#i could clean up and pull out the laptop after when I'm in bed proper but eughhhh what if I kill my tiny bit of motivation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

izzy-b-hands · 1 year

Text

I think I’ve identified the main issue w/the latest rizzy fic, but fuck me if I can figure out how to fix it.

I don’t know exactly where it’s going.

Normally, this isn’t an issue. I tend to let the story flower as I go, and trim as needed.

But I’m absolutely staggered with this one, where it’s either (major spoilers for this modern AU fic plot here no matter what direction I go with it in the end, but if you don’t mind that/are curious abt the text blocks of info doing my head in, read on lmao):

Version A: Roach (independent food/chef vlogger) gets too into his May 31st project (a crepe cake) and works into June 1st, only to be reminded by Izzy of his extensively planned Pride Month activities/ideas, that Roach had advertised all the month of May as starting IMMEDIATELY on the first (aka he should already have a video of a themed dish up, but he doesn’t bc he’s on Cake Ten of the crepe cake, and their pantry is now fucking empty too.) Fic (tentatively for now) would end with Izzy figuring out how to help him A. finally finish a satisfactory crepe cake (to Roach’s standards, aka Very Fucking High), B. rapid fire choose and film one of his themed ideas for the Pride Month stuff, and C. eventually sleep bc all of this is going down at like. One in the morning.

Version B: All of the above up until Izzy’s part. Instead of figuring it out that night, he gets Roach to bed and does what he can to help before leaving for his own job (PA/Security/Other Duties As Assigned to the combined very rich household of Ed, Stede, Mary, Doug, and the kids (in a huge shared house, so they aren’t in each other’s faces if they don’t wanna be, plus Ed & Stede are implied to own other property they spend time at too.))

The issue with Version B is that I worry the thing is getting too Big:

now I have a subplot started there about Izzy admitting to Mary (when he drops in for the morning to take the kids to school and give both couples of the house one of the reject cakes that Roach has deemed won’t be used at all by him. They have ten fucking cakes in the fridge, getting rid of two barely puts a dent in it tbh)

that his mum passed, in England (implied that everyone else is living in the States or NZ, I’m not exactly sure where I wanna put them yet frankly bc either is fine like I DON’T ACTUALLY CARE BUT I GOTTA IMPLY ONE OR THE OTHER DON’T I) last year, during June.

And he just didn’t tell anyone bc A. everyone was busy w/their own lives, B. Roach was doing his usual Pride Month stuff, and Izzy always helps him film/cook/etc for any bigger projects whenever he can, and he didn’t wanna distract from that, and C. he and his mum had a Complex relationship, so he probably wasn’t going to go visit her before she died anyway (secretly, he wishes he had. Only one who knows anything abt how Izzy and his mum interacted is Ed, who tbh has gotten distracted from any of that stuff since meeting Stede and focusing on helping create the shared family they have w/Mary, Doug, and the kids. Which is absolutely fair, but still. For the sake of their friendship, it will need Addressing of some kind, at some point.)

Like all of this is fine in theory, but it already feels sort of out of control? Bc like I then need to address in a finished version of B:

-Izzy and his mum

-Izzy and Ed

-Izzy and his relationship w/Ed, Stede, Mary, Doug, and the kids. Only bc there’s the implication that while it’s good and fairly easy work for Izzy, he occasionally does feel/get treated like The Help during work hours vs someone they actually know well who happens to work for them, and they sort of. Forget that once his shift is done for the day, he might still hang out just as a friend of the family, and they don’t always remember to turn off that Voice of talking To The Help in those moments (with it being noted that Roach and other crew members have witnessed this, but have leaned on Izzy to sort of give them permission to call it out, which of course he isn’t gonna do for fear of it fucking up their arrangement, and he doesn’t wanna job search in his mid-fifties. Which I think is valid enough lol.)

-Roach and his Pride Month problem (aka he’s got all the research in front of him, in this case the idea that he’ll highlight dishes that were beloved by notable/famous ppl w/in the LGBTQ community, but Actually, that isn’t always info that’s easy to find and some of it is more basic foods which he expected, and it’s fine, except he really wanted to challenge himself and maybe if he just looks a little more he can find something else-cut to two hours later and he’s asleep on his laptop. This isn’t even getting into the actual cooking and videoing of said cooking. He needs a Break.)

-Roach and Izzy addressing their mutual issue of ‘working too goddamn much, but not knowing how to take breaks and not feel Terrible and Useless during them.’ It isn’t necessarily hurting their relationship, but it is making them both more stressed than they need to be, and neither of them knows how to calm their brains down enough to understand that they can, in fact, budget for a small break or a vacation and nothing bad will happen.

-The kids and their implied issue w/mainly Mary and Stede (Ed and Doug hang back and are still doing the ‘I’m a new stepparent and I don’t wanna fuck up and overdo any of this, so I just sort of do what my spouse tells me to do re: the kids’ discipline/scheduling/etc), that they’re forcing them into an obscene amount of extra activities (including night tennis lessons, that require Izzy to also stay/work late, not getting them home until nearly ten at night, and himself then even later.) I don’t think they actually allow night tennis of any kind for kids unless it’s like. a fun now and again event, but to me it sounds exactly like what Mary and Stede would get talked into signing the kids up for. After all, it’ll look good on various school applications, and there’s nearly two whole hours after the after school study groups and other sports they play, surely the kids don’t want to sit and do nothing then? (spoiler alert: they do. they just want to sit and do nothing and be kids, which Mary and Stede do know, but have forgotten in the mess of getting divorced, then watching each other get remarried nearly right away, then realising it would easier/cheaper to try and share a home and keep the kids stable under one roof and moving everyone in together. Not an excuse, just an explanation.)

And that’s. So Much Stuff for one fic. And that’s WITHOUT figuring out what I want the main goal/ending to look like for sure. I won’t lie and say I’m good at multichaptered fics, I’m very much not, but I think that’s the only way Version B could work. And Version B, for what it’s worth, I think could be very satisfying and interesting as a read.

Version A, on the other hand, would be shorter, less dramatic, and would probably involve just Izzy and Roach, whereas Version B eventually would at least be referencing that like. The crew we know and love still work for Ed and Stede and whatever they do in this modern AU (marketing that only involves nautical/maritime/marine life themes maybe? does it matter in the end if it gets mentioned vaguely all of once???)

Even then, we still have the issue of: where in the FUCK is any of this going? What’s the point?

Version A, to me rn, is much more focused on rizzy and the internal dynamic there, focusing hard on the comfort of their life together and tackling problems together. I could probably just pull together something cute abt Izzy trying to fix the latest crepe cake while Roach films his first Pride video. Like my current tentative ending isn’t horrible. Nothing to write home abt, but it’s Fine, ya know?

Version B, to me again dlksajf, is a bigger overall picture that frustratingly, as of yet, doesn’t have a real huge or distinct end goal. It’s less of a ‘here’s a set ending with clear wins and losses’ and more of a ‘life and ppl are messy, no matter how hard anyone tries. Everyone here is doing their best, and learning. Here’s how they’re doing by the end and what they’ve managed to learn/work on, with the implication that they’re gonna keep learning and doing better, but not without fucking up more first bc. Human’

But are either of those actually fucking satsifying???? I wish I knew!!! I was absolutely flying along writing the draft for Version B until all of the above shit knocked on the door of my brain and put up a goddamn roadblock!!!

This is so much info, but if you’ve read this far and have any thoughts/opinions on which of these seems more worth pursuing, please let me know somehow. I’m dying to brainstorm & bounce ideas around w/folks. But even if u just wanna say ‘nah Version A sucks do B’ or vice versa. Pls say it fdksafalk

#text post #long post #will very much appreciate anyone's input even if it is just to say you like Version A vs B or vice versa flkdjsalkfj #it's almost one am i should go shower #but I'm just not...feeling sleeping rn #i could clean up and pull out the laptop after when I'm in bed proper but eughhhh what if I kill my tiny bit of motivation #by getting up and doing other stuff #THIS WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE ROACH AND IZZY COOKING SOMETHING TOGETHER FOR PRIDE AND BEING CUTE HOW DID I FUCKING GET HERE

5 notes · View notes

yourmidnightlover · 3 years

Text

i’ll never be ready

Summary: when you've been taken by the recent unsub, you both come to a shocking realization.

TW: torture, self-hatred (derek, spencer), scars, noah (the sucky date guy), angst, fluff if you squint. let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 3,486

————————————————————————

saying the case was rough was under kill-which, ironically, was opposite of the unsub's mo. everyone had nearly lost count of how long they had been awake. 36, maybe 38 hours of nonstop work? going over case files and reviewing them for something - anything you might've missed. it all seemed a bit pointless because each time you reread a file you felt your eyes dropping down, threatening to betray you and make you succumb to the sleep.

"y/n," hotch spoke. "you've been up the longest. go back to the hotel with derek and get some rest. be back here in 5 hours," he demanded in a soft tone.

"won't argue with that," you chuckled best you could before morgan grabbed the keys, ushering the two of you to the car.

your hotel room was a few doors down from morgan's. he bid you goodnight before he opened his door, allowing you to continue on to your room. you decided to get a bottle of water - the sleep deprivation probably making you feel more dehydrated than you actually were.

after you paid for the bottle, you took a swig of it and trudged on to your room. only, you didn't make it. it felt as though the sleep you yearned for had finally taken over as it was accompanied by a throbbing migraine in the back of your head.

"what's taking them so long?" emily asked, looking at hotch for answers.

l"i'm not sure. i told them to only be gone for fi-" he was cut off by morgan slamming into the police station.

"she's gone," he uttered plainly, worriedly as he avoided any eye contact with the rest of the team.

"what do you mean 'she's gone?'" jj argued, feeling the worry bubble up inside of her as morgan continued talking.

"i knocked on her door to let her know that we had to leave. i-i thought she might've just slept through her alarm. but then she never answered," his eyes finally met someone on the team's. "i kicked through the door and the bed -it-it wasn't even slept in. i'm so sorry," he mumbled to that particular team member.

spencer felt his heart drop in his chest. he wasn't angry, per say. he was furious. he was frustrated and confused and wanted to hit something - someone. but not morgan. he wasn't mad at morgan. it wasn't his fault you were gone. at least that's what he thought until Garcia pulled up the footage from 6 hours ago.

the image of derek going inside his room, allowing you to wander past yours and retrieve the water before walking halfway back to yours, only to be hit over the head, was the only thing he could see. and what he did see... well, what he saw was in red.

"you didn't even walk her to her room?!" spencer accused derek.

"kid, we were all tired. i'm sorry, i really am," he pleaded with the young man.

"don't 'kid' me! 'sorry' won't bring her back! we know what this guy does to people and you didn't even make sure she was safe!" spencer walked closer to derek. "i can't believe you. we all had a discussion about how she was the unsub's type. you knew that and you still let her get taken," he poked his finger in his chest.

"i didn't let her do anything. i didn't want this to happen, reid," morgan tried to calm him down, only for them to be interrupted by jj coming into the room, asking for spencer to come with her before promptly leaving derek by himself. "i-i swear, babygirl, i didn't think th-"

"that's the problem, derek," she cut him off. "you didn't think," she said in a calm, sweet tone. "i love you, i truly do, but even when your guards are down when you're tired... you need to think."

"i know... i know. i don't- i don't know what to do now," he wiped the tears from his eyes.

"now you go be the hero i know you are," garcia smiled before signing off, leaving derek staring at a blank, black screen.

"look who's up," the unsub sang as you turned your head whilst lying on the cold, steel table. "before you try anything, there's no point in fighting. you're strapped down with reinforcements and the room is sealed with a steel door that can only be unlocked with my key."

"so what? should i just let you do whatever you want to me?" you scoffed as you rolled your eyes, observing the state of the room.

it wasn't very clean. it was dirty and grungy and the smell was absolutely horrid. you nearly gagged upon looking to the corner of the room, seeing an abundance of takeout and old pizza boxes - clearly old and moldy.

"that'll happen regardless, sweetheart," he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, humming as he did so. "such a beautiful girl, truly," his hand travelled further south, grasping your neck tightly with the one hand before he brought a second one up to join it.

you stared him in his hooded eyes as he strangled you gently. you didn't make a show if it - that's where he got off. you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. although you would have to throw him a bone so he wouldn't kill you.

he was a sexual sadist. he got the relief from your pain and struggle. he would keep at it until you gave him what he wanted - your pain.

the profile had revealed that the unsub had a history of hatred for women from his own mother - who was most likely abusive. it was assumed that his father left at an early age and his mother blamed him for his departure.

"damnit!" he slapped your face, relinquishing his grip on your throat to allow you to breathe.

"what? can the big-strong-tough-guy not get off?" you mocked him, another slap hitting your face.

"shut UP!" he shouted at you. "when i get back you better be more cooperative," he spat out before grabbing a duffel bag and leaving.

a sigh of relief left you when the doors shut, hearing the deadbolt latch lock to signal you were stuck. you wriggled your wrists around, noticing they were bound by leather straps, as were your ankles.

"alright," hotch began as they gathered in the makeshift conference room, "so he has a 12 hour lead on us with her. we've profiled that the unsub keeps all the women at the same location. it'd be too difficult to move them with all the equipment he uses on them..." he looked towards spencer as he spoke, wanting to make sure he was alright.

"this has to be a power assertion move," emily added.

"you're right," rossi agreed. "taking a fbi agent would make him arrogant."

"so maybe he'll screw up? maybe we could find her?" spencer lit up at the brief sight of hope.

"don't get too excited, we still need him to make that mistake. but, yes, there's hope," hotch agreed.

penelope appeared all too sudden on the laptop screen, looking rather worried before she announced, "i'm gonna send you the video that just appeared on every screen in my bat cave. just... be prepared."

and then you were there.

you were strapped to the table, your shirt cut open to reveal your skin to the screen. the camera seemed to be hovering above the bed, focused on your body and the marks that already adorned it. you had a hand-shaped bruise on your trachea; a bruise on your cheekbone underneath your eye was contrasting your pale skin. the gag in your mouth held it open in what seemed to be an uncomfortable position. you looked tired. reasonably so, you never did get that proper rest you wanted.

and spencer would never get to tell you what he wanted if you couldn't make it out of there alive.

he never thought of you as anything but a friend but now that there was the possibility of you not making it back to him, he couldn't help but feel different about you. his heart was aching and he knew it would never stop until he was able to give it to you. now, he knew he wanted to hold you as more than a friend. he wanted to dance with you romantically rather than a silly platonic friendly thing. he wanted to kiss you, and tell you that he'd never leave you alone again. he just wanted you.

"look at how pretty she is lying there on the table," a voice that was off-screen cheered out. "although she's always quite the hottie, isn't that right... spencer? was that the name you told me, agent?" he grasped your chin, forcing your face to contort as you tried to wrangle yourself free from his grasp. "it was, wasn't it?" he laughed before releasing your face.

your eyes welled with tears upon the realization that the team might not make it to you on time. you had tried to put up a fight - you swore you did. but you could only fight so hard for so long. the light left your eyes in the form of tears streaming down your face, leaving them on display for your own team to mourn with you.

"looks like he won't be saving you, after all," he chuckled as shuffling was heard from over the screen. "let's see if they like the show, huh?" he brought a knife from out of his bag before removing the gag from your mouth.

"turn it off! turn it off!" you begged. "they-they don't need to see this, hudson," you revealed his name.

"hudson was the deputy that went home 13 hours ago. he was the one that gave us the files and intel on people in town. i guess he didn't actually go home," reid reminded the team.

"shut up, BITCH!" hudson wiped the knife down your right arm, a light hiss leaving your mouth from the intrusion.

"how about we get something to eat, yea? order some more jonny's pizza?" you emphasized before the knife went back into your skin, this time on the other arm.

"jonny's pizza is in a neighborhood only 10 miles away from here. hudson might own property near there. garcia?" spencer announced once more.

"on it," penelope declared before working her magic. "it says here that hudson's family owns an old restaurant that was shut down three years ago. it was passed on to him once his mother died. i'm sending the address your way."

"morgan, you're with me and emily-"

"i'm going with you," reid interjected.

"are you sure you're in the right-"

"i have to see her. i have to... i have to make sure she's okay," spencer tried to reason. hotch sighed before nodding his head in agreement.

they brought an ipad with them so they could watch as they traveled to the location. your arms were bleeding, but he had avoided the major arteries that would've killed you. your sobs wracked through the device, shattering spencer's heart more than he thought possible.

when they got to the restaurant, there were wooden boards surrounding every entrance. they left the sirens off in hopes to not scare the unsub into killing you.

"fbi!" morgan did his classic entrance, kicking the door in promptly. "hudson williams! fbi!" he led the team to the back of the room where a large, steel door rested.

spencer and hotch went to the sides of morgan, nodding at him to continue before he kicked the door in. the three, followed by more swat members, flooded inside the room quickly. spencer's eyes locked on yours as you lay on the table, looking sideways to see him. he saw the tears flow from your eyes as the unsub swung his knife up into the air, intent on stabbing you once more, this time fatally. spencer could swear he saw you mouth something to him before a shot rang through the air.

he looked to his side to see morgan had fired the shot that killed hudson, his knife falling beside your body as your body began shaking with sobs.

"let me go! let me go ple-please! get these off!" your arms struggled at the restraints before spencer holstered his gun, running to your side to work at the leather bindings.

"i'm here," he undid your wrists before you wrapped them around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder before sobs overtook you. "you're safe now, you're safe," his hand stroked the back of your head as you cried into his skin. "here," he pulled back momentarily before he shrugged off his vest and cardigan, handing you the cardigan to pull over your body.

"thanks," you sniffled as you pulled it tight over your body, covering your exposed state before embracing spencer once more, pulling him as close as you possibly could.

"i'm never letting you go again, y/n," he whispered before placing a kiss to your hairline. "never."

"good," you responded before he took you in his arms, carrying you to the ambulance that made it's way to the restaurant soon after they did.

you were severely dehydrated. the lacerations on your arm caused you to lose a lot of blood. you had a concussion. but you would be okay. you were alive. by some miracle, you were alive. you were alive and he'd never let you out of his sight again.

the entire time you were gone, you couldn't stop thinking about spencer. i mean, yes, your team entered your mind but not as much as spencer. who did you cry out for when he would hurt you? spencer. where would you go to distract you from what was going on? spencer's arms. spencer was the answer to all of your problems. it was spencer.

"spencer?" you asked as your head was resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as a mild attempt to keep you warm.

"yes?" he turned his head down to face your droopy face.

"i..." you stopped once you realized what you had planned on revealing. "please don't leave?"

"i won't," he gently took your chin in his hand, lifting your face up to see his. "i promise."

you nodded your head contentedly, satisfied with his answer. you couldn't say anything about how you felt now of all times. you needed him, as selfish as that seemed. you needed him to lean on as a crutch right now. telling him how you feel is risky. he could run away and distance himself from you once you open your mouth. so instead, you'd keep it shut.

as the weeks went by, your wounds healed. your heart tried to mend itself as time went on, but the process wasn't as smooth as it was with your external wounds. it was a rollercoaster process. you tried to convince yourself that you didn't love spencer. each night when he would come to your house to check up on you and watch a tv show or movie, you allowed yourself to imagine a life with him. a life where you didn't have to hide your feelings from him.

and spencer thought that telling you right after might've brought on too much stress for you. he thought it would be selfish to tell you such a thing after you nearly died. so, he pushed his feelings down as well.

and then penelope happened.

she had set you up on a date with one of sam's friends from counter-terrorism. you didn't really want to go, but you felt bad enough after skipping all of the girls' nights once you got abducted. so, you had gotten ready.

you wore a long-sleeved blouse and a skirt, the sleeves to avoid a conversation with a stranger you truly weren't ready for. to be honest, you were dreading whatever would happen tonight. you had mentioned the date to spencer, telling him how you didn't even want to go anywhere; you weren't ready to go out in public by yourself yet. he wasn't excited for you, who would be after you confessed your hesitance on going anywhere.

"i'm heading out now, spence," you walked out of your bedroom and into the kitchen where spencer was standing, waiting for you to get ready.

"al-alright," he nodded before turning towards you. "you look... you look beautiful, y/n," he sighed, making you blush lightly.

"thank you," you went to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around his torso. "for everything," you kissed his cheek before pulling away. "i don't think it'll be that long, i hope it's not that long," you chuckled before continuing, "so i'll see you after?"

"uhm, yea," he agreed. "i'll see you later."

you sighed before grabbing your keys and leaving, driving to the restaurant penny had told you to go to. it had only been two months since your abduction. you hadn't been anywhere without someone with you, most of the time it was spencer. you parked the car, grabbing your purse from the passenger seat and placing it in your lap.

you shouldn't have come. you shouldn't have done anything. you should've stayed with spencer. you should've let him know how you felt. you should've...

you felt tears well in your eyes before you pushed those thoughts down. you took a deep breath to compose yourself before you walked into the restaurant. you were led to the table noah miller would be at by the host.

"hi," noah greeted you.

"hi," you tried your best to muster up a smile as you sat down.

"uhm, penelope mentioned how beautiful you were, but i think it was severe underkill," he chuckled,

"oh, wow, thank you," you smiled. "you look pretty great yourself," you motioned. there was a moment of unsettling silence before you continued, "i haven't been out in a while. so, be patient with me tonight."

"sam mentioned that you went through something... an abduction, i believe?" you nodded your head. "that is beyond cool. do you... do you have any scars?" his eyes widened at the thought.

"ex-excuse me?" you furrowed your brows at the question.

"do you have any scars from the abduction?" he asked once more as if he didn't sense what was wrong with it in the first place.

"you... you're seriously asking to see the scars from when i was almost killed?" you scoffed before leaning back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

"are those your scars?" he awed as he pointed towards your arms, the sleeves had ridden up on your skin.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" you jerked your sleeves down once more before you stood up and grabbed your purse. "i hope you rot in hell you freak."

you ran out to your car before calling spencer, tears already streaming down your face as you locked your car door.

"spencer reid," he answered the phone.

"spence?" you sniffled, wiping your nose.

"y/n? what is it? what happened?" he rose from his spot on his couch, shutting his book worriedly.

"i just... the date it - i need you, spencer," you cried out once more.

"do you need me to pick you up or are you alright to drive to my place?"

"i-i can drive," you replied as you wiped your tears.

"alright," he said. "i'll be waiting. should i stay on the phone with you as you drive? you could put me on speaker?"

"yea-yes, please," you answered before putting the phone on speaker.

you drove there as he read his book to you. his voice calmed you down a bit... only a little bit. not as much as his touch would. so, you sped there as fast you could without getting pulled over.

once you knocked on his door it opened in a matter of milliseconds. spencer's arms went around your waist as yours went around his neck, pulling him even closer to your body. your sobs rang through spencer's skin as he rubbed circles into your back, walking the two of you inside his apartment before he closed the door.

"what happened?" spencer asked as you curled into him whilst sitting on the couch.

"the guy wanted to see the scars," you sniffled. "when i got upset he saw them because my sleeves rolled up and well... the rest is history," you chuckled humorlessly.

"he really...?" spencer leaned back to look you in the eyes.

"yea... i know," you rolled you eyes.

"well whoever that guy is sucks. he doesn't deserve you," he twirled your hair in his fingers before continuing. "would you want to talk about it?"

"mm-mm," you shook your head. "not yet. i'm not ready."

and then it was more than abundantly clear. you might not ever be ready to tell him.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment!

#spencer reid angst #angst #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #doctor reid

143 notes · View notes

artxyra · 4 years

Note

So I had this idea and I was wondering if you would write it. So damian has lived with his dad for a couple of years, he is 15/16 and his brothers have been nagging him about going on a date like a normal teenager for months now, and then one day he just snaps and screams at them " don't you get it I'm already betrothed!" His brothers are confused but try to help " I'm sure we can find a loophole and get you out of it!" "No. If the betrothal is broken the league will kill her."enter marinette.

Note: Well this story sounded better in my head, but it took forever to type up. I hope you enjoy it.

Damian couldn’t remember a time when his brothers didn’t make an attempt at his love life. Every other month (sometimes weeks) it was attempt after attempt. He hated it. At first, he humored his brothers, but that humor quickly turned to the opposite emotion. Though Damian’s biggest secret thought that it was hilarious, and it was.

Damian remembers their first attempt, he was only fourteen, been in the Waynes’ custody for almost four years. He remembers being tugged into a bathroom and then forces to wear silly fancy clothes. His brothers should have been lucky that he didn’t have his weapons on him. To them, it was to gain the high school boy experience since Damian refused to do any of the sorts. Shouldn’t they just happy that he has one friend at the very least? Nope, they really wanted Damian to have a sense of normality.

“Baby bird, every teen goes on a date. Please just do this for us.” It was Dick that had started the persuasion. Damian had only tsk and fold his arms against his chest. He was already fed up with all the bullshit spewing from the older adopted Wayne’s mouth.

“Why should I even do this? I barely know the har—girl and—” Damian begins to scowl as Dick interrupts him by tossing a vest for him to wear. He mentally gags at the texture of the vest. Damian had scene better quality, not that he’ll tell where.

“We promise it will be worth it.” It was Tim that adds to the conversation as Jason was to busy cleaning up his knife in broad daylight.

It wasn’t long after that was the date with a Gotham native. She wasn’t up to his standards; it was clear that she didn’t want to be with him for him. To this day he suspects that she only agreed because of the money. Damian tried everything to make the date super uncomfortable for the girl even going so far as to make up an explicitly detailed gory story. She left cursing his brothers, mainly Dick, out at the end of their date.

Damian had thought that would be the one and only time that would happen…he had forgotten the stubbornness that runs in the family. Failing was not an option as this continues for another four years.

“I’m sure it was a fun date.” A female’s voice says from the screen of his laptop, that was place on his dresser as he does shadow movements with his katana.

“It was tiresome, Angel, and quite frankly I’m getting sick of it.” Damian lowers the blade to his side and turns to face the screen. On the screen is a lovely female, around his age with long dark hair that drapes over her shoulders. She lets out a giggle.

“I’m sure they have the best intentions, besides it’s not like they know I exist, anyway.” She says rolling her eyes.

“Angel, I love you, but not even you can last an evening with the dates they have set up over and over again.” Damian sighs putting up the katana. He then picks up the laptop and goes to lie on his bed.

“Well, I’m sure it will all be fine. Besides, I have a surprise for you that is coming soon. Just hold out until then. Okay?” She says with a bright as a loud sound goes off in the background. Damian sighs and nods before ending the video call. He hates keeping her a secret, but it was the right thing to do.

It was a week later when his brothers came to him with another blind date proposal signally the tenth time that has happened in a span of a month. Everyone could see the growing frustration in the young Wayne heir. With the mention of dates, couples, restaurant, manhood, romance, it would set Damian off, although he was quick to calm down with a message from an Angel.

“Look Demon spawn, she is literally perfect for you.” It was an excuse, something for him to look forward to. No one is perfect.

“C’mon baby bird, she could be the one.” Another excuse. There was only one girl that was the one and she’s several hundred thousand miles away.

“Go, it all fancy and shit, also the NDA.” Ugh, this was becoming numbing. Damian could only wish to slide his fine blade across all their necks. Also, why the hell would Jason even mention an NDA to him in the first place?

“What is this? Another blind date for the young master?” Thank god for Alfred.

“Alfred, we promise this will be the last time.” That’s a lie and he knows it.

Damian could feel the growing headache forming at the back of his mind. Dick’s moving too fast, Tim’s giving him all the details about his so-called date, and well Jason is just being Jason.

“Enough!” Damian finally breaks. “The reason why I don’t like going on these so-called blind dates is because I’m betrothed to someone.” The word betrothed rings through the heads of his family members.

“Wha~!” Simultaneously, the older Waynes’ minds break.

“Is there any way you can break it off? A loophole even? How are you betrothed?” Shouldn’t that had been asked backward? They could all see the steam oozing out of Damian’s ears.

Crossing his arms and turning his back to his brothers, Damian looks down. “No, not unless you want a death on your hands. The only way to end a betrothal is to kill the other, that has always been the League’s away of things.” The second the last word left his lips, Damian walks away; he needs to talk with his Angel.

Still in shock, everyone turns to one another.

“How could we have missed that?” Tim screeches before taking a sip from his mug despite the shaking in his hand.

Dick was unsure what to say, think, or do. It’s not every day you learn the brother you’ve been setting up is engaged. An engagement that they could not break.

“I’m more worried who the brat is engaged too?” Jason murmurs then proceed to clean out his gun. His brothers stare at him with wide eyes unsure what to say to the second oldest.

For the next week after that bomb drop, his brothers continue to pester him about his betrothal, they even managed to include Bruce in the conversation a couple of times. If it wasn’t for Alfred, Damian knows that the pestering would have left someone in the hospital.

On a rare sunny day in Gotham, Damian had taken Titus out for a walk. It was clear his mind and to get away for the time being. Finding a nice park bench to sit on, he pulls out a small sketchpad and begins to sketch. Titus runs around enjoying the outdoors.

“Is this spot taken?” The voice sounded so familiar. He grunts ever once looking up the person afraid that he had misheard the voice. “Oh, c’mon Dams, I thought you would be happy to see me.” It was then that he looks up. In shock, he pushes the sketchpad to the side and pulls the person in front of him into his arms.

“I miss you.” He murmurs into her dark hair. “But how?”

“I managed to win the Martha Wayne scholarship, and then your butler Alfred got into contact with me about visiting.” She says looking up to Damian, though she was mainly seeing his chin due to their height difference. “You’ve grown.” She then pouts.

Damian lets out a soft chuckle, hoping that no one outside of his Angel heard him. His Angel places her head against his chest and together they stayed like that until Titus decided that he was some attention.

“Awe, he’s so cute.” She says petting the Great Dane.

Damian was internally happy to have her by his side for the first time in years. She’s the one that is perfect for him and it’s not because she was molded to be, but because she knows him inside and out.

When Damian, Titus, and his Angel returned to the manor, it is Alfred that they see first.

“Welcome home, young master, and Miss Dupain-Cheng.” Alfred greets the teen.

“Alfred, please call me Marinette, my last name can be a mouth full,” Marinette says giving the butler a smile. Alfred nods and proceeds to guide them to the living room. “So, this is the Wayne manor, those photos you send me Dams does this no justice.”

Damian once again chuckles knowing she’ll be in a heavily inspired by the architecture which will then cause her to go dark until she finishes whatever project came out of the inspiration.

“Angel, how about I give you a proper tour of the manor?” He offers to which she gladly takes.

Marinette had been staying at the Wayne manor for a couple of days before Damian brothers make their grand entrance. Without catching sight of the girl, they make their way to the youngest Wayne hoping to get some answers about his betrothal.

“Um, you can ask me if you want,” Marinette says from behind the boys causing an outcry of emotions.

“What you’re real?” It was Tim rubbing his eyes that speaks first.

Marinette awkwardly nods, “And you need sleep. I have a special brew that can knock anyone out within seconds.” She says to Tim before turning to the others. “I’m Marinette, nice to meet you.”

Dick and Jason stare at the girl lost for words. Dick was internally gushing about her size and how cute she is compared to Damian while Jason struggles to comprehend the person in front of him.

Marinette closes the gap between her and Jason. She looks over the second oldest and smiles sadly. “You have so much darkness around you. The same that used to be around Dams. I could help you if you want.” She says taking the male’s hand.

Jason was lost for words. This person was willing to help him. He wasn’t sure how to feel but the light flowing off of this tiny person was overpowering.

“That’s it you’re my new favorite sibling. I will protect you with my life.” Dick cries out starting the competition of who’s Marinette’s favorite brother-in-law.

Not surprisingly enough, Marinette warmed her way into the Wayne family. She even bonded with Steph, Cass, and Barbara whenever the girls came over for a girls-only day. Damian quickly was reminded why he didn’t want his family to know about her, seeing that he barely has time with her as his siblings take all the time away. Though it has it’s benefits. He can now visit Marinette in France without needing to sneak away and she could come to visit the manor whenever she wants.

Damian knew the moment he said “I do”, she’ll be his forever in life and in death just like he’ll be hers forever.

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

#daminette #maribat #ml x dc #damimari #mlb x dc #ml crossover #dc crossover #marinette x damian

617 notes · View notes

maandags · 5 years

Text

Good for the Soul (Keith x reader)

HAPPY (LATE OOPS) BIRTHDAY MY DEAR FRIEND @panda-noosh I LOVE YOU A LOT

This is a birthday gift for a lovely and very very talented friend of mine, I hope you enjoy it love <3 (also this was supposed to be SHORT ack)

~Mod Water

Word count: 5.6 K

Genre: fluff/angst

Notes: masterlist - roommate au - broganes for the win - i promise i’ll get to the requests now asap i’ll abandon my uploading schedule to update as often as possible ack

---

You grunted under the combined weight of your backpack and your big suitcase, slightly out of breath after climbing three sets of stairs, logging them along. You squinted at the crumpled piece of paper in your hand, on which you had scribbled the building name, and your floor and room number. Room 2.14, second floor.

You started pulling your suitcase along the hallway, occasionally smiling at your fellow students who were holding pieces of paper similar to yours, some looking like they knew exactly where they needed to go, others looking like they were completely and utterly lost. You had thought that the dorms would be way more crowded, but it was the middle of the afternoon and a lot of the students would be spending their time outside. It was a warm, sunny day, and they would be making the most of it before classes started. You squeezed past a group of boys and girls idly chatting in a doorway, glancing to your right occasionally to check on the door numbers.

2.8, 2.10, 2.12... at last, you stopped before the door that bore a big 2.14 in golden numbers. You scanned your note again, just to make sure that you weren't about to barge into the wrong room. No, this was it, you were sure of it. You adjusted your grip on the handle of your suitcase and turned the doorknob.

You didn't know what you had been expecting. This was the Galaxy Garrison, after all. The most prestigious university in the country. However, that didn't mean that the dorms were overly luxurious. There were two bedrooms, one for you and one for your roommate, a small living room containing a sofa, a couple of chairs and a television, and a bathroom that you would share.

Were you nervous about meeting your roommate? Definitely, at least a little bit. You had spent half of the five-hour-long train ride from your home to the Garrison imagining what they would be like, the conversations in your head ranging from worst-case scenario (a creepy, unpleasant dude-bro type) to best-case scenario (a very adorable, nice, caring sweetie of a roomie). You were prepared for almost everything. Almost everything.

"Keith, get off your ass and go outside before I drag you there."

"Fuck off."

You stood in the living room, slightly disoriented and confused over the bickering that seemed to be taking place in one of the bedrooms. You assumed one of the voices must belong to your roommate. Cautiously, you tiptoed to where the voices were coming from, leaving your suitcase standing in front of the couch.

"You can't run from people and socialising forever, you know." This voice was deeper, sounded amused. You took another step towards the voices.

"Watch me." The other voice was a little higher, slightly hoarse, but still definitely a guy's voice. He sounded tired, voice slightly muffled as if he was lying face-down on a pillow. "Let me sleep, Shiro." You were going off a wild guess that the last voice belonged to your roommate.

You rounded a corner and stopped short. Your path was suddenly blocked by a very tall man. As you craned your neck to look him up and down, you felt smaller and smaller. He towered at least a solid foot over you, and his stocky build and broad shoulders didn't help. He stood with his back to you, leaning against the doorframe. He wore a white shirt and jeans, and his dark hair was cut short. You tried to look over his shoulder, standing on your tippy toes, and just managed to make out a vaguely human-sized shape curled up on the bed.

"Should have gotten enough sleep yesterday. You knew you'd have to get up early to catch your train," the tall guy chided. You thought of a father reprimanding his kid, and you had to bite back a snicker. The other had called him something, what was it again? Shane? Chad?

"Fuck off, Shiro," came the muffled voice, though it sounded more like a whine than anything else. Ah, you thought, Shiro. That had been it. Over Shiro's shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the other guy curling even more into himself, as if trying to become so small that Shiro would forget he was there. It didn't work.

"Keith," Shiro tried again, a slightly exasperated tone to his voice. So that was his name. "Come on. It's nice outside! You'd get to meet new people, and I'm sure Matt would love to see you."

"Just ten more minutes."

"You said that half an hour ago, dipshit."

This went on for a while, Shiro never seeming to give up on getting Keith up and outside, while Keith showed a remarkable amount of spine and flat-out refused to move from his perch on his bed. A few times you actually thought he'd dozed off, until Shiro snapped his fingers and brought him back to the world of the living. You leant against the wall behind you, arms crossed and a grin playing on your lips, grateful for Shiro's big frame shielding your small one. The two boys were so focused on each other that they hadn't even noticed you.

Finally, Shiro said, "What will your roommate think if they find you like this?" You pushed off the wall. This was the perfect moment to reveal that, hey, said roommate had been standing right here all along! You racked your brain for a funny one-liner that was bound to make a good impression, when you heard Keith's reply.

"Look at all the fucks I give."

And you snorted. Shiro whirled around, eyes alarmed, when his gaze fell on you and his expression morphed into one of surprise and confusion. You cleared your throat and raised a hand. "Hi. I'm–I'm the roommate."

Shiro's eyebrows shot up. A surprised "Oh!" left his lips, but then he seemed to catch himself and he extended his hand, an easy smile on his face. "Nice to meet you. I'm Takashi Shirogane."

You took his hand. His grip was surprisingly gentle. "Y/N L/N," you answered, trying to muffle your grin. Shiro glanced over his shoulder, suddenly looking a little embarrassed.

"How–how long have you been standing there?"

You chuckled, following Shiro's gaze to the tangle of blankets and human limbs that was Keith. "Long enough." You ignored Shiro's slight flinch of embarrassment. "Hi," you shouted over his shoulder. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you." A hand rose up from the blankets and gave you a tired wave before flopping back down. Oh well, you thought, you'd have it.

"Don't mind him," Shiro said as you went back to the living room to retrieve your suitcase. This was the fourth time he had apologised for Keith's behaviour in the past ten minutes, despite you insisting that it was really no problem. You wheeled your case to the room that had to be yours and heaved it onto the bed with a grunt, then turned towards the door where Shiro was still standing and planted a hand on your hip.

"I'll make sure he sees some fresh air before tonight, all right?" You gave him a tired smile. You had just travelled five hours by train and frankly craved some peace and quiet. The subtle hint didn't go unnoticed by Shiro, who finally exited your room after telling you that you could always knock on his door if you had a problem. You said you sure would, even though you didn't have a clue where his room was, and gently but firmly ushered him out the door. You closed it with a sigh and checked your watch. It was half past four. Dinner would be served at seven, and you were determined to spend at least some time outside, getting to know the school grounds. You turned back to your still-bare room and started unpacking your stuff.

About an hour later, your room looked less barren and actually like a place you could see yourself spend your time, studying or otherwise. You had stuck up some photos of your family and close friends on the wall above your bed, had arranged your clothes in your closet, placed your books on the shelf you'd been delighted to find there. Once it was empty, you shoved your suitcase underneath your bed and looked around your room, feeling quite satisfied with yourself. It looked kind of cosy. You made a mental note to invest in fairy lights as soon as you could. You had them at home, hanging around your window. You'd had them ever since you were a little kid. This place wouldn't feel like home without them.

It was close to six o'clock, and the sun started to descend along the sky. You grabbed your key from your nightstand and closed the door to your room behind you. As you passed Keith's room, you shot a glance inside and stopped short.

You planted a hand on your hip. "Well, look who's alive. Come to join the land of the living?"

The boy sitting on the edge of his bed had the decency to look at least mildly embarrassed. He had cleaned up his room, you saw: it wasn't nearly as much of a mess as it had been earlier this afternoon. He had straightened the sheets on his bed and was now tying his shoes. He looked up and shot you a somewhat awkward smile.

"Yeah. Sorry about this afternoon." He stood up and walked towards you, extending a hand, though a little stiffly. You shook it, examining his face for the first time. A pale, pointy face, a sharp jawline. He was also quite a bit taller than you, though not as much as Shiro. Black tufts of hair fell in front of his dark eyes. You couldn't quite make out their colour.

"I'm Y/N," you said, just for the sake of a proper introduction. Keith smiled.

"Keith Kogane."

---

Keith burst through the door into the living room, where you had plopped yourself on the sofa with your laptop resting on your knees. You calmly paused the film you were watching and took off your headphones. "'Sup?"

Keith threw himself onto the sofa next to you and closed his eyes, hood pulled up and shadowing his face. His jaw was tense and he bounced his knee in the way he did when he was upset or worked up. You frowned, setting aside your laptop and shifting closer to your friend. "Hey, what's wrong?"

It had been six months since you had first met Keith and started living with him. The first days had been slightly awkward, but you had soon grown used to each other. Now, you couldn't quite recall what it was like before the two of you had been living together. You and Keith had grown very close over that time. You were bound to; you lived together, after all. You had become attached to each other. You couldn't remember the last time you had a friend you trusted like you trusted Keith. The last time you had a friend that you cared about like you cared about Keith.

Which meant that you noticed exactly when something was bothering him. Like right now, something was bothering him.

"Keith," you pressed, nudging his arm. Keith wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling them up to his torso and resting his chin on his knees. His eyes were stormy, a dark grey. It was a startling difference from his usual violet. His dark eyebrows were knotted together, his black hair only shadowing his eyes further. People would call Keith scary when he was like this. Furious. To you, he just looked sad.

"What happened?" Keith shot you a sideways glance, burying his face in his arms.

"I got an official warning. From Iverson," he finally mumbled. You frowned, shaking your head slightly. "I'm on probation. A month." Your heart seemed to skip a beat.

"What? Why?" Keith turned away from you, but you grabbed his arm and forced him to look at you. You instantly noticed something was wrong. The living room was dark, and Keith's hood shielded his face to a certain extent, but his left eye seemed narrower than his right one, and something wet shone on his upper lip. With trembling hands, you lowered his hood.

"Fuck, Keith, what the fuck!" you nearly shouted in horror. You fumbled for the light switch, ignoring the way Keith seemed to shrink away from the sharp light. "Oh, no." In the light, you could see his face even better. In this case, that wasn't such a good thing.

Keith's left eye was swollen and black, and a huge purple bruise blossomed over his left cheek and below that, a similarly-sized bruise on his jaw. His nose didn't seem too badly hurt, but it was swollen and purple and it did bleed, and droplets of blood trickled over his lip onto his hoodie. A nasty cut bled angrily over his right eyebrow.

"Let me see your hands," you demanded shakily. Keith offered them to you without a word. The knuckles of both hands were bloody and bruised. You scrambled up, dashing to the cupboard to grab the first-aid kit and forced Keith to look at you and take his hoodie off. You popped it open and took out the disinfectant, spreading it on some cotton and gently dabbing it on Keith's cuts. He flinched and hissed when the stingy product came into contact with the open wounds, but he didn't move. He closed his eyes and simply allowed you to patch him up. It was a slow process, and you weren't very skilled, which became only more clear when your hands wouldn't stop shaking with worry.

"Sorry," you muttered as Keith sucked in a breath through clenched teeth when you rubbed a soothing salve on his bruises just a little too harshly than necessary.

"'S okay," he said softly. You finished tending to his beat-up face as gently as you could, and sat back with a sigh when you were done.

"What the hell, Keith," you asked weakly. You had tried to hide how you felt when you looked at him when he looked like he just got run over by a car. But his bruised and bloody knuckles had been enough confirmation for you: he'd gotten into a fight. A pretty bad one too, from the looks of it. Keith knew you as well as you knew him: there was no point in hiding how shaken up you were. "Why?"

Keith looked away, eyes a little dazed, pulling his knees up to his chest again. "Nothing. It's not important, anyway."

You fought the urge to hit him. "What do you mean, it's not important?" Keith opened his mouth to reply, but you held up a hand to silence him. "You fought. You got caught, and now you're on probation, and you tell me it's not important? Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Keith lifted his head and cast you an almost hurt look. "No, of course not, Y/N."

You took a deep breath. "Who did this to you?" You kept your glare fixed on your laptop, the paused screen long since turned to black. Anything not to look Keith in the eye. Your heart had lurched almost painfully at his hurt expression.

"Some sophomore assholes. They–they got on my nerves. I snapped." Keith fiddled with the hem of his shirt, the way he did when he was embarrassed or nervous. You hated that you knew that. You hated the way your heart beat faster at the sound of his hoarse voice, the edge from earlier gone. Now his voice sounded merely tired.

You rubbed your forehead with the back of your hand. "What did they say?"

For a while, no sound except your breathing split the silence. Then Keith grunted as he tried to stand up. You were by his side in seconds, helping him lean on you when he needed to. You pursed your lips as you led him to his room, where you gently lowered him onto his bed. He was still fully clothed, but he didn't seem to mind. He closed his eyes, tried to even his breathing. You stood in the doorway for only a short while as you watched him, before turning to your own room, your mind a hurricane of thoughts.

What had the guys said to Keith to make him snap? You knew of Keith's history as his high school's troublemaker, but he'd assured you that he didn't want to fight any more. And it had really seemed that way. For a while, at least. Until tonight. You had seen him dangerously close to throwing a punch, when he'd clench and unclench his fists, trying to regain control of his emotions. You had learned a way to calm him down, and things had gone well.

Until tonight.

The fact that Keith hadn't wanted to tell you what the fight had been about bothered you. You and Keith told each other close to everything. For crying out loud, he was on probation. If he stepped out of line again, he would be suspended, maybe even expelled. The thought made you sick. The thought of not having Keith around anymore made you sick.

You rolled over, clutching your comforter and staring at the fairy lights you'd strung up around the window. You'd have to text Shiro tomorrow morning, in case Keith needed help showering. You thought he might have a couple bruised ribs. With those happy thoughts on your mind, you finally drifted off to sleep.

Turned out that you were right. You had called Shiro first thing the next morning, after seeing that every movement seemed to cause Keith pain. Shiro swore and assured you that he would be right there, and the two of them had helped Keith limp to the infirmary.

Now you both sat in the waiting room at the hospital wing, Shiro bouncing his knee restlessly and glaring out of the window with his arms crossed. You quietly observed him, slightly impressed by the intensity of his scowl. He looked like he was wishing a slow and painful death on each and every pigeon that dared fly across the window. You felt the need to speak up. You did, even though it caused you to cringe because of how loud and out of place your voice sounded in the empty waiting room.

"He's gonna be fine, you know."

Shiro cast you a sideways glance and heaved a sigh. All the tension seemed to disappear from his shoulders, and suddenly he just looked weary. "I know. It's just..."

He bit his lip, fiddling idly with the hem of his shirt. "In high school, Keith was known as the brawler. The guy who couldn't back away from a fight. He promised that he was going to change that at the Garrison."

"But he did," you said cautiously. You had heard this story already. You wondered why Shiro was telling it to you again. He shot you a tired look.

"Yeah, he did. And the only reason he was able to hold himself back was you."

The words hit you like a truck, and you had a hard time processing them at first. You stared at Shiro, waiting for him to jump up and say April fools! Shiro merely stared back, gaze serious as ever. You shook your head dumbly, uttering a sheepish "What?"

Shiro sighed, slumping back a little in his chair. "He's just–more himself when he's around you. I've noticed the way he kind of leans into you when you take his arm to prevent him from beating some sorry asshole to a pulp." You stared at him dumbly, unable to form words. Your brain had hit TILT. "He relies on you, Y/N. And yesterday, when he came across those sophomores, you weren't there." You cringed at that. You knew that Shiro hadn't meant it as an accusation, but you couldn't help but feel guilty anyway. "I'm worried about what will happen to him when you're not there to hold him back."

You took a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. You racked your brain for something to say. You came up empty.

Thankfully, the nurse chose that moment to come knocking on the waiting room door and inform you that Keith was ready to see visitors. Nothing serious, she assured you. Three bruised ribs, a bruised hip and a mild concussion. Keith would have to stay in the hospital wing for one night, then he'd be able to go back to his dorm. He wasn't allowed to go to any classes for a couple of days, at least. Make sure of that, she told you with a stern look. Yes, nurse, I'll make sure. Then you started after Shiro, who had already joined Keith at his bedside.

Something in you made you halt. Maybe it was the feeling of intrusion as you watched the two boys speak to each other in hushed tones. Maybe it was the desire to know what Keith would say when you weren't there. You hold him back, Shiro had said. I don't want him to hold back right now, you thought. So you sidled up against the wall and listened.

"I thought we made a deal." Shiro's soft voice. He was trying to hold back his anger, you noticed. The slight tremor in his voice gave him away.

"You weren't there, Shiro." Keith. Piled-up emotion, a crack. He'd never been good at keeping his voice level. You let the first tear fall.

"What happened?"

"They were–they said awful things. About them. About Y/N." His voice shook. He didn't even try to ban the absolute fury. "What they'd like to do to them. Then one of them started shouting at me. He knew that I'm their roommate." A deep breath. "I just–my vision went red. I snapped. I'm sorry, Shiro. I don't know what came over me, but when it comes to Y/N–" There was a pause, and you imagined Keith opening and closing his mouth, not knowing what to say. He meant it. You could hear that he meant every single word of it. The tears flowed freely now. You weren't even trying to hold them back anymore.

You pushed off the wall, wrapping your arms around your torso, as if that would keep you from falling apart. You were confused, worried and scared. Scared of Keith's honesty, and scared because you knew that those words hadn't been meant for your ears. Not yet, at least. You didn't know if Keith ever planned on telling you what he just told Shiro. Pushing through the doors of the infirmary, you felt a little guilty for leaving Keith. But he had Shiro, and you were not quite ready to face him yet. A part of you was relieved that he wouldn't come back to your room until the next evening; it gave you time to think. Time to figure out what exactly it was that you felt.

You were scared because your own feelings had just been thrown in a blender. You were never one to dwell much on feelings. You didn't necessarily ignore them, but you also didn't face them. It was like seeing a vaguely familiar someone as you walk through a park. Should you go talk to them? Nah, It probably hadn't even been them. Oh well, you think with shrug, and then you stroll on.

---

A crash woke you with a start. Your heart thundered in your chest and out of reflex, you tried to make your breathing as quiet as possible. You slipped out of your bed, your socked feet not making a sound on the linoleum floorboards. A grunt sounded from the living room, and you heard heavy breathing. You grabbed the first object you could find that would be somewhat suited as a weapon. In this case, a metal ruler.

You tiptoed towards the living room, steadying your breathing, brandishing your ruler, getting ready to slap any intruder there might be. Your fingers travelled along the wall until they found the light switch and rested atop it for a moment. You took a deep breath, tightened your grip on the ruler, counted to three and flipped the switch–

"Keith?"

It was him, that you were pretty sure of. You'd recognise his mop of raven hair anywhere. What you didn't understand was why he was lying on the floor of your living room at one A.M., clutching his knee and generally looking like he was in agony. In the back of your mind, you thought, Didn't I lock the door? But the door was still locked, and above Keith was–

"Keith, please tell me that you didn't scale the building and enter our room through the window."

Keith cast you an unimpressed look. "I didn't scale the building and enter our room through the window?" He frowned, gaze falling on the ruler you were still holding out like a knife. "Is that a ruler?" His eyes shot to your face, shooting you an accusatory glance. "Were you going to hit me with a ruler?"

"I thought you were a burglar!" you defended yourself, feeling your cheeks go red. "You know what, I should hit you with this ruler. You gave me a fucking heart attack."

Keith sighed and pushed himself up. He flinched, a hand pressing to his still-sensitive ribs. Though it had been several weeks since the fight, they still hurt sometimes, as did his hip. Obviously, scaling a two storey building didn't particularly help that. Normally, you would have helped him out, but right now you felt like he deserved the pain. You spun on your heel and stalked back to your room.

"Y/N, wait," Keith said weakly from behind you. You gave him the finger. You plopped onto your bed and crossed your arms, glaring at Keith with an icy stare and an arched eyebrow.

"I'm waiting," you informed him. Keith gave you a sarcastic nod and stood in the doorway, awkwardly patting his jeans to rid them of any dirt. He was fidgeting, you noticed, and he wouldn't look you in the eye. A beat of silence passed.

"Forgot my keys," Keith finally said, gaze firmly fixated on his hands. Your eyebrow disappeared even further towards your eyebrow.

"And you couldn't call me? Knock on the goddamn door? We have one of those, you know."

"I didn't want to wake you up," he said. He leant on the doorframe, tightly crossing his arms. His cheeks were tinted red. He was blushing, you realised. Keith Kogane was blushing. Then again, it was one A.M. and you had just caught him trying to sneak back into your room through the window.

"You know you could have woken me up. I wouldn't have minded."

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

You sighed, lowering your head into your hands. "You literally just recovered from bruised ribs and a concussion, Keith. What were you thinking?"

"I was feeling fine! I am feeling fine. It's not the first time I've done this, you know."

Your head shot up and you glowered at Keith, whose eyes widened as he realised his mistake. "Wait, no, Y/N–"

"What?" you hissed, slowly rising up and stepping towards Keith, who held up his hands in surrender and took a step back.

"I know what I'm doing, okay? I swear I'm careful–"

"Considering you bruised your ribs and your hip two weeks ago I would beg to differ," you scoffed, running a hand through your hair and poking Keith in the chest. "When did you start doing this?"

Keith rubbed the back of his neck and gave an embarrassed chuckle. "It was a dare. Just Pidge, Lance and me dicking around in the parks, playing a stupid game of spin the bottle. We didn't plan it or anything."

"That's supposed to make me feel better? The fact that you've spontaneously decided that doors aren't challenging enough for you anymore?" You planted a hand on your hip, trying to keep your face stern, but at the sight of Keith's almost pleading face you had to hold back your laughter.

"Spontaneity is good for the soul?" It sounded like a question, and you couldn't hold back your giggles anymore as you slumped forward and rested your head on Keith's torso. He tensed slightly underneath your touch, but you were too tired to process it and you discarded the thought as soon as it came to you.

"You're gonna be the death of me, Keith Kogane," you mumbled into his shirt, voice muffled by the fabric. Keith took a deep breath, hesitantly resting his chin on top of your head. You closed your eyes as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you only slightly closer to him. This wasn't the first time you'd hugged, but somehow this time felt different. You blamed the fact that your heart was suddenly beating a lot faster on the fatigue.

"Y/N," Keith started softly, running his hands up and down your back. His featherlight touches made you shiver, and you were pretty sure that your cheeks were bright red. You snapped your eyes open as you realised that maybe, just maybe, you weren't just tired. You hummed, not entirely trusting yourself to speak.

Keith cleared his throat. "Two weeks ago, the fight–I just realised I never told you what it was about." You raised your head to look him in the eye. He had indeed never told you, but you knew anyway. But you wanted to hear it from him, and that was why you kept your mouth shut and held Keith's gaze. You wanted to know if he was actually going to tell you.

"The sophomore guys–they were talking about–well, they were talking about you," he said. His grip tightened just a fraction, but the protective gesture was enough to send a shiver up your spine.

"What did they say?" you asked, even though you had a pretty clear idea of what exactly the men had been saying. Keith sighed, unwrapping his arms from around you to run a hand through his hair, leaving tufts of his raven locks sticking up in every direction. You had to fight the urge to smooth them down.

"General asshole talk. But that's not the point, Y/N, it's how I reacted. I lost control and I'm sorry."

You reached up and brushed some of his hair aside so you could properly look into his eyes. They shone their usual violet colour, and they held a tenderness that made your knees weak. "You don't have to be sorry. You might make me worry to death if you continue like this," you said with a laugh, absent-mindedly tracing your fingers over Keith's cheek, "but you don't have to be sorry."

A deep blush reddened Keith's face, and you realised that your hand still cupped his cheek. A lazy smile pulled at your lips and you cocked your head, pretending not to notice the sharp breath he sucked in through his teeth. His hands twitched at his sides, as if he desperately wanted to lay them on your hips, but was too scared to do so.

"Can I kiss–"

You grabbed Keith's face and pulled him down, pressing his lips to yours. A happy sigh left his mouth at the contact, and the way he leaned into you while simultaneously wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him had your head spinning. Your other hand came up to rest on the back of Keith's head, your thumb brushing over the nape of his neck and your fingers burying themselves in his hair.

You felt like you were going to burst. You pushed yourself up on the tips of your toes, already craving the feeling of his lips on yours before you'd even stopped. Your head was a flurry of thoughts zipping by, a blur of memories you hadn't deemed important before, but now...

One of the memories was of you and Keith sitting underneath a tree, revising for one of your many tests. As you rattled off answer after answer, Keith looked up and grinned at you, a fond look on his face you hadn't seen before. Your heart did a little leap in your chest, and you wondered now how you hadn't noticed before how much you had wanted to kiss him.

Now you pulled away just enough to look Keith in the eyes. His pupils were blown, his lips plump from kissing. His entire face was red, and a giggle left your lips as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder, his nose brushing against your neck. He mumbled something into your shoulder and you pinched his side.

"What was that?"

"You have no idea for how long I've wanted to do that," he said, tightening his grip around you as if he was afraid of what would happen if he let go. You smiled, gently running your fingers through his hair.

"Did it go the way you'd imagined?"

Keith chuckled, trailing his lips up and down your collarbone, pressing featherlight kisses to the exposed skin. You had to struggle to keep your breathing level. "It certainly was... spontaneous." He straightened and kissed you again, ever so gently. If he kept going on like this, your weak heart probably would never recover.

When you finally broke apart, you pressed your forehead to his, gazing into his violet eyes. "They say it's good for the soul."

#voltron fic #vld fic #voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron x reader #vld x reader #keith x reader #voltron keith x reader #voltron keith kogane #vld keith x reader #vld keith kogane #keith voltron #keith vld #shiro voltron #vld shiro #voltron takashi shirogane

194 notes · View notes

plinys · 7 years

Note

ok so like, i'm gonna request that you write a fic on my fic? and write rosvolio having sex on Ben's art desk bonus points for charcoal/paint?

this is of course inspired by the longest infinity which is imho the best fic in the fandom, and y’all should be reading this right now because it is written by the lovely @rosalinesbenvolios who is incredibly in every way and wanted this. i hope i do your verse justice?

also this got long so cross posted to ao3

It’s starts like this.

Her laptop balanced on her knees, playing an electro pop tune out for both of them to work too, staring at a blank word document until her head starts to hurt.

Him, humming along to the tune, the irregular beat, while somehow managing to remain focused and productive.

She envies that productivity. Just a little.

Just enough that she sets her laptop aside, and moves over to where he’s working. Painting, bottles of paint across the table, brushes resting in cups of water, and on a palette he’s stopped using halfway through too caught up in his creative process to pour more out. It’s not a mess not really, he’ll have it all clean when he’s done.

It’s a sign of a creative process.

One that’s currently escaping her.

“I need a distraction,” she says, and he glances away from the canvas to look over at her.

“You are a distraction.”

She rolls her eyes at him, because this is his way and that’s not the point.

They both know that. At least, she assumes so, judging by the way he carefully sets the brush he had been working with down, and uses his now free hand to brush up against her thigh.

There’s a smear of yellow paint, bright against her skin, from where it had previously been on his thumb. There’s something about that, the contrast, the art of it, that pushes her forward kissing him. Almost unsure at first, as if this was the first time, not the hundredth time.

He doesn’t hesitate in kissing her back, his head tilted to meet hers, the hand against her thigh tightening slightly to hold her in place. She moans into his mouth, and he moves then. Pulling them apart for a brief moment, just long enough from him to stand up, but still long enough that she can feel his absence.

He kisses her again from the proper angle, this time his hands are moving to rid her of her shirt. She has half a mind, half a thought that the paint on his hands will ruin the shirt - his shirt technically, that she had been wearing since this morning - before forgetting all about it as those very hands trace up her sides leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“We should,” he says between kisses, “Bed?”

“Too far,” she says, feeling a little reckless, normally she’s the one that insists on taking this to a bed out of decency. When he insists it’s out of a gentlemanly illusion.

“Too far,” he echoes, agreeing with her and kisses her again.

She makes quick work of his pants, not fumbling with it as she might have before, but moving with a practiced ease.

Her back collides with his art table, going where she’s pushed without any question, all the better angle to pull him towards her. This wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d been trying to beat her writer’s block, but as he pulls down her shorts and panties all in one go, she doesn’t find that she minds in the slightest.

“Condom,” she says, breaking apart for air, only briefly for a moment.

“Bottom drawer, let me just,” he bends down, opens one of the draws of his art table and she watches idly for a moment as he moves aside a box of charcoal to pull out a roll of condoms.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“You know me,” he says.

And she does.

Doesn’t she?

She puts a hand back to brace herself, as she pushes up onto the table, letting out a small noise of surprise as he hand touches something cold and wet and not solid and -

“Paint. Shit, Ros - we should move.”

“Too late,” she points out, shifting her weight to her other hand and using the one covered in paint to pointedly reach forward and rub a streak of blue across his chest.

It’s a bit silly.

And she’s sure it’s not supposed to turn her on more, but her smiles at her in a way that is so genuine and real that it makes her heart clench, and sends shock waves through the rest of her body, and she wonders how she got lucky enough to have this man.

She knows the answer, but refuses to thank her former roommate for moving out and leaving her with Benvolio. Not when there’s better things that she could be doing.

Another splash of blue paint, this time along the back of his neck as she reaches up to pull him towards her. To get him to kiss her like she so desperately needs.

He does.

He kisses her.

And touches her, with paint stained fingertips.

And when he presses inside of her, she lets out a moan that’s half his name and half something else. All the encouragement he needs to keep going, to keep doing exactly what she had so desperately needed.

She falls back against the table, certain now that they are making a mess, that something is getting knocked to the floor and that she’ll need to spend hours in the shower later getting the paint off of her skin, but not minding in the slightest.

Runs her fingers through a mix of oranges and reds, and when he entwines his hands with hers, holding their both steady as they thrust together the colors mix like a sunrise that will later linger there against their skin.

“Beautiful,” he tells her.

“My masterpiece,” he calls her.

“Yes,” she replies because that’s all she can say, all that she can manage.

All she can focus on is Benvolio. Here. Above her. Inside of her. Kissing her like his very life depending on it. Open mouth and breathless when she forgets how the rest of her body is suppose to react when overwhelmed with such intense levels of pleasure.

This was what she had needed.

The steady point of focus she needs to get out of her mind.

Him.

“Ben- please,” she says, half choked words. Not fully formed thoughts, because she can’t.

She doesn’t need to. He understands her.

He pushes her through it, the crescendo of pleasure, too intense to hold onto anything or anyone. He follows her somewhere after, in the middle of her pleasure, she comes down to the sound of him calling out her name, the most beautiful sound in the world.

They stay there for a moment.

Breathing against each other.

Remembering how to.

Chests heaving.

Only really coming back to life, when his fingers rub against her hip bone, something she can focus on and ground her, the smear of red paint their against her hip.

“We’re a mess,” she states the obvious, because it was that or thanking him for the best orgasm of her life, and she was certain that wouldn’t help his ego.

“I’ll clean this up,” he insists, “Later.”

“Later,” she agrees. “Though perhaps first, you could join me in the shower?”

#rosvolio #benvolio montague #rosaline capulet #ssc #sscfic #my fic #thesushimonster #asks

33 notes · View notes

the-kipsabian · 7 years

Note

50 with pixi/dan (idk what the ship name is but i'm down for indulging you)

(thank you for encouraging my trash habits ily)50. “ah, you’re up. how’d you sleep?”

Thequiet tapping was slowly drifting her off from her sweet slumber.

The pair of gray eyesslowly fluttered open, looking up towards a ceiling she didn’t recognize at thefirst glance. Primrose didn’t have slightly blue tinted colors, did it…?

Slowly lifting her headup, the blue haired girl let out a little groan of pain as her hand reached torub her neck as she sat somewhat straight on the beanbag chair, blinking acouple of times to adjust her vision and to get rid of the tired blur from hereyes. She most definitely wasn’t back at Primrose, the room wasn’t the onewhere she roomed together with Kat. Sure it was close to being as messy as thegirls dorm room was, maybe the room was even messier than theirs, but it most definitelywasn’t the familiar room decorated all over with blankets, plushies and fairy lights.

No, this one wasinstead filled with what seemed to be collections of video games, clothesscattered just about everywhere where you could find floor space, not tomention the messy desks filled with a mixture of school work and various differentart supplies.

And it smelled like boys.

On a chair in frontof one of the two desks was sitting a young man, tall for his age, both feetthrown on the second chair he had pulled by the desk, headphones covering hisears, the pair of brown eyes tightly focused on the notebook sitting in hislap, while his right hand gently tapped its fingernails against the top of thedesk.

The very same soundthat had woken her up.

Sitting on the floor,Pixi was slightly afraid to move. Not because she was waking up in a weirdplace without a memory of falling asleep in the floor of Dan and Arin’s room,but because she didn’t want to disturb the obvious creative moment that was inprogress in front of her. She knew what it was like to be interrupted in themiddle of creating something, and she didn’t want to be the jerk who wouldinitiate the interruption.

Besides, there wassomething almost magical watching the unaware Dan sitting on his seat, so deepin thought that he didn’t seem to notice anything that was going on around him.How his eyes focused on the page in front of him, the way his left hand hoveredthe pen in his hand above it, getting ready to jolt down any kind of song ideasthat would enter into his head at any given moment…

And all of a sudden hiseyes turned away from the page, landing on the little blue haired girl caughtred handed staring at him as she sat there on the floor, still partially occupyingthe beanbag chair she had apparently fallen asleep on in the first place.

Dan obviously gatheredhimself much faster than what she did, quickly dropping the notebook and thepen on the table before ripping the headphones from his head, letting them followthe other equipment he had in his hand just seconds ago, before he whipped backinto her direction, jolting Pixi back from her quick moment of embarrassment ofgetting caught staring at him.

“Ah, you’re up. How didyou sleep?”

She couldn’t help butto smile at him, the matching expression she was getting back from him beingbright enough to light up the entire room. Or maybe it was the sun outside,shining brighter today than it had been in the past few days, but Pixi wantedto live in the hope that it was the boy with the messy hair greeting herinstead. Since when Dan smiled, he smiled with his entire being – it wasn’t justa facial expression to him, everything in his softened and brightened the verymoment he hit that the point of understanding he was around of other people. Hesmiled, he laughed, his eyes sparkled, his features softened…

Everything about himwas friendly, it was loving, it was caring. Even this early, as a first thingin the morning, when any regular person would have been grumpy to be awake.

Pixi glanced at thebeanbag chair she was sitting on, hearing a soft chuckle escaping from Dan. “Sorryabout letting you sleep there, I tried to move you to bed but you weresurprisingly persistent on sleeping on the floor after you passed out lastnight.”

Last night… What wasshe doing here last night anyways?

The pair of gray eyesglanced up towards Dan who nodded his head towards the other end of his desk,which proved to be a surprisingly clean part of the otherwise very messydecorating of the room.

“I lifted your laptopon the desk and plugged it in so you wouldn’t lose anything on whatever youwere working on last night.”

Pixi nodded her head,making a mental note on another nice feature that he had, being so overlyconsidered of other people at times like this. She slowly pushed herself upfrom the floor, letting out a groan as she stretched her arms a little, almostimmediately getting back a somewhat concerned look from Dan.

“You okay?”

“My back hurts alittle, but it’s okay, I’m fine.”

She had barely gottenthe full sentence out of her mouth as the boy, at least a whole foot tallerthan her, pushed up from his seat, and with ease swept the small girl into hisarms. Sure he didn’t really have width as much as he had height to compare, butthankfully Pixi was a very small girl in size, making her very easy to justpick up and carry around to pretty much anyone who was bigger than her, which wasn’ta difficult take whatsoever considering her tiny 5’1 frame that she happened tohave.

A soft blush crept it’sway on her cheek, the short blue hair not being even nearly long enough topossibly cover the expression on her face that went from smiling to awkward ina matter a seconds as she registered what was happening around her. Dan justlaughed it off as he crossed the dorm room in a few long steps before hereached the bed, turning around on his heels and sitting down on it, the girlstill in his arms.

“I was thinking aboutbreakfast but you really look like you need an actual, proper rest first,” hechuckled, not stopping to listen to any complaints that he knew he was going toget from her. Dan leaned closer, pressing a quick kiss in her hair before hepulled Pixi closer against his chest, plopping down on his back on the bed.

She reached one hand onher face, brushing the coils of her blue hair away from whatever part of hereyes they could cover, sending a little playful glare into Dan’s direction. Thepair of brown eyes looking back at her blinked at her a couple of times beforehe chuckled again. He was way too cheerful, but at the same time she just couldn’tget mad at him about it. It was all just too adorable.

“We can sleep in today.You’ll thank me later.”

“I hope so,” Piximumbled, snuggling her head against his chest. “You let me sleep on the floorafter all.”

“It wasn’t the floor.You were all curled up in the beanbag chair. You should have seen it, you wereadorable.”

“Liar,” she yawned,hearing the laugh coming from him, and as Dan continued to talk on she slowlydrifted back to sleep.

#mads writes #asagao!mads #i dont have a name for this ship yet mmmm #it'll get one at some point im sure cause im not gonna let this go i love this too much cause im trash #anyways heres a thing cause writing angst just didnt work out tonight #its unedited and stuff cause its 3am and im trash so woo #just take it #i'll look through it tomorrow #thank you for sending this ily avery <3 #if you read it please hit like so i know #and like always please reblog cause sharing is caring #..and its your chance to expose my absolute trash habits cause i have no shame lol #purpleperidots #thank you for asking! <3 #fictionbang

13 notes · View notes