#i didn’t want to leave this anon unanswered because i think this is an important area for comic book criticism

[jerichogender]

Someone had to mention it, but yeah, the entire Court of Owls storyline is antisemitic. Like, Bruce being judged by the Court draws straight from a Passion play, complete with a little girl ordering to "make him hurt". (In this reading Batman and Jesus are "one of the good ones".) In Dark Nights: Metal, also by Snyder, the Court is also known as the Judas tribe. Most recently they used mind control, a spell often attributed to Jews by antisemites, on Dick.

It’s been a while since I read the original Court of Owls storyline from the New 52 & I never read Dark Knights: Death Metal, so I’m not familiar with some of the plot points your referencing. That being said, if everything you mentioned squares with what happens in those books, then it definitely sounds like Scott Snyder has a pattern of writing antisemitic tropes into his comic book storylines, unconsciously or not

[storytelling-timelord]

Ballerina

Request from 🩰 anon: Hi! Could you please maybe write a story with the 9th Doctor and him finding out that before he found the reader, the reader used to study dance (contemporary ballet and pointe ballet) for a long time and maybe the reader shows off for him a little bit! Thanks so much!

WC: 2.2K

A/N: I hope you like it 😣 sorry it’s taking me forever to get requests out, but I blame school!

---

“Yes mum, I promise I’ll be there!” You groan into your phone, pressing your fingers against your temples.

“You better be. Your cousin has been talking nonstop about you finally watching her dance. Don’t you disappoint her, young lady.” Her strict tone causes your eyes to roll.

“Wow mum, it’s like you know I wake up every day wanting to disappoint an 8 year old.” You grumble and hear your mother tsk at you.

“Where are you?” You glance out the TARDIS doors only to see rolling hills and a river.

“Doctor?” His smiling face pops through the doors from outside where he left to give you privacy. “When are we?” You already know you’re on Earth.

He turns around outside for the briefest of moments. “Early 1730s I believe.” He tells you and you repeat it to your mother with a grin. She never was okay with you traveling through space and time, but she knew she had no say over the matter. Your life, your choice. The only deal was you promised to come back home for holidays and important events, like tonight.

You talk to her for a little bit longer before she had to go and when the Doctor hears you say goodbye, he hops back inside. You huff, getting the Doctor’s attention. “Mind if we pop back home for a visit?”

“Of course!” The Doctor says when he walks in front of you to get the the console and you follow after him, ready for a visit home. He does pause in thought and turn quickly and before you realize, you’ve collided in with him. He steadies you with a grip on your waist as you pat his chest, a bit shock with his sudden closeness. “What for?” He asks before he lets go of you.

Straightening yourself out, you clear your throat. “My um, my cousin, Katie, has a dance recital tonight uh, well, tonight in about 300 years.” You correct yourself, throwing your eyebrows up momentarily. “She’s just really excited for me to go and I’ve missed her last few because we were traveling.” You begin pacing in front of the doctor and his lips quirk up watching you smile at the thought of your cousin. “This one’s really important to her though because it’s her first recital dancing ballet and because I was the one who taught her, it’s extra important I go.” You pause as your eyes widen and you start towards the halls, not aware of the Doctor’s questioning eyes on you. “Oh, I’ve got to find my pointe shoes! She wanted them for ‘inspiration’!”

The doctor’s mouth gapes open as you leave his field of view. He shouts your name after you leave and grows more confused. “Since when did you know how to dance?!”

His yells go unanswered.

---

“How long have you been my companion?”

You glance at the Doctor when you approach your parents doorstep, his question catching you off guard.

“Oh, um, I don’t know. A while?” You shrug and go to ring the bell but the Doctor grabs the pointe shoes out of your hands. “What are you-“

“How come I didn’t know you could dance?” He asks and you have to take a moment to realize this truly was a question of the Doctor.

‘I don’t know, Doctor. It’s not like I keep it a secret. The TARDIS even makes me a special dance studio to practice in when I get bored.”

You can see the Doctor thinking, his eyes softly moving back and forth as he tries to remember anything about you and dance and you shouldn’t be as offended as you were that he doesn’t remember anything. “Really?” He says after a minute and you roll your eyes.

“No Doctor, I’m making this all up. These aren’t even pointe shoes, they’re not even real.” You deadpan and the Doctor places one of his hands on his hips and points the other at you while you smirk. Before he could say anything, your dad swings the door open.

The Doctor drops his stance, putting on an innocent smile that has you chuckling. “Dad!” You laugh softly and let him pull you in for a hug. He returns the gesture, patting your back a few times while glaring at the awkward Doctor behind you.

“Your mum could hear your voices from the kitchen.” He says when you shoot the Doctor a raised brow. “Sent me to get you two inside before the neighbors hear.”

You follow him inside. “Well, we were just talking about how the Doctor here didn’t know I could dance.”

Your dad stops before he gets to the kitchen, sending a look back to the Doctor. “You didn’t? How does someone not know his girlfriend can dance?”

Your stomach turns in embarrassment at his words. “Dad.” You chastise but he just looks confused. “We’re not- We’re not a couple. We’re not dating.” You remind him and refuse to look back to the doctor.

“You’re not?” You shake your head. “Blimey, well don’t tell your mum. She thinks she’ll be planning a wedding soon.”

Oh, he really doesn’t know when to stop talking.

He’s out of the room before you can respond to that comment.

The Doctor is standing behind you with a smile on his face that he’s trying to keep at bay when he approaches your side. “Well, let’s go see your mum, Sweetie.” He says and you swat his arm he extends out for you. You don’t take his arm and instead head towards the kitchen with the Doctor on your heel. Before the Doctor could even enter the room, he hears a squeal from behind him. Katie, your cousin, found out you were home and is sliding past the Doctor to hug you.

“You came!” She squeals and the Doctor raises his brows at the pitch before he chuckles, matching the ones you were making as well.

“Of course, I came!” You ruffle her hair. “I even brought a guest.” You throw your thumb back to gesture to the Doctor who smiles at your cousin.

“Hello Katie.” He stretches a hand out to her. “Nice to meet you.” Katie giggles as she hides against your leg before she takes the Doctor’s hand in her little one and shakes it as best as she can.

“Kate, this is the Doctor, he’s my companion.”

The Doctor raises a playful brow at you. “Oh, your companion?”

You smirk and nod. “My house, my companion.”

The Doctor was about to argue with you on the logic you used before Katie tugs on your hand. “Can you two stop flirting and you help me practice for tonight?” She pleaded, sticking her tongue out in a pout that you couldn’t say no to if if you wanted to.

“Alright!” You sigh, acting exasperated at the thought before you let yourself smile and be pulled away by her. “And we don’t flirt!” You add before you were pulled from the room.

The Doctor stands in the kitchen, your mother and father watching him expectantly before the Doctor smiles at them, shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and follows you right out of the room. He didn’t know where exactly he was going but he followed the sound of Katie’s giggles until he was outside of your room. The door was slightly parted and the Doctor could see Katie trying to demonstrate part of her dance for tonight.

You were cheering her on, clapping your hands and spinning her around and the Doctor watches you through out it all. A warm feeling spreads through him as he knocks on the door, both you and Katie turning with wide smiles.

“Doctor!” Katie calls out and runs to grab his hand. “Y/N was just about to dance!” She leads him to the bed and your cheeks grow warm and your eyes fall to the ground.

“Oh, I’m sure the Doctor doesn’t want to-”

“No, no! I want to see!” He cuts you off, mimicking Katie’s expression as you roll your eyes. The two of them? Children.

“Fine, but just know I’m nowhere as good as Katie.” You wink at her and she claps, cheering you on and making the Doctor clap with her.

You wave off their clapping before getting in first position. The Doctor doesn’t know much about ballet, but he’s seen beautiful things in his hundreds of years, he’s seen the beginning of the universe, the end of it, planets that sparkle everywhere you look, truly beautiful things and as he watches you forget the three of you were shoved in your bedroom as you lose yourself in the short dance you were doing, the Doctor adds this moment to his list.

Watching you dance was breathtaking.

He didn’t realize you were finished until you were standing awkwardly in front of him and Katie was clapping once again, nudging his side with her surprisingly sharp elbow. He knocks himself back to reality as he gives you a standing ovation, making your smile hurt your cheeks as you take a bow. “Thank you, thank you.” You chuckle.

“You really can dance.” The Doctor says almost shocked and you shrug, embarrassed at his reaction to finally knowing you could dance. “You can! I mean, that was- you were fantastic!” Katie agrees with him. “You were hiding this from me the whole time I’ve known you?”

“Not hiding, but not necessarily telling you.” You shrug.

“Well, how long?”

You wait for him to finish his sentence before you realize he was done. “How long what?”

“How long have you been dancing?” He asks like it was obvious, what else could he have been talking about?

“Oh, since I could walk. Yeah, I uh, my mum put me in classes the moment my feet hit the ground. Been studying it for years, even went to school for it, finished about a year before I took off with you. Was gonna be a dancer.” The Doctor hates that he hadn’t known any of this before, he knows almost everything about you, but this, something that was such a major part of your life and he had no idea. “Don’t feel bad for not knowing Doctor.” You tell him, “It doesn’t matter you didn’t know how fantastic I really was all this time.” Your sarcasm is topped with a cross of your arms, pretending to be bothered by the Doctor not having known. You really didn’t care. Showing him now was actually kind of nice.

He practically jumps off the bed. “Y/N-“

“I’m joking Doctor!” You laugh, putting your hands on his shoulders to stop him from feeling too bad. “I’m joking, I really don’t mind.”

The Doctor takes your admission to heart as he looks into your eyes, both of you just staring at each other until soft child-like giggles pull you apart. You look at Katie to see her covering her eyes and the Doctor and you grow confused. “What are you doing?” The Doctor asks her.

She peaks her eyes open through the holes between her fingers and giggles once again. “Covering my eyes.”

You nod, trying to understand. “Why?”

“Because I always close my eyes when mummy and daddy kiss.” She covers he eyes again and you thank everything for that as you avoid looking at the doctor who’s smiling widely at you.

“Kate, the Doctor and I aren’t going to kiss.”

“Promise?” She teases.

“Yes.” You say at the same moment the Doctor says, “No.”

You turn to him, furrowing your brows like he was, only for two different reasons.

“No?” You repeat his answer as he does the same with yours.

Katie giggles louder and pulls her hands from her face. The Doctor and you stare at each other for a few more seconds before a faint smile appears at your lips. You hope the Doctor hadn’t seen it, but he most certainly did. “Come on, Katie.” You say, reaching for her hand. “We have to leave soon.” It was almost time for her recital.

Katie takes your hand and jumps off the bed but she doesn’t move towards the door. Instead she looks up at you, then your other hand, then to the Doctor. It takes you a moment, but you realize what she wants.

“Come on Doctor.” You sigh and offer your hand out to him. His smiles triples before he slaps his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers together. “Let’s go to a recital.”

“This sounds like a date.” The Doctor says in a joking matter and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks heat up against your wishes.

“It’s totally a date.” Katie nods and the Doctor points to her, making sure you agreed.

“It’s not a date.” You remind him and the Doctor pretends to nod, but looks to Katie before both of them shake their heads. “Okay you two, out the door now before mum kills me for making you late.”

Katie giggles and runs out the door, you start to let go of The Doctor’s hand, no longer holding it for Katie’s sake, when he tightens his grip. “After you, Ballerina.” He gestures to the door and you bite your cheek before heading out, pulling the Doctor along to your “totally-not-a-date”.

.

.

.

.

[capcarolsdanver]

Why Her? (Part 4)

Summary: This fic is based off a request from an anon after some speculations that have been made on my blog. Brie enlists the help of the reader to get a date with a girl that reader knows from class, only for unexpected feelings to be caught. Drama/angst/fluff to come! Pairing: Brie x Reader

A/N: The final chapter is here!! This was a fun one to write. Thank you to everybody who read it, and most importantly, thank you to everybody who liked/reblogged and gave me feedback!! You guys don’t know how important it is to writers. I look forward to hearing what you think of the last chapter! I hope you enjoy!

Please do not repost my writing anywhere without my permission.

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

You once again find yourself sitting on your own at the campus library, surrounded by textbooks that you’re trying to convince yourself to focus on. The rest of the weekend after you’d left the diner had been fairly uneventful, aside from the onslaught of texts and phone calls from Brie that you’ve been evading.

You weren’t trying to be hurtful in your actions, but seeing her and Sarah talking together, and standing so close, made you realise how careless you’d been. You had let yourself develop feelings for Brie. You’re certain of that now, after spending practically the whole weekend going over and over the reason why you’d run from the diner.

And now you’re just trying to protect yourself and give both you and Brie the time and space you think your friendship deserves, if you still can even call what you had a friendship. You know that if you continue the same kind of routine that you and Brie had fallen into, then it would only lead to more confusing, damaging feelings arising.

And that would be unfair to the both of you.

As if aware that your thoughts had drifted to her, Brie is suddenly sitting opposite you at the table, fixing you with a hard look.

You would be lying if you said you were shocked by the presence. You knew it was only a matter of time before she would confront you over your ghosting her.

“Well it’s good to know you’re alive,” she says. It’s hard to interpret her tone, especially because you refuse to meet her eyes. Partly because you’re still trying to keep your distance. But you do also still feel embarrassed by your dramatic exit only two days ago.

At the time, you hadn’t even been thinking about the repercussions, but after the fact, you had realised how confusing the situation may have been for Brie, especially with your radio silence afterwards.

“Hi,” you say sheepishly. You still hesitate to look at her but you already know that her hard stare doesn’t waver.

“That’s it?” Now you hear the snippiness of her tone. “You ignore me for two days and ‘hi’ is all you’ve got to say?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you,” you try, but she cuts you off quicker than you expect.

“Really? What do you call it, then?”

You stutter, failing to come up with an answer. You were ignoring her, after all. Though you don’t want to admit that to her, because then you would have to explain why you were ignoring her. And you’re fairly sure that would ten lead to you talking about seeing her and Sarah at the diner together, and what exactly that might mean.

“I was busy,” is all you can come up with. Brie scoffs from the other side of the table.

“You were too busy to let me know you were okay?” You sense a more fragile emotion leaking into her tone and finally you tentatively meet her gaze. “I was worried about you,” she admits softly, her vulnerability on full display.

“Well maybe you should stop worrying about me so much,” you bite out, immediately regretting your unintentionally heated response. Brie looks taken aback and you can practically see the wall she starts putting up around herself as her features harden.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice unnervingly dropping any signs of emotion. “Maybe I should.” She abruptly pushes her chair back to leave and you feel an incredible pang of guilt again.

“Brie, wait,” you say hastily. You half expect her to continue on her way without a second glance, but instead she freezes where she is. She looks at you expectantly. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” Her words are clipped and you don’t blame her for her attitude at all. After all, it’s your feelings getting in the way of things, not hers.

“I’m an asshole.” You shake your head at yourself. “Forgive me?” You plead, your apologetic eyes on Brie. You watch her resolve begin to crumble and her tense muscles seem to relax a little. Eventually she nods.

“Okay. Only if you explain why you ignored me, though.” It’s a fair request, though of course you can’t exactly answer it truthfully.

“I didn’t lie when I said I was busy,” you decide to supply, even though you know full well you had spent the last two days hiding out in your dorm room doing almost nothing but thinking about how to deal with your emerging feelings for Brie. “I barely looked at my phone all weekend.”

She seems to accept your answer and turns to face you more directly again. “Well how about now? Are you too busy to go grab a coffee with me?” She is casual in the way she asks, though her tone betrays her in revealing a hint of nerves in her words.

You know you probably shouldn’t go. You know, really, you should be putting at least some distance between you and Brie to salvage the friendship and spare either of you hurt feelings. But then how were you ever expected to say no to her? Especially when she’s standing right in front of you and you still feel guilty about your behaviour over the last couple days.

You force yourself to hold in the sigh that you almost release, because of course you know you’re going to say yes to her.

————————

Coffee with Brie goes pretty well, if slightly less relaxed as your usual time spent with Brie is. You do feel better for agreeing to go, though, mainly because Brie seems much happier when you part ways than when she had first shown up to talk to you at the library that morning.

You avoided the topic of Sarah completely, and you’re not sure if it was intentional but Brie seemed to do the same, also. You’re not sure how to interpret that just yet, but you choose to ignore the gnawing feeling it gives you. Was she deliberately not bringing Sarah up around you for a reason? Or had she just perhaps not even thought to bring the other girl up in conversation?

You must admit, that possibility seems odd, seeing as it was literally the entire reason why you had started talking to Brie in the first place, and since a lot of the time you spent together hanging out was at parties where Sarah also was.

Though, of course, there were also the times you spent together where Sarah wasn’t even so much as mentioned. The movie night only a handful of nights ago immediately comes to mind.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts on your walk back to your dorm room after your final class of the day. This is the exact reason why you feel like you need to put some distance between you and Brie for a little while. This constant questioning over every interaction you and Brie shared would surely do no good for either of you in the long run.

Once you make it inside, you thankfully find your room empty. You do have a roommate, though you rarely see her at all, which works for you just fine. Especially when you have so much on your mind and want nothing more than to just be on your own. You throw your bag down next to your desk and throw yourself down on your bed, heaving out a heavy sigh before you fish your phone out of your pocket.

You’ve barely checked it all day, but you’re still surprised to see a text from Brie waiting for you.

“I’m glad we’re okay.”

You stare at the text for probably far too long. You’re not too sure how to interpret it, though maybe there isn’t really anything to interpret from the seemingly simple text.

“Me too.”

You bite your lip anxiously, knowing that Brie will likely reply at any moment, but feeling entirely unprepared for it. On one hand, you could so easily fall back into your easy pattern of talking with Brie, but on the other hand, you are fully aware that you have to keep some kind of boundary between the two of you right now.

When you do receive another text from her a moment later, you again stare at the words staring back at you on the screen.

“So, what are you up to tonight? Impromptu movie night?”

You so badly want to say yes. The last movie night had been so nice, and you had loved the time spent with Brie. But then what happened shortly after that is in your head again, and that’s enough to make your mind up for you. You certainly don’t want any kind of reenactment of the diner incident, especially if Brie and Sarah have taken the next step and have started talking as you suspect they may have.

“I can’t, I have to study tonight :(“

Another easy lie that goes towards putting some space between the two of you.

“Aw, okay then nerd :P”

You would normally chuckle at Brie’s light teasing, but all you do is sigh in disappointment, because you so wish you could be on your way to Brie’s for a movie night right now. Instead, you leave her text unanswered and put your phone aside, staring at the ceiling and silently praying for the universe to just give you a break.

Brie sends several more invites to hang out over the next few days, and you would pat yourself on the back for finding an excuse to turn them all down if it didn’t make you feel so terrible. You’re slowly starting to think the space from Brie is just making you want her even more.

As if on cue, your phone vibrates on your bedside table.

“I hear there’s a party tonight…”

“Oh yeah?”

In all fairness, you haven’t really been looking out for any parties lately. Mainly because you’ve been trying to somehow push away your feelings for Brie, and you doubt going with her to a party where Sarah would likely be would help you with that.

“Yeah. I hear Sarah will be there…”

You sigh, getting the confirmation that you aren’t at all surprised to receive. Of course this was all just another step in the Sarah plan. You don’t know how to respond, and you half consider just ignoring the message when Brie sends through another.

“Will you go with me?”

“I don’t know”

You don’t even really have any fake excuses left to use to get out of it, but you just hope that Brie picks up on your reluctancy to go and lets you off the hook.

“Please?”

Apparently not. Still, for a single word, her text does wonders at making your resolve slip. You close your eyes for a long moment and take a deep breath, slowly letting it out while you mentally prepare for the night ahead of you.

————————

You agree to meet Brie at the party, as it’s almost exactly halfway between your respective residencies. When you step through the open doorway, you’re hit with the overwhelming sounds of people yelling, desperately trying to be heard over the almost deafening volume of the music.

You keep a look out for Brie as you walk but there’s no need. You’ve only taken a few short steps when a gentle hand finds your waist and you twist around to see Brie’s wide smile.

“Hey,” she shouts, or at least you think she does. Seriously, if you made it through the night with your hearing intact it would be a miracle.

“Hey, yourself,” you shout back. Brie also seems to realise the problem with trying to have a conversation where you are. She looks around and spots a large open doorway opposite where you stand, grabbing your wrist to pull you towards it.

You make it into the kitchen, which you’re happy to discover doesn’t seem to have the same acoustics as the room directly attached to it because it is significantly quieter in here. There’s also only a small handful of people standing around, another startling contrast to the room full of people you had just come from.

Brie stops and takes a dramatic breath, quickly releasing it and she offers you an easy smile.

“You know, I kind of half expected you not to show up tonight,” she admits, but her smile stays in place. “I’m glad you did, though.”

You ignore the slight stab of guilt you feel, knowing full well that you couldn’t blame Brie for not even fully trusting that you would show up. You have been dodging every plan she’s tried to make with you for the last week.

“Well, you did say please,” you shrug and Brie’s smile grows in size, chuckling at you. You’re left standing facing each other for a moment in as much silence as the party will allow, and in the absence of talking, your eyes roam over Brie without your permission.

She looks good tonight. Not that she hasn’t looked every bit as good every other time you’ve seen her, but there’s something about her tonight. You look at her face and notice what you think is the slightest bit of nerves, and she clears her throat and takes a look at all the alcohol sprawled across the countertop.

She turns and takes it upon herself to make up two drinks. You watch her as she focuses intensely at the task at hand, before she grabs the cups and hands one to you.

“Thank you,” you say, a small smile of appreciation, and you make a move to take a sip, though you never quite get there as you’re startled by the sudden outburst of Brie’s voice across from you.

“I need to talk to you about something.”

You slowly lower the cup, not moving your eyes from her as you study her carefully. She looks far too serious for your liking. You try to play it cool, though your stomach sinks, realising what she was likely about to tell you. That her and Sarah had hit it off that morning at the diner, and that they had continued talking and hanging out together. Brie had finally earned that date she was after. You should have wondered why Brie had asked you to a party where Sarah would be even though you saw with your own eyes how comfortable the two were when they talked now.

“Aren’t we already talking?” You say stubbornly, immediately trying to find a way to end this conversation before it can even begin. You are nervous to admit that you hadn’t thought about what your friendship with Brie might look like if her and Sarah actually did get together, especially considering your feelings for Brie that only seem to be growing stronger. You can’t hold eye contact with Brie anymore, so you look away at anything that isn’t her. Your eyes land on a figure in the adjacent room. Sarah.

In a feeble attempt to avoid dealing with this conversation for the time being, you point her out before Brie can even get another word out.

“I found Sarah,” you say. Brie barely even offers a glance over her shoulder towards the other girl before she’s looking back at you again. “Go get her,” you say, a forced smile on your face.

“I just need to-“

“Seriously, you’ll miss your chance if you don’t go to her now.” You pointedly keep your eyes on Sarah, avoiding looking directly at Brie at all cost. You can feel your own emotions quickly beginning to rile up and you know you have to put a stop to this before you lose it.

“Y/N, please.” She reaches for you and the second her hand makes contact with you something within you snaps.

“Brie, what are you still doing here?” You growl and you can physically see Brie recoil a little. “Just go to her. We both know she’s the only reason we’re friends, anyway, so you might as well stop wasting your time.”

At this, Brie takes a full step back, as if she’s just taken a physical hit. “The only reason?” She asks in disbelief, hurt crossing her face as her features crumple slightly.

You at least have the decency to feel a little guilty. You know you have the tendency to snap like this when you’re trying to protect yourself. You’re an emotional person; you either snap, or burst into tears when dealing with anxiety-ridden situations like this. But nonetheless, you feel completely terrible for so clearly hurting Brie’s feelings.

“Listen, Brie. You just have a good night, okay?” You say, remorse on your face before your feet carry you back through the sea of people and the thumping music until you’re back outside, keeping a brisk pace as you begin to walk down the road, in what you hope is the direction of your dorm.

“Where are you going?” You hear Brie’s distinctive voice from the front of the house, actually surprised that she’d even followed you this far. You ignore her, not even looking in her direction, figuring she’ll give up and head back inside. You’d already ruined the night, you don’t want to do any more damage.

Only a moment later, though, she’s catching your hand with her own and trying to slow you down. You can hear her rushed breath from behind you and at her continued efforts and you wonder if she’d had to run after you to catch you. You eventually sigh and come to a stop. As soon as she gets the opportunity, she stands in front of you, almost as if to stop any other attempts at running away that you might try.

“What the hell was that?” She exclaims. She looks somewhere between mad and concerned. You of course hadn’t planned on any of this happening, so you’re at a loss for what to do. You’ve barely had control over your emotions over the last week and it feels like you’re just about at your breaking point.

“Talk to me,” she whispers, and of course that is what seems to break you as you feel tears sting at your eyes.

You slam them shut to stop any tears from leaking out, but when Brie tugs you into a tight hug, her cheek pressing against the side of your head, you can do nothing to stop the first tears from falling.

God, what the hell was happening to you tonight?

Brie shushes you calmly when she hears your cries, as if the night couldn’t get any more embarrassing for you.

“I’m sorry,” you sob into her shoulder. Her hand rubs soothing circles on your back and you focus on that, taking in some deep breaths. You seriously want to crawl into a dark hole somewhere out of pure embarrassment once you eventually calm down enough.

“You don’t need to apologise.” Brie breathes out, remarkably patient with the blubbering mess that you’ve become.

“I should have just listened when you wanted to tell me about you and Sarah, but instead I had to make the whole thing about myself. I’m such a bad friend.”

Brie’s hand on your back falters, stopping those soothing motions and she gently pulls away from you, her furrowed brow emphasising her apparent confusion.

“Me and Sarah? What are you talking about?”

“That’s what you wanted to tell me back there, right? That you and Sarah have started seeing each other?”

Brie doesn’t so much as blink at you as she continues staring at you, but you notice her features changing. One eyebrow seems to arch in question and one side of her mouth curves up in a kind of half smile.

“What gave you that impression?” She asks, and is that a hint of amusement you can hear in her voice?

“Um,” you start, blinking a few times and suddenly feeling very much put on the spot. “Well, I saw you both at the diner last weekend talking, and you both seemed awfully happy together,” you say, becoming more and more unsure of your words as you explain. Brie’s smile widens and you feel the need to further your explanation. “I saw her touch you on your arm.” You say it as if it explains everything, but it sounds ridiculous to say out loud now, especially with Brie looking at you like she was.

“Wait, is that why you left the diner that morning?” Brie asks, something clearly clicking in her head. When you remain silent and your cheeks redden slightly she lets out a surprised little laugh. “I knew you were ignoring me!”

“I wasn’t,” you mumble, but you know it’s no use.

“So you think that I started seeing Sarah, and chose not to tell you immediately, just because you saw us talking one time?”

“Oh god,” you say, even more embarrassed than when you’d just been crying into Brie’s top only a few moments ago. You drop your face into your hands. “I’m an idiot.”

“Not an idiot,” Brie says. You look back up at her and she’s wearing a cheeky kind of grin as she watches you. “But a little jealous, maybe?”

She’s right, of course, but you can’t just outright admit that to her. Instead, you change the topic in the first way you can think of.

“I suppose that explains why you wanted me to come here tonight, then.” Brie tilts her head curiously at you, waiting for you to clarify further. “I’m assuming you still want help with Sarah,” you shrug.

Brie watches you, her expression remaining unchanged. “You really think that, don’t you?”

It’s your turn to look at Brie quizzically now.

“Y/N, I’ve been trying to make plans with you all week. I asked you to come with me tonight because I thought if I told you Sarah would be here, you would say yes because of our agreement.” You still don’t quite follow, but Brie suddenly shifts from foot to foot nervously, so you give her a moment to continue. “I wanted to talk to you about something, and I knew it was a conversation for us to have in person.”

“So, you didn’t invite me here because of Sarah?” You ask dumbly, feeling several steps behind Brie. She smiles at you like she wants to laugh. When she reaches out for your hand, your breath catches slightly.

“Do you remember after that first party we went to together? We were walking back to your dorm and you asked ‘why her?’, remember?”

You nod. Of course you remember. It’s only the very thought that has been playing on repeat in your mind since the moment you asked it.

“Well, at the time I thought nothing of it. I mean, I didn’t really have a good answer, but I didn’t think I needed one. But that question just kept repeating itself in my head.” Huh, well at least it wasn’t just you who was apparently haunted by that thought. “It made me realise I was chasing some girl who I had already put up on a pedestal. I’d never even had a conversation with her before that night.”

Brie drops her gaze to your hand that she has clasped in her own and begins lightly fidgeting with your fingers. The feeling of it brings an instant smile to your face, despite how heavy this conversation feels.

“I was too focused on one girl who I didn’t even know, when really, it turns out I actually should have been focusing on another girl who I was actually enjoying spending time with.”

You pause, your mouth falling slightly open in shock as you take in Brie’s words.

“Wait, what?” You say, because… what? She’s not implying what you think she is, right? “What about the diner? I saw Sarah there with you…”

“She wasn’t there with me, we just ran into each other. Actually, I think that’s when I realised there weren’t any feelings there for me.” Brie clears her throat, looking up at you. “I like talking to her. She’s nice and everything. But when I saw you leave, that was when I felt something.”

Well, this certainly was not how you predicted tonight to go. But the warmth that runs through you at Brie’s confession is probably one of the best feelings you’ve ever experienced, and you know this conversation is far from over. You’re still at a loss of words, though you hope the way you return Brie’s gaze is enough to tell her how you feel too.

“How about instead of asking me ‘why her?’ you ask me ‘why not her?’”

You’re puzzled to say the least, but still do as Brie asks.

“Why not her?” You ask, and the smile that spreads on Brie’s face as her eyes travel over your features before returning to your eyes has you returning a nervous smile of your own. She steps closer, her hand dropping from yours in favour of resting it on your side instead.

“Because she’s not you,” she says, barely a whisper, and the blush that immediately warms your cheeks is no surprise. You genuinely don’t know how to react at this smooth-talking side of Brie that you’ve never really seen, so you duck your head, though it isn’t enough to hide the enormous smile your lips curve into.

“That’s so cheesy,” you say and Brie bursts into laughter, probably more because of her own nerves than you actually saying anything funny.

“Well my name is Brie,” she shrugs. “I was born to be cheesy.”

“Oh my god.” You laugh now, too, lifting your head back up to meet Brie’s eyes again.

“Forget cliches, I’ll be exclusively bringing you Brie-ches.” She grins, clearly finding herself hilarious, but you just shake your head at her, another laugh escaping your lips.

“Please shut up,” you chuckle, and immediately her eyebrows are dancing, a playful glint in her eyes. You know what she’s going to say before she’s even saying it.

“Make me.”

And it’s perhaps the biggest cliche of them all, but you would be lying if you say it doesn’t have an effect on you. As if on its own accord, your body presses forward. Brie, who anticipates the movement, slides her hands around your waist to pull you closer, and before you know it your body is pressed into hers and your lips meet hers in a searing kiss.

Her hands tighten on you and she hums against your lips. She pulls back only slightly and only to swipe her tongue across your bottom lip, and you’re eagerly opening your mouth for her, her tongue meeting yours in a kiss that seems too fast, but not fast enough.

The kiss feels like relief, but also excitement. It feels dangerous, but also safe.

It feels like home.

After a long, heated moment, you and Brie finally separate yourselves from each other. Your skin is flushed all over, both of you breathing heavily and her eyes don’t hide the fact that they roam freely over your body now.

“God, I’m glad you agreed to help me get with some other girl,” she says, her voice noticeably deeper now, and she easily pulls another laugh out of you. You shake your head at her and push her shoulder. She responds with a fond smile, and she lets her fingers dance down your arm before she reaches your hand, entwining your fingers with hers.

“Come on,” she says, leaning over to press an affectionate kiss to your cheek. “Let’s get out of here.”

[leviackercanon]

Levi wakes up after the explosion injuries and find out the s/o is taking care of him. I really like this page 💎💎💎

So sorry for leaving you unanswered in my box 😭 I ran away Tumblr during a looong period 😰 I hope you are doing well anon ❤️

S P O I L E R S B E L O W (don't read if you aren't in the scan 115 and more/you are an anime viewers only

ps : My english isn't perfect, sorry 🙏

❀ Headcanons : Levi with his S/O when he woke up after the explosion

note : you are free to imagine if you are a civilian or soldate

context : Levi was on duty in the giant forest where he had to keep an eye on Zeke, in order to not let him escape and meet Eren. But Zeke transformed Levi's comrades in titans, and when Levi thought he succeeded to stop him with a thunder spear, Zeke killed himself with it and created an explosion that caught Levi, then badly injured. He was saved by Hanji.

Levi made two promises in his fucking entire life.

First? Killing Zeke to avenge Erwin and all his dead comrades during the battle of Shiganshina.

Second?

To protect you.

You, his love, you who understand him the most, you who bring him light and warmth in his cold and harsh very existence. You who would melt him inside with your smile

But now, two things didn't happen as he planned... And he was hating himself.

Everyone would call him the humanity's strongest, everyone put their hope in his shoulder, (including you) and now he couldn't believe he lost to Zeke.

He had one fucking mission. Watching Zeke. But he never thought that the beast titan would be ready to kill himself with the thunder spear. He never thought he would go that far, and he was full of guilt to have failed that mission

He didn't care of the pain that was burning his entire body, especially his two legs. He didn't care about his painful face, he didn't give a shit about his suffering... Because his mind was far away, worrying about you.

You were supposed to be in town with everyone else, but now that he let Zeke escape, people in town and you, Y. O. U, would be in danger.

He couldn't let that happen, even though he was hardly feeling the bottom on his body, he had to get up!

All his worrying was making his convalescence useless. He was in the dark. He was suffering. He was half conscious, but the thought of you being in danger because of him was unacceptable for him

Yet... as he was slowly emerging from his convalescence... He suddenly felt a soft touch on his cheek

And at this contact, his slowly opened an eye... as he couldn't open his other eye. His vision was at first blurry, but soon, he recognized two faces in front of him.

Hanji and you. You who were caressing his face, tears on your eyes, because you couldn't stand to see how injured your loved one was.

Levi couldn't believe it. Was he dreaming?... no he wasn't.

Relief was a weak word to describe his feelings right now.

He wanted to say your name but his throat went painful, and you immediately rushed to give him a little bit of water

... S.O... Is... that... Y...

Levi, shh, you should rest, Hanji and I... We... we... we will take care of your... Your.. S-s-s-scares...

You were trying so hard on not to cry while putting medical médecine on every of his wounds... and bandaging his right hand where two fingers were now missing

Levi's mind was still confusing after the explosion and his sudden wake up, but he couldn't stand to see you crying for him. At this rate, he didn't care of his wounds, not only he let Zeke escape, but he was making you cry? He was upset at himself

He has always been astronger than the others

But for the first time, being unable to get up, while his dear S/O and his friend hanji were taking care of his wounds at his sides, he felt p. o. w. e. r. l. e. s. s

And for the humanity's strongest, it was the worst feeling ever to not be able to protect his loves one

He felt like he didn't deserve your kindness, your soft touch on his skin, your love.

Was he too hard on himself? Definitely. And the reason was that he was a soldier in a war era, and while he wouldn't accept failures from others in order to protect the humanity of the island, today, he failed at everything.

I'm... not dead yet... S/O... Don't... Don't cry... Oi...

He used a soft tone, the soft tone just when he was with you. He wanted to get up and take you in his arms so damn hard but he knew he wouldn't be able to stand up yet.

Weak.

He was weak.

And he was full of rage against Zeke for that... and himself.

'Zeke, I'm done with you. I will make you pay for this, you shitty disgusting titan' he thought

But as soon as his thought that, his eyes went on you and he felt for a second more relaxed

Even injured and as his lowest, you were at his side, taking care of him

Your loyalty, your love, your kindness, your honesty, he loved everything in you, and for a moment, while watching you bandaging him...

He thought that it would be nice to stay with you here, in the forest, away from the war

But he didn't have the right to think that

He let Zeke fucking escape. He put the people in town in danger. He had a promise to keep to Erwin. He was the fucking caporal. He had to assume his shitty mistakes. With two fingers missing or not

However... He didn't want to make you suffer more.

He wanted to make you a happy woman. No, more, a happy spouse, he wanted to give you a life full of love and happiness, and deep in his heart, he was longing for that life with you.

Before knowing you, he never had this thoughts. Happy life wouldn't be for him, he had just one purpose in life : putting his strength to help humanity... But now, you gave him the sweet taste of love and he wanted that

Though, deep in his heart too... He had a duty to respect.

And if stopping Zeke, even his miserable state, would save your life and people's lives in town...

He had to do it.

Because your safety was more important than everything else.

In his life where death would follow him and take every of his loves one and comrades...

He wanted you to live.

Two endings, you are the S/O, you pick your end ❤️

Somehow, you convince Levi to stay in the forest and rest, and you stay together while Hanji and Levi's squad, Marley allies and Onyankopon go to stop the rambling 💗

You let Levi go with Hanji/you go with them to stop the rambling... Isayama will decide on his fate 😰😰

I never expect myself to do a headcanon that dark hahaha... But I wanted to respect Levi's character first! If it's not good, don't hesitate to comment and I will try to change things ❤️

[allmightluver]

I debated all day about answering you anon, but I do my best not to leave an ask unanswered, because I know how it feels to be that person.

It’s possible I misunderstood your intention when you blatantly said “no one would miss you,” but the point of the matter is you said that. You never once explained in your first remarks that this was strictly about a fandom- and had someone read that, what you wrote, and felt the same as I did- not knowing that it was strictly about the fandom and not about life in general- something very sad and terrible could have happened. 

The main reason I’m responding to you is because I want you to understand that. Did you mean to tell me to commit suicide? Perhaps not, but the fact is I couldn’t be certain what you meant when you didn’t explain yourself properly. And how easy it was for me to misunderstand you, means it can very well happen to someone else, someone in a worse spot than me at the moment. You need to understand that.

To address your grievances: I have never once hated on Horikoshi. He is a wonderful man who’s made an absolutely amazing story. How could I hate or scrutinize the person who made my favorite character of all time? I often admire him and think how brilliant his mind must be to create such a perfect world, with so many deep and complex characters. I look up to him- that’s the honest truth. And I do worry about him on a daily basis- that he’s overworking himself and not properly taking care of his own needs. But then I’m not completely up to date on his daily habits, and I tend to worry about most people.

Before you go off, have I had my wishes of things being written a bit different? Yes. Selfishly I want to see more content specifically about my favorite character(s), who doesn’t? I don’t hate Horikoshi for writing the story the way he does, I only wish for more content because I’m a fan. If you’re unable to understand that, I’m not sure how to help you. Doesn’t being a fan mean you’re dedicated to a story or character and you want to see, learn, and hear more about them?

You’re right, I don’t know anything about Japanese story telling, and I long to know more about it. That doesn’t mean I hate it- far from it! It fascinates me.

I’m denying your claims as they’re untrue, and the only person who could know for certain they are- is myself. You can’t tell me how I feel. That’s the beauty of being your own person. I don’t typically want to draw attention to hateful comments, but you need to know that the way you’re behaving is completely unacceptable and immature. If I upset you that much, I deeply apologize, and kindly show you the unfollow button. I’m not sure why you’re still here if you’re that upset to be honest. 

Listen, would I be missed if I left? Maybe, a few may care about my absence. But ultimately they would move on, as life does. Do not think for a moment that I don’t know that. I think about such things daily. But you need to take responsibility for your hateful comments and reactions. Being on that note, I again ask that if you have any hatred at all for this other individual, you direct it at me. The last thing I want is for people such as yourself to be spreading more of this hate, and having someone end up hurt or worse.

That being said, I do feel bad for you as a person. The fact you’ve stooped so low as to say the hurtful things you have to another person, a human being, over drawings on paper is completely mind blowing. As much as I love MHA, it is just a story at the end of the day, it’s not something to start wars over. I get being involved in something so deeply that it’s all you think about, and you feel a deep connection to it. Trust me, I get it. But drawings aren’t something to die over. 

You must be a hurting person, to spread more hurt like this. Hurting people hurt people- that I know as a fact. Humans are not hardwired to hate and demean each other- it’s a learned behavior. Sometimes we use it as an outlet for our emotions when we don’t know how else to handle them. You need to find better ways to properly vent your emotions rather than this. Drawing helps some people, writing does as well! It helps me personally to do both. Or even listening to music.

Take a walk outside, in a forest if you have one nearby, or go to the beach or someplace that’s secluded and gives you peace, and just listen to the sounds of nature. Listen to the world living around you, that the earth still continues to move beneath you, and creatures continue to live on without the things that seem so important to you- but really don’t matter in the end.  Understand that life goes on. And then, if your hatred and emotions are still building up and overflowing, scream them out. Seriously, just let yourself feel in that moment so that you can express your feelings in a healthy way without hurting another person who is undeserving of it. 

I don’t want any more hate to be spread. We’re all hurting and struggling to make it through life right now. Instead of making each other’s times harder, let’s try and ease each other’s burden.

[imagine-lcorp]

My Love, Don’t Stop Burning (One Shot)

Request

can I get uuuuuhhhh...Lena and Reader having been pining for each other for ages, and finally acting on their feelings, but Reader is a secret superhero and has to respond to a threat to National City in the early hours of the morning, leaving Lena to wake up alone thinking Reader regrets what happened or sees it as a one night stand? Angst with a happy ending pls?

A/N: Hi once again my little beans, hope you enjoyed the holidays and everything is well. Now I hope we can get again on a regular schedule of me posting your request but that’s just me hoping, also lol this request did sound like a fast food order, but here you have it :) Kudos to the dear anon that sent this one and I hope you like this!!! Love u!!!

Lena Luthor x Superhero/Metahuman!R // Word Count: 2,511

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

It was late in the morning when Lena finally opened her eyes to the light coming from her bedroom window. She felt warm and relaxed, even happy for what felt like the first time in such a long time. She smiled and turned to see the cause and reason for such a miracle only to find empty space beside her. The side of her bed where you had laid to sleep the night before was now cold with rests of your scent lingering between the wrinkles of her sheets.

She sat upright, pulling them to cover her naked body, and looked around in confusion. There was no sign of you around the room. For a moment she had worried something had happened to you while she slept, because after all that was said and done the night before she couldn't find a reason why you wouldn't be there.

It had been the last game night of the year, and the superfriends had convinced Lena to host it. You had spent quite a few hours playing and drinking and dancing and laughing between turns, and Lena had left herself enjoy every single moment of your company as it was almost rare of you to be around big crowds. She had noticed that from the first time she ever met you.

When you finally starter to really meet each other, Lena realized there was so much she didn't know about you. Your life seemed like a mystery, full of blank spaces she tried to fill with whatever little clues she could gather about you. She knew there had been an accident when you were younger, one that had took most of the things you loved and left you instead marked by tragedy. Which explained most of your personality and your mannerisms. For most people, at first sight, you were a cold person. You remained calm and collected, always in control of your own emotions, as if you didn't want to be bothered by the rest of the world, and you didn't speak that much unless it was required.But Lena knew what it was to go through tragedy too and she could see it was only a facade to what laid beneath the surface.

You had in fact one of the gentlest personalities she had ever encountered and she had been, inevitably, drawn to you. It was your shy and little smiles and sneaky jokes only the closest people got to see, the few but always true words that came from you when someone needed them, and your soothing presence that always brought a sense of ease to her, like the flame of a bonfire illuminating and warming up the night. She wondered how it was when you truly opened up.

"(Y/N), I'm serious. I can clean this in the morning." Lena had told you, picking up plates and glasses after everyone else was gone.

"It's alright. Besides I'm partially responsible for this mess as I'm the one that suggested we played this." You said picking up loose pieces of monopoly someone had tossed in a tantrum.

"Well, now I know why this game was banned in the Danvers family. I just never imagined Alex was this competitive." Lena walked to the kitchen counter, leaving the plates for later but discovering a little silver car in a plate. She picked it and walked back towards you to return it. "Here."

You looked up from the floor from where you had been searching for any other missing pieces to find the little car in her hand. You pushed yourself up and took it, brushing your fingers against Lena's palm as careful as it was possible for you. Lena noticed it enough for her heart to skip a beat.

"You don't want to see her when she really loses it." She saw you smile fondly. "She can be scary."

"I can imagine, but I do wonder if you ever get like that." She smirked. "I actually think I have never seen you other than really ...zen."

"That's by design." She saw your expression briefly change to a small frown and then look at the car in your hand.

"What do you mean?" She couldn't help but wonder if she had inadvertently changed the course of the conversation as she felt this wasn't just about board games anymore.

"If I get like that people can get hurt and I don't want to hurt anyone." She watched as you looked back at her with an expression that told her you had said more than intended.

Lena figured that was maybe the closest she would get to an opportunity to see you finally open up. She wanted to know you and decided to take the chance.

"How could you hurt anyone?" She asked stepping closer to you. You fidgeted with the little car, the proximity of your bodies making you nervous for a moment.

You could also sense what was happening at that moment. Without meaning to, you had opened a little breach on the delicate crafted mystery you had surrounded yourself with and it wasn't that you didn't want to tell Lena all about you, that had been the first thing you may have ever wanted to do when you met her, but it was complicated. Because you weren't ready to bring back the memories, because you were afraid she would be scared, because you knew Lena didn't get along well with secrets.

"I wish I could tell." You breathed in, trying to calm yourself but knowing if she asked you couldn't deny her anything.

"So you never lose control, (Y/N)?" She asked searching again for your eyes.

"You don't want me to, Lena." You said looking back.

"What if I want exactly that?"

The little silver car found itself a new place on the floor after you felt Lena's lips move over yours. Your hands couldn't keep holding it as they wrapped around Lena's body. She could feel your initial hesitation. The way your hands moved with just and enough pressure that she was sure you were holding back but were unable to stop yourself.

Lena had wanted to ask much more about you that she didn't think even for a second to stop what happened next. She had wanted to unravel the truths you held under yourself but she hadn't imagined the desire to unravel just you was going to be stronger.

Now, as she felt the morning getting colder, she imagined she had crossed a line you hadn't been ready to and cursed before getting up. She tried to call you but after the second unanswered call she gave up. It was clear for her what had happened. So she decided to go on with her day. She had a busy schedule, enough to keep her thoughts away from you. She could deal with her messy feelings later.

"I never thought I would say this but, Hellfire, uh, hold your fire." You heard Supergirl call from above you after you swept a line of fire to keep the aliens at bay. "We don't want to make them kebabs."

"Maybe we should." You replied with a hint of a grunt. "We could end this faster."

Kara could hear the annoyance in your voice. "That would be a bad example."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm trying to hurry up!" You said launching a small fireball to an alien that was coming directly for you.

Almost an hour had passed already and you weren't done fighting. It didn't help that Lena had called and you had been unable to answer. Suddenly, you also felt about to lose your temper.

Your morning had started as a dream, better even, as you woke to the most beautiful woman you had ever met. Then it was all ruined when you received an emergency call from the DEO. There was an attack from an alien group right downtown and you were required as a back up under Alex's direct orders. You knew you couldn't say no. The threat seemed serious enough and while you had wanted to wait till late morning in the Lena's bed, your fair conscience wouldn't let you leave your friends alone. You had spent one of the most incredible nights of your life, and you were stuck fighting aliens. Mostly, you were afraid this was the beginning and the end of your relationship with Lena.

"Why are there so many?" You grunted as you finally landed a punch who knocked one of those aliens.

"(Y/N), focus. Your fire may spread." Kara said and you realized a couple of your fireballs had hit a couple of small vending carts.

The flames around you were getting bigger, and you had to stop for a second to take a few deep breaths to lessen them. You also didn't want to cause more collateral damage with your powers.

"Alright then, let's finish this before you do decide to carbonize them." She joked.

"Good." It was all you said before continuing the fight.

Finally, you managed to end the fight. All aliens were taken to the DEO and while Alex and Kara had wanted you to accompany them to fill the reports you told them you had an emergency somewhere else. So you burned and used your flames to propel yourself into the sky.

Lena was taking a small break after finishing a meeting, watching the news a bout the alien attack downtown when her phone started to ring. She recognized your number and frowned for a moment before deciding to answer.

"I'm sorry." She heard you say and it wasn't something she had expected to hear first on this conversation.

"You don't need to apologize, (Y/N)." Lena responded with a coldness that made you wince on the other side of the line. "I'm sure you had something more important to do this morning."

"N-no. Yes." You rushed and Lena was left confused for a moment. You never stuttered. "I mean that I... I didn't mean to leave like that. I want to tell you what happened."

"You don't need to explain."

"I do." You replied with more confidence. "Meet me in the rooftop."

That left Lena startled and the fact that you mentioned the rooftop got her even more nervous. So she hurried, leaving a call for her assistant to cancel the rest of her appointments, and headed to the company's rooftop.

She couldn't start to imagine why you were there or how you had managed to even get there in the first place, it seemed so out of yourself that she almost feared she really pushed your buttons last night. Whatever you were planning, she was going to make sure you didn't do anything more reckless.

She pushed the door to the rooftop and found you pacing in the middle at the base of the helipad. She could hear the whole city from up there and the wind rushing in her ears.

"(Y/N), what are you doing?" She said as she approached you.

You walked towards her and stopped a few steps away. "I'm sorry."

"I know but why don't we talk about this somewhere else?"

"I figured your office had fire alarms." You said.

"Fire alarms?" Lena tried to take another step towards you and you had to take a step back. "(Y/N), I don't understand what's happening."

"Do you remember what we talked about last night?" You saw Lena frown a bit in confusion. "About me never losing control because that would get people hurt?"

"Yes." Lena watched you with attention, noticing the subtle hesitation behind your eyes and your words.

"It's just that..." You shook your head and then took a deep breath before raising your arm. "It's hard to look at."

"(Y/N), you don't need to-" She saw the exact moment your arm began to catch fire. You held your hand at eye level and watched it as it started to burn.

She opened her mouth in shock and surprise as it finally clicked in her brain. The news about the alien attack were pretty much excited to have a better look at National City's new hero known as Hellfire and while looking at you she thought the name was fitting. You had been right, it wasn't something easy to look at. Soon enough it wasn't just your arm but your whole body burning. The flames made their way consuming you and she could see your burning flesh through them. Skin, muscle and bone was burning the way she would expect some piece of carbon to do so. Then it was your eyes, glowing like molten lava.

You let Lena watch for a moment before meeting her eye. After seeing the shock in her face you decided it was enough for a show. You took a deep breath once again and let the flames die, leaving your scorched skin exposed but it healed so fast that it was barely noticeable what had happened.

"When I was younger, the building I lived in with my family burned. It was night and we woke up to late to escape the fire. I was caught in the fire, and I burned...and burned, and burned, and burned." You remembered the night it had happened, still fresh in your memory and as painful as ever. "I was found in that same building during the night. I had no burns, no wounds, no scars, and no one that could explain how that was possible. They took me to the hospital and when they told me I had been the only survivor, I got so angry and desperate that I started a new fire right there."

Lena went back to the night before, the way you seemed to hold yourself, the way your hands touched her body almost methodically, the air becoming hotter with each heavy breath. She had imagined you were about to burst, and she had no idea how literal that could have been.

This time when she approached you she was glad you didn't step back again. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"Because I was afraid of a lot of things. Because you ignite something in me, Lena, something I have no real control over." You swallowed, her closeness making you nervous once again.

"Last night you were pretty much under control." She moved closer and closer towards you. There was certain relief in her words. All her fears and doubts had been erased as she realized you wanted this as much as her.

"That's because the thing I'm most afraid of is hurting you. I would go mad if that ever happened." You lifted a hand up to her face and traced the line of her jaw with your fingertips. "I can't lose you."

"You won't." She said before she pulled you in for another kiss.

She felt your lips against hers and she found herself thinking again about the flames of a bonfire, warm and soothing against the cold of the night. She thought it wouldn't it be that bad to be consumed by your fire.

[emiefaunwrites]

What about the strangest pick up lines from Leon and Kiyotaka's reaction to each of them? (˵ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°˵)

(Or vice versa?)

Oooooh another interesting ask! I had to think about this one, but think I got something that'll work. I couldn't think of STRANGE pick up lines (Google had me down some weeeeird roads) so I just went with super cheesy. I hope that's okay?

Thanks for the ask, anon! I hope you enjoy!

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

• So seeing how flirting didn't work to woo Taka, Leon didn't resort to pick up lines until they were actually together.

• He waited until Taka was more comfortable around him. Or more importantly, he was sure that Taka wouldn't be weirded out and dump him.

• And then one say, he just wants to see what happens. Taka's got a pretty good sense of humor, he's learnt, so what's the harm?

• So one day, while they're studying, Leon strikes.

• 'There must be something wrong with my eyes. I can't take them off of you.'

• Leon doesn't know what he expected. But it wasn't for his boyfriend to lecture him about the importance of his having regular eye tests.

• Of course, the pick up line went right over his head. And Leon found it ADORABLE.

• So he tries again a few days later. They're on the way to class when he says:

• 'Is your dad a baker? Because you're a cutie pie.'

• As expected, the pick up line is completely missed as Taka gives him a confused look and tells him that no, his dad is not a baker, he's a policeman, Leon knows this.

• And once again, Leon finds Taka's obliviousness super sweet.

• So he plans his third attempt, this time with his most obvious line. They're in class chatting after the lesson ends and Leon leans over Taka's desk when they're finally alone.

• 'Where have I seen you again?'

• 'Huh? I'm your boyfriend. What d'you mean...'

• 'Oh yeah, I remember now. It was in the dictionary. Next to the word 'gorgeous'.'

• Leon knows he's pushed the boat with this on. He knows this one will be hard to misinterpet. And he's half expecting to be scolded for such obvious flirting. What he actually gets though is FAR better.

• Taka's mouth snaps closed as his face goes bright red. His whole body goes rigid, his eyes widen, and Leon sees his Adam's apple bob as he swallows heavily.

• Holy shit. Kiyotaka Ishimaru is actually susceptible to flirting!

• Before Leon can say anything else, his boyfriend shoots up and darts out the classroom, leaving all of his stuff behind. He doesn't even acknowledge Leon's calls of worry.

• Oh shit. Did he do something wrong? It seemed to go down so well...

• The next couple of hours pass in anxious anticipation. Leon's text to let Taka know he has his stuff in his room if he wants to come and get it has gone unanswered, and he's frantically forming an apology in his mind for the next time he sees his boyfriend.

• But eventually, there's a knock on his door and when he opens it, he sees Taka stood there. Back straight as a pole, fists clenched, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

• 'Taka, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go too far, you were just so cute and I...'

• 'IFYOUANDIWEREAPAIROFSOCKSWEWOULDMAKEAGREATPAIR!'

• Leon's mouth snaps shut as Taka screams something at him. His boyfriend's eyes are squeezed shut, his face is bright red and he's shaking.

• 'Huh?'

• Taka responds by covering his face with his hands, squeaking in embarrassment before repeating the sentence into his palms, muffling his voice. And once again, Leon fails to understand him so stands there in confused silence.

• It takes Taka peeking between his fingers and a few mental rewinds of what's just happened for Leon to put the pieces together.

• His boyfriend's trying to flirt with him. Like ACTUALLY flirt. And oh my god, does that make Leon's heart skip a beat.

• His face flushes as he moves in close, taking Taka's hands in his own and smiles cheekily.

• 'You got any more of those pick up lines to use on me?'

• Somehow, that makes Taka even more flustered for a few moments. But at the reassurance he finds in Leon's eyes, he takes a quick glance to the right before locking eyes with Leon and saying uncertainly:

• 'I-I'm glad I brought my library card...'

• He reaches into his pocket to push it in Leon's face.

• '...b-because I'm totally checking you out.'

• Leon's heart nearly stops as his face breaks into the biggest grin. And upon seeing this, Taka's eyes widen for a moment as his face flushes again. But then he relaxes and smiles, looking adorably proud of his achievement.

• As Leon grabs Taka's face in his and pulls him in for a passionate kiss, he spots Mondo and Chi peeking around the corner to his left, cheering silently.

• So as Taka's hands grab his waist with a newfound confidence and pushes his boyfriend backwards into the room, Leon makes a mental note to thank them both.

• But, of course, that could wait. That could SO wait.

[whumptopia]

My Cup Runneth Over

d&d oc whump commissioned by [anon]

content warnings: blood drinking, terminal illness, very brief emeto mention

—

Rolith never imagined he would step foot inside a vampire’s home for any reason other than to slaughter the fiend, yet here he is, knocking on the front door of Lord Serador’s estate with no malicious intentions to be found. He’s been tasked to perform a wellness check on the behalf of Queen Juliet, the matriarch of Willowfen, or the independent human settlement they both call home. As the town’s military leader, he receives his orders directly from her and spends a sizable portion of his time advising the crown. They’ve built up a healthy working relationship over the years, and she trusts him indubitably. She told him she was worried about Serador because he returned the Empyreal Wand (the Queen’s family heirloom, which she gave him in return for his help in solving their werewolf problem). Considering how badly the vampire initially wanted the wand, her highness saw his generosity as cause for concern.

Brows furrowing, Rolith glances down at the wand. Although Serador seems to be somewhat less of a prick than most vampiric nobility, Rolith still can’t imagine him helping them for free. There must be another reason why he returned it.

As time passes and his knock remains unanswered, Rolith begins to suspect the Queen’s worry was well-founded. Unwilling to wait any longer, he reaches for the door knob and, surprisingly, finds it unlocked. Perhaps Serador doesn’t consider the animal inhabitants of his domain to be any threat to his safety. Still, in Rolith’s experience, an unlocked front door is never a good sign. He might be young for a military leader (all of the older commanders perished in the fight to free Willowfen from vampiric rule, leaving the next generation to carry the torch alone) but he’s seen enough in his lifetime to know a bad situation when he sees one.

Without hesitation or any regard for proper manners, he slips inside. As soon as the door closes behind him, he’s consumed by darkness. All of the windows are covered, and none of the candles are lit, so he unsheathes his sword and casts Daylight upon the blade. The spell causes the metal to glow and illuminate the foyer. White brightness crawls into every nook and cranny, and he takes a look around.

He isn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t this.

The manor is archaically well-decorated, of course, but it’s in bad shape. Nothing has been cleaned in ages: the painted portraits are peeling, the wood paneling is dusty, and the ceiling is covered in cobwebs. A shudder of unease rolls down his spine, and he heads toward the stairs, hoping to find Serador quickly so he can get out of this place.

“Hello?” he calls, marching up the creaking steps, “Serador? You here?”

He reaches the second floor and starts down the hallway toward the East Wing. All of the heavy, velvet curtains are drawn closed, but specks of light peek through moth holes. The state of Serador’s house reaffirms his suspicions about his well being. During the period of their alliance thus far, Rolith has noticed that there’s something not quite right with him. The vampire seems to have little to no regard for his health, the most prominent example being the time when he overexerted himself in battle to the extent that he was vomiting blood for hours after. At the time, Rolith tried to help, but he was brushed off. They’ve never discussed the matter. Even when he’s not visibly ill, Serador always has dark circles underneath his red eyes, and his pale skin is more gaunt than even a vampire’s complexion should be. There’s definitely something wrong with him. If only Rolith knew what the problem was.

Turning a corner, he spots an open door at the end of the hall. He heads straight for it, entering the room without preamble, anxious about what he might find. 

“Mother of God,” a familiar voice groans. It’s Serador. He’s lying in his bed, his eyes slammed shut against the white glow. “Put that out.”

Rolith waves his hand to disperse the magic, and the vampire sighs in relief at the ensuing darkness. His comfort is short-lived, however, because the paladin immediately strides over to the nearest window and throws open the curtains, letting the evening sunlight in. Serador hisses. Rolith ignores him.

“Your door was unlocked,” he says, turning around to face him. Serador’s bed is ornate and massive, a large canopy frame that’s almost as tall as the ceiling. Propped up by a mountain of pillows and tucked under the covers, the vampire looks none too pleased about being seen in such a vulnerable state. His red eyes immediately hone in on the Emperyal Wand.

“What are you doing with that?” he asks brusquely. “I returned it to your Queen.”

Rolith sheaths his sword and places the wand down on the nearest surface. “But you didn’t tell her why.”

The vampire shifts. “I no longer desire it.”

Approaching his bedside, Rolith takes a moment to more thoroughly examine his appearance. Gone is the demeanor of a haughty immortal. The creature before him looks sickly, and the sheets surrounding him are covered in blood. His chin is stained red.

“What’s wrong with you?” Rolith demands. The vampire doesn’t answer, averting his eyes. He makes a face and then coughs into his elbow. His throat makes a wet, gurgling sound, and his shirt sleeve is soaked in crimson.

Alarm bells go off in the paladin’s head. The carnage isn’t from feeding. It’s not the blood of his prey. It’s his own.

“Serador.”

“What?” he gasps, breathless and clearly annoyed.

“You know what. You look like you’re dying. You need a cleric or, or something,” Rolith says, running a hand through his blonde hair and wracking his mind for a way to help. He doesn’t know much about vampire physiology. Information regarding their weaknesses is kept secret by the vampiric nobility. Before this very moment, he thought they couldn’t even get sick in the first place.

Intent on rushing out of the manor and grabbing the first healer he comes across, he moves toward the door to leave, but Serador clears his throat and makes him pause.

“A cleric won’t help,” he says.

Crossing his arms, Rolith glares at him. “So you know what’s wrong with you?”

Serador sighs deeply. He looks miserable. His cheeks are hollow, and his limbs sag with every movement as if his very bones are weighing him down. Rolith hates seeing him like this.

“I was cursed a long time ago, in a blood feud. The curse manifests as an illness of sorts, weakening me until eventually…” Rolith shrugs, “Well, I assume it’ll kill me someday. It’s been a decades now.”

The vampire’s casual tone makes it difficult for Rolith to immediately comprehend the meaning of his words, but the more he thinks about it, the more everything begins to make sense. He recalls every time he’s witnessed Serador utterly drained after battle, and the pieces of the puzzle slot together in his mind. “You’re cursed?”

Serador gives him a tired look. “Yes. I thought perhaps the wand could cure me, but I doubt it.”

Rolith raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t even try?” At this, he marches over to the table and grabs the wand, determination pumping through his veins. “You’re dying. You should at least try.”

“It would destroy the wand,” Serador explains, struggling to sit upright, “and the odds of success are low. It’s more important to preserve it for future generations if there is to be any hope for an insurrection.”

Rolith looks at the wand skeptically. “I thought it was just an heirloom.”

The vampire coughs into his fist, his shoulders shaking in violent jerks. “The Queen’s father was a legendary cleric, as you know. If you and your people want to harness the power of the forbidden magics and overthrow the corrupt court, then you’ll need that wand.” He gives Rolith a pointed look. “I can’t teach you everything.”

The paladin frowns. It’s true Serador taught him illegal spells to use against the undead. The enchantments aided him in defeating an evil witch, but the vampire was burned by simply being in close-proximity when Rolith cast the spell. Serador has taken great risks in aiding them in their goal of freeing humankind… and now he would sacrifice his only chance at life for their sakes?

Rolith shakes his head. “Then there has to be another way to break the curse.”

The vampire sports a wry smile. “As much as I admire your optimism, I’ve been around for much longer than you’ve been alive. I doubt there’s a cure.”

“Well, I’ll find one,” he asserts, leveling Serador with a challenging look. He doesn’t appreciate being told what he can and cannot do by vampires, especially when he’s trying to help. He takes a step closer to the bed and sits on the edge of the mattress, fire burning in his blue eyes.

“You might’ve given up on your life, but I—we haven’t. Queen Juliet wishes to continue her alliance with you. Your help has been immeasurable, and I know the other paladins feel the same. You’ve saved my life multiple times. It’s only right that I return the favor.” Rolith takes a gamble and reaches for the vampire’s hand, squeezing his pale fingers in a reassuring grip. “I’ll help you break the curse. I promise.”

Serador meets his gaze with an unreadable expression. Rolith has always struggled to understand him because of their differences. He’s loathed all vampires for so long, it’s taken him a while to realize that Serador is a valuable ally and a good person. Before he can even attempt to dissect the nuances of his face, Serador breaks his silence.

“Do you ever cease to be charming?” he murmurs. It’s the first compliment the vampire has ever given him, and the words level Rolith. His breath catches, and he has to clear his throat before speaking.

“Only on my days off. Right now I’m here on the Queen’s dime.”

The vampire pulls his hand away to brush back several strands of long, white hair from his face. “Of course you are.”

Rolith smiles briefly before his face settles into a grave expression once again. Although he enjoys how far they have come since meeting each other (Serador no longer calls him ‘boy’ in a derogatory way), the pleasantness of their camaraderie is overshadowed by the revelation of a deadly curse.

“What can I do to help? You’re not going to be confined to your bed forever, right?”

“I should hope not,” the vampire huffs, smoothing down the stained sleeves of his black robes. “I should be back to normal in a couple days. It comes and goes in waves.”

“What about…” Rolith bites his lip and gestures vaguely, “When was the last time you fed?”

Serador’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “It’s been a while.”

Eager to help, an idea forming in his mind, Rolith continues, “Would that help? If you had something?”

The vampire sets his jaw. He doesn’t speak. Rolith takes that as a yes. His hand goes to his blade, and Serador makes an insulted noise.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I won’t allow it.”

The paladin unsheathes his sword and rests it in his lap. “Why not? I’m perfectly healthy, you’re on the verge of death… if I can hasten your recovery—”

“No,” Serador cuts in, his voice stronger than it has been all throughout their conversation thus far. He seems resolute in his refusal, but Rolith knows that a vampire’s morality blurs at the edges of hunger, so he takes a deep breath and presses the sharp edge of his blade against his palm. He pauses there, waiting for protest, but Serador doesn’t say anything further to stop him, so he drags the sword across his skin and slices open a thin red cut. It stings, but only a few beads of blood rise to the surface. He looks Serador in the eye. The vampire’s breathing is labored as if his fight against his baser instincts is a physical effort.

“I trust you,” Rolith reassures, even though he knows he’s already won this argument. “Just take a little bit, since you’re so worried. I’ll even get it healed later today.”

Serador raises a trembling arm and wraps his clammy fingers around his wrist in a delicate manner, gently pulling his hand closer. With his other hand, he caresses the inside of his forearm soothingly, as if calming a spooked animal. Shivers race down Rolith’s spine, but he isn’t afraid of a little pain. He’s willing to endure it for a friend. 

Serador opens his mouth and slowly sinks his fangs into the cut, widening the wound a bit. An odd sensation spreads across his palm—the venom must be numbing him. The vampire seals his lips over the cut and sucks slowly, eyes closed. The whole affair feels strangely intimate, and although he knows blood is being leached from his body, Rolith can’t look away. He doesn’t tell him to stop, either. He was serious when he said he intended to find a way to break Serador’s curse. He doesn’t intend to let the vampire wither away anytime soon.

A couple minutes later, some of the color has returned to Serador’s face, and he pulls away with a wet pop. Rolith’s fingers are tingling, but otherwise he feels fine. The vampire licks the wound clean and then grasps his palm with both hands. Warmth spreads across his skin in a flash of golden light, and when Serador lets go, the cut has healed.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Rolith says, rubbing his thumb across his palm where the slice had been. Serador sits back against his pile of pillows, evening his breath. His face is placid, but underneath his calm demeanor, he looks refreshed.

“You didn’t need to offer yourself to me,” he counters with a tilt of his head.

“I wanted to.” Rolith wipes his blade clean on the sheets, earning a disgruntled huff from the owner of the bed, before sheathing his weapon.

“If I were in a better state, I would’ve never let you do something so unnecessary and, frankly, dangerous,” Serador insists, coming back to himself now. He looks embarrassed, but he really shouldn’t be, in Rolith’s opinion. “Don’t try that again.”

“Alright,” the paladin agrees. He doesn’t regret encouraging Serador to drink from him against his wishes. If it keeps Serador alive, he’ll do it, even if it makes the vampire uncomfortable. He recognizes that he overstepped a boundary, though, so he stands up from the bed and looks away. “I’m sorry.”

Serador snorts. “You’re not. But you should be.”

Rolith’s lips quirk up in a half-smile, unbidden. “I have to tell the Queen why you returned the wand, you know.”

“I suppose you do.” The vampire doesn’t sound happy about that. “While you’re at it, tell her to stop sending trespassers into my home.”

Rolith’s smile broadens into a grin. He pockets the wand, handling it with much more care than he did previously. “I might advise her to send a cleaning crew over, if anything.”

There’s a long pause, and then, “You are one of the most audacious humans I have ever met.”

Rolith laughs, daring to meet the vampire’s eyes. He looked genuinely affronted, which only amuses him more. “You clearly haven’t met enough humans, then.”

“Clearly,” Serador drawls, “Now get out of my house.”

“Gladly,” Rolith shoots back, even though he would rather stay and ensure the vampire doesn’t drop dead anytime soon. He slowly moves toward the door, hesitant. The hallway is dark. He glances over his shoulder briefly and catches one last glimpse of Serador. He’s looking down at his hand, the evening sunlight casting shadows over the bed.

Rolith steps into the darkness and leaves before he can be caught watching.

[permets-tu-means-i-love-you]

ExR: "God, I missed you"

Hope this suits your needs anon.

Summary: Enjolras returns home from college nervous that nobody will remember him.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, tell me if you need anything else listed/tagged.

Enjolras was worried. Even though he should be celebrating, he couldn’t shake the anxiety that stuck with him. He had just graduated from law school after seven excruciatingly long years. Now, he was moving back home. This wouldn’t be so much of a problem, except for the fact that he had a large group of friends he hadn’t seen for, what, three years now? Sure, he’d kept in contact, but that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t seen them face to face in forever.

He tried to visit them every once in a while, but as uni progressed he’d had less and less time to do so. Instead, regular texting was how they had to communicate, but even that had slowed down as more and more work had been piled onto Enjolras’ workload. It’s not like he’d been avoiding them, he just hadn’t had much time to do anything other than schoolwork.

As he taped the last of his moving boxes, he looked around his now empty dorm room. Seeing it so lifeless only made him more anxious about leaving. He had lived in this room for seven long, stressful years. Now he had to go back to a place he barely remembered. 

A tiny, nagging voice in the back of his head appeared, bringing unwanted thoughts with it. “And you’re back to people who barely remember you. They haven’t seen you for three years, why would they want to see you now?”

“That’s not true,” Enjolras said, thinking aloud. “I texted them last night and they said they were glad I was coming back.”

“But remember how long it took them to reply? It took them an hour to just read the text. And Combeferre was the only one who replied. Sure sounds like excitement to me. They don’t want you back, they only replied out of pity.”

He tried to argue with the intrusive thoughts, but anything he did only made them worse. He tried using various distraction tactics Jehan had showed him, but those didn’t help either.

“What if when you get back everyone hates you? What if you get back and nobody remembers you? What if you get back and you blackout and murder everybody? What if-”

Overwhelmed with anxiety, he instinctively started tapping a rhythm against his leg. He focused on that until he couldn’t hear the thoughts anymore, then picked up the last box and walked outside.

Once the last box had been neatly arranged in the back of his car, he sat down in the driver’s seat but hesitated before turning the key. There was still one train of thought that stuck with him.

“What if when you get back, Grantaire hates you? What if when you get back Grantaire doesn’t remember you? What if you get back and something’s happened to Grantaire?”

These thoughts had been plaguing his mind for longer than he’d like to admit. He’d been in love with Grantaire for some time, but he’d never told him. He’d kept his feelings bottled up for years, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass. His anxiety increased every time he thought of how reuniting with his friends, but more specifically, Grantaire would go. He decided to stop thinking about it, but that didn’t do much to calm his fears.

He started the ignition and began the hour-long drive, only his thoughts, and The Greatest Showman soundtrack for company. It was going to be a very, very long drive…

~~~

Grantaire woke to the sound of his phone going off like a siren, a million notifications screeching to be acknowledged. Still half asleep, he reached over to grab his phone, almost dropping it in the process. He turned on his phone to see more than 100 messages in the group chat, all of them probably important. He glanced at the time and almost fell off of his bed. Now wide awake, he scrambled to throw on some clothes.

“Courf is going to kill me,” he thought as he rushed out the door, scrambling to get to the Musain. “It’s 1 am and I just woke up. I thought I had an alarm set…”

While it wouldn’t be much of a problem any other day, today was the day Enjolras finally got back from uni. It had been years since he last saw him, and he had been texting less and less. It was understandable, given that he was in his graduating year, but it had still hurt when a text went unanswered for days.

Grantaire burst through the doors of the Musain to find everything arranged perfectly, waiting for Enjolras. Then he heard a voice from the other room.

“Is that Grantaire? Move aside ‘Ferre, I need to commit a crime.”

Courfeyrac entered the room, glaring at Grantaire with a murderous rage. 

“And just where have you been? You were supposed to help make the decorations! And help with the baking!”

“Would you believe me if I said I got… uh… caught in… traffic?”

“You live, like, a block away. Wait, do you even have a car? Nevermind, I don’t care. What I do care about is you showing up hours late! What is wrong with you!”

“Many things, but the relevant problem would be that my alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to. Either that or I slept through it.”

Courfeyrac sighed, looking disappointed but not surprised. “At least you came… Well, since there’s nothing left to do, I guess you can just hang out until he gets here.”

Courfeyrac walked away and Grantaire sat down at a table, wondering if it was too early to start drinking. Suddenly, Combeferre rushed in through the door carrying a bag of chips.

“He’s coming! Everyone get out here, quick!”

Everyone scrambled out into the open, smiling excitedly and chattering loudly. After a few seconds, the noise died down as everyone waited in anticipation for Enjolras to walk through the door. Grantaire couldn’t see him come in over the crowd, but he did see the top of the door swing open and everyone rush toward him as they yelled “Surprise!”

The place erupted with laughs and smiles, talking about things they’ve missed out on and things to update Enjolras about. After everyone backed off and stopped crowding him so intensely, Grantaire tried to see him through the crowd with no luck. He wasn’t going to stand and try to push to the front, he wasn’t even that sure if Enjolras even wanted to see him.

He heard Eponine loudly announce how much she’d missed him and how she hated him for leaving her alone to deal with Courfeyrac, earning a very indignant “Hey!” from a fake-insulted Courf. He heard Enjolras and Eponine talk some more, not quite making out what they were saying. He zoned out, tuning back in when he heard his name.

“...Where’s Grantaire,” Enjolras said, sounding… anxious?

“Knowing him, he’s either still asleep or off somewhere drunk already,” Eponine said, trying not to laugh.

“Truly inspiring words, ‘Ponine. I can see how valued and noticeable I am in this friend group,” Grantaire said, voice dripping with sarcasm. The crowd parted as they turned to face him, and he could see Enjolras staring at him, a strange expression on his face.

“God, I missed you,” Enjolras said softly, almost too softly to hear. Grantaire smiled and stood up. He walked over to Enjolras and took his hands in his own.

“I missed you too.”

“Can I kiss you,” Enjolras asked, nervous but hopeful.

“Yeah,” he replied, not quite believing what was happening.

Then Enjolras’ lips were on his and everything else vanished. It felt like they stayed that way for years, but when Enjolras pulled away it was still too soon. 

“I told you something would happen.”

“Shut up Courf!”

Grantaire turned round to see a smug Courfeyrac receiving twenty dollars from a disgruntled Bahorel.

“Wait a second, did you guys bet on this,” Grantaire asked, shooting a glare their way.

“Yeah, and if you’d been here on time like the rest of us, you would’ve known,” Courfeyrac replied with a smirk.

Grantaire looked back at Enjolras who seemed embarrassed but not surprised. Grantaire rolled his eyes at the others, earning a small laugh from Enjolras.

“Alright Grantaire, don’t think that because you two idiots finally did something about those feelings of yours you’ll get to hog Enjolras. Especially because I called first dibs,” Courfeyrac said.

“You can’t call dibs Courfeyrac,” Combeferre replied.

“I can and I will,” he said, skipping over to Enjolras and Grantaire. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to steal my best friend for a moment.”

Courfeyrac grabbed Enjolras’ elbow dragging him away. Enjolras shot an amused look back at Grantaire before being hauled back into the crowd, Grantaire close behind him.

[blurry-fics]

Hear Me Now

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Angst, implied panic attack, aggressive behavior (throwing/kicking objects)

Word Count: 1519

Request: can you write rcb but where the reader chooses josh? -anon & angst -@blackbeanietyler​

Author’s Note: This is another “what if” from the Rose Colored Boy series! I really enjoy writing these and see what other directions the story could have gone in. Also, I’m sorry for all the angst :( I hope you enjoy it! (picture credit)

Tyler’s POV

“On three, I’m getting out of the car,” I muttered.

One.

My hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles had nearly turned white. I loosened my grip and flexed my fingers, trying to get some of the blood to return to them.

Two.

I pulled the keys out of the ignition and stuffed them into my pocket. The song that was playing on my CD slowly faded out.

Three.

I pushed open the car door and planted my feet on the pavement. My head started to spin, so I put one hand on the roof of the car to steady myself until colors stopped flashing in front of my eyes. Note to self: get out of the car slower next time.

I shut the car door behind me and slowly started the walk up the front steps. Y/N had mentioned her parents were out of town for a few days, so at least I wouldn’t have to worry about the possibility of having to explain to them why I was showing up unannounced.

My knock on the door was met with silence. It took me a moment to put two and two together: I was showing up unannounced and Y/N was home alone. Of course she wasn’t going to answer the door.

Tyler: Hey, it’s just me at the door. Sorry if I scared you.

Footsteps came down the stairs almost immediately, and it wasn’t long before Y/N was opening the door. She seemed confused to see me, but I couldn’t do anything but smile at her.

“Tyler,” she said, “I didn’t realize you were stopping by.”

“Hi. Sorry for the short notice, it was sort of a last minute decision.”

“Are you here to pick up your clothes?”

I had completely forgotten about that.

“No, actually. I mean, yes, I’ll take them, but that’s not what I came for.”

“Then what did you come for?” she asked, the confusion on her face more evident now.

“Can we… can we go on a walk? There’s something that I need to talk to you about.”

“Oh, I, um, I’m actually kind of busy right now.”

My heart started to beat harder in my chest. I needed her to say yes to this walk. If she didn’t, I wasn’t so sure that I would get the courage to tell her again.

“Please, it’s really important. Just five minutes, that’s all I need.”

“Ty, I would love to, but it’s really not a good time.”

“Five minutes.”

“I’m just going to go grab your clothes for you. I’m sorry.”

Y/N turned and started to walk up the stairs. My heart was beating so fast that for a second I thought I might pass out. The words were right on the tip of my tongue, begging to be let out…

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Y/N froze on the stairs and turned towards me. Her mouth was partially open, as if she were about to say something, but she was silent. My entire body was shaking from the adrenaline as I stood on the porch, trying to wrap my head around what I had just done.

“Is everything ok, Y/N?”

My eyes snapped to the figure standing at the top of the stairs.

“Josh?”

“Tyler?”

I turned back to Y/N. She was looking between the two of us until her eyes finally stopped on me.

“You told me you didn’t feel the same,” she whispered, voice breaking on the last syllable.

“I need to go.”

I walked down the front steps and onto the sidewalk, straight past my car. Tears were already pouring down my face, leaving me in no condition to drive. For now, I just wanted to put as much distance between me and Y/N as I could. The thought of her being with someone else made my chest ache, even though I had brought it on myself.

I had said the date was ok.

I had lied about my feelings.

I had introduced Josh and Y/N in the first place.

My legs started to shake so bad that I had to sit down on the pavement, immediately soaking the back of my jeans. Not that I really noticed, I was too busy trying to catch heaving breaths. I pulled my legs to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, pressing my forehead to my knees. The world felt like it was collapsing around me.

But at least Y/N was happy.

This was what I had always wanted… right?

Y/N’s POV

You grabbed another one of your textbooks and threw it to the ground, feeling only a tiny amount of relief at the thud that it made against the carpet. The pile of journals and notebooks on the floor was steadily growing. Tears were slipping down your cheeks, but you angrily wiped them away before tossing another book to the ground. He didn’t deserve your tears.

“Y/N, will you please talk to me now?” Josh asked. He was leaning against your doorframe, a distance that he had stayed at after you yelled at him for following you into your room.

You kicked one of the journals so that it flew up and hit the wall beneath your window. “I’m too upset.”

“Can we just try?” He had braved one step into the room. You turned to look at him, wiping away another tear.

“I don’t even know how I feel,” you said, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “My best friend just told me that he loved me and essentially revealed that he’s been lying to me for… I don’t even know how long. And not only that, he told me right after I had finally moved on. Who does that, Josh? Who does that to someone they care about?”

“Is it ok for me to come in now?” Josh asked softly. You nodded.

Josh walked over to you and lightly put his hands on your arms, waiting for the ok to hold you closer. You answered by wrapping your arms around his torso, pulling yourself into him and burying your face in his chest. The smell of his cologne was comforting.

“I want to hate him for what he did, but I can’t,” you muttered.

“It’s ok to be angry. Best friend or not, he did something to hurt you. You don’t have to forgive that right away.”

“I just can’t believe he would lie to me like that. He knew how I felt and he had so many chances to say the feelings were reciprocated, but he chose not to for who knows what reason. And I trusted him. I trusted him because I didn’t think he would ever lie to me.”

“Maybe he has a good reason for what he did.”

“I hope so. Maybe it will be easier to forgive him that way.”

“You don’t need to worry about that tonight. Why don’t I go grab some ice cream and we can watch a movie?”

“Ok, I’ll meet you in the den.”

Josh gave you a kiss on the forehead before letting you go and walking out of the room. Once he was gone, you sat down on the edge of the bed. Georgie jumped up and sat down a few feet away from you; you swore he could tell when you were upset.

I’m in love with you, Y/N.

You couldn’t deny the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when you repeated Tyler’s words in your head. It was something that you had been dying to hear for years, but you never could have imagined that these would be the circumstances it happened under. Maybe it was for the best. If Tyler could lie to you about his feelings, what other things would he be willing to lie to you about?

“Are you coming?” Josh called from the den.

“Yeah, sorry!”

You wiped away your tears, scooped Georgie up, and walked across the hall into the den. Josh was already on the couch, holding a gallon of ice cream in his lap and with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He held an arm out for you, which you happily tucked yourself under after putting Georgie in a comfortable spot.

“Here’s your spoon.”

“Thanks.”

Josh ate small spoonfuls of ice cream while you scrolled through Netflix, trying to find a good movie to watch. You eventually settled on a romantic comedy that Josh insisted would put you in a better mood. After a bit of light hearted teasing, you also got him to admit that it was one of his favorite movies.

Once the movie was playing and the volume was adjusted to a good level, you leaned further into Josh and started to eat your ice cream. Georgie also wandered over and sniffed at the ice cream for a bit, but eventually settled down and curled up next to your legs. Although your mind was still swarming with unanswered questions, you were content for now.

You just hoped you would stay that way.

[mittensmorgul]

Hi Mittens! Hearing Cas talking about fulfilling one's destiny gave me the chills. Same with hearing Dean say he was alright with Jack killing his grandfather while he himself refused to kill his brother and his son. Your thoughts? Thank you 🧡

HELLO! yes, it was definitely worrisome to me, as well... and considering my inbox this afternoon, I’m gonna say it’s likely worrisome to these other folks, too:

(introducing an anon here to illustrate the point)

I’ve been trying to sort out exactly what the final goal of the series will be, and the show is not making it easy yet. :’D

I mean, I still don’t think “killing God” is on the agenda. Everyone is struggling with the concept, because if they kill God, does Creation end with him? That was the dilemma at the end of s11. And see, it’s still not even clear in the story yet:

Sam: Yeah, what's your endgame, Billie? You lecture us about how important all this is, but we don't even know what you're doing. Jack's gonna kill God, right? Yeah? Great. Okay. How? What's your plan?Billie: When I was a reaper, I believed in the rules. But then you killed me. And when I became Death, I inherited Death's knowledge... and Death's library. And in Death's library, everyone has a book. Even God.Dean: So God can die?Billie: Everything dies.

EVERYTHING DIES! But if Chuck “dies,” does everything else die with him? Does Billie even know? Does she care?

Castiel: Why would God write the blueprint to His own death?Billie: He didn't. The books write themselves. After God made the world, He couldn't stop. He wanted more. But He needed to create a perfect harmony -- a Swiss watch so that this world could keep tick-tick-ticking in His absence. He had no choice but to build Himself into the framework. It's His only weakness.

Sure, it might be his only weakness, the fact that he “wrote himself into his own story,” which... nice callback to 4.18, right? But that just makes me think how inextricably his own existence is tied to the existence of everything else. Without Chuck, does the rest of the universe also cease to be?

Just like, as lampshaded in THIS EPISODE, Billie’s insistence that there was ONE WAY to save the universe from AU!Michael using Dean’s body to destroy the world... and then that didn’t happen... like... at all... but that’s what it said in ALL HER BOOKS for Dean. So... what happened?

I think that makes it clear that Billie, while having a “much bigger picture” of the universe, she’s still limited to what her books say at any given moment. AND THOSE BOOKS CHANGE! They write themselves! And RE-write themselves!

I mean... before Sam and Dean-- those frustratingly lovable interlopers:

Chuck: Dean says I'm not going to get the ending I want. And I don't know, maybe that shouldn't matter, right? I've gotten what I want from hundreds of Sams and Deans and I can get what I want from a hundred more. And I don't care, those other toys they don't -- they don't spark joy. But Sam and Dean, the real Sam and Dean they do. They challenge me. They disappoint me. They surprise me. They're the ones.

How often was Chuck surprised or challenged by any of his other creations up to this point? How much have Sam and Dean and their insistence on breaking rules and finding another way and defying fate and destiny been both the world’s salvation and Chuck’s intense frustration with them? But also, how often has this just completely altered the destinies dictated in Billie’s books?

Is Billie also so completely focused on Sam and Dean-- and possibly now Jack-- that she truly feels that there is only one outcome on the table here? Because that seems to be Cas’s problem, too. He is absolutely FIXATED on his faith in Jack’s destiny. Possibly to his own detriment.

This does absolutely feel like it must be Cas’s final lesson. He needs something to believe in. I mean, that’s what he was for billions of years-- an “agent of fate.” Despite everything he’s learned about humanity over the last decade, this one thing still clings on for him-- his need to feel like he fits into this larger machine of destiny.

But there are still so many unanswered questions about what the fulfillment of that destiny will look like. And it looks to me like he’s currently so blinded to hope he’s placed entirely in Jack that he hasn’t even questioned the plan, hasn’t doubted for a second that his purpose is currently to do everything in his power to ensure that Jack does fulfill his “destiny.”

And I am worried that Cas believes so strongly in this, and yet he doesn’t understand what Jack’s “destiny” will actually result in. He’s so intently focused on the PROCESS, but he doesn’t seem to have considered what the outcome will be. What does “winning” actually look like, and is Jack’s “destiny” really to what Billie’s books insist it is?

They invoked Rowena as the test case for “proof” that Billie’s books are “correct” as the counterargument to how wrong they were about the ma’lak box. So what is Billie’s game here... really... and what are the rules she’s playing by? Is she bluffing, hoping the Winchesters will do what they always do and “find another way?” Or has she fully invested in the prophecy and destiny dictated by her own books? And possibly most importantly, what does a “win” actually look like?

Jack has also shown us that he has the power to rewrite the “rules” of the universe, when he declared lying illegal in 14.20. I’m still wondering if this will actually be his final play-- literally editing Chuck out of the universe and healing over all the cracks that would leave behind. I mean... that’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility... but that might not be something that Billie’s books can even hint at, you know? Or maybe it’s something she’s quietly hoping that Jack will understand.

But I wonder if, for Jack to understand just how much power he has over his own destiny, Cas has to learn this lesson, as well. Because that’s how Jack functions in-story. He reflects TFW back to themselves. The ultimate mirror.

Cas has struggled with a loss of agency throughout much of his tenure on the show. His s4 arc was about coming to terms with even making his own choices and defying orders. I sincerely hope that by the end of the series, he will fully embrace humanity and all its uncertainty, and let go of his need to blindly run toward ANY supposed fate. I worry that if he can’t do that, then he’s in for one massive and painful lesson. And he very well may get that before the end.

Dean really, REALLY needs to make it clear to Cas exactly why he’s important. That it’s not about destiny, or being useful, or having a “purpose” in the bigger plan of the universe. Cas needs to hear that HE is important to Dean just because he’s Cas. I think this is one of the fundamental turning points of his entire character arc.

[sometimesrosy]

b/e still together at this point is laughable, we have just 1 season left, how can bellarke be together when b/e is still a thing, if jason make them endgame, is gonna be the biggest mistake ever after game of thrones ending,tell me what's the point? we know where bellamy heart is, so why keep draging this, make bellarke a thing already man, is gonna be the last season, people been waiting for that to happen years, and now we are just gonna have a couple of episodes of them as couple.

Okay, so this is an old ask and i’ve been holding it FOREVER. Today I have the brain power to tackle it, and there’s a reason why I kept it, instead of deleting it as a pointless anti, myopic view point. It was now asked so long ago that I’m hoping the anon doesn’t get pissed off when I rip it apart and break it down to its pieces. So let’s go.

These kind of questions frustrate me, because they are ALMOST there. The question here is, “We know where Bellamy’s heart is, so why keep dragging this?”

That is a valid question. And by “valid” I mean that by answering the question, you can gain a better understanding of the story.

But instead of attempting to answer it, or asking more questions related to it to help you think more, the anon jumps to an unsubstantiated conclusion and then goes on a tirade. The conclusions she makes, that it is laughable, b/e is endgame and/or there will only be a couple of episodes of bellarke, None of those conclusions follow in answer to the question or the canon. What they follow is the fear that the anon won’t get what they want.

So instead of answering the fear, I’m answering the question.

WHY when we know where Bellamy’s heart is, does the story keep dragging this?

First off, it’s not a joke. It’s a story. Delaying the resolution is a sign that Bellamy achieving his hearts desire (Clarke) is actually The Story. A story is about the main character (aka hero aka protagonist,) overcoming their obstacles, learning and growing, and then, achieving their goals. Not only is it The Story, but it’s also a romantic story. In a romance, the goal is to get the heroes together, if that happens too soon, something needs to happen to break them apart, so they can find each other again. But once a couple reaches their goal of getting together, then the story is over. WHY haven’t Bellarke gotten together? Because when they do, the heart of the story is done. When JR said, “The 100 is ending in s7″ I said HURRAH because that is a sign that they are ready to tell the end of the story. Which is... what now? Say it with me, BELLARKE, THE EPIC LOVE STORY.

This isn’t fanfiction, that can ignore storytelling or narrative rules, or all the other narrative threads, or the focus on character development, in order to fulfill the readers’ narrative desires. In order to make a good story, they have to keep telling ALL the stories that they’ve laid out before us. And that includes b/e (which is still working,) echo’s character arc (still working,) Octavia (a story which is near done,) the Blakes reunion (which we did,) and the strange interweaving of the head, the heart and the soul that is Clarke, Bellamy and Octavia (which may not be over until the end.) We also have to work through Bellamy’s self loathing (which we did,) Bellamy’s hero’s journey, (which we did,) Bellamy’s anger at Clarke leaving him to die (which we did,) ALSO Clarke’s suicidal tendencies (which we did,) Clarke’s feeling that love was a weakness (which we did,) Clarke’s isolation (which we did,) Clarke’s feelings of betrayal that Bellamy moved on (which we did,) Clarke’s separation from her people (which we did.) ALSO, and this one might be the most important one and the answer to the original question.

The story kept dragging out because season 6 was the season that BELLAMY realized where his heart was. Maybe WE knew all along, but this was something he was resisting. He said he didn’t NEED her, but he realized over the course of Season 6 that he needed her more than ANYTHING. You see?

Clarke is his weakness and his strength. She’s his vulnerability. And he had his walls up against that because he lost her for six years and the whole time, she was still with him and still his weakness and his vulnerability and when she came back, she pushed him away, and away, and when he thought he was getting her back, she left him to die. At the end of season 5, he found out she DID care for him, and that changed things for him, but then...she called him family and went with Cillian. She has now told him she needed/wanted him THREE times and THREE times immediately turned to someone else. Lxa, Niylah, Cillian. Granted, he turned her down twice and had a girlfriend the third. But Bellamy thinks she doesn’t love him, ever since she said she couldn’t lose him and then sent him to die because it was worth the risk. Because he didn’t understand that it meant she loved him and love was a weakness. 

And I’ll tell you. THAT story hasn’t been finished yet. We had mutual pining in s4-5-6. But neither of them have told their feelings to each other. No I take that back. Clarke has told him, but he has misunderstood every time, I think because he doesn’t believe her and think it means something else, especially since she hooks up with someone else after she says it. And she takes all those misunderstandings of Bellamy’s as a rejection, and is sure he doesn’t feel the same about her. Season 2. Season 3. Season 4. Season 5. Season 6. We’ve seen this story happening. She thinks of love as a weakness and so puts up walls to him and turns to other people. HE thinks that means she doesn’t love him. We’re finally getting to the point that they’re ready to admit their feelings. He said he needed her. I NEED YOU. 

So. Like. The reason why they’re dragging the Bellarke story out is because there is so much to TELL. There are all these supporting storylines that are building Clarke and Bellamy individually, making them stronger and more whole, healing them, making them HEROES. These individual stories are making them worthy of each other. And proving to us that their love is so strong, so epic, so central to the characters and the story, that it not only persists in the face of time, death and space, but also in the face of rival ships. No love on this show surpasses the love of Clarke and Bellamy, not even the parent/child or sibling love. HOWEVER, the Bellarke love actually makes Clarke and Bellamy stronger, and ALSO saves Madi, comforts Clarke when she loses her mother, and allows Bellamy to reconnect with Octavia.

I’m not gonna lie. I wanted to see Bellarke as an established couple, a battle couple, even domestic. That is not the story being told. That is a different story with different tropes and conventions and rules. I thought maybe book two could be that story, but nope. Still an epic romance in the apocalypse as we watch our heroes find out what is worth living for and it turns out it’s each other.

The story being told is an epic love story in the apocalypse. A mythic love. A morally gray story of heroes who both save and redeem humanity. A tragedy about trauma and healing. That’s my take on it. If you view the entire story through this lens, a lot of the things that confused the audience while they were happening make a lot more sense.  

If a theory can explain a story, and not leave out any of the narrative threads, and keeps working to explain the story that happens AFTER the theory was made, then that’s a sign that this is a theory that is on the right track in understanding the story. 

If a theory is jossed by canon, that means the theory didn’t work. It doesn’t mean the canon did it wrong or is a joke. It means the theorist was wrong, because the author gets to tell the story they want, and speculation is not their story. If you speculate the story to go in the direction YOU want, that’s your story not theirs. If you’re trying to predict the story the creator tells, you have to know what story the creator is telling. That means you have to understand it. 

If a theory leaves large parts of the story without an explanation or writes them off as “bad writing” or “plot holes” when they can be explain through another theory, then the theorist has failed. If a theorist calls the canon that goes off their theory a joke, or laughable, without trying to answer their unanswered questions by looking at the canon and trying to figure it out... then the theorist has failed. If a theorist assumes that the writer and story is a joke because the theorist is predicting that the writer is bad and will “ruin” the story though they have no evidence that is happening, then the theorist is a bad theorist with unexamined biases who is jumping to conclusions that are not supported and attacking creators for doing something that they have not done. Very disrespectful. Very illogical. Very non canon. Very bad meta. Sorry. 

You can have strong feelings about canon, but if you don’t understand canon and your feelings are based on your inaccurate understanding, then your opinion is kinda crap. You’re blaming the show for being something that it is not, and it’s all because you’re not interested in what it IS, only in your fantasy... when your analysis should be of JR’S fantasy. That’s what fiction is, a deliberate, constructed fantasy. The better they are at it, the more the pieces will all fit together. This story is novelistic in it’s structure and narrative and development. There’s a lot to deconstruct and analyze, and all the pieces fit together. Despite a few things that are unsatisfactory, the main relationship story (bellarke) is not. 

When I have theories that turn out to be wrong, I don’t say the story is wrong. I say I was wrong. Then I backtrack to where my theory started, figure out what I read wrong, and reframe my theories based on the new direction of the story.  The point of analysis is not to be right. It’s to understand the story that someone else is telling.

Let me tell you which theory of mine has NEVER been wrong.

That Bellarke is endgame, that they MUST be together.

It has not always been expressed in romantic terms, but each season it has gotten MORE romantic, which is what we call DEVELOPMENT. Side ships have NOT stopped this. Fandom tends to think CL and B/E are more of an obstacle than actual space, actual time, and actual death. LOL. Nope. CL was passionate and burnt out in a conflagration. B/E is comforting and currently in a slow fizzle as it burns out. On screen. In canon fights and bickering, physical and emotional distance, parallel letting go, Echo’s story of independence, finding herself and ultimate (my theory) breaking free from her king. Who is, in canon, Bellamy. 

it’s not laughable. It is a well developed story.

Now someone tell me why people would rather have a short break up with no meaning behind it and a hookup into smooshing faces finally, instead of what we’re getting, which is an indepth story of growth, understanding, love, passion, need, self identity, self worth, redemption, longing, and reunion. 

HE BROUGHT HER BACK FROM DEATH WITH ONLY THE POWER OF HIS LOVE FOR GODSAKE.

I suspect that people are the most frustrated with the story being told because all they want is boning. Because this romance is FANTASTIC, but boning we have not gotten. 

Or they’ve been gaslighted by a fandom who’s been telling us we’re delusional all these years. We’re not delusional. This story is real. If I were delusional, my theory that I came up with after Hakeldama-- endgame Bellarke, the head and the heart, together-- would have been jossed a long time ago. But it hasn’t been. It’s not only still going, it’s MORE important now than it was before. :)

Bellarke are the head and the heart. They’re not only still alive (remember how every season we had a panic that clarke and/or bellamy would die? nope,) but soulmates, who have found each other again, and need each other, and can’t lose each other. Bellarke are the center of the story. And if it were platonic, then we would have more story with B/E being a ship that fulfills Bellamy, because as the heart to clarke’s head, his HEART needs that connection, instead when he’s being torn apart emotionally, whether over octavia or clarke, Echo CAN NOT offer him comfort. I’d also like to say, that if CL were the center of the story, then, it would actually be a story, instead of just a mention here and there. It’s important, but not the center of the story. That’s Bellarke. That’s why all the stories revolved around them. Why season 5 was about the Bellarke reunion (and blakes) and why season 6 was about Bellamy saving Clarke with his love, and then Clarke saving everyone with what she learned about love from Bellamy. 

I was entirely wrong about the speed with which we would reach romantic Bellarke. My bad.I don’t particularly CHOOSE such slow burns. I read that wrong. But I never backed down from romantic soulmates because it was never taken off the table. The longing was always there even when they were separated, were in love with other people, or were furious at each other. And because of that, it could NEVER be platonic. Other fans thought the arrival of canon b/e was the death of bellarke, but what I saw was them framing B/E as a ROMANTIC OBSTACLE to Bellarke. And that was confirmation to me that Bellarke was a romantic story and they were going in that direction with the soulmate connection. And EVERYTHING that happened, from 2199 calls, was a romance story. Not platonic. PINING. LOVE TRIANGLE. SLOW BURN TRUE LOVE. HE NEEDS HER AND BROUGHT HER BACK FROM DEATH WITH A KISS. 

IT IS GLORIOUS. I am so sorry that you’re missing it. But y’all need to shut up with your whining. It’s annoying. 

[raysofcrosby]

EASE MY MIND

𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵 (𝘹)

𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥: yes | no

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴): nada thing, just slight angst.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 5,178

𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤: ease my mind by ben platt

𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: tbh when i got this request, i deadass wrote the entire outline down in my phone notes and that’s where it’s been sitting since anon requested this. i’m really bad at titles so tbh the title might not make sense, but i had the song on repeat the entire time so yeah–– peep his album it’s highkey amazing!!! anyway, so sorry it’s a little late, i’ve just been lazy while simultaneously cleaning our house for this weekend!! :-) enjoy and request!

He knew he needed to be here. He fucking knew it and yet there you were, sitting with your parents at the dining table of their summer home…without him. You should’ve just ordered another uber and went back home instead of knocking on their front door. Cancelling altogether would have been a lot better than showing up alone. 

God, he knew how important this was. Important to you, important to your parents, he even said that it was super important to him. Hell, meeting each other’s parents for the first time in person since you two started dating last year was a huge relationship milestone. You vividly remember meeting his parents and his siblings a few months prior during the Flames playoff run. You swore that they could probably see you shaking from how nervous you were– but the way they took you in was nothing short of marvelous.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s late because he’s nervous about meeting your parents for the first time that wasn’t a short facetime call.

As soon as the excuse entered your mind, it faded away. No, that wasn’t the reason. You could still hear the laughter in his voice at how you were freaking out about him meeting your dad for the first time. “Babe, relax. He’s a huge Flames fan, there’s no way he can totally hate me. He loves me too much.” And that may be true, your parents may be huge Flames fans since they raised you and your sister only minutes away from Scotiabank Saddledome and there were photo albums full of hundreds of pictures of your family of four sporting Flames jerseys and attire throughout the years. But if there’s one thing that your dad has never been a fan of, it’s a boy who could upset his daughters– who were his entire world.

And that was the first fear that entered your mind when Noah hadn’t come back to the apartment before 4:30 like he said he would. As if the ticking clock on the wall making every second that he was late known, was the first omen towards how your dad would feel about Noah. You called and called, but you never got an answer. Until one call later when he sent you a text saying that he’d meet you at your parents' house and to go ahead without him. It was hard not trying to let your annoyance get the best of you, especially since you had made these plans two weeks ago and solidified the times, just four days ago on Monday. So you just sent him a simple response and took your time getting ready.

It was easy to sway the conversation away from Noah’s absence when you first got there. After their warm greetings, your mom was the first one to ask where your ‘extremely handsome’ boyfriend was. There were three people who could read you extremely well. Your mom, Noah, and your sister– in that exact order. So you had to think quick and paint on the best confident smile as you told her that he got held up with some of the boys who’d come back up to Calgary for a short visit. Your dad was wrapped up in the Blue Jays game on the TV to notice that Noah hadn’t walked into the house with you– which was a blessing.

The social time flew by thanks to the baseball game and the glasses of wine your mom kept refilling, but that meant that it was dinner time, and Noah was still nowhere to be found. You blamed your constant need for a refill on stress from work and your boss being a total douchebag, but that wasn’t true. You needed the refills to hide your embarrassment from when your dad sat down at the table, looked at you and asked where the ‘stud defenseman’ of a boyfriend you always talked about, was. When you gave your excuse again, saying that some of the boys were in town and he got caught up, you held back all of the hurt that wanted to wash over your face when you spoke the words.

Under the table, you had your phone unlocked and your messages with Noah opened.

You: Where are you??

You: Noah, you said you’d meet me here. Where are you?

You: I swear to God if Matt, Sean or Elias got you blackout drunk and they’re the reason why you’re not here….

You: Well, I don’t know what I’d do, but just get here, please. This is starting to get embarrassing.

You: Noah….

Each message sent, had gone unanswered and unseen. Maybe it was the rosé talking, but that little ‘delivered’ underneath your chain of text messages throughout dinner, just seemed to be taunting you. You left your parents house scared that Noah’s potential good relationship with your parents had just gone down the drain to live with that stupid creepy clown from that movie he’d talked about wanting to see this fall. Your dad didn’t say a word after dinner, giving you a hug and a kiss as your uber waited out front for you. Your mom, however, walked you out the front door and to the car. You apologized profusely, swearing up and down that Noah was a good guy and that something important must have come up because he wanted to be here.

Your mother, being the true saint that she is, just smiled and hugged you tight, affirming your statements, even though she hadn’t gotten the chance to see if they were true or not. She kissed you on the head, said that she’d see you tomorrow for your birthday brunch and gently pushed you into the back of your uber, waving you off as it drove away. As the car pulled away from your parents’ summer house, you pulled your phone out of your purse and re-read your ignored text messages to Noah. At this point, the rosé had taken full effect and probably should put your phone back into the purse– but the anger and the hurt were taking over any logical thought your brain had. And all you could think as you pressed ‘call’ was that this could either be a good thing…or a bad thing.

As expected, though you wishing it weren’t the case, your call went unanswered and the light treble of his voice practically moved you to drunken tears as his voicemail echoed through your phone. When it beeped, you took a breath, pausing and wondering if you should leave a voicemail or not. That thought didn’t linger on long before you let out a sigh. “Noah…” You’d knew he’d be able to hear the quiver in your voice when he listened to this, so you took another deep breath and calmed yourself.

“I hope it was worth it, whatever the hell you were doing tonight. You promised me that you would be there tonight and you never showed. I looked stupid, tonight Noah. Like booboo the fucking fool, sitting there with my parents and making excuses for you. Not only did the stunt you pulled tonight embarrass me, but it really hurt me,” this time, there was no hiding the quiver in your voice. “It really, really hurt me that you didn’t even have the balls to text me saying ‘hey, I won’t be able to make it.’ That would have been a lot better than you ghosting me tonight, all together.”

As you looked out the window, noticing that the car was nearing your apartment complex, you sniffled lightly and shook your head. “This was a big step tonight Noah, you knew it, I knew it. So maybe you’re just not as serious about us as you said you were since you never bothered to show up and meet my parents. It’s whatever I guess we’re–“

The phone hung up, signaling that your timed voicemail had come to an end. And maybe that was for the best because there was still so much you wanted to say to him, scream at him, and being drunk on rosé and saying it over voicemail…probably wasn’t the best way to say it all. The uber came up to a stop and you opened your door. “Thank you.”

“Miss,” the Uber driver said, gaining your attention. He handed you a few tissues and gave a small nod as you reached for them. “Whoever he is, kick him in the balls the next time you see him.”

It was exactly the laugh that you needed and you gave him a small smile as you held up the tissues as a silent thank you. “Goodnight.”

Closing the door, the Uber driver waited for you to get to the entrance to your apartment complex and inside, safely before driving off. You brought the tissues to your face, wiping beneath your eyes and pulling them away to see your evidence of your mascara stained against them. You groaned as you got into the elevator and rode up to your floor, sniffling as you prepared yourself for what was to happen if Noah was inside your apartment. Would you argue? Would he be drunk? How serious would this fight be? As you stumbled down the hall and to your front door, you tried your best to calm yourself down before unlocking the door and walking in…to an empty apartment.

Part of you was happy that you had beaten him home, but the other part was even more upset because he was still out somewhere doing something that wasn’t what he promised he’d to. You closed and locked the door behind you, making your way towards the kitchen and tossing your belongings onto the counter. Grabbing yourself bottled water from the fridge, you started to strip out of your evening clothes as you made your way down the hall to the bedroom.

Stupid heels. You kicked them off by the couch. They were so cute, one of your favorite pairs– but man they hurt like a bitch and right now, that pain wasn’t worth wearing them for another second.

Stupid $200 dress. You struggled to get out of the figure-fitting dress that he had bought you for Valentine's day. It was his first purchase for you that he didn’t need advice on. He’d simply saw it in the store, knew it’d be perfect and he was right– he loved it on you. You wore it tonight because he loved it on you, and yet he didn’t get to see it. 

You’d stripped it all off, the accessories, your bra, and underwear– everything, so by the time you got to your bedroom, you tossed on your shorts and his flames t-shirt and was ready for bed. As you stood in the doorway and saw the trail you left behind, a little bit of you felt victorious, but for what, you didn’t know. So with that, you closed the door and locked it, not wanting him to sleep in the room tonight. A bit much? Yes. Petty? Extremely. But at this point, you were far too upset to truly care. You thought that burying yourself beneath the warm comforter and lying on your bed would be enough to lull you to sleep, but it hadn’t. After staring at the ceilings for a few moments, you could hear Noah open the front door and stumble his way into the apartment, shuffling around before closing the door behind him.

He was drunk, that was a fact. You knew that maybe he did go out and have a few drinks with the boys, but you didn’t want to be right. You didn’t want to know that the reason why he skipped out on dinner with your parents was that he was too busy getting drunk with the same teammates that he’d gone out with on many weekends before throughout the season. His footsteps shuffle closer to the door and the knob turns. Your heart thuds against your chest and you contemplate jumping out of bed and opening the door, but your body won’t move. One knock, two knocks, then three– all going unanswered like the texts you had sent him hours before.

“Y/N?” His voice is soft and a little slurred as if he had his face pressed directly against the door. “Y/N, are you in there?”

You held your breath as if he’d actually be able to hear you breathe, or maybe it was because you were afraid that if you did, you’d let out a sob instead. You waited for him to say something else, or to try the knob or knock again– but nothing came. Instead, you heard his footsteps shuffled back out away from the door. As soon as they were far enough away, you let out a shuddered breath and the small sob that followed. You rolled over towards his side of the bed and stared at his pillow. It was so dark in the room that you could almost see the outline of his broad shoulders and body as if he was lying there like he had been just this morning.

You reached out and felt the cold space against your hand, the fabric of your sheets slipping between the spaces in your fingers. Staring at the empty space and knowing that he was just a few feet away from you in the living room, hurt like hell. Did he know what he did? Has he heard your voicemail? Why didn’t he try a little harder just now to get you to open the door? Was he even that serious about your relationship? As the ugly thoughts spun themselves around in your mind, you couldn’t help but hear the words of your sister echo around your brain. How she said you should be careful about getting into a relationship with him since he was a professional athlete and they tend to have reputations. But, it’s been a year and your doubts about dating him have been few and far in between. In fact, you were set to go to Boston with him in a few weeks to spend the rest of the month with his family. You could see the childlike smile on his face when you told him you’d gotten your vacation time approved for the trip to his home– it was right after you’d set the date for this damn dinner. He’d spun you around and kissed you, before putting you back onto the ground and whispering about how this was your ‘first big step’ as a couple.

But at this point, all you could really think about was one thing: was your sister right?

The next morning, you hadn’t set an alarm to wake you up– not that you needed one seeing as if you’d barely slept a wink. When you got up out of bed and made your way to the living room, you expected to see Noah sleeping on the couch, but instead, you found a folded blanket resting on the back and no Noah in sight. It’s not like you wanted to have a potential argument with your boyfriend in the morning, let alone the morning of your birthday, but you were still disappointed to find that he wasn’t even here. You turned towards the kitchen to pour yourself a cup of coffee and see a note.

Walking over to the counter, you picked it up and immediately recognized the handwriting as Noah’s. Three sentences. Three measly sentences are what you got– basically saying that he’d see you later, he had some errands to run and that he’d be back for dinner. That was it. No Birthday wish, no acknowledgment of the brunch you were supposed to have at your sister’s house today– nothing. So you crumbled it up and tossed it into the trashcan, more upset than you were I the beginning as you were starting to think that maybe, just maybe, Noah had forgotten your birthday. No flowers, no balloons, not even a damn card. Just a note with three sentences and no Noah. God, that really hurt.

Upset, you disregarded your need for coffee and made your way back to the bedroom, throwing yourself back down onto your cloud of a comforter and groaning into your pillow. The only reason why you bothered to come up for air was that your cell-phone started to ring. Not looking, you reached out for it and answered it, bringing it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Wow, who pissed in your cereal this morning?” Jess, your older sister laughed as your niece and nephew’s voices rang in the background.

“Good morning to you too Jess, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just a friendly reminder that you and Noah are supposed to come over so we can have that birthday brunch with mom and dad.”

You could feel the urge to tell her about Noah begin to rise in your stomach. Your sister was like your personal diary, she knew everything and anything about you. “Noah skipped out on dinner last night so I think mom and dad might hate him. What makes it worse is that he came home drunk last night and never replied to any of my text messages and maybe you were right– I shouldn’t have started dating him.” It all came out in one blurred moment and when the silence greeted you, you sighed. “I think he and I are going to have a long, not so good, talk.”

Silence you expected, especially since you had just unloaded everything on your sister. But the thing you didn’t expect was her laughter from the other side of the phone. “Stop being dramatic and just get your butt over here by 11. Mom’s making her mimosas, you’ve got 30 minutes to get here,” and then she hung up. You pulled the phone away from your face and stared at it, confused by her reaction since she was the one who had voice those concerns first. But suddenly when you speak about them, you’re being dramatic?

Nonetheless, you rolled yourself out of bed and into your bathroom to take a shower and get ready for this brunch. You didn’t know if Noah was going to be there or not, if you could guess– you’d say not. But there’s nothing you could do about it now…the ball is in his court.

No text. No call. No email. Not a single thing from Noah– not even the daily snapchat to keep your 500-someday streak alive. You’d contemplated calling him in the uber or even sending him a text, but the voice in the back of your mind said that perhaps having another potential crying fit in the back of an uber wasn’t the best option right now. So, to take your mind off of the drama ahead of you, you turned your mind towards your moms' award-winning mimosas that were waiting for you at your sisters' place.

However, thinking about them could only last for so long before Noah’s absence slipped back into your mind. And standing there on your sister’s front porch, staring at her front door and contemplating whether or not to order an uber and go back home– you called Noah. As it rang, you could feel the disappointment settle over you…until it stopped ringing. “Hello?”

“Hey, Noah?” It was loud wherever he was and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was out with the boys again. “Noah, can you hear me?”

The noise drifted out as the silence settled in on his side of the phone. “Hey beautiful, you still there?”

Your heart raced at the sound of his voice. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Sorry about the noise,” he sighed and you could hear his shifting along wherever he was. “What do you want? Is everything okay?”

You paused, your eyes frozen on the front door as his questions lingered in your mind. He hasn’t talked to you in the last 12 hours and all he can bring himself to say is– ‘what do you want?’ You could feel the anger boil up, and as good as you were about masking your emotions and holding back, you just couldn’t do it anymore. “What do I want? What do I want Noah?” You echoed, pacing along your sisters' porch. “Oh hold on, let’s see here. I wanted you to come to dinner with my parents last night. I wanted you to be able to bond with my dad over hockey and your mutual dislike for Edmonton. Or see my mom fawn over how much of a gentleman you are.”

Your pacing was picking up as you felt your body slowly start to shake. It took everything in you to press the phone further against your ear to hold it steady. “I wanted to fall asleep in your arms last night and wake up to you this morning. I wanted a Good Morning birthday kiss from my boyfriend. I just wanted you, Noah. Are you catching my fucking drift?”

A deafening silence came over the phone call before he laughs, and you immediately recognize it as the kind of laughter he does when he throws his head back and closes his eyes. “Babe, you’re overreacting.”

“Over¬–“ You paused, in utter disbelief that you had just vented your heart out to him and he said that you were overreacting. “Overreacting? Oh, Noah Hanifin, you haven’t seen overreacting. If you come home tonight, you’ll definitely see me overreacting.” Then you hang up your phone and slam your palm against the doorbell.

You stood there in front of her door, your arms crossed and focused on your breathing as you waited for your sister to answer her door. You needed to calm yourself down before you walked into the house or else you’d be an open book to your parents and your sister– a heads up that something is immediately wrong. When she finally answers her door, she has a big smile on your face and your 3-year-old nephew, Max on her hip. “Happy birthday my favorite sister ever,” she smiled, stepping out and giving you a hug before standing off to the side to let you in. “23 looks good on you already.”

“One, I’m your only sister,” you said, walking into her house. “And two, I heard 23 was supposed to be a shit show of a year, and so far it’s proving correct.”

You thought that alone would get her concerned and want to talk about what you told her on the phone this morning, but it got you nothing. Instead, she just closes the door and walks through the house. “I can tell you’re worried, Y/N, but I promise you, you’ve got nothing to worry about, okay? Just smile and have fun today¬– it’s all about you. Now come on, everyone’s out back.” She walks up to the backdoor and starts to push back the blinds.

Lost in your own thoughts, you mindlessly followed her out into her backyard the moment you heard the backdoor slide open. You couldn’t help but already start to prepare yourself for the explosive argument that was sure to happen the moment you stepped foot back into your apartment.

“SURPRISE!!!!”

You looked up to see your friends and family all standing in the backyard– even the three teammates Noah had said he’d spent yesterday with were there with their respective girlfriends. Wide-eyed and in disbelief, you stared at the group of smiling people in front of you before turning back to your sister. “What is this? How did you plan this? I thought this was just a family brunch.”

“I didn’t. I just provided the place of the party and helped set it up.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “Okay, then who planned this?”

Jess smiled and nods her head in the direction in front of you both. You look up to see a smiling Noah playing with Paisley, your 7-year-old niece, tossing her into the air before spinning her around. “He planned it all. Mom and dad knew he wasn’t going to be at dinner last night because he was over here helping me with the kids and setting up the party since Jake had to work late. I’m also the reason why he got so drunk. Once the kids went to bed, we kept decorating and drinking wine.” She looked back at Noah who was still entertaining Paisley as the two laughed. “The guy is totally and utterly in love with you, Y/N. I meant it when I said that you had nothing to worry about.”

You look back at Noah, just as he turns and catches your eye, smiling. It feels as if your heart is overjoyed as you watch him make his way over to you two with Paisley on his back. “Hi babe,” he chirps, leaning in and kissing you before turning to the side to bring Paisley into your view. “Paisley?”

“Hi Auntie Y/N! Uncle Noah is giving me a piggy back ride!” You could tell she loved having Noah around based on the big grin she’d get on her face whenever you brought him over. In a way, it mimicked his childlike smile.

“I see that Paisley. Do you mind if I steal Uncle Noah for a few seconds?”

Paisley’s smile fell and for a moment you felt bad taking away her playmate, but you knew that this conversation was something that had to be had…and a 7-year-old shouldn’t really heart it. Noah taps her leg and smiled. “We’ll play again in a few minutes, okay? I promise.” He placed her on the ground and wrapped his pinky around hers, sending her off with a wink.

You stood there, rocking side to side as you immediately thought back on the voicemail that you left, the argument you had just now over the phone…and the fact that you locked him out of your bedroom last night. “You could’ve told me you know…”

“Well then that would’ve ruined the surprise, wouldn’t it?” He laughed, bringing you into a hug and kissing the top of your head. It was a simple gesture that you knew for a fact, you could never and would never get tired of. The way you felt safe a secure in his arms would top any cloud-like comforter ever. “I’m sorry that I made you upset. I knew how important dinner with your parents was, but I–“

“Called them, I know. Jess told me,” you sigh and then wince as soon as you remember the details of the voicemail. “You…didn’t listen to the voicemail, right?”

He just smiled and nodded his head. “That’s why I came rushing back to the apartment. I was neck deep in wine with your sister and then I got the voicemail, ordered an uber and came home. But the bedroom door was locked, so I slept on the couch.”

You held your left arm, rubbing your shoulder as the blush crept onto your face. “Yeah, I kind of locked you out,” His reaction was exactly like you thought it would be– one of pure shock. “What? I was upset!” He was the first to erupt into a fit of laughter, with you soon following as he brought you back into his arms and you relaxed into his chest. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying sorry for getting so angry at you.”

“It’s okay, really,” he replied, pulling back but keeping his arms around your waist. “But I’m starting to think that maybe you’re not as much of a surprise person as you say you are.” You stick your tongue out in reply and he just leans back in and kisses you again, pulling you into him more.

The clearing of a throat pulls you away from each other and you turn to see your mom and dad standing there. You blush again before pulling away from Noah and giving them both hugs as they wished you a Happy Birthday. “Mom, Dad,” you walk back over to Noah and hold his hand as you lean into him. “This is Noah, live and in the flesh instead of on face time.”

Your mom moves first, walking up to Noah and giving him one of her loving hugs. “Thank you for treating our Y/N with such respect,” she smiled, pulling away and looking at the two of you together. “I can tell that you really love her.”

“I really do, Ma’am. And I’m sorry for missing dinner last night, I hear your cooking is to die for.”

“Yeah, if you want to die early from bad cholesterol, sure.” Your dad jokes, earning a lighthearted slap on the shoulder from your Mom as he kisses her cheek.

“We’d love to have you over again before you and Y/N go to Boston to see your family.”

“Of course, I’d love that.”

You could feel a wave of nerves wash over you when you realize that it was time for Noah to talk to your dad. You could see the way your dad was sizing Noah up as he kept his hard glare on his face, before smiling and extending his hand. “Hell of a season you boys had.”

Noah shakes his hand and your dad brings him into a hug. “Thank you, sir. Anytime you guys are in Calgary during the season, let us know and I’ll get you tickets.”

“Looking forward to it, son.” Your dad smiles, going to say something else but before he can, Paisley comes running up and tries to jump on Noah’s back.

“Uncle Noah, playtime!” She giggled, reaching up and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Noah looks at you and your parents and your dad nods. “We’ve got rounds to make, but we’ll be sure to talk some more later. Maybe you can help me grill some of the burgers and hot dogs?”

“Looking forward to it, sir.” Noah smiles, bringing Paisley onto his back again before turning to you.

You raise your eyebrows and smirk as you look at your Niece who is all giggles as she plays with Noah’s hair. “Should I be jealous?”

Noah just smirks and leans in, giving you a short, but lasting kiss. “Never, you’ve got my heart.”

You watch as Noah runs off, with Paisley, taking her over into a corner where Elias and Matt were playing with Max. A champagne glass full of your Mom’s mimosa recipe appears in front of you and you turn to see your Mom standing there, holding it. You take it from her and clink your glass against hers and your dad’s. “He’s a good kid, Y/N. I like him. Like, really like him.”

You smiled as you looked back over in Noah’s direction to see him letting Paisley tackle him into the grass as the other kids start to join in, manhandling the three hockey players. You take another sip of your mimosa and nod your head. “Me too, dad. Me too.”

[cloudyyoonji]

I Promise You.

Lee Felix x Reader

BASED ON ANON REQUEST

Summary: oh how wrongly you assumed the worst.

Genre; it’s a little angsty, but packed with fluffy goodness!!

A/N: hello!! Just to let you guys know my requests are open! Feel free to send one in!

______________________________

You’d seen it as clear as day.

Walking back from your break, you hadn’t expected to see him at all, especially not with a girl.

Not with her.

Not with your best friend.

Despite what your eyes saw, and your beating heart deemed true, you pulled out your phone, texting her.

This can’t be right, Felix wouldn’t.

“I’m actually at home today Y/N! I’m really sick. Perhaps we can arrange to do something next week.”

And there it was; the lie. The lie that deemed her actions with Felix to be true.

As your Shift Supervisor waves you inside, you’re forced to rip your eyes away from the two, pushing aside all your thoughts as you tie up the apron around your waist.

However, your emotionless expressions don’t seem to do wonders for the time, the hours dragging past. 5 minutes feels like an hour, an hour like an eternity.

But as your finally walking home, you can’t but help stand at the edge of the entry to the apartment block, haunted by images of your best friend and your boyfriend together. Together.

Looking down at your phone, his message is still displayed across the screen; dormant and unanswered.

“Hey, Love! Dinners all done for when you get home. See you soon xx.”

Sighing, you shove your hands in your pockets to retrieve your keys, walking up to the apartment and turning the lock when you reach your number.

Shrugging your jacket and shoes off in the entryway, you follow the smell of food to the kitchen, where Felix stands over a pot, wooden spoon in hand.

Your heart pangs at the sight of it.

It’s your favorite food.

“Hey!”

Putting the wooden spoon down, the boy embraces you, a smile playing on his features.

“I missed you today!”

You can’t but help let a smile slip over your features, hidden into the crook of his shoulder.

“I missed you too.”

It's stupid, you know, but he made you feel so special. Even though you’d seen him being close with your best friend, It was hard to deny the way he made you feel.

Dinner was accompanied by conversation, drifting into slow drawled thoughts splayed across the warmth of the bed.

Flipping yourself to your side, you find yourself just staring at him as he measures his hand with yours.

“Chae is sick,” you tell him, eyes fluttering to your intertwined fingers. “I think I’m going to bring her some soup from work on the weekend.”

You’re not looking at him, but you don’t miss the confused expression that covers his features, mixing into one of slight concern.

“I think she’d like that.”

You only hum in response, eyes closing.

Pushing back the new feeling of emptiness, you try and relax your mind, fading into slumber.

A chirpy ringtone wakes you from sleep, light pouring through the curtains as early morning seeps in. You’re a little confused, not quite awake.

Felix reaches over you to turn off the alarm in a tap, returning to his initial position as soon as it stops.

It's then you’re aware you’re in his arms, snug in the crook of his chest.

Heart speeding up, you silently curse yourself for waking up in his arms.

How were you supposed to get over him if you were waking up in his arms?

“Felix,” you whisper, touching his arm slightly as you angle yourself to climb out of bed. “I’ve got to go to work.”

The boy only groans, pulling you back to him, head resting on yours.

“Don’t leave, it’s cold.”

His words bring a smile to your face.

How could you not love this boy?

So, deciding to stay for just a few more minutes, you relax into him more, perhaps somewhat savoring the limited time you have left with him.

Perhaps this was a one-off. There must’ve been a reason he was with her. Maybe she really was sick and she’d asked him to take her to the pharmacy for medicine? Or maybe she was too sick to drive herself home?

There were millions of reasons, many of which plagued your mind as you worked. Rather than accusing him, you were defending him, your friend too.

Rain bucketed the sky, making your walk home that little more unbearable. You were going to confront him, the conversation already planned out in your mind; from your first words to his truthfulness about your friend.

But upon getting to the apartment block, you’re stopped by the sight of him with her. She’s passing him something, concealed in a plastic bag.

It's like every bone in your body just breaks, mind frozen at the situation at hand.

You were stupid, naive to his actions.

He really was cheating on you.

Eyes already swarming with tears, you make eye contact with the boy.

And then you’re off.

Running down the street, you here the frantic sound of sneakers against the road, your name being called loud and clear.

The rain makes it difficult to see, every corner a foggy, blurry mess.

You’re sobbing now, trying to catch your breath as you stop.

A hand on your back makes you recoil, looking up at your boyfriend through tears.

Soaked to the bone, the boy can only sigh, holding up his hands in surrender, indicating he won’t touch you.

“You’re cheating on me.”

Now it’s his turn to recoil, looking down at you with a shocked face.

“Sorry?”

“You’re cheating on me.” You sniffle, wiping your nose with your wet sleeve. “You’re cheating on me with Chae; my best friend Felix.”

The boys shock turns to one of realization.

“You saw us yesterday?” He questions, eyebrow raised.

This makes you sob more, shaking your head at him. “So you’re confirming it?”

Felix shakes his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. “You are so stupid Y/N.”

“Why? Because I didn’t know you were cheating on me?”

Shaking his head, he takes your arm, which you immediately rip back.

“Come with me. Just trust me okay.”

So you let him guide you back, your friend now has gone from your apartment. He guides you to the couch, gesturing for you to sit as he passes you some tissues from the cabinet, something the bag sitting next to him as he kneels down in front of you.

“Now, the reason you saw me with Chae yesterday was not that I’m cheating on you. And that’s the same case tonight. Y/N, I’m not cheating on you.”

You look down at him, slightly confused at his words.

“Okay,” You shake, eyes flicking to the bag. “Then why were you with her?”

The boy sighs, looking down at the bag then back to you. “I didn’t want to do this right now. But it looks like I don’t have a choice.”

Taking the bag in his hands, he pulls out a small box, now sitting down next to you and pressing it into your hands.

You push open the box, inside a simple ring, embedded with a few small crystals.

You look up at him, eyebrows furrowed.

A ring?

He takes the ring from the box, a slight smile on his face at your confusion.

“It’s a promise ring.”

He tells you, turning it over in his fingers.

“I was originally going to give it to you over dinner, but now works too I guess.”

Now looking up at you, he can’t but help smile.

“I wanted to give you this promise ring because I am so deeply in love with you. It’s not just a “promise” to marry you, but one that says I’ll stay with you forever, no matter what. Because I do, Y/N. I do want to stay with you forever. I have no interest in Chae, or any other girl for that matter. I love you, and only you. I hope you know that.”

You can’t say much, only staring up at him, mouth open.

“You...” You trail off, swallowing. “You’re not cheating on me?”

The boy laughs, shaking his head at you.

“No Y/N I’m not cheating on you.”

You nod, looking down at the ring and then back up at Felix, choosing your words carefully.

But the only ones that come out are “I love you.”

The boy smiles, eyes lighting up as your expression grows brighter, happier.

“I’m sorry I assumed. I just... I just don’t know why...” you trail off again, looking down, blaming yourself for the way you ruined his surprise.

He shakes his head, fingers under your chin to push your gaze back to him.

“Don’t blame yourself. I can see you beating yourself up. It’s not your fault. It’s not even important anymore. What’s important is you, who is here with me now.”

You nod slightly, eyes trailing back to the ring in his fingers.

“It’s really beautiful.” You tell him, looking up with a small smile.

He laughs, pushing it onto your middle finger.

“And I chose it myself.”

“Oh did you now? Chae didn’t help at all?”

“Okay, maybe she helped a little. But I did choose that particular one. She just gave me some pointers on what you liked.”

You shove him in the chest, a laugh falling from your lips. But the boy hands on, taking you down with him into the couch.

“So you like it?”

“Felix,” you sigh, smiling. “I love it.”

“Good.” The boy smiles. “I’m glad.”

So just choosing to the lay there, small drabbles or conversation come and go, content in just each other's arms.

“So you promise me you’ll stay forever.” You ask, looking at your ring as your hand is in the air.

The boy shifts to face you, a lazy smile on his face.

“I promise you Y/N.”

And this time, you truly believed his words.

[tml9115]

Would you consider writing the story where Laurel is sent to the future that you mentioned in that ask? i'd love read it. There are not enough Avalance fics with Laurel.

Well Anon, I have lost so much sleep over this because once the thought popped into my head, it would not leave. I may have gotten carried away, this was meant to be a short piece….

Damien takes Laurel back in time in hopes of distracting Sara. Laurel and Ava meet and the trio spend some time together. 

You can read it here or on AO3

Bittersweet Distraction

“Captain Lance.” Gideon’s voice came over the intercom in her bedroom.

Both occupants in Sara’s bed groaned.

“She seriously has the worst timing.” Ava let out a frustrated sigh. “I was so close.” She pouted.

Sara chuckled, leaning down to kiss her disappointed girlfriend. “Can it wait Gideon,” she asked.

“It can Captain, but I believe you’ll want to see this.”

“I promise we can finish later.” She ran her hand up Ava’s bare side. She was just as annoyed at the interruption, but Gideon wouldn’t have bothered them unless it was important. “Alright Gideon give us a minute.”

***...***

“Bout time you got here.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “Shut it Mick.” She swore he went out of his way to make Ava uncomfortable when she was around. “What’s going on Gideon,” she asked the AI, ignoring the creepy smirk on Mick’s face that said, ‘I know what you were up to’.

“A level 4 anachronism.”

“You got us out of.” She stopped herself from completing that sentence. She’d been ready to say bed.

“Out of what, Captain.” Nate’s grin told her he knew exactly what Gideon had interrupted.

“What’s so important about this anachronism Gideon.” She both loved and hated her team sometimes. They’d all been forgiving of Ava’s past hunt for them. They accepted her as their Captain’s girlfriend but that didn’t stop them from teasing and making things extremely awkward for her.

“It’s not the level that alerted me Captain, it is the anachronism it self. Since the incident with Dr. Palmer, Professor Stein and Mr. Rory, I have put alerts in place in case any of you or your family members are affected by time travelers.” Gideon displayed a photo on the computer for the team to see.

“Laurel,” Sara whispered, running her fingers across the photo of her sister. “How,” she asked.

“I do not know Captain, I believe this may be the work of the Darhks. A level two anachronism jumped to a level ten moments after I received the alert for Laurel Lance.”

Sara nodded. “He’s trying to distract me.”

“Is it working,” Ava asked. Sara’s guilt for not being able to go back and save her sister always ate at her, so if Damien’s plan was to distract her then he succeeded.

“Not if I can help it. Amaya, you, Nate, Mick and Ray handle the level ten. Zari, Ava and I will get Laurel.” She trusted Amaya to lead the team and was relieved when no one argued.

“Captain.” Gideon interrupted. “Another anachronism has upgraded from a level three to a level eleven.”

Sara sighed, she couldn’t risk the safety of her team. “Okay new plan.” She pinched the bridge of her nose trying to think of a better plan.

“Mick and I will get Laurel. You lead one team, Ava the other to handle the anachronisms.” Ray offered a solution to an almost impossible situation. “We know her, she trusts me.”

Sara debated her options. She couldn’t risk anything happening to her sister, nor could she risk something happening to her team, her family. “Keep her safe Ray.” She was trusting him with her sister.

“Will do Captain.” He placed a hand over his heart, promising to keep Laurel safe.

***...***

“What is going on Ray, and don’t tell me you’ll explain later. I want to know now.” One minute she’d been fighting with Damien Darhk and the next, she’d found herself in late 1600’s Massachusetts being accused of witchcraft.

“Ms. Lance,” Ava greeted. “My name is Ava Sharpe and I work for the Time Bureau.” She extended her hand out to Laurel.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on here,” she asked, refusing to shake the agent’s hand.

“Look Laurel, I promise when Sara gets back she will explain everything.” Ray jumped in. He hoped Laurel’s trust in him would buy them a little bit more time.

“Dr. Palmer is correct. Sara can answer your questions when she gets back from her mission.” They hadn’t had a lot of time to discuss how they’d treat the whole situation once Laurel was rescued. They could’ve taken Laurel back to her time without Sara ever seeing her but that didn’t feel right.

“What mission,” Laurel snapped, losing her patience. “Sara left a week ago to better cope with her blood lust, there is no way she’d go on a mission knowing how dangerous she is.” She turned away from the members in the med bay and started to walk out. “You’re lying, I’m going to find my own way back.” She glared at Mick when he blocked her path. “Move before I move you,” she threatened.

Mick stepped aside when Ava gave a nod telling him to let her go. She wasn’t worried about her getting too far.

“Laurel,” Sara gasped as her sister bumped into her. She needed more time to prepare herself for her reunion with her sister so she’d been on her way to her room to change, she had not expected to literally run into her.

“Sara, thank god you’re here. Ray won’t tell me anything.” She hugged her sister, relieved to have her there. She had so many unanswered questions.

“I promise I’ll answer your questions soon, but I need a minute.” She withdrew herself from her sister and turned into the med bay. “Mick, Ray, thank you for getting my sister.” She smiled at the pair.

“She’s family Sara.” Ray would do anything for any of his makeshift family members.

“Besides,” Mick drawled. “She’s hot.” He winked at Laurel who smiled in return.

“Mick, I swear, if you so much as have another thought along those lines, I will kill you. And you.” She pointed to Laurel. “He’s not your type.”

Mick just shrugged.

“Sara calm down, you know what happens when you get angry.” Laurel’s smile was gone, she was too worried about Sara losing control to think about teasing her.

Sara frowned, she didn’t lose control, not anymore.

“You just left Star City to cope with your blood lust.” Ava supplied.

“Oh.” That felt like a lifetime ago to Sara.

“Sara.” Ava placed a hand around her bicep. Sara looked so conflicted and that broke her heart. She hated herself for what she was about to say. “Guys will you give us a minute.”

Ray nodded and walked out with Mick following. “We’ll take her to your office.”

“I know what you’re about to say.” Sara started. “I know what I need to do, but I don’t want to, not yet.” She wanted more time with her sister. “Ava please.”

“Sara, I’m just worried about you.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind Sara’s ear, leaving her hand to cup her cheek. “Sending her back won’t be easy but the longer she stays, the harder it will become.”

“I know, I just miss her so much.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

Ava wiped the tear with her thumb. “I know you do. So how about this, she stays, for a few hours. When the time comes, I’ll wipe her memory and take her back.” If it wouldn’t disrupt the timeline, she had no issue keeping Laurel on the ship.

“Okay.” Sara nodded. She stood up on her tiptoes, giving Ava a kiss. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now go to your sister before Mick hits on her.” She shuddered at the thought.

“I will kill him.” Sara threatened. “You’re not leaving are you,” she asked.

She wanted to give Sara time alone with Laurel. “I need to submit my report with the bureau and inform Director Bennett of what the Darkhs are up to.”

“Don’t be gone too long. I want you to get to know Laurel.”

“I won’t.” She promised, tilting her head down for a kiss. “I’ll see you soon.” She pulled back and opened a portal to the Time Bureau. “Enjoy your time with your sister.”

Sara smiled at Ava’s retreating back. She couldn’t believe this was the same Ava that not long ago, was hellbent on following the rules. She returned to the bridge to fetch her sister. “Laurel,” Sara called out to her. Her heart skipped a beat every time she saw her. “Come on, I need to change.” She led her sister to her room.

“Change would be great.” She pointed at her leather suit.

Sara laughed, remembering how uncomfortable the suit could get when worn for an extended period of time. “I might have something you can borrow.” She led Laurel to her quarters and dug out a pair of sweats and T-shirt for herself and moved to a separate dresser to grab Laurel a change of clothes.

Laurel eyed the garments for a brief second wanting to question their ownership but decided she’d leave it be for the time being. She had more important questions she wanted answers to.

Once they were changed, Sara led Laurel to the kitchen where Gideon fabricated a bottle of sparking cider for them.

“Now can I ask my questions,” Laurel asked, once they settled down on the couch in what she assumed was a rec room.

Sara finished off her first glass of cider, poured another, before nodding. She wished she’d grabbed something stronger for herself. “One at a time.” She reminded her sister.

“Okay.” Laurel had so many questions, she couldn’t figure out which one she wanted to ask first. “Um, I guess let’s start with, where are we.”

“That’s kind of complicated, we’re on a time ship. We’re currently floating through time.”

“Why did Damien bring me back to the sixteen hundreds.” She didn’t miss Sara’s tensing at the mention of the villain. “You okay,” she asked.

“I’m fine, Damien’s been a thorn in my side. He’s been messing with time, making major changes to the timeline, he was trying to distract me.”

“I’m sure he’s gonna be sorry to realize it didn’t work.” Laurel laughed.

Sara smiled but did not join in her joy of winning this one. While she and the team had managed to stop Damien and the three anachronisms, he’d still distracted her. She was sure this visit and the pain it would leave her with would stay with her for a long time.

“Sara,” Laurel said worriedly. “Last time I saw you, you’d just left Star City.” Laurel missed her sister. She’d just come back from the dead and said she’d needed to leave, to figure things out. It had been hard to let her go but seeing how she turned out, she was glad she had.

“It’s been a few years for me. A lot has changed, time travel is a complicated thing.”

“Change like your suit.” She’d wanted to make a comment about the all white leather suit her sister had arrived in.

“That was actually your doing. You had Cisco make it for me, you told me I didn’t need to wear a mask anymore.”

“It’s no wonder I like it.” Laurel smiled. She was happy her sister was doing well.

“Captain Lance, Agent Sharpe has returned.”

“Thanks Gideon, send her our way.”

“Agent Sharpe, she’s the one that was in the med bay right,” Laurel asked. She’d been curious about her and where she stood with her sister.

“That would be her.”

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Ava said walking in, a glass of whisky in hand. She eyed Laurel’s outfit for a brief second before giving Sara a knowing smile.

“Is that whiskey,” Sara asked in envy.

“It is.” Ava nodded, taking a sip, humming.

Laurel laughed, her sister was practically drooling beside her but she wasn’t sure if it was for the whiskey or the woman that was now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt holding the glass. Something told her it was mostly the latter.

“Ava.” Sara pouted.

Ava grinned. She’d been prepared for Sara wanting to steal her drink, especially after Gideon had informed her that she and Laurel had taken a bottle of cider to share. She produced a bottle of Whiskey and a spare glass from behind her back.

“You know me so well.” She grabbed the extra glass and the bottle from her.

Laurel smiled at the pair, Ava seemed not only to know her sister well enough to bring her hard liquor, she knew enough about her not to offer her any. “So, do you work for the Time Bureau too,” she asked Sara who burst out laughing almost spitting out the sip of alcohol she’d just taken.

Ava rolled her eyes.

“So that’s a no.” She directed the question towards Ava since her sister appeared to be incapacitated.

“No, up until a few months ago, I was actually trying to bring your sister and her team of misfits in.” Ava thought about those days, thankful she hadn’t succeeded.

“That somehow does not surprise me.” Laurel smiled, Ava seemed to be the responsible one in the group. “Sara always surrounds herself with questionable people.”

“Hey,” Sara whined. “You two are not allowed to hang up on me. It’s not nice.”

“We’re not ganging up on you Sara. Laurel was just stating a fact, one I happen to agree with.” Ava winked at Laurel which only caused Sara to groan.

The three spent the next few hours with Laurel and Ava getting to know each other and Sara spending some much needed quality time with her sister.

“Captain Lance,” Gideon interrupted the trio. “I believe the Darkhs are at it again.”

“Okay Gideon, have everyone meet on the bridge, I’ll be there in a minute.” Sara sighed, she knew her time with Laurel would have to come to an end. “Sorry sis, duty calls.” She stood up. “Ava’s going to take you back, she’s gonna have to wipe your memories of the future, Time Bureau rules.” She did her best not cry, saying goodbye was just just as hard as she imagined it would be.

Laurel nodded, hugging her sister, holding her extra tight. She wished she could stay longer. “I figured, I love you Sara, so much. I’m proud of you.” She stayed strong for her sister. She knew if she cried, her sister would too. She didn’t want her distracted on her upcoming mission.

“I love you too.” She released Laurel with a sad smile.

“I’ll be here when you get back.” Ava placed a hand on Sara’s shoulder in an attempt comfort her.

Sara nodded. “Bye Laurel.” She took her sister’s hand in hers briefly before leaving to meet with the rest of the team.

Laurel’s shoulders slumped once Sara was out of the room. “I’m not around anymore, am I,” she asked. “It’s okay, I knew it the moment I bumped into her. I could see it in her face.”

“I’m sorry Laurel.” And she really was. She wished things were different. Sara deserves some happiness after everything she’d been through.

Laurel nodded sadly. “I guess we should go. I need to change.” She let Ava lead her to Sara’s quarters, not surprised with how familiar she was with the ship, and Sara’s room. “So, how long have you and my sister been dating,” she asked once she’d finished changing.

Ava was about to deny it when Laurel stopped her.

“Please don’t start lying to me now. I know my sister and I know when she likes someone. I may have just met you but something tells me you’re not the type to go around comforting people with gentle touches and bringing them whiskey because you know how hard it will be for them seeing their dead sister.” She held up the clothes she’d taken off. “And something tells me these are yours.”

She’d tried to be less noticeable but she hadn’t been able to resist comforting Sara, even if it had been a subtle touch of the arm or soft smile when their eyes met. “Not long. She’s special.”

Laurel smiled, tears filling her eyes. “I’m glad to know she’s happy and taken care of.” She wanted to say loved but something told her Ava wasn’t ready for that word yet. “Ava,” Laurel said her name hesitantly.

“What is it,” Ava asked. Leading them out of the room and into the corridor.

“I don’t want you to take my memories of this time away.” Ava was a rule follower that was one thing she’d learned while spending time with her so she knew this was a long shot but she needed to try.

“Laurel it’s against regulation. Your knowledge of the future could alter it. It’s not safe.”

“I won’t say anything to anyone, I swear. I know I’m going to die but I don’t know how or when so I couldn’t change that. Seeing as Sara hasn’t gone back in time to save me, I know that she can’t. I’ve accepted that. I know it’s against the rules but I just want to remember my sister like this. The last time I saw her, she was in so much pain,she’d just come back from the dead and the blood lust ruled her. I want to remember this Sara. I want to know that everything will be okay for her, I want to remember her smiling and looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world.” Laurel was openly crying now. Her heart was breaking at the thought of losing this precious time she’d been given with her sister.

Ava let out a heavy sigh. “If your teams asks about where you were.”

“I’ll tell them I don’t remember, my memory was wiped to keep the future safe and that’s all I was allowed to remember.” She answered quickly. “Please Ava.”

“Alright.” She conceded, breaking protocol.

Laurel hugged her tightly, thanking her.

“It’s time,” Ava said after a minute. She opened a portal inside the elevator that led to team Arrows hideout.

Laurel stepped towards the open portal. “Take care of my sister.” With that she stepped through to the other side. She turned around and waved at Ava. “I’m glad I got to meet you.”

“Me too.” Ava smiled sadly as the portal closed. She wished that things could be different, that Laurel could be saved, that she could get to know her better. In the little time she’d gotten to know the elder Lance, she’d come to like her.

***...***

“I couldn’t do it,” Ava tells Sara later that night as they laid curled up together in bed.

Sara lifted her head from Ava’s chest. “Couldn’t do what,” she asked.

Ava lifted her head to place a kiss on Sara’s forehead. “Erase her memory.”

“You didn’t,” she asked, tears filling her already red and swollen eyes.

Ava shook her head. “She asked me not to, she wanted to remember you happy after everything you’ve been through.” She cupped Sara’s face with her hand. “And knowing what’s to come, I want her to have peace knowing you’re okay.”

In that moment, Sara forgot all the sadness she’d felt when she’d stepped away from her sister. “You violated protocol for me,” she asked, overwhelmed that Ava would do that for her. This wasn’t disobeying an order that would result in a slap on the wrist if found out, she could get in serious trouble.

“I would do it again.” She had meant it when she’d told Laurel, Sara was special. She would do anything for her.

[kiruuuuu]

I received this a while ago and actually wrote more Bandit/Lion a while ago but never got around to posting it. Well, ‘tis the season, anon, and I send all the love back ♥♥ I hope you enjoy it :) As always, if the warnings put you off, please do not read this! (Rating M, Warning: non-explicit non-con, dark themes interspersed with fluff?, ~6.5k words)

This is the second WIP I’m posting of which I’m not sure if I’ll ever finish it or write more (simply because I usually get distracted by other things). I remain intrigued with their dynamics as I tried to push both of them into extremely unhealthy versions of themselves which turned out to be a challenge I enjoyed tackling, especially since I like interpreting characters in different ways and exploring a variety of themes :) Ultimately, this work is meant to set them on a (very rocky) path of mututal growth and end up with them actually happy, as insane as it sounds... only I never got that far. Anyway, please enjoy the beginning of that journey 💗

.

“You’re gonna saw through your tendons eventually if you keep this up”, Bandit points out while brushing over the bandages covering pale wrists. No matter what he does, they end up bruised or bloody, scratched or cut because either Lion doesn’t learn or likes hurting himself a little too much. It’s probably a mixture of both, Bandit has noticed the scars despite how faded they are – he knows what to look for. They’re silvery stripes, paper thin and forming a tight ladder down Lion’s thighs, an easy-to-reach place where it’s not obvious to anyone who won’t see him naked and can even be hidden while swimming, unlike other common places like upper or lower arms or just below the ribs. Bandit didn’t go swimming a lot as a young adult.

There’s nothing on Lion’s wrists, however. No long vertical stripe, so it was less genuine death wish and rather a cry for help which probably went unanswered. It usually does.

When the redhead doesn’t answer for a while, Bandit peers down at him. They’re lying in bed, sated, Bandit satisfied and Lion aching, somehow always ending up pressed against each other – Lion extremely reluctantly in the beginning, usually taking the first opportunity to flee, though he got used to it after the first few times. Right now, he’s glued to Bandit’s side, head resting on his shoulder and limbs thrown over him. He seems shorter than he actually is in these moments, younger, too. His breathing is shallow and regular, his eyes are closed and his lips slightly parted; he’s a sight to behold, reddish brown hair mussed up, lashes fanned out over blushing cheekbones, rosy lips swollen still.

The fucker’s asleep.

Bandit sighs, annoyed, and begins untangling himself from Lion’s grasp, wavers when it tightens for a moment but ends up escaping nonetheless. He shoves a pillow into Lion’s arms which they automatically hug and starts cleaning up the room. There’s drool, sweat, precum and actual come on the floor, that goes first so he doesn’t slip on it. Next, the toys, cane, ropes, all the filthy things which he throws back into the box, then he returns the everyday objects like candles and scissors to where they came from. Once he’s done, he tosses Lion’s clothes onto the foot of the bed and goes to raid his freezer. Their sessions usually leave him ravenous.

He keeps coming back. No matter what Bandit does, no matter how much he personally humiliates him, exposes his flaws, insults him, no matter how much pain he causes, Lion keeps coming back to him. He cries, hides his face in shame, screams, whimpers, begs, shakes his head and fights, yet Bandit is the one to whom he clings after it’s all done. He soaks up every little bit of validation like a sponge, even if it’s just a nod or an appreciative pat; he’s started leaning into Bandit’s touches, not only during when he’s starved for affirmation but also afterwards, pressing himself against Bandit’s body and trembling nervously until he gives in and holds him.

He always gives in.

It’s a fucking bad idea. It’s one of the worst ideas Bandit has ever had, he should’ve left it at that very first encounter because that one at least went by his own rules, ferociously ripped Lion back to reality and showed him unambiguously that he’s not in charge, that Bandit could ruin him whenever he wanted, that he’s nothing. Knock him down a peg. He began losing control over it as soon as he accepted him back, foolishly assuming he’s feeding his own desires when none of it would’ve been possible without Lion approaching him first. There was a shift in power. In a way, Bandit is merely allowed to do what he does now, and he’s even predictable. He makes Lion come at the end, unfailingly brings them both to an orgasm which blows both their minds, and once that’s happened, it’s over. No more pain, no more distress, instead it’s softer words, reassuring touches. No wonder Lion returns – Bandit is safe. He knows what to expect, roughly, knows they’ll end up sharing body heat. Knows Bandit always makes sure he’s ultimately fine.

There’s a reason for it. There are several, in fact, and they’re fucking good reasons which makes this all the messier.

When Lion is still sleeping half an hour later, Bandit plops down on one of the chairs and throws a sock at him. Since it has no effect, he does it again and watches, chewing, as Lion blinks with a frown, yawns, stretches and winces at the residual pain. His eyes lock on to Bandit and then the chicken nuggets he’s eating which seem to convince him to get up. His body is battered and bruised, his ass and thighs purple and the indentations from the ropes faintly visible still in some places; it’s like he’s been decorated, painted. In a way, he’s prettiest like this, marked and claimed by Bandit and only he is allowed to see him like this. Lion puts on his underwear and a t-shirt, just like Bandit, before unsteadily walking over to him.

He’s sleep-warm and grimaces as he straddles Bandit’s lap, discomfort clearly written in his face. “There’s another chair right next to you”, Bandit complains but feeds him a nugget regardless, slathers it in sweet and sour sauce first and then stuffs it into Lion’s mouth. He’s a solid weight, fingers toying with the hem of Bandit’s shirt as they eat in silence, digits touching bare skin now and then and Bandit almost expects Lion to start petting him. Lion gulps down all of the orange juice and doesn’t look like he’s going to move any time soon. “You’re heavy, kid.”

“Don’t call me that.” Of all the names Bandit calls him, this is the only one against which he steadfastly protests. He scoots closer, leans his head against Bandit’s and murmurs: “I called Claire yesterday. To… talk some more, I guess. Explain myself. Make amends.”

Bandit neither knows who Claire is nor does he want to know. Thinking about it, he knows surprisingly little about Lion’s private life seeing as how familiar he is with his body – he’s aware Lion has a son but doesn’t know the story behind it. Claire could be the mother, Lion’s mother, his sister, a friend, who knows? “I don’t care about your fucking sob stories”, he tells Lion bluntly and massages his thighs until he squirms away in pain. Despite the harsh words, it’s self-defence and Bandit hates the fact that he recognises it as such.

“She hung up on me. But I’m still glad I did it.”

This is the most important reason why Bandit doesn’t turn him away, doesn’t refuse to play his game. There are other reasons but this is the only one that matters. Lion is young and lost, the list of mistakes alarmingly long – he’s a walking cliché, masks insecurity with arrogance, hides things from himself which Bandit drags to the surface, forcing Lion to face them, confront himself. He’s the worst person to do all this, has himself convinced he can’t stand the ginger prick and isn’t known for his empathy or compassion. And he especially doesn’t like that he both knows what Lion needs and even provides him with it.

He puts his arms around him, feels Lion relax at the gesture, pets his hair and says quietly: “Good boy. Well done.”

And Lion curls into him, leans into his touch and makes a muffled, content sound.

.

~*~

.

It’s a familiar scene, both contenders having clashed in the past already so it’s not as much of a surprise as it could’ve been. There are few onlookers, some who ignore the scene on purpose, others who seem just as unwilling to intervene and only one person trying to defuse the situation, stop it from escalating. Blitz is positioned between them, hands outstretched in both a calming and warning gesture – don’t cross this line, or else. His expression is serious and almost as angry as those of the two adversaries glaring at each other over the German’s head, their body language nothing but aggressive, ready to strike. Last time, it was the Frenchman who lost, humiliated by the SAS legend. Maybe now he’ll try to win.

Bandit walks over and earns a warning look from Blitz which is basically ordering him to fuck off, he’s got the situation under control, there’s no need to rile Lion up further. He has no clue that he couldn’t be more wrong about Bandit’s intentions and blinks disbelievingly when his teammate puts an arm around Lion’s abdomen and pulls him back, away from Thatcher, away from the small crowd sitting nearby. Lion is fighting against him yet more for show, Bandit’s presence alone leaves him imbalanced and seems to interfere with coherent thought, causing him to be manhandled without much hassle. “Kid”, Bandit starts softly and suppresses a sigh when Lion slaps his arm away.

“Don’t fucking -”, he snarls and lowers his voice, “- I told you not to – this doesn’t concern you. Piss off.”

“Go apologise.” Lion’s ire shows in his pale eyes, so Bandit clarifies: “I’m serious, go fucking do it. Don’t argue.”

“But he -”

“I don’t care if he dropkicked your son or insulted your mother. Apologise. You’re on thin ice, asshole. Do it.” And he’s a fucking stubborn git, nostrils flaring and hands balled to fists so that everyone who takes one good look at him knows he’s not going to back off. Bandit quite obviously has to make him. He grabs Lion’s sweater, right over his belly, over the place where he usually claims him, where there’s a lightning bolt temporarily branded into his skin right now, and pulls him closer. “He’s going to sock you if you don’t. And I’m not stupid enough to stop him, because we both know you deserve it, you little piece of shit. But I don’t like people laying their hands on my property. So shake his hand and walk away.”

He’s never done this. What they do in his bedroom stays in his bedroom, outside they never interact, walk past each other without a single glance, don’t touch, don’t talk, don’t look. They’re in vastly different circles seeing as Rook actively avoids Lion and often hangs around with the GSG9 whereas Lion is usually found in Montagne’s vicinity. It’s the first time Bandit is making use of this strange power Lion allows him to hold and he’s not exactly sure how it’s going to go, whether he’ll upset the odd, fragile peace between them.

Lion is returning his gaze, unmoving, before uncurling Bandit’s fist from the fabric of his sweater. “You don’t own me”, he hisses and Bandit thinks he miscalculated up until Lion stalks past him towards Thatcher, head held high. And hand outstretched.

No one expects it. The Brit gapes for a few seconds before he finally takes it, replying gruffly to Lion’s muttered apology and then both of them turn and leave without another word – disaster averted, fight prevented. Only now everyone is staring at Bandit, especially Blitz, brows drawn together in suspicion.

“What the hell was that?”, he demands to know after walking up to him and looks about ready to cross his arms.

Bandit takes out his cigarettes, lights one and inhales deeply before answering, ignoring the subtle shaking of his fingers. “No idea. According to you, apology isn’t part of my dictionary, so there’s no way I would know.”

“How did you get him to do that?”

“Threatened to steal his kneecaps.”

Blitz is visibly upset now, angered by the notion of Bandit keeping secrets from him without even telegraphing it before – he tries to control Bandit’s every move, acts like he’s a bomb which randomly arms itself and requires instant disposal in such an event, even pretends he’s the only one who can take on the troublemaker of their group. Like a martyr. “Threats wouldn’t have worked. You never talk to him. What’s going on?”

He continues smoking as he considers the vast pool of excuses he could use. Blitz would indubitably realise they’re lies, they’ve spent too much time around each other to fall for this type of thing anymore yet it’d buy him time. He can stall, annoy him a bit and then walk off – with some luck, that’ll be the end of it, Blitz might forget or at least not bother him for a few days. They’re squinting at each other, cogs turning in both their heads and maybe Blitz has seen the marks around Lion’s wrists, noticed how Bandit looks after him now and then, because he whispers in a tone implying even he can’t believe he’s suggesting this: “Are you sleeping together?”

It might also be the last possibility left – there’s no way Bandit would voluntarily spend time in the Frenchie’s company, so they’ve certainly not become friends. He decides on a flippant answer and hopes Blitz leaves it at that seeing as he normally doesn’t show any kind of interest in Bandit’s love life. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m fucking him.”

His teammate is in utter disbelief. “And he lets you?”

Under any other circumstances, it’d be a rhetorical question warranting an eye roll, maybe a quip, yet definitely doesn’t deserve any kind of answer. Under other circumstances, Bandit would make a joke, a smart comment. Right now, he feels the weight of their secret on his chest, the responsibility to make sure Lion doesn’t tilt, thinks back to the very first time. “No”, he laughs tonelessly and takes a deep drag more so that he has something to do while Blitz’ face falls in shock. Now he’s going to make a big deal out of it, that much is clear, possibly yell and put all the blame on Bandit when -

Well. He is to blame, isn’t he? And it is a big deal. There’s no way he can deny it.

“We two”, Blitz hisses, “need to have a fucking talk.”

.

He doesn’t understand. Like a stray mutt who suddenly has the door closed on him, all nutrition refused, no warmth provided anymore, he stares, concerned, uncomprehending. Probably thinking: why me? And Bandit has no answers for him because it’s been him his entire life as well and if he’d found an answer, he’d damn well share it with everyone who’s as lost and confused and afraid as he used to be, as the redhead on his doorstep is now. He’s not inviting him in to avoid a scene, Lion would rather be caught dead than found yelling in a staircase where he has no business to be. He blinks, brows drawn together in a perfect mirror of Bandit in different stages of his life, moments on which he doesn’t dwell for good reason.

“Do you get it?”, he clarifies once more. “We’re done. That’s it. You had your fun, now it’s over, so fuck off.”

A small shake of the head. He’s not playing by the rules, not the rules Lion set for himself, guidelines neither of them have discussed and therein lies the problem – they’re ultimately hoping for different things, Lion for salvation and Bandit for … he’s not entirely sure, actually. For Lion to get his shit together. To become a person who doesn’t need to seek out Bandit anymore. In a way, he’s digging his own grave with what he’s doing – he craves that which leads to him being alone again. Figures. “That’s not -”

Not how it works? That’s life, kiddo. We never get what we want. “Don’t come back”, Bandit tells him and shuts the door in his face before Lion’s aggressive stance translates into a full blown fist fight right after he’s managed to convince his neighbours not to file a noise complaint. The walls are thick enough but Lion’s voice carries.

Blitz’ aghast expression won’t stop haunting him and neither do his words, expressing concepts which Bandit waved off dismissively, no matter how insistent Blitz was. He liked it, he said. He seeks me out. There were a lot of uncomfortable questions with unclear answers, awkward silences and muttered curses from his teammate as Bandit regarded him coolly, arms crossed and waiting for him to be done.

But they reached him. It took a day or two, but Blitz’ words reached him. And so he’s shutting Lion out now. For both of their sakes.

Lion kicks his door so hard it’s a miracle he doesn’t put his foot through it.

.

~*~

.

A fever dream. That’s all it is, surely, none of it makes any sense. Bandit’s brain cannot piece together how he got here, it’s drifting gently on the waves of heavy intoxication, the flood of alcohol coursing through his system. He’s moving – or being moved? – yet the motion is repetitive, preventing him from going anywhere. The ceiling above him looks familiar but it’s just a normal ceiling, there are no decorations on the bare walls though there’s a new-looking wardrobe at the edge of his vision. Noises are around him, floating in the air and diving into his ears now and then, especially on one side, his limbs might as well have been cut off with how little control he has over them. He weighs approximately a ton.

There’s something happening to his body and he’s not sure what it is.

It started out simple enough, fragments of the hours earlier flit through his muddled mind: a few pubs, familiar faces, then no more familiar faces. A brawl. His ribs are hurting. Some woman, her legs spread and lipstick smeared, face contorted in disgust – he slapped her, meant it playfully but prominent cheekbones invaded his head and so he brought his hand down harder than she liked. Much harder. She screamed at him and probably disappeared though Bandit doesn’t remember that part, merely draws the conclusion based on the fact that she’s not here right now. Someone else is.

Only then do the noises register as moaning. A hand strokes over his cheeks, urgent, a soothing hiss, shhh, as if Bandit was crying or hurt, shhhh, insistent against his skin, just like wet lips which nip at his throat, taste his pulse. He’s nauseous, there’s a faint ache further down and all he smells is his own sweat mixed with beer; he’s uncomfortably warm and just uncomfortable in general, his legs being folded and the hand is still there, feeling his eyebrow, the corner of his mouth, and so is the reassuring shhh.

A fever dream. And he’s starting to wake up slowly, sober momentarily due to the adrenaline rush of not knowing where he is, with whom he is. Bandit’s head lolls around, falls to the side and the sudden change in view is dizzying, now he sees shoulders and a torso and can actually see what’s happening to him which in no way makes it any better. His tongue isn’t his anymore, neither are his arms or legs, they’re at the person’s mercy. And the only mercy he’s being shown is the gentle hand and the calming shushing that now and then devolves into a strangled moan.

He’s dreaming, surely. Because this can’t be reality. This can’t be happening.

.

He wakes up mostly naked. That alone wouldn’t be cause for concern yet he’s being shaken, as if his pounding headache, desiccated body and throbbing pain weren’t distressing enough already. Not entirely sure what’s going on, he switches to auto-pilot and swats at the insistent hands until they’ve disappeared, opens his eyes and blinks dazedly at a face he knows very well. I’m in Lion’s flat, he surmises based on the fact his surroundings are unfamiliar and as barren as he’d expect the Frenchie’s apartment to be, only to add: The Lion’s den. Hilarious. He would’ve congratulated himself with a chuckle if he had the brain capacity to spare, but as it is, he’s little more than a zombie.

Memories are fuzzy, so he decides on worrying about those later, allows Lion to pull him to his feet, even dress him. A glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table tells him it’s seven in the morning – much too early after a night out, that’s for sure. He stumbles around, greedily gulps down half a bottle of water when Lion hands him one and follows him, accompanied by prodding and poking to guide him in the right direction. They leave the flat, enter Lion’s car and as it’s still not fully day yet, Bandit sleeps some more on the way to wherever, head leaning against the cool window and jolting with every bump in the road, but he’s slept under worse conditions.

Surprisingly, he knows where he is when he pours himself out of the vehicle after they’ve stopped. Lion helps him get up, rummages around in Bandit’s pockets and causes an almost overpowering urge to punch him. The sudden impulse is overwhelmingly strong and he has to actively fight it down, struggle against it – he looks at the asshole assisting him in climbing the stairs and wants nothing more than to grind his face into the asphalt, smack it against the metal railing, hear his bones crunch under Bandit’s foot. It’s irrational, they have no quarrel with each other, not anymore, not since Lion knows to keep away, from Rook, from Bandit, from a lot of people. He clenches his teeth, balls his hands into fists and somehow makes it inside. Lion never crosses the threshold.

It’s a good thing. Bandit doesn’t know what he would’ve done otherwise.

The door clicks shut and he staggers to his bed, collapses on top of it and almost immediately falls asleep again.

.

This time, he remembers. His thoughts have cleared up and the shock of his dream contributes as well, floods his system with adrenaline upon the soft shhh in his ear – he wakes up screaming, kicking and flailing but is alone in his large bed. Breathing heavily, he looks at the hook fixed to the ceiling. And he remembers.

It helps that he’s more aware of his own body now, feels the vague burn around his wrists, notices an uncomfortable feeling in his guts. He knows what it means. Even if he couldn’t recall the guilty moans on his skin, the movements, the fingertips dirtying him, he’d know what it means.

He throws up until there’s nothing left in his stomach and dry heaves until his head feels split in two and his throat is raw and sore. After drinking more water and swallowing painkillers which immediately cause him to vomit once more, he nibbles at a slice of bread and waits for the trembling to subside. He’s freezing; even wrapped in several blankets, he’s ice cold. Eventually, he works up the courage to shower. Under the hot stream, he scratches his wrists bloody and scrubs himself clean thoroughly, meticulously.

He’ll be fine. It’s not the first time. He knows how to deal with it, knows what to avoid and what to do, it’s alright. Maybe after a few days or weeks, he’ll be back to normal.

Lion, however, won’t be.

.

~*~

.

“He’s going to have a meltdown”, Bandit tells his teammate without context and plops down on the chair opposite him.

Blitz is instantly suspicious. “What are you talking about? Who will? And why?”

“My Frenchie.” He doesn’t miss how Blitz’ eyes harden and his expression turns stony. “Don’t fucking give me that, you twat, I’m dead serious. You remember Baffin Bay? The fucking yacht?” A nod. They both know exactly what Bandit is referencing and he’s relieved he doesn’t have to spell it out, doesn’t have to get any clearer than this. It’s taken him almost a year to stop shifting the blame, to rephrase ‘you left me alone with him’ to ‘I was left alone with him’ to ‘I stayed behind’. He snapped – the screams still feature in his dreams sometimes, as do the crimson walls. It astonished him how much blood the human body can really hold. “How was I afterwards?”

Another rhetorical question and this one causes something pained to flit over Blitz’ face. Bandit is the only one brave enough to mention the aftermath, a mixture of destruction and self destruction ultimately halted by a series of worrying events during which he almost went so far as to harm one of his colleagues. He was walking on thin ice after the whole incident and, among other things, has Blitz to thank for dragging him out of the deep pit of depression into which he fell. “Horrifying”, Blitz answers honestly and it’s refreshing to get a candid answer for once instead of sugar coated simplifications, a switch of topic or, even worse, a positive spin. “How is this relevant?”

“Have you looked at him? Yesterday? Today?” The hesitation tells him everything he needs to know. “He’s not sick. He’s not just in a bad mood. He’s going to fucking break down and it’s not going to be pretty.”

“What happened?”

“Mind your own goddamn business.”

“You’re the one telling me about this. Do you want me to get Six involved?”

Bandit rolls his eyes and leans closer, lowers his voice. “That’s exactly why I’m here. If he explodes, he’s done for. Six won’t trust him anymore. I’m only still here because you vouch for me, let’s be honest – and no one whom she trusts as much as you will vouch for him.” As far as he can tell, Lion needs this job. A good part of his self-worth is tied to it and not only because he made it to where Doc is, no, it’s obvious Lion considers Rainbow to be the crème de la crème, the highest step on the career ladder. Getting thrown out because of mental problems would destroy him.

“So what do you want from me?”

It’s baffling Blitz still hasn’t caught on. “You told me never to contact him again. It was you who made me stay away from him, remember? I don’t want Six involved, so I’m coming to you. Allow me to talk to him. Allow me to defuse this fucking time bomb. And let me keep meeting up with him, he needs it.”

“You are so unbelievably full of yourself, Dom. Absolutely not. If I catch you anywhere near him, it’s over. You need this job too.”

He slams his fist on the table and it says a lot that Blitz doesn’t even twitch. “Motherfucker. You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“Oh, but you do?”

“I have to do this.”

“Why?”

“I’m probably the only one who even remotely -”

“Why?”

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

Blitz fixes him with a level gaze, unflinching and without mercy. “Tell me what happened. What did he do? And tell me why you’re going to such lengths to help him. It’s not what you’d usually do. It’s not even what you’d do most of the time, especially not if you can just as well watch from the sidelines.”

He knows the answer to this. He doesn’t like it, not one bit, and still he knows it. So he starts with the ‘easier’ part. “I drank too much. I must’ve somehow gotten to his apartment. He fucked me. The next morning, he drove me home while I was still too tired to realise, so we didn’t talk. Haven’t been alone in a room with him since.” Blitz has the aura of someone who’d like to interject with something unqualified, so he adds: “I was unconscious for most of it, Elias.” Blitz’ mouth closes again. There’s a short silence during which Bandit struggles to keep still. He’s witnessed Lion screaming at Twitch first hand, calling her something which rhymes with her callsign and he knows the idiot usually harbours nothing but respect for her. He’s seen the wild look in his eyes, the bags under it, the shaking fingers, knows the signs.

“Jesus fucking Christ”, Blitz finally says and massages his temples. “None of this is convincing me to allow you to go anywhere near him, let alone not to inform Six right this instant, you do realise this?”

“Give me a week. I’ll sort him out.”

“Why should I trust you not to just skin him alive like you would anyone else who even tried something remotely similar?”

And there it is. The question Bandit has feared, the one he avoided up to now – too much of a coward to even admit it to himself. He thinks of the quiet moments after, Lion’s limbs entangled with his, a snarky comment making pale lips curve into a tired smile, auburn hair tickling his skin. “Because I care”, he replies softly.

.

Lion has never reminded him more of a wild cat, pacing in its cage, rearing to sink its claws into whoever put it there or whoever is unlucky enough to get too close. He refuses to look at Bandit directly, lets his gaze wander through the busy café, attracted by anything that moves, now and then flitting over to where Blitz and Montagne are sitting and chatting. It was the only way Bandit could be sure to get him to turn up – make the situation as non-threatening as possible: in public and within sight of a friend. He suspects Lion thought he’d do the same Blitz expected of him but lion hide isn’t what he’s after.

It’s strange, looking at him. Bandit is used to having the upper hand always, in the beginning due to his knowledge of how to get under his skin, provoke him into a fit of rage, later the much more tangible control of physically restraining him and forcing him to listen to whatever Bandit has to say. He lost it when he sent him away. He set him free and, predictably, the cat bit him now that he held no power over it anymore.

“We have to set some boundaries”, he announces while stirring his coffee.

“To what end?” He’s aggressive, thinks Bandit is here to accuse him and therefore is ready to defend himself whatever the cost. It’s counter-productive, so Bandit ignores him.

“No touching outside of play.”

Lion looks ready to sock him in the jaw. “The fuck are you talking about?! Besides, you came over, you know. You threw me out of bed by knocking at my door in the middle of the night and you even tried to punch me.”

Justifications before Bandit even mentioned any of it. He’s losing him and he really can’t afford to. “Listen to me, asshole”, he hisses, “I’m not talking about any of it. We’re not going to talk about it. I’m willing to give you what you want, which is the best fucking you’ve ever had on top of indulging your every whim about being beaten bloody – and you know I’m discreet, I don’t ask questions, I take care of you. You know all this. But I’m only gonna do it if we have this fucking talk, no matter how much you don’t want to.”

It’s the first time either of them implies their sessions have been to Lion’s benefit and not Bandit’s. He’s shocked into speechlessness but they both know he’s not far off the truth, not at all. And yet: “This isn’t what I want. I can’t stand your fucking ugly face, how narcissistic do you have to be to believe -”

“Cut the bullshit, I don’t have the time for it. If you really hate it so much, leave, as simple as that. You know I won’t touch you.” It’s a gamble. He’s convinced Lion’s aware of benefiting from this, now it’s just a question of pride – and the pretty boy definitely has an abundance of it.

“It’s not that simple. You’re abusing me.”

“And you don’t like that? Alright. I can stop hurting you. I can stop degrading you, it’s no trouble at all, I’ll just cut out everything I normally do and then we’re left with vanilla sex. If that’s what you want, sure, let’s fuck missionary style and afterwards giggle like schoolgirls who did something forbidden. I’m down.” Lion rolls his eyes. He’s endlessly annoyed yet it’s not Bandit’s words alone achieving that effect but also his frustration about being unable to speak what he’d really like to say. Bandit is trying to make it as easy as possible for him but it seems he’s dead set on overcomplicating matters. “Look. I’m going to spell it out for you and all you have to do is nod or shake your head. Do you want to keep meeting up with me?”

Lion is chewing on his lip indecisively. He’s being forced to make a decision and he doesn’t like it – he seems to prefer being able to shift all responsibility and blame to someone else, pretend he’s being forced, justify it to himself as something out of his control. That way, he doesn’t have to think about any of it too hard, about why he enjoys it so much, about why he allows Bandit to hold this kind of power over him. He glances at Montagne again who’s laughing at something Blitz said, the two of them comfortable in each other’s presence. Both Lion’s and Bandit’s body language is tense, alert. Eventually, he nods slowly.

If he brags or gloats now, Lion is going to leave. So he simply nods as well. “Alright. Do you want to keep playing?”

A derisive huff. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“No. That’s what it is”, Bandit stresses, face serious. “It’s pretend. It’s not real.”

“The first time felt pretty real.”

It’s a sore spot and Lion nailed it. Bandit almost winces but stops himself, lowers his gaze regardless. “The first time was… selfish.”

“Oh, and the ones after that weren’t?”

“No. They were mainly about you.” He can watch the cogs turn in Lion’s head, trying to recall details. The kid must realise that a few things he genuinely hated weren’t brought up anymore, that Bandit kept a certain routine to which he responded well, that he always made sure Lion was alright afterwards. Well, mostly alright, considering.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“What’s your safeword?”

“Come on.”

“I’m not doing it if you don’t have one.”

“You’re being absurd.”

“No, you’re being a little bitch. I knew you wouldn’t like it because it gives you control but imagine all the things I can try on you because now I know you’ll stop me if it gets too much. Also, now you can beg as much as you want and I won’t budge.” He can see it in Lion’s face, the question of there’s worse? clearly written on his forehead, followed by an intrigued expression. A safeword is like a condom, ultimately it ensures both participants’ safety but it’s inherently unsexy, a mood killer – which is why he’s bringing it up now and not in the moment. You can slip a safeword on way in advance. “Choose something you won’t forget. Something easy.”

“Okay. Malfrat.” A French word which rolls over his tongue effortlessly yet leaves Bandit frowning. “Basically means bandit in French.”

Good enough for him. He tries to remember the way he said it, makes him repeat it a few times so he’s familiar with the intonation and can identify it even if it’s mumbled, screamed, muffled, slurred. Finally, he nods. “Good. Now to the details. Is there anything you’d like me to never use on you again?”

“What is this, a shopping list?” Despite all his complaints, Lion has calmed down considerably by now. He’s focused on their conversation, barely pays any attention to his backup and has stopped fidgeting. Bandit has shown no inclination to blame him for what he did nor to even mention it, and the prospect of continuing that which they left unfinished due to Blitz’ horror and sharp words seems to placate him. “I don’t like the whips.”

“So no whips anymore. Got it.”

Lion hesitates. “That’s not what I said.”

“Fucking hell, then answer the question. I’m serious about it, if there’s anything you don’t want me to do, now’s the best time to say it. What about the humiliation? The writing? Finishing inside of you? Fucking in general? It’s all fine with you?”

Lion ponders the question for a while but it’s clear he’s made up his mind, is merely working up the courage to say it out loud. His cheeks are filling with blood and it hits Bandit not for the first time how crassly beautiful he is when he has no right to be. His fingers are itching to make him squirm under his touch once more, the pent up desire returning full force upon him pursing his lips. They look so soft that Bandit wants to run his thumb over them. “You can praise me more”, he finally murmurs, visibly embarrassed.

Bandit stares. “What, during? Afterwards?”

“Both.”

This is – he’s noticed, of course he noticed, how could he not when every single compliment turned Lion to putty in his hands, tamed him instantly where violence riled him up at first. A lot of pain is necessary to break his spirit but it only takes a few gentle words to make him pliant, obey Bandit’s every command. He pictures it, forcing Lion to his knees with kindness, having him suck him off amateurishly yet eagerly, thirsty for every word falling from Bandit’s lips and so, so willing. The content smile on his face. The way he leans into his touches.

He’s floored. And yet he nods. “Alright. I can do that.” And with this, Lion seems satisfied.

It’s good enough for the moment. There are things Bandit can do to him Lion isn’t even considering, so for now he’ll err on the side of caution and not touch on any of them without explicit consent. He’s learned his lesson. And he’s fairly sure Lion has, too.