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spicyclover · 9 months

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Motherhood | part four

Summary: When did it start? In the bathroom of a hotel room in Bahrain? No, before. In the pits of a car race when you were six. « Hi, I’m Pierre. ». Would it have started there? On the first date? On the first kiss? On the first « I love you »? We were happy; we were in love. We were alone in the world. All it took was one smile to make my heart burst. All it took was one look. We were free, unconscious. And that day, he told me. « I want a child with you. ». Out of desire, out of love, out of madness, I said, « Do it to me. » Well, it really all started there.

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section!

I'm open to requests.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING: miscarriages, physical, verbal and mental abuse. +18 mention of smut

If you are the victim of abuse of any kind. Please. Seek help. Your safety and your life are important. A person who hurts you mentally, physically or verbally is not a good person. Call a friend, a family member or the special number of your country to get HELP.

Disclaimer: All references to aggression and violence are fictitious. This story is fiction and has no correlation with reality. All site names making acts, violence or any other type of aggression are used for artistic purposes, and they did not commit those acts.

You take your wrist between your fingers and slowly massage it as you turn around to continue on your way. You did it. You have told him all the pain and sorrow he has inflicted on you. A sense of pride fills you.

You take a step when all of a sudden.

"Wait!" He shouts and forces you to walk away from the crowd.

All the trust you’ve built evaporates in seconds, and you follow him despite yourself. Tears of fear appear in your eyes, and you feel your breath leave your body as you see yourself being dragged away. You walk away from others, cameras, security, and hospitalities… what will he do to you?

You’re trying to free yourself again, but a fury emanates from him and for the first time in weeks, you’re scared. You fear for your life. You fear him. His face is closed, and his grip marks you with his imprint.

"Let go of me. You're hurting me." You whisper while choking on your own sob. His body tense up, and he finally stops you. He kicks you up hard, and you hit your head against the wall of the building.

You, again, choke a moan of pain and lean against the wall to support yourself. Your head turns, and your vision blurs. He really pushed you hard. You eventually lost your balance and fell to your knees before him.

"You have no right to humiliate me in front of everyone. Do you hear me?" He exclaims, grasping your neck to force you to look at him. "You are nothing, a vermin, a whore. You’re a fucking whore. On all fours on the bed, that’s all you deserve in life."

You fear him. You tremble like a leaf waiting for the next event. You wait for the punches, you wait for the penetration, you wait for the marks. You feel his hand choking more around your neck, and a new wave of panic invades you. You grab his arm, trying to get out, but he pulls you up effortlessly and pushes you hard into the wall. You can’t even get a sound out of your mouth because it’s so tight for your vocal cords. The lack of air is felt, and you wiggle. You try to hit him, but you gradually lose your strength. Yet your eyes do not leave his. In a sign of rebellion, in a sign of strength, you do not leave him with your eyes. You let him see your pain and suffering.

"Let... Let me... Let me go." You can hardly articulate.

"Or what?"

Your eyes sweep the horizon behind him, and miraculously you see red clothes approaching your position. A wave of hope takes hold of you, and you gather your strength. This may be the only chance you have. You scratch his face hard, so he drops his grip on your neck. You gasp for air, stumbling away towards the men in red. You try to shout, but you are no longer able to speak. You feel Pierre in your back getting close again quickly, and you grab a stone and throw it with all your strength you have left against the metal bin next to you. Heads turn to noise, and you recognize Carlos.

"Y/n? Carlos shouts, coming toward you. He sees your distress, and his face turns red at the sight of Pierre. "What did you do, cabrón?" Carlos' fists close, knowing what Pierre has done to you very well.

Carlos' assistant approaches you and takes you away while the two men talk. You take your head against your hands and feel a lousy liquid coming out of your head. You bleed. He hit you hard enough to crack your skull. Your breathing accelerates when you see the blood, and you gasp for air. Your body no longer controls itself, and the pressure releases. You are in a panic attack. You can no longer speak or express yourself adequately. Your lungs are burning, and you only want to scream with all your might so that this nightmare will finally give way. You want to be with Charles. You need to be with him. You need to be with him.

"It’s okay, Carlos, we were just talking. Mind your own business, my friend."

"Well, this is my business. And to me, my friend, it didn't seem like she wanted to talk." Carlos' voice is cold and unprecedented.

"You know girls like her..."

It’s too much for Carlos throwing his fist at Pierre’s face. Pierre rocks and finds himself on the ground before running away towards his hospitality.

"You’re all really sick. She’s just a whore!" Pierre screams, running away.

He runs away, leaving you with Carlos and his team. Oddly, you feel less alone seeing Carlos around you. You try to regain a normal heart rhythm, but the air seems to be stuck in your throat. You hold your head in your hands, and blood flows. It hurts. It hurts. Why does he have to be so mean? Tears run down your cheeks, and you feel Carlos' warm hands fondling your back

"It's okay. He's gone. You're okay." He repeats multiple times, more to convince himself than you. "We need to get out of here. Can you walk?"

You nod your head, and he sighs. He really hurt you. He puts your arms around his neck, and he puts one hand behind your back and under your knees before getting up. His team forms a wall around you, and you advance to the hospitality of Ferrari a few meters longer. The world passes by you without you paying attention which greatly reassures Carlos. Andrea sees you in the distance and runs towards you.

"Cos'è successo? Perché sei così? Chi ti ha fatto del male? Giuro, se lo trovo…" Says Andrea, quickly looking around to see your attacker. What happened? Why are you like this? Who hurt you? I swear if I find him…

Carlos shuts him down with a look, and you enter Ferrari’s quarters. Carlos' assistant runs to look for a doctor while Andrea runs to the interview area to warn Charles. Carlos lies you in Charles' room on the little massage boards. Your head drums, and you have trouble keeping your eyes open. Your throat hurts, your lower belly hurts, your knees hurt. You whine in pain, and you faint.

Meanwhile, Charles speaks with reporters about his Pole Position and the results so far from Ferrari. It is completely to the west of what has just happened. He finishes his interview and begins to move towards hospitality when Andreas wringing towards him.

"Charles! Devi… devi… devi… devi venire." He articulates difficulties. Still in shock at what he saw. Charles! Must… Must… Must you… Must come.

"Eh? Che sta succedendo?" Huh? What’s going on?

"Y/n."

Just to the agreement of your first name, he rushes towards where his trainer tells him. He runs. He runs at full breath to the hospitality. Fred tries to speak to him, but Charles ignores him by sending his hand waltzing.

"What happened? He kneels directly beside you. Screaming at Carlos.

A paramedic is already in the room examining you. He’s talking on the phone with the ER while his colleagues come home with a stretcher to pick you up. Charles tries to understand the situation. How you got there. Everything is confused, and he does not understand. The paramedics take you to the ambulance. He refuses to let Charles go with you, and he begs them to tell them where he’s taking you. The siren starts, and it moves away in the night. The Paddock is empty, and fortunately, because he has no desire for a group of curious come to see him or post about it. He turns to Carlos, who has the stitches.

Carlos hesitates a few seconds before saying.

"Pierre."

The simple agreement of that name makes her turn blood. What did he do to put her in that state? He ends up changing and hurries to the hospital that he was told. Joris and Andrea are with him in the car and a silence of lead reigne. Charles' hands are white to tighten the wheel. He did not find Pierre, but he only wants to kill him.

"Si je le trouve... Je lui défonce sa gueule." He’s mumbling for the umpteenth time. If I find him… I’ll kill this asshole.

The parking lot of the hospital is almost empty. He leaves his keys to Joris before running to the door to enter the emergency room. The minutes are long, and he only wants to be by your side. The receptionist tells him your room number, and he hurries to go.

The room is in the dark, but the doctor explains that you are fine. You will have to take the weeks in total calm. The concussion has healed, and your vocal cords are slowly starting to return to your normal size. He sits next to you and watches you sleep. You have a black eye and bruises on your body. For he cannot help but find you beautiful. Despite all this shit, you are beautiful, kind and joyful. He doesn’t know how you can be a force of nature like that. Charles lies beside you. He takes you in his arms, being careful not to hurt you. In your sleep, you seek his contact. His nose in your hair, he escapes to the world of dreams.

You wake up at 10 am. Charles isn’t by your side, but Joris is asleep in the chair in a corner of your room. You look around while the memories of the day before slowly come back to you.

"Joris?" You ask confused.

Joris jumps when he hears your voice and approaches you. You spend the rest of the day in examination before the doctors allow you to leave. You go back to the hotel with him. You are still weak, but he supports you in every step you take.

"I don’t understand why he’s picking on me. What did I do to him?" It is not really a question for him, but rather, an unanswered question.

"I don't know." He says he’s upset. "But nothing will happen to you. I swear to you. I will not leave you any more than a foothold from now on."

"That's sweet." You mumble, looking out the window of your hotel room. "I don't think I'll come back."

"What?"

"I... I don't want to live in the fear that he'll find me whenever I am in the paddock." You sit a the edge of the bed. "It's better if I leave before anything worse happens. I don't want Charles to be in trouble because of me or anyone." You cough several times, knowing well that you must spare your voice. "I'll talk to him about it later."

You sent Joris back to the race. Asking him not to say anything to Charles tends to make you not talk to him. He nods against his heart before taking his jacket and going out. You settle in comfortably after taking a shower and putting cream on your bruises and wounds. You have a hard time grasping the phone to order room service. You lose your voice more and more. You order a honey tea with Benedictine eggs. Enough to fill your stomach until tonight you find Charles.

The hours pass, and Charles wakes you up when he enters the room after finishing the race. You jump when you hear the door slam, and Charles immediately regrets not having paid attention to this door. He apologizes for the look before coming to you and kissing you tenderly.

"I'm terribly sorry... I forgot the door was loud." He says by putting his head in your neck. He smells your smell, and it reassures him. "Did you eat something?"

"This... this morning." You hardly answer.

Charles notices your lack of voice and informs you to refrain from speaking for the moment. You try to retaliate, but he is right. You have to rest to the max. You write to him to tell you about his day. He talks about the race while storing his belongings in his suitcase. He walks back and forth, telling every detail of the race and getting third place on the podium. You tap the bed to get his attention, and he approaches you. You kiss him proudly for the bliss of that third place.

"We are not doing this right now." He smirks, knowing very well what you do to him. You pouted a bit, but once again, his right. You're in no shape to have sex. "Will have it when you're fully recovered and fully vocal." You giggle at his last words. Charles loves hearing you moan loud.

You kiss his lips again before showing him the menu to order food.

The next day, you returned to Monaco. You found your marks in his apartment, which became yours. Charles is off to the next circuit, and you won’t see him for the next few weeks. The races are close, and he doesn’t have much time left for you. You’re glad he’s not offering to come. After everything that’s happened. You don’t want to go back. You haven’t had time to talk to him about your decision yet, but know that you like to think he already knows.

The last race comes fast, and you are excited that the winter holidays start for him. The fight between him and Max is tight. They exchange points like shirts. The pressure is on. The last race is decisive.

Sitting in front of the TV, you’re with Charles' mother. She didn’t want to sit at that Grand Prix so she could stay close to you; frankly, you were grateful. She’s been a big help to you the last few weeks. Especially at the beginning, she came to see you every day to help you in your daily life and in the various tasks that you have to do. You fully regained your voice a few weeks later, and it felt good to be able to express yourself normally again.

The race has started, and the tension is at its peak. The cars are pushing each other. Different strategies are at stake. Charles is back at the booth. He changes his tires. Optimal stop; he leaves as fast as he arrives. Verstappen is a few seconds ahead of him. He uses his mediums to the maximum. Charles quickly gains time on him. Max returns to the booth. Charles passes first. Optimal stop for number one. He quickly catches up with Charles. The last laps arrive. Pressure rises. You are no longer able to look at the screen. All you want is for the finish line to appear and for it to end. The last round begins. The speeds are at their top rates. They’re touching. The finish line is a few metres away. The car goes by.

To be continued...

Tag list : ricciardosheart ru-kru gaslysainz champomiel jessicaloons tyna-19 thesonnie6

#charles leclerc #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fluff #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc smut

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crush-zombie · 6 months

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Where I am in life? Things that have happened. The continuing circus of the wild west of my existence. It's a long post ;

I lived in Ontario for three years, from 2018 to 2022, in a couple of places.

The friend I was supposed to move in with, to ease my spiralling depression, backed out at the last moment with threats. The "you're lucky I'm not around or I'd beat your ass" kind of threats, because I refused to give up and let despair engulf me.

I ended up in the basement of a friend of my mother's for a year. For apartment-finding (and legal) reasons I had my sister (and her partner) come as well, and after a year of searching and filling out applications the three of us got kicked out. We stayed in the woods by a highway for a week before getting sent to a homeless shelter.

2 months there was bad. The details probably aren't necessary, but it was dehumanizing.

After that we ended up in one of Canada's "hot spots" for Covid when the pandemic broke out. It took about a month there before my sister's partner started (continuing to) abuse me. My sister didn't care. My illness(es) had been intensifying all throughout those years, but they really hit a fever pitch at this time. I spent a lot of time gasping on the floor.

Along with my illness(es), during all this time I was struggling with suicidal feelings and urges. That's why I moved to Ontario to begin with-- I hoped things would be better there somehow, like a complete idiot ;

After threats from my sister and her partner a friend back in Newfoundland offered me an out. I returned, tail between my legs and my dog, who I dragged through all this chaos, was getting so old he can barely walk. My energy was so, so low and I put just about all of it into caring for him.

About 6 months into living with my friend she unloaded all her issues with me (that I studied like a motherfucker, because I am and always am convinced that I'm the problem in everything)-- that I eat too much, I don't clean the house enough, I'm "disrespectful" (conversely another friend often tells me I'm "too polite"), I "over parent" her daughter (this still confuses me), that she didn't believe I was disabled, that covering for my old, sickly dog was disgusting. I spiralled very hard, and got brought out to the dining room table to be told all the things I should be doing and what I was doing wrong. Immediately afterwards I started planning my suicide. My dearest (internet) friend kept me from death, but in its place I started developing an eating disorder, eating nothing but one meal a day (which sometimes didn't happen) and being nearly bedbound with hunger and exhaustion every day. I started cleaning the house, sweeping, tidying, doing the dishes and folding laundry for the two other adults and one child in the house. No-one complained. I'm convinced everyone in the world would be flattered to have someone bend to their neuroses.

When I forced myself to stop believing I was disabled I lost the language to describe my experiences. I ended up with a counselor in a matter of a week because of my mental state, and he had the unfortunate and arduous job of piecing my shattered mind back together. It's still missing bits... rough in a lot of places.

April of last year, I had to put my dog down. I was spending all my time taking care of him because he couldn't even stand anymore, and the vet really laid it down for me: this was it. So... Even just writing about it puts a lump in my throat and hot tears in my eyes. Grief is hellish agony, maybe the worst I've ever experienced. "I wouldn't be surprised," my counselor said, "you loved that dog more than most people love their own children."

In June I moved again. Currently I'm renting a room with a bunch of dirty 20-something-year-olds who do nothing but smoke weed all day every day and spend 8 AM every morning coughing until they urge, so I roll over and stuff ear plugs in my ears. At least they seem to be good people, and they know to keep their noses out of my business. And $600 for a single room and access to a (disgusting) bathroom, a (disgusting) kitchen and a (disgusting) laundry room with everything included is far, far from the worst I've had. I'm poor, but... it's something, and something isn't nothing.

#TW mention of suicide #TW threats #TW homelessness #TW pet loss #TW abuse #TW pet illness

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sery-chan-13 · 1 year

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So today, I've decided to drag each of you simps. Keep in mind that I'm also dragging myself when doing this so....

Banda simps how does it feel to literally be the main character while also having crippling anxiety that makes you dependent on someone who you view as greater than you, therefore making you basically their side kick. And the worst part is that you enjoy this because this person makes you feel safe and small. You always hated vile people, but for some reason you're so attracted to them. A part of your brain tell you "They wouldn't do that to me" and you go with it. You spend your time and mental health trying to make a man out of a monster. No matter how much you fail, you still think it's possible. Somehow you still don't understand love hurts even when its stabbing you with a sharpened knife, carving their name into your body with a razor blade. Because their whispers of 'I love you' as they kiss your bloodied skin have msde you think this is what love is.

Matsushita simps you crave being in control of situations but oh how much you love someone being in control of you. You've always had to have everything planned down to the smallest detail, so for someone to sweep you away and do all the thinking for you? Perfection. You probably have issues with your parental figures. Even if it isn't full blown mommy/daddy issues, there's something there. You, much like him, hide under something. Whether it be your hair, clothes, or music, you hide behind that mask. You hate feeling inferior, but if he told you to be you would. Just for a second of praise. You crave it. You crave attention, touch, love. Your love language is most likely words of affirmation. You love the idea of someone calling you a 'good girl' and telling you everything you do right.

Chishiya simps. Stop acting like you're better than anyone else because the truth is you're just like the rest of us. You have absolutely no filter, and hurt the people around you, even if by mistake, with your words. You have mommy/daddy issues and to see that represented in a character who you deemed attractive was all you really needed to fall in love because you think you understand him. In fact you think you understand everyone's problems, don't you? You try so hard to be a good person, but it never works out the way you want it to. You just want someone to tell you its ok you're not always a good person, and that they love you either way. Love language is probably words of affirmation.

Niragi simps We get it, you're different. Not in a bad way of course. However younger you definitely thought being different was the worst. You were probably bullied same as him, which is why you sympathize for him. After that you have the strong urge to punch him in the face. You wonder if you're mentally ok everyday. You're the kind of person that says, "I can fix it!" Even if there's no hope. You could turn a mirror into dust, and still try. You'd do anything to make your partner happy, even if it meant sacrificing your dignity.

Arisu simps. You thought you'd be left out of this because you're always left out of everything. You wished for a friendship like Arisu has with his friends, but in reality you let people walk all over you for their benefit. When will you start speaking for yourself? When will you start telling people to stop treating you like garbage? You took one look at this boy and immediately said you'd let him do anything as long as he stayed happy. You want to keep everyone happy, but it is just not possible. You were once the golden child or a gifted child that has fallen from your family's graces. Oh, and hello daddy issues.

Kyuma simps stop acting like you're so high and mighty trying to reflect his personality. You wish to be free from the confines of everything human. You most likely thought of being a bird or maybe a fox at one point. Free, beautiful snd elegant. You admire Kyuma for his bravery, however felt that you could never expose yourself like that. Not because of insecurity, but because of the fact that as much as you hate societal norms, as much as you hate confined thinking, you are just like the rest. And you hate that don't you?

So how did i do? Did it hurt? Bc not all of you are like this of course, but lots of you are~~~~

Anyways, have a cookie as a reward for not wanting to murder me yet 🍪🍪

Much love my darling readers♥️

#alice in borderland #niragi #chishiya #matsushita enji #arisu #kyuma #banda #simps all of you #im no better lol

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incarnateirony · 10 months

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I am sobbinggggggggggggg laughing. That fuckin bitchboy cuck AMC message has caused riotous fucking laughter with any man I've mentioned it to. I think my favorite comment so far was "God DAMN, you really snapped his ass in HALF." like yeah man. Gender: male doesn't make someone a man. Gender: man can absolutely be Little Bitch Boy. I can respect your gender and still call you a little bitch boy baby child. And he did not know what to fuckin do with that.

Keep in mind, my gamer circles are not, say, LGBTQ heavy. They're not anti or whatever they're just. Dudes. Who generally do not care what anyone does with their genitals, as a default life alignment. But deadass I got told "trans guys like him are why trans guys like you get so much bullshit."

like legit I got to hear anger on my behalf, bc they deadass are like, people want to walk into this shit and do not understand the culture, but I've known you 25 years dude, you walked the walk before there was a pronoun for it or whatever the fuck" like. yea. i told him that, like maybe in your AFAB days you were used to boys bending over for you when you feel uncomfortable but we're not fuckin doing that here sweet cheeks. Last night two men were resolving a fairly identical scenario loudly outside my door and it ended in a police standoff and arrest. Stop acting hysterical because you heard a strong word. I'm not here to make you comfortable. You wanted to act big and meatshield your lying whore like the sticky theater sweeping cuck you are and play some weird manipulative gotcha bullshit. The only reason I did not call you a Little Girl is because you're the type to get hysterical about that and say someone is disrespecting your gender instead of realizing that's what a cis man would tell another cis man acting like he needs a training bra. Guys like you get your shit pushed in EVERY. DAY. And I just got like "...yeah. That. That's why trans people catch shit. Exactly that. You end up associated with bullshit from little boys that don't know how not to shit their pants when not catered to, and then they get mad you're treating them like a man, actually."

...yeah that about sums up the converation. The second I addressed him like I would any cis man he started peeing on the floor. 4 years of testosterone shots and multiple surgeries may affirm your gender but they do not, in fact, keep you from being a whiny little bitch. All the cosmetic changes in the world can not change who you are inside. And if you feel like that's a man, that's fine, but you will be treated then like any man who behaves like this. Like a whiny, demanding, entitled, oversensitive child deserving of his shit pushed in. Straight up you're the kind of person the kiwis would plot to fuck with just to watch you get shrill. Because men hate men like you. You're an embarrassment. Cis, trans, doesn't matter, but trans are the ones that are receiving focal bullshit so try to not represent us like a bunch of entitled mentally unstable people that will break if an insult variably suggests a gender if you turn the paper sideways, and maybe stop acting like we'll mentally explode looking at the wrong bathroom sign. You. You're the problem.

Like this is legit ongoing convo, now I'm back with the friends she tried to force out of my life. Go figure, they're the ones actually affirming my gender, the awful gamer bros. She didn't actually want to address the hard parts of dysphoria and it making me touch averse or address or apologize for how she antagonized it with her behaviors and complaints, so she skipped to the person a few years on it and done with surgeries to wave little pom poms and not get kicked out like the deep down ignorant transphobic whore she it. If the cuck had the FOGGIEST idea of the shit I heard from her on car rides that made me shut down he'd move out today. But he won't. Because he's a cuck.

But they're like. no, see. legit this. Online everyone thought you were a dude, the only place i ever seen anyone call you a chick was when you were in supernatural and thats because everybody in supernatural is assumed female as default. Your entire life you have emitted dude to the point that, simply by not saying a gender, everyone took you as a man, and said he, and you never blinked to correct it, because you kinda probably got it was correct, like obviously it didn't feel wrong.

yeah dude deadass when I joined spn fandom i fuckin flinched a few times at being called She, even if I wasn't full board the trans lingo bus or whatever, but then ended up like. yeah i guess that is in fact a thing? ok w/e before actually going, wait no, there's a reason I fucking hate that. It's been a reason since I was 12, or even 4. No, not in ambiguous Feelings either. In how people look, took me, received me, or even judged me; even as a toddler, WHY IS DEADNAME SO LOUD, WHY IS DEADNAME SUCH A GODDAMN BOY WHY DOES DEADNAME RUN LIKE AN OX NICOLE IS A VIBRANT GAZELLE WHY IS DEADNAME LIKE THIS. Not just whining about how someone wants to dress or whatever, even in my BODY MOTIONS, why do you walk like a man about to kick my ass. because i fucking am. By my 20s I was assigned a role in a social organization only given to men. And joined another society that is also almost male exclusive. I have run in masculine rings and been yelled at for being masc my whole life. Like, guys, I don't know how to break it to you, my neurological wiring and the way I walk has actually caused me multiple leg fractures in contrast to estrogen induced muscle and bone density. Because it's just who I fucking am. LITERALLY walk the walk, or put your little ballerina shoes on.

So it's genuinely embarrassing to watch this absolute fucking cuck make an embarrassment of trans people. my friends are right. Gaping cuckholds like you are why nobody takes us seriously. Grow a proverbial pair, or get them installed, because christ on a cracker. Don't say "I'm a man" and start screaming hysterically when you're actually treated like one acting like you deserve my respect by default while overtly defending your fucking cuckhood and grasping at illogical straws of argument to save some collapsing reality. You a bitch. Gender irrelevant.

and these friends be like. yeah. that. thats why we actually get trans shit. its cuz you. you fucking have been a man since before we had gender shit, you have always been dude, walked with dudes, like if What If God Was One Of Us was like What If Girl Was One Of Us. You know how this works, that's why women tended to lose their shit on you, because you were us. A lot of this shit is the side effect of people skipping like 30 years of cultural development and expecting culture to realign to whatever they're feeling and boy, if that's what they want, they shoulda thought real hard before becoming a man, because BRO do we got news for YOU. If we didn't have you standing here dude all we'd see is this internet garbage of rich white girls. I legit thought it was the new plastic surgery craze or some bullshit because nobody can give a straight answer or walk the walk, they want the world to bend around them.

So yeah, now they get trans is real, but assholes like him are not doing us any service in the public perception.

one of my favorite responses to this mess was when i told my other friend, also named mark like shea's cuck, about when I was like "bro it's not a coincidence I lost 100 lbs the year after leaving and she gained it" and he tried OH YEAH T WILL DO THAT, FAT REDI-- "no dude, I wasn't on it, I was just off her greasy ass. She's fucking toxic. Now go guzzle your mountain dew and shove more zebra cakes in your face like the fat fucks you are."

Mark The Grown Man: [star] [heart] I have been dropkicked. i love this

some freshly minted men are yet to learn that affirming your gender does not innately affirm your manhood

hi shea, thats my money making room. In my livingroom alone I got $25,000 in reasons you need to stick that finger up your loose giant hole. Or will in 2 months. Eat my shit. Yeah, you wish your bitch boyfriend could even masc this hard after 4 years injections and 2 surgeries, but he can't change the worthless schmuck he is no matter how many scalpels he tries to fix himself with or how much rogaine he rubs on his face for that classic White Boy Trailer Trash With Complexes Werewolf Beard. See you in 2 years of T, which despite not even getting my first of yet, I am absolutely confident I could push your man's shit in, in any possible measure already. I imagine you'll be about 600 lbs by then. Probably around when you'll be fucking mark behind his back with the like 6th loser you're trying to tee up. Maybe you'll find kevin again and mark can walk in on the half-ton clapping of walrus sex. Maybe he and I can have a good laugh about it one day.

Godddd that bitch's face when she realizes I'm gonna be running a quarter million business by a year from now. Good luck. Go eat the popcorn he brought home from the amc floors. That'll fix the self hatred and anxiety, I'm sure, you lying, malicious cunt. Abrahadabra you will NOT forget, bitch. In fact after that little bitch boy incident of his, I've made a new promise to make sure you and nobody ever does. You should have NEVER fucking sent your chud as a meat shield to try to shut me up on my own blog after you have maliciously lied for years. You will burn. Maybe just internally. Maybe just yourself. Maybe just a burn list. But damn am I good at burning it down. it's gonna happen. But consider yourself burned. How literal or emotional it is just results in how you play with life's entropy from here. Now go be shrill about threats together. There's 49 other states if you want to get shrill about safety. not like you can run from my brother, but I'm sure stealing our faces has told you he still likes you.

"u should respect women." I do. That's not a woman. That's a manipulative monster about on par with the worst villains I've ever managed to write. Goddamn cunt. You and him and all of yours lying on every available thread on the internet for 2 years nonstop any chance you get just for the sake of the malice, and what you've convinced your chumps of. I peep about her 2 years later just because I mention getting to play with my old friends she chased out and was insufferable towards to the point they voiced it like OH THANK GOD SHE'S GONE, and damn they just come squealing in with burning rubber with a cuck shield going DONT TALK ABOUT HERRRRRRRRRRRRRRR lmfao sit down child. nonono NOW I'm gonna talk about her.

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itsthestutterforme · 2 years

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"Am I Broken? Am I Flawed?" (Ransom Drysdale x reader)

Summary: Reader sacrificing her own mental health for Ransom

Notes: GIF is not mine, implied domestic abuse, implied physical abuse, mentions of neglect, mention of disassociation, mention of trauma, sad themes (if any of these make you feel uncomfortable, please do not read)

"What the hell is your deal? I told you to leave it there fuck alone and you're still pushing." Ransom spits. You follow him into the kitchen. "Because you need to be pushed. Otherwise you will still run through the same cycle over and over again." You say.

"Listen sweetheart, you're overstepping. I invited you over to ruin you with my dick. Not to have a Ted Talk."

"You're lying," "Oh yeah? Tell me. How am I lying?" "You told me about your mother and how she neglected you. You don't tell that to just anyone."

"Well I didn't have anyone else to talk to." "Exactly! You don't have anyone else. So why is it so hard to trust me?"

"Because I don't need your charity!" He snaps. "It's not charity if I care about you!" You yell back at him. Redness creeps up his neck and to his cheeks.

"You need to go," "No, I'm not leaving. Not when you need me most." "Let me make something clear, sweetheart. I never needed you. You're just a conveniance to me."

You knew he was saying this to hurt you because you're too close for comfort. "It's okay to be scared," you tell him, reaching for his face before he slaps it away. You wince at the sting lingering on your wrist. He moves to leave but you tried to hold up back by his arm.

"Get the fuck away from me!" He shoves you away and your back hits the wooden table that held his bottle of whiskey. The table breaks and so did the bottle.

A large piece lodged itself in your forearm and you inhaled sharply. You stay there for a moment, your mind slowly telling you to go to your safe place as it sensed the familiarity of the situation.

You weren't aware that Ransom was talking to you until he held your arm. You pulled away from his touch. "I'm sorry. I'll clean this up." You tell him, standing from the floor and grabbing the broom and scoop.

"Y/N, what are you doing? You're bleeding." You ignore him and sweep up the broken glass before tossing it in the trash.

"I'll uh, I'll order you a new table." Taking the keys into your hands, you made an advance to leave. "Where are you going?" You don't answer him.

"Y/N, please let me take you to the hospital." "I can fix it with a first aid kit." You tried to reach for the door but he puts a hand on the door, stopping you.

"Stop trying to leave. What are- what's wrong with you? You have a huge piece of glasses stuck in your arm and you're acting like it's a paper cut." "It didn't cut any major arteries,"

"How do you know that?" "Can I use your first aid kit?" He looks at you in disbelief. You're acting like a completely different person.

You just wanted to love him and he felt the urge to punch himself in the face for doing this to you. He disappears and comes back with the kit.

You take it and walk into the bathroom. He follows you and watches as you pull out the saline, gauze, suture and needle from the kit.

You slide on a glove before pulling out the glass. Quickly cleaning the wound with saline, you dap and apply pressure to the wound until you felt the blood flow decrease.

It takes you a minute to thread the suture through the needle. When you do, you take a deep breath before sewing the separated flesh together.

You've done this before, Ransom thought to himself. Your mind disassociated as your muscle memory kicked in to finish the suture. And before you knew it, you were wrapping the suture with gauze and tucked the end of it under the wrapping.

"How did you know how to do that?" He asks. "I'm going to leave now." "No, wait, please. Just.. I don't like the idea of you being alone like this." "Wouldn't be the first time I was. Just let me go, Ransom." "I can't," "I'll stay for the night. Then I'm gone."

You push passed him and wrap a throw around your frame. You sit in front of the fireplace and watched as the burnt embers drifted up the chimney.

"Y/N, I'm sorry." He tries to touch you but you move away from him. "No, I'm sorry. I over stepped."

He watches as a stray tear leaves your eyes. He moves to wipe the tear and you move your head away from him. He cursed at himself before leaving you alone to cry in front of the fire place.

"Trouble in paradise? I knew that you two wouldn't last." Linda says, pulling you out of your disassociated thoughts. You wipe a tear from your cheek and Ransom opens his mouth to speak when you stand.

Staring straight into Linda's eyes, you say, "When you're alone on your death bed, and you look around to see no one there. No get well cards or feel better flowers."

Her arrogant smirk left her face as you continued. "When you're alone in that cold, hospital room asking 'what happened?' you think back to how shitty of a mother you were to your son." You add before leaving the house. "Y/N," Ransom calls after you.

Stopping in your tracks, he rounds you and desperately tried to read your face. You agreed to go to Thanksgiving dinner with him before last night happened.

It was going to be the last gift he ever got from you. "What do you want me to do? I'll do anything, buy you anything. Just please don't leave."

"I don't have nothing left to give you Ransom. I've lost-" "Y/N?" A familiar voice calls. You look over Ransom's shoulder to see your best friend, Ari. You almost broke right then and there. "What are you doing here, Ari?" You ask, moving around Ransom.

"I had a gut feeling and you werent answering my calls. Yes, I tracked your phone but don't get mad at me. I tr-" you cut him off by wrapping your arms tightly around his.

"Hey, it's okay." He comforts when you unravel in his arms. He looks down at you wailing into his chest.

Looking up to meet Ransom's guilty gaze, Ari's jaw clenched. "You and I will talk to you very soon, Drysdale." Ari threatens. He lifts you into his arms and places you in his passenger side. He drapes his favorite jacket over your frame to calm you down before rounding the car and sliding into the driver's seat.

"You feel comfortable telling me what's wrong?" He asks once your crying dwindled to an occasional sniffle. He's been driving around Boston for the past forty minutes because he knows that drives puts you at peace.

You pull up your long sleeve and showed him the gauze. His gaze darkened when it fell to your injured arm. "He did that?" "I had a part in it too," "No, don't you dare blame yourself for his choices."

"I pushed him. He was scared of letting someone in. There's just a scared, hurt little boy beneath all of the sarcasm and bruteness."

"You're not responsible for him. You're responsible for you. You have a big heart. And I know you want to be there for someone because you don't want them to feel abandoned and alone like you did."

A whimper leaves your lips and he takes your hand into his. "But you can't pour from an empty glass. And no one- I repeat no one is more important than your mental health. Do you hear me?"

You look out the window but squeeze his hand. "How long are you staying?" "For however long you need me," he answers.

He knew you would object so he adds, "Whether you want me to or not." You sigh and he squeezes your hand. He waits for you to meet his gaze before saying, "You deserve better."

You lean over the console and rested your head on his shoulder. He kissed the peak of your hairline and you close your eyes, embracing the safety that only he could make you feel.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson

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internalsealpanic · 3 years

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Love Through the Ages (Jason Todd)

Summary: Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part three of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots. Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans. I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself. ALSO, y'all can thank @littleredwing89 for the poem that comes up.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist.

You tap at your phone screen, planting seeds in a satisfyingly hypnotic rhythm, the sounds of the train vacillating in and out of your periphery. It was soothing having your own compartment, a little world you can isolate yourself in while you anxiously await for the inevitable.

It wasn’t a secret that you found Gotham stressful. It was about as much a secret as Tony Stark’s civilian identity. You pulled your knees up to your chest at the thought. Big cities were stressful but Gotham was a different beast entirely. It was a writhing monster of steel and smoke. You wrinkle your nose deciding to sweep the thought away.

Instead, you concentrate on your plants and your farm. You wince looking at your journal. It looks like you’d forgotten another quest. Pursing your lips, you decide to turn your phone off for a bit and pretend the NPCs can sort it out on their own as you look out the window.

You lean against the wall, pressing your cheek to the cool window. You can’t help but smile to yourself thinking of a sea of black curly hair interrupted by a shock of white, sea green eye perpetually alight with mischief or intelligence (9 times out of 10, you really couldn’t tell which it was.), freckles like star map, and a mouth permanently set in a cocky grin. It’s hard not to smile like an idiot when thinking of Jason Todd.

Your skirt flutters in the wind as you dance your way through the crowd, bobbing up and down on your tiptoes over the sea of humans. Sometimes the smell of them still makes your mouth water but not now, not when the smell of Gotham is so pungent in the air.

You see a gloved hand wave at you on the other side of the crowd. You pin your sunhat against your head as you rush through the crowd, your luggage dragging behind you.

Jason waves a two fingered salute at you in front of a motorcycle, his foot clearly stomping a cigarette. You toss your hat to him. It flutters over the crowd. Jason catches it easily, putting it on his own head.

"Hey Princess, welcome back." Jason greets, the syllables of your native French gliding off of his tongue so easily. Fighting down a blush, you swallow your own greeting. Jason would have been a great ambassador in a different life were he not inclined to murder someone with a desert spoon for being a jackass.

He offers his hat back to you, but you shake your head. "You might freckle too much in Gotham's sunny weather." He gives you a hearty chuckle keeping the hat on.

"Missed you too, princess."

You roll your eyes. Pinching your nose, you look around. "You forgot to tell me to bring a gas mask."

"Every city smells like this."

"Darling, you've been in Gotham for too long."

"And you've been in your French villa for too long." Jason says, putting his sunglasses on you. You glare at him through them.

"First of all, it's a cottage."

Jason snorts, "As if that makes a difference. It's still in the idyllic French countryside, isn't it?"

"I-"

"I rest my case."

You cross your arms. "You're welcome to visit, you know?" It was a hopeful suggestion at best.

"We both know the quiet will drive me crazy."

"I said visit," you say, "besides, I think the train ride alone would drive you up the wall." You remember how Jason is with tight spaces.

"Not with you there." Jason winks.

Your heart presses a bruise into your throat and you hate Jason Peter Todd all over again.

"Ah yes, you plan on driving me mad. Evil. Truly evil of you." You say, grinning back at him.

"Here's a wild idea, how bout we just not listen to Roy? How does that sound?" Jason gently suggests, handing you your offensively pink cup of caffeinated goop. Jason can smell the sickening amount of sweeteners added. He might gag.

"Nope," you say, smiling at him as you slurp your ooze. Jason's stomach rolls. Alfred would have an aneurysm. "He was even nice enough to get us both tickets." You hand him one, fingers brushing against his. They felt calloused as they always did. Jason suppresses any oncoming reaction.

He instead turns his attention to the ticket in his hands. Love Through the Ages: Gotham Museum Exhibition on expressions of love. Jason runs through the numbers. "These are $59 each."

"So sweet of him, isn't it?" You chirp adorably.

Jason makes a mental note to kill both of you. "You're only going along with this cus you want to watch me suffer." Jason says, slumping his chair. His foot kicks out to tap your foot.

"I'm doing it affectionately," you say, tapping his foot with yours. "Besides, it's a universal pass time at this point." You swirl your drink and grin at him. It was your real grin, all bright and eager and stupidly sweet. Something in Jason's chest twists. It's always hard to breathe when you smile at him but really Jason would rather all the oxygen in the atmosphere be burned up than see your smile disappear.

He sounds dramatic and he knows that but still he knows it's true.

"C'mon Jay, it'll be fun."

Shoulders slouched, Jason smiles at you indulgently. "Fun for who?"

"Mainly me but you can have fun too."

"You are so lucky you're adorable when you're being evil."

Your smile brightens and with a tap of his foot against yours, he thinks he'll survive whatever Roy has in store for him.

You and Jason have been walking around the museum for quite a bit with Jason's arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders and homicide radiating off of him every time someone even looks at you funny. He'd said that the arm slung around your shoulder was so that you wouldn't get lost. As for the homicide, he elected to ignore the question entirely.

You flush as Jason quotes another line from 'Master Valentine' back to you. You definitely regret letting him house sit. You regret even more not hiding your books. You squirm as Jason whispers the quote in your ear in a husky drawl. The erotica in the book is amazing and you're normally comfortable with talking to Jason about everything, but this- this was just cruel and unusual punishment. It's what you get for trying to make him suffer.

All the pet names he murmured in your ear crawled up your spine. You shove his face away hiding your own in your sleeve. He laughs into your hand enjoying your sudden bout of shyness.

Jason mumbles a half-hearted apology into your hand, pressing a soft kiss into your palm. You lower your head. You're still clearly avoiding his gaze but you let him press you to his side. Jason Todd is an asshole.

You point to a pair of ice skates so well worn and well loved that you almost miss the little penguins stitched on the side. "Love on the ice? That's so cute!"

Jason glances at them with mild interest. "Sounds like hypothermia." He says, shrugging.

Swatting at his chest, you pout at him. He rolls his eyes nudging your shoulder with his. You scowl at him and stick your tongue out. Jason leans down, unable to stop the urge to press a kiss to your brow. You scowl even harder.

"Admit it, doll. The whole exhibition is just Dickie's favorite fanfiction tropes."

"Professor Todd, be a dear and enlighten my troglodyte ass."

He snorts, "Princess, if I was a professor we both know I'd have the highest attendance rate."

"And the highest failure rate." You say cocking a brow.

"Probably."

"You're terribly humble today."

"I just know I look good."

No, you don't, you think. You shake your head. "That explains the leather jacket."

"You love my leather jacket."

"Well, Biscuit certainly loved your previous one."

Jason wrinkled his nose thinking of the yellow disaster. "That dog was a menace."

"She is the sweetest creature on earth."

"She destroyed my jacket and ate my wallet AND phone."

"I never said she was smart... wait, we're getting off topic."

Jason narrows his eyes at you then points to a crown. It was an intricate lattice of silvers and golds with diamonds that glittered like starlight. "Royal AU," he says simply, "go on read the description."

"A prince and a princess from rival nations are bound by a marriage of convenience. Through a series of missteps. They fell for each other.... that one was pretty easy. Do it again."

He points to a blue feather. "Mythology AU."

You arch a brow at him. He waves at it, urging you to read. "A god descended to earth to be with his mortal lover only for him to lose his memories of her." The feather's glow is incandescent. You can feel the power radiating off of it, a sure sign of divinity.

Once, you would have brushed it off as mere story. You've spent more than twice your lifetime now dipped into the world of myths. You glance at Jason. Simple divinity no longer fazes you.

"See?"

"I- Nope."

"You're just being stubborn."

"Would you have been my friend if I wasn't?" Would you have saved me if I wasn't?

You think Jason hears your unspoken question when he frowns. Instead, he turns on his heel to face the other direction. He points to a bouquet of wilted roses tied together by a green ribbon. They still smell of blood and something you couldn't identify. Your eyes drift down curious. Your eyes trace over the words feeling your stomach tumble.

"Gruesome." Jason vocalizes inanely. He hooks his head on the crown of your head, neatly slotting your body under his. You're safe, surrounded by walls of muscle. The crease in your brow softens. You would think that Jason would be less protective after you'd turned but now that you were a vampire, he was somehow even more protective. Roy always joked you only got Biscuit and your other dogs as lap dogs because you already had Jason. He may not have been too off on his guess.

"This should be in a horror exhibit," you say leaning into Jason's chest, "kind of reminds me of you though." You tilt your head up grinning at him.

"If you make a joke about me being jack the ripper again, I swear I'll-"

"-Bury me alive 6 feet under concrete with a recording of Roy singing Auld Lang Syne in a terrible British accent. Got it. What I meant was... you're just as protective as the man in the story." You say, smiling at him.

For good reason, Jason thinks.

Jason buries half of his face in your hair, hiding his answering smile. You smell like sugar and cinnamon. It's a familiar combination of smells that puts him at ease despite the atrocious amount of people in the museum.

You point to another artifact, afraid that you'd accidentally picked at an old wound.

"Star-crossed lovers." He mumbles into your hair.

"Bullshit!"

"Read it and weep, doll."

You read the plaque and the words 'meet' and 'different world' assault your eyes. You scowl at him. "Fuck you."

The grin on Jason's face is genuine. It makes something in your veins sing knowing how much fun he's having.

Your face softens. "You really love this romance stuff, huh?"

Jason narrows his eyes at you.

"You were the one bawling your eyes out when we binged Spaces Between Us. Who the hell cries during erotica?"

"IT'S TRUE LOVE AND YOU KNOW IT IN YOUR SOUL," you protest, pounding your fist against his chest,"besides, you're the one who was crying nonstop when we watched the IDHY duology."

"I was crying because they were accurate book adaptations."

You blink at him confused. "There's a book?"

"Yes, you illiterate heathen."

"You sound like a conquistador."

“....”

"At least they got their happy ending." You say, changing the subject.

"That's true."

"Still better than Titanic."

He furrows his brow at you. "What's wrong with the Titanic?"

"First of all," You pitch your shoulders like you're about to give him a lecture, "That was 3 hours of my life wasted on a shitty movie. It wasn't even that accurate."

"Princess, not everyone can survive the Arctic."

"And second, the most romantic scene in that romantic movie was the old couple staying together as they sank."

Jason laughs, a deep rumbling sound. It scrambles your brain, almost dissolving your annoyance until he opens his mouth again. "You sound like Damian."

"Jason Peter Todd, take that back." You screech, swiping at him.

He jumps back, his laughter still echoing. "Stop sounding like the demon brat first."

You run after him, telegraphing your murderous intent. Jason walks away faster, sticking his tongue out at you. Your growl and claw at the air. You screech obscenities as Jason continues to evade you. He is having way too much fun with this.

You chase Jason around the exhibition for a solid half hour before you come to a skittering halt.

Your eyes land on a vermillion book, leather bound and carefully crafted by skilled hands. You step closer to admire the swirling, arabesque patterns lining the leather. No title is embossed on the front. It's thick. You would wager it was at least 400 pages.

Your eyes drift down even further, finding a familiar scrawl. Below the book were photocopies of some of the pages. Pablo Neruda's 'If You Forget me', Beethoven's 'Immortal beloved', Ibn Hazm's 'My Heart', and a bunch of other poets you didn't know but recognized as ...

"Jason these are your favorites."

"What?" He says, walking over to you cautiously.

You look back down at the pages and your eyes catch on the one in the middle. From the numbering, it was the last.

Love is such a hard thing to define,

I don’t know if I could ever find,

The words to truly express the complexity of such an emotion.

It is an emotion felt in the heart,

Long before it makes sense to the mind,

illusive and uncertain until suddenly it just clicks.

Like so many things in this world,

we tend to know it when we see it in others,

even if we can’t be sure of it ourselves.

I think I’ve always known how much I love you,

When I look at you,

I see everything I’ve ever wanted.

When I look at you,

I see nothing else but your perfect beauty.

Inside and out.

I'm not a poet, (Y/n), but I will tell you anyway I can how much I love you.

-Jason Peter Todd

Jason is a stone next to you.

His mouth is filled with sand as he looks at the far too familiar handwriting. He knew. He knew the moment he saw the red book what it was. Hell, the moment you told Jason it was Roy who told you to go to the museum, he knew what it was. God, why can't he just turn to ash.

Jason can't make himself turn to you. He can't bear to see what ever disgusted expression you make. He just can't.

He feels a tug on his sleeve. He doesn't move. He feels another tug, this time harder. When he doesn't respond the second time, you lace your fingers in his and spin him around.

You squish his cheeks in your hands. "Jason, you actual sap." You say. You look like you're glowing. You beam at him, all toothy and scrunched faced. Jason's lungs stop working again. His mind can't process what you're saying. All Jason knows is that something warm is crowding his chest, pushing everything else out.

"Wha?"

"Jason, you absolute dork!" You repeat, unfazed by his temporary bout of insanity.

Jason is blushing, looking like a strawberry with his freckles. Jason is more adorable than anyone has any right to be. But that's ok. That's perfectly ok cus he's yours.

In a moment of uncontained affection, you pull Jason to you, pressing a kiss against his lips. It's soft and earnest and exciting. It was a kiss Jason spent lifetimes dreaming about. It was you and completely you.

"Jay, they're beautiful." You say in a breathless laugh.

Jason looked down at his feet. "I-" was never planning on giving it to you, he thinks. Because, why would you ever love someone like Jason? Especially, after what he'd done to you.

As if reading his mind, you press your forehead against his. "I love you too, Jay, and you can't argue me out of it. Sorry bud, you're stuck with me."

Jason can't help the smile as it curls on his lips.

He's happy. He's so stupidly happy and he blames you.

"Plus, I already knew."

"Why didn't you say it first?" He asks, his fingers brushing against his tingling lips.

"Cus," you say, pirouetting away from him, "you wouldn't believe me if I did."

"How-"

You put your hand up. "Trust me, Jay. I've tried before." You tilt your head back looking up at the sky light. The curtain of light fell on you like a spotlight highlighting everything ethereal about you. "Remember in Milan? When I told you I cared about you and you told me I didn't."

Jason remembered that. He was angrier back then. He snarled that to you like some wild animal and threatened to throw you out on your ass if you ever so much as spoke a word of that nonsense again. It was the first time he'd seen you look hurt. You face was wide open with shock. Jason felt something in his chest tear at that look. He stormed off, leaving you in that room.

When he came back, you offered him warm tea and a smile. You were quiet, inconsolably quiet.

It didn't…

He didn't…

It didn't occur to him that look in your eyes was heartbreak.

Jason curses under his breath.

You chortle at him, the mirth in your eyes incandescent.

"Yeah. Exactly." You say, clasping your hands behind your back. Jason would like to be buried six feet under with the only words carved into his gravestone 'I am so sorry (Y/n)'.

You snick seeing the look in his eyes. "Or that time in Paris. The one in the little patisserie when I told you in perfect Catalan that you meant more to me than anything else and do you remember what you told me?"

"I told you you were possessed." Jason's shoulders slump. "Please tell me you don't have a third example."

You smile at him pityingly. "I don't-"

"OH THANK FU-"

"I have 50. Well, 51 but the last one didn't count since I was joking that time."

In Jason's mind, his jaw hits the obsidian floor with an audible 'plop'. It would be loud enough that the entire museum would hear it were it real. He blinks at you. "You tried more than 10 times?"

"I was encouraged." You say shrugging.

"Of course, you were," he grumbles and you laugh. Jason's heart skips a beat but he pushes past the feeling in favor of pleading with you. "Please don't list them."

"Oh, I'm not." You hum.

Jason sighs with relief.

"I'm gonna leave that to Roy."

"Son of a- He knows?"

You look over your shoulder. "Yeah. Who do you think I complain to?"

"Who else knows?" He asks, trailing behind you as you walk to .... Jason doesn't know at this point and he doubts you do too.

"Oh just your family."

"I'm surprised they haven't given me shit about it."

"Oh I bullied them into not doing it."

"Impressive." He whistles and you preen.

"Always," you say smugly. You begin to walk a bit faster, craning your neck. "Now, let's go find out if Dickie installed that bakery I asked for."

"That's what you're after?" Jason laughs.

"It's a noble goal." You protest.

"You don't even need to feed."

"I need to feed my inner sweets monster. She's very fussy and is demanding crepes specifically."

Jason smiles softly at you, amused that of all the human traits you could have retained after being turned was a sweet tooth.

"Sorry to tell you doll face, Dickie still hasn't done it."

You look aghast like he'd slapped you in the face with a large baguette.

"What?!"

"He hasn't put in your suggestion from 10 years ago."

"Where am I supposed to get my fix?"

"Are we still talking about sweets or have you moved on to cocaine?"

"Dunno, have you tried snorting sugar?"

"No. Why- Have you?"

"...my lawyer advised against answering this question."

Jason cackles. "How am I the stupid one?"

"I-" Your scowl turns sickeningly sweet. "Yanno, the third time I tried was when-"

"OK. Stop." Jason's face lights up again. "I give."

"Pfff." You smile, looking far too pleased with yourself.

Jason straightens up, something sly passing through his eyes. You stop. The look in his eyes makes you nervous.

"I think I know where you can get something sweet."

You swallow nervously.

Jason leans in. He’s so close to you. You can feel his breath brush against your lips. Nothing else around you seems to exist at the moment.

You lean in to kiss him but you freeze when you register his voice.

“I’m taking you downtown. There’s a new bakery there and I heard the crepes were to die for.” He chuckles, turning to walk towards the exit.

“What the hell?!” You call out falling into step with him.

He grins down at you, arms folded behind his head. “Something wrong, princess?”

Heat rises in your cheeks and elbow him in the side.

“I want to take you on a proper date and I sure as hell am not starting here.” He says, rubbing his side and conspicuously not looking at you. There’s a dust of peach on his face. Your anger fades away. It gives way to a fluttering in your chest.

“Where?”

He looks at you then, brow furrowed.

“Why don’t I take you to the fair, princess? There’s plenty of sweet treats there that’ll tickle your fancy.”

Your mouth waters when you think about all the cotton candy they have.

“I heard there’s a kissing booth too, so if you’re lucky,” Jason continues, winking at you. Predictably, you blanch at him. You knock your knuckles against his chest. Jason chuckles, rubbing his chest. “Sorry princess, I mean if I’m lucky enough to get a kiss from you.”

The temerity.

The gall.

“As long as you get me something sweet.” You huff, exiting the building.

Jason stops on the steps, turning to you with a sly smile. Crossing your arms, you pause bracing for whatever trick is up his sleeve. Jason tilts his head. He says something but the little noises of the city make the words hard to discern. You lean closer to hear him better. Jason steps closer to close the distance, his lips warm against yours. You’re stunned. Your entire body divided on how to react, some parts stiffen while others turn to jelly.

He pulls away, wolfish grin unwavering. "That sweet enough for you sweetheart?"

@batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @bungunz, @birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical @glorified-red

#Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #vampire au #food

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fanfictrashdump · 2 years

Text

Universe in a Jar, 8 | Phase 4 fic

Recap: Some days ago, I reblogged this post about the magical trio. And then my brain went off on a monumental tangent and, I wrote Universe in a Jar.

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, Wong, OC

Rating: T?

Warnings: Language! Emotional trauma, clashing timelines, mentions of death, drowning, and just a lot to unpack.

Summary: Baby-sitting beings arguably more powerful than him goes awry for Doctor Strange. He knows one person who can possibly keep them isolated and out of trouble. Well, he knew someone who could… he hasn’t seen them in decades and for stupid reasons.

Previous Chapter

"Donna."

Stephen was sure he had blinked a good dozen times. He ran through all the symptom lists for every disease from stroke to dementia to plain old death and concluded that, while he may have had concussion, he was nothallucinating. This person threatening him with a Minute Man's bully stick was his sister and she had no idea.

"Look, guy, I don't know who you think I am, but this obsessive stalking–doctoring me into photos–is fucked up."

He grunted as D-17 allowed his chair to fall back on all four legs with jaw-shuddering thud. What a minute before was an objective evaluation of his own mental stability, turned into a desperate rush of words aimed to get the hunter to listen. "Your name is Donna Strange. Your parents were Eugene and Beverly Strange. You had two siblings–Victor died when you were little and–"

Loki interrupted, his eyes soft. "Stephen, she doesn't know who you are. None of the TVA variants know who they used to be."

"Shut up, Loki!"

"Loki?" D-17 looked interested now, glancing at the demigod with a sharp expression. "So, you're the new variant killing my crews." With a twist of her hands, the baton glowed orange at the tip.

"Donna, listen to me–"

"You don't want to do this, Hunter. You're not where you think," Loki explained, calmly, though his pulse twitched rapidly just above where the collar hugged his neck.

"You're my little sister. You're two years younger than me. There's a scar on your left knee from where you fell into the duck pond when you were six."

"I was made by the Time Keepers, not spawned by some filthy, backwoods earthlings," she spat back in a growl.

That response took the Sorcerer aback, too stunned to even continue his mission of convincing her of who he was. "What?"

"The TVA are creationists, Strange. They think they're all individually created by the Time Keepers," Loki hissed, wearily following the baton as it swung in her grasp. "She doesn't know who you are."

Above their heads, the door crashed open, footsteps stomping through what Stephen knew was the living room. Wanda and Persephone's voices echoed in the hallway, screaming both his and Loki's name with hoarse voices, edging on desperation. Evidently, they had been gone for longer than he realized. Then again, there were no windows in this basement, only space and canned supplies meant for storms covered in a thick layer of dust.

"Loki! Steve!"

Loki took the momentary distraction to sweep the Hunter's feet from under her in one fluid motion, before launching himself backwards and letting the chair splinter to loosen his restraints. "We're down here!"

Footsteps halted seemingly about to climb the stairs and jogged to the basement door. Light finally spilled into the room. Stephen had enough presence of mind to kick away the baton away from this person wearing his sibling's face. Seph popped into view first, running to help Loki off the floor only to be tackled to the floor by their kidnapper.

Turning in the tight space she was allowed on the floor, Persephone balled her fist and punched as hard as she could. While the recoil subsided, she slid from under the assailant and up to her knees, panting. The Hunter lowered her glove-covered hand, wet with blood, and narrowed her eyes dangerously on Seph's prone form.

"Holy fuck. Donna?" Seph's fists loosened and dropped from their protective stance.

D-17 growled and let out an exasperated sigh, but did not continue moving. "H-9, what the fuck are you doing? And why are you in civvies? I told Renslayer it was a mistake taking a rookie into the field!"

"H-9?" Out of the corner of her vision, Seph could see Wanda untying Stephen while Loki tried to pry the collar from his neck.

The movement must have caught the hunter's attention, as she moved instantly, grabbing her baton and heading straight toward Loki with bared teeth.

"Seph, no!" Stephen bellowed, trying to launch himself between them if not for Loki grabbing him around the waist, last minute.

Donna hit the opposite wall of the iridescent glass box just as he finished his complaint. She was screaming dark oaths at them and banging her hands on the walls, watching them bend and twist but never yield.

"It's OK. I didn't hurt her."

"Let her go! Persephone, let her out right now," he choked out, struggling in Loki's hold. He was so frantic that he couldn't remember that his sling ring was in his back pocket and could have magicked himself out of the situation, a fact for which Loki was truly thankful.

Seph shook her head, brows pulled together. "You can't be serious. She would kill all of us."

"Peep." He hiccupped a breath. "It's Donna. You have to." His lip quivered on the exhale, pleading with nothing more than the firm grip he had on her gaze. "We can talk to her. You can't leave her in there. Please."

She closed the distance between them, every step making his whole aura feel heavier by the second. Her fingers smoothed over the tear tracks on his cheeks, noting that he his whole body was trembling in Loki's grasp. "I can't. Not yet. She'll be OK, honey."

"You don't understand! It's Dee. Can't you see that it's her!?" Stephen lunged, causing Loki to have to physically lift him off the floor to walk him back. He had lost any sense of coherency, and could only scream, cry, plead, and swing wildly to get free. He drove his elbow into Loki's ribs hard enough for the latter's hold to falter and him to slip free.

"Wanda!"

A ball of red collided with Stephen's chest. He jerked as if he had gripped an electric fence and his body crumpled a moment later. Seph managed to catch him right before he hit the concrete, lowering him gently onto the dusty floor.

"I, for one, have no idea what's going on and why does that agent have Stephen's sister's face?" Wanda asked carefully, walking around them to help Loki with the collar. After a moment, the band clicked and Loki rubbed the soreness on his neck.

Seph's eyes landed on Loki, who was suddenly very interested in the dirt on his boots. When her stare didn't waver, he let out a long breath and closed his eyes. "No. Whatever you're thinking, no."

"You told me about what you did–the shadow thing and–"

"That was one time and I wasn't even doing it alone. I don't know how to replicate it."

"But you can try!"

"And I can permanently damage her mind. Do you think Strange will take lightly to that?" He barely managed rein in his temper at the desperate plea in her eyes. "No. It's better we figure out what timeline she comes from and send her back."

"Loki, you know he's not going to let us do that."

"He hasn't a choice in the matter. It's irresponsible and dangerous."

"And I know Stephen well enough to know that if we get rid of her now, he will rip a hole in reality trying to get her back. He knows she's out there, he won't stop until he finds her, again."

Stuck between a rock and a hard place was not unfamiliar territory for him, but the last time he had fallen prey to soft eyes and pleading glances he had landed in hot water. With Stephen. How was he supposed to navigate this situation?

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do here, pet."

"Worst that can happen is that when you unlock her mind, we still have to send her back and the TVA will erase her memories. Again." She brushed the singular lock of greying hair that always seemed to fall into Stephen's eyes, fingers trailing delicately over sharp features that had gone slack in rest. "Stephen blames himself for her death. It-it wasn't his fault, he was just supposed to be chaperoning her but I know he thinks he's responsible. He spent three months locked in his bedroom, afterward. If he could move on from this–"

"Which may not happen," Loki noted, though his tone only held half the ice it ought to have.

"I need to try."

"And what are we supposed to do that when this one, who looks like she'll murder us the second she gets out, actually tries to make good on that?" Wanda asked, staring into the glass box like it was a particularly interesting aquarium exhibit.

"Well, I sure hope the roomful of wizards will be able to do something about it." The retort sounded like she wanted to say something a lot less friendly. "Besides, I'm just letting Loki in so he can do his brain hocus pocus."

"I still think this is a supremely bad idea," he whispered, leaning in behind her to help Seph shift Stephen's body off of her.

"I know. But I have to do this for him." She nodded to herself, as if she was the one needing convincing and pressed a kiss to Stephen's temple. They could do this.

"He abandoned–"

"I know what he did, Wanda! Thank you!"

Wanda tapped the glass and turned around with a shrug. "Just making sure, Seph. This is a big favor you're doing him. You keepdoing for him."

She accepted Loki's hand and he hauled her to his feet with a tug. "He's my best friend. Unfortunately, it comes with the territory." Her eyes barely strayed from the box to Loki. "Are you ready?"

"No, but when has that ever stopped anyone?"

He cracked his neck side to side and stepped towards the box, summoning the sensation he felt when he enchanted Alioth. When he had finally gripped at the feeling, he gave her a curt nod. Persephone warped the glass walls just enough for Loki to slip through. Wisps of green smoke flowed from his open palms, filling the container, despite D-17's insistence in keeping back and away. When the enclosure was hazy enough, he managed to grip his hand on her forearm and was instantly pulled into her thoughts. He rooted around for the veil, the shroud set into her mind by the TVA to keep her in line by making her think the TVA was the only thing she ever was destined for. He saw memories, young and bright-eyed, of her days on Earth. He caught glances of Stephen, young, long-limbed and gangly. He grasped all those memories and brought them all to the surface. And when there was nothing else to block them, he let her go.

Glass shattered around them. Smoke dissipated into the ether. Loki stepped away from Donna Strange, palms up and as non-threatening as humanly possible.

"Dee?" Persephone asked peeking out from behind Loki. Beside them Wanda was poised and prepared for attack. "Deedee, are you OK?"

Donna picked herself up from the floor, dusting off her trousers before glancing around. There was recognition in her eyes of being familiar with the space, but perhaps no idea on how she got there or how much time had passed since she had last set foot in that basement. After a moment, she lifted her gaze at the other occupants in the room.

"Peep, what's going on?"

Seph let out a long breath, shoulders sagging instantly. "God, I'm so glad that worked." She cut the distance between them and threw her arms around the much taller woman's shoulders, heart clenching when arms she had not felt in decades squeezed her back. "I've missed you so damn much."

Holding each other at arm's length, Donna nodded, eyes filled with tears. "I thought you moved to Chicago."

"I did, but mom…" she trailed off and Donna instantly nodded. "Dee. I need to tell you something."

"Yeah, of course. What do you–oh my God" Seph glanced over her shoulder to see what had caught her attention. Wanda had just awoken Stephen, who was now drowsy and foggy after Wanda's spell and was barely sitting up on his own. "Is-is that–? Peep? No! This can't–no!"

"Donna…" Stephen stood on shaky legs. His eyes were wide and brimming with tears, a perfect copy of his sister's.

"No. No, this isn't possible."

Stephen closed the distance in a few strides. Still, he hovered beside Persephone, grasping at her hand in search of some sort of comfort. "You remember me, right?"

Donna took a step back, shaking her head, and sobbing despite her not noticing. "No! I saw you drown! You died!" Another sob choked her. "You died and it was my fault!"

Time stopped, just for a blink, and everyone in the room shared a look. This was going to take a while to unpack.

#mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel phase 4 #doctor strange #stephen strange #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #Loki #loki (marvel)#loki #original character #TVA #minute men #hunter d-17 #donna strange #multiverse #multiverse convergence #universe in a jar

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gingerteaonthetardis · 3 years

Note

10 for Fremione ? ✨💖

okay, so let me just preface this by saying this is the longest prompt fill i’ve done so far, because i’ve had this concept living rent free in my brain for weeks and the prompt just fit it perfectly and i could go on and on about how much i love this idea for a million years, and... uh, yeah. here you go!

𝟷𝟶. 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝

To tell the truth, this life’s starting to grow on her.

"Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows, everything that's wonderful is what I feel when we're to—"

"Granger!"

His voice carries over the music from the wireless—up the narrow stairs to where she stands in the kitchen, humming and whisking a bowl of pancake batter. Hermione starts out of her domestic haze.

"Granger, get down here!"

"...when you're near the rain goes—disappears, dear, and I feel so fine, just to know that—"

A few months ago, she might've jumped at the call—torn off her apron, abandoned whatever she was working on. She would've been mentally preparing the exact spell she'd use to completely annihilate her stupid cone bra the very moment they landed back in 1998.

A few months ago, she'd been hoping.

Now, her footsteps are cautious as she descends into the cottage cellar, Lesley Gore trailing down after her. "Everything that's wonderful is sure to come your way, when you're in love to stay…"

She's just glad it's not The Beatles.

The moment she crosses the containment barrier and protective wards, Fred shimmers into being, bent over the table with one hand raking through his hair until it stands on end. There's a manic glimmer in his eyes, not the less bright for having the contrast of dark shadows beneath them. He looks tired—like he's been working all night.

He probably has been.

They take turns, of course, working on it. But he's the one with the shambolic sleep schedule. And he'd learned the hard way that she kicks in her sleep, so she doesn't blame him for preferring the cellar and the broken Time-Turner. Which—

Her eyes widen.

"How did you do it?" Pulse roaring in her ears, Hermione approaches the table and the solid sphere of glass with trepidation. "Oh my God, Fred. How—"

"I don't know," he answers wildly. His voice is hoarse, like he's been muttering to himself too much; she'll make him a cup of tea later. But—

"Was it a spell? Did you—"

"No," he insists, and then he pushes forward a scrap of parchment that's littered with illegible notes. It looks like an Arithmantic equation of some kind—an interesting one, at that—but it's half-finished. Obviously, it can't have anything to do with the fully intact Time-Turner sitting innocently on the tabletop. "I was just—I got distracted, I was thinking about… everything, really, and then—there was a flicker."

Faintly, she says, "A flicker?"

Fred starts to smile. Like it's really dawning on him.

"—and rainbows, that's how this refrain goes, so come on, join in—"

It's dawning on her, too. Hermione feels dizzy and she has to press her palms into the wood, let the bite of it ground her. "You did it," she whispers. She can't tell if she's closer to laughter or tears.

Before she can decide, he steps around the corner of the table, sweeping her up into a hug so ridiculously enthusiastic that her feet leave the ground. "I did absolutely nothing," he counters with a laugh. She has to wrap her arms around his shoulders or she'll go flying as he twirls them recklessly through the cellar. "But Granger, we are going home!"

And then he whoops loudly, like he's just won the world's longest and most grueling Quidditch match.

"Home," she repeats, exhaling into his collar. Gradually, the world around her slows—stops spinning—and her feet touch the floor. But he doesn't quite let her go, and she keeps her face where it is. Hidden.

Fred's chin drops onto hers, burrowing a little into her hair, which is painfully out of fashion during this time—if only they'd gotten stuck in the eighties. As it is, she only wears it down at home.

At home.

"It'll be weird, won't it?" he says, and his voice is so soft, her eyes well with tears. "Not pretending anymore."

She swallows around the lump in her throat. "Yeah," she admits. "Weird."

"'Cause you're in love," belts Lesley on the wireless. "You're in love! And love is here to stay…"

His hold on her tightens. And though the Time-Turner is waiting—

It can wait.

For just a little while longer, they keep pretending.

physical affection prompts.

#thanks for the prompt!#fremione #fred weasley #hermione granger #hp #ficlet #abbey.txt #DON'T JUDGE ME I'M A MESS

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house-of-playboys · 3 years

Text

PARK CHANYEOL: Birthday Suit

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐃:

↳ᴍᴏᴍᴍʏ ᴋɪɴᴋ

↳ғᴏᴏᴅᴘʟᴀʏ

↳ᴀɴᴀʟ sᴇx

↳ᴇᴅɢᴇᴘʟᴀʏ

↳ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴘʟᴀʏ

↳ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀᴘʟᴀʏ

↳ᴏʀɢᴀsᴍ ᴅᴇɴɪᴀʟ

□ □ □ □ □ 0%

Chanyeol flitted around your shared apartment, mentally checking and rechecking everything he had planned. Cake - check. Bedroom decorations - done. Your presents? Yup, all on the table, perfectly wrapped (with Suho's help, of course! He couldn't afford his clumsy ass messing up at the last minute. He promises he did everything else on his own though!).

It's extremely hard to avoid biting his lip in anticipation of your arrival, not wanting to mess up his perfectly glossed lips, as he glances at the clock yet again. His pale cheeks flush every once in a while as his mind wanders through the material he's wearing underneath everything, contrasting well with the crisp black suit above.

Channie always thought he was a little too masculine to be the perfect submissive; too outrageously tall, too clumsy unlike his shorter, more feminine, more fragile hyung, Minseok. He always wonders how come you chose him amidst so many different better options like Baekhyun and Jimin and even fellow rapper Yoongi, who seemed to fit the image of a submissive quite well, but then he thinks of how physicality doesn't really matter in the bedroom, it's the way you carry yourself; it's all about aura, all about preferences rather than appearances. After all, you and his Minseok hyung were both great examples of that: Minseok hyung, who was dainty, fragile yet so dominant that there was no doubt about it once you saw his nature in the bedroom. His hyung and even you had reassured him numerous times that it didn't matter, yet he couldn't help but feel insecure sometimes.

He cleared those thoughts from his head. You were right: it didn't matter.

All that mattered, all he wanted was to be good for you. A good boy, just for you. Mommy's sweet little baby boy.

■ □ □ □ □ 20%

He wipes his clammy hands as he hears the doorbell chime, grabbing the bouquet of flowers he had gotten for you before opening the door. He's... in awe. It's like the breath has been knocked out from his lungs and you're the oxygen to make him breathe again. Does eyes wide, mouth unable to close from how slack his jaw is, he looks at you, standing there in front of him in all your stunning glory.

"Cat got your tongue, Channie?" You smirk slightly. Pastel pink pumps adorn your feet, black pantyhose contrasting them so sinfully. The high collared blossom pink dress shows barely any skin except for your bare arms and yet he's so enamoured, so entranced; he'd always been a captive to your beauty. And like Stockholm Syndrome, you're his salvation, his dream, the one he'd submit so wholly to. He manages to close his mouth, stuttering out a raspy "H-happy Birthday, Mommy." , hastily handing the flowers to you before stepping aside to let you enter.

Your mouth parts in surprise as you take in the effort he put in just for you. Red and white seems to be the theme for today as you drink in the sight of your apartment. When he had sent you to the spa for a day of relaxation, you had immediately picked up on his intentions but seeing all his efforts, the decorations, the somehow perfectly cooked food (probably Kyungsoo's doing) and a pile of gifts to the side (no doubt with Suho's assistance) just felt so special. Even though you knew he would surprise you, experiencing all of it was something entirely else.

■ ■ □ □ □ 40%

After dinner, and cake!, Yeol sweeps you to the bedroom, seating on the bed as he moves to get something out of the mini fridge. Once again, your bedroom is encased in red and white, rose petals on your bed and on the ground, bed sheets neatly made yet sure to be messy later given you two's liking towards making a mess.

He turns back to you, cheeks as pink as your outfit as he approaches you with a big bowl of chocolate ice-cream; your favourite of course. Your eyes dance with excitement as you understand his motives. "Strip, babyboy."

Handing you the bowl, he shimmies out of his suit, tie long forgotten from when you had your first makeout session of the evening.

Soon, he's half naked and kneeling in front of you, breathlessly asking you if he can keep his pants on for the time being. Quirking an eyebrow, you decide to be lenient, body charged with the curiosity of what's beneath. Curling your fingers around his pale neck, you press your lips against him, pulling him up and onto you as you kiss him, fervently, like a prayer. Flipping him over, you lean his body against the headboard, kissing him once more.

"Safeword, Yeollie?"

"Red."

"Such a good boy."

He preens under the praise as you scoop up the now melty ice-cream; you'd always fantasized about licking it up those abs. Smearing it over his abs, you gauge his reaction; the soft gasp followed by a whimper leaving his swollen lips leaves you even more aroused than before, your eyes darkening as his brows furrow, back already arching as a tiny tremor goes through his body. "Oh, mommy~"

Getting down, you lower yourself towards his abs, eyes locked on him the entire time. You give a tentative kitten lick to his ice-cream-coated abs, reveling in the way his brows knit together, head thrown back, arms wide apart clutching the sheets, his body writhing at your touch. And the best part? The way he moaned out your name: "Mommy! Oh- oh mommy- mommy, more please!" Like it was a mantra, he chanted your name as you laid your tongue flat on his abs, licking up all the melty ice-cream.

Everything is so damn messy, the ice-cream mixed with your saliva sticking to his abs as you pour it over his abs even more, the coolness of the temperature riling him up as much as it did you. And God, is it messy. It's just way too messy and you're loving every single bit of it. You and Loey had never been hygiene freaks in bed (baths were a must in aftercare though!), so it was all good.

Seeing him strain against his dress pants makes you coo. "Aww, is the little baby hard? Oh honey, Mummy will make it better in no time. Let's get this off, shall we?"

His eyes widen slightly, cheeks blushing a deep pink as he squeaks out your name. It's too late though- you've already unzipped his pants in one go, sliding them down from where he kicks them off his legs. He's almost bare now save for one item of clothing, and your eyes are so unwaveringly focused on it that poor Channie gets all nervous and embarrassed, thinking you don't like it.

But your thoughts are so vehemently opposite of what he's thinking, your mouth watering at the sight of those pastel pink panties with a soft floral print right in the middle of them; God, you want to use those panties on him in every him way possible: shoving them in his mouth, pegging him while he's still wearing them, ripping them apart and then fucking him, the possibilities are endless.

"Mommy, Channie's sorry." He pouts, making you snap out of your daze and look up at him incredulously, licking your lips.

"Why on earth are you sorry, sweetie? For making Mommy dripping wet? For making her want you even more? For making her want to claim you in front of everyone?" You crawl up his body to align yourself with his eyes, loving the way his heartbeat speeds up as your voice lowers to a whisper. "For making me want to use these panties over and over again on you in every damn way possible, hmm Loey?"

"Oh. Mommy approves?" His eyes are blown wide in realization.

"Oh honey, Mummy very much approves." You send a bone-chilling smirk his way. "Hands and knees now, babyboy. Present yourself to me. You're gonna be good for Mummy won't you?"

"Yes, yes Mommy!" He's quick to comply, getting into position as he's always done. He looks so breathtakingly beautiful like this, like the most delicate flower you ever saw, bare save for those panties that were dampening now, and fast.

You grope his ass, feeling how firm he is, how soft. No longer able to hold yourself back, you tear off the wrapping paper - or should you call it a ribbon? - of your beautiful present, eliciting a soft gasp from said present. Channie's hell bent on surprising you various ways today, because peeking out his hole is a glass bead. Not even a plug, but goddamn vibrating anal beads, because your darling really wants it tonight.

Chanyeol simply pushes his forehead further into the pillows.

"I was thinking of eating you 'til you're a whining, whimpering mess, but it seems like you've already prepared for that." You raise your eyebrows. "The remote, Yeol-ah?"

He chokes out a raspy "f-first-t draw-drawer", moaning loudly when the vibrations increase suddenly when you retrieve the device. His knuckles are so pale from clutching the sheets, face scrunched up in an expression that screams ecstasy, and you can't help but raise the vibrations even more, intently listening to the rise in his pitch as he tries to keep himself from rutting into the mattress, not wanting to upset you on your special day.

You're so fixated on him that you don't even realize how you've stopped in the middle of the room just to toy with the remote's controls and see him cry out in pleasure, completely enraptured with the way his body trembles, cooing out soft words of encouragement at his whines. It continues on for a while and then you hear him.

"M-m-mommy won't you touch me? I-I- ah! a-ah! I need you to- oh, need you to fuck me. Hard, Mommy." His doe eyes are glossed over with both tears and the familiar haze of subspace as he looks up at you, cheek pressed against the mattress, hips jerking every once in a while, hands clutching the sheets in such desperation that it makes you snap out of your hungry daze, moving forward while stripping bare.

And then you're flipping him over, sliding a condom over his weeping dick, lubing it up. You align him with your equally soaked cunt, and for a moment you simply brush him against you, feeling him throb against your clit (or was it the other way around? You couldn't tell) as you throw your head, brows knitting together as your eyes squeeze shut, ragged breaths escaping your lips. Yeol watches your chest heave and mewls out softly as your folds caress his tip like a warm embrace. It's been too long.

Then you're slamming you're hips down 'til they grind against his own, loud groans being heard from both of you. Your hips rise again as you lean your head down, hair falling in a curtain around your face as you mould your lips together. One hand holds his hips down as you bounce hard on him, the other snaking up his chest, making a pitstop to tease his nipples - and God, does he whine when you do that -, moving up until you curl it around his neck.

He moans uncontrollably against your lips, writhing more and more beneath you, so much that you have to smack your hand against his hip to keep him still. Tears spill down his soft cheeks as you tighten your grip slightly, squeezing rhythmically every time your walls clench around him. And he's so gone that he can't even do more than huff and puff and mumble incoherently. You angle your hips differently in search for that special spot, a strangled groan escaping your mouth when you finally find it, hips rising and lowering even quicker, wanting nothing more than for his tip to rub against it. You're getting closer, and so is he.

"Don't even think of coming before Mommy does, Yeollie." You gasp out, making him whine only to be quietened with a sharp smack to his thigh. You slow down, dragging out both your orgasms, and he sobs in frustration and pleasure. You continue to tease both of you, bouncing slower in deeper, more calculated strokes, a collective shudder passing through you two every time his condom clad tip rubs deliciously against your sweet spot. It's sin, nothing but pure sinful pleasure, and you want to bathe in the afterglow of it. Yeol continues to huff and puff, broken whimpers leaving his mouth, an occasional cry leaving his mouth when you squeeze his throat a little too pleasurably. It's like, like he's given himself up to you: fully, completely, undeniably yours - and nothing else but that.

The thought riles you up, and you ride him harder now, speed gradually increasing to the point where your hips ache and your core throbs. He's crying out in ecstasy as your core clenches around his stiff cock, nails raking down his chest, leaving angry red welts that he would admire all morning tomorrow. "That's it, Yeollie, scream louder, honey. There we go, that's such a good boy, my loveliest baby, Yeollie. You make Mummy feel so good, my darling, so loved."

"Yeollie feels loved too, Mommy!"

Theres goes your heart (if it was even alive at this point, considering how pretty he's been tonight).

"Mummy's gonna- ah, cum now, baby- ah! Such a good boy, aren't you, honey? So good, so good, so precious. And all mine. Mine, and only mine."

You're panting, voice breathless from how perfectly he fits around you, how perfectly he rubs that spot. You reach down to rub your outer folds, breathlessly hissing out his name as you shudder, cumming over his cock.

He throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him, a whimper escaping his mouth. "Mommy, please? Let baby cum, please?"

His watery doe eyes make you soften, cooing at how pliant he is, how obedient and patient. The perfect little boy for you.

"Cum, Yeollie."

You swallow his deep moans with a kiss, teasingly squeezing his throat one last time.

■ ■ ■ ■ □ 90%

Aftercare with your babyboy is always so damn soft. Like, it's just so soft, there're no other words to describe it. You clean him up first because, well, baby deserves it. And then after you've cleaned yourself as well, you limp to the kitchen, while reveling in the pain because yes, get some comfort food and cuddle with your lovely boyfriend on the bed. You feed both of you guys because Channie just turns to soft, mushy, light-headed goo after sex and he can only pout and rasp out soft "Mommyyy"s, not that you mind babying your lovely baby; Channie deserves the world, after all.

"Mommy, Channie's sorry for not being there to wish you on your big day." He pouts, yet you're quick to reassure him, heart sinking to see him still apologetic like this.

"Honey, no. You were on tour, and Mommy understands. Besides, Yeollie made Mommy's day so special, you know? Do you know how happy you make me, baby? How happy you made Mommy feel today?"

"...weally?" You coo so hard at that.

"Mhmmm. Loey's my bestest boy ever. Mommy's lovely little babyboy." He beams adorably at that, and your chest swells with happiness and warmth and pride.

Being a male submissive, and especially one who would willingly bottom to a woman doesn't come with acceptance, especially when he's a tall hunk who, according to society, should be a smouldering alpha male. He could have left you, and even now, he has a hard time loving himself for who he is, but you're there, you'll always be there- and it means the world to him.

So you love him, with every fibre of your being, and he reciprocates it with his all, because you two have been through a lot since you first met; you've shared the same rejection, targeted with the same hate, and now you both just don't care nor do you want to care. You just want to love and be loved. And so you do just that, feeding him some fruit, running your hands through his tousled locks, telling him how good he's been, how lucky you are to have him, how much you love him.

And when he smiles, it's like nothing else matters. Just this smile. Just this moment. Just him, just you two, and nothing else. Because he looks so beautiful, so breathtakingly beautiful that you could gaze fondly at him 'til the end of time.

And he's worth it.

■ ■ ■ ■ ■ 100%

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒁𝒐𝒆♡

#park chanyeol #chanyeol #pcy #pcy smut #chanyeol one shot #chanyeol oneshot #exo smuts #exo #kpop smuts #kpop smut #kpop one shots #kpop oneshots #requests

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years

Note

Pinned under wreckage. Hmm, how about Intruality with Remus a construction worker where something went wrong? Preferably happy ending but any will do. (keep up the good work! You're amazing!!)

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

Thanks for the request, I hope you like it!

General Taglist (ask to be added or removed!): @im-an-anxious-wreck @logans-library

Hold Onto Me

Summary: Patton had just wanted to deliver lunch to his husband when he saw the emergency vehicles at the construction site. All he can hope for is that keeping ahold of his hand will be enough. (Happy Ending)

Warnings: anxiety, major injury, blood, hospitals, emergency situation (if there are more please let me know)

Prompt: Pinned Down By Wreckage

Ships: Romantic Intruality (Patton x Remus)

WC: 4038

Disclaimer: I don't think this is how construction practices work but for the sake of the beginning that’s how it's gonna work because angst. The procedure to get him out is however fairly accurate, I did a bit of research as to how someone is rescued from that kind of situation but other than that please take the accuracy of this situation with a grain of salt.

Remus’ heavy boots thudded loudly on the thin catwalk leading over top of where the scaffolding was set in place for the floor of the third story of the new building, not that he could hear it over the general din of construction work. Everything looked good, he was only here to do a general sweep over before anyone else came up to lay the insulation and then actual flooring to make sure nothing would collapse. Being so high up he had a wonderful view of the fair bit of land whoever was moving into this house would own when it was done: a field with woods surrounding it with a long, winding road leading up to the front entrance.

It was stupidly extravagant, some dream house Roman would have loved to live in if he was rich enough to afford but Remus had been so excited to work on it, and still was. He got to help with the design work and use his hands for hours and hours and even though he came home tired and sweaty he still loved it with every fiber of his being. Not to mention he got to go home to Patton who would smile and cup his cheek to kiss him before pushing him down the hall to shower while he started on dinner. He’d come out to help and they’d settle down at the table or couch to talk or watch a movie and then either work on their own things or cuddle up in bed depending on how tired they were. It was mundane and domestic most of the time but Remus loved that with Patton. He had him and his job and his stupid brother and he couldn’t be happier; everything in his life made him feel safe and happy and comfortable and he couldn’t imagine asking for anything better.

Of course it could all be ruined in an instant. One wrong step and he could certainly plummet to his death. The scaffolding could crack and he’d be impaled on a jagged piece of wood. He could break every bone in his body or be paralyzed for life and be a burden on everyone who knew him and- Remus shook his head impatiently, willing the thoughts away as he turned carefully and began making the rest of the way across the catwalk. Thoughts like that kept him on his toes at least but it was best not to dwell on them too much. He was always careful and he wasn’t about to jinx himself by thinking of everything that could go wrong on the job.

He almost laughed when he felt it: a shift under his feet that meant something could be loose. Of course he would manage to have the most ironic timing in the world. Carefully stepping back he looked closely to see if he could tell what the problem was but he saw nothing. Biting his lip he looked back up at the last couple of feet he had to walk. He should definitely turn around and tell someone to look and fix whatever might be wrong, but he could also save the time and try to figure out himself what it could be if he could just get a better vantage point. It was only a couple of feet, if he stepped wide enough he might be able to avoid whatever problem there was.

Mind made up he stepped forward again more gingerly than he had ever done anything in his life, faintly hearing the lunch bell ringing and the gradual silence that was left from the various machines being turned off and tools being put down. Good, he thought, that way if anything happens no one’s around to get hurt. He screwed his mouth to the side as he quickly dismissed that thought as well, mentally kicking himself for the possible jinx. It was only a couple of feet, just one step and he could hug the wall and lean over to see what the problem was. Honestly with the way the skeleton of the wall was he could probably squeeze himself between the gaps of the unfinished floor and climb down to safety to avoid even having to hop back to the catwalk and go all the way back around. Leaning forward a bit for stability he brought his arms out and quickly lunged for the one, grabbing a hold of two support beams and digging into them so hard his fingernails began to ache. Despite that his new position seemed to be fine, no more shifting under his feet as the tips of his boots found a bit of purchase on the floor's framework by the wall. Grinning through the adrenaline rush he maneuvered himself around until he was facing back towards the room and carefully surveyed the floor. They had laid the framework out in a hurry- ill advised but for the time crunch they were under it had seemed necessary. The consequence for them rushing it though thankfully just seemed to be a missing support plank, making a couple of the beams bow under the catwalk when they were walked on. An easy enough fix and thankfully one that would be relatively quick.

Remus looked down with a grimace. He could climb down...but he had already gotten in trouble once for using scaffolding as a jungle gym even if he was trying to be careful not to be caught. He’d rather not be labeled as a liability not even halfway through the project and since in reality there wasn’t that much wrong with the floor he really didn’t have an excuse not to walk back the way he’d come. Sighing in disappointment he stepped forward and began to make his way back across, the shifting under his feet only making him slightly nervous as he took a bigger step to avoid the worst of it- only to immediately regret it as the entire catwalk shifted to the right as the board he was using slid away from the framework. The catwalk was mostly just a series of shorter boards placed in a sort of grid pattern so you could walk around without there actually having to be a floor. The board he was standing on and currently trying his hardest to rebalance on had shifted under his weight making the edge fall off the board underneath it, meaning it was now hanging onto a beam less than three inches thick by a couple of inches at its end. So not only was then the floor not laid well but the catwalk hadn’t been properly secured either, and if he squinted even closer there wasn’t much of the floor that was laid completely securely.

Swearing profusely a selfish part of him wished someone else was in this position besides him, maybe they could have figured out a way out of this mess. As it was it was just Remus alone up here, everyone else gone on lunch break and if they noticed he was missing they probably assumed he was either in the bathroom or fucking around somewhere he probably shouldn’t be...such as on the second story unsecured catwalk watching the floor settle and resettle under his weight with sweat dripping down his face. This was supposed to have been a quick job- ten minutes at most of him poking around to find something and now that he had he was risking practically the entire floor collapsing underneath him. He didn’t want to call out for help in case it actually did fall through and trap someone beneath it so it seemed as if it was simply going to be a waiting game in which either he or the floor would come out on top.

And with another shift underneath him it didn’t seem like it was his lucky day.

-----

Patton sang softly along to the song playing through the radio, tapping his fingers along with the beat on the wheel. He didn’t do this often but he really wanted to surprise Remus at work with a lunch. He had packed a little extra for dinner as well hoping he wasn’t too late to give it to him. Remus had said yesterday he’d have to stay a little later than usual to look over some things and do...whatever it was he had said he had to do to play catch up in the huge project the company had undertaken, an apology heavy on his tongue that Patton had preemptively forgiven him for with a peck on the lips and a smile. Though he wasn’t happy how over worked his husband often was, he more blamed the company and commissioners than Remus himself. He worked hard and it showed, and Patton was always proud of him. So, packed lunch and dinner it was with hopefully a quick visit before he had to leave since he was in no way authorized personnel but the people in charge often simply rolled their eyes and waved him through, vaguely threatening him with promised of forced exit if he stayed too long, which Remus never let him do anyway since an active construction zone wasn’t exactly safe.

The sound of sirens in the distance cut off his thoughts as his blood ran cold. Sirens didn’t have to mean anything of course, there were many reasons you’d hear them- but this was practically out in the middle of nowhere, near a construction zone which was again out in the middle of nowhere. Cursing he sped up just a little bit, desperate to get to the site and hopefully disprove what he already knew he’d see. He nearly started crying right then when he turned into the long drive only to see the house surrounded by emergency vehicles and people in uniform bustling from point to point to do whatever it was they had to do. He could see the part of the collapsed house beyond that, what looked like a cave in from the second story that had taken the supporting wall with it, though how something like that had happened Patton couldn’t fathom.

He hadn’t even clicked the engine all the way off when he was out of the car and running to who he knew was in charge, dodging out of the way and trying not to make a nuisance of himself so they didn’t have a reason to kick him off the property. There was no sign of Remus as far as he was looking, not even the sound of his rather loud voice cutting through the worried din of everyone else’s voices which only served to drop his stomach further as he swallowed hard around the nausea. Please God no, he thought. Please please please-

“Where’s Remus?” Patton didn’t think there was a need to bother with formalities in this kind of situation. He just needed to figure out where his husband was, go to him and make sure he was safe. It was a simple plan, the simplest set of goals he’d ever set in his life, but his heart sank as the supervisor turned to him with a grave look on his face that told Patton everything he needed to know before the other even began shaking his head.

“There was an accident. The floor- the floor must have been loose and nobody thought- I didn’t think to check on him after he went up there. We all know how he is.” He gestured helplessly to where several people were gathered around a section of rubble, the weight of a whole building bearing down on whatever they were puttering around. “We know where he is; it’s just getting him out.”

Patton didn’t need to hear anymore, noticing some of the people leaving the group and leaving a bit of space he could see the mess through. Most of it was just wood beams sticking out in every direction like a crudely placed beaver damn, some insulation from the ground floor poking up at the bottom. If he squinted though he could just barely make out a small space that had been cleared, a small hole that he could only assume was what they could safely clear away to see if Remus was still-

Pushing forward before he could finish the thought he hurried over to where the space had been made and knelt down next to it, laying a shaking hand next t o the rubble and iting his lip tp keep from crying.

“Sir you can’t be here-”

“That’s my husband in there.” Patton cut the woman off sharply, only feeling slightly guilty for his tone.

The woman softened. “I understand but-”

“I’ll leave when I’m in the way but right now no one’s doing anything so I’m staying right here so I can be with him. I’m not going to touch or disrupt anything but I’m not moving.” Patton looked up, defiantly daring her to continue, but after a moment she just nodded and backed away. He turned back to the space as a slight moan alerted him, gasping as long fingers emerged from the cramped darkness and reached out. A high pitched whine left Patton’s mouth at the sight of how bloody it was but he nevertheless reached forward desperately and grasped the fingers in a gentle hold. Faintly he heard a warning not to pull him as assistance was yelled for but he only shook his head as tears streamed down his face. Everything in him was screaming to lift the beams himself and drag Remus to safety but he knew it couldn’t work like that. This was a delicate situation that needed to be handled with care but the frustration only built as the seconds ticked by and nothing seemed to be getting done.

“Remus honey, I’m here okay? I’m right here and so are people that are going to get you out of there. You just hold onto me baby everything will be okay.” He nearly choked on his own uncertainty but he couldn’t afford to let emus think he was anything other than certain he’d make it out of this. His fingers squeezed weakly and Patton’s breath hitched in relief, continuing to rattle out reassurances that he’d be out soon and they were doing what they could he just had to hold on a little bit longer. His head snapped up as a hand landed on his shoulder, one of the paramedics motioning people forward with equipment.

“Keep holding his hand and talking to him, you’re probably helping keep him awake.” Patton decided he didn’t want to think too hard on what that might mean, instead simply scooching over slightly to make room for whatever it was they were doing and running his thumb gently over Remus’ knuckles as he took a steadying breath.

“They’re going to get you out Remus. They have equipment they’re setting up to get you out and then everything will be fine.” His fingers were squeezed again gently and the medic must have noticed since they paused and leaned down.

“We’re going to put two sturdy boards on either side of you to help stabilize what’s laying on top of you and then put airbags on the other side of them to lift everything up. That should give us enough room to remove you safely. If at any point your space gets too cramped or you feel things settle down on you more, squeeze your husband’s hand and he’ll let us know okay? We’re working as quickly as we can to get you out.” Remus squeezed his hand again and the medic nodded, signaling for things to begin. “This is called cribbing. It’s just putting a basic framework underneath everything to hopefully stop it from settling down more. And then those long tubes will be put in and inflated to lift it up, at which point you'll have to move out of the way so we can get him out.”

Remus squeezed his hand again and both the action and explanation Patton felt his anxiety ebb the tiniest amount. He nodded to the kind woman and moved to hold Remus with both hands as if doing so would make the process go any faster. As the emergency crew bustled around him and got everything into place he simply sat with cramping legs and blurring vision, reassuring the trapped man through soft touches and softer words as they moved thick, wedged shaped beams in front of the pile of debris. Holding his breath Patton tightened his grip slightly as they began inching the beams underneath, focusing his attention solely on the bloodied hand in his grip, poised to react at even the slightest twitch of discomfort. The boards were halfway in when his hand was squeezed weakly, jolting him out of his tense state to yell out a loud “Stop” to the team. They froze and looked to the woman still holding Patton’s shoulder, who leaned forward to be heard.

“Squeeze once if the pile is shifting, twice if we’re hitting you with the boards.” Two quick squeezes were felt and she nodded slightly. “Is there any way you can move without endangering yourself so we can get them in a bit more?”

He felt a slight squeeze on his hand before shuffling was heard accompanied by a quiet whimper that tore straight through Patton’s heart as he fought to simply hold the hand in support and not yank him out himself. He nodded as his hand was squeezed again and kept up his quiet reassurances, speaking just loud enough for Remus to hear him over the directions the medics were constantly throwing back and forth. After what seemed like an eternity the wedges were in place and Remus gave the go ahead to squeeze in the air bags. No one dared breathe as they were squeezed into place, no response from Remus unless they asked for confirmation that everything was still okay.

Everything was going fine- the bags were filling up and Patton could see the rubble being lifted slowly but surely up and off his husband. They were so close to having him out and okay that it almost didn’t register when Remus’ hand went limp in his own. Patton felt the muscles slacken and the hand become sudden deadweight in between his own. Eyes widening he squeezed his hand gently, then perhaps a bit too hard as panic gripped him.

“Remus honey? Are you okay?” The slick hand remained still, fingers not even twitching to indicate he had been heard. “Remus? Remus!”

He thrashed as he was pulled away, screaming louder than he ever had in his life as Remus’ hand slipped away from him and he was hauled to his feet and backward. The medics crowded to fill the space and he lost sight of his hand completely, screaming louder and scratching madly at the arms around his middle.

“Let me go! Let me go, he needs me!” The logic that Patton more needed him than Remus needed Patton over the medics at the moment was flung out of the window as he bucked backwards attempting to throw off whoever it was but the person just held him tighter as they walked him away, heedless of his ear splitting screams. Vaguely he was aware they were talking to him but Patton couldn’t care less as the phantom sensation of Remus’ hand going slack in his own tore his mind apart.

“P…….Pat…...Patton please!” Virgil’s yell finally cut through the panicked fog and provided the window he needed to haul Patton the rest of the way over bside the parked ambulance and sit him down on the ground. “They’re going to get him, Patton, it's okay. I promise you He’ll be okay. And we’ll ride in the ambulance and go into the hospital with him and they’ll make sure he’ll be back to making idiotic decisions in no time.”

The words meant to reassure him didn’t make Patton feel any better but all the fight left him, adrenaline running its course as he buried his face in his friend’s chest and wept.

-----

Remus had Patton and Virgil as his first two people to call in an emergency and since Patton had already gotten there and hadn’t checked his phone someone must have then called Virgil when he hadn’t picked up. As bad as he felt he was grateful the other was there as he all but collapsed while they finally got Remus’ still, limp body out from under the wreckage and onto a stretcher, stabilizing him as much as they could before ushering him into the ambulance and driving away after denying them riding along since they needed the extra room. Patton all but dragged Virgil to his car, the other swiping away his keys and insisting he drive as Patton was in no state to and Patton really just agreed if only to get them going faster.

They didn’t get to go in Remus’ room for hours after that, apparently suffering a broken legs and ribs, a sprained risk and a minor concussion that had taken the rest of the day to fix, nearly sending Patton into hysterics when they were informed with the final comment being that he had gotten off lucky. Thankfully Roman and Logan had arrived at that point and they were able to sit with Patton through the night and morning before Logan suggested he take Virgil to get a change of clothes and other necessities so they’d be able to stay longer, Roman volunteering to come along to get Patton and Remus’ things as well.

The hospital room was quiet save for the soft beeping of the machines lining the bed and the gentle huffing breaths of Remus as he slept, thankfully peacefully, in the hospital bed that Patton had his chair pulled all the way up to to hold his now bandaged hand between his. He yawned loudly and laid his head on his arm, eyes fighting to stay open as he promised himself he was merely resting his eyes but drifting off rather quickly considering the stress of the past couple of days. Confident he would wake if anything happened and trusting the others to come back soon he allowed himself to drift off.

-----

Patton awoke slowly to the feeling up fingers running through his messy hair, taking the time to gently brush out all the tangles of the previous day. He hummed happily and snuggled further into the tough, only to grunt in pain as his neck protested the action with a rather loud crack. Reality hit him all at once and he picked his head up to see Remus smiling tiredly down at him, Head wrapped neatly and already crooked nose set after what must have been the third or fourth break he had already suffered. Patton’s eyes filled with tears as he sat up and slowly reached for his husband, hands coming to rest on each cheek to make sure he was really there and alright. Smile tugging wider Remus brought his own hands up to rest on Patton’s, thumbs slowly running over the knuckles like he had done when Remus had been trapped.

“If I wouldn’t hurt you more and get hauled out by security I would slap you so hard for what you did.” In his tired state Patton honestly couldn’t think of anything better to say, but Remus only chuckled weakly and nodded.

“I love you too.”

Laughing softly with him Patton leaned forward to rest his forehead against Remus’ before pressing a featherlight kiss to the tip of his nose and softly whispered “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“I always am with you.”

Later a nurse would come in and smile at the two: Patton tucked under Remus’ chin and clutching onto his hands like a lifeline as they both slept. Quietly, he would turn out the light and shut the door, reassuring the people camping on the chairs outside that they were alright and they would sigh and shake their heads with amusement. The scolding could wait, they decided. For they would leave them to hold onto each other for as long as they needed.

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bungou-stray-dingus · 4 years

Note

hey there, so like this is my first time requesting but your writing is sooo good i can't help myself. if you could, could you make a scenario for dazai and chuuya where his s/o is a non-ability who is very bubbly and innocent but they find out she has a deadly skill that could almost pass as an ability. im sorry if you're busy, you dont have to write this if you dont want to. I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH💕💕

OH IM GONNA WRITE IT BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF THE FUNNIEST BUT ALSO CUTEST THING OH YEAH ITS GETTING WROTE

THANKS BOOBOO ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Dazai

You were like an angel, too pure for this world. Your heart was filled with nothing but good. You donated to charity, helped out in elementary schools during the week and volunteered at children’s hospitals, homeless shelters, and animal shelters during the weekend.

He looked at you as if you were a saint. Whenever you would come home from volunteering he’d bow down at your feet. “My goddess has returned! I’m not worthy!” You’d laugh at his dramatics, grabbing his hand and helping him off the floor.

“Shush.” You’d say before pecking a kiss on his lips.

When you weren’t out helping in the community, you were at home doing what you could to help out without being there. You took up knitting, and Dazai joked about it often. He even went as far as to buy a rocking chair with extra cushion for you to sit in while you would work. “You’re the cutest grandma, you know that?” He’d say, and you’d throw your ball of yarn at him.

“Shut up, and bring me my yarn back.” He’d re-wind the yarn that came undone when you threw it as he walked the ball back to where you sat.

He poked fun at it, but he would often sit on the floor next to your rocking chair, becoming entrances as he watched your hands carefully wrap the yarn around the needle and thread it through the loops. He didn’t understand how you did it, but everything you made came out perfectly, especially the tiny hats for newborn babies with matching booties, and sweaters for dogs and cats in the shelters for when it got cold. You had even made blankets for the people at the homeless shelters, making sure to use the softest yarn that would also be warm.

Sometimes he would come with you to the hospitals or the homeless shelters when he wasn’t working. He never went to the animal shelter though, he didn’t want to be anywhere where dogs were.

When he would go to the hospitals with you he would spend hours making over the babies and how cute they were in the new hats and booties you had made for them.

“Y/N, is it illegal to take a baby from the hospital?” He would ask you on the way back home and you’d just stare at him.

“You’re a cop, I hope you’re joking.”

“Yeah, obviously I’m joking but... so it’s illegal?”

You were used to people not liking your boyfriend. He had helped bring a lot of people to justice in his line of work. You weren’t expecting people to hate you though. Dazai had worked hard to make sure that anyone from opposing agencies or enemies didn’t know that you and him were dating. In the beginning he was always worried and on edge that something bad may happen to you just for being associated with him, but it’s been a year and a half now and nobody had tried to hurt you or kill you.

That’s why you were less than serious when the door got kicked open and three men stormed in, all of them wielding knives. It had to be some kind of weird prank by Dazai, or maybe even some strange act that would set the stage for a new fantasy kink.

“I’m kind of busy right now, can you come back in an hour?” You said calmly, holding up the knitting needles to show them that you were occupied.

“We don’t give a damn. You’re coming with us.” One of the men said, you didn’t know what he looked like, all of them had black masks on.

“Eh, I don’t think I am.” You shrugged, not even looking up from the new sweater you were making.

They were getting angry, the three men stomped over to where you were sitting in the rocking chair. One of them held his knife to your throat, and you finally realized that they weren’t joking, and Dazai wasn’t in on it. “I think you are. That bumbling boyfriend of yours needs to know. Mess with us and we mess with him. Now let’s go.” He pressed the knife deeper and your fight or flight instinct kicked in. You wouldn’t be able to outrun the three of them, so you had to fight.

You gripped the needles tighter, bringing your arm up to jab it into the mans neck. He staggered back and fell to the floor against the wall, trying to pull the needle out.

“What the fuck!?” One of the other men shouted, as the third one started sprinting towards you. You quickly grabbed the knife that the first man had dropped, preparing yourself to stab the man before he could get to you. As soon as he got close enough you forcefully pushed the knife into the mans stomach. He screamed as you twisted it, making him drop to his knees, blood dripping out of his mouth from the damage you had caused.

The final man stood there, assessing the scene, his hands in the air. He had already dropped his knife.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” Your voice was low, you were out of breath. You watched him run out your door, then took the time to finally realize what you had done. “Oh my god. Oh... oh my god....” You swallowed back the bile that was rising up your throat. You had killed two people, you had single handedly taken out two grown men. You were a murderer.

With sweaty hands and shaking fingers you dialed Dazai’s number, praying that he’d actually answer.

“Hey swee-“

“You need to come home, I need your help. Please hurry and come home.” Your voice was as shaky as your hands were.

“I’m coming.” His voice wasn’t as cheery as when he first picked up. Obviously his first thought was that you were being attacked or someone was trying to break in. He wasn’t expecting the grisly scene he walked into.

He examined both guys, confirming they were dead, and you couldn’t really understand why he was smiling the entire time he was making his mental report. You couldn’t see anything good about having two dead men in your apartment.

“You did this? Yourself?” He finally looked up to you while poking the knitting needle protruding from the mans neck.

“I was scared! I didn’t know what else to do! I didn’t mean it.” He watched you try to explain yourself. He tried to imagine what was going through the men’s brains when his adorable girlfriend, wearing a skirt with knee high socks and buckle shoes started fighting back, especially with knitting needles. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you laughing!?”

“You’re just so... sexy. You got a little blood on your shirt too.” He got up off the floor and surprised you by sweeping you off your feet as you tried to find the blood stain he was talking about. “Don’t worry, I’ll get that shirt off you soon.”

Chuuya

If he could describe you as a color, it would be yellow. You were bright, fun, happy, you always found a way to put a smile on his face, even when he had the worst day. It was as if a ray of sun took form and for some reason decided that he was the one who deserved it.

Your spontaneous adventures, even if it was just to the park always kept things exciting. He would stand back and watch as you ran over to anyone with a dog, sitting on the ground in front of the furry animal as you looked up and conversed with the owner about the breed and how cute the dog was. He would hear about it for the rest of the day, your hands moving freely through the air as you described the dog, even though he was right there and seen it as well, he would smile and nod. You always found something to be excited about, even on days when it would rain and you both were stuck in the house you would find some way to make him forget about the dreariness of the outside world. Building pillow forts and watching movies as you both attempted to toss popcorn into each others mouths. You had a stash of board games for days like that, and you would let him pick which one he wanted to play. It was the simple things that he enjoyed.

Waking up to the sound of music drifting into the bedroom from the kitchen, your spot on the bed empty. He would groggily walk into the kitchen to find you in front of the stove, the smell of eggs and bacon and pancakes filled the room, but that wasn’t the best part. You would be wearing one of his button up shirts, and only that. Your hips would sway to the rhythm of the song and he’d just stand and watch, unable to fight the smile that would form on his lips and the feeling of pride as he watched you, knowing that you were his.

Other days he’d come home from work while you were straightening up, singing into the broomstick handle as if no one was watching and the living room was your stage. He’d shrug out of his coat, kick his shoes off and slide across the floor while playing the air guitar. You always put a smile on his face, everything you did was his favorite thing. He could never pick one particular thing that you did that made him happy, because honestly you in general made him happy.

Even when you weren’t being goofy, which was rare, but it did happen, he would take the time to sit back and appreciate your beauty. When you would curl up on the couch and drift off to sleep and he’d come home and find you there, he would just marvel at how perfect you were in that innocent state.

That’s why he did everything he could to keep you safe, make sure you were protected everywhere you went. Sure, it was kind of ridiculous to have the black lizards guarding every store you went into, but it was a precaution that needed to be taken. As long as his little drop of sun was safe he could relax.

The two of you were on your way to the restaurant, it was date night. You looked flawless, as usual, and Chuuya couldn’t wait to show you off. His phone started ringing and you picked it up for him so that he could keep one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh as he drove.

“Hi Mori!” You greeted him excitedly, and although he didn’t understand how Chuuya ended up with you, he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your voice. You seemed to have that effect on anyone you came into contact with. “Will do! Thanks Mori! Buh-bye.” You shut the phone and put it back into the center console. Chuuya looked over to you, his eyes asking the question. “There’s some problem in an alley around the corner. He said it should be quick and you can handle it and get back to our date.”

He groaned but took the sharp turn that would lead to the alley in question. He saw the cloaked figure, like they were waiting for him. “Alright, this’ll be quick. Stay in the car.” He said, kissing your cheek before hopping out of the car.

You stared out the window, watching him stride into the alley. It sent a shot of electric up your legs, seeing him so dominant in situations like this. That was your man, and you couldn’t be prouder. You smiled as you watched him deliver kicks and punches to the figure in the alley, silently rooting for him.

Then you saw more figures coming from nowhere it seemed. There were at least six of them, and you started worrying. He would get hurt if he tried to fight all of them by himself, and you couldn’t have that. It would take too long to call someone and have them come out and help. Your mind raced as you tried to think of something to do, then you remembered the pistol that he had in the glove box. You pulled it out, checking to see if it had ammo, and then hopped out of the car.

“Hey, assholes!” You called, and everyone stopped to look at you. You cocked the gun and aimed it at them. Your hands didn’t shake, and you eyed up your target and pulled the trigger. Headshot.

The figures split up, some advancing towards you while the rest went after Chuuya. You fired the gun quickly, they all dropped like flies. Each one being hit exactly where you aimed. Headshots, chest shots, you even managed to get one in the throat which even you were shocked about. You moved further into the alley, pressing the barrel of the pistol against the head of the one who was about to attack Chuuya while he was fighting the first figure. “Not today, pal.” You said menacingly, pulling the trigger. Blood and bits of flesh and brain tissue splattered onto your face and you dropped the gun to the ground.

Chuuya finished with the final figure and ran over to where you stood. You were frozen, the warmth of the blood against your face made you want to vomit. “Are you okay?” He asked, grabbing your arms and examining them, then moving to the rest of your body to make sure there was no damage done. The amount of blood on you worried him, but once he realized that you were okay, he sighed with relief.

“I need a shower and and and and.... oh my god this is gross.” You couldn’t keep your hands from shaking as you tried to wipe the blood off your face.

“I mean, it’s pretty gross, but god damn, my bad ass little princess. Who would have thought?” His sense of pride sky rocketed.

After you both returned to the penthouse, the date was completely forgotten about at this point, and you both showered together. He rubbed your shoulders as the water fell over both of your bodies. The water was stained with red as you washed the blood from your face and when the shower was over you wrapped the towel around yourself and laid in the bed.

“You took the gun and you were like ‘bang bang bang’ and I was like ‘oh my god!’ And you shot all of them! How did you learn to do that?!” He was pacing the room in his boxers as he described the whole situation again, his feet padded against the floor leaving water footprints on the hard wood.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t want you to get hurt, so I shot them.” You said it nonchalantly, rolling to your side and propping yourself up on your elbow. “Seems like you enjoyed it.” You joked and he whipped around to look at you. The look in his eyes, you knew the look well.

“Oh I enjoyed. I don’t think you know how much I enjoyed it.” His voice was low and husky.

“You can tell me.”

He got into the bed and situated himself over top of you, holding himself up with one arm while the other pulled open the towel that you had wrapped around yourself. “I think I’d rather show you.”

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