.

You understood him of course. It wasn’t really a nice feeling to be called out during a business meeting to have someone tell you your son passed out in school !

It was just a little flu, but the fever and lack of sleep got the best of him.

Bruce didn’t even tell anyone where he was going, as he rushed to the school. You met him there, as he was walking out of the building, with a little sleepy Tim in his arms.

“I can walk, I swear I can walk.”

The boy was saying, yet his head was on his dad’s shoulder, and the up and down bobble of Bruce’s walk was clearly putting him to sleep.

Your husband settled your son in the car, and drove home.

“He was trying to convince me he could finish his school day, and that he had a group work today and didn’t want to let his friends down...”

“Sounds like Tim alright...”

You said, looking back at his sleeping form in the back seat.

Bruce nods, but you could see something was on his mind. You always knew, when something was on his mind. Brushing a few fingers on his cheeks, you ask :

“What is it, my Bruce ?”

His eyes are on the road, of course. But he flicks them quickly to you, and he knows. He knows he can’t lie to you, or get away with telling you half-truth.

You’ll know, if he’s not really telling you what has been worrying him. He takes a deep breath and, with a small voice says :

“Is this...my fault ?”

At first, you don’t understand, and you say :

“I’m pretty sure it’s because that boy never wears a damn sweater, and we’re in Gotham in the middle of Winter haha.”

But then...Then you realize what he means.

He’s talking about the fact that Tim always seem to overcompensate for something. Always seem to want to be there for everyone, forgetting sometimes he’s just a ten years old boy.

Tim was the only one out of his siblings that became Robin for no personal reason, but just because he loved Batman and wanted to help him. Just because he wanted to help people.

He didn’t have a tragic backstory (although he unfortunately got one later on...), he didn’t have a reason to become Robin, other than his good nature and really wanting to help...

And Bruce let him. Allowed him to do this. Even after what happened to Jason, he let Tim sneak in your life and become Robin.

You’d argue that Tim didn’t leave you guys much of a choice, and sort of had a “well I’m gonna help you no matter what, deal with it” sort of attitude. But you understood your husband’s worries.

He was afraid that he was the one that made him that way. That it was because of him, that Tim worked his health off.

“Oh, Bruce, my Heart...No. No it’s not your fault. It’s just how this amazing little boy is wired. I actually think that thanks to you, he’s more focused and taken care of. The gods can only imagine what Tim Drake would’ve done if he hadn’t been trained by Batman himself...If you said “no” to him pestering you about becoming your Robin, he would’ve taken it upon himself to go out there anyway. And then...I can only imagine what would’ve happened. So no. No it’s not your fault. It’s just...how he is. He reminds me of you a lot, actually. And I’m so, so glad he managed to convince you...Couldn’t imagine my life without that little one in it. Even if he does give me grief often, overworking like that. But it’s not your fault. It’s not. On the contrary.”

It took you a while, to convince Bruce he didn’t create Tim the way he sort-of created Dick and Jason. But you managed to, as you always did. You could be very convincing. Plus, the boy helped. It was clear his dedication came from himself mainly, that he was just born this way.

Too clever and smart for his own good, destined to be a Robin...and maybe a Batman, one day ?

Yes. Tim was the only one that wasn’t in it for himself. For personal reasons. He just wanted to help...

But after that first time he got sick, he understood that sometimes, it was ok to rely on you or his die. That in fact, he would gladly do so !

That day, Bruce carried him to his bed, even as the boy protested he was alright. Finally, you’ve had enough and ended up sort of lecturing him...gently.

“You need to rest, sometimes, ok ? If it’s too much, if you’re too tired, physically AND mentally, you need to take a few steps back...and let others take care of things, and of you. Ok ?”

“But-”

“No buts Timmy. It’s important. If something bad happens to you because you’ve been ignoring your own body, your own self...What will happen to those you want to help ? In order to continue what you’re doing, you need to take some pauses. Like right now. You are sick. You passed out in school. So...It’s gatorade and crackers time.”

Gatorade and crackers.

Tim’s favorite drinks and food.

Gatorade and crackers.

Two things that were rarely found in Wayne Manor. You always tried to give healthy balanced meals to your kids. Especially to Tim, who had the opposite of a balanced diet when he came into your lives (the fact he often had to take care of himself as his parents were too busy meant he often chose his own food...and of course he’d rather have ice cream than broccolis).

But the fact that you were now giving him Gatorade and crackers meant...Meant that Dick was right. When they were sick, you would do anything to make them comfortable.

Coincidentally though, Gatorade and saltines helped out, when one was sick.

On that first time he became sick after starting to live with you, Tim found that it was ok, to relax sometimes. That he didn’t have to waste his life away 24/7 for others, and that he could enjoy some down time.

It only happened when he was sick, to your great dismal. You constantly tried to convince him to take a break (just like you did with Bruce...but although it worked with your husband, especially as he got older, Tim was just very stubborn, and wanted to help too damn much). You even had to trick him into it often.

So although you hated seeing your kids in any kind of pain, you were almost glad when Tim got sick. Because it meant he would really take care of himself. Or rather, letting you take care of him.

That first time he got sick, he ended up leaving his bed...only to go cuddle up in yours and Bruce’s, and enjoy some down time. And learn that, it was ok, to take care of himself.

Hell. You’d hammer this fact in his head if you had to.

Gatorade and crackers, while watching movies in yours and Bruce’s big bed, was why Tim thought that in the end, being sick wasn’t too bad.

Extra points if you two were in the bed with him, snuggled up all nice, safe and warm.

CASSANDRA

Cassandra didn’t like TV, when she was sick. Instead, she liked you reading her stories better. And you’d read to her all day, if need be. Switching from time to time with your husband.

She had trouble sleeping, even when sick and weak. Listening to your voices telling her all those wonderful stories was soothing beyond measure.

The first time she fell sick while at Wayne Manor though, her first reflex was to go hide. Because when she used to be sick with the man who called himself her “father”, with David Cain (that scum), he used to get so mad at her.

As if it was her fault, she became sick.

So she’d run away. Curl into a ball. Wait for it to pass. And then face him, healthy again. It was easier to confront him when she was ok...So she’d rather run away and face the consequences, rather than stay around him while sick.

And so, her first instinct was to go hide.

She went to the attic, and did what she used to do.

Curled up in a ball, in front of the round window. And wait. Alone.

It’s Bruce, who found her. He was casually checking the GPS he put on his children. They still thought they got rid of it, the sweet kids...but as if he’d only implant one. He knew it wasn’t really ethical, but after what happened to Jason, he wasn’t willing to take any chances.

During the day, he would check a few times, and usually during boring office meeting, to see where they were. That day, he saw Cass in the Manor’s attic, and didn’t think much of it. Cass was a curious one, who took it upon herself to explore everything in the house.

But when he came home, and she was still there, his guts told him something was wrong...He rushed to the attic, and found her.

And his heart stopped, when he saw her laid on the floor, curled up into a ball, and softly moaning because she had a bad fever.

She wasn’t asleep, even in this state she fought sleep, afraid to have nightmares (and while having a fever, she couldn’t just wake up to escape them...).

Bruce carried her out of the attic, holding her tight in his arms, his heart bleeding as he realized why she isolated herself while she needed help.

People often misjudged Bruce on that matter. Saw him as a cold harsh man. But oh; oh if it was touching his children or you...He would feel so much. Too much, even. He just loved you all to death.

When he brought her downstairs, and you saw her, you immediately entered “mom mode” and fussed over her, getting everything you needed to make her comfortable...but as it turned out, all she wanted was to feel yours and Bruce’s presence.

To hear your voice, and feel you were there.

And so without thinking, you picked up a book and started to read it to her. And you could feel her relax, let her guard down. A rare occasion she would truly let herself be chill.

The first time Cass got sick while living under your roof, her first instinct was to hide and lick her wounds all by herself. It was to lie on the floor and hope it would pass fast. It was-

The second time she felt under the weather, she immediately went to you. It was early in the morning. And it’s only thanks to Bruce’s amazing reflexes that Cass didn’t throw up all over you two, as he pulled you away from her just in time...To then take care of changing the sheets, while you held your daughter’s hair as she threw up in the master’s bathroom’s toilet.

And then Bruce went downstairs to take a “barf-bowl”, the one actually, that her mom used to take for him...ah. He always used that one for all the kids. Call it nostalgia.

The second time Cass got sick while under your care, she didn’t hide. She wasn’t dreading it, even as she got even sicker than the first time. No.

No because now, she knew she’d always find you so you could take care of her. Ah, and Dick, Jason and Tim gave her many tricks to fake being sick and have you all for herself...

DUKE

Duke was older than any of your kids were when he started to live at the Manor. He was already in his teens. He wasn't a tiny bean like the rest of them, when he came in your family...

And yet. Yet the first time he fell sick, you babied the hell out of him.

So what if he was sixteen ? Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have all the care a child should have when he wasn’t feeling well.

And so you were ready to take care of him, when Alfred came to you this morning to tell you “Master Duke” wasn’t feeling well.

However, when you got to his room and indeed saw he was feverish, he refused to talk to you and just wanted to be alone.

And then it hits you.

Duke was sixteen.

He wasn’t a lost little eight years old boy who had just lost his parents, or never even had parents. He wasn’t a child in dear need of love and cuddles.

He was sixteen.

And he wanted HIS mom.

What happened to his parents was too fresh.

And they weren’t dead...In a way, seeing them lose their mind with no chance of ever getting better was worst.

Duke was sixteen.

And there, sick, all he wanted was to have his mom’s care again.

Yes. Duke’s case was different than all your other children. Because his parents were still there. Because he was older. Because everything was so fresh, at the moment.

In time, in the coming years, he would come to feel just like his siblings did. But right there, just mere few weeks after he moved to the manor, and mere few days after Bruce helped him find his parents...

Duke was homesick.

He missed his dad. But he missed his mom even more. Probably for the same reason that your kids loved to have you around so much, when they were sick...

There was no doubt in your mind that Duke’s mom was amazing at taking care of him when he felt ill. She probably had her own tricks, to make him feel better. Tricks that you did not know...And so you asked.

You simply asked.

Because you wanted to make him feel better. You wanted to be there for him, even if right now, he didn’t want you around.

If he truly wanted to be left alone, you’d leave some medicine and leave him be. But your guts were telling you he was just sad, and the sad was translated into him pretending he wanted to be alone.

Your guts were right.

Duke wanted his mom. Yes. But he also didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, right now...He just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He knew how motherly you could be. He didn’t want to project his mother on you. He-

“What do you need ?”

You asked, and the answer came to his mind instantly. He spoke before even realizing he was doing it :

“My mom used to make a perfect drink of warm water, honey, ginger and lemon.”

And as you tried to recreate his mom’s drink, never quite getting the measurements right (you could see on his face it wasn’t like his mother’s), Duke slowly felt better.

Because...Because yes. He missed his mom. And the way she took care of him. Especially on sick days. But...It wasn't everywhere that one could find someone who cared so much, that they were willing to spend their entire day trying to get a drink right, right ?

And when Bruce came home, and asked him if he was “alright champ ?”, Duke realized one thing...

Yes. He wanted his parents. Yes, he missed them like hell. Yes, his sick days would never be the same...

But he wasn’t alone. As Bruce joined in trying to make the perfect drink of “warm water, honey, ginger and lemon”, Duke came to the realization that his situation wasn’t as desperate as he thought, this morning, when he woke up feeling under the weather, and without his mom to take care of him.

Because you were still there. And were planning on staying there for a very long time. Of course, you could never replace his mom. Just like you never replaced Dick’s, or Damian’s...You just, became another mom to them.

And Duke...That first day of being sick in Wayne Manor ? He felt like he was finally willing to let you become his second mom. To let Bruce become a father figure. To have this found family, in this tough times...

Sick days were never the same than when he was a little kid and still had his parents around.

Duke was sixteen. Growing up wasn’t easy, especially after what he went through. And sick days would never be the same...But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t be nice, as he slowly let you and Bruce, and his newfound siblings, take care of him.

Yes. To have this found family in this tough times was quite a joy.

DAMIAN

To the surprise of many, Damian actually didn’t resist too much being taken care of when he first got sick under your roof.

Damian actually loved being sick, because it meant snuggles time with you, safe and warm under a blanket on the couch, watching his favorite movies. It meant your soothing fingers running in his hair, making him feel peaceful and relaxed.

It also meant that he’d have you all for himself.

With five siblings (with a sixth one on the way), it wasn’t always the easiest thing ever, to get his mom only for himself. Yes. He loved to be sick, and babied by you.

The first time he got a bad fever, a few months after he arrived at the Manor, he dreaded falling ill because...

Well. Because he was raised in the League of Assassins. And being sick, no matter how much, was not considered reason enough to not train. To not do what his grandfather told him to do.

He used to work through the sickness. Even if he felt like passing out (and he did, a few times, which earned him hours from his sleeping time taken away...).

So Damian hated being sick.

Until. Until he became ill for the first time when living with you.

By that time, you and Bruce had learned how to manage a sick child. And although Bruce still felt physically ill too whenever his children were, he managed nowadays to be somewhat ok and take care of them without wincing.

It happened not long after Damian started to call you “mom”. He fell asleep while you guys were watching a movie and...it’s what instantly told you something was wrong.

No matter how bad a movie would be, Damian would NEVER fall asleep in the middle of it.

Ah, and sure enough, as you checked his temperature you realized he had a bad fever. And so you carried him to his room, tucking him into bed.

He woke up as you were doing that, and looked at you, utterly surprised. What was going on ?

“Get some rest buddy, you’ll feel better soon.”

You said, smiling. And at first, Damian didn’t understand. He had been so conditioned in ignoring his own well being, that he didn't realize something was wrong with him. But then, you laid a hand on his forehead, and said :

“Ah it doesn’t seem like it’s such a big sickness, I’ll go get you some medicinal tea and...What do you want to eat ? If you’re hungry ? Maybe you’re not, sometimes when I’m sick I just don’t wanna eat anything.”

Sick ? Was he...Sick ? Yes. He was. But it was so mild, that he didn’t even think he needed to rest. Or...Didn’t he ? He was just so used to still work even when sick.

“What-What about school ?”

He asked, and he was surprised his voice sounded so weak and tired. Was he always feeling like that when sick ? Yes. But...Something was different.

And then it hit him.

“I think it’s ok if you skip a few days’ buddy.”

The difference was that, when he was sick while amongst the League of Assassins, he was always terrified that his grandfather got tired of him and send him hitmen (it happened a lot before, while he was sleeping for example, and it always happened to test him, test if he was ready, and willing to kill and ask questions after). That he didn’t find him useful enough.

While here, with you, he felt safe. He felt loved. He felt warm.

And so his body wasn’t in a “fight or flight” state. He was just...sick. As any normal kid would be.

When with the Al’Ghul, he somehow managed to convince himself to keep going, to work through the pain. And oh, it’s wonders, what the brain can do when you really want to.

But here. Here he didn’t have to act tough. To keep walking or he’d end up dead. Here. Here he was safe. And loved.

So he felt the sickness, the fever. He felt it’s true effect.

“What do sick people eat ?”

He asked, and at first you didn’t think much of it. You started to tell him Dick loved chicken noodle soup while Tim preferred saltines. Cass would never eat much, neither would Jason, but they’d always say yes to some flat sodas.

He seemed unsure of what he wanted, so you asked him a simple question :

“What do you usually eat, when you’re sick ?”

It was such an innocent question. But it made him almost cry.

Usually ?

Usually...

“Well...”

He hesitates, and you sense there’s more to things than you originally thought. Finally, after looking at your encouraging smile, he says :

“When I was sick before, I still had to train. And then they’d tell me I’m weak.”

In one sentence, you understand everything. And you could punch yourself for ever thinking that he got taken care of when sick. And then the next second, you hold him tight in your arms, and once again, Damian is surprised.

But pleased. He had been touched starve most of his life, this was nice.

“My poor baby...”

He didn’t even complain you called him a baby, and let you hug him. And then...Then you spend time with him, trying to find the perfect ritual to make him feel better while he was sick.

You had such rituals with everyone. Formed on the day they first got sick. Damian needed his own thing too...

Thus was created the “couch nest”.

It involved covering the living room’s couch with at LEAST one quilt, then Damian would bring the pillows (and maybe some stuffs animals, or even real ones...Titus often sneaked in) from his bed, and you would tuck him in with one or two more quilts.

He would then spend the rest of the time watching TV and movies with you. Or with his siblings. Or his dad.

And it was so comforting, to be wrapped up like that. Almost like laying in a hug. It made him feel like he was perpetually held by you.

Damian used to hate being sick. Because he hated being weak.

But this changed. Just like he changed. Thanks to his family. Thanks to you.

Now, just like Tim, he almost loved, being sick...

************

“This sort of reminds me of that time Dick got his first fever...”

You were thinking about all those terrible, yet sweet days, of your children being sick, as you walked up the stairs to your house, a hand tightly weaved around your husband’s.

Bruce was holding a sleeping Thomas in one of his arm (the boy was so small he could even fit in one of his hand, really), and felt relaxed. Here. With his son, and his wife, the love of his life. And with the knowledge than when you’d push the door to your house open you’d-

“Father ! Mom ! How is he !?”

Both you and Bruce quickly put a finger on your lips, and Damian throws his hands on his mouth, regretting his scream. But he was just so worried.

He couldn’t come with you to the doctor’s office as he had school (plus you were pretty sure he would’ve been 100 times worst than Bruce, trying to stop Leslie by any means necessary), and had been thinking about his little brother’s first shot all day.

Damian, just like his dad, wasn’t very fond of shots. He hated that his brother (wether the youngest one, or one of the older one, really) had to go through this.

It was always silly to you, how both Bruce and Damian, who’ve been through much worst than small little shots, hated those so much...Silly, and very cute.

Damian was looking critically at his brother, checking him silently for any signs of distress, for any “mistakes” Doctor Thompkins would’ve done, and seemed satisfied that the boy was fast asleep in his dad’s arm.

And Bruce...Bruce was smiling.

He felt so relaxed. And happy.

When you pushed that door, it opened on Damian rushing to the two of you, worried about his little brother. But it also opened on Alfred, who baked some comforting food, and brewed some tea for you, knowing how hard on you this sort of things could be (and yet how you insisted to take your kids to the doctor yourself, and not let Alfred do it, because you wanted to be there for them).

It opened on Cass smiling, and ruffling Damian’s hair as to reassure him.

It opened on Tim, who took a small break from his college study to come down and spend some times with his siblings, ready to relax in front of a movie (it was family movie night !).

It opened on Duke, who’s hands were full of DVDs, and who was excited to try to convince y’all to watch “Ninja and Pirates 6″, or something of the like.

It opened on Jason, who was smiling in such a way that no one would ever know all the things he went through. And it made Bruce feel all nice and warm inside...even as the little shit mimicked him having to take a shot. Squirming and looking as if he was about to faint. And ah, he hated to admit it, but his boy was impersonating him really well.

And it opened on Dick. His first kid. The one that, one day when getting sick, was who made Bruce realize what it truly meant to be a dad. The one who knew the best how much he hated seeing any of his children sick, or getting shots.

On Dick, who was laughing really hard at Jason’s impersonation, and giving him feedbacks about what to improve to make it even better.

The door opened on his family.

And as the ruckus surrounding him woke Thomas, as Damian yelled at Jason and Dick for being so loud, and as Bruce’s eyes fell on you, while you looked at your little tribe with love in your eyes...

Bruce felt relaxed. And so, so, oh so happy.

________________________________________________

This is yet another one of those stories I’ve been posting a lot lately, that do not take me very long to write and in which I don’t put that much effort, but that I really enjoy writing nonetheless ^^. And I hope you enjoyed reading it :), I’m nervous actually this isn’t up to your standards hahaha...Yes, hope you still liked it. Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback etc etc ^^. Thanks in advance !

See you soon with something much longer and on which I spend a lot of time working ;).

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blueprint-han · 4 years ago

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midnight walk — bang chan.

— “I have to go back to the dorms, and so do you.”

— “in which you and chan walk through a park during midnight to catch up on some much needed alone time, and you’re prominently reminded of how much you love him, and he does too.”

pairing: chan x (gn) reader

word count: 3 k

genre: fluff, boyfriend au, idolverse au (though not very prominent throughout the fic)

⇥ warnings: none, very self indulgent making out but nothing sexual, just kissing. minimal dialogue, kissing in public even though there’s no people around, also this situation is just for fictional purposes okay, I am not encouraging any acts of pda that takes place here between idols or anyone (quite frankly i have no idea about it’s legality, but as I said, it’s fictional), it’s just for entertainment purposes. Please take it as such. Also this park is huge and Chan and Y/N walk pretty slowly, and they’re from different companies.

type: drabble.

⇥ disclaimer: This fic does not intend to represent the actions of the real Bang Chan in any way, shape of form, nor does it intend to represent JYPE. Events are pure fiction, please take them as such.

note — Something soft because I wanted to write. This idea was brought up in a convo between me and ella and it was originally for han but then I wrote it for chan because i need my comfort kpop boy right now. Also @meiiyue. I hope this is not shit but i have no idea haha. Please, please leave feedback. Not edited, please excuse grammatical errors and typos. I;m sorry is this is trash, I really haven’t written seriously in a while ;-;

The air over here is way too moist.

So much so that you can feel beads of sweat litter the top of your brow the moment it’s been five minutes since you’ve arrived. You suppose you can’t complain when you and Chan made up the plan to meet immediately after a heavy downpour — you loved the smell of rain and he wanted to see you — it was a win-win situation.

But where is he?

You wipe your forehead with the back of your sleeve, clutching your umbrella tightly in one hand while simultaneously going through your phone with the other. Your surroundings are calm, quiet, peaceful, exactly what you need to delve into your own thoughts and relax from the actual week you’d gone through. You can feel the tension in your shoulders, very very slowly, seep away as a blanket of mental peace is wrapped around your shoulders. As nice as it feels to be alone in this quiet place, all you want right now, is to hold your boyfriend’s hand and revel in nature.

You make a “tsk” noise, brushing the hair stuck to your face before scrolling through your contacts. You’re about to click on the one that says “channieeee <3″ when you feel hands — warm hands, grab at your shoulders from behind, and you shriek at the sudden shock that overcomes you. Owing to it being very quiet in this park, you slam a hand over your mouth, turning around to see the only person you were waiting for this whole time, albeit not this way.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You frown, though a small smile does pull at your lips when your eyes meet his warm brown ones.

“I was letting you know of my presence?”

“By sneaking behind me and giving me a heart attack?”

“I was going to give you a back-hug—” Chan points out, waking around the bench to sit down next to you, not needing to ask at all. “—but then you screamed and I had to revoke it.”

A part of you wishes that had happened — as terrifying as that encounter was, Chan gives great hugs. One of a kind. It’s almost like every time his hands wrap around your waist or shoulders, every inch of stress, thoughts melt away, leaving you in a calm state of bliss. That’s what Chan’s hugs are — pure bliss and honestly, your escape.

You give yourself a second to analyze his sharp features. Soft eyes, delicate smile, the pale, soft skin on his cheek so inviting. In this place where you and Chan are together, all you want to do is crawl into his arms, let go of the barrier that surrounds you and just be... yourself. You want to cup his cheeks and kiss him, just like you do whenever you meet up in secret.

But there’s more secrecy and hiding involved in an idol’s life.

“Yeah, yeah.” You say, fixing your mask properly over your nose before standing from your place. “You know better than to revoke my hugs, Christopher.”

Chan chuckles in endearment. You only call him Christopher when you’re unsure of your own statement, and it’s evident in the way your words end like you’re questioning him. Chan’s waiting for the “...right?” that should be following soon, but, oh well. He knows himself that denying you isn’t something his heart would allow, especially not when you look at him like that.

Eyes gleaming under the dim lights of the park at midnight, a soft, almost unseen smile that only he’s allowed to see adorning your lips, and soft, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. You didn’t even have to tell him you missed him, or that you wished to be in his arms again, because the connection between the both of you was on a whole other level — he could read all your emotions, just from looking into your eyes.

“Can’t deny that, can I?” He says, getting up from his seat before smoothing his shirt, while you put your phone into your pouch and fix your coat. Then, his hands silently seek your own, lacing his fingers with your own as warmth spreads through your chest. His hand feels soft, even more so than the last time you met him. In a silent want to hold him close to you, you tighten your grip as you smile at him and he reflects it back.

You walk around the path slowly, each step lingering against the mossy ground for a good second before moving on to the other. It’s so, so calming. The cold, moist winds refreshingly cool against your skin now that you’re not sitting idle in one place, the darkness in the park oddly calming. There’s the slight chirping of insects that resounds through the space like gentle music, and eventually, you feel yourself relax as you take in your surroundings.

“So, how was your week?” You ask, feeling yourself blush when you silently lean your head against your shoulder whilst walking, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he snakes an arm around your waist, sending shivers up your spine when he gently smooths the fabric of your coat with his thumb.

“Stressful, honestly.” The both of you turn around the corner without second thought. You’ve done this so many times, it’s like your bodies are being pulled to the place you wish so hard to be in right now. You missed him. You missed him so, so much. You can see the stress lines on his forehead and the darkness around his eyes, almost sure that he isn’t getting enough sleep either. After a long pause where you take in his words, he murmurs silently. “Missed you during the shoot.”

“Awh darling,” You coo, pressing a soft kiss onto his shoulder, and even though he doesn’t feel it through his own coat, Chan can feel himself smile affectionately. Every tiny gesture you provide is just so... attracting. Comforting. Be it lacing your fingers through his hair and stroking gently to lull him into sleep or just a hand against his thigh, a soft whisper of an “I’m here” when his stress gets the best of him and he’s clinging desperately onto your shirt, fluttering of your lips all over his face the occasional time you wake up together, or just this — walking through a park at midnight because it’s hard to meet up when you’re both popular idols, hand in hand with almost no words spoken. Everything about you is just so... beautiful. “Did you eat and drink well this week?”

“I did. You wouldn’t stop texting me every day, remember?” Chan laughs, the kind that makes your heart flutter and do backflips.

“It’s very necessary. We both know you're total ass at taking breaks.”

“Hey!” Chan pouts, almost offended at your statement. “I’m trying, okay?” He then smiles, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the fruity scent of your shampoo. “Besides, I have an amazing girlfriend to remind me, am I right?”

“Yeah yeah.” You brush him off, feeling the light grow darker in a particular section of the path, and that’s when you know you’ve reached the place you’ve been walking towards. There’s a bench placed in this place too — it’s the perfect spot for hidden conversations and maybe, kisses, because the chicken wire is completely hidden by trees, making this spot invisible from the outside.

“There it is.” You point out and Chan follows in pursuit, dusting the seat off for you slightly. Once you’ve sat down, you feel your cheeks burn, because the events that take place once the both of you find this spot has been engrained in your mind at this point. They’re the kind that get you flustered every time you see Chan in the JYP building the next day.

The chirping of insects is so much more intense here, yet you don’t even hear it when Chan puts an arm on your shoulder, gently sweeping his thumb against the material of your overcoat, a soft smile taking over his lips as your eyes lock.

A gush of wind then sweeps past you, the chill in the air higher over here than near the entrance. You lean into Chan and he gets the idea immediately, pulling his coat over the both of you as you snuggle into his shoulder. He’s warm, so warm, so cozy, all you want to do is melt into his embrace and stay. Stay locked in this position you’ve grown accustomed to and found yourself in many times, with the gentle murmur of wind and chirping resounding all around you, almost like you’re trapped in utopia. You want to stay right here, but unfortunately, time runs fast.

“It’s cold.” He comments, and you let the words settle into the air.

“You’re warm.”

At that, Chan feels his smile widen genuinely, his grip on your shoulders tightening just the slightest before he trails up to tangle his fingers with your hair. You feel yourself tense before melting further, lifting your head up to look into his eyes, and my gosh, you can see the whole galaxy in them. His eyes are more sparkly, more lustrous than the clear night sky that lies above him, though the combined visual is truly enough to take your breath away.

“Always for you.”

One second, you feel his hand gently hold your chin and tip your head up, and the next, he leans to press his lips to your own. A mixture of warmth, fuzziness and nervousness bubbles inside you, mostly because you’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’re in the park — pitch black with dim lighting, yes, but still a public space.

Well, blame it on you for telling your partner you wanted thrill in your life when you were on your first date. It wasn’t a regular occurrence when you and Chan had the idea of meeting up at the park every Saturday midnight, kissing each other at midnight in a park where the trees were barely covering the partitions. Quite frankly, you have no idea when this whole thing started, all you know is that it became quite a frequent occurrence to go home with your cheeks feeling warm and your thumbs fidding with the collar of your shirt.

Your hands stay frozen on your lap and your brain fills with white noise. His lips feel so, so soft against your own as you basically melt against him. You can feel your knees go weak even though you’re sitting down, and Chan’s hands immediately grip your arms as though to cage you from your surroundings. Being in his arms seems like a whole other world to you. They surround you like that warm whiff of air when you get back home after a cold day at work, lock you against his body and protect you against any negativity that may threaten to look your way. Being in his arms, you feel like you’re in a cage you never want to get out from. A cage in which you are complete, you are content, you are loved.

And so, you gently press your palm to his cheek, running his thumb against the high end of his cheekbone, humming when you feel the soft skin underneath. His lips linger against your own for two seconds before he pulls away, feeling your delicate touch against his cheek. Then, he slowly turns to brush his lips against your palm, leaving a soft kiss there, and my god, you feel like your heart is gonna beat out of your chest. It’s too much for you to handle, his gestures are too sweet, to loving for you to not turn into a flustered mess.

He leans in once again, and this time, you cup his cheeks, pulling him closer until your lips meet and move in a synchrony of pure bliss. The hum he lets out is your favorite kind of music, it always build up the want for you to hear more. It’s just a pure expression of love that the both of you share, erasing every memory of anything else except each other. You love him, he loves you. That is all, and that is enough.

You never really knew that the man who wore his heart on his sleeve would end up meaning so much to you, but now that he’s yours, you never want to let him go.

It seems very practiced, owing to the countless times you’ve done this before, yet making your heart flutter all the same when the words “I love you” leave his lips in a hushed whisper. Only you’re allowed to hear those words, that tone, that beaming smile that pulls at his lips when his eyes meet your own even in this darkness. Even in this darkness, he thinks you look absolutely stunning, and all he wants to do is tell you how much he loves you over and over again. Well, that’s love. And love is an amazing thing to experience, you can say for sure.

You let yourself smile into the kiss before leaving a quick peck and pulling away, feeling him do the same before opening his eyes and gazing at your features. You shyly look to the side, noticing the leaves that sway gently where the gentle wind hits them.

Even though the atmosphere is cold, you feel fuzzy and warm when Chan giggles, sparing a quick look to his watch before intertwining your fingers with his.

“Come on, we have some time before leaving, we can play on the swings.”

Oh, he knows the child in you too well.

When you’re done swinging the swings and collecting some flowers that seem fresh, you circle the route of of the park and back to the entrance, it’s already one in the morning. Most — especially your group members — would argue that the both of you should’ve been sleeping by now, owing to your hectic schedule that leaves you weary by the end of the day. But you tell them sometimes, just to get that one hour to spend with your lover, you’re willing to make the sacrifice — and seeing the loving, misty glint in your eyes, they understand.

“So, I guess... I’ll see you tomorrow?” Chan says, and you kick the air gently before pulling your mask over your face. Seeing you, he does the same.

“Yeah, you’ll be in your studio, right? I can drop by.”

“Yeah. So, um...” You and Chan can never seem to ever part ways once your quality time with each other comes to a halt, the both of you want to reach out and embrace, and never leave. You often wonder what lead to your silent life being plagued with the essence of love, but then you see Chan, and you smile when you realise the answer.

And so, as if trying to hold onto the moment, freeze time a bit, you turn to him and pull him into a hug. He immediately responds and wraps his arms around your shoulders, resting his head on your neck as you sway from side to side. The road is quiet with the occasional vehicle speeding past, but you pay no attention to it. All you feel is Chan’s welcoming arms, his familiar smell that clouds your senses and makes you feel relaxed than ever.

“I love you, so much.” You murmur, not even sure if he’s able to hear it, but he does. He always does.

“I love you too.”

At that, you try to pull away to look into his eyes one last time, but Chan doesn’t let you, pulling his arms tighter across you and holding you close.

You laugh. “Chan.”

“Yes?” He drags the word and smirks mischievously.

“I have to go back to the dorms, and so do you.” You remind. “It’s late.”

“Mmh, alright.” He says, straightening himself from the embrace but not quite letting go yet. “But give me one more kiss before you go.”

You raise an eyebrow before looking around. While the interior of the park does have trees and stuff to cover the walls, the entrance doesn’t, and that sparks some nervousness within you, though you aren’t exactly worried. You’ve gotten away with stuff like this before, when either of you gets clingy and wants that one last lingering moment before you go your separate ways.

You lean in slowly and he just stands there, waiting for you to kiss him with that smile that he just can’t contain when he looks at you. When you pull both your masks down and your lips meet, it’s only for one tiny peck. You then quickly pull away and pull your mask over your face again, and Chan, though giggling furiously at the way he can see you’ve gone a little warm at the action, does the same.

You then bid goodbye and walk your way back home, the warmth that lingers all over skin so, so soothing to your mind. It’s like someone took away all your worries, leaving you in a bubble of contentment. It’s almost surprising how in the grand scheme of things, one person could stumble into your way and completely take your breath away, all because of the word we call love. You’ve realised how love means so much to you after Chan entered your life, and you don’t seem to be changing that idea any time soon.

When you’re almost close to home, your phone dings with a message, with the sender id “channieeee <3″. Instantly, you click on the message.

channieeee <3: so channieeee <3: same time tomorrow? channieeee <3: pls 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 pls pls pls pls-

A dizzy, pure smile captures your expression, and so, not wanting to delay your plans to meet your lover again, you reply.

y/n: same time tomorrow, then 🥺💞 love you <3

*:･ﾟ✧ find the other fics here !

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years ago

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Lavender Love (JJK x Reader) 💐💜🔞

🦋 Pairing: Florist!Jeon Jungkook x Mute!Reader

🦋 Genre: Florist!AU, Fluff, Strangers to Lovers AU, smut

• Selective mutism : a severe anxiety disorder where a person is unable to speak in certain social situations, such as with classmates at school or to relatives they do not see very often. It usually starts during childhood and, if left untreated, can persist into adulthood.

🦋 Warnings: mentions of past trauma (no mentions of what exactly), anxiety attack, it’s not romanticized in this so it’s no ‘hero in shining armor knows what to do’ kinda thing, mentions of vomiting and overall just a very uncomfortable situation, Jungkook is actually kinda lost, mutual pining, awkward reader, very very VERY soft smut, like Jesus Christ it’s so sweet, mentions of therapy, hopeless romantic kook, he researched so much just so he can help :(, protective Kook!

🦋 Summary: words only hurt people around you, so when you meet this kind florist while picking up your friends order, you swear to yourself to never speak a word to him. He however, seems to have different plans.

(Again, I want to point out that anxiety attacks are a real thing, and hardly ever ‘just pass’. If you’re uncomfortable with these things, please skip this fic as it is a major part of the story. Everyone experiences these things differently, things depicted in this are personal experiences. If you think you have problems like this, please seek professional help. You’re not broken, you maybe just need a little hand to guide you back on track. Stay safe everyone 💕)

This is a oneshot! If you have any asks, Ideas, or drabble requests for this universe, throw them my way!

You don't remember the last word you spoke to a stranger.

It's probably hidden somewhere, and you'd find it if you really searched for it, however, you didn't really crave to be remembered about what happened afterwards. It didn't matter these days anyways.

You don't remember your school days.

Again, these memories are there, you know it. Yet you've turned them around like a picture hanging on a wall, neatly framing an incident that scarred you to the point of seemingly no return. It didn't matter these days anyways.

You pull your facemask a bit as you waited at the red light, folded paper in your hand, which was hidden in the front pocket of your sweater. People around you didn't really look at you, not caring, and you favored it greatly. You felt your fingers get clammy however, the closer you got to the corner store. Hopefully Miss Jung was there; she knew your mother, and didn't really mention your habit of silence much. Hopefully.

But the closer you got, the more you felt your skin grow cold.

That was not miss Jung.

You desperately wanted to text Yoongi, telling him that you couldn't pick up his order, but he was sick, he needed someone to do it, and you knew you could do it- you had to start somewhere. Your therapist had praised you last month so greatly, telling you how good you were getting at conversing, even if it was just through text or post it notes- it was more than you did a few years ago. But your feet slowed down, hands beginning to shake. You stood against the wall near the entrance, evening out your breathing as you tried to ground yourself again.

You could do this.

Entering the store, familiar bell ringing, you felt a bit more calm as the scent of the various flowers filled your nose. You'd often stayed under the counter when Miss Jung had been working when you were young, her presence calming to you as she didn't care about your 'issues' as others had called it. She always let you make flower crowns and tiny rings, showing you what every one of them meant, uncaring that you never answered her. She always said your smile was enough.

"Hello! How can I help you?" He asked in a friendly manner. His voice was melodic, probably nice to listen to whenever he talked away, making you slightly jealous. Your own was weak, fragile from lack of use. He smiled at you as you hesitantly walked forwards, unfolding the note Yoongi had written and placing it down in front of him, making him pick it up, reading it. "Oh? Lazy gramps can't pick them up himself?" He chuckled, and you wanted to disagree, yet you stopped the thought while it formed. "Ah, I'll get them for you, but are you sure you can carry them all yourself? There's multiple boxes, and eh-" He began, grinning before picking at his skin on his jaw. "-not to be mean but you're kinda short." He said, and your eyes widened. You shook your head, and he leaned his to the side. "No? No what?" He asked, and you began to grow uncomfortable. Your gaze shifted towards the note, pointing towards it, then at yourself, before you nodded. "I eh.." He trailed off, before he smiled encouragingly. "Ah, you're shy? Don't be, I don't bite!" He playfully said, and you could feel the tears prick at the backs of your eyes.

It was unfair really. You wished you could be more open, tell him all you wanted to say, be just as confident as he was being- yet here you were, confusing the guy to no ends just because you couldn't open your mouth. It was pathetic, really, and before you knew you felt the tears gather. You were growing frustrated, hands growing clammy as you tightened them into fists, breathing becoming uneven as you desperately tried to calm yourself. "Ah- you're okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" He tried, hand on your shoulder not helping one bit. He was now confused, maybe even scared, and it was your fault. Why were you being so difficult? Why couldn't you just tell him like every other normal person could? Oh yeah, because you weren't. You were absolutely fucked up, useless for society, not even able to work a proper job-

"Y/N?" The voice sounded dull, as if someone held their hands over your ears, the rushing of your own blood drowning out everything else as your hands and feet became rigid, frozen in place by the overflow of oxygen. "Jungkook dear, please give her space- Y/N sweetheart, can you hear me?" You knew she was talking, but her voice wasn't reaching you at all as the tears fell, sobs wrenching your gut to the point of feeling sick. "Oh sweetheart, come on, quick-" She hurried, unnoticed by you helping your locked body outside through the backdoor with Jungkooks help, who had a worried look on his face as he watched the scene unfold. "Jungkook dear, can you get me a bucket real quick?" He nodded, dashing off to clumsily get a small water bucket, cursing as he knocks down several others, glad that there wasn't another costumer. He got back just in time for Miss Jung to manage to hold the purple plastic container underneath your face as your body shook, bringing back up whatever you'd eaten in its absolute frenzy. "Shh, its okay.." She hummed, before addressing the boy again. "Can you cut some lavender please? A branch should be enough." She asked, as he nodded again, eyes barely leaving your figure. Was that his fault? What did he do wrong? "Jungkook." Miss Jung said to knock him back to reality, as he nodded, walking towards the several flowers as he took out the gardening scissors from his apron, cutting two small branches instead of one for good measure.

When he walked back outside the backdoor, you'd already laid on your side, Miss Jung carefully running her hand over your back as you seemed to still have issues breathing properly, sobs still present as you choked on air. He wordlessly gave his boss what she'd asked for, as he watched her rub the flowers between her hands, the scent filling your nose slowly. It helped after a moment, slowly calming your senses back down, exchanging your now returning sense of hearing and vision with a raging headache. "I'm so sorry I-" He began, but miss Jung sent him a look, shaking her head. She'd just managed to bring you back, she didn't need to throw you back into the circle again.

"Jungkook, can you go help the costumers please?" She asked as she heard the bell, and he hesitantly nodded, before returning.

Well, this ended well.

The next day, Yoongi had you by his side as he stepped inside the flower shop. "Hel- Ah! You!" Jungkook exclaimed, making you shrink in on yourself, readying yourself for whatever he had to say. Yoongi however, voice raspy from his cold, cut him off.

"Yah you idiot, can you ever just do what you're told?" He exclaimed, as Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, fluffy hair falling a bit to the side from the movement. "You got my shit?" He asked, and you gently pulled at his sleeve, a sign that he should at least stop cursing. "Sorry." He mumbled down to you as Jungkook watched the silent exchange with interest. Yoongi coughed, snapping the younger boy back to his senses as he walked to the back, coming back with two boxes. "Thanks." Yoongi simply answered, holding both boxes even though he could see the question in your eyes. You both got ready to leave, as Jungkook stopped you.

"Wait!" He said, rummaging around underneath the counter before he pulled out a tiny envelope, wrapped with a purple ribbon, holding it out to you. "As uhm.. a sorry. For yesterday. I didn't know." He offered, and you took it, nodding. So now he knew. Great. He simply waved, as Yoongi bumped you with his elbow, signaling you to go.

In the car, the older boy suddenly sniffed. "Did he pack the wrong flowers or why does it smell so much like lavender?" He asked, and you shrugged, before remembering the gift. Opening the ribbon, you found a small sheer bag, dried seeds of lavender inside, as well as a note.

'Miss Jung said, writing is easier. So if I didn't screw up yesterday, text me? :) '

"That fucker!" Yoongi laughed before coughing again, making you smile a bit. What exactly was that supposed to mean?

It meant exactly what he said. He genuinely started to reach out to you after you'd texted him your number, sending you random pictures of bouquets he did during the day, of scenery he encountered on his way to or off work, memes, or simply asking you how your day was. He slowly found out more and more about you, never really asking why you didn't speak- because the more he began to unravel your personality, the less he cared about that. He found out that you liked sports, you played in a soccer team, and worked as an online tech support from home. He thought of it as absolutely the coolest thing ever, even asking to see a game of yours if you'd let him.

Which had led to this moment.

Jungkook was sitting down, several girls side-eyeing him as they wondered why he was there. His dark attire and several piercings, as well as the ink painting his arm that he'd exposed due to the heat as he'd rolled up the sleeves of his sweater completely covering up the fact that he actually worked with delicate things such as tiny flowers, able to make the best flower crowns of all time. He denied their request to sit with them, texting you instead that he was there, and where he sat. He watched as you read his message before looking up, finding him as he grinned, waving. You meekly waved back, shy smile on your lips as he heard the whispers from his side. He gave them a look to shut them up, before leaning forward, eager to see you in action.

He was mesmerized as he saw you run, every step you took seemingly perfectly timed and placed. You were the shortest one out of your team, but that did not put you at a disadvantage at all it seemed; you ducked under another player trying to push you almost expertly, making him jump up and push his fist into the air in victory as you scored.

When you were done with your game, he'd already walked down the stairs, meeting you as you smiled at his figure, a bit taken aback by his choice of clothing. He always made sure to cover up his tattoos in the flowershop, Miss Jung not too fond of him scaring away costumers who had a more traditional view on things. He held up his hand before lowering it a bit for you to properly hit it in a high five, internally beaming at the fact that you'd slowly grown more comfortable with him. He carried your bag for you, shaking away his stray strands of hair that had fallen into his face from the slight wind. "Ah, here." He remembered, giving you your facemask back, remembering that you always liked to wear it so people thought you were maybe sick and just didn't talk because of that. But after months with him; you didn't need it anymore. So you simply took it from him, putting it into your pocket. His eyes widened a bit but he smiled afterwards, actually growing a bit shy.

And he almost tripped over his own feet as he felt your tiny hand grab his to hold.

"Oh Y/N! Jungkook is already changing. He said you're both going on a date?" Miss Jung winked at you, making you look down shyly, fingers pulling at the hem of your skirt a bit as you nodded. He'd asked you out a few days ago, immediately replying that you could also just stay at his or your place, and that you didn't have to go out. You'd thanked him for it, and you both decided to simply get a shit ton of junk food to take home to his place, planning on watching a short movie and maybe playing some video games after. "I'm happy. He's a good guy, but don't tell him I said that, his ego is too inflated already, that poor boy!" She hummed, as Jungkook whined from behind her.

"Yah, my ego isn't inflated at all, what are you saying?!" He said while pouting, making you chuckle a but under your breath. He smiled, walking up to you as he waved at miss Jung. "Thanks for closing the shop, we'll be on our way then!" He exclaimed, and she just nodded, smile genuine on her lips.

"So!" He said, stretching his arms above his head before he took your hand, walking across the street with you as he led you both to a fast food place close by. "I thought about The Cat Returns tonight?" He asked, and you nodded, happy with his choice. Against the stigma floating around him judged by his attire and collections of tattoos and piercings, Jungkook was actually a huge fan of Studio Ghibli and everything romantic. He was a bit cheesy, but you'd grown to appreciate it- maybe even love it. The more you both conversed and spend time together, the closer you felt yourself getting with him- without forcing yourself to. It just came natural with him, the hand holding not making you feel weird or as if people were staring, his jacket around your shoulders never feeling heavy. Being close to him was comforting, hearing his voice was soothing, being with him was.. like your personal stack of lavender, always ready to calm your nerves.

So when you were walking to his place, apartment still a bit foreign to you since you'd only visited him a handful of times, you didn't feel any pressure. You simply took off your shoes, immediately greeting his two pet rabbits in his living room, crouching down to pet them. "I feel like you only love me for my pets." He explained playfully scandalized, making you grin as you continued to run your hand over the soft fur.

"Alright!" He'd exclaimed as everything was set on the table, his arms on the back of his couch. "Will you stay with them or actually sit down with me? I'm getting lonely." He whined, and you rolled your eyes before you skipped to the couch, stumbling a bit as he chuckled, catching you as you almost fell onto his lap. "Easy there tiger, and here I thought you wanted to take things slow." He laughed, voice low as he turned on the movie, very aware of the blush coating your cheeks.

It started to cover his own soon as well however, as you slowly but surely started to cuddle up to him.

A kiss was what started it. One, then two, and the third deepened the feeling of want. You thought you'd feel pressured, hesitant, shy, or maybe even scared- but you didn't. This was Jungkook. And Jungkook was your safe place.

"Wait.." He hesitantly said, eyes almost shut in a way as if he was hurt, holding your shoulders as he looked at you. "I- I'm sorry, I don't know what came over myself there.." He chuckled, shifting a bit as he suddenly pulled on his sweater to hide his growing erection. He'd never been ashamed of it in the past, but now, it seemed out of place. It felt as if it made him look like he couldn't wait, as if he was impatient, or taking advantage of the situation. You simply took the receipt of the food, turning it around as you clicked the ballpoint pen on his table, writing.

'It's okay. I want to.'

His eyes widened as he got more serious. "You don't have to. I can totally wait." He said, a gentle smile on his lips as he watched you write another line.

'There's no one I'd rather go this far with.'

His heart began to beat heavier, if that made sense. It felt as if every beat was suddenly more meaningful, louder, more present than ever, as he watched you write.

'I'm yours.'

You gently laid the pen down, now looking at him as he smiled, kissing your lips again deeply as the thunderstorm outside raged on, lightning brightening the room for a second as he couldn't seem to stop kissing you. "Thank you." He hummed, before diving in again. "Thank you." He said again, before made you sit on his lap, straddling him as he chuckled in bliss. "I promise I'll take good care of you." He vowed as you'd closed your eyes, simply giving yourself to him as his hands held you safely. "Now, and forever." He whispered, before he stood up, strong arms underneath your bottom as he carried you out of the living room, into his dark bedroom that only occasionally lit up from the lightning outside. The rain hit the window harshly, yet he didn't seem to hear it at all as he let you fall on the mattress back first, chuckling as he almost fell on top of you, making you giggle.

The sound prominent in his ears as he swore he could've cried.

"You sound so beautiful." He hummed against your neck, his words never wiping the smile off of your face as he moved you to lay down properly, clothes slowly loosing purpose as every item slowly met the floor with a soft thud. He praised every curve, every flaw you saw in yourself as he closed his eyes in pure bliss, no need for visual confirmation to know that you were perfect to him. For the first time in forever you felt free, completely safe and guarded as he moved above you, silent gasps and sighs the only thing present as he stood up for a moment, having to search for a condom before he met you on the bed again, giggling like school kids caught doing mischief as he struggled to open the package, making you laugh at him.

He decided he loved that sound.

If someone was to ask him what he thought your voice sounded like, his first reply would genuinely be that he did not care. It wasn't mandatory in what you both had, he'd learned that over the months and months he'd spent with you. Words surely made communication a bit simpler, but he didn't need them to show you his love and adoration for you. It proved his worth way better than words ever could.

Wrapping the safety over his length he kissed you again, seemingly hooked on the simple gesture as he held himself with one hand, the other one guiding him into you, slowly, as to not make it hurt.

He'd never hurt you.

He didn't rush, there was no need to. This wasn't about reaching a goal, a high, or any end of some sorts. He simply relished in being close to you, in the huge amount of trust you gave him willingly, naturally. He felt honored, as cheesy as it sounded, he felt as if there was no bigger achievement in his life than knowing that you gave yourself into his arms simply because you cherished him just as much as he did you. He held you tightly against him as he slowly moved, pace slow and almost lazy as you slightly squirmed and reached around his shoulders, holding him close as well, both of you existing, nothing more.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you, maybe it was the high of his own happiness in knowing that he held your heart, but he soon felt himself grow sensitive, hand reaching between your bodies to roll your pear between his inked fingers, making you mewl underneath him.

He decided he loved that sound as well.

Your back arched as you came undone underneath him, clenching center helping his own release to happen shortly after. He gasped out, catching his breath as he rested his forehead against yours, suddenly laughing as if he was drunk. And he kind of was; drunk on the realization that this had indeed happened, that he actually was here, holding you, having you all for himself. He slipped out of you after a moment, pulling the condom off of himself as he tied it and threw it into the bin close to his bed, before slipping underneath his blankets, holding you close, sighing in gentle comfort as no words were spoken. Until you moved a bit, lips close to his ear, as you whispered.

"I love you."

And he decided, he loved that sound most of them all.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook imagine #bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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all1e23 · 4 years ago

Text

Tricks & Treats

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Orion’s Halloween is quickly turning rotten until someone helps to turn her day around with a few sweet treats.

Warnings: N/A Unless you count a disgusting amount of fluff to be a warning.

A/N: A new Astrophile drabble! This is set in the very far future, Halloween 2042. Orion is 27 and it’s just the kiddos. No Beck or Bucky. This does have some bits (okay a lot of bits) of the the shared Price of Astrophile universe collab with Tara and if you haven’t read The Price of Gold you need to! Thank you to my beautiful @moonbeambucky for looking it over for me. If you have not read the series Astrophile, THERE WLL BE MAJOR SPOILERS.

Catch up on the series here!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!*

Halloween 2042

Today has been a disaster. A complete and utter nightmare. It started with spilling hot tea all over her copy of Star Lore and down the front of her favorite skirt, which forced Ori to settle for the little black number Cassie bought her as a Halloween costume. It’s supposed to be a cat but it’s really a dress accompanied by cat ears. It’s not that it’s awful, it’s not her usual taste. It’s a simple spaghetti strap dress, sweetheart necklace that doesn’t dip too low and cut just above her knee. As far as Halloween costumes go it’s fairly modest but it’s a little tight compared to the rest of Ori’s closet.

Little did she know that was just the beginning to her terrible day. This was the first day in months that Ori was running the store on her own. No mom to fall back on. Not that it hasn’t happened before. At fourteen Ori was working the floor by herself so none of this was new but, today has been a nightmare from the moment the doors opened. It was unusually busy for a holiday, especially Halloween. It wasn’t often that the store was packed with customers on a day like today and there were moments when Ori began to feel claustrophobic with the amount of people filling the tiny shop.

Half of the morning was spent on decorating the window display for a new series that was set to be released at the beginning of November. The copies were scheduled to be delivered today, but they never showed and when Ori called to check on their status, the man she was unlucky enough to be put in contact with screamed at her, explaining that it was a holiday and not everyone spent their lives working.

It was one of those days where she wished she was ten years old again and Bucky could swoop in and save the day.

By some miracle, there was a lull, and she was able to slip behind the counter where her phone is kept when she’s working the floor alone. She swiped away the missed calls from Cassie and ignored the texts from Leo. There was only one person who knew how to calm the swirling mess in her head right now and she knows how pathetic she looks, twenty-seven, and tears swimming in her eyes. She didn’t care because just hearing his voice would help settle her. Theo’s voice rang her ear and as happy as she was to hear it, part of her wished it wasn’t his voicemail.

“H-hey,” Ori’s voice cracked, she cleared her throat ridding it of the tears choking her. “I know you’re at work. I’m sorry I’m calling. Please tell me I didn’t get you in trouble. I’m so sorry if I did. I just… I needed to hear your voice. I’m having a really awful day. That party with Cassie is tonight. I don’t want to go even though Cassie says it will be fun. And this new series. This stupid dumb shipment. They said they would be here today and I spent all morning doing the window display between the mad rush of customers by the way, they never showed. When I called to check in they said they can’t get here because it’s a holiday and well, they yelled at me. Now, I have to find something to replace the window display and spend another hour fixing what I did this morning. The store is so incredibly busy. I haven’t even stopped for lunch. I’m hungry and tired and I hate this day. Great. Now, I’m whining. Did I mention that I miss you? Well, I do and-”

“Ma'am?” A deep voice grabs Ori’s attention and she turns around to find a man in a UPS shirt standing behind the counter, she smiles as kindly as she can and pulls the phone away from her mouth to answer him, “I’m so sorry. Can I help you?”

“We have your delivery.”

Ori can feel the color drain from her face. She shouldn’t have that many boxes and the publisher on the clipboard being handed to her isn’t right.

“Wait… No. No, I didn’t order that. That’s not mine-”

“Orion Barnes?”

“Well, yes that’s me but,” She sighs, holding back the whimper that’s threatening to escape her. “Can you hold on just one second?"

Ori didn’t wait for his okay like she normally would have, she stepped towards her office and put the phone back up to her ear, “I guess my terrible, awful, no good day isn’t over. Talk to you soon? I hope.”

Orion had her eyes glued to a stack of invoices in front of her when the bell above the shop door rang. Thankfully, she was able to clear up the whole shipping mixup, but dealing with that set her even further behind inventory. It didn’t matter much. She knew who it was without having to raise her head. Ori didn’t have to look up to know her sister had arrived. Cassie skipped nearly everywhere, she has since she was old enough to walk and between the jingling of the bracelets on her wrist, the massive keyring on her purse, and the bells on her shoes (that had nothing to do with Halloween) it was easy to know when she arrived. The jingling came to a stop next to Ori, and a slight nudge to her hip that made Ori look up from the papers in her hand to find Cassie handing over a small brown paper bag from the bakery next door. Ori narrows her eyes at the gesture. Is she trying to butter her up about the party tonight?

“What’s this?”

“Cinnamon bagel from next door,” Cassie said with a certain self-satisfied taunt to her voice. “A certain boy texted me and said you hadn’t eaten today and asked if I could bring you something when I come by to pick you up for tonight."

Ori beams brightly as she peeks in the bag, avoiding her baby sister'’ suspicious and slightly giddy gaze.

“Question. Why is Theo texting me about your food needs and how does he know about tonight?”

She doesn’t answer, but this isn’t unusual. Like Bucky, Ori’s softer, gentler when it comes to revealing things close to her heart. There are some secrets she’s not ready for the world (or herself) to know yet. Cassie on the other hand is loud, in all things, but especially with what’s written on her heart. She loves just as deeply as Ori does but she’s quick to shout it from the rooftops, without a hint of fear.

Ori wishes she could be like that sometimes.

“Something is up. I can tell by the smile you’re trying to hide!”

"I’m smiling because I was hungry and it was very thoughtful of you both.”

Ori finally gets a look at Cassie’s costume when Cassie sheds her coat and she can’t help the surprised laugh that slips out. She’s in a white cotton dress that looked like it was made from one of those adult onesies, covered in glitter from head to toe and the rainbow leggings she has on matches the tail sticking out of the bottom of her coat and the mane on her hood she has pushed down.

“What are you wearing?!”

“What? I’m a sparkly unicorn. I look adorable!”

Ori grins.

“Yes, you do. You look beautiful.”

The bell chimes again and Ori greets her brother without looking, he’s never far behind Cassie after all. Leo looked pretty much like he always does, slacks and a button-up white collared shirt under his coat but he was wearing black square-frame glasses. He leans over the mahogany counter and presses a kiss on Ori’s cheek. Whatever Cassie was hoping to get out of Ori would never happen now that Leo was present. Ori laughed at the pout on Cassie’s face, picking at the bagel as she scans over the invoice in front of her.

“Ready for tonight?” Leo asks as he steals a piece of her bagel.

Ori shrugs a little, glancing at the clock and sighed when she saw it was nearing six. They would be pushing her out the door soon. It’s not that she didn’t like going out, she did. Things have been off lately and she hasn’t felt much like socializing, which is why her siblings insisted they have a party. If it turns out to be as terrible as she predicts it’s going to be, she can always call Bucky to pick her up because no matter what Bucky still drops everything to come to her rescue whenever she needs it.

“It’s going to be fun!”

“I guess. I’m not really a party person.”

“I know but you make the cutest cat ever.”

Leo’s brow furrows and the worry on his face has him looking so much like Bucky it almost makes Ori laugh.

“You’ve been working a lot. Skipping family stuff. When was the last time you came to family dinner and didn’t rush out the door? Mom said you’re working more hours than she is-”

“I should! She deserves time with dad and it’s not like I have a life waiting on me right now.”

It’s been a little over a year since she called off her wedding and ended things with Cole and while she’s happy that relationship has ended, she’s nowhere near where she thought she would be at her age. She had plans and lists, milestones she promised herself she would hit by a certain age and now she’s… floating. No purpose. No real path. Simply riding her mother’s coattails, managing a store she wouldn’t have without her mother and she has no idea where she’s going or what her future is going to look like. It’s terrifying. So maybe she’s been spending a little more time at work to keep her mind busy. Sometimes it doesn't quite calm the chaos in her head, but staying busy helps.

“That’s not true. You have us and, yeah, mom deserves a break but so do you. We thought it would be good to get out of the house. If you hate it I’ll bring you home.”

Ori smiles. Leo has always been their protector, ready to jump in and save his mom and sisters from anything that could cause them the slightest bit of discomfort. She couldn't be aggravated with him for wanting to help, he’s only following in Bucky’s footsteps.

“Yeah, okay. Today has been a mess. Give me a few minutes to wrap things up, okay?”

She’s barely had time for her eyes to focus on the words in front of her when Cassie chirps from her side, “The window display is a mess. What happened there?”

“Cassie!”

“I’m just saying. Want me to help you fix it tomorrow?”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Ori snatches the brown bag with her bagel resting on top and heads back towards the office in hopes she will be able to focus there, “and yes. I would like help. Thank you.”

“I’ll watch the desk!” Cassie shouts behind her, getting an appreciative smile from Ori. The quiet doesn’t last long. The shop bell is ringing and Cassie is yelling for her before she’s managed to make it through one invoice.

“Ori! Get out here. There’s a delivery.” Cassie’s shouts are piercing her ears and she’s certain the entire bakery next door can hear her clear as day. Ori steps back out onto the sales floor, frowning and having every intention of reminding Cassie not to scream in the store, but she can’t because she’s staring at the largest bundle of lavender she’s ever seen.

“I-- this. What is this?”

“They are for you!” Cassie squeals but quickly stops smiling and looks at the older gentleman who is wearing a warm smile when he confirms that they are indeed for her sister.

“Yes, ma’am,” The man says with a chuckle, “If you’re Orion Barnes. These are for you.”

He passes the delicate bundle wrapped in brown paper in her arm and passes over a pen for her signature. She quickly scribbles her name and pulls the small white card out of the twine, grinning foolishly at what’s written.

“Who are they from?” Cassie begs, jumping up and down. “I already know but I need to see the card myself.”

Ori presses the card to her chest to keep Cassie from sneaking a peek, she’s not willing to share a bit of the sweetness written there. Cassie quickly gives up on the card and snatches the receipt before Ori can grab it, finding exactly what she was looking for.

“Theo Tucker! I knew it!”

The thin paper is pulled from Cassie’s hand by Leo, who is staring at the receipt with a deep frown as if he can’t process what he is seeing.

“Why is Theo sending you flowers? Where did he find a place that delivers lavender like that? More importantly… why is Theo sending you flowers?"

Ori can’t answer her brother, she’s too busy grinning like a fool and hiding her blushing cheeks behind the soft purple sprigs in her arms.

“What do you mean ‘Why is Theo sending her flowers?’ Because he loves her. Am I the only that’s been paying attention?”

"He loves you. It's the same thing and you don’t get flowers.”

“It is a hundred percent not the same thing, Leo.”

There’s the faint sound of the twins arguing in the background, “How is it different?” “Leo you can’t be serious. You’ve seen the way he looks at her!” She should probably stop their bickering but she can’t. She can’t focus on anything, not while she’s daydreaming about California.

Maybe it wasn’t the worst day, after all.

“So, are you going to wear a sprig of lavender as your catnip? Seems like it added a little spring in your step.”

“Cassie!”

Cassie had squealed when Ori asked her to draw a cat nose and whiskers on her face. If she was going to dress as a cat she had to go all out. The ears, while cute, weren’t enough to satisfy the perfectionist in her. Before they left her apartment, she sent Theo a thank you text and a picture of her all dressed up. The simple response, you look beautiful, makes her stomach flip and leaves her head spinning. It drops a fraction when Leo asks why she’s smiling at her phone with such a goofy grin.

No one is ready for that answer, so she tucked her phone in her purse for now.

The minute they arrived, Leo stepped through the front door and pulled his shirt open to reveal a giant S stitched onto his blue undershirt and he proceeded to do several more times throughout the night. Despite her reservations about the party, it wasn’t so bad. Or maybe she was simply in a better mood. She spent a better part of the night hanging around Cassie and Ariel, who was dressed as Tinker Bell and her lovesick Peter Pan never strayed from her side for long. Ori didn’t know a lot of the people currently filling Leo and Ollie’s apartment, so it felt safer to stick by family.

At some point a small group of people broke off from the larger party and started playing spin the bottle. It was strange to watch twenty year olds play a childhood game. There was bobbing for apples which didn’t seem all that sanitary if you asked Ori, which is why she declined rather emphatically when asked if she wanted to try.

Halfway through the night their mom texted asking for pictures, so she took a few with Cassie and Ariel, some of her and Leo and of course all of them posing together. She even sent the few of Ariel and Ollie off to the Tuckers. Another text comes in but it’s not a response from her parents, a very handsome Indiana Jones pops up and she can’t help the huge smile that forms. He looks adorable with that hat and playful smirk and she tells him so. Ori peered over her phone to find Cassie and Ariel smiling, she cleared her throat and quickly hid her phone back in her purse.

“Oh, look. There are some mummy cupcakes left. I better go grab one before they disappear,” Ori had muttered as she quickly tried to divert attention off of her.

There was every Halloween themed treat you could think of. The chocolate covered strawberries dressed up as ghosts, bloody s’mores, and candy corn rice krispy treats were gone first. When Ori asked how they managed to do all this, Leo admitted with a sheepish grin that their mom had done most of the baking and Cassie and Ariel had decorated. She should have known Ariel had a hand in the planning, it was too well organized for Leo and Ollie to handle on their own.

The party started to die down a little after one in the morning, Leo offered his bed but Cassie was already fast asleep and there was no way she was sharing with that human koala. After refusing to take Leo’s spot on the couch, Leo brought her back home with the promise to text him the minute he got back. There’s no way he would let her catch a cab back to her place all by herself.

It’s nearly three by the time Ori trudges up the stairs to her apartment. She’s tired, but it’s a good kind of tired. Not that she will ever admit this to Cassie but tonight was fun. It wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be, and a very important someone was missing but it wasn’t as bad as she envisioned. She slips out of her heels and drops her purse on the table by the front door, she can clean up tomorrow when she’s not struggling to keep her eyes open. Right as she reaches kitchen island where her bouquet is sitting in her mother’s chipped mint green vase, her phone rings in her hand and she can’t help but grin at the name staring back at her.

“Hey, you.”

Ori grins, dusting a finger over a stray sprig and she’s suddenly not feeling as tired.

“My day? You know, it wasn't so bad actually. It got better there at the end. Even better now.”

#Orion Barnes #astrophile files #Theo Tucker x Orion Barnes #Theo x Ori #the price of astrophile #poa #Astrophile

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seeker-of-the-stars · 4 years ago

Note

Okay, this is the most important request of all - what if, somehow, some bots ended up in YOUR house? You, as in, the one writing all these awesome drabbles.

"Annnnd done," I laid back in bed with my hands behind my head, staring at my computer screen and reading over the drabble I just finished. It was a simple request; one where Starscream and Knock Out went out on a date and confessed their love to one another.

"Starscream, I just wanted to say... I love you. I loved you from the very beginning. Nothing gets my engine running like your gorgeous finish."

"Oh Knock Out," Starscream blushed. "I've been waiting so long to hear you say that. I ask, no, I beg for you to take me right here and now under the stars."

"But what if Megatron should catch us?"

"Shh," Starscream put a digit to his lips. "You let me worry about that, my love."

"Yes, this is definitely one of my best stories so far," I said to myself, smiling. "I can't wait for everyone to read it."

As I was basking in the brilliance of my masterfully written fanfic, I heard a loud ripping noise above me.

"What the hell-" I screamed as I looked up and saw the face of none other than Knock Out, who had just ripped the ceiling off of my apartment. Ignoring my cries of shock, the red medic reached down and picked me up, holding me up to his face.

"Ugh, how are you fleshies so loud? Such small bodies shouldn't be capable of making so much noise."

"You're... Y-You're-"

"Yes, yes, I'm Knock Out, medic extraordinaire and the most gorgeous face to ever grace your backwater planet. But you already knew all that, didn't you?"

"You... giant robot... my house..."

"You are capable of speaking more than two words at a time, I hope? If not, then this was a huge waste of my time, and I do not appreciate my time being wasted." He narrowed his optic ridges, causing me to gulp.

"S-Sorry," I apologized. "What do you want with me?"

"You're seeker of the stars on Tumblr, correct?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with-" I instantly turned red, thinking of all the stories I've written along with all the times I had thirsted over the bot in front of me.

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," an evil grin appeared on Knock Out's face. "Me and a few of my friends want to have a little chat with you about your content. Let's go meet them, shall we?"

"Look, I don't know what you saw, but-"

"Save it. You'll have plenty of time to talk about your depravities with the Autobots."

***

"Knock Out," Ratchet rubbed the space between his optics. "How many times do we have to tell you not to kidnap humans?"

"Hey, you don't know what she wrote! She writes stories about me dating Starscream of all people, it's pure slander! Look at this slag she was writing when I found her!" He handed Ratchet the tiny laptop in the palm of his servo.

"Hey! It's called fanfiction and it is art!" I defended. A second too late, I realized what Knock Out had given Ratchet, and my heart stopped.

"...Which you absolutely shouldn't read." I tried to wiggle out of Knock Out's grasp and reach for my laptop. "Give it back! I don't go through your stuff, do I?"

"No, you just write about our romantic lives and post them for strangers to read online instead," Knock Out quipped.

Ratchet squinted at the too small screen. "Ugh, this is hurting my optics, let me put it up on the main computer."

"Wait, you don't have to do that-"

A moment later, my story was up on a screen over two stories tall, for all optics in the room to see.

"Oh god," I groaned as both bots read over the fic.

"Well, this is... certainly something," Ratchet said. "Humans do come up with the strangest things."

"There's a few stories about you and Wheeljack on her blog too. Here, let me show you."

"Why do you hate me?" I glared at Knock Out.

"Because I don't like fleshies writing about me doing... things with my mortal enemies."

"Hey guys, what's going on? And who's the human?"

"Wheeljack!" Knock Out said, turning toward the newcomer. "Come in, mon ami. This human here has written some interesting things about you and Ratchet and she would love to show you them."

"No I wouldn't!"

"No she doesn't!" Ratchet said.

"Written things, huh? Is she some kind of undercover reporter trying to expose us?"

"See for yourself," Knock Out smirked.

"It's fine, Wheeljack." Ratchet said, standing in front of the screen. "Just kids goofing around, nothing you need to worry about."

"Hey, I'm in my twenties!"

Ratchet shot me a glare. "Do I look like I care?"

"C'mon Doc, just show me the damn thing."

Ratchet sighed. "Fine, but if you speak a word about it to anyone, I will take away your lab privileges."

"As if that's ever stopped me," Wheeljack chuckled. He stopped as his optics scanned over the words, barely raising his optic ridges.

"Well, I don't see what all the fuss is about," he said. "Unless you're afraid that people will start to think that you have a crush on me."

"I absolutely do not have a "crush" on you! What do you think I am, some school bot?"

"I think we all know you haven't been a school bot since the Predacons roamed Cybertron."

"I hate you," Ratchet groaned. "I hate all of you."

"What should we do about the human?" Knock Out asked. "I vote that we squish her like a bug."

"Wow, rude," I glared up at him.

"Knock Out shut up," Ratched sighed. "Wheeljack, take her home. We really don't need abduction charges on our heads and I don't trust this one to take her back in one peace."

"There's one problem with that," I said. "Knock Out kind of tore the roof off of my apartment."

"You what?!" Ratchet turned on the red medic.

"Well, how else was I supposed to get to her? Walk through the front door?"

"No, you're not supposed to kidnap people in the first place!" Ratchet turned to me with exhaustion in his optics. "You can stay with us until your apartment is fixed. Just as long as you let any family members and friends you have know that you are not being held against your will and that there's no reason to involve the police."

I grinned at the Autobot medic. "So, what you're saying is... we're having a sleepover?"

"... if you want to put it that way, then fine."

I grinned, a bubble of excitement welling up in me. "This is officially, the best day of my life."

#knock out #ratchet #wheeljack #drabbles #fanfic #self insert (kind of?)#thanks! i had a blast with this prompt!#i don't write first person that often so i apologize if it seems kind of off

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hoebii · 4 years ago

Text

Like me better

Pairing : Park Jimin x Reader

Genre : Fluff, Highschool!Au, e2l, rivals

Rating : PG13

Warning : ‘Curse’ words are mentioned (is ‘shit’ even a curse word fhgjv), OC wanting to choke Jimin and not in the kinky way, brief mention of Jimin being a playboy thot, hating on mint chocolate because it’s the worst flavour to exist you can fight me on this

Wc : 4k

A/N : Alright, this was originally supposed to be a birthday drabble but it got a little out of hand as you can see. We had a whole lot planned for this fic but it got too long oops- so we decided to cut it short and keep the ending open huhu. Happiest birthday to our precious maknae @heejinnien from @xiaokoo (who also made this AMAZING banner btw) and I. Hope you like your present baby! We love you so so so much~<3 Also this isn’t as edited as I’d like it to be but I got impatient okay don’t @ me :<

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

The bustling crowd of students bumped into you repeatedly as you weaved through them to get to class. You kept a strong grip on your books so as to not drop them. People squeezed passed as you tried not to trip and fall flat on your face. You had slept through your alarms and were currently rushing to your class, cursing at yourself for this blunder in your head.

“Sorry, excuse me, oh shit!” You catch yourself as you tumbled to the ground. Your books splay across the floor as you winced at the sore feeling. Hopefully, no one would step on you or your books - you had paid good money for them!-. As for tripping over, you looked over your shoulder, glaring when you caught sight of a group of boys laughing.

“Aw is little princess hurt?~” You heard one of them call out, the others snickering in the background. You ignored them and started gathering all your books, telling yourself they weren’t worth the trouble. You were almost done picking up all the books on the ground when one was suddenly snatched from your grasp. Looking up at the culprit you see Park Jimin, the bane of your existence, holding it up.

“Are you sure you even need books?” He snickers, flicking through it. “You’re not even smart, why bother studying if it doesn’t do you any good?”

You feel your blood boil. How dare he?! You were smarter than him in every possible way. He had no right to mock you, sure he was smart but you always placed second. If there was one thing you hated, it was being second best to Park Jimin.

“You’ll just come second like always.”

That comment hit you hard. You tried to keep your cool, resisting the urge to punch him in the face. Sure, Jimin was annoying but there was no way you were going to create a scene because of it. Not again. Instead, you rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore him and walked away. There would be no reason to argue with a dumbass. Why waste your time?

Jimin watched as you walked away. He smirked to himself. Despite acting calm, he’d known you long enough to know that you were fuming inside. There were buttons he knew how to push to get the reaction he wanted and he thoroughly enjoyed provoking you.

--------

You stumbled into the classroom, panting from the light jog. “Damn I need to get back in shape, Jesus Christ.” you whispered to yourself.

“Miss Y/L/N, care to explain why you’re five minutes late to the class?” Your professor’s voice boomed in the small classroom. You look at him, giving him a sheepish smile as you rub your neck.

“I… got lost…?”

What was that?! You wanted to smack yourself at your own words. So much for your perfect attendance.

“You got lost?”

“Y...es…”

Your professor took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Just, just go to your seat.”

You scurried to your seat, setting down your books and sitting down. You heard snickering from beside you and you turned your head slightly towards the sound to see none other than Park Jimin laughing at you. Feeling your face flush in embarrassment, you turned towards your professor and started jotting down notes. You were not going to get riled up by Jimin during a class.

-----------

It’s official. Life hates you. You must have been some sort of a witch in your last life who thrived by torturing others. That had to be it. Why else would you ever get partnered with Park freaking Jimin for your science project?! Apparently, the professor had said it was because you two were ‘top students that will compliment each other well’. But you’re certain it was actually because she hated you and you must have tortured her or something in your past life and this was her way of getting revenge. You’re pretty sure you came up with at least 7 ways to end Park Jimin in the time he took to move his seat closer to you for ‘discussing details about the project.’

“So you’re gonna draw the diagram and write everything,” Jimin started as soon as he sat down. He dumped his bags to one corner taking out the necessities. “I will be supervising you as I’m clearly the better one here.”

Oh how much you craved to just lean forward and wrap your fingers around his neck and choke him. How can a person be this insufferable? You could just shove a damn pen up his-

“Alright class dismissed! Remember, the deadline is on Monday next week! Have a nice weekend.” Your professor announced, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, don’t screw up the project.”

With that Jimin left you sitting there fuming at him. You let out a tired sigh and begin packing up to leave too, mind running wild. Why couldn’t Jimin just be a good person for once?

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

The weekend seemed to go by in a flash, just you working on the project with Jimin, who had surprisingly been quite helpful. Just when you thought he had a heart, he had said it was ‘so you don’t ruin my grades.’ Yeah nevermind he still sucks.

What you didn’t know was Jimin being nice - well as nice as a jerk can get anyway - was because he had a bet to win. One of the boys had proposed a bet after class when he caught Jimin bickering with you yet again. The bet was simple really, ask you out and date you for a while before leaving you. Jimin had refused at first but then everyone started taunting him. Who liked getting mocked? No one. It was plain simple anyways, no one would actually get hurt, wasn’t like you liked him. So he accepted.

It wasn’t easy to catch your attention, given the fact the both of you were mortal enemies, it was near impossible. He did everything in his power so you would look at him but all tactics had somehow managed to flop. There was only one other way of actually getting you to notice him and that was annoying you. However, that would ruin the whole point of the bet.

“Y/n, Y/n, Y/n.” Jimin chanted as he poked you on the cheek incessantly. “Y/n pay attention to meeee.” He continued to whine.

You felt your right eye twitch. Why was this dumbass bothering you?! There was no reason for him to even be five feet close to you.

“What is it Jimin?” You turn to him, a sickly sweet smile on your face. “What is so important that you’re trying to talk to me?”

Jimin grinned, his eyes turning into crescents as he poked his cheek and gave a wink. “Hi~ How are you doing?”

Is he for real right now? Did he think he was cute? You felt like throwing up. “Park what are you up to? You never act,” you started, eyes squinting in suspicion, “like whatever you’re doing right now.”

Jimin gasped and placed a hand on his chest as if in pain before exclaiming, “What?! Me? Up to something? Impossible, I’m as innocent as an angel.”

An angel? More like a devil. There was no way he was telling the truth. You’d known him long enough and not once in your life had he treated you with such...whatever that emotion was.

“Right. An angel. Okay.” You nodded.

“Do you not believe me? You can ask anyone on this campus and they would tell you how amazing I am.” He gestured his hands wildly.

You scoffed at that, of course they would, he had slept with the majority and had the remaining wrapped around his tiny fingers. Plus, no one wanted to cross Park Jimin. He ruled the campus and everyone knew it.

“Listen, just get to the point. I don’t have time for this nonsense.” You said, rolling your eyes and huffing. You had to get to your next class in about five minutes. There was no way you were going to be late because some idiot was bothering you.

“Go on a date with me.”

You choked on air at that, did you hear that right? “E-excuse me what?!”

Jimin shrugged and crossed his hands, flexing slightly, “You heard me, go on a date with me this weekend. Heard there's a new ice cream shop here, we could go there.”

“You want to take me on a date?” You look at him skeptically. Was this a test? Were you being filmed? “You’re joking.”

“No.” He fixed you with a stare. “I’m serious. One date, if you don’t enjoy that one date, I promise I won't bother you ever again.”

You stood there staring at him, alarm bells ringing in your head. This can’t be real. He’s lying. “You? Never bothering me ever again? That’s like saying you don’t sleep with everyone you meet.”

“I didn’t sleep with you.”

“That’s different!” You exclaimed, face flushing. “You hate me!”

Jimin tilted his head, his nose scrunching up. “I never said I hate you.” You open your mouth ready to retaliate. “You simply assumed I did, my actions don’t mean anything unless I say something.”

You stood speechless. There had to be one occasion where he had stated he hated you. One. You searched your brain. Sure enough there was no such memory.

Not wanting to lose to Jimin nonetheless you stomped your feet and said, “Yeah well that makes no sense! Haven’t you heard ‘actions speak louder than words’? I thought you were smart” You tsked, shaking your head as if you were disappointed.

“But I’m standing here asking you out, I’m sure that counters all the things I’ve done to you.” He gives you a sly smirk, one you’re all too familiar with. “There’s really two options Y/n. One’s yes and the other is...yes. Which one do you choose?”

If you could you would have burned him to a crisp with your glare. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been gifted with laser vision like superman. It would have been quite a gift if you had. Imagine how peaceful life would be without Park Jimin judging your every move. Then again, you would miss him. Wait what?! You shook your head to clear your mind before looking at Jimin.

“No.”

Jimin’s eyes widened as he spluttered. “W-what do you mean no?!”

“N-O. No. Don’t tell me you forgot basic english.”

Jimin clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring at you. No one had ever turned him down. Whatever Park Jimin wants he gets. Right now he wants you.

“Why not?”

You gave him a look. “Well, it isn’t exactly a secret that you sleep with anything that has two legs. I don't even know why you’re asking me out, you never go on dates.”

“That's because you’re different.”

You scoff. “Listen Park, this isn’t some shitty rom com that you can charm your way to my heart, this is reality and I’m smart enough to realise how much of a jerk you actually are.”

Words seemed to die in Jimin’s throat. A jerk?! Sure, he annoyed you but he didn't think he deserved the title of a jerk. If it wasn’t for that stupid bet he wouldn’t even be asking you out. There was no reason why you couldn’t go on just one date with him. It wasn’t as if he was asking you to juggle swords and then swallow them. Besides, Jimin was a very attractive person and he knew it too. What’s so bad about going out with him? You should feel blessed he was even asking you out in the first place!

“Just say yes already woman. One date won’t kill you,” Jimin groaned out, throwing his head back in frustration.

“One date with you will.”

You stared at each other, no one making a single move. The silence stretched on for a moment before Jimin sighed loudly and ran a hand through this hair.

“Come on!”

“No”

“...Please?” Jimin couldn’t believe he had to beg. He never begs! The things he does for a stupid bet.

Rolling your eyes at Jimin, you sigh, “Fine. We can go there this Saturday.”

“I begged, why won’t you just accep--” Jimin started before cutting himself off, “Oh you said yes. Um, well, yeah ok.” He mumbled, trying to fix his composure. “Yeah see you there or something. Bye,” and with that he walked away, leaving you both amused and confused… and also late for class! Damn Park Jimin.

-----------

You stood in front of the ice cream shop waiting for Jimin to show up. He was late, but then again what were you expecting anyway? You rolled your eyes as you looked around, “If he doesn’t show up in the next minute, I’m leaving.” you mumbled to yourself, checking your watch for what felt like the umpteenth time.

“Y/n!” A voice shouted from behind causing you to turn around. Jimin ran towards you, panting slightly. “Sorry, I had to run all the way here.”

“Did you forget about the date or were you just being a jerk and were late intentionally?”

His face flushed pink, avoiding your gaze. “I might have forgotten but that wasn’t completely my fault, I just lost track of time.”

“Yeah whatever.”

Jimin went to hold open the door for you but you beat him to it, opening it for yourself and slamming it in his face. He held back the urge to leave right there. A bet needed to be completed. He followed you inside trying to strike a conversation with you, trying to get just a crack of a smile.

“So Y/n, how’s your day?” Jimin asked, giving you a sweet smile that would have anyone swooning but it had no effect on you.

“It would be good if the one who asked me out on a date came on time.” You didn’t look at him, instead you were staring intently at the menu.

Jimin bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something he would regret, giving you a tight lipped smile. “I’m sure your date regrets being late.” ‘And asking you out in the first place’ Jimin thought the last part but didn’t say out loud.

“Doubt it.” You shrugged.

Jimin knew what you were doing. You were specifically trying to provoke him, there was no way that he would ask you out on a date voluntarily. You were trying to gouge out any secrets he was hiding. His job, obviously, was to try and not let you find out those secrets. There was no way you were going to cooperate if he told you about the bet.

The two of you knew each other since you were both babies, your mothers knew each other and would always coo at ‘how cute these two will look together.’ Unfortunately for them though, since you were both young the two of you had some sort of competition going on. Didn't matter if it was who was smarter, who was faster or who could fit the most grapes in their mouth, the both of you were always competing.

As you both grew older the bickering turned into bullying on his part. In truth, you actually didn't know what started this long feud, all you remembered was one day when you were five an annoying boy yanked your hair so hard that a few strands had come out. Annoying boy turned out to be Park Jimin and the two of you haven’t stopped arguing since.

“What flavour are you getting?” Jimin peered over your shoulder. He looked at you expectedly. “I’ve already chosen mine, so it’s just up to you and I’ll pay.” He holds his wallet out.

“Vanilla.” You said plainly.

“What?!”

You turn to face Jimin, frowning. “What’s wrong with vanilla?”

He makes a face. “Y/n, it’s so boring, like you no doubt.” The last part had slipped out accidentally and he regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. That was it. You were going to scream at him and he would lose the bet.

Instead, you ignored his comment fixing your gaze back onto the menu. “What do you think I should get then? I’ll give you the choice, assuming you don’t pick a disgusting flavour like mint chocolate chip, I’ll be fine.”

Sure, it was a stupid decision giving Jimin the power to pick what you were going to eat, but what could go wrong? Worst case scenario, you didn't like the flavour and he would be forced to go get a new one, which would cost him more money. It’s a win win.

“You’re giving me the freedom to pick what flavour you’re having?” Jimin asked, making sure he didn't misunderstand your statement. You simply nodded, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Yep” you replied when he stared at you for a while longer, popping the p.

Jimin smirked. “I’ll get you the best flavour to ever exist then.”

You raised an eyebrow at his statement, “Oh?”

“Yeah, mint chocolate~”

You stared at him in disgust, scowling as you said, “Dude I just said that flavour is disgusting. Made by the devil himself.”

Jimin tapped his chin, as if he had no clue about you were saying, “Did you really? Can’t recall anything like that. Hmm.”

“Park Jimin, I swear to god if you get me that flavour I will rip your eyeballs out and shove them up your ass.”

“So you wanna touch my ass now?” He grinned smugly. You felt your cheeks heat up as you spluttered, desperately searching for a comeback.

“Just- just get me whatever you’re having. Unless it’s chocolate mint, then get out of my sight right now.”

“Don't worry, I hate the flavour as much as you do. So, two birthday cakes coming right up.” You try to find ‘birthday cake’ on the menu.

“Dude, the thing looks like a unicorn just threw up on it.”

Jimin shoots you a glare. “Don’t disrespect the superior flavour bestowed upon us by the ice cream Gods.” You gape at him open-mouthed. Ice cream Gods?! The guy was insane. You were on a date with a guy who was insane. Rest in pepperoni to you.

“You’re insane,” You shake your head. “I’ll be waiting over there. Be quick.” You point to a table in the corner.

“Yes ma’am” Jimin saluted before going to order at the counter. You shake your head. You’d known Jimin of most of your life and he’d always been silly and annoying.

Some reason you knew a lot about him. You blamed it on your parents making you spend too much time with each other when you were younger. Also you needed to know every little thing about your mortal enemy, wasn’t that what mortal enemies did? You had to be prepared for anything and keep track of them at all times!

“Got your ice cream.” Jimin placed the cup in front of you as you stared at it with distaste. You’d never really had ice cream often but when you did you always went for the plain vanilla. It was simple, no need for toppings or colourful flavours. You weren’t one to take risks.

“What monstrosity did you get for me, Park?”

“Oh stop being a baby, it’s just strawberry with some syrup on it.” Jimin answered while he rolled his eyes, lips tugged up into a small smile. Eyes twinkling with adoration as he looked at you.

“I’m not eating it.”

“Oh yes you are. Here comes the airplane!” Jimin started, taking a spoonful of the ice cream and moving it towards your face as if talking to a child.

“I’m not a kid. I’m not ha-” Jimin shoves the spoon inside your mouth when you open it to retaliate, his lips lifted into a sly smile. You snatch the spoon off him while glaring at him and start feeding yourself. “Don’t patronise me, you jerk.” You grumbled.

Jimin almost cooed out loud at your pout but he barely controlled himself. Since when were you this cute? He watched as you ate.

“Is it good?”

“...yes” You reluctantly answered, still pouting.

Jimin smiled, leaning back on his chair as he pat himself on his shoulder. “Another job done well by yours truly.”

You rolled your eyes. Then you noticed that Jimin’s ice cream looked slightly different to yours. It wouldn’t hurt to ask for a bite. Would it?

“What’s on yours?” Jimin looked up, the tiny spoon still in his mouth. “What’s on your ice cream?”

“Just extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce, nothing too special.” He shrugged, continuing to devour his dessert. You stare at your cup and then at his. Something must have been possessing you because before you knew it you were leaning over and digging your spoon into his cup.

“Hey, you can’t just do that!”

“Pretty sure I just did.” You popped the spoon into your mouth, savouring the taste. “You know you really weren’t kidding when you said this was good. For once, you did something right, congrats dude.”

Jimin would have made a snarky comment but the look of pure ecstasy on your face stopped him. Even though he knew you for most of his life, there were parts you kept hidden. He knew you didn’t get out much, constantly studying was the only thing you seemed to do. A nice feeling bubbled inside of him. It was nice to know you were enjoying yourself, made him feel happy for some reason.

You giggled, shoving more of the sweet dessert into your mouth. Too busy to notice that Jimin was staring at you. When you did, you gave him a look of confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“You got a little something here.” He pointed to the left side of his face, holding in the urge to laugh at your cute expression. “No here, no.” He leaned over brushing his thumb over the corner of your lips. He stared at you, had your eyes always been so pretty? You felt yourself grow red at the close proximity between you two, not knowing what to do. Jimin leaned away, - why did your heart sink at that? - and licked his thumb. “Love this flavour.”

You avert your eyes quickly, blush getting brighter. You should not have found that as hot as you did. Get yourself together Y/N! Park Jimin, enemy number one! Nothing he does is mildly attractive. Nothing. He is the devil reincarnated!

Suddenly your phone started ringing, shattering whatever moment you two had going on. You picked up the device and checked the caller ID. Why was Jungkook calling now? You gave Jimin a sheepish look.

“Hello? I’m out. No. What? How did you- Alright alright.” Jimin watched as you spoke on your phone.

You sighed in annoyance, hanging up after a while and giving Jimin a sheepish smile, “I need to go. Jungkook somehow made the microwave catch on fire.”

Jimin raised his eyebrows in shock, looking at you as if you had grown two more heads. “What? How is that even possible?”

“Not a clue but I gotta dip. Thank you for inviting me here today. I still think you’re up to something though but whatever.” You spoke, getting up from your seat and grabbing your small messenger bag that you brought along.

Jimin stood up alongside you, the both of you walking out of the shop and stopping on the sidewalk. “Yeah… Thank you for coming here with me.”

You two stood there staring at each other, not wanting to leave just yet.

“Well then! I’ll see you on Monday. Bye Jimin,” You announced after a while, quickly pressing a small kiss on his cheek before dashing away.

Jimin stood there in shock, hands raising to touch where you kissed him. Why was his heart racing so fast and why did he feel so warm inside?

“Huh.. maybe you’re not so bad Y/L/N” Jimin spoke up to himself before he too started his walk back home, mind filled with thoughts of you.

#thebtswritersclub #bangtaninn #blackswannet #castlebangtan #pjm #bts pjm #park jimin x reader #bts park jimin #bts jimin #jimin fluff #bts fluff #highschool!au #bts fanfic

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elareine · 4 years ago

Note

If you’re still taking prompts, I had a thought. What if JayTim get de-aged? I saw you did a similar one already so no worries if you don’t want to 😊. My thoughts for this were that they both get de-aged to like 5/6 years old and Jason gets super protective of Tim (cause he’s so tiny and cute), and they get to cause chaos in the cave but also get lots of snuggles with the fam before retiring to their correct ages.

Hi, sorry for the delay! Thank you for the cute prompt. This ended up being gen, not JayTim. Btw, in case you’re wondering what’s happening with your last remaining one (”keep you warm”): That one took a life of it’s own and is growing beyond a drabble. It’ll take me a while to finish, but yeah, it’s gonna be a fic, not a drabble.

Dick would like to say this isn’t what he expected when he was called into Wayne Manor to babysit his brothers. He would.

Honestly, though, finding two of his brothers de-aged back to being kindergarteners doesn’t even make the top-twenty list of ‘Weirdest things to happen on a Tuesday.’ So he takes it in stride when Bruce basically dumps the two on him (“I need to go find a cure. I can’t do that if they’re playing cowboy and dinosaur under my feet.”) and settles down on the living room floor to have a tea party. Alfred even joins them.

It’s fun.

Tim is so shy. It’s hard to connect this quiet kid with the teenager Dick first met all those years ago. With Jason, though, he gives as good as he gets, poking him in the side and telling him to sit straight and not spill any tea.

Jason, to Dick’s surprise, goes with it. He tells Tim facts about the books he’s starting to read; Tim tells Jason about the beeest superheroes, and it’s some of the most wholesome nerdy shit Dick has ever witnessed.

“I need to pee,” Jason eventually announces, hopping to his feet.

“Want me to come with you?” Dick isn’t really sure until what age kids need help with that sorta thing. And Jason is so small… but the kid scowls at him. “No! Weirdo.”

As his brother leaves the room, Dick thinks there’s something in his hand… cookies, maybe? He shrugs it off.

Alfred has a weird expression on his face when Dick turns back to him, though. Most people wouldn’t notice, but Dick knows his grandfather. “What’s troubling you, Alfred?”

“It’s nothing.” Alfred pauses. “I have found food hidden in several places, but I’m sure there is a rational explanation.”

“Oh, you weren’t supposed to find those!” Tim scowls.

They look at him. “Are they yours, then?” Dick asks gently.

“Jay said it’s really important that we have them. Just in case…” Tim trails off, uncertainty taking over his expression. “Was that wrong?”

“No!” Dick hastily assures him. Alfred adds: “I merely thought that I would provide you with more appropriate storage boxes.”

But Tim’s face scrunches up. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Hey!” Jason races back in through the door. He’s by Tim’s side faster than Dick can blink. “What happened?”

Tim hiccups, clearly trying not to cry. “I—I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay,” Jason says, glaring at Dick over his shoulder. Is this what Damian would’ve been like at that age? Cause Dick has a hard time imagining eyes any more lethal. “Wanna play some more hide-and-seek?”

Tim nods, but his gaze darts toward Dick for approval.

Dick sighs and figures that they can’t really get themselves into much trouble doing that. Alfred can keep an eye on them through the cameras, just in case. “Sure, have fun!”

“You’re not invited,” Jason tells him. And then they’re off, giggling, tension from two minutes ago forgotten.

“I’m Robin!” Dick hears Tim call, followed by “Then I’m Batman” in what is probably supposed to be an imitation of Bruce’s voice, except Jason is what, six(?), and his vocal cords very much do not go there.

Dick carries their tea party equipment into the kitchen and then settles down on the couch, keeping an ear out for the two miscreants while he reads. It’s pretty peaceful, and he can feel his sleep deficit catching up with him, eyes getting heavier and heavier.

Something pokes his side.

Dick pries his eyes open and sees Jason staring at him, unimpressed. “Tim needs more cuddles,” he declares.

Dick tries not to smile. “Does he?”

Jason nods, very seriously. “He likes them, and he does not get enough. I need to make sure he gets cuddles when I’m not here.”

Dick tries not to squee at the idea of Jason basically anointing himself as Tim’s Cuddler-in-Chief. “Well, I’m always down.”

For a moment, he’s examined by blue eyes. Then Jason nods, goes back to the door, and drags Tim in. “See? I told you it’s fine.”

Tim looks skeptical, so Dick makes a point of lifting the blanket he’s under invitingly. “C’mon, I need my cuddles.” He has now said or thought the word ‘cuddles’ more in one day than the last year combined.

It takes another gentle push from Jason, but Tim climbs in. He nestles trustingly against his side, head dropping onto Dick’s shoulder. Poor mite must really be tired.

Jason nods, seemingly satisfied, and turns around.

“Wait, are you leaving?” Dick asks.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“‘Cause you should join us?” Are kids always this bewildering?

Jason looks back, visibly baffled. “Why? I’m too old.”

“You’re never too old for cuddles,” Dick tells him with the conviction of a grown man who regularly gets cuddles from his girlfriend and loves it.

Jason doesn’t seem convinced. “Sure you are.”

“Jay…” Tim murmurs, sleepy eyes peeking out from under the blanket, and that seems to do it. Jason climbs into the blanket nest with a scowl. He makes sure to stay on Tim’s other side, away from Dick.

Dick doesn’t mind. It’s warm and cozy in here, and less than ten minutes later, the kids out. They’re at the age where nap-time doesn’t come quite that naturally anymore, Dick thinks, but they must’ve exhausted themselves. Besides, who knew if Tim and Jason got any sleep in their adult bodies the night before.

Dick closes his eyes, listening to his brothers breathe. He could do with a nap himself.

#elareine writes #batfamily #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson

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m4st4rd · 4 years ago

Text

i would die for you, clint barton (clint barton x oc)

a/n: HI I’M BACK with a stupid little drabble. the talented @obwjam has reignited my love for comics!clint barton so i wrote a fic of him and an oc. i haven’t proofread it and the ending super sucks but i still managed to churn out about 1900 words so enjoy!!!

i’ll proofread/edit in the morning lol

brig is nb; they/them pronouns pls

They’re scared, and Clint gets it. He’d be scared, too, if there was some weird giant searching for him. He’s no stranger to the feeling of fear. But when he’s the one causing it, it feels terrible.

Brooklyn is in shambles. A new supervillain group tests their weapons on a bank in Bushwick, the Avengers are on the case, a city block is engulfed in chaos and violence. And Clint Barton is searching for a 3-inch-tall person who’s hiding in the alleyway of a Dunkin Donuts.

He sighs and kneels down, peering under the dumpster. Huddled in the dark is the shaking borrower, who stares back with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. They look like crap: covered in dried blood and dirt, their clothes torn and ratty. But the little guy is stubborn as hell, and hurls a pebble in his direction. They miss by a long shot. He would’ve laughed if the city wasn’t on fire.

“C’mon out, bud,” he says. A faint boom! rattles the world behind him. “It’s not safe under there. Are you lookin’ to be caught? A rat, an alley cat… God forbid, there might be a human who ain’t as nice as I am.” With a nervous glance behind him, he sees Kate dart past, notching an arrow and letting it fly. “Not to mention that the city’s comin’ apart.”

They shout something back, and Clint can barely piece together the words leave and alone. It’s not helpful, though, that they’re so small and covered in shadow. And the fact that he can see their teary eyes in the dark is not helping his conscience. Another explosion shakes the earth, and the borrower lets out a wail that he does hear.

They’re both getting frantic. He softens his face, puts a pleading look into his eyes. “Please,” he calls. “I can keep you safe.”

The borrower doesn’t get to respond. A scream rips through the air, and he’s made up his mind. He jumps to his feet and drags the dumpster back, only getting a glimpse of the sheer terror on their tiny face before he scoops them up in a fist and tucks them into a jacket pocket. It’s not ideal, but if it means they won’t be crushed or eaten, he’ll take it.

They’re writhing, and he ignores it. The feeling of them shaking against his chest forms a pit in his stomach. They’re scared, but at least they’re safe.

The rest of the battle zips by like a blur. Clint spends it shielding the borrower, dodging rubble, and praying to whatever gods present for this little guy to not be so terrified of him. Their shaking has stopped for now, but they’re stiff as a board and flinching with every move he makes. When the fight dies down, he’s left nursing a wound on his shoulder and cupping his hand around his pocket. He’s gotta get out of there, and fast.

His free hand finds his comms, and he sends a quick farewell message to Kate. She responds quick, familiar beeps filling his ears: Get home safe. See you soon, Hawkeye.

The message brings a smile to his face, but it disappears when he remembers his job. His day isn’t over yet.

He runs his way home.

The apartment greets him with blinding fluorescents and a mess on his coffee table. Things that are normally hangover-induced nuisances are now pushed to the far corners of his mind as he limps to his counter.

His fingers dive into his pocket, and he does his best to be gentle, but with the little guy swerving away from his hand, he ends up tangled around their limbs, pulling them out in a quivering heap. They’re a pitiful sight; their tiny face is tear-stained, and once they lock eyes, the poor kid flinches back into their protective huddle.

They’re speaking, and fast. That much he knows. Their voice is buzzing away. But he can’t understand anything that's coming out. He gets the gist of what they might be saying: there’s a pleading look in their eyes, and their lip is quivering. He doesn’t like this feeling.

“Hey,” he whispers, cupping his hands closer around the tiny body. “Hey. Look at me.” He nudges their shoulder. They’re practically humming with anxiety. “C’mon, calm down, buddy. You’re okay.”

They aren’t making any progress like this. Clint lowers his hands to the countertop and the borrower stumbles off, clutching their chest and scrubbing the tears from their eyes. “Look,” he says softly. “Not touching you anymore, see? You’re fine. You’re okay.”

He watches with a pang in his heart as they cry for a bit, hugging their knees to their chest, and takes the time to look them over. Their hair is dark and matted, their clothes patchy, their face young, but thin and gaunt. This isn’t the same stubborn little guy he’d met an hour ago; this is someone who is absolutely-fucking-terrified of him. He can barely deal with crying people at his own height; he can’t even begin to comfort someone who’s three inches tall.

Reasoning sets in as they clear their eyes of the last of their tears. Even if he was well-intentioned, he did sorta… take them. Grab them up and stick them in a pocket. If some giant had done that to him, he’d be pretty scared, too.

“Do you understand me?” he tries. The tiny head snaps up, and the kid babbles something that vaguely sounds like sorry and don’t hurt. “No, no, I promise I’m not gonna hurt you… Fuck. I was — I was just tryna keep you safe!” It’s hard to read lips on such a small face, but he gets the gist of it, and it hurts like hell.

This isn’t working out so great. “Let’s start over, okay? I’m Clint. Clint Barton. And I — I can’t hear you all that well.”

That gets them to shut up. The fear disappears from their face, replaced by sheer bewilderment. (Yeah. As if they’re the one that should be surprised.) They scrub their eyes and stare at him in awe, and Clint can’t help but chuckle. “Weird, I know. But we can figure somethin’ out, alright? You okay to talk? Or just… shake your head, yes or no.”

That gets a timid nod. “Great. Good. Not hurt, are you?” A shake. “Thank God for that.” Now we’re getting somewhere. But Clint needs to ask them questions, and he needs to get answers. How is he supposed to talk to someone smaller than his finger?

His mind is racing. Sign language! It’s a long shot, but just maybe he can get through to them.

“Do you understand this?” His hands move slow, just in case. But it doesn’t go the way he’s hoping. The borrower shrieks and falls back, and they’re both back to square one. “No, hey, wait! It’s okay!” He signs while he speaks, and the kid watches every move he makes with terrified eyes. “Look — it’s a language! My name is Clint. C-L-I-N-T.” Each letter is deliberate, and with each second, the little guy uncurls from their protective ball. “Now that I’ve told you my name, will you tell me yours?”

They both fall silent. He holds his breath and watches the tiny face with a furrowed brow. It’s small, almost impossible to see, but there’s a hint of hope in their eyes. He’s so overcome with joy that he doesn’t notice them open their mouth.

“...ig.”

He freezes. “Sorry, what?”

They wither back. “Brig,” they say, louder this time. Their voice is muffled and nervous, but it’s there. And Clint can’t stop himself from smiling.

“Brig,” he repeats. “That’s B-R-I-G. See?” He grins. They’re still cautious, but they watch his hands with curious eyes as he signs their name. “It’s nice to meet you, Brig.”

Good! This is good. Clint can see them coming out of their shell, little by little. They look unsure, but their hands twitch in time with his. “There’s so much you can say with just your hands! This is hello, and this is goodbye. Yes, no, please and thank you— I can teach you, if you want!”

The magic is gone, and Brig snaps back into their defensive huddle. “T-teach me?” they squeak. “But… would mean…” They glance around the kitchen, eyes widening as they take in the sight. They’re so small compared to everything else. “What about… home?”

He’s overstepped his boundaries. He kneels to get closer to their level. They reel back, a gesture that goes unnoticed in his concern. “Was that where you live?” he asks. “Near where the fight was?”

They’re quick to nod. “Left… a bit,” they say. “Rats.” The last syllable is loud, clear, and bitter. “Got caught… the fight.” Brig shrugs, looking nervous and embarrassed. “And by you.”

Clint frowns. A place like that is dangerous for someone of their size, but he’s in no place to argue. “Is there anyone you stay with? Any family or friends you can go back to?”

Now they’re silent. His heart plummets when they grimace and look away, a sadness creeping into their eyes. Realization crashes over him when they shake their head.

He hadn’t thought of that.

“You don’t have to stay,” he says gently. Guilt lingers in his chest as he leans back, too, suddenly self conscious about his hands. “I-I can get you back home if you need me too — I can’t imagine it’s all that safe, but if that’s what you want…” The borrower is tense, and Clint is cursing himself for being so hopeful.

Finally, after a minute of mulling it over, he gives a resigned sigh. “Damage Control is cleaning the place up,” he tells them. “They should be done in a week or two, okay? You can stay with me, but when they’re done… I’ll bring you back.” Every word hurts more than the last. “Only if you want to. How’s that sound?”

The kitchen falls silent. Clint’s heart is beating fast, and he bites his tongue as conflicting emotions flicker across the tiny face. “I-I can bring you back now, if you like,” he stammers. “Ya don’t have to stay. A-and you don’t have to tell me exactly where you live, but I can just drop you off and you can be on your way and we’ll b —”

“I’ll stay.”

This time, the little voice comes out strong. “You — you will?” he says.

They nod shyly in response, and he can piece together what they say next: “Just… back… my feet.” Just until I’m back on my feet.

He can live with that.

Clint’s heart swells with triumph. He can’t remember the last time he was this happy. There’s no explaining why he feels this way. “O-Okay. Awesome. Welcome home, Brig.”

He glances back at the mess in his apartment, then to the mess of his clothes, too. They’re both covered in dust and blood, but neither care about it as Clint laughs. “We should probably get cleaned up first, though. What do you say?”

He’s smiling. And for the first time all day, Brig is smiling, too.

They’ve got a lot of work to do.

#giant/tiny #g/t writing #marvel g/t #clint barton #deaf!clint barton #oc #borrowers #mustard writes #i keep saying i'm gonna make a part 2 but look where that's gotten me #its 1am #my writing #oc: brig

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stillebesat · 4 years ago

Text

A Mini’s Pep Talk

December Drabbles Day 7 Sanders Sides: Roman, Mini-Virgil (not Virgil himself just a mini version of him) Blurb: It shouldn’t surprise Roman, at this point, that on top of an already no good really really bad day he ends up getting attacked by another Side’s Mini-Me while looking for his own. (Takes place after SVS Redux) Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort, Mindscape!AU, Mini-Me!AU, Overall Fic Warnings: Negative Self Talk, Small Injury mention Taglist in Reblog.

It was no use. Roman exhaled, cautiously pulling open the door to his room a crack so he could peer outside. He’d ransacked his bedroom a good dozen times and his Mini-Me was nowhere to be found.

Just. Perfect.

The grand cherry on top after an already bad day.

We love you.

Roman hunched his shoulders, well aware that his appearance with his pjs and messed up hair was hardly Princely as he slipped outside and tip-toed past the Others’ rooms.

“Kingsley.” He hissed, wary of waking up everyone else as he moved down the stairs, phone in hand to act like a flashlight as he shone it over the darkened living room looking for his Mini-Me. “I really really don’t have the energy for this!”

Of all the days--nights for the scaredy-cat to get it into his head to grow a spine, did he really have to do so at 4 am after Roman had been awake since six trying to get something worthwhile completed after yesterday’s--

We love you.

He growled, running a hand through his hair before dropping to his knees to peer underneath the couches for the tiny figure dressed in red. “Why do you do this to me?” Surely, the others didn’t have this much trouble with their own mini-selfs.

If they had mini-selfs to deal with.

At this point, with all the stupid mistakes he kept making, all the lies he kept believing, it wouldn’t surprise Roman to discover that he was the only Side broken enough to have a mini version of himself manifest as a companion to him.

A mini version that, despite being scared of his own shadow most days, had decided to leave the safety of Roman’s room and vanish.

We love you.

Roman sat up with a shaky sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face to ensure no betraying tears had left his eyes as he looked around the living room, searching for likely spots for his pocket sized self to hide in. “Kingsley.” He called out softly, without much hope of receiving an answer.

He should just face the facts.

Logan would love that.

Roman made a face as he pushed numbly to his feet, moving to the kitchen to check the lower cabinets.

Fact. Kingsley was a scaredy-cat.

Fact. Kingsley wasn’t in his room.

Fact. Roman had been denounced as a bad guy.

Roman clenched his hands, breath hitching as he turned to the fridge.

Fact. Kingsley was scared of villains.

Fact. Kingsley was nowhere to be found.

Fact. Kingsley didn’t want Roman to find him.

Perhaps...perhaps it was for the best for his mini-self to have left. He--He deserved a-a better--better Si--

I thought I was your hero.

Roman grimaced, slumping against the fridge, grabbing onto the top edge to keep him from collapsing to the ground. “Kingsley.” He choked out, closing his eyes. No. It was probably for the best. To..to end things here. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t even know how he’d wronged the little guy. But obviously he’d screwed up. Again. Some more. He’d add it to the list. Because obviously Kingsley had heard how much like Remus Roman truly was. How much of a villain he could be.

He’d probably feared for his life and fled.

“Geez. Stop with the waterworks.” An unfamiliar voice said, just before something sharp stabbed his fingers.

Roman yelped, jerking his hand away from the top of the fridge as he stumbled backwards only to stupidly trip over his own feet and send himself crashing to the tile floor with a loud thud.

He groaned, closing his eyes. Well, there went being quiet.

There was a flutter of feathers before a light weight landed on his chest, stalking up to his chin and poking him. “Knights are supposed to not give up without a fight. What’s wrong with you?” The voice demanded.

Roman made a face. What was wrong with him? Where to start? The fact that he was so pathetic that he’d been scared by someone else’s Mini-Me?

He tilted his head to glare at the tiny person on his chest, only to freeze, heart skipping a beat at seeing a familiar patchwork jacket and dark eye shadow under the eyes.

A Mini Virgil.

Great. He let his head fall back with a soft thunk on the cold tile, mentally cursing as he ran his thumb over his sore finger tips. “Did you stab me with a toothpick?”

“No, I bit you.” Mini V retorted jumping up onto Roman’s face, landing on his nose, brilliant white wings flashing in the light of his phone as he kept them half spread. “You honestly think I could stab your fingers all at the same time with a single toothpick?”

Well...no. “You can’t exactly bite them all at the same time either.” He said, failing to keep the growl from his voice, glaring up at the Mini. “And as you’ve already noticed.” Why did Virgil’s Mini have wings? Kingsley had nothing like that. “I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed. So sorry for not thinking it through. Try Logan next time.”

The wings fluttered as Mini V narrowed his eyes. “He’s not the one sobbing in the kitchen in the middle of the night.”

“Yes, I’m a pathetic excuse for a Side, you don’t need to tell me twice.” Roman shot back, raising his hand palm up towards the Mini. “Get off my face before I sneeze you off.”

V gave the hand a look of disgust before he jumped, wings beating in the air to keep him hovering in place as Roman pushed up onto one elbow. “What is wrong with you? Knights don’t--”

Oh, for the love of Crofters! He didn’t need another person telling him off. “I’m not a Knight!” He interrupted shoving to his feet. “I’m not a Prince. I’m not a Hero.” He spread his arms wide, a bitter smile on his lips as Mini V backed up a good foot from him, eyes wide. “I’m a freaking Nobody who has no place here because no matter what I do, no matter what I say, no matter what choice I pick to try and help Thomas achieve his dreams, it’s always the wrong choice because the bloody RULES KEEP CHANGING!” He yelled, jabbing a finger at the Mini.

V visibly swallowed, wings fluttering as fast as a hummingbird’s. “Roman?” He whispered, a faint squeak to the end of his voice.

And there he was. Messing things up again. Being the freaking evil twin. Roman slumped, feeling the weight of a mountain settling on his shoulders. “Just--just forget it.” He turned from the frozen Mini, chest twisting with a hollow ache from how he’d just gone off on the little guy. He didn’t deserve that. Especially not for their first meeting.

Though maybe it was par for the course...considering how awful he’d been to Virgil for most of their lives--it wasn’t like his Mini would have a high opinion of him anyways.

Roman exhaled, closing his eyes as he crossed his arms. Coward. He couldn’t even face the Mini like a true man. “I’m sorry. You didn’t--I shouldn’t have...gone off like that.”

If anything it proved that locking himself up in his room for the foreseeable future was the best course of action.

Especially since yesterday’s debacle with Deci--Janus had already proved that he was a screw up through and through.

Wrong was Right. Right was Wrong.

Be Mean to Anxiety because he’s a Bad Guy.

No. Be Nice to Virgil because he’s actually a Good Guy.

Be Nice To Deceit because if Virgil was a Good Guy then Deceit could be a Good Guy too despite acting like a Bad Guy.

No. Be Mean to Deceit because Deceit is Bad.

No wait, be Nice to freaking Janus because Deceit isn’t actually the Bad Guy after all.

No. Now Roman was the Bad Guy. Dece-Janus the Hero of the day.

His darkest fear come true.

It was all topsy-turvy and Roman had been wound up so much through it all that he no longer knew which way was up.

If there was even an up in the first place.

“Hey.”

Roman hunched his shoulders, ducking his head as V darted in front of him to block his path out of the kitchen. “It’d probably be best to go back to Virge if you want a True Knight.” He muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not--”

“Dude!”

Roman flinched, breath hitching as the Mini landed on his shoulder, wing brushing his cheek before a warm hand grabbed onto his earlobe and tugged hard enough he had to tilt his head to avoid getting it torn off.

“I will say this as many times as you need to hear it to get rid of whatever earworm is tunneling through your mind right now.” V hissed. “You. Are. Creativity. If you don’t like who you are now, then Change.”

“Change?” Roman repeated like the concept was foreign to him as he eyed the Mini from the corner of his eye. It wasn’t. He just--

V huffed, tugging Roman’s ear one more time before he jumped off his shoulder to hover in front of his face. “No one said you had to stick to one role your entire life, Roman.” He gestured towards the staircase. “If that were the case, Virgiepoo wouldn’t have had his little Acceptance Arc with you guys.”

No, they would still be enemies. Anxiety the Villain. Though really with how awful he’d been to Virge--Roman grimaced. “Yes, but--”

“But nothing.” V tapped his nose, leaning forward until Roman had to take a step back or else go cross-eyed. “You’re not a hero? Fine. You’re not a prince? Fine. You’re not a Knight--well that sucks because they’re rather cool--”

Roman couldn’t help but smile a little bit at that. They were cool. It was why he’d been one for so long.

V smiled back, shrugging a shoulder. “But whatever. It’s Fine. You get to decide how you want to be you.”

Roman huffed a near laugh, leaning against the wall as he ran a hand through his hair. “You make it sound so easy.” But he’d been Prince Roman for...well ever. Could he ever be thought of as anything else?

“I do. It’s not. Trust me.” V fluttered his wings wide, drifting closer. “You’re not the only Side still figuring himself out, Ro, even if it feels like you are right now. Thomas is constantly growing and changing. It would be silly if his Sides remained stagnant when he’s in motion.”

It was silly. None of them were exactly the same Side they had been when they first started to interact with Thomas. It was just--he’d been the same Prince Roman for--well ever. He lowered his head, taking a slow breath. “What if…” He swallowed, forcing himself to look up. “What if they don’t like the changes I choose to make? What if they want me to stay the Prince and I can’t--”

“Then screw them.” V said, holding up his middle fingers. “And in the words of our dearest PatteyCake, I will physically fight them.” He threw a couple of air punches. “For not accepting you for who you want to be when you’ve tried so hard to accept them.”

Well then. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as a flicker of warmth seemed to grow in his chest. It was nice to know he has one person in his corner. Though he wouldn’t bank on it lasting too long. Not with his current track record. But for now..after the day he’d had....it was a nice feeling. “Do you always lurk around in the dark waiting to give pep talks?” He asked, pushing away from the wall.

V did a lazy loop in the air before landing on his shoulder, making himself comfortable as Roman climbed the stairs back to his room. “Only to people I like.”

#A Mini's Pep Talk #December Drabbles #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Roman #Creativity #Virgil #kinda it's a mini version of virgil but not virgil himself #Negative self talk tw #Small injury tw #Mini-Me!AU #hurt/comfort #December Day 7 #Tiny!Winged!Virgil

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taegularities · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! So I stumbled across your fic ruin you awhile ago and just had it saved on one of my side blogs as one to come back to as it looked like you were gonna add more parts. Well low and behold I was going through some of the series I enjoyed enough to keep and tag as ongoing and was super (pleasantly) surprised to see all the new parts you put out! When I first saved it I think the latest one was ry: sex toys so I really had a lot to catch up on!

I finally was able to do that today (tonight? This morning? My sleep schedule is the worst 🤦🏽‍♀️) and wow! I definitely need time to process, I usually need more time to be able to write out my thoughts in a way that makes sense (cause words are hard) BUT I just want to tell you that your writing made me feel all the emotions! I obviously liked the first few parts, as I saved it to come back to, but I wasn’t sure how deep you were going to go into the characters and such and I’m so thoroughly impressed with the direction you took it. Hopefully I can catch up on some of the discourse on your blog from asks? (Bc I’m super nosy and love to see what parts stood out to other people as well lol) but for now I just wanted to let you know I am really looking forward to the ending of the story no matter what the outcome may be! That cliffhanger had me literally holding my breath and the flashbacks to when Jungkook and reader were first dating gave me all the butterflies.

I wasn’t going to say anything right now but when I came to your blog I saw your most recent asks and so I just wanted to let you know I think you’re incredibly talented. I was never really into fanfic until recently and I really started reading it as a distraction (cause life yk 🤷🏽‍♀️) but I didn’t expect to find so many talented writers! I’m really sorry you have experienced that kind of negativity and I hope it doesn’t discourage you for long. And honestly (pardon the language) fuck people like that. Keeping their negative and not constructive opinions to themselves requires zero effort. The internet sucks sometimes, but I’m super happy you made the decision to share your art on it. I know that’s super hard to do and comes with some downs but I hope that the ups will eventually outweigh them for you (if they don’t already). Do want you gotta do and I’m looking forward to the finale of ry and checking out the rest of you masterlist (I for sure have also read diary of a healing heart and remember being equally as impressed! Hi again if you remember me from sliding into your dms with a really random question after reading it lol). So yeah…uh in conclusion, fuck try to ignore the unprompted opinions of random people on the internet…sincerely, a random person on the internet who just gave you their unprompted opinions 😂 (also I’m putting this all in tiny bc I tend to ramble and look how long this is 😳🥲)

hello omg !!! this ask is everything, what the heck, i am so sorry i'm responding so late, but i wanted to give a more elaborated answer than just one or two sentences 🥺

first of all, i am so happy u enjoy(ed) the series !!! when i wrote and posted the first part, i'd never thought i'd ever write sequels to it, much less a whole series. but when i did, i wanted to talk about their relationship and feelings more instead of just going w smut and/or different kinks. (cos initially, the series was supposed to contain mainly drabbles that explore all sorts of sexual preferences). BUT HERE WE ARE !!! so excited to share the last part, i hope u like it <3

and again, u are an absolute sweetheart, thank u so much for ur uplifting words. the good definitely outweighs the bad, and i'll definitely keep going and keep sharing my work here <3 super excited to hear what u think about the rest of my masterlist btw !! AND YES, i remember u !! and i remember ur messages, too, i was honestly so flattered back then (and now too tbh) 🥺 *sighs* the diary of a healing heart....

and please, feel free to join any discourse and ramble in my inbox as much as u want, i appreciate it and u so much <3

#tw: negativity #fic: ruin you #notes for rid 🌹#miksancheese #long ask

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

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Hello there, I see you're back on blue-line drabbles! I love them, I am obsessed with this universe. I don't know if I ever came back to say hi after I read all your big fics, but somehow I liked each even better than the last! I don't know how that's possible! But anyway, I think one of the best signs of a good writer/good story is when you're not ready to leave the world once you've finished, and Blue Line is one of the few fanfics I've read where even well after I've finished it, (cont)

(cont) I want to keep living in it and I end up writing my own fic of it in my head (strange, I know). Anyway, for whatever reason, I got really invested in Roland and Lizzie's relationship. Like, how did they end up dating after knowing each other for literally Lizzie's entire life? How did the adults react? Do you have any Lizzie/Roland stories up your sleeve? They would not go unread :)

————

Hello, yes, listen, this ask has lived rent free™ in my head since I first got it and I cannot properly convey how absolutely, goddamn wonderful it is. I am a broken record of outdated references , but it continues and will always amaze me that people are not only interested in Blue Line (more than three years!!! after I originally started posting) but are also interested in other characters in the story who are, for all intents and purposes, original characters at this point. Like the overall size my heart becomes when reading something like that could potentially cause a serious medical condition.

But, like, in a nice way.

So thank you, thank you, thank you. It genuinely warms the cockles of my entire soul. And, like, if you wanna share those fic ideas of the fic, you’ll never hear me say no. Just like I will never turn down the opportunity to write more stuff. Which is what’s under the cut. This stuff includes:

Roland and Lizzie’s first kiss, what I hope is some legitimate banter, more kissing, obvious flirting, and Roland being something of a sap.

Also, uh, it’s entirely possible that I have also already written: Roland and Lizzie’s first “I love you,” their wedding and some other stuff where their kid is involved. Seriously, guys, I am always down to write other relationships in this ‘verse.

————

It was, she figured, something almost passably close to, sort of resembling, definitely inching somewhere nearer to—

Assured.

Unavoidable.

Inexorable

Inevitable.

That was a bad word. That last word. The third one was pretty impressive, honestly. Vocabulary, wise. She’d have to remember that one later. The last one, though. Made teeth Lizzie wasn’t even aware she possessed ache as she ground them together, a pronounced tension in her jaw that was likely affecting her shoulders as well. That word. An awful word. Boasted less-than-positive connotations, letters practically dripping with lack of self-control and overtly aggressive infatuation, but if the world expected her not to be a little in love with Roland Locksley by the time she turned fourteen and noticed that slight indentation in his right cheek every time he smiled, well, then the world had another thing coming.

Dimple, that was the appropriate description. Another word. More words. Too many words. All of them bouncing off the slope of her skull and scratching at the back of her brain, nearly distracting her from what should have been the very pleasant buzz lingering beneath whatever biological thing made up her top and bottom lips.

Which were parted in an emotion very similar to overwhelming surprise.

That was stupid.

The whole thing was stupid. God, maybe she was stupid. No, that wasn’t true. She’d made Dean’s List last semester. Stupid was—

A stupid word, really. Despite the blush rising in her cheeks and the wide eyes practically boring into her soul, bated breath that didn’t make any noise because that was what bated entailed, and no one else glanced in their direction. Not once. No one else noticed.

That the whole world had flipped upside down.

Or right-side-up, maybe. Depending on how the next five minutes or so went.

Because the last two minutes and twelve seconds, give or take, had seen Roland Locksley tilt his head and let his eyes flutter closed before his mouth found hers for the very first time — at midnight for God’s sake. On New Year’s Eve. Or New Year’s Day, she supposed. His parents were standing on the other side of the room.

Suggesting that Lizzie had ever been just a little in love with Roland was a rather monumental lie.

As far as those things went.

“So, uh—” she started, only to find blood in her mouth. From her teeth. Wayward and unpredictable, as they were. Biting down on the side of her tongue and Lizzie hated going to the dentist. Doing irreparable damage to her teeth on what was now legitimately New Year’s Day, in the middle of an annual party, was not on her schedule.

Metaphorical as it might have been.

She liked schedules. Had plans. Focus, even. People always said that about her — how focused she was, liked to throw around the word drive with startling regularity, as if they were amazed she wasn’t simply willing to rest on her laurels or the pair of last names she proudly toted around with her. As if Lizzie expected doors to swing open on a glance.

Rather than consistently preparing herself to knock them down.

She liked the challenge of it all. Appreciated the way disbelief always spiked something in her blood, and that was likely equal parts genetic predisposition and a product of her childhood, but right now, Lizzie was simply prepared to fight for the schedule she’d never allowed herself to mention to anyone else before and it wasn’t like they weren’t friends.

Talked outside the group chat, even.

That meant something. Definitely meant something. Had to mean something. Her lips felt like they’d been doused in liquid nitrogen.

She didn’t know all the scientific properties of liquid nitrogen, but it always made that rather impressive cloud of steam-type stuff on cooking shows. So, it seemed very likely that it did something similar to cause whatever was happening in the region directly surrounding her mouth. Buzzing and tingling, and whatnot.

When had Roland last blinked? Lizzie couldn’t remember. That would have been impressive in any other situation. Right now, it was sort, kind of, totally— Pissing her off.

Color dotted his cheeks, no sign of the goddamn dimple because he wasn’t smiling, presumably couldn’t do that when it was clear he was so intent on pulling his lips into his mouth, and that felt a little insulting. Her tongue had just been in that mouth.

Lizzie was fairly confident in the abilities of her tongue, so she wasn’t all that pleased to be replaced by a pair of lips that could have been doing much better work against the side of her neck.

“If you sit here right now and tell me that you are,” Lizzie lifted a finger, “one, sorry,” another finger, “two, anything even remotely resembling regretful,” another finger, wiggling close enough to Roland’s nose to make him just a bit cross-eyed, “or, three, too old for me, I will throw my heel at that bruise I know exists on the back of your left calf.”

His lips twitched.

He really had impossible eyelashes. Seemingly made so he could glance up from underneath them, to meet Lizzie’s steely expression with what she refused to believe could be cautious hope. Passable optimism, maybe. She’d have to look up what liquid nitrogen did, later.

“I’m standing.” “I hate you.”

“You wanna go in order, or how do you want to work this?” “Where else are you bruised?” Roland laughed softly, a shift of his shoulders and tiny burst of air between barely parted lips. Feeling that tiny burst meant they were standing very close to each other. How they were standing remained another mystery.

One of those great ones, Lizzie figured. The kind referenced when people talked about the sweeping potential of life and love and— Ah, fuck.

“Please don’t threaten to attack me anywhere else,” he muttered, before quickly adding, “you gotta know this was not my end game, Liza.” Narrowing her eyes did nothing to temper the…tempest. Swirling in her gut. Threatening the back of her throat. Eating away at vocal cords and vocal boxes and the structural integrity of her entire goddamn larynx. Possibly her tongue, too, just to be especially efficient.

“Really? Might’a been mine, actually.”

She’d always liked his eyes.

How they could widen, and it wasn’t like...a normal brown. Nothing about the way he looked was ever dull. Drifted toward regularly excited, and the sparkles were probably a figment of her over-active teenage imagination, but Lizzie liked to think sometimes the sparkle came from her. Because of her, even. When she’d call because he always wanted to hear about her latest lecture and he’d call because sometimes Western swings were exhausting and loneliness-inducing and—

She knew.

He knew.

They knew each other.

Grand scheme, the sparkle-prone eyes still weren’t particularly close to the dimple. On the list of things Lizzie liked. What left butterflies fluttering in her stomach and her heart hammering against her chest. Sparkle was probably a solid fourth. Behind the precise way his curls fell toward his eyebrows when he didn’t have time to get his hair cut. Which rarely happened during the season. Right now, it was happening right now. Well-defined strands that Lizzie knew felt even smoother than she’d ever theorized between her fingers, and she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with that information.

Obsess over it, probably.

For at least the next week, or so.

Still. Eyes. Eyelashes. Too long and too bright, and that was the wrong description order and she was starting to teeter. On the edge of a rather dramatic free-fall. Into feelings and possibility, and this was way too dramatic. For both of them.

“Don’t do that,” she mumbled, a scrunch of her nose that apparently demanded his thumb. Brushing against the bridge, and there wasn’t any caution there. No obvious fear or concern. For the way it left Lizzie’s lungs pinched, and there must have been a limit.

To everything her internal organs could cope with in a limited span of time.

“What was the last one on the list?” She swallowed. “Too old.” “Yuh-huh.” “Pretty flimsy as far as excuses go. You realize I’m not asking you to marry me right now, right?” He choked. On what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Only that it made her stomach heave and her teeth dig into her lower lip, and that was— “Because I know I said, end game,” Lizzie continued, giving in to the need to fill empty space with the sound of her own voice, “but that sounds like several pop culture references all at once, and you know how much I—”

“Hate to come across as disingenuous.” “Mattie’s the pop culture reference machine, anyway.” “Please don’t talk about Matt when I keep thinking about how much I want to kiss you again.” Her eyes, that time. Widened. Bugged. Did something unnatural. “Yeah?” “You’re kidding me, right?” “You’re not an old man.” Rolling his eyes, Roland’s tongue dragged across the front of his teeth. To torture her, apparently. “I was in college when you were a freshman in high school.” “Yuh-huh.” “Liza.” “Nah, nah,” Lizzie shook her head. Crossed her arms. Tried to stand up to her full height, but even the heels didn’t do much to add to the overall intimidation factor. Roland was doing an awful job of fighting off his smile. “Pulling out ancient nicknames is not—” “—It’s not a nickname; it’s literally letters in your name.” “Nick,” she leaned forward, “name. All personal-like.”

Making mistakes was not something she enjoyed very much. It was that Jones competitive streak. Plus, the Vankald stubborn streak. Created a monster of determination, who knew what she wanted, and feeling Roland’s fingers graze her cheek as a strand of hair hung limply in the minimal space between them was the result of Lizzie’s mistaken movement.

Even as much as she might have wanted it.

Goosebumps prickled her arms. Stole whatever oxygen she’d managed to get in the last forty-six seconds, or so. Her eyes fluttered. Head tilted. Towards the touch and the warmth, and for someone who spent so much time on the ice, he really was impossibly warm.

“This is your fault.”

He didn’t move his fingers. Cupped her cheek, instead. “You were doing that eyebrow thing.” “Expand on that for me.” “Lifting ‘em. Happens sometimes. When you’re listening intently. Like you’re a little amazed by new information. They’re these stupid little arches on your face. Drives me nuts.” “The compliment was in there somewhere, I’m sure of it.” “I am so much older than you, Liza.” “Shouldn’t’a played out a bunch of teenage daydreams at once, then.” She was legitimately worried about the state of his tongue. Barely biting back her laugh, Lizzie let her eyes lift. To find Roland gaping at her, drooped shoulders and puppy-dog eyes. And that goddamn dimple. “C’mon, this isn’t...do you think I haven’t made out with people before?” “Wouldn’t classify what we just did as a makeout.” “No?” His eyes darkened. Shivering was probably not a good move, right? Right. Definitely. She wasn’t shivering. It was just...January. And inside. With dozens of people around them. “I would not, no,” Roland said, and the drop in overall volume was some sort of trick. Or, something.

“How many people do you think you’ve made out with? Ballpark it for me.” “No.” “Is the issue a lack of appropriate numbers to tally that mark, or—” She bit her tongue, again. At the flash of amused frustration sweeping his face and polluting the molecules of whatever air was hovering between them. Permeating was a better word. Lizzie really needed to work on all of that. Words. Being slightly less jealous of potential make outs that didn’t have anything to do with her and definitely happened because there had to be other people out there in the world who simply could not cope with the existence of that dimple.

“How many people have you made out with, then?” “Scores,” Lizzie snarled, only to get immediately scoffed at. “I’m really, incredibly popular.” “Oh, I’ve got no doubt.” “Boatloads of guys. Lining up to,” she pointed an imperious finger at her mouth, “make out with this.” “Your well-defined chin?” “I’m going to take my shoe off.” “Draw attention with a move like that.” Whatever fight she had didn’t immediately die. It just, sort of, fell. At her feet, threatening all the bones there and there were too many. All of them far too fragile. For whatever metaphor she was running with at the moment. “And we’re not trying to do that, huh? Draw attention.” “Shouldn’t you be out sowing wild oats?” “Really know how to charm a girl,” she grumbled, and that got her a smile. No scoff. Not even the hint of a smile. The whiplash was hurting her neck. “Trust me, the oats have appropriately sowed. If I was ever particularly inclined to farm work.” “I’m starting to be vaguely embarrassed by all of this.” “Good.” Wasn’t quite a scoff. Was more like a half-hearted laugh, and a tinge of desire and that was better than the other emotions, but the decreasing level of Roland’s eyebrows gave her pause. “What about the status of your oats?”

“Well sowed, rookie season,” Roland said.

“You’re going to change the name on your jersey.” “Not sure that particular fact has a lot to do with anything else. Seven years, Liza.” “I’m perfectly capable of doing math, you know I took that stats class once.” “Because I double checked everything you turned in.” “Makes you slightly less of an idiot than the vibe you're giving off right now.” “A freeway or compliments.” Pulling in a deep inhale through her nose, Lizzie didn’t miss the way Roland’s gaze fell. To the neckline of her dress, lingering on the jut of her collarbones for a few seconds longer than a strictly platonic friendship should allow, and they were friends. Still. She knew that as well as she knew that he believed she thought he was simply being clever with nicknames.

And not making vaguely incorrect My Fair Lady references.

Because he’d always been a little annoyed that Eliza had gone back to Henry Higgins. Instead of Freddie.

It was really impossible not to be a little in love with him at all times.

“You’re really going to hyphenate?” Roland nodded. “Think of all the new jerseys they’ll sell.” “By the box-load, and Gina’s gonna buy the entire stock. She’s—that’s really nice, you know.” “Just a fact. Little late, but—” He shrugged. Lizzie’s smile threatened to split her face. In that same nice way, she’d been talking about. Her lips were still buzzing. She might have been buzzing. With adrenaline. Happiness. The near-desperate desire to find some type of closet and get her fingers back in Roland’s questionably long hair.

“Of naming conventions.” She couldn’t begin to guess what the record was for shoulder shifts in an emotionally charged conversation between two people who were simultaneously ignoring the point of the conversation, but Lizzie also knew her eyebrows had been halfway up her face as he’d detailed the reasons for making his jersey say Mills-Locksley. From here on out.

Maybe that was the top of the list, actually.

He was a good guy.

Had always been a good guy. The best guy, really.

Falling into that chasm wasn’t nearly as terrifying as Lizzie expected it to be.

“Why’d you do it?” Roland’s lips disappeared. His tongue moved, again. She was staring at the area around his tongue. So, like, his mouth. Directly at his mouth. “Because, I uh—have wanted to?” “Oh, don’t phrase that like a question.” “Wanted to,” he repeated, a statement of fact with a certain amount of conviction. Enough to make Lizzie’s pulse sputter. “Which is kind of freaking me out.” “Come back with more compliments.” “Your dress nearly made me fall over.” “Better, actually,” she laughed.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Made sense at the time.” “Be more specific.” “Kissing you,” Roland said, enough emphasis that he leaned forward half an inch as well. It was a miracle their noses didn’t collide. Not the most impressive miracle, but—counted. “If I tell you that you might be my best friend does that make the lamest professional hockey player alive?” “Yes, absolutely.” “Matt might challenge you to a duel if he hears me talking like this, you know.” “God, Locksley, didn’t we just talk about the Mattie rules? Also, that made it sound like Mattie wants to kiss you too, so...”

He chuckled. Fingers still tugging on the back of his hair, like he was trying to ground himself in the pull and the self-inflicted tension, Roland looked up. Back at her. And Lizzie didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Held her position and prepared herself to defend the schedule she’d only ever allowed herself to hope for in the silence of that one corner in her brain.

Filled, as it was, with memories. Of conversations that didn’t have anything to do with hockey. Others that did. Arguing over blue line placement in the brownstone and college rankings. Of movies watched on two different laptops in different corners of the country, bad jokes, and consistent updates, that deep-rooted understanding that came from a life full of expectations and the exact opposite. No overt pressure, but the need to prove yourself anyway, if only because of the name on the back of the jersey, and Lizzie was going to have to buy a new jersey.

“You like me? Yes, or no?” Roland smiled. Wide and honest, the kind that ensured the dimple was on prominent display. “Yes.” “I am a grown adult? Yes, or no?” Crinkles appeared around his eyes. From the smile.

“Yes.” “Meaning I get to make my own choices. Romantically, or otherwise. Yes, or no?” “Obviously.” “Wasn’t one of the options.” “Yes,” Roland corrected, fingers trailing over the bend of her elbow. Lizzie hadn’t uncrossed her arms. Or remembered when she’d crossed them in the first place.

“Ok, good. Same page, then.” “Liza.” “Locksley.” Lifting her eyebrows wasn’t a challenge, per se. Was closer to instinct, really. Specifics didn’t matter, honestly. She did that thing with her eyebrows, and he did that thing with his mouth, the same one she was staring at and hoping would move closer to her, and then—

Well, it did.

Hands found Lizzie’s hips, pulling her forward sharply enough that she let out a soft grunt. From the feel of hips bumping against hers, and she honestly wasn’t sure who hissed in their next inhale, only that it did something to the flutter-like state of her pulse and the erratic nature of her heart, and it was slow and fast and good and great and not a single person noticed.

Miracles were arriving en masse, apparently.

Pushing her fingers into Roland’s hair got Lizzie another hum of approval, the first brush of his tongue making her lips part and her head fall to the side, but then his hand was wrapped around the back of her neck, and she could not be expected to pay attention to anything except the semi-consistent swipe of his thumb against her skin. It left more goosebumps. Caused another chuckle, the kind that rumbled through her and resonated around her, a tiny bubble of that same cautious optimism from before.

Like a spark.

Fanning flames and threatening to burn everything because if this didn’t work, then Lizzie wasn’t sure what would, and that was scary and overwhelming and terrifying was a synonym, but she really was working with very limited word-based resources when Roland’s thumb kept moving. Tracing her. Committing the feel to memory, and she wasn’t sure when they’d established the rocking pattern they were moving in, but something deep in the center of her trusted it.

Someone who regularly strapped knives to his feet and raced around at top speed knew how to stay balanced. And she was a stubborn idiot. Who got what she wanted.

“Is part of liking me because I told you I didn’t think it was embarrassing that you still got a little emotional about Miracle on 34th Street?” Laughter pushed past her lips. Took root in the pit of her stomach and the spaces between her ribs. Laced through her heart. In the kind of way that cemented itself. Right in the middle of Lizzie. Right in the middle of this. Them.

There was a them, now.

“Was definitely a factor, yeah,” Roland said, not bothering to pull away. “You, uh—you snuck up on me a little, Liza.” “Peak romance.” “Want me to talk about your dress some more?” She shook her head. “Unnecessary. And you didn’t.” “That might be part of the problem.” “Nursing old crushes, you mean?” Her hair hit her cheek. And his hand. He couldn’t seem to let go of her. “Nah, this wasn’t like...there was no torch, not really. I—I wasn’t hanging posters of you on my wall if that’s the picture you’ve painted for yourself.” “Kinda disappointing, admittedly.” “Pick a lane, babe.” No sparkle, that time. Just flash and want and the very thin line Lizzie’s lips had become. “Be more specific,” Roland repeated softly. “You’re not standing on a pedestal. Just you, Rol, as is.” He waited. That was fair. There should have been more. Should have been a detailed list of all the reasons the grown-up version of her liked so many parts of the grown-up version of him, but that all felt a little extraneous when she was still thinking about closet-type possibilities and that stubborn streak was a mile wide, anyway.

Roland nodded once. “Good.”

Both of them jumped. At the pop of another champagne bottle and Lizzie never understood how Regina managed to order so much champagne every year, but she felt a bit like she was floating on the bubbles, and they didn’t decide. Explicitly. To keep the whole thing—

Secret.

Another bad word. With bad connotations and shadows that clung to the definition, but this was them and only them and, for right now, that was enough. And if no one noticed the way Roland’s hand drifted over the small of Lizzie’s back during David’s speech, then that was a miracle she was willing to accept.

#blue line rambles #blue line one shots #these really are just original characters at this point #i have also written:#matt and claire meeting for the first time #henry and ella meeting for the first time #stuff about peggy and jeremy humbert #and i've got a whole list of will x belle stuff #in case it wasn't ovbious people still aren't responding to my emails #oh! also roland and lizzie's engagement #i wrote that too #also if you are so inclined: wilder days by morgan wade played like four times while i wrote this #mylifeisalifestyle #laura rambles

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